rubatosis: the unsettling awareness of your heartbeat

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An eerie silence, an ambience of absolute quiet, with the prior exception of the scratching of a nib against thick yellow pages. Hongjoong did not pay any attention to his surroundings, his focus solely devoted to the notebook that lay open upon the sheets. His mind was crammed with several schemes and his hands moved in a swift motion upon the pages, striving to write down all the ideas that happened to weave across the corners of his brains at that point of time.

A sudden shift in the air startled him, grabbing his attention almost instantly. Hongjoong glanced up, slapping the book shut and catching their presence. An anonymous individual stood just beyond his line of sight, leaning against the door frame in silence, the angle of his shadow visible upon the floor. Hongjoong couldn't tell who it could be, but the presence made a sudden wave of panic rush through his form, making him feel extremely sick.

Did they notice my notebook?

The person continued to watch the other with quite an unreadable expression, an unsettled fear bubbling within Hongjoong's chest at the prolonged silence. It was the way they seemed to observe him, as though they could see the very words forming within his mind before they could reach his mouth and utter a verbal response.

"Who are you?" Hongjoong called, the panic within now seeping deeper into his body, his eyes wide and hands shaking, his throat parched and mind empty.

"An admirer," the voice of the watcher responded. His voice revealed his years, a prominent youth. It also revealed his gender identity, a masculine husk surged by testosterone, a short click of his tongue followed by a simple chuckle seeming extremely nerve wrecking to one seated indoors.

"Leave me alone before I get the General," Hongjoong threatened, harsh articulations on his tongue trying to send a threatening aura bearing authority to the man in the door way.

The man shrugged it off, feeling unbothered by his futile attempts, "Surely you wouldn't do that to the little old me, would you?" There was mockery in his voice with a tinge of plead, a sense of desperation, as if he was sad.

"I will-" Hongjoong stopped himself almost instantly when the figure revealed himself. His jaws dropped when he finally discovered the other's identity. With lack of words and dryness in his throat, he struggled to say something but remained awestruck, a swirl of emotions making a chaotic confusion within.

"What? Surprised to see me eh?" the other man smirked, the corners of his mouth being pulled up to reveal his mature features and the striking differences in his looks than what had been earlier. Hongjoong was extremely surprised, but soon, his body eased and he felt a little more comfortable.

"Wooyoung? Wh-What are you doing here?" he called out, a sudden softness in his voice, as he looked into the dark brown orbs that belonged to the newcomer, the richness cradling stories that they had viewed, all the secrets and promises that hid amidst those brown landscapes.

"Same as you. On training," Wooyoung sat on his bed, a visible sadness lingering within those eyes. His back was slumped in an improper posture, elbows resting upon his knees. Something seemed to bother him, the enigmatic air around him showcasing disturbance being quite prominent.

"How long have you been stationed here?" Hongjoong asked diligently as he eased back, finding the same old comfort in Wooyoung's company like he had done years ago when they had first met at that place.

"Six and a half," came the instant reply, "I got transferred to here when they were in need for more miltary support in the East. Amagi's building up border patrols, a clear sign of an upcoming attack," Wooyoung's voice stayed low, almost mumbling.

Hongjoong nodded, an awkward silence filling the space between the two, each turmoiled by their own spurs of emotions and thoughts. A thousand talks about their past, of what happened between them, years of schemes and unfinished businesses were left to be done. But there were hardly any time to spare.

"Wooyoung," Hongjoong called, visibly gulping. The air was starting to become increasingly thick as Wooyoung turned his head towards Hongjoong, and the latter made an eye contact with the former. Those tired eyes...when did they become so isolated? When they did lose their warm spark? Hongjoong couldn't help but wonder.

"Hm?" Wooyoung hummed, every breath seeming extremely heavy and slow for both, as if time itself was pretending to slow down. All the tension and guilt that Hongjoong was carrying within him was now seeping out. His lips trembled and eyes moistened.

"I want to apologize-" Hongjoong whispered, "I'm so sorry for whatever happened that night." he confessed, feeling the bricks of burden being lifted off at a slow pace from his shoulders, tears trickling down his cheeks at a simultaneous pace.

Wooyoung simply cracked a small smile, as he placed his hand upon Hongjoong's shoulder and softly patted the surface, "There's nothing to be sorry about that Joong. Afterall, we were just kids back then, trying our best to survive."

Hongjoong gulped, quietly reading Wooyoung's body language as if to infer the raw truth behind his words. He looked tensed and cleary uneasy. Wooyoung was a skilled liar, so Hongjoong would never know with a guarantee whether he was telling the truth or not, but eventually, he cracked a smile in return.

"You know, when I heard that you were coming here, I wasn't quite thinking about our past," Wooyoung admitted, "I was pondering upon our future, the future that we had planned as kids back then," he smirked, standing up from the bed.

Looking at him, Hongjoong felt small. Wooyoung had acquired a masculine built, broader shoulders, a wide chest and a sense of immense pride that made him look extremely heroic. Hongjoong's skinny frame was almost nothing compared to that.

Hongjoong knew very well what 'future' Wooyoung was implying upon. The secrets that they had spilled at midnights, the several yarns of trust and hope that they had woven together, the plans that they had formulated, the sought for change and democracy, two kids with big dreams and even bigger hopes, little fools but committed souls.

"You still have that book?" Wooyoung said in a low tone, his eyes darkening. He looked serious, as he straightened his back and crossed his arms across his chest, easing his weight upon the heels of his feet and devoted his attention on the one still seated upon the bed.

Hongjoong took a quick glance at his notebook that was settled beside his pillow. He had a nervous feeling about this for some reason, he didn't know why.

"I do."

In the early pages of the book, if you'd look hard enough, there were two different styles of calligraphy etched upon it in forms of decent paragraphs, one from Hongjoong and the other from Wooyoung. Each word told a story about the two ambitious boys who desired to bring forth a massive change in this very gruesome world.

"Good, we'll need it later," Wooyoung nodded, bitting his inner cheek, his eyes lost in a deep thought.

"May I ask why?" Hongjoong wondered, still not clear about the other's intentions.

"Because tonight, we will start our glorious revolution," Wooyoung smiled at him, bending down and squeezing Hongjoong's shoulder, feeling the muscles tighten beneath his grasp.

"But how?" Hongjoong asked, a surge of confusion to his voice.

"Don't you worry about that," Wooyoung smirked, his hand now travelling to the other's cheek, thumb caressing the surface.

"I've missed you Joong," he quietly confessed, as he drifted his hand away from Hongjoong's face, the tension now starting to ebb away yet a sense of it still standing in between the two as they continued looking at each other with vivid sadness in their eyes.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, a creak sounding as it slowly opened, revealing a lady with auburn hair and soft eyes. She was dressed in white uniforms and had a sweet smile upon her face.

"Lieutenant Wooyoung, General San urges to see you," her voice was like a gentle whisper.

Hongjoong's brows instantly knitted in surprise as he snapped his head in the other's direction. Wooyoung is a Lieutenant? He felt his body tense and clutch up, hands slightly trembling. How could I speak so improperly to someone of such high rank?

Wooyoung nodded, a bright smile playing upon his lips, as if he was expecting something grand. His body eased, shoulders dropping and eyes bearing a sparkle in them. He seemed instantly rejuvenated.

"Tell him I'm on my way," he informed the lady as she nodded and bowed and quickly left. Wooyoung turned towards Hongjoong, looking quite in a hurry, his actions quick and in a haste. He came closer to the other, lowering his voice as much as possible and said his say.

"Now listen carefully. Meet me at Sector A," he informed, "It's at the very back of the property of this camp. It's the gardening sector. Right at 11 p.m. Don't ask any questions, just meet me at 11. Hoping to talk to you soon, old friend. As of now, duty calls. See you tonight," his voice carried a wave of confidence and authority, a high self esteem that prevented Hongjoong from questioning him anything and reply just with a small nod.

And before he could even say a goodbye, Wooyoung had already walked out of his room, leaving the lad behind with a thousand feelings creating a pandemonium within his chest.

* * *

Wooyoung walked down the hallway, slowly drifting away from the general population. He was bound for the place where the officials rooms were at. It was a long hallway, dim orange lights flickering at intervals, leaving the rest of the space void of any illumination. The walls were adorned with dark, rich wooden paneling, its glossy finishings gleaming under the light.

Only certain officers were allowed down here and even as a Lieutenant, Wooyoung could walk into the regions within the hallway of generals only if summoned.

As he quietly strolled down the way, a sense of dread grumbled in his stomach. There was something nudging at him, even though he did not know what it exactly was.

Perhaps he was still nervous about General San. A relationship extended over two months based entirely upon an unexpected fornication, their interaction had begun with a few drinks after a meeting with just the two of them discussing plans when Wooyoung found himself drunk in his office with his back pressed against the wall and the handsome General breathing down his neck, his smoky breath being swelled into a rough smooch, his hands moving all around as one proceed to cover Wooyoung's mouth and the other found its trace upon his toned stomach.

This was how it was, with neither of them knowing what they were actually doing. But, it did bring forth immense pleasure, as San was accustomed to call for him only when he longed for relief or distraction. But surprisingly, this act was considered fine from both sides.

Wooyoung never complained, for all of this did not only aid him in executing his plans better, but also let him enjoy an exhibition of the tough General's softer and a more vulnerable side that perhaps no one had even seen before.

Finding San's office was almost a walk in the park for Wooyoung. The patterns on the door, the texture upon the surface, the obnoxious smell of cigarettes blowing from his office, the sweet intoxication and subtle acridity the space cradled within, and to complete it all, the prominent writings of 'General Choi San' glistening in golden letters right upon the door equally helped.

Wooyoung could feel a sense of dread creeping up his spine, his throat being parched. Yet, he did not want to leave, the thought hardly crossing his mind. With a final sigh, he knocked on the door with caution, letting the anticipation rise as the world went quiet.

"Come in," the deep voice called out, a subtle roughness mingled within.

Wooyoung twisted and turned the knob and opened the door, their dirty secrets breathing alive as it was just the two of them now. A strong tension began to swirl in the air right at the moment Wooyoung walked in, the room tall and dimly lit creating a sinful ambience, cigarette smoke stifling the air making Wooyoung nearly choke on it, the sooty aerosols burning into the back of his throat. His shoulders tightened and jaws clutched as his gaze shifted to the owner of the room. The General had already viewed his nervousness, but his eyes adverted.

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he rubbed it into the ashtray, a smoke revealing itself and vanishing soon after. His eyes now glanced back at Wooyoung, a certain look that the latter failed to comprehend well.

"Lieutenant, please take a seat," he was polite, yet it seemed like an order. His voice was low, his eyes embracing a sense of boldness and vivid intimation, the kind of stare that Wooyoung loved, a sense of control within that made him visibly gulp and edge closer to the cushioned seat.

Wooyoung sat down, his back relaxing into it, the smell of nicotine quite heavy. San's eyes found their way into Wooyoung's gaze, a look that seemed as if the latter was already unclothed. It was supposed to make him feel uncomfortable, but actually, he was thoroughly enjoying it.

"Did you interact with the new Private?" questioned the General, his hands now resting upon the table, his attention completely devoted to the one before him.

Wooyoung smirked a little, "Yes I did, he seems well adjusted," came his response with a sly undertone.

General San sat back into his seat, his legs sprawling beneath the furniture, fingertips softly drumming upon the wooden surface haphazardly strewn with a plethora of paperworks and other sorts.

He nodded to the response from earlier, "Good. He seems like a good solider."

An awkward tension had already begun to develop between the two, as if they were unsure about whether to keep up this theatrical play of professionalism, or to completely strip it down and lunge at each other, as if they weren't craving each other in the most erotic ways possible.

General San stood up from his chair, his masculine built bulging through his uniform, the faint lights within the room capturing his facial features well, revealing his sharp jawline, his keen eyes, his thin lips and his bobbing Adam's apple.

"I have been thinking about making you train him," his voice carried a sense of authority, his eyes now darting towards Wooyoung as he walked towards his seat. A strong sense of power between the two enthralled as suddenly, Wooyoung's nervousness morphed into pure excitement, the tension swiftly changing into something more.

San bent down slightly, face to face with the one seated. Wooyoung's mind began to race in directions he would never admit, the tension now giving rise to sheer desperation. The sharp brown eyes that looked at him held such a heavy sense of passion, a surge of lust painting Wooyoung's desires and making them prominent.

"Will you do that for me, hm?" San lowered himself and whispered into his ear, awhile his hand slowly grazed the other's face.

Wooyoung's breath hitched, a heatness blooming onto his skin by the touch alone, his heart throbbing, his thoughts blurring with just a mere act of seduction by his controlling voice. The way his body seemed to be screaming for the General was difficult to be held back.

"Y-Yes sir," he stuttered before San pushed his chin up, his eyes glaring at the Lieutenant, a devilish smirk flashing across his face.

"Excellent. Now strip," the order was loud and clear and didn't require repetition.

"Yes Sir," was the reply as now the seat in which Wooyoung previously sat was occupied by the other, the former standing in front of him with fingers working upon the buttons of his shirt, fabrics peeling off his skin under the keen watch of the General.

They had a short interval, and they were determined to make the best use of it.

* * *

Hongjoong layed on his bed, mind occupied in deep thought. He couldn't help but rethink of all the memories that he had built with that particular Lieutenant. The clock in the room indicated dinner time, but the Private didn't bother to move.

His baggages were yet to unpacked, some of his belongings scattered around the room. Something was deeply bothering him and he could feel it. Yet, he couldn't pinpoint what it was, or even realise the exact emotion.

He hastily sat up on his bed, instantly reaching out for the notebook that lay beside his pillow. In the darkness of the room, he held it in his hands for a solid second, his eyes glazing over the old leather cover, tattered at places. His fingers traced upon the rough texture that held a plethora of relics within- memories, dreams, ambition, passion, dedication, determination and so much more.

It felt so childish of him to have this journal and all the original writing in it, which quite surprised him that all of it was still legible to him. Leafing through the pages, his finger trailed upon an older surface, palm pressing against the spine of the journal. For the moments that followed, his mind went blank, a strong surge of emptiness occupying the space within his chest.

He felt alone.

It was a poetry, Wooyoung's poetry. Once upon a time, a child from a distant land had a burning ambition of becoming a poet, an artist too. To make the pen his prime weapon and scribble upon the pages, his words being his bullets. But now he was a soldier amidst the dread and cold, and the thought of it made Hongjoong's heart clench.

The ash filled my lungs

The birds ceased their call and hope began to fall,

Their bombs loud, a reverberating torture

And within the rage does my soul crave

This to be my last breath

And to be erased and escape an suffocating death.

How pathetic for all of Icarus's youth that cried for the angel of death and for eternal peace to grace their lives, to hear the chorale of death as they closed their eyes and the sounds of the air raids would slowly ebb away. They wondered if Heavens was all gone, especially when they kept suffering, as they screamed for help, watching their houses incinerate to ashes, the fumes forever stuck in their eyes and lungs, stinging till they reached their final wooden enclosure.

The short exerpt of the poetry strongly reminded him about why he had started his plans. His ambitious plans of bringing a change, a revolution. His chest tightened, breath multiplying its speed as he slammed the journal shut and looked up at the clock.

10:40

He needed to go look for Wooyoung in Sector A, which was quite a long walk. He needed to be quick and agile, and not waste any moment further. Hongjoong quickly grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around him to protect himself from the Icarian cold and smog. He settled his cap upon his head, adjusting it low on his face and lastly collected his journal which he shoved deep into the pocket of his cloak. The space within was enough and he was satisfied.

He left his room and walked the vast hallways hoping to be unseen.

He left his room and walked into the vast hallways, desperately hoping to remain unseen.

Hearing mumbling conversations close to the vicinity, he kept his head low. Nobody knew him quite well as he was still the newcomer, and this worked really well to his advantage. He was well disguised and he was confident about it. For a moment, he looked above him to read the arrows that were in the hallways for directions, and once he deciphered it well, he continued in his journey.

Putting more haste into his steps and pulling his cap a little closer to his face, Hongjoong could suddenly feel the weird stares the other men were giving him. But he knew he had no time for that. Pushing away the rising fear, he quickly found his way out of the main building and finally stepped out, letting the cold air hit his face. He breathed it in, tasting the smoke in the air that seemed to linger all the time and continued his way in search of his destination.

The night was unexpectedly serene, as dim lights lit up areas of the camp. Only the night guard was out, keeping low in the shadows and watching out for any cases that displayed aversion from the strict rules of the camp. The ambience thrived of crickets and wildlife in the nearby forests, that made it more alive.

Hongjoong knew he had to be extremely careful and therefore, he instantly changed his route and left through another, Wooyoung's cautious words ringing within his ears.

Leaving the lighted area, he followed the dirty path that lead to Sector A: The Gardening Sector. There was light by the large greenhouse, with a figure against the light pole, his shadow displayed on the ground, a cigarette pressed between his lips, the amber spot from the glowing edge revealing his features and immediately sending a sense of relief within Hongjoong.

He edged closer to him and finally stood right before the figure. But before they could strike a conversation, Hongjoong noticed how flushed the other looked, dishevelled hair and uniform worn with haste, face reddened and breath erratic. He looked like a complete mess.

Hongjoong wondered what on Earth had ever happened to him.

Wooyoung looked at him with the cigarette burning between his lips, a smirk curling up the edges of his mouth. Hongjoong remained looking at the other, not knowing what to say. The silence around was vast and the lack of communication was slowly making him nervous.

"You came," Wooyoung finally spoke, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping on it with the heal of his shoe, extinguishing it completely.

"Yeah and I've brought the journal-" before he could complete his sentence, a sharp sound reverberated within the night air. The air raid sirens screamed, the resonance surging panic within Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

We're doomed.

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Thoughts?