doesn't deserve a title.
for subreadja cause she's the onyu to my minho. and jessica. whore.
it's a quiet night. jinki is out, despite it being almost half past eleven which is too late for the residents in his neighborhood to even think of being out. some might call his behavior that of a wanderer--travelling while looking for no particular place in mind.
it simply appeared like that. jinki always knew where he was going. he always went back to her.
jinki is a lonesome boy, as his neighbors gossiped over preened shubbery. a quiet, lonesome boy with parents tenderly watching from afar, always ready to catch him when he falls (if only he knew they were there). he is a college kid with lost-looking eyes and a tendancy to trip over even the smallest of pebbles along the sidewalk. lee jinki is a strange, strange boy.
and then, there is her. elle and lui, she and he, he calls them in his mind, two likeminded hearts lost in the vastness of seoul city. he was heading to her in that very moment in time.
elle, lui.
she, he.
she opens the door, blonde hair in mussed, tumbling curls, glossed eyes and pink cheeks. and he breathes her name out, letting it condensate in the cold air between them.
jessica, jessica, jessica.
like gentle clouds.
she looks sleep-ridden and guilt washes over him as he is ushered into the home quickly. it's almost a ritual.
quiet feet pad around the apartment. jinki curls into the corner of her couch, inhaling the scent, sweet and cozy and so distinctly jessica, so lovely he could inhale it all his life and never get tired of it.
warm arms wrap around his shoulders; and small fingers curl around his soul. she is his beauty, though he is no beast.
she presses i love you's into his collarbone and the iron grip on his soul clenches that much tighter and he never wants it to stop.
he is not lee jinki here, she is not jung jessica here. he is lui and she is his elle and they simply are.
lee jinki is a strange, strange boy with lost-looking eyes. he is nothing more under society's scrutinizing eyes and disapproving, high standards.
but with her on these late nights that push him through the rest of the days, held in her embrace while sweet nothings push past his lips and into hers, he is home.
lui is elle's, and she his. in this carefully crafted world that is created in the passing hours of the night, amongst sleepy and enchanted seoul city, she is not a girl pushed into law by her father. he is not a lost boy attending classes and going for a degree that leaves him nothing but cash and emptiness.
his large fingers mold around her hips, hers lost amongst his auburn-colored locks and they stay like that, because there is no rush to get things done. they kiss in soft leisurely motions because it is what they want. she pours the moonlight into his soul and he dusts her tiny body with stardust. complete, true, real.
elle et lui, he calls them. she muffles a giggle against his neck.
- french? why french? how vague, she says. he only smiles.
*
elle: sometimes we have to avoid thinking about the problems life presents. otherwise we'd suffocate.
- hiroshima mon amour
it's a quiet night. jinki is out, despite it being almost half past eleven which is too late for the residents in his neighborhood to even think of being out. some might call his behavior that of a wanderer--travelling while looking for no particular place in mind.
it simply appeared like that. jinki always knew where he was going. he always went back to her.
jinki is a lonesome boy, as his neighbors gossiped over preened shubbery. a quiet, lonesome boy with parents tenderly watching from afar, always ready to catch him when he falls (if only he knew they were there). he is a college kid with lost-looking eyes and a tendancy to trip over even the smallest of pebbles along the sidewalk. lee jinki is a strange, strange boy.
and then, there is her. elle and lui, she and he, he calls them in his mind, two likeminded hearts lost in the vastness of seoul city. he was heading to her in that very moment in time.
elle, lui.
she, he.
she opens the door, blonde hair in mussed, tumbling curls, glossed eyes and pink cheeks. and he breathes her name out, letting it condensate in the cold air between them.
jessica, jessica, jessica.
like gentle clouds.
she looks sleep-ridden and guilt washes over him as he is ushered into the home quickly. it's almost a ritual.
quiet feet pad around the apartment. jinki curls into the corner of her couch, inhaling the scent, sweet and cozy and so distinctly jessica, so lovely he could inhale it all his life and never get tired of it.
warm arms wrap around his shoulders; and small fingers curl around his soul. she is his beauty, though he is no beast.
she presses i love you's into his collarbone and the iron grip on his soul clenches that much tighter and he never wants it to stop.
he is not lee jinki here, she is not jung jessica here. he is lui and she is his elle and they simply are.
lee jinki is a strange, strange boy with lost-looking eyes. he is nothing more under society's scrutinizing eyes and disapproving, high standards.
but with her on these late nights that push him through the rest of the days, held in her embrace while sweet nothings push past his lips and into hers, he is home.
lui is elle's, and she his. in this carefully crafted world that is created in the passing hours of the night, amongst sleepy and enchanted seoul city, she is not a girl pushed into law by her father. he is not a lost boy attending classes and going for a degree that leaves him nothing but cash and emptiness.
his large fingers mold around her hips, hers lost amongst his auburn-colored locks and they stay like that, because there is no rush to get things done. they kiss in soft leisurely motions because it is what they want. she pours the moonlight into his soul and he dusts her tiny body with stardust. complete, true, real.
elle et lui, he calls them. she muffles a giggle against his neck.
- french? why french? how vague, she says. he only smiles.
*
elle: sometimes we have to avoid thinking about the problems life presents. otherwise we'd suffocate.
- hiroshima mon amour