the rain hits the glass. it begins with one.

three.

twelve,

thirty,

too many to count.

it was quiet, it supposed to be quiet, and she needs it to be quiet. the quiet calms, nurtures and helps her thoughts to align, and the quiet needs to return so they can.

she needs her thoughts aligned, she needs order before the caress of sleep makes contact with her mind. 

but the rain still carries on; it’s still too many drops, still disturbing the quiet, still interrupting the order.

hey, a voice coos next to her, hey…

the heaviness of nearly falling asleep and the chaos in her mind is shaken off, the voice is important.

hmm

bodies are brought closer in this moment, for this moment. 

Apple scented shampoos, and sweet tasting skin is hers, and hers alone. the sheets smell like her, her pillows hug the scent. jongdae hugs her.

she’s quiet. the weather’s noisy.

she’s troubled. he’s relaxed.

and he needs her to be so. he knows how she thinks. 

he knows how she’s immune to hopeless, sweet nothings murmured in her ears, to the thought that he can cure her of her demons; he knows.

she’s strong, she’s built like so. but she needs support, she needs to know he’s there to keep her up.

his arms circle her middle, her hands cover his. his breaths falls down her back, and rolls along the curve. the scent of apples are endearing to him. 

it’s comforting and essential to him.

the rain hits the glass. it continues with hundreds of drops.

seventy three,

forty two

twenty nine

ten

two

order.