[fic] gates
gates
yoochun/junsu
385w; pg
dreaming in reality, or vice versa.
record
Whisky-fuelled fingers press against sweat-chilled skin and for once, just once, they don’t slide away. Every moan garnered is a small victory, another crack in the machine. Angry nails dig red paths into your skin but the pain is just another reason to celebrate. He wants you, enough to mark you. He moves in that way of beautifully ugly creatures, slow and unsure and defensive. You’ve never felt anything so good. He pushes you down, climbs over you and steals your breath. You wonder why you’re the one feeling like a thief.
The bruises don’t fade for three days.
fast forward
You wake up from a dream that’s left you feeling dead. A crease in the pillow next to you is your only companion. You think you might be glad for it. Your memory is hazy, blinks and stutters of skin and lips. There is an eyelash stuck to your finger. It is not your own. You have to go back to work today. The marks have faded but the problem is still underneath, digging you hollow from the inside. Ships are sinking in your empty stomach, one by one. He’s not a superhero; you don’t know why you thought he could save you.
rewind
The world you dream of is the one you long for. Gods of war and love and no one will have you. You are a friend of neither though you imagine they are one and the same. You walk a thousand miles as gold spins past in dizzying circles. You think you see him at one point, but it’s okay, you tell yourself. It’s just an angel. You lie on the floor and, even as your eyelids flutter in real time, you think that dying isn’t all that different from living. There is light, though, blinding and painful. It reminds you of-
Your open your eyes and everything is dark again.
play
“What does it feel like, Yoochunah?” he asks, eyes bright with curiosity and cheap alcohol.
I could show you, you want to say. But there will be repercussions, punishments already set in motion.
You shrug and let the bottle slip from your fingers. “Like heaven,” you say. It’s just a guess.
He kisses you and you think yes and maybe and I wish. He can save you.
yoochun/junsu
385w; pg
dreaming in reality, or vice versa.
record
Whisky-fuelled fingers press against sweat-chilled skin and for once, just once, they don’t slide away. Every moan garnered is a small victory, another crack in the machine. Angry nails dig red paths into your skin but the pain is just another reason to celebrate. He wants you, enough to mark you. He moves in that way of beautifully ugly creatures, slow and unsure and defensive. You’ve never felt anything so good. He pushes you down, climbs over you and steals your breath. You wonder why you’re the one feeling like a thief.
The bruises don’t fade for three days.
fast forward
You wake up from a dream that’s left you feeling dead. A crease in the pillow next to you is your only companion. You think you might be glad for it. Your memory is hazy, blinks and stutters of skin and lips. There is an eyelash stuck to your finger. It is not your own. You have to go back to work today. The marks have faded but the problem is still underneath, digging you hollow from the inside. Ships are sinking in your empty stomach, one by one. He’s not a superhero; you don’t know why you thought he could save you.
rewind
The world you dream of is the one you long for. Gods of war and love and no one will have you. You are a friend of neither though you imagine they are one and the same. You walk a thousand miles as gold spins past in dizzying circles. You think you see him at one point, but it’s okay, you tell yourself. It’s just an angel. You lie on the floor and, even as your eyelids flutter in real time, you think that dying isn’t all that different from living. There is light, though, blinding and painful. It reminds you of-
Your open your eyes and everything is dark again.
play
“What does it feel like, Yoochunah?” he asks, eyes bright with curiosity and cheap alcohol.
I could show you, you want to say. But there will be repercussions, punishments already set in motion.
You shrug and let the bottle slip from your fingers. “Like heaven,” you say. It’s just a guess.
He kisses you and you think yes and maybe and I wish. He can save you.