Post #28
Fics ( #27)
and you can say what dreams are btob/exo, hyunsik/d.o.
compromise vixx, n/ken
a spoonful of honey exo, luhan/sehun
practice makes a grown man cry snsd/sj-m, hyoyeon/henry
Vegas Skies Kai/D.O, Suho/D.O, R/NC-17
untitled exo/infinite lay/dongwoo
limited edition btob, eunkwang/changseob
wish you were here from the beginning exo/b1a4, lu ( Read more... )
and you can say what dreams are btob/exo, hyunsik/d.o.
compromise vixx, n/ken
a spoonful of honey exo, luhan/sehun
practice makes a grown man cry snsd/sj-m, hyoyeon/henry
Vegas Skies Kai/D.O, Suho/D.O, R/NC-17
untitled exo/infinite lay/dongwoo
limited edition btob, eunkwang/changseob
wish you were here from the beginning exo/b1a4, lu ( Read more... )
Their kisses carry euphoria and their hands hold promises that Doojoon swears he’ll keep. Long after Cube, long after B2st, long after 4minute, long after stardom. Doojoon thinks that maybe this is love, maybe promises and looking forward to a tomorrow that’s certain, the absence of hidden subtlety and venom and malice and complication, is what love really is.
But as with most precious things Doojoon sees it fall apart. The occasional quarrel was always there, part of their natural personality clash, but by the time Gayoon’s called up for 2yoon rehearsals, words are nothing more than echoes of footsteps out of doors and smiles mere illusions that hide exhaustion and the desire to be a little alone, just for once. It’s expected of both of them, the craving for privacy, and Doojoon knows it’s expected of him to respect that but there’s something about Gayoon’s laughter these days that tells him her time is not spent in the quiet.
‘Can we talk?’ he asks her over dinner one night, as she pushes vegetables around with a plastic fork. She looks up at him, exhaustion clouding her features and smudging them, in a way that makes Doojoon want to scream what are they doing to you, what are you doing to yourself, to us, to me -
She keeps looking - or maybe it isn’t at him, maybe it’s just her frozen at the plate of food that remains untouched or maybe she’s in another world where she doesn’t have to respond, where everything comes with little pressure to perform, perform, perform, perfect. So he stays quiet, leaning into the back of his chair and watching her tear herself apart before their very eyes.
The next time he sees her is backstage at a music show. He means to wish her the cursory best-of-lucks and smile for the cameras at the fact that look, B2ST supports 2Yoon or blur that line between colleagues and lovers or something in between the two - a level he isn’t even sure of, if anything makes sense in this blaze of a world any more.
She rounds the turn from the bathrooms with her eyes rimmed red and it’s then that he knows, that he knows why she’s been like this, and knows that that is what’s breaking her. And if he had known how to tell her to stop, nothing would have stopped him from holding her wrist and telling her that she was beautiful, is beautiful and will be no matter what, that he loves her, that hurting herself isn’t going to bring beauty.
If he were braver he would have said those words and would’ve kissed the pain out of every pore she felt it and never let her leave until those wounds healed - but that would only heal himself. He’s seen the resolve in her eyes when she performs, and it’s only backstage that the resolve crumbles - but after all, what else are they but performers dancing on strings, where strings have no significance for love?
‘Good luck,’ he says, looking at the pattern of the carpet. And she turns, so that he can see those bones, where flesh has lost its battle, where his love hadn’t been enough, and with a laugh and a smile, she's gone.
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if you ever decide to un-anonymously post this on kpophet, i'll defo be the first one to comment.
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