a short story I wrote a couple years ago, I think it's about half done. oh and it's Taemin AU btw (Snickering)
Chapter One Painful Art
I twirled my pencil across my thin fingers, trying to make it hold my concentration. I was deep in thought, so much was going through my mind, it was on fire, though outwardly my smooth dew skin was perfect, not creased or wrinkled in thought, like the way my brain was, or twisted and knotted like my guts were, accompanied with the ticklish, butterfly feelings of nerves.
I shook my thoughts away and refocused myself, looking down at my paper, notes were scrawled neatly in slant formation, down the page, the notes were from my art class, which was currently drawing to a close.
"Don't forget to complete next Wednesday's project," Mrs. Woo reminded the class. "Before next Wednesday."
A few students laughed, everyone filed by the desk, dropping this week's project off--a paper on how wars affected artwork through history. Mine had been finished the night before, but only barely, I'd been so distracted by.....him. How had I come to let this happen? I was a straight a student, taking double majors, I'd dated in high school, but guys were so moody and untrustworthy, I'd given up on them, and especially since college, I wanted to be focused, I wanted to do well, and for two years I'd done fine. I had guy friends and girlfriends, but everyone here was similar minded, they wanted to be focused, not distracted by dating, but then he'd had to come along, and perfectly mess everything up. He'd messed me up, even my breath was short with the thought of him. I kept having sort of flashbacks from last week - his slender hands on me, my knee was between his legs, which were set apart - why was it so damn hot in here?!
"Miss Magyar, are you alright?" Mrs. Woo asked me, her brow wrinkled, she was obviously very worried for me. How bad did I look? Really I knew this would happen, all my teachers knew and liked me, they knew I was level headed, that I took school very seriously.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I don't feel very good is all," I choked, as my flashbacks intensified, my whole body was tingling. I kept seeing our fingers entwined, the moonlight falling across them. Our lips touching for the first time, the way I'd felt then, a mere two and a half or so weeks ago, ripped back through me and I shuddered, feeling my stomach, was I actually sick now?
Mrs. Woo stood up from behind her desk, and put her hand on my shoulder, her motherly side taking over. "Sweetie, go see the nurse, you can drop your paper whenever."
I nodded. "Thanks very much, Mrs. Woo." I quickly got out of the line and pushed through the other students. I had no intentions of going to the nurse, the girl's lavatory one floor above me, yes. I took the long, wood stairs four at a time, trying to keep my liquids down, I hadn't even eaten today.
I finally reached the hallway leading to the lavatory, surprisingly it was empty, and so was the bathroom its self, I reached a large stall right as a cough racked my body, and I lost my stomach to the toilet bowl.
I sat on the floor, breathing heavily for a few minutes. "What the hell is going on?!" I asked myself, before my brain could reply another wave of nausea hit me, but there was nothing to throw up.
I had to get back to my apartment right away, I pushed myself up and stumbled to the long row of sinks, and splashed water on my face, it helped for a few seconds. I could see myself in the mirror, instead of him, my face was pale white, my lips were pale as well, but only because I felt sick, usually they were red or dark pink, my hair was dark brunette, almost black, pushed out of my face by a orange ribbon headband. I was very thin but tough at the same time, I had jeans and chucks on with a white hoodie pulled over my bra, I liked simple clothes, but also I hadn't put much effort into getting dressed today.
Suddenly there it was again, blurring my vision this time. I could see him in the mirror now, standing behind me, it might have made me jump, except for the fact that it had happened yesterday too. He looked perfect, yet there was something else on his face this time. I first I thought it was anger, but then I realized it was fear, I wanted to comfort him, run my fingers through his fluffy hair, but an odd pain blurred my vision again, it made my whole body burn.
I raced out of the lavatory, nearly taking out a student, I recognized her on the way by as a girl named Clemance, I attempted to say sorry, but it didn't come out right, and I kept going. Sometimes I seen my black and white chucks, as I ran, but at the same time I seen flashes from the last two and a half weeks, I seen very odd things, like his legs in his jeans, his hands, slender and beautiful, his hair, his perfect lips...
I wasn't sure how I made it the four miles to my apartment. My subconcioius must have ruled I wasn't safe to drive, because I ran the distance, and took the white stairs, instead of the elevators up to the sixth floor, my shaky hand unlocked room 737.
I'd never been happier to see my large empty apartment room. I was sweaty and shaky, I wondered if maybe I should have went and seen the nurse, but no, there was nothing normal about this - having freaky visions of your boyfriend, they'd stick me in the luny bin.
I crashed on the couch, throwing my book bag on the floor, my body was still burning, unnaturally sweaty. My breath was shallow, I felt like I was suffocating, why? Why? Why? my brain screamed, why was this happening? Had he done something to me?
Again I seen his hands on me, my knee between his legs, teasing with the idea. Except now I could see us from all sides, I could see his tan arms, they were lean, with very little muscle, yet he was very strong, the way he pressed against me, teasing me, holding my arms, the pressure was amazing, intoxicating, the way he smelled, it had set my brain on fire, my heart hammering.
I pulled myself to the present, taking in a shaky breath, I realized I was crying, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and then I screamed, it was a bone chilling shriek, but I couldn't help myself, I was hurting everywhere, and I couldn't see anything anymore. I touched my eyes to see if they were open, they were, but I seen nothing but my past memories of him, it was forcing me to realize what all I felt for him, which was an uncountable amount of emotions.....
- Chapter One Painful Art