{donghae/eunhyuk} broken dreams and paper lanterns
broken dreams and paper lanterns
donghae/eunhyuk | pg-13
hyukjae is a self-proclaimed cynic, unable to see any goodness in humanity. until he meets donghae, whose unparagoned innocence compels him to think otherwise.
broken dreams and paper lanterns
There is something about Hyukjae’s back which Donghae couldn’t quite put his finger on.
The way his shoulders slanted downwards as if eternally framed in a forlorn sigh gave him the awkward appearance of a hunchbacked fifty-year-old, trying to come to terms with a mid-life crisis. From behind, he could hardly tell whether it was his friend or just some stranger with a delicate form.
Sometimes Donghae wonders whether Hyukjae wanted it to be this way, so he could lose himself in a crowd, and no questions asked.
‘Why are you so bony?’ Donghae peers into his face, fingertips tracing the geography of his shoulder blades. They protrude beneath the surface of his skin like coiled mountains, rising upwards as if they were trying to become wings.
‘Because I’m secretly an insect. This is my exoskeleton.’ Hyukjae laughs nervously, jerking away from Donghae’s touch.
Donghae doesn’t want to admit that there is some truth in this feeble joke of his; Hyukjae trapped himself within an invisible shell, wearing a rigid monotone mask on his face, and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. Maybe it was irony, or just pure, unadulterated pity which drew them together; either way, Donghae could tell that there was something special about this man, and he had to work hard to find out just what it was.
The frozen yoghurt ladled with cream lays abandoned on the table where Hyukjae is sitting, his hands drawing circular patterns against a patch of open sky. Hyukjae likes looking at the startling blue against the shadows of the trees, like drops of ink in a bowl of water, the obscure shapes shifting with every passing moment, until it evens to a standstill.
Just like people, you could never tell what will happen; they’re with you one day and betray you the next. Hyukjae doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice. He closes his eyes for a moment.
‘Hey.’ Donghae slides into the empty seat beside him, smile radiant as if he had just won a prize, ‘I’ve found you.’
Hyukjae tries to keep his face composed, ‘Did you want something?’
‘No.’ Donghae chirps, ‘But that yoghurt sure looks nice. Aren’t you going to eat it?’
Hyukjae shakes his head, pushing the dish towards his friend, and is momentarily awe-struck by the speed at which Donghae wolfs it down, licking the spoon dry as he finishes.
‘You’ve-got some cream,’ Hyukjae interjects clumsily, pointing out the vague vicinity on his face.
Donghae wipes his mouth with his sleeve, and then leans back into his chair, hands clasped firmly on his head. Hyukjae watches him, hardly daring to believe that such beauty and innocence could be found in any one person. Maybe he’s refused to see it up to now, preferring instead to dwell in his past miseries, and mistrust of mankind as one entity. It was like believing for a lifetime that the sky is blue, and learning that in fact it is a brilliant shade of green.
‘You know you can trust me.’ Donghae whispers quietly, staring sideways into Hyukjae’s face.
Hyukjae lowers his eyes, surreptitiously clenching his fist until the knuckles glaze a staggering white. He didn’t know he could fall for someone this quickly, this hard. He needs to catch hold of himself.
‘I know.’ Hyukjae whispers back, only dimly acknowledging his defeat.
They lean against the mirrored edge of the dance rooms, a layer of sweat varnishing their faces, fusing their clothes to their bodies. Donghae fans himself with both hands, and attempts to blow the damp strands of hair away from his eyes.
‘Hae-’ Hyukjae says discreetly, ‘Where did you learn to dance like that?’
Donghae turns around, surprised, ‘My father.’
Hyukjae nods silently, before reaching out to grasp hold of Donghae’s wrist in a sudden unpremeditated movement. This was the first time he had intentionally reached out to someone in years, and it felt strangely pleasant.
‘Do you miss him?’
Donghae stares down at his impounded wrist, ‘Yeah.’
They left it at that, Hyukjae holding onto Donghae’s wrist like a lifeline, the silence between them mingled with mutual understanding and a certain sense of accomplishment. Hyukjae knew that he had fallen in too deep to pull out now.
‘I come here, sometimes,’ Hyukjae says, as they stand upon the roof of a rundown warehouse, gazing at the milieu of nightlife beneath them, ‘When I need to think about-things.’
Donghae smiles faintly, measuring the direction of the winds with the tip of his finger. He’s far too happy to notice the profound sorrow in Hyukjae’s eyes, trying to capture this moment within a cascade of fallen memories.
‘Do you think they can hear us?’ Hyukjae points vaguely above them.
‘The clouds?’
‘The spirits.’
Donghae lowers his finger, and looks upwards towards the darkening tumults of the night sky, then back at Hyukjae, ‘I know they can hear us.’
They share a smile, and let their minds wander beyond the frailties of human life, and onto the wider universe before them.
‘I take them with me wherever I go.’ Hyukjae whispers, before taking Donghae’s hand into his palm and clutching tight.
They stand, hand in hand, into the night ahead.
//
please forgive me for this unbearable angst! ;_____;
also, you usually find me writing hanchul so if you're weirded out by this, please don't hate?
donghae/eunhyuk | pg-13
hyukjae is a self-proclaimed cynic, unable to see any goodness in humanity. until he meets donghae, whose unparagoned innocence compels him to think otherwise.
broken dreams and paper lanterns
There is something about Hyukjae’s back which Donghae couldn’t quite put his finger on.
The way his shoulders slanted downwards as if eternally framed in a forlorn sigh gave him the awkward appearance of a hunchbacked fifty-year-old, trying to come to terms with a mid-life crisis. From behind, he could hardly tell whether it was his friend or just some stranger with a delicate form.
Sometimes Donghae wonders whether Hyukjae wanted it to be this way, so he could lose himself in a crowd, and no questions asked.
‘Why are you so bony?’ Donghae peers into his face, fingertips tracing the geography of his shoulder blades. They protrude beneath the surface of his skin like coiled mountains, rising upwards as if they were trying to become wings.
‘Because I’m secretly an insect. This is my exoskeleton.’ Hyukjae laughs nervously, jerking away from Donghae’s touch.
Donghae doesn’t want to admit that there is some truth in this feeble joke of his; Hyukjae trapped himself within an invisible shell, wearing a rigid monotone mask on his face, and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. Maybe it was irony, or just pure, unadulterated pity which drew them together; either way, Donghae could tell that there was something special about this man, and he had to work hard to find out just what it was.
The frozen yoghurt ladled with cream lays abandoned on the table where Hyukjae is sitting, his hands drawing circular patterns against a patch of open sky. Hyukjae likes looking at the startling blue against the shadows of the trees, like drops of ink in a bowl of water, the obscure shapes shifting with every passing moment, until it evens to a standstill.
Just like people, you could never tell what will happen; they’re with you one day and betray you the next. Hyukjae doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice. He closes his eyes for a moment.
‘Hey.’ Donghae slides into the empty seat beside him, smile radiant as if he had just won a prize, ‘I’ve found you.’
Hyukjae tries to keep his face composed, ‘Did you want something?’
‘No.’ Donghae chirps, ‘But that yoghurt sure looks nice. Aren’t you going to eat it?’
Hyukjae shakes his head, pushing the dish towards his friend, and is momentarily awe-struck by the speed at which Donghae wolfs it down, licking the spoon dry as he finishes.
‘You’ve-got some cream,’ Hyukjae interjects clumsily, pointing out the vague vicinity on his face.
Donghae wipes his mouth with his sleeve, and then leans back into his chair, hands clasped firmly on his head. Hyukjae watches him, hardly daring to believe that such beauty and innocence could be found in any one person. Maybe he’s refused to see it up to now, preferring instead to dwell in his past miseries, and mistrust of mankind as one entity. It was like believing for a lifetime that the sky is blue, and learning that in fact it is a brilliant shade of green.
‘You know you can trust me.’ Donghae whispers quietly, staring sideways into Hyukjae’s face.
Hyukjae lowers his eyes, surreptitiously clenching his fist until the knuckles glaze a staggering white. He didn’t know he could fall for someone this quickly, this hard. He needs to catch hold of himself.
‘I know.’ Hyukjae whispers back, only dimly acknowledging his defeat.
They lean against the mirrored edge of the dance rooms, a layer of sweat varnishing their faces, fusing their clothes to their bodies. Donghae fans himself with both hands, and attempts to blow the damp strands of hair away from his eyes.
‘Hae-’ Hyukjae says discreetly, ‘Where did you learn to dance like that?’
Donghae turns around, surprised, ‘My father.’
Hyukjae nods silently, before reaching out to grasp hold of Donghae’s wrist in a sudden unpremeditated movement. This was the first time he had intentionally reached out to someone in years, and it felt strangely pleasant.
‘Do you miss him?’
Donghae stares down at his impounded wrist, ‘Yeah.’
They left it at that, Hyukjae holding onto Donghae’s wrist like a lifeline, the silence between them mingled with mutual understanding and a certain sense of accomplishment. Hyukjae knew that he had fallen in too deep to pull out now.
‘I come here, sometimes,’ Hyukjae says, as they stand upon the roof of a rundown warehouse, gazing at the milieu of nightlife beneath them, ‘When I need to think about-things.’
Donghae smiles faintly, measuring the direction of the winds with the tip of his finger. He’s far too happy to notice the profound sorrow in Hyukjae’s eyes, trying to capture this moment within a cascade of fallen memories.
‘Do you think they can hear us?’ Hyukjae points vaguely above them.
‘The clouds?’
‘The spirits.’
Donghae lowers his finger, and looks upwards towards the darkening tumults of the night sky, then back at Hyukjae, ‘I know they can hear us.’
They share a smile, and let their minds wander beyond the frailties of human life, and onto the wider universe before them.
‘I take them with me wherever I go.’ Hyukjae whispers, before taking Donghae’s hand into his palm and clutching tight.
They stand, hand in hand, into the night ahead.
//
please forgive me for this unbearable angst! ;_____;
also, you usually find me writing hanchul so if you're weirded out by this, please don't hate?