#honeybeefms

[ki-jung]

sms — honey.

KEY: tell me you aren't out anywhere in this

KEY: finally, a text wants to actually fucking send. a whole miracle.

[ki-jung]

closed starter ft. @honeybeefms​.

Key has felt this sort of bone-deep exhaustion before. The kind that weighs so heavy, it’s going to linger for weeks, maybe months to come, and there isn’t anything that can really be done about it. Days of sleeping poorly and not getting much of a chance to heal whilst trying to keep everything else together has taken a hefty toll on him physically and mentally, and his emotions, while pushed down and smothered and muted right now, are in utter turmoil beneath his calm surface. Loose threads are easy enough to pull along the frayed edges of his carefully stitched disposition, and as he braces his weight against Honey’s doorframe with nothing short of necessity, he finds himself hoping that she will notice. Knows that she will, really. More than that, though, he needs to be able to touch her, to smell her, to feel her and to know that she is safe. That all of the worst case scenarios his mind has been conjuring up over the course of this freak storm so far have no basis in reality at all.

A look of pure relief floods his features the moment the door is opened to reveal her standing there, and Key moves as natural as breathing, as exhaling after he’s held his breath for far too long. Reaching for Rosemary-Beatrice, he wraps his arms around her and draws her into his embrace, ignoring the pain that just as suddenly flares up the moment he has her body against his. Cracked ribs don’t matter when it’s been this long. They don’t matter when he was that worried. “I told you I was okay.” She hasn’t had the chance to inspect him yet, and it’s very likely she won’t think so once she does, but for him, he’s making good on a promise. An unspoken one, but a promise nonetheless. 

[ki-jung]

closed starter ft. @honeybeefms​.

Gossamer curtains float in the cool breeze drifting in from outside, blinds open, letting the low light and the sound and the scents flow freely between the solitude of Ki-jung’s apartment and the night-darkened streets beyond. Music plays quietly, all strings and inaudible lyrics, and the mood that has been set is soothing, comfortable, like something out of a wonderful, warm dream. The kind of dream that Key will revisit when he’s in his worst moments, and just like every other memory that he has formed with Honey, it will make those moments more bearable. Less lonely.

These are not feelings or thoughts that Key can put words to. They are not even feelings or thoughts that he can admit to himself, can understand on any level that makes sense, but he revels in them nonetheless. Knows that he will cherish them when Rosemary-Beatrice isn’t here for him to see or to touch or to listen to the rise and fall of her voice, her unique cadence somehow matching up to his own in a way that he hasn’t experienced before meeting her. Not with his ex. Not with anyone he has ever been this close to. Maybe he never will be this close to anybody besides her --- a thought that is frightening and exciting at the same time, and makes the way that he looks at her now through the dim, flickering candlelight only all the more special. All the more intense, in its own quiet, slow-building sort of way.

“See?” The rhetorical question is posed as a low sound, a small smile curving up the corners of his lips. They sit close enough that his leg brushes with her’s, perched on the floor next to his coffee table. There are take-out boxes strewn across it, a half-drained bottle of blush pink wine open next to two glasses that only still hold a sip or two each in them. Dark brown eyes shift their focus from her face to where their palms are pressed together, the size comparison between their hands actually ridiculous. “My hand is at least double the size of yours.” He doesn’t know what he is trying to prove with that besides the fact that his exaggeration is wrong, but he figures any excuse to touch her is a very, very good one. 

Point (not) proven, instead of dropping the touch away, he intertwines their fingers together and allows their arms to drift back down to rest in her lap. There have been so many loaded moments tonight, pregnant with the potential of what could happen, if they weren’t both too afraid for it to, and the longer the night goes on, the more frequently they seem to happen. A tingling has begun in his skin at every point of contact between them, and Ki-jung strokes his thumb gently over the back of Honey’s hand, tender and a little explorative. Maybe a little shy, though that isn’t obvious in the way that he boldly searches her features now. Silence settles in, the mutual knowledge that he hasn’t pulled his hand away from her again seeming more pressing by the moment.

Maybe he’s overthinking the way that she looks at him, the openness of her expression melting away his own reservations little by little, but he doesn’t think so. He really doesn’t. “I think I’m running out of excuses to ask you to stay.” It’s probably the most honest thing he’s said all night, no pretense left to hide behind. “So maybe I’ll just stop making them, and maybe I’ll keep you just because I want to.”

[ki-jung]

📸 for bee pls

lowkeychung: i really enjoyed the sights on the walk i took earlier. i don’t think i’ve ever been warmer. 🌺 ☀️

@honeybeefms.