Reconcile
@wyinsu
November settles in, carrying with it redder colors that signal the world to stop and prepare to begin anew. The burning bushes have matured to flare crimson leaves and poinsettias have bloomed. In this way, Earth puts out a warning. It's time to retreat, prepare for the imminent winter and it's isolating cold. While it'd be wise to heed autumn's caution, the lonesome florist finds he has difficulty yielding. It wasn't for any reason driving him forward, instead he was reaching backward to an intimate spring. But the planets continue their orbit and the seasons shift despite all his longing.
Stop. He had been making poor personal decisions for a while now, ruled by anxiety and cowardice. While he could blame Venus in it's state of retrograde for his foolishness in communication, the sour taste lingering on his tongue reminded him that he had made his own bed. He couldn't validate passing off responsibility to the astrological. Though he hadn't admitted it yet, he knew he had made mistakes and wrecked a potentially ardent affinity. Perhaps it's the guilt he feels that prevents him from detaching. So there he was, trying to return to a spring of sweet blossoms and lively hummingbirds.
However reaching out for it wasn't easy. The artist had beckoned him back before, but Roy shut him down with the same excuses he always did. One of the tattoos his ex had painted on him was overdue for a touch up, something Roy had left on the back burner for months. The notion of having it done now was a bitter one. Receiving the ink had been an intimate experience for him; Having his significant other focus so attentively on his skin- Roy had felt like a canvas in those moments. How were they supposed to revisit that in their distance? He tried to fool himself into believing that they couldn't go back to any level of sensuality. But he missed it too much. Even if it wouldn't be the same, he decided to pursue it again.
[ sms; I'm ready for that touch up. Some time this week? ]
The entire day leading up to it, anxiety accompanied him. While in the floral studio his eyes repeatedly fell back to the sketch he kept on the wall and he lingered there for too long, causing a deep rooted ache in his chest. It totaled up to a rather unproductive day, as he practiced in his head over and over the things he wanted to say to the other. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He picked at his fingernails as these words looped again, something he knew the artist would notice later on and he felt all the more nervous because of it. But he couldn't help the guilt that chewed him, as they had argued the last time they met and left each other defeated. He yearned for armistice and reconciliation.
In all his thought and diffidence, of course he didn't leave on time, then continued to pace around the backstreets of Songcheon with a pit in his stomach. What was he so worried about? The apprehension stemmed from his own insecurities and the ruby sky made by the setting sun. He could still turn around. Maybe breaking it off and moving on would be the right thing to do. It would save them the hurting. It would keep them from wasting their time. Still, seeing the painter was what would make him happy. So naturally he ignored the red lights and warning signs.
Once inside the door of the tattoo parlor, his eyes immediately met those of Lee In-su. And Roy melted. He took the cotton mask from his face, folding it into his pocket and slid across the floor a few steps in. All the words he had wanted to say? No where to be found. A childish smile graced over his lips, slowly souring into one bittersweet. In a pool of mixed emotions, he couldn't hide them from his expression, his eyes blinking, his eyebrow twitching. What could he say? What in the world could he possibly utter in all the blame he carried? He stood there mouth agape, fingerings fidgeting, wanting to draw closer yet stuck in their distance. ❝ Do you still have time for me? ❞
