quaris
in
slipthison
20. glow
[01/100]
100 suju fics challenge
020. donghae/kibum: glow
“Donghae, Hyung,” a thought, and it almost bypasses the room where it is supposed to go-Kibum stops in the doorway.
“What do you think of me?”
When Kibum asks, there is never just one question. Donghae blinks like clockwork, letting the sunlight from outside filter through the curtains and fall onto his hands. They pool against his skin, and their hues of pale, soft gold stretch and shatter; he uses the glitter to dust his fingertips and peel off the layers. The words he finds make his mouth go dry.
It is a long while before he decides to speak. And when he does, it comes out as a mumble: “…I don’t know.”
He is suddenly, inexplicably nervous.
It is at times like these, when words flounder and the spaces between one human and another are too wide to bridge, that Donghae feels- somehow- like a dragonfly. He has seen his share of them, as a child, and he supposes that they have some things in common (literally and metaphorically). Little gossamer wings, for instance, the sort that catches on air currents and buoys one up into the sky. -The tendency to hover. A short attention span: so distracted by the pretty colors, and yet with a single goal that whispers its intent in every breath of air that he takes (survive, Donghae, survive).
He does not know, with all that he does (surviving), whether he can fit Kibum in somewhere. There is no guarantee, really, of never being left behind, once his mind gives up commitment to chase after new and better things.
Kibum is good. He knows this-of whispering and the colors of dusk, hidden behind his bandmate's eyelids. However, he also knows that even warmth can be forgotten (don’t ask him why).
Frustrated with his own thoughts, he frowns into the distance.
Kibum pulls away from the door frame. He bypasses the coffee table, crosses the carpet and puts himself on the sofa, centimetres away.
“Hyung.”
Donghae forces himself to look.
“…Kibum-ah.” …and his train of thought stops, stalls.
He never expects Kibum to look right at him, face thoughtful, eyes bare. Donghae is tumbling, finding himself peering straight into the depths of Kibum’s soul, and although he can’t see anything anyway (because knowing someone; it’s only a feeling), he knows the words before they slip out at the end of a sigh-
“Hyung, don’t forget what happened yesterday.”
The sun shines just so, until even the curtains don’t help anymore, and Donghae finds himself bathed in something like an evening glow. There’s warmth pressed against his lips, silent, a steady please. Time and space run through his mind, and despite his hands being still, so still, he can’t catch his breath.
“…ah, shit.” He half-smiles into the kiss, somewhat defeated, decides; no matter how short it is this time, he will try to make it work (because, maybe, it might be worth the effort).
100 suju fics challenge
020. donghae/kibum: glow
“Donghae, Hyung,” a thought, and it almost bypasses the room where it is supposed to go-Kibum stops in the doorway.
“What do you think of me?”
When Kibum asks, there is never just one question. Donghae blinks like clockwork, letting the sunlight from outside filter through the curtains and fall onto his hands. They pool against his skin, and their hues of pale, soft gold stretch and shatter; he uses the glitter to dust his fingertips and peel off the layers. The words he finds make his mouth go dry.
It is a long while before he decides to speak. And when he does, it comes out as a mumble: “…I don’t know.”
He is suddenly, inexplicably nervous.
It is at times like these, when words flounder and the spaces between one human and another are too wide to bridge, that Donghae feels- somehow- like a dragonfly. He has seen his share of them, as a child, and he supposes that they have some things in common (literally and metaphorically). Little gossamer wings, for instance, the sort that catches on air currents and buoys one up into the sky. -The tendency to hover. A short attention span: so distracted by the pretty colors, and yet with a single goal that whispers its intent in every breath of air that he takes (survive, Donghae, survive).
He does not know, with all that he does (surviving), whether he can fit Kibum in somewhere. There is no guarantee, really, of never being left behind, once his mind gives up commitment to chase after new and better things.
Kibum is good. He knows this-of whispering and the colors of dusk, hidden behind his bandmate's eyelids. However, he also knows that even warmth can be forgotten (don’t ask him why).
Frustrated with his own thoughts, he frowns into the distance.
Kibum pulls away from the door frame. He bypasses the coffee table, crosses the carpet and puts himself on the sofa, centimetres away.
“Hyung.”
Donghae forces himself to look.
“…Kibum-ah.” …and his train of thought stops, stalls.
He never expects Kibum to look right at him, face thoughtful, eyes bare. Donghae is tumbling, finding himself peering straight into the depths of Kibum’s soul, and although he can’t see anything anyway (because knowing someone; it’s only a feeling), he knows the words before they slip out at the end of a sigh-
“Hyung, don’t forget what happened yesterday.”
The sun shines just so, until even the curtains don’t help anymore, and Donghae finds himself bathed in something like an evening glow. There’s warmth pressed against his lips, silent, a steady please. Time and space run through his mind, and despite his hands being still, so still, he can’t catch his breath.
“…ah, shit.” He half-smiles into the kiss, somewhat defeated, decides; no matter how short it is this time, he will try to make it work (because, maybe, it might be worth the effort).