#rudimentari

@rudimentari​ / first encounter starters / ACCEPTING!

sunshine does little to ease the trembling of his fingers as temperatures drop below freezing, nothing more than a constant reminder of just how far away spring is. even his toes, bundled in two pairs of socks, are no match against winter’s tyranny. there’s an ache in his jaw that perfectly matches the one in his elbow, trophies from a terrific tumble last week when he had walked right into a hidden patch of ice. a sickly shade of green now, the bruises are certainly biding their time to heal, and kyungsoo has no choice but to suffer through clumsy meals and would-be-tears whenever he bumps against the nightstand every morning. few seasons are ever as generous with their disdain as winter, evidently and perpetually intent on making a fool of him every year. (and unfailingly, she succeeds.)

this year is no different, gifting him with restless nights and bad luck at every corner, but it could certainly be worse. no matter the temperature or number of bruises, things could always sink lower. which is why he’s stood in the middle of a park now, staring up into a tree with little more than a handful of leaves still clinging stubbornly to its branches. he’s been here for nearly a half-hour now, fighting against icy wind and misty showers. even the befuddled stares of passersby haven’t prompted him to budge an inch, his attention fixed intensely on something concealed within the tree’s tangled branches. winter has never been particularly kind to him, but–

“this is gonna sound crazy,” he starts slowly, sparing the newcomer a brief glance before returning to the tree. “but i’m pretty sure there’s a turtle up there.”

–at least he isn’t a turtle in a tree. he’s spent enough summers puttering barefoot through creeks, collecting salamanders and pocketing shiny stones, to recognise the awkward flailing of a puzzled reptile. when a particularly strong gust shakes the tree, kyungsoo drops his bag at the base of the narrow trunk and bares his freezing hands to winter’s jaws. with a short hop, he grabs hold of a sturdy branch and hauls himself up, one foot already steady as he glances down at the stranger once more.

he’s drawn to her by the way people ignore her. they walk past her because they don’t care, and they walk past him because bouquets in the aftermath of the holidays are worth--- is there a word for less than nothing? funny how he steps to the side to reach her and immediately gets sidetracked himself. jiang doesn’t recall speaking up until she opens her mouth, “ah”. he senses it then.

   this marks the third time he’s been this close to a person, or the illusion of it, not near human. it feels just as awful, if a bit comforting.

   by virtue of being dense, jiang finds he’s still here. even after she falls against him and he lifts his arm over her to salvage what he can from his bouquet, even after she rambles about her misery, he’s still here. compelled to remain that way under the guise of i guess i’d hate to be you, jiang shakes his head. “ i’m a good listener. ” to his left, the invasive glare of the passing car’s lights. to his right, a girl he’s not responsible of but also can’t leave now. her compliments translate into no more than a tentative smile while he deduces humoring this further holds no danger because, for one, she’s familiar. different like him. than him, even. worst coming to worst can’t happen when he has the means to defend himself in some way.

   or; jiang is wrong and this thrill is infinitely stupid and she means trouble.

   he wouldn’t want to find out any other way than himself.

   underplaying in his mind the conflict this could bring, he halts the fidgeting, “ i can help you, if you want. i think i can. my apartment’s across the street, let’s, um, we can have dinner and figure your situation out. ” two of which he’s counted now. he addresses the second,