[for Gem] Will you save me from myself. [suju]
will you save me from myself.
eunhae.
for catskilt , because she is a lot of amazing things (and because she wrote me this: you want to read this. you do.)
prompt: Donghae feels insecure in China without Hyukjae.
i don't know if i did justice to the prompt, but i still hope you enjoy it, lovely.
also, sorry it's so short ;__;
Here is a man.
He is the blue-green that makes the ocean, the orange that makes a sunrise. People tell him his wind is what helps his friends sail down rivers of fallen stars. This man loves like no other and lives in technicolor.
His name is Lee Donghae.
* * *
“I’ll call.”
“You better.”
Around them people scurry like insects, tickets tightly clutched in their hands, trailing trolleys heaped with their luggage. The glass sliding doors continuously open and close, letting in a stream of travelers every three minutes. Behind them, girls shriek as they recognize the group travelling through Incheon International Airport.
“Going to be shit without you around,” Hyukjae says sheepishly.
“Likewise,” Donghae smiles crookedly and hugs the other, jaded.
Hankyung beckons Donghae from baggage check-in.
“Guess I’ll see you in two months,” Donghae nods at Hyukjae. They share a small silence, standing in the middle of swarming travelers.
And for a moment Donghae thinks he sees something flicker in Hyukjae’s eyes (hesitation? anxiety?) but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t question it when Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs out of the airport.
* * *
Beijing is a blend of glamour and high-speed and it tires them out. Nights that see Donghae getting more than three hours of sleep are few and far between. Their manager is on edge and the days seem too long. Their hotel is an hour away from the city center (“Keeps us away from the crowds, at least,” was Hankyung’s explanation) and their schedule gives them no time for sight-seeing: one moment they’re at a concert and the next they’re being driven off for a fan-meet.
It’s the talk shows that Donghae hates the most. A language barrier is one thing, but when you have a million eyes on you and your nerves are tangled into messy bundles, you spurt out things that probably make you sound stupid in front of the watchers.
Donghae does this once. He answers a question about his past and soon he’s talking of his long-gone father and involuntarily there are tears in his eyes. He hates it when he’s reduced to this on live television because people are staring, probably judging him, and he hears his manager sigh backstage.
When he gets back to his hotel room, he locks himself in and doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.
* * *
Here is a child.
He is curious and bright, but he is aware that he is small and insignificant compared to his friends. He is aware that his external blue-green can sometimes be mistaken for grey and his sunrises can be mistaken for sunsets. This child lives in fear of losing everything.
He misses home.
* * *
“Hyukjae.”
A muffled noise and a second later. “What - who. Who is this, Donghae?”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“It’s one in the morning, what do you think?”
“I had a dream,” Donghae says, rushed. “I was eleven again and the world-- the world was spinning in reverse; the trees grew into the ground and the ocean rushed into the sky and women were pulling clouds from lakes.”
There’s silence on the other end, followed by static.
“Donghae, you’re only half awake,” Hyukjae says quietly, but the sleep in his voice is gone.
“And in the dream people were crying for lost time, but I was crying because you were missing.”
There’s a shift in Hyukjae’s breath and Donghae’s now sitting up, staring at the fluorescent city outside his window through leaden eyes.
“You’re unbelievable. Couldn’t you have waited till the morning to call and tell me you’re homesick?”
“I wanted to tell you the dream.”
“Again, it’s one in the fucking morning, Donghae.”
“But I would have forgotten the dream by morning.”
Hyukjae sighs tiredly and they settle with counting each other’s breath over the phone. They fall asleep like that and when they wake up, the line’s still connected but there’s nothing to say so Donghae mumbles a goodbye and hangs up.
* * *
Two days later they stumble into each other’s arms at the airport and Donghae remembers why Hyukjae feels like home.
eunhae.
for catskilt , because she is a lot of amazing things (and because she wrote me this: you want to read this. you do.)
prompt: Donghae feels insecure in China without Hyukjae.
i don't know if i did justice to the prompt, but i still hope you enjoy it, lovely.
also, sorry it's so short ;__;
Here is a man.
He is the blue-green that makes the ocean, the orange that makes a sunrise. People tell him his wind is what helps his friends sail down rivers of fallen stars. This man loves like no other and lives in technicolor.
His name is Lee Donghae.
* * *
“I’ll call.”
“You better.”
Around them people scurry like insects, tickets tightly clutched in their hands, trailing trolleys heaped with their luggage. The glass sliding doors continuously open and close, letting in a stream of travelers every three minutes. Behind them, girls shriek as they recognize the group travelling through Incheon International Airport.
“Going to be shit without you around,” Hyukjae says sheepishly.
“Likewise,” Donghae smiles crookedly and hugs the other, jaded.
Hankyung beckons Donghae from baggage check-in.
“Guess I’ll see you in two months,” Donghae nods at Hyukjae. They share a small silence, standing in the middle of swarming travelers.
And for a moment Donghae thinks he sees something flicker in Hyukjae’s eyes (hesitation? anxiety?) but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t question it when Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs out of the airport.
* * *
Beijing is a blend of glamour and high-speed and it tires them out. Nights that see Donghae getting more than three hours of sleep are few and far between. Their manager is on edge and the days seem too long. Their hotel is an hour away from the city center (“Keeps us away from the crowds, at least,” was Hankyung’s explanation) and their schedule gives them no time for sight-seeing: one moment they’re at a concert and the next they’re being driven off for a fan-meet.
It’s the talk shows that Donghae hates the most. A language barrier is one thing, but when you have a million eyes on you and your nerves are tangled into messy bundles, you spurt out things that probably make you sound stupid in front of the watchers.
Donghae does this once. He answers a question about his past and soon he’s talking of his long-gone father and involuntarily there are tears in his eyes. He hates it when he’s reduced to this on live television because people are staring, probably judging him, and he hears his manager sigh backstage.
When he gets back to his hotel room, he locks himself in and doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.
* * *
Here is a child.
He is curious and bright, but he is aware that he is small and insignificant compared to his friends. He is aware that his external blue-green can sometimes be mistaken for grey and his sunrises can be mistaken for sunsets. This child lives in fear of losing everything.
He misses home.
* * *
“Hyukjae.”
A muffled noise and a second later. “What - who. Who is this, Donghae?”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“It’s one in the morning, what do you think?”
“I had a dream,” Donghae says, rushed. “I was eleven again and the world-- the world was spinning in reverse; the trees grew into the ground and the ocean rushed into the sky and women were pulling clouds from lakes.”
There’s silence on the other end, followed by static.
“Donghae, you’re only half awake,” Hyukjae says quietly, but the sleep in his voice is gone.
“And in the dream people were crying for lost time, but I was crying because you were missing.”
There’s a shift in Hyukjae’s breath and Donghae’s now sitting up, staring at the fluorescent city outside his window through leaden eyes.
“You’re unbelievable. Couldn’t you have waited till the morning to call and tell me you’re homesick?”
“I wanted to tell you the dream.”
“Again, it’s one in the fucking morning, Donghae.”
“But I would have forgotten the dream by morning.”
Hyukjae sighs tiredly and they settle with counting each other’s breath over the phone. They fall asleep like that and when they wake up, the line’s still connected but there’s nothing to say so Donghae mumbles a goodbye and hangs up.
* * *
Two days later they stumble into each other’s arms at the airport and Donghae remembers why Hyukjae feels like home.