round 05, challenge one: entry #4
Title: Unspoken
Fandom and Pairing: Big Bang; Seungri/Daesung
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Summary: Daesung wishes for warmth, Seungri uses the heat as an excuse.
Warnings: N/A
Seungri is awaken by the sun burning his eyelids and turns his back to the window, letting the intense rays press against his back. He finds Daesung awake, hair dark from sweat, looking at him, smiling.
"Good morning.”
Closing his eyes to the smile, Seungri doesn't answer. His mind floats inside the heat surrounding them. Gentle fingers touch his temple, his cheek. Maybe they're shaking a little. It makes him feel powerless; the moisture on his face, the layer of salt and water separating them. Like melting.
“Too warm,” he says, jerks his head, hot air leaving his lungs.
The hand disappears; when he looks the other is on his back, staring at the ceiling, face blank.
“I wish it was cold,” Daesung says. “We'd build a fort of pillows and blankets and hide inside it. I'd kiss you warm.”
He thinks about the grey winter city, knows there's more than sweat and mindscorching heat keeping them apart. A fort of fabric wouldn't shelter their broken dreams.
“Maybe then you wouldn't mind me smiling when I think you're beautiful.”
Daesungs voice is just a whisper. He suddenly wants to tell him, doesn't quite have the heart.
Fandom and Pairing: Big Bang; Seungri/Daesung
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Summary: Daesung wishes for warmth, Seungri uses the heat as an excuse.
Warnings: N/A
Seungri is awaken by the sun burning his eyelids and turns his back to the window, letting the intense rays press against his back. He finds Daesung awake, hair dark from sweat, looking at him, smiling.
"Good morning.”
Closing his eyes to the smile, Seungri doesn't answer. His mind floats inside the heat surrounding them. Gentle fingers touch his temple, his cheek. Maybe they're shaking a little. It makes him feel powerless; the moisture on his face, the layer of salt and water separating them. Like melting.
“Too warm,” he says, jerks his head, hot air leaving his lungs.
The hand disappears; when he looks the other is on his back, staring at the ceiling, face blank.
“I wish it was cold,” Daesung says. “We'd build a fort of pillows and blankets and hide inside it. I'd kiss you warm.”
He thinks about the grey winter city, knows there's more than sweat and mindscorching heat keeping them apart. A fort of fabric wouldn't shelter their broken dreams.
“Maybe then you wouldn't mind me smiling when I think you're beautiful.”
Daesungs voice is just a whisper. He suddenly wants to tell him, doesn't quite have the heart.