the red thread.
May. 18th, 2013 08:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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caressingflamesthe red thread. [Kaisoo; au; g]
743w.
They say the red thread connecting two people may tangle, may stretch - but it will never, ever, break.
light streams in through large windows, reflecting softly off floor length mirrors. the sun’s rays bathe two figures in a quiet glow, two dancers moving in sync to the beat echoing off the walls, emanating from the speakers in the corner of the room. the man is tall, with tanned skin enveloping long limbs and lean muscles. the girl is shorter, pale as snow with long legs extending up into a small-waisted torso, hair swept back as she is led through a dance.
another man watches from the sidelines, eyes stealing a glimpse at the couple from the other side of a not quite closed door. he watches as the man sweeps the woman off her feet, effortlessly handling all her weight as his own limbs move with a quiet elegance. his eyes seem to blur the woman out, attention focused only on the male dancer. affectionate envy pools in the spectator’s stomach at the sight of the man pressing close to the woman, eliciting a smile from both pairs of lips. the subtle grace of every twirl and flourish leaves him breathless, longing to be the body handled so carefully by the dancing man. a glare hits the man with silent mirth, an accusatory split-second spotlight on the illicit sole member of the audience.
the glint, the watcher knows, was just light bouncing off the woman’s ring. the ring that the dancer had given her, the ring that was supposed to promise her a forever. the older man doesn’t seem to think much of it, though it brings to mind nights spent with the dancing male, phone lying lifeless on his nightstand next to a photo of the very girl dancing before him. he knows he should feel guilty - that this man he’s watching, this man who occupies all his thoughts even when they are apart - this man who steals kisses and touches and more, so much more in the absence of the girl - doesn’t belong to him. he knows that what he’s doing isn’t right, and that this unknowing woman with the carefree grin on her face would have her heart broken if she knew the truth. he knew the pain of betrayal would leave her with a scar immutable, with a scar sure to haunt her for the rest of her days.
he knows he could put an end to this. he knows he should. but as he watches his illicit lover dance with the woman he’s promised to, as he watches arms snake around a body that isn’t his - he remembers calloused fingers running along his own skin, he remembers full lips plush against his own, he remembers their own promises to each other - and he can’t let go. he’s lost a lot of things in his life prior to his encounter with the male dancer, lost too many things just because he was too afraid to fight - and he’s not about to lose a love again. not this time.
he acknowledges, though it hurts, that there is no metal band around his fourth finger, no solid declaration of another boy’s promise of forever for him to cling on to. but he can’t find it in himself to care, because he knows that promises and vows symbolised by hollow circles of precious metal don’t mean as much as the quiet whispers of ‘i love you’, they share when they greet each other in public, don’t mean as much as the gentle press of a large hand to the small of his back holding more meaning as its pressure increases, more meaning as the hand leads him into a darkened room where no other souls reside.
he watches from afar, heart stinging slightly as the glint from the girl’s ring hits his eyes again, as if a quiet glare of disapproval at his memories, at his thoughts. but he smiles to himself, because though the girl has a tangible symbol of ‘love’ - a tangible symbol of a supposed promise from the taller boy - he sees in his mind’s eye a red thread that doesn’t coil around two dancing figures, a red thread that is both intangible and much stronger than platinum or titanium, just as indestructible as the most precious gem. a red thread that trails from the little finger of the dancing man, one that leads away from his fiancee - kim jongin’s red thread, one that is tied, forever and always, to do kyungsoo.
A/N: Inspired by Reira from Trapnest's song about the red thread and whatever yeah I kind of maybe have really instense NANA feels rn esp for my poor baby prince nobu yeah alright i'll stop gbye thank you for reading!! :)
743w.
They say the red thread connecting two people may tangle, may stretch - but it will never, ever, break.
light streams in through large windows, reflecting softly off floor length mirrors. the sun’s rays bathe two figures in a quiet glow, two dancers moving in sync to the beat echoing off the walls, emanating from the speakers in the corner of the room. the man is tall, with tanned skin enveloping long limbs and lean muscles. the girl is shorter, pale as snow with long legs extending up into a small-waisted torso, hair swept back as she is led through a dance.
another man watches from the sidelines, eyes stealing a glimpse at the couple from the other side of a not quite closed door. he watches as the man sweeps the woman off her feet, effortlessly handling all her weight as his own limbs move with a quiet elegance. his eyes seem to blur the woman out, attention focused only on the male dancer. affectionate envy pools in the spectator’s stomach at the sight of the man pressing close to the woman, eliciting a smile from both pairs of lips. the subtle grace of every twirl and flourish leaves him breathless, longing to be the body handled so carefully by the dancing man. a glare hits the man with silent mirth, an accusatory split-second spotlight on the illicit sole member of the audience.
the glint, the watcher knows, was just light bouncing off the woman’s ring. the ring that the dancer had given her, the ring that was supposed to promise her a forever. the older man doesn’t seem to think much of it, though it brings to mind nights spent with the dancing male, phone lying lifeless on his nightstand next to a photo of the very girl dancing before him. he knows he should feel guilty - that this man he’s watching, this man who occupies all his thoughts even when they are apart - this man who steals kisses and touches and more, so much more in the absence of the girl - doesn’t belong to him. he knows that what he’s doing isn’t right, and that this unknowing woman with the carefree grin on her face would have her heart broken if she knew the truth. he knew the pain of betrayal would leave her with a scar immutable, with a scar sure to haunt her for the rest of her days.
he knows he could put an end to this. he knows he should. but as he watches his illicit lover dance with the woman he’s promised to, as he watches arms snake around a body that isn’t his - he remembers calloused fingers running along his own skin, he remembers full lips plush against his own, he remembers their own promises to each other - and he can’t let go. he’s lost a lot of things in his life prior to his encounter with the male dancer, lost too many things just because he was too afraid to fight - and he’s not about to lose a love again. not this time.
he acknowledges, though it hurts, that there is no metal band around his fourth finger, no solid declaration of another boy’s promise of forever for him to cling on to. but he can’t find it in himself to care, because he knows that promises and vows symbolised by hollow circles of precious metal don’t mean as much as the quiet whispers of ‘i love you’, they share when they greet each other in public, don’t mean as much as the gentle press of a large hand to the small of his back holding more meaning as its pressure increases, more meaning as the hand leads him into a darkened room where no other souls reside.
he watches from afar, heart stinging slightly as the glint from the girl’s ring hits his eyes again, as if a quiet glare of disapproval at his memories, at his thoughts. but he smiles to himself, because though the girl has a tangible symbol of ‘love’ - a tangible symbol of a supposed promise from the taller boy - he sees in his mind’s eye a red thread that doesn’t coil around two dancing figures, a red thread that is both intangible and much stronger than platinum or titanium, just as indestructible as the most precious gem. a red thread that trails from the little finger of the dancing man, one that leads away from his fiancee - kim jongin’s red thread, one that is tied, forever and always, to do kyungsoo.
A/N: Inspired by Reira from Trapnest's song about the red thread and whatever yeah I kind of maybe have really instense NANA feels rn esp for my poor baby prince nobu yeah alright i'll stop gbye thank you for reading!! :)
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Date: 2013-05-19 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-20 05:56 pm (UTC)