what comes out of tropical hibernation
This is the result of one of those good for nothing writing exercises that I managed to do over my boring-as-hell weekend. No specific pairing, no specific anything, actually.
a tiny bit of Die/Shinya, maybe. but mostly just nothing and completely unrelated.
Wake up to the sound of fire crackling and laughter that you've crafted under your skin
You wake up right when the trailer pulls to a stop. One hand rubbing your face and the other lifting the window curtain up, you know you are somewhere in the middle of the desert. Vast landscape of nothing but pale yellow sand and tiny patches of dried shrubs here and there like acute leprosies. There’s a sound of the trailer door opens and closes, tap-tap-tap of foot passing beside your seat. Your eyes narrow against the setting sun rays.
The rays are mocking you, you think. Pressing deeper into the leather seat, feet protruding on top the mini coffee table, you look through your curtain of hair (a shade redder, lighter) with eyes narrowed, trying to catch that thing across the dessert that’s swaying left and right, left and right, in a very slow, painful pace.
You drop the curtain in dismal and don’t answer when a voice calls out your name.
-
You dream of a fish that cannot breath underwater. Its gills flutter -desperately trying to filter oxygen into its blood, mouth opening and closing like an unheard call of SOS. Like one of those silent movies where the protagonist flaps his hands in panic as tense music plays in the background.
The water is so blue, empty, and still. Your gills flutter behind your earlobes, opening and closing in repeat. Bubbles of air escaping from your nose. Water surges in when your mouth opens. You try to swim to the surface in panic before the air in your lungs run out. After what feels like hours, hands and feet cramped dead, you come to realize that you are swimming in place.
I’ll never reach the surface, you think.
Everything becomes as still as you stare at the blue nothingness.
-
You wake up suffocating. Grabbing your neck and choke, and choke, and suck as much air in your lungs as you can.
Yet somehow suffocation never really leaves.
-
The seat dips in such a familiar weight, you already know who. Something ghosts over your skin for a few hesitated seconds; then eventually settles down on your open palm and synchronizes. Flesh to flesh. Fingers to fingers. Heat and cold. Leaving no room for anything to break off.
For the moment you feel au courant again.
The tide dies off. You float onto the surface and inhale the smell that you used to be so in love with. You decide to inhale some more and drift back to sleep, breathing evenly for once after all these years.
~*~
a tiny bit of Die/Shinya, maybe. but mostly just nothing and completely unrelated.
Wake up to the sound of fire crackling and laughter that you've crafted under your skin
You wake up right when the trailer pulls to a stop. One hand rubbing your face and the other lifting the window curtain up, you know you are somewhere in the middle of the desert. Vast landscape of nothing but pale yellow sand and tiny patches of dried shrubs here and there like acute leprosies. There’s a sound of the trailer door opens and closes, tap-tap-tap of foot passing beside your seat. Your eyes narrow against the setting sun rays.
The rays are mocking you, you think. Pressing deeper into the leather seat, feet protruding on top the mini coffee table, you look through your curtain of hair (a shade redder, lighter) with eyes narrowed, trying to catch that thing across the dessert that’s swaying left and right, left and right, in a very slow, painful pace.
You drop the curtain in dismal and don’t answer when a voice calls out your name.
-
You dream of a fish that cannot breath underwater. Its gills flutter -desperately trying to filter oxygen into its blood, mouth opening and closing like an unheard call of SOS. Like one of those silent movies where the protagonist flaps his hands in panic as tense music plays in the background.
The water is so blue, empty, and still. Your gills flutter behind your earlobes, opening and closing in repeat. Bubbles of air escaping from your nose. Water surges in when your mouth opens. You try to swim to the surface in panic before the air in your lungs run out. After what feels like hours, hands and feet cramped dead, you come to realize that you are swimming in place.
I’ll never reach the surface, you think.
Everything becomes as still as you stare at the blue nothingness.
-
You wake up suffocating. Grabbing your neck and choke, and choke, and suck as much air in your lungs as you can.
Yet somehow suffocation never really leaves.
-
The seat dips in such a familiar weight, you already know who. Something ghosts over your skin for a few hesitated seconds; then eventually settles down on your open palm and synchronizes. Flesh to flesh. Fingers to fingers. Heat and cold. Leaving no room for anything to break off.
For the moment you feel au courant again.
The tide dies off. You float onto the surface and inhale the smell that you used to be so in love with. You decide to inhale some more and drift back to sleep, breathing evenly for once after all these years.
~*~