seventeen oneshots

thorns (verkwan)

LINK:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12313974

Summary:

they scrape and make him bleed, and god, good god, hansol can't scream out.

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Hansol shifts his weight rather uncomfortably as he stares at the ceiling. There's so much going on in his head right now. He feels lonely--yet his best friend lays next to him and scrolls through his twitter feed, occasionally tweeting something, occasionally airdropping him a stupid meme. Mingyu's eyes scan the screen of his phone lazily. It's obvious to Hansol that he's bored as well. Some sleepover this is, huh? Mingyu chuckles at a post every so often....Hansol stares at the nonexistent patterns in the smooth ceiling overhead.

He thinks of Seungkwan. Good god, no.

Can he not think of Seungkwan? Not like this. Not right now.

A heavy sigh passes his lips. This isn't what he wants to think about. Not his laughter, his beautiful voice, not even his stupid fucking username on kakaotalk. He doesn't want to think about the heavy, lovely, warm feeling he gets when he talks to the incredibly talented friend of his, or how he's the only person lately who's been able to get him to write songs or poems, the occasional rap in the mix every so often. Some of the most beautiful melodies he's written lately are all inspired by Seungkwan. His warm eyes, the way his dimples show up when he smiles and laughs too hard.

He DEFINITELY doesn't want to think of the fact that none of this will ever be returned; it's all so hard to him, but he should be used to it by now. Seeing others happy while he's miserable is unfortunately a very typical pattern for Chwe Hansol.

His best friends have been together for years. Wonwoo and Mingyu were inseparable and it was one of the most beautiful things on this godforsaken earth to him. It was like the red string of fate danced around them and made them hold onto each other like stars in a constellation. The very visionaries who saw Orion's Belt hanging and glittering around his waist lazily were the same ones who sewed Wonwoo and Mingyu's names onto the exact same silken skies. Of course, they had their fights--Hansol never heard the end of how stubborn Wonwoo was--but Hansol still found himself being jealous.

Jealousy crept up his stomach and bloomed in his throat like a flower who refused to show its petals to the outside world. Hansol never spoke a word of his jealousy. What was it like to be loved? To love and for it to be returned? He sighed. There was an incredible hole in his chest that was filled with lead every night when he laid down to sleep. It bit at him and clawed at his chest, it made his very soul scream and cry with anguish as it was buried in the grave of his own thoughts. He imagined what it would be like to hold Seungkwan close like Mingyu holds Wonwoo. What would it be like to hear "I love you" back? He heard those words frequently but never with the same meaning that Hansol holds in his own words.

He finally decides to break the silence.

"Mingyu," he speaks, his voice breaking a little under the pressure. "What's it like?"

Mingyu sits up a little, propping himself up with his arm. He quirks a brow when Hansol talks--Hansol can see his expression change out of the corner of his eye.

"Mm? What's what like."

"Love."

"I think you know what it's like," Mingyu laughs quietly. "Come on. You know exactly what it feels like, right?"

"Not to feel it back, no," Hansol mutters, still staring at the ceiling.

The flower in his throat blooms a little more. Its thorns scrape him and make him bleed and god he wants to scream, the green notes of envy want to yell out in anger, but he holds his breath. He can't let it win. He holds his words back and suffocates the bloom with lack of sunshine and oxygen. Perhaps saltwater can nourish his jealousy tonight.