lost without
Yunho kisses his forehead softly before they close the door, and then the lights go out and they both head to their own beds.
He pulls the covers around himself, curling tightly to try and create warmth in the cold bed. There is nothing but the sound of breathing, and the silence leaves too much empty space. His thoughts unravel in the space, expanding out and curling around the slumbering bodies around him.
They return to him though, the soft blanket they’d been in the space constricting around his neck, choking back everything inside him and stopping him from breathing. He curls tighter into himself and squeezes his eyes shut.
He’s so alone, because even with the sounds of four people breathing around him, he can’t hear any of them. He wishes he could. Wishes that love was more then just a fairytale. That he could feel something other then the pale warmth of friendship and family. Wishes that someone would be there for him.
He wishes that there was more then kisses on his forehead, more then the fond squeeze of soft hands on his shoulder. He wishes that someone would hear him, that someone would reach out and take his hand, pull him into the light. He stares into the inky blackness and waits for no one to come.
He hears footsteps, and he knows he’s dreaming.
He pulls the covers around himself, curling tightly to try and create warmth in the cold bed. There is nothing but the sound of breathing, and the silence leaves too much empty space. His thoughts unravel in the space, expanding out and curling around the slumbering bodies around him.
They return to him though, the soft blanket they’d been in the space constricting around his neck, choking back everything inside him and stopping him from breathing. He curls tighter into himself and squeezes his eyes shut.
He’s so alone, because even with the sounds of four people breathing around him, he can’t hear any of them. He wishes he could. Wishes that love was more then just a fairytale. That he could feel something other then the pale warmth of friendship and family. Wishes that someone would be there for him.
He wishes that there was more then kisses on his forehead, more then the fond squeeze of soft hands on his shoulder. He wishes that someone would hear him, that someone would reach out and take his hand, pull him into the light. He stares into the inky blackness and waits for no one to come.
He hears footsteps, and he knows he’s dreaming.