045. Smooth, Shindong/Sungmin
Title: Smooth
Pairing: Shindong/Sungmin friendship
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implied self-mutilation
Shindong sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the doorknob and wishing it would lock. He’s skipping dinner (again) because he can’t face any of them any more than he needs to.
(It’s what he’s best at, slipping into the background and being genuinely invisible.)
He moves to the closet and pushes a pile of clothes onto the floor outside, settling comfortably in the inside corner. His lips tremble and he sighs deeply, exhaling all of the emotion from his body.
His breath becomes one with the room and they connect-empty, shattered, alone, everything and nothing rolled into one. For once, he feels like someone understands him, someone knows how he feels, what he feels.
(of course, as usual, this ‘someone’ is really ‘no one’ in the end.)
There’s a soft tap at the door and Sungmin enters with a plate of food and chopsticks. He looks into the closet and finds Shindong shoved up in the corner with his head buried into his knees, crying (crying!) something Sungmin didn’t even realize Shindong could possibly do.
He sits down beside him and sets down the food. Shindong doesn’t even bother looking up as Sungmin’s hands entangle themselves together with Shindong’s. He slides closer and wraps his arms around Shindong’s shaking body.
He pulls away when the sobs stop so Shindong can have a bit of breathing space and reconnects their hands, neither saying a word, just being together, Sungmin glancing down as his arms brush Shindong’s cold hands.
And then he spots it. Them. The small, long marks of terror running down Shindong’s pale arms and he is stunned. His right hand lets go and he wants to pull away, run away, tell Leeteuk or someone who could possibly have something coherent to say about it because Sungmin’s mind can’t comprehend anything anymore. He watches his fingertip sink down like it isn’t his and trace a line between the marks.
He opens his mouth and says the few words of optimism he can think of with false cheer.
“…the skin between the scars is smooth.”
Pairing: Shindong/Sungmin friendship
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implied self-mutilation
Shindong sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the doorknob and wishing it would lock. He’s skipping dinner (again) because he can’t face any of them any more than he needs to.
(It’s what he’s best at, slipping into the background and being genuinely invisible.)
He moves to the closet and pushes a pile of clothes onto the floor outside, settling comfortably in the inside corner. His lips tremble and he sighs deeply, exhaling all of the emotion from his body.
His breath becomes one with the room and they connect-empty, shattered, alone, everything and nothing rolled into one. For once, he feels like someone understands him, someone knows how he feels, what he feels.
(of course, as usual, this ‘someone’ is really ‘no one’ in the end.)
There’s a soft tap at the door and Sungmin enters with a plate of food and chopsticks. He looks into the closet and finds Shindong shoved up in the corner with his head buried into his knees, crying (crying!) something Sungmin didn’t even realize Shindong could possibly do.
He sits down beside him and sets down the food. Shindong doesn’t even bother looking up as Sungmin’s hands entangle themselves together with Shindong’s. He slides closer and wraps his arms around Shindong’s shaking body.
He pulls away when the sobs stop so Shindong can have a bit of breathing space and reconnects their hands, neither saying a word, just being together, Sungmin glancing down as his arms brush Shindong’s cold hands.
And then he spots it. Them. The small, long marks of terror running down Shindong’s pale arms and he is stunned. His right hand lets go and he wants to pull away, run away, tell Leeteuk or someone who could possibly have something coherent to say about it because Sungmin’s mind can’t comprehend anything anymore. He watches his fingertip sink down like it isn’t his and trace a line between the marks.
He opens his mouth and says the few words of optimism he can think of with false cheer.
“…the skin between the scars is smooth.”