[btob] but it never slows down
but it never slows down
things like summer eventually have to end.
Sungjae/Ilhoon | 600 words | PG
It doesn't feel like anything is going to change, not in this moment, not with them lying on their backs letting the dampness of the ground seep into their thin cotton t-shirts, not with Ilhoon recounting, rather elaborately, his summer spent in Taiwan. Sungjae doesn't really listen to Ilhoon; he's heard these stories at least a dozen times through long distance phone calls, emails, and drunken text messages. At one point Ilhoon throws his hands up in a dramatic manner and showers Sungjae in the shards of grass he had been picking at. Sungjae sputters and spits out the pieces that fall into his mouth. Everything is exactly the way it’s always been.
Somewhere the wind rushes and the swing set creaks and suddenly Sungjae feels stupid about having suggested they meet at the playground for old time’s sake. This is incredibly juvenile. They use to sit on the swings with alcohol stolen from their parents and Ilhoon would insist on swinging upside down because that would allegedly speed up the effects.
Sungjae thinks he wasn't even this sentimental at his own graduation a few months back. There had been lots of pictures, flowers, and handshakes. There was a nice dinner afterwards with Ilhoon's family, too. Their parents had talked about Ilhoon's future in Seoul and Sungjae's abroad and the two of them had played paper football from across the table, only minimally participating in the conversation. Instead, here in the middle of a worn down playground at the ending days of August, the light feeling of nostalgia creeps and settles into the corner of his heart; he picks at the grass some more.
Sungjae widens his eyes and lets the sky peppered with stars fill every inch of his vision. Somehow this makes the world feel infinitely larger: it makes the distance across the pacific seem all the more daunting. Ilhoon throws more grass over his head as his stories of summer simmer to a stop.
His voice dies down and it feels like one of those moments Sungjae can only describe as a top winding to its final revolutions, wobbling about just before it topples. It doesn't feel like anything is going to change, yet everything is about to change.
"I should..." It's silent and Sungjae knows it's getting late. "We should..."
"--Yeah, you know lots of packing to do and all." Ilhoon cuts in. He sits up abruptly and turns so he's looking down at Sungjae who is still lying on his back.
"You need to promise me something." Ilhoon says with a soft edge to his voice, as if he were holding a word or two back. He smiles though, one of the really hopeful kinds of smiles fueled with dreams of the future and only an inkling of sadness at the idea of his best friend moving thousands of miles away.
Sungjae nods. "Anything."
"As long as it's legal, relatively."
Ilhoon hesitates, almost unnoticeably, before suddenly putting his hands on Sungjae's face, mashing his cheeks together, and massaging them about rather roughly.
"Promise me you will finally get laid." He says with a gaping smile.
Sungjae strains his face and laughs. Ilhoon lets his hands linger on his cheeks for a moment longer and Sungjae knows, maybe through the warm tips of Ilhoon's fingers or maybe from the crazed expressed of Ilhoon's cheeky grin, that even if everything changes, even if they change and graduate into different people, that this, whatever this is, will always remain the same.
a/n: yep i've been won over and i really need to wail about this group right now.
things like summer eventually have to end.
Sungjae/Ilhoon | 600 words | PG
It doesn't feel like anything is going to change, not in this moment, not with them lying on their backs letting the dampness of the ground seep into their thin cotton t-shirts, not with Ilhoon recounting, rather elaborately, his summer spent in Taiwan. Sungjae doesn't really listen to Ilhoon; he's heard these stories at least a dozen times through long distance phone calls, emails, and drunken text messages. At one point Ilhoon throws his hands up in a dramatic manner and showers Sungjae in the shards of grass he had been picking at. Sungjae sputters and spits out the pieces that fall into his mouth. Everything is exactly the way it’s always been.
Somewhere the wind rushes and the swing set creaks and suddenly Sungjae feels stupid about having suggested they meet at the playground for old time’s sake. This is incredibly juvenile. They use to sit on the swings with alcohol stolen from their parents and Ilhoon would insist on swinging upside down because that would allegedly speed up the effects.
Sungjae thinks he wasn't even this sentimental at his own graduation a few months back. There had been lots of pictures, flowers, and handshakes. There was a nice dinner afterwards with Ilhoon's family, too. Their parents had talked about Ilhoon's future in Seoul and Sungjae's abroad and the two of them had played paper football from across the table, only minimally participating in the conversation. Instead, here in the middle of a worn down playground at the ending days of August, the light feeling of nostalgia creeps and settles into the corner of his heart; he picks at the grass some more.
Sungjae widens his eyes and lets the sky peppered with stars fill every inch of his vision. Somehow this makes the world feel infinitely larger: it makes the distance across the pacific seem all the more daunting. Ilhoon throws more grass over his head as his stories of summer simmer to a stop.
His voice dies down and it feels like one of those moments Sungjae can only describe as a top winding to its final revolutions, wobbling about just before it topples. It doesn't feel like anything is going to change, yet everything is about to change.
"I should..." It's silent and Sungjae knows it's getting late. "We should..."
"--Yeah, you know lots of packing to do and all." Ilhoon cuts in. He sits up abruptly and turns so he's looking down at Sungjae who is still lying on his back.
"You need to promise me something." Ilhoon says with a soft edge to his voice, as if he were holding a word or two back. He smiles though, one of the really hopeful kinds of smiles fueled with dreams of the future and only an inkling of sadness at the idea of his best friend moving thousands of miles away.
Sungjae nods. "Anything."
"As long as it's legal, relatively."
Ilhoon hesitates, almost unnoticeably, before suddenly putting his hands on Sungjae's face, mashing his cheeks together, and massaging them about rather roughly.
"Promise me you will finally get laid." He says with a gaping smile.
Sungjae strains his face and laughs. Ilhoon lets his hands linger on his cheeks for a moment longer and Sungjae knows, maybe through the warm tips of Ilhoon's fingers or maybe from the crazed expressed of Ilhoon's cheeky grin, that even if everything changes, even if they change and graduate into different people, that this, whatever this is, will always remain the same.
a/n: yep i've been won over and i really need to wail about this group right now.