"Sex on drugs is mind-blowing. Wanna try?"
───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───
Kim Migyung, a former prima ballerina who had to give up dancing after an accident. Not being able to do the only thing she's ever known, her dreams stripped away, she...
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She was an albatross, a beautiful dream that had him tightly in her clutches. He tried to fly away just like Albrecht did, causing Giselle great grief; she helped him escape but Migyung didn't.
He didn't want to escape the world she had woven him into.
He was deep, he knew. So deep, he only had the energy to utter her name, call her out to ease his pain. A pain etched in his heart, his mind that only needed her lips on his.
He was high on her, everything that made her Migyung. She smelled like cigarettes and cherries, her skin sweet honey. It took him to heights he had never dared to scale and yet, when she smiled at him through the smoke, he was ready to take the leap.
Oh sweet, sweet love! She had him breathing harder with just a touch, his skin burning on ice. When her eyes dropped down, her pupils blown out, he wished it was because of him. And yet, he was the one who had fallen from his high seat, despite knowing everything, every risk.
He was addicted to her, addicted to the way she had him at her beck and call. He was her lap dog if that's what she wanted.
Hence, he held her through the night. Kissed her like it would blow life into her. Loved her like it was the first time. And rocked her like a parent would pacify their child.
Because what is a partner if not a parent, a sibling, a stranger and an enemy when needed? What is love if not being there with no conditions applied?
Hoseok had learnt it through the ups and downs of his relationship with Migyung and he knew she appreciated it. She appreciated him with every touch, every kiss and each murmured apology that muted her guilt. She had nothing to be sorry about but he didn't correct her. He was there just to support her.
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When the morning came her heart burned, it physically hurt more than the stinging hangover as she watched him prepare hangover soup for her. Although the magnitude of her guilt had lessened, it didn't magically disappear.
Through the night as he held her, wiped her tears away and gave her his quiet support, things had become clear as sobriety worked through her muddled mind. It was when the morning light had filtered through the shades she realised that she was sorry to herself for the most part. She was guilty of letting herself down.
