A Moment In Time | Stray Kids x Reader | Oneshots

🩹Han Jisung - Too Much Thinking

Up and up the stairs, Jisung made his way to the roof, where a few moments ago he saw you sprinting out the apartment. When he finally reached the top, he dropped to his hands to his knees, panting.

It didn't take long for him to spot you. Under the clouded sky were patches that opened up for rays of sunshine to poke through. One shone directly against your silhouette, looking small in comparison. He walked towards you, only to realize as he neared you that you were shaking.

Your shoulders trembled with some invisible weight and your knees buckled, but it didn't look like you noticed. Your gaze was cast faraway into the metropolitan cityscape below, eyes bleary.

He almost didn't want to touch you, for fear that you might dissipate into water vapour and join the clouds. You were leaning against the railing of the roof, fingers gripping the metal bars so tight your knuckles were turning white.

He positioned himself just so there was enough room for another person in between the space, despite how desperately he wanted to close that gap. So he took one step closer and settled himself.

What would've been a clear summer day, if not for the clouds, left the atmosphere up there feeling rather humid. It made it seem like the sounds from the bustling city down below were amplified, bouncing off the walls of clouds, like you were boxed in.

But maybe that's what you wanted to feel at that moment, he wondered. Maybe you just wanted a definable space to watch and breathe. He took one step closer.

Your eyes were hooded, like there was a fog smeared in your vision and he wished he could wipe it clean for you, but all he could do now was step a little closer.

You were barely an arm's length away from him now. All he had to do was call your name, so that you'd respond. But the words were caught in his throat and of all the times to be feeling wordless, watching you shake as if you were alone was much the last thing he wanted. So all he could do, was lay a gentle hand over yours quivering with the cold and hope you'd understand his hum of concern.

And you did. The moment you felt his warm hand slip over your frigid skin, you softened under his touch, ever so slightly. Your lips were dry and cracked, but you had just enough voice to answer through a barely audible croak. "Too much thinking."

That was all you said, but he understood completely.

With sudden remembrance, he dug his free hand into his pocket and fished out his phone, thankfully still with the earphones connected. And slowly, gently, he slipped them into your ears, the right, and then the left. His fingers brushed against your cold skin, fighting every urge to caress your face. But he tried to be patient for you, for your response.

He hit play on his phone, after carefully choosing which message he wanted to send you. Then he lowered his hand, and watched how your face changed.

Almost as soon as the soft melody reached your ears, your jaw loosened, shoulders sagged back, fists unclenched. It was as if a wave of pure bliss washed over you then. And for once, you felt you could breathe. That you finally had access all your senses again, even if for a moment.

You took the time to take it in. The sound of cars honking below. The dew tasting from the air. The lingering smell of petrol and pavement, and how the cold from the metal bars nipped at your palms. And the previously clouded sky above, now slowly opening for more sunshine to filter through.

You breathed, and then again. Somehow only just noticing the patiently concerned pair of eyes staring at you from the side. Whose hands held the source of your sudden, momentary relief, and you smiled, small but certain.

Small but certainly warm, and it was enough to make him smile back, eyes brightening. It looked like he was going to say something, but the song was still playing in your ears, working it's magic, and you didn't want to interrupt it.

So all you did - and all you could do - was whisper a "Thank you" that was surely blown away by the breeze.

.....

Ok, so I'm looking at this the next morning and well, sorry for any stupid grammatical or spelling errors, or if some of the sentences don't make sense.
I was just in a state where I really needed somewhere to escape to last night and my fingers made their way to my notepad. And somehow, I really don't understand why, but it always feels like I can write more easily at night. I don't know what makes my fingers glide across the keyboard so easily so much that they can construct an entire oneshot before I know what I'm doing, but it just happens.
Also I noticed my late night posts tend to be about needing to be comforted so if you ever see me posting around that time again, that's probably what I was writing about.
Still, I actually don't mind how this turned out, at least I was getting some writing practice ^^.