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writetomyheart2015-10-10 09:03 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-10 09:03 pm
Entry tags:
[team sonic] don't make me wait for you
First words from Cutie Mark Crusaders.
Title from Return to the Moon (Political Song for Didi Bloome to Sing, with Crescendo by EL VY.
Hugging the breath out of him, Wenhan mumbles a quick goodbye before he slips away in the dark. That's how it always is, but Yixuan doesn't have to like it, doesn't have to like the feeling of Wenhan's fingers slipping through his cold hands as air rushes back into his lungs, icy in the winter air as he stands in the doorway of the apartment, the bright light falling past him onto the snow, stained grey by the shadows, his silhouette blocking the light.
Come home safely, Yixuan thinks, tossing his wish up at the moon, hiding today behind clouds as he turns slowly and walks on heavy feet to the elevator, pushes the 8 on the round metal button, waits for the door to close as he watches his reflection in the mirrored walls, the way his face is pale in the florescent light.
Wenhan always comes home, but sometimes Yixuan can't bear the thought that today could be the day that he gets a telephone call, a soft voice on the other end, hushed in the sudden silence of his apartment as it expressed its condolences in measured tones and his whole world falls apart.
When Wenhan is at work, Yixuan both loathes and yet can't get his mind off the telephone, and even when Wenhan comes back, the sound of his finger dancing over the keypad as the door clicks open and he slips out of his shoes and into slippers, Yixuan still finds himself glancing at the telephone every once in a while.
So when the telephone rings, just as he's stepping into the living room, even though he knows it's far too soon for anything to have happened, Wenhan hasn't even made it to the police office yet, Yixuan still finds himself short of breath, heart pounding in his chest as he races for the telephone, accidentally knocking over a small plant, dirt spilling darkly over the ground as he picks up the receiver.
"Yes?" he asks, his mind racing and his breathing harsh over the phone.
"Yi—are you okay?" Wenhan's voice is bright over the phone, almost too loud and Yixuan is both so relieved, you're okay, but also so. . .he doesn't know what he's feeling, the adrenaline roaring through his body with nowhere to go, as he tries to calm down, focus on Wenhan's voice.
"I thought. . ." Yixuan begins, before he finds that he can't, curling over to rest his forehead on the table. "I thought. . ." And just like he thought, his throat tightens, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "You scared me." He can't help the sob that catches in his throat, the culmination of so many nights of anxious waiting as he listens to the silence on the other end of the line.
"I—" Wenhan sounds. . .concerned, worried, as he starts talking and then pauses, "I just wanted to tell you that I was thinking we could maybe have a picnic in the park, tomorrow, if the weather is nice, play some basketball. . ." His voice trails off. "Are you okay?"
Yixuan nods his head, mumbles, "Yes," as he presses his hand to his chest and swallows.
"No you're not," Wenhan says, "Just give me a moment," and there's a click as the call ends.
No, Yixuan wants to say, no, I wasn't finished hearing your voice, but there's no one to talk to, as he stands in the dim light from the kitchen, sliding until he's sitting on the floor. He's not sure how many minutes pass, how many breaths he counts, before the keypad beeps and Wenhan walks in, the silhouette of his head peering around in the dark before he must catch sight of Yixuan, sitting in the shadows.
"What's wrong?" he asks, as he crouches down in front of Yixuan.
"But, work?" Yixuan asks, confused, though his fingers reach out, the tips grazing Wenhan's face like fire.
"I called in sick," Wenhan says, "Because you didn't sound okay at all."
"I'm fine," Yixuan says, though the quaver in his voice reveals the lie.
"You're not," Wenhan retorts, reaching forward to wrap Wenhan in a warm hug. "What happened?"
And Yixuan isn't going to tell him his childish worries, he really isn't, but he finds them spilling out over the curve of Wenhan's back anyway, until there's nothing left in his mouth except the taste of exhaustion, because it was a long day at work before this even happened and he's just tired.
"I didn't know you felt like this," Wenhan finally says, his breath warm on Yixuan's neck. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I know you love what you do," Yixuan replies, "how can I tell you what to do?" It's okay, it's really okay.
"I'm. . .I'm honestly just as safe as anyone else," Wenhan says. "Anyone has just as much a chance of getting hit by a car as they cross the road, or anything like that."
"I know," Yixuan says, even though his heart doesn't believe it. "I just. . .I think about getting the phone call. . ." He doesn't say anything else, there in the dark, as Wenhan slowly rocks him side to side, warm in his embrace.
"I'm sorry for scaring you," Wenhan says, and Yixuan wants to tell him not to apologize because of course he didn't mean it, but he's too tired to talk as a faint yawn escapes his mouth.
"Sorry," he mumbles, eyelids drooping, and Wenhan pulls back, laughing at Yixuan's sleepy expression, now that he knows that Wenhan is safe.
"You're too tired to talk about this right now," Wenhan says, pulling Yixuan up, "Here, let's go to sleep."
"You too?" Yixuan asks, because Wenhan should probably go back to work, and Wenhan nods.
"I already called in sick," he says, and Yixuan feels bad but there's a small part of him that feels happy as they crawl into bed, shucking off their clothes and pulling on matching pyjamas. Wenhan wraps his arms around Yixuan and Yixuan reciprocates the action, pulling him close in the warm dark, Wenhan's heart beating against his rib cage.
"We need to talk about this though," Wenhan says, and Yixuan nods his head, yes, as his eyes flutter shut and he feels himself drifting off to sleep.
"I love you," he mumbles, and he hears Wenhan echo his words, before the warm dark catches him up into dreams.
Title from Return to the Moon (Political Song for Didi Bloome to Sing, with Crescendo by EL VY.
Hugging the breath out of him, Wenhan mumbles a quick goodbye before he slips away in the dark. That's how it always is, but Yixuan doesn't have to like it, doesn't have to like the feeling of Wenhan's fingers slipping through his cold hands as air rushes back into his lungs, icy in the winter air as he stands in the doorway of the apartment, the bright light falling past him onto the snow, stained grey by the shadows, his silhouette blocking the light.
Come home safely, Yixuan thinks, tossing his wish up at the moon, hiding today behind clouds as he turns slowly and walks on heavy feet to the elevator, pushes the 8 on the round metal button, waits for the door to close as he watches his reflection in the mirrored walls, the way his face is pale in the florescent light.
Wenhan always comes home, but sometimes Yixuan can't bear the thought that today could be the day that he gets a telephone call, a soft voice on the other end, hushed in the sudden silence of his apartment as it expressed its condolences in measured tones and his whole world falls apart.
When Wenhan is at work, Yixuan both loathes and yet can't get his mind off the telephone, and even when Wenhan comes back, the sound of his finger dancing over the keypad as the door clicks open and he slips out of his shoes and into slippers, Yixuan still finds himself glancing at the telephone every once in a while.
So when the telephone rings, just as he's stepping into the living room, even though he knows it's far too soon for anything to have happened, Wenhan hasn't even made it to the police office yet, Yixuan still finds himself short of breath, heart pounding in his chest as he races for the telephone, accidentally knocking over a small plant, dirt spilling darkly over the ground as he picks up the receiver.
"Yes?" he asks, his mind racing and his breathing harsh over the phone.
"Yi—are you okay?" Wenhan's voice is bright over the phone, almost too loud and Yixuan is both so relieved, you're okay, but also so. . .he doesn't know what he's feeling, the adrenaline roaring through his body with nowhere to go, as he tries to calm down, focus on Wenhan's voice.
"I thought. . ." Yixuan begins, before he finds that he can't, curling over to rest his forehead on the table. "I thought. . ." And just like he thought, his throat tightens, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "You scared me." He can't help the sob that catches in his throat, the culmination of so many nights of anxious waiting as he listens to the silence on the other end of the line.
"I—" Wenhan sounds. . .concerned, worried, as he starts talking and then pauses, "I just wanted to tell you that I was thinking we could maybe have a picnic in the park, tomorrow, if the weather is nice, play some basketball. . ." His voice trails off. "Are you okay?"
Yixuan nods his head, mumbles, "Yes," as he presses his hand to his chest and swallows.
"No you're not," Wenhan says, "Just give me a moment," and there's a click as the call ends.
No, Yixuan wants to say, no, I wasn't finished hearing your voice, but there's no one to talk to, as he stands in the dim light from the kitchen, sliding until he's sitting on the floor. He's not sure how many minutes pass, how many breaths he counts, before the keypad beeps and Wenhan walks in, the silhouette of his head peering around in the dark before he must catch sight of Yixuan, sitting in the shadows.
"What's wrong?" he asks, as he crouches down in front of Yixuan.
"But, work?" Yixuan asks, confused, though his fingers reach out, the tips grazing Wenhan's face like fire.
"I called in sick," Wenhan says, "Because you didn't sound okay at all."
"I'm fine," Yixuan says, though the quaver in his voice reveals the lie.
"You're not," Wenhan retorts, reaching forward to wrap Wenhan in a warm hug. "What happened?"
And Yixuan isn't going to tell him his childish worries, he really isn't, but he finds them spilling out over the curve of Wenhan's back anyway, until there's nothing left in his mouth except the taste of exhaustion, because it was a long day at work before this even happened and he's just tired.
"I didn't know you felt like this," Wenhan finally says, his breath warm on Yixuan's neck. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I know you love what you do," Yixuan replies, "how can I tell you what to do?" It's okay, it's really okay.
"I'm. . .I'm honestly just as safe as anyone else," Wenhan says. "Anyone has just as much a chance of getting hit by a car as they cross the road, or anything like that."
"I know," Yixuan says, even though his heart doesn't believe it. "I just. . .I think about getting the phone call. . ." He doesn't say anything else, there in the dark, as Wenhan slowly rocks him side to side, warm in his embrace.
"I'm sorry for scaring you," Wenhan says, and Yixuan wants to tell him not to apologize because of course he didn't mean it, but he's too tired to talk as a faint yawn escapes his mouth.
"Sorry," he mumbles, eyelids drooping, and Wenhan pulls back, laughing at Yixuan's sleepy expression, now that he knows that Wenhan is safe.
"You're too tired to talk about this right now," Wenhan says, pulling Yixuan up, "Here, let's go to sleep."
"You too?" Yixuan asks, because Wenhan should probably go back to work, and Wenhan nods.
"I already called in sick," he says, and Yixuan feels bad but there's a small part of him that feels happy as they crawl into bed, shucking off their clothes and pulling on matching pyjamas. Wenhan wraps his arms around Yixuan and Yixuan reciprocates the action, pulling him close in the warm dark, Wenhan's heart beating against his rib cage.
"We need to talk about this though," Wenhan says, and Yixuan nods his head, yes, as his eyes flutter shut and he feels himself drifting off to sleep.
"I love you," he mumbles, and he hears Wenhan echo his words, before the warm dark catches him up into dreams.