beauty of a secretâŽ
THERE IS NO going back. time and again, it is those words that pulls him from reminiscences of the week before, the month before; the years come and gone. time is as unforgiving as it always is, taking more and giving less; leaving nothing but corpses and scars to match damage dealt by life. changmin finds himself thinking on it more often than not, waxing poetic under the spray of the shower in a borrowed bath. it pervades his thoughts as he makes the solitary walk down an empty hall, towel clasped tight around his waist ( and itching skin unaccustomed to being merely skin ).
for once, he is exactly what he seems to be; somewhat lost, looking for solutions only to come up empty-handed.
the door to his room opens with a turn and a push, and the male steps inside into warmer air. small but cozy, the carpet beneath his feet fits cleanly between his toes with each step, the curtains brush his shoulders as he passes, his bed ( small, dressed in a thick blanket ) welcomes his body as he climbs in and shifts his cells into a pair of humble boxers. the towel is lifted to dry his hair, while the male casts a contemplative glance at the other side of the room.
intentions?
empty, for the time being, her bed looks more like a reflection of his own than anything that actually exists. he tricks himself into thinking so until the door opens and his gaze flicks to see her enter. ( pretty jung soojung; pretty unavailable jung soojung ). even if he isnât sure just how, the feeling rolls off her in waves; distance hidden in the guise of excessive proximityâ
it is deception at its finest, he supposes, watching her busy herself with this and that ( staring unabashedly, he has never been shy in that regard )âat least until the lamp between their beds dims and he finds himself in the darkness, stretched on a bed just a few inches too short for him. the first night in a new place is always the hardest, he supposes.
( not that thereâs anything to make it better. )
dark eyes flutter shut, driven down by the gentle press of his fingers; he doesnât allow himself any other thought, at least until his bed dips on his side.
the side closest to herâpretty jung soojung.
@vkjungs













