wax and anchor - minho/onew
1/1
Minho/Onew
PG - 443w
The moon anchored itself onto Jinki's back, casting shadows on the welts across his spine and ribs and intersecting across each other like a map.
» Icarus
Their wings were three months in the making, but the sun seemed to perch itself for twice as long here. The days were drawn out, shading Minho's skin darker with every day at the quarry. Jinki was sick and stayed in the cells, making jokes about Minho being careful about disappearing into the night if he got any darker. It wasn't funny, the way Jinki's mouth twisted strangely in laughter.
Minho didn't know if Jinki was lying about the nightmares the nights he pulled himself from Minho's arms and huddled back over the half constructed wings. Jinki worked as if compensating for his shortcomings, his frailty. "The king picked you, Minho-yah, and I had to watch you, in the maze, with that poor beast," and there were burns on Jinki's fingers, roughened from his work. "I can't let that happen."
Jinki was right, and Minho didn't know what to do.
Sometimes Minho watched him. The moon anchored itself onto Jinki's back, casting shadows on the welts across his spine and ribs and intersecting across each other like a map, maybe their map home, maybe one that would lead Jinki back to him. Minho couldn't read it anymore, either way.
They slept in the dark, hoarding candles under their bed for Jinki to assemble their wings out of. Once a month during the new moon Jinki would be invisible, too dark and too far into the corner for Minho to discern.
Jinki was far away from him those nights. No jokes about Minho getting competitive and flying too close to the sun, nothing about Jinki falling into the sea and sinking. That was when Athens felt like a dream and Jinki along with it, like everything beyond Crete was a static, and the sun would never rise, and Jinki would never stop working.
Sometimes Minho didn't watch him. Sometimes Minho coaxed Jinki back onto their makeshift bed with kisses on his shoulders and down Jinki's back and fingertips invisible over the burns on Jinki's hands. The hay irritated Jinki's skin, battle scars before the battle had even begun.
Jinki was good at what he did. The waxy down of the wings were just light enough to catch the wind, but secure enough not to fall apart. When the wings were almost complete, another prisoner, Kibum, told Minho to be careful. To watch what the journey home would cost. Kibum gave him a pitying look, as though he already knew what would happen.
Jinki was small in his arms that night, eyelids fluttering in sleep. Minho knew home was where the heart was. Between him and Kibum, Minho knew one of them had to be wrong.
Minho/Onew
PG - 443w
The moon anchored itself onto Jinki's back, casting shadows on the welts across his spine and ribs and intersecting across each other like a map.
» Icarus
Their wings were three months in the making, but the sun seemed to perch itself for twice as long here. The days were drawn out, shading Minho's skin darker with every day at the quarry. Jinki was sick and stayed in the cells, making jokes about Minho being careful about disappearing into the night if he got any darker. It wasn't funny, the way Jinki's mouth twisted strangely in laughter.
Minho didn't know if Jinki was lying about the nightmares the nights he pulled himself from Minho's arms and huddled back over the half constructed wings. Jinki worked as if compensating for his shortcomings, his frailty. "The king picked you, Minho-yah, and I had to watch you, in the maze, with that poor beast," and there were burns on Jinki's fingers, roughened from his work. "I can't let that happen."
Jinki was right, and Minho didn't know what to do.
Sometimes Minho watched him. The moon anchored itself onto Jinki's back, casting shadows on the welts across his spine and ribs and intersecting across each other like a map, maybe their map home, maybe one that would lead Jinki back to him. Minho couldn't read it anymore, either way.
They slept in the dark, hoarding candles under their bed for Jinki to assemble their wings out of. Once a month during the new moon Jinki would be invisible, too dark and too far into the corner for Minho to discern.
Jinki was far away from him those nights. No jokes about Minho getting competitive and flying too close to the sun, nothing about Jinki falling into the sea and sinking. That was when Athens felt like a dream and Jinki along with it, like everything beyond Crete was a static, and the sun would never rise, and Jinki would never stop working.
Sometimes Minho didn't watch him. Sometimes Minho coaxed Jinki back onto their makeshift bed with kisses on his shoulders and down Jinki's back and fingertips invisible over the burns on Jinki's hands. The hay irritated Jinki's skin, battle scars before the battle had even begun.
Jinki was good at what he did. The waxy down of the wings were just light enough to catch the wind, but secure enough not to fall apart. When the wings were almost complete, another prisoner, Kibum, told Minho to be careful. To watch what the journey home would cost. Kibum gave him a pitying look, as though he already knew what would happen.
Jinki was small in his arms that night, eyelids fluttering in sleep. Minho knew home was where the heart was. Between him and Kibum, Minho knew one of them had to be wrong.