[drabble] moonlighted days, street-stomping ways
title: moonlighted days, street-stomping ways
pairing: sehun/lu han
rating: pg-13 (cursing only)
summary: sehun may or may not be running away from something.
length: super short
notes: i mourn the death of hunhan in thirty minutes.
tonight, the same nauseous beat has been haunting him all night, dogging him with this god-awful throbbing. it's been non-stop pouring out of every hongdae speaker, and every joint he's stumbled into seems to be playing the same half-assed dance anthem to a crowd of people throwing their hands into pretty light: the chronically depressed burning their fingers on electro, glitch; pathological hip hop and souped-up sadness.
the beat fades for a few seconds, breaking for a few track skips and a short riff across three notes. everyone seems to settle a little, the driving fervor two measures behind and subtle. some people take the chance to slip away and get a drink, and some people fall into the streets, stumbling home under the harsh stars of seoul city streetlights. (it's best to leave while you can, sehun thinks, drink in hand, while you're still okay and whole.)
he waits for the pounding four-on-the-floor to resurge. (he can't tell his own breathing from the electronic warbles.) and it rises, in levels, in crashing waves, swallowing the people whole. the crowd comes alive, and he downs his drink, numb.
two minutes later, cold wind is running through his hair as he makes his way through the maze of inebriated people staggering down the streets. then, somehow, he's down by that 24/7 convenience store he used to frequent back in high school. the midnight clerk is dozing with her head on the counter, and sehun can see the same instant ramen he used to buy after 3 o'clock ragers sitting on the same dirty metal shelves circling the back of the store. (back then, throwing your life away was only a joke.)
he opens the door, and there's the same soft tinkle from the bell above the entrance. the cashier snaps to attention, and sehun tries his best to give her a comforting smile. he sidles up to the counter and presses a kiss to her forehead.
her eyes soften, and we're all just living in his shadow, sehun thinks as he slides his fingers between hers. (she curls her fingers around his.)
a/n: what the hell just happened this isn't hunhan stupidity levels are high today with a side of unnecessary lyricism and narrative deviations
pairing: sehun/lu han
rating: pg-13 (cursing only)
summary: sehun may or may not be running away from something.
length: super short
notes: i mourn the death of hunhan in thirty minutes.
tonight, the same nauseous beat has been haunting him all night, dogging him with this god-awful throbbing. it's been non-stop pouring out of every hongdae speaker, and every joint he's stumbled into seems to be playing the same half-assed dance anthem to a crowd of people throwing their hands into pretty light: the chronically depressed burning their fingers on electro, glitch; pathological hip hop and souped-up sadness.
the beat fades for a few seconds, breaking for a few track skips and a short riff across three notes. everyone seems to settle a little, the driving fervor two measures behind and subtle. some people take the chance to slip away and get a drink, and some people fall into the streets, stumbling home under the harsh stars of seoul city streetlights. (it's best to leave while you can, sehun thinks, drink in hand, while you're still okay and whole.)
he waits for the pounding four-on-the-floor to resurge. (he can't tell his own breathing from the electronic warbles.) and it rises, in levels, in crashing waves, swallowing the people whole. the crowd comes alive, and he downs his drink, numb.
two minutes later, cold wind is running through his hair as he makes his way through the maze of inebriated people staggering down the streets. then, somehow, he's down by that 24/7 convenience store he used to frequent back in high school. the midnight clerk is dozing with her head on the counter, and sehun can see the same instant ramen he used to buy after 3 o'clock ragers sitting on the same dirty metal shelves circling the back of the store. (back then, throwing your life away was only a joke.)
he opens the door, and there's the same soft tinkle from the bell above the entrance. the cashier snaps to attention, and sehun tries his best to give her a comforting smile. he sidles up to the counter and presses a kiss to her forehead.
her eyes soften, and we're all just living in his shadow, sehun thinks as he slides his fingers between hers. (she curls her fingers around his.)
a/n: what the hell just happened this isn't hunhan stupidity levels are high today with a side of unnecessary lyricism and narrative deviations