a nation of anthrax [prologue]
title: a nation of anthrax
pairing: kyungsoo/baekhyun
rating: pg-13 (cursing only)
genre: pleasant, i suppose
length: short
summary: affectation works both ways, oops.
at night, when kyungsoo’s bearing down on dark roads, running the trip to busan and back on fast-forward, everything feels like he’s crashing through walls of water, tsunamis sitting outside his ears. the light from the stars seems to be bent by refraction, and everything is hazy, just a series of warped perceptions caused by the medium. he’s swimming in the air, pulling feeble strokes against the nitrogen and oxygen, tasting metal in the ozone, tasting metal in his mouth. it’s like space has crushed down to meet him, its emptiness tickling in his alveoli, fogging up the glass.
pushing 180 on the freeway, the aching conscious, the heavy limbs make it hard to believe that he isn’t dreaming. everything moves like it’s falling through honey, and the thought comes creeping in, that if he dies right now, he won't die in real life.
because insomnia itself is like a dream, but instead of waking up, the dream drags on and on. the same road, the same stars, rushing past him in blurs, the same existence on infinite loop.
kyungsoo got started about four years ago when he bought a bugatti wholesale from a college friend. it was the start of the new year, three days after january first, and that past holiday season, kyungsoo had spent christmas eve in a laundromat watching ‘it’s a wonderful life’ on the flickering analogue set in the corner. lounging in a vinyl chair, watching swirls of shirts, dresses, and pants spin in the wall of white metal and chrome, he fell asleep.
at about three, the cashier shook him awake and, bubblegum snapping in his mouth, told him to get the fuck out. kyungsoo rubbed his eyes, gathered his wet clothes, and dragged himself home.
and he hasn't slept since. dyphenhydramine, triazolam, four years later and there seems to be no cure, just endless joyrides in the night, speeding down the empty highways that join seoul and busan like tenuous threads across a canyon.
pairing: kyungsoo/baekhyun
rating: pg-13 (cursing only)
genre: pleasant, i suppose
length: short
summary: affectation works both ways, oops.
at night, when kyungsoo’s bearing down on dark roads, running the trip to busan and back on fast-forward, everything feels like he’s crashing through walls of water, tsunamis sitting outside his ears. the light from the stars seems to be bent by refraction, and everything is hazy, just a series of warped perceptions caused by the medium. he’s swimming in the air, pulling feeble strokes against the nitrogen and oxygen, tasting metal in the ozone, tasting metal in his mouth. it’s like space has crushed down to meet him, its emptiness tickling in his alveoli, fogging up the glass.
pushing 180 on the freeway, the aching conscious, the heavy limbs make it hard to believe that he isn’t dreaming. everything moves like it’s falling through honey, and the thought comes creeping in, that if he dies right now, he won't die in real life.
because insomnia itself is like a dream, but instead of waking up, the dream drags on and on. the same road, the same stars, rushing past him in blurs, the same existence on infinite loop.
kyungsoo got started about four years ago when he bought a bugatti wholesale from a college friend. it was the start of the new year, three days after january first, and that past holiday season, kyungsoo had spent christmas eve in a laundromat watching ‘it’s a wonderful life’ on the flickering analogue set in the corner. lounging in a vinyl chair, watching swirls of shirts, dresses, and pants spin in the wall of white metal and chrome, he fell asleep.
at about three, the cashier shook him awake and, bubblegum snapping in his mouth, told him to get the fuck out. kyungsoo rubbed his eyes, gathered his wet clothes, and dragged himself home.
and he hasn't slept since. dyphenhydramine, triazolam, four years later and there seems to be no cure, just endless joyrides in the night, speeding down the empty highways that join seoul and busan like tenuous threads across a canyon.