sunshine.

pairing: xiaojun x reader 

genre: self indulgent pool party make-out ! blurb full of love for dejun & sentiments from my heart ✨ read it i dare u !!!

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Dejun always reminds you who you are.

On nights when your head is high in the sky; with clouds in your eyes and moonlight in your bloodstream. He grounds your body onto earthly soils, heels that have never known another planet although sometimes they wish they did. On nights a lot like this, when he’s sitting across from you with a stupidly bright Polo shirt and vodka stained lips. There’s a pool between you like a bed of sapphires; his reflection is caught in the middle and he waves at you. You wave back.

“You’re happy you came right?”

He’s inquisitive when he’s nervous, you know that much. You have half the mind to tell him otherwise… but he’s wearing that sideways smile. He’s tugging at his board shorts. He’s sun kissed, and with those pinkish lips, you think he might’ve kissed the sun. You can’t tell him anything he doesn’t want to hear.

 “I’m happy where you are.”

It’s not a lie, so it comes out smoothly. But your eyes aren’t quite right. They never are, and Dejun knows that much. He knows you don’t imagine Friday nights this way. He knows their eyes make you uncomfortable. You know that’s exactly why he’s asked you here. Dejun jumps into the pool and water ricochets in circular waves; it feels like the fruit of his love. 

He swims up the lip of the pool and you tip-toe in his direction. If Dejun is magnetic, then you are like fine iron. You are stronger than you think you are, and you both know that much. When Dejun’s wet hands reach out to grasp at your t-shirt, water pools at your stomach, but in the light it looks more like paint. That makes more sense. Dejun is dripping in paint. You kiss colour against his lips and it reminds you who you are.

 You, like Dejun, are a child of the sun (although at times you may forget it). You are not cold to the touch, in fact, you are hot and you burn under his fingertips. You may feel obsolete, the way you trace your name in water and watch it fade away—but you are not that way. Instead, Dejun watches as your lips singe your name into his skin and he giggles warmly into your neck. You don’t like to sit idly, you like to run your fingers through his hair and scratch at his forearms; it’s the way you’ve been always been, jumping in headfirst and feeling everything, always a happy child when no one was looking. You don’t like hesitation, you like Dejun’s loud love. When he blows raspberries into your belly even when partygoers are looking. When he bites your finger that plays with his swollen lips. You don’t like to sulk in the shadows, you like to feel the cool rush of salty water against your shoulder blades, like to taste it even, feel it up your nose; it’s dizzying but it’s a headrush—that’s what you love. That’s what you love. It’s the feeling of you. The feeling of him. The feeling of you and him… and the water and the moon and the night and the day… and you forget the rest because his lips are soft and he tastes like sour patch kids.

 “I love you.” He mumbles against your lips, or maybe your nose; you know that if he wasn’t so out of breath, he’d scream it.

You know who you are and Dejun helps remind you. Loving him makes you the best you’ve ever been; takes those clouds in your eyes, makes them hearts. You are not like those intrepid waters that bust through barriers and mutilate, you are the one that gives reason to each drop of rain. He is the one that gathers those raindrops on his tongue. You and Dejun are twin flames. Dejun is unstoppable, and he looks at you with the same fire that he looks at his childhood self with. That was the boy who was traumatized by criticisms that hadn’t yet been spoken. You are kissing Dejun in his pool. Would those words stop you?

Could anything stop you?

 You’re more like Dejun than you think.