The fuck did I even come home to?

【  ✘ ▪▪▪ @mpjihoon​ from here 】

         █ Vision still a bit bleary, Jeonghan could only smile sleepily at Jihoon being so cute and affectionate; wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his hair, sighing softly at the feeling of those perpetually hot lips against his collarbone. If he was to be completely honest, he’d have told Jihoon outright that he hadn’t really slept at all.

                Something in the air just had him unsettled.

                “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, arms tightening around him a little more; it was the truth, but… “Be lazy with me a lil’ longer..?”

“Mm...You didn’t get any sleep?” Jihoon asked, frowning a bit. He kept pressing gentle kisses to the boy’s skin, enjoying the feeling of having Jeonghan so close. They rarely spent mornings together, with Jeonghan’s late work schedule and Jihoon’s early-to-rise attitude. It was nice, that was for sure, and it made him wonder just how many times he missed out on the small moments they could’ve been having.

He looked up at Jeonghan and he couldn’t help but admire just how beautiful he was. Even in the morning, when most people tended to look their worst, Jihoon felt himself fall even harder for his boyfriend. I love you, he thought, wishing it was just as easy to say out loud. He wanted to say it over and over again until Jeonghan got sick of hearing it.

He gave him yet another soft kiss, this time on the lips, and nodded, “We can stay here as long as you want.”

I see you in the most innocent of things,                   in the most intimate of things.

My world is filled with LOVE,

                                                                  and it’s all because of you.

autumn/halloween sentence starters! 🍂🍁🎃

Sana had not even realized that the words had slipped from her lips until Jihoon took her hand and sat her down, at which point she figured she must have said something very strange aloud, because he looked concerned. She had been very much in her own head that day, dwelling on a vision she had had the previous night. It had been so bad that she hadn’t slept, that she hadn’t had much of a mind to do anything that day, even draw. Visions involving children always haunted her the most.

She sat there for a moment, very still, eyes wide and glassy. She told herself not to cry, her teeth sinking into her lower lip even as her chest grew tight and a lump formed in her throat. “D-Do you ever j-just… w-want to be n-normal?” She asked, voice hushed and quivering, sniffling as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I j-just…” She stopped there, because she didn’t know how to continue and it felt hard to talk anyway.

Of course, Jihoon wanted to be normal, but he couldn’t relate to Sana. While his powers prevented him from being able to see in the dark, they gave him the ability to play music more beautifully than some of the most renowned composers. He could ward off pain and heal injuries, just by standing in the sun. Sana? Sana watched death. Jihoon knew he simply could not relate.

Jihoon pulled his sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe a stray tear on the girl’s cheek. He didn’t want to push to hear about what she saw, so he opted to try and help her calm down instead. He kept his voice quiet, “Shh, deep breaths. It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. Relax.”

atonement || Jihoon&Eros

Continued from (here) with @mpjihoon

–*

  Eros halts immediately. Hand up means no. A being built on the foundation of love and desire Eros operates on the core of those things; consent. Everything in Jihoon’s body language, demeanor, tone, and stance signal the god that he is not okay with physical declarations of Eros’ adoration. It may be a wondeful touch day for him, but the god can recognize when it is not so for others.

   Slowly, Eros brings his hands up where they can both see them, palms facing out the sign of surrender. It’s reflexive largely and manners as well- a treatment he gives whenever he detects resistance to him. I won’t hurt you…

  “I understand,” he says to make it clear that he will go no further. “Everything okay?”

   There’s only concern in his voice now. Not a shred of hurt or anger at the rejection as he looks over the other and keeps respectfully still. What’s wrong? His face is an open book as it shifts emotions from concern to worry that the other might be ill.

Ease washed over Jihoon’s face the moment that Eros assured him that there would be no physical touching. When his anxiety was unbearable and his nights were spent awake, the thought of hands on his skin was like fire. He wanted to be alone. Voices sounded disconnected when they hit his ears. He stared at Eros for a moment, trying to process what he was being asked.

“I...” He tried to start, but instead he just shook his head, unable to find any more energy to exert. He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together enough to respond properly. He kept his hands over his mouth as he shut his eyes, counting down from 10 in attempt to feel like he was in control of himself.

When he was ready, he let his arms fall back at his sides and he answered, “I’m just tired.”

That was obvious. His eyes were somewhat sunken, and his skin was pale from spending too much time indoors. He rarely chose to spend daylight hours inside, but it was impossible to avoid other people when he was outdoors. People were loud, like nails on a chalkboard. All he had wanted was to curl up on Jeonghan’s side of the bed, take in his scent, and drift off to sleep. The thought of Jeonghan made his heart ache in longing. He wanted to be at home.

dad.

the god of light gaped down at his son with uncharacteristic shock. he frowned at the pang of fear shooting through his chest at the title. of all things to show up at his door, this was not what apollo expected. inari? definitely. amaterasu? unfortunately, yes. a son who despised him for good reason? not so much. apollo admitted that their relationship was a tad on the complicated side, but despite common opinion, he wasn’t that much of an asshole.

so it wasn’t hard to gaze upon jihoon with concern, as any father would have when their child drops by in the dead of night ━ and were those…tears? his frown deepened, crossing his arms as he took a closer look at jihoon. it didn’t take any supernatural powers to notice the waves of pain rolling off the demigod. an observant eye that had centuries of medical training raked over the boy, and realization at just how badly the pain was dawned upon him.

apollo shifted forward to grab jihoon as he fell forward, letting out a small grunt. crouching in the archway of his home, it was only then that he realized just how small jihoon felt in his arms.

❝ tell me what’s wrong, ❞ he pressed, hands moving to cup either side of jihoon’s cheeks. a sliver of energy snaked around the demigod to lessen the pain, or at least enough to let him talk intelligibly. gold eyes scanned the boy’s face, searching for any answer that gave way to the worry bubbling inside.

Jihoon could feel the way warmth spread through his body. It was so similar to his own powers, but they felt more controlled. He had only been able to heal for 3 years, versus Apollo’s thousands of years of practice. Apollo’s touch was comforting, reminding Jihoon of how it felt to stand in the sun and take in its energy.

As the pain faded enough to breathe through his crying, he tried to look around at his surroundings, the dim lighting of his flashlight not helping as it laid on the ground. With his good hand, he reached up to find his father’s that was rested on the side of his face. He shut his eyes tightly, focusing in on Apollo’s powers in attempt to ignore any outside stimuli. 

He took one last deep breath and managed to get out, “It h-hurts...m-my hand.”

He didn’t realize that the pain had gotten this bad. His violin was in his hands when it had started, the pain slowly setting in like it always had. However, when the pain struck him like a ton of bricks, he knew that it was different. It wasn’t his usual pain, but something worse than anything he had ever felt. There was no choice for him anymore, and he recognized that. 

He couldn’t live without music. The one thing that worried him was the thought that he would never play again. It’s my fault, he told himself. After all, he ignored advice from doctors, from his mother, from everyone. He was aware that he would be scolded, but he trusted that his father would understand better than anyone else could.