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writetomyheart2015-10-20 11:39 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-20 11:39 pm
[team sonic] the devil's water // that dangerous feeling (2)
the devil's water
First words from and temptation was my sin.
Title from When You Were Young by The Killers
Too much.
These two words keep repeating themselves, over and over again, in Wenhan's head. Too much water, too much pressure, and he knows he's swimming but he feels like he's drowning, over and over and over and over and over again.
Too much.
The water, pouring off his fingers, off his skin, sluicing from his body feels like sand, gravity dragging him down.
"I don't understand," the coach says. "Why are you doing this?"
Wenhan could explain. He could open his mouth, let the blood and bones pour out like flowers, the whispers, the glances, the bruises on his hip, just peeking above the fabric of his speedo.
There's nowhere to hide.
He could throw it all up, give it up, but there's too much rotten in his stomach and he knows it'll tear out his throat if he tries to let it go. Some things are too raw to bear. So he just smiles, an expression like cracked ice, the surface of the swimming pool when he was young, and life was beautiful, even when the water froze after the temperature dipped below freezing, the single night of the year when frost hung in front of his mouth, jumping jacks and smiling at—
"I'm sorry," Wenhan says, bowing his head, fighting the curve in his spine that just wants to curl over into a ball. He can't protect himself anyway.
"You know you like it."
Sometimes when you say no, other people think it means yes anyway. The coach frowns, the weight of his displeasure and, even worse, his disappointment, only piling stones onto the rock that Wenhan is carrying his back, but he straightens anyway, sets his shoulders and steps out of the office, blinking in the light of morning.
A cloud crosses the sun, a flock of birds fleeing south. Or is it north? Wenhan gives his head a shake, pulls the cuffs of his jacket lower down so that only the tips of his fingers are protruding, even though it's warm today, and will only get hotter as the way progresses.
The water whispers to him as he turns his back, a siren song, but Wenhan doesn't listen.
that dangerous feeling
First words from I'll go for you.
Title from Lovekiller (못된 여자) (feat. Dok2) by Niel.
He doesn't remember falling asleep, he's not sleeping, but he wishes he was, blinking back the burning in his eyes, batting at his face, at the tears with a frustrated hand, but he misses, stumbling in the dark, crashing into the hard brick of a wall, and knocking over a trash can with metallic crash as it overturns, spilling wilted flowers onto the wet cement, the smell of sweet rot filling the air.
It smell like funerals, he thinks, he doesn't think about—
fingers, brushing his skin like fire, so quickly quenched, drowned, the dying flickers, the dial tone of a phone that never connects. . .there's a thud as his phone slips out of his hands, an ominous crunch as it lands in a puddle, neol lights flickering across the fractured screen, but Daniel doesn't look down, doesn't bend to pick it up.
You can't gather rainbows in your hands, after all, and some people are like that.
"She's going to break your heart," Sungyeol says, brow furrowed, but Daniel just nods, he's not listening right now, watching the way she spins in the light, light refracting off her dress, her hair, the way she looks back over her shoulder and smiles at him. It's worth it, he thinks.
Is it worth it? He doesn't know now, anymore, when everything is in tangles, going from watching her decline calls, smile back at him apologetically, the unspoken words hanging in the air, You're more important than the person on the other end of the line, to being the one listening to the electronic voice explaining the call couldn't go through.
"Daniel," a voice says, and he keeps walking, lost in the vortex of his thoughts, the dreams he had while awake and the nightmares he lived while sleeping, or was he sleeping, is he sleeping, and it's only after a few more footsteps, water splashing up from the puddles as his feet fall heavy to dot his face, his hands, that Daniel slows, looking over his shoulder for the voice that had called his name.
The familiar voice.
He can't see anyone for a moment, with the neon lights and the shadows clinging to the brick and concrete walls between them, but then his eyes pick out a familiar shape, an all too recognizable silhouette.
"Taemin," he says, breathes, and a face emerges from the shadows of a doorway, the back door of a club it looks like, judging from the cigarette butts piled in small acrid clumps on the ground, soggy with the rain, but Taemin's hands are empty. Daniel would wonder what Taemin was doing here, is doing here, but Taemin is Taemin, only a year older and yet he defies all reasonable explanation.
"Taemin," Sungyeol says, one night after they've had too many drinks, too many bright lights, feet kicked up on the coffee table and flopped over on the couch, a random blanket keeping them from the chill of an air conditioner, "Taemin will eat you alive and you'll smile while he does it." Daniel just looks at him, "but doesn't Taemin only. . ." but Sungyeol is already sleeping, fingers trailing over the cracked leather of the couch, and the conversation is forgotten in the aftermath of hangovers and vomit in the toilet.
But there's always been something about Taemin, the way he weaves around the women with money in their purses, black cars and car keys like small swords in their hands, their silky hair fanning over his shoulder as they walk away. Taemin always walks away.
But right now Taemin is here, and he's so close to her, the curve of his arm, the bend of his neck, the way his hip juts out through the thin fabric of his shirt—Daniel blinks and it's her again.
Her perfume in a cloud, drifting—
blinks and it's only Taemin, but Taemin is never just an only.
"I—" Daniel says, looking down at his hand but his fingers are empty, the phone she'll never answer drowning in a puddle at his feet. He can feet the teardrop trembling on his eyelash, but it's not raining right now, and words threaten to fall instead.
"Yes?" Taemin asks, even though there's a sparkle in his eye, obscured by the dark, as though he already knows everything. Are you the one who declines phone calls? Daniel wonders, distracted, when everything is spinning out of control and he already knows the answer if he stops to think.
There it is again, the faint buzzing of a phone, and it's not the broken one at his feet, but Taemin doesn't move, just keeps looking at him. Daniel licks his lips, starts to say see you later, but the words twist in his throat, coming out of his mouth crooked as the neon light above Taemin's head flickers, casting shadows like long hair, her long hair, down the curve of his neck.
"Would you sleep with me," Daniel asks instead, "if I asked you?" And as the words spill out of his mouth, falling like small stones and echoing down the alley, he realizes he means it.
He doesn't need her. He needs something, someone who will wipe her from his skin, the smell of sweat and and taste of salt to strip away the last lingering traces of perfume. Words, whispering in his ear, drowning out the sound of her ringtone.
Taemin tilts his head, in the shadows, as the light falls across the fullness of his bottom lip. Are you sure? he asks, with the angle of his spine, the way his fingers creep up to frame his hip.
"He'll destroy you."
Daniel breathes in the night air, the cold dampness of the walls, a lingering smell from the sweetness of the spilled flowers, rot hanging beneath the surface. Her smile, so sweet.
You can't destroy what's already broken. The thought drifts through his head, dissolves into the path of his shadow as he steps across the concrete, to where Taemin is standing, as he raises his hand in a fluid motion to take Daniel by the chin and stare into his eyes.
No words are exchanged.
First words from and temptation was my sin.
Title from When You Were Young by The Killers
Wenhan-centric; R; 363 words; implied rape aftermath
Too much.
These two words keep repeating themselves, over and over again, in Wenhan's head. Too much water, too much pressure, and he knows he's swimming but he feels like he's drowning, over and over and over and over and over again.
Too much.
The water, pouring off his fingers, off his skin, sluicing from his body feels like sand, gravity dragging him down.
"I don't understand," the coach says. "Why are you doing this?"
Wenhan could explain. He could open his mouth, let the blood and bones pour out like flowers, the whispers, the glances, the bruises on his hip, just peeking above the fabric of his speedo.
There's nowhere to hide.
He could throw it all up, give it up, but there's too much rotten in his stomach and he knows it'll tear out his throat if he tries to let it go. Some things are too raw to bear. So he just smiles, an expression like cracked ice, the surface of the swimming pool when he was young, and life was beautiful, even when the water froze after the temperature dipped below freezing, the single night of the year when frost hung in front of his mouth, jumping jacks and smiling at—
"I'm sorry," Wenhan says, bowing his head, fighting the curve in his spine that just wants to curl over into a ball. He can't protect himself anyway.
"You know you like it."
Sometimes when you say no, other people think it means yes anyway. The coach frowns, the weight of his displeasure and, even worse, his disappointment, only piling stones onto the rock that Wenhan is carrying his back, but he straightens anyway, sets his shoulders and steps out of the office, blinking in the light of morning.
A cloud crosses the sun, a flock of birds fleeing south. Or is it north? Wenhan gives his head a shake, pulls the cuffs of his jacket lower down so that only the tips of his fingers are protruding, even though it's warm today, and will only get hotter as the way progresses.
The water whispers to him as he turns his back, a siren song, but Wenhan doesn't listen.
that dangerous feeling
First words from I'll go for you.
Title from Lovekiller (못된 여자) (feat. Dok2) by Niel.
Niel (Teen Top)/OFC, Niel/Taemin; PG-13; 1030 words
He doesn't remember falling asleep, he's not sleeping, but he wishes he was, blinking back the burning in his eyes, batting at his face, at the tears with a frustrated hand, but he misses, stumbling in the dark, crashing into the hard brick of a wall, and knocking over a trash can with metallic crash as it overturns, spilling wilted flowers onto the wet cement, the smell of sweet rot filling the air.
It smell like funerals, he thinks, he doesn't think about—
fingers, brushing his skin like fire, so quickly quenched, drowned, the dying flickers, the dial tone of a phone that never connects. . .there's a thud as his phone slips out of his hands, an ominous crunch as it lands in a puddle, neol lights flickering across the fractured screen, but Daniel doesn't look down, doesn't bend to pick it up.
You can't gather rainbows in your hands, after all, and some people are like that.
"She's going to break your heart," Sungyeol says, brow furrowed, but Daniel just nods, he's not listening right now, watching the way she spins in the light, light refracting off her dress, her hair, the way she looks back over her shoulder and smiles at him. It's worth it, he thinks.
Is it worth it? He doesn't know now, anymore, when everything is in tangles, going from watching her decline calls, smile back at him apologetically, the unspoken words hanging in the air, You're more important than the person on the other end of the line, to being the one listening to the electronic voice explaining the call couldn't go through.
"Daniel," a voice says, and he keeps walking, lost in the vortex of his thoughts, the dreams he had while awake and the nightmares he lived while sleeping, or was he sleeping, is he sleeping, and it's only after a few more footsteps, water splashing up from the puddles as his feet fall heavy to dot his face, his hands, that Daniel slows, looking over his shoulder for the voice that had called his name.
The familiar voice.
He can't see anyone for a moment, with the neon lights and the shadows clinging to the brick and concrete walls between them, but then his eyes pick out a familiar shape, an all too recognizable silhouette.
"Taemin," he says, breathes, and a face emerges from the shadows of a doorway, the back door of a club it looks like, judging from the cigarette butts piled in small acrid clumps on the ground, soggy with the rain, but Taemin's hands are empty. Daniel would wonder what Taemin was doing here, is doing here, but Taemin is Taemin, only a year older and yet he defies all reasonable explanation.
"Taemin," Sungyeol says, one night after they've had too many drinks, too many bright lights, feet kicked up on the coffee table and flopped over on the couch, a random blanket keeping them from the chill of an air conditioner, "Taemin will eat you alive and you'll smile while he does it." Daniel just looks at him, "but doesn't Taemin only. . ." but Sungyeol is already sleeping, fingers trailing over the cracked leather of the couch, and the conversation is forgotten in the aftermath of hangovers and vomit in the toilet.
But there's always been something about Taemin, the way he weaves around the women with money in their purses, black cars and car keys like small swords in their hands, their silky hair fanning over his shoulder as they walk away. Taemin always walks away.
But right now Taemin is here, and he's so close to her, the curve of his arm, the bend of his neck, the way his hip juts out through the thin fabric of his shirt—Daniel blinks and it's her again.
Her perfume in a cloud, drifting—
blinks and it's only Taemin, but Taemin is never just an only.
"I—" Daniel says, looking down at his hand but his fingers are empty, the phone she'll never answer drowning in a puddle at his feet. He can feet the teardrop trembling on his eyelash, but it's not raining right now, and words threaten to fall instead.
"Yes?" Taemin asks, even though there's a sparkle in his eye, obscured by the dark, as though he already knows everything. Are you the one who declines phone calls? Daniel wonders, distracted, when everything is spinning out of control and he already knows the answer if he stops to think.
There it is again, the faint buzzing of a phone, and it's not the broken one at his feet, but Taemin doesn't move, just keeps looking at him. Daniel licks his lips, starts to say see you later, but the words twist in his throat, coming out of his mouth crooked as the neon light above Taemin's head flickers, casting shadows like long hair, her long hair, down the curve of his neck.
"Would you sleep with me," Daniel asks instead, "if I asked you?" And as the words spill out of his mouth, falling like small stones and echoing down the alley, he realizes he means it.
He doesn't need her. He needs something, someone who will wipe her from his skin, the smell of sweat and and taste of salt to strip away the last lingering traces of perfume. Words, whispering in his ear, drowning out the sound of her ringtone.
Taemin tilts his head, in the shadows, as the light falls across the fullness of his bottom lip. Are you sure? he asks, with the angle of his spine, the way his fingers creep up to frame his hip.
"He'll destroy you."
Daniel breathes in the night air, the cold dampness of the walls, a lingering smell from the sweetness of the spilled flowers, rot hanging beneath the surface. Her smile, so sweet.
You can't destroy what's already broken. The thought drifts through his head, dissolves into the path of his shadow as he steps across the concrete, to where Taemin is standing, as he raises his hand in a fluid motion to take Daniel by the chin and stare into his eyes.
No words are exchanged.
no subject
You can't destroy what's already broken.
ㅠㅠ want to save them but I don't think I can. /sniffles
no subject