polyrhythm [2/100]
polyrhythm
two. christmas
He is born, but they don't record it. He is shaped by the hands of a god, but there is nothing to celebrate. Eeteuk comes to stroke his face, but it is neither here nor there. Their hands breeze together, but don't touch each other. They exist in rings that cover all of time and space, but they are separate.
His hands are perfectly formed, the fingers of that pretty child. He is new-born, he is new-made, but he is not a baby. Not a person, even. They exist - but they float in nothing and so they do not. When a tree falls in an empty forest, does it really fall? It doesn't, because forests don't exist.
Heechul is his name, but he doesn't know it. He doesn't understand what a name is. Even if someone told him, tried to attach thoughts to his reflection, he wouldn't know.
His fingers flex, and the sort of resistance nothing has to offer would be strange, but he knows nothing.
Almost slowly, he gets up.
There's no time, but if there would, his fingers against and yet through Ryeowook's arm would be crawling. Their eyes open, and they meet, and they smile, but their visages hold no knowledge, only bare instinct, peeking out through a shell so half-formed it's useless. They're dumb beasts, exactly.
Their mouths are pressed against each other, perfect strangers, but if they weren't memory wouldn't tell them anyway. It's not pleasing or even enjoyable, or anything at all - they feel nothing - not the warm press of lips against tongue!
Nothing's between them.
They are empty shells, born naked of decoration.
Sliding against each other, free of burdens, even knowledge, they're groping, with a frantic air, viewable even though there's no time. Their bare cocks are rough against each other, awkwardly uncontrolled.
He's sliding in, his fingers white against themselves, and their arms are curled together, and it's lovely even if they don't understand.
Don't understand -
Don't understand -
Don't understand -
He's inside, moving at some rate, twisting against his prostate, and that's the first connection they make, one of flesh against flesh. Lonely no more, their lips touch, and, oh! static! motion!
A spark in a still world, a snap of energy, rushes through them, unknowingly. It's ignorant, blind, like the fresh-born baby (and indeed, it was new, first - but many things were, back then). They writhe together, caught in spams of ecstasy. Heechul's eyes are wide, colorless even next to the nothing, and at last their skins touch, absolutely together, nothingness fleeing from the junction of the union of their bodies. Ryeowook gasps, and it's the first time the virgin nothing's felt sound, and in that timeless moment, air spurts out, diffuses, and
It is.
They start breathing, quick-quick, slow-slow, their hearts beating like they were made to do so. And they were - remade, that is, by a greater hand in a second that didn't exist, doesn't, until the fingers choose to mold time. Breath flows out, a constant rhythm that spends forever and no time at all changing.
The body was born, but now the soul has risen - and it's the latter that's immortal.
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// public service announcement! this is a sockpuppet, for a rather strange reason. i'll be revealing my identity and maybe my motives at the end, but until then, you are free to guess. if you use my username to figure out who i am... please don't tell people...? guesses are fun, but being certain isn't, is it?