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writetomyheart2015-07-27 12:51 am
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-07-27 12:51 am
Entry tags:
[team sonic] you in me
First words from here. Thanks Joji for being accomodating when the internets are against me ;;
This story is heavily inspired by the Ma First music vide, which is also where the title is derived from.
"So now you're calling me." Hyunseung rolls his eyes, because even though Siyoung's words are harsh, his tone is anything but; he can already hear the clinking of car keys as the phone call cuts off into a dial tone.
Looking around the room, the night and city lights outside the window dimly illuminating clothing strewn all over the floor, the crumpled sheets and the girl sleeping next to him, Hyunseung shivers, fingers flipping his phone around like a worry stone, a bad habit he can't break.
You're my bad habit, he thinks, not the girls or the parties but the person driving just a little over the speed limit to get to him sooner, but he doesn't really think that at all. Maybe I'm your bad habit, but if that's true Hyunseung hopes that Siyoung never gets over it.
The jeans on the floor, the ones that aren't his, are blue, a bright royal colour that might look good on him. Hyunseung wonders what happened at the party, if he came on to Paran—might as well refer to her as that since he doesn't know her name anyway—or if she saw him first.
He already knows what Siyoung will say, "of course it was you, you're crazy when you're drunk even though you look perfectly sober." Hyunseung sticks his tongue out in the dark even though there's no one awake to see as he slowly worms out of the bed, careful not to wake Paran. The room is chilly, the air-conditioning turned too high and Hyunseung is embarrassingly relieved that he's still wearing underwear. I like girls as much anyone, but only if I can remember them in the morning. It's not even morning and he's already forgotten, only snatches of her pulling his head down by the hair for a mouthful of kiss, the way she tasted like strawberries.
Hyunseung only likes strawberries when he's had too much to drink, the harsh taste of tequila chasing down his throat with salt and lime, jägerbombs and other things he doesn't even want to identify as he shimmies into his jeans and grabs a shirt from the ground. It fits anyway, it'll have to do, even if he's not sure if it's his.
The cell phone on the nightstand lights up, and he darts to answer before it starts vibrating and wakes the sleeper. Ever since he met Siyoung though, not at a party but two strangers who missed the last train home, sharing a taxi, Hyunseung hasn't had to do the walk of shame and he'd be thankful enough to Siyoung for that.
It's so much more than that though.
"Just let me check," Hyunseung murmurs into the speaker, tiptoeing over to the slot by the door for the key card, "room 363." There's an affirmative hum and Siyoung hangs up, not one for chatting. Running his fingers through his hair, skin sticky with hair gel, spray, and hopefully nothing else, Hyunseung surveys the room before jotting a quick note to Paran to leave on the nightstand. Go home safely, no name or number attached.
There's a soft knock on the door and Hyunseung opens it quietly on silent hinges.
"Thanks," he says, and it's never a guarantee, there's always something completely new and unexpected about the way Siyoung leans forward, touches his mouth to Hyunseung's as though drinking the thoughts from his lips.
Siyoung doesn't taste like strawberries; he tastes like home, warm sheets and a familiar heartbeat beneath his fingertips when he wakes up in the morning, in a room he knows like the back of his hand, sunlight filtering through curtains flapping gently in the breeze from the open window because Siyoung knows that air-conditioners have a tendency to make Hyunseung sick.
"You know I'll always come when you call," Siyoung whispers into his hair, it doesn't matter that it's messy or stiff with hair product, Siyoung likes him anyway.
Hyunseung leans his head on Siyoung's shoulder as the door falls quietly closes behind them, walking down the carpeted hallway towards the elevator. Siyoung doesn't say I love you and Hyunseung doesn't either.
It's not necessary.
This story is heavily inspired by the Ma First music vide, which is also where the title is derived from.
"So now you're calling me." Hyunseung rolls his eyes, because even though Siyoung's words are harsh, his tone is anything but; he can already hear the clinking of car keys as the phone call cuts off into a dial tone.
Looking around the room, the night and city lights outside the window dimly illuminating clothing strewn all over the floor, the crumpled sheets and the girl sleeping next to him, Hyunseung shivers, fingers flipping his phone around like a worry stone, a bad habit he can't break.
You're my bad habit, he thinks, not the girls or the parties but the person driving just a little over the speed limit to get to him sooner, but he doesn't really think that at all. Maybe I'm your bad habit, but if that's true Hyunseung hopes that Siyoung never gets over it.
The jeans on the floor, the ones that aren't his, are blue, a bright royal colour that might look good on him. Hyunseung wonders what happened at the party, if he came on to Paran—might as well refer to her as that since he doesn't know her name anyway—or if she saw him first.
He already knows what Siyoung will say, "of course it was you, you're crazy when you're drunk even though you look perfectly sober." Hyunseung sticks his tongue out in the dark even though there's no one awake to see as he slowly worms out of the bed, careful not to wake Paran. The room is chilly, the air-conditioning turned too high and Hyunseung is embarrassingly relieved that he's still wearing underwear. I like girls as much anyone, but only if I can remember them in the morning. It's not even morning and he's already forgotten, only snatches of her pulling his head down by the hair for a mouthful of kiss, the way she tasted like strawberries.
Hyunseung only likes strawberries when he's had too much to drink, the harsh taste of tequila chasing down his throat with salt and lime, jägerbombs and other things he doesn't even want to identify as he shimmies into his jeans and grabs a shirt from the ground. It fits anyway, it'll have to do, even if he's not sure if it's his.
The cell phone on the nightstand lights up, and he darts to answer before it starts vibrating and wakes the sleeper. Ever since he met Siyoung though, not at a party but two strangers who missed the last train home, sharing a taxi, Hyunseung hasn't had to do the walk of shame and he'd be thankful enough to Siyoung for that.
It's so much more than that though.
"Just let me check," Hyunseung murmurs into the speaker, tiptoeing over to the slot by the door for the key card, "room 363." There's an affirmative hum and Siyoung hangs up, not one for chatting. Running his fingers through his hair, skin sticky with hair gel, spray, and hopefully nothing else, Hyunseung surveys the room before jotting a quick note to Paran to leave on the nightstand. Go home safely, no name or number attached.
There's a soft knock on the door and Hyunseung opens it quietly on silent hinges.
"Thanks," he says, and it's never a guarantee, there's always something completely new and unexpected about the way Siyoung leans forward, touches his mouth to Hyunseung's as though drinking the thoughts from his lips.
Siyoung doesn't taste like strawberries; he tastes like home, warm sheets and a familiar heartbeat beneath his fingertips when he wakes up in the morning, in a room he knows like the back of his hand, sunlight filtering through curtains flapping gently in the breeze from the open window because Siyoung knows that air-conditioners have a tendency to make Hyunseung sick.
"You know I'll always come when you call," Siyoung whispers into his hair, it doesn't matter that it's messy or stiff with hair product, Siyoung likes him anyway.
Hyunseung leans his head on Siyoung's shoulder as the door falls quietly closes behind them, walking down the carpeted hallway towards the elevator. Siyoung doesn't say I love you and Hyunseung doesn't either.
It's not necessary.