1950, Seoul.
Seonghwa's face stings, his left ear ringing, his eyes and his throat burning hot when he stumbles out of the back door.
His breath is still coming raggedly, grating down his throat, clawing back up.
He doesn't quite understand what he's feeling, he thinks.
Doesn't know what he's doing, what he's thinking.
What did his father just do to him?
Did he mean it?
Would he kill him?
Would he do that again?
He knocks at the thin wooden door.
Once, twice, why is he taking so long?
The shuffle of footsteps behind the door, the metallic clang of the bolt being drawn back, the sharp tug of impatience beneath his breastbone.
The door is drawn open, just halfway, and Hongjoong's face, confused, frightened, is blinking at him stupidly.
He doesn't have a single thought before he's taking two steps forward and wrapping his arms around Hongjoong's waist, resting his forehead against the younger's, melting against his body and reaching for a kiss.
"What's wrong?" Hongjoong says, even as his hands grab him by the shoulders and draw him away from his body.
He's flustered, wretchedly snubbed and he doesn't know what to do with himself.
He steps away from him, jaw clenched, fists clenched.
"Hyung, what... what's going on?"
Hongjoong's stepping out, shutting the door behind him.
Seonghwa shakes his head.
He feels awfully alone all of a sudden.
As if he's missed Hongjoong for years, so awfully, so terribly, like he was missing from him for years.
He feels it, sore and unsettled, beneath his ribs, between his shoulder blades, at the nape of his neck.
Now, now he can feel it everywhere, in that throbbing on the inside of his cheek, under his fingernails, that unease, it'll eat him alive if he lives a moment without Hongjoong.
He'll be ill everyday, sore and unsettled, everyday, all his life if Hongjoong is missing from him.
He's not sure what he's thinking or why he's thinking like this.
His breath isn't reaching his chest, and his blood is pulsing in thick, quick bursts, his chest hurts and his body trembles.
Being alive has never sickened him so much.
Hongjoong's hands are on his shoulders, firm, an anchor.
"Tell me what's wrong," he says.
He's watching him, still confused, still scared, too.
YOU ARE READING
↱SEMPITERNAL↲ ⇾seongjoong⇽
Hayran KurguA story where Hongjoong and Seonghwa find each other in three lifetimes. "What if I said I'd find you in lifetimes to come? What if I loved you in all my lifetimes past? Wouldn't that be lovely?" "I think I'd say you're a god awful poet."
