reyhantz

[reyhantz]

changbin in my basement FINALLY

"You can't choose your wishes," explains the genie, and snaps his fingers trice. "I have just given you what you desire, need, and deserve most. Enjoy!"

[reyhantz]

I had a dream a while ago that I was walking down a winding road in a forest in the middle of the night and there were several signs along the road. One of them had a picture of Dr house on it and it said “are you gay” and there were two buttons underneath labeled yes and no. And if you pressed the yes button a fire hose would spray at you

This is exactly what it looked like

[reyhantz]

Based on a dream i had last night about a haunted house screaming at me to stay.

[reyhantz]

Did it really happen?

[reyhantz]

one night, changbin starts having the most vivid dreams.

[reyhantz]

what happens when you leave this town (what happens when time runs out)

‘’Changbin.’’ 

There’s a hand cradling his head, thumb stroking over the shell of his ear. He’s drunk; he knows he’s drunk, the lights just a bit too shiny and the world just a bit too smudged, reality tilting on its axis ever so slightly.

He’s looking into Chan’s eyes, like a deer stares into the headlights of oncoming traffic. Anticipating. Chan has such pretty eyes, he thinks. They twinkle with a thousand stars and the heat of a bonfire, warm, warm, warm, and leaves Changbin yearning, needing more. Eyes locked into his, deep - searing.

Chan tugs on a curly strand of hair, “Earth to Changbin,” the corners of his lips quirking up almost imperceptibly.

“Yes, hyung?” Changbin’s tongue is laden with bricks, fighting to pull the words back down his throat. He swallows. Chews on his cheek in a fit of nerves.

“Can I . . .” The hand in his hair stills, Chan’s thumb still on his ear - his earlobe - pressing gently. Such a funny sensation, to have someone touching his ear like that. Oddly intimate. Makes him want to lean his head in, like a dog leans into a hand scratching its head. More. More. He is a mangy mutt, starving for the affection, too hungry, too desperate, willing to do whatever is necessary to hold on to the crumbs being fed to him. The simultaneous urge to both run away and press closer is overwhelming. Changbin is holding his breath.

“Is it okay? If I kiss you? Can I?” 

His heartbeat is pulsing in his ears, his mouth is dry, there's a knot in his chest and ants in his stomach and, and - and. 

“I - yes, Chan, yes please -” 

[reyhantz]

“you’re a writer, right?”

me, staring at the one sentence i’ve managed to add in the last hour and the 12 open tabs on the specifics of shoes in 1845 Ireland: In theory.

[reyhantz]

fanfic snippet

Changbin remembers when he got the call. 

He had been half asleep on the couch after having just gotten home from one of his part time jobs, tired and ready to just waste away right there, food be damned. He also remembers the sound of Jisung sobbing, every hitched breath crackling loudly through the connection, words jumbled and indistinguishable from each other as he babbled and cried and screamed into the phone. Never before in his life has he run so fast; off the couch, out the door, to the hospital.

He was too late. Not that it would have made a difference either way, there was nothing he could logically do, but he was too late. Too slow. Chan slipped from his grasp like a too-distant-dream fading away upon waking. The drunk driver was never identified. He held onto Jisung with waning strength as the other clung to him, face in his neck, tears wetting the shoulder of his hoodie. Breathless. He didn’t cry.

Time turned into an echo, fading into silence while resonating infinitely, consuming all in its reverberations. Changbin was the tide, dependent on the moon and desperately lost without it.