#taeilyoo

[antiresolution]

aesthetic builder - I used this to experiment because I've been having trouble writing, but you can use it the same way the original poster did. Anything you want.

tagging: @minseologs @taeilyoo @petricur @writtenbykiwi @yuelianghua @liux14n literally if you're reading thissss you can do it

[anthropocentrik]

one of two.

ft. @taeilyoo & @nicadanis

there was nothing quite like the experience of knocking on someone's door, guitar in hand, while tidied up in a suit and tie. it felt like prom night all over again. everything seemed better then—more permanent and constant. life was perfectly assembled by routine. sure, he was pulled in opposite directions round-the-clock but it's what kept him upright. nowadays, every deed, every task, every feeling was fragmented; waxing and waning. life itself has ceased to operate as a coherent whole nor a linear experience. he has loved his memory of childhood for so long and so dearly that its foundation would crumble like rotten wood at any attempt in seeing things for what it is. he lays the blame for the termites at the feet of time, or at least his brain does.

breathe, haru. breathe.

the trees danced into the welcome frosty whispers, each branches bare and clean, naked in their bold brown hues. february was kinder, the promise of horizon-rested springtime nestling closer to the tells of green leaves and farther from the wintry wind. he didn't mind the wait and he wasn't so cold either, considering his body's sympathetic response to the adrenaline release. any longer he stays out and his armpits would be embellished with a circle stain of sweat. he's hoping she's out before then because the suit was only borrowed after all.

after what felt like an eternity of pacing back and forth, and cycling through thoughts of nostalgia to distract himself from the shakes, the door finally opens. he's greeted by rosy stains and quivers, soft glitter like moonlight on the sea, a woman so sublime in every way. the day before, haru did wonder how he had never thought of dohee in any way other than a friend. they've known each other for years. in fact, she was one of the very few of his closest friends. and yet, he was nervous just before this moment. maybe even more now.

breathe, haru!

with the clear of his throat, he's back to earth. "look at you." he teased, though he truly did admire the ensemble she had picked out for herself. the riff of look at you girl by chris ledoux plays in his head and he hums out loud to it. his hands instinctively positions his guitar then his fingers strum to the melody. "just look at you, girl, standin' here beside me. starlight on your hair, lookin' like a dream i dreamed somewhere." he sings along, swaying his body while sporting a cheeky grin, and communicating with his eyes for her to follow suit. and she does, as this was their dynamic since the beginning of time. the pair's bond had been hinged into haru's existence as one endowed from both their passion for music. they were born with a number of vibrations which their sadness brings into relief. they carry within them all the music they have never heard in their lives, which lies at the bottom of the abyss of memory. they had even formed a band together, as every teenager’s rockstar dream.

what's the occasion? a wedding. he doesn't remember the last time he had attended one. it was good material for writing, but not good enough to go out of his way. people watching was accessible and required no effort apart from leaving the comfort of his home. attending weddings meant he had to actually make friends, outside of the connections he had relevant for work. he was equally uninterested in that as he was about dating, or as he keeps assuring himself anyway. again, to dispel his doubts on needing more regular human contact, he persuades his mind to think he only needed dohee among a few others. she would probably gladly agree, jokingly or not. so arm in arm, they arrive at this event.

the ceremony was unremarkable to say the least. the scale of it frivolous. to haru, that is. to the bride and groom, this must have been a dream come true. they detail their first meeting, emphasising that this man was her ideal type, as if he had just marked off a check list. haru thought it was shallow, but he decides to spare dohee with his reign of dread. he's thinking she's enjoying this, somewhat. they barely spoke about matters of the heart, but he could see her smiling every so often. he unknowingly mirrored it each time. 

the reception was spent cheek by jowl, not leaving each other apart from the periodic restroom visits. but it only takes dohee one trip for haru to get approached by a stranger. taeil was his name. it wasn't everyday that haru meets someone so forward. maybe it was the copious amounts of liquor, which makes him see the appeal of wedding parties. things were free and served in excess. but it had also been a while since he last laughed this much. the feeling lingers and he starts to think through a screen, embedding the memories as if they were being recorded. he was on the outside looking in and the pages of the script were being laid out squarely. his attention had been stolen and dohee was left sidelined, haru doesn't even realise. 

the rest of the night went on, conversations piling along with the alcohol, overriding some of the words exchanged as an effect of the intoxicant. next thing you know, haru has the ink of a marker lined through his skin and around his ring finger. it was almost like a prank, but taeil's proposal sounded so sincere in the moment. haru does the unthinkable and says yes. taeil does the unexpected and announces their little agreement, which he thought would stay private at least for the night, but it doesn't take a second longer. haru's hysterical laughter from two ticks ago turned into an awkward one as he finds himself standing in the middle of the crowd of snickering critics.

party's cut short when taeil starts to threaten the lives of everyone involved in the mockery and they leave the premises with just the two of them. caring for the drunk man that stood five centimeters taller than haru was too hectic for him to remember who and what he came there for. he essentially spends the night babysitting his future husband, the guy he met just a few minutes short of three hours ago. what the day that comes next held for the newly engaged couple, he tried predicting restlessly in bed as they both laid. aside from the soul-muddling snores that would occasionally disrupt the contemplation, the rest was hazy. 

haru wakes up practically naked, disoriented, and just looking for answers the messy room nor his sleeping 'fiancé' could explain.

[slumdogd]

@taeilyoo + "How about we don't do that." “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he–

“How about we don’t do that. How about we just…live. Fuck... we could even just forget this all happened. Friends or not, who cares.” Taeil’s voice rings out across the car like some kind of damning force, and it’s so painful Lì could curl up in on himself. It’s cold, like a gun, sharp and cool in the parking lot as Lí sits with one leg tucked under himself. They’d just had dinner, one that was awkward and full of painful silences like they’d known this talk was coming. Like they’d both walked into a funeral parlour where a dead body lays in the open casket; impossible to ignore and yet too hard to face.

It wasn’t usual for them, to wear the weight of awkwardness on their shoulders like a slab of concrete. The awkwardness wasn’t because the two of them hated each other or anything of the sort. More like the kind that came when you’re at a loss for words. Wanting to say something and finding it on the edge of your tongue only to swallow it down with grit teeth and a shrug.

“I’m sorry.” Lì mutters, and his eyes are blurring rapidly as he looks down at his hands in his lap which now feel like foreign object to him, heavy and lumpy, reduced to blobs through his tears. He wonders what exactly he's apologising for, and maybe it's for existing altogether, unable to live up to what he wish he could be for Taeil. Do for him. Tell him.

but he ... and you feel like you’ve done something terrible like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shovelled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. 

It’s then that a sigh overcomes Taeil, a short, quick sound that comes from deep in his chest, exasperated as if to say please don't cry. “It is what is is. You gotta do what you gotta do, Lì. Same goes for me.” There’s a silence, then. One that is heavy like iron baring down on them. A silence that is relentless. It’s the most silent they’ve ever been in the entirety of ever since knowing each other. the only sound that can be heard is that of the cars passing by on the main road and the occasional chatter from a couple or three as they made way to their car to head off for the night.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you,

“Is that all you had to say?” Taeil cuts the silence like a knife, and Lì can barely think straight anymore, his mind a whirlwind of emotions that dare to spill out and contradict everything he'd said in the last hour. His thoughts are spiralling even more when a warm, calloused hand cups his chin to raise his head. Their eyes finally meet, crescents doused with sadness. A mirror image of each other, except Lì’s face is blotched with red, and tears that stain his cheeks, hot and silky as they gather by deft fingers.

like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.

"Taeil I-..." Lì breathes, but it comes out more like a sob than anything else, and before he can say another word, they're in each others arms again. Lips tasting lips like they're thirsty, hungry. Like there's no meal in the world that could satisfy them, fill them. Nothing to satiate either of them as they collide like they always have; like stars in a kilonova.

"Stop, stop, Taeil, it's so much harder." Lì begs against lips that are slick with his own tears, but Taeil's grip is unrelenting and he doesn't try to pull away either. It lasts for what feels like minutes, hours, but is over in seconds when their foreheads are flush against each other in the aftermath of their actions, breathing jagged and harsh as their chests heave as if they'd been running a marathon. Was it because there were words hanging on their lungs that they dared not say? Neither could tell. There's no chance for Lì to say another word to find out, Taeil is gone with a swoop of fingers through his hair, and a heavy clunk of the car door.

Lì's alone again, and he never said what he should have, while he had the chance.