the places we should have gone
disquieted
180w; g (donghae/sunye)
runaways at dawn.
the sun is right there. she can see it through the rearview mirror, pink, orange, and purple. they have all the windows rolled down, the cool, crisp morning air running its fingers through her hair as they speed down the empty highway.
“this is weird,” she yells. “noisy.” the wind whips against their t-shirts, engine hums beneath their feet. he envelops her hand in his and laughs, unrestrained, careless, free. his voice vibrates through their connected fingers.
“it’s our first morning together, sunye.” an easy smile turns the corners of his mouth up. the sun bathes them in creamy orange, long shadows splaying over the backseats. she sticks her hand out the window, covering the reflection of the sun in the side mirror. it makes her palm feel warm and tingly, heart swelling in her throat. unrestrained, careless, free.
she laughs. “i like the sound of that.” her hand squeezes his and they keep going, wind whipping against their t-shirts and engine humming beneath their feet. him, driving, and her, holding the sun through her side mirror, unrestrained, careless, free.
half alive
205w; pg-13 (seungah/kiseop)
leaning and depending, but not happy.
she can see the scars on his wrists. over and under and between, pale white lines that mar his skin. criss-cross applesauce, she thinks. when did it get so bad?
he turns to lay on his side. the dim light from her bedside lamp casts shadows in the contours of his bare back. she traces them with her index finger, lightly because she is scared that he will break. when did he get so bad?
“nobody loves me,” he mumbles into his arm. she leans closer into him, blonde hair tickling his skin. shut up, you don’t understand. she can feel him exhale, inhale, breathe. why don’t you understand? her fingers press into his cheeks, turning his eyes toward her.
“i love you.” her teeth are gritted, syllables harsh. it’s fucking tiring, loving you.
he stops. feels it, the weight of her heart, the burden he is putting on her. she cares, she really does, that’s why she’s still here telling you what you want to hear you dumbass, why can’t you accept it look at her she loves you -
her nails leave crescent indents on his face. and just like that, it’s gone.
“goodnight, seungah.” he turns off the lamp. i don’t believe you.
180w; g (donghae/sunye)
runaways at dawn.
the sun is right there. she can see it through the rearview mirror, pink, orange, and purple. they have all the windows rolled down, the cool, crisp morning air running its fingers through her hair as they speed down the empty highway.
“this is weird,” she yells. “noisy.” the wind whips against their t-shirts, engine hums beneath their feet. he envelops her hand in his and laughs, unrestrained, careless, free. his voice vibrates through their connected fingers.
“it’s our first morning together, sunye.” an easy smile turns the corners of his mouth up. the sun bathes them in creamy orange, long shadows splaying over the backseats. she sticks her hand out the window, covering the reflection of the sun in the side mirror. it makes her palm feel warm and tingly, heart swelling in her throat. unrestrained, careless, free.
she laughs. “i like the sound of that.” her hand squeezes his and they keep going, wind whipping against their t-shirts and engine humming beneath their feet. him, driving, and her, holding the sun through her side mirror, unrestrained, careless, free.
half alive
205w; pg-13 (seungah/kiseop)
leaning and depending, but not happy.
she can see the scars on his wrists. over and under and between, pale white lines that mar his skin. criss-cross applesauce, she thinks. when did it get so bad?
he turns to lay on his side. the dim light from her bedside lamp casts shadows in the contours of his bare back. she traces them with her index finger, lightly because she is scared that he will break. when did he get so bad?
“nobody loves me,” he mumbles into his arm. she leans closer into him, blonde hair tickling his skin. shut up, you don’t understand. she can feel him exhale, inhale, breathe. why don’t you understand? her fingers press into his cheeks, turning his eyes toward her.
“i love you.” her teeth are gritted, syllables harsh. it’s fucking tiring, loving you.
he stops. feels it, the weight of her heart, the burden he is putting on her. she cares, she really does, that’s why she’s still here telling you what you want to hear you dumbass, why can’t you accept it look at her she loves you -
her nails leave crescent indents on his face. and just like that, it’s gone.
“goodnight, seungah.” he turns off the lamp. i don’t believe you.