HaeHyuk [Suju] - We were more than just bleeding poetry on our sleeves
Stop it. Stop making this so hard for me.
I’m crying saltwater tears all over the bathroom tiles and watching my skin turn red-raw as I scrub the smell of you off me. I’m writing repentant letters to China and stopping before the post box to dump them in the trash.
I’m trying, Donghae, but it’s not working.
--
Don’t look at me like that when I walk into the room. Sungmin’s sitting beside you and he’s watching you too. I can feel the guilt, Donghae. It’s so thick, I can peel it off my hands and set it beside me, watch it cultivate into ugly, blue demons that sit on my back. My back that’s breaking, my spine that’s cracking with every day that passes.
--
I’m sick, Donghae. Can you feel it?
I’m running my hands through golden sands and searching for a way of life. Maybe I’m trying to be too much like Jungsu. Maybe this was wrong for me. Because I feel it, Donghae. Jungsu convinced me that I was a good MC and should ride on the wind, see where it takes me.
But there’s pressure. My lungs have folded in on themselves and I can’t work like this anymore. I’m ascending into the sky, only to find that a part of my soul is plummeting back to the ground.
When it crashes, it won’t be beautiful. When it crashes, Donghae, I’ll give up.
--
Don’t stand there at 2.47 am in the morning looking at me like I’m the most beautiful thing that has happened to you. Keeping this distance between us was hard enough for me, why are you moving closer?
Something in your eyes has died. I remember when I would look into them and all I could see was how imperfect I was because I had you. It would be so sudden, that my knees would buckle under me and I would be crashing head-first into the sidewalk.
But you were always there to hold me up, with orange sunshine in your hair and your smiling lips pressed against my forehead.
“Will you ever talk to me?” you say, and something inside me snaps. It’s difficult to breath, suddenly.
“It’s been three months, Hyukjae. Three months since I’ve returned from China and we haven’t talked properly.”
You deserve better, of course you do. You’ve knocked down the bolts in my heart and I should repay you better.
So, come here, boy.
When you lie down next to me, it’s so difficult, Donghae. It’s so difficult, because I can breathe you in, you’re so close and I can’t close my eyes because I’m so afraid you’ll be gone when I open them.
Your cheek is cold, and everything about you is cold. Everything except your eyes. I’ve hated your eyes, did you know that?
I’m pouring sulfuric acid down my throat so that I can forget what the taste of your mouth felt like and how I would whimper into it when you would bring your arms across to stroke my waist. I’m trying to forget how you would tilt your head slightly and look right through me and trickle through my tangled veins.
I’m trying so damn hard, Donghae, but you’re making it so difficult, by just laying there and holding my hand, looking straight into my eyes and down into my soul. You’re making it so difficult when you take my face in your hands and press our foreheads together to tell me that “We knew how to love, Hyukjae.”
You think I don’t know that? You think I never realized how beautifully broken we would be after all that?
"I can’t do this anymore, Donghae."
--
We’re an unstoppable force, sliding down the universe. Super Junior’s become huge, sensational. We’re living our dreams here, at the age of 24. Like Jungsu promised the 13 of us, we’re here, we’re a screaming success and we’re sprinting down the fields of the future, the sky in the small of our fist and the wind all around us.
But here I am.
Here I am today, watching as you piece parts of your heart right back together in front of me. Here I am, feeling your sad eyes lock onto mine and here I am trying to find the silver lining that outlined your hair when you caught me before I fell. Here I am, blowing seafoam like stardust down my arms and wishing they land on your hair, so that we could be something beautiful again.
Yes, Sungmin’s holding my hand, and yes I’m smiling at him, only to glance over my shoulder and watch you smile sadly back at me.
No, I am not repaired yet. A year later, everything still reminds me of you, the rain, the gravel under my shoes, the smell of gasoline in the autumn wind.
--
Have you let go of me yet?
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A/N: i promise to write more fluff in the future :|