KimChay short stories collection. Too many KimChay ideas to turn them all into a full length AUs so here you have all the drabbles and one shots I have written so far <3
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Two men, soulmates, lovers that are destined to be together in every lifetime, every century, every place and time, just to be torn apart by death.
The first time Kimhan died, France was amidst the chaos and pain of The French Revolution. The young poet with a heart full of love for the world was holding the bloodied body of his lover, long cold, long lifeless, pale and dead dead dead! Clutching onto Kimhan's torso, hands, hair, neck...Porchay cried. Silent tear falling down, drip, drip on Kimhan's bloody arm. Another one dripped down on a hollow chest, the young poet, clutching onto his dead lover's waist. He kissed his lips, he whispered oath. They'll meet again in this world. Two dead bodies in the dark alley lay, fit together chest to chest, leaving behind the Revolution, they rest.
The oath was kept, meet again they did, it was no longer time when poor couldn't read. The snow was crunching under their feet, Victorian England was ready for Christmas feast. Christmas Carol in Porchay's hands, he giggled at Kimhan as he asked him to dance. He would say yes...he would dance the night away with his lover in his arms, if only he knew that loosing Kimhan would happen more than once. That night freezing hands of the river Thames took the body of his lover cold and dark, everything was over.
The third time they met, the third time they loved, the third time they lived and the third time they died the world was more than falling apart. The war was here, the war was there, the war was everywhere. In the air, in the ground, in every look of a stranger they saw fright. The smell of blood the smell of death filled their lungs, filled their mind, guns in their hands they fought...and they died. Kimhan died first, as he always did, the bomb exploded, Porchay's heart ripped.
In 1969 the world around them was bright. Hand in hand, smile to smile they were enjoying their Woodstock time. To the rhythm of the music, their bodies swaying, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix were playing. Then it happened, Porchay knew, Kimhan was dying, turning blue. The drugs they took, the beer they drank. What did they even think? But that was their destiny, living, loving, and dying. Nothing could help and Porchay was tired of trying. How many times can a heart break? How many times it can take? For the boy to fall apart? For the boy to lose his mind? He keeps trying he keeps hoping that one day he'll see it working. He loves Kimhan, he always will. He just needs one chance for them to really live.
The fifth time they met Kimhan smiled like he knew what they used to had. Three years had passed Porchay couldn't believe they would last but they did, they were still here in Porchay's heart, there's no more fear.
Black and white picture falls down on the floor Kimhan laughs, closing the door. "Don't scare me like that," Porchay whines, but leans into Kimhan's touch.
Lips on Porchay's cheek, Kimhan whispers, "it's black and white, the date on the back...it isn't right."
Porchay bites his lips and shakes his head, turning in Kimhan's arms, his eyes a little wet. "It isn't wrong, the date is right, I wish you could remember that night."
Kimhan smiles, thumb brushing over Porchay's lips, he leans in inhaling the way it feels. "Tell me then, tell me all, you are now mine, after all."
And Porchay does, he tells Kimhan everything and for the first time in centuries he is breathing.
