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jumin’s index bobbles up & down against the checkmark of his elbow with an untenable impatience. the seams criss-crossing between his shoulder blades LOCK UP. his back becomes a shelf, steadied like a statue’s bearing in the way he has always been best accustomed to.
the paintings here are nice, he supposes ( he’s COMMISSIONED better, if he’s honest ). & he much prefers MINIMALISM, straight lines smoothed to perfect points, bold colors where chaos & order meet in the middle … still, he admires the paintings with his chest puffed up a little, expanding with a ghost of ancient pride.
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send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times our muses kissed / selectively accepting / @gughwa.
I.
the first time it happens she’s in his arms, held tight because he doesn’t want to let her go for fear she’ll disappear. that he didn’t rush in to save her, that this is all a dream and she was ripped away from his life by someone unknown. fingers curl into the dark locks of her hair, brushing it away from her neck, her forehead pressed to his shoulder as he murmurs words of relief and love against her ear. and zen wonders if sŏyun can hear how his heart pounds, feel it against her own chest. so close, she’s so warm, and in that moment seems so vulnerable when before she always seemed so hardy. they part just a bit so he can get a good look at her, red meeting brown, emotion swimming about in their depths. when he leans in, she meets him halfway, sparks bursting behind his eyelids and electricity shooting up his spine as their lips fit together perfectly—like they’re meant to.
II.
he might be a little tipsy… or completely hammered; the alcohol is sweet on his tongue with the edges of his vision blurred. heat flushes his cheeks, eyelids heavy, his fingers curled tight into her sleeve. the cell phone is still clutched in his fingers which sŏyun has to pry away from the device to set it on his table. zen had called her, speech slurred, a lump in his throat, asking for her company because frustration and depression were like knives in his chest that he couldn’t rip out. the empty cans of beer are left to toss away later because she says getting him to bed so he can rest is more important for now. gently, she chastises him for his drinking; normally, he’d smoke an entire pack of cigarettes. neither is a good way of coping, his lungs and his liver won’t thank him later. there’s no real response from him but a low hum. the bed creaks as he collapses into it. sŏyun’s careful fingers work the tie out to let pale hair spill onto the pillows. “stay here,” he mumbles, a quiver at the edge of his voice, a sigh of relief following as she slips in beside him but remains sitting up. a palm smooths out over his warm cheek, his eyelids falling shut, and the kiss to his lips is brief, chaste, but sweet.
“sleep well, hyun.”
III.
the morning is quiet. drowsiness still lingers in his brain, but he had climbed out of bed with sŏyun still slumbering peacefully beside him. no attempt is made to wake her, he won’t be gone long. just right across the street. hair tied up messily, clothes pulled on, he grabs his wallet, his phone, and house key so he can lock the apartment door behind him. the man that sells the bungeoppang greets zen cheerily, sticks four of the pastries into a paper bag while zen hands the proper amount of won over. he smiles, bids him farewell, returns home with the bag in hand for he and sŏyun to share. he wakes her with a nuzzle to her cheek. and she sits up, hair a mess, blankets pooling around her hips. a glance is given to him, she doesn’t say anything, just flops back down to pull the blanket over her head and zen laughs. “come on, i bought bungeoppang for the both of us. might as well eat them while they’re still fresh.”
he hears her grumble sleepily, poking her head out from beneath the blankets to shoot him a half-hearted glare. but sŏyun concedes to his better judgement, sits up again and doesn’t care about her exposed upper half. or she doesn’t notice. zen can’t say he minds. “cheer up, babe.” their noses bump together when he leans in, gives her a playful and fleeting kiss then pushes the bag into her hands. “you’ll feel better after you eat something.”
IV.
the gardens smell like you’d expect they would. fresh, damp soil, something akin to perfume from the petals of the blossoms. it’s peaceful, it’s pretty, and he’s happy to be there with her hand in his. zen pays no mind to the fact some of the other visitors seem more interested in him rather than the natural beauty laid out around them because he’s far more focused on how his fingers interlace with sŏyun’s and how she stares around them in wonder and excitement. as he knows that she loves the flowers, how much she paints them, and he hopes that it gives her inspiration.
maybe it’s a little cheesy, but as she’s admiring the rose bushes he pops up on the other side to greet her with a smile. arm stretches over the top of the bushes, tips her chin up so he can lean over to kiss the corner of her mouth—much to the annoyance of the older visitors who mumble something about the younger generation these days. but sŏyun snickers, her cheeks painted a pretty pink, and pushes his face away gently while he grins wide.
V.
she’s so beautiful, he thinks. and he’s so lucky to have her in his life. the dress for her had been expensive, the entire night out had been expensive, and he knows he owes jumin big time for giving him money just for this. it was oddly kind of him, it kind of weirded zen out, but he wasn’t about to turn down any chance to make this night as wonderful as it could be. in fact, he had been confident all through it. but now his neck and face feel hot, his hands quivering and he’s feeling his resolve waver. but the box is already clutched tight in his hand. sŏyun is staring at him curiously. she’s old enough to make this decision on her own, but he wonders if maybe he should have gone to her parents first. it’s too late now. if he doesn’t do it this moment, it’ll be a long time before he packs up the courage to try again.
even if it’s cliché, he still drops to one knee to offer the ring to her. fingers tremble, he’s having trouble getting the words out. when he does, they’re a bit clumsy, much different than he had initially planned. normally he’s much more collected and smooth than this. but, god, he’s asking her to spend their lives together. to marry him. of course he’s nervous, worried she’ll turn him down… but she, ever-so-gingerly, pulls the ring from his fingers to slip it onto her own. a perfect fit, it looks like. and zen is surprised, pleasantly, glancing upwards to meet tear-filled eyes.sŏyun manages to squeak out a little ‘yes’, trying desperately to bite back the tears to no avail.
heat builds behind his eyes when he takes her hands in his, rises to his feet to catch the tears with his lips. zen’s own eyes are wet, his own warm tears dripping down his own reddened cheeks but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away. he draws her in, arms tight about her waist, closing the gap between them to dip his head down. just like the first time, their lips fit together effortlessly, perfectly, sparks exploding behind his eyelids. the same exhilaration filling his chest. maybe he cries more than she does, face dropping to her shoulder when the kiss breaks. but sŏyun is happy to hug him, nuzzle his neck. he knows, like this, he’ll always be happy no matter what life throws at him. with her he can overcome anything.
