1: salvation
i need your love before i fall.
1: the s.s ‘save me’ / (m)- mature, (a)- angst w/ kth / enjoy !
And it hits you.
Lying beneath him.
His cum dripping from your thighs.
Your fists clenching the sheets.
His breath mingling with yours and your thighs shaking.
You have no idea who you are anymore.
This person. This woman. This little girl that has emerged as a externalization of your fear and self hatred and loneliness is not someone you know. Somehow she had grabbed a shovel and dug a hole into rock bottom, and continued to lay in it until her insecurities buried her alive. Until her body and mind morphed into something she couldn’t make out. Someone she didn’t want to be or want to know.
You swallow, trying to touch his face to bring you back to reality. “Who am I?” You ask, praying he would know for you.
“You’re mine.” He says, and somehow the answer shatters you.
He kisses you, the bed moving under his weight as he gets up and goes into the bathroom to get a wet rag. You stare at the ceiling, trying to sort through the sudden weight of your emotions by the white popcorn. Taehyung’s face appears on the back of your eyelids when you blink, tears blurring your vision.
Him.
You can feel his arms around you, hugging you, consoling you. Being there for you. His lips, warm, so warm they filled you with hot fire that heated every inch of your body and brought back to life once dormant parts of your soul. He knew who you were all along, he didn’t have to ask, he didn’t have to wonder, he saw you, he read you, he loved you. But you had ran away from him out of fear of the possibility, of opportunity. Of what he could do to you. Of what true, actual love could to do you.
You look at the clock on his nightstand, half blocked by the torn condom wrapper, its red letters glowing with warning. You know he is at the train station and you can imagine him looking around, trying to see your figure coming towards him in the snow. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, he had told you, extending a piece of paper your way, the train leaves at ten. I bought you a ticket… if you want to come with me.
The ticket had half fallen out of your jeans pocket, the white and black rectangle of paper holding so much more than just the train information. You clench your jaw, digging your head down into the expensive satin of his pillows to combat the rising feeling within you. But it runs up your spine, electrifies your heart, and ignites your brain.
You know who you want to be, the running water masking the sound of your words, their significance soaking into the ceiling just as the cold sink water soaks into his bath towel.
When he returns you are gone. Revelation, truth, and the faint scent of perfume the only indications you were ever there at all, along with the lingering sound of five words that are now too far gone to be heard.
“I want to be his.”
~Admin Eggplant
