our love to admire

they say, well get out of the city. we say, well there's no such place as a house in the country.

[rigorxmyn]

ourlovetomadmire91: the city will move out of frame but it’s still you that remains.

[rigorxmyn]

We both like apple cider. (wait)

One of the weird habits of his is the periodical cleaning of his laptop. It’s a beat up piece of junk that can’t even be used without being plugged into the wall which in his opinion has put it on the same level as a desktop but with less functionality of one. Still, he uploads photos, edits them according to his assignments requirements and ignore the loudness of the fan or processor. It’s old. He keeps telling himself to let it go and finally buy himself a computer he doesn’t have to practically stab the keys when typing but it’s yet another relic he can’t seem to let go and leave in the past. 

And so here he sits in the corner of the studio by the window in the space he claimed. Evident by the sticky notes, business cards and a few star wars themed valentines from his niece and nephew that are all stuck to the wall thanks to double sided tape. There’s also the succulent a friend gave him in a small concrete bulbasaur planter on the window shelf that despite the fact he’s never watered it himself is still alive. He doesn’t question it, though he appreciates who ever is taking care of it in his stead.

It’s quiet. The studio is mostly empty given it’s the weekend. Technically, students aren’t allowed on campus during this time but Joonmyun is an exception since he’s spent so much time here on weeknights just to turn around and ask for permission to drop by on a Saturday because that’s when he’s off work that the professor who happens to have an office right next door leaves the door propped open for him.

Joonmyun works away at the laptop, uninstalling unneeded programs before deleting unneeded photos and files then organizes term papers. It’s therapeutic, deleting the history, cache and such as he backups his phone. And while that’s downloading he gets up to brew a pot of coffee and put on music. 

The building and everything in it is outdated from the hard metal canary yellow chairs with plastic backs that have to date back to the 70s to the small speakers that are hooked up to the silver cd player leftover from the 00s. To the fact they have a coffee machine rather than a kerig. It’s all things that the students and teachers alike make work after all they’re not here to drink coffee and listen to the smiths, they’re here to make and create. Though he keeps hoping they’ll update the cd player to something that can at least hookup an aux cord to. It would help speed up the whole creating process he feels. 

One of said canary chairs creak as Peter sits back, head resting against the wall. No doubt lost in his own thoughts-- in his own world of self (or Brian inflicted) problems that humor Joonmyun when he voices them. It’s silence shared between them but he allows it to continue. Already, another body being in the studio is extra noise enough but give Peter another five minutes to be lost in his thoughts and time will have a way of bringing up another sort of conversation starter to engage Joonmyun with.

Joonmyun crosses his arms, listening to sound of coffee brewing he starts to mentally evaluate his process on his final project. 

He tried to explain it to Peter earlier that morning. It’s a tower that every level features a different style of architecture. One level features late baroque with a focus on rococo, the level above that features neoclassical architecture, then the next floor is Hanok, and above that richardsonian romanesque, then northern thai traditional stilt house and so on and so on. It’s the reason why he’s always covered in an assortment of materials. Saw dust, paint, scraps of fabric, bits of glue. Peter was able to follow along up until Hanok, content to look at the structures up clos, somewhat interested in the long stories behind their build and individualistic importance. And this is where he and Brian differs, Joonmyun notes. It’s plain to see for him why though his best friend and Peter are compatible, there’s no denying it but always drift in different directions. It’s Brian’s inability to really understand without words. His insistence that he does and uninterest in looking at the overall picture— it’s just not within his nature to do as Peter is now, to study something up close and to notice the minute details. 

Joonmyun turns away from staring at Peter who is watching his phone and back to his work. The project, though unfinished (and he doesn’t think it will ever be finished) has already drawn a lot of attention and been questioned by teachers and classmates without invitation, each offering their own perspective and thoughts. It’s funny to Joonmyun, because when he takes a step back and really look at it the urge to take one of the fold up chairs and knock it down is always there. He wants to shout that it doesn’t have purpose, it doesn’t have meaning it’s just a glorified dollhouse. It’s not a commentary on the old or new or a showcase of architectural history through the centuries because god he doesn’t have the complexity to even think like that way. Instead, he doesn’t say anything when told it’s his best work, yet. It only adds to the pressure and being told he should be proud of himself when really all he feels is that he’s seconds away from crumbling from the pressure of not being good enough. Imposter syndrome has coupled with the voice inside his head that says people have too much faith in him. And this is why he and Brian are friends. While Brian is innocently ignorant in his lack of through understanding Joonmyun is well aware of his own inability to fully grasp or give meaning to that which he creates. But it means something, what he doesn’t know but there is something there. 

His phone dings and he lowers his mug. 

It’s Mikoto. He feels his breath catch then he checks the time. The studio is the last place he wants to meet up with him. He’d rather take his chances of being cornered in the laundry room again or outside the library or some other slightly more public setting where he can be frank and ask what does Mikoto hope to get out of this and why had he picked Joonmyun and was the morning after not awkward enough? He knows it’s a bit silly but he doesn’t want Mikoto to see what he’s working on just yet, he doesn’t want to know his thoughts on his artwork because it would just be a reflection on how he truly feels about Joonmyun... at least, that’s how he’d overthink it anyway.

He’s often asked when he’ll be done with ‘it’ but truth of the matter is he doesn’t know because he never had a plan for it from the beginning. No end goal. And it’s exactly the same situation he finds himself in with Mikoto. He doesn’t know where it’s going. There’s no end goal, there isn’t even a goal to speak of. Mikoto happens intentionally, or unintentionally. He’s like the weather.

They spend more time together and keep spending time together to the point he’s starting to accidently learn little things about Mikoto. Things like he doesn’t like apple cider.

Joonmyun, hesitates as the phone rings. Peter looks up with a question on his face and Joonmyun ignores both as he thinks, thinks of what to say. If he answers he knows what Mikoto is going to say “What are you doing?” Then he’d have to say he’s in the studio, working on... and it’s back to that question again. What is it?

It’s a collection of memories he supposes. The tower is his thoughts, things he just remembers when he was a child, like when he met that group of nomads that’d go about repairing and renovate ancient structures in Europe and that’s what he wanted to do or places he’s seen like the Hanok houses he’d visit with his grandmother-- It’s as simple as that though it makes him feel both jealous and annoyed to hear the theories pinned to his work. Mainly because he just doesn’t have the ability to think that deeply about something, he just needed something to do with his hands. Something that wouldn’t let him fall behind everyone else in class. 

More importantly it gives him something to get his mind out of his head and with the amount of research he has to do when he starts a new floor it’s worked pretty well up until now. Still works well when he lets himself get lost in it. But then his phone dings. And that’s something that he never gets is why Mikoto will text him smiley faces, pictures of his dogs, photos of the sky. And it works to get him out of the slump he sinks into it. Well, most of the time. 

In a way Mikoto has become his new means of distraction and he’s still trying to understand why he’s allowing this. 

Though he would never tell Mikoto but he goes to bed he’s his last thought. The last glance at the shirt hung up on the door and he wakes in the morning that same way, with a glance at his phone with the hope to see Mikoto’s name on his notifications. And he supposes in time, Mikoto’s room will just become another floor on the tower. 

@cir

[cir]

mamihlapinatapei.

mamihlapinatapei: the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start, for @rigorxmyn

He’s not sure why he wants to be so selfish when it comes to Junmyeon. It’s usually a feeling he can suppress, with much ease and without a second thought. But with him, he always wants to ask for more than he gives; ask Junmyeon to take a look a him too, before he takes a look somewhere else. It’s incredibly selfish of him to ask him to remain here, but it’s at the tip of his tongue and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous because it would make Junmyeon unhappy, and even so, a small part of his heart wished he would just do that. 

(To just stay, with him here.) 

Somewhere in the corner of their small world here, in this very apartment that they both occupied, things had changed and only one of them ready for that conversation.

Mikoto looks for Junmyeon’s gaze, and when he meets it, all he does is watch. He looks at the way his lashes flicker, blinking a few times. In between the blinks, he watches his eyes look left, then right, then back at him again. He follows them, but they end up elsewhere, like the coffee cup besides them, or the half-open window behind him.

It’s not something Mikoto hadn’t known, but it is loud and clear with Junmyeon’s gaze. Their eyes weren’t looking at each other the same way: Mikoto watched the other with much intent and Junmyeon simply avoided it all. 

Mikoto is the one to end his agony. 

“I think, you should do it.” Mikoto says, all in one breath. 

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to tell him. But it feels right, in it’s own way, and when he looks at Junmyeon’s eyes, he’s more certain of it. 

“You should go.” This time, it’s with a smile. Mikoto tries his best to not make it so wistful; he tries to light the room with it even if it’s not at all how he feels. He’s been doing that more lately too, and so has Junmyeon. The lies keep piling up, even though they’re white and never mean to harm; they still take up space and will soon become something they can’t just look away from. 

“You said it yourself, it’s the next move for you.” His words aren’t faulting Junmyeon, or shifting the blame on him. Rather, it’s quite the opposite – it’s an attempt to assure him, and then re-assure him. It’s the only thing he can do here in this moment, for both Junmyeon, and for them both. Maybe they’d start something later, but the time wasn’t now. At least, not for Junmyeon. 

And maybe, that was just fine. 

[rigorxmyn]

Joonmyun stops talking abruptly. Oh, he is doing that thing again. You know, how he starts talking too much only to back track, overcompensate, have a moment of doubt then retrace his steps only to end up right back where he started but then abruptly decides to save himself the trouble by starting over it’s better if he changes the subject all together. “Yeah, yeah it’ll be fine. It’s good. It’ll be good — uh, I already called a few apartment listings. In LA.”

He says this like he is reassuring Mikoto that he’ll be ok out there by himself when in actuality he is self soothing, make it seem as if he knows what he is doing by faking self confidence. And sure in a way, he does know what he’s doing. Moving isn’t new to him because every few years it’s a new process of either moving to a new unit or to a new continent. Ironically, moving is the easy part for him. 

The hard part is the fact he hasn’t known what to feel since he received the acceptance email just a week ago. He reread it and despite his skepticism there’s one feeling he can’t hide try as he might: 

He does wants this. 

Joonmyun knows this and Mikoto can read him regardless of how carefully guarded he is.

“It’ll be the second step to achieving my childhood dream. I got the degree and if I can stick with this internship— then — oh, and then getting the required number of AXP hours will be a breeze and after I’ll be able to take the ARE (architect registration examination).” Joonmyun blinks. Oh, he’s talking too much with both his hands and his mouth again. To save face, he shrug and tries to keep a level head by looking at things from a business point of view. “It’s just the start of a new chapter, I guess.”

Really, he had sent the application in as a whim- an act done so he could tell Joel that yes, he was working towards finding internships. And no he isn’t planning on staying in Seoul forever. Even if he doesn’t get a callback he’ll stay until lease is up which is til the end of summer, sometime in August then he’ll move back to Margate. He’ll figure out where to go from there. Perhaps he’ll look up places with Brian over facetime later, he vaguely remembers his best friend mentioning that he was nearing the end of his own degree too. See Joel? Adulting isn’t that hard. Kiss the kids. Give Jina my love. I’m hanging up now.

But then the email came and that changed everything. It looks like he’ll be bypassing Margate altogether and heading straight to LA. It’s exciting. It’s terrifying. It’s not exactly new but it feels like it is. It’s bittersweet because when new doors open, old ones close and in this case... will he lose Mikoto in the process? And it’s at this thought that makes him look up and reconsider.

If he goes through with this, works towards getting his certification in America... that’s just it. “You know... essentially I’ll be stuck there for work, right?” Joonmyun says to Mikoto as he stares at him like he can find the answers to all his problems in his brown eyes. But it’s a valid point of concern: if he moves away then where does that leave room for Mikoto? Could he move with him? What about Mikoto’s own field of study? No, he can’t even put a label on whatever is going on between them much less ask Mikoto to come with him when Mikoto has worked this hard already. 

After another quiet moment Mikoto is the one to break it. “I think you should do it. You should go.”  It’s almost as if he can hear the countdown start at that moment. The numbers on the clock make a special type of sound and marking down the days he has left in Seoul one by one create a special sort of sentiment that feels mawkish. Regardless, Joonmyun swallows the lump in his throat and nods and says the opposite of how he feels. “Okay.” 

[cir]

(you’ve become a) habit to me.

“Are you headed to sleep?” 

It’s become their morning greeting of some kind, as Mikoto begins his day only for Junmyeon to come to close his. 

“Mmm… hm?” 

Junmyeon lifts his head, gesturing for Mikoto to repeat his words again. Instead of doing so, he lets Junmyeon’s mind catch up, already knowing he’d process it better not hearing a second time. “Yeah, I’m going to now…” Junmyeon’s voice fades. 

Mikoto can tell he’s quite tired, because Junmyeon’s the one to lock eyes with him. Their gazes hold for a full minute, before a laugh steals him, and it ends up being Mikoto to break. Before the other can get any further, Mikoto slips an arm beneath Junmyeon’s legs, lifting him up too easily – the motion habitual to the both of them, a little too much. 

“Let me walk…” Junmyeon says, while his arms do the exact opposite. They wrap around Mikoto’s neck, once again, habitually. 

“If I do, you won’t brush your teeth before you crawl into bed, Tom.” He’s not sure when hyung had turned into Junmyeon and Junmyeon had slipped to become Tom. But everything felt easy, and everything came easily that he rarely needed to second guess anything; at least here, in the space of their own. “I won’t make you shower, so let’s just brush our teeth.” 

Junmyeon mumbles something under his breath and Mikoto pretends not to hear it, even though it colors his ears red for a passing moment. 

He seats Junmyeon at the toilet seat, before squeezing toothpaste onto the toothbrush. He kneels to get to the other’s level, his thumb gently opening Junmyeon’s mouth and immediately laughing at the strong smell of caffeine. “I thought we promised our dentist that we were going to try to be better on our enamel…” Mikoto’s words are chastising but his tone is warm, trained in the voice he only used with Junmyeon. 

Soon enough he’s bringing them to Junmyeon’s room, placing the other into the bed. “Good morning, and sleep well, Tom.” Midnight’s already making home next to him, as she buries herself into Junmyeon’s side. Midnight and Mikoto exchange glances. Their conversation is short, and Mikoto decides to fall back. He loses to her every time, and this too, is habit.

@rigorxmyn

[rigorxmyn]

He’s an early raiser.

( Usually.)

Brian, his best friend, will gladly attest to this claim and recount stories of their junior high years back in Margate. And often, on multiple occasions, makes the claim that Joonmyun is the one who set is biological clock to better suit his schedule and he hasn’t been able to break from it since. Joonmyun will counter that Brian is an early bird because his parents own a cafe bookstore that opens 6 AM on the dot Monday - Saturday in order to carter to those who get up early to drive out to neighbor cities for work, school or other means.

Regardless, it’s how he’s wired for whatever reason.

He’s always been this way. As young kids in obscure corners of numerous continents while their parents dug for ancient artifacts at the first sign of light Joonmyun was being pestered, shaken, pinched, and poked at by his older and persistent brother until he begrudgingly got up. Joel, ever the optimist refused to let the day go to waste when there was so much to experience back before the days his work and kids made him understand that staying in bed was in fact a luxury — the catch was Joel’s practically none existent sense of direction and that’s where Joonmyun came in. And some days, sleepy eyed as he spread out a map and Joel did research on the area of newfound interest it was hard to be mad when there’s so much promise in the upcoming day.

And that optimism carried over to a place as quiet and mundane as Margate even after Joel moved on to college, or his parents were busy at the museum in Atlantic city or elsewhere, and even when Brian would be busy counting out change behind the counter at his parents shop. Sleeping in simply wasn’t an option when adventure awaited in his own backyard.

Fast forward several years and to their shared apartment college days. This is why more often than not Mikoto would wake up to his housemate either punching in buttons on the coffee maker or sat hunched over, cutting shapes out of cardboard to assemble scale models of structures he’d could only dream one day would be more than just paper and discounted glue.

Most days, it’s impossible to tell if Joonmyun had been asleep at all.

On other days, he’s already gone by the time Mikoto gets up but there’s remnants of himself scattered throughout the apartment. Abandoned pencils and pens, empty cat food tins on the kitchen counter, charcoal vine that gets crushed under Mikoto’s shoes and even the empty space where Joonmyun’s favorite jacket usually hangs tells a story of its own.

Yes, even now old habits don’t change. Blame it on his biological clock or his upbringing but whatever it is refuses to shut off and give him peace of mind and so he stirs, turning over slowly in the bed. His hand feels around for his phone while slowly coming into consciousness. The phone reads 6:01 AM. He’s only been asleep for roughly two and a half hours and in that short increment of time that it takes for the phone to turn black he’s already gone through a mental checklist of things that need to be done. Acting on habit, he moves to get up but there’s a shift and that’s when he remembers— Mikoto.

Actually, the shift he felts was Midnight who stretches and yawns before jumping over Joonmyun’s side to go curl up against Mikoto’s chest, rubs her head underneath his chin and purrs at him loudly then goes back to sleep. The whole scene makes Joonmyun tsk in disbelief and murmurs about how disloyal his own pet is though he does so with a small smiling pulling at his lips. 

Midnight may start off on his side of the bed but by the time he wakes up, Midnight usually has switched sides at some point in the night to sleep with Mikoto instead. The fact even his cat secretly favors his boyfriend makes Joonmyun wonder if he should be concerned about this unspoken competition given he remembers the days Midnight would hide from Mikoto or swat at his ankles in retaliation for bringing not one, but two dogs into her home. Though he suspects the main reason for Midnight’s change is because Midnight and Mikoto both share the common interest of sleeping in. And let’s face it. Mikoto is warm.

The sheer fact that he gets to wake up to Mikoto is concrete proof he hasn’t dreamt up the past two years and that in and of itself is an adjustment but he’s been given this right and trusts him enough to share this space. And in return he’s allowed to brush the hair away from his eyes or kiss him before the morning sun or Jina or Joel or whatever else gets to steal them away from one another.

Sometimes, Joonmyun takes advantage of this chance he’s been given. Some days, he’s more cautious and secretly worried that he has overstayed his welcome. And other days.... he manages to close his eyes, scoot his body into what little space Midnight and Bey have left for him to get closer to Mikoto and like that he goes back to sleep.

[yoskibrokis]

wordstuck.co.vu Prompts

[cir]

Send one (+ a character if you’d like) and I’ll write a drabble based on the word, or add ‘starter’ in and I’ll do a starter for our characters based on the word(s).

la douleur exquise: The exquisite pain of wanting the affection of someone you know you can never have.

wanderlust: A strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world.

dēsīderium: An ardent desire of longing, particularly for something once had; grief for the absence of loss of something or someone.

pikit mata: 'with eyes closed’; how you accepted the fact of something against your desires must be done.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained.

velleity: A wish or desire to see something done, but nit enough will to make it happen or actions meant to pursue it.

sehnsucht: 'the inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what’; a high degree of intense, recurring, and often painful desire for something, particularly if there’s no hope to attain the desired or when its attainment is uncertain, still far away.

koi no yokan: 'premonition of love’; the sense one can get upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to falling love. This differs from the idea 'love at first sight’ in that it does not imply that the feeling of love exists, rather refers to the knowledge that a future love is possible.

meraki: to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself into your work.

mamihlapinatapei: the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start.

forelsket: the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.

geborgenheit: to feel completely safe, like nothing could ever harm you; security, comfort, trust, satisfaction, acceptance and love from others.

ya’aburnee: 'you bury me’; a declaration of one’s hope that they’ll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them.

augenblick: 'in the blink of an eye’; a 'decisive moment’ in time that is fleeting, yet momentously eventful and incredibly significant.

herzschmerz: heartache; an emotional pain in the heart.

retrouvailles: the happiness of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation.

einfühlungsvermögen: a deep understanding of someone’s feelings, thoughts and motives that are easily comprehended by yourself.

serendipity: the luck that takes the form of discovering valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for or while looking for something else.

ichigo ichie: 'one time, one meeting’; and encounter that only happens once in a lifetime, reminding to treasure every moment, for it will never recur.

saudade: a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something or someone, often accompanied with denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.

cwtch: a warm, affectionate hug, cuddle or snuggle that gives a feeling of a safe place or home.

kilig: the delightful feeling that sends shivers of pleasure down the spine as one encounters something romantic.

liefdesverdriet: the sadness, depression or pain one feels about a love unanswered or love that is gone.

elmosolyodni: to slowly break out into a genuine smile when being overcome with emotions, like love or utter happiness.

pluviphile: a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

kalverliefde: the temporary affection and infatuation usually experienced by two people in love.

torpe: the-quality of, usually a young male, being to shy to pursue amorous desires to someone adored.

mélomanie: an excessive and abnormal love and deep attraction to music and melody.

nyctophilia: love of darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.

yuánfèn: a relationship brought by fate or destiny; the binding force which eventually links two people together in love.

lǎotóng: 'old same’; a form of eternal friendship between “heart sisters” – two women who are closer than husband and wife.

b'shert: 'destiny’; the seeking if a person who will complement you, and whom you will complement perfectly.

oodal: the sulking or fake anger occurring between couple after a lovers tiff, usually over something inconsequential – a feeling recognized to be a facet of love or affection.

vuslat: a union or reunion after being apart for a long time with one’s beloved.

pacalai: 'lovesick pallor’; the pale complexion of a women suffering the loss of or separation from her husband or lover.

redamancy: a love returned in full; the act of loving the one who loves you.

thuong: to love tenderly – a deep and sincere notion of fondness and care between family members, friends, or lovers.

amor vincit omnia: 'love conquers all’

kaiho: a hopeless longing – an involuntary solitude in which one feels incompleteness and yearns for something unattainable or extremely difficult and tedious to attain.

euneirophrenia: a peace of mind that comes from having pleasant dreams.

boketto: to gaze vacantly into the distance without thinking or doing anything.

luchtkasteel: 'air castle’; a wish or dream one hopes to fulfill in the future, yet will never be achieved, as it is so vast, immense and unlikely.

gumusservi: the light of the moon as it shines upon the water.

aamukaste: morning dew.

murr-ma: to walk along in the water searching for something with your feet.

tükörsima: 'as smooth as the-surface of the mirror’; describes a still water which has unbroken surface, neither by wind nor by some object or animal.

aranyhíd: 'golden bridge’; the reflection of the sun as it shines upon the water.

walwalün: the sound that a flowing water makes.

ruska: the phenomenon of leaves turning various shades of red, yellow, purple and brown during the autumn season.

psithurism: the sound of the leaves rustling as the wind blows through the trees.

şafak: the first skylight seen during dawn or just before the sun rise.

yeoubi: 'fox rain’; a sun shower – the event of having a light rain while the sun is still shinning.

madrugada: the moment at dawn when the night greets the day.

[cir]

(you’ve become a) habit to me.

“Are you headed to sleep?” 

It’s become their morning greeting of some kind, as Mikoto begins his day only for Junmyeon to come to close his. 

“Mmm… hm?” 

Junmyeon lifts his head, gesturing for Mikoto to repeat his words again. Instead of doing so, he lets Junmyeon’s mind catch up, already knowing he’d process it better not hearing a second time. “Yeah, I’m going to now…” Junmyeon’s voice fades. 

Mikoto can tell he’s quite tired, because Junmyeon’s the one to lock eyes with him. Their gazes hold for a full minute, before a laugh steals him, and it ends up being Mikoto to break. Before the other can get any further, Mikoto slips an arm beneath Junmyeon’s legs, lifting him up too easily – the motion habitual to the both of them, a little too much. 

“Let me walk…” Junmyeon says, while his arms do the exact opposite. They wrap around Mikoto’s neck, once again, habitually. 

“If I do, you won’t brush your teeth before you crawl into bed, Tom.” He’s not sure when hyung had turned into Junmyeon and Junmyeon had slipped to become Tom. But everything felt easy, and everything came easily that he rarely needed to second guess anything; at least here, in the space of their own. “I won’t make you shower, so let’s just brush our teeth.” 

Junmyeon mumbles something under his breath and Mikoto pretends not to hear it, even though it colors his ears red for a passing moment. 

He seats Junmyeon at the toilet seat, before squeezing toothpaste onto the toothbrush. He kneels to get to the other’s level, his thumb gently opening Junmyeon’s mouth and immediately laughing at the strong smell of caffeine. “I thought we promised our dentist that we were going to try to be better on our enamel…” Mikoto’s words are chastising but his tone is warm, trained in the voice he only used with Junmyeon. 

Soon enough he’s bringing them to Junmyeon’s room, placing the other into the bed. “Good morning, and sleep well, Tom.” Midnight’s already making home next to him, as she buries herself into Junmyeon’s side. Midnight and Mikoto exchange glances. Their conversation is short, and Mikoto decides to fall back. He loses to her every time, and this too, is habit.

@rigorxmyn

[ourlovetomadmire91]

ourlovetomadmire91: Is film not fascinating, vexing and strangely unorthodox? I went by the studio of an old friend roughly a month ago to snap a few portraits for his series documenting social distancing. They turned out well, Nathan. 

sonnathan1993: it was a pleasure having you and glad you liked the result. drop by again anytime or text the next time you’re in the sanfran area. always happy to shoot.      ∟ ourlovetomadmire91: you captured the real ‘me’. excellent work. i’ll take you up on that offer. next time i’ll come earlier when the sun is high so we can lower the camera iso. you were right about the film grain being prevalent.

[rigorxmyn]

cir​:

“I cannot believe you’re still here and still over there doing that.” 

“Can’t leave yet. It’s at six. Still have two hours and fourteen minutes left.” 

“You know, it was fun watching you ogle and oogle over the arts dude for maybe about a week or maybe I’ll excuse even two, but.” Blythe throws his hands in the air as if in defeat, only to cross them in defiance. “Now it’s real old news and you’re making me watch you change into the same outfit in different shades for the fifth time–”

Mikoto interrupts. “They’re distinctly different colors, and I’ve never been to a park concert, I’m just not sure how to dress! I just wanted a best friend’s honest opinion.” He mirrors the other, hands crossed over his chest. Except it’s playful, and he can’t hide the smile on his face. Soon it’s infectious, tickling over at Blythe and he quickly rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide a grin. 

“Fine, fine.” Blythe comes to stand right behind him, the both of them looking into the mirror. Blythe’s head tilts left, and Mikoto’s head mirrors, following suit to the right. “The second outfit was the best one. Doesn’t make you look like a complete physics nerd who knows absolutely batshit-nothing about music, but also doesn’t give you the complete, physics nerd who thinks he knows everything about music because it’s way below his pay-grade look either.” 

“And what if I don’t want to look like a physics nerd to begin with?” It’s a question he shouldn’t have asked. It gets a laugh out of Blythe, and just that before he shuts the door on his way out. 

He arrives at the park half an hour early – and he swears it’s just common decency, or at least repeats the idea to himself thrice before it turns just a minute past six and a weird feeling settles in his stomach. It doesn’t leave, even when he sees Junmyeon walking towards him, just on time. He jumps from the park bench immediately, a hand waving in the air. 

The grin he’s got on his face makes him look like a fool, and he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

If there’s one thing that Joonmyun doesn’t do is make a fuss over his outfit. 

Mikoto knows what he looks like by now. And should be well accustomed to the fact he smells like either fresh cut paper or thinner and that there is always the chance that his fingers will be stained a ghoulish shade of purple from oil painting or black and red with ink. 

He’ll fuss over conversation topics, avoiding Mikoto’s direct attempt of flirting or if this is a ‘date’. (Jina definitely thinks so but she calls everything a date, even when she treats Joonmyun to dinner. He’s just thankful Joel isn’t the jealous type.) Ironically, there is simply no time in his schedule for humming and hawing when he has a daily uniform. Casual attire is the usual band tee or white shirt that’s as stained as it has holes in it, slim fit straight leg jeans and of course converse. Business casual, what he wears to work, is literally the exact same as casual attire. He only switches out the tee for a wrinkly button up that smells clean and a vest. Then clip on a bow and voila. The old, mussy hair, art student can’t be found and is replaced with someone that when he catches sight of his reflection thinks he could fool any onlooker that he has the confidence and suave of Han Solo. 

Oh, right. Mikoto knows him already. Still. He dons his idea of business casual for tonight because he doesn’t really have much of choice having only just got off work. There’s no time to go home and change and he builds up bravado by listening to some 80s pop while he bikes over to the park. 

He arrives a few minutes before six and is given enough time to flash his ID for some girl his age to slap a paper thin neon orange bracelet around his wrist before Mikoto waves him over. Joonmyun gives a small smile and shy wave in return before he shoves both hands into his pockets. “Hey, uh...wait long?” he brushes a stray hair out of his face even though the breeze blows it right back. He looks around. “Isn’t this crowd crazy? I mean, who shows up early to an outdoor concert? The band never goes on when they say they will and this band hasn’t been around long enough to have a significant following.” 

[dictionaryofobscuresorrows]

rigor samsa

n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.

[gokdelen-deactivated20180713]

Visit Original Link

[fuckyeahjoonmyun]

do not edit ✧ 준면업빠

[rigorxmyn]

cepid:

Mikoto finds himself unable to understand for the first time. Joonmyun speaks in apologies and he’s not sure what for, biding sorry-s to a time past, and specially a time that Joonmyun couldn’t possibly be responsible for. Then he doesn’t understand the way he looks at him, like he’s apologizing for all the words he says. 

He remembers a year back, some time close to this one: a day lodged somewhere in the in-between of winter melting into spring. He recalls the subtlety that killed him on the day – always been the subtle things that seemed to slaughter him best. The subtle feeling of fingers pressing down on your chest when beginning to think about a future so uncertain, the subtle nagging bit of anxiety about everything and nothing all at once, from the unfinished report to the unfinished discovery of himself. 

And amongst it all, the subtle way that all these feelings become so habitual that they become an old friend, much like an old shirt fitting too well that he knows should be thrown out after one more wear. 

He remembers himself seated by the kitchen counter, the subtlety of the day as suffocating as one could possibly imagine anything to be. He remembers Joonmyun approaching him: his silence, his gaze, and his hands, and how they seemed to sneak into the places the subtlety had, as if he knew of it, and how to ward of it.

He can’t comprehend the situation it’s always been Joonmyun that has been his bit of comfort: never his words, but the words doesn’t, and won’t bring himself to say. 

“Hyung, you know none of those things are true.” 

He laughs, whole-hearted in every way. He takes up Joonmyun’s hands, his firm hands grasping onto his in attempt to still them. He doesn’t mean to burden Joonmyun in this way, and perhaps it’s the reason he’s taken this long to get here. He’s never seen the good in admitting to the past when all the time does is weigh everything down, and cloud the future. 

And yet, for the first time, as he holds Joonmyun, he finds the beauty of sharing it with someone: letting the burden become something they both hold together.

“A selfish person wouldn’t give up a space on their wall for someone else’s corgi photos, I’m sure.” His words are light but the air between their bodies is still heavy – and he’s sure it may be this way for a while. “Thank you, for helping me find her, somehow.” He moves his head to plant a kiss on Joonmyun’s jawline, before smiling against his skin there. “And thank you for so many other reasons beyond that one, that I’ll never be able to find the time to let you know of.”

The coffee shop seems too big for them suddenly, but he pulls Joonmyun in closer to claim their space here.

He freezes in Mikoto’s arms, hesitant and uncertain of what to do or say.

And Mikoto’s answer to his uncertainty is to hold him closer and keep him warm until the tenseness in his shoulders leave. Eventually, he grows comfortable enough to turn his head and bury his face in the others hair as his fingers grip the soft fabric of Mikoto’s hoodie. 

He never says it aloud but he’s still doubtful of his contribution to the situation and he can’t help but to think about the fact he didn’t actively do anything worthy of being thanked for. So he chalks it all up under another one of Mikoto’s personality quirks, being able to love and support another person’s burden comes so easily to him – it’s not something he considers questioning or considers how heavy the other person’s burden may weigh on his shoulders in the long run. It’s funny, because Joel is like that too. 

When the phone rings in pocket of his own jacket it pulls him out of his own head for a moment. He already knows it’s Joel from the pattern his phone vibrates. It distracts him momentarily and somewhere in his mind he does register the fact that Mikoto kissed his jaw. 

However — the phone rings again just as he sets the phone down to say something, or maybe not say anything, regardless he’s not given the opportunity to over think what just happened when it rings again. So Joonmyun places the blame for the strange turn of events and the flush of his cheeks and the funny feeling of his stomach on the alcohol he’s had earlier. 

Although he’s been looking at Mikoto all this time since he pulled away to check his phone. It’s not until the third ring that he looks down long enough to confirm with his own eyes that sure enough, it’s Joel. Who has probably noticed Joonmyun’s abandoned car down the block of the karaoke place by now and either wants to check to make sure they’re alright or he needs a place to crash for the night. 

That’s where they differ. Joel has always been willing to go out of his way to bail Joonmyun out. His love was unconditional, unquestioning, and always willing to try and fix whatever situation his little brother got himself into — and yet, Joonmyun wasn’t so keen on getting caught up in the middle of Joel’s antics. And it was another point that makes him tense up again. Another prime example of how he’s unable to give as much as he takes. 

I mean, he’s just managed to patch things up with Mikoto. And already, he’s proving the others words wrong.

“It’s Joel.” Joonmyun says, before he looks to Mikoto apologetic again. “if I answer he might stay the night with us... are you ok with that?”

[rigorxmyn]

cepid‌:

“The tomato was not even the issue, really, it was really –” 

He watches Junmyeon for a long time and considers his answer. 

It’s strange to think, stranger to hesitate, and the strangest to be so utterly dumbfounded, and he only discovers that everything seems to be just that, at least around him. Before he can think of something fitting, he’s watching Junmyeon head out the door, and the rest of the eyes around him watching him just the same. 

He thinks about him for a long time. Or at least – it seems to feel long – and time has never been an easy subject to him, even as a theoretical physics major. On the note of theories, he’s got a bunch, but amongst all that float in the dead-space he calls a mind, he prioritizes the latter.

Theory: He (Mikoto Mikoshiba, theortical physics major, barely twenty-one, terrible optimist and part time dog enthusiast), really likes him (Junmyeon Kim, architecture major, twenty-something (?), cynical cynist, and unknown part time cat enthusiast) – 

 – and this is really starting to seem like that one Avril Lavigne song.

“Hey.” 

Two weekends pass by before the universe of the university allows him to cross paths. It allows him two weeks to figure out a better conversation starter than hi, or hello, but he conjures up a hey, and somewhere amongst it all, he hears Blythe back at his suite already laughing and knocked onto the floor at his lack of sense in conversation.

He catches up to him even after seeing Junmyeon’s feet speed up a whole college-student and a quarter, ignoring the obvious and unable to speak of the more evident. “Hey, can I take you out on Friday? I was thinking a movie or something…” Somewhere else maybe four floors up, Blythe is still in hysterics. 

“It’s on me this time.” 

Joonmyun has had two weeks to over think about the last time he saw Mikoto. After two weeks, he’s been given more than enough time to dissect their interaction, pull apart each word they exchanged piece by piece, read between the lines even — which only lead him to two things.

What he’s certain of: that ok, so maybe he does like Mikoto back even though it’s really, really, impractical given they’re polar opposites in practically everything as well as their majors. And he can give no real reason for liking Mikoto considering he doesn’t even know what the hell the other even studies...  something with science? Is he aiming to be a doctor? These are the types of things that he’s had weeks to turn over again in his head and yet he can’t seem to muster up the courage to enter the digits of Mikoto’s number (that the other so conveniently left on a post it note in his room, on the wall, knowing joonmyun would notice weeks, probably months later) and do the simple thing: ask.

What he’s uncertain of: if despite the fact that ok Mikoto likes him. He’s even said so loud and clear. If Mikoto still likes him after the stunt he pulled the last time they met. Especially since he proceeded to actively avoid the other like that’s totally what normal sane people do when they ‘like’ someone. Joonmyun breathes a sigh, annoyed with himself yet again. “and this is why engineering students hate art students” he mutters under his breath, untangling his earbuds as he walks toward the studio to catch up on work, or use the free wifi or both.

“Hey.” 

He’s just managed to get the earbud situation straightened out and he’s not interested in hearing yet another mid-term pep talk. He puts a little jog into his step but the person is persistent enough to make Joonmyun turn around. He aims to cut the other person off with a no thank you but instead manages an “oh, hello.” when he realizes it’s Mikoto. Joonmyun doesn’t smile but his tone isn’t unfriendly either.

Almost immediately faced with a question that requires him to be a little more caffeinated to fully comprehend— especially since he’s still trying to figure out how he managed to not notice Mikoto first — the one person he’s been subconsciously keeping an eye out for for the last two weeks and has done a good job of being the one to spot him first and then leaving without being noticed. 

“You… want to take me out on Friday?” Joonmyun keeps walking, obviously thinking about it and Mikoto trails alongside him obviously waiting for an answer. Normally, he would say yes but the last time they watched a movie there was the whole shirt thing and now that he thinks about it he turns and asks, “Did I ever give you back your shirt?”

Shit. “That’s not important. Nevermind.” he immediately dismisses the question then speeds up his footsteps. What’s important is that he doesn’t want to become a routine fling that ghost each other for weeks then repeat but he’s at a lost at to how to break this news to the other without sounding assuming, or rude. As they reach the studio he happens to notice that there’s a free concert in the park being advertised on the glass. It’s perfect.

“You said Friday?” He repeats again, looking over the details before pointing at the time and date then looks up at Mikoto. “Want to go to this instead?” He says this like a question despite how he’s already taking the paper off the glass door before he hands it to the other. “We’ll just have to pay for a wristband so we can drink or something. Let’s meet up at 6.” 

[rigorxmyn]

—— running nights. (thanks for the static.) 

Keep reading

[cir]

He notices it more than he would like to. 

“Minhyung’s band is going to be in town again, and I was wondering if it’d be fun to go out this weekend, either on Friday or Saturday – whichever is better for you, and of course, if and only if you want to – to go out and support them? And listen to some good music. I know you really liked them the last time when we listened to them. Is Friday… or Saturday a better day, do you think?” 

“Yeah.” 

Somewhere amidst the conversation, he loses him. His mouth is speaking, but his words aren’t really responding. His eyes are trained towards him, but they aren’t truly looking at him. His body sits across from him, but it’s not quite occupying any meaningful space, just the lack-thereof.  

“You were on the balcony again last night.” He holds a breath until it turns into a sigh, and it catches Junmyeon’s attention. “This… morning.” Junmyeon stares at his lips like he can’t hear his words and instead, makes them out from the shape of his mouth, as if he’s forgotten how to make conversation. 

But this has never been about the conversations; not about what they entail, and certain not about what they mean. 

“That… wasn’t a dream, was it.” 

It’s the same dream each time. 

He wakes up and checks the hour, and like clockwork, the bed always empties two minutes before three A.M. It’s dangerous, but it’s already become a pattern, and Junmyeon’s vacancy is something he’s habitualized, to the point where Junmyeon’s occupancy was the anomaly. Mikoto forces himself up, feet hanging off the edge of the bed as he notices the light coming from the kitchen, as usual. He follows it out the room, taking a seat on the only stool that provides him a view of the balcony, where sees Junmyeon standing. 

He observes him for a while. 

He notices the way he stands like he converses: not quite here but not quite there. He notes how much his standing seems like being in motion, running to flee himself, but only to run into himself on the other side. 

Mikoto boils a pot of water, and makes a cup of tea. He walks towards the balcony, and with every step, he realizes why he has never taken the steps each night at three in the morning, and instead only observed. Each step proves his fear of becoming a home of something he will never be able to fathom. 

“Hyung.” He makes his presence known with his voice, but Junmyeon still does not allow him to exist in his space yet. “Junmyeon.” His voice still translates his fright, but he holds onto the sounds, making them his own. He places the cup down onto the tall table besides them, carefully taking a few steps towards him. “Junmyeon… hyung.” He calls out to him again, and this time he earns a response. Junmyeon’s words are murmurs, and he has to kill his breaths to hear them, leaning in much closer to do so. 

“…nothing seems to matter, and… at the same time, everything seems to matter too much.” 

The words lull over his head and linger in the air. He lets them sit upon his skin, but even then, he does not quite understand their true meaning. His mind begins to stir until he stops it purposefully, now knowing too well that he should not wish first to understand, as depression does not tolerate reason.

“I can’t forget, and I can’t forgive, and I… certainly can’t decide which is worse.”

Junmyeon continues, and all Mikoto does is come forth closer. He slips his arms underneath, wrapping them around Junmyeon’s sides from behind. He places his chin on top of his head, pulling Junmyeon close until nothing else can possibly fit in between them. 

(Run enough, and you and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.)

[rigorxmyn]

I Don’t Owe You Anything.  — The Smiths  

His desk chair makes a noise the first time he sits in it. So naturally he attempts to spin around in a circle but the chair makes an even louder protest and makes it evident to him that it’s broken in some way. He steady's himself by holding onto the solid wood desk in front of him and makes a mental note to buy himself a new chair before it breaks completely. He’s just managed to get it to stop squeaking when his coworker decides to peer over the thick wood that’s supposed to serve as a divider between them and does a poor job — but hey, at least Joonmyun is trying to look at the bright side of things. Ok, sure his desk has a heart and the initials of JK and MM (he immediately thinks of his bother and sister in law) etched into the wood, probably with a thumbtack but at least the desk is his — kinda his. The space, regardless of how little privacy he has, is at least his own which was more than what he was given as an intern... kinda.

“Don’t you feel a little over dressed, David?”

It takes Joonmyun a minute to realize that his coworker is talking to him and Joonmyun makes a slight face but remains friendly while he puts pens into his coffee mug that has the logo of the rebellion on its black surface. “I just... like to look the part.” Joonmyun looks up and his coworker — Joey, or whatever takes a special interest in the pens. He doesn’t say anything but it’s enough for Joonmyun to envision the guy reaching over the pathetic excuse of a divider while Joonmyun’s on a coffee break or something and stealing a pen or two when out of his own and never returning them. 

“Look the part of what. Sherlock?” Joey retorts. 

Meanwhile, Joonmyun puts the pens back into his briefcase since these are the really nice pens that are for correction markups or draft sketches but eventually stops once it occurs to him that he won’t need them for architectural work anymore, or at least not for a while.

“Did you hear me?” Joey asks, resting his now crossed arms on top of the divider and raises an eyebrow when Joonmyun takes the pens back out of the briefcase and returns them to the cup. “I didn’t...” Joonmyun replies as he starts to move things around in his space to his liking, fully aware that he’s coming across as pretty indecisive right now and only half listening.

“Look the part of what, Sherlock?” Joey gives Joonmyun’s sweater vest and button up shirt with a tie a pointed look before finishing with “that is what I said.”

 It doesn’t offend Joonmyun too much, if anything it inspires him to straighten his tie and think about what outrageously bright bow tie he’ll wear tomorrow to annoy the other but he keeps his smart remarks to himself — after all, he’s seen enough episodes of The Office to know when to shrug his shoulders and move on. Office etiquette and all that for the new guy and he’d rather not make an enemy on the first day. Joey, on the other hand, seems to have other plans and continues to pester him with nosy questions such as: “Answer me this, why’d you pick this hellhole to work?”

Joonmyun tries to lean back to avoid groaning— the chair gives a warning squeak and immediately he leans forward instead and takes to drumming his fingers against the surface of his desk. He makes another mental note: to buy a stress ball before he answers with, “It pays well enough to keep a roof over my head.” Here, he offers another shrug and hopes it’s enough to end the conversation and he can go back to listening to The Smiths but Joey isn’t so merciful and continues. “Yeah but you used to work on what, the 20th floor?”

“21st, actually.”

“Either way you went from the perfect view of the city to a front row seat of getting to see dogs taking a shit in the park. What’s with the sudden change in scenery?” 

Again, he shrugs and something tells him that he’ll be doing it a lot from now on. “At least it’s not a view of the parking lot.” Joonmyun mutters under his breath, and Joey cocks his head at this. “Well, anyway what happened up there on top?” 

“Nothing — it’s nothing.” Joonmyun considers simply not answering but it’s his first day and Joey wasn’t going to stop poking around until he got something worth gossiping about. Besides, it wasn’t really a secret that he no longer worked on the 21st floor. “I didn’t get picked —  didn’t get hired and the internship was over and I had some years experience working for another greeting card company so here’s paradise.” Joonmyun gestures toward his tiny office that ok, it’s nowhere near as big as the one he used in the architectural department on the 21st floor. And fine, the view wasn’t spectacular but to be fair he really did hate the view of the parking lots from the 21st floor. And he’ll also admit that he was more than disappointed that some other intern that only did half the work and didn’t work nearly as hard as Joonmyun in the end got the job over him because of nepotism (i mean, the guy was the ceo’s son.) 

But never mind all that because he’s trying to look on the bright side. He has a job, and a roof over his head and Mikoto isn’t mad at him anymore... or not as mad.

“They didn’t hire me. The internship was over. Here I am.” Joonmyun moves to put on his headphones, only to pause to give the other a forced smile then asks, “are we done?”. 

This time Joey gets the hint and takes his seat. Finally, Joonmyun is able to listen to his music and it’s not until he’s halfway through The Smiths - Bigmouth Strikes Again he remembers something. After he yanks off his headphones he stands suddenly, looking over the divider he waits for Joey to take out his earbuds then says, “My name isn’t David. It’s Tom.” 

Joey looks at him quietly before he extends his hand to offer a handshake, Joonmyun accepts.”It’s nice to meet you, Tom. and you know what — fuck em.” Joonmyun nods, lets go and retakes his seat then logs into his email to look at the first thing on his agenda: 

• Come up with a greeting card for someone that’s just lost their job. You will pitch your ideas at the meeting at 11AM in Conference room 1B.

Joonmyun sits quietly staring into space before he shakes his head, takes a deep breath, picks a pen, thanks God for the Smiths then gets to work. 

[cir]

💝!!!!!

19: my muse surprises yours with flowers.

If Tohoku is the home he’s left, anywhere Junmyeon’s occupied have been the homes he’s made, and all of a sudden, the physics behind collisions seems much more complicated than just purely impulse and momentum. 

“Ah… shoot.” Mikoto’s own bit of momentum quickens, although his body is never as fast as his heart wants it to be. “Close your eyes.” Before he moves, he places a single palm over Junmyeon’s eyes. “Do you hear that?”

His eyes close following Junmyeon’s. The only sound that surrounds them at first is the flowing water beneath them, and the wind coming in between them, wherever they leave space for it. Although Junmyeon doesn’t say it, another minute passes and he senses his frustration. 

“The water. It’s stronger somewhere, and weaker elsewhere. Can you hear it?” His voice lowers, letting the water overpower him. 

His voice no longer guides Junmyeon, and instead, it’s the streams beneath them. After he’s sure Junmyeon has heard it, he slips a hand into his, beginning to move to the source of the sound. His feet carry him ten or so meters from where they original stood, moving into one of the plowed rows before inspecting. 

“Mmhm. Just as I had expected… there’s a leak here.” He turns to Junmyeon who stands aloof still on solid ground, immediately gesturing him over. His hands make three entire circles before Junmyeon’s feet give up, plundering into the muddy soil instead. “The rodents… make holes sometimes.” Mikoto’s feet step on the diverged path of dirt, reforming it into a straight line until the water no longer ebbs out from it’s single stream. “You have to step on them to guide the water back to their path, or there could be a handful of rows that won’t ever get water to run through them.”

The next time he grabs for Junmyeon’s hand, he meets his eyes, with a sunkissed smile. “Tohoku people say rice plants grow from the sound of people’s foot steps.” 

They’re half way back to the house when the silence becomes too loud. Junmyeon’s legs begin to slow like they’re caught by the tall grass, and their feet no longer match up in rhythm, now far out of sync. 

“Your mother is still uncomfortable with me being here.” Junmyeon’s hand drops his, and his feet quickly move forward three or four steps so it can’t be caught a second time. “It’s especially hard at the dinner table…” Mikoto catches up anyway, but he doesn’t grab at his hand, and lets them both exist in their respect space. “Do you think maybe this was a little too sudden? Maybe we should have waited a few months more… maybe I should have come during the spring festival instead.” 

Junmyeon begins to ramble and Mikoto’s sure of where this ends. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have come to begin with.” 

He completes his thought, and Junmyeon looks to him, clearly in surprise. His lips open, then close, and open again, and repeat the pattern. He never finds the right response, and it’s MIkoto that interjects, completely out of character.

“Hyung, when I asked you to accompany me to come see my mother, it wasn’t a light request.” His words are heavier than the two of them are ready for, or more likely, for Junmyeon’s hands to carry. “This… won’t ever be any easier during the winter, nor even in the spring.”

“It doesn’t get any easier.”

It’s something they both know, but there is something about verbalizing the fact. He speaks it to them because it somehow seems more tangible this way, like something they can reach for and call it theirs.

“And I’m sorry it is, I really am.” His voice falls faster than his will, crumbling quieter until the water is once again louder. The ground beneath him reminds him to stand, and their eyes catch each other’s once more. “I’m sorry it isn’t any easier.”

The wind cuts between them, and Junmyeon takes it as a cue to take a few more steps ahead. He disappears off somewhere, and Mikoto decides it’s best to let him do so.

Mikoto finds him by the river stream from the night before, under the tree he’s shown Junmyeon. He’s not sure how many minutes have passed, or if it’s more so hours. He approaches him from behind, slowly but surely, and takes a seat besides him. And because Junmyeon doesn’t know how to start it, Mikoto does, offering him the lotus in his hands. He places it onto Junmyeon’s palm, where it sits, until Junmyeon moves it around in the sunlight bleeding through between the shade made by the leaves of the tree above them. 

“I found them growing on the walk up the hill.” He hears Junmyeon breathe, and exhales in tempo after it. He aligns their breaths, before he moves in a bit closer, his face near Junmyeon’s. “It means, ‘I think of you all the time, even when we’re apart.’”

This time, Junmyeon lowers his head. He coughs, choking on nothing, clearly taken back by his words. Before Junmyeon’s thoughts can start running again, he brings them back, with a laugh instead.  “I actually don’t know what it means, hyung. If it means anything, I’m sure it’s not that.” 

He gives Junmyeon his space, staring out at the stream with him instead. A moment later, Junmyeon laughs, and the flower kept on his palm moves with him, as well as the leaves above him. Junmyeon gets up, placing a firm kiss onto his lips.  When he gets close enough, their chests press together. He hears their heartbeats align, and smiles into the kiss instead. 

“Thank you.” 

He watches Junmyeon here, surrounded by the green and the fields that could never encompass him enough. He rethinks about the numbers behind collisions, formulas running through his head whenever he continues to ponder. 

When Junmyeon reaches the door of the house before him, and he turns back to look at him. Even though he doesn’t knock, the door opens for him, his mother standing behind it. The numbers don’t work out, and the equations don’t quite match up. He doesn’t comprehend the science of it, but he watches it happen right in front of him, at the door. His homes collapse together and it is no longer a scape that has needed to make any sense.

[cir]

the love series, ii: when loving you is (difficult).

“I was waiting… for you to tell me.” Perhaps he’s supposed to say more than this, on top of everything else that he feels he has done in the wrong. “I thought it would be best to wait for you to tell me.” 

He doesn’t quite remember where this starts, and more so, where it ends.

“So you didn’t say anything even while knowing, this whole time.” His voice is cold and hot all at once. “You didn’t bother to bring it up even once, and pretended like you were in the unknown… this whole time.” It’s strange because he’s never seen Junmyeon like this: on the offense and openly a mess. “God, Mikoto. You… you… you are just so…” Junmyeon’s hands lift, and disappear into his hair – an attempt to still them, and do away with their shaking. 

Even now, Mikoto takes in the way the beer from last night still has his cheeks colored in a flush pink, and the way the sunlight seems to hit him, even if Junmyeon’s never been one for the sun.

“You are unbelievable.” 

The words spit out of Junmyeon, and his hands fall back to his side. His frowning lips continue on, tongue hitting the roof of his mouth to click on without a single thought in between each syllable. “You’re an idiot. You’ve got your head in the books but you really just are so… so stupid.” His words are all impulsive just like anything Junmyeon does, and even now, Mikoto can’t help his fondness over him, and the bluntness in his speech. 

“So you knew I cheated on us and you just sat here, knowing it all and not saying a single thing.”

He holds a breath, and knows Junmyeon lets out one in turn. His chest rises and Junmyeon’s falls, completely out of sync and not willing to even meet in the middle.

“Say something. Don’t just sit there like an idiot, Mikoto, please –” He no longer holds their gazes together, only because it’s difficult to watch Junmyeon when he’s at this state. “You’re always… like this. I don’t know what you’re ever thinking.” Even without lifting his head, he knows Junmyeon’s eyes hold that look, the one withholding the tears, withholding his frustration.

“Okay.” 

This time Junmyeon’s the one with his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and throat, and he’s the one with the excuse of an exhale. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s just not talk about it. Maybe that’ll be better. Talking is rarely… no. Talking is never, any good for anyone involved.” 

He parts his lips with much difficulty, but only manages a single sound. “Hyung, –” 

“Okay.” Junmyeon hides his face, behind anything he can. His hands shield him from Mikoto, and his arms surround him to protect his body. “Okay, Mikoto. Let’s… let’s stop for today, it’s only one in the afternoon after all.” 

Although there are only three and something meters in separating them, Junmyeon feels far and elsewhere, not quite here and yet not quite anywhere he can reach. The distance between them is suddenly too vast and like many another nights, he finds himself at a loss on how to retrace his steps back to him.

There’s too much silence between them. And yet, there’s too much absent between them, and he knows this shouldn’t be the way things should be.

“Alright.” 

But knowing is different than doing, and he knows better than to speak in the now.

Junmyeon fully turns his back on him, but he knows there are tears on his cheeks, and he’s only regretful he doesn’t have the courage to walk to him to swipe them elsewhere. 

It’s his last act of bravery when he reaches out, verbally so. “…hyung?” 

Junmyeon attempts to collect himself, hands fumbling over his face. Mikoto observes the glistening drops rolling down his wrist. “Yeah.”

“Don’t stand over there. The sunlight’s… really strong today. Even if… we’re going to fight, can you stand over here and do it?” He doesn’t get a response, but he watches Junmyeon’s shoulders drop, as if no longer putting up a front.

@rigorxmyn

[rigorxmyn]

“‘I really love these pancakes.” 

Joonmyun walks with his hands in his pocket — silent lost in his thoughts, Mikoto is near him and that’s the odd thing he can’t remember the last time they didn’t hold hands while out together and yet he can’t seem to work up the courage to reach out, not after yesterday when all he can do is reply things he said or think of how can he possibly begin to apologies for what he did.  

Opening the door to the restaurant he lets Mikoto go first then follows in after, it’s not too busy this morning and they’re immediately seated in a booth behind another couple who seem to have their own share of problems. Joonmyun orders, though slightly distracted he gives back the menu then looks past Mikoto who curiously turns to see what Joonmyun is looking at.

Neither say anything after he turns back then they both resume to silence at the their table. Still, Joonmyun can’t help but to ease-drop on the conversation going on behind the couple, though he acts as if he isn’t by mindlessly scrolling through his phone. 

When the waitress drops off their food he sits back, looking over the plate of pancakes he doesn’t remember ordering and the coffee he does remember. 

“TOM.” 

Both him and Mikoto look up at the sound of his name, watching as the other Tom storms out of the restaurant and the girl is left alone. And in a way, he realizes, that he and Mikoto are fighting too in their own way, though the opposite by leaving things unsaid and neither willing to say what’s on their mind. 

Sitting back, tries his courage over again. Still he can’t meet Mikoto’s eyes straight on, he looks at the plate of pancakes thinking of how he isn’t certain why he does this, shut of when he’s the one that did the yelling and he’s the one that says things that he doesn’t mean.

Joonmyun sets his phone down and before he can move his hand toward the coffee Mikoto rests his ontop of his. He observes the way Mikoto’s hand fits naturally on his and it would be so easy to just forget and pretend but instead Joonmyun swallows thickly before he pull his hand away and instead grabs it and holds his palm against his cheek.

Joonmyun frowns but when he looks up he finally knows what to say. “You need to tell me when you’re feeling hurt, or when you’re upset about something.” maintaining eye contact he keeps talking, “if this — we, are going to work we have to be honest about how we feel.” Mikoto rubs his thumb against the apple of Joonmyun’s cheek and he turns his face and presses a kiss to the open palm, uncaring if other people are watching because in this moment it’s only him and Mikoto as their pancakes grow cold. “And right now, I feel sorry. Sorry that I hurt you, for things I said that I didn’t mean.” he closes Mikoto’s hand then presses another kiss to the knuckles. “I’m just so sorry, Mikoto for everything.”