drabble dump; vi
head to toe
+henber
It's a chance.
Amber doesn't forget Henry's words, ringing through her head like a broken record. It's a mix of languages and Korean letters up there, English words and sharp dance moves. It was too hard, she knew. He was in China. She was here. He wasn't moving forward. She was. It was time for change.
"We need to stop this," he said. "You don't love me anymore."
She was never one for mushy girl feelings. Amber prided herself on her video game prowess and her ability to rap and sing at the same time while going twenty words a minute. She liked skateboarding and board shorts and loose vests. But it didn't mean that she didn't eye the waiting dresses - silk, empire waists, linen, cotton - and the flattering heels. The feel of hair against her back and curls down her shoulder.
"What are you talking about?" Desperation. He was the only person that made her feel alive, with his puffed cheeks and sun-altering smiles. Who looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world. "I think of you everyday."
A small, sad laugh. "You don't, Amber. Not anymore. I love you, but this has to end. We have to end. For your sake."
She doesn't think she'll survive, even though everyone tells her else wise. Victoria cradles her in her arms one day while she's sobbing uncontrollably in the bathroom, whispering words of Chinese in her ear. But she just cries, cries, folds up in herself and wishes that she was better, greater, skilled. A girl. She wishes she was a girl, but most of all, she wishes she was a girl that could face Henry without hiding everything on the inside.
dance with me
+hyohyuk
He sits on the side of the practice room, watching as the rest of his team leaves, watches as they prepare to go home. They have nothing else to do but sleep, but Eunhyuk feels his fingers twitch. Blood rushes through his head and supplies him energy. It powers him up like some sort of machine; zap through his body like lightning. He keeps wanting to feel that way, that electric energy that pushes him forward.
There's someone, he thinks, who's touch makes him feel that way. Nails scraping against the sides of his arms, pursed lips against his ear, a curved side that you don't see often anymore. Sweet-smelling blonde hair of polish and sweat, fiery eyes and a mocking, curling smirk.
Eunhyuk wants to punch something, but he doesn't.
As soon as everyone leaves - Leeteuk glances back at him once - Eunhyuk presses his forehead against the glass and inwardly mulls over a few things. The air is suffocatingly hot, even though he doesn't have much on except for his shoes and sweats. The small leftover tidbits of sweat roll down his face, gleam off his fair skin.
"Hey there, handsome." A click of tell-tale heels. A cold hand on his shoulder. "Ready for our usual?"
Eunhyuk scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Don't think you're a little addicted?"
Hyoyeon gleams under the pale lights. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones. "It's not an addiction when you know when to want it," she replies, and soon her arms are around his neck and his hands find it's way to her waist.
She's a poison, he thinks, the adrenaline fix that he needs to stay alive.
a day
+kyuhae ; kyuyoung ; inspired by their song of the same name.
She wishes to change one day of her life.
Water seeps into her bones and her hair, through her black clothes and sticks to her skin. The sound of rain is supposed to be comforting, but it isn't; it's hollow and damp and empty. Wind blows none-too-gently but her eyes never stray, hands clenched forcibly in front.
Don't cut your hair, okay, Kyuhyun-ah? I like long, curly hair.
It's too long anyway, Donghae. Besides, I can't be perfect.
A laugh. But you already are.
She wonders if she's taken those days for granted. All those small little moments that Donghae loves so much. Waking up and nuzzling her neck; braiding his hair though he hates it; kissing her because he got a new job, a better opportunity, a wonderful life for them even though she thinks it's wonderful enough already. Donghae likes to run his hands through her hair, push them behind her ear. The corners of his eyes crinkle whenever she manages to fail at something. He likes to leave his books on the coffee table and sleep on the couch after studying so much.
Most of her life is around him. She can pick out the memories like pictures in a scrapbook, lining up the years of her life until now. She wonders how it's possible for someone to be so intertwined with you that you forget how life was ever like without them.
Have you ever wondered, Kyuhyun, Donghae murmurs in her ear, if the parallel us are enjoying themselves like we are right now?
What are you talking about, Donghae?
A brilliant smile. Like another version of us in another world. Say we were race car drivers. Or teachers. Or even singers! You'd make every man in Korea fall in love with you the moment you'd open your mouth to sing. Do you think that that they would find each other like we did?
Maybe, she remembers replying. Their journey has to be better than ours. She remembers the little glow of pride as Donghae laughs, kissing her on the cheek before jumping up and prodding her to dance with him. She remembers those moments and locks them away in a little box inside her heart, carries them around like treasures that no one can cut away. He touches her cheek and his palm fits roughly against her scarred skin.
I'll keep you from anyone who tries to hurt you, he says. Says it so sincerely that she thinks that she'll do the same. But fire and blood creep up the edges of her mind, twisted glass and broken metal, a familiar body against hers and pain in a place she didn't know she could feel. Apparently, anyone who tries to hurt her meant he'd give up everything he had for her too, even himself.
I hope they're happy, Donghae, she thinks as she drops in front of his grave, a thin shell of a former sun. I really hope that a Kyuhyun and Donghae of another world are happy, pale fingers stroking engraved words on a slab of white marble. So bright against the rest of the grey world. Happy in a way that we never got to be.
She wishes for the day that it'll happen. Hers is already over.