Sometimes Yongguk was a flower.

Among an ocean of greyness, of dirt and filth he stood facing the sky. He possessed an undefeatable beauty that never fails to mesmerize Himchan, that was at the same time a comfort, a sense of tranquility that calmed him in moments when he felt sick of everything. 

Yongguk would stand strong against the unpleasant winds that blew in their direction and not lose his colors, smiling sweetly at him. He’d take Himchan’s hand, intertwine their fingers and rub small circles on his lover’s hand to remind him that everything was going to be fine.

Sometimes Yongguk was the moon. 

A silent guardian in the darkness of the night. A source of light when everything else was pitch-black and blank, when there was no sense of direction. Silence was a part of him; he has completely mastered the art of being quiet. Because he knew that, at times, it was silence that was the most powerful and spoke a thousand words.

He’d be there at night, beside Himchan, watching over him wordlessly. Sometimes he’d murmur silently words of encouragement, in a language of lovers when that was what the younger man needed, but they were soft. He’d hold him, gazing with a lovingness in his eyes that washes Himchan with relief not unlike the way