heatstroke

@orbtaeha

launching into orbit was certainly a blessing in disguise. while the events beforehand made him dread being in the same starship as her, but now it seemed that he was too busy, and that his worries were unfounded in the first place. not only did he have every excuse to do some duty or another, he could perfectly control himself so that he didn’t go anywhere else but his quarters, and cockpit. it was becoming monotone, but at least it kept him from coming into contact with her. at all.

it was safe, he assumed, to head out somewhere different for a change. he was out of practice, and given his current record of losing in hand-to-hand combat, it was probably better to get in as much training as he could –

her hair -- fading into a pink, there was no point for her to keep it red. she had dyed it before as a coping mechanism for dealing with the break up with jongin. but he was back and it was time to get her life back too ( if possible ).

how could he reduce this swelling in his chest as ‘like’? he liked smoking and he liked drinking and driving recklessly and being mean to people he cared very little about. he liked his speeder ( and it did come to a close second ). but this was more than wanting a rush, or something to escape with, or a means of venting – this was all that, all at once, to a much more careful tune, as if he was being made to walk over a floor of broken glass in order to reach her. the glasses he had tonight made it seem as easy as ever; he’d have to nurse the wounds in the morning.

“yes! i think i like you – but i know i love you.” it was easier than he thought it would be. his head swam with something like adrenalin ( alcohol, surely? ), and his hands settled on the small of her back, utterly pure and without any kind of playful intention, and he smiled when he kissed her, and kissed the corner of her lips again. “s’that a bit better?”

love...? did she hear correctly -- there was no way. someone in love with her? it was the alcohol, he didn’t mean it. his words were for show, nothing more. she laughed, not taking it seriously, knowing she shouldn’t. “you’re funny.” laughing as he kissed her, laughing at the ridiculous idea of him being in love with her. “you don’t love me. you shouldn’t go around saying that to girls!” but then it sunk in because there was a good chance it was true. her heart beat faster against his. the way she felt for him was beyond the feeling of like. was this love? were they in love?

he hoped to remember it all in startling clarity, without the haziness of inebriation. while a more rational kirin would’ve slapped her hand away and asked her what she was doing, here they were both lighter, among stars they’ve hung upon each other’s limbs, and he smiled because she did, and kissed her because she granted him such gifts. both arms wound around her then, turning them both, so that she could lie on top of him, if she wanted to. he didn’t even really mind that she was doing what he would do to her, if she was upset –

still, neither of them were, and instead of having his palms on her face, his hands were on cheeks that were much lower, patting them with no significant or known rhythm, and laughing when she called him cute. “no, you’re the cutest! you can beat me up, but you’re so cute, so it’s okay,” he justified, kissing her again, even with his face in her hands. “do you wanna hear something weirder?” he waited a beat, maybe two, and let himself go still, with his heart beating unbearably fast, and whispered, as if she could hear him above that extremely loud hammering in his chest. “i think i really, really, really, reaaaally like you.”

her hand fell from his cheek to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers tip-toeing. she was now just inches away from the his face, lips pulling into another grin as she’s now on top of him, giving her better access to kiss him as she pleased. they were different people -- as if there was no first order, no resistance. just them, only them. holding each other as if nothing mattered other than the love they share for one another and the warm feeling of his body against hers.

the air was less stale here. they were freer, perhaps, because they were less themselves, a little farther away from the base, and a little higher up. he didn’t take a step away, and instead held onto her hand, running his fingers through his hair again. it was a drunken habit, an attempt to clear his head, “i can’t – it’s too dangerous to drive.” this was definitely a sober-sounding, rational decision, and kirin felt less guilty for it. 

without really thinking about it, he tugged at her hand a little more, seeking some sort of stability because the floor, at the moment, was a little uneven, and it was getting harder to remain standing. “come to bed.” and he didn’t mean anything by it; not really. everything felt heavy now that there wasn’t a steady influx of alcohol in his system, and with the amazing high it gave came the accompanying heaviness of his bones, lethargy sinking in as all walls figuratively fell in turn. he led them to the mattress, somehow, which smelt oddly of lilies and something more fragrant, and pulled her much, much closer. “i like being next to you a lot.” he laughed, then, at his own confession. “does that make things weird?”

darkened eyes go from here to there, taking in the sight of him. a minute-stalling ripple of nerves and heart-pounding urges, following him to the bed. lips fall into a grin, soft and gentle at the thought of spending the night together. far from the base, from everyone else. her body feels lighter than air as if a greater burden had finally fallen away from her shoulders. her hands find their way to his cheeks, squishing them just as he does to her own quite frequently, laughing in return. 

he couldn’t understand her reasoning – if it was a roundabout way of avoiding intimacy, then he didn’t want to be here for it, no matter how much his heart ached thinking about cutting her out of his life ( or, at least, as well as one can, since they’re both in the same squadron ). but she liked him – likes? present tense – and it made even less sense. something in his chest pulled and squeezed and felt like it was wrenching itself dry, and still, felt like no one was there to catch any of what he had to offer.

“i see,” was really all he could say, falling quiet for the next second, for another terrible beat, and sighing, finally, to try and ease the frown on his brow. “okay…so…what, do you want to continue like we just…never said this to each other? i mean – just tell me. i’m okay with that, if you are.” another lie. his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, gaze now elsewhere, “i respect that. just…so we’re clear.”

kirin cleared his throat, felt foolish for thinking that they could actually get anywhere, and, as if he was afraid she’d say any more, took a step back. “right. yeah, of course. the rebellion comes first.”

unsteady fingers comb through her hair. she couldn’t bare to see the disappointment in his face. it was already bad enough to hear him try to play it off as if he was okay. if he would ever be okay with them not being anything more than what they were. she didn’t just like him -- she loves him, but he’d never know. he would continue to think of himself as nothing. “i-i think--” she can’t think, it’s impossible to. “we should stop what we’re doing.” the words spilling out before her brain could catch up.

the thing was: he hardly heard her, or he chose not to, or he wished he didn’t. he couldn’t decide now, when everything was blurry, and even more so than they were before. feelings were never a good thing to have in the midst of war; neither was intimacy, but that was a mistake they’ve made too often, too much. so he chose to say nothing instead, and shook his head again, and held her hand as if he believed that neither of them could bear to let go first.

“quiet,” he repeated, “somewhere quiet.” and, no, he didn’t head towards his speeder; there was somewhere nearby, he recalled, through the streets and lights of the city. someone owed him a free night, though kirin couldn’t remember the guy’s name, and he continued to walk down the street, not sober enough to care who saw how tightly he held onto her fingers. every step was surprisingly steady, and he looked at her again when they arrived at the door. a few cursory knocks and a glance at his face, and they were ushered inside, all thunderous claps to his back and hurried pushes to a spare room. “see? quiet.”

“quiet?” she frowned, steps fumbling as they walk through unfamiliar streets. too drunk to fully comprehend where they’re headed, looking up at him instead of what’s ahead. she doesn’t expect an answer right away – not vocally, anyways toward their exact location. instead, she looked over to him, then to their hands -- the thoughts of uncertainty being pulled away, and instead, bringing her back into the place of being

of course she’d say something like that; he expected it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed. after all this time, she still felt the need to avoid, to deflect, to keep from delving too deep into a matter that should be discussed. and their little moment was when they were drunk, so how could he be sure that she still meant it when she was sober? how could he be sure that she wasn’t lying to him now? he frowned at her explanation, at the flurry of words that left her mouth, and thought for a moment to kiss her, if he wasn’t so displeased. instead, he frowned, deeply enough that he feared it would remain on his face forever. 

“then what are we?” it was a question he hoped to never have to ask, but here they were, and he’d rather get this sorted out before they were launched in the middle of space. so he swallowed his fear, and cleared his throat to clarify. “seriously – just – tell me if you like me, or if you just like the idea of having someone to fool around with whenever you want to, or whatever it is… i won’t get mad.” liar. “just…tell me what we are, and i won’t ask this question again.” and probably not speak to you for the next week or so, “because i’d really rather talk this through with you now than waste my time we could be … i don’t know. anything. ever.”

she’s hurt him. she’s bound to continuously do so, if he lets her, and taeha couldn’t allow that. the idea of him and her, it was nice — a fleeting moment of happiness she refused to buy into. he deserved better -- better than someone like her. someone who chose not to be with him because of a reason he has no control or say over. of course he chose to omit her words, to believe the worst of her. but the thought of him out of her life... it pained her more, but she swallowed it. heart hammering against dried lungs, as she listened, allowing him to doubt her. allowing him to have no faith in the possibility of them being anything more.

“i don’t know.” she answered truthfully. “we weren’t anything and i was fine with that.” a blatant lie. “great, you don’t believe me. i just told you how i felt and you choose to blindly believe what you want, but i don’t blame you -- i made you think that, that’s my own fault.” she leaned her back against the wall, looking down the hall, hoping anyone would be around to interrupt their conversation. “i--“ love you-- “like you. how many times do i have to say it? if i wanted to fool around, i would have with someone else, but i like you and the way you make me feel and you make me smile --” stop, shut up, don’t talk. “but... we can’t.” 

if he’d been sober, he would’ve denied having said anything in the first place, or maybe let her find her way to the base on her own, so that he could go back into the establishment for a drink ( or ten ). but he held onto her, and huffed when she teased ( threatened? he could rarely tell ) about punching him in the face. he’d had plenty of that, and she surely knew, but none about the larger fists breaking his bones, making him grow up as a punching bag who equated hurt to affection. it hurt everywhere, and it wasn’t because of the noise.

this was a rejection, or it sounded like it. i like you, but – was politely breaking his heart, his drunken one, and he let go of her, finally, and shook his head. 

“then you don’t like me enough! or maybe you don’t like yourself enough, which is sad,” he went on, frowning. his hand came up to ruffle his own hair, already messy, and held his free hand out to her, eyes on the ground. alcohol stripped away the offhanded-laughter, the good-natured teasing that would hide anything vulnerable under his skin.  “do you wanna go somewhere quieter? i don’t like this place anymore.”

fingers fidget – the hitch of breath, anything that would determine the pace to any of the millions of thoughts that were racing in her mind. maybe you don’t like yourself enough, which is sad. an awful truth. and it was sad, pathetically sad. change being a certainty taeha was sure she wasn’t ready for. she would rather sink and drown into this state of sorrow and melancholy than ever dream about the possibility of happiness. her priority would never be her own well-being, her priority had always been the resistance. 

they were so close, now, and he could easily ask questions on the tip of his tongue, but he liked to think he had a better sense of self-preservation. asking her any kind of question that dug too deep into what he felt was practically suicide; he knew it would kill anything they had between them, whatever it was, and he pushed the thought out of his mind again, choosing to focus on the irregular rhythm of her fingers over his heart.

“i’ll wear lip balm that taste like chocolate, if that ever happens,” he promised, jokingly, and allowed himself to relax, to think, perhaps, that she would not be hurt if he did ( his own heart’s wellbeing excluded, of course ). “but no, i don’t have work to do. and even if i did, i’m sure i can make up some excuse not to go.” 

and this was true, unfortunately – he would do anything for her if he thought it a fitting and reasonable request. jumping off a ship, thankfully, wasn’t part of the list. “why am i not allowed to go?” he asked, unable to help the teasing tone, but laughing it off anyway. “does this mean i get permission to kiss you more?”

“you better or i’m going to be disappointed if you’re joking and i’ll never kiss you again.” both her tone and expression serious despite her response being a joke, but shortly smiles after what he says next. “good, if you leave me, i’m going to be even more sad and mad and i won’t have anyone to cuddle because adan isn’t here.” she teased.

he’d spent hours thinking it through, and there was no way he was going to back off now. it was now or never, and this was a long time coming, anyway. this unspoken relationship – if it was one – had to be defined, and he would rather have certainty than continued vagueness, and this time, he refused to let her walk away just because she wanted to avoid confrontation. besides, he had to know if she was being serious, or if she was just drunkenly playing around with him. “we do need to talk about something,” he insisted. “you remember when we got drunk, don’t you? what we said to each other?”

the strongest line between a survivor and a victim is the ability to build a new home amongst ash and rubble, and in this bed haera and this skinned-knee warbride are a pile of bricks and mortar, tar and marble. they’re an architecture of hope and spring-vulnerable love.

“and you know i like to talk about myself,” smoke and mirrors jibe, a joke at all the pretty little tin-formed rumours that lay around her slim frame. “but you already know everything,” she insists. “nothing new. nothing to say. only here to listen.” her lips start to split, half moon. “you are a bad liar.”

“i love you too.” the smile sticks. like her affection. “oh, well, you walked on in that debriefing room on the first day and i thought – that one, the girl with the red hair and stubborn ass heart – she’s for me.” had it been much different? “so is that a yes? is there anything i can bring you? or do for you?”

a considerable pause steals her tongue, it presses together dry words and whispered intentions into her ear that she doesn’t wish to think about. red falls against the side of her face, draping in soft waves, the cadence of her voice softens. “and i like hearing you talk about yourself.” her voice playful, light.

“okay--” sighing reluctantly, teeth nipping at her bottom lip, sinking down until white taints a pale pink. “you already know everything too -- i really miss him, that’s all.” not the complete truth, but not a complete lie. “i’m just glad you’re here.” fingers playing with haera’s hair, delicately treading them through. “i’m the worst liar when it comes to you, only because i don’t ever want to lie to you.”

@orbtaeha

it doesn’t take her long to find taeha. all she has to do is ask two people where the bright red haired girl is. and when they seemed clueless, she comically takes a different posture than the one she usually has, expression mirroring the same features as the other woman as she lets her own hair down from a bun and looks them straight in the eyes. clarity hits them immediately and they point mina to the right direction.

@orbtaeha

kirin never liked leaving planetside without tying up loose ends. despite all the terrible things he’s been taught, this is something he retained, and for better reason now more than ever. anything can happen in the endless nothing of the stars, and kirin doesn’t like taking his chances when they aren’t a clear-cut win or loss. so he seeks her out, looks for her in every corner of the starship, and around the base, until he finds her and takes her hand without a word and tugs on it, meaning to find a more private place to talk. “i told you i’d find you.” he doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. his stomach sinks just thinking about it, but last night’s overthinking was beneficial when it came to making him too tired to care. “we need to talk.”

@orbtaeha

jaewon doesn’t stay very long in his designated room once he manages to find it, eager to stretch his legs and talk to someone he knows he gets along with. it’s not that he’s unhappy with the ship so far or thinks it’s not well-kept and clean, but he’s been on multiple ships before, so he’s less star-struck than perhaps some of the others might be. he greets taejoon, his roommate, a wry happenstance ( awkward, but not as bad as it could be—yet ), before heading out and making his rounds of the floor plan. he has to get to know this ship, every nook and cranny, every corner and button.

she wonders, in another life, or across the universe if they were half-whole sisters or crooked-piece lovers. either way, they fit together in this bed and hold each other like balm. their hair tangles into one haphazard painting and forms a riddle: what is red and black and white all over? 

haera sighs. it would be maternal, if she wasn’t so young. “you’re being deflective,” she answers, chiding in soft-firm worry. “it’s okay to talk about yourself. or to be hurting. plus,” she presses her nose into taeha’s cheek, a little scribble of playfulness. “it never takes me medication to be dramatic.”

she chuckles, settles onto her back once more and clucks her tongue. “it’s not my turn yet. still yours.” her hand sweeps hair off taeha’s fever-hot forehead, and at the heat haera frowns. “i could help wash your hair, y’know.” her head tilts back, observing the delicate sculpt of her companion’s war-torn face. “style it pretty even, if you like.”

the light in haera’s features were enough to illuminate the dreariness of their current location and the conversation held. her sweet smile -- kind and welcoming -- a comfortable effortlessness, taking in the sight of the hands that are held. a wandering curious thought of what it would be like to fully trust her with her heart. one that lingers, one that stays. 

a tired, yet gentle grin had become complacent on her features as she skimmed her friend’s face in admiration. “i know.” she was right and right again “i don’t want to talk about myself, i want to talk about you--” her voice playful and light, arm stretching to reach around haera’s waist, ignoring the pain, urgent for the feeling of comfort. “it doesn’t take me medication to be dramatic either, i’m just a really bad liar.” 

SQUADRON T-349 … // AND MEMES.