[2] Snippets
original fic snippet not only is the title going nowhere fast, but the fic's... going nowhere fast. >_>; (p.s. wow, het.)
going nowhere fast
if he wakes up going 91 down the diagonal--
it’s a spitfire romance. the kind that sputters out in all the glory of a cigarette butt; it starts with a match striking burnt air. “if you love me i’ll fuck you up,” he had promised. the bar was empty and full and the bill piled up but he kept buying drinks for them both. there’d been a laugh - the expected reply. “fuck me up, then.”
--he doesn’t make it out alive
days later:
if you dream of her lips against yours you're not really dreaming, because she's bound to reality and you wouldn't dream something like this -- not really. [it's too cliche] so pack up and take your prejudices and drape them heavy over your back and keep your hands to yourself. tangle them in bangs grown out too quickly and collarbones too sharp and scream, fuck - idontloveyou.
idontloveyou.
or maybe. bites down on your shoulder blade and breaks your wings until you're telling him if we're spinning around like this much longer you'll be sick. say, angel, say, can you take me higher? [get me high or get me low. please take me down] i wouldn't touch you, you whisper, because you don't want him to break. you don't want anyone to break.
if I break down it will be roses.
sickly sweet signs of sympathy broken on your doorstep. jade tells you he’ll taste copper on his tongue, her fist broke bruises across his face. if you’re happy, you tell her you’re not.
if you’re alive; you’ll breathe.
(accidental meetings are all good, the kinds you can shrug off with a big smile and a false intention. hey i didn’t know she was going to be there i didn’t know she was going to be beautiful i didn’t i didn’t.)
plus a snippet of unfinished dbsk fic.
The door slams three times - once when he leaves, once when Yoochun follows, and the third time when you open it and then decide against going after him. Hands in your head - what. What happened, you ask yourself, and you’re still asking yourself two hours later in the subway with Junsu fiddling with his phone on your right. “What happened?”
He smiles - sorry, hyung I don’t know - and tells you, “He left but I don’t think he’s really gone.” Changmin comes back with coffees for all of you and he says, “Of course not.”
(it’s a stupid random thought: you remember jaejoong sitting on the floor in the hotel room with the blanket pulled up to his chest and the carpet in between his toes, and you remember him saying, the world will wait for us, yunho, but, can we wait for the world? and you saying of course, we have to - thinking, don’t you get it, jaejoong - and him smiling that pretty-sad smile that you couldn’t read at the time. okay. i’ll wait.)
oh, inspiration, come back *collapses*
going nowhere fast
if he wakes up going 91 down the diagonal--
it’s a spitfire romance. the kind that sputters out in all the glory of a cigarette butt; it starts with a match striking burnt air. “if you love me i’ll fuck you up,” he had promised. the bar was empty and full and the bill piled up but he kept buying drinks for them both. there’d been a laugh - the expected reply. “fuck me up, then.”
--he doesn’t make it out alive
days later:
if you dream of her lips against yours you're not really dreaming, because she's bound to reality and you wouldn't dream something like this -- not really. [it's too cliche] so pack up and take your prejudices and drape them heavy over your back and keep your hands to yourself. tangle them in bangs grown out too quickly and collarbones too sharp and scream, fuck - idontloveyou.
idontloveyou.
or maybe. bites down on your shoulder blade and breaks your wings until you're telling him if we're spinning around like this much longer you'll be sick. say, angel, say, can you take me higher? [get me high or get me low. please take me down] i wouldn't touch you, you whisper, because you don't want him to break. you don't want anyone to break.
if I break down it will be roses.
sickly sweet signs of sympathy broken on your doorstep. jade tells you he’ll taste copper on his tongue, her fist broke bruises across his face. if you’re happy, you tell her you’re not.
if you’re alive; you’ll breathe.
(accidental meetings are all good, the kinds you can shrug off with a big smile and a false intention. hey i didn’t know she was going to be there i didn’t know she was going to be beautiful i didn’t i didn’t.)
plus a snippet of unfinished dbsk fic.
The door slams three times - once when he leaves, once when Yoochun follows, and the third time when you open it and then decide against going after him. Hands in your head - what. What happened, you ask yourself, and you’re still asking yourself two hours later in the subway with Junsu fiddling with his phone on your right. “What happened?”
He smiles - sorry, hyung I don’t know - and tells you, “He left but I don’t think he’s really gone.” Changmin comes back with coffees for all of you and he says, “Of course not.”
(it’s a stupid random thought: you remember jaejoong sitting on the floor in the hotel room with the blanket pulled up to his chest and the carpet in between his toes, and you remember him saying, the world will wait for us, yunho, but, can we wait for the world? and you saying of course, we have to - thinking, don’t you get it, jaejoong - and him smiling that pretty-sad smile that you couldn’t read at the time. okay. i’ll wait.)
oh, inspiration, come back *collapses*