A Title Will Ruin It [Drabble]
Title: A Title Will Ruin It
Pairing: Sehun/Kai
Rating: PG-15
Prompt: i. picture
Length: ~600 w
Summary: “It’s the quiet words that let the storms break loose.”
A/N: This has been written for the 6th challenge of aideshou but IT'S NOT THE FIC I'M PARTICIPATING WITH ANYMORE! Click > here< for the challenge fic! Hope you enjoy this little drabble even though it's a bit chaotic. x)
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“It’s the quiet words that let the storms break loose.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Whenever they meet it’s like they strip off of everything that defines them in the eye of all the others outside. They escape culture, society, expectations and the contorted reality of broken mirrors showing the painful difference between who you dream of being and who you became in the end. Outside is a world erected upon shards and smithereens.
The meetings are held in absolute quiet. Not the silence that cuts through one’s wrists and lets them bleed until someone finds the courage to break it. No, it’s the kind of quiet that heals, a wordless understanding of ‘did-you-miss-me’s and ‘forget-me-not’s as fingers gingerly twine.
It’s a metanoia they go through. Under the covering sheets, they die to be reborn, tainted - because what has been can’t be forgotten - but pure. They don’t just surrender to lust, it’s much more like making love. The soft touches, the time they invest in simply exploring but neither of them cares about big words, for labels don’t matter, a title would ruin it.
They just seek those little sparks of bliss that can’t be found in the quotidian fever of their preset lives. Washed away by the tides they mingle with the general flow, because it’s beyond their capabilities to strive against the stream, too tiring, so vain. But they find a bit of salvation when they meet at midnight, 23nd of September, on top of the little hill on the outskirts, under the covers.
Each year it’s the same ritual of the autumn equinox spent in another world, a parallel universe.
While for Sehun the time can’t pass fast enough until next time, to Kai it’s just another way to blight, stifle himself to cooperation for the coming 365-cycle. Every time their fingertips brush, with each caress and unspoken word when they feed of one another’s warmth, there’s a little part that doesn’t want to let go.
He’s being greedy but Kai knows Sehun must feel the same. It gets visible by the way the male pulls him even closer when they both know it’s time to part again.
Blue hours, they called it back in college under the moonlit late summer night with cheap liqueur and cigarettes clipped between fingers and shared between warm mouths. They never gave it much of a thought and what became habit mutated to addiction. Soon they were torn apart by premature delusions of a brighter tomorrow with a stable income and giggling children in the backyard. Because that's the final destination to reach after university.
In the end, it’s easier to pretend but what has grown to be an obsession can’t be extinguished. Eventually, their ritual lived on as wives are left waiting in empty bedrooms in middle class houses.
It’s a reincarnation of sorts; a rebirth at the brighter end of the day, another death on the darker beginning of dawn. It’s been years lived in denial but one night a year, when they shut the world out, hidden in a cocoon of blankets and woven hushes, they admit. Though, one word and the spell would be broken.
Stay.
Though, striving against the stream is too exhausting, too dramatic. So when morning dawns they remain in absolute quiet. It’s a silence of the kind that cuts through wrists and slowly but surely lets them bleed white.
Pairing: Sehun/Kai
Rating: PG-15
Prompt: i. picture
Length: ~600 w
Summary: “It’s the quiet words that let the storms break loose.”
A/N: This has been written for the 6th challenge of aideshou but IT'S NOT THE FIC I'M PARTICIPATING WITH ANYMORE! Click > here< for the challenge fic! Hope you enjoy this little drabble even though it's a bit chaotic. x)
_______________________________________________________________________________
“It’s the quiet words that let the storms break loose.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Whenever they meet it’s like they strip off of everything that defines them in the eye of all the others outside. They escape culture, society, expectations and the contorted reality of broken mirrors showing the painful difference between who you dream of being and who you became in the end. Outside is a world erected upon shards and smithereens.
The meetings are held in absolute quiet. Not the silence that cuts through one’s wrists and lets them bleed until someone finds the courage to break it. No, it’s the kind of quiet that heals, a wordless understanding of ‘did-you-miss-me’s and ‘forget-me-not’s as fingers gingerly twine.
It’s a metanoia they go through. Under the covering sheets, they die to be reborn, tainted - because what has been can’t be forgotten - but pure. They don’t just surrender to lust, it’s much more like making love. The soft touches, the time they invest in simply exploring but neither of them cares about big words, for labels don’t matter, a title would ruin it.
They just seek those little sparks of bliss that can’t be found in the quotidian fever of their preset lives. Washed away by the tides they mingle with the general flow, because it’s beyond their capabilities to strive against the stream, too tiring, so vain. But they find a bit of salvation when they meet at midnight, 23nd of September, on top of the little hill on the outskirts, under the covers.
Each year it’s the same ritual of the autumn equinox spent in another world, a parallel universe.
While for Sehun the time can’t pass fast enough until next time, to Kai it’s just another way to blight, stifle himself to cooperation for the coming 365-cycle. Every time their fingertips brush, with each caress and unspoken word when they feed of one another’s warmth, there’s a little part that doesn’t want to let go.
He’s being greedy but Kai knows Sehun must feel the same. It gets visible by the way the male pulls him even closer when they both know it’s time to part again.
Blue hours, they called it back in college under the moonlit late summer night with cheap liqueur and cigarettes clipped between fingers and shared between warm mouths. They never gave it much of a thought and what became habit mutated to addiction. Soon they were torn apart by premature delusions of a brighter tomorrow with a stable income and giggling children in the backyard. Because that's the final destination to reach after university.
In the end, it’s easier to pretend but what has grown to be an obsession can’t be extinguished. Eventually, their ritual lived on as wives are left waiting in empty bedrooms in middle class houses.
It’s a reincarnation of sorts; a rebirth at the brighter end of the day, another death on the darker beginning of dawn. It’s been years lived in denial but one night a year, when they shut the world out, hidden in a cocoon of blankets and woven hushes, they admit. Though, one word and the spell would be broken.
Stay.
Though, striving against the stream is too exhausting, too dramatic. So when morning dawns they remain in absolute quiet. It’s a silence of the kind that cuts through wrists and slowly but surely lets them bleed white.