(no subject)
things i have wrote but will probably never continue
2min ; x-men
They meet on a beach at night, when there is no one and just the roar of the ocean. Taemin is 18 and powerful, and he feels like he has the world in his hands (he just might). Minho is 20 and running away, the voices in his head getting louder and louder like he has the world in his head (he does). Minho knows Taemin is at the beach even before he actually is. Taemin doesn’t know Minho is there until he trips on long legs on the floor.
(Minho is at the beach because he needs peace. He can’t stop the voices, thoughts and emotions that crash into his head. He feels phantom bruises forming on his face as someone gets robs at a nearby alley. He feels the ghost of a kiss as a couple bid goodnights. He feels shortness in his breath as an old man dies alone in his apartment.)
(Taemin feels. He feels the energy burning in every object around, feels energy radiating through the world. He moves things with a flick of his wrist, a crook of a finger. It’s exhilarating, exhilarating to feel everything bend and yield to his whim, to have control, control, control, especially since he never had it for a better half of his life.)
2min; my first kiss lyrics
Fingers in your hair (or four things Minho did to Taemin when the latter was dressed up as a girl)
In the back of the car
On our way to the bar
I got you on my lips
Blunt nails graze Taemin’s thigh but he keeps his eyes close. He knows who it is, recognizes the way the nails trace a spiral pattern on his soft skin. Or in this case, tracing a pattern on black stockings. He shifts a little; hands crossed uncomfortably in front his chest, strands of blonde sticking to his arms.
2min; what the fuck is this
The first thing Minho sees are walls streaked with black.
The second thing he sees is a stack of empty paint buckets, a brush placed in one of them.
The third thing he sees is Taemin crouched in a corner, bright red hair streaked across his face. His skin is marred with black, ugly splotches that dance across pale skin. Slashes of paint weave up his arms, as if he had deliberately painted them - he probably had.
Minho crouches next to Taemin, gentle fingers pushing away Taemin’s hair. He places a kiss on Taemin’s forehead, lips now stained with the faintest trace of black. Taemin looks at him, eyes glazed over and misty. A sob escapes his throat, and he clutches at Minho’s arm, blunt nails digging into his bicep.