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blue_bells» Title: No Answer [G]
» Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com
» Fandom: Tekken
» Status: Complete
» Warnings: None
» Pairing(s): Hwoarang/Jin
» Summary: Hwoarang's getting tired of waiting.
He wasn’t lonely, he had plenty of friends to call on, people he was close to, that he could confide and place utmost trust in. Even though he lived alone he hardly lacked a social life, seldom taking time off from the bars, clubs (and on the odd occasion restaurants) to relax in solitude. Sometimes his friends would retreat to his place when the hour grew late into the early morning. Sometimes they stayed the night; most times they made their own way home. But in the end they always left. And that was alright.
It was the silence he couldn’t stand.
The deafening calm after the warm ambience of voices and laughter left a dulling void in his mind when he was finally alone in the large apartment. If he fell asleep soon after he usually woke ready to resume his individual routine. Music helped when he couldn’t sleep, when he had to fight the temptation to wander between room, peering in on the unlikely whim that he would find something – someone – that shouldn’t have been there.
No, that could have been and really should have been.
Because in reality he wasn’t supposed to be alone; he was just waiting.
He was waiting for someone to come home.
He liked freedom, the responsibility to none other than himself and the simple fact that he had a choice for nearly everything in his life; except for, of course, the single most important thing.
If he had the choice he wouldn’t come home to an empty apartment every night with only the shadows to greet him. If he had the choice, somebody would be locking the door behind him or waiting at the dinner table, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.
This was really the only time he felt lonely: in that chilling moment when he opened the door and was met with dark silence.
Hwoarang stifled a sigh, shut the door quietly and slid the bolts into place. Leaning back against the door his head fell back and he listened for a moment before slowly sinking to the floor. His keys fell unnoticed and tinkled noisily on the wooden planks. He didn’t even bother to turn on the light.
“Where are you, Jin?”
He heard no answer, but shadows in silence.
When are you coming home?
» Author:
_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com» Fandom: Tekken
» Status: Complete
» Warnings: None
» Pairing(s): Hwoarang/Jin
» Summary: Hwoarang's getting tired of waiting.
He wasn’t lonely, he had plenty of friends to call on, people he was close to, that he could confide and place utmost trust in. Even though he lived alone he hardly lacked a social life, seldom taking time off from the bars, clubs (and on the odd occasion restaurants) to relax in solitude. Sometimes his friends would retreat to his place when the hour grew late into the early morning. Sometimes they stayed the night; most times they made their own way home. But in the end they always left. And that was alright.
It was the silence he couldn’t stand.
The deafening calm after the warm ambience of voices and laughter left a dulling void in his mind when he was finally alone in the large apartment. If he fell asleep soon after he usually woke ready to resume his individual routine. Music helped when he couldn’t sleep, when he had to fight the temptation to wander between room, peering in on the unlikely whim that he would find something – someone – that shouldn’t have been there.
No, that could have been and really should have been.
Because in reality he wasn’t supposed to be alone; he was just waiting.
He was waiting for someone to come home.
He liked freedom, the responsibility to none other than himself and the simple fact that he had a choice for nearly everything in his life; except for, of course, the single most important thing.
If he had the choice he wouldn’t come home to an empty apartment every night with only the shadows to greet him. If he had the choice, somebody would be locking the door behind him or waiting at the dinner table, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.
This was really the only time he felt lonely: in that chilling moment when he opened the door and was met with dark silence.
Hwoarang stifled a sigh, shut the door quietly and slid the bolts into place. Leaning back against the door his head fell back and he listened for a moment before slowly sinking to the floor. His keys fell unnoticed and tinkled noisily on the wooden planks. He didn’t even bother to turn on the light.
“Where are you, Jin?”
He heard no answer, but shadows in silence.
When are you coming home?
