excerpt

Sometimes before Doyoung goes to sleep at night, as he tumbles around the lonely cold sheets of his bed in the search for heat, he dreams that he’s a clementine.  One of those extra orange ones.

Doyoung loves clementines, he’s loved them for a long time now. They are simple, and sweet, and orange — so happy, so carefree. So many things that Doyoung yearns to be but never was, never is, never can be because Doyoung is no clementine, he’s a human. And humans are far more complex.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Doyoung’s dreams come to him even though he’s more than awake, more than conscious.

Doyoung muses over his naive thoughts, but he’s already determined. If he can be reborn again, he’s going to be reborn as a clementine. A clementine that sprouts in cold October and perishes before even colder February. As a clementine, he isn’t going to have many worries besides being eaten up, but he imagines that even then his death will be quick and nowhere near as painful as that of a human’s. 

Besides, even as a human, he can get eaten up.

“There is a bird living inside of my ribcage.

It has eaten my heart and occasionally throws up the chunks. I can feel the old remnants of it beating against my bones, like an old far away song. She flaps her wings and tries to fly upwards from my throat so I swallow her down and tighten my spinal cord to keep her there.

She sings her desperate lullaby against my throat and at night I hear the faint loneliness of it. When I open my mouth, I speak in music. When I close my mouth, she throws herself against my ribs pulsing out her own keening rhytym.”

Doyoung pushes a hand against his chest, over the spot where his heart hides under layers of skin and blue veins. Its thumps are violent enough for him to be tricked into thinking he’s dying; but Doyoung’s got a smart head on his shoulders, he knows he’s not dying. It just feels like he’s dying and it’s not much better than the real thing. 

Violent heartbeats, irregular pulse, short breaths, rosy cheeks, and numb hands     from the lack of warmth offered by his meager blankets — Doyoung’s senses are on the edge. He’s ate about three clementines by now; his stomach has no more space but his tongue remains greedy. Greedy for anything to get rid off the taste of Jung Jaehyun’s sour mouth.

genre: dark drama, angst, romance, psychological

status: ongoing, updates to be posted on an irregular schedule

prompt: secret affair & teacher-student

warnings: some swearing, ual references, violence. reccomended for ages 16 and up.

Author’s Note:

Got a spark of inspiration for a new writing style I desperately wanted to try and here we are!  This is going to be a dark, angsty ride featuring an 11 years , professor!Jaehyun and college!student!Doyoung. It's my fourth, and probably saddest so far, entry to the Hundred Prompts Challenge (DOJAE EDITION). Also, credit to the amazing Azra Tabassum for her amazing quotes that inspired this story and are going to appear throughout (including the one in the synopsis).

Credit goes to  for the graphics!