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#the imagery of Hyun getting WAY TOO COMFORTABLE AT BORAM'S PLACE BTW I HOPE THAT'S OKAY?
mythvoiced · 2 years
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@theimpalpable​ | "Is...that my shirt you're wearing?" (Boram saying this with the biggest, dopiest smile to Hyun WIUEHDIUAHKDH) 400 RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS
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Good question.
There is a part of Hyun that almost instantly knee-jerked into an immediate ‘yes, and what about it’, this odd defensiveness that isn’t quite such, but rather the constant impulse to double down and confirm any and all suppositions that colour the fox with blue waves and make him effectively Boram’s in the perception of other.
But responding like this to Boram directly doesn’t really serve that purpose, nor is it a tone of voice Hyun knows how to use when the dragon is involved. He'd dread the moment they should ever argue, because how is he supposed to find the words and cadence he’d need to get his feelings and thoughts across, when the moment he turns Boram will be standing there, looking like that?
Thankfully it doesn’t seem very likely for either of them to intend trapping the other in an argument or mere disagreement that would elicit this type of attitude out of the fox. He doubts he’d even recall how to emulate it, how to fuse that tension back into his bones, how to work up enough nerves, allow his chest to tighten in ways that aren’t the lovestruck reactions he keeps succumbing to with the delight and ease of a diver answering the call of the sea.
No, he doubts he’ll ever turn and not see the sun shine at its brightest, the reflection of sunlight dancing across the still waters of a river muttering sweet nothings and centennial adoration and promises of the likes Hyun thinks only Boram is capable of keeping, only Boram would try to keep. 
But that doesn’t mean that the dragon isn’t still very much capable of making him feel rather exposed, put on the spot, in the middle of the other’s kitchen, dressed in little more than the other’s shirt actually, pitter-patting about in the shorts he sleeps in - loose and effective no matter the shape of his form as he wakes into it - stilling momentary hunger with some yoghurt he found in the other’s fridge.
There is a lot going on here that he wouldn’t have even thought to dream up, a few months ago, not even in his wildest, most unrealistic daydreams, those that see him prevail in the face of all that is still blocking him, those that see him navigate the world with ease and only time stretched ahead of him. The wildest he’d ever gotten with those daydreams had brought him back to that cave, away from the blood and the shaking and the ache that never quite seeped back out of his bones, and zeroing in directly on the one ‘what if’ he’d never been able to shake, the ‘what if’ of staying, just a single minute longer, and take Boram’s hand.
But he hadn’t trusted himself farther than that image. What else could he have dreamt up, if he had? What else would he have had to acknowledge and address and never, according to the him of the past, never find closure to? What point is there to wonder if, had he taken his head, maybe one day he would have been asked to not let go of it again?
So why get this far with the daydreaming?
What for, opening that uncut wound?
But now he’s here and even though he’s staring directly back at the dragon, and even though he’s perfectly still safe for the occasional blinking of his eyes, he doesn’t regret, nor does he feel shame.
In fact, he barely cares at all. Not today, not this morning, not while his lips curl into a smile intending on matching the dragon’s, and surpassing it slightly, tipping its toes past the edges of goofy, and throwing in a tilt of his head to accentuate the new idea, the playful faded slightly into the challenging.
“If you’d rather I don’t, you can come take it off.”
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