Anonymous: They’ve done rough, hands leaving purple bruises in their wake, but never gentle. And so maybe when Sungjong stares up at Howon from the cotton sheets, gasping, he imagines that maybe they’re a little invincible, a little limitless, a little infinite. The End.
Anonymous: He expects Howon, when he shuts the door behind them, to ask him directly what’s wrong; he’s always been very straightforward. But he doesn’t, instead wrapping Sungjong up in a hug and holding him there, until Sungjong tentatively wraps his arms around his shoulders, closing his eyes when he feels Howon curling his fingers into the hair at the nape of Sungjong’s neck. It feels like home, he thinks, and even more so when Howon presses his lips firmly against his own.
Anonymous: Sungjong ignores Howon that day, which isn’t difficult because they’re filming, and Sungjong doesn’t have too many lines. But he catches him staring, and while Howon and himself have never ever been awkward, Sungjong glances away each time. He’s aware Howon isn't going to let whatever it is go, because Howon has always been annoyingly determined, much like himself. For the time being, however, Sungjong hides behind the confident exterior they've written him to have.
Anonymous: He gets up to practice, pulling old sweats over the bruises on his hips, and leaving Howon in the company of rapidly cooling sheets and the imprint of Sungjong on the pillow. It happens more often than not. So Sungjong punches Woohyun in the arm when getting cereal, to remind himself to be strong, but also because punching Woohyun is like hitting cement; now Sungjong focuses on the pain in hand, and not the ache in his chest.
Anonymous: He smiles less, and thinks nobody notices, but they do; they just don’t say anything. Then Sungjong traces invisible patterns on Howon’s skin one morning, legs tangled together in the coveted silence before the alarm blares obnoxiously, and Howon catches Sungjong’s hand in his own and gives him a stare Sungjong can’t even begin to interpret. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to, afraid he’ll delude himself into having it mean something when it doesn’t.
Anonymous: He’s not built to last, and so he never will; the fire in his lungs and the ache in his limbs crudely remind him of this. But he bundles all of that up and stuffs it underneath his bed where nobody can see, and so the monsters underneath him while he slept have always been real, just no one could ever know. Then he works twice as hard as before, and pretends he doesn’t see Howon still awake when he comes back from practice hours after everyone else had left.
P 22 hours ago on Apr 16, 2014
Anonymous: There’s a faint scar on Sungjong’s forearm from when he fell off his bicycle when he was eleven, and he hates it, because even though his group was named after the concept of forever, he knows there’s no such thing. He’s undeniably human; a fragile casing of flesh and blood and bone almost haphazardly sewn together to somehow construct him, complete with a freckle on the side of his nose that he tries hard to cover up nowadays.