I see stardust seeping through the windows
Title: I see stardust seeping through the windows
Pairing: Kwangmin/Youngmin (bromance)
Rating: G
Length: Drabble, 536 words
A/N:: beta-ed by the amazing kiccy and special apologies to fwalpaca now that I look at the comm's archive I think our idea is similar- I hope you don't mind~
I see stardust seeping through the windows
He opens his eyes and stares as the darkness of the room envelops his senses. His body is tense and his pupils are maybe just slightly dilated, or so he thinks.
Seconds later the tears are coming and Kwangmin feels ridiculous. Because it’s just a simple nightmare. He shuts his lids and breathes- in, out, in, out. Soon the calming patter becomes his mantra, and he lets his tongue sneak out and lick at the substance sliding down his cheeks. For a moment the salty and bitter taste reminds him of the sea, and he feels like he’s surrounded by crashing waves and there’s wind howling in his face. Soft brown orbs once again try to see through the thick darkness.
The moon seems to be lost behind the countless clouds that are sprawled across the night sky. The only thing helping him is the weak light of millions and millions of small stars. Like shattered sparkling beads scattered across a vast never-ending sheet of black and blue and all the hundreds of shades that come in between. He looks at them and feels like for once he can believe. In falling stars and granted wishes, in naïve childhood dreams mixed with fairytales that were once upon a time- but not now.
His chapped lips move and no words come out. In his mouth the bitter taste of sleep hangs, and he wants water so bad. Hands grasp around blindly as he remembers that one cup on his night-stand.
“Wait!”
The shout is sudden, albeit half-muffled by the other’s pillow. It makes Kwangmin’s hand freeze in midair, but it takes a glance at his brother’s soft features to figure out he was just sleep-talking. A sigh he never knew he was holding escaped his lips and he let his hand drop.
He doesn’t want to wake Youngmin up. Not when with Youngmin there’re going to be questions and childish teasing and foolish guesses. Because Kwangmin sees beyond thin shadows and hooded monsters, beyond lying lips and fake eyes.
His fingers still find their way below thin cotton sheets and fluffy white t-shirts, and grasp at ones that are almost identical- maybe just a tad more tanned and with nails a bite too unformed. Youngmin has always been full of bad habits.
He hears a slight groan, and he can almost imagine how the other’s eyes flutter and the way his eyelashes brush against the soft pillow. Soon he feels their fingers being intertwined, and he slightly laughs at the other when he knocks his forehead on the wooden division separating their beds.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice is groggy and scratchy, and there’s irritation lacing through certain syllables, but when he stares at his twin’s half-hooded eyes, he finds those unspoken reassurances he’s always wanted to hear.
“Nightmare”
Kwangmin’s voice is soft and mellow like fermented spider-webs and fading sunlight, and even he himself barely hears his answer. But he feels a squeeze and sees a smile, and somehow feels relieved.
Youngmin barely understands what’s going. But he feels and knows, and that’s just about enough for Kwangmin.
They fall asleep with hands twined and aching and covered by stardust.
Pairing: Kwangmin/Youngmin (bromance)
Rating: G
Length: Drabble, 536 words
A/N:: beta-ed by the amazing kiccy and special apologies to fwalpaca now that I look at the comm's archive I think our idea is similar- I hope you don't mind~
I see stardust seeping through the windows
He opens his eyes and stares as the darkness of the room envelops his senses. His body is tense and his pupils are maybe just slightly dilated, or so he thinks.
Seconds later the tears are coming and Kwangmin feels ridiculous. Because it’s just a simple nightmare. He shuts his lids and breathes- in, out, in, out. Soon the calming patter becomes his mantra, and he lets his tongue sneak out and lick at the substance sliding down his cheeks. For a moment the salty and bitter taste reminds him of the sea, and he feels like he’s surrounded by crashing waves and there’s wind howling in his face. Soft brown orbs once again try to see through the thick darkness.
The moon seems to be lost behind the countless clouds that are sprawled across the night sky. The only thing helping him is the weak light of millions and millions of small stars. Like shattered sparkling beads scattered across a vast never-ending sheet of black and blue and all the hundreds of shades that come in between. He looks at them and feels like for once he can believe. In falling stars and granted wishes, in naïve childhood dreams mixed with fairytales that were once upon a time- but not now.
His chapped lips move and no words come out. In his mouth the bitter taste of sleep hangs, and he wants water so bad. Hands grasp around blindly as he remembers that one cup on his night-stand.
“Wait!”
The shout is sudden, albeit half-muffled by the other’s pillow. It makes Kwangmin’s hand freeze in midair, but it takes a glance at his brother’s soft features to figure out he was just sleep-talking. A sigh he never knew he was holding escaped his lips and he let his hand drop.
He doesn’t want to wake Youngmin up. Not when with Youngmin there’re going to be questions and childish teasing and foolish guesses. Because Kwangmin sees beyond thin shadows and hooded monsters, beyond lying lips and fake eyes.
His fingers still find their way below thin cotton sheets and fluffy white t-shirts, and grasp at ones that are almost identical- maybe just a tad more tanned and with nails a bite too unformed. Youngmin has always been full of bad habits.
He hears a slight groan, and he can almost imagine how the other’s eyes flutter and the way his eyelashes brush against the soft pillow. Soon he feels their fingers being intertwined, and he slightly laughs at the other when he knocks his forehead on the wooden division separating their beds.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice is groggy and scratchy, and there’s irritation lacing through certain syllables, but when he stares at his twin’s half-hooded eyes, he finds those unspoken reassurances he’s always wanted to hear.
“Nightmare”
Kwangmin’s voice is soft and mellow like fermented spider-webs and fading sunlight, and even he himself barely hears his answer. But he feels a squeeze and sees a smile, and somehow feels relieved.
Youngmin barely understands what’s going. But he feels and knows, and that’s just about enough for Kwangmin.
They fall asleep with hands twined and aching and covered by stardust.