![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
8 years later, and i still know your smile.
he can’t help but notice there's a sense of familiarity in the way the new guy carries himself, but it's probably just strange, wishful thinking on his part.
then he smiles.
he smiles, and it comes to him, crashing over him like the waves they used to surf on the cold coast. the smell of dumplings, chicken soup, and foggy warmth, the sound of knives against cutting boards loud from the kitchen. the giggles and screams of late-night pillow fights and cursing at games till the wee hours of the morning. the feeling of a soft hand in his, squeezing, eyes trained on the movie but with a smile much too tender to really be focused on it. the sight of a boy on a stage, nervous, but pouring his heart into what he loves most, for whom he loves most.
the club, the getting too drunk and loud clashing and- yelling, so, so much yelling- the awful, awful knowledge of the unspoken words and broken promises, the regret of a boy who should've known better, the sobs of one who deserved better.
the bloodied hand and the face of someone who didn't mean it. he sees tearful eyes and stilted goodbyes, hears "it's what's best for you." ring through his head like they're the only words he's ever heard. feels the emptiness of his heart and the cold, cold air of the roof.
it's been 8 years. he thought he'd never see him again.
then he smiles.
he smiles, and it comes to him, crashing over him like the waves they used to surf on the cold coast. the smell of dumplings, chicken soup, and foggy warmth, the sound of knives against cutting boards loud from the kitchen. the giggles and screams of late-night pillow fights and cursing at games till the wee hours of the morning. the feeling of a soft hand in his, squeezing, eyes trained on the movie but with a smile much too tender to really be focused on it. the sight of a boy on a stage, nervous, but pouring his heart into what he loves most, for whom he loves most.
the club, the getting too drunk and loud clashing and- yelling, so, so much yelling- the awful, awful knowledge of the unspoken words and broken promises, the regret of a boy who should've known better, the sobs of one who deserved better.
the bloodied hand and the face of someone who didn't mean it. he sees tearful eyes and stilted goodbyes, hears "it's what's best for you." ring through his head like they're the only words he's ever heard. feels the emptiness of his heart and the cold, cold air of the roof.
it's been 8 years. he thought he'd never see him again.