flashing lights (flashfic challenge: wound)
Title: flashing lights
Author: ereluna
Word-count: 1000
Rating: PG-13
Concrit? Yes, please.
Warnings: General angst-making, a little violence.
Summary: The third strike is the last, and though Yunho expects it, it hurts the most.
...
01.
If you believe what I tell you,
there's nothing to say.
The first strike comes unexpectedly, a simple term twisted by double meanings and framed by soft words that fail to blunt the impact that Yunho understands is only meant for him. Today, Changmin's lips say one thing, but his eyes say something else. Things tinged with sorrow, fear and half-hearted resentment aimed at the only person that remains in the line of fire.
Leader.
It hurts more than he ever thought it would, -he's spent his days waiting for retaliation, half-hoping it would never come. Yet it does come and words have always managed to tear at his heart like nothing else could. He stays silent for a minute, scraping his fingernails lightly against the empty dining room table, thinking -what to say or do or feel, and there's nothing.
It's impossible to miss the bare look of satisfaction cross Changmin's eyes, and Yunho hangs his head, forehead resting on the cold, hard surface; shocked into a silence that nearly chokes him. Changmin doesn't bother with any falsities -doesn't ask if he's okay; simply standing and walking away, his hands shaking as he shoves them into his pants pockets, eyes closed against the harsh light of the sun.
Yunho stays at the table until the sun sets. For now, there's nothing more to do than brave the heat and smile; hope that maybe someday Changmin will stop expecting him to say everything is alright. He knows that Changmin will believe it, even if he doesn't believe it himself.
It's too hard to believe in anything.
02.
Don't stand in my fire,
don't stand in my way.
The second strike still manages to catch Yunho off guard -weeks have passed with nothing at all, his strength is drained through and through and he's given up on trying to keep his guard up, and maybe he deserves it anyway.
There's no one to lean on anymore. No one to wipe the sweat off his face, beat him to the punch line and list everything they did wrong or that he did wrong, and that's the one thing he really wants.
Then, maybe there's something he can fix.
Yunho leans against the wall and waits, watching a few dancers that pass him by, talking and laughing, their excitement palpable and it's so easy to remember when he felt like that. Hardly able to wait for the next time, and the time after that; spent reveling in the love of such a magnitude of people that it felt like he was drowning. When there was always someone else to hold on to.
Quietly, his head thumps against the wall and he looks to the bright lights hanging overhead, staring until the shapes of the bulbs are burned into his vision and all the sound around has filtered down to a low murmur that tickles at the edges of his senses.
Maybe, maybe he still has someone.
Footsteps, heavy and tired like his own had been echo in the room and his head turns, eyes blinking against spots and a small smile lifting his lips. He tries to find Changmin's eyes, hidden beneath a dark brown fringe as Changmin follows the path of the dancers and passes him by, silent, save for the quiet sniffle that has signified tears for as long as Yunho has known him.
Yunho tries to follow, his steps swaying until Changmin holds up his hand; a sign with a million meanings that all make his heart sink before disappearing around the corner.
Maybe, maybe he still has Changmin.
He tries to keep hoping.
03.
Let me hold you now,
let me rest until the light of day.
The third strike is the last, and though Yunho expects it, it hurts the most.
Standing outside the halfway open bathroom door, he watches as Changmin stares down his own reflection, his face torn between anger and something that escapes the scope of what Yunho knows of him.
The person gripping the bathroom sink with white-knuckled hands has changed into someone that resembles both a brother and a stranger, and this thought is the one that robs him of sleep, leaving him standing at the foot of Changmin's bed, waiting for everything to fix itself because he isn't sure what to do next.
He isn't surprised when their eyes meet in the mirror, not when the younger man turns away, leaning further into the sink and moving his head beneath the faucet before turning the water on to a temperature that Yunho knows is too hot, the heat quickly obscuring the mirror in steam.
Before he thinks, he opens the door, crossing the space quickly before threading his fingers through heavy strands of dark hair; the water burns at his skin and he pulls upward, dragging Changmin from the sink and slamming him against the wall with a strength he thought he'd lost.
Almost instantly, remorse nails him in place.
He shouldn't have done that.
Changmin hisses in pain, his back arching away from the tiles, nearly hiding the cracks that came with his impact. Hot water drips from his hair onto his skin, flushed from the heat. His eyes stay on Yunho, and they hold so many things that Yunho can't describe but knows because they're the same things he sees in the mirror every morning after those sleepless nights.
Yunho steps in closer, his fingertips barely brushing across Changmin's skin, his thoughts lost somewhere around that day, still wondering but never daring to hope. A moment passes before Changmin pulls him into a hold, his arms locked around Yunho's waist and his head burrowed into the space between neck and shoulder. Yunho comforts him as best he can; without words, tightening his grip around shaking shoulders, hot tears racing down his cheeks.
He never tells Changmin that it'll be alright.
Because he doesn't know.
The third strike is the last, and though Yunho expects it, he never expects to deal it himself.
Author: ereluna
Word-count: 1000
Rating: PG-13
Concrit? Yes, please.
Warnings: General angst-making, a little violence.
Summary: The third strike is the last, and though Yunho expects it, it hurts the most.
...
01.
If you believe what I tell you,
there's nothing to say.
The first strike comes unexpectedly, a simple term twisted by double meanings and framed by soft words that fail to blunt the impact that Yunho understands is only meant for him. Today, Changmin's lips say one thing, but his eyes say something else. Things tinged with sorrow, fear and half-hearted resentment aimed at the only person that remains in the line of fire.
Leader.
It hurts more than he ever thought it would, -he's spent his days waiting for retaliation, half-hoping it would never come. Yet it does come and words have always managed to tear at his heart like nothing else could. He stays silent for a minute, scraping his fingernails lightly against the empty dining room table, thinking -what to say or do or feel, and there's nothing.
It's impossible to miss the bare look of satisfaction cross Changmin's eyes, and Yunho hangs his head, forehead resting on the cold, hard surface; shocked into a silence that nearly chokes him. Changmin doesn't bother with any falsities -doesn't ask if he's okay; simply standing and walking away, his hands shaking as he shoves them into his pants pockets, eyes closed against the harsh light of the sun.
Yunho stays at the table until the sun sets. For now, there's nothing more to do than brave the heat and smile; hope that maybe someday Changmin will stop expecting him to say everything is alright. He knows that Changmin will believe it, even if he doesn't believe it himself.
It's too hard to believe in anything.
02.
Don't stand in my fire,
don't stand in my way.
The second strike still manages to catch Yunho off guard -weeks have passed with nothing at all, his strength is drained through and through and he's given up on trying to keep his guard up, and maybe he deserves it anyway.
There's no one to lean on anymore. No one to wipe the sweat off his face, beat him to the punch line and list everything they did wrong or that he did wrong, and that's the one thing he really wants.
Then, maybe there's something he can fix.
Yunho leans against the wall and waits, watching a few dancers that pass him by, talking and laughing, their excitement palpable and it's so easy to remember when he felt like that. Hardly able to wait for the next time, and the time after that; spent reveling in the love of such a magnitude of people that it felt like he was drowning. When there was always someone else to hold on to.
Quietly, his head thumps against the wall and he looks to the bright lights hanging overhead, staring until the shapes of the bulbs are burned into his vision and all the sound around has filtered down to a low murmur that tickles at the edges of his senses.
Maybe, maybe he still has someone.
Footsteps, heavy and tired like his own had been echo in the room and his head turns, eyes blinking against spots and a small smile lifting his lips. He tries to find Changmin's eyes, hidden beneath a dark brown fringe as Changmin follows the path of the dancers and passes him by, silent, save for the quiet sniffle that has signified tears for as long as Yunho has known him.
Yunho tries to follow, his steps swaying until Changmin holds up his hand; a sign with a million meanings that all make his heart sink before disappearing around the corner.
Maybe, maybe he still has Changmin.
He tries to keep hoping.
03.
Let me hold you now,
let me rest until the light of day.
The third strike is the last, and though Yunho expects it, it hurts the most.
Standing outside the halfway open bathroom door, he watches as Changmin stares down his own reflection, his face torn between anger and something that escapes the scope of what Yunho knows of him.
The person gripping the bathroom sink with white-knuckled hands has changed into someone that resembles both a brother and a stranger, and this thought is the one that robs him of sleep, leaving him standing at the foot of Changmin's bed, waiting for everything to fix itself because he isn't sure what to do next.
He isn't surprised when their eyes meet in the mirror, not when the younger man turns away, leaning further into the sink and moving his head beneath the faucet before turning the water on to a temperature that Yunho knows is too hot, the heat quickly obscuring the mirror in steam.
Before he thinks, he opens the door, crossing the space quickly before threading his fingers through heavy strands of dark hair; the water burns at his skin and he pulls upward, dragging Changmin from the sink and slamming him against the wall with a strength he thought he'd lost.
Almost instantly, remorse nails him in place.
He shouldn't have done that.
Changmin hisses in pain, his back arching away from the tiles, nearly hiding the cracks that came with his impact. Hot water drips from his hair onto his skin, flushed from the heat. His eyes stay on Yunho, and they hold so many things that Yunho can't describe but knows because they're the same things he sees in the mirror every morning after those sleepless nights.
Yunho steps in closer, his fingertips barely brushing across Changmin's skin, his thoughts lost somewhere around that day, still wondering but never daring to hope. A moment passes before Changmin pulls him into a hold, his arms locked around Yunho's waist and his head burrowed into the space between neck and shoulder. Yunho comforts him as best he can; without words, tightening his grip around shaking shoulders, hot tears racing down his cheeks.
He never tells Changmin that it'll be alright.
Because he doesn't know.
The third strike is the last, and though Yunho expects it, he never expects to deal it himself.