If you be my star, I’ll be your sky
HI everyone~ I'm sorry i've been MIA recently, there's just been too much going on lately...i hope you guys are all doing good, I MISS YOU ALL SO MUCH!
This is a belated lateislateislate birthday present for my beloved bb dongsaeng, mawaru_berry, i hope you like it kaija~ <3
A/N: stole the image from sarah bb superbmushroom =)
**********************************
If you be my star, I’ll be your sky
Each day when Kyuhyun came home, he brought with him a single candle.
Sometimes, when Kyuhyun had worked particularly hard and the provisions were good that week, the candle would be long and white and it would burn for hours and Hankyung would make something out of the tinned food, reading the menu in the flickering light and pretending that preserved carrot was crab and soggy cabbage was abalone and they’d have a feast with the candle dancing between them. Other times they would simply lean their heads together and read a book that they had picked out long before, carefully absorbing each line and Kyuhyun would read slower just so they can reach the bottom of the page at the same time, because they would both reach to turn the page and Kyuhyun liked how Hankyung smiled when their hands touched.
Mostly though, the candle was short and thin and it would only last a few minutes or an hour at most if they were lucky. They rushed about doing what was necessary and the wax pooling was like a bomb ticking down. They are sure to always leave at least one minute spare though, just so they can sit together and look around their apartment and remember that they had a home together and that there was still something to live for.
The apartment is small, but well furnished, although the air conditioner no longer worked and the paint in the corners were starting to peel. It wasn’t that long ago, that they had painted those walls (blue, just because Kyuhyun had spilt yellow paint into the green) and picking out their furniture and getting two copies of the key.
It might as well have been another lifetime.
Everyone’s lost track of how long it has been since man’s machines became man’s masters and humans lost life as they had known it. It just happened one day in a myriad of sound (screaming, grinding, the swirling of machinery) and the descent of darkness. The light just died, they had watched it blink out all over the city, the snuffing out of hope and when morning came, the world was blank.
There was never really any explanation, because that involved televisions and newspapers and electricity and those things were banned now. Hankyung hears from the men at the corner store about how the earth had died and there wasn’t any fuel or resources left. Kyuhyun comes home and tells Hankyung about weak governments and the rise of machinery rebellions and the explanations all blend together and it doesn’t seem that important anymore, when there was nothing but darkness and each other.
The streets are still filled with people, only their steps are rigid and dragging and their necks stiff as if no one wanted to look around, maybe because there's nothing to see anymore. The shop windows are still there and there’s not a speck of dust on them and the mannequins in the windows are dressed in clothes that no one can ever buy and they look just like the people on the streets, because they are the people on the streets (it’s a set timetable of rotations as people walked on and off the podiums and they all looked the same, not just the clothes they wore, but the empty look in their eyes). The footpaths are spotless and the trees perfectly trimmed; Hankyung thinks they’re hideous because he still remembers what real leaves felt like and these plastic replacements were a weak imitation.
It’s an empty city. (empty of humanity, of realness, of life)
They don’t know what happened to the others, there are no phones anymore and all that’s there if anyone dared to dial would be empty air that whispered rules and loss and despair into their ear. Sometimes, Hankyung still picks up the receiver and he thinks he hears Eeteuk’s laugh and Donghae’s stories about aliens and Ryeowook’s soft voice. He always hangs up before Kyuhyun comes home, because the only time Kyuhyun had cried since the Change was when he had came home and found Hankyung talking on the phone to Shiwon and Henry, mumbling Chinese wildly into the empty receiver.
Hankyung sees a man with red hair and sharp cheekbones in the shop window as he walks past one day and there’s the barest falter in his step, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop and they only trade one glance (sorry, why, what, how, i miss you, I can’t, sorry) and he walks right past and he doesn’t glance back, because no matter how much he looked like him, it wasn’t really Hyukjae anymore.
There are two beds in their apartment and they are always unmade, blankets shoved to one side and pillows crinkled, even if they only ever sleep in one. Just in case they checked (they check everywhere it’s said). It’s cramped and uncomfortable, two tall, grown men squished onto one single bed, but they do it anyway, even if they wake up with numb arms and sore necks. They needed to be together; Kyuhyun doesn’t want to think about what will happen if they weren’t.
There are no stars in the sky anymore; it was as if someone plucked them out and stepped on them. Instead there’s a dark, smoky haze that covers everything and it’s like the bars on a prison cell, except so much worse, because there’s absolutely nothing to see outside them, not even fat prison guards or dirty walls. They sit by the window and stare out at the darkness and Hankyung likes to think he can still see. Kyuhyun takes Hankyung’s hand and together they trace the contours of the bank and the high rise apartments and the old SM building and the way Kyuhyun moves his hand is so delicate, that Hankyung can almost see the windows and the gleam of the glass as it reflected the traffic that once existed below.
Hankyung still dances sometimes, in the darkness of their apartment, to a tune that was playing in his head, and Kyuhyun would insist they push all the furniture to the wall because Hankyung needed to fly. Kyuhyun closes his eyes sometimes, because he thinks of brightly lit practice rooms and vast, open stages and he doesn’t want to watch Hankyung do soft spins and flowing sways, instead of glorious leaps and splendid pirouettes. He catches the older man in the middle of a spin that falters minutely, wrapping arms around the slim waist and they sway in the darkness and it’s slow and uncoordinated and Kyuhyun thinks it’s the most beautiful dance Hankyung has ever danced.
Kyuhyun comes home one day without a candle. There’s a limp in his movements and Hankyung pushes him down onto the bed and pulls down his pants without a word. Something flashes in Hankyung’s eyes as the dark bruise spread all over Kyuhyun’s hip is revealed. Even in the darkness, the dark coloring is vivid against the pale skin and Hankyung makes a sound deep in his throat that’s something between a growl and a snarl. His touch is gentle though and the hands that caress the abused skin feels like feathers and clouds and sunbeams. Hankyung kisses away the pain and the unfairness and reality falls away too and they take each other to another world where there is light exploding behind their eyes and everything isn’t so cold.
Kyuhyun still sings sometimes, in the darkness of their apartment, to a music sheet that floats around behind his closed eyes. His voice is quiet and husky from lack of use, but Hankyung still hears the soaring notes and heart wrenching melodies even when the notes are so soft that they barely curve in his ear. Hankyung would frame the other’s face with his hands and press soft kisses to Kyuhyun’s throat whenever a quiver creeps in and the breathless whispers of his name that follows is the most beautiful thing Hankyung has ever heard.
There’s only a dark smudge of nothingness where the moon had once been and Hankyung leans back into Kyuhyun and asks the other whether he missed the stars or the moon more. Kyuhyun whispers that he missed the stars, because the moon changes and disappears sometimes whilst stars last till the end of time (like our love, they think but don’t say).
“Will you be my star?” Hankyung laughs and nods and ask if that means Kyuhyun would be his moon. Kyuhyun presses kisses into the dip of Hankyung’s neck and trails his lips all the way up to the other’s ear, “If you be my star, I’ll be your sky.”
Because there could never be one without the other.
The notice comes from a single piece of paper glued to the door of the apartment building and Kyuhyun clenches his hands so hard that he leaves a smear of red on their door as he pushes it open and pulls Hankyung into his arms. They don’t say anything for the rest of the night and they lie in the dark and hold each other and the hand pressed against Kyuhyun’s heart feels like a brand.
There’s a long candle in Kyuhyun’s hand when he comes home one night and they don’t do anything even when there’s a pile of papers that need to be read and something that needs to be cleaned and files to process. They light the candle and they do nothing but stare at each other and trace fingers over wide eyes that don’t cry and cheekbones that are too hollow and lips that don’t tremble. They touch and they stare and they explore, as if it was the first time seeing each other and they memorize every flutter of dark lashes and every dip and mark.
It’s only after the candle dies out that the tears fall. But it’s okay, because they can’t see; they can’t break.
They don’t say goodbye, because it would never end. So it’s better if it never starts and when Kyuhyun wakes up, Hankyung is gone and there’s only emptiness beside him, inside of him. It’s better this way, because there’s no goodbye and no tears and no endings.
They could still have their happily ever after.
Kyuhyun’s not there when Hankyung moves in with a girl with a plain face and wide eyes. Kyuhyun’s not there when Hankyung strips himself of all his clothes and pushes her onto the double bed. Kyuhyun’s not there when Hankyung fucks her into the sheets, because he’s doing the exact same thing in the apartment next door.
They come together and it hurts, because it doesn’t fit, they don’t fit and everything was so wrong. It’s methodical and rigid and it takes far too long, because he doesn’t want this and Hankyung feels something break inside him with each thrust. She’s crying and moaning at the same time and she comes with a cry before Hankyung even feels warm. He doesn’t slow done, doesn’t notice, just keeps going, because this was what he had to do. He wonders detachedly how she’s managing that, managing to feel anything when he himself feels like he’s in a room with blank white walls that stretch on forever and to nowhere at all.
It’s impossible, but he thinks he can hear Kyuhyun breathing through the thin paper walls and there are whispers of his name, but they’re so soft that Hankyung doesn’t know if it’s all in his head. It’s enough though and he finally comes with a grunt and she flings her head back and pants heavily. Hankyung pulls out as fast as he can and locks himself in the bathroom and turns the shower on so she can’t hear him throw up.
Life is a lot easier during the Reproduction Stage as they call it. They don’t have to go to work and there’s a candle delivered every day, but Hankyung takes the candle and smashes it to pieces, because he doesn’t want the light, doesn’t want to see; doesn’t want her.
Hankyung finds a method soon enough and she comes loudly each time and Hankyung thinks this is so very easy, because all he has to do is think of darkness and large hands and long legs and smouldering eyes. All he has to do is pretend and everything follows easily enough. It works because soon her belly is rounded and Hankyung’s stomach churns every time he sees her, because that’s his baby and all he wanted to do was run away. He wants to rip apart the robots and the machinery and he wants to go next door and shake Kyuhyun and ask him why, when he slept with the mother of his child, he still thought of making love with fucking Cho Kyuhyun.
(he wants to grind into Kyuhyun and see if the other still wanted him as badly as he wanted the other; he wants to kiss Kyuhyun and see if he can still taste forever on those lips; he wants to share the darkness with Kyuhyun and feel alive again)
Hankyung stares at the sky and wonder if it’s lonely without the stars.
Kyuhyun stares at the sky and wonders if the stars are lost without the sky.
They stare at the darkness and wonder how stars and skies can become one.
<3
This is a belated lateislateislate birthday present for my beloved bb dongsaeng, mawaru_berry, i hope you like it kaija~ <3
A/N: stole the image from sarah bb superbmushroom =)
**********************************
If you be my star, I’ll be your sky
Each day when Kyuhyun came home, he brought with him a single candle.
Sometimes, when Kyuhyun had worked particularly hard and the provisions were good that week, the candle would be long and white and it would burn for hours and Hankyung would make something out of the tinned food, reading the menu in the flickering light and pretending that preserved carrot was crab and soggy cabbage was abalone and they’d have a feast with the candle dancing between them. Other times they would simply lean their heads together and read a book that they had picked out long before, carefully absorbing each line and Kyuhyun would read slower just so they can reach the bottom of the page at the same time, because they would both reach to turn the page and Kyuhyun liked how Hankyung smiled when their hands touched.
Mostly though, the candle was short and thin and it would only last a few minutes or an hour at most if they were lucky. They rushed about doing what was necessary and the wax pooling was like a bomb ticking down. They are sure to always leave at least one minute spare though, just so they can sit together and look around their apartment and remember that they had a home together and that there was still something to live for.
The apartment is small, but well furnished, although the air conditioner no longer worked and the paint in the corners were starting to peel. It wasn’t that long ago, that they had painted those walls (blue, just because Kyuhyun had spilt yellow paint into the green) and picking out their furniture and getting two copies of the key.
It might as well have been another lifetime.
Everyone’s lost track of how long it has been since man’s machines became man’s masters and humans lost life as they had known it. It just happened one day in a myriad of sound (screaming, grinding, the swirling of machinery) and the descent of darkness. The light just died, they had watched it blink out all over the city, the snuffing out of hope and when morning came, the world was blank.
There was never really any explanation, because that involved televisions and newspapers and electricity and those things were banned now. Hankyung hears from the men at the corner store about how the earth had died and there wasn’t any fuel or resources left. Kyuhyun comes home and tells Hankyung about weak governments and the rise of machinery rebellions and the explanations all blend together and it doesn’t seem that important anymore, when there was nothing but darkness and each other.
The streets are still filled with people, only their steps are rigid and dragging and their necks stiff as if no one wanted to look around, maybe because there's nothing to see anymore. The shop windows are still there and there’s not a speck of dust on them and the mannequins in the windows are dressed in clothes that no one can ever buy and they look just like the people on the streets, because they are the people on the streets (it’s a set timetable of rotations as people walked on and off the podiums and they all looked the same, not just the clothes they wore, but the empty look in their eyes). The footpaths are spotless and the trees perfectly trimmed; Hankyung thinks they’re hideous because he still remembers what real leaves felt like and these plastic replacements were a weak imitation.
It’s an empty city. (empty of humanity, of realness, of life)
They don’t know what happened to the others, there are no phones anymore and all that’s there if anyone dared to dial would be empty air that whispered rules and loss and despair into their ear. Sometimes, Hankyung still picks up the receiver and he thinks he hears Eeteuk’s laugh and Donghae’s stories about aliens and Ryeowook’s soft voice. He always hangs up before Kyuhyun comes home, because the only time Kyuhyun had cried since the Change was when he had came home and found Hankyung talking on the phone to Shiwon and Henry, mumbling Chinese wildly into the empty receiver.
Hankyung sees a man with red hair and sharp cheekbones in the shop window as he walks past one day and there’s the barest falter in his step, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop and they only trade one glance (sorry, why, what, how, i miss you, I can’t, sorry) and he walks right past and he doesn’t glance back, because no matter how much he looked like him, it wasn’t really Hyukjae anymore.
There are two beds in their apartment and they are always unmade, blankets shoved to one side and pillows crinkled, even if they only ever sleep in one. Just in case they checked (they check everywhere it’s said). It’s cramped and uncomfortable, two tall, grown men squished onto one single bed, but they do it anyway, even if they wake up with numb arms and sore necks. They needed to be together; Kyuhyun doesn’t want to think about what will happen if they weren’t.
There are no stars in the sky anymore; it was as if someone plucked them out and stepped on them. Instead there’s a dark, smoky haze that covers everything and it’s like the bars on a prison cell, except so much worse, because there’s absolutely nothing to see outside them, not even fat prison guards or dirty walls. They sit by the window and stare out at the darkness and Hankyung likes to think he can still see. Kyuhyun takes Hankyung’s hand and together they trace the contours of the bank and the high rise apartments and the old SM building and the way Kyuhyun moves his hand is so delicate, that Hankyung can almost see the windows and the gleam of the glass as it reflected the traffic that once existed below.
Hankyung still dances sometimes, in the darkness of their apartment, to a tune that was playing in his head, and Kyuhyun would insist they push all the furniture to the wall because Hankyung needed to fly. Kyuhyun closes his eyes sometimes, because he thinks of brightly lit practice rooms and vast, open stages and he doesn’t want to watch Hankyung do soft spins and flowing sways, instead of glorious leaps and splendid pirouettes. He catches the older man in the middle of a spin that falters minutely, wrapping arms around the slim waist and they sway in the darkness and it’s slow and uncoordinated and Kyuhyun thinks it’s the most beautiful dance Hankyung has ever danced.
Kyuhyun comes home one day without a candle. There’s a limp in his movements and Hankyung pushes him down onto the bed and pulls down his pants without a word. Something flashes in Hankyung’s eyes as the dark bruise spread all over Kyuhyun’s hip is revealed. Even in the darkness, the dark coloring is vivid against the pale skin and Hankyung makes a sound deep in his throat that’s something between a growl and a snarl. His touch is gentle though and the hands that caress the abused skin feels like feathers and clouds and sunbeams. Hankyung kisses away the pain and the unfairness and reality falls away too and they take each other to another world where there is light exploding behind their eyes and everything isn’t so cold.
Kyuhyun still sings sometimes, in the darkness of their apartment, to a music sheet that floats around behind his closed eyes. His voice is quiet and husky from lack of use, but Hankyung still hears the soaring notes and heart wrenching melodies even when the notes are so soft that they barely curve in his ear. Hankyung would frame the other’s face with his hands and press soft kisses to Kyuhyun’s throat whenever a quiver creeps in and the breathless whispers of his name that follows is the most beautiful thing Hankyung has ever heard.
There’s only a dark smudge of nothingness where the moon had once been and Hankyung leans back into Kyuhyun and asks the other whether he missed the stars or the moon more. Kyuhyun whispers that he missed the stars, because the moon changes and disappears sometimes whilst stars last till the end of time (like our love, they think but don’t say).
“Will you be my star?” Hankyung laughs and nods and ask if that means Kyuhyun would be his moon. Kyuhyun presses kisses into the dip of Hankyung’s neck and trails his lips all the way up to the other’s ear, “If you be my star, I’ll be your sky.”
Because there could never be one without the other.
The notice comes from a single piece of paper glued to the door of the apartment building and Kyuhyun clenches his hands so hard that he leaves a smear of red on their door as he pushes it open and pulls Hankyung into his arms. They don’t say anything for the rest of the night and they lie in the dark and hold each other and the hand pressed against Kyuhyun’s heart feels like a brand.
There’s a long candle in Kyuhyun’s hand when he comes home one night and they don’t do anything even when there’s a pile of papers that need to be read and something that needs to be cleaned and files to process. They light the candle and they do nothing but stare at each other and trace fingers over wide eyes that don’t cry and cheekbones that are too hollow and lips that don’t tremble. They touch and they stare and they explore, as if it was the first time seeing each other and they memorize every flutter of dark lashes and every dip and mark.
It’s only after the candle dies out that the tears fall. But it’s okay, because they can’t see; they can’t break.
They don’t say goodbye, because it would never end. So it’s better if it never starts and when Kyuhyun wakes up, Hankyung is gone and there’s only emptiness beside him, inside of him. It’s better this way, because there’s no goodbye and no tears and no endings.
They could still have their happily ever after.
Kyuhyun’s not there when Hankyung moves in with a girl with a plain face and wide eyes. Kyuhyun’s not there when Hankyung strips himself of all his clothes and pushes her onto the double bed. Kyuhyun’s not there when Hankyung fucks her into the sheets, because he’s doing the exact same thing in the apartment next door.
They come together and it hurts, because it doesn’t fit, they don’t fit and everything was so wrong. It’s methodical and rigid and it takes far too long, because he doesn’t want this and Hankyung feels something break inside him with each thrust. She’s crying and moaning at the same time and she comes with a cry before Hankyung even feels warm. He doesn’t slow done, doesn’t notice, just keeps going, because this was what he had to do. He wonders detachedly how she’s managing that, managing to feel anything when he himself feels like he’s in a room with blank white walls that stretch on forever and to nowhere at all.
It’s impossible, but he thinks he can hear Kyuhyun breathing through the thin paper walls and there are whispers of his name, but they’re so soft that Hankyung doesn’t know if it’s all in his head. It’s enough though and he finally comes with a grunt and she flings her head back and pants heavily. Hankyung pulls out as fast as he can and locks himself in the bathroom and turns the shower on so she can’t hear him throw up.
Life is a lot easier during the Reproduction Stage as they call it. They don’t have to go to work and there’s a candle delivered every day, but Hankyung takes the candle and smashes it to pieces, because he doesn’t want the light, doesn’t want to see; doesn’t want her.
Hankyung finds a method soon enough and she comes loudly each time and Hankyung thinks this is so very easy, because all he has to do is think of darkness and large hands and long legs and smouldering eyes. All he has to do is pretend and everything follows easily enough. It works because soon her belly is rounded and Hankyung’s stomach churns every time he sees her, because that’s his baby and all he wanted to do was run away. He wants to rip apart the robots and the machinery and he wants to go next door and shake Kyuhyun and ask him why, when he slept with the mother of his child, he still thought of making love with fucking Cho Kyuhyun.
(he wants to grind into Kyuhyun and see if the other still wanted him as badly as he wanted the other; he wants to kiss Kyuhyun and see if he can still taste forever on those lips; he wants to share the darkness with Kyuhyun and feel alive again)
Hankyung stares at the sky and wonder if it’s lonely without the stars.
Kyuhyun stares at the sky and wonders if the stars are lost without the sky.
They stare at the darkness and wonder how stars and skies can become one.
<3