Out In The Black

Formerly a resident of Harvest, then a member of The Browncoats, now the First Mate aboard the ship Serenity. What a wild ride.

[syxmina-blog]

resist and endure

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌:

they’ve always had this habit, the two of them, the twin set of heartbeats throbbing between them, in tuned somehow, a magic thread entwined around them, carrying them together along the same parallel lineage of life– they’ve always been able to read each other, almost on instinct, almost intuitively, as though they burn in the same wavelength, and jaewon has never thought of it as a disadvantage, except once. one time, when she’d looked him in the eye and introduced him to her boyfriend, her eventual fiance– but other than that, excluding that, he’s always known they are of the same feathers, they are of the same breed, their eyes connecting and saying more between them than their lips ever could, their atmospheres melting and shifting in perfect alignment; it’s what makes their strategies so profound, so ironclad, so indomitable. her faith in him, his belief in her, the unshakeable foundations of their understanding of each other.

he knows her, studies her, memorizes the shapes of her features, the timbres of her voice, the trails of her soul; he knows what she’s about to do almost before she does it, so when she presses herself back against the wall only to lunge forward, he’s already in the process of side-stepping out of the way, not to let to her leave of course, but to give her enough leeway room that she doesn’t feel as trapped or caged as she has probably felt for the past few months. he’s not here to scare her, not here to hold her down, tie her to himself by duty or rule, by tether or bone– he knows that’s not the way to catch a bird like sung mina, that’s not the way to admire the skyful of stars lurking in her skin. that’s something he knows that the enemy never could, and that’s why they couldn’t have gleaned anything from her, through torture or isolation or despair. she’s a wide horizon, the scope and breadth of her larger and stronger than anything they could have ever hoped to kill, and that’s why she’s here, that’s why she could rescue herself, why she could topple any mountain and conquer any feat. that’s why jaewon glows for her and would never bring himself to hold her back.

but this is not her finest moments, and he does follow her the few steps that she makes before crumbling to the ground, her knees wobbling and thin, her legs destroyed to point of atrophy, the sinew withered and raw, bones protruding in all acute, sharp angles, and he watches her tumble and mutter, his palms outstretched to the ready, his eyes dark and aching, bottomless. he approaches her carefully even without the threat of her scalpel, his wounded apple-pie girl, the roots of her tree-stuck-sturdiness bending and waning in ways he never wants to see from her, and he slowly descending down behind her to scoop her up into his arms. she’s frail and fragile and he tries not to think about how small her body is as he fits her against him, makes himself a house around her, makes himself a bonfire, simmering and warm, his scarred arms gently curling around her lightly, the hint of freedom still available should she shove him away and decide he’s still only a mirage.

“i can’t promise you’re not dead, i’m not even sure i’m not dead yet, i’m not sure this isn’t hell. but you’re with me and i’m with you.” he leans away from her a bit to brush her mangly, grungy hair from her face, his hand weathered and worn from a lifetime of fires and mistreatment, his touch only rough-edged and sour, like rest of his body, like his heart, like his voice, like his future. “i’m here, mina, i’ve got you. it’s okay.”

At first, Mina doesn’t trust what she’s hearing or seeing.  He certainly couldn’t be there.  It would be too nice of the universe to let her see him after everything.  Even if she really has made it back to camp, he had to be out on a mission somewhere else.  The world wasn’t this kind to her.  And yet.  And yet, of course he still had to be at camp.  As if he would not fight through hell itself to see her again—just as she would to see him.  An unshakable and incomprehensible bond that transcended space and time couldn’t be broken by mere torture.  Even if her mind was too muddled to remember his name and all the adventures they had been on clearly.  If she is dead, she shouldn’t be this pleased to see him.  And if he is another mirage, perhaps it was her mind giving her a small reprieve from everything.

But no.  He puts his hands on her and it is clearer than ever before that her journey wasn’t imagined.  That she made it back and he was there once again to pick up the pieces and help her put herself back together.  The moment he pulls her close, Mina all but falls against him, body weak and tired and mind hardly faring any better.  Unconsciously she sniffs as tears prick the corners of her eyes but don’t fall just yet, too tired to even exert the energy to do so.  She curls into him, suddenly finding that his presence protected her from the outside and maybe just maybe they wouldn’t find her there. Maybe she could hide there for a little while longer.

He brushes her hair aside and Mina finally cries.  It is neither loud or obvious.  Tears run down her cheeks in relief, confusion, exhaustion even as she looks up at him regarding him as the sun and stars she always believed him to be. Carefully, slowly, Mina raises a hand to brush her fingertips over his cheek.  “You’re really here,” she marvels at him thinking that he’s the best thing she’s seen in a thousand years despite the weight of the universe pressed on his shoulder.  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.  You’re really here.  You’re—fuck.” She sniffs and looks down to wipe her tears away, almost embarrassed but unable to find the will to be so.  “I missed you,” she admits quietly in her hand though she knows he can hear her.  It feels like a weakness after all this time to say it but nothing has ever been truer. More than anything, Mina had missed Jaewon and it is a fact he deserved to know.

[syxjaewon]

‘and in the end i’d do it all again’

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌:

she hesitates in his arms longer than he would like her to, her grip on herself and her emotions clamping down over her countenance, freezing the atmosphere around her, tensing her air into a tight string, the sound of their heartbeats threading between them uncomfortably, his chest near her back. he wants to see her face, almost desperately, almost hopelessly, like every moment from here on out is hinging on this moment, as though she holds the key to the next ten years of his life in the palm of her hand, the next move entirely up to her– and he supposes it sort of is. he can’t step any closer to her, he can’t admit anything else, his tongue will not let him, his feet will not let him, the ghosts howling in his ears won’t let him. happiness is for other people, right?

but when she does turn around, the feeling that spreads through his veins is not a new one, it’s not unfamiliar, though it rings quite painful just the same, unexpected just the same, because it reminds him of harvest, it reminds him of midnight stargazing and playful arguments in barnyards, mina teaching him how to ride a horse, mina singing along with a banjo, mina laughing as the lights dance around her head, and jaewon just staring, staring, staring. he could stare at her for an eternity, he could harbor her footsteps in his ears, the scent of her shampoo in his nose, the silk of her hair on his fingers, forever if she asked him to. they don’t belong together, they don’t belong to each other, but he’d set the whole sky on fire if it meant he could show her the stars once more.

once upon a time, he’d learned a song on a guitar, played it for her, a love song, a confession song, raw, untangled emotions vibrating from the instrument, from his lips, from his eyes, as clear as he could possibly bring himself to be, and she hadn’t reacted. she won’t react this time as well, he’s sure of it, and he’s already resigned himself to stepping away, to retreating back into the navigation room, back into the darkness, back into the haze of booze and solitude and self-torture, the flames of his history licking at his soul, eating him alive.

when she steps forward though and grabs at him, he almost flinches, thinking she’s about to hit him again, the muscles in his neck straining, the air in his lung suspended, gold eyes widening just a hair, positive he’s about to receive another lashing.

but this… this is a different sort of hurt. she reels him in and presses them together like mismatching jigsaw pieces she’s urgent to force in unison, their lips colliding, their teeth colliding, and jaewon loses his balance for a moment, his feet stumbling to uphold him, his hands reaching out again for stability. and they find her. his grip makes purchase on her hips a little too tightly, his breathing hitching as the space between them disappears, and everything warm and confusing floods through him and around him, eyelids fluttering shut as he leans into her. his head tilts, his hands slide around her further, and before he knows it, he’s got her in a cage of his own arms, his limbs winding around her to clutch them together, fingers knotting in her hair on the back of her head, his lips sucking and nipping at hers until she opens her mouth wider, until she lets him in, until he can taste the heat of her tongue, until it fills his head, makes him dizzy.

he kisses her like she’s air and he’s drowning, drowning in this moment, drowning in this hallway, in the middle of space, in the middle of the night; he kisses her like she is every star in the sky, the ones he’s named and the ones he still wants to explore. he kisses her the way holy men kiss altars– full of devotions and prayers and hopes and distraught– kisses her the way battleships kiss dry land, the way suns kiss planetary horizons, the way he’s dreamed of kissing her since he’d first realized he was in love with her, a hundred, thousand years ago. he kisses her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

and when there’s no more breath in his lungs, he breaks the connection for just a moment, opting instead to press his forehead against hers, but keeps her body flush up against his, tight within the bars of his arms, contained like the stars he aches to touch. “i… i guess not.”

For the first moment when they crash together, Mina almost retreats.  Fear grips her heart that she’s read him wrong once again in her half-intoxicated state.  That she was reading between the lines, far too hopeful for a connection that did not truly exist.  Or maybe it did.  Just not in the way that Mina always wanted it to.  There with her eyes closed and fingers grasped in his coat, she can almost smell the honeysuckle in the air, almost feel the warm summer breeze in the air. She can almost hear the gentle reverberations of a guitar in a barn playing the sweetest melody she had ever heard.  

Mina had never gotten the chance to tell him that.  It had never been the right time.  Nor the right place.  And she had thought that maybe he had forgotten.  Or, even worse, that Mina was merely practice.  After all, what are farmgirls compared to the wiles of the alluring women in space?    

The thought that maybe it had been for her.  That the world hadn’t fallen apart that night when her attention was called elsewhere, and she never found the courage to ask him about it again.  That maybe he didn’t hate her for being unable to leave home until it came to the ravages of war and the call to protect others.  That is enough to steal her breath away from her.  But it is his hands that land on her with such finality that makes her spirit soar.  It could be her.  Maybe it had always been her just as it has always been him.

She stumbles back slightly, nearly hitting the wall, surprised by his loss of footing but uncaring if it meant he could be closer to her.  But his movements are all the encouragement Mina requires to lean into him like it is the easiest thing in the world to do.  Easier than breathing.  A hand slides up to bury itself in his hair, mussing the tresses slightly and almost tugging but not quite.  Vaguely she recalls the kisses she’s stolen from him before, drunken mishaps and bad decisions that he thankfully never managed to remember.  If she thought about it too much, Mina would be left warm and wanting, wistful of what could be and what should be.  This, however, could hardly cover what her mind could concoct as she replayed the events or dreamed up other ones.

The pair had always shared an odd bond.  One that made them an indisputable team and a dangerous obstacle for their enemies. Why should kissing him be any different really?  Mina clings to him as if it is the last thing she’ll ever do, the only thing she wants to do ever again.  Her heart beats wildly against her chest as if it’s trying to escape into his own, for it has always belonged to him anyway.  She doesn’t even have the sense to be embarrassed by it, too dizzy by his scent, by the taste, by the warmth encompasses them in a protective bubbled here in this cold hallway.  At that moment, for Mina, there is no crew, no mission, no cargo to find.  There is only him, her, and the infinite galaxy she always wanted to explore that encompassed everything he is.            

Mina isn’t sure how long it lasts, the pair of them tangled together, but the moment they part she wants to kiss him again.  And again. And she almost does.  On instinct, she starts to move forward, her gaze locked on his mouth, only stopping when she realizes that maybe something needs to be said—an explanation at least.  Jaewon seems as flabbergasted as herself and just as unwilling to pull away and for that, she’s grateful, not sure if she could stand to be away from him. Not now.  It takes her a moment to realize that she should say something, that she should explain herself.  But her mouth is dry and all she can think about is how it should have always been like this.  

Finally, Mina looks up at him with wide eyes, vulnerable and somehow still nervous.  Somehow still unsure.  How can she possibly convey how important he is to her?  How can she get him to understand once and for all?  She licks her lips slowly, carefully, half trying to remember his taste and half nervous.  “It’s you.  It’s always been you Jaewon.  No one could change that, no one’s been able to change that even when they tried.” She doesn’t speak above a whisper, knowing good and well he can hear her and for once she isn’t scared to let him.

The hand on his coat smooths out and slowly travels upwards until her fingertips gently caress his jaw with a delicate, feather-light touch almost afraid he’d disappear like smoke before her eyes.  “I always thought you knew,”  Mina admits in that same quiet voice, unsure of herself but so certain in this.  It had always been him.  Who else could it be?    

[syxjaewon]

‘bed bugs’

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌:

the dream that night still holds a whisper of howling, still stings with shrapnel and shell-shock, still tastes vaguely of charred corpses and nausea and heat-sickness, but those are voices on the wind, those are melting backdrops to the main scene of jaewon sitting and counting stars from the fields sprawling outwards from mina’s backyard. at first he thinks he’s alone, but then mina is there of course ( because what sort of dream would it be without her and what sort of visit to harvest would exclude her? ) but sometimes she’s sitting over on the other side of the blanket, giving the stars some ridiculous names, and then other times she’s nestled up against his chest, soft and warm and scented in vanilla and apples and peace. and it’s stressful for him because occasionally soohyuk is there, with dark, beady eyes and sharp cheekbones, staring at them in betrayal and hatred, and jaewon isn’t supposed to be enjoying himself so much whenever she’s leaning back against him like this, and he knows he has to hide it, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to do so each time the scene shifts back and forth. he’s only able to hold her whenever soohyuk blips out of existence but he can’t ever predict when the asshole is about to come back, so he’s left scrambling again and again and again, and at some point he honestly just wishes he were having a dream about the war, just to be straight-forward about it at least.

when he wakes up, it’s because of his own movement, his arms reaching out as he shifts forward and twists, his body already knotted and wrapped around and between the blankets and the girl, and he can’t tell whether her arms are winding over him or if his are winding over her, but they are tied together via the sheets. and even as he rolls over on top of her, the instinct to cling tighter, more securely, to touch more of her skin, to absorb more of her heat, to bury himself in the scent of her hair and her neck and her pillows, he doesn’t realize anything is amiss about it, landing his torso on top of her and cuddling down against her, his fingers curling into her clothing and the fabric, his muscles relaxed and exhausted at the same time. the dream still sits hazy on the tip of his mind, the desperation still tingling in his mouth; the need for touch, the need for connection.

he doesn’t realize– until it’s too late, until his lips part, until the gut-seated urge breaks through walls and walls of mountain-thick resistance and he grazes the edges of his teeth over the sensitive skin of the nape of her neck, his bite soft and drowsy and hungry for something else, something more carnal.

and that’s of course exactly when everything snaps into sharpened focus, his soul jolting back into his body, his senses rising on high alert, the lightning zapping through him in absolute dread, because there’s no way– there’s just no way she wasn’t awake for that, no way to salvage that misstep, that mistake, that breach of the unspoken contract set between them. friendship. uncomplicated. platonic. his body damn near solidifies as he gets whatever grip he can on the bedding beneath them and pushes himself off her, gold eyes wide and piercing and terrified.

Despite best efforts and intentions—which is to say Mina didn’t try all that hard—she falls asleep once more before too long.  It is an odd dreamless sleep for the most part.  Images flit across her vision but nothing she ever remembers for more than a second.  It isn’t often that Mina has a dreamless sleep, her overactive mind prone to either horrible nightmares, fever like dreams or the occasional hopeless wondering that jolts her awake at night.  For now, all that her mind seems to consider is that she is warm and at peace—for now, that would be enough.  

At some point or another, Mina starts to wake up as she realizes that she’s moved.  Instead of laying on her side, she’s on her back and the pleasant warmth has pulled her closer somehow.  For an agonizingly long moment, Mina has to force herself awake enough to remember that it is Jaewon that is next to her, that he’s the source of comfort she’s taken solace in.  Her eyes are bleary, only opening a crack, but he still seems asleep as he shifts closer to her.  And Mina, the selfish creature that she is, grips at his shirt and wraps a leg around his, unwilling to let him go.  Sleep drunk and content, given the chance she's staying here for as long as possible despite the dull warning in the back of her mind.  

It takes her a moment still to realize just how close he is when suddenly teeth graze her neck and Mina finds herself suddenly very much awake.  Goosebumps erupt over her skin, a dull shiver works its way down her spine and before she can help it, before she can stop herself, a small—almost imperceptible—whine parts her lips traitorously.  If she was bold, she might tell him to do it again, that she craved his attention more than anything else.  Especially in these early hours of the morning.  Instead, Mina slowly forces her tired eyes open enough to look up at him, a sleepy, easy smile on her lips.

She considers pulling him down and returning the favor.  She considers flipping them over and kissing him before he can even protest.  Maybe if she was lucky he’d be half asleep enough to go along with it if only for a moment.  Her fingers ache to do so and the part of her she’s locked away for so long practically growls with disdain at her indecision.  But it is the wide, terrified gaze of Jaewon that stalls whatever seductions she could possibly concoct towards him.  Whatever he was dreaming of likely wasn’t meant for her. And, as annoyed as that made her, Mina couldn’t be completely unreasonable.  

She yawns and carefully sits up enough to wrap an arm around him, her face pressed against his neck as she sighs sleepily.  “Come back, I’m cold,” Mina mumbles as convincingly as she can, trying not to acknowledge the goosebumps still on her skin.  Or how her lips move against his neck as she speaks, still half asleep as she presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw.  It takes her a moment to realize what she’s done, but Mina doesn’t panic, she only yawns quietly and closes her eyes.  “You’re warm,” she adds quietly, not even sure if Jaewon would hear her.      

[syxmina-blog]

He, too, shared in her laughter, but only so much that his eyes did not crinkle. As she spoke, he couldn't help but think to himself that Mina would make a spectacular business woman. "What you need is a hot cup of tea." Michael said with a hand planted on the table. "I'll be right back."

“Or whiskey.”  She tries again, knowing that it will fall on deaf ears.  Though she’d admit that maybe a cup of tea wouldn’t be so bad.  And maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drink this early in the day.  Even if time really didn’t mean much in space.  Mina sighs quietly and shakes her head.  “Okay, fine, tea then.”  

[syxmina-blog]

the world spins on

[syxmina-blog]

syharper‌: 

harper is glad when her words and actions pull amusement from mina, thereby acquiring the intended results. she grins back at the other woman for a moment longer, before they both seem to fall back into the behaviour that is currently needed to guide and steer the rest of the crew around. she listens calmly to what mina has to say about the subject, considering the people they have and the ones who are currently still capable of working, then straightens a little more as mina turns away.

but when the first mate speaks again, telling her to send anyone over to the bridge if they need anything, she can’t help it. instantly her body straightens again and she makes another salute with a “ma’m, yes, ma’m.” the grin she sports is audible in her tone, but she doesn’t drop her hand from the salute until mina walks off, and then she instantly turns around to head off to her own job.

she doesn’t sneak, nor does she make it too obvious, she simply walks through most of the rooms where people are gathered and takes in their wounds as well as general look. it seems most of them are tired or wounded, but most importantly there is no sign of the chef. so she quietly speaks to a few of the other people that still look capable, inquiring with a few of them whether or not they’d be able to make some food together. when eventually she’s got a set of three headed for the kitchens, she then goes to check on the infirmary.

people are being treated one after the other, the medic more than busy enough with everyone who has suffered injuries from the fight. some of them are like her and will treat their own wounds, most probably, but some of them have no choice other than to let the medic help them out. the wounds are either too bad to treat themselves, or they’re near passing out from loss of blood.

a lot of risks seem to have been taken tonight, and harper kind of grumbles about the aftermath of it - not in the least the fact that their captain is out cold. mina has a point stating that they should go somewhere safe for a while, but then what is safe for a smuggling ship? luckily the first mate sounded like she had an idea, because harper really can’t come up with anything much, honestly.

her feet take her further through the ship, going around, speaking to people, sending those with questions or a want to do something on to mina so she can delegate them to a next step. she’s careful in phrasing her wordings just so that everyone knows harper considers mina to be in charge for now - with no question on that authority. when eventually the food is ready, she makes sure almost everyone manages to get a plate or a bowl, something warm to fill their stomachs, something hearty so they’ll know they’re alive.

and the first mate is not left out of that, of course. harper calmly makes her way over to the bridge herself, a tray in hands on which she’s balancing food for mina as well as the current pilots. she holds it out to the first mate first, of course dipping into a low bow next without even spilling a drop of what’s on the tray. and when she straightens, the grin is back automatically.

“your supper, milady.”

The moment she stepped on the bridge, she knew that she wouldn’t leave until they reached their destination.  The gnawing paranoia in the back of her mind doing absolutely nothing to help her relax as they put distance between themselves and their enemies.  She couldn’t even think about relaxing again when there was too much to do.  Not when she had duties to fulfill even if they could wait for a moment for her to take care of herself as well.  Admittedly, Mina has no intention of stopping to eat, despite her earlier orders to Harper. It seems the pilots don’t plan on moving either, even when she reminds them of it.  

That and she’s not too keen on manipulating someone she truly cared about to guarantee safety.  Not that she couldn’t do it—but Mina certainly wasn’t going to like it.

If she paused to think about it, she might be surprised by how readily the others listened to her.  Mina, after all, isn’t the softest around and she has made a point to keep her distance from the crew for the most part.  Perhaps they’re just as eager as she is to get away from danger and at that moment, she seems to be the most level-headed.  Or perhaps Mina hasn’t been as standoffish as she attempts to be and they actually trust her.  Either way, she isn’t going to try and figure it out tonight.  No, tonight she’ll stand at the bridge, immovable and resolute, hands behind her back and her face the perfect mask of patient indifference.  

Then Harper arrives and suddenly it is very hard to keep a smile off her face.  

“What am I the queen of the galaxy now?”  Mina drawls with a roll of her eyes.  But her hands reach forward automatically and take the offered plate and the smile on her face is an inevitable give away.  She gestures for Harper to take the food to the others as well, far more concerned about them than herself.  “Stop feeding my ego woman before it’s bigger than this ship, honestly.”  Despite her grumblings, her stomach reminds her just how hungry she is, and Mina gratefully eats a little.  

[syxmina-blog]

Mina wasn't lying. The concern in her eyes was evident, but to see her smile was enough for Michael to relax. "You are tireless, Mina. We need to talk to Jaewon about getting some mahjong or pai sho tiles. Otherwise, I fear you might lose your mind."

At this, Mina laughs, throwing her head back and letting out a hearty chortle.  “We ain’t about to waste finite resources on things like that.”  Even if it did sound nice.  She hadn’t been one to indulge in such things in a very, very long time.  “I lost it a long time ago you know that.  What I need is a stiff drink.”  She stretches her arms above her head and lets out a jaw-popping yawn.  “Maybe two drinks.”

[syxmina-blog]

"Shall I pour your tea?" Michael wonders with a goofy smile on his face as he goes to sit with her. "You look like you could use a facial. What's with the long face?"

She’s exhausted.  Perhaps that is an understatement.  Mina hasn’t managed a good night sleep in weeks, paranoia gnawing at her heels as they journey through the vast, dark highways.  Michael however hasn’t ever let Mina’s sour expressions stop him from wandering over and talking.  Not that she really minded--despite her raised brow and heavy sigh.  “I always want tea.  But you going to give me a facial?”  She almost grins and shakes her head.  “Dunno, tired, ain’t a thing to be concerned about but that just makes me more concerned.”  He knows this about her surely, but she’s not too keen on saying much more.

[syxmina-blog]

it is here the sun shines bright

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌:

he glides the shirt up over his head and messy mane of dark, unruly hair, careful not to irritate the still-healing gashes on his skin, particularly his back and arms, years worth of snags and sun-scars scarring him even as a child, not to mention the whippings and brand of number seared and charred into his collarbone, the numbers still red and raw, still a wound, still a curse. he was never a slave but he feels a sting of embarrassment from it, knowing he’ll never have to touch a mine or a household appliance but still be seen by the general community as a rat or an escapee; the blaring “192445” announcing his secondhand citizenship on any planet he goes to now, forever haunted by valluria’s barbaric slaving system.

still though, that shame isn’t fully enough to bring him to discomfort in changing right there in the middle of the living room, years and years of a lack of privacy built into his system of understanding, having grown up with a dozen or more other kids, all in one hovel together, no rooms, no beds, no personal space, nothing much more than an abandoned cave with walls and a door. he doesn’t care if the girl speaking to him sees him, doesn’t care what she’s doing or wondering about, only focuses on the fact that these clothes might be the nicest, cleanest things he’s ever worn, and that the pants are slightly too big in the waist– obviously crafted with a well-fed boy in mind.

the fabric hangs off his thin, bony hips, defined ab muscles only formed from extreme exertion under pressure and half-starvation, his figure partially shrouded by the oversized colorful shirt, the buttons and holes on it confusing since he’s never buttoned anything before. he fiddles with the pieces of it for a long while, frowning and glaring down at the strange puzzle that is this shirt, wondering how anyone thought this was a good idea in terms of clothing. in valluria, the apparel and textiles are draped together, tied and fastened in long flowing threads, creating shapes that mirror rays of sunshine and gusts of wind, thought directly of protection against the sands and storms, something these tiny little holes would do nothing for. he struggles with it for what feels like a strained hour.

“that’s fine,” he acknowledges, not voicing his concern that perhaps she’s stalling, perhaps she’s waiting for someone else to come and subdue him, perhaps she’s holding off so that she can poison him and chain him up and sell him to the highest bidder– stop. breathe. he must remind himself he’s not on the desert planet anymore, he’s not alone anymore, the ship is still within running distance, vera had promised she wouldn’t leave without him. she wouldn’t leave without him, right? he sees her set the plate down beside the couch in the corners of his eyes, the small blue, red, and green pieces dotting the ceramic, along with a blob of some brown stuff, and the air inside his lungs tightens, his already-bulging stomach squeezing. “what are those?” they look wet and bulbous– nothing like the dried, fermented types of fruits vallurians eat, and he inches closer to them to sniff and glance up at her, fingers still knotted in all these damn buttons.

Upon the realization that Jaewon is having troubled with buttoning up his shirt, Mina has two thoughts.  One, that she probably should have grabbed something easier to wear. And two, that she’s surprised not everyone knows how to navigate them.  Even though she does remember having a bit of trouble with it herself the first few times she wore it.  She supposes that not everyone has overbearing brothers that will stand behind and in front until they’ve managed to make something presentable to show the public.  This isn’t the first time in the last hour or two she’s realizes how different this boy is from her and it certainly won’t be the last.  But it is the first time that she’s actually a little annoyed.  Just who was looking after him anyway?  He’s skin and bones and can’t even button up a shirt, bless him.

Mina pops the rest of the blueberries in her hand into her mouth and walks the rest of the way over to him briskly.  She doesn’t ask for permission, doesn’t wait to see if it’s okay before swatting his hands away from the shirt, pulling him to stand up straight.  “Honestly, boys are useless,” Mina mutters under her breath as she starts to unbutton his shirt for him again.  “Blueberries, apples, grapes, strawberries and peanut butter, I didn’t know if you liked your apples with peanut butter like my brothers.”  She straightens the shirt out a bit before nimbly buttoning the shirt properly this time, taking the time to smooth out any creases in the shoulders.  Mina doesn’t even think about how much she’s invading his space in that moment.  She doesn’t care.  All that matters is that he leaves her home presentable and well fed.  For a moment, she thinks about rolling up his sleeves as well.  Instead, she buttons the cuffs where they are, carefully and quickly.    

At this point, she’s almost offended at any skeptic look he might give her.  If he wanted to leave it wasn’t as if Mina could overpower him.  And she wasn’t likely to chase after him either, there wouldn’t be a point to it.  But at least he seems intrigued by the food and that placates her well enough.  “Like I said I ain’t gonna bite you or nothin’ it’s just fruit.  Might be too sweet for you I don’t know.  Where are you even from anyhow?  What kinda place doesn’t have apples?”  

Ah but she’s biased.  Mina still uses the same recipes her mother used for apple pie and tarts and a sweet homemade wash of apples and vanillas that her mother invented.  Their staple crop in the fall being apples as well. She couldn’t fathom a place without them or anyone who hadn’t tried them before.  The fruits of the season were the sweet, delicate reminders of the festivities to come and the cool days slowly approaching.  The days that meant more play that work and a chance to mill about town and mingle with old friends.  Did this Jaewon character ever have that?  “Proper answer if you would, otherwise I’ll start thinkin’ I’m conversating with myself and my brothers think I’m bonkers enough as it is.”        

[syxjaewon]

‘and in the end i’d do it all again’

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌:

“i’m not saying shit because i think you’re going to leave, i know you’re not going to leave.” his voice is a whisper, tentative even as the words themselves bite slightly, sting on their way out his throat, even the option of thinking about mina leaving is painful and unimaginable to them both– for all jaewon’s insecurities, he does really trust her to stay with him. and that’s sort of always been the problem, they are stuck to each other, entrenched in these battles side-by-side even at its most toxic, even at its darkest hour, the once-bright friendship they shared twisting and morphing into something that scratches jaewon’s heart every time their eyes meet. she’d said the word friend and he’d practically bit her, practically threw her down and sliced her open, all his pent up frustration on the matter of being something he wishes he weren’t, of being less than what he wants, that is what is burning between them, and it’s not mina’s fault. he knows that.

she’s more or less correct about one thing though: he’s not hers. she sleeps at night and he’s not there, she eats her breakfast and he’s not there, she burns in the fury of an icy universe, all the stars coalescing in her skin and her eyes and her touch, and he’s not there. smiles like morning sunlight, laughter like a song, vanilla and apples and tree roots reaching deep into the heart of harvest memories, and he’s not a part of that, not a part of her, not held in her atmosphere because she is old enough and strong enough to allow whoever the fuck she wants to be there and disregard whoever the fuck she doesn’t. he says the word ‘mine’ and knows it’s only half true, knows it doesn’t resonate in her the way it does in him, knows she stays with him out of loyalty and duty and reliance and friendship.

and friendship. and friendship. and he needs to figure out how to reconcile himself with that.

“i shouldn’t have hurt you.” again, it’s a murmur, a prayer hushed into the folds of her hair almost soft enough that perhaps she can’t even hear it, the closest he could ever come to an apology, and only for her, only for the girl of his childhood, only for the woman he respects more than anyone else alive, and it’s the truth. he’d lashed out at her yes, but he’d wanted to hurt himself more than anything, and somehow hurting her hurts him and for whatever reason in the navigation room, his fingers pressed to the silk of her skin, their breaths held like promises between them, that had made sense for a hot minute. but the way she’d screamed about soohyuk, about seolhyun, about him– it wasn’t worth it.

it wasn’t worth her crying, something he knows she’s trying to hide, face turned slightly away, lungs hitching between his arms and against his chest, the hurricane of her raining against the metal flooring of the ship curling around them, and he wants to help her stop, wants to keep her intact, as unbreakable as he knows her, wants to wipe them away or at least just not be as useless as he constantly is. but he can’t move, can’t shift out of formation, can’t reach up to her because he is only a tower, he is only a mountain, he is only a sun, scarred and blazing. he’d burn her. like he burns everything else.

so he loosens his hold on her slowly, intending on simply letting her go, letting her retreat back into her room, and he won’t stop her, he won’t call out to her, he won’t bring any of this up in the morning, because that’s how jaewon is for his crew who crumble around him, that’s how he protects them, shields them, saves them, by letting them hurt and fall and stitch themselves back together again in peace. mina is different from everyone else, mina is special, mina is the name carved into every bone on his body, but if she wants to keep her pride, keep her solidarity, keep her emotions to herself, he’ll let her and he won’t drag anything else out of her. he won’t keep her.

before she’s completely out of his grasp though, his body moving away, air flooding in between them, but his hands still on her shoulders, his face still pressed into her hair, he confesses the real answer to the question she’d demanded of him earlier. “i hated soohyuk because he had you. that’s why.” and then he lets her go entirely.

It is his hesitancy that is more concerning than anything else.  For Mina, she had always felt that it had been herself that held back—that tried to understand the boundaries of their relationship and find comfort in them. To see Jaewon whisper reassurance, to have him try to placate her is odd, uncomfortable even.  But more so she hates it because of how much she needs that comfort in this moment.  She feels akin to an exposed nerve as he holds her in the dark hallway, tears falling from her eyes, as he assures her he knows she won’t leave.  As if there was any other option.  As if he didn’t know Mina had sucked herself into his gravitational pull long ago.  She isn’t his and it’s a travesty to her heart that someday Mina would have to get over.  She almost laughs.    

He doesn’t have to say anything more for Mina to sense in the air that he isn’t understanding her words. That everything is getting muddled by her overwhelming traitorous emotions as she crumbles against him.  Blinking away her tears quickly and reminds herself that there is still duty and work in the morning, that all this could be forgotten. Even if she would certainly mull over this in private for years to come wondering if something could have turned out differently if she could have said something differently.  But perhaps that time has passed for them if it was ever there at all.  What is Mina compared to the universe, the stars, the sun?  

The near apology surprises her enough to stop her tears for a moment and loosen her shoulders and, on instinct, she almost tries to turn around.  In blinks, Mina recalls all the words she had thrown at him, the venom that had festered under her skin for years pouring out and falling on Jaewon without care.  She had wanted him to hurt as much as he hurt her though it hadn’t really worked.  Mina had never been very good at trying to hurt him without nicking herself in the process.  “No, but I shouldn’t have punched you anyway,” she admits in a quiet, uncertain voice.  Although at the time Mina had felt satisfied by the hit, now all that remained was slightly sore knuckles and a hollowness in her chest.

It may be what she wants but Mina isn’t entirely prepared for Jaewon to let her go.  The sudden rush of cold air, the freedom to move as she wished, surprised her more than she expected it to.  Another stark reminder of why she never cared for the coldness of space, especially not when she’s falling apart at the seams.  Or perhaps it is his words that surprise her more than anything.  In fact, it takes a moment for the words to register as she quietly wipes the tears from her eyes and lets out a slow, shaky breath.  When they do, her automatic reaction is to laugh but she’s too tired.  Then she thinks about running away from him because she absolutely cannot put up with more of his stupidity for another night.  But her feet stay firmly rooted in on the metal floor, unyielding. “Had…me…” Mina mulls over these words for a moment as if trying to deconstruct some hidden meaning behind them that could be there.  Didn’t everyone in town know it wasn’t really true?  Was Jaewon really that much of a fool?  

Before she can stop herself, Mina turns to him and takes a step forward, looking up at him with something akin to surprise.  “Jaewon, do you really know so little about me?”  Even her brothers knew she would have run off at the first sign of Jaewon’s demands. But somehow Soohyuk had her.  And maybe he did, at least to the rest of society. A rule that never mattered to Mina, something so piddly and insignificant that she hadn’t even registered that it would surprise others that she loved another.  

On instinct, Mina reaches out and grasps the front of his coat tightly. The tip of her tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip as she regards him quietly in a moment of hesitation. Perhaps she’s still endowed with liquid courage, perhaps she has the wrong idea, but in that moment Mina does not care.  Without a care for the consequences, she pulls him to her and kisses him with every bit of pent-up frustration and desperation still simmering under her surface.  She knows he’ll likely pull away from her and Mina would have somehow read everything wrong, but in that moment,  she cannot care.  Not with his lips on hers and her hands on him as if it was the way the universe was intended to be.              

[2ne1-pics]

credit

[syxmina-blog]

angels & demons

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌: 

he manages to cough up a laugh, short and gurgly, halfway to a cough he can’t name, something slightly terrifying and reminiscent of a darkness still edging on his vision, still pulling at his seams, still aching in the back of his mind. the movement brings with it pain of course, because everything about life is pain and he is currently walking along the horizons of it, but he still grips and clings to the bed mat below him, nails digging in, teeth clenching tightly, eyes shutting and squeezing against the onslaught, refusing sound to tear through his throat. he doesn’t want to cry out again, doesn’t want to admit this weakness again, the muscles in his neck straining against the force as she makes a joke and then rips his leg open.

he tries not to think about it, tries to remember good pieces and splotches of the war, times when their singing could be heard over the battlements, across the fields of blood and gore, across the planes of death and ghosts, over the wailing, the sobbing, the broken, grey heap of it all. he tries to remember not the ending, shrouded in misery and defeat, misplaced hopes and disappointment stronger than anything jaewon’s ever felt before, but instead on the faith he held for his garrison, for his troops, for his crew. for mina, a comrade in life and in arms. he tries to think about the times she was there, instead of the times she was not, despite her bringing up those very vivid months of worry and fear. “oh come on, mina, you know you’re the only one who could ever shove me and not get in trouble for it, regardless of the situation.” which may or may not be true– he’s not sure. she’s rarely ever done it.

he disagrees with her though, but he doesn’t really want to tell her why, wishes he could see her perspective on the verse around them, wishes he could hold himself to her truths. it’d be nice, if not a little doomed, to think of things with such finality, such certainty. but he falls asleep each night to the screaming in his ears, the howling ghouls and their reaching fingers, each one knowing he belongs with them, each one drenched in the life he lives only because of them, and he wonders if it’s some sort of trade-off to keep death sated for longer. jaewon kills and saves himself, like offers to an old god. borrowed time built on a throne of skulls, all the moments stretched out in front of him of when he should have died but didn’t, of when he could have been lost but wasn’t, from that first memory beside the dumpster, all the way up to now.

yang jaewon is living with a thousand massacres buried deep in his chest, scarring his flesh and riddling his shadow; it’s impossible for him to imagine pieces of him are not already dead.

“maybe it was foolish. but i didn’t have a choice, we wouldn’t have… been able to get out of there without someone taking argent out….” that second is freeze-framed inside his mind, turning the corner, feeling the bullets hit their marks, both from him and from the other man, the reckless seizing of pain, the sudden collapse to the floor, and he knows he’ll be reliving it for years now, the same way he does everything else, the trauma of his history scratching and re-scratching at the tapestry of his life. “and i sure as shit wasn’t about to let one of you assholes take that kind of fall.” and for a moment, he looks up at her with all that same familiar conviction of a captain on fire, determination flooding his veins in the way only yang jaewon can stand, believing his choices to be the right ones, even now on this gurney. mina is important for the ship to survive. his mercenaries protect the merchandise. his crew, his protection. end of story.

he does groan embarrassingly as she tilts him over though, his hands desperate to grab hold of whatever he can manage despite being slippery from the blood and havoc, and shuts his eyes tightly to ignore the way his vision swirls.

If she could be better with words, perhaps Mina would take the chance to explain why Jaewon should believe the way she does.  Or how she has always viewed him as a hero, standing just out of reach as he blazes in his fury and resolve.  But Mina isn’t one to captivate an audience, she doesn’t spin gold with her tongue or admit to her feelings and perspectives too often—not anymore.  Not the way she wants to. How can she possibly explain that it was that resolve that keeps her grounded, that keeps her from fading into something that scares her.  Something that still haunts the back of her mind, vicious, demanding blood and retribution for slights imagined and real. She must believe in finality or she’ll break apart.  

Maybe in some ways, she can understand why Jaewon doesn’t.

“How chivalrous of you, my knight in dumbass armor.”  She mutters this more to herself than anyone else as she peels away his coat to see the worst of the wound on his back.  If she hadn’t already patched up several bullet holes and knife wounds Mina might have grimaced at the sight.  Instead, she turns from him slightly, still holding him on his side and grabs a disinfectant and a cloth near her.  Mina doesn’t even bother to warn him about the stinging, half needing it to keep him awake.  Instead, she douses the wound and cleans around it as the solution bubbles.  A part of her wants to make a joke, something about how he is in desperate need of a shower.  But really, she is as well and she’s too tired to even pretend that there is enough energy left for a joke.

Instead, Mina thinks of rolling hills and sweet-smelling grass.  Of delicate, flaky pastries and pies fresh out of the oven.  She thinks of a home gone and a life missed.  As she carefully wipes away the disinfectant, a twitch of a smile is on her lips for only a moment.  “Do you remember the time I dragged you horseback to Chimney Rock and we sat at the top all night counting stars?”  Mina doesn’t want to talk about the war anymore, about the times she’s had to almost witness his death.  Memories of Harvest are almost as bitter but at least they aren’t paved with blood and remind her of better, gentler times.  With the wound cleaned, she grabs a small container and smears the gel across the wound, intending to relieve some of his pain before dressing that wound as well.  “I’m still surprised you put up with me.”

Carefully, slowly, Mina lays him back down and tries to smile.  But her heart is still thrumming, adrenaline pours through her veins, there isn’t time, there still isn’t time.  Even as his dressings hold, and the bleeding has stopped.  She turns from him, and quickly moves about the room, ignoring her own aching bones as she gathers everything she’d need to make the transfusion happen. Because of course, she had forgotten to do this earlier in preparation—not that they had anywhere to store blood right now anyway but she’s disappointed in herself nonetheless.  Even so, Mina doesn’t hesitate to grab what she needs and volunteers herself for it, after all, she remembers being called a universal donor during the war.  It had to be good for something now.  Though there is little she can do but sit and wait when the tubing is connected and the drip begins.            

[syxmina-blog]

it is here the sun shines bright

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌:

his shoulders instinctually hunch slightly at the girl’s mention of dogs, not that he’s particularly fearful of them, just that he knows what they can do to a person, how their teeth rend and sneer, growl louder than anything he can muster up, claw and scratch and dig and dominate. he knows some people domesticate them, has seen the tall, black mutts the overlords tie to leashes and strings, keep barely fed so that when they go out onto the streets, the animals bark and howl, snap and jerk for anything meaty and juicy within reach. jaewon has witnessed little girls mina’s size be torn to bloody, hideous shreds before, back in the alleyways of valluria, has witnessed the speed and determination pumping through their hind legs as they give chase to the wild rats, to the wild cats, to the wild orphan children stealing because they have no other means to survive.

perhaps all manors are the same on every planet– high walls and dangerous creatures and an overabundance of food– even if the inhabitants differ, even if some places house star-bright girls and their headstrong veracity, their domineering offers of friendship.

he doesn’t broach that topic however, doesn’t infringe on it any more, only needing to wait a moment or two longer for her direction to shift, and he nods to the bit about trading. “vera’s brought a lot with her. says she doesn’t like trading in the bigger cities….” he’s not sure she’s heard him though, his voice not carrying enough wait throughout the whitened space between them, not nearly as unabashed or commanding as this girl’s, the way she addresses the couch with its blankets and the kitchen with it’s plates of food, and then she’s gone like a whirlwind.

he’s cold but if there’s one thing he’s learned in his years on the street, scrounging and raking for scraps in the dust, it’s that nothing is as important as food and chances to eat so much come in far and few between, his naturally built patterns of behavior infused inside every bone of his body, so as soon as she disappears, he turns from the couch and hurriedly collects everything he can manage on the kitchen counter into one spot before him. he considers simply stuffing his pockets and making a run for it, racing back to the ship and hiding in one of its many metal corners, but that might insight the girl to anger and he doesn’t know how powerful she is yet, he doesn’t know how much trade and workings vera might have with her or her family. and deliberately sabotaging possible connections for his new contraband aboard their own spaceship and possibly getting his ass kicked off, isn’t exactly how he’d intended on starting off this interstellar traveling.

but he has to do something with all this food, he can’t simply ignore it and he can’t put it all inside his clothes– she’s about to take them off him and dry them somewhere, exchange them for something else, so that won’t do him any good. his anxiety is rising high just from the thought of it. so by the time she comes tumbling on back down the steps, he’s in the midst of stuffing his mouth with as much of it as he possibly can, whatever is edible, whether he likes it or not, chewing through it quickly and swallowing painfully, disregarding his own comfort for the satisfaction that he won’t be hungry later. as soon as she’s in eyesight though, he steps away from the counter, cheeks near to bursting, determination coloring his face and his dark eyes as he stands his ground and devours the last of it, grimacing yet triumphant.

“that’ll fit.” he steps up to her and takes the clothes, hoping she didn’t see too much just now, and stepping over to the couch to lay them all out flatly across the back of the furniture. even if it doesn’t fit, it wouldn’t matter, he’ll wear it anyway; beggars can’t be choosers and he’s never been one to complain. as it is though, the clothes look immaculate– not a tear or a stain on them at all, and for a moment all he can do is stare, before yanking off his own shirt carefully, mindful not to upset the still-healing lashes on his back and arms, the dark gashes lining his muscles and spine all the way from his neck to his tailbone like inverted wings, memories of the slaver’s whip still stinging as the cloth slides over them.

Perhaps Mina should be offended by Jaewon devouring a large portion of the contents on the counter. If Jaewon had stumbled upon some of the older women in town—or even Mrs. Addan down the way—it wouldn’t go over well. But Mina isn’t completely unobservant. She doesn’t miss his hesitancy, his caution at any amount of decency she gives him.  She may not be the brightest, but she can spot a troubled person when she sees one and he’s the sort of person that needs understanding more than most. And Mina has plenty to spare.

Admittedly, however, she stares at his arms when his shirt is tossed aside, appalled by the angry marks and she swallows down the urge to offer help, her hands instinctively starting to reach forward.  Mina isn’t sure he would want any sort of help or sympathy for that matter.  After all, she must seem privileged and perhaps compared to him she is.  But she wasn’t interested in trying to find differences between them—Mina always cared more about the similarities of people.  The things that unite everyone.  It gets her in trouble often, especially with the elders in town.  Her oldest brother tells her that it just means she takes after their mother—whatever that really means.  So, with curious concern bubbling in her brain, she turns and walks into the kitchen slowly, carefully.  “You should eat something a little healthy too at least.”  She mumbles, more to herself than him and turns from Jaewon as she prepares a plate of food and a large glass of water.  

“Just leave your clothes on the couch, I’ll take em out in a minute to wash and dry, alright?”  She doesn’t turn around as she waves towards the couch half worried she’d catch him in the middle of changing.  Now that would be a lecture waiting to happen.  But she’s never been good with silences perhaps fearing too many questions and hums quietly to herself as she cuts strawberries and apples, added them to the plate.  Most of it she had just picked that morning or bought it in town the evening before.  Almost a little worried he’d disappear after she is satisfied with the plate of strawberries, apples, blueberries, peanut butter, and grapes.  “And you know,” for the first time Mina speaks slowly, carefully, not sure how to approach the subject, “it’s okay if you don’t like it.  Like I said, I won’t bite and frankly, I’m no one special.” She chuckles to herself and turns towards him, balancing the plate in one hand and the glass of water in the other and an easy smile on her lips.

Even so, Mina sweeps past him and places the plate near the couch.  “If you don’t like any of it, there’s leftover chicken in the fridge.” Despite the plate being for Jaewon, Mina snatches up a few blueberries and pops them in her mouth, humming in satisfaction.  She turns to him again, head tilting to the side slightly.  “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

[wordpainting-deactivated2023071]

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or in the holy name of liberty or democracy?

Mahatma Gandhi (via wordpainting)

[wnq-writers]

and that was the thing about her, she kept on surviving. with bullet holes in her lungs, and knife marks etched in her back. she never let anything get in her way, resilient. a fighter, not by choice. but a warrior at heart.

k. azizian (via wnq-writers)

[syxjaewon]

‘bed bugs’

[syxmina-blog]

syjaewon‌: 

yang jaewon, the broken boy, the lost rat, all vulturous gold and char-burned black, both brimming with sun-hued rays of burning light and a darkness mirroring the space between stars, whispering of deaths and finalities and regrets; he paints himself in the mesh of both ideals because he must, because someone has to, because this is the only way he knows survival, this is the only place he understands meaning. sand-scarred and venomous, he cascades into the bed beside her, pours himself over the warmed sheets as though he’s never slept on a bed before, and he knows it’s not much and he shouldn’t be so grateful for it, but sleeping alone holds its own demons, and he’s not strong enough to combat them all right now. the war howls in his ears, itching at the wounds in him, drowns in puddles on the floor of his bedroom, and he’d rather stay awake all night long than go back there– which he knows she wouldn’t want him to do.

he buries his face in the bedding she allows for him, thankful for the darkness covering what he hopes is indistinguishable despite her sharp sight; the way her scent affects his body, the way he rubs his nose and cheeks and lips over the linen, eyes pressed closed, pinning himself down so that he doesn’t reach for her. he comes here for salvation and torment, for her calming presence and the aching temptation, something in their combined atmosphere bringing him to an almost comfortable agony. he always wants to touch her, but he always holds back, allowing himself only this, only the bare minimum of her voice in his ear, the midnight playing on his fantasies.

he pulls the blanket up over himself and settles, still cold but better now, careful not to bump into her or infringe too much on her space, hoping the lines of her will act as a dreamcatcher as they drift off together in their separate subconsciousness. he falls asleep thinking about what it’d taste like kissing her goodnight.

There are times that Mina is surprised by her own restraint, her ability to hold back when all she wanted is to act.  She regards him quietly as he falls to her bed and can practically feel her fingers aching to touch him.  And she almost does.  But he seems to almost pay her no mind as he hides his face from her and turns. Automatically, Mina sits up for a moment, only to pull another blanket from a compartment overhead and cover him with it as well.  This is the only time she allows herself to touch him, fingertips dancing over his shoulders briefly, then retracting as if touching fire.  

Mina doesn’t wish him goodnight, doesn’t say a word, no matter how grateful she is to have him with her.  No matter how easy she sleeps when he is there.  Shoving her hands under her pillow, Mina turns from him and wills herself to drift off to sleep quickly before any terrible decisions can be made.  If there was one thing she never wanted to ruin, it was the way he sought her out when the world encroached.  And Mina wouldn’t try to change that just because she wanted to kiss him until she’s breathless.  There are more important things than that.  Finally, hearing Jasper pace back and forth for a while, Mina drifts off to sleep.

When she wakes it is not to Jasper licking her hand as it has been for months now.  Instead it is to the realization that she’s far warmer—and more comfortable—than she normally is.  Realizing there is something solid and warm pressed against her almost makes her drift off to sleep again.  Then she remembers who crawled into her bed late at night and therefore had to be the source of this sudden warmth.  Freezing any movement, Mina peaks her eyes open to find that somehow in the middle of the night she’d managed to roll over and entangle herself in Jaewon.  One arm wrapped around his middle, the other clutching his shirt tightly.  After a moment’s hesitation, she lets his shirt go, smoothing her hand out against his chest, genuinely appreciating the warmth he exudes but not daring to move any further. A small shift and she realizes that somehow, someway, Mina had managed to throw a leg around Jaewon, pulling him closer and letting half her body rest on top of him.  If she wasn’t so worried to wake him, Mina might have screamed in surprise.  This isn’t the first time her unconscious body betrayed her and pulled Jaewon closer. But it’s certainly the first she’s managed to tangle herself against him so completely and apparently without shame.

Groggily, Mina dares to lift her head to see what time it is and upon discovering that they still had hours before they’d need to wake up, she curses under her breath.  Her thoughts run wild with the sudden predicament she faces, not sure which option is the best one.  Should she try and move away as she’s done before and hope that he didn’t wake up?  Or should she stay where she is and apologize when he wakes up?  Create some convoluted excuse as to why she rolled on top of him in the middle of the night.  Maybe he’d buy the excuse that she was cold.  Yes, that could work.  But then again, who was she kidding?  Jaewon could always see right through her.

Mina slowly tries to move her arm around his middle away only to pause when he shifts in his sleep. Was he waking up already?  But he settles down again and Mina feels as though she can breathe once more.  Okay, perhaps trying to move wasn’t the best idea.  But what other choice did she have?  The problem, of course, is that Jaewon is far too warm and his smell is perfectly intoxicating, the sort that haunts her every time he leaves.  She can’t help it, Mina finds herself dozing again, resting comfortably somewhere between dreaming and wakeness suddenly not caring what Jaewon would think.  If anything, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for her to steal this quiet moment for herself. Just this one time.  She just had to make sure to wake up before Jaewon and deal with the problem then.        

[ivanmartinezm]

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[ramonameisel]

Every goddess carries a monster between her bones and iron in her heart.

thoughts #40 | r.m (via rmeisel)