homecoming

[warmboys]

Homecoming
Heechul/Victoria/guess who, R for vague naughty things!, ~550 words
Sort of me liveblogging the music video.

He likes her best this way, are the words plugged in his throat when he swallows back phlegm and watches her hair float in wisps as she stands rooted to the ground. It’s clear the direction she will eventually move towards, but for now she’s still. It makes no difference, this is just stalling, so he doesn’t tell her he likes her face best this way, dry and raw.

It reminds him of the first night they made love. He’d waited outside the library where she worked. It was supposed to start snowing in an hour. She walked out with a hand clutching her large, unwieldy canvas bag and another on the wide-brimmed hat covering her head, and when he laughed in relief (it doesn’t make any sense to him now why) she’d twitched and turned with her whole body to face him. The way her eyes expanded to take in the full sight of him then and the way they closed later, so tight and desperate, as he slid into her with care and felt her fingers digging into his back. She’d kept her nails short and clean so it didn’t hurt as much as it could‘ve.

It has ended, and he hopes she won’t misunderstand the physics behind their brief encounter. Encounters. Affair. Is it an affair if, worst case scenario, you’re really only cheating on yourself? “God, you’re so perfect,” he’d told her the second day, in her doorway. “Stop, don’t say things like that,” her ears reddening, and she’d busied her hands with the hem of her sweater. It was disalarming to see a grown woman so put out of place in her own home. “Do you want something?” She’d said, turning towards the kitchen. “Only you,” he’d responded, quick as a heartbeat.

It’s over, it’s easy. He doesn’t miss her but some days his mind lies empty and stumbles upon how the lilt of her syllables announces to the world that she isn’t from around here, that her passport bears a different color. The way she pronounces his name clean and crisp contrasts with “Heechul” mumbled carelessly through a more familiar mouth. He’d sought that familiarity so shamelessly, in the swell of her breasts, the shape of her downcast eyes.

“’It should hurt less because we’re in it together,’” she says, her large white sweater resembling a hospital gown. She shivers through it, and he fights back the need to hug her warm. “I thought that we could’ve started afresh. You know?”

The words tremble, and there is immense courage behind them.

“It didn’t help,” he says. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” she says.

Her back is wide and manly from where he stands. He wonders if she’s always been this strong, or if grief granted him temporary blindness. “I used you,” he tries, just to see. As expected, she answers, “It was mutual.”

The apartment is as cold as he left it, but when he falls asleep on the couch he feels an extra set of fingers pull the blanket up to his chin and stroke just once, gently, across his cheek.

can't sleep, decided to fic this, predictably.

twitterlogs
jenyfly: who else anticipates that once the MV is out someone on our respective flists is going to write Heechul/Victoria (i.e. if you won't I will)
me: @jenyfly i took the mv to be about them both missing hankyung o_o someone should write that ot3
jenyfly: @(me) I was totally waiting for someone to say that (uh, holy crap, re: MV)
me: @jenyfly it was begging to be said. someone should photoshop hankyung into that photo
me: @jenyfly omg someone should parody the video to make it about hankyung and really shop him into that photo! seriously
jenyfly: @(me) or you could mesh it with Hankyung's cuts from Blue Tomorrow and they could ALL BE CRYING for no particular reason!