n/hongbin; eclipse
title: eclipse
pairing: nbin
original link: tumblr
genre: angst-ish I guess?
rating: pg
words: 1,2k
summary: hongbin is always smiles and laughter, like a ray of sunshine falling onto the surface of a lake or through the blinds of the lazy hours of a sunday morning.
a/n: I tried somethign else than my usual stuff so ;;; I hope it's okay
Hongbin is always smiles and laughter, like a ray of sunshine falling onto the surface of a lake or through the blinds of a window in the lazy hours of a sunday morning. He’s addictive, and from the very first moment Hakyeon was unable to let him go, let him walk away as the last glimmers of the rays vanish. But he has to, because Hongbin belongs into the light and Hakyeon doesn’t, forever chained to the hours of the night that taint the world into slumber and dusk and cold.
It’s not that Hakyeon doesn’t like wandering through woods or on top of cliffs when the air is supposed to be cool on his skin; he doesn’t feel it, can’t tell if the wind that’s blowing harshly through the cracks of the clouds above is frosty and crisp as it slashes over his skin. He knows though that Hongbin is warm, his skin soft and mild to his touch and Hakyeon always wonders if he’d be able to take it in, keep Hongbin’s warmth on his skin when he walks away, back into the night. But then he remembers that sensations for him are but only temporary, just like memories and the passing of days; and yet Hakyeon remembers Hongbin, every single one of the times they’ve touched, and it almost feels like he could never forget.
Most times, the day wanes, the rays of the sun shimmer warm and then disappear, without their eyes even close to meeting once; because Hakyeon has wandered so far away over the night before, led by his thoughts, that he wakes up in the evening on the other side of the world. Those are the times Hakyeon misses Hongbin, misses the little time during those near miracle moments that they have together, when the sun stands and the moon rises, when everything is twilight and not yet dark. It’s a desperate feeling, the tugging in his chest always calling him somewhere else than he ought to be, and Hakyeon can’t completely let it go. During those nights when it’s especially bad, when Hongbin’s face flickers on the edge of his mind in a dim ghost of a thought he can’t quite remember, he wanders the cool hours of morning after the trail of Hongbin’s footsteps across the earth, lingering in the void his absence leaves behind in his chest. It’s lonely, and Hakyeon feels it never more than during those nights, when the last encounter with Hongbin has drifted so far away into the back of the never ending days to keep his mind from wandering places.
The first time Hakyeon had met Hongbin is always present in the back of his mind, like a favourite book on a shelf that’s always in reach. He was young, so young yet nothing different than he is now. He was slumbering, awaiting his call when suddenly the night around him turned grey. He remembers how he had only blinked, shifting his sleepy vision back to the now awaking world around him in a confused glance; but suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore. There was warmth surrounding him, a warmth that spread over his skin and bloomed in his chest like a previously dormant flower suddenly shifting towards the sun; and Hongbin was the sun, was walking towards Hakyeon with a smile so wide on his face that it illuminated everything around them, dazzling Hakyeon’s mind. He had to blink again, his eyes unable to adjust to the sudden change as everything started to turn to light. His mouth was sealed, and the only thing Hakyeon was able to feel was the pressure of something wonderful in his chest, a meeting fated to happen in the most miraculous of ways.
“Hi,” Hongbin had said, voice melodious and sweet and Hakyeon had done nothing; he only stared. “I’m Hongbin. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Hakyeon had blinked, more than once, then; because Hongbin was beautiful to his eyes, like the day waking around him was beautiful to the night passing over and hiding into silence.
“I’m Hakyeon,” he had answered, and his voice was merely a whisper in the swirling of the twilight breeze around them. They had stared in silence until Hakyeon felt the familiar pull in his chest lulling him to back sleep, telling him it was not his time yet, and his eyes had fluttered shut with the image of Hongbin’s smile and his dimples on the inside of his eyelids.
Since then, Hongbin has always been near when Hakyeon has awoken; Hakyeon can tell by the way Hongbin’s warmth still lingers behind when Hakyeon’s cold fingers touch the ground. But the duty and the wanderings bring him too far for even Hongbin to reach that fast so soon, and he is left waiting for the next time it happens again.
There are those days when they meet, no words passing their lips as they look at each other in wonder. Hakyeon can’t get his head around the thought that Hongbin could be as fascinated by him as he is by Hongbin; it doesn’t make sense, because, Hakyeon thinks, beauty doesn’t wonder how plainness comes to be. On such days, Hongbin motions for him to lay down, with his head on Hongbin’s legs and Hongbin’s fingers in hair as they wait for the day surging over the dawn; and Hakyeon falls asleep to the soft humming of Hongbin’s voice in the air around them, and the warmth of his fingertips on his skin.
“I’ll miss you,” Hakyeon says one night when it was Hongbin’s turn to be awoken, and the barely lit rays of the sun are indicating Hongbin’s once more approaching slumber; he speaks it into the silence of the world around them, into the tension of his heart pulling at his chest. It’s the only time Hakyeon sees Hongbin’s smile falter just a little, sees the warmth in his eyes dim as they flicker over to his. It tears at Hakyeon’s chest, goes against every law in nature, and when Hongbin’s eyes fall shut and he vanishes into sleep, it’s with a misty rain clouding over the world that no one but Hakyeon is able to see.
It’s then that Hakyeon realises that there were never to have met; because there is a reason why the day and the night reign over the world in succession, not in unison. He should’ve wandered the world alone, content and not minding the change between awaking and slumber; and yet here he was, scared of the moment his eyes would fall shut, night ebbing away to the light of the day with the uncertainty of finding Hongbin at arms reach.
So Hakyeon decides to live for those moments he can see Hongbin’s smile as more but a thought in front of his eyes, to fall asleep and awake only for the chance he gets to run his fingers over Hongbin’s skin. It’s enough, more than enough to last him as long as he has to until they meet again; because Hongbin is there, always there; Hakyeon just can’t see him. And then, suddenly, their moment is over, the heat emanating from Hongbin vanishing from his face and Hakyeon awaits the next time he can feel Hongbin’s warmth on his skin; just as he remembers it from the last time the world brought them together, if only for the briefest of seconds.
pairing: nbin
original link: tumblr
genre: angst-ish I guess?
rating: pg
words: 1,2k
summary: hongbin is always smiles and laughter, like a ray of sunshine falling onto the surface of a lake or through the blinds of the lazy hours of a sunday morning.
a/n: I tried somethign else than my usual stuff so ;;; I hope it's okay
Hongbin is always smiles and laughter, like a ray of sunshine falling onto the surface of a lake or through the blinds of a window in the lazy hours of a sunday morning. He’s addictive, and from the very first moment Hakyeon was unable to let him go, let him walk away as the last glimmers of the rays vanish. But he has to, because Hongbin belongs into the light and Hakyeon doesn’t, forever chained to the hours of the night that taint the world into slumber and dusk and cold.
It’s not that Hakyeon doesn’t like wandering through woods or on top of cliffs when the air is supposed to be cool on his skin; he doesn’t feel it, can’t tell if the wind that’s blowing harshly through the cracks of the clouds above is frosty and crisp as it slashes over his skin. He knows though that Hongbin is warm, his skin soft and mild to his touch and Hakyeon always wonders if he’d be able to take it in, keep Hongbin’s warmth on his skin when he walks away, back into the night. But then he remembers that sensations for him are but only temporary, just like memories and the passing of days; and yet Hakyeon remembers Hongbin, every single one of the times they’ve touched, and it almost feels like he could never forget.
Most times, the day wanes, the rays of the sun shimmer warm and then disappear, without their eyes even close to meeting once; because Hakyeon has wandered so far away over the night before, led by his thoughts, that he wakes up in the evening on the other side of the world. Those are the times Hakyeon misses Hongbin, misses the little time during those near miracle moments that they have together, when the sun stands and the moon rises, when everything is twilight and not yet dark. It’s a desperate feeling, the tugging in his chest always calling him somewhere else than he ought to be, and Hakyeon can’t completely let it go. During those nights when it’s especially bad, when Hongbin’s face flickers on the edge of his mind in a dim ghost of a thought he can’t quite remember, he wanders the cool hours of morning after the trail of Hongbin’s footsteps across the earth, lingering in the void his absence leaves behind in his chest. It’s lonely, and Hakyeon feels it never more than during those nights, when the last encounter with Hongbin has drifted so far away into the back of the never ending days to keep his mind from wandering places.
The first time Hakyeon had met Hongbin is always present in the back of his mind, like a favourite book on a shelf that’s always in reach. He was young, so young yet nothing different than he is now. He was slumbering, awaiting his call when suddenly the night around him turned grey. He remembers how he had only blinked, shifting his sleepy vision back to the now awaking world around him in a confused glance; but suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore. There was warmth surrounding him, a warmth that spread over his skin and bloomed in his chest like a previously dormant flower suddenly shifting towards the sun; and Hongbin was the sun, was walking towards Hakyeon with a smile so wide on his face that it illuminated everything around them, dazzling Hakyeon’s mind. He had to blink again, his eyes unable to adjust to the sudden change as everything started to turn to light. His mouth was sealed, and the only thing Hakyeon was able to feel was the pressure of something wonderful in his chest, a meeting fated to happen in the most miraculous of ways.
“Hi,” Hongbin had said, voice melodious and sweet and Hakyeon had done nothing; he only stared. “I’m Hongbin. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Hakyeon had blinked, more than once, then; because Hongbin was beautiful to his eyes, like the day waking around him was beautiful to the night passing over and hiding into silence.
“I’m Hakyeon,” he had answered, and his voice was merely a whisper in the swirling of the twilight breeze around them. They had stared in silence until Hakyeon felt the familiar pull in his chest lulling him to back sleep, telling him it was not his time yet, and his eyes had fluttered shut with the image of Hongbin’s smile and his dimples on the inside of his eyelids.
Since then, Hongbin has always been near when Hakyeon has awoken; Hakyeon can tell by the way Hongbin’s warmth still lingers behind when Hakyeon’s cold fingers touch the ground. But the duty and the wanderings bring him too far for even Hongbin to reach that fast so soon, and he is left waiting for the next time it happens again.
There are those days when they meet, no words passing their lips as they look at each other in wonder. Hakyeon can’t get his head around the thought that Hongbin could be as fascinated by him as he is by Hongbin; it doesn’t make sense, because, Hakyeon thinks, beauty doesn’t wonder how plainness comes to be. On such days, Hongbin motions for him to lay down, with his head on Hongbin’s legs and Hongbin’s fingers in hair as they wait for the day surging over the dawn; and Hakyeon falls asleep to the soft humming of Hongbin’s voice in the air around them, and the warmth of his fingertips on his skin.
“I’ll miss you,” Hakyeon says one night when it was Hongbin’s turn to be awoken, and the barely lit rays of the sun are indicating Hongbin’s once more approaching slumber; he speaks it into the silence of the world around them, into the tension of his heart pulling at his chest. It’s the only time Hakyeon sees Hongbin’s smile falter just a little, sees the warmth in his eyes dim as they flicker over to his. It tears at Hakyeon’s chest, goes against every law in nature, and when Hongbin’s eyes fall shut and he vanishes into sleep, it’s with a misty rain clouding over the world that no one but Hakyeon is able to see.
It’s then that Hakyeon realises that there were never to have met; because there is a reason why the day and the night reign over the world in succession, not in unison. He should’ve wandered the world alone, content and not minding the change between awaking and slumber; and yet here he was, scared of the moment his eyes would fall shut, night ebbing away to the light of the day with the uncertainty of finding Hongbin at arms reach.
So Hakyeon decides to live for those moments he can see Hongbin’s smile as more but a thought in front of his eyes, to fall asleep and awake only for the chance he gets to run his fingers over Hongbin’s skin. It’s enough, more than enough to last him as long as he has to until they meet again; because Hongbin is there, always there; Hakyeon just can’t see him. And then, suddenly, their moment is over, the heat emanating from Hongbin vanishing from his face and Hakyeon awaits the next time he can feel Hongbin’s warmth on his skin; just as he remembers it from the last time the world brought them together, if only for the briefest of seconds.