summer ; moonbyul/solar

The warmth of Byulyi’s thigh bleeds onto her own.   

The sun over them is warm, rays soft as they angle towards them.  

Byulyi smiles at her when she turns to look at her, gaze meeting hers.

Yongsun smiles back, fingers curling around the dying grass, rough against her palm.  

A summer breeze picks up, warm, stifling, bringing in rolling clouds.

“Summer’s almost over,” Byulyi says, eyes looking at the ground between them, watching the wilted grass move with the growing wind.

Yongsun rips the graying blades between her fingers.

She nods, leaning forward, fingers making way where a lonely blossom droops under the heat.  She digs her nail into the limp stem, ripping it away and towards her.

She can hear the roll of thunder away from them, the sun is gone as clouds begin to settle.  

The summer air feels heavy, clutching on , waves of heat rising.

“Will we be over?” Byulyi asks, quietly.   

Yongsun laughs, a small sound, incredulous.

“We never started,” she says.  The thigh pressing against hers suddenly feels like its lighting her on fire, the warm air fanning those flames.

Byulyi looks at her, eyes wide, lips parted in a question that she can’t figure out how to answer.

Yongsun knows that look in her eye, knows what it means when she’s spent nights trying to breathe around Byulyi’s name.

It all pulls her down, eyes lowered, she feels the way the first rain drop hits her.  Clinging to her eyelashes, dropping down her cheek.

She doesn’t pull away when Byulyi leans forward, thumb pressing against the skin of her cheek, wiping carefully.  

Yongsun feels the way others fall on her, drops insistent, picking up heavily, falling in more numbers.

The sky breaks over them and all Yongsun hears is the roar of  the rain, the sound of the rain drops breaking on the dry ground.

Thunder threatens over them, lightning cracking the sky into pieces.  Her skin feels like it's been entirely consume by the rain, glistening with it.  Byulyi’s fingers skim over her jaw, gliding to the long line of her neck.

She kisses her in a way that she’s come to expect but has never truly understood.  Her clothes stick to her unpleasantly.  The rain falling over them, makes the kiss slick, steers it away from the shy press Byulyi likes to commit to.  

Her lungs fill with the rain, pushing out air in a way that strikes a panic in her, but not enough to have her push away.

There’s a hand behind her neck, keeping her there, under the summer storm, pressed close to Byulyi.  

It anchors her down and Yongsun lets herself go under.