[1/1] doojoon/dongwoon, 725 words
they sleep, limbs overlapping, two kindred spirits, souls indistinguishable.
❝dongwoon-ah, stop." doojoon murmurs the words in the juncture between subconscious and unconscious, and he's cradling the fragility of his stepbrother in his arms before his brain even registers that he's not awake.
a sniff and a swallow, and the boy lifts a hand between their bodies to rub his eyes, wipe away his shame and worry, remnants of a nightmare. "sorry."
bony, pitiful little fingers come and grasp, dig into his bare back, finger pads press into the spine, dance across the skin like silk, not quite needy and not quite tame. doojoon curls back into the little spirit, lost and ashamed, too small to inhabit the big body it's been given. blond hair tickles his nose and he inhales, breathes in the reason of life.
the boy slides his hands from doojoon's back underneath his arm to his torso, up to his chest, feeling the heartbeat, cupping his palm over the taut pull of doojoon's resiliant shell, needing to know, making sure, making sure. dongwoon's bruised skin is like abstract artwork and his body is the canvas, fists, handprints, footprints, stark and frigid.
"dongwoon," doojoon whispers again, "i'm here. i'm here."
the boy gives a little whimper of gratitude, of trust, of relief. they sleep, limbs overlapping, two kindred spirits, souls indistinguishable.
another day dawns and the two spirits disappear, replaced by one boy who has everything and one boy who has a hole where his spirit should be. doojoon sits in his room and cranks up the radio and tries to tune out the words, tries to pretend that it's okay, it's okay, and he hums loudly and buries his nose in a book and pretends to be entranced by the world of jeannette walls in her glass castle.
but no matter how much he tries the words infiltrate, the blows and the insults and the punches and the unhindered sounds of crying. doojoon's words ring in his ears, i'm here, i'm here.
silence now, then a muffled, broken sob. a slam as his father slams off to a bar, douses his worries in alcohol, his problems, tries to forget, just like everybody else.
doojoon comes to find his spirit, his ghost, picks up the pieces and tries to put them back together. he gathers the mess of bone and skin with no soul in between, patches it back until it's dongwoon in his arms, his dongwoon, and they lean into each other, two pieces of the same haunt.
again and again, like a broken record; he rubs his thumb across his spirit's fragile cheekbone, piece him back together, because it's one of those times when everything and nothing matters and there's no right thing to say.
"kiss me," dongwoon murmurs, dongwoon breathes, dongwoon sighs, and doojoon's chest tightens because he wants it, he wants it.
nonetheless he stares at the spirit, who's looking very whole today, and wonders about the different sides of him, the sides he never sees. the gaunt cheeks of time and time again are gone, for the moment, replaced with lifted bones and a pretty pink tinge. right now dongwoon's smiling at him, a little unsteady, a little rusty, unfamiliar in a way that doojoon wants to keep.
so he does. he leans forward and captures dongwoon's lips, lets their mouths press, breathe life into each other. he rolls the younger boy onto his back, kisses him quite insane, coaxes him to a state of being where reality is just a nightmare and there are no more bruises, no more tears.
doojoon feels something start on the bed behind him, and he flips around and has dongwoon spooned to his chest so fast that he doesn't even have the chance to cry.
"i'm here," doojoon breathes into the shell of his ear, ready to heal, ready to piece things back together, protecting dongwoon from a dream world where he's running, always running. "stay."
the spirit relaxes and drifts back into his head. he's running, running away again, out of breath and just out of reach, always too close, always too far away.
and then doojoon, his stepbrother, his open-armed savior; he's right there in the dream in front of him, promising a world of no pain and no hurt, scoops him up into his chest where he's warm and small and safe, and everything's okay again.
author's note: for ieopon because she's a loyal shipper of doowoon despite how reluctant she is to admit it. and yes, this was supposed to be that abusive doowoon you wanted OTL. to those who don't understand, dongwoon has an abusive stepfather, aka doojoon's real father. the quote "kiss me quite insane" is from sylvia plath's mad girl's love song. ♥