whiteout
pairing: yoochun/junsu (or not?)
length: drabble
prompt: scarf, asked by yielinghuai
a/n: i haven't written in ages. i have no excuse - i'm sorry. special thanks to divya for tolerating me while i whined incessantly about this one.
summary: you think you can fly but you know you will fall.
whiteout
You sit with your feet flat on the ground, tap tap tap your fingers to the sound of the water dripping in the kitchen sink. The coffee is bitter, hot, and it burns on its way down your throat. Your phone is in the bedroom somewhere, ringing itself into silence. The caller is anonymous. There is no voicemail.
The windshield is frosted with ice. Rehearsals start in an hour. It is too early, too dark, too wet to practice, but you need to make sure you can regurgitate the lyrics the same way you recorded them. A red light - you slam your breaks. There is an ice patch ahead of you and the car skids.
Friendship is a fleeting memory. A cocky smirk, a mocking laugh. He bought you a scarf once. You wanted to strangle him with it.
Distance is an inevitable eventuality you have finally learned to accept. Even your shadow tries to rip itself off by the seams. Tonight the silence echoes through the empty room with your back curling and unfurling on cold satin sheets until you give up the fight and let your lungs give out. The world fades into black.
You are shooting for a winter theme today. You greet him curtly when you arrive, leave two spaces between your things and his. What happened to us? he mumbles somewhere in between makeup and costumes. You pull your sweatshirt over your head, pretend you can't hear him, pretend you don't blame him.
Your mouth feels like sandpaper as you stare at the ceiling, tired. There is a crack in the wall that branches from one into two into dozens and dozens and dozens of fissures - so many and so faint that they bleed into the white and you lose count and give up. It reminds you of the way this started, of where you are now. There is no fear and there is no comfort. You think you can fly but you know you will fall. There is no glamour in love.
length: drabble
prompt: scarf, asked by yielinghuai
a/n: i haven't written in ages. i have no excuse - i'm sorry. special thanks to divya for tolerating me while i whined incessantly about this one.
summary: you think you can fly but you know you will fall.
whiteout
You sit with your feet flat on the ground, tap tap tap your fingers to the sound of the water dripping in the kitchen sink. The coffee is bitter, hot, and it burns on its way down your throat. Your phone is in the bedroom somewhere, ringing itself into silence. The caller is anonymous. There is no voicemail.
The windshield is frosted with ice. Rehearsals start in an hour. It is too early, too dark, too wet to practice, but you need to make sure you can regurgitate the lyrics the same way you recorded them. A red light - you slam your breaks. There is an ice patch ahead of you and the car skids.
Friendship is a fleeting memory. A cocky smirk, a mocking laugh. He bought you a scarf once. You wanted to strangle him with it.
Distance is an inevitable eventuality you have finally learned to accept. Even your shadow tries to rip itself off by the seams. Tonight the silence echoes through the empty room with your back curling and unfurling on cold satin sheets until you give up the fight and let your lungs give out. The world fades into black.
You are shooting for a winter theme today. You greet him curtly when you arrive, leave two spaces between your things and his. What happened to us? he mumbles somewhere in between makeup and costumes. You pull your sweatshirt over your head, pretend you can't hear him, pretend you don't blame him.
Your mouth feels like sandpaper as you stare at the ceiling, tired. There is a crack in the wall that branches from one into two into dozens and dozens and dozens of fissures - so many and so faint that they bleed into the white and you lose count and give up. It reminds you of the way this started, of where you are now. There is no fear and there is no comfort. You think you can fly but you know you will fall. There is no glamour in love.