sgneunah·:
(...)
“i want macarons.” she says suddenly, lifting herself up from where she was laying on the couch, fixing the skirt of her floral dress and walking over to get a jacket ( these in between season months are always tricky, and she tries to be a little bit prepared ). eunah looks over her shoulder back at him, smiling with an indescribable tenacity, as if everything hasn’t yet fallen into place. “let’s go? or are we just going to stay in all day.”
she leaves it somewhat ambiguous, a hint of amusement between every syllable, jacket in her hands as she waits next to the closet in an unforeseen move of deferring to him.
––––– ♡ * @sgnwooyoung·
it was a distraction he needed. something he called for much too often, in the beds of others, to take the pain away. through medication for his leg, and the ache in his heart, it often times became too much. often times lead him to the bottom of a bottle, or the heat of another person’s body in a failed attempt to draw out some form of intimacy beyond mindless flirting.
it only called him further when the same people would come crawling back to him, calling for his attention, to reengage in behind closed doors. his constants were his safety blanket, and eunah was perhaps the one constant he, himself, crawled towards. they held a bond that his other flings didn’t. something he needed beyond arguments and heartbreak, all to which had happened much too recently.
perhaps the only reason he’d agreed to come with her, on this trip, knowing exactly what they’d be getting up to. far from innocent, if the looks in their eyes were anything to go by, whenever their eyes seemed to cross. whenever something seemed to flare across features that indicated that they were just slightly more than friends, though far less than lovers. perhaps he should have looked for someone else, someone he had less of a connection with. though he needed this, he’d constantly tell himself, for peace of mind. it certainly didn’t hurt that she was as attractive as she was, he thought, as eyes skimmed over her figure.
a part of him didn’t want the domesticity. not yet.
rising from the couch saw him closing the distance between the two, arms wrapping around her waist, tugging her far too close to be called friendly. this was all they had, after all, “i reckon we should stay here. we can get macarons after, right? they can wait.” voice came out huskier than he’d intended, between the distance that seemed almost non-existent, a facade put on to make it seem as though all of this was purely innocent. they knew better than that.
and in his attempts to keep her in post, he’d dragged her closer to the couch once more, almost hoping she’d drop the jacket in his grasp. only that would offer enough confirmation that she wanted what he did.
