Listen To Me

Darkling I listen, and for many a time
            I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a sweet rhyme,
            To take into the air my quiet breath"
                                                               -John Keats (Ode To A Nightingale)

He calls out to me often. It begins with soft whispers, that float on the quiet breezes, rising to a crescendo until it fades out once more into the ebony of the night. It is melodious, enchanting, and it catches me by surprise each time, throwing my emotions into a whirlwind of chaos and I can't see the eye of the storm– or maybe I don't wish to. Even the faintest wisps that I catch, quickens my heart, makes my nerves taut and my skin glisten with anticipation- because if his voice is in the air, I shall see him soon.
Sure enough I do. The first fleeting glimpse of him comes with the stench of humiliation of being fired. He's a fragrant breath of fresh air,smelling of the salty sea, exotic spices and freshly made pasta... of nostalgia, of home. Of course there isn't a way home from this foreign land. There are loans to be repaid, bills to be paid, then people die, people leave, more loads, bills upon bills and, at the end of it all, only thought of him fill my mind to the darkest crevices, lingering on till I'm left breathless in their wake– dangerous but not wholly unwelcome. So he sits opposite my couch at the end of everyday, smiling, and beckoning me over.
I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought of walking over to him, falling into his arms, lying in his cold embrace, looking into his eyes and kissing his frigid lips., leaving all the world and all my life behind; just to give into him and forget everything. He entices me like nothing and no one else, sitting there, calling out to me softly in that sinful voice, holding his out hand; and it comes as a sudden realization one evening– all I have to do is take it.
Its like sneaking into your fridge in the middle of the night to devour on melting dark chocolate until it finishes and you're left licking your fingers, relishing in the afterglow of a forbidden task. Only, thoughts of him are darker and giving into him will possibly result in no afterglow– but the allure, multiplied a hundred times over, is enough for me to dream of him night after night, only to start awake and stare, breathless, into the darkness.
He stares back, his pale skin and wine red hair visible in the the moonless night.  He is beautiful, so tantalisingly close that I only have to reach out an he'll pull  me in. My resolve slowly ebbs away and with each passing day he seems a step closer, until one day, I turn around, and he's right in front of me.
His presence bombards my senses with conflicting emotions– wanting him to disappear and wanting to draw him close– and intoxicates me, filling me with bubbling anticipation,giddy and excited all at once. Dark eyes bore into mine, slender fingers brush though my hair. I can feel his cold breath.
"Its very easy, you know?" He whispers against my lips. Longing crackles through every fibre of my being. "One, two, three, and then, oblivion." I roll my palms into fists in hopes of getting some semblance of cognition back. He presses his forehead against mine. Desire takes over my mind. I reach out to trail my fingers over the soft curve of his cheek to the firm jaw. Shivers pulsating through my body. There isn't any turning back now.
His smooth voice instructs me as feet find their way to the kitchen, wine glasses are filled and then back to the medicine cabinet for a bottle full of sleeping pills. Feverish hands mix the two substances and baleful eyes stare at the final concoction– is this what I want?
All intelligible thoughts disappear from my mind, as his smile presses against my lips; thoughts of him grow through my mind until there isn't room from anything else. I pull away, take a deep breath and put pen to paper.
He still sits in front of me, waiting for me to finish and he knows I'm almost there because he smiles in eager anticipation. It's a beautiful smile. I lace my finger through his. The wine glass with its content sits  in front of my eyes. I feel a gentle squeeze on my palm egging me on. A deep breath. He cups my cheeks. Another deep breath. I see nothing but the deep cesspools of his irises. The breaths are sharp, short gasps now. He kisses my parted lips. The wine glass sits ready on the table– so am I.
It'll be easy. Just one, two, three..... and then..... oblivion.
A/N: I really didn't intend for this to be a fanfic, just half way through Kyungsoo stated creeping into my mind and took over .____.