Work Text:
with his tired eyes glossed over, hyun’s gaze remained fixated on the pulsating lights. three stacked in perfect alignment far out somewhere he’d never bothered to search for. he saw them just fine.
they swelled and dimmed, red against the swatch of deep blues and dusty grays, pulling each and every mundane, yet stress inducing thought straight through the center of his eyes.
they reminded him of her. the way she liked to push and pull, a playful shove with a smile on her face. her harsh words with the softest hand tilting his chin to look up at her, assumed in a position of worship.
but anything, anything could remind him of her.
even the swell, blurry and unfocused as it was, reminded him of her.
how she’d look, life imitating art imitating life growing itself from seed and love and implantation at her very core.
they talked about it.
he blinked, the dryness of his eyes being replaced with something stickier as he pulled his gaze away from the swelling red lights in the distance and focused on the brighter, closer one only a foot away from his face.
he rubbed at his eyes, setting his glasses down carefully, squeezing them tight, seeing the slow, rhythmic ghost of the tower lights behind his lids.
seeing her, behind his lids.
he pulled his hand away, little static dots taking their time dissipating as he focused his attention on the digital hourglass turn itself over, imaginary, coded together sands of time tumbling themselves over.
he looked at the real time, chewing the inside of his lip.
it was late. very late. so late he’d get home, surely, to the light over the stove on and a plate covered in the microwave, ready to heat.
she’d be on her side of the bed, moving pictures at a low volume flickering and changing her sleeping features by the second. she liked the noise.
he rarely had days lately, where they had more than a hello or goodbye but it was never something that wedged between them. he was married to his work before he met her, and the guilt of it hadn’t caught up, hadn’t materialized. he knew he was in over his head with her, and she knew she was in a silent competition that she didn’t actively participate in.
they made it work, and if there was one thing he was good at.
the hourglass tumbled one last time, turning back into the pointer, a soft sound as his work finally saved for the evening. he could keep going, could finish the project itself while the sun overtook the pulsing lights and turned them into something insignificant.
he drove home with the windows down and at every light, held his arm up to watch the sparse rain drops that’d clung to his skin catch the red glow.
when he laid next to her, whatever she had on cast a similar one over the tip of her nose, the slope of her shoulders.
she’d make such a good mother.
—
“who’s on that one?”
she kept life more playful than documents, more spontaneous than the same punch time every single day.
“a family,” he nodded, making her giggle.
the grass in the backyard was sharp, neglected as it got warmer. she never cared for yard work and he couldn’t handle it from a distance. he’d suggested someone for hire.
“what’re they doing?”
“vacation, for sure. a birthday present for the oldest, the middle child is brooding.” he nodded.
he fixated on the row of lights under the wings as it soared through the open sky, obscured every glimmering star that it passed by.
“this late?”
“the father’s a tightass, night time was cheaper.”
she kissed him. he’d spent enough time in the office today, scared the hell out of her when he opened the door while she was making her lunch.
he kissed her breathless right against the counter.
their skin was still warm and tacky from the shower, post aftermath.
“i want to go to the stars,” she sighed.
“you made them.”
she didn’t say anything, but her smile reflected brighter to him than pulsing lights, than rounded screens.
she didn’t speak for a good while, enough time for him to fixate on the red lights again.
“you don’t make sense,” she whispered.
he supposed he didn’t, not always, when it came to her. to lights. to himself.
sometimes he felt part man, part screen, or maybe part whatever was behind it.
ones and zeroes, or maybe a chip of some sort.
she’d never understood him, and he didn’t understand her either. he supposed if neither understood the other, there was a perfect understanding born from it, someway.
“the sky, too.”
she turned her head.
“the lights, and the trees, and the clouds, too.”
one in the same to him.
she could conceive things more beautiful than they were given, despite his gratitude.
he held his faith deep inside, nestled in its rightful plug, for all she gave him, for all she gave the world.
“i like your nonsense.” she grinned, kissing him again. she tasted like static and soil.
he felt reborn every time.
“i love you.”
—
“is it going?” hyun stared at the red dot at the front side of the camera, clunky as it was, pointed straight at him.
he’d had a great time, drinks warming him something molten to his very core to his caked soil palms.
“it’s going, it’s going,” she giggled, something warm herself as she looked over his sisters shoulder.
they all sang to him, in unison, he blew out his candles with one wish on his mind.
their eyes locked, and he wondered if she could read his mind, the way they always did, somehow.
he wished to see her as a mother.
—
a sharp inhale was his first reaction, jumping in his seat as he straightened up.
the only light in the room was the harsh white square in front of him, searing his eyes as she laughed softly.
“hard nights at the office, my ass,” she teased.
he came to his senses, saw the stack of paperwork, the pen he’d chewed the end of earlier. well, clicked around against the tips of his teeth as he stared out at the lights.
what was she doing here?
he turned to her, a smile matching hers as he pulled her into a kiss.
upon release, she set a bag on his desk, the part that was empty.
“brought you dinner.” she murmured, leaning against the solid wood.
she nourished, and she cared, and she swelled with so much love that he couldn’t handle it.
he pressed a kiss to the very top of her stomach, smiling up at her as she rolled her eyes at him. “is that your thank you?” she teased.
he thanked her with his words, metallic tasting from the pen. when she kissed him properly, she tasted like ink and sugar, and he was happy to be stained when she left.
—
it was two of five minutes, they had to wait.
he watched the time, every parted out digital gash bleed slow, slow, slow, taking their time to change to the next formation.
they sat next to eachother on the bed, deciding they’d be far too antsy to stand next to the developing little stick in the bathroom a few steps away.
this was the fourth time, over the last few months, that they’d done this stagnant dance.
open cardboard, open plastic, piss, turn it over, wait.
no luck.
he took a shaking breath.
three of five.
the bed moved, waves beneath him as she moved to her knees and behind him, her lithe arms wrapping around his chest.
a restraint.
a lifesaver.
he rested his head against her, shut his eyes.
he didn’t count each little kiss against his cheek or his brow, he wouldn’t. they weren’t seconds or minutes. they were welcomed.
they got behind each number, pressed on their stiff, single file line bodies and pushed.
“it’s time.” she whispered in his ear, giddy as the first, second, third time over.
they stood, nearly tripping over each other, but she got to it first.
she turned it over, taking a big big breath with her eyes locked on his. she didn’t look down, and he couldn’t look away from her to do so himself.
“i can’t look,” she whispered.
“you have to,” he whispered back.
silence for the audience of hopefully one.
she nodded, her red hair falling over her eyes as she looked down. he didn’t know if he should look at every sharp tooth in her grin, or each twin swell of tears when she looked back up.
she decided for him, shoved the plastic in his face.
“i’m pregnant!” she squealed.
he didn’t have time or desire to stop the way she tackled him against the wall, her arms and legs wrapped around him so tight he could pop.
he hugged her back, spun her, spun them, in a circle.
“we’re having a baby,” he sobbed.
had it not been positive, it would’ve after the following hour or so.
—
the growing swell outlined the foreground as he stared out at the lights.
she said she got bigger everyday, that he’d have to widen the doors soon. she always laughed enough for the both of them.
he rested his palm, adding knobby knuckle hills to his field of vision as he watched the ebb, the flow, the slow flicker. the red glow prayer candle flame of the towers afar.
“you’re going to be such a good mother.” he whispered.
he could feel her melt under him, spill all over the sharp grass. the money for someone to work on the yard went elsewhere. to the nursery, to frilly dresses.
he swelled a thousand times over, his heart a three stack of tower lights inside, could feel them brighten as he watched them dim in the distance, a perfect trade off.
“you’ll be a good father,” she said, running her long fingers through his hair.
his eyes slid shut, rods, and cones, and lights, and premonitions of their blended image. of the physical manifestation of the perfect equation. of teamwork personified with pretty eyes and a sharp mouth.
if he could, he’d erect statues of her, weeping red light from her shining eyes. place flowers at her chipped paint feet.
for now, he’d rest his head here, listen