— turn your tears to roses*

seungholicx:

-

(/ there was no resistance to the other’s hold but still, seungho’s whole body stiffened as though he was being punished rather than comforted. he managed to withhold his emotions enough so that only silent tears rolled down his cheek, staining the other’s outfit.  although trapped in the bars of the other’s arms, there was a sense of a sanctuary within his hold and slowly, he could feel the storm within himself begin to diminish.

hesitantly, he lifted his arms and let his fingers search for comfort in the fabric of the other’s shirt. it was physically a small move but significant in terms for seungho. it was the first sign of the fall of his barriers, the first move in a search for rescue after years of restraint. he wondered what it would be like to live the rest of his life in the other’s arms. would he be able to find happiness there? it was a far fetched idea for him but the thought already began to pollute his mind once more.) i don’t understand. why would you place unnecessary burden on yourself? (/ the words of don’t go, don’t leave lingered around his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to say them. instead he searched for reasons, for logic that his brain couldn’t understand. he was already well over the age to be in an orphanage. if let out in the streets alone, it would only be a matter of time before he’d be brought back. should they ever find out wonbin was tied to his disappearance, the older man would be putting himself at risk as well. no matter how he thought about it, there was no happy ending in sight. sixteen years had passed by since the first time he’d been called a burden and somehow he still hadn’t manage to shed himself of it.) 

( `it was almost as arduous a task as attempting to contain a criminal writhing to escape his grasp - a more tender and intricate battle than the harsh physical scramble involved in such things - but he had been carved out for such hardships but not these. he remembered the other as the child he had seen years ago and definitely the facial features had remained. but he knew that children grew much quicker than the older generation, emotions reached their peak at a much more lenient catalyst. of course the other was more mature, had to be so to have survived this far. but it was also in these children that wonbin often found the weakest of hearts. 

the hand that had been lingering over the boy’s neck had now slid down gently to the small of his back, drawing abstract shapes with the tips of his fingers. it was perhaps he intermediate level of what he would have presented to a lover and a child - the other being too old to be treated as a mere five-year old, but also too young to be given the harsh, formal pat on the back that was often shared between himself and his colleagues. ) nothing is an unnecessary burden. not when unkempt promises are attempted to be revived, restored. ( `he was much unlike the majority of people who had taken their place as prosecutors through years of study - of mere pages in books. he knew that ‘burden’ was in the other’s words, that it did not only mean the costs of taking in another body under his roof. those were costs that he never worried of, never had even considered for longer than a few seconds. the meaning was much more extended - either an iron bar crashing over the back of his head and caving in the thick barrier of his skull, or a single shot that would drive through his insides with more precision than a maneuvered blade. and yet, he also knew that such unskilled attempts only grown upon the foundation of survival could not quite come to par with what harsh planes of snow had etched into his bones. ) come with me. as I promised you, and as the promise still stands.  

For the ones living for tomorrow get fucked by those living for today. 

Kim Dojin, or Stas, for your reference. Head prosecutor of the homicide department within Seoul Public Attorney’s Office. Though I should admit that there are multiple shades to everything that my fingertips brush against. The occupation, the days that are plagued with the fine dust of central politics and blackened coals of crime. But most importantly, there will be the night that will creep into your midst and cradle its memory into your mind. I shall be the ones to feed you out of my hands - everything from familiarity and comfort, to the fibre of affection that strikes against your soul. 

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wonbindsmp » wobinus.

(Source: sneakily-quiet-and-kinky)