[team three] it's nice to have a friend

[avantnuit.livejournal.com]

nct; yuta/doyoung; 467w; G — an au that is old and as often, unfinished.

'you're here.'

all sharp all edges, the tone isn't as condescendant as it usually is, as it wants to be — and if it falls in that corner yuta is so familiar with, he knows it's out of habit rather than sincerity, out of comfort because that's all the shape at the door has ever known.

shape.

because it's really the best, less insulting-way to describe him. hours of insomnia and paranoia have probably helped in that, but yuta thinks - there must be another palette from the universe, unknown to him and most people, that paints and carves one with new colours and traits with the reality and closeness of the menaces it brings upon its subjects — one that blurs one in and out, and shakes them a little too much, a little too roughly — a hand that is more experienced in crafting silhouettes, than it is in loving their owners.

there must be, because — no matter how much work was put into him —

doyoung looks like an absolute fucking mess.

'of course i am.'

purple turns blue then black beneath his eyes, clear sign of fatigue — but so does it on his cheek and chin, and that's a clear sign of a fight, of a few blows that landed before doyoung bit back. there are more colours to him: a green that's turning yellow by his forehead; a sickly white to his face — red that turned into a scab right by his lower lip; that is already turning pink around his eyes

(but these two are to be left alone and unspoken, and - though yuta yearns to bring it up, to discuss it and worry, he knows better now, knows doyoung a little more than before - so he leaves it be, in a corner that one day hopes to see the light of day,

and swallows down the sigh he was going to let out, remains perfectly still in the entryway.)

'can i come in?' he murmurs, out of politeness rather than anything else — because doyoung never goes back on his word no matter what, no matter how tumultuous their semblance of a relationship is. doyoung called and requested his presence — doyoung would never send him back home now that he's here - or even right after calling for help, realising he regretted his decision. if there's anything to know about doyoung, it's that he's prideful, and so far his pride has birthed nothing but irrevocable decisions.

the door opens wider and reveals a shelf, keys and a gallimaufry of things tossed upon it, winter necessities clashing with the medication neatly folded on the bottom compartment.

probably for donghyuck — probably for doyoung, yuta realises belatedly - then shoves the thought away, repulses it to a corner of his mind, for a time of truth that will probably never come.

passing the baton to shinysylver !