@dhmpire for (x) : five times kissed | accepting
one. winter howls in, frost and fury, as snow coats the earth. their bodies are bundled in perhaps one too many layers but neither seems to mind as they waddle about in their snow boots carve angel silhouettes into the fluff. its simple and easy, life, the joy of youth. love swipes a curtain of dust in her direction and sungji cries out, whining at the cold that coats her neck and cheeks and nose and eyelashes. they hurry to her side, brushing the snow from her features with mittened hands. by the time her face is revealed, the skin is bright and red, and she feigns a pout despite the smile that tickles at her lips. they both fall into a fit of laughter as she delicately dumps a handful of snow over their heads. they lean in and their lips brush the flakes from her eyes and cheeks and she gazes up at them like the sun greeting the dawn.
two. middle school is a misery and sungji finds herself dreading the threat of high school. its a looming thing, knowing your fate as you face the mirror, and she hides her fear behind the scowl her brother has helped her fashion, a suit of iron. the whispers don’t stop, they never do, but its more bearable to keep them at bay behind her back than to face them head-on. the confessions have begun, which only seems to add to the ire of her self-elected tormentors, finding new excuses to paint her a villain with every unwanted advance or polite rejection. its graduation day. she’s wearing her best uniform and her unnie yingsu has styled her hair with those pretty flower pins she likes and even a bit of make-up and despite herself, sungji can’t find it in her to feel anything but dread. cameras flash and she fakes as smile and no one will be the wiser. love is waiting by the gate, a bouquet in hand, a welcome surprise. a passing remark catches their ears and they whip to find the source, tongue primed for lashing and a glare to rival any other. she catches them then, her arms trapping them tightly against her and pulling them back to her. her lips press into their cheek and across the bridge of their nose and into the crease of their brow until the glower fades. thank you, she thinks, for everything. they link arms and amble off to find a noodle shop to share celebratory dinner and, for the first time that day, sungji’s smile is very much real.
three. summer colors the sky a blue so vivid its as if plucked from a canvas, the clouds soft tufts of white and grey against the pure azure backdrop. high school and college has passed and its sungji’s first visit to the united states. she’s abuzz the entire plane ride, despite her many attempts at sleep, and doesn’t budge from her position, a dutiful sage planted at the window. its been years since she’s seen love and written correspondence can only say so much and they chat every week but it isn’t the same- not when they’ve grown so used to quiet afternoons at the cafe and lazy sundays spent tangled in each other’s embrace and shared whispers in the dead of night. they are oceans away and sungji aches and no amount of text messages or emails or hand written letters or video chats can remedy such a thing. the plane touches down and california greets her softer than expected and she anxiously scans the crowd for a incognito actor in dark shades. tufts of pink call out to her as her name rings like wind chimes in her ears and she sprints to greet them, luggage forgotten at their feet as she practically leaps into their arms and plants a kiss squarely on their lips. i’ve missed you, it says, for far too long. the paparazzi post the photos the following morning and for the rest of her visit, she is thoroughly chastised by their manager, yet she doesn’t leave love’s side until her flight home the following month- for which the gossip rags and shutterbugs are exceedingly grateful. the headlines read secret dating scandal, which she and her brother laugh over upon her return.
four. the voice is shaky and desperate and damn near unrecognizable, but that’s untrue, because sungji would recognize it anywhere. the voice of her best friend, first companion, soulmate. a voice she hasn’t heard in over a year- a voice she feared she would never hear again. when they disappeared, she could not crumble, not when yingsu and takhou were suffering a loss so deep and personal. her siblings needed her, and she them, to keep from collapsing into a thousand fragile pieces... but now, love has returned and the breaking is decidedly less. they speak on the phone for weeks before they find each other. everything is the same, and yet so terrifyingly different. they don’t tell her what happened and she doesn’t ask and they share more tears than she can ever remember having cried in a lifetime. they try to push her away, but she is persistent. constant. enduring. and when they finally break down, together, fractured and decaying in the ways they hadn’t allowed themselves before, she kisses the tears from their eyes and cheeks and nose and lips. its okay, she breathes, i’m here. they stay cradled in each other’s warmth until the pain subsides at least a little.
five. autumn colors the trees and the sky and the sun and sungji finds herself nostalgic for no reason at all. they’re sharing a simple afternoon in a park where no one recognizes them, sunning beneath an orange and red painted tree. she cradles their head carefully in her lap, one hand stroking at their hair affectionately as the other holds a book, lazily turning the pages with her thumb. they have fallen asleep, the pages of their book hiding their features from the brightness of the midday sun, and she’s distracted by the way the wind caresses their hair. its uncannily warm and she’s grateful for the abatement of winter and the rest of the world seems to putter on, ignoring their existence for the afternoon. there is nothing special about the day, and yet sungji finds herself faithfully memorizing the lines of their forehead and their slow, steady breaths and the weight of their body pressing into hers. as if they are elusive, as if they are apt to disappear. they murmur something sleepily and she gently presses a kiss into the top of their head. don’t go, she begs, i love you.
