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writetomyheart2015-10-14 11:24 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-14 11:24 pm
[team sonic] never had wings
First words from What's that in the shadows?.
Title from Change (In the House of Flies) by Deftones.
He's hungry.
There are flies, circling, always circling, black clouds over the sun.
"I'm hungry," Yoongi says, lips cracking, though it's pointless. Namjoon looks over at him, from where he's perched on a small pile of crumbled concrete. His eyes are like dark holes in a pale face; the pale all kinds of wrong because he's never been Yoongi's shade of pasty.
"I have half a biscuit," Namjoon says, and his voice is raspy, loud in the dust. "I was saving it for supper, but you can have it now." You can have it now instead of for supper, he doesn't say, but Yoongi understands it anyway.
He shakes his head, ignoring the emptiness in his stomach, the way it aches. When he blinks, a fly lands on his face, and he just lets it crawl over his skin, tiny feet pitter pattering over the soft surface.
I'm practicing, Yoongi thinks. It feels strange, like he's waiting to be buried, already dead and cast away in the meager shade.
"Yoongi," Namjoon says, and Yoongi blinks awake again, peering over his bleary eyes. What. "Don't do that," is all Namjoon says, but Yoongi knows what he means. Don't pretend to be dead.
"Don't worry," he says, wincing as he elbows himself up, dragging his legs to lead, propped against the wall. The cement is cool against his back, rough through the holes in his shirt. "I'm not that easy to kill."
"You can't die," Namjoon says, and there's a finality in his voice that scares Yoongi, like Namjoon will absolutely not let that happen when he can still draw breath.
"You can't either," Yoongi says right back, but Namjoon only smiles, a sad lop-sided expression, and Yoongi can taste the rust in his mouth from his cracked lip, dry tongue running over flaking skin.
Title from Change (In the House of Flies) by Deftones.
He's hungry.
There are flies, circling, always circling, black clouds over the sun.
"I'm hungry," Yoongi says, lips cracking, though it's pointless. Namjoon looks over at him, from where he's perched on a small pile of crumbled concrete. His eyes are like dark holes in a pale face; the pale all kinds of wrong because he's never been Yoongi's shade of pasty.
"I have half a biscuit," Namjoon says, and his voice is raspy, loud in the dust. "I was saving it for supper, but you can have it now." You can have it now instead of for supper, he doesn't say, but Yoongi understands it anyway.
He shakes his head, ignoring the emptiness in his stomach, the way it aches. When he blinks, a fly lands on his face, and he just lets it crawl over his skin, tiny feet pitter pattering over the soft surface.
I'm practicing, Yoongi thinks. It feels strange, like he's waiting to be buried, already dead and cast away in the meager shade.
"Yoongi," Namjoon says, and Yoongi blinks awake again, peering over his bleary eyes. What. "Don't do that," is all Namjoon says, but Yoongi knows what he means. Don't pretend to be dead.
"Don't worry," he says, wincing as he elbows himself up, dragging his legs to lead, propped against the wall. The cement is cool against his back, rough through the holes in his shirt. "I'm not that easy to kill."
"You can't die," Namjoon says, and there's a finality in his voice that scares Yoongi, like Namjoon will absolutely not let that happen when he can still draw breath.
"You can't either," Yoongi says right back, but Namjoon only smiles, a sad lop-sided expression, and Yoongi can taste the rust in his mouth from his cracked lip, dry tongue running over flaking skin.