Dazzle | Hunsoo

Cold crashes & Sunday Mornings

It was always Jisoo who falls first. She, who falls first, in the heat of summer because of sun scorch. The Jisoo who trips cross-legged because of unkempt shoelaces. The girl who falls first in pine asphalt of the solid ground because he carries his smile like never before towards her. She always falls first.

However, now, she has time. Time to thinks things through, to proper the damage to be done. Clocks to swivel and crank, seconds to chase daydreams. Kim Jisoo now has time to think before falling into unknown bounds of heartbreak and tears.

But she doesn't, never does, never will. Because she was cold, yet hot, content, and oh so needy. She was always face first in her crashes, hoping to be caught—she falls in her pity.

Instead, she chases faster and desperate in an attempt to follow him—him and his pretty smiles, his pretty skies, his pretty world. In his pretty heart where it's always coffee and cherries, no blues or jisoo's.

It saddens her fragile being, she was no mere mortal in this game. She was chipped and crack, like the champagne glass he holds every morning, lazy drinks and drunk night to sway. The blood that cloths his lips when he reaches the broken parts, thrown away in the dusk.

It was a cold Sunday morning when her last crash happened. Next to the cup of boiling kettles and the tea stacks he owned in his complex.

Her idling next to the whistling mist that flows out in the daylight, when she sees him and her, strawberries and raspberries together in the forest. Lips intact and white shirts clasped, it breaks her.

The cup she holds towards him falls, he looks up and whips a confused 'oh'. The girl raises her cured brow and sneers with the stains of her lipstick on his neck.

And she still crashes, on a Sunday morning with Oh Sehun. It was cold and gruff. But it was a crash nonetheless, but this time, she knows—he never caught her before.