#kyung-ch

The air is warm and light, dancing around a cloaked form that emerges from the thrush and tall trees. His identity is hidden by the thick, dark green fabric he is surrounded by, approaching the river and kneeling by it to watch a doe that has knelt to take a drink. He’s silent and still, watching the animal, it’s light fur and innocent brown eyes lifting to the other’s and then snapping to the side suddenly.

The doe prances away, leaving the cloaked form kneeling beside the water; curious what stirred such a creature that seemed so at peace. As he looks to the side, the same direction as the doe, he spots a figure that towers over him on a horse, approaching slowly at a casual pace. Though he does not move, he eyes the form with interest, curious enough to stand from his place and gather that…yes; it is in fact a human.

His nimble fingers take hold of the fabric that covers his head, pulling it back and revealing his features. His long black hair, light blue eyes, pale skin, and pointed ears. The same light blue eyes that continue to watch the approaching rider but make no move to gather his attention. It doesn’t seem that he’s been noticed yet, and supposes he would prefer to keep it that way.

-pays around 20 for mascara usually-

-pokes the boobage-

On the very first day that Kyung wasn’t home, it wasn't a surprise to Yoongi. After all, who could have known what that man was up to? Perhaps his job was just taking a bit longer than expected, leaving Yoongi alone in the apartment; which, even if not preferred, was still not out of the ordinary.

The young man cleaned until everything within sight was spotless, and then sat himself on the couch. In his tired thought he wondered if Kyung would be back soon, and his eyes fluttered closed. It wasn’t long after that, that he fell asleep, and didn’t wake up until the next morning…when his roommate was still nowhere to be seen. That was when a small glimmer of worry laid at the back of his mind, and made him anxious. He’d even gone so far as to check the older male’s filthy room for his best friend…the man his heart secretly beat for.

So that day was spent in a hurried wait, a muted anxiety, as he tried to ease himself with distraction. It was impossible to write lyrics with so much on his mind, so he resolved to watch movies. Film after film, until he looked at the clock and realized that it was dreadfully late…and Kyung was still not home. His heart ached, and his mind circled endlessly around a stream of pitifully worrisome thoughts; most of which brought the boy half to tears…some of which made familiar wet streak his pale cheeks, when it became late enough that Yoongi feared the man wouldn’t come back.

So helpless. He had no one to rely on but his roommate, but up until now he believed that the older was invincible…

The disheveled younger man looks up from where he is currently half on, half off the bed, reaching for what appears to be a ribbon that's laying on the ground. It had come detached from the lovely nightwear that currently adorned his nimble figure.

-sends you porn, lube and a dildo-

It’s been so long since he could get a good sleep. With his thoughts spinning endlessly around his all but busy life, he cannot even shut his eyes when he finally lays down to rest. Instead his lids droop while he works, and tries not to make a mess of his clothing or the surrounding areas. When he leans into the counter because he can hardly stand on his own, or when he nearly misses his stop because he has to take the bus when his car goes out. All this, and when he comes home, he can’t even speak with the only person he trusts. They live at a distance from each other, moving in and out of a tense atmosphere that consumes them; one looks at the other, while the other looks away, only to turn back when the first’s eyes are no longer trained on him.

That is why, Yoongi is not even happy to go home today. He dreads using the stairs to get back up to their apartment; down the hall, the last door, that he unlocks and pushes in. His dead eyes cast to the floor while he pulls off his apron and hangs it aside. “I’m home.” But the words echo to a silent room.