obscurites

[obscurites]

@enstrange​

Dawn’s frigid breeze has always been comforting somehow, perhaps because it pulverizes the clear smoke escaping rosy lips, biting at the sweet aroma that comes with it. The blazes smothering his lungs keep him warm for the most part. It also serves as a great distraction to the a mind that has been bombarded with intricate pieces of information rather recently. Perhaps it is just a pathetic excuse to fill the silence between them, his figure resting snug against the balcony doorframe.

He had heard Jaeyeon murmur something about the weather a while ago, but his thought were far too loud to thoroughly process any information from the outside world. Truth is, Seojun has been suffocating in the void of his own mind ever since their encounter a few weeks ago, held hostage to the turbulent oceans pulling him in. Fragments of that same night still linger, from the unexplicable events unfolding before his very eyes to the desperation in Jaeyeon’s voice in an attempt to elucidate the situation.

He’s unsure if any of it will ever make sense, if he has come to terms with it at the very least, but one thing is certain.

“Hey Jaeyeon...” And just like that his voice shatters the bleak silence. Curtains of artificial smoke trail after his steps when he exhales another puff while making his way towards the couch, lethargically claiming the spot next to the taller. Quivering lips should give it away; the torturous anxiety gnawing at his loins, sinking its claws into his bones and straining any sort of movement. It hurts to breathe, he notes when attempting to take another drag.

Teeth nip at his inner lower lip one too many times to leave a lingering taste of iron on his tongue reigning over the scented smoke. “That thing we discussed before, about my mom...I want to try it.” The usual callousness etched onto his words is nowhere to be seen, perhaps because it feels as though hands rest around his neck in an asphixiating grasp at the mere thought of experiencing the unknown (is any of it even real?). He can’t remember the last time fear caught him by the throat like this.

Hazel hues wander for a few seconds, from the small electronic cigarette between his fingers to the man sitting a few inches away. Brows furrow in thought, and so he breathes in the nicotine again. When he exhales the next word comes along with it, this time firm and assertive. “Tomorrow.”

Because if not tomorrow I might run away.