#rkgunhee

the dark circles have been making themselves more and more prominent underneath his eyes for the past few weeks, and they didn’t go unnoticed. he can’t help it though, and for an individual like jung hoseok– who laughs like the sun is always shining, who waters his plants religiously, who can see the bright side in every single situation, not having enough sleep is taking a toll on his psyche.

he doesn’t know how he can though, all things considered. his phone remains dark no matter how messages he sends, no matter how much he wants to see the phone light up with an unread message– it remains stoic. endless sighs leave his lips and it becomes a routine– he simply can’t figure what else to do about it.

no matter how much he tries, his thoughts chase each other in circles and leave him more confused than before. the harder he thinks about it, the more his brain hurts and he’s never felt like this before. he can’t explain it– an odd feeling of emptiness. his hands fidget uncontrollably, fingers tugging at each other as his lips pull into a small frown.

before he realizes it, he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

and he dreams about the same thing, the same subject that plagues his mind even while he’s awake and has too much time to think. the same face, the same smile, the same laugh. they’re in gunhee’s apartment this time. it’s like old times– when things were simpler, when hoseok was happy all the time and he could always tell what gunhee was thinking. they are playing one of their favorite games together, some old racing one. hoseok’s loud voice fills the apartment as he whoops and hollers as the race ends. he’d lost a while ago, but he cheers gunhee on all the same. he always does.

a fist punches the air when gun crosses the finish line, and his eyes are crinkled into half-crescents as he turns to gunhee– and loses his breath. there’s an easy grin on his face and his hair is soft– unmarred by one of his caps or beanies, slightly overgrown bangs falling into his eyes. his mouth is moving, eyes still fixed on the screen, but hoseok can’t hear it. he continues to stare– as gunhee’s eyes finally drift over to meet his, the smile still lighting up his face.

and the first thing hoseok does is lean in without a second thought, hand coming up to rest on the side of gunhee’s face, thumb resting against his jaw as their lips press together– softly, effortlessly, and hoseok can’t help but think this– this is what he was trying to figure out.

a gasp catches in his throat as his eyes fly open, jerking awake in his seat, and he can’t breathe. his eyes blink rapidly as if they can stop the wetness suddenly and startling pooling at the corners but they begin slowly anyway– and he only notices when one drop, two drops hit the paper and stain the ink. and he looks down, incredulous little hiccups as he tries not to cry making his chest quake as he rubs at his eyes vigorously until the last page of his notebook swims into view, the last lines not scratched out by his sleepy hand– and everything falls into place.

you’re there but for some reason, i can’t reach you, stop–

the tears spill over. 

but the laugh that bubbles from his throat leave him feeling lighter than he has been in weeks.