Tired Lines; Soonhoon

24

☽

every hour.

Jihoon's living, he is. Fast and slow all at once, savoring the kindest moments offered but moving like a freight train through all the feelings. He remembers Soonyoung's lips on his, and the taste of him at the back of his throat. Passing out like he's borderline dead is easiest when the sheets smell like vanilla and laundry detergent, quick heartbeat accompanying his. He still makes fun of Mingyu for saying he sees new colors - he doesn't admit that he can see them, too.

In the night, when the stars are hidden behind factory clouds and the air is cool against his eyes. He sees them. Familiarly vibrant.

He jots lyrics in his notepad, on napkins, the skin of his palm when he needs to, always inspired. He's got those crescent eyes burned into the prettiest pink parts of his conscious.

Soonyoung holds his hand casually and kisses him like it's the happiest nothing, and oh, Jihoon's living.