baekri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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kkaeppsong2015-02-18 10:13 pm
baekri) wrote in kkaeppsong2015-02-18 10:13 pm
o15.
... is that my shirt?
xiuhan
731 words
luhan just happens to him.
it's hard for minseok to remember exactly how long it's been. time isn't easy to keep track of anymore, because every time he tries to start counting the days he gets tripped up and can never remember where he started. they all blend into each other, blurring because it's rare that something stands out enough to make a difference. it's all the same out here. it's all just trying to survive.
he doesn't know numbers, but he knows that it's been a while. it's because luhan looks whole now. he looks like a real person, not the boy he stumbled across, crouched and hiding in an impossibly cramped space under some rocks near what used to be a river. that boy was too thin, too tired, dangerously dehydrated and practically starved. that boy couldn't pull his weight in a group. he couldn't even survive on his own.
that boy wasn't going to make it, but minseok couldn't leave him to be ripped apart. it's not who he is. so he didn't.
it wasn't a mistake, because luhan isn't that boy anymore. he's still too thin. he still gets tired too easily sometimes, but he also smiles and laughs and makes bad jokes in accented korean just to help them all remember that it's okay. he stares at minseok like he knows something. he spends most of their time no more than an arm's length away, and he moans into minseok's ear and drags nails over his skin when everyone else is asleep and he's getting him off because they both need it.
luhan isn't a boy. he never was, not when minseok's known him, and it's a thought he's still trying to wrap his head around.
he's lingering on that thought just as dawn is breaking. he's the last one on watch, back propped against the rough bark of a tree next to a decently sized stream. it's quiet here. peaceful, and there's no need to try and rush out of such a convenient location. it won't be like this for long. they can't get too comfortable, but it's tempting.
there's movement off to the left. luhan is awake, insistent on taking full advantage of the water because it's hard to know what they'll find when they keep moving. minseok doesn't know why, but he keeps his eyes averted. he gives luhan some kind of privacy until he comes back, water still glistening on his skin and hair dripping. at least this time it isn't from sweat.
"i miss showers." he sighs as he plops himself down in the space next to minseok, offering a freshly refilled bottle of water that he takes wordlessly. at least the water takes the dirt and most of the sweat off his skin, but it's hard to get used to never feeling clean.
minseok only looks at him after he's taken a long pull from the water bottle. he's sitting with his knees bent, elbows resting on them and spread far enough apart that he can comfortably dangle the bottle between them by two fingers. luhan looks familiar. his hair is sticking to his forehead and there are still dark circles under his eyes but he smiles and it's easy to stop focusing on things like that.
instead minseok is focusing on the shirt he's wearing, how it's too loose on his small frame and too open. the sleeves are cut and low, low enough to expose the way his skin still stretches too tight over his ribcage and luhan notices the way that minseok's gaze lingers.
their eyes meet, and minseok quirks an eyebrow. "... is that my shirt?"
luhan's smile changes, caught between embarrassed and sly in a way that only he can manage. his teeth catch on his bottom lip and he shrugs one shoulder, reaching for the bottle. minseok hands it over.
"i decided to wash mine. well, soak it at least and lay it out to dry. i knew you had an extra."
it's a gesture that minseok thought was long gone. he never would have imagined it in this world, just like he never would have imagined luhan. sometimes it's hard to believe that something so good could survive the end of the world, but he leans over to kiss luhan and they're still going strong.
they're not just trying to survive; they're living.
xiuhan
731 words
luhan just happens to him.
it's hard for minseok to remember exactly how long it's been. time isn't easy to keep track of anymore, because every time he tries to start counting the days he gets tripped up and can never remember where he started. they all blend into each other, blurring because it's rare that something stands out enough to make a difference. it's all the same out here. it's all just trying to survive.
he doesn't know numbers, but he knows that it's been a while. it's because luhan looks whole now. he looks like a real person, not the boy he stumbled across, crouched and hiding in an impossibly cramped space under some rocks near what used to be a river. that boy was too thin, too tired, dangerously dehydrated and practically starved. that boy couldn't pull his weight in a group. he couldn't even survive on his own.
that boy wasn't going to make it, but minseok couldn't leave him to be ripped apart. it's not who he is. so he didn't.
it wasn't a mistake, because luhan isn't that boy anymore. he's still too thin. he still gets tired too easily sometimes, but he also smiles and laughs and makes bad jokes in accented korean just to help them all remember that it's okay. he stares at minseok like he knows something. he spends most of their time no more than an arm's length away, and he moans into minseok's ear and drags nails over his skin when everyone else is asleep and he's getting him off because they both need it.
luhan isn't a boy. he never was, not when minseok's known him, and it's a thought he's still trying to wrap his head around.
he's lingering on that thought just as dawn is breaking. he's the last one on watch, back propped against the rough bark of a tree next to a decently sized stream. it's quiet here. peaceful, and there's no need to try and rush out of such a convenient location. it won't be like this for long. they can't get too comfortable, but it's tempting.
there's movement off to the left. luhan is awake, insistent on taking full advantage of the water because it's hard to know what they'll find when they keep moving. minseok doesn't know why, but he keeps his eyes averted. he gives luhan some kind of privacy until he comes back, water still glistening on his skin and hair dripping. at least this time it isn't from sweat.
"i miss showers." he sighs as he plops himself down in the space next to minseok, offering a freshly refilled bottle of water that he takes wordlessly. at least the water takes the dirt and most of the sweat off his skin, but it's hard to get used to never feeling clean.
minseok only looks at him after he's taken a long pull from the water bottle. he's sitting with his knees bent, elbows resting on them and spread far enough apart that he can comfortably dangle the bottle between them by two fingers. luhan looks familiar. his hair is sticking to his forehead and there are still dark circles under his eyes but he smiles and it's easy to stop focusing on things like that.
instead minseok is focusing on the shirt he's wearing, how it's too loose on his small frame and too open. the sleeves are cut and low, low enough to expose the way his skin still stretches too tight over his ribcage and luhan notices the way that minseok's gaze lingers.
their eyes meet, and minseok quirks an eyebrow. "... is that my shirt?"
luhan's smile changes, caught between embarrassed and sly in a way that only he can manage. his teeth catch on his bottom lip and he shrugs one shoulder, reaching for the bottle. minseok hands it over.
"i decided to wash mine. well, soak it at least and lay it out to dry. i knew you had an extra."
it's a gesture that minseok thought was long gone. he never would have imagined it in this world, just like he never would have imagined luhan. sometimes it's hard to believe that something so good could survive the end of the world, but he leans over to kiss luhan and they're still going strong.
they're not just trying to survive; they're living.