𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦.

tell me not to even dream about it.

[sachingja]

· * ·✵ i've loved us, after all. an independent, highly selective & private multi-muse, featuring characters from stage, television, and originals. low activity. please read rules before following or interacting.

사칭자 / SACHINGJA (kr. impersonator) navigation. ¹ carrd. ² visual.

[suuho]

ig.bli2s_

[sachingja]

[ tease ] sender drags their lips and tongue down the length of receiver’s stomach, but stops just before going lower 🍃🌋

it had taken a while for kōji to realize what it was, this fascination that satō carried whenever his eyes fixated on him, stayed for longer than they should have, that it was more than just mere attraction or appreciation for the physical form, or professional curiosity. satō saw all kinds of bodies walk in and out of his office every day, had worked with more people that kōji could fathom before he was ever hired by the team, and yet, he wondered if he had ever looked at anyone else the way he looked at kōji when he was out on the mat or practicing an apparatus, usually sans shirt, which seemed to be the key to satō's open staring. there were worse things, of course, and kōji was vain enough to admit that he enjoyed how openly satō looked at him, how he couldn't hide it, no matter how desperately he tried to do so, because it was the smarter thing to do but perhaps too late, already. hideo was constantly chirping in his ear about how their physiotherapist could not keep his eyes off him, and kōji wanted to shove him off and tell him he was well aware, that he also had eyes, that he sometimes shoved his shirt back into his bag just because he knew satō would be there to watch. just to see what would happen, to reap the benefits.

and reap he did. there was no one else in the office, or at least he hoped that no one would be coming by here for a while. it had taken approximately five minutes of his appointment to convince satō to work his muscles into putty later; kōji had other plans, and evidently they found fruitful ground right here, with his hand twisted around the edge of the bench, while satō had taken his time to work his hands over his body, touch him with a different intent, certainly different compared to whenever else he was here, but no less enjoyable. kōji exhaled on a soft whine, a noise he was far from proud of but could not help either way, with satō's body covering most of his, the warm, wet kisses trailing down from his neck over his chest, low and lower, and the view of satō's head slowly moving down towards where kōji was already hard and aching, tenting his shorts obscenely, had him dig the fingers of his other hand into satō's shoulder, who was wearing far too many clothes for kōji's liking. who cared about decency when this had nothing to do with decency at all, when kōji couldn't care less about it. some perverse, innermost part of him was thrilled at the prospect of anyone walking by or overhearing them, made him feel hot beneath the weight of satō's hands on his hips, holding him in place, trying to stop the restless shift of his body trying to push up and against the other man. it made the heat feel contained within himself, pressed into his skin with nowhere else to go, like it was about to boil over. it made him want to sink his nails into satō's skin and leave marks.

teeth nipping at the skin just below the swell of his pecs made him moan audibly, enough to try to stifle the noise with the back of his hand. satō was devious and dedicated, two terrible qualities that made kōji feel beside himself with arousal, made him return over and over, because he was addicted to it, addicted to watching satō give him whatever he needed, whatever he wanted to give kōji, which was everything, without ever withholding anything. " satō, " he said, loud enough to be heard over his own labored breathing, a little impatient and so very wound up from nothing but a few kisses down his chest, a tongue in the divots between his abs, god, it made kōji feel like he could melt into the bench, made him want to cage satō in between his legs so he would not dare to even consider leaving him high and dry. right when he was about to get what he wanted, the thin skin below his hip bone sucked until it would undoubtedly leave a mark, his cock twitching embarrassingly, leaking, satō stopped for whatever inane reason, his chin resting on the lower half of kōji's stomach, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a red, spit-slick mouth, grinning. how evil. " satō, " kōji groaned, trying to move his hips, get friction, get anything. " you cannot stop now. "

[sachingja]

[ lapfull ] sender drags receiver onto their lap in the middle of a conversation, their hands already wandering 🌹☀️

it was one of his rare days off, in the middle of the season, when he had nowhere to be except for the stadium sometime later, before the game, while ian had somehow found a way out of london and to los angeles, which made this entire thing rarer than just a mere a day off, near miraculous to hayun, who had not expected ian until the all star break or september, earliest. when he would be here for the end of the season and the postseason, and hayun shamelessly dreamed of him watching in the stands, wearing a jersey with his number and name stitched across the back, like some middle schooler who kept doodling the name of their crush into the margins of every page. ian was sort of like that, to hayun anyway, the note in the margins of his everyday life, a phone call and a few texts away, the beginning and bookend to all of his days, navigating the insane gap in between their time zones, sometimes more, other times less successfully than he'd prefer. in between, whenever he had the time, he worked on his english homework, the teacher that team had sent his way giving him tedious homework, but he knew she meant well, and he was improving fast, fast enough to understand more in the locker room and from the press, and more importantly fast enough to hold conversations with ian. he had told no one about the end goal of his investment in his second language, but he knew that ian had picked up on it anyway, his eyes warm and fond where he looked at hayun, whenever he looked at hayun, so patient as he heard him stumble through some inane retelling of his last practice. he had done a rare batting practice on the field because korean press had been in attendance and it was supposed to boost morale; to fix all the words together, put them into their right order, was difficult enough for him to apply himself as much as he usually only did on the field, or in bed. he wanted to communicate with ian, wanted to tell him everything, and this was no exception.

before he could elaborate on the fielding practice with the rest of the infield, however, he did not even get the chance to look for the right words, because ian had other plans, evidently, when he reached for him, for they always existed within arm's reach of each other and if hayun had his way, he would crawl into ian, would attach himself to him so he would never have to go back home and leave him all by his lonesome, greedy in a way he had never been before in his entire life. no one had ever made him feel the way ian did, whose touch was enough to make hayun's heartbeat pick up and start a simmer in his blood, like he had never been touched before, like there was a physical craving, an ache in his body that only could be taken care of by the other man, who was never there for it. not often enough, anyway, and while hayun had gotten rather creative over texts and facetime calls, he preferred this. needed nothing else but this, the heat of ian's chest against his own, the width of his hands wrapped around his waist, sliding over the small of his back to rest on his thighs, thumbs pushing into the inseam of his sweatpants stretched tightly over the thick muscle. before hayun could even remember what they were talking about, what he was going to say, the entirety of the english language was eradicated from his brain, as if it had never been there at all, and he felt a soft sigh escape him. barely a moan, just a noise of content, though he could not deny the arousal that ran through him when ian held him so possessively, with such intent that hayun could not mistake it for anything different, something more innocent. it was easy to let his thighs slide apart wider, the cushions of his stupidly expensive couch digging into his knees, and hayun only found his voice when ian's hand was moving beneath his shirt, palm on his back, hot to the touch, skin on skin. it made him a little dizzy.

" i don't think you're listening to me at all, " he said, in korean, and he did not know if ian knew enough to pick up on what he was saying, but it didn't matter. hayun's own hands grasped ian's neck and slid up to grasp his jaw, hold his face in his hand so he could lean in and bridge the distance between them. his mind was already halfway out of the door, wandering what they could get up to, imagining himself on the floor, kneeling between ian's spread legs, the taste of him on his tongue, or being relegated to stay where he was and endure ian's touch. the thought alone was enough to make heat crawl up his spine and flush his cheeks, and hayun knew that he already looked affected by this mere, chaste move alone, because ian had this effect on him, like he had put a spell on him the first time they had met and hayun had never been the same again. he shifted on ian's lap with some effort, his breath catching when he felt ian beneath his ass, enough to make him search ian's gaze, whose eyes were so dark that hayun grew flustered just looking at him. he wanted everything, thought of how far he could push it until ian would snap, until he would give hayun what he wanted and craved but never got to access unless they were together, and even then it was hardly a given. how unfair, he thought, when he always gave ian whatever he wanted, everything he asked for. hayun was generous in his love and in his loving. it had been too long since he had anywhere to put it, anyway. " ian, " he murmured, " where are you going with this? "

[exitvelo]

all in all satō was satisfied with his life. he had never set out to anything like becoming an astronaut, only ever wanted to put to paper and then to real life the things he saw in his mind and he knew he could build, whether it would have been houses or space shuttles, though he learned he didn’t mind much that for a few years now it had ended up being the latter. there was passion in his work, and care too, and he enjoyed the hours he could spend with his head stuck in some satellite or the part of a shuttle he had to make function in states of zero gravity or artificially engineered one. they were puzzled for him to put together, riddles for him to solve that he knew better than anyone else by virtue of having designed them in the first place, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that his bosses considered him as one of the prospects do the engineering position on this mission they have all had been planning for years now. for basically as long as satō was working here, this was the pretty clear-cut next big thing everyone had been working on, with one of the former astronauts of the last mission being the captain they’d send up there in charge of everything and everyone else. of course satō knew he could have been the first choice to send up there too, but he was so busy with all the work he did down here day in and out that it was half of a surprise when they considered zelda and him, though knowing to leave his friend to her academic work there there would be little chance it wouldn’t be him at this point. satō wasn’t scared of telling kōji, because he felt like he could and would always share everything with him, but they hadn’t give him the actual assignment yet so this was as concrete as he could have mentioned it. in a way he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he could give kōji much more information than the little he had to go on now, but as luck would have had it kōji beat him to it. that quick mind of his, that whirring of numbers and time, was something satō was no match to.

when kōji didn’t respond to the hug satō pulled him into, a creeping sense of worry settled over satō as he only squeezed him closer against his chest. they were good together, and there was nothing satō worried about between them in terms of the future — it’d be a future made up of the two of them and absolutely nothing else than that would do for him — but he could tell that his boyfriend’s mind was whirring away again and getting ahead of himself. all satō could do was press a kiss against his temple and the top of his head, a bit of reassurance, before they got into his car in silence. kōji’s hands were knotted in and out of each other periodically on the drive, his eyes staring resolutely ahead, and satō took every stop at a red light to look over and check in on him. at one, he put his palm over both of kōji’s hands, kōji’s fingers a bit warmer but not by much, and kept driving with one hand for as long as he could. satō had no fear about going up into space, for he’s helped send people up there on much smaller scale by now on more than one account, and he trusted his work with zero hesitation; but he knew that kōji wasn’t as convinced, not when it was something he had no power or control over, and that there’d be little he could do to take that nagging anxiety from him. everything satō would tell him would only help as a bandaid, a temporary fix, until the day would come where satō would return and kōji wouldn’t have any need to worry anymore, would have control over the time and space between them again. if satō could, he’d give him that now already, but he knew he was, for once, limited in his ability to try to anticipate and answer all of kōji’s wants and wishes, outdone by the moon and the stars.

pulling onto the curb by satō’s house, he didn’t kill the engine yet but instead unbuckled his seatbelt to lean over the centre console and take kōji’s face in his hands. his palms covered all of kōji’s cheeks and down to his jaw, and satō was thankful for the grip it gave him. he needed, and wanted, to feel kōji’s skin against his right now, to keep kōji from floating away from him before either of them would ever be fitted for any kind of space suit. “ hey, hey, i didn’t get any official calling yet. i probably will soon, but you’re running away with your head now. you gotta stay with me here, yeah? because i’ll come back to you, but for that you can’t disappear on me, ” he told kōji, insistent where he found kōji’s stressed gaze meeting his own. maybe satō didn’t treat things with the needed amount of worry sometimes, but he always wanted to make sure to treat kōji with all the love he deserved, to give him the certainty he first presented to him that day he sat down across from him, and if that meant he’d have to talk to twenty officials to give kōji clearance on all of his briefings for whatever this mission would be, then he’d do that in a heartbeat. for now, he just wanted to remind kōji he wasn’t gone yet, and he was more than happy to be with him in the here and now. leaning over further, satō slanted his mouth over kōji’s in a passionate kiss, pulling kōji close against him as much as he could with one hand grabbing at his shoulder, all but hauling him against his chest. “ of course you can stay here. zelda would just reorganise my pantry to her liking to play a prank on me. i trust you so much more. with you, i know the house is in good hands, ” he encouraged once he pulled away, his face flushed, thumb rubbing the spot above kōji’s ear by his hairline. satō wanted to kiss him again, so he did, until he had to breathe again. “ i would never leave without telling you as soon as i know for sure, yeah? never. i mean, i wanna tell you everything anyway, but something like this? i love you too much not to. ”

[sachingja]

the stars had never been the goal and neither had been the moon. all that kōji had ever wanted was down here on earth, easier to find for others than it ever came to him, but he found it when he had least expected it, in the engineer that seemed to get along with everyone, who had charmed every single person that ever stumbled into his hangar. it had just been kōji's luck that he was the one satō had chosen to be more than just his friend or acquaintance. something that had been unthinkable to kōji, that was beyond alien to him, had suddenly translated into the focal point of his life, where everything he did and all the threads he had woven entangled, where he found himself return to simply because he wanted to and not because he was obliged to do so by some inane social contract that he had never really understood, anyway. but satō made it so easy to be with him, to seek out his company and be near him, exist within the proximity of his body or closer still; kōji found he never got enough of being close to the other man, and could not really fathom what it would be like when he was so far away that he could not just call him. couldn't just text him. couldn't drop everything and take the bus to the nearest stop by satō's house or walk into work and see him first thing in the morning. it was a strange and befuddling sensation that crawled through him at the mere thought of what it would be like to exist on this earth without satō, that absence of the man kōji needed more than he could ever put into words, more than he ever had wanted to need anyone. satō made it so easy to want him, his affection and attention, and kōji felt already stupid again for wanting it so much that he was throwing a fit now. others dealt with this too, he was well aware. most of the astronauts were married or in relationships, married or parents, and they all had to say goodbye to their loved ones. kōji wasn't special, he just wished he was special enough.

he was about to leave the car when satō pulled him closer, over the center console between them, so he could kiss him, and kōji was simply not strong enough to deny him this or anything else, really, his hands unwinding from the fabric of his sweater to cling to satō instead. kissing him was second nature to kōji, as easy as breathing, and yet it never failed to render him speechless and instill a warmth inside of his chest that had never been anything but pleasant. if he could, he would bottle that feeling alone so he never had to go a day without it. it was those things he would irrationally miss the most while they were separated, kōji thought dumbly, kisses good morning and good night, the way satō always smelled distinctly warm and earthy and pleasant, the little noises he made when kōji buried his hands in his hair to pull him closer, how he tasted when kōji opened his mouth and allowed him in. the little details that made up the mundane whole, that he could not live without for as little as two weeks. satō was doing his best to reassure him, kōji could tell, and he was too weak to get a word in edgewise, let himself be held close to satō's chest, let himself be kissed until he couldn't breathe anymore, and found it did not matter what would happen in the future. satō was right; neither of them could change the fact that it would happen right now, couldn't change anything about decisions made by people that existed far above their pay grade: for once, this was not kōji's battle to fight. all he could do was miss satō and take care of his house in his absence, sleep in his bed and pretend that it was not just him in between the sheets, that the bedside next to his was not cold to the touch whenever he woke up in the morning. a tall order, yet not entire impossible.

before he could do something senseless, like climb over the center console and seat himself into satō's lap to cling to him for the remainder of the night, kōji pulled away and unbuckled his seat belt. the walk to the front door was short but out here it was chilly enough for kōji to curse as he exited the car, the cool breeze whipping around his ears, reminding him of the fact that satō's house was surrounded by nature out here, barely any neighbors as far as the eye could see. " i just wish they wouldn't choose you, " kōji muttered, mostly under his breath, irate just at the thought of satō climbing into that tin box, on hideo's heels no less, to leave for the stars, simply because the higher ups couldn't think of anyone better. and there was none, kōji was well aware, but he wished there was, more than he had wished for most things for quite some time now. when satō finally caught up to him, kōji held his hands out as soon as he was within arm's reach, wrapping them around most of satō so he could leech off some of his warmth as he unlocked the door. the light flicked on almost immediately, alerted by their presence, the golden glow drenching the entryway in warmth as kōji stepped inside, not planning to leave satō's side anytime soon, not if he did not expressly had to do so. he liked it here, kōji decided as he looked around, all that wood but not enough green, and toed his shoes off with his hands still somewhat on satō, socked feet on the warm floor before they went further inside. " i think i am going to bring some of my plants over, everything around here looks so lonely. the space really could benefit from some green, and i will need something to pass the time anyway. something better than reorganizing your pantry. " kōji said, well aware that he had barely any idea what to do with the stuff in satō's pantry anyway; he had barely ever cooked a meal in his life and would live off cafeteria food until satō returned, trying not to feel too humbled by how useless he was in areas that others deemed so essential. kōji was good at other things, numbers and routes and spreadsheets, and he knew approximately fifty ways to watch satō melt for him, which was as important as anything else. he sighed and pulled satō's hand so he could hug him properly this time, feeling small and insignificant against satō's chest, but needing it anyway. " i love you, too. i just. i wish it didn't have to be you. i will miss you so much. "

[feastofsnakes]

hey sorry I snapped at you, I've just had a really hard day and [remembers focusing on myself is selfish] maybe it's your fault for provoking me?

[exitvelo]

not in his most illustrative dreams that idris have a vision like that. it was hard for any human mind to comprehend that someone like hayun existed - one look at him was enough already to determine he was simply the kind of physical manifestation of grecian ideals people thought had been extinct for ages, but there was such sweetness to him too, something almost innocent to the warmth he possessed and the light in his smile, that he wielded as effortlessly as his body when he hauled it around the bases. baseball was a taxing sport, idris was very aware of that, but that awareness tripled the first time he had seen hayun without a shirt on. now that was not all hayun was to him, not by a long shot, but due to their many exchanged calls and texts he soon figured out even from afar that the younger man was more daring than he let on. or maybe that was just as true to him as this inherent sweetness, a sharp edge that helped offset the first view anyone who met him would have of him. idris had a whole folder on his phone, password protected by all means, that was proof just how daring hayun could be in the process of getting what he wanted. idris was no natural, never thought of the depths of desire he could get to, could sift his hands through, until hayun's plan to lead him towards it actually worked, and after the first night they actually started exploring it he had realised that some things would arrive towards you at the right time. hayun did so in general, that blessing on idris' life he never thought he'd have a shot at, a second shot anyway, but his devious delight to introduce idris to all of him, the rest of him, came through the door on his heels just as well. checkmake, more or less, but idris couldn't complain. he was being honest, he quite enjoyed hayun at his mercy.

in the most honest part of him, idris felt the most exhilaration when he could tell hayun was fully disappearing into it, into himself. it didn't happen all the time, sometimes it was just enough for hayun to give up the reigns and planning he usually existed around in his rigid daily schedule, but when it did that was the best part - that was what made idris feel not only the overwhelming reminder of how he loved hayun, but also was the kind of goal he wanted to strive for, every time. when hayun begged, he was still too close to the surface, he wasn't fully under yet, and it meant he mouthed off more than when he was completely gone. idris knew what he wanted from that, why he did that, and it was by far the highest hill he had to climb in terms of acclimating himself and their relationship to what they did together in bed, metaphorically and literally. hayun wanted to be hurt, in the most primitive phrasing of the word, and idris could only inch his way closer to it little by little every time they did this. focusing on his body, worshipping him, and denying him relief were far easier to indulge in, as it also helped that the sight of hayun, delirious and begging for idris, was not exactly a hardship to watch. hayun's trust in him, his undeniable want of wanting idris everywhere - inside of him, around him, truly everywhere - helped to stoke a fire in idris he thought had been long dead. when he felt hayun around him, four fingers deep and hayun straining to take more because it was idris' hand, his touch, there was nothing better. idris leaned up, pressed a kiss to hayun's chest, the crook of his arm, and gently bit the skin there in retaliation to hayun's defiance. they were working their way towards this; idris had vowed to, and he'd not let hayun down.

" i said no, didn't i? are you telling me you can't listen to me? " idris asked him, mouth against his neck, to leave a kiss there too. it was absolute hell on his arm but it didn't matter, because he knew this was what hayun wanted, and he wanted nothing more than for hayun to give himself up, to let go, and know there'd be nothing left to worry about as long as idris was there. hayun would always be caught, idris would always deliver him satisfaction with every word and every touch, even if the road there included dismantling hayun's desire on a molecular level, down to the smallest mechanics. driving his fingers in one more time, idris kept them inside of hayun, against the gland of his prostate, and lifted his knuckles against hayun's walls. as he kept them there, he put his other hand on hayun's face, fingers pressed roughly into his cheek, his jaw. " i know you can take more, i only told you that you're not getting it. you didn't keep still. " idris gave hayun a moment of basking in the feeling of being stretched before he extracted his hand, hayun's shifting hips seeking after him. ignoring hayun's begging body, his flushed cok leaking against his abs, idris leaned over him as he held his face in hand, watching hayun struggle for breath, the wetness on his own fingers cool in the air of the room. without thinking it over, idris licked them clean, solely to see what hayun would do. " what will you get for not listening to me, darling? do you think you know? "

[sachingja]

the chase had been a part of it, that first kiss in the entryway of ian's apartment when hayun had visited him for the first time, an off-chance spur-of-the-moment encounter that he had told no one about, neither his own brother nor said, but that had left him reeling either way, for the entirety of the flight home and the months after. hayun had wondered if his own longing was a thing with teeth or just the idea of it, if he was allowed to want someone so far out of his league, so beyond his wildest dreams, but he had tried anyways, valiantly. had tried to keep ian's attention on him at all times, even if he felt almost embarrassingly pathetic by doing so; once there had been some give, a way in, an invitation, hayun had jumped at the chance. early on he already knew that he wanted nothing more than ian's undivided attention, wanted to listen to him even while he only understood half of it, and spent the other half, when they weren't talking, pestering the coaching staff into finding him an english teacher. he was nothing if not dedicated in his pursuit of this man who could have had anyone, who did not belong to this world but whom hayun wanted to belong to most of all, and when there had been reciprocation, when they had slept with each other for the first time and hayun knew that it changed something inside of him, molecular and fundamental, he knew that he had been waiting for ian his entire life. everything else leading up to it had only been confetti, and it was only plausible that they would fit together like this too, that ian was almost natural in how he addressed hayun's demands and innermost desires.

the protest trying to fight past his teeth only came out in bits and pieces, incoherent noises that sounded more like whimpers. the urge to push against the constraints ian had put on him, if only verbally, was as overwhelming as the heat running through his veins, rising into a wave at the sound of ian's voice, the unforgiving press of his fingers inside of him that drove him madder yet. hayun did not know how to externalize much of his desire, could only internalize it until he was nothing but his own arousal, caught in the riptide of it and basking in the heat of it, how it colored his cheeks and entire body, how it wrapped him up and made him feel as if he was nothing but desires and sensations. in the end it made him sob, the insistent pressure that set his nerve endings alight accompanied by the hold he had on his face. it made a part of him come undone, the greedy, innermost part of hayun that wanted nothing but this, always and only and ever, that clenched around all four of ian's fingers as if he could keep him inside of his body like this, where he belonged. " ian, cillian, " he said, but his voice sounded like someone else's, hoarse and watery and entirely too needy, and he could only reach his own clumsy hands out for something, anything, fingers digging into ian's shoulder or whatever part of him was closest, his own grasp tight and bruising and only growing lax when ian pulled his fingers out and actually made hayun whine, a sound as if an animal got shot. it was beyond comprehension, how ian could zero in on hayun's physical need with such pin-point accuracy. " i'm sorry, " hayun muttered but wasn't, not really; his body burning up at the prospect of punishment, around the emptiness. it was as much give as it was take.

his chest was heaving and he was gasping for air like he had just hauled ass around the bases, body sore and sweaty, but it felt nothing like baseball. being with ian was incomparable and hayun never wanted it to infiltrate any other part of his life: it was too sacred to do so, and he knew that this vulnerability he could show here had no place on the field. when he blinked his eyes open and saw ian leaning over him, watched him suck his own fingers into his mouth, his mouth ran dry and a moan escaped him before he could do as much as lift a finger, hands sliding off ian's body and resting limbless by his side. he craved to touch him but he knew he couldn't, didn't want to either; what he wanted right now was for ian to touch him, lay his hand on him in the most primitive sense of the word. this, he knew, was a bridge they had yet to cross but he wanted ian to do it, craved it like he had never wanted anything else, and it made his body wound tight, strain against the weight of ian on top of him like he could push past him and force his hand. literally. " please, " he murmured, softer, his voice sanded down to the bones of it, to where he was nothing but arousal. " please give it to me, please. i want it, please, " and only lifted his hand to lay it on top of ian's, where it still held his face in place, so close to what hayun wanted from him, what he needed. when he sought ian's eyes, when he found his gaze, he could only look at him with as much sincerity as he could muster; to telegraph this need was beyond mere words, and he had told ian before, in unmistakable terms. hurt me, i want it. i need it. he wondered if ian would ever give it to him, and the mere idea of it made his eyes slip shut and a soft moan in the shape of ian's name escape past his teeth.

[exitvelo]

this was something she couldn't even fathom dreaming of until it was reality. by nature of her past eunah had stopped trusting most people, trusting men, knowing she'd just end up battering and bruised by that faith. she hadn't planned for it when she met him, that elusive figure dongman talked about with reverence that she could place immediately at that cross-walk, this survivor, this force of a man having bled dry over time, and yet she felt intrigued by him even more than she'd ever been by any good script. he was more alive than she thought in the beginning, stoic but not fully immovable, not cold, more the opposite - there was so much of him, untapped and gone off to wither dust, that she had imagined all sort of things he'd do to defend her like he defended his brother, that he'd unspool the kind of temper on all the people that wronged her, that just the thought of him ( of him and her, overlaying in dongman's mind ) propelled her to be more defiant. this quality of his presence unguarded her from that very first walk across the street and down their mutual neighbourhood, his face barely visible whenever she looked to her side but his voice resonating in her skull and long after, and back when she knocked on dongman's door and he opened instead she felt inclined to worry if she wasn't in a film of her own. if this wasn't the moment that shifted everything, that laid her open and pulled him towards her, as if there wasn't a third person in the room. now she knew she was right, that he opened her with the stern gentleness of his voice, got all her earnestness out of her, and that on that day she might not have saved him but made him more than just a survivor. nor writer or poet, but simply a man she saw. a man she got to know, and that she wasn't afraid of.

she would have never let him this close if it were any other way. instead when she curled into his chest there was no worry for herself in her, if any than worry for him that was constant, never wanting to see him leave the house in the morning before her and her grandmother and fear he wouldn't return to them by the end of the day. dongman confided this in her once, that he even worried in the night, but eunah found that she didn't have to, at least not like her best friend had to when it came to his brother, since these days she fell asleep tucked in close against jinman like fern over stone, and woke up the moment he did because he had to extract himself from her. it meant something great, something of value, that he slept through the night when he was here, and so did she, neither of them disturbed by the other how they'd usually be by other people. it was a quiet island of two between them, where sometimes nothing more but the silence and their bodies reigned, and she learned that this was the only thing that calmed her down more than reading well into the night all on her own. together they were two displaced sea creatures who have finally found some solace in a vast ocean, left by their loved ones for so long they nearly forgot what it meant to be more than the sole sum of their parts. jinman looked at her sometimes, like he did now, so intensely that eunah felt like she hadn't been seen by anyone before, not like this, and wondered how she ever mistook that she had been. a shiver cascaded down her spine at the thought, as it always did, but then the warmth spread through her stomach and her chest, as if he shared his own with her, as if he gave a piece of himself over to make room in herself. when his arm wrapped around her, she loosened her own hands from against her chest, and squeezed them under his, pulling herself against him in a hug.

her socked feet ended somewhere by his shins, but eunah didn't mind. she loved when she was buried and stored away away by him, his chest a hideout not unlike the alcove keeping safe letters sent over vast distances. he contained her with his body like this, her cheek against his heartbeat, when she felt his voice at the same time as she heard him speak. it was always deep, this low rumble against her ear now, that nestled itself into her bones and made her never forget a word he said, all that proof that he listened to her, not only talked back for the sake of answering and having the last word. so unlike all the other men, the men before him, that she knew she'd never fall into the same trap as she did with them. there was no resistance anymore when he let her make a home of him, their bodies aligned like two continuing pages of a book, and she smiled where his hand touched the side of her face, her hair, where he let her press her face against the crook of his arm. she didn't have to guess about what she meant to him, or if he would get up and leave once he had enough of her; jinman had proven to her ten times over he'd never leave her that desolate, that he was here to stay, filling in all the gaps of her, reminding her she was not out in the lonely ocean but a person, someone who could be loved, with no hesitation or remorse. he never backed away, not once he knew that they felt the same way about each other. " after hearing about your stint at agit, i imagined what it would be like to have someone like you do that for me, " she confessed. honest to a fault, she'd tell him everything. he unarmed her that day across the table, asking her the one urge she never verbalised but knew to be rooted deep, and it hadn't stopped since then. she was an avalanche against his land, all of her contained by him, with a word, or a look, with the touch of his hands. " now you're here, i want you just for myself. i never felt this way about anyone. like i don't want to let you go. with everyone else, i knew they could leave, everyone could. but i want you to stay, i know you can. "

[sachingja]

his entire existence had been marked by the departure of anything he held dear, and by his own resolute, silent desolation. jinman had wondered if he had ever revealed too much of himself, of the shadows that loomed larger than the light, this dread that had never found a resolution, had only built up inside of his own chest until he had crumbled beneath the weight of it. for so long, he had never considered to stay for anything or for anyone, not beyond the mere necessity of making sure that his younger brother was cared for; there had been a hundred exit routes established beforehand, in case that unattainable goal ever became reality. he had made his peace with the inevitability of his demise and had adjusted his everyday life accordingly, the daily interactions with other people never reaching beyond the surface of the mundane, his employment largely nameless and faceless; the attachment people from his past had tried to maintain did only hinder him along the way to a soft, light end, and so he did not welcome them, rejected their advances and their desire to linger on what had passed him by and only reminded him of his own failure at what others succeeded in so easily. there were glimmers of hope, of course, that young actress who had knocked at their door to bring him that token of gratitude, which was a token of recognition more than anything else. but the first morsel had been eunah at his kitchen table, in front of their door, that day she arrived before his brother and they had spent an hour in almost startlingly comfortable silence. it had never felt like a burden, had only made jinman more curious to figure her out, this woman who he could recognize so easily.

it was almost befuddling to be on the other side of what had been his daily life, his everyday. now, he found himself pausing in front of apartment listings and considering buildings in their neighborhood with bigger space and more rooms. he wondered what it would be like to trade their separate homes and merge it into one, what he had done before and had tried so hard to erase from his mind had suddenly become a memory superimposed over his presence, like the afterimage of a dream. whenever he saw eunah interact with the world around her, with her grandmother and with his brother, he wanted to keep her closer, wanted to always see the gentleness on her face that broke through the cool detachment she wore so easily, that came to her as quick as it did to him. they could have their own space, jinman thought, could share more than just this bed in her room or the mattress on his floor. the possibilities were vast and endless and he often found himself paralyzed by that, choices he had long discarded that suddenly seemed to be worth indulging in, worth to consider even. dongman would jump at the chance, he already knew without having to ask him, but jinman did not want to make any decisions without asking eunah first, already felt too imposing in her life, too out of place; he was nothing like those slick and beautiful actors, directors, writers, was far more solid than that and stuck out like a sore thumb for that matter alone. he had never fit in with the crowd dongman had made a home with and did not know if he ever could or would, but he knew that for her, he would do anything. if she would have asked him, he would have bent the earth in half only for her.

with a low hum, he allowed himself to press his mouth to the crown of her head, a gentle kiss he left there, lingering before he bedded his cheek on her head and held her closer, still. " you did? " he asked, a murmur, genuinely surprised by that statement though he probably should not have been; like a red string tied around their wrists, they had always belonged to each other but had simply never known, had too many near misses that were only resolved by his own brother. that alone almost made jinman scoff but he knew how much they both meant to each other, so he could only be glad for what had transpired. " you just have to say the word. " he added, after a moment of careful consideration. not many could deal with the flare of his temper but eunah seemed to almost revere it, mystify it, and jinman was glad; if he could protect her, he would. if the unrest and discomfort could find another outlet, he would gladly accept it, trade it for eerily silent nights in bathrooms with nothing but his own thinning breath as company. after they had been silent for a little longer, after he had felt her breathe against him and was assured by the familiarity of that motion and by how easily she fit against him, as if it was always meant to be that way, he rubbed his fingers over the back of her neck and said slowly, the words only coming to him gradually, but they were important so he had to verbalize them. this promise which meant more than any other vow to the both of them, though he would vow it in front of anyone who might want to hear, too. " i thought my purpose in life was to live so lightly no one would notice if i left, " he murmured, unsure if she could even hear him, while his thumb rubbed steadily back and forth. " but i don't think so anymore. i think i would like to stay for as long as you will have, for as long as you will let me. for whatever you want from me. i would give you everything. "

[exitvelo]

if eli could cling to this moment forever, he would. he truly and wholly would, enraptured at the same time as he wanted to grind the machinery of time to a stand-still so he could bask in this for as long as he wanted to - and that was for as long as possible, more than he ever wanted to exist in any other moment, even more than the way he wanted to elongate the first time he saw hideo and hideo looked back at him. back then he was chiding and attentive at once, and his hands were methodical and cold where he treated the wound on eli's head and checked him for a concussion, and nothing about it was arousing or desiring, it was all the straight care of a doctor to a patient he was very clearly putting in his place just how he was helping him. back then eli was delirious and in pain, and probably talking absolute nonsense when he tried to hit on hideo, so hideo was more than warranted in putting a line between them, as anyone would and should have. it wasn't his fault that eli couldn't let go, not back then and not even when eli learned of what he was and still didn't want to leave, as hideo put up a valiant fight against eli's wanting, the yearning to always be closer, to want him openly and be wanted back. hideo wore restraint as well as he wore his suits, but eli wanted no restraint, he wanted everything else, he wanted nothing between them more times than he could have counted and couldn't believe he was getting it.

like a blind man seeing the light for the first time, the real change came when elijah realised that he was affecting hideo, how much he was affecting him. that the front hideo put on, this opaque facade of a man always in control, was true but that it was struggle to keep it up. eli could only imagine all the ones that came before him, inconsequential and only there for a night or a day, a few weeks or months, that attained what he wanted much faster and paid for it ten times over six feet under. eli didn't want death, of course not, but he craved what it meant to court this particular kind of danger. he still remembered that afternoon when hideo let him touch his fangs, not only see them but let eli put the pad of his thumb to them, the burning glare in his eyes and the saliva that followed when eli traced the end of his fangs. that was what hideo went through when eli was careless, wore too little at home or wanted to sit close when they were in private rooms, what he fought when eli wanted nothing but to kiss him and never stop. hideo told him all about the power his kind had over normal people like eli, but eli felt almost sick with the truth of what that was like in reverse - that hideo was chained to him, too, that he loved eli enough to keep him at arm's length, and somehow more than that even to let it go for once. for the first time.

love was a mean thing like that, eli's lover had a murderous streak and hand and fangs that could kill him. for some odd reason, eli was certain he'd survive the rampage, as if equipped with a sixth sense or just a lucky bout of delusion, he was dead-sure that his body was made for this, not the consummation of physical desire, for he knew he could hold hideo inside him for the same eternity he wanted when hideo kissed him with hunger and an open mouth, teeth sharp and biting, and eli was close to tasting his own blood. no, he knew he would survive what it meant to be the one that warmed the chilled blood in hideo's cold veins, to offer him everything; he just knew he would. " don't ask me a third time. of course it's what i want. you know it it, you can feel it, " eli found his voice then, as if the rough whine of his voice when hideo pulled his head back wasn't evidence enough. his hands were clawing at hideo's shoulders, looping around his neck, holding onto him, as he heard hideo's voice like he rarely did before, a crackle of thunder down his spine, making him feel hot all over, like he was burning up. no, he thought, none of hideo's lovers felt like this before, not like he did, not even the ones that died. when his fingers scraped over hideo's neck, he pulled him closer to his own face, to his jaw and neck. eli wanted this so badly he had to keep going or he'd tear at hideo and himself until they both bled, no vampire fangs needed from his end. this was enough, and yet not entirely. hideo's hand tightened in his hair and he moved closer to him still, whining, pressing himself up against hideo. " i was made for you, you know. i'm sure of it. don't you want me? don't you want to? "

[sachingja]

there was an undeniable truth in the boy's whine, those words he pressed so close to hideo's core, the walls he had dismantled so cleverly, perhaps without recognizing that he had done so to begin with. elijah thought that he was far removed from the danger that hideo posed to everyone and everything around him, but that was not right either; he existed more at the epicenter of it, reminding hideo daily of what he was capable of, that murderous part of himself that he had tried to suppress for so long. at least while he was in good company, anyway. what hideo did at night, what he had done for as long as his cold heart had stopped beating, was only his own business; what hideo did to simply prepare to be with eli, to withstand the onslaught of such intense desire, such cavernous hunger, was nobody's business but his own. people died all the time, everyday, hideo had learned as much when he was very young and very frightened and so very hungry, and rarely did anyone care enough about them to come looking. it became trickier down the line, with the passage of time and the scientific breakthroughs that led to what he would consider a surveillance state, but there were still enough people who readily offered their bodies, their blood, who wanted to perish underneath hideo's touch. elijah did not want that but he wanted everything else that came with it and to straddle that line comfortably was an endurance test hideo had not been prepared for.

it was hard to explain how far he had to stretch himself to accommodate for the boy's needs: too far to justify and yet not so far that he would snap in half. his own failure would cost elijah too much; it had to be done with the utmost attention.

and yet, none of it could have prepared him for how it would feel to hold elijah in his arms, crushed against his chest, so close that he could feel his rib cage expand with every desperate breath he took, gasps for air in between the kisses hideo bestowed so readily upon him. a shift in his own tenor, a move towards the forefront of his own desires; hideo rarely felt heat, could withstand the cold winds of the north-western pacific for as long as he could live, was immune to the elements at large, but eli's body moved like an avalanche, rippled like the surface of a lake cut through by a heavy stone someone threw carelessly, or a knife sinking down and below until it would inevitably reach the bottom, a crime lost to anyone above the surface. hideo wondered if he could leave marks on elijah's tanned skin that no one else would ever get to see, if he could curl his fingers around the swell of eli's thighs and force them apart, hold him, until he could see the evidence of it with his own eyes, could still follow the path of his hands even days later. it made him swallow before he brushed his nose along elijah's jaw, towards the hollow of his cheek, where he inhaled the scent of him and the warmth of his blood and allowed it to flood through him, settle in his gut and in his molars, his teeth aching with an ancient curse. a monster that could not be outrun no matter how desperately someone tried to. it was what he was destined to be until the end of time, hunger personified, ravenous desire down his spine.

" you underestimate how much i want you, elijah, " hideo said, a rasp of that binding truth, and before he could think any further, he tightened his hold on the back of elijah's head and held him still, so he could scrape his teeth over the apex of the boy's rosy cheeks to that spot below his ear, where his pulse was thundering and reminding hideo of the blood laying just below the paper-thin skin. his eyes fluttered shut on their own accord, his arm wounding tightly around elijah's middle to hold him close, keep him as still as possible, which was imperative to their survival. one wrong move could effectively end this when it had barely just begun and hideo had no intention for that to happen tonight. he had already fed earlier today; if he had not, they would have never gotten here to begin with, not that he cared to let elijah know as much. " you always do, but you need to know that i desire you more than you could ever want me. " when he pulled back, he sought the boy's eyes, dark and blown wide open, and it made him smile, aware of how grotesque it must look with his fangs contorting much of the shape of it. he leaned back, just enough so he could allow his hand to move in between their bodies, towards where elijah was visibly straining against his shorts. he was hot and heavy to the touch, so hard that it did not take much to push him towards an easy climax, but hideo had the infinite and endless patience of the immortal. he could do this all night, and he intended to do so. his fingers found the shape of him easily, grinding the heel of his palm against elijah's cock; it made hideo feel mightier than a taste of his blood could, the heady rush of control settling over him in a dizzying spell. " i wish you could see yourself, " hideo murmured, a starving man kneeling before a feast. " you are so beautiful. "

[exitvelo]

it was easy to lose sight of what mattered when you were submerged in work every day, which was why satō made it a conscious choice not to let that happen to him. he loved his work, found a sense of meaning and personhood in it, but more important to him were the people around him. the people he called family, and the people he worked with for a long time, and over the stretch over the past months, so many more than a year was gone by, he knew who was at the top of that list. it happened so seamlessly for satō to make kōji the centre of all the people he loved, everyone he cared about and looked out for, and he never would want to think of it as a hardship to go out of his way to make room for him in that very life, give the space he had in satō's heart the same breadth in real life too, to show it with his actions and his words. when he first saw kōji, kōji was trailing next to impa with his head peering down into papers there were arguing about, but the impression he left on satō was imminent and prominent, so much so that satō had to ask impa about him, and even astronaut lieutenant miyoshi who he saw around him more than once, to then plant himself across from kōji and make his own impression up close. even with a bit of an air of coldness around him, kōji was interesting to listen to, as acerbic as his words could be, and there was something magnetic about that sharp wit and the constantly furrowing brow accompanying it. satō watched him eat nothing but the plainest of cafeteria meals that first time and then it came natural to him, to include more than what he needed for lunch and bring it with him, share it with kōji to see what he liked, and build a conversation with him over those lunch hours - and, thankfully, beyond. satō's plan could have gone in the complete opposite direction, once he learned how selective kōji really was with people, so he learned to hold the space kōji made for him in return to his own openness and affection in the highest esteem. he revered the time kōji carved out for him, nearly as much as he revered kōji as he was.

" you know how they are. they don't like to share until the absolute last moment anyone of us needs to know, " satō said as they walked through the hallway. most of the office doors flanking them on either side were closed, no lights peering through from under the door, but he could see that one of the labs still had its lights on. some of their colleagues liked to burn the midnight oil on the regular, which was as befuddling as it was honestly to be expected by the wild variety of people working in the space centre, but satō was glad that kōji and him didn't try to make a habit of it. malon sometimes tried to, until satō reminded her that her clearance wouldn't let her open all the needed doors or cabinets in some of the hangars they worked in or their offices, at least not unless zelda or him were there with her, and that usually helped to shut down any kind of attempt to fly solo. that impa was already home was even more surprising though, but her diligent work ethic did try to include the set working hours as well, something she had impressed on kōji and that satō figured must have had found its exception today. the idea of kōji going home alone at this hour didn't sit well with satō, so he might be overindulging himself where he had his arm wrapped around him as they said goodnight to the guards at the doors towards the parking lot. " they'll tell you in time. or you'll crack it. i mean, you'll crack it anyway. you're smart, and with impa's help it will make sense even faster, " satō assured kōji, leaning down to press a kiss against the side of his head when kōji looked up at him. giving him a confident smile when he leaned back, satō squeezed him against his side.

when kōji inquired about the mission, where they were making their final selection on candidates in these recent days, satō looked up into the cloudy sky. only the moon shone through in a bit of silver, the parking lot otherwise completely dark and almost empty, satō's car parked somewhere in the middle now standing alone like an island in a dark sea, a mountain over the pavement. he had meetings with the higher-ranking staff over the past few weeks, usually joined by zelda and later the rest of their team, and while no conclusive decision was made yet there was also a meeting with miyoshi hideo lined up that told satō all he needed to know about where the decision makers saw this to be going. he didn't want to say anything until they had told him outright, but then that was silly - satō was serious about kōji, he felt that down to the marrow even when kōji wasn't in front of him, and they'd have to adjust accordingly once he'd be gone for up to ten days, in space no less. " they haven't made the decision just yet, but i am pretty sure it's between zelda and me, " satō told kōji when they were by his car, looking down at him. his arm still around kōji, he moved it down so he could hold onto kōji's hand, which was way too cold and gave satō imperative to unlock the car door and open it for him. " it's probably going to be me. zelda wants to finish her dissertation first. i will tell you when they make their choice, yeah? you'll be the first to know. " that they breached this topic on the evening they were actually going home together for the first time felt almost too much, but satō squeezed kōji's hand again before pulling him into a devoted hug. tucking his cheek on top of kōji's head, he went on, " nothing is your fault. as long as you're comfortable, i'm happy. always happier when you're by my side, but we're working on that. i told you, you can stay over whenever you want, however long. i want this to be your home too, yeah? c'mon, get into the car, you're cold. "

[sachingja]

before kōji had ever entered a lab, before he had ever even formulated an actual idea regarding the purpose of his life, he had sat in his room and had stared out his window at night, into a clear sky dotted with stars all over, a bright moon that shone across the sea of trees beyond their backyard as if someone had poured a bucked of white paint all over the landscape. it had been the woods first, the leaves and ferns, the grass and the trees, that had given him a sense of peace, but the endless, vast eternity of the night sky had given him a sense of curiosity, a desire to know more, and he had followed that map once it had formulated itself inside of his head to its logical conclusion. the actuality of what was up there had never occurred to kōji until he had stood by and watched people he had barely known, who had mostly passed him by during his rotation and failed to make small talk he did not know how to endure, leave for the stars. it was a foreign emotion that had encroached on kōji then, almost like wonder but not quite, and he had spent a few days obsessively tracking their route before impa had found him and dragged him out to a proper lunch, sorry for this intern they had brought in fresh out of university and younger than the rest of them. only a few months later, satō had found his way into kōji's life, and after some more time had passed, he had decided to stick to him like glue, and kōji had allowed it, and slowly his life had turned around, something that had been quite boring and lonely before suddenly came alive, bursting at the seams with colors, because this was what satō did to everything he touched and everyone he knew and kōji was no exception, just a little tougher to crack. but he cracked, enough for satō to make himself at home, and now kōji found it quite hard to imagine his life otherwise.

it should have not surprised him, perhaps, satō's revelation. their entire lives revolved around making sure that other people could see the other side of the moon, chart a path towards the stars. that it should become one of them did not come as such a surprise to kōji, but he found himself frozen to the pavement anyway, his entire world expanding and shrinking together at once, a weird physical phenomenon that made him feel as if he was stuck in a simulation. like he was part of one of his many equations, made to be solved by someone far smarter, far more experienced than him; satō already stretched towards the sky on any regular day, but kōji could not imagine him up there among the stars. it sunk a fear into him that he had yet to experience ever before, and when satō hugged him close kōji stayed where he was, his arms hanging limp by his side before he remembered how those things were supposed to go, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and wound his arms as far around satō as they could go, fingers digging into the flimsy jacket he was wearing. always dressed too cool for the weather while he was complaining about kōji's body temperature, who couldn't feel anything but satō's body close to his. the equation they had made him work through all but forgotten, all he could think about was satō going up there, with hideo out of all people, out of reach farther than ever possible. it made kōji feel adrift on land. " what do you mean, it's probably going to be you? " kōji asked, indignant, feeling angry and young and small all at once, like he hadn't worked here for years by now. like this wasn't how things usually were supposed to go anyway. " they have other engineers they can send up there, you are not the only engineer working here, " he added, his words muffled by satō's chest, barely audible. he was just complaining for the sake of it but he couldn't quite contain himself.

his words wouldn't change anything and neither would his protest. all he could do was let satō go and climb into the passenger seat, waiting for satō to round the vehicle and start the car, and even then he kept silent, waiting for the heating to warm up enough so he could get more comfortable. satō had been right, kōji's hands were cold, always too cold no matter the season, but he could barely focus on it or on the scenery passing them by when his head suddenly revolved around one thing only. in just a few weeks, satō would go up into space and he would be gone for ten days at least, and kōji didn't like the thought of it one bit. he would have to talk to hideo before, try and make an appointment or just corner him in the cafeteria or wherever he was doing stupid astronaut training, and tell him in no uncertain terms that he would have to bring satō back in one piece or he would be chopped liver. kōji felt so strongly about it that he twisted the fabric of his sweater around his fingers until it was bunched up in into the palm of his hand, but he didn't notice until they had finally arrived in front of satō's house. by now a familiar destination, kōji had never arrived here at night before, and it seemed almost tranquil, how it just stood there beneath the pale moonlight, none the wiser that its owner would be among the moon very soon, up there in the sky. kōji swallowed. " is someone looking after the house while you're gone? " he asked, even though he knew that two weeks was barely enough time to warrant anyone checking up on satō's house. it was less about the duration of the trip and more about the opportunity to be here, and kōji clung to it before he could really sound out what it meant. " i mean, i can stay here, if you want. it's closer to the lab anyway and you won't have to worry about all your stuff. if you don't mind? "

[exitvelo]

there used to be nothing and no one besides her and her grandmother for as long as she knew. for as long as she knew, she was alone, they were alone, abandoned and done in by death and flight rolled into one. what was a girl who had no one, no parents and no friends? eunah used to ask herself this, feeling the blood drip and pool, until her grandmother would come to her at the end of the day and break her out of her reverie. this was to be the grand spectre under which her life prevailed, as she could not keep anyone by her side, to the point that she wondered if there was something eternally wrong with her, if she was just faulty parts which her parents saw, everyone saw, everyone but her grandmother, and she couldn't outdo this trick done to her, this cosmic joke. even when she grew up and learned how to speak up, she was too harsh, she was too brash, loneliness having created a monster with no filter, a hound dog her boss learned early to leave off her leash, to wield her like an axe in a full forest, and let her sniff out the easy blood to kill the competition or cull what he deemed weak. was that all she was, would be? the only worthiness to her presence seen by an employer who did not even like her, and colleagues that didn't understand her, and always with the terrible foreboding deep in the recesses of her mind that she'd be left alone again, undoubtedly, by boyfriends and by friends, though she didn't really have any friends - it made sense with the watch, she could at least learn how to deal with herself, if not how to with other people.

in response to this cosmic joke jinman did not come first, not as impactful at first. it was his brother, the mirror of her soul and the first person with a mass of emotion she could tell at a glance without diminishing who he was to her, what he meant. he let eunah exist as she was, and cheered her on steadily, and it was so easy to smile around him, to love him, and have his back when he went out to search for success and adoration on his own terms. never had it felt that easy before, only for the two-punch that was jinman, quiet and desolate like her, but so vast, his mind intriguing her like no one's ever did, his words like water into the dry emptiness of her, cultivating life within her no one managed before. that he was solid and quiet next to her, so close, made her feel safe in a way nothing had done since she was a child - none of her former boyfriends made her feel this secure, not by a long shot, made her want to suffuse him in her world instead of escaping somewhere else or trying to scale towards his. they were on equal ground, even, and she wanted to curl into his chest and arms and hide away there, let him hold her, in a way she never had before. with him, she felt like she could drop the cutting armour she always wore throughout the day, which only came from feeling like she knew him better too. she could read his mood, his bad weather, so much like her own, but where others didn't know how to deal with her wind he was an oak tree in the middle of her, right there with her. it almost drove tears to her eyes, that recognition, the fact that he was here and didn't let her go.

his hand on her cheek, in her hair, did not feel intruding. she wanted his touch to reside her, to crawl into the confines of him and make herself at home there, for them to make a space in the quiet of the world where they could both be saved, where they could both stay, neither abandoned nor lonely on their own, for once not the ones being left behind by the cruel fate of the world. it took her a bit but she could indeed see him, where they were so alike, and where his ache sat deeper, heavier, and was far older than hers. she wanted him to find a place where that didn't matter, that he carried it, and where he could sometimes forget it was there at all. she wanted him to feel like he made her feel. " it is a good thing. usually, when i see people clearer, they become worse. not you. i see you better and instead i want to be closer to you, " she told him, looking at him where they were so close, before she gave into this insistent impulse in her to do as she felt so strongly about, and push her forehead against his chest, tucking her head in under his chin. she kept her arms pulled in for now, only letting the warmth of his body against hers sink into her, the way she felt his breathing, a bit quicker now, and the solid weight of him, the scent of him earthy and mundane and so nice. he was a refuge to her, at the centre of the spiral of the earth for her, and she did not want to let him go. " i don't want to go back. i haven't felt like this . . . ever. no man ever made me feel like i don't want to go back. "

[sachingja]

it was a revelation and akin to a miracle, to come home to someone else at the end of the day, to walk through a door that held the warm glow of light like a promise or a beacon. it had been so long, too many years to count since jinman had experienced it, since he had someone who waited for him and who wanted to wait, who endured that waiting with patience and gratitude. dongman did not care much about his return, or at least he never showed or said so, cared only about his brother returning to him alive and breathing, and jinman understood that as well, abstractly. like he had dissociated that ache from inside of his chest with surgical precision, existing outside of the dreadful reality of his own life, his own perpetual failure, only stepping inside of himself whenever it got too close to him and became tangible. only then it was the cool, blue moonlight on the floor and the pale clouds inching to cover the stars, his own breath growing shallow and thin, the thunder of his own heartbeat inside of his ears ceasing to exist. there was a time when he knew how long it took until the fear turned into relief, when he was only a step away from the silence he craved, that stilled his spiraling thoughts and made him feel somewhat at peace. that it could exist in another place was entirely foreign to him, impossible, and yet, he had experienced it not long after, when eunah had stopped him at the crosswalk. the first time she talked to him, he had felt a part of himself return to him, as if the wind had carried it towards the aching pit inside his chest. that anyone could make him feel that way had been so beyond the realm of jinman's existence, he had been stunned into silence when she first asked him, and then the words had come to him, as if he was rediscovering words altogether. ever since that day, it had come to him easier, at the tip of his fingers. one look was enough; when he woke up in the morning next to her, a notorious early riser, he laid in the glimmer of dawn and could not believe his luck. jinman didn't think he would ever grow tired of it.

his touch alone felt almost inadequate in comparison to what eunah had given him, her curiosity and vast knowledge of a landscape jinman had witnessed become desolate day by day, and with her came the warmth of spring and the silent sweetness of summer. no one ever thought of her that way, jinman was aware, even dongman cherished her for mundane and pedestrian things, that he understood her and could talk to her freely, offered her some sort of levity, but jinman understood her in a different manner, one that he recognized as being similar to his own. to be left behind was a scar one carried forever, abandonment left more than a simple reminder, it carved so much deeper than that; the fear it had instilled in his own heart was old and worn and useless, and yet it had never stopped hurting, never rid him of the guilt he felt so acutely. this, he understood perfectly, could put into words almost blindly, and he saw it in eunah, and he wanted to grasp her pain and cup it in the palm of his hand so it would never reach her again. jinman would have given her everything she asked for, even a child, and that alone made everything else pale in comparison, this miracle that had once been his something he could not share with anyone, and yet she had so swiftly reawakened it with one confession at his dinner table. he remembered that day, how she could barely look at him, and thought of it occasionally when they were like this, when she was so close that he could only smell the scent of her hair and their laundry detergent, the sheets of the bed that smelled like the both of them combined, a shared life in the wake of a singular loneliness. it made jinman want to believe in something otherworldly, something he could be deserving of if he only managed to keep it for long enough. he wanted to stay with her forever, so neither of them would ever have to endure the shimmering darkness of loneliness anymore or ever again.

her words sunk into him like a stone, like a ray of sun, pierced him through the chest with heat that felt almost akin to embarrassment but was none of the sort; jinman had difficulty parsing anything beyond the vast emptiness he had grown so used to and eunah made him experience emotions he had long given up on. it was a novelty, even at his age, to be with someone like this, he knew that. his hand slowly ran through her hair before he allowed his arm to rest around her waist; she was close already and when she allowed herself to curl towards in, he did not wait. there was no need for hesitation here, jinman had already seen her with fewer defenses, had watched her lower those walls in front of him, and he cherished every second of it. what an honor to be at the receiving end of so much trust, he barely knew what to do with it or himself. " i don't think anyone has ever thought of me like this, " he told her honestly, his words pressed to the crown of her head, a soft murmur to not disturb the tranquility of the bedroom. it felt wrong to infringe on her confession, and jinman tried his best not to, because he wanted her to love him in the same way he loved her: wholly and uncomplicated. this is how he wanted her to see him, though he knew it was impossible and near selfish. nothing about him was easy, starting with his family and ending squarely with himself, and yet he could not help but long for it. his palm on her back, he allowed himself to simply hold her, overwhelmed by the simplicity, the purity of this small affection. " i think you might be the first person who has ever seen me like this. " he was silent for a moment, his observation filling the air between them as his hand rubbed her back in slow circles. " you know, if i ever meet any of the jerks who left you before, they will get what they deserve. dongman told me about the other one, the writer, " even the mention of him made jinman mad, but his voice was level. he was too old for hysterics. " i hope he rots in hell. nobody should have ever treated you with anything less than reverence. "

[sachingja]

I know I hurt you. I hurt myself too. 🎨🧺

the night has fallen around them, eerily silent except for the chirp of some birds and crickets, brought in by the balmy air of the evening, the sun diminishing slowly but surely and leaving nothing but tendrils of heat in its wake. candles have been lit to accompany any stray soul which might find their way out of the cottage halls so late, but tonight there are two, sophie and him sitting close to the edge of the land, as close to the woods as possible. it is the sort of space they have created without any real intention, simply led where their feet would carry them, and in the past months it has become a ritual of sorts. first, in the glimmering, snow-filled nights of the shorter months, bundled up in thick woolen coats and blankets, now bleeding into the depth of summer as well. benedict enjoys this, when it is only the two of them with no one else as company. it will change soon enough, he is sure, sophie assures him too, all the time, that she is keeping track of these sorts of things, but for what it is worth, benedict already knows that he will miss this. a sanctuary for two people alone, a space where no one else exists but them.

" hm? " he hums softly, leaning towards the thick of a tree trunk, watching her out of the corner of his eyes, used to the dark by now, her face only aglow with the blue light of the moon and some flecks of gold. " what has brought this on? you've been so very quiet, my love. i thought you surely had something going on in that clever mind of yours, i just did not expect this. "

when sophie is still keeping her words tucked close to her chest, benedict reaches his hand out for his wife's, his fingers brushing a gentle line from the inner crook of her elbow to her wrist, before he slides his fingers in between hers and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. whenever neither of them has the words, or hasn't made up their mind yet, they do this; before benedict ever really understood the depth of sophie's struggles, he understood this, how a touch could make her melt into his embrace or make her eyes flutter, and how it could make her lean into him, too, for silent reassurance or whatever else she could get from him. if possible, if prompted, benedict would give her everything and then some, the world not enough for her, but he knows that he would never quite get away with it when he has already gotten away with so much. such is the nature of love: endless, everlasting. he understands that now.

" i can assure you, i am not at all bothered by it. i think you are too harsh on what has happened, too harsh on what yourself. you only did what was necessary. i could never fault you for that, " he murmurs, and squeezes her hand again, leaving the whisper of a kiss on her shoulder.

[exitvelo]

love was a daunting thing, he knew it better than most. it could take all shapes and sides, it could lie wholly dormant or spread as wide as a any good fire on bone-dry kindling would. when idris had met hayun, he did not expect it to go the second way, where there was as much as a whole forest fire of passion to set through him, through them, not from the moment they met but the longer they had known each other, the longer they were together. of course a good part of it came from hayun's requests, first done shyly and then becoming bolder when he realised he had a receptive if not fully educated audience with idris. once he let himself be submerged in the breadth of what hayun wanted from him, what he explicitly and empathically told him they could figure out slowly and together, his mind hat felt quite taken with it before anything else, before he even laid a hand on hayun in the way he asked for or fit the right cadence into his voice to make his head snap around with a well-known look in his eyes, premonition to incoming reality. the last time something made idris' mind whirr like this, was so long ago, after the equations and before the pain, when he figured out he might be suited for a most unorthodox job. that he learned he was suited for this too, for him to be the man that would give hayun all he so desperately craved, was a steep curve indeed, but it resonated with him so deeply it was surprising to accustom himself to it at first. that was, until he did put theory to practice for the first time, and saw how hayun was all alight, that forest fire.

this was far from the first time and idris was far more settled in the role than he used to be. he grew into it, certainly from hayun's request, but he took a still-new pleasure from it too, that he wasn't sure would ever wear off or just grow deeper. hayun entrusted himself to him, his whole body at idris' disposal, and he didn't plan to let any inch of him go untouched, unattended, or to waste - hayun's body was so responsive too, after a certain point of teasing him he only had to touch the back of his hand against the hot skin of his chest, knuckle in the divot between his pecks, to feel him try and rise to meet the touch before idris lifted his hand again. the sheets under hayun's body were damp from his sweat, the exhaustion of his body responding to everything idris did to him but never letting him unspool fully. when idris trailed his mouth from hayun's side down to the bend of his knee, kisses against the dip in his waist and the muscle of his thigh, nosing at the sweaty skin so close to his groin without doing anything he committed the shifts of hayun's hips down to memory, only to repeat it on the other side of him, to let him suck at two of idris' fingers a good deal of time before he'd let hayun feel them inside. this he knew was less torture as much as it was tenderness, seduction really, and when hayun's eyes rolled back in his head he knew he was doing things right again. see, he learned well and he could read his boyfriend like the easiest equation he ever had to solve once he made sense of him.

the key was to take note of the tells hayun's body sang so readily and letting them go unanswered for longer than idris would have with anyone else before. once his fingers were inside of hayun, tight around his knuckles but white-hot and wet, he knew hayun wanted more, and not to give it to him. humming in his throat, he watched the movements of his fingers and the trembling of hayun's legs in response, of his whole body, flushed and wanting with nothing to make it give. idris shook his head. " no, darling, i don't think so, " he told hayun and used his other hand to place it on hayun's body, the flat of his impressive abs, to keep him from shifting around more. " i quite like you right here. you'll wait, won't you? because i want you to wait. " his hand on hayun worked as a grounding touch, physical contact, while he teased another finger in, four now. it must burn, but he knew hayun loved that, wanted it to hurt even more. idris couldn't go all the way there yet, but he could give him this. eyes meeting hayun's, so dark and his lashes wet, idris found he was impossibly deep in love with the sight, with him. " you'll keep yourself together. i know you can take it. "

[sachingja]

the road leading to this very moment had been marred by an extensive array of trial and error. there had been others before ian had ever entered hayun's life, before he had ever laid his hand on hayun's skin to leave an imprint of it, men who had touched hayun with less consideration or reverence, but who had shown him enough to understand a few things about the shape of his desire. it felt like a monumental discovery back then, and had never quite shrunken in size until now. whenever he met someone new, the game began again, and hayun had to chart a fresh path into the epicenter of someone else's psych, the heart of their longing, what made them tick, what made the blood rush through their veins, what made their hearts beat quicker and up into their throat. there had been his catcher, once, who found it remarkably easy to answer all of hayun's requests and meet them in kind, clumsy in his eagerness but dedicated, excited at the prospect of getting his hands on someone like hayun, but hayun knew better than to let others exploit him, had learned how to put up necessary guardrails and walls high enough to make it a difficult climb, even harder yet to penetrate; if things got too heated, if they spun out of control, he knew how to protect himself. with ian, it had never been about his defenses. all he had wanted since he first ran into him was to surrender, give himself up completely. he dreamed of ian's hands on his body and his rich voice crawling into hayun's brainstem, where it made a home to stay in, craved his touch and wanted to know what it would be like to be at his mercy, in the palm of his hand.

nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it, the uphill climb they went through together, only for ian to excel at this as well, of course, hayun's most devoted student yet, his most dedicated lover, certainly; every time they did this, it felt entirely brand new in a good way, as if nobody had ever touched hayun's body before. he blinked a few times to dispel some of the tears in his eyes, jaw slack around the width of ian's fingers, the weight of it on his tongue that made him ache for something better, something more; if he would have not been under this spell, he would have crawled towards ian, would have offered his mouth in tribute, would have given him everything he asked for, but that was not what this was about. ian had asked something different of him, of his body, and hayun wanted it more than the liberty of choice: he welcomed this tightly constrained narrative, the cage he had been put in, would choose it over and over again if it meant that he could feel ian's touch for a breath longer. hollowed his cheeks around the digits, tongue laving along the pad of ian's fingers and in the gap in between. by now, he had to look a mess, flushed, drooling, wet everywhere; the thought set something alight within hayun, something distinct and mighty and pleasing, and it was intoxicating to chase that sensation, this greed inside of him that only grew. only ian could manage it, found his way into the cracks in between, and inserted himself there quite comfortably; now, hayun's body could only respond to his voice and his touch. case in point, he thought deliriously, as ian fucked his fingers back into him, one more time to drive hayun towards the brink, that point where every inch of him became sharp and hot, boiled over, and everything else became a blur.

it was almost unbearable, to be held back so severely yet with such a gentle hand. hayun could have easily moved ian off him, could have demanded more, but he did not want to; he wanted it to hurt but he did not want to fight it, and the protest that clambered past his teeth was nothing more than a half-hearted whimper, a breathless gasp as he clenched around the four fingers inside of him, trying to get them deeper, change the angle, always more more more more. his skin felt raw to the touch, only soothed where ian had put his hand on him, every point of contact equally a salve and oil on his flame, and hayun could only burn and burn until every breath threatened to singe his lungs. when he looked at ian, then, he saw the perfect understanding mirrored in his wide, blown eyes, not so unaffected after all, but perfectly composed either way, and hayun had never craved him more. " just a bit, just a little more, " he exhaled on a moan and shook his head but they both knew he was lying, because he would try to hold out, adhere every single word and utterance that fell off ian's lips like a prayer. this was what he was made for, hayun knew, the only thing his body responded to in kind. his leg moved without much of his input, just enough to shift his hips on the bed and allow ian's fingers in deeper, a feeling that was indescribable and made hayun's eyes roll back inside of his head almost immediately. at this point, he would come untouched, his cock flushed and swollen and largely ignored, because ian was as wicked as he was smart, as studious as he was treacherous. played him exactly how he wanted to. it was infuriatingly arousing. " i can take more, please, please, " it was a futile attempt, probably, but hayun couldn't help himself, blabbering, slurred words. " i can be good. "

[sachingja]

[ edge ] sender brings receiver right to the brink, over and over, refusing to let them finish 🌹☀️

this time, it dragged a soft whine from in between his teeth.

he had been so good before, keeping his composure and enduring everything that ian had given him, the small and delicate touches hayun could barely notice, that meant to distract and tease more than anything else, fingertips along the sensitive inside of his thighs, brushing his wrists and collarbone, in the divot of his chest and down the edges of his abdomen. it drove him wild, that his lover's patience translated to nights like these, when the only thing that kept him tethered was the mere presence of ian, his weight on the mattress, his soft and hushed tone betraying his demands, uttered with a solemn resolution that set every inch of hayun on fire. he craved it, the high that came along with it, the delirium on the other side of someone else's command, a firm touch that could sink into him like a stone to the bottom of the ocean; the dark depths he had to grow into, that he used to be too scared of. hayun had spent too many years ashamed of who he was and what he wanted, and every time he approached someone new the game began again. even with ian, he had not been sure how far he could push or if he could ever introduce this part of him without scaring him off. it had been a fickle thing, but the payoff was too good to be true, ian's silent determination to rise to the occasion, to the peak of hayun's desire, was beyond anything he had ever known or had ever shared with anyone else.

it was what had kept him still for so long, even when ian had spread his legs apart and pushed them towards his chest, exposing him to the cool air in the room with soft-spoken orders to stay where he was, to be good and stay still. a part of him always roared against, pushed up against that wall until he would leave battered and bruised, but he knew how to pace himself. ian was good with dominance, but he did not take so quickly to the heavy-handed punishment hayun desired. it would take some time, he knew, but they could get there - the thought of the back of ian's hand striking across his face left hayun shifting on the bed, trying to stifle a soft moan. he hadn't been ordered to be quiet, not exactly, but he knew how these sessions went by now, that this was as much to his enjoyment and pleasure as it was for ian, who became almost eerily silent and studious when he had hayun's body at his disposal, to do with as he pleased. it was exhilarating, and hayun had been hard for so long that it had become a dull ache in his chest, between his legs, in his gut, a slow simmer that only became aggravated when ian decided to fuck three fingers into him until hayun was shaking, his skin flushed from head to toe. what a picture he had to paint; he just hoped ian enjoyed it.

" please, " he breathed, english long lost between them, syllables in his own language that he knew ian would pick up on, anyway, and decide what to do with. usually, he could do this until hayun's entire body was wracked with unanswered, unconsummated arousal, until he was trembling and pleading for every single touch. " ian, " hayun added, but his words came out slurred, heady, almost feverish. when ian touched him next, he couldn't help but push against it and into it, needed the physical contact to ground him; he couldn't remember how many times ian had pushed him to the brink so far, only that he was wet, a mess, flushed and sweat-soaked.

[sachingja]

[ tug - reverse ] sender grips receiver’s hair and yanks their head back to kiss them roughly 🌙📁

it was a dangerous game they were playing, far too dangerous for hideo to ever consider, foolish to even take part in, to grant the boy this much leeway, but it was perhaps a lesson he could only learn when administered in the flesh. like stitches, best to receive without anesthesia, so you could feel the pain of every push of the sharp needle into your skin, a reminder to be more careful the next time. only the body kept the score, but the brain remembered the sensation, the pain that accompanied the memory, and set up defenses accordingly.

perhaps this was what elijah needed, rather than hideo putting up walls that were far too high to scale for anyone but never dissuaded him from trying. eli did not learn in theory, had no desire or patience for theorems, ideas, wise words, hideo had known this for as long as he had known him but never dared or dreamed for it to ever get quite so out of hand. never knew that he could be pushed this far towards the edge of himself, that violent thing that pulsed beneath his skin, begged to see the dead of the night. many of the tales told were true, some of them had never been uttered in the presence of another living thing; there were things that only hideo knew about, that had yet to enter any written record, that died hundreds of years ago on the lips of men and women that would take their experiences to their grave. it was designed to be that way, the intoxicating rush of endorphins leaving nothing but pleasure in their wake; hideo knew all about it, had seen men fall into his arms with a dazed look in their wide eyes, begging him in slurred, incoherent words for things he could give them if he were so kind. a certain death is what they desired, they just didn't know it.

elijah knew, hideo thought, he just didn't care. the boy was so addicted to danger and to physical proximity, how his blood rushed to the surface whenever hideo so much as looked at him, barely touched him. a graze of his hand was enough to double the frantic beating of eli's heart, hideo could hear it and he could smell it, too, the sweet scent of his blood when it warmed inside his veins, when it ran through him in a tantalizing cascade. a wave of desire that filled the air in between them with a spark that clawed at hideo's restraint, his best-laid plans, and his finely honed resolve. and because elijah knew about this certain effect he had on hideo's very being, the fundamentals of his existence, he liked to push and prod, to dig his nails in and demand him to stay and give him whatever he wanted. he had done it yet again, tried to catch him off guard, an impatient little thing that craved hideo's attention and the danger it brought, the violence that betrayed his calm demeanor. elijah had seen what he had done to hideo and he wanted more of it, wanted it to escalate.

fine, hideo could escalate things, could allow elijah in until he was close enough to be trapped in a cage of his own, toothless want. the boy lacked what hideo had, which was precisely why this was ill-advised to begin with, but hideo had contained himself for so long, could only hold out for so much longer, and he had been just a man once, a very long time ago. in the end, it was terrifyingly easy to give in. a soft and ancient longing laying dormant, begging for release, finally heard.

in the end, it was far too easy to drag his palm up elijah's broad back, skin hot the touch and already damp with perspiration, his scent in the air, hitting the roof of hideo's mouth with a potency that was equally as frightening as it was exhilarating and arousing. " is that what you want? " hideo muttered, a rumble in his chest, his voice a rough approximation of what it usually sounded like; he could feel the shift beneath his own skin that signaled the arrival of a monster, the telltale sign of this murderous want never laying low for too long. it was a surprise, actually, that he had controlled himself for as long as he had, as he could, when elijah was the picture of his own desires, a mirror of what he wanted whenever he indulged himself, which was practically never these days. but now, he could have it, it was readily offered to him, and hideo sunk his hand into the messy waves at the back of eli's hair, the boy so pliant as he was moved, so needy when hideo barely had to pull, gasping for breath before hideo had even kissed him. it made the corner of his mouth curl into a sharp smile, a blade, before he angled his head and kissed elijah. a word far too soft to illustrate what they were doing, more tongue and teeth than anything else, hideo breathing in the intoxicating scent, the taste of eli on his tongue enough to make him crave it, too. the sharp glide of his teeth, fangs, he let his eyes slide shut and gave himself over to what was in between them.

" is this really what you want? " he murmured, grip tightening, and he could feel elijah against him, hot and heavy and so wonderfully desperate, and hideo wanted to sink his teeth into him and watch the euphoria replace the urgency of his mad desire.

[sachingja]

We were kids. We didn't know what we were doing. 🎸🐉

in hindsight, it is the simplest imaginable explanation to their shared past, the back and forth they have honed over too many years, a cat and mouse game that never wanted to end, until it did, until it has, of course. alexander isn't entirely too fond of those shared memories, mainly because they remind him of how stupid he used to be, an idiot who made a million wrong choices when he could have made the right one, but then again, perhaps the length of the journey only sweetened the destination. occasionally, he wonders if daisy thinks of it the same way, or if this is all she ever considers, the immaturity of youth clinging to their shimmering, sweat-damp skin, that has driven them in and out of each other's lives and beds in quite an infrequent manner. yet, alex has always been dedicated; no one could have claimed differently, back then, if they were seeing each other, he saw no one else. sure, vito filled the gaps, loved to keep his bed warm with no harm done, but he knew when to retreat. the countless fights they had about this are burned into alexander's brain, another unwanted memory that he will probably never get rid of. well, such is the way of life, he surmises, the past is always quick to judge but the present knows the truth, then. in the face of everything that has transpired between then and now, anyway.

" mhm, i'd say i knew a little about it even back then, " he murmurs, turning to look at her from in between the sheets, his cheek bedded on his arm, one leg in between hers, his free hand trailing slowly upwards the ladders of her ribs to the soft give of her breasts, towards her collarbone. he hums and tacks a small smile on to his words, " definitely not, like, well enough to not behave like a complete idiot, but i knew enough to know you. " he would like to argue that it should be enough, that even ten years ago he already knew that he wanted her, wanted no one else so much, so much so that it infiltrated every inch of his life and his work, which often are the same thing, anyway. case in point, he thinks; there is only so many songs you can write about someone before you ask them to sing just a few words for you. a canary in a coal mine, they just traded places every now and then.

now, there is none of the stifling pressure of the past, only the liberating flow of time that has brought them together. alex leans up so he can press a kiss to her jaw, nuzzle his nose into the crook of her neck to inhale the scent of her skin, something that he misses whenever they are apart. he doesn't know how it could have taken them so long to get their shit together, but then again neither of them is known to be quite so remarkably decisive. that's what managers and band members and the suits from the big labels are for. if alex would have his way, he would play music until he cannot move his fingers anymore, and sing love songs until his voice won't be able to carry the shape of her name anymore. it sounds like the ideal version of his future. " imagine if we wouldn't have met back then. we would have lost so much of our precious youth to other, boring people. " they already had, he thinks, but doesn't say so out loud. it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, anyway. " imagine if you would have married someone else, " again, but he doesn't say that either. the past is just a fluke after all. " that would have broken my heart. "

he grins and flops back onto the mattress, one hand clutched to his chest. winks. " you already broke it often enough as it was. "

[sachingja]

............ vampire oc?