alien

wordstuck meme ; accepting

sehnsucht (‘the inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what’; a high degree of intense, recurring, and often painful desire for something, particularly if there’s no hope to attain the desired or when its attainment is uncertain, still far away.)

i. 

it takes him ten minutes to walk to the station, eight minutes to get on the subway, five intervals of three minute stops to get to his destination.

it takes a minute for him to catch up when he sees ahyeon down the street. she’s there like she promised, standing under a sign that looks too faded to fit in with neon bar lights–neon bar lights that somehow soften under the glow of a girl that fits everywhere else.

the minutes add up in the crevices of his beaten wallet because time is valuable and sticks around in hidden places. he scrounges for it during moments like these and always comes up a little short.

he’s going so fast that he can’t stop. it only takes three seconds for her smile to fade when he knocks into her and he fishes in his pockets for seconds that might be lingering in the threads.

“smile again.”

she does.

it’s almost enough.

ii.

“the smell of rain makes me sleepy.”

his body feels heavy, sunken deep into old couch cushions that beg for a break. ahyeon is light on her feet, tiptoeing past piles of who-knows-what littering his floor. she looks like rain itself, dripping relentlessly and soaking into everything he owns. 

“bet you wouldn’t be so sleepy if you danced in it.”

her hand brushes against his cheek, and he doesn’t have to wonder what that feels like anymore. her fingers are like droplets on his skin, and he feels soaked to the bone. he curls his fingers around her wrist to keep it steady and turns his head so her hand covers his face.

“the smell of you makes me sleepy.”

she laughs but pulls back. it’s a jarring feeling, to go from drenched to dry in a moment of time. he licks his lips and feels brittle all over again. when he opens the window behind him and sticks his hand out, feels the rain hit his skin, it doesn’t feel the same. 

it’s not quite enough. 

iii.

“that’s enough.” 

ahyeon’s glass is only half full, so he pours a little more. 

“i said that’s enough!” she laughs through her words. he gives her a cheeky smile and pours until the beer fills the brim of the glass. 

“good luck drinking that.”

she takes the challenge like a champ, and he can’t imagine her taking it any other way. she sucks at the rim of the glass from its place on the table and he swears it almost comes out of her nose, but she doesn’t complain. 

he fills his glass for the third time and knows he’ll need three more.

the night goes on like this. he knows they’ve probably had one too many, but he drinks twice as fast as she does and still feels his fingers itch when his glass is empty. 

“i think i’ve had enough.” her cheeks are flushed, eyes hazy and lips perched into a hint of a smile that makes him wish she would just keep talking. 

“no, keep going. i liked hearing about artificial hearts and… fish scale skin regeneration…” he stumbles over the words and doesn’t mean it as sarcastic as it comes out. 

“no, i’ve had too much.” she pushes her cup towards him and motions for him to finish it. there’s just a gulp left, and he swallows it with a hint of regret. 

“another pitcher?” he reaches for the button to order more and freezes when her hand covers his. 

( sms )  you can get all the sleep you’d like when you die ( sms ) which, for both your sake and mine ( sms ) makes me wish you’re not all that tired

( sms ) that’s real… gutsy of you

( sms ) tsk, tsk, tsk ( sms ) i told you i would ( sms ) assuming you didn’t think that me making it would automatically mean that it’s bad

[text] that’s [text] i like that [text] hearing that, or reading it i guess

[text] got plenty inside my belly [text] you can have some if you want [text] i’ll loan em to you without interest [text] and the black market will tell you that’s a really fantastic deal

[text] i’d eat anything right now

as long as you made it

wordstuck meme ; accepting

geborgenheit (to feel completely safe, like nothing could ever harm you; security, comfort, trust, satisfaction, acceptance and love from others)

“you have really soft hair.” 

they sit backwards on the couch, legs smashed against the backrest. minki’s cheek brushes against kiel’s tilted head. the way his hair tickles against his skin almost drowns out the late night news.

“private military firms… killed 100 fighters… strikes last week… detonating his grenade…”

the tv flickers in the background and splatters the walls with bursts of light. the dull volume could put them to sleep, but they hold onto the back of the couch and call it rebellion in the purest form.

“the world is pretty fucked up.”

kiel’s head turns, and minki stops him. his arm snakes around his shoulders, fist nudging his jaw until it’s back in place. he holds him like this and doesn’t let go. can’t, really. if he does, he’ll tumble off the couch, and he’s not ready to face the news.

(note: what’s new with you? is a question he’s still afraid to ask)

it’s either the couch or kiel, and kiel feels better. 

“i know.”

“doesn’t it freak you out?”

--is a question he’s still afraid to answer.

so he doesn’t.

for two hours, that is. they’re tangled on the couch only because they’re too lazy to move to the bed. 

somehow, he thinks. no surprise there, they might say. thankfully, is what his fingers bleed into the grip he’s got on kiel’s sleeve.

the tv is still flashing harsh blues against kiel’s cheek. his skin soaks it up like a blank canvas. minki has always appreciated art. minki has always appreciated... 

“kiel.”

his eyes are closed and minki can only imagine he’s pretending. minki always falls asleep first. always regrets letting time slip. always regrets not answering.

“yeah?”

“i’m not scared.” his throat bobs. swallows the fear down with a mouthful of answers that beg the truth. but sometimes, sometimes kiel makes him feel safe. “when i’m... when--when you’re...”

psithurism: the sound of the leaves rustling as the wind blows through the trees.

the question begs itself.

or maybe minki begs the question for an answer, which is the wrong place to go looking for comfort, for solidarity. 

he swallows a scream because no one will hear it anyway. consciousness is the defining factor to reality, and he feels fake enough as it is. 

but the bark under his fingernails feels so real, so he tears it off in little bits. being heard comes in more ways than one. being felt is a close second if you’re strong enough. he wonders if the tree can feel the pain, wonders if the way the tree lets the wind rustle its leaves is its way of screaming back. 

when there’s no one to talk to, nature does a fine job of listening. 

of bleeding.

he sees so much of himself in things that have no voice. 

trees that shake deep in their roots. 

the wind rustles his hair, too. it’s a mediator between tree and man, doing the work of two stubborn, standing limbs borrowed from resources never meant to be tapped but tirelessly giving. he only wishes he could be so selfless, so unquestionable. 

and tomorrow, the sound will ring in his ears like a phantom limb, one you know isn’t real but can’t be ignored. he’ll wonder if the tree still feels the sting of his nails digging deep, will wonder why it can’t cry out loud like everyone else.

a frown fights for a position on her face when no response follows. pushing isn’t what she’s used to do       instead she’s always the one that’s being pushed but it makes for a refreshing change nonetheless; so she laughs, unapologetically, when he finally does relent. ahyeon’s laughter doesn’t ebb away when he sends himself flying over what looks like his own set of messy clothes.

the girl only reaches forward to help him up with crinkles around her eyes and laughter lines around her mouth, before putting her own shoes neatly together, close to the door. maybe mom hasn’t done a lot of things right but she’s a tidy person; it’s one of the few traits ahyeon has inherited from her, the younger supposes.

either way, there’s no point in crying over spilled milk. (always do well with what you have, she recalls her aunt insisting. and if you don’t have a lot, at least be kind.) it makes ahyeon wonder if the world will be kind to people, too.

she looks away; wonders if the world was kind to him.

not that she’d ask.

“then you should see what my dorm looks like,” she teases, voice light and words airy when she speaks up. tension drops from her shoulders and she’s following where he’s leading her to. however messy     at least it has a sense of home to it that she can only wish for.

her smile brightens a little, her head nodding simultaneously.

“we should warm up a little, shouldn’t we?” she hums, looking around the kitchen curiously. “i can make the tea, if you want.”

messy is what he knows best.

he thinks about telling her that, thinks twice and decides confessions should be saved for wednesday mass. he’s not religious, so he figures he’ll never make the time for a confession anyway. 

“mess has never bothered me,” is what he settles for. “as you can tell.”

he wonders if she settles, too.

she probably does. she looks like a picture of regret, standing in his kitchen with hands so empty that he can’t help but push an empty mug into them so she can hold something she looks like.

then again, he’s probably just projecting.

and coping is what he does best. 

he fills his electric kettle with water and imagines how full the mug will look in a moment’s time, how full she’ll be with a warm drink that he makes for her. how full he’ll be knowing he made it.

“i’ll give it a shot.”

and the tables turn. 

now he’s the empty one (though he’s sure he always was to begin with). and when her mug is filled to the brim, only then does he pour what’s left into his own. he takes hers, ignores the way the hot water sloshes over the rim, over his fingers. it only hurts for a second. he drops a teabag into each and shakes his hands, smile touching the very corners of his mouth. 

“don’t know how long these things steep, but... i like it bitter, anyway.” 

( sms ) god tier, my guy ( sms ) i’ll look forward to it ( sms ) all of it

( sms ) well. sleeping it off seems like the only way to escape it ( sms ) ironic, really

( sms ) om nom nom nom ( sms ) as long as you don’t choke

[text] too much sleep [text] so much sleep i don’t think i can sleep again [text] for the rest of my life

[text] i won’t choke [text] pinky fingers are small [text] like eating baby carrots

ahyeon decides, it’s fun to go along with this. harmless but it paints a masterpiece solely for the two of them: she doesn’t care for others in this instance, just the way he speaks. how his eyes lighten up a little. truly a pretty picture, is a thought crossing her mind when she smiles, more to herself than anyone else. maybe she’d like to see him like that more often.

or, perhaps, it’s something else entirely. her heart skips a beat when his fingers curl around hers, when he brings them up to his lips. there’s cold tugging at their coats, painting their cheeks a bright scarlet but she’s certain she feels warm inside.

so the girl decides to watch, only. there’s no remark slipping from her tongue, just a pair of eyes that soften around the edges and lips that curl into a bashful smile when she hears his response. it’s more than she could ask for but the reassurance comes in quiet, careful waves and even with the silence lingering, ahyeon doesn’t feel the need to let words cut through the air. this feels alright.

quietly, she mulls over whether it might last.

“if you are, then so am i.”

someone once told her it’s dangerous to put your happiness into someone else’s hands. they’ll drop it, they always do. maybe they’re right and maybe ahyeon is being naive, maybe she’ll go back home tonight and rethink all of her actions, all of her words.

but maybe’s and what-if’s have never been her forte so she doesn’t dwell on it for any longer than necessary. instead, her breath hitches a little when she’s pulled into his arms, but she’s letting laughter guide herself soon enough again. reaches up to place her chin in the crook of his neck, her fingers pressing into his side carefully, curiously.

don’t apologize is something she doesn’t say out loud but it shows. shows in the way there’s a grin settling comfortably on her face when there’s distance put between each other again. in the way her cheeks hurt but she can’t tell if it’s from the cold or something else.

“let’s not go somewhere else,” the words come out quieter, but there’s a spark of excitement rushing through her. and there’s a quiet confession somewhere in there too, but these words are caught in her throat, so ahyeon decides to keep the grin and shake off the tension, her shoulders dropping a little. “let’s cook something together instead. it’ll be fun.”

let’s keep to ourselves, she wants to say. let’s not lose this to the prying eyes of strangers.

he has flashback memories of burned chicken breast and bloody fingertips. minki in the kitchen is as appropriate as a bull in a china shop. he wants to warn her but can’t bring himself to the longer he stares at her smile. he decides a little blood never hurt anyone (which is a lie, but a lie worth telling). 

“okay,” he gives in. “let’s cook.” 

he takes her back to his place even though he knows he only has a few packs of ramen, too many packs of instant rice, and some grapes. he figures they can make a feast out of it anyway. he also has tea, and he’s been told that tea is a drink you make for a person you care about. he doesn’t know how to make it taste just right, but he can’t seem to throw it out. 

he wonders if ahyeon will make it just right. 

if maybe he’ll offer the tea, and she’ll take over from there. 

he kicks off his shoes and sends them flying. one hits a painting on the wall, makes it clatter to the floor. the other ends up behind his tattered couch. he braves his cluttered floor barefoot and smiles sheepishly when he trips on a pile of clothes. 

“sorry about the mess.”

it’s an understatement, but he’s still not embarrassed. 

Send one (+ a character if you'd like) and I'll write a drabble based on the word, or add 'starter' in and I'll do a starter for our characters based on the word(s).

la douleur exquise: The exquisite pain of wanting the affection of someone you know you can never have.

wanderlust: A strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world.

dēsīderium: An ardent desire of longing, particularly for something once had; grief for the absence of loss of something or someone.

pikit mata: 'with eyes closed'; how you accepted the fact of something against your desires must be done.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained.

velleity: A wish or desire to see something done, but nit enough will to make it happen or actions meant to pursue it.

sehnsucht: 'the inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what'; a high degree of intense, recurring, and often painful desire for something, particularly if there's no hope to attain the desired or when its attainment is uncertain, still far away.

koi no yokan: 'premonition of love'; the sense one can get upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to falling love. This differs from the idea 'love at first sight' in that it does not imply that the feeling of love exists, rather refers to the knowledge that a future love is possible.

meraki: to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself into your work.

mamihlapinatapei: the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start.

forelsket: the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.

geborgenheit: to feel completely safe, like nothing could ever harm you; security, comfort, trust, satisfaction, acceptance and love from others.

ya’aburnee: 'you bury me'; a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them.

augenblick: 'in the blink of an eye'; a 'decisive moment' in time that is fleeting, yet momentously eventful and incredibly significant.

herzschmerz: heartache; an emotional pain in the heart.

retrouvailles: the happiness of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation.

einfühlungsvermögen: a deep understanding of someone's feelings, thoughts and motives that are easily comprehended by yourself.

serendipity: the luck that takes the form of discovering valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for or while looking for something else.

ichigo ichie: 'one time, one meeting'; and encounter that only happens once in a lifetime, reminding to treasure every moment, for it will never recur.

saudade: a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something or someone, often accompanied with denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.

cwtch: a warm, affectionate hug, cuddle or snuggle that gives a feeling of a safe place or home.

kilig: the delightful feeling that sends shivers of pleasure down the spine as one encounters something romantic.

liefdesverdriet: the sadness, depression or pain one feels about a love unanswered or love that is gone.

elmosolyodni: to slowly break out into a genuine smile when being overcome with emotions, like love or utter happiness.

pluviphile: a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

kalverliefde: the temporary affection and infatuation usually experienced by two people in love.

torpe: the-quality of, usually a young male, being to shy to pursue amorous desires to someone adored.

mélomanie: an excessive and abnormal love and deep attraction to music and melody.

nyctophilia: love of darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.

yuánfèn: a relationship brought by fate or destiny; the binding force which eventually links two people together in love.

lǎotóng: 'old same'; a form of eternal friendship between "heart sisters" – two women who are closer than husband and wife.

b'shert: 'destiny'; the seeking if a person who will complement you, and whom you will complement perfectly.

oodal: the sulking or fake anger occurring between couple after a lovers tiff, usually over something inconsequential – a feeling recognized to be a facet of love or affection.

vuslat: a union or reunion after being apart for a long time with one's beloved.

pacalai: 'lovesick pallor'; the pale complexion of a women suffering the loss of or separation from her husband or lover.

redamancy: a love returned in full; the act of loving the one who loves you.

thuong: to love tenderly – a deep and sincere notion of fondness and care between family members, friends, or lovers.

amor vincit omnia: 'love conquers all'

kaiho: a hopeless longing – an involuntary solitude in which one feels incompleteness and yearns for something unattainable or extremely difficult and tedious to attain.

euneirophrenia: a peace of mind that comes from having pleasant dreams.

boketto: to gaze vacantly into the distance without thinking or doing anything.

luchtkasteel: 'air castle'; a wish or dream one hopes to fulfill in the future, yet will never be achieved, as it is so vast, immense and unlikely.

gumusservi: the light of the moon as it shines upon the water.

aamukaste: morning dew.

murr-ma: to walk along in the water searching for something with your feet.

tükörsima: 'as smooth as the-surface of the mirror'; describes a still water which has unbroken surface, neither by wind nor by some object or animal.

aranyhíd: 'golden bridge'; the reflection of the sun as it shines upon the water.

walwalün: the sound that a flowing water makes.

ruska: the phenomenon of leaves turning various shades of red, yellow, purple and brown during the autumn season.

psithurism: the sound of the leaves rustling as the wind blows through the trees.

şafak: the first skylight seen during dawn or just before the sun rise.

yeoubi: 'fox rain'; a sun shower – the event of having a light rain while the sun is still shinning.

( sms ) sorry, i’m just bored ( sms ) people really should come around more often and fuck around with the keyboards and string instruments here ( sms ) whether they know what they’re doing or not : /

( sms ) it’s leftover stew ( sms ) i made some for dinner last night but we didn’t finish all of it ( sms ) we never do.

[text] i’ll come next week or something [text] i can play a couple things on the piano [text] like chopsticks and mary had a little lamb

[text] we as in? [text] i’m not hungry anyway [text] you know when you take long naps and you feel nauseated from it [text] that’s me right now

( sms ) ;D ( sms ) now that’s contradicting, and you’re dramatic once again

( sms ) maybe he did cry? ( sms ) almosts are tricky

( sms ) i’ll bring soup later ( sms ) it’s just as good of a humidifier as your thingy thing thingamjig ( sms ) probably better! even

( sms ) probably.

[text] almosts are not tricky at all [text] they are just kind of sad

[text] you have too much energy right now [text] ;<

( sms ) pfft

( sms ) not really

( sms ) jesus fuck, minki ( sms ) texts are appreciated and all ( sms ) but i’d prefer your physical company ( sms ) especially considering today’s slow over here at work

( sms ) trade 4 trade ;)

[text] never, ever make that winky face again [text] ever 

[text] i wish i could come out and play  [text] but i have a cold from hell

( sms: 옥탑왕자 ) you could also be incredibly dramatic right now ( sms ) good thing there’s a mouth for you to function at least 50%

( sms ) also that’s a very specific number ( sms ) but. not to brag… ( sms ) well. alright, yes people sneeze that much

( sms ) i’m a people

( sms ) ???? do you need a humidifier? ( sms ) i have one, i think.

[text] i think you’re being dramatic for taking it as me being dramatic

[text] did that make sense?

[text] i have a humidifier but...  [text] yesterday i tried turning it off by throwing something at it [text] it didn’t survive

february smells like burned skin. 

the only real way to purify anything is to set it on fire.

i sort of made a joke there, but i’m not really laughing.

i guess the burn of alcohol is sufficient enough. cleanses my insides, for sure. makes me feel a whole lot better on the outside. they say alcohol is an excellent stain remover. removes blood from the carpet just as good as it removes myself from my own skin. 

“point taken.” she responds, mouth falling open and teeth showing to let the laughter bubble out. not in the pretty girl kind of way but, in ahyeon’s own way. the one that’s supposed to let minki know she’s comfortable and that he should be, too.

or, is? she’s not sure but she isn’t asking for much more anyway. “potentially the best dance move to exist, right?” ahyeon tacks it on like she means it and perhaps, a part of her even does. except, she doesn’t think she looks graceful on the dancefloor or anywhere else that her peers go to for fun. boring, they call her, with endearment lacing their tones.

simple, is what she calls it.

“the street?” she echoes, features looking like much of a blank canvas. a little bit of confusion splattered across, tinged with fascination at the idea. she thinks about the cold that’s been plaguing the city for the past few days and how moving warms the body, maybe even the mind.

he doesn’t look cold but she decides not to ask about it.

the response she gets is lighthearted enough for her to go through with it. if it doesn’t bother him, it won’t have to bother her and so she’s going along, still laughing when snow gently comes falling down upon them. the cold only ceases to matter when footprints are left behind in a white, thick coat and ahyeon’s watching and pondering and dancing and, she thinks, she’s never done this before and it’s new.

but she feels the nerves pulsating in her face and her heart learns soon enough, how easy it is to fall into rhythm. if freezing feels like this, then maybe it’s not such a painful death after all.

“this is the happiest i’ve seen you in a while,” she finally lets it slip out, her lips blue and her eyes wide, but still smiling. “we should dance again when spring comes.”

“we’ll dance the snow away right into spring.” he takes her hand and gives her a twirl, thinks about how she looks like a pretty snowflake in the wind. he wonders if snowflakes are why spring flowers bloom so brightly. “let it melt under our shoes.”

they dance for longer than he means them to, somehow still shorter than he’d like. every good thing has an end, and he thinks it’s better that way. her fingers, his palm--they’re both cold, so he breathes against her knuckles and pretends not to notice the way his lips brush against her skin. 

“i’m happy.” it’s an afterthought, a response to her observation that comes a few beats too late, but he says it anyway. he wants her to know. he wants himself to know, maybe. happiness is a state of mind, a way of being that you sometimes have to trick yourself into. it’s like insisting you’re not afraid of the dark, or that you actually like eating all of your vegetables. you say it because it’s good for you; you say it hoping that you’ll believe it.

when you say it, you’re halfway there.

“i’m happy,” he says again, whispers it against her fingers. and being here with her, he thinks it just might be true. “i’m...”

and with that, his arms fold around her. he holds her close to his chest, less of a hug and more of an encompassing embrace, arms shifting to try to cover as much of her as he can. it even looks like a silent plea, probably feels like one too. words are obsolete when his chest’s thump, thump, thump does all the talking. he’s not sure what he’s asking, but that seems obsolete, too. it feels like a conversation saved for 3am insomnia. it feels like a purge in the softest, sweetest way. 

“sorry.”

he lets go and doesn’t let himself regret it (that twinge behind his ribcage is only from the cold air). 

“Cut it out, Minki.”

Should have been ‘I don’t live alone, Minki’ but when is that ever a viable thing to relay to someone who just broke your fucking door handle? No one cries over spilled milk when they’re twenty-something anymore.

Anymore.

It was on accident, anyway. Forgive and let live.

“I’m tall and robust,” he jabs, sorta lies with a triumphant gaze, chin up. Soon he’s sighing, however, shoulders drooping with his self worth as he whips his phone out of his pocket. “And not a thing, but anyway.” Kiel clicks his tongue, jutting it out at the corner of his mouth as he tilts his head down just a bit to see his screen properly, glasses sliding along the bridge of his nose. “My, uh, roommates need to know about this first.”

Wild thought ahoy: living with the landlady! God, just imagine. Something, something. An absentminded “where to?” is the one thing Kiel manages out loud as he glances at the door one last time for a while. And then more something, something. Dial tone. Twice or thrice, quadrice(?) Nothing short of comforting, if you’re into some strange shit.

He’s just racking up things to talk about on the way.

“every... thing is a thing. it’s not a bad thing.” 

shut up, minki. 

“like... a stapler is a thing just as much as a sunshower is a thing. one jabs metal into paper or... fingers. and the other is beautiful.”

he bites back a cheeky smile.

“like you.”

he shoves his hands in his pockets and ducks his chin down, letting his hot breath warm up the collar of his coat. the heat is short lived and makes his lips tingle from its absence. kind of like the way his fingers still itch when they’re near kiel but not quite close enough. 

“who are you roommates now, anyway?”

he reaches out and settles for kiel’s sleeve. 

it’s closer, at least.

he doesn’t tell kiel where they’re going. he’s not quite sure either, and he figures kiel might somehow realize this, too. he has a history of not knowing what he’s doing. from door handles to disappearances, every bit of him is unplanned. it’s been written into his body from conception. 

some might call him a pleasant surprise. 

most call him a natural disaster. 

if you squint hard enough, you might even say he’s a blessing in disguise, but everyone knows you only say that when you’re hanging onto your last thread of hope. it’s a coping mechanism, a way to survive. 

they end up in a restaurant with so much polished silver and so many champagne chutes, and minki grips the hole in his jeans and rips it unapologetically. he tries to find a home in everywhere he goes. he shoves the cloth napkin into the neckline of his shirt before he opens the menu, and he smiles at kiel with more remorse than he’s willing to offer the surrounding patrons.