stray kids oneshots/reactions 🎐

moth to the flame ; h.js

she walks in, her steps deliberate yet delicate, as if treading on the edge of a secret. the dim light of the room dances across her beige dress, casting shadows that cling to the fabric. her hair, a cascade of waves, frames her face. to him, she is ethereal, a vision that transcends mere beauty. she is the embodiment of longing, etched into his soul.

devotion binds him, a chain forged from countless stolen glances and unspoken words. his heart, once whole, now bears the jagged edges of love unrequited. he traces the contours of her presence-the curve of her lips, the arch of her brows-as if memorizing a prayer. in her imperfections, he finds perfection; in her distance, he discovers a universe of ache.

---

late shifts, a friend in need of comfort, feeling sick, tired, a family event, vet's appointment for her dog, cramps, bad day.

on those days, she becomes unapproachable, a distant star veiled by clouds. he watches from afar, a silent sentinel, afraid to disturb her orbit. her reasons remain shrouded in mystery, and he dares not pry. perhaps she seeks peace in solitude, a break from the gravity of their connection. he, the lesser celestial body, orbits her sun, content to bask in her radiance even from afar.

inferiority gnaws at him-an unwelcome companion. he is the moth drawn to her flame, risking burns by proximity. yet, he worships her, a disciple at love's altar. his prayers are silent, whispered into the void. he thanks the universe for this improbable alignment, where a mortal like him can share space with a goddess. she is his muse, his compass, his north star. and though he believes himself unworthy, he clings to her presence like a sailor to a shipwrecked plank.

---

she emerges, disheveled yet bewitching. her dress, once pristine, now bears the creases of passion. tousled hair frames her face, a wild halo. the lipstick, once precise, smudged by kisses stolen in the dark. the bar's blue and purple lights paint her skin, revealing motifs of lust. the man beside her, a mere mortal, pursues her like a conqueror, capturing both her body and her yearning.

but the truth remains veiled, hidden behind the curtain of her laughter. for she is no goddess, but a siren who sails treacherous waters. her lips, stained with deceit, whisper promises to another. her hands, once entwined with his, now trace forbidden paths. she is the architect of her own betrayal.

"my jewel..."

and as he stands there, whispering to himself, he remains blind to the shards of his heart scattered at her feet. for she is not his jewel; she is the thief who embezzles his devotion, leaving him with nothing but echoes of love lost.