six feet per second (i need you)
six feet per second (i need you)
Yesung/Ryeowook
PG-13
You know, seconds go by too quickly.
(782 words)
A/N: What is this? Two main pairing postings? Where are my rare buddies D: but in all seriousness I liked writing this one a lot. This is for thundersquall because I'm finding my new liking for YeWook being mostly due to her XD
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Goodbyes are painful in their own ways. Yesung likes to believe that they should be quick, like stripping your tired and injured skin of a band-aid. Maybe then he could pretend that the wound that's been underneath since the day they infected each other's lives was healed over nicely. Only a scar left behind.
But scars can be covered.
Ryeowook likes to believe that goodbyes should be drawn out. You tug slowly at each corner of the band-aid, and hair-by-hair you feel the pain but it's not one huge ripping feeling. It's tiny, and maybe you can handle it this way. And then when you look underneath, and it's all over, everything's healed. You have the tiniest hint of a scar, but it's not Ryeowook's first.
It could be his last.
They don't do either. They say goodbye, but it's not quick and painless (could it ever be painless?) but it's not slow and taken over extensively long ticking noises of a clock. They don't do it either way, because they're not really saying goodbye.
“I'm going to write to you,” Ryeowook says it like he's trying to stress enough syllables to convince himself that he's not lying.
Yesung uses one arm for this hug, he puts it around Ryeowook's back and cups his neck gently. Warm fingers over tiny goosebumps, and Ryeowook is crying, but he isn't crying. His eyes are dry, but the noises he makes suggest that maybe they shouldn't be.
Yesung has a mouthful of things to say, but he can't say them. He'll wait for those letters Ryeowook is saying he'll write. Everyday. There should be one every day. There should. Should.
Six months, six days, six hours, six minutes since you were standing in front of me. Maybe no exactly, but it's poetic, right? You like that kind of stuff. Do you still like that kind of stuff, though?
I would have said six seconds, but those moments go by so fast, I would've missed it. You know, seconds go by too quickly, and every second without you…sucks.
Yesung hates what he writes to Ryeowook. Six months, six days, piece of shit writing, way to go. But it comes from the heart, so it can't all be shit. And if it is, it's the good kind, the kind that makes people's heart flutter. Yesung hopes that might be it, but he won't really get to know for sure how Ryeowook feels.
Maybe that's because Yesung doesn't send letters like those. He sends the ones that are like mini-biographies because Ryeowook seems to send those by the day, but they always bring the biggest smile to Yesung's face. If he were to smile any more, his face might freeze up.
Ten more days feel like ten more years, but Yesung doesn't feel like he's aged. He feels older, though, and he wonders if Ryeowook sometimes wakes up with this kind of sense inside of him. It's one he can never truly figure out.
“Maybe it's just me,” he says out loud before laying back on his bed, arms tucked behind his head as he looks over and sees completely empty space. “Just me…”
He curls an arm around the hole in the air, in the open area at his side. The place where Ryeowook should be.
Ryeowook has nights where he can't sleep, and his roommate sleeps with three pillows covering his head because Ryeowook whimpers and whispers things.
He would travel over anything to get back to Korea, to get back to Yesung, anything to get back. Ryeowook feels hands sliding up his back that aren't really there, and he feels lips touching his bones and flesh that aren't ever there, really, he just pretends that they are.
He wishes that he could travel back, over water, through the sky.
Six feet per second.
Ryeowook gets something in the mail, his roommate just tosses it at him over breakfast one morning and mumbles things in English that Ryeowook really can't understand still.
He opens it and almost drops it in the same second. The words start to mix together, and maybe it has something to do with the tears that are poking out from within those tear ducts, but Yesung is saying something poetic about six months and six weeks even though now it's more than six months or six weeks.
Yesung says things about going over oceans, going in the air. He'll be there, soon.
He's glad that they never said goodbye-not for real.
Yesung says something about six feet per second, because he likes the way it sounds, and Ryeowook couldn't agree more. He'll have to tell Yesung once he gets here.
//…
I'm so tired. It's almost 3am here. But I just have two more things to do for homework…except I don't think I'm going to school tomorrow. Okay, goodnight.
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Yesung/Ryeowook
PG-13
You know, seconds go by too quickly.
(782 words)
A/N: What is this? Two main pairing postings? Where are my rare buddies D: but in all seriousness I liked writing this one a lot. This is for thundersquall because I'm finding my new liking for YeWook being mostly due to her XD
-
Goodbyes are painful in their own ways. Yesung likes to believe that they should be quick, like stripping your tired and injured skin of a band-aid. Maybe then he could pretend that the wound that's been underneath since the day they infected each other's lives was healed over nicely. Only a scar left behind.
But scars can be covered.
Ryeowook likes to believe that goodbyes should be drawn out. You tug slowly at each corner of the band-aid, and hair-by-hair you feel the pain but it's not one huge ripping feeling. It's tiny, and maybe you can handle it this way. And then when you look underneath, and it's all over, everything's healed. You have the tiniest hint of a scar, but it's not Ryeowook's first.
It could be his last.
They don't do either. They say goodbye, but it's not quick and painless (could it ever be painless?) but it's not slow and taken over extensively long ticking noises of a clock. They don't do it either way, because they're not really saying goodbye.
“I'm going to write to you,” Ryeowook says it like he's trying to stress enough syllables to convince himself that he's not lying.
Yesung uses one arm for this hug, he puts it around Ryeowook's back and cups his neck gently. Warm fingers over tiny goosebumps, and Ryeowook is crying, but he isn't crying. His eyes are dry, but the noises he makes suggest that maybe they shouldn't be.
Yesung has a mouthful of things to say, but he can't say them. He'll wait for those letters Ryeowook is saying he'll write. Everyday. There should be one every day. There should. Should.
Six months, six days, six hours, six minutes since you were standing in front of me. Maybe no exactly, but it's poetic, right? You like that kind of stuff. Do you still like that kind of stuff, though?
I would have said six seconds, but those moments go by so fast, I would've missed it. You know, seconds go by too quickly, and every second without you…sucks.
Yesung hates what he writes to Ryeowook. Six months, six days, piece of shit writing, way to go. But it comes from the heart, so it can't all be shit. And if it is, it's the good kind, the kind that makes people's heart flutter. Yesung hopes that might be it, but he won't really get to know for sure how Ryeowook feels.
Maybe that's because Yesung doesn't send letters like those. He sends the ones that are like mini-biographies because Ryeowook seems to send those by the day, but they always bring the biggest smile to Yesung's face. If he were to smile any more, his face might freeze up.
Ten more days feel like ten more years, but Yesung doesn't feel like he's aged. He feels older, though, and he wonders if Ryeowook sometimes wakes up with this kind of sense inside of him. It's one he can never truly figure out.
“Maybe it's just me,” he says out loud before laying back on his bed, arms tucked behind his head as he looks over and sees completely empty space. “Just me…”
He curls an arm around the hole in the air, in the open area at his side. The place where Ryeowook should be.
Ryeowook has nights where he can't sleep, and his roommate sleeps with three pillows covering his head because Ryeowook whimpers and whispers things.
He would travel over anything to get back to Korea, to get back to Yesung, anything to get back. Ryeowook feels hands sliding up his back that aren't really there, and he feels lips touching his bones and flesh that aren't ever there, really, he just pretends that they are.
He wishes that he could travel back, over water, through the sky.
Six feet per second.
Ryeowook gets something in the mail, his roommate just tosses it at him over breakfast one morning and mumbles things in English that Ryeowook really can't understand still.
He opens it and almost drops it in the same second. The words start to mix together, and maybe it has something to do with the tears that are poking out from within those tear ducts, but Yesung is saying something poetic about six months and six weeks even though now it's more than six months or six weeks.
Yesung says things about going over oceans, going in the air. He'll be there, soon.
He's glad that they never said goodbye-not for real.
Yesung says something about six feet per second, because he likes the way it sounds, and Ryeowook couldn't agree more. He'll have to tell Yesung once he gets here.
//…
I'm so tired. It's almost 3am here. But I just have two more things to do for homework…except I don't think I'm going to school tomorrow. Okay, goodnight.
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