The Art of Dying Well
Love has a way of wiggling itself under the skin, beneath the muscles, between the bones. It settles itself somewhere you wouldn't expect - wrapped around the intestines to make your stomach ache when they're hurt, beneath the diaphragm to make you short of breath when you're nervous, spread to the spine, to shoot pain to your head when they ruin your day, to spread tingles down every nerve when they say the exactly the right thing in exactly the right way.
Nothing aches, nothing endures, nothing protects quite like love.
Jumin knows love intimately, as well as he knows her, and they've been friends for their entire lives. If only his Father would stop getting in the way...
[AU Jumin fell in love with a childhood friend, and the RFA was their highschool band]
- Part 1 of The Art of Dying Well
Jumin has loved her since he was a teenager. He doesn't know when it happened, honestly. When the ability to know love blooms, perhaps, when the ability to desire creeps under the skin. What does one say to the threat of losing one's sanity due to sheer want? She has his deepest secrets inside her, placed there over the course of decades, and yet she does not know him. Not like this.
- Part 2 of The Art of Dying Well