Anchor (Drag Me Down)

Taekwoon has always had his head up in the clouds, almost like he was simply sailing through the motions of life and never really looking where he was going. He’d tap his pencil on the cool surface of the wooden desk and stare out the window with a far-off gaze, his chin resting in the palm of his slightly curled hand. He would sit like that for hours, even though he had work to do, compositions to write, and people to please.

Wonshik wasn't one of those people.

It was almost daunting at first, Wonshik thought; how could a pair like them work out when one of them never paid attention? Taekwoon was always staring yearningly in another direction that wasn't his – and although it didn’t really bother him, he had to wonder why the young man bothered sticking around if he wasn't interested.

But that wasn't really true, was it?

There was a certain mood Taekwoon would be in before he'd fall into his trance of watching the clouds laze by in the sky, and Wonshik thought of it as . . . depression, maybe. Caution. Wariness. Irritation and tiredness – like Taekwoon knew which way his mind was actually heading and he was sick of it yet he knew he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Then, Wonshik would brush the soft black hair from Taekwoon’s face and there would be a spark of life flashing through his glossy eyes. This spark was surprising, almost strange to Wonshik. It was excitement, it was real, it was relief.

“Still not coming up with anything?” Wonshik gently chuckled, leaning back into the leather-skinned recliner. Taekwoon sighed and shook his head, bangs falling into his face again. Wonshik stood.

The day was warm and summer was on spring’s heels. After spending so much time cooped up in their apartment, constantly switching between staring at blank pages and lazing clouds, Wonshik decided that Taekwoon could use a day out.

With a mischievous smile on his face, Wonshik spun the chair around and the older man made a yelp of surprised when a hand grabbed his and pulled him along. He knew Taekwoon didn't like being disturbed while he worked, but Wonshik liked to think he knew the other a little better than most ( or maybe he just tricked himself into thinking that ) – Taekwoon would thank him later.

They walk for a little while but Wonshik begins to feel almost . . . insecure and tired, somehow. The weight he’s pulling along doesn’t feel like a human being ( doesn't feel like Taekwoon, his lover of nearly three years, the person who acted like his real guardian when even his parents didn't want him anymore, who he told his darkest secrets to and opened up to completely and unabashedly ) but he pulls through and the couple eventually comes to a park.

Lush grass littered with large and tall trees stretches out before a large pond, the green blades of the ground gently rolling in waves from the wind. Patches of colorful flowers garnish the area, particularly surrounding wooden picnic tables and wooden benches with embellishing decorations in dark metal. Wonshik doesn’t want to sit somewhere people normally would and he almost thinks about turning around to ask Taekwoon where he wants to sit, but then he remembers that his boyfriend is a little too gone for him to handle.

Almost shrugging, Wonshik leads them to a spot near the shore of the pond, where patches of white camellias are scattered around and a few lotuses float in the nearby in the water. With his hand still around Taekwoon’s, he sits them down and sighs contently, his shoulders dropping in relaxation.

Sometimes Taekwoon told him that his voice was nice ( “Hum for me,” he would tell him in the late hours of the night when the two of them were overly tired ) so he began to hum.

The sun bathed the two of them and the wind ruffled their hairs. Wonshik continued to hum something he wrote ages ago – probably one of the first things he wrote ( for Taekwoon ) around the time he met him. Next to him, the black-haired man laid back with his hands folded behind his head. Wonshik wondered if he could even be heard, but he hummed anyway. The hand farthest from Taekwoon began to rub the petals of a camellia and eventually picked it off, along with a second one.

Still humming, Wonshik turned to face Taekwoon whose eyes were closed. He vaguely wondered if the other had fallen asleep and his humming died away with a sigh. He placed the two white petals on Taekwoon’s closed eyelids and then laid down on his side.

He closed his eyes. Maybe he should put petals on his eyelids too.

“Why did you stop?”

Wonshik jostled with life, his eyes popping open and seeing Taekwoon’s face just inches from his own. Slightly baffled, he took a second to collect himself and reply. “ . . . I thought you fell asleep. You were doing that . . . thing again.” he mumbled, eyes avoiding the others.

A moment of quiet passed, but then Taekwoon puffed out a breath with a small ( almost apologetic ) smile and ruffled Wonshik’s hair tenderheartedly. The older man sat up and Wonshik propped himself up with his elbows, watching him look at the pond thoughtfully. He got to his feet and mumbled something that made Wonshik blink with surprise.

A hand was held down to him, and still slightly surprised, Wonshik took it and was pulled to stand. Taekwoon began to roll up his dark jeans and took off his shoes, walking over to the shore of the pond. There was something different in the way he moved and it soothed the uncomfortable feeling under Wonshik’s skin. He rolled up his pants too.

Their toes curled into the wet ground below and Wonshik tentatively glanced at Taekwoon. He expected to see him with that distant look into the sparse clouds again, but instead, the other seemed to be eying one of the lotuses. He waded a little deeper and picked one up, his slender fingers delicately pulling at the vibrant pink petals. Almost entranced, Wonshik watched, his body lightening and his heart fluttering as if it were the first meeting.

He blinked when the flower was being held out to him. He thought maybe he should have been the one holding it out to Taekwoon instead.

“I'm back. You must have waited a long time. Thank you.”

a/n: usage of hanakotoba