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tenecity · 6 years ago

Text

dead

requested: yes

genre: angst, a little fluff

masterlist

❝ you say you can live without me so why aren’t you dead yet?❞ —dead, by Madison Beer

❝ you could be here, but you’re there. ❞

You irritatingly press the phone icon again and press the now warm screen again your hot ear. Pacing up and down the empty hallway, your teeth capture your lips again and they knaw hard on the chapped skin, breaking it eventually, a light trickle of blood staining your pale lips, but you couldn’t care less. All you care about at the moment is, where is Chengcheng?

For the 30th time, he doesn’t answer and your determination breaks down into nothingness. Collapsing on the couch, you face the door, heavy eyelids trying not to fall shut as you curl your body in, hope against hope that Chengcheng will come back home today.

And he does.

It’s 5:20am when you open your eyes to the light creak of your door. You open your eyes as a blurry figure appears at the doorway, trying as much as possible to be quiet. Seeing that you are already awake however, he noisily drops his shoes and lets out a loud sigh, making his way towards you. “I’m so sorry princess. Work got us up all night, I couldn’t come back any earlier.” The smiling facade takes over your furrowed brows and you let out a soft smile. “It’s okay. I know you’ve got a lot of work to do. It’s okay.” Fingers thread through his soft locks and you run your fingers through his hair, combing the messy locks back and a genuine smile plays on your lips as he leans in to your touch.

“Can I make up to it?”

The softly said words don’t wait for an answer as he leans in, dry but soft lips meeting your chapped ones. The same bubbling sensation, that same, familiar feeling of want courses through your veins as you loop your arms around his, carefully sitting up as he makes his way to sit on the couch, gently shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap.

His fingers dance against skin, hands tracking soothing circles on back. Lips find their way slowly trailing their way to your jawline and down your neck, pressing soft kisses against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I love you”s were whispered against the smooth skins, onto each other’s lips, echoing through the empty flat. You sigh, whether in pleasure or in relief that he is finally back, finally right next to you, you have no idea. You just know he leaves your skin burning at his touch, sparks at where his lips meet yours, leaving your mind fuzzing like you’ve been drunk.

Eventually, the two of you pull apart breathless but grinning like idiots, foreheads leaned against each other as you steady your breaths. As the puffs of air slow, he gently carries you towards the bed, crawling under the covers, holding your head close to his chest.

And as you snuggle into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath of his cinnamon scent, your lips pull into a smile.

He is finally here, and not there, somewhere.

Morning sun rays filter gently through your fluttering lace curtains, causing your eyelids to flutter open. Your arms stretch, in hopes of finding a certain boy next to you, but the mattress is cold as always, and he is no longer there. Emptiness fills the pit of your stomach as you scroll through your phone. Once again, you find his apology message, same as always; “I’m so sorry princess, the manager called us early, so I had to go first. See you soon princess, :)”

But right from the very first words to the last few characters, you know he is lying. He never “sees you soon”. The last time you two actually met, actually had physical contact like last night’s, was 21 and ⅔ days ago. 520 hours ago. The last time, as always, he had said he was sorry and he would see you soon.

But, if he really was that sorry,

Why did he have to come to you only 520 hours later, to say I love you?

It’s a lovely Saturday. The rain drops have evaporated from last night’s storm, leaving the atmosphere cool and fresh, crisp with some morning dew.

Taking large strides, you count the number of steps you need to reach from one end of the park to another. As numbers fill your mind, you try hard to distract yourself, but images of him, laughing, head thrown back; kissing, mature and reliable; eyes darting, not meeting yours as he tries to find another excuse for not coming home; your messages not answered till one, two days later, even though you could clearly see that he was active on Weibo.

When you saw Chengcheng in high school, you didn’t see what everyone saw. You didn’t see him as Fan Bingbing’s sister, you didn’t see him as a spoilt, rich kid, you didn’t see him as 高冷, high, mighty and cold.

You saw through the layers of facades, you saw through the labels and identities stuck on to him. You saw him, Fan Chengcheng, authentic, raw. You saw a boy, mature beyond his years, understanding that he needed to be a step ahead of everyone else in order to excel. Understanding that he had a name to live up to, and yet at the same time, was looking for ways to carve an identity for himself, one not tarnished with his sister’s fame, or his family’s riches or the names the bullies in school called him.

He was looking to create an identity that belonged to him, and him only.

And you loved him for that. You loved how he wasn’t willing to hide in the shadows as many family members of celebrities do. He was willing to step out, acknowledge his sister’s success, but at the same time, declare that he was a different person, he wasn’t his sister. He was determined to succeed with his own hardwork and talent, and not make use of a foundation that wasn’t intended for him.

You two, well, were partners in crime. Skipping class occasionally, having dates at the nearby ice cream store, sleeping in class, blowing up some chemicals in the lab. You two were complementary pieces of a puzzle; fitting perfectly with each other.

When you heard that he wanted to become an idol, you were all for it. You gave him your utmost support, cheering him on in the background.

But perhaps because you were in the background, you felt like you were fading with the black and white wallpapers, becoming invisible.

He didn’t go public with your relationship, claiming his manager said it would “decrease his market value”. He didn’t acknowledge you when you passed by each other backstage, in front of the cameras, claiming that he didn’t want people to start rumours and say mean things about you.

He said he was trying to protect you, protect us.

But you couldn’t help but wonder. What if he was lying?

He whispered comforting words into your hair over and over again, denying the above. And you believed every word of it. You sucked it up, telling yourself, you chose this, you chose to be the girlfriend of an up and coming famous idol. You knew this was going to happen.

But sometimes you wonder. Was this really what was supposed to happen? Ignored, until he needed something from you? Did you not do enough, to at least receive just a tiny bit of his attention or affection?

Recently, he hardly comes home. Your observant eyes and paranoid mind scrutinised every weibo update, every fanmeet, every commercial. And your heart sinks at your conclusion.

He looks so happy in the updates, in the fanmeets, genuinely enjoying himself. You’ve known him for so long, so well. You know what’s genuine and what isn’t.

The smile in front of those cameras, those cheeky grins, that laughter, all of it was genuine.

But in front of you, that soft smile that leaves the corner of his lips just slightly downturned, the grins that don’t quite meet his eyes, the fleeting laughter, it was like he put them up just for show.

They weren’t genuine anymore.

You realise, slowly and surely, as your heart starts to tear bit by bit, ripping apart every time he comes home—he only ever comes back when something terrible happens at work.

He comes home, steals a steamy kiss or two, sleeps next to you for an hour or two, and goes back out again, to solve that one pitch he can’t hit, to solve those lyrics that he can’t seem to rhyme.

It was like he was drunk whenever he came back, drunk on exhaustion, drunk on stress, drunk on his work.

And you were the cure for that drunkenness, a medication used specifically when he was drunk, when he needed to lash out his anger and relieve his stress.

You were just a toy in our dear Fan Chengcheng’s game to success. Just a pawn, love.

Footsteps halt abruptly at that thought. Whipping out your phone, you text him.

you

Tonight’s our 2 year anniversary, Chengcheng. Dinner at 6? :)

prince cheng

Of course, princess :) The Chinese restaurant across our place?

you

Sure

It’s 5.20pm and you look at yourself in the mirror. Perfect. You nod at yourself, approving of your look. Chengcheng would love it.

5.40pm, you leave for the restaurant, taking your time as you drink in the bustling city life.

6.00pm, he isn’t here.

6.30pm, he calls but you don’t pick it up.

6.40pm, he calls for the tenth time, and you eventually answer.

“Princess, you ok? I called so many times-”

“Chengcheng, where are you?”

“Look, I’m sorry princess. It’s just...Xukun made up this sick beat and melody and I was so absorbed in writing the lyrics, I forgot about the time. Y/n, this song’s going to be such a hit, it’s sooooo good, Kun-ge is a genius, honestly. Here, you want to listen to it-”

“It’s okay. See you soon, Chengcheng.” You say softly, and tap ‘End Call’, your phone shutting off with a soft click of the button.

12.40am, he rushed back home just as you’re about to go to bed.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry, I really-”

“Let’s break up.” You’re surprised at how calm you sound, when a storm is raging inside of you.

“What?”

“I said let’s break up.”

“Why? Just because I didn’t come home for our second year anniversary? Don’t be petty, y/n.”

You scoff. “Petty? Me, petty?” A sarcastic laugh ripples through the air. “I’m not being petty, Fan Chengcheng. Listen carefully. I’m just wanting what any girlfriend would want. Attention, affection, love, Fan Chengcheng! You only ever come back when you’ve got some music block or something, do you realise that?

“You’re just using me to relieve your stress, just to help you get through your rough times at work. And while that’s what I should be doing, Chengcheng, I need you too.

“This isn’t a one sided thing, ok? This is me and you, this is us. Did I not do enough for you to even sacrifice your work for once and come back here?” Hot tears stream down your flushed face.

You squint at him through your blurry vision, hoping to find a trace of concern or guilt on his face. But his pale face is blank. Just blank. Emotionless.

“Y/n, I’m an idol. My work is important ok? I can’t stop working. The moment I stop working, someone is going to take my place and-”

“Oh,” you throw your hands up in mock surrender. “So your work is so important to a point where I don’t matter any more, is that it?”

“Y/n, will you stop overreacting! That’s not what I meant-”

“Do you even love me anymore?” You hate how vulnerable you sound.

“....”

The smile that tugs at your lips is burdened with sadness. “So I thought. So let’s break up.”

“Please, Y/n, please.” His words are soft and wobbly, as if on the edge of the cliff. His arms snake around yours and his head buries into your neck, lips placing a soft kiss on the exposed skin there.

“I can’t live without you.”

You laugh, the chuckle cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “Bullshit, Fan Chengcheng. You say you can’t live without me? Well, you seem completely fine in those fanmeets and commercials, and you sound genuinely happy when you’re composing.

“Why aren’t those genuine smiles transferred back home? Why are the smiles so fake, the words now all lies?”

A new wave of tears are choking you, leaving you gasping for air, but you resist the urge to break down.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Fan Chengcheng. I can see it. I can see all of it! You don’t love me anymore, and you see me as a burden.”

His mouth opens, as if about to deny all that you have said. But he swallows the words as he watches you helplessly, arms limp by his side.

❝ you say you can live without me so why aren’t you dead yet?❞ The sneer is evident and menace drips along the sharp edges of your words.

It is only when the door is slammed shut with a final, grim click, do you slump to the ground, tears flowing down your cheeks in an unstoppable stream as you feel it, your heart finally tearing into two pieces, broken shards everywhere.

Outside, the raindrops pelt lightly against the window pane. And eventually, you pick up the broken pieces of your heart and sew them together, and before you know it, you’re doing better than ever.

Because at least, you’re not a used toy anymore.

BREAKING NEWS: FAMOUS BOY BAND MEMBER DIES IN CAR CRASH

The straight, flat line and the annoying buzz can only do so much to numb your pain.