Shipwrecks
Shipwrecks
Yunho-Boa (or any OTP, really it works)
Angst, 457 words
→ As far as anyone is concerned, writing has been terribly difficult on my end. I would also like to thank poet master Gilbert, for adding 190 words to this, because I needed the good kick to finish the drabble. I know it's short, but I AM RUSTY SO this will have to do for now. I'll write more in 2015. I promise. For now I hope you enjoy this ♥
She wears a dress, with those floral details abloom, a reminder of spring, when it’s late December and the storms are usually the strongest at this point. But here we are, near a cliff, over a couple of walks and wilderness away from streetlights and common knowledge of the place’s existence.
She calls it the secret route and I claim it to be just a cliff - because I’m a man of simpler words, she’s too much of a metaphor to be an epitome of something. But I assure you, that something is quite great.
“I’m just so scared to love this person because he has gone through so much and I don’t want to hurt him even more.”
It’s almost a whisper, a small squeak of confession. Like I said, she’s great, but today under the fair slightly plagued weather, I find none of the usual.
“But it’s hurting you, instead,” I tell her. “It’s hurting you, isn’t it? How you can’t tell him how much you love him.”
“No love is perfect,” she smiles and looks away.
The wind picks up. The waves kiss the rocks. But my love for you is - the urge to just tell her now has gone too ironic. The sea breeze hit in a perfect angle but the saltiness of the scent is nothing compared to the teardrops building in my eyes. Hold it in, like a man. I’ve been there for you, half-friendly, half-hoping that someday you’d realize that the only reason why you can’t tell him that you love him is because you don’t. I know you don’t.
The fog finally clears. Because it’s me that you truly want.
“Maybe you’re right.” She looks back, ahead, some other place that won’t meet my eyes.
The sound of an incoming ship wakes me back. Did she hear my thoughts? Was I thinking out loud?
“What do you mean?”
“You’re right,” she responds more assured now, uncrossing her arms. “It’s hurting me. But pain is the measure of love. Ha. I’d tell him. This time, I’d let him know. I’d tell him, ‘I need you in my life. I will save you. I will not hurt you like they did. I…’”
“I love you,” I interrupt.
“Yes, I’d tell him that,” she turns around with grace.
Yeah, what am I thinking, of course you do. Of course, of course - it wasn’t ever me in the first place. The seagulls cry far above me. I look up. They are crying in my stead.
“Are you coming?”
She’s smiling, head tilting in wonder what’s taking me so long to follow.
I manage a grateful smile, my feet moving in their accord to where she waits with a hand out to me. “Yeah, sure.”