Kettering
baekhyun-centric | abstract, angst | 515 words
highly conceptual and highly personal, part of it written when i woke up randomly at 4 AM a week or so ago while the other half was written when i couldn't manage to actually fall asleep tonight.
--> related to Remember.
He would wake up wanting to peel off his own skin.
It took him a few seconds before he remembered he didn't have any.
The room was still, but Baekhyun was not. His eyes itched and his head burned and everything ached, as though his bones were no stronger than a sparrow's, as though he'd snap in two if he moved too much. His fingers worried at his eyes, rubbing them raw and only stopping when the sting was too sharp, forcing away his hands that had been bent into claws. Through a reddened and narrowed gaze he looked to the clock ticking on the wall. 4 AM.
With his sparrow's bones and his claws for fingers he shifted, slow because of the ache, till he was able to prop himself up against the headboard with the sheets that had cradled him slipping down his waist. He could feel the slosh of too-much-medication in his veins with every movement - drugs he didn't even remember taking now a weight in the pit of his stomach and a heavy fuzz in the back of his mind.
"Sleeping pills," he guessed aloud, but his voice came out as a raspy croak - barely there, little more than a gruff hiss in the quiet.
Baekhyun looked to the clock again. 4 AM. His brow furrowed and he cocked his head, sore eyes squinting at the ticking shape on the wall.
The shadows inking the edges of the room flickered. He didn't spare them a glance.
"Monster," went a voice - a familiar one.
"I'm not a monster."
His gaze fell to his lap.
"You may as well be."
Baekhyun began to trace his raw knuckles with his other hand, gently - or as gentle as he could with his claws for fingers - smoothing over the red wounds.
"I'm not a monster."
His mouth was bent into a frown and he had his knees tugged up to his chest.
"Then what are you?"
Baekhyun looked up, shadows flickering in the corners of his vision again.
"You're not a monster, so what are you?"
He said nothing, scowling down again at the back of his hand with a knit brow.
And suddenly he remembered that everything ached - everything hurt.
He could feel the thrumming of his heart - only then he remembered he didn't have one, only a pair of fluttering moths that had strayed into his chest, clumsily bumping around inside. He could feel the soreness of his ribs - only then he remembered he didn't have any, only a birdcage he'd swallowed a long ago. He could see bruises marking the pale of his arms - only then he remembered he didn't have bruises, only blotches of ink embedded in his veins.
"If you're not a monster," went the voice, and Baekhyun wouldn't look up, not with his sparrow's bones or his claws for fingers, not with his moth-eaten heart or birdcage chest or ink stained arms, "then you're not anything."
He wanted to peel off his own skin.
Then he remembered he was only paper and cartilage.
highly conceptual and highly personal, part of it written when i woke up randomly at 4 AM a week or so ago while the other half was written when i couldn't manage to actually fall asleep tonight.
--> related to Remember.
He would wake up wanting to peel off his own skin.
It took him a few seconds before he remembered he didn't have any.
The room was still, but Baekhyun was not. His eyes itched and his head burned and everything ached, as though his bones were no stronger than a sparrow's, as though he'd snap in two if he moved too much. His fingers worried at his eyes, rubbing them raw and only stopping when the sting was too sharp, forcing away his hands that had been bent into claws. Through a reddened and narrowed gaze he looked to the clock ticking on the wall. 4 AM.
With his sparrow's bones and his claws for fingers he shifted, slow because of the ache, till he was able to prop himself up against the headboard with the sheets that had cradled him slipping down his waist. He could feel the slosh of too-much-medication in his veins with every movement - drugs he didn't even remember taking now a weight in the pit of his stomach and a heavy fuzz in the back of his mind.
"Sleeping pills," he guessed aloud, but his voice came out as a raspy croak - barely there, little more than a gruff hiss in the quiet.
Baekhyun looked to the clock again. 4 AM. His brow furrowed and he cocked his head, sore eyes squinting at the ticking shape on the wall.
The shadows inking the edges of the room flickered. He didn't spare them a glance.
"Monster," went a voice - a familiar one.
"I'm not a monster."
His gaze fell to his lap.
"You may as well be."
Baekhyun began to trace his raw knuckles with his other hand, gently - or as gentle as he could with his claws for fingers - smoothing over the red wounds.
"I'm not a monster."
His mouth was bent into a frown and he had his knees tugged up to his chest.
"Then what are you?"
Baekhyun looked up, shadows flickering in the corners of his vision again.
"You're not a monster, so what are you?"
He said nothing, scowling down again at the back of his hand with a knit brow.
And suddenly he remembered that everything ached - everything hurt.
He could feel the thrumming of his heart - only then he remembered he didn't have one, only a pair of fluttering moths that had strayed into his chest, clumsily bumping around inside. He could feel the soreness of his ribs - only then he remembered he didn't have any, only a birdcage he'd swallowed a long ago. He could see bruises marking the pale of his arms - only then he remembered he didn't have bruises, only blotches of ink embedded in his veins.
"If you're not a monster," went the voice, and Baekhyun wouldn't look up, not with his sparrow's bones or his claws for fingers, not with his moth-eaten heart or birdcage chest or ink stained arms, "then you're not anything."
He wanted to peel off his own skin.
Then he remembered he was only paper and cartilage.