Like Ocean Waves
Fresh Laundry ScentJihoon takes a whiff.
It smells lightly of jasmine, with a tinge of earthiness, but nonetheless (and strangely so, Jihoon thought), clean. Jihoon was not that great with scents, but he likes how subtle and pleasant the effect of the scent was on his nerves. It was almost like how he likes his laundry to smell: airily sun-baked. Jihoon chuckles softly at that thought while intently studying the container of perfume Soonyoung had placed in his palms.
Jihoon contemplates for a while more until a single thought occupies his mind:
I'm... home.
Jihoon surprised himself. He never thought he would open up to the idea of Soonyoung being the definition of home so soon. Nonetheless he lets that thought linger for awhile more, indulging in its domesticity before stepping out of his trance, lips slightly parted from his reverie. A thank you on the tip of his tongue never makes it out as he decides there and then to swiftly grab Soonyoung by the neck into a back hug with a smile so wide that might tear his face apart if he was not careful.
And Soonyoung stands rooted, only slightly taken aback by the sudden gesture so he quickly recovers to reflexively rest his hand lightly on Jihoon's arm. Soonyoung just smiles into the crook of Jihoon's arms, albeit a little shyly at the openness in which Jihoon had reciprocated, but at that moment his heart burst with flowering jasmine.
Soonyoung thinks to himself: I'm the luckiest person on earth.
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Soonyoung is in trouble. He could tell just by how Jihoon carries himself. Jihoon's lips were no longer soft and pliant; they were drawn tight into a thin line across his face. Those dimples that adorn both sides of his cheek which usually pooled happiness were now sunken and empty. Soonyoung sweeps his glazed eyes over Jihoon's gait and takes note of the way he shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, body slightly tilted forward, how his muscles in his torso were drawn in a fight or flight tenseness, how his jaw looks sharper when he clamps his mouth to grit teeth. How did Jihoon manage to clench his mouth close so tightly yet able to spill so much words, Soonyoung wonders to himself.
Soonyoung tries to catch whatever Jihoon was saying. He tries hard. He desperately tries to stay afloat from everything Jihoon was throwing at him, but Jihoon's words rapidly fills up his lungs which left little space for air. None of it makes sense to him.
Jihoon finally flings the container of perfume at Soonyoung and shouts at him to keep it, because he doesn't need this reminder that Soonyoung exists, scent lingering around solely for the purpose of tormenting him. A scent that reminds him of home, of Soonyoung, that makes his chest ache so terribly.
The container hits Soonyoung’s chest hard and by some miracle it tumbles onto his waiting palms. Soonyoung just grips the container tightly, knuckles white, fighting back tears that threatens to spill. Wishing this scene unfolding in front of his eyes is just an utterly sick joke that his mind was playing on him.
Soonyoung finally slumps into a heap after ages, just as Jihoon turns his back to disappear from his sight through the front door. He lets Jihoon’s words, which filled his lungs to the brim, burst through his ribs to crash upon him violently like ocean waves.
Then Soonyoung drowns.
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