forget it.

emrysvc·:

sunlight shines joyfully, fluffy white clouds overhead and for the first time in weeks, his body isn’t threatening to shut down on him. the reasons for why are frustrating, but the results are still enjoyable, he hates to admit. the freshwater reserve is quiet today, almost empty, a mother and some kids at the far end that he can see, playing in the shallow with a father standing by.,but it seems no one had plans to visit the quarry today. seojoon is more than happy. the quarry over a public pool insures that no one will be around to pressure or stare at them; this is an important detail because he really wants @vcsora​ to feel comfortable. more than ever now that he’s putting his life in her hands. he lingers on the bank with his in the water, shirt already stripped and no doubt a mean tan painting his back, but mostly, he finds that everything is good. he feels great. some time soon sora should be around- his eye twitches with admitted uncertainty -to teach him how to swim.  exciting but frightening. still, he’s learned to appreciate her, trust her too. never does she put upon him or ask him too many questions, she doesn’t throw herself at him like some. she just, smiles that smile, innocent and pretty, and they connect. connections are difficult to come by, and sora is one he values dearly. 

he dragged up the steps like a dog with a limp, panting out of breath and a with keen sense of smell. @emrysvc  so close─ seojoon can smell him, soft and warm, sage and thyme. and time, it was; time to pack on the defenses over his raw emotions.  just do it, sometimes he thinks. give in faster, why keep putting it off, but then he sneers at himself, eyes of tired hate as he looks himself in the mirror. he’s never, ever going to give up on himself and what he wants or stands for. it’s everyone elses’ job to give the fuck up on him. he can’t do it to himself, too. all he wants is to be normal, and if that means he stands his ground until he can’t anymore, over and over, he’ll never give up on this one thing. he doesn’t rap knuckles on the door, just drops his forehead against wood with a loud thwack that resounds through his skull, eyes closed and palm pressed against it. “em? you in there baby?” yes, is the answer. he can smell the life wafting through cracks in the door frame, a warm body that he aches to take upon his own. “i’d really like to come in. can i?” he mumbles, pushes himself to a stand and gathers himself as usual. it’s become easy over the years, fake it til you make it─ spine cranked straighter and lips curled into a smirk, he shoves hands into pockets and his resting expression is tired but clear enough. he’s not as close to the edge as he usually in when he drags himself like a ghost through em’s door. so it’s easier, but not by much.

his fingers flex, tendons aching in his knuckles, pop-pop-crack, as he cracks them together. places them linked behind his head as he slings himself with all the grace of a rockslide, into the chair before @wonjaevc​‘s desk.  “this chair is total shit,” he comments, unnecessary and only half true. “but at least the view is good,” eyebrows wiggle. parallel to wonjae is arguably the best view he knows, though, maybe he’s just effected. skewed perspective, a pollen to coat his senses and leave him feeling allergic to any sort of subtly or sense of cool. because in truth, everything. fucking. hurts. there’s a dull pain in his chest and he hasn’t slept more than 3 hours a day in a week. he’s h u n g r y. and not for food, salad won’t cut it. it’s soul deep- inescapable but he’s out-running it anyway. that’s what he does; run, a runner. always running away in one or three ways at all times. sometimes it’s nice to have something to run to. that’s why he gives wonjae a bright grin that he can’t feel in his heart, so he just turns it into theatrics. really hams it up. “wanna get some lunch with me? we can drink? 11am isn’t too early to drink, right? also, do you have any requests for me, i haven’t ran any shipments in like 3 days, what am i, on vacation?” he speaks fast but low, quiet. he can’t raise the energy to speak any higher.