Work Text:
I have this question in my head, hammering away in every corner... fighting to get out... to escape my mouth and ask you about this little detail I noticed, and that I want you to notice that I noticed. That I can't let anything pass, no matter how small, when it comes to you.
Maybe it's selfish to want a reward for something you never asked for, but isn't it human, to do what is not required, to expect things that were never promised, to think that the small, purposeful touches, left in the form of feigned bumps, can say everything we want to say?
A mole on your eye; the charm of the collar hidden around your neck, which I might tell you, in a whisper, that maybe it's better to leave it out; a strange curiosity to ask the meaning behind your username; gracefully pretending not to hear just to get a little, just a little, closer and stand and keep silent, side by side, so glued to each other in such a spacious room— like a mutual respect, or an agreement, This is it, there's where I want to stay.
I once heard you humming a Beatles song, I almost asked if you liked them, but who doesn't? I know I should be braver, but I'm afraid to show... whatever it is. A crush. Such a dumb thing. We sometimes run together, after class, to our rooms. I wish it were a marathon—there's so much to say, so little to walk, and the rain is so light, isn't it? It's like it's giving us a little gift, a blessing, like a gentle caress in the hair, an excuse and a setting. Wait for me. I have an umbrella. Do you? Hmm. I had an energy drink for the first time two days ago. Oh, I... and now it's your turn to go, this is where you turn, our walk is slow, but it ends fast. I wanted to ask more. I wanted you to talk more. You never finished. What did you drink? I'm dying of curiosity.
I dream of your unknown answers and, when I wake up, I don't remember anything. Part of me thinks it's my subconscious creating a scenario to fill this void, but it just seems false. To make me feel it all over again just to go Oh. Like a reaffirmation that it's not the real you, that I still can't quite reach you.
Today, you were in the same train as mine, I recognized your back, the way you carried yourself like a teenager boy and that was weirdly endearing to me, because it makes me somehow look a little taller than I really am next to you, and because it makes you even cuter.
Soobin? Going home? I ask, you widen your eyes, in surprise, your hair is shorter today. I hold my questions back. I quickly look at my phone, it's 6 pm.
Beomgyu. You let out, so, so prettily, and it sounds so good that it seems like the name belongs on your lips. Should I give you everything that's mine too? To maybe give the things their perfect place. I saw a film today, you say, it reminds me of a Beatles song, I almost tell you that but I just give a little smile instead, you ask What? What? and laugh a little, I think it's one of the best days of my life.
The train stops, you turn your head, watching the people getting on, and I quickly pull my earphones out of my pocket. You look at me again, and I raise my hand, offering you one side of it. The sunbeams reflect on your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes briefly, attacked by the lights.
The train goes on and you finally take it, (the sky colours you orange— it's the most beautiful scenario that my eyes were ever able to capture) and I feel like an extension of you. I start typing A day in the life, but before pressing play, I can't hold it for any long. I ask, Did you cut your hair?
You open a big smile, your pinky touches mine, very, very softly, and I only feel it because you keep it there, like a source of heat for my whole body, a second heart. Is there something you want to tell me? Will you tell me the meaning of this continuous bump, someday?
You noticed, you laugh, Yeah, I did.