The Hollow Men
Title: The Hollow Men
Pairing: KrisLay
Rating: PG
Genre: drabble, apocalypse, romance
Word count: 496
A/N: Inspired by the poem "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot. This is part of my drabble collection, the entirety of which can be found HERE.
T. S. Eliot - The Hollow Men
IV.
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
This is the way the world ends / not with a bang but a whimper.
Yixing sighed as he marked off another day on his calendar with a red marker. The ink was running out, and Earth has been dark for exactly six month.
21 of September, 2051.
“You’re going to need a new pen soon,” Kris called from behind his shoulder as he surveyed the neat, crossed off boxes with the light emanating from a candle several feet away.
If we’re even around long enough for the pen to run out.
Yixing decided not to voice that thought.
Just a year ago, the world had been swept up with yet another apocalypse theory; only this one had come true. The Blackout, it had been called, and on April 21st, night time had stayed and daylight never came.
It turned out that technology only gets a civilization so far. Crops stopped growing by month two, and from there, governments all around the world collapsed as riots and chaos took over.
“I’m going to need to go out and look for food again soon,” Kris said softly, stepping up behind Yixing and resting his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder.
“I’m going with you,” Yixing decided. “It’s not smart for you to go by yourself; I’ll watch your back and - ”
“I’d rather you say here, where it’s safe,” Kris interrupted.
No.
“If something bad happens, Kris, we go down together.”
It had never been a question in Yixing’s mind that he and Kris would stick together until the end. They had been best friends before the Blackout, and have grown into something more since.
Those who have crossed …to death's other Kingdom / remember us - if at all - not as lost / violent souls, but only / as the hollow men.
He knew of the terrible things that have been going on out there; men turned into savages while scavenging for supplies, hurting and killing each other over food. Others have passed away from illnesses, now hospitals were no longer operating, and some from pure starvation.
Yixing also knew, however, that he was going to fight until the end. He trusted Kris with his life, and in return, Kris trusted him with his.
Leaning his head back briefly onto Kris’ shoulder, Yixing glanced toward the window, out of habit. As usual, everything outside was enveloped in pitch black darkness, leaving behind only hallow feelings of fear and trepidation.
Shape without form, shade without color / paralyzed force, gesture without motion.
“I love you,” Yixing muttered out of the blue, voice breaking the silence. He blushed a little, and dropped his head. While Kris was freely vocal about his affections for Yixing, the smaller man had always had trouble saying those three little words.
Kris didn’t even flinch. “I know,” he answered instead, leaning down to drop a kiss onto Yixing’s neck.
And he does know.
Sometimes, love doesn’t need to be put into words. Especially at the end of the world.
[A/N]: Pheww, barely scraped under my 500 word limit. But yeah idk. We read this poem in English class and I just randomly had apocalypse!krislay feels. I took this poem out of context and did my own interpretation: the end of the world turns civilization into "hollow men." The italics with slashes are other parts of the poem that I pulled out.
Pairing: KrisLay
Rating: PG
Genre: drabble, apocalypse, romance
Word count: 496
A/N: Inspired by the poem "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot. This is part of my drabble collection, the entirety of which can be found HERE.
T. S. Eliot - The Hollow Men
IV.
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
This is the way the world ends / not with a bang but a whimper.
Yixing sighed as he marked off another day on his calendar with a red marker. The ink was running out, and Earth has been dark for exactly six month.
21 of September, 2051.
“You’re going to need a new pen soon,” Kris called from behind his shoulder as he surveyed the neat, crossed off boxes with the light emanating from a candle several feet away.
If we’re even around long enough for the pen to run out.
Yixing decided not to voice that thought.
Just a year ago, the world had been swept up with yet another apocalypse theory; only this one had come true. The Blackout, it had been called, and on April 21st, night time had stayed and daylight never came.
It turned out that technology only gets a civilization so far. Crops stopped growing by month two, and from there, governments all around the world collapsed as riots and chaos took over.
“I’m going to need to go out and look for food again soon,” Kris said softly, stepping up behind Yixing and resting his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder.
“I’m going with you,” Yixing decided. “It’s not smart for you to go by yourself; I’ll watch your back and - ”
“I’d rather you say here, where it’s safe,” Kris interrupted.
No.
“If something bad happens, Kris, we go down together.”
It had never been a question in Yixing’s mind that he and Kris would stick together until the end. They had been best friends before the Blackout, and have grown into something more since.
Those who have crossed …to death's other Kingdom / remember us - if at all - not as lost / violent souls, but only / as the hollow men.
He knew of the terrible things that have been going on out there; men turned into savages while scavenging for supplies, hurting and killing each other over food. Others have passed away from illnesses, now hospitals were no longer operating, and some from pure starvation.
Yixing also knew, however, that he was going to fight until the end. He trusted Kris with his life, and in return, Kris trusted him with his.
Leaning his head back briefly onto Kris’ shoulder, Yixing glanced toward the window, out of habit. As usual, everything outside was enveloped in pitch black darkness, leaving behind only hallow feelings of fear and trepidation.
Shape without form, shade without color / paralyzed force, gesture without motion.
“I love you,” Yixing muttered out of the blue, voice breaking the silence. He blushed a little, and dropped his head. While Kris was freely vocal about his affections for Yixing, the smaller man had always had trouble saying those three little words.
Kris didn’t even flinch. “I know,” he answered instead, leaning down to drop a kiss onto Yixing’s neck.
And he does know.
Sometimes, love doesn’t need to be put into words. Especially at the end of the world.
[A/N]: Pheww, barely scraped under my 500 word limit. But yeah idk. We read this poem in English class and I just randomly had apocalypse!krislay feels. I took this poem out of context and did my own interpretation: the end of the world turns civilization into "hollow men." The italics with slashes are other parts of the poem that I pulled out.