#untrbled

there are inhales longer than the last. exhales drawn out and lost in between endless sheets of rain, stale and ghostlike against the windowpane. times like this, she searches through the dark, blindly grasping at a pen on the nightstand. she’s lost track of the numerics by now. he doesn’t care.

( #9: when it's a starless sky. 3 nights of rain and counting. a warm bed and a hand on her thigh. blurred lines and a whispered prayer lost in translation.

‘let me be the girl this man has fallen in love with again.’

- rain thickens -

‘please.’ )

it's a full moon. she stays awake for the drowsiness that fogs up his voice. it clouds his eyes when he blinks them open, heavy and sinking with dreams half-finished. he smiles, anyway.

( what’re you doing? sheets are pushed aside. the bed creaks as she presses her weight against his chest. she smiles, anyway. thinking of you. always thinking of you. ) 

eventually, her eyes outgrow the shadows on the wall. she stays awake for the in-between. the heart that mimics the full moon. the runaway pulse and a flickering lamppost just below the windowsill. 

when butterfly kisses down his neck are enough to lull him back to sleep, she finally learns to let go. sometimes, she meets 3am just like this. 

sometimes, 3am is enough. 

( #6: when the last leaf falls to the ground. when you remind yourself that the change of seasons don't parallel a change of heart. )

“favorite painting of the week?”

on the rare occasion when she loses herself to silence, it goes just like this — 

lips upturned in that particular way they do when she can't quite pinpoint what she wants to say. hands busying themselves in the meantime. lining toothpaste along his toothbrush. picking a petal from his hair. laughing as it falls to the ground, baby pink and ephemeral. 

( s'like the color of your skin when you blush, an hour prior. her cheeks had flushed to a shade deeper than the roses he had brought home yesterday. stop that, with her face hidden in between her palms. she doesn't mean it. she never does. )

“picasso's 'the blue glass.'” finally, after too long. she grins around the toothbrush in her mouth. “just...” her lips twist up again. “you can barely see the glass, but the flower wouldn't be standing without it.” she slips up onto the counter, knees bumping clumsily against his hips. i think better up here, and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. fingers dancing down his neck. 

“mm...” his hands smooth down her waist. there's a smile, small and knowing, “and what else?” always knowing.

“...and i just really, really like flowers.” she beams through flickering shades of pink on her cheeks. through laughter smothered against his neck. through lips sticky with toothpaste and teeth nipping at his jaw. 

“i know, baby.” he laughs. harder when she licks at artificial mint hidden in the corner of his mouth. 

“i know.”

( #15: empty swing sets. whiskey kisses and missed calls. that feeling when you're lonely for something... but can't figure out for what. )

sometimes, she meets 11pm in the middle of his studio. 

he's fast asleep on the couch. hand frozen mid-stroke along doosik’s curved spine. along doosik conveniently curled up on his chest. she pouts. brushes aside the pang of jealousy that calls for a childish scrunch of her nose when she crouches down besides him. jusen laughs from the other end of the room. “the cat stole your spot, hyeri.” he swings around in his chair. “hyung’s already replaced you,” which only earns him a halfhearted throw of a pillow in his general direction. she almost laughs.

she'll meet 11pm with fingers stringing loosely through his hair, lips grazing half-shaven skin and trapping slumber behind puffy eyelids. she makes jusen promise her another hour of uninterrupted sleep. 

she’ll meet 11pm, just like this.

he'll meet it with a clementine on top of his chest and a sticky note on his cheek, forty-five minutes later. 

'holding doosik ransom 'til you come home.’

...a sticky note on his keyboard. 

‘come home. comehomecomehome. i miss you.'

he’s sleeping less these days. sleeping less, worrying more. album soon... album soon...

watch him when he least expects it. remind him he is ( not only ) sagging shoulders, tired eyes. a soundproof studio. he is so much more than that. 

tell him you’re proud of him. tell him there’s no right way to do this. no right way to do any of it. tell him you’re so fucking proud of him.

tell him how you dreamt. how you fell. tell him about the 10th song in a row that made your heart swell. how you thought of him after that second glass of wine. after the first. 

how you missed him.

how he knew.

learn how to cook. let the steam chase the darkness bruising beneath his eyes. you can take care of him. you will.

water the flowers. kiss him for the daisies he left on the pillowcase. the dandelions in the kitchen. they’ll wilt in 8 days time, but you’ll always remember the way he slipped a petal behind your ear. you’ll never forget.

he will always be his worst enemy as you will be yours. two negatives don't cancel each other out. they never do.

love him with everything you’ve got. why wouldn’t you? what’s stopping you? what’s

his heart remembers.

a heart never forgets.