Drabbles
Let's talk about love
Title: Let's talk about love
Pairing: Chenhun (jongdae/sehun)
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff,
Length: Drabble
Summary: Sehun loves the way Jongdae talks about love.
[Sehun loves how Jongdae still talks about love without even opening his mouth.]Sehun loves the way Jongdae talks about love.
He says love is not about destiny and being lovestruck from the very first glance: it's about learning how to be truly good for each other even when time passes by and everything changes. It's something you build not something you find. He talks about sparkles but not fire: he says passion is beautiful but dangerous and just because it makes you feel like a bright star doesn't mean it's good for you. After all, stars shine only because they're dying and it may be spectacular and powerful, it's still the end of their stories. Jongdae says there's nothing wrong with wanting something that would last, that he’d rather slip out of the world softly and quietly than implode with a loud bang.
Sehun loves how Jongdae talks about it with his body as well.
He does not only talk about softness and peacefulness: he becomes the feeling he’s trying to describe. His voice is like a gentle caress that wraps itself behind your ear where you can still find it whenever it’s cold and you feel lonely. Jongdae does not only whisper about always being there: he leaves marks and memories of burnings fingers against skin behind him and sometimes his presence is so strong, so overwhelming that Sehun thinks he may be about to understand what love really is about.
Sehun loves how Jongdae still talks about love without even opening his mouth.
He grabs Sehun’s hand under the table and links their fingers and Sehun feels like he’s not the maknae anymore but someone Jongdae trusts to understand what he’s trying to show. Sometimes he lies down next to him in the middle of the night and curls up against his side before letting his fingers run through Sehun’s hair. It hits Sehun, then, how they would have never done that when they first met and it makes him smile because it does sound a lot like building and not waiting for it to happen.
Sehun really loves the way Jongdae talks about love.
And he loves being the only one who hears all those stories.
But most of all, Sehun loves how falling in love with Jongdae is so graceful and easy, how softly it happens when he finally realizes he understands.
“It’s not really about sparkles either you know,” he finally whispers one night and Jongdae looks up to him without letting Sehun’s hand go. “I’d say it’s more.. It’s more like feathers,” adds the youngest, thinking.
Jongdae smiles.
He really loves how Sehun talks about love.
Fate
Title: Fate
Pairing: jongin/kyungsoo
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance,
Length: Drabble
Summary: Fate, noun, /fāt / : 1. Be destined to happen, turn out, or actin a particular way.
[They say fate is some kind of bigger plan, a divine creature that plays with ropes and knots. They say it’s something huge and epic, something definitely too massive and complex for us to fathom.]Fate, noun, /fāt /
1. Be destined to happen, turn out, or actin a particular way.
They say fate is some kind of bigger plan, a divine creature that plays with ropes and knots. They say it’s something huge and epic, something definitely too massive and complex for us to fathom.
But they're wrong.
Fate is everything but drum rolls and prophecy written in the night sky. Fate is in the tiny things. Fate is in the sudden need Sehun and Jongin have to start a pillow fight, it’s in the way Jongin's alarm clock falls to the floor when Sehun's pillow hits it. Fate is also somewhere in Sehun's laugh when he promises Jongin he'll buy him a new one and yes a better one just stop hitting me dickhead!
Sometimes fate looks like Krong, just like the one on the brand new yellow alarm clock Sehun brings home to a very not-amused Jongin the day after. Jongin plugs it in mumbling about how Sehun is too stingy to buy him a real alarm clock that works on battery.
Fate is violent and powerful sometimes, just like the lightning that makes the ground trembles a couple of blocks away from the campus causing a fifteen-minute long blackout. Fate is simple, soft and quiet, but also unavoidable just like how the numbers fade away on Jongin’s new alarm clock. When the power comes back, four bright red zeros keep flickering.
When Jongin finally wakes up, memories of promising dreams still lingering on the top of his tongue, he can sense something is wrong. But instead of jerking out of his bed when he realizes he’s one hour and a half late, he just grins and even takes his time to get ready. Today is just one of those days and it may be raining really hard outside, there’s something about the tension hanging in the air, the tiny pinch of electricity that breaks the usual rhythmic of his pulse. His heart sings a whole different song now, a faster one which, however, keeps slowing down his pace.
Fate is definitely somewhere between Jongin’s uncertainty and impatience.
It’s raining but Jongin keeps walking down the alleys, heading towards his building, so late for dance practice he’s probably not going to dance at all. But then again, nothing really seems to darken his mood today, not even the distant rolls of thunder or the splash that breaks the monotonous sound of raindrops drowning the world around him when he steps in a water puddle. He’s all alone under the rain, wet clothes sticking against his skin, but he feels free and complete. At this moment, he’s the only one that gets to choose where the world begins and where it ends and he makes it start where his thoughts blossom and end where his fingertips twirl around in the air. He sketches borders and edges to make the world his.
He does feel fate crawling at his feet but he misinterprets it as ecstasy as he looks up to the stormy sky, grinning widely.
And then it happens. Quietly and softly, despite the yelp of surprise that breaks Jongin’s reverie as he bumps into someone else. Fate hits him, finally clenching his heart, making it pound erratically in his chest as he looks down to a very surprised owl-eyed boy. For the first time ever, Jongin actually recognizes fate when it comes to him in the already too-familiar mix of words ringing through his mind. I found you, he thinks.
The shorter male smiles at him, first shyly, and then widely, his lips burning a heart-shaped smile into Jongin’s retinas and this time, Jongin greets fate like an old friend.
They say fate is some kind of bigger plan, a divine creature that plays with ropes and knots. They say it’s something huge and epic, something definitely too massive and complex for us to fathom.
But Jongin knows they’re wrong.
Fate is in the space between Kyungsoo’s fingers he soon seizes, blushing. It’s in the way their bodies entangled themselves under the sheets. Fate sounds like Kyungsoo’s laugh, it lingers in the air like Kyungsoo’s voice, it smells like Kyungsoo’s hair.
Fate is that sudden thunderstorm that hits Seoul when they first kiss.
Ending
Title: Ending
Pairing: baekhyun/chanyeol
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Length: Drabble
Summary: Baekhyun is a dreamer but everything changes when he meets Park Chanyeol
[When Baekhyun goes to bed, he thinks about endings because he learned through hours of reading that endings are everyone’s life’s purpose. The happily ever after part always happens just before the big bolded ‘end’. Endings mean intertwined fingers, warm palm pressed against soft skin, hearts beating out of time and feeling complete and genuinely happy.]Baekhyun is a dreamer.
He thinks that happy endings are still the best way to end a story. He reads books that make him smile and dream, books with a delicate scent of love story, with revisited definitions of the lovesick virus. His favorite movie is -and always will be- Pretty Woman. Well, it could be Moulin Rouge, really, but Baekhyun can’t handle the tears, the loss and the feeling of helplessness. He usually skips the last part of the dvd, stopping the movie at longing gazes and happy smiles, confetti and happy songs.
When Baekhyun goes to bed, he thinks about endings because he learned through hours of reading that endings are everyone’s life’s purpose. The happily ever after part always happens just before the big bolded ‘end’. Endings mean intertwined fingers, warm palm pressed against soft skin, hearts beating out of time and feeling complete and genuinely happy. So when Baekhyun finally closes his eyes, sleep taking over his body, there are three little letters craved in the inside of his eyelids. End.
But everything changes when he meets Park Chanyeol.
It takes weeks to become more than just Baekhyun for Chanyeol, it takes hundreds of smiles, billions of hours spent together, it takes a lot of secrets and a huge amount of complicity that Baekhyun doesn’t even notice until he wakes up one morning and Chanyeol is all he thinks about and all he breathes. Finally, one day, Chanyeol leans over and Baekhyun reads his happily ever after in the hazelnut depths of Chanyeol’s eyes.
Chanyeol cups his cheek with one hand and they kiss. They kiss once, they kiss twice, they kiss until the daylight becomes the moonlight, they kiss until they forget how air isn’t only provided by each other’s mouths. They kiss and nothing stops, there’s no big bolded ‘end’ hanging in the air above their heads and the story goes on.
Books didn’t tell Baekhyun how funny it would be to try and cope with Chanyeol’s supernatural height for their first night together. They try not less than twenty positions and laugh for more than one hour, while Kyungsoo, Baekhyun’s roomate, probably contemplates a double murder. Stories didn’t warm him against the sudden ache in his heart when he notices how Chanyeol’s smile is different when he smiles for him only. Just like that, with each day passing by, the story goes on. Adrenaline rushes become habits and Baekhyun figures it’s for the best. He’d rather come back to his room knowing that Chanyeol would already be there, playing on his old game boy, long legs spread on the mattress, than wondering when he’d see his favorite giant again. Chanyeol becomes a long list of habits and likes, he becomes a map Baekhyun could draw in the dead of the night, he becomes his shelter and his home. Chanyeol is nothing like a mystery, nothing like an end to Baekhyun’s story and when Baekkyun falls asleep, curled up in the only position that works for the two of them in that bed, Chanyeol’s name is now the only thing craved inside of his eyelids.
Baekhyun reads the final bolded ‘end’ on the latest book he bought and sighs. Stories never tell how happily ever after is actually a beginning. Chanyeol snores in his sleep next to him, kicking Baekhyun out of his thoughts and he smiles fondly.
He kinda wish they would, though. It’s the best freaking part.
Spattered Canvas
Title: Spattered canvas
Pairing: junmyeon/yixing
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Length: Drabble
Summary: “You look like a canvas an artist spattered with his anger,” Yixing murmurs, fingers pressed on Junmyeon’s cheekbone. Junmyeon quivers.
It’s nicely phrased.
[Junmyeon is tired of the seconds that somehow turned into years somewhere along the way.]“One, two ...” Yixing whispers and Junmyeon shivers as he feels Yixing’s fingers dancing on his skin. He closes his eyes as the pain takes over when Yixing stops his hand on another bruise. But Yixing’s touch is delicate and healing and Junmyeon pretends there are flowers blooming on the tips of his finger, covering dark explosions on pale skin.
“This one looks like a lake.” adds Yixing, soft voice watering the flowers Junmyeon sees in his mind. Yixing moves his fingers and plays connect the dots on Junmyeon’s back. “And there are puddles of water all around it.”
Junmyeon uses his eyelids as a background as he imagines a lake glittering under the summer’s sun. He tries to picture it through Yixing’s eyes because his vision is shattered and twisted, altered by years and years spent looking at his own feet, his head held low. He thinks the lake would look nice with hills and trees all around it, hidden from everyone but the two of them. It’d be a good and peaceful shelter. The familiar scent makes his nose crinkle and he chews on his under lip, waiting for the relief the pomade Yixing is now spreading on his back is supposed to bring him. But it always takes a second too long and Junmyeon is tired of the seconds that somehow turned into years somewhere along the way.
Yixing softly grabs his chin and makes him turn to face him. Junmyeon realizes his eyes are now open again as he takes in Yixing’s beauty, alabaster skin and delicate features, curvy lips and discreet dimple. He wastes no time looking for pity in the hazelnut bottomless pits that stare right at him. Pity and judgment have never been on the list of words he could use to describe Yixing.
“You look like a canvas an artist spattered with his anger,” Yixing murmurs, fingers pressed on Junmyeon’s cheekbone. Junmyeon quivers. It’s nicely phrased, he thinks. Yixing never says anything about the said-artist, he only talks about Junmyeon, about how he’s still beautiful and whole under the layers of shame and disillusion. His words are always open and he ends up every sentence like a question, as if it wasn’t the end already. But really, Junmyeon isn’t the galaxy, he’s not covered in beautiful nebulas, celestial explosions of blue and violet on the curves of his body. No. He’s painted with pain and humiliation and Yixing’s patient intonations don’t change a single thing because it really is the end and he’s just plain broken.
Yixing stays silent as he keeps staring at him and Junmyeon can feel his waiting. There are plenty of things he wants to say and he dreamed of this moment a billion times. He would start with the endless list of words Yixing was made to be the definition of, he would be the one touching him for once. He’d find patterns and landscapes on Yixing’s skin, just like Yixing always did with his bruises, and he’d make every mole have sense. He would read stories on the curves of Yixing’s body before whispering them in his ear and he would make the quiet interrogations in his voice go away.
But Junmyeon doesn’t trust himself. Yixing leaves flowers behind him and Junmyeon can only break. Yixing is whole and alive and Junmyeon is broken and already buried in the grave he dug with his own hands.
So he stays quiet.
Yixing sighs and dips his fingers in the pomade before taking care of Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon lets the pain take over his body, tearing his numbness apart. He used to wonder what happened, he used to cry because of the loss, not exactly knowing what he lost but feeling it was too important to be fixed anyway. But then came more bruises, more punches and he stopped wondering. Now he secretly wishes he could see his body as a part of the night sky, small pieces of constellations printed on his skin. He kinda wishes he could see himself as Yixing does, in things that can be fixed instead of things that always will be broken.
Junmyeon is used to the pain: it became the blood in his veins, the only thing that makes him feel alive, so he keeps wishing, knowing it’s too late anyway. But there is one thing he bans himself from thinking about because that kind of pain would end him right away…
… How wonderful and glorious, smooth and dreamy everything would have been if he had been brave enough to let Yixing take him away.
Title: Let's talk about love
Pairing: Chenhun (jongdae/sehun)
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff,
Length: Drabble
Summary: Sehun loves the way Jongdae talks about love.
[Sehun loves how Jongdae still talks about love without even opening his mouth.]Sehun loves the way Jongdae talks about love.
He says love is not about destiny and being lovestruck from the very first glance: it's about learning how to be truly good for each other even when time passes by and everything changes. It's something you build not something you find. He talks about sparkles but not fire: he says passion is beautiful but dangerous and just because it makes you feel like a bright star doesn't mean it's good for you. After all, stars shine only because they're dying and it may be spectacular and powerful, it's still the end of their stories. Jongdae says there's nothing wrong with wanting something that would last, that he’d rather slip out of the world softly and quietly than implode with a loud bang.
Sehun loves how Jongdae talks about it with his body as well.
He does not only talk about softness and peacefulness: he becomes the feeling he’s trying to describe. His voice is like a gentle caress that wraps itself behind your ear where you can still find it whenever it’s cold and you feel lonely. Jongdae does not only whisper about always being there: he leaves marks and memories of burnings fingers against skin behind him and sometimes his presence is so strong, so overwhelming that Sehun thinks he may be about to understand what love really is about.
Sehun loves how Jongdae still talks about love without even opening his mouth.
He grabs Sehun’s hand under the table and links their fingers and Sehun feels like he’s not the maknae anymore but someone Jongdae trusts to understand what he’s trying to show. Sometimes he lies down next to him in the middle of the night and curls up against his side before letting his fingers run through Sehun’s hair. It hits Sehun, then, how they would have never done that when they first met and it makes him smile because it does sound a lot like building and not waiting for it to happen.
Sehun really loves the way Jongdae talks about love.
And he loves being the only one who hears all those stories.
But most of all, Sehun loves how falling in love with Jongdae is so graceful and easy, how softly it happens when he finally realizes he understands.
“It’s not really about sparkles either you know,” he finally whispers one night and Jongdae looks up to him without letting Sehun’s hand go. “I’d say it’s more.. It’s more like feathers,” adds the youngest, thinking.
Jongdae smiles.
He really loves how Sehun talks about love.
Fate
Title: Fate
Pairing: jongin/kyungsoo
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance,
Length: Drabble
Summary: Fate, noun, /fāt / : 1. Be destined to happen, turn out, or actin a particular way.
[They say fate is some kind of bigger plan, a divine creature that plays with ropes and knots. They say it’s something huge and epic, something definitely too massive and complex for us to fathom.]Fate, noun, /fāt /
1. Be destined to happen, turn out, or actin a particular way.
They say fate is some kind of bigger plan, a divine creature that plays with ropes and knots. They say it’s something huge and epic, something definitely too massive and complex for us to fathom.
But they're wrong.
Fate is everything but drum rolls and prophecy written in the night sky. Fate is in the tiny things. Fate is in the sudden need Sehun and Jongin have to start a pillow fight, it’s in the way Jongin's alarm clock falls to the floor when Sehun's pillow hits it. Fate is also somewhere in Sehun's laugh when he promises Jongin he'll buy him a new one and yes a better one just stop hitting me dickhead!
Sometimes fate looks like Krong, just like the one on the brand new yellow alarm clock Sehun brings home to a very not-amused Jongin the day after. Jongin plugs it in mumbling about how Sehun is too stingy to buy him a real alarm clock that works on battery.
Fate is violent and powerful sometimes, just like the lightning that makes the ground trembles a couple of blocks away from the campus causing a fifteen-minute long blackout. Fate is simple, soft and quiet, but also unavoidable just like how the numbers fade away on Jongin’s new alarm clock. When the power comes back, four bright red zeros keep flickering.
When Jongin finally wakes up, memories of promising dreams still lingering on the top of his tongue, he can sense something is wrong. But instead of jerking out of his bed when he realizes he’s one hour and a half late, he just grins and even takes his time to get ready. Today is just one of those days and it may be raining really hard outside, there’s something about the tension hanging in the air, the tiny pinch of electricity that breaks the usual rhythmic of his pulse. His heart sings a whole different song now, a faster one which, however, keeps slowing down his pace.
Fate is definitely somewhere between Jongin’s uncertainty and impatience.
It’s raining but Jongin keeps walking down the alleys, heading towards his building, so late for dance practice he’s probably not going to dance at all. But then again, nothing really seems to darken his mood today, not even the distant rolls of thunder or the splash that breaks the monotonous sound of raindrops drowning the world around him when he steps in a water puddle. He’s all alone under the rain, wet clothes sticking against his skin, but he feels free and complete. At this moment, he’s the only one that gets to choose where the world begins and where it ends and he makes it start where his thoughts blossom and end where his fingertips twirl around in the air. He sketches borders and edges to make the world his.
He does feel fate crawling at his feet but he misinterprets it as ecstasy as he looks up to the stormy sky, grinning widely.
And then it happens. Quietly and softly, despite the yelp of surprise that breaks Jongin’s reverie as he bumps into someone else. Fate hits him, finally clenching his heart, making it pound erratically in his chest as he looks down to a very surprised owl-eyed boy. For the first time ever, Jongin actually recognizes fate when it comes to him in the already too-familiar mix of words ringing through his mind. I found you, he thinks.
The shorter male smiles at him, first shyly, and then widely, his lips burning a heart-shaped smile into Jongin’s retinas and this time, Jongin greets fate like an old friend.
They say fate is some kind of bigger plan, a divine creature that plays with ropes and knots. They say it’s something huge and epic, something definitely too massive and complex for us to fathom.
But Jongin knows they’re wrong.
Fate is in the space between Kyungsoo’s fingers he soon seizes, blushing. It’s in the way their bodies entangled themselves under the sheets. Fate sounds like Kyungsoo’s laugh, it lingers in the air like Kyungsoo’s voice, it smells like Kyungsoo’s hair.
Fate is that sudden thunderstorm that hits Seoul when they first kiss.
Ending
Title: Ending
Pairing: baekhyun/chanyeol
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Length: Drabble
Summary: Baekhyun is a dreamer but everything changes when he meets Park Chanyeol
[When Baekhyun goes to bed, he thinks about endings because he learned through hours of reading that endings are everyone’s life’s purpose. The happily ever after part always happens just before the big bolded ‘end’. Endings mean intertwined fingers, warm palm pressed against soft skin, hearts beating out of time and feeling complete and genuinely happy.]Baekhyun is a dreamer.
He thinks that happy endings are still the best way to end a story. He reads books that make him smile and dream, books with a delicate scent of love story, with revisited definitions of the lovesick virus. His favorite movie is -and always will be- Pretty Woman. Well, it could be Moulin Rouge, really, but Baekhyun can’t handle the tears, the loss and the feeling of helplessness. He usually skips the last part of the dvd, stopping the movie at longing gazes and happy smiles, confetti and happy songs.
When Baekhyun goes to bed, he thinks about endings because he learned through hours of reading that endings are everyone’s life’s purpose. The happily ever after part always happens just before the big bolded ‘end’. Endings mean intertwined fingers, warm palm pressed against soft skin, hearts beating out of time and feeling complete and genuinely happy. So when Baekhyun finally closes his eyes, sleep taking over his body, there are three little letters craved in the inside of his eyelids. End.
But everything changes when he meets Park Chanyeol.
It takes weeks to become more than just Baekhyun for Chanyeol, it takes hundreds of smiles, billions of hours spent together, it takes a lot of secrets and a huge amount of complicity that Baekhyun doesn’t even notice until he wakes up one morning and Chanyeol is all he thinks about and all he breathes. Finally, one day, Chanyeol leans over and Baekhyun reads his happily ever after in the hazelnut depths of Chanyeol’s eyes.
Chanyeol cups his cheek with one hand and they kiss. They kiss once, they kiss twice, they kiss until the daylight becomes the moonlight, they kiss until they forget how air isn’t only provided by each other’s mouths. They kiss and nothing stops, there’s no big bolded ‘end’ hanging in the air above their heads and the story goes on.
Books didn’t tell Baekhyun how funny it would be to try and cope with Chanyeol’s supernatural height for their first night together. They try not less than twenty positions and laugh for more than one hour, while Kyungsoo, Baekhyun’s roomate, probably contemplates a double murder. Stories didn’t warm him against the sudden ache in his heart when he notices how Chanyeol’s smile is different when he smiles for him only. Just like that, with each day passing by, the story goes on. Adrenaline rushes become habits and Baekhyun figures it’s for the best. He’d rather come back to his room knowing that Chanyeol would already be there, playing on his old game boy, long legs spread on the mattress, than wondering when he’d see his favorite giant again. Chanyeol becomes a long list of habits and likes, he becomes a map Baekhyun could draw in the dead of the night, he becomes his shelter and his home. Chanyeol is nothing like a mystery, nothing like an end to Baekhyun’s story and when Baekkyun falls asleep, curled up in the only position that works for the two of them in that bed, Chanyeol’s name is now the only thing craved inside of his eyelids.
Baekhyun reads the final bolded ‘end’ on the latest book he bought and sighs. Stories never tell how happily ever after is actually a beginning. Chanyeol snores in his sleep next to him, kicking Baekhyun out of his thoughts and he smiles fondly.
He kinda wish they would, though. It’s the best freaking part.
Spattered Canvas
Title: Spattered canvas
Pairing: junmyeon/yixing
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Length: Drabble
Summary: “You look like a canvas an artist spattered with his anger,” Yixing murmurs, fingers pressed on Junmyeon’s cheekbone. Junmyeon quivers.
It’s nicely phrased.
[Junmyeon is tired of the seconds that somehow turned into years somewhere along the way.]“One, two ...” Yixing whispers and Junmyeon shivers as he feels Yixing’s fingers dancing on his skin. He closes his eyes as the pain takes over when Yixing stops his hand on another bruise. But Yixing’s touch is delicate and healing and Junmyeon pretends there are flowers blooming on the tips of his finger, covering dark explosions on pale skin.
“This one looks like a lake.” adds Yixing, soft voice watering the flowers Junmyeon sees in his mind. Yixing moves his fingers and plays connect the dots on Junmyeon’s back. “And there are puddles of water all around it.”
Junmyeon uses his eyelids as a background as he imagines a lake glittering under the summer’s sun. He tries to picture it through Yixing’s eyes because his vision is shattered and twisted, altered by years and years spent looking at his own feet, his head held low. He thinks the lake would look nice with hills and trees all around it, hidden from everyone but the two of them. It’d be a good and peaceful shelter. The familiar scent makes his nose crinkle and he chews on his under lip, waiting for the relief the pomade Yixing is now spreading on his back is supposed to bring him. But it always takes a second too long and Junmyeon is tired of the seconds that somehow turned into years somewhere along the way.
Yixing softly grabs his chin and makes him turn to face him. Junmyeon realizes his eyes are now open again as he takes in Yixing’s beauty, alabaster skin and delicate features, curvy lips and discreet dimple. He wastes no time looking for pity in the hazelnut bottomless pits that stare right at him. Pity and judgment have never been on the list of words he could use to describe Yixing.
“You look like a canvas an artist spattered with his anger,” Yixing murmurs, fingers pressed on Junmyeon’s cheekbone. Junmyeon quivers. It’s nicely phrased, he thinks. Yixing never says anything about the said-artist, he only talks about Junmyeon, about how he’s still beautiful and whole under the layers of shame and disillusion. His words are always open and he ends up every sentence like a question, as if it wasn’t the end already. But really, Junmyeon isn’t the galaxy, he’s not covered in beautiful nebulas, celestial explosions of blue and violet on the curves of his body. No. He’s painted with pain and humiliation and Yixing’s patient intonations don’t change a single thing because it really is the end and he’s just plain broken.
Yixing stays silent as he keeps staring at him and Junmyeon can feel his waiting. There are plenty of things he wants to say and he dreamed of this moment a billion times. He would start with the endless list of words Yixing was made to be the definition of, he would be the one touching him for once. He’d find patterns and landscapes on Yixing’s skin, just like Yixing always did with his bruises, and he’d make every mole have sense. He would read stories on the curves of Yixing’s body before whispering them in his ear and he would make the quiet interrogations in his voice go away.
But Junmyeon doesn’t trust himself. Yixing leaves flowers behind him and Junmyeon can only break. Yixing is whole and alive and Junmyeon is broken and already buried in the grave he dug with his own hands.
So he stays quiet.
Yixing sighs and dips his fingers in the pomade before taking care of Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon lets the pain take over his body, tearing his numbness apart. He used to wonder what happened, he used to cry because of the loss, not exactly knowing what he lost but feeling it was too important to be fixed anyway. But then came more bruises, more punches and he stopped wondering. Now he secretly wishes he could see his body as a part of the night sky, small pieces of constellations printed on his skin. He kinda wishes he could see himself as Yixing does, in things that can be fixed instead of things that always will be broken.
Junmyeon is used to the pain: it became the blood in his veins, the only thing that makes him feel alive, so he keeps wishing, knowing it’s too late anyway. But there is one thing he bans himself from thinking about because that kind of pain would end him right away…
… How wonderful and glorious, smooth and dreamy everything would have been if he had been brave enough to let Yixing take him away.