post #31
TL;DR RULES
1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else
2. use the subject line to indicate pairing (in alphabetical order using stage names i.e.baekhyun/chanyeol) prompt details go in the comment.
3. use necessary content warnings
4. do not embed on meme. link to images/videos. label nsfw content.
5. do not repost prompts ( Read more... )
1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else
2. use the subject line to indicate pairing (in alphabetical order using stage names i.e.baekhyun/chanyeol) prompt details go in the comment.
3. use necessary content warnings
4. do not embed on meme. link to images/videos. label nsfw content.
5. do not repost prompts ( Read more... )
He counts three inhales and two exhales before Sehun speaks.
‘Couldn’t make it in France,’ he says, and there it is again, that sick wave of I’m finally first, I’m finally doing better than Sehun, but Jongin wonders how long that’s going to last. ‘So Father wanted me to come back here. Study economics or something. It’s a long way to fall from Europe, isn’t it?’
Sehun’s hands are trembling, holding too tightly onto the chains of the swings so Jongin pries his fingers off and threads them through his. Sehun’s hands are freezing; his are warm. And even though they aren’t as close as they were before, it still seems right that their hands fit perfectly together and it’s reassuring simply to hold a part of Sehun because they’ve been apart for far too long. The feelings come rushing back, hits Jongin with the force of a tidal wave-the warm swooping feeling in his belly that’s something more than just ‘like’, something akin to ‘love’. Sehun doesn’t try to pull away but he presses their fingers together harder and it’s obvious that he’s thinking the same thing. He wants this too; he wants it to be like before. Before France, before college.
‘Is that what you want to do?’ Jongin asks, moving closer to their knees touch. ‘Studying economics? You’ve never…it’s always been dancing for you.’
It’s always been dance for both of them, but only Sehun’s ever had enough courage to reach his dreams.
‘Clearly what I want never works out so y’know. Here I am,’ says Sehun and he wriggles his hand out of Jongin’s grasp, reaching into his pocket for a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. The box is already open; he hits the bottom with the heel of his hand and a single stick falls out. He flicks the lighter, holds it to the end of the cigarette, and even with Sehun’s lips around orange and white, cracked and dry from the October chill, they look pale blue, enticing, and Jongin wants to kiss him, hard, to warm him up or maybe to kiss the life out of him. ‘Want one?’ Sehun asks when he notices Jongin staring at him.
Jongin shakes his head. He doesn’t smoke, thinks it’s possibly the stupidest thing on Earth to willingly give yourself lung cancer, but what works for him, right? Sehun scoffs quietly like Oh so I’m not good enough for you now, and somehow this makes Jongin the slightest bit angry because No, I wasn’t good enough for you in the first place and Nothing’s ever good enough for you, you pretentious sonuvabitch.
Sehun blows a stream of smoke into his face and he splutters on the wisps of lavender and grey. ‘Kiss me, idiot,’ Sehun says hoarsely, and Jongin does. Jongin lunges forward, kisses the oxygen out of his breath and curls a hand around his jaw, pressing fingers hard into his skin like he wants to leave a bruise, a mark that he’s done this. Sehun drops his cigarette onto the ground, barely a quarter through, crushing the dying embers with his heel, and kisses back with just as much fervour and desperation, claiming back what has been lost in the past year, and no, it’s not a fairytale kiss, not a kiss of Welcome home and I love you, it’s a kiss of God I missed this and I want you, I want you, I want you. It’s the fiery crash of two meteors colliding into each other, a mess of fireworks and explosions and tiny stars in the sky and bright lights in the galaxy and that is what this is.
Sehun slides a cold hand up Jongin’s sweater and Jongin’s stomach tightens at the sudden cold, his muscles fluttering against Sehun’s palm and he sighs into the kiss before Sehun slips his hand out again and rests it on Jongin’s crotch, feeling the warmth that seeps through the denim of his jeans.
‘Want to pick up where we left off last time?’ Sehun asks, his eyes glittering with something dangerous.
‘Yeah, okay,’ says Jongin, swallowing thickly.
Laughing, Sehun shakes his head and gives Jongin’s crotch a little pat. ‘Maybe later,’ he says. A typical Oh Sehun dick move, always leaving Jongin hanging and wanting more. Sehun smiles, takes out another cigarette and lights it, tilting the box towards Jongin as a silent offer, as compensation, as a truce.
At five am, child prodigy Oh Sehun is no longer a child prodigy; at five am, Kim Jongin is no longer his shadow.
This time, Jongin takes it.
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Well done, anon. ♥
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thank you for writing. <3
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also thanks for writing this ilu author-nim ♥♥♥ you're great for the fact that you can write this painstakingly beautiful piece with only that one link and your writing style is really nice ;A;
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