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writetomyheart2015-12-04 01:29 am
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-12-04 01:29 am
[team sonic] détruire ton langage
I know I missed the sonic deadline due to to other deadlines, but since it was the last one, I’ll just restart it now. ^^
détruire ton langage
First words from with you.
Title from Crier tout bas by Coeur De Pirate
Inspired by Whalien 52.
Home is a lonely place, sometimes, where the cold wind blow over the water. Namjoon skips out of class again, when he gets tired of the way the other kids look at him sideways after he forgets and raises his hand.
It doesn’t look good, knowing more than the teacher, after all. He can feel the building tension in the room, the underlying storm, lightning far offshore, but the tide steadily drawing in, and when it’s time for gym class he takes advantage of the usual chaos and slips down the hallway, lined with battered metal lockers and twisted padlocks, and out the exit. ALARM WILL SOUND is written on the handle, but he knows the sensor is broken.
He made sure of that, the first time.
Despite what the principal thinks, Namjoon isn’t a fan of breaking the rules; well, not exactly, unless they’re stupid rules like not being allowed to leave the cafeteria with food from lunch even when it’s an empty milk carton and he wants to put it in the recycle bin, but the cafeteria doesn’t have one.
He’d gotten suspended for that, in the kerfuffle that followed, where the only one who got violent was the offended lunch monitor, but Namjoon was the one who got the short end of the stick. Namjoon doesn’t trust teachers for a reason.
It’s cold, and he turns up his collar, shoulders curling in against the bite of the wind blowing in over the sea, but Namjoon walks along the pier anyway, gazing out over open water. There are a few boats, but only far in the distance. It’s too early for fishing boats to be back in, not that there are very many fish anymore, not with the pollution. Namjoon eyes the empty plastic bottles bumping against the cement, and makes a face. Standing at the very end, he stares out over the water, just in case he sees a whale.
It’s doubtful, but there’s always a chance.
“Hey!” Namjoon turns, startled, almost over-balancing, but a bony grasp clamps into his arm; it hurts but keeps him from falling into the water, and today’s cold enough that he doesn’t fancy a swim. He winces though, as the strange hand withdraws, and wonders who’s out on the pier today during working hours—
Oh, he thinks, when he sees her. He’s seen her before, a grade 12 kid, not someone a grade 8 like him really has any reason to associate with. Namjoon wonders why she’s not in class.
“Skipping?” he asks, curious, trying to remember her name. Was it Béatrice, or something like that?
She cocks one eyebrow, and Namjoon just stares back. Pot calling the kettle black, much.
“Careful,” she says, finally, gesturing towards the cold water before pulling a battered pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her leather jacket, tipping it towards Namjoon but he shakes his head, fingers reaching into his pocket to extract an errant lollipop. “Good choice,” she says, laughing, and the sound bubbles in the air, silver spheres that linger for a moment before they’re blown away by the wind.
“You were the one who startled me,” he retorts, sucking on his lollipop as he watches her struggle with her lighter in the wind. Finally she gives up, and shoves the grubby cigarettes back into the pack and into her pocket. “And it’s just as well you don’t smoke.”
“You’re not my brother,” she says, sticking out her tongue, but it makes her look years younger and even though Namjoon doesn't really know her, he still feels comfortable smiling back now.
“Poor you,” he says, eyes drifting back to stare out at the water.
“Hoping for a whale?” she asks, tilting her head, and Namjoon nods. “Fingers crossed,” she says, and steps up beside him as they stand against the wind, watching the waves.
In a strange way, it feels like home.
In a strange way, it feels like home.
détruire ton langage
First words from with you.
Title from Crier tout bas by Coeur De Pirate
Inspired by Whalien 52.
Home is a lonely place, sometimes, where the cold wind blow over the water. Namjoon skips out of class again, when he gets tired of the way the other kids look at him sideways after he forgets and raises his hand.
It doesn’t look good, knowing more than the teacher, after all. He can feel the building tension in the room, the underlying storm, lightning far offshore, but the tide steadily drawing in, and when it’s time for gym class he takes advantage of the usual chaos and slips down the hallway, lined with battered metal lockers and twisted padlocks, and out the exit. ALARM WILL SOUND is written on the handle, but he knows the sensor is broken.
He made sure of that, the first time.
Despite what the principal thinks, Namjoon isn’t a fan of breaking the rules; well, not exactly, unless they’re stupid rules like not being allowed to leave the cafeteria with food from lunch even when it’s an empty milk carton and he wants to put it in the recycle bin, but the cafeteria doesn’t have one.
He’d gotten suspended for that, in the kerfuffle that followed, where the only one who got violent was the offended lunch monitor, but Namjoon was the one who got the short end of the stick. Namjoon doesn’t trust teachers for a reason.
It’s cold, and he turns up his collar, shoulders curling in against the bite of the wind blowing in over the sea, but Namjoon walks along the pier anyway, gazing out over open water. There are a few boats, but only far in the distance. It’s too early for fishing boats to be back in, not that there are very many fish anymore, not with the pollution. Namjoon eyes the empty plastic bottles bumping against the cement, and makes a face. Standing at the very end, he stares out over the water, just in case he sees a whale.
It’s doubtful, but there’s always a chance.
“Hey!” Namjoon turns, startled, almost over-balancing, but a bony grasp clamps into his arm; it hurts but keeps him from falling into the water, and today’s cold enough that he doesn’t fancy a swim. He winces though, as the strange hand withdraws, and wonders who’s out on the pier today during working hours—
Oh, he thinks, when he sees her. He’s seen her before, a grade 12 kid, not someone a grade 8 like him really has any reason to associate with. Namjoon wonders why she’s not in class.
“Skipping?” he asks, curious, trying to remember her name. Was it Béatrice, or something like that?
She cocks one eyebrow, and Namjoon just stares back. Pot calling the kettle black, much.
“Careful,” she says, finally, gesturing towards the cold water before pulling a battered pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her leather jacket, tipping it towards Namjoon but he shakes his head, fingers reaching into his pocket to extract an errant lollipop. “Good choice,” she says, laughing, and the sound bubbles in the air, silver spheres that linger for a moment before they’re blown away by the wind.
“You were the one who startled me,” he retorts, sucking on his lollipop as he watches her struggle with her lighter in the wind. Finally she gives up, and shoves the grubby cigarettes back into the pack and into her pocket. “And it’s just as well you don’t smoke.”
“You’re not my brother,” she says, sticking out her tongue, but it makes her look years younger and even though Namjoon doesn't really know her, he still feels comfortable smiling back now.
“Poor you,” he says, eyes drifting back to stare out at the water.
“Hoping for a whale?” she asks, tilting her head, and Namjoon nods. “Fingers crossed,” she says, and steps up beside him as they stand against the wind, watching the waves.
In a strange way, it feels like home.