Whisper to me

Kyungsoo is the skin and Kris is a scar. Kris despises himself for being a blemish. But Kyungsoo knows that Kris makes him special. Because every bit of Kris is a memory for Kyungsoo to remember.

Kyungsoo is the late snowfall on a cold dark night, and Kris is the first light of dawn. They greet each other in silence.

Kris is a mountain of ice and Kyungsoo is the lake that lies beneath. The one offers his life to the other so he can see him live. And the other weeps knowing that one will inevitably cease to exist.

Kyungsoo is a feather, looping through the sky. And Kris is the wind that taught him how to fly.

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Kris is the sun, lighting Kyungsoo’s life since the day he was born. But he shines bright in no avail, his rays could never reach the boy. For the person who follows their shadow, is blind to the sun.

His whispers were stolen by the wind. But Kyungsoo knew Kris could read the words in his eyes. The rain was just an excuse to hide the tears, but it wasn’t enough.

Kris smiles and Kyungsoo watches. His eyes are different when his sorrows begin to smile. It’s a habit, because smiles aren’t questioned, cries are.

Kyungsoo lives in the light of dusk, and Kris resides in the light of dawn. They would see the sky give up on lightening the world, if it meant it could bring them together.

Kyungsoo, he is a voice. But silence often prevails. Kris, he is a smile. But shy glances are offered instead. Their eyes don't meet, but their hands hold each other's heartstrings between tangled fingers.

Kyungsoo is the rain after a hot summer day, and Kris is that grain of sand which lifts along with the rising damp. They meet when the sky is dark, and bid farewell in time of the next drop.

Kyungsoo is a blank canvas, and Kris is the paint that coloured his life.

Kyungsoo lives in the hours as Kris counts the minutes. They meet twelve times a day for Kris to spill tales about his travels, and for Kyungsoo to listen intently. The day’s sudden death mocks the one who has seen the world once, while the other times twelve… only to start all over again. The seconds are lost in a clock with just two arrows.

Kyungsoo is the scent of rain, leaving his traces lingering in the air. Kris is the wind that follows the dark clouds, waiting to greet the culprit of his addiction.

Kyungsoo’s hand on the window glass felt cold. The heavy storm was ravaging the city in front of him. The rain tickling his fingers reminded him of one who is now out there in the monsoon. Kris watched as his umbrella was taken by the wind.

Kyungsoo was a creature of the light, tempted to touch the one with hair like spun gold. Little did he know that it would set heaven on fire. Kris was a demon in disguise, luring the angel into darkness.