Jongin was one busy kid. Between dance classes and somehow balancing school and his social life at the same time, it seemed to Yixing that Jongin had no time to spare. And this frustrated Yixing of course. Because every time he was close to even think to make a move on Jongin, someone else was there. Yixing just couldn't get the boy alone and wanted nothing more but to stop the damn world and get off with Jongin. 

T h e  O c e a n

“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.” –Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac

Because recently I haven't been able to write (but is it writer's block or laziness?) I wanted to start a contest to hopefully spark inspiration to write and also to read some awesome stories of course. Depending on the amount of entries this contest receives, I will determine the prizes (if any

They haven’t spoken in what seemed to Kyungsoo- months. He could no longer remember the feeling of Jongin’s warm skin against his. Kyungsoo could barely picture his lover’s weak smile when they would wake up next to each other; soaked in the morning sunlight. And to say that he missed these little things would be an understatement. 

You betrayed me. Do you think I could ever forget that?                              

The rain can be heard from outside Jongup's window and he wonders what is taking Himchan so long to come home.

Youngjae has this perception of Junhong in his mind, but it's a false one, or is it?

Why is she always the one waiting?

"It never seemed like you missed me and I guess because of it, I stopped missing you." We both enjoyed sunsets, and that's what brought us together. Maybe that's what kept us part, too.

Writer's Block; (Phrase) The condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing.  ♦   Writer's Block. It's when every idea you ever had simply does not exist. It's like searching in an empty bin for nothing. Being an aspiring writer himself, Youngjae has yet to experience it. Ideas normall

  Don't you have faith in me?   Do you even trust me?    I know it's hard to, but I'm begging you to believe.   

This was her getaway when life became a burden. She came here whenever the useless voices nagged at her. They told her to get her life together. She tried, but it was frustrating when the pieces were scattered.  This was a place to get away when the strident voices told him to change, to act the way he was supposed to. 

I've been hanging on an invisible string, waiting for a tug. A sign. A sign that maybe you'll come back. Maybe our feelings will be clear the next time we meet. That is if fate brings us together.