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Pseudo-mystic thoughts | Tachycardia is a bitch, Wooyoung thinks passively enough as he lays in the grass and convinces himself that he really is not panicking so his heart slows down to under 150 beats a minute and then down to under 100, instead of accelerating to 270 like it wants. | 403 words | a/n: Actually not completely random, but based on something we read in AP, so not completely coherent either. ETA: Tachycardia is basically a heart condition where your heart rate abnormally speeds up when you're not doing anything to cause it to exceed a resting heart rate.
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The ground is hard, wet, and cold because it is November and it has been raining for the past three days. Wooyong’s new Converses are muddy and he’s annoyed because he’ll have to clean them later.
Oh wait, the cynic in him says, there might not be a later. And Wooyoung is yanked back in body, where he is lying on his back staring up at overcast clouds. Breathe, he tells himself, breathe and contemplate the sky.
They are arguing over what Nature is, in class, and there are theories that Nature is a single entity of perception and Wooyoung is inclined to believe that. A gale of wind blows and it ends with Wooyoung having wet leaves on his cheek. He’s too light headed and listless to brush them off yet, he just needs to breathe and think and calm down to get to that point. Tachycardia is a bitch, Wooyoung thinks passively enough as he lays in the grass and convinces himself that he really is not panicking so his heart slows down to under 150 beats a minute and then down to under 100, instead of accelerating to 270 like it wants.
This is how Nickhun finds him, minutes later.
“Well. Hi.” He offers, and Nickhun’s face goes funny.
“Are. Are you alright?” Nickhun asks, voice stuck in his throat. He crouches in slow motion, hand reaching so slow, so slow, for the leaf right under Wooyoung’s left eye.
Wooyoung is counting his pulse in his head, 162, “Yeah. Just give me a second.” He will be fine, laying here under this gray sky with Nickhun worrying over him, tender touches that mean he cares. “Wait for me?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I? I’m not - not - never - not you - never’d leave you - ” Nickhun murmurs, the threat of tears edging his words.
Wooyoung laughs, says, “Stupid, I’m fine.” Because he knows Nickhun will never leave him, not for this, not for something so not Wooyoung’s fault. The luck of the draw, the lottery of genetics, Nickhun insisted he didn’t care and Wooyoung holds him to it. 130.
“Mm. Okay,” Nickhun breathes out, into the fabric of Wooyoung’s jacket - when’d his head get pillowed into Wooyoung’s chest? - “Okay, I believe you.”
Nature is: a slowing heart beat, a light hand on his arm, dying grass wet and stuck between his fingers. Breathe, he tells himself, breathe and contemplate the sky.
---
The ground is hard, wet, and cold because it is November and it has been raining for the past three days. Wooyong’s new Converses are muddy and he’s annoyed because he’ll have to clean them later.
Oh wait, the cynic in him says, there might not be a later. And Wooyoung is yanked back in body, where he is lying on his back staring up at overcast clouds. Breathe, he tells himself, breathe and contemplate the sky.
They are arguing over what Nature is, in class, and there are theories that Nature is a single entity of perception and Wooyoung is inclined to believe that. A gale of wind blows and it ends with Wooyoung having wet leaves on his cheek. He’s too light headed and listless to brush them off yet, he just needs to breathe and think and calm down to get to that point. Tachycardia is a bitch, Wooyoung thinks passively enough as he lays in the grass and convinces himself that he really is not panicking so his heart slows down to under 150 beats a minute and then down to under 100, instead of accelerating to 270 like it wants.
This is how Nickhun finds him, minutes later.
“Well. Hi.” He offers, and Nickhun’s face goes funny.
“Are. Are you alright?” Nickhun asks, voice stuck in his throat. He crouches in slow motion, hand reaching so slow, so slow, for the leaf right under Wooyoung’s left eye.
Wooyoung is counting his pulse in his head, 162, “Yeah. Just give me a second.” He will be fine, laying here under this gray sky with Nickhun worrying over him, tender touches that mean he cares. “Wait for me?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I? I’m not - not - never - not you - never’d leave you - ” Nickhun murmurs, the threat of tears edging his words.
Wooyoung laughs, says, “Stupid, I’m fine.” Because he knows Nickhun will never leave him, not for this, not for something so not Wooyoung’s fault. The luck of the draw, the lottery of genetics, Nickhun insisted he didn’t care and Wooyoung holds him to it. 130.
“Mm. Okay,” Nickhun breathes out, into the fabric of Wooyoung’s jacket - when’d his head get pillowed into Wooyoung’s chest? - “Okay, I believe you.”
Nature is: a slowing heart beat, a light hand on his arm, dying grass wet and stuck between his fingers. Breathe, he tells himself, breathe and contemplate the sky.