[team sonic] every day of my life
First words from Insupportable.
Title from Xanax by Elohim.
Dream of things you can never imagine, Jeongguk reads on the back of the book lying on Jimin's coffee table. It sounds far too cheerful, somehow; he can picture someone (who somehow looks like Hoseok in his imagination) spouting the words with a cheesy grin on his face, swinging his arms as he jogs down the road or swings around a children's jungle gym.
I wish, Jeongguk thinks. I wish. Instead, he pushes up his glasses and focuses on his fingers, the way they lie on the skin of his knees, the way his knees tremble slightly, here, while he's waiting for Jimin. He can feel the tide welling up inside himself again, the emotions all tangled together and he has to remember to breath.
In. Out.
"In. Out," Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, counting off breaths like beats with the taps of a finger against the bony part of his knee. The room is so big, so small, the silence is roaring in his ears. Dream, the book is shouting at him, DREAM and it feels like an order, DREAM or else. . . Jeongguk shakes his head, breathes.
Breathes.
"Are you okay?" Jeongguk jumps, startled, so intent on breathing that he hadn't noticed, hadn't heard the beeping of numbers being pressed on the keypad, the electronic voice announcing the door was now unlocked, the soft sound of the door swinging open on hinges. He nods, but it's a swift motion, too jerky, a reflex rather than an answer, and Jimin frowns as he walks forward, lets his bag slip to the ground.
"Can I sit here?" he asks, gesturing to the spot on the sofa not quite next to Jeongguk, but not too far. Jeongguk nods, thankful again for Jimin, who always seems to understand. As Jimin sits down, within reach but not hovering, he leans over to flip the book over, and the shouting words are gone.
I don't know what I would do without you, Jeongguk thinks, breathing, as the silence is tempered by the soft presence of Jimin in the room, just sitting, happy just to be there. I can be okay, Jeongguk thinks. I can be okay, some day.
Title from Xanax by Elohim.
Dream of things you can never imagine, Jeongguk reads on the back of the book lying on Jimin's coffee table. It sounds far too cheerful, somehow; he can picture someone (who somehow looks like Hoseok in his imagination) spouting the words with a cheesy grin on his face, swinging his arms as he jogs down the road or swings around a children's jungle gym.
I wish, Jeongguk thinks. I wish. Instead, he pushes up his glasses and focuses on his fingers, the way they lie on the skin of his knees, the way his knees tremble slightly, here, while he's waiting for Jimin. He can feel the tide welling up inside himself again, the emotions all tangled together and he has to remember to breath.
In. Out.
"In. Out," Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, counting off breaths like beats with the taps of a finger against the bony part of his knee. The room is so big, so small, the silence is roaring in his ears. Dream, the book is shouting at him, DREAM and it feels like an order, DREAM or else. . . Jeongguk shakes his head, breathes.
Breathes.
"Are you okay?" Jeongguk jumps, startled, so intent on breathing that he hadn't noticed, hadn't heard the beeping of numbers being pressed on the keypad, the electronic voice announcing the door was now unlocked, the soft sound of the door swinging open on hinges. He nods, but it's a swift motion, too jerky, a reflex rather than an answer, and Jimin frowns as he walks forward, lets his bag slip to the ground.
"Can I sit here?" he asks, gesturing to the spot on the sofa not quite next to Jeongguk, but not too far. Jeongguk nods, thankful again for Jimin, who always seems to understand. As Jimin sits down, within reach but not hovering, he leans over to flip the book over, and the shouting words are gone.
I don't know what I would do without you, Jeongguk thinks, breathing, as the silence is tempered by the soft presence of Jimin in the room, just sitting, happy just to be there. I can be okay, Jeongguk thinks. I can be okay, some day.