He runs (wild and free like all the stories he’s been hearing since forever) with a smile on his face and the wind in his hair (unguarded, unrestrained) and there are wings on his feet -
(And suddenly two hands pulling, holding him down.)
Don’t, they say, begging you not to jump (they think you’ll fall, die, but that’s only because they don’t believe that you could fly, if only they let you go) tears streaming down their cheeks and they pull you to the ground, back, back down.
You sigh and your fingers, they dance across the taller one’s face (Siwon, and he’s crying, crying for you) tracing the tear tracks that go all the way down to his jaw, fading halfway along his neck. The other one, the one who looks at you differently (Kangin, the one who’s always, always there, tugging you back from the sky) you ignore, because the first one (Siwon) is so, so beautiful right now.
The next time it happens (the next time you try) it’s different people pleading with you not to go (not to fly) and you wonder why they don’t understand that you won’t, can’t fall.
This time, it’s the man (he’s just a boy, still so young) with the soft brown eyes (Donghae, but now they’re blurred with tears) and the one with red, red hair (like fire, and you shy away like it’ll burn you). He (Eunhyuk) wraps his arms around your torso tense and you know he’ll never let go, ever - they’re pulling, pulling you down (like gravity, crystal clear).
Listen to me, you say, running your hands through coloured hair, and they say, they say they are (but you know all they’re doing is hearing).
After that the one with the beautiful smile (Ryeowook, tying invisible ropes around your ankles and heart and to the earth) and the quiet one you’ve always thought of as pretty, in a manly sort of way (Yesung, and he’s sad, whispering lyrics into your ears; musical).
You don’t fight back, not with them - you don’t want to hurt them, not them (they’re special, so special to you).
The handsome one with nice eyes (Hankyung, smelling of shampoo and home - Korea China Korea - ) and the younger boy with pale skin and dark eyes (Henry, and you like him the best because he wants to believe, in you; fly with you) and they drag you down, down, down (mostly Hankyung, because he cares).
With them you try different tactics, winding your arms around the closest one (Henry, and he’s trying not to cry) and resting your head on his shoulder, lying warm pliant open in his arms. He’s thrown off by it, you can tell, and nervous (you feel a little bad, but at this point you’d do anything to get, get away).
How much do you love me? you ask, eyes bright and hopeful (his answer’s soft, shy, and he says, More than anything else, ge, his arms going slack).
Let me go, let me go, please.
(He lets go all the way, but Hankyung, his arms tighten tenfold and he’s crushing, crushing, you, drowning in salt sweet water tears and kisses, harsh.)
Shindong stops you later, the Kibum, and Heechul, Sungmin, not quite crying but they aren't letting you go anyway -
And Zhou Mi, not understanding but pulling, pulling you down like he never wants to let go -
And Kyuhyun, who lets you walk to the very edge before taking your hand and making you sit down on the grass next to him -
Then one day it’s just Henry, and Kyuhyun, and they don’t really get it but they’re the ones who cut your bonds and fix your crumpled wings and let you fly.
He tuns (wild and free like all the stories he’s been listening to since forever) with a smille on his face and the wind in his hair (unguarded, unrestrained) and he has wing now, long and shimmery -
and you, you fly, fly away.
Now you like to think that they believe, finally.