Seasons
SEASONS;; G
AU
They sit in the back of his barren truck legs dangling out, Converses kicking and summer scabs exposed in the cool breeze. His legs scrape against the cement making a slight scratch, but hers barely reach where his shins start and he makes an effort to point it out, reaching his arm down easy and undoing her laces.
Taeyeon frowns and shoves him hard and the truck tilts violently, the red walls becoming vibrant and almost removing the melancholy for a second.
“I’m not going to miss you,” she insists even though there’s a pool of tears in her lap and a trace of drying sobs on the curve of Leeteuk’s shoulder. “You’re going to regret going to college.”
“Hey you’re going to have to go next year too,” he likes denial. Leeteuk’s fingers have a trademark imprinted on Taeyeon’s side from lingering there over the years. “The east coast is calling both of our names.”
“I already told you before, I’m not going to college.” It’s so matter of fact that it doesn’t sound any better this time and Leeteuk feels his ears freeze up along with his heart. But Taeyeon wraps herself into his hold looking for comfort, looking for familiarity so Leeteuk rubs his chin into her tucked tendrils and smiles sadly.
“College," she finishes, "is a waste of time.”
“Will you come visit me?”
“Never.”
This is how break ups are supposed to go. Taeyeon kicks Leeteuk’s left foot and he loses balance and the truck tilts again and they rumble around with mad tickles and soon their heads spin where twelve becomes six and the second hand somehow ends up on the other side of that befuddling clock. Taeyeon leans up and kisses Leeteuk on the forehead, something more intimate than a kiss on the lips. When she leans down again, Leeteuk catches a tear streaming down her cheeks with his finger and puts it on his lips.
Salty.
Leeteuk maps the way the tears fall down her face, first into the crescent of her tear-duct and then bordering the invisible freckles on her nose, clutching on to the outline of her lips before falling on to the plushy skin and crashing on the ground.
“Oppa.” she pretends to be strong and defiant but her voice is weak; Leeteuk squeezes her hand tight and pretends she’s stronger than he really knows her to be. (She can barely squeeze back.)
“They’ve got this thing called winter in Connecticut. Something white and icy called snow falls out of the sky. Or so the rumors say.”
Taeyeon stops crying and shuffles their feet together again. They fight over kicking the last stray pebble in close proximity.
“I’m a fan of this place called summer myself.”
They decide to hold hands and never let go, even when the sun sets and the night drafts and the coyotes howl and the mosquitoes bite and their goosebumps crawl and their lips meet and their skin tingles.
AU
They sit in the back of his barren truck legs dangling out, Converses kicking and summer scabs exposed in the cool breeze. His legs scrape against the cement making a slight scratch, but hers barely reach where his shins start and he makes an effort to point it out, reaching his arm down easy and undoing her laces.
Taeyeon frowns and shoves him hard and the truck tilts violently, the red walls becoming vibrant and almost removing the melancholy for a second.
“I’m not going to miss you,” she insists even though there’s a pool of tears in her lap and a trace of drying sobs on the curve of Leeteuk’s shoulder. “You’re going to regret going to college.”
“Hey you’re going to have to go next year too,” he likes denial. Leeteuk’s fingers have a trademark imprinted on Taeyeon’s side from lingering there over the years. “The east coast is calling both of our names.”
“I already told you before, I’m not going to college.” It’s so matter of fact that it doesn’t sound any better this time and Leeteuk feels his ears freeze up along with his heart. But Taeyeon wraps herself into his hold looking for comfort, looking for familiarity so Leeteuk rubs his chin into her tucked tendrils and smiles sadly.
“College," she finishes, "is a waste of time.”
“Will you come visit me?”
“Never.”
This is how break ups are supposed to go. Taeyeon kicks Leeteuk’s left foot and he loses balance and the truck tilts again and they rumble around with mad tickles and soon their heads spin where twelve becomes six and the second hand somehow ends up on the other side of that befuddling clock. Taeyeon leans up and kisses Leeteuk on the forehead, something more intimate than a kiss on the lips. When she leans down again, Leeteuk catches a tear streaming down her cheeks with his finger and puts it on his lips.
Salty.
Leeteuk maps the way the tears fall down her face, first into the crescent of her tear-duct and then bordering the invisible freckles on her nose, clutching on to the outline of her lips before falling on to the plushy skin and crashing on the ground.
“Oppa.” she pretends to be strong and defiant but her voice is weak; Leeteuk squeezes her hand tight and pretends she’s stronger than he really knows her to be. (She can barely squeeze back.)
“They’ve got this thing called winter in Connecticut. Something white and icy called snow falls out of the sky. Or so the rumors say.”
Taeyeon stops crying and shuffles their feet together again. They fight over kicking the last stray pebble in close proximity.
“I’m a fan of this place called summer myself.”
They decide to hold hands and never let go, even when the sun sets and the night drafts and the coyotes howl and the mosquitoes bite and their goosebumps crawl and their lips meet and their skin tingles.