#them ghosting each other except siwon is (kicking screaming clawing at face) over it: the reply

[aicidos]

“ i never meant to hurt you, i fucked up. ” hey lol

urban flora sentences.  ♡  *  accepting !  @brightfear.  

   the same ritual of floors swept, lights turned off, and keys stabbing locks.

   among the things that never changed: he thought about constants often. maybe as much as he did about jax. siwon thought of himself as a fixed thing merely caught in the city’s inertia or, for better or worse, people’s orbits. yet, that gentle pull—that dense gravity his hands found malleable under his mind’s command—wouldn’t have kept him in jax’s perimeter had siwon not willingly surrendered to it first. it became an active choice before it was even conscious, and he had a hard time explaining that logic to himself. there were other questions, doubts along the lines of is it too much? is it too little? is this even real? real enough to be named?

   eventually, visits grew scarce, siwon’s own messages slowly withheld for fear of something— desire had always liked to make a fool of him, his young heart. 

   he wanted to know the variables jax, his life, was configured of. and maybe, naively, he wanted to be a part of them, too; something like the worn-out leather jacket at the forefront of his closet, a bookmark overseeing his most recent read. siwon thought of the flowers jax took home from his shop, thinking of himself as an extension of them, wondering what use they were to him. what use he was to jax, the use he could be, were he let in those crevices, his silences, his disappearances. 

   amidst that endless stream of what-ifs siwon considered, he never thought of apologies as part of them.

   in that moment, taken aback by jax’s figure surfacing in the night, he wondered if he should have. there was a discomfort of sorts, akin to a paper cut suddenly stinging. he wanted it to flare with hope: that jax’s apology was a beginning. otherwise, the end of a distance. he raised his gaze towards the buzzing lamp, the lonely street. “...i thought hearing that would make me happier,” siwon confessed, plain in his honesty. a complex smile surfaced, briefly. “i think i wanted an i missed you more,” it’s a doubt that was uttered as much for himself as it was for jax, and he let the breeze soften the already-tender edges of it. 

“i’ve always figured you liked your space. so much so, i wondered if you wanted me to play into it, so... i didn’t.” the image of himself rendered disposable was numbing, but only just so. the desire eclipsed it. “jax,” he began, his voice simple and quiet, “what’s so threatening to you? about me, about… us.”