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Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of hearth
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Published:
2020-07-12
Words:
463
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
8
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20
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3
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103

trick of the light

Summary:

Fire thrives in the tight, cramped spaces where no love has ever reached. No place is sacred— Donghyuck is not sacred, and he will burn.

Notes:

this is a little ficlet for an ot4 00line witch au idea ive had for... way too long... (since aug 2018) i decided to publish something for it and here we are with donghyuck unhinged fire boy!!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

By now, it's second nature for warmth to bloom across his palms, a constant simmering beneath his skin. Flame ignites at his fingertips and he crumbles, but he is not ash— he cries and pants and shakes as it sears through his body; chokes on tears and smoke as his vision blurs until the fire has no distinct shape in his mind or in his eyes. He burns alive.

Still it continues, still it is beautiful. Donghyuck's arm is pitch black and rotted under its intent, a sign of its anger from his past attempts to quell it, from his shame, how he unleashes it only with hell on his heels. It feeds off every piece of him, growing higher, stronger. Reaches over the crown of his head to envelop him, compelling him to become one, come home. Even as it steals his breath away he offers more and more of his oxygen, of his life to surrender. Would it be considered a surrender if there was no struggle? He submits. 

The shift is instant— the fire crackles in excitement, appraising, preening, and all is forgiven— for now. It twists out from his body in low arcs towards the dry, weedy plants nearby. 

Fire is not made to obey, a force born unpredictable, relentless, uncaring of its wake. It thrives in the tight, cramped spaces where no love has ever reached, and the open, free ground, caressed by the touch of life so easily stamped out. No place is sacred—

Donghyuck is not sacred. He buckles under the weight, the fear, the pressure of power. And each time it surges forward to meet his fall, eager to climb above the confines of skin. In a bond tied by whims lies a dance of two wills: one that beckons close and whispers in the language of desire, one that steps along hot coals to reach it.

Respect is earned from battle and Donghyuck is no stranger to the bitter ash of submission. They were never equals; it treats him as he treats it, means to an end. They are not so different— why else would they be fated so?

Donghyuck is that speck of tinder, the first sacrifice. When man opened the doors to the inferno, struck rock against rock, did they foresee this? A boy, peeled raw by his own creation because he could not tame it. A little kid playing with fire, things grander than he, striking the match of freedom. Where did that lead him? 

He smiles softly from where the flames cradle him, eyes wide and glassy against the light. Donghyuck is sick, perhaps, perverse for his gratitude. He breathes in the fumes, clogs his lungs while blaze stretches into the horizon. And just like the sun, he heads west.

Notes:

leave ur thoughts below/talk 2 me on twt!! i am ready to discuss :P

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