Rainy Days. Drabble

rainy days. ⭒ drabble

There was always something sentimental about the rainy spring days you spent with and without Jake.

Somewhere on a sidewalk, he would hand it to you as your hands brushed.

An umbrella, your grip around it tightening as the rain beats down on his tanned skin. For some reason that you couldn’t quite place, he smiled.

The world would collapse around you as he fell into you for the first time, nose red and suddenly shaking in the cold.

You had a new found love for the rain after that and you found any excuse to dance in it, wondering if he’d rush to provide shelter for you once again.

Each and every time without fail, he’d meet you with that endearing smile and eyes that seemed to hold the world.

“What are you, crazy?!” He’d ask.

You’d simply shake the rain off at him as his arms wrap around you. Wet and stuck together, inevitably.

Somewhere on a bathroom floor lying among the ruins of your love, you’re trying to pick yourself up again.

And little do you know, somewhere in an old abandoned ship on a distant star— they've just heard your cry for the first time. Shaking and broken, something like your own heart.

If sound can go on forever: then why can't your love?

It was strange how you began to miss paw prints tracking mud inside as much as you missed the sun.

You fell asleep once more to the rain and the sun came to you in a dream— beaming down on you, sweeter than anything.

Maybe there was a chance that you’d meet in the next life, your brain had tried to convince you with a voice that you once knew.

One day he would woke up and with every breath, he’d thought of you.

When he said nothing went wrong with you both; you had just let go. But for him— you were eternal.

If you were to choose a season, you would go back to that Spring.

No matter how intimately you were sure that you had known him, you couldn’t quite figure out what he would choose. It wasn’t as if you could ask him anymore, maybe that was what left any answers up in the air.

If you were to ask him what he would choose: the golden dunes of summer, wild and free or the quiet breath of winter-trees bare and stark.

Would it be spring's flowers and her honeybees?

Maybe he would choose the same April showers you had cherished so deeply.

There was good in every season— how you swam in the ocean or walked in the park. How he would race you to catch the sunset before it grew dark in the fall.

What pages of the calendar would he mark? Would he choose the same?

By the time your eyes fluttered open, it was already daylight. Outside your window, it had been raining forever and then the sun came quietly back.

Arms wrapped around your waist where they belonged, head buried into your neck.

“You’re awake, already?” His voice was coarse and scratchy from having just woke up, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

With the sun having returned home and your heart full of light, you knew that you would still choose Spring: the season that he came back to you.

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36 FLAVORS! ⭒ TEASER

Looking down at the fruit sorbet that was once frozen solid, it’s seemed to have become a melted mess in its’ shell. Depending on how you spun the orange, it could have looked like a heart. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it seem anymore appetizing.

In all of our lifetimes: there is always a before and after. You’ll experience the before, the between and the after.

Those days before now look beautiful to you: when every light is on in stark contrast to the blacked out street. While the shades are up, music playing to quiet the summer rain outside— you’ll close your eyes and hope to feel it all over again.

It’ll be those bright days when you can smell the salt of the sea in the air as you walked into that shop, wanting nothing more than you already had.

Even the harsh smell of cleaning products couldn’t distract you from the chirp of the bell and the way your breath was stolen from you for a moment as you made eye contact with him.

Wouldn’t it be ridiculous to fall for someone so quickly?

There was something about life by the sea that was seen as the idyllic life. The feeling of scorching sand between your toes or the whispers of the ocean in a seashell.

Maybe there was something simply beautiful about lounging around in bed all day in your pajamas petting animals, eating out of cereal boxes.

It feels much brighter on the outside of those four walls, though. Because life looks beautiful to you with his head thrown back, easy laughter spilling from his mouth. Your hands linked with a boy solely devoted to your happiness— his eyes on your lips and the messy residue of ice cream shared on your faces.

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PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ Dealer, NO DEAL!

CHAPTER NINE: true (twitter) romance.

Beomgyu has more or less solidified himself as the plug for any and all student's needs. If you need anything, it's likely that he has it. When your new business endeavor interferes with his customer base, he does everything in his power to sort it out.

CONTENTS: fluff , comedy , smau , uni au , one sided enemies to lovers , drugs (obvi) + dumb humor

SUNDAY , 3:32 PM [FEED]

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જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀“⠀⠀BUZZ ! ⠀BUZZ ! ⠀BUZZ ! ⠀”

( — YELLOWJACKETS . ) TEASER

warnings. ♱ (18+). lengthy series. gore. horror. cannibalism. cult activity. college au. swearing. vomit. humor. mildly suggestive. drug use. hallucinations and derealization. no smut. main character death. side character death.

The heart of winter beats still as the sound of hard breaths echo. Steady as he focuses, inhaling and exhaling to push himself to his limits.

The kind of darkness creeping that you only find thousands of miles from the warm, safe home you’re accustomed to. His eyes attempt to adjust as he’s hit repeatedly with the foliage he’s pushing through.

Light filters through boreal woods, giving him brief glimpses of the distance ahead.

Bare feet flying across snow-covered ground, branches lashing at filthy, blood-smeared arms and legs. A scream itches at the back of his throat but he lets nothing out.

Each gasp is a spectral apparition in the freezing air as screams of anguish and hunger echo through the woods.

Occasionally, a gust of wind sends a flurry of snowflakes against the crisp air and right into his face.

He bolts down an incline, when sudden he cries out, falling to his knees. A broken branch pierces his foot, nearly clean through to the other side.

Gritting his teeth, he rips it out and regains his footing, willing himself forward. Pushing through the pain.

Whatever you do— don’t let them catch you.

The woods abruptly give way to a large clearing surrounded by skeletal white birch. The boy halts to a stop at the edge of the glade, breath catching in his throat as he processes what he’s looking at.

Dozens of eyes carved into the surrounding trees. Around them, talismans hang from the branches, fashioned from bough and bone. Suddenly without warning, the overwhelming instinct to scream takes over as he lets out a strangled noise.

The air is filled with eerie, inhuman wails and as his own scream finally adds to the chorus of chaos— the woods fall completely silent.

Almost.

Somewhere behind him, a branch cracks, snapping him out of his terrified trance as he remembers where he is. Gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg, he bolts.

And this time, they let him go.

His body pale in the fading light as he flies across the glade until suddenly— he disappears.

The snow-covered ground opening up beneath him, appearing to swallow him whole.

A figure in animal pelts emerges from the tree line, his face shrouded by the hood of his rough and matter coat. Breath haggard, he approaches the edge of the deep hole that was previously concealed by cover of snow.

A tiger trap.

As he kneels at the edge, peering down through the jagged maw of branches snapped by the runner’s fall, he stares down unmoving.

Splayed at the bottom of the pit. His limbs once swift were bent at terrible, unnatural angles, body imapled on thick wooden spikes.

The bloodied points protrude through his chest, his thigh, his face— now nothing but a gory mess from chin to brow. A small and familiar silver charm glints around her.

The hunter stands, seemingly satisfied. Then, as the furs of his coat part, revealing the tattered and torn soccer shirt.

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ETERNAL SUNSHINE. ⭒ TEASER

Long before when you’d known him, you were sure you’d already known love. In full bloom, completely hard to miss. An edge that you trip over and over each time without fail, like the pulse knows the tip of the blade before the cut.

The blood rushing to greet its serrated edge. It wasn’t with him, though— maybe that was the issue in the end.

When you have to choose between something that’s good and what’s right: more than likely you’ll go with what’s right.

Your relationship with Wonbin was right. He was everything that you needed, who were you to ask for anything more?

Maybe that was why you had grown so distant. To realize that you didn’t love him the way you loved him was a world-shattering realization.

With Theo, you’d seen the sun in every possible gradation of light; you would hear the birdsong beyond the rudimentary call and answer every single time for the simple fact that it was him calling.

Those times that you could distinguish between each cadence as it quivers through the air. When you would get so cold sometimes that it burns and he would give you his jacket without a second thought, like some sort of natural instinct. When the heat gets so bad your teeth start to shake from how harsh you’re biting down and he’d give you his fan while making fun of the circles under your eyes. It was easy to distinguish yet so scary to know— you should have opened up your arms to take this dark thing into the fold.

You should have taken this love and nurtured it— but you didn’t. Instead, you ran away for what’s right.

Wonbin was right. Your friends and family loved him, he treated you right for better or worse and you never argued. He had become that one person who you could rarely speak with and always find him right where you left him. You carried his smile with you like a talisman, as his arm constricted around you in a suffocating grip and you’d laugh along with his friends even when it didn’t feel good. Not as good as his.

For whatever reason, his presence in your life seemed to bring the promise of better days. So for that— you ran away from him— the good in hopes for something better. A newer future.

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PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ ID: RIIZE

genre key : (o) one-shot . fluff (f) . angst (a) . humor (h) . comfort (c) . (s) series . + personal favorites (♡)

CALLER ID: RIIZE.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: osaki shotaro.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: song eunseok.

✧ misadventures. (f)

CALLER ID: jung sungchan.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: park wonbin.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: hong seunghan.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: lee sohee.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: lee anton.

✧ wip.

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