Shadowlights ; Minsung

quattro

the ghost of his touch even haunted me back into my apartment, floating around me till i got tired of these quiet whispers making me go crazy. the black color emitting from the ghost painted the rooms in an ugly shade of desperation and covered the green meadowland normally decorating my miserable walls.
so i decided to leave the four walls, suffocating me till i believed i only saw the soft brown of his eyes anymore. my feet stepped over the threshold of my apartment and i imagined feeling a weight lifting up from my chest and i could finally breathe properly again like i couldn't for so long. i was greeted by rain outside, it seeming like the only thing Seoul was capable of giving us as an excuse. though i didn't mind the rain. i honestly never did, because the world seemed all the more at peace in such times. the blue chased away the gray lingering at the sides of the streets and in the shady alleys where everyone just walked by without ever looking.

i always believed that rain was for the world what an apology was for the people; a cleanup of all the nasty promises that were broken and of all the sad behaviour that we were used to so desperately. a cleanup of the pressure on our shoulders that something just doesn't seem right.
so when rain falls down on the busy roads and pavements of Seoul, the city takes a breath and lets go. it was always beautiful to watch how silent it could get in a city that seemingly never slept just because of a few clouds crying their sorrows out. though the water drops hitting the asphalt made me go deaf, they were so loud in the quietness of the night, even louder than my thoughts back in my apartment. so i couldn't help myself but drown in this potpourri that was thrown at me so carelessly.

*･☪︎·̩͙

my heart always craved for the feelings his touches left on my skin. when he so seamlessly changed his fists meeting my already blue spots into soft fingers caressing my cheeks.
my heart always craved for the feelings his lips left on mine. when he caught me in the empty hallway, looking at me with this gaze i was never able to decipher.
it always seemed to be the same mantram, i would even go as far and call it a routine. when his mouth closed itself after spitting insults after me like it was a normal conversation, realising he wouldn't get my attention with only his voice as his tool. i think i could even recognise Minho on the way his feet hit the floor when he was speeding up his pace behind me to catch up to my slouched figure. it may seem like Minho always initiated the state of throwing fists between us, but i think the only thing he ever wanted was my undivided attention. though me never realising people's true thoughts, i rescued myself with my knuckles meeting his skin where his sweater loved to slip down his shoulder.

it always started with that, with painting the skin of each other till we were satisfied with the picture. it always ended in Minho digging his fingers into my shoulders, though, his hot breath tickling my ear as he shoved me against the wall nearest to us.
"why can't you just realise?", it was always the same five words he whispered into my ear, letting a shudder run down my spine because of the husky tint his voice got when he was breathless. my fingers twitched with the need to touch him again, so they found their way into Minho's hair, like they were so accustomed to the feeling the soft strands left on the bruised knuckles. it was always in this fleeting moment when the other sensation that tinged Minho's eyes darker turned just that tad more intense, when my heartbeat picked up the pace till i was scared he could hear the loud beating, the blood rushing.

i never thought about the words he whispered to me after each fight because i knew i just wouldn't understand anyway. i just rather welcomed his mouth crushing onto mine, welcomed the moan he let escape through it. most people would describe the lips they're kissed with as soft and plush, but Minho's never were like that. i rather enjoyed letting my tongue wander over the cuts in his lips, absorbing the feeling of his rugged skin. though the dominance was always on his side, i didn't mind at all. it was kind of relieving to just live in the moment without the worry of control on the situation. and i think Minho knew that, because his lips wandering down to my jawline, leaving a little bit different bruises behind, just screamed dominance in their brightest glory.