Her face falls upon hearing his words, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest hints of worry. Fingers clasped together over her clad legs, attentively give her ears for the other to spare her their frustrations. Even if she had no association whatsoever with whomever chose to give her their thoughts, opinions, and venomous words. The very least she could do was to release them of their piling weight growing atop of their shoulders. A classic phrase often used, but also felt as if the world never seemed to stop giving whether one was to like it or not.
“Oh– Oh, yes, I do think so.” she whispers loud enough for the male next to her to hear. What more could have she said to relieve him of his stress? If he had any, however more of the spilled words were jumbled the more he continued to speak. Not everything made complete sense to her, it gave the impression of him having one too many day jobs to deal with. The only assumption she can give herself is he chose to plate his own dish, taking more than what he could allow himself to have or need necessarily.
“Seems like I don’t have much to say, right? I don’t.” whispering the last few words, she begins to fumble with the hem of her shirt delicately. Pursed lips appearing in a thin line and the slightest of curves forming at the corner of her lips. “Why don’t you try getting violent with whomever this person is that made you so upset? Though–” taking a second to think, “Violence doesn’t solve anything. I can’t completely understand everything you’re saying despite wanting to. I can’t guarantee you tomorrow will be better, it’s only worth a shot, yeah? Work is work and a living.”
lyra smiles upon them tonight, glittering with serenades and thrumming with barely-contained effervescence. and vega, bearing the lofty weight of that ornate harp, shines brightest at the hilt. there’s a clearing in the canopy, an amphitheatre for this modest audience, and kyungsoo’s eyes are burning with a standing ovation. reflected in the terrain of his irises, the celestial performance resonates all the way to his bones, stirring the very marrow in them with every measure. there’s a faraway desire, somewhere, to leap from one star to the next like hopping across stones in a riverbed, but he’s content with where he is now. guaranteed safety will always surpass flighty daydreams.
it’s why he’s been working sixteen hours a day for the past week, cramming in naps on the bus rides across the city as he bounces from one district to the next. (this isn’t the travel he dreamed of.) it’s why he hasn’t set foot in his own flat for the last three days, too busy scavenging to pay the rent. he doesn’t get to eat every day, nor does he get to sleep every night, but on the days that he can, the exhaustion is worth it. this is what he’s working for, after all: a chance at another day.
“you’re right. violence doesn’t do anything.” his fingers fuss with dirty shoelaces, tangling within the fabric like the stars do amongst one another. the only reason he can sit here and trace constellations tonight is because he’s worked so hard, enough to finally earn a break that he probably should have spent catching up on sleep. (but here he is.) untangling his fingers from the laces, he takes to messing with the zipper on his jacket and continues in just over a whisper, “i’m not really mad anyway. i just thought it was kinda funny, workin’ so much. who works two full-time jobs at the same time, right?”
