Untitled 001
Softly patting down the wrinkles in the sheet, eyes drifting closed, fluttering open with a smile. Dongwoo stirs, glancing to his side.
“Time to wake up!”
Sunlight and dust drifts in from the slats of the blinds, streaking the floor.
“I’m up…”
“Are you sure? You still look sleepy…”
Dongwoo fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand.
“Want me to get those for you?”
“It’s fine, I got it.”
He leans back against the headrest, shutting his eyes briefly.
“What are you going to do today?”
Dongwoo slips out of bed.
“Today is a special day.”
“Really?”
Dongwoo stands in front of the door.
“Well, are you going?”
He doesn’t know, but somehow, his hand makes it to the handle faster than his feet can turn around.
Cacophony, silence drifts by;
traffic, breaths, murmurs
footsteps like pattering rain
still life too early in the morning.
The supermarket air clogged with noise
He feels the weight of the nashi pear in his hand, fingers smoothing over the rough skin.
The bus rumbles down the road, Dongwoo making sure not to bruise the apples each time he lurches from his seat.
The scent of perfumed flowers strikes him.
“Oh? I gave that wallet to you!”
“You did.”
He extends his arm to receive the bouquet.
The bustle of the city quieting,
the hush of the mountains.
“It’s a long way to the top, can you make it?”
Dongwoo nudges his glasses, squinting up the long hill.
“Don’t worry about me.”
The sun, clinging on to the tops of the hilltops, the rolling grass stained in deep flames.
He takes a step.
“Want to know how otters sleep?”
He stirs drowsily, peering down into Chanshik’s smiling eyes.
“How?” he murmurs.
“Like this.”
The mattress dips as Chanshik wriggles up next to him, intertwining their hands.
“This way, they don’t lose each other.”
Dongwoo hums contentedly, turning over on to his side to throw an arm over Chanshik’s thin frame.
“You feel warm,” Chanshik whispers against Dongwoo’s chest, his eyes falling shut.
Dongwoo pulls him in closer.
Another step.
Running his fingers along hot skin, Dongwoo breathes heavily into the crook of his neck.
Sweat plasters their hair against their foreheads.
He holds tightly onto his arms, Chanshik’s legs wrapped even tighter around his waist,
his soft moans and cries.
Dongwoo presses closer, lifting his head to kiss him
moving slow,
filling every second in time
with him
Another.
“You’ll… come visit me… right? Promise…”
“I will.”
One more.
And he tells himself
“You promised”
but he goes no further than his front door
and fall, winter, spring
pass.
He’s almost there, and at the last second,
his footsteps falter.
Chanshik leans back
“I like nashi pears.”
Dongwoo can’t help it, and Chanshik knows, can see it in Dongwoo’s gritted smile, and eyes looking everywhere but at him,
but Chanshik doesn’t say anything.
“I know,” Dongwoo manages, the words accompanied by a shaky breath.
Clearing his throat, he takes the last steps forward.
“I’m here, Chanshik.”
Dongwoo sets down the plastic bag, smiling ruefully as he rubs his calves.
“Sorry they’re a little bruised. The bus ride was a little rough.”
He unconsciously pauses, waiting.
“I brought flowers too. I thought you might like them.”
The petals embrace the stone,
and his fears
of the empty spaces in time he used to fill,
and of the silence that will come
“Chanshik,
I’ll come back soon”
he lets them go
“Time to wake up!”
Sunlight and dust drifts in from the slats of the blinds, streaking the floor.
“I’m up…”
“Are you sure? You still look sleepy…”
Dongwoo fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand.
“Want me to get those for you?”
“It’s fine, I got it.”
He leans back against the headrest, shutting his eyes briefly.
“What are you going to do today?”
Dongwoo slips out of bed.
“Today is a special day.”
“Really?”
Dongwoo stands in front of the door.
“Well, are you going?”
He doesn’t know, but somehow, his hand makes it to the handle faster than his feet can turn around.
Cacophony, silence drifts by;
traffic, breaths, murmurs
footsteps like pattering rain
still life too early in the morning.
The supermarket air clogged with noise
He feels the weight of the nashi pear in his hand, fingers smoothing over the rough skin.
The bus rumbles down the road, Dongwoo making sure not to bruise the apples each time he lurches from his seat.
The scent of perfumed flowers strikes him.
“Oh? I gave that wallet to you!”
“You did.”
He extends his arm to receive the bouquet.
The bustle of the city quieting,
the hush of the mountains.
“It’s a long way to the top, can you make it?”
Dongwoo nudges his glasses, squinting up the long hill.
“Don’t worry about me.”
The sun, clinging on to the tops of the hilltops, the rolling grass stained in deep flames.
He takes a step.
“Want to know how otters sleep?”
He stirs drowsily, peering down into Chanshik’s smiling eyes.
“How?” he murmurs.
“Like this.”
The mattress dips as Chanshik wriggles up next to him, intertwining their hands.
“This way, they don’t lose each other.”
Dongwoo hums contentedly, turning over on to his side to throw an arm over Chanshik’s thin frame.
“You feel warm,” Chanshik whispers against Dongwoo’s chest, his eyes falling shut.
Dongwoo pulls him in closer.
Another step.
Running his fingers along hot skin, Dongwoo breathes heavily into the crook of his neck.
Sweat plasters their hair against their foreheads.
He holds tightly onto his arms, Chanshik’s legs wrapped even tighter around his waist,
his soft moans and cries.
Dongwoo presses closer, lifting his head to kiss him
moving slow,
filling every second in time
with him
Another.
“You’ll… come visit me… right? Promise…”
“I will.”
One more.
And he tells himself
“You promised”
but he goes no further than his front door
and fall, winter, spring
pass.
He’s almost there, and at the last second,
his footsteps falter.
Chanshik leans back
“I like nashi pears.”
Dongwoo can’t help it, and Chanshik knows, can see it in Dongwoo’s gritted smile, and eyes looking everywhere but at him,
but Chanshik doesn’t say anything.
“I know,” Dongwoo manages, the words accompanied by a shaky breath.
Clearing his throat, he takes the last steps forward.
“I’m here, Chanshik.”
Dongwoo sets down the plastic bag, smiling ruefully as he rubs his calves.
“Sorry they’re a little bruised. The bus ride was a little rough.”
He unconsciously pauses, waiting.
“I brought flowers too. I thought you might like them.”
The petals embrace the stone,
and his fears
of the empty spaces in time he used to fill,
and of the silence that will come
“Chanshik,
I’ll come back soon”
he lets them go