#jin.doc

❪  💜  PROMPT !  ❫

things you said with no space between us

[ read called a thousand times ]

pairing.  ksj x f!reader.  rating.  general, i think.  tags.  this is straight up not a good time, dude.  wc.  0.3k.

“I’m sorry,”  he breathes, chokes out as if the words are the only things he can offer.  He’s pressed flat against your back, entire broad frame engulfing your body, holding you hostage against him.  You think you’re meant to be the one hurting with how tightly he grips you, how his hand sears imprints over your skin, speckles your sides like stars in the night sky.

“Don’t.”  It’s muffled, stolen by the worn linen of his sheets, the pillow that carries both the scent of your shampoo and his achingly familiar laundry detergent.

He stiffens against you, above you, within you.  You rock back, try to tear him from his thoughts.  You don’t want his apologies - not now, not ever.  You’ve heard them enough to hate them, to want to tear each word out of your skin when he deposits them like they mean something, tries to thread them between your limbs like they might hold you together.

You feel the inhale, the telltale rise and fall of his chest.  He’s going to say it again.  

“I’m—”

“Don’t.”  Louder this time, scathing, dressed in thorns to protect the broken beaten thing within your ribs.  A warning.  

❪  💜  RUN BTS :  ❫  fun and games !

[ read called a thousand times ]

pairing.  ksj x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  angst.  sort of.  idk.  wc.  0.3k.  author note.  noor bearrrrrrr.  you’re so cute i cry.  this was weird and garbage but C’EST LA VIE I SUPPOSE!!!

May I ask you how you've been Would I have the words to say I've forgotten how to feel How to call you by your name

                  -  May I Ask - Luke Chiang, Alexis Kim

He’d thought three years would be enough time.  To move on from a love he’d almost felt like he’d imagined, to find something else to focus on.  

It had to be, right? 

(Wrong.)

Three years is nothing - not even enough time for him to forget the sound of your voice, your laughter, your sighs.  It does nothing to dull the memories, remove the bits of you from his dreams.  

He still remembers how you sleep, curled on your side, head held right over his heart.  (Somehow, you’d never numbed his arm - fitting so perfectly in the space he’d carved for you.)  He remembers how you look in his tee shirts - the only things you’d ever sleep in, treating his closet as your own each time you were over - and how you smell - floral and soft and with just the faintest hint of coconut.  He remembers the softness of your body, how you’d run hot in the night and kick off all the blankets. 

Maybe it’s unfair of him to do this, to ring you up with the hope you’ll answer.  Maybe he should’ve deleted your number, erased it from his phone (and his thoughts) but even then, he doesn’t think it would’ve made a difference.

He still remembers all seven digits, dials them with pure muscle memory.

When you answer with your dust-covered tongue - a soft hello? - it feels like the beginning all over again.  He thinks he’ll be okay though.  If he’s careful.  If he doesn’t get caught up in the sound of your breathing.  If he reminds himself of the reason he’d left. 

“Hi.  It’s Jin.”

Remember, he tells himself, not quite sure what he’s meant to remember.  Not you.  Wait— only you?