summer's almost over (drabble)
title: summer’s almost over
rating: r
pairing: sekai
warnings: triggers for eating disorders, character deaths
summary: they’re all dangerous, all waiting to burst into flames, like bombs set on timers about to reach zero.
summer starts with a little house on the coast of the ocean where they all meet, some for the first time, and settle in, just for a little bit of fun, jongin explains to sehun when they dump their suitcases down on the beds. there’s a slight fervor in the air, something like excitement, but something wrong at the same time. something hinting at the sickening taste of sweet artificial cherry.
a little bit of fun.
jongdae mocks at almost everything, luhan talks cheerfully enough, yixing is quiet and polite, baekhyun loves to make practical jokes with chanyeol, junmyeon tries a few times to get everyone to calm down but gives up when no one listens. then there’s jongin. and sehun.
there’s an underlying gleam of something disturbing in all their eyes, and for the first few hours sehun thinks there’s nothing wrong, but he’s never right about things like this, when he clings onto the illusion of deluding himself of reality. someone mentions food and everyone laughs what’s the point of food?
after all, this is how they found each other. broken, shattered remnants of life drowning together in a downward spiral of death.
they find out after a while that the roof leaks when it rains, water dripping down onto the beds in steady rhythms, so they all end up crashing on the floor, quilts and sheets tumbled against each other and jongdae makes a snide joke about sleeping together but no one really takes his words to heart because they’ve got other things to worry about.
it’s not like they sleep anyways, staying up during summer thunderstorms and switching the pail whenever the roof leaks too much, counting the minutes in their heads, trapped in their own thoughts. they look into the mirrors every morning to find darker and darker shades of blue and black under their eyes, and they laugh, even harder when they notice ribs protruding and collarbones sticking out, because it’s like we’re fucking models or something but we’re not.
dying is funny. killing yourself is funny. they giggle hysterically over things like that because it’s all twisted and messed up and you hate it but at the same time you never want to let it go. they get drunk at one in the morning and play spin the bottle, pretty-eyed boys staring at each other with hollow, sunken cheeks and thin fingers grasping at each other, smoky gazes challenging something in defiance, but what that something is, no one is sure. someone dares sehun to kiss luhan and jongin smolders in the corner the entire time. even jongdae doesn’t mention anything about it and sehun thinks there’s something dangerous about jongin’s expression when he watches them kiss, like fire in embers waiting to burst into flame. luhan tastes like sweet artificial cherry.
they’re all dangerous, all waiting to burst into flames, like bombs set on timers about to reach zero. sehun apologizes to luhan and luhan just stares at him with a lazy drawl like it’s fine, seriously, it was pretty fun.
sehun laughs darkly because back then luhan would have never acted like this. none of them did.
fun, jongin leers into his face later on, and sehun shrugs yeah, it’s fun, you wanna try it sometime? they’re self-destructive, sick, diseased and it’s all fun, so much fun. watch the blood and spend hours hugging toilet bowls and sinks instead of people, laugh a lot, ghost your fingers over the palms and wrists of others because everything’s just a perverse little game of danger and sick, sick, sick.
so jongin slams him against the car door and it’s all just a little fun when his hands are exploring sehun’s body, tugging at the waistline of his jeans, mouth sucking fresh bruises in patterns over his skin. everything’s flushed, red, and sehun’s not sure if he’s hard or if jongin is, jongin pressed against him, heat pooling between his legs at the touches and moans. somehow jongin’s tongue pries sehun’s mouth open and the cracked leather seats of the car smell funny when they tumble down on them, but it’s all just a little fun and maybe awkward because they’re all jutting bones and jongin pushes through painfully even with the lube and the seats are stained with come afterwards, messy, sticky, disgusting.
just like them.
jongdae makes a comment about sleeping together that night but it’s not like they weren’t pressed up against each other every night already, squished together in the small room with the small floor, warm in each other’s embrace.
luhan is the first to die.
sehun feels a vague flicker of fear when they cremate him and there’s that lingering whisper of words that ventures out of the corner of his mouth, something like maybe we should stop? but the others stare at him and he stares back, and it’s funny because why would they ever stop?
it’s all a mind game, and it’s all a mind game they’ll never win. they sit around listlessly for a few days, but they always sit around listlessly unless they’re feverish, eyes bright in twisted anticipation, looking toward the horizon for something that’s too far to turn back from, too far to save themselves from.
chanyeol dies next. sehun thinks he should feel sad but all he feels is empty. amused in some bitter way. dying is funny. killing yourself is funny. slowly wasting away and laughing because there’s nothing else to do but laugh. that’s how it always is.
jongin twines his fingers with sehun’s and asks are you okay? and sehun retorts with a short when have we ever been okay, his face stretched painfully into a fake smile, a sarcastic grin. jongin’s fingers are thin like his. they’re trembling, weak from either hunger or fear, but sehun can’t tell which. it doesn’t matter.
jongin snorts in laughter. do you think we need help?
baekhyun dies. junmyeon dies. yixing is on his way. jongdae stops making morbid jokes. someone cries, tears burning a crystal trail of desperation reflected in the expressions of everyone still alive, chest heaving, ribs sticking out noticeably. sehun looks for the profile of jongin against the sunset every night and mumbles quietly, what use is help?
none, jongin whispers back, so they sit together in the dying light of day and watch the night come in with its fingers curling around them, seeking for lives to extinguish. there is no help.
pretty soon, it’s just the two of them left listening to the pit pat of rain leaking through the roof and counting the seconds one by one, like the blinking red lights on a bomb about to reach zero. jongin starts to taste like sweet artificial cherry. they all did before they left. sehun licks his chapped lips and they silently compare the widths of their wrists, the frame of their cheeks and hips. he tastes the sweet artificial cherry so they clasp hands and let go of their frantic attempts to escape themselves. waiting. for the end.
summer’s almost over.
just needed to get a few things off my chest with this ;; i am not saying that there is no help for people with eating disorders in any way, because there is always help and hope, so i hope no one ever has to die because of an ed. take care of yourselves ^^ eating disorders are mind traps but there’s always a way out!
rating: r
pairing: sekai
warnings: triggers for eating disorders, character deaths
summary: they’re all dangerous, all waiting to burst into flames, like bombs set on timers about to reach zero.
summer starts with a little house on the coast of the ocean where they all meet, some for the first time, and settle in, just for a little bit of fun, jongin explains to sehun when they dump their suitcases down on the beds. there’s a slight fervor in the air, something like excitement, but something wrong at the same time. something hinting at the sickening taste of sweet artificial cherry.
a little bit of fun.
jongdae mocks at almost everything, luhan talks cheerfully enough, yixing is quiet and polite, baekhyun loves to make practical jokes with chanyeol, junmyeon tries a few times to get everyone to calm down but gives up when no one listens. then there’s jongin. and sehun.
there’s an underlying gleam of something disturbing in all their eyes, and for the first few hours sehun thinks there’s nothing wrong, but he’s never right about things like this, when he clings onto the illusion of deluding himself of reality. someone mentions food and everyone laughs what’s the point of food?
after all, this is how they found each other. broken, shattered remnants of life drowning together in a downward spiral of death.
they find out after a while that the roof leaks when it rains, water dripping down onto the beds in steady rhythms, so they all end up crashing on the floor, quilts and sheets tumbled against each other and jongdae makes a snide joke about sleeping together but no one really takes his words to heart because they’ve got other things to worry about.
it’s not like they sleep anyways, staying up during summer thunderstorms and switching the pail whenever the roof leaks too much, counting the minutes in their heads, trapped in their own thoughts. they look into the mirrors every morning to find darker and darker shades of blue and black under their eyes, and they laugh, even harder when they notice ribs protruding and collarbones sticking out, because it’s like we’re fucking models or something but we’re not.
dying is funny. killing yourself is funny. they giggle hysterically over things like that because it’s all twisted and messed up and you hate it but at the same time you never want to let it go. they get drunk at one in the morning and play spin the bottle, pretty-eyed boys staring at each other with hollow, sunken cheeks and thin fingers grasping at each other, smoky gazes challenging something in defiance, but what that something is, no one is sure. someone dares sehun to kiss luhan and jongin smolders in the corner the entire time. even jongdae doesn’t mention anything about it and sehun thinks there’s something dangerous about jongin’s expression when he watches them kiss, like fire in embers waiting to burst into flame. luhan tastes like sweet artificial cherry.
they’re all dangerous, all waiting to burst into flames, like bombs set on timers about to reach zero. sehun apologizes to luhan and luhan just stares at him with a lazy drawl like it’s fine, seriously, it was pretty fun.
sehun laughs darkly because back then luhan would have never acted like this. none of them did.
fun, jongin leers into his face later on, and sehun shrugs yeah, it’s fun, you wanna try it sometime? they’re self-destructive, sick, diseased and it’s all fun, so much fun. watch the blood and spend hours hugging toilet bowls and sinks instead of people, laugh a lot, ghost your fingers over the palms and wrists of others because everything’s just a perverse little game of danger and sick, sick, sick.
so jongin slams him against the car door and it’s all just a little fun when his hands are exploring sehun’s body, tugging at the waistline of his jeans, mouth sucking fresh bruises in patterns over his skin. everything’s flushed, red, and sehun’s not sure if he’s hard or if jongin is, jongin pressed against him, heat pooling between his legs at the touches and moans. somehow jongin’s tongue pries sehun’s mouth open and the cracked leather seats of the car smell funny when they tumble down on them, but it’s all just a little fun and maybe awkward because they’re all jutting bones and jongin pushes through painfully even with the lube and the seats are stained with come afterwards, messy, sticky, disgusting.
just like them.
jongdae makes a comment about sleeping together that night but it’s not like they weren’t pressed up against each other every night already, squished together in the small room with the small floor, warm in each other’s embrace.
luhan is the first to die.
sehun feels a vague flicker of fear when they cremate him and there’s that lingering whisper of words that ventures out of the corner of his mouth, something like maybe we should stop? but the others stare at him and he stares back, and it’s funny because why would they ever stop?
it’s all a mind game, and it’s all a mind game they’ll never win. they sit around listlessly for a few days, but they always sit around listlessly unless they’re feverish, eyes bright in twisted anticipation, looking toward the horizon for something that’s too far to turn back from, too far to save themselves from.
chanyeol dies next. sehun thinks he should feel sad but all he feels is empty. amused in some bitter way. dying is funny. killing yourself is funny. slowly wasting away and laughing because there’s nothing else to do but laugh. that’s how it always is.
jongin twines his fingers with sehun’s and asks are you okay? and sehun retorts with a short when have we ever been okay, his face stretched painfully into a fake smile, a sarcastic grin. jongin’s fingers are thin like his. they’re trembling, weak from either hunger or fear, but sehun can’t tell which. it doesn’t matter.
jongin snorts in laughter. do you think we need help?
baekhyun dies. junmyeon dies. yixing is on his way. jongdae stops making morbid jokes. someone cries, tears burning a crystal trail of desperation reflected in the expressions of everyone still alive, chest heaving, ribs sticking out noticeably. sehun looks for the profile of jongin against the sunset every night and mumbles quietly, what use is help?
none, jongin whispers back, so they sit together in the dying light of day and watch the night come in with its fingers curling around them, seeking for lives to extinguish. there is no help.
pretty soon, it’s just the two of them left listening to the pit pat of rain leaking through the roof and counting the seconds one by one, like the blinking red lights on a bomb about to reach zero. jongin starts to taste like sweet artificial cherry. they all did before they left. sehun licks his chapped lips and they silently compare the widths of their wrists, the frame of their cheeks and hips. he tastes the sweet artificial cherry so they clasp hands and let go of their frantic attempts to escape themselves. waiting. for the end.
summer’s almost over.
just needed to get a few things off my chest with this ;; i am not saying that there is no help for people with eating disorders in any way, because there is always help and hope, so i hope no one ever has to die because of an ed. take care of yourselves ^^ eating disorders are mind traps but there’s always a way out!