Fade to Black
Title: Fade to Black
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: Angst, Tragedy
Rating: G
Word Counts: 238
Warning(s):[click to open]bad language u.u
Author’s Note: Just a simple drabble I tried to write ;_;
Somewhere along the crevices between Jongin’s thin, pointy fingers, he still feels the lingering touch of a certain someone.
Somewhere in between the flutters of his eyelashes, he sees a familiar figure, a small smile creeps up his face.
But the figure isn’t really there before him. How stupid he is, hoping for everything to return back to normal.
When he opens his eyes, a baby blue painted wall greets him, adorned with colored post-it-notes; some of them are on the floor, all crumpled.
He takes a long, deep breath before he manages to untangle himself from the sheet, clutching his chest.
Somehow, it feels so hard breathing these days. He struggles to breathe, gasping for some air but he catches almost nothing.
As he stands up, the world around him is cold, but strangely enough, the floor beneath his feet is warm.
And when his gaze drifts around, he realizes that the furniture there is more alive than he is.
The bed, the worn shirt he is wearing, the battered wooden table - everything.
He notices that the sound of a dripping tap has replaced the cheery laughter and mumbled syllables he used to hear.
He fails to realize that he keeps imagining things that aren’t there anymore, and the clock is ticking away, leaving him almost paralyzed.
He finds himself struggling to breathe for a second time, except this time around, he guesses that perhaps he should stop trying.
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: Angst, Tragedy
Rating: G
Word Counts: 238
Warning(s):[click to open]bad language u.u
Author’s Note: Just a simple drabble I tried to write ;_;
Somewhere along the crevices between Jongin’s thin, pointy fingers, he still feels the lingering touch of a certain someone.
Somewhere in between the flutters of his eyelashes, he sees a familiar figure, a small smile creeps up his face.
But the figure isn’t really there before him. How stupid he is, hoping for everything to return back to normal.
When he opens his eyes, a baby blue painted wall greets him, adorned with colored post-it-notes; some of them are on the floor, all crumpled.
He takes a long, deep breath before he manages to untangle himself from the sheet, clutching his chest.
Somehow, it feels so hard breathing these days. He struggles to breathe, gasping for some air but he catches almost nothing.
As he stands up, the world around him is cold, but strangely enough, the floor beneath his feet is warm.
And when his gaze drifts around, he realizes that the furniture there is more alive than he is.
The bed, the worn shirt he is wearing, the battered wooden table - everything.
He notices that the sound of a dripping tap has replaced the cheery laughter and mumbled syllables he used to hear.
He fails to realize that he keeps imagining things that aren’t there anymore, and the clock is ticking away, leaving him almost paralyzed.
He finds himself struggling to breathe for a second time, except this time around, he guesses that perhaps he should stop trying.