023.
It's when I'm standing six feet away from you and not being able to find the words to tell you how much I love you and how much I miss you that I want to just scream to the whole room that I'm still in love with you. It's when I'm sitting along with my phone in my hand dialling your number and hanging up that I would trade a thousand tomorrows for just one yesterday. Then I could just call you to tell you goodnight. It's when I am really sad about something and need someone to talk to that I realise you're the only one who really knew meat all. It's when I cry myself to sleep at night that it hits me how much I would give to hold you at this very moment. It's when I think about you that I realise no one else in the world is meant for me.
- A Million Little Pieces
for reference and for angie.
-
being on stage is the worst; on stage is when the pangs hit hyukjae hardest and he's left gripping his microphone, almost breathless with the sudden urge to just reach over and touch donghae's wrist, to see the smile turn his way and mutter a small, "hyuk?"
but that doesn't mean that being in an interview, being on a variety show, being on set with him is any easier. it's still hard to restrain himself from just reaching out and tapping donghae's shoulder, from turning the music off in the dance rooms when just the two of them are left and going, "hey, let's talk," and answering his laugh of, "talk about what?" with, "anything," when really hyukjae just wants to say, "i don't care, i just want to hear your voice."
"hyuk, you're so weird," donghae always laughs, and hyukjae doesn't really care if donghae's laughing at him if it means he can hear that sound, or see that smile.
"but you still love me~" hyukjae croons, and donghae laughs again, the sound soft and lilting.
"uh huh, sure."
sometimes, having his own bedroom is lonely. he's used to it; he used to having his own room back at home, but moving into the dorms has him accustomed to the sounds of others' soft breaths, quiet and not-so-quiet sleeping.
but there's always that small ache, and he picks up his phone even if donghae is only a few metres away.
"yeah?" he answers, croaky and sleep laden.
"wanna talk?"
donghae laughs again, but hyukjae can hear as the bedsprings creak as he sits up.
"sure, if you want."
there are also those times when hyukjae locks himself in his room, trying to cry silently but failing and simply sobbing instead, clutching at his blankets and trying not to fall apart. he fumbles for his phone, then, dials a number he knows by heart, and waits.
"yeah?"
"donghae," hyukjae says, a sob escaping him, and donghae stills.
"you crying?"
hyukjae lets the silence answer, and donghae sighs. he covers the mouthpiece, and hyukjae can hear the distant mumblings of donghae excusing himself.
"why?" donghae asks simply.
"i miss home. i'm homesick and i miss my mum, and my dad, and sora, and my bed room, and..."
donghae shooshes him.
"when i was eight," he starts, and starts spinning a tale. "i climbed a tree outside our house. it wasn't very big nor supportive, but i still climbed it..."
hyukjae lets donghae's voice wash over him before he falls asleep, the stories lulling him to peace like they do every other time. donghae hangs up.
- A Million Little Pieces
for reference and for angie.
-
being on stage is the worst; on stage is when the pangs hit hyukjae hardest and he's left gripping his microphone, almost breathless with the sudden urge to just reach over and touch donghae's wrist, to see the smile turn his way and mutter a small, "hyuk?"
but that doesn't mean that being in an interview, being on a variety show, being on set with him is any easier. it's still hard to restrain himself from just reaching out and tapping donghae's shoulder, from turning the music off in the dance rooms when just the two of them are left and going, "hey, let's talk," and answering his laugh of, "talk about what?" with, "anything," when really hyukjae just wants to say, "i don't care, i just want to hear your voice."
"hyuk, you're so weird," donghae always laughs, and hyukjae doesn't really care if donghae's laughing at him if it means he can hear that sound, or see that smile.
"but you still love me~" hyukjae croons, and donghae laughs again, the sound soft and lilting.
"uh huh, sure."
sometimes, having his own bedroom is lonely. he's used to it; he used to having his own room back at home, but moving into the dorms has him accustomed to the sounds of others' soft breaths, quiet and not-so-quiet sleeping.
but there's always that small ache, and he picks up his phone even if donghae is only a few metres away.
"yeah?" he answers, croaky and sleep laden.
"wanna talk?"
donghae laughs again, but hyukjae can hear as the bedsprings creak as he sits up.
"sure, if you want."
there are also those times when hyukjae locks himself in his room, trying to cry silently but failing and simply sobbing instead, clutching at his blankets and trying not to fall apart. he fumbles for his phone, then, dials a number he knows by heart, and waits.
"yeah?"
"donghae," hyukjae says, a sob escaping him, and donghae stills.
"you crying?"
hyukjae lets the silence answer, and donghae sighs. he covers the mouthpiece, and hyukjae can hear the distant mumblings of donghae excusing himself.
"why?" donghae asks simply.
"i miss home. i'm homesick and i miss my mum, and my dad, and sora, and my bed room, and..."
donghae shooshes him.
"when i was eight," he starts, and starts spinning a tale. "i climbed a tree outside our house. it wasn't very big nor supportive, but i still climbed it..."
hyukjae lets donghae's voice wash over him before he falls asleep, the stories lulling him to peace like they do every other time. donghae hangs up.