#c;drab

[flightles-s]

"I don't want to see you again."

Lu Han had already fallen in love with far too many postage stamps when Adrian appeared in front of his doorstep wearing nothing but a postcard promise. Actually, appear is the wrong word. Is there a word for.. somersault-kicking someone in the heart? Is there a word for when you're on a rollercoaster and the climb is coming soon, that you know what the climb means, that you can already feel the flip in your stomach from the fall before you've even moved... Is there a word for that? There should be.

You can only fit so many words in a postcard; only so many words in a text, a phone call-- before you forget that sometimes, words are used for things other than filling.. emptiness. It is hard to build a body out of words. Lu Han has tried. Adrian has tried. They have both tried.

Instead of Lu Han being able to slide random flowers into the other's hand, or maybe, lying his head against Adrian's chest like the usual intimate friendship they had, Lu Han would.. write about the child who went into his shop with his mom yesterday, gleefully tugging on her hand, saying, "Mom, please teach me how to bike," From that day on, that kid would bike in front of Lu Han's shop for at least an hour or two, and even when he falls off the bike, he gets right back up, convinced that practice makes perfect. Instead of..holding Lu Han's hand, Adrian writes him about how this stupid co-worker would always complain about his job-- And just.. Practice..? It doesn't make perfect. Practice makes permanent.

Repeat the same mistakes over and over, you won't get any closer to perfecting things. Repeat the same damn mistakes over and over and you don't get any closer, you don't get any closer.

...Adrian.. never gets any closer.

He promised in each of his letters that his words were faithful, "I'll be back," he promises, but Lu Han could only ever hear the lie-- Adrian didn't come back. Was it something that Lu Han had said in one of the letters he had sent; because here he was now, reading the latest letter that Adrian had sent him.

"I don't want to see you again,"

It's scary. How things could change substantially over time. There was nothing left to say, but as stubborn as Lu Han was, he would always send more letters, postcards into space, he needed another response from Adrian; hoping that some mail man somewhere would track him down, and recognize Adrian from the descriptions and distinct strokes of his handwritings, that he will place the stack of letters in Adrian's palms and tell him that...

"Somewhere in this world, is a boy who still writes to you...

...And he doesn't know how not to,"

[flightles-s]

Peppermint.

Peppermint: a candied kiss; our muses fight over the last candy...the one who does manage to grab it gets a sweet surprise, when the other muse kisses them, pulling away with a satisfied smirk, and the sweet treat between their lips.

"Yah, give it baaaaack! I want it," Lu Han whines out loud, his torso huddled over the other as he so desperately reaches for the last piece of candy. It was peppermint, too-- his favorite. With a few ticklish pokes to the other's side, Lu Han finally grabs a hold of the candy, and without further hesitation, he pops it into his mouth. "Hah, I win~" A successful smile covers his lips, proudly patting his own chest.

"H-Hm?" Everything happened so quickly, one moment, he was gloating about how he has snatched the last piece of candy away, and the second, Sehun was hovering on top of him, his hands pinning down Lu Han's wrists on either sides of his head. "S-sehun-ah.." Before he could even protest, his lips has already prevented him from doing so. Sehun's lips were soft, the kiss, gentle. It stayed like that for a few moment before Sehun decided that it was rather fun to start sucking down on Lu Han's lips-- hard enough to earn him a small gasp. With the opening of his lips granting Sehun access to its insides, he sucks the candy from Lu Han's mouth, triumphantly snatching the last piece away.

Lu Han's cheeks flushed. "T-that... was totally u-uncalled for. You d-don't play fair, Sehun-ah,"

[flightles-s]

⌖

⌖ — My muse’s reaction to accidentally shooting your muse.

Lu Han was just passing by— innocent, unknowing, completely unaware of the tradegy waiting to arise. A melon bread was stuck to his mouth while he struggles with two gigantic brown bags loaded with the groceries he just purchased from the supermarket. Sunlight has already passed, the busy streets of Seoul already dying down to welcome those who did their businesses during the night. “Drat, I still need to close the shop… Ah, shortcut!” Remembering the small alley that lead straight out to the street along where his residence lies, he happily skips into the darkening depths of the supposedly abandoned alley way.

Suddenly, rustling noises, light footsteps were being incurred by some…unseen force. “I-is anybody there..?” Lu Han calls out. No response. His footsteps hasten, wanting to safely rush out of the alley way which seemed to grow narrower and narrower with each careful step he takes.

"……"

A loud bang, then there was silence. Various fruits that loaded Lu Han’s brown bag rolled along the dirty streets, as the next thing he knew, he finds himself completely immobile and trembling, sprawled out on the floor. It was painless at first, but the impact—the sudden realization that a murderous weapon had striked his shoulder from behind— a fucking bullet, made the wound sting. Sting to the point where Lu Han emitted an inhumanely defeaning shriek.

Was he dead?

Who could have done such a…dreadful thing?

[flightles-s]

♪ { watch me turn this into a thread >u> }

♪ — My muse walks in on your muse singing to themselves.

Was that..? Lu Han blinks profusely, highly amused by what he was hearing— and seeing. There was a little shake of his hips, too. The smile grew fonder, wider while Lu Han takes cautious steps towards him, planning to have a better understanding of what the other was so happily singing about, along with the intention of keeping his presence in secret, just so he would disrturb him while he has his little ‘performance.’

"That.. Is really adorable," He hears his own voice saying inside his thoughts, while his hand slowly lifts up to hide a small chukle behind his palm while the other carries on with singing mindlessly.

[flightles-s]

✦

Send my muse a ✦ and…

I’ll put my ipod on shuffle and my muse will sing that song to your muse.

Song: Moving Mountains by: Usher

"Lately I’ve been sleeping with a ghost,"

Lu Han stared into another empty space on the bed, his thoughts consuming him. It was as if the bed grew twice its size ever, ever since it started— since he started to think that it was okay not to call when he was coming home late (if, not at all), or when he started to take things into secrecy. There was one point where Lu Han could no longer handle it, so he tells him to leave, but he also lied when he said that, “Lu Han, no worries, I promise to get us back,”

Sorry just wouldn’t do it, Lu Han’s heart is obliterated, and he’s trying to travel through, but it’s like moving mountains. Hard, like moving mountains.

[flightles-s]

What!?

Send me a “What?!” for my character’s reaction to yours sliding their hand in my character’s pants.

"Yah, don’t do that, that’s rude!" With a loud whine, Lu Han grabs the neckline of his shirt to see the piece of potato chip that Jongin had flicked towards him resting between his shirt and his stomach. They were having a friendly chat in the park with some chips, and Jongin decided that it would be a fun sight to see Lu Han getting all riled up over the waste of food— even if it were just potato chips. "Don’t throw the chips inside my shirt!" He pouts up at Jongin before lifting his shirt up so he could discard the piece, flicking it to the flock of birds nestling within the area. 

"Then can I throw it in here?"

He hears the other say, and right before he could say anything, or even react, he finds Jongin’s hand slowly creeping over the waistband of his jeans, playfully elongating the band so he could slide his hand inside…while holding a piece of potato chip.

"Y-yah, Jongin, that’s inappropria—"

His sentence gets cut off with an audible gasp as the others fingers slide further down his jeans, which made his whole body shiver.

"You told me not to throw it inside your shirt," He smirks.

Damn boy.

[flightles-s]

"What?!"

Send me a “What!?” for my character’s reaction to yours sliding their hand in my character’s pants.

"M-my hands are sort of full, would you mind getting my keys from my pocket? It’s in the right one," His hands being occupied with a variety of tools and supplies for plant care, Lu Han shyly asks his companion for help in unlocking his door. Meeting randomly inside the home depot, this kind hearted man offered to help Lu Han in carrying all the stuff he bought. He wasn’t much of a big spender, nor was he an excessively rich lad, but when it came to tools and other things used for taking care of his flowers and plants, he tends to lose track of whatever thing he was tossing to his shopping cart.

Lu Han stretches his hips to the side so the other could slide his hand fluidly into his pocket— "H-hey, not the—" his eyes growing wide, a small, helpless-sounding whimper exhales through the small crevice his tiny lips make when he feels his hand— this man’s hand, sliding into a different pocket. Feeling a little nautious from being touched— whether it be accidental or intentional, in the most sensitive of places on his body, the quick graze of the other’s warm fingers along his bare skin inside his jeans made Lu Han’s knees tighten for one second, and the next, completely weak and trembling. 

"N-not there…" He repeats, this time, even more silent than the first.

[flightles-s]

¤

¤ — In some turn of events, your muse ends up staying with mine.

"Oh no, my flowers… I hope they’re fine," Lu Han had been pacing back and forth inside his apartment, still feeling a little conflicted about whether he should go out and check on his garden. It had been pouring heavily all morning— in fact, it was already noon and it was still raining. Some of the patches of the bushels must already be flooded, and it worried him to the end. With a long sigh of defeat in a debate against himself, he finally decides to check on them. Trudging towards the door with an umbrella in hand, he carefully, slowly opens the door. Strong winds meet his face, as well as small droplets of water starting to coat his cheek. What surprises him the most, though, was a body— soaked, exhausted and completely asleep as he sprawls out all over Lu Han’s front porch. “E-excuse me.. Are you okay..?” Lu Han drops to his knees, giving the unconscious body a gentle poke.