Prompt by Myungyeol_lover: Sungyeol is a songwriter and Myungsoo decides to give him inspiration. Which is Myungsoo, himself.

Sungyeol grabbed his hair in frustration and banged his head on his desk. His cheek pressed on the cold surface, he looked at the amount of crumpled balls of paper that looked more and more like a mountain and sighed. It wasn’t working and he couldn’t understand why.

Why couldn’t he write just a single, acceptable song? He had been a professional writer for three years and had never had that problem. Could it be that, at just 24 years old, he had used up until the last drop of his inspiration?

He’d always had a way with words. They came to him easily, flowing across the page in a mess of dark ink, crossing-out and trembling hands. They came rashly sometimes, disorderly, coming out before his mind could even properly process them, like they had a life on their own, and he would then have to arrange them, to make a harmonious bouquet out of all those scattered flowers. They came peacefully sometimes, quietly falling into place as if they were puzzle pieces, connecting with each other as if they were meant to be. But no matter in what form, they always came out.

Except that day, they didn’t. And Sungyeol, who had been writing every day, always finding the game of matching, breaking and rearranging entertaining and strangely soothing, was on the verge of panicking. The words had left him; what if they didn’t come back?

However, before he could drown himself in more doubts, he heard the door of his room open and turned his head a little more to look up at the intruder, his head still on the desk.

“I heard a loud bang.”

“That was my head on the desk.”

“Oh.” Myungsoo made his way to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Something the matter?”

Sungyeol poked the balls of paper with his pen. “This is the matter. I can’t write.”

The other boy let out a small, mocking laugh and tapped his shoulder playfully, which caused Sungyeol to pout. “Of course you can’t write. It’s two in the morning and you’re tired. Just write tomorrow.”

The songwriter sat up and looked in his friend’s eyes seriously – which was really curious and rare for him. “No Myung, you don’t understand. It doesn’t matter whether I’m tired or not, if I’m sad, happy, drunk or whatever. I can always write. It just comes naturally. But here… it doesn’t.”

Myungsoo must have seen his friend’s desperation on his face, because he wasn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he ruffled in his best friend’s hair, lowered himself so that their faces would be on the same level and looked at him in the eye, a comforting smile on his lips. When he talked, it was in that reassuring way you talk to a child, because Sungyeol was still a child on so many levels, all angry outbursts, loud laughs and sparkling eyes. “It’s okay Yeol. Just calm down and go to sleep for now. You’ll see how it goes tomorrow.”

The other just nodded, already calmer that what he was a moment ago. Myungsoo always had that effect on him, even though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was his deep, soothing voice, maybe it was his familiar, comforting smile. But no matter what it was, it was in these moments that Sungyeol was glad he had such an amazing best friend and roommate.

And if Myungsoo said it would be better tomorrow, then he was probably right.

Except it wasn’t better at all. Sungyeol woke up at seven in the morning, unable to sleep anymore. He needed to write, something, anything, but to write. He had to see if the inspiration was there, if the addicting feeling would flow through his veins again. But he soon found himself in front of a white sheet of paper, next to another mountain of crumpled ones, filled with ugly, unharmonious words that a child could have written.

A couple of hours later, Myungsoo got up and found his roommate in the same state as the night before – no, probably worse. By then, Sungyeol had downed three cups of coffee, tried to listen to some music, started watching his favorite movie twice, changing his mind after ten minutes and changed into sport clothes to go running, before abandoning the idea as well. Nothing was working and he was out of patience. Not like he was really known for his patience either.

So after watching his friend running around like a madman for an hour, Myungsoo decided to take the matter into his own hands.

“Yeol, stop it. Get dressed, we’re going out.”

The tall man immediately stopped walking in circles and looked at him. “I don’t have time for that, I have to write!”

His friend rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’ll try to find something that inspire you. Isn’t that what writers do? Like, go around and, I don’t know… get inspired?” He had actually no idea if that was what writers did, but he had seen that in that movie with Drew Barrymore and that old dude*.

Sungyeol stared at him in silence for at least thirty seconds, probably wondering if that was a good idea and weighing the pros and cons. After his long silence, he finally nodded and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

The sun was slowly setting and Sungyeol couldn’t find a single positive thing about the entire day. Not one.

They had gone to eat and the waiter had made a mistake in his order. He wanted to protest and ask to get another dish, but Myungsoo told him not to be childish and rude and to eat what he had.

His friend had dragged him to a part of town he didn’t know, insisting that there was a great shop that had opened there and they ended up getting lost – and never finding said shop.

As an apology, Myungsoo treated him to some ice cream and accidentally made a chocolate stain on Sungyeol’s shirt.

The list could go on and on. Every single thing he had done that day had gone wrong. So at the end of the day, not only did he feel terrible because he couldn’t write, but also because he was a failure as a human being – no, exaggeration was definitely not his thing. And not even the supposedly beautiful view of the sunset could heighten up his spirit or wipe the pout off of his face.

“Let’s just go home Myung!” He got up from the green bench, arms crossed against his chest.

His friend looked at him with a knowing look on his face. “Why? The sun hasn’t completely set yet.”

Sungyeol huffed in annoyance. “This freaking sunset won’t inspire me! Nothing went well today, nothing at all! It was just a crappy day and I just want to lock myself in my room and cry.”

Surprisingly, Myungsoo smiled a little and got up, standing in front of his child-like friend. “Do you know the difference between crap and inspiration?”

The tall man sighed. Now Myungsoo was playing riddles again. Great. “No and I’m not sure I care, honestly.”

But the other simply ignored his words and still went on with his explanation. “A crappy day is a day where everything goes wrong, you just feel bad and you want it to end as soon as possible. While an inspirational day on the other hand is a day where everything goes wrong, but you don’t want it to end.”

Now Sungyeol was more confused than anything. “But what’s the difference then?” He knew that in this game, he had to ask exactly what the other was expecting him to ask.

“The only thing that can make all the crap seem worth it and make you look back and think it wasn’t that bad after all: the ending.”

Before Sungyeol could ask the question he knew his friend wanted him to ask, he had his answer.

Because Myungsoo placed a hand at the back of his neck, pulling him down and closing the distance between their lips. There, in the fading light of the red sun, drowned in the light autumn breeze in a colorful park in the middle of a busy city that suddenly felt like nowhere, Myungsoo kissed him like he was his inspiration and the words came back to him.

My heart skipped a beat before beating wildly once again

My heart died for an instant before, in my best friend’s hands,

Starting a new life

Finding a new light

With all the words that had fled me

Flowing out infinitely

And I don’t need another reason

He is my inspiration

~ Piou0102 ~