Every Human Love III: An Abstract Insight
Series: Every Human Love
Part I Part II
Title: An Abstract Insight
Character: Changmin
Rating: G
Summary: "Changmin's always seen more than other people do - literally, not just metaphorically."
AU. Title from Auden's 'Lullaby'. Changmin couldn't not have a say.
Changmin's always seen more than other people do - literally, not just metaphorically. He sees the magic hiding in the cracks of everyday life, the ghosts and whispers and bright shining things that walk crossways to the rest of the world. He could reach out, he thinks, touch one, hold it down and pin it to him, just by knowing it's there, but that's not what he wants. He prefers to watch them, to catch them in the corner of his eye and barely at the edge of hearing, to let them gild the edges of his life with invisible colour. He loves the tang of woodsmoke in the air with no bonfire to explain it, the hint of rain and ozone on a cloudless day, the silken brush when a shadow moves independent of the light.
On holiday afternoons, Changmin sits at pavement tables outside coffee shops, watching the people walk by, the little gods and broken things that flow between and through them, lets the moments spin through his fingers like thread drawing taut until it's time to go home and finish his homework.
One weekend morning Changmin walks past two boys dancing in the park - with or against each other, Changmin can't tell. One of them moves like water, as if it would destroy him to stay still; when he stops dancing and pushes hands through his hair and laughs as he claps the taller one on the back, Changmin thinks of sharks and swimming, thinks about opening the cage for a moment. Changmin wonders if the other one, the almost-ordinary one, knows what he's holding on to, who he's laughing with, if it would even matter to him.
On his way to his tutor's room in the university dorms that evening, Changmin passes a boy who carries the touch of magic around his shoulders and on his hands, lying against him like a second skin, caught in the curls on his head and glossing his mouth where someone might have kissed him goodbye. Changmin almost stops him, almost asks what it's like being that close to something like that, if it's worth it, the fear and the danger and the sorrow that must surely come with the territory. Instead Changmin nods the awkward greeting of strangers who catch each others' eyes by accident, and brushes past the other boy to his tutor's door.
Part I Part II
Title: An Abstract Insight
Character: Changmin
Rating: G
Summary: "Changmin's always seen more than other people do - literally, not just metaphorically."
AU. Title from Auden's 'Lullaby'. Changmin couldn't not have a say.
Changmin's always seen more than other people do - literally, not just metaphorically. He sees the magic hiding in the cracks of everyday life, the ghosts and whispers and bright shining things that walk crossways to the rest of the world. He could reach out, he thinks, touch one, hold it down and pin it to him, just by knowing it's there, but that's not what he wants. He prefers to watch them, to catch them in the corner of his eye and barely at the edge of hearing, to let them gild the edges of his life with invisible colour. He loves the tang of woodsmoke in the air with no bonfire to explain it, the hint of rain and ozone on a cloudless day, the silken brush when a shadow moves independent of the light.
On holiday afternoons, Changmin sits at pavement tables outside coffee shops, watching the people walk by, the little gods and broken things that flow between and through them, lets the moments spin through his fingers like thread drawing taut until it's time to go home and finish his homework.
One weekend morning Changmin walks past two boys dancing in the park - with or against each other, Changmin can't tell. One of them moves like water, as if it would destroy him to stay still; when he stops dancing and pushes hands through his hair and laughs as he claps the taller one on the back, Changmin thinks of sharks and swimming, thinks about opening the cage for a moment. Changmin wonders if the other one, the almost-ordinary one, knows what he's holding on to, who he's laughing with, if it would even matter to him.
On his way to his tutor's room in the university dorms that evening, Changmin passes a boy who carries the touch of magic around his shoulders and on his hands, lying against him like a second skin, caught in the curls on his head and glossing his mouth where someone might have kissed him goodbye. Changmin almost stops him, almost asks what it's like being that close to something like that, if it's worth it, the fear and the danger and the sorrow that must surely come with the territory. Instead Changmin nods the awkward greeting of strangers who catch each others' eyes by accident, and brushes past the other boy to his tutor's door.