constellations in shooting stars; 2min; 790w知ってた? あの夜にね 2人で見上げた星空に
あなたとあたしの幸せが見えたよ
did you know that in that sky we saw
i saw our happiness written in the stars?
- daisuki da yo // ai otsuka
The beach was silent; or as silent as beaches could be with crashing waves and the wind whistling between the rocks piled up at one end. Behind him, raucous laughter carried wistfully across the expanse, bottled up inside the lit up house. The evening wind carried with it its own coolness, brushing the sands with the colour of night.
He tugged the collar of his jacket a little higher in an attempt to hide from the night wind, and tucked his hands into his pockets. A bird called somewhere in the distance as he walked down the beach until the waves lapped at his toes.
The sound of running footsteps turned his head, a loud "hyung!" brought a smile to the surface.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Taemin made a face. "I was going to ask you that," he said. He slowed to a stop a few paces behind Minho; his sneakers would have fared much worse in the water than the older boy's sandals.
"It's quieter," Minho explained, gesturing behind them. As if on cue, there was an explosion of laughter before it died down again. Minho raised an eyebrow.
"I think they're still trying to get Jinki-hyung drunk," Taemin said with a shrug.
Minho laughed a little, and turned back to face the water. "They'll get tired eventually," he said.
Neither spoke for a moment, the waves making conversation on its own. Taemin stepped back a few paces to where the sand was dryer before he sat, pulling his knees to his chest. "It is quieter," he agreed, breaking the silence.
Minho turned to look at the younger boy again, as Taemin supressed a slight shiver. The light t-shirt he wore may have been ideal for indoors, but an open beach at night was another story. "Go back inside," Minho suggested, even as he slid off his own jacket and handed it to Taemin. "It's cold out here."
Taemin shook his head. "I'm fine, hyung. Besides, I was looking for you."
With a shrug, Minho sat down next to Taemin, draping the jacket over his shoulders. "Well, you found me," he said with a quiet chuckle.
Taemin laughed as well. "Thanks," he said, tugging the jacket a little tighter around his shoulders.
"The stars are really bright here," Taemin said after a moment when Minho said nothing.
It was true; compared to the light choked city skies where stars faded against the world that people populated with smoke and neon, they stood out like a sugar dusting on a chocolate cake. "I only know the big dipper," he said with a laugh after another moment.
Minho had leaned back, placing his weight on the heels of his palms. He shifted so that he could point at a star blinking brightly low in the horizon. "Jupiter's over there," he said, before moving his finger. "And that's Cheongryong."
"They just look like dots to me." Taemin made a face, lying back on the sands, pillowing his head with his arms. "That doesn't even look like a dragon."
Minho laughed, and lay down as well. "It doesn't," he agreed. "But that's what they called it."
"When we were little," Taemin said, "we used to draw our own. I don't remember them anymore, though. We never told anyone either; they were our secret."
"You just told me," Minho teased, shooting Taemin a playful grin.
Taemin pursed his lips. "Yes but I didn't tell you
what they were," he pointed out.
Their laughs mingled with the monologue of the wind, joined by the water inching its way up the shore only to slip away again disappointed. A breeze picked up, ruffling their hair and Minho couldn't help but shiver a little even as he crossed his arms across his chest.
Taemin touched a hand to Minho's bare arm. "You're so cold," he exclaimed.
"It's fine," Minho said, shaking off Taemin's concern.
"No it's not." Taemin sat up just enough to slip the jacket off, and then wiggled closer until he was pressed against the older boy when he lay back down, placing Minho's jacket over both of them. "There, now it's fine," he said, satisfied at the sudden wash of warmth.
Minho squeezed Taemin's hand in appreciation. "Thanks, Taemin-ah."
"It's your jacket," Taemin began to point out, before a streak of light lit its way across the sky in front of their eyes and he sat up, pointing at it in excitement. "Look, a shooting star!"
Minho smiled beside him. "Make a wish?"
"But I can't tell you," Taemin said, lying back down and replacing the jacket over the two of them. But from the way a smile had crept onto Taemin's face and the way Minho smiled into the kiss when Taemin rolled over and touched their lips together softly, he didn't need to.
and worlds fall apart; jongkey; 519w海鸟跟鱼相爱 只是一场意外
because the love between the fish and the seagull is only ever an accident
- coral sea // jay chou
It is dangerous, it is risky, it won't last.
Words are bandied, tossed around, and then sealed away.
They dance around the problem in shared silences and heated kisses, hands fumbling away clothes and quiet nights under the stars. There is one day where they meet in the marketplace and do not acknowledge each other; there is one night where one stumbles upon another in a tavern and pretends not to see. There are no hellos because they lead to goodbyes and there are no goodbyes because they think of the forever that is impossible instead of the never that is painted in the air.
Jonghyun shows up one night with blood still moist on his shirt. "It's not mine," he says in his most reassuring tone, lifting the fabric to reveal unbroken skin.
"That's not the point," Kibum grinds out, frustrated, running his hands over marks that remind them of almost everything that is wrong.
Jonghyun smiles halfheartedly, and pushes the younger man's hands away before tugging the shirt off over his head. "Nothing's the point," he says quietly, before their fingers meet and he says nothing at all.
They don't speak of their meeting, and they don't speak of the past. The future is too uncertain, the present too unstable.
"I heard the prince is getting married," Jonghyun says one day.
Kibum shrugs, legs swinging slightly from where he sits on the fence. "I'd be more surprised if you
hadn't heard," he pointed out. His voice gets caught a little, snagged like a ribbon caught against a splinter, and Jonghyun leans in a little closer, ignoring when Kibum tries to swat him away.
"Then tell me something I haven't heard," Jonghyun prompts, for all the world sounding like one of those giggling girls in the market, gossiping over how
handsome the baker's by was.
Kibum shrugs again, lightly pushing at Jonghyun when the other ends up all but resting his head in Kibum's lap. "She's pretty, it's good politics," he says. And then: "Jinki seems happy."
Jonghyun shifts his weight so that he can look up at Kibum, his neck tilted at an uncomfortable angle. "But are you?" he asks, and Kibum suddenly stills.
Worlds are sealed away, are tossed around, are destroyed.
"Sorry," Jonghyun says one night when he appears in Kibum's room.
Kibum sits up, eyes wide at the intrusion. "Why are you here?" he hisses. He glances at the door, is reassured when it remains closed.
"The security sucks," Jonghyun explains matter-of-factly - and Kibum is suddenly aware of something dark against Jonghyun's skin.
His eyes widen further, as something suddenly clicks. As the unrest on the streets contrast with the worried discussions in the banquet hall. Jonghyun's disappearances over the past few weeks, the news of political silencings. The murmurs of revolution and the empty promises that get dismissed at the gates of the estate.
Kibum opens his mouth to scream.
"You don't want to do that," Jonghyun mutters quietly - and embeds a throwing knife in the door with a loud thunk.
As the door bursts open and Kibum is met with an explosion of something dark and warm, too warm, he thinks he sees Jonghyun smile.
"Sorry - "
It's a cliche, it's an impossibility, and
"- it couldn't last."
wish upon the flying star; jongyu; 696w
因为梦春夏或秋冬温暖我的星球 一抬头全都实现在这一秒钟
because of dreams be it spring or summer, fall or winter my world is warm. i raise my head and everything is realised in that one second
- 因为梦 (because of dreams) // han geng
Every night, Jinki dreams.
"Hello," the dreams always begin. "Back again?"
And Jinki smiles and waves and says "of course!"
He doesn't tell people about his dreams, because he knows that they will laugh.
"Why would they?" the boy in his dreams asks one time.
Jinki shrugs and scuffs his feet against the dream floor. "They laugh at lots of things," he explains without explaining at all.
It isn't that he doesn't know; he just doesn't think it belongs in his dreams. It's because his dreams are warm, and those things are cold. Because his dreams are bright and those things are dark (and when Jinki brings this up one day, the boy in his dreams laughs and laughs until Jinki laughs with him and he thinks it is brighter than ever, until Jinki doesn't think it can get any brighter without being blinding but still it is bright). It's because when the boy in his dreams twines their fingers and pulls Jinki along with him until they are running, running, flying, Jinki leaves those things behind and he dreams.
"So today," the boy in his dreams says, "I thought it would be funny to try something. You know those sticky notes, yeah, well, I've always wanted to try putting them on people's backs."
"And?" Jinki asks, although he thinks he knows what's coming next.
"I got caught," the boy in his dreams says ruefully. "Only I didn't know until someone kicked me and showed me the note in my own writing."
Jinki laughs - not because he thinks that it's funny, but because the boy in his dreams wears a pout that he doesn't really mean, because the boy in his dreams breaks out into a smile as well.
The incessent beep of his alarm clock wakes Jinki up before he has a chance to say goodbye.
But he doesn't mind too much, because the next night, he dreams as well.
"I'd like to sing," Jinki says one night when they're standing in an open field with stars all around them. The boy in his dreams is pulling things from his pockets and throwing them at the sky, willing them to stick as miniature orbs of light.
"Yeah? Then sing," the boy in his dream says.
Jinki makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "It's not that easy."
The boy stops lighting stars in the sky and turns to look at Jinki. "Why not? Just open your mouth and do it."
"But I want to be a singer," Jinki says. He bends down to pick up a softly glowing pebble, and tosses it hard into the distance. His eyes follow it until it disappears. "I think my parents want me to study."
The boy shrugs. "But you won't know until you try," he says.
The next night, the boy stands in front of Jinki, and the dream does not begin with a "hello, back again?" Instead the dream begins with a smile and a hand raised in greeting. "Hey," the boy says, and Jinki is startled.
"Hello," he greets cautiously, because it is strange that this does not begin like it usually begins.
"So uh, I guess this is goodbye," the dream suddenly goes, and Jinki feels frozen to the spot. "Sorry, you'll understand soon enough!"
"Wait!" Jinki cries out, as the boy in his dreams turns to leave, but already it is too late as he disappears and fades away, a small grin on his face.
"And don't forget what I said!" echoes in the space he leaves behind.
Every night, Jinki had dreamt. He had dreamt of smiles and of laughter, and stars in the sky. He had dreamt of brightness and warmth, of flying with nothing to leave behind.
That night, Jinki did not dream. Nor did he dream the night after that. Instead, he began to dream during the day; dreaming of smiles and of stars, dreaming of laughter and warmth, dreaming of flying and song.
And one day when Jinki is studying with his books spread out on a table in the park, a "hello" greets him suddenly, and when he looks up, he sees a familiar smile.
"I'm Jonghyun," the boy in his dreams that Jinki no longer dreams says, but what Jinki hears is "back again?" and what he says is:
"Of course!"
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