Jul 19, 2019
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
And with fingers pressed into the keys, it came spilling out, coming up and out from that deep, dark abyss inside of him and into the store. It was the opposite side to every fear and struggle Sung had had since waking up in the carved out cavity of that sentinel of his, silver lined and effervescent. Like a single star up in the sky, or a flower’s petals against his heart.
It was a song for someone waiting, made to fill distance and space-time.