#csyunseo

[csyuyang-blog]

WITHOUT YOU

he might have been on the cusp of six when he’d furrowed his brows, cheeks red with frustration, uncharacteristically petulant as he told his mother, arms crossed against his chest, i hate you. 

it’s been years, but he still remembers the flicker of shock on her face, the residual something that tugged at his heart lingering in her gaze. father pulled him aside afterward and sat him down, hands firm on yuyang’s shoulders. the sternness his father typically exuded was nowhere to be found, replaced with what might have been exhaustion, resignation, as he said, you have to use your words carefully. they’re powerful.

yuyang values his words. the last thing he wants to do is be misunderstood. the world is a giant, beating heart, constantly on the brink of breaking—and he thinks in passing, when the glass pane of a storefront reflects his image and he sees his mother’s eyes in himself, that it’d be a pity if he were the one to break it.

the cellphone in his hand is heavy and yuyang is listless as his arm drops back to his side. the words ‘i promise’ are still on the tip of his tongue and all he really feels is something akin to numbness. maybe he ought to call his father back, rescind the promise and replace it with something more lenient, forgiving—something less of a chain to china, to what is supposed to be home. 

(one year, baba says. one year and then you come back home.) 

while he’d prefer to sink deeper into his bed and block out the noisy thoughts threatening to burst past the barricade of white noise he’s much more accustomed to drowning in, it’s with purpose that yuyang forces himself out of his bedroom and peeks his head into the living room. there’s only one person he ever looks for these days, and more often than not, that person is never too far out of reach. 

yunseo is sitting on the couch, a newspaper of all things opened and perched in front of him. on a quieter day, yuyang might laugh, but there’s a traitorous thumping of his heart as it races too quickly reeling him back to reality. 

reality is his alone today. he’ll swallow it. 

“hyung,” he calls out, padding across the open space to plop down unceremoniously beside yunseo. there’s no hesitation; yuyang immediately rests his head on yunseo’s shoulder, knowing full-well he’s being distracting. “let’s do something.” 

@csyunseo

[csyuyang-blog]

🛌

status: please stop🛌: sleeping habits

pretty structured. or, actually, it depends on the week… the day… the mood. for the most part, he sleeps around the same time and wakes up at the crack of dawn to exercise (i know, disgusting) or take a walk. something about the city being near-quiet has always been a comfort to him. seoul’s never silent, but the early mornings lend a little more to serenity than the middle of the day when he’s daydreaming and nearly getting hit by cars and stuff. on sporadic occasions, he might stay up to finish watching a show or a movie, or even to finish a piece (though this hasn’t been the case since he took his leave of absence from hongik). a good “sleeper” (??) for the most part, but he does get cold easily and has to be buried in thick blankets with too-many pillows for him to cling onto.