lavender.
of sunsets and daisies (and occasional stupidity)Lavender
Characters : Kyungsoo, Jongin (EXO)
Pairing : Kaisoo
Word Count : 3,155
Genre : Fluff, Angst, au
Written : 140316
(i)
The story began from a lavender wall. His lavender wall.
The familiar sound of a ball bouncing against the dusty surface of the corridor floor was the soundtrack of his days with the accompaniment of his light yet slightly slurred footsteps. Jongin would walk with his usual zest, as his toned legs remained concealed by the loose denim of his jeans despite the heat. Perhaps he could not keep up his covered style for his feet were loosely clad with a pair of white slippers – funny isn’t it? He had the patience to stand before the mirror in the morning while swiping his hair in different directions carefully under the scrutiny of his relatively large brown eyes, spend a considerable amount of time before his open wardrobe finding a shirt matching with his mood and of course a second to grab his jeans hanging off the hook at the back of his hazel door, but he never had the patience to get the right pair of shoes in the morning. Then again, waking up late never provided the comfort of time allowance as he would find himself rushing through the door with a shoe bag in hand and his usual coffee mix.
His name was a conundrum, a little question he had always refused to answer. He was not ashamed of his name for he had loved how it had a certain rhythm to it when people called it. He liked the way certain people said it with their different variations, occasionally frustrating ones would make their appearances from time to time, but he liked them altogether if he was a close acquaintance or more. However, first time introductions were a pain. He knew very well that it had been the work of these annoying creatures that he had the circle of friends he had at the moment, but the numbers were dwindling. As time progressed and as he continued with his daily routines, friends fell under acquaintances and acquaintances fell into the huge division of strangers. Introductions involved the awkward silence between two faltering souls, the thorny utterance of each other’s names with cretinous disparities in pronunciation, and the tense nod when there was nothing left in his mind to say. Introductions were the doors to friendships, and the channel towards the buzzing motion picture – but if they were this hard, he would’ve chosen solitude and a little bit of peace and quiet.
He recalled the time teachers spoke of inner peace, oh the amusing times when his mentor had struggled with clenched fists to pronounce “peace” properly without ending the word with an unintended splash of droplets over the poor students sitting in the front row, momentarily wishing they had a valid reason to cover their heads with the protection of a bright vermillion umbrella. Inner peace, as his mentor had said, was found through different assortments of routes, some through sports and some through tranquility. There were contrasts, two ends of the spectrum and he believed, ironically, he belonged in both. But he was not in the middle, but rather he scurried between the two categories rapidly with angst and tinges of excitement – and this day, his godly inner peace lay in the quietude of his favourite lavender wall. Known as a school compound hobo by the several guards who had changed duties due to rotation, they were pretty much happy by the fact that they were leaving. He frequented the oddest of places where they would have to chase him away lest he caught a cold or got left behind for the entire night, frequently with the extra job of shaking this young boy out of his deepest slumbers. This day, he was full of thoughts, a haunting quote bringing pangs of anxiety and insecurity. Perhaps it had been his relatively sentimental personality which led him down the road of thoughts and never ending worries. That day he had fallen in love with the words, the way the sentence remained strung together amongst the sea of words and happenings, and with his handwriting doing it no justice, he kept the quote written on a piece of paper which he kept locked in his reddening knuckles. He trudged towards the lavender wall outside the empty classrooms. Securing his ball quietly on his empty bag, he leant against the wall and slid down to the ground with a silent thud. With a clink of his can of green tea, he read its packaging for a few moments before bringing the can to his parched lips. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the can to the floor beside him, a little spillage caused by his forearm’s twitch. Quietly, he brought his hand up to his eyes and covered them with slight dejection before falling into light siesta as his other palm relaxed to allow his note to flutter in the wind, eventually taking its flight.
(ii)
The story began from the fading polaroid lying on a white glossy table. His white glossy table.
It lay in the comfort of a light cushion of a crisp piece of paper folded neatly with forceful creases, its insides revealing words written with extremely definite handwriting, the strength of the dark pearl ink causing indents in the thin sheet – "The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the disclipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed." Its origin was an enigma to his befuddled thoughts for that afternoon, Kyungsoo had trodded over its yellowing frame. The crackles of its spine replayed in his delicate ears as he bent over to retrieve it from the dusty ground as he peered over to the turquoise wall outside his classroom. Perhaps it had flown over from some other class, he was unaware but being his careful self, he shoved it into the side pocket of his dull orange bag. As he made his way towards the youthful zephyr, he took notice of the mundane sight of a weary leg outstretched from the side of the lavender wall.
The train ride back to his distant home was a pain. Submerging himself in the melancholic harmony of voices making its way through his headphones was a matter of routine as he grew oblivious of his surroundings, his lips locked on the thin straw making its debut from the roundedness of his yoghurt bottle. He was a picture of serenity, yet his mind was a mess. Against the quiet façade he had pride in pulling off, he was a boisterous, attention-seeking rose. He had his thorns and his cravings for attention thoroughly packaged beneath thick savoury layers of onion peels. He was an onion, and he never once attempted to expose his raw soul to anybody for he would be forcing piercing tears out of his lifeless eyes during the process, and fade into nothingness at the end.
Entering his room once again was a little taxing. His memories had formed itself an asphyxiating aura of gloom as they lay their bony fingers on his slanted shoulders each time he returned to reality. His hours in school were simply a wonderland, a little rest from his relentless flow of thoughts and considerations, and he felt carefree yet restricted in both venues. He picked up the polaroid lying on his table with care as he dropped his bag onto the parquet floor without a hoot given. He the fading portrait with a certain amount of caution and pain as the waves of recollection rode past. A deep breath was taken and he heaved a hefty sigh before putting it down. He reached into his bag pocket for his treasure found earlier that day and dusted it slightly before flipping it open. The groans of the hurt paper rushed through his mind as he read through its messy organs. He shrugged a little at its beauty, the amount of substance and truth written within the lines, and most of all, the sincerity and despair he felt from the distinct impact made by the unknown soul who penned this down was the closest he had felt to his own thoughts. He was determined to find out who this phantom was, and perhaps the picture of the boy sleeping by the corridor flashed through his mind for a split second.
(iii)
The story began from a moment at 4. Their thoughts & darkness.
The dense darkness that hid the benevolent stars behind a tinted veil was accompanied by the slight presence of faded clouds sauntering leisurely in the cold winds shrouded at that hour.
Jongin's hands twitched once again and he was awoken to the aches in his back, his hands numb from stiffening in the same position. His eyes opened to darkness and the all familiar doors of the classrooms against the pearl black sky looming above him. It was 4am, and he was still leaning on the lavender wall. The guard didn’t come that day. In a slight stupor, he picked himself up and dusted his jeans slightly as he reached into his bag for the wintry set of sepia tinted uniform and traipsed towards the restroom.
As usual, Kyungsoo's eyes blinked open in a second mechanically. It had been odd, the same nightmare at the same time shook him awake from night to night as an overly effective alarm clock system. He was never late, neither was he on time. He had become an early riser thanks to the odd presence in his mumbled thoughts as he slipped into slumber on and off. He was exhausted but satisfied, his ice cold hands running through his brown hair as his pulled himself off his bed. It was 4am, and he got up and clenched the polaroid tightly before letting it fall back into the mess. He sighed again, and fell back on his bed, wide awake.
(iv)
The story began from a tinge of anxiety and the pounding strength of a wounded heart. Their little flutter.
Returning to his perch, Jongin stared at his moist empty palms for a few moments before jolting slightly, searching fervently for his mislaid aide-mémoire. Flipping through his unkempt bag and notes, he found desperation once again – or rather wretchedness had found him once again, grabbing onto his shoulders with all its strength. His hair grew disheveled and he grew tired once again as he sat back down on the spot of undisturbed dust as he set his hand on the frigid drink can whose traces were long eradicated by the recklessness of seconds and minutes. In a daze, he sat there awaiting the arrival of the long awaited sunrise, his sole source of encouragement.
Stepping foot into the corridors, Kyungsoo pulled his black cardigan tighter over his shivering frame, the note from yesterday placed carefully within the heart of his small palm. He looked down at his feet treading on the grey mess of a corridor, his heart fluttering. He had made a slightly wavering decision to return the note to whoever the owner was, his first guess being the boy who spent countless days dozing off into peaceful catnaps in the comfort of the lavender wall. A flash of a smile was seen as she spotted the usual sighting. Quietly, he approached his slender frame with fluttering anxiety, his hands quivering with each stride as his footsteps had turned into a tad reluctant dragging of feet as the distance between the two similar souls decreased. He heard a soft grunt as the said male squeezed his drink can flat within the clutches of his right hand, followed by the clanging of tin and cement for he threw the can far towards the walls before him.
“Um, excuse me.” Mustering some minute amount of strength, Kyungsoo coughed a little before speaking with a bare squeak. Despite his lack of volume, he had successfully drawn his attention for Jongin looked up to face him with lackluster eyes. He peered straight through his as though he was a transparent panel and for a moment he felt overwhelmed by uneasiness. His gaze was overly strong, and along with his shock he hid his slight hue of glee well from his similarly café au lait tone eyes.
“Yeah?” The said boy pushed himself upwards and sat upright to meet his shy stare. Kyungsoo embraced the light yet deep texture of his voice, silently appreciating the sharp features he possessed. He was different from the cliché kind of charm, his beauty was unrivalled. For a second he choked on nothingness for he was stumped and simply perplexed by how well his features complemented each other.
“I found this yesterday around here and I saw you but you were asleep so I didn’t disturb you. Does this belong to you?” In the fullness of time, he found the capability to speak within his sea of incredulity. He quailed at the sight of his eyes widening in an odd mixture of rage and happiness. The boy grabbed the paper with his fingers tensed, his fingernails caving into the fibres of the now grey paper. With a quick motion, he slipped it out of his weak fingers with a little too much vigor which jerked him a little. A few moments passed as he stared at his odd reaction, watching how he had opened the paper with the caution one would have when peeling the petals off a beauteous rose after hours of melancholia. He was silent, and his eyes closed for a few moments.
(v)
The story began to end at the classroom. Their exchange.
Kyungsoo's lessons ended with a flash, a little blurry stop motion video of nothing deposited in his enervated head. He would lean against the wall beside him and stare out of the window on the other side of the classroom, unreservedly distrait. Lessons and lecture did not interest him, the empty notes he left in their austere setting with his elbow mounted lightly onto its flat body. Studying never really had a meaning to him, simply something he had been drilled into doing and somehow enjoying since a young age. Perhaps he was just aimless for the past few weeks, unaware of what he was about to do and why he was even doing the things he did. It sounded trivial and it seemed like everyone was facing the same stumbling block at that period of time but the others weren’t of his concern. He was studying as an obligatory act and he was not finding the fun he used to espy in the rocky shores of this affair. If architecture was what he wished to pursue in the near future, studying the structure of plants did not seem to make much sense to him unless his imagination drove her far enough to design a building with a similar vascular system to transport humans through its colossal altitude. It was worth a try, worth a thought – he was always the same. The same boy who found a moral imperative to be tractable, the same boy who would peer up into the sky despite the sun shining its relentless rays into his strained eyes, the same simpleton who would forgo his own thoughts and abilities for others selectively, the same milksop who would incongruously rush into things he had not thought through thoroughly, explaining the mess his writing would be in despite the fact that he liked its peerless comeliness liken to a pure maiden in a summer’s evening. He was confusing, and at this moment rather confused by the cause of events that morning. The note contained one of the most heartfelt quotes he had read in her few years of life, the little bit of comfort that perhaps someone felt the same as his – Yet the boy's protection over the quote had been a little unknown statement.
“And we’re done for today.” The only phrase he would listen to as he stood up with the rest of the class and bowed with his utmost respect, a little apology for his insolence.
-
Flipping the note easily with his fingers, he considered the possibilities of how the note had fallen into the other boy's possession. The wind was working its way around his social awkwardness perhaps, he thought with subtle joviality. A soft chuckle, and the contrasting noise of chairs scratching against the bare skin of ceramic tiles – he turned back to see the same shorter boy looking down at his table, quietly arranging his piles of notes while the rest of the class streamed off as an untroubled rivulet, their words childish and meaningless. For a second he looked up and met his eyes before turning back to the window behind him. Another awkward turtle had arisen, he picked himself up and sent himself towards the lockers, his arms propping himself up onto the dusty new perch. Noiselessly, Kyungsoo had steered his way to his own locker, his eyes insentient and showed attempts of giving a wide berth to his companionship. Hurriedly, he shoved her items into his packed but neat compartment and hastily made his retreat into the empty classroom with a fast glance towards the taller boy. Such an unquiet figure, Jongin rubbed his eyes and knocked on the class door before entering. Keeping a safe distance from Kyungsoo's fretful gaze, he sat on the ground.
“Is awkwardness a hindrance or a solace to you?” Jongin asked as he twirled the ball around on the floor beside him. He knew his answer to the question well enough in his mind to answer it within five seconds if it had been shot towards his direction but the shorter boy spent a minute staring back on the floor before his lips parted in a quiet attempt to speak.
“A little bit of both.”
“Ah we’re the same then. You enjoyed the quote didn’t you?”
"Yeah.”
In the silence which prevailed for a few more minutes, they both sat separated by molecules of agitated air, their minds bent on finding out who each other was, a wish to know each other better yet covered by a veil of inability to speak. They wished for the other party to speak but neither did and they remained, with silence as their communication.
-
“Well shall we go? I thought I’d get you something to appease the grunts your lack of food is giving you; its pretty thunderous there.” Jongin smiled a little after some time, his uneasiness succumbed to the desire he had to get to know the boy better.
“Yeah sure.” A hint of merriment was mixed with timorous fear.
(vi)
The story began to reach the end, yet never quite reached its destination. Their story had just begun; A spark and a taut rope had been found within the consolation of unspoken emotions over the warm round of latte and green tea.
AN: Back when my writing was more eloquent?
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