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@0300hr-blog
hasn’t died yet i’m that thought you’d seen the last of me meme, but hey! happy new year and i hope the year will be treating you all well. <3 i’m still on a short break at the moment, but i’m reachable through discord if anyone wants that! be back soon!
these prayers fit in the silt of the beast’s mouth like no others, mirroring the way the contours of their bodies fit too well pressed against each other. outside the windows, the skies hang overcast with possibilities of soft rains, and in half-stirred slumber state, he thinks he could mistake the clouds for a dark mark. but alas, the golden era is over, the holy name becoming nothing but ashes of what could’ve been. a history, that’s it.
just how rapidly the throne could disintegrate…
what a pity. nonetheless, it’s too early for such thoughts. he pulls himself from the lull of sleep, wrapping his arms around kyungsoo’s frame. seemingly fragile, he’s always been — and some of the days, when the demons reign in his head, he almost drowns in thoughts that kyungsoo, too, might disintegrate under his touch. but in quiet days like this, with blood crusting the undersides of their nails, they are the mementos of last night’s glory. in quiet days like this, they turn youth into a cathedral of carnage with an altar soaked in red. in quiet days like this, they feel infinite.
he hums, pressing kisses against the line of kyungsoo’s jaw, neck crooned. he watches as the eyes flutter open, greeting the weight of reality as their sins haunt them. last night: a deicide, roped around their necks to smother their own throats, tasting deaths at the base of their sinned tongues. last night: an anthropology, spoken in open-mouthed kisses to whisper about hailing something cursed, lingering taste of anathema an appetiser for their insatiable hunger. “morning, sunshine,” he says, voice weighted with unfinished dreams. ( @stellarade )
MU’R CRIMAH, YOU HEAUXS.
Forgive my sucky graphic, I guess I’ll jump on this bandwagon. In all seriousness (I guess)―Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all of you lovelies! Another year, another chance at growth. I’ve had jongdangel for well over 3 years now, and it’ll be 4 in May. I was nervous about resurfacing after my hiatus back in the spring, and I was rarely here during the summer, but I’ve met some of the most amazing people just within these last couple months of 2017 that undoubtedly need to be recognized! I refuse to make this long and sappy, but I really just want to point out everyone who’s made 2017 such an eventful and memorable year for this blog.
Keep reading
so, this post is more of a reflective means for me than not, apart from relishing in the festivities that they’re supposed to. this year has been challenging, and while i’ve only returned here for barely a week, some things have happened and it brought some perspectives in me. it’s also been a while that i’ve done something like this, and people who was on my last one aren’t the same as the ones on here, but i’m thankful regardless. people come and go, and i’m grateful for both. for those who are here, thank you for staying. for those who have left, thank you for having stayed. there are lessons learned from this year alone, and i hope that i can only get better from here onwards, even with the personal struggles. just yesterday, life seemed bleak, but today, it’s a better one. so thank you for your existence, and may your christmas be merry and your new year happy. this post is to wish you the merriment, and i hope that i haven’t missed anyone.
old friends; the ones who have been sticking with me through so many different accounts, the ones who have been conversing with me a lot, ensuring that i’m afloat. i’m sorry if any of my words and actions have hurt you, and i hope our relationships will be even better in this next year: @jongdangel , @calier , @luxinexitium , @hyejvng , @subjectism , @wistfulreality , @lonelyeternities , @glitseun , @stellarade , @ghostchases , @7vth
we’re new friends, but your words truly mean a lot. you were there when i was down, and i truly hope we can spend more time talking as well, to know each other better and be even closer friends, for both the good and bad times: @aleastories , @dvntgo , @cityafterdark , @mybenot , @consilian , @phyrrickid , @spellbks
this part is the whole “where are you guys???? where have you been???? i hope you been all right!” because i haven’t either roleplayed with you or you haven’t been around for a long while, but i hope you’re reading this and your holiday is jolly: @ksung , @lithified , @illota , @ofkngs , @xnoctuary , @existheory , @warsk , @chaoticer
also, those who have roleplayed, are roleplaying, and will be roleplaying with me, even if now we’re just mutuals. i’m so grateful for all of you! thank you for helping both iseul and i develop, both as a roleplayer and a person. you truly mean a lot, and i hope we can talk more in the future: @cvnefin , @softbci , @eterneli , @350mm , @invained , @artificvr , @sinficer , @zureo , @delightfour , @lesivres , @yeonhas , @pecvlarity , @pullstrings , @onthisbluemoon , @revenantics , @bachye , @sangoit , @oitxra , @moonsflcwer , @fluorvte , @iiraeth , @ofabsolux , @pseudonyist , @moonchd , @dotwon , @cchilyoja , @antimoir , @ciindered , @cespires , @wiltedpetal , @stilledsouls , @deperle , @theseelenine , @mxrtifero , @90yoda , @invained , @garciti , @603k , @flvwersng , @synrgetic , @kiceun , @sarcemia , @solarade , @ofmontagues
merry christmas 2017 and happy new year 2018, everyone! hope this next year will be better for all of us, filled with joy and good news. <3 i hope you’re enjoying your holiday, too, and if you want to talk i’m always a tumblr im / discord away!
[ Another anon here. Many people tend to display compassion upon seeing the vulnerability. That which is not seen is often discarded. I hope that the new year will bring more recognition, more interest, and more sense to humanity. I wish that you won't have to suffer ever again. I wish you happiness, comfort, warmth. Try to make a wish. Write it down. There is no bigger power than a word that is written on paper. Merry Christmas.
i don’t know where to begin with this. this is going to be long, this is going to be winding. this is going to be all the things that you didn’t ask by sending this very nice ask, which i immensely appreciate. i’m crying as i’m writing this now, because we who suffer need more people like you. i don’t write this on the paper as i don’t have the energy to, my hands are trembling, and it’s been difficult.
this year alone, i’ve lost too many friends. someone closest to me for three, almost four years decided to remove herself from me after everything that had gone through, and i don’t fault her for it. just now, someone else also did. i don’t blame either of them for doing this, for leaving. in my worst days, i do the unimaginable, and it would get me questioning myself later on, “why did i do / say that?” i guilt trip, i self pity. i do a lot of shameful things. somewhere along the line of fighting my own battles, i left too many scars in people’s hearts. and i’m ashamed of it. and i always try stopping, but when things get ugly, i just cannot seem to stop and think. i make the situations worse. worst. it happened before, it happened today, it might happen again soon. i’m ashamed, and tired, and remorseful. i wanted this to end. i wanted this to end so badly.
during my time here prior, when the hate blogs were around, i was told to get help instead of roleplaying. my cry for help was taken as attention seeking, and it hurt. it still hurts until now. i wish there was an easy way for me to get help and get cured, just like that. because frankly, i’m tired of having these illnesses gnaw on me. help doesn’t magically cure you. it takes months, years of therapies. i’ve been on medications for years. i’ve been getting help for years. today, the history repeats itself. and i was told not to blame myself; but who is there to blame, if not myself?
i make the same wish with every person leaving my life. i make the same wish so as not to have myself fall into the pit of despair, distrust. tell myself again that it’s a learning process. tell myself again it’s going to be okay — the next person is going to stay. truth is, not many would. when you’re sick, and you hurt people around you, they need to save themselves from you, too. and it hurts. so here’s my wish, again. i want to be able to trust again, to know that the next friend is not leaving. to not always have to blame myself — but it’s hard. to not always want to end this. but it’s almost impossible at times. i keep hurting people, and people constantly need to protect themselves from me. i’m honestly tired. i wish i could be... not this tired. it’s been years.
i’m sorry for rambling, but this is my wish for the next year. i just pushed another person away, and i’m sorry for that. i hope i won’t have to push more people away. thank you for sending this, and i hope your christmas will be merry. it means a lot, thank you. thank you.
also, to the anon sending an ask earlier today: it’s there in my inbox, i’m just waiting for the right mindset to reply to it. thank you so much for your kind words!
♬
song-based starter call — status: accepting. song: stay by alessia cara ft. zedd.
it’s a sanctity that drowns him knee-deep, like a shattered version of baptism, the water not enough to sink him into the christening. this moment is a firmament that echoes the homilies half-heartedly, the ricochets of the preaching doesn’t quite reach him. it feels like his ears are submerged, underwater, when the water doesn’t even touch his thighs. it’s a mechanism of reversal; the worlds work in methods too peculiar for his understandings. if he’s not to believe there’s a god, then whose voice whispers in his ears? whose sound ripples in his mind?
he wakes up in the oddities that sigh deja vu: he isn’t in his own bed. someone’s sofa. he tries recalling the night, and he reminds himself of junho. injured, bandaged. his own hands, the undersides of his nails collared with junho’s blood. dreams from nights ago were blurred, but their revenants woke him up in time for a friend in needs. he’d scurried off towards junho’s apartment, and the truth came in pieces, but one fragment of his dreams was true: the haemorrhage, and everything in-between. 06:17am. he sighs and gets to his feet, disorientation still thick in his head as he makes his way towards junho’s room to check on him. ( @glitseun )
All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life — where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it.
Miranda July, It Chooses You (via stolenwine)
♬
song-based starter call — status: accepting. song: with you by linkin park.
nights wither and drown in the cusp of hours as per usual. he sinks into the rivers of mementos where he located figurines of umma ( marigold and cinnamon in summer days ), floating against the abraded beds. he’s a basin overflown with the water himself, not quite saline, but not quite plain either. in here are the streams that meander into the crannies of his mind, and in here are the thoughts that phantom into the forefront of his head. he cannot outrun the memories while half-soaked in the water. not tonight, at least.
umma is a presence he’s with even when he hasn’t seen her for weeks, months. tonight, he cannot escape the memories while she’s here; a young woman whom he’s known from his mother’s connection. she hasn’t noticed his presence, but she’s walking towards him. the debate is whether to look up and make her realise that it’s him, or duck down and let her walk by, chalking him up as another stranger. he chooses for the former, however, but he doesn’t know how to start. it’s been a while since he met kyungmi. “noona,” he starts. “do you... remember me?”
softbci:
“no need to hurry when i’m waiting, so take your time really. okay?” noel didn’t want the male to hurry, knowing he was always inside his head would only make him fall or literally anything else if he would hurry to see noel, or at least that’s what he was thinking. maybe he was wrong. noels eyes come to widen, was the other blushing or was he just seeing things after those few shots. “oh, did something happen? care to share with your hyung?” he had a teasing grin on his face. “you know you can tell me everything.” he wished but of course that would never happen. “i have been just being the same, still trying to find a job.”
he nods in spite of the knowledge that it’s impossible; his anxiety wouldn’t let him live with the fact that someone is waiting. it’s one of his... peeves towards himself in a way, which is why he’s always punctual, if not early. at the sight of the other’s eyes widen, he notices that he’s blushing, and it causes even more red suffused to his cheeks. he clears his throat, trying to clear the awkwardness that threatens to climb towards him. “well, uh,” he looks down onto his glass, still filled with soju. he doesn’t think that he can say anything to anyone — not even noel. not when technically, siyeon doesn’t exist. not in a way that people would understand. furrows his eyebrows slightly, before noticing that and relaxing slightly. “just... uh.” he shakes his head and looks up to present a smile. “nothing,” he says. “how’s that going? any luck?”
delightfour:
━ ✎ : with iseul’s presence, jaeyeol’s somber mood had completely flown out the window. “late? of course not. you’re just on time.” it wasn’t entirely a lie. perhaps jaeyeol had just come much too soon. “i just got here awhile ago anyway.” stowing away his gift into the pocket of his coat, the male smiles down at iseul warmly with the tilt of his head. truthfully, he was going to present the gift without a moment’s hesitation ━ however he felt a tad too apprehensive now as the time had passed by. maybe presenting it at the end of his confession would suffice. “are you ready to go down and strap up? surprisingly the rink isn’t as filled since it’s a weekday.” the idea of ice skating had crossed his mind as he was watching his most favorite tv drama, watching the romance shared on ice. the part he dreaded was actually being on the ice. he’s never done it before. jaeyeol’s sure they’ll be sharing laughs instead. “i might suck, just so you know.”
relief surges into him upon discovering that he’s not late — being punctual, somehow, is important for him. it shows that he respects the person, and causing one’s wait leads to his discomfort. “good,” he speaks with a smile. it’s a tad weary; but haven’t all his muscles, face or not, been tired nowadays, with the sleeplessness that smothers? and he’s also weighed with the fact that someone is back into his life again, claiming that part of him that once died. the spectres of his thoughts wisp away at jaeyeol’s smile. he wants to relish in the moment spent with a friend who isn’t involved with this clutter of his past, at least. “yeah,” he nods, and chuckles upon being told that jaeyeol might suck. “well, i can always hold you if anything. i don’t think i’m too bad at it.” he shakes his head, still grinning. heads towards where they can lend some skates, and asks for his size as well as jaeyeol’s. “you usually don’t like skating, do you?”
send me a “♬” and i’ll write you a starter based on a song.
350mm:
the night is a mirage of everything he’d like to be.
he leans back against the plasticky cushion of the booth as he pins down a bookmarked page with two fingers. the single bulb hanging above his table shines directly onto the menu sitting in front of him, reflecting back all the light that the laminated pages don’t fully absorb. it lies untouched, anyway, barricaded by indecisiveness and disinterest and a general lack of appetite. consequently, there’s an empty vacuum hollowing out his stomach that he probably needs to fill soon.
he’s the only one of two left in this quiet diner. the other man sits adjacent from him, neglected at the counter, surrounded by an air of stale cigarettes and depression. a waitress stops by at jaehyun’s table to take his order, maybe, but refill his tenth cup of coffee, definitely. he offers her a smile in return– “i’ll have a turkey sandwich, please”– which she then parrots back to him for confirmation. it’s one-thirty now, and he counts each minute carefully, waiting for no one in particular.
(artificial: see, 1am. a loneliness that seems more mutual than exclusive.)
the moon is but a smudged thumbprint on the window to his right. every so often he looks up from his book to squint at it through the dark, but the unsteady glow becomes nothing more than a blurry halo of light. it might as well be a reflection of every dim lightbulb in this place.
(see, 2am. unsettling silence translated into a dull headache. another refill of hot coffee.)
the bell tied to the front door chimes in sudden panic, and jaehyun focuses his eyes briefly on the blurry outline standing several feet away.
(see, 2:05am. the dark pours in, and so does he.)
@0300hr
in this prolonged ellipsis is a personal gunshot echoing in his mind. kills his thoughts, one by one, until he’s nothing but a mouthful of shrapnel. he is anything but alive, feet dragging behind like chopped limbs, rooted to the gravity on the end. tonight, the focus of the world’s axis shifts to a structure of mundanity, lifting him in reverse. tonight, the concentrate of the moon’s formula hides behind too many smoked clouds, leaving him all weary.
he chucks the train of thoughts to the back of his mind, swallowing their crushed residues underneath the wallowing skies. forecast: rain, with another ounce of weariness to pour into his lungs. the downpour feels like ashes, falling silver with hints of dying ember. it’s still drizzling, he quickens his step into the diner. forecast: thunderstorm. he’s waiting for it. with a roof atop him to remind him of a mock documentary calling itself “home”.
or maybe a false prescription of it. feels like this.
either way, he sees a familiar face instead. it’s 2am, familiar faces becoming a rare case of pneumonia under the drizzles. he looks away at the pitter patter of rain against the collarbones of the windows, then looks back to the face. it doesn’t fade. it’s not a dream; not yet, at least. everything feels surreal, but everything is touchable.
he advances towards jaehyun’s booth, and offers a hesitant smile. “may i?” gestures at the empty seat across the other.
moonsflcwer:
seoul had always been her playground — the bustling streets that were filled to the brim with people in hurries, the flashing neon lights that could attract even the laziest of dreamers. the dirty alleyways and the pristine streets were as familiar to her as the veins that ran along her arm and she could remember any face that crossed her field of vision with a scarily accurate precision. she didn’t mind, usually, approaching people and making conversation with them — her job required her to be outgoing and optimistic but this person was her one exception. she’d seen them in passing at this place, making eye contact with a small smile each time but had never really reached out, at least not until tonight. waltzing right up to the bar, heels clicking like she had the power of god behind her, she makes sure that she’s standing next to the person before grabbing the bartender’s attention. “hey honey bear, I need a tequila sunrise and whatever this cutie next to me is drinking, my treat.” there is a teasing lilt to her words as she turns to focus on them. “I’ve seen you around a lot…how come I don’t know your name yet? it hardly seems fair.”
the whirlwind of thoughts at the back of his mind is sometimes acute, sometimes blurred, but it’s always there. tonight is no exception, and combing the capillaries of this city he was born and raised in, the forefront of his thoughts are cluttered with the weight of his last conversations that took place through texted means. he hasn’t gotten used to having him back in his life; it happened as abruptly as how his closest friend disappeared years ago. he doesn’t know where his mind is anymore, so he makes his way towards the usual place, and that’s where he sees her again. he used to offer her a smile, but tonight, he evades any sign of contact. almost as if he’s ashamed. almost as if he’s sheepish. he’s heading towards the bar, occupying a recently emptied stool. orders the usual, and when she’s talking to him, he nearly raises his eyebrows, half-startled. she sounds kind, however, and even if there are ulterior motives, he cannot bring himself to care. takes a sip of his own drink before offering her a smile, hoping it doesn’t look too weary. “thank you for the drink,” he says politely. “i’m iseul... and you are?”
xhiimera:
“—-like who? you mean the family that owns the convenience store down the street? because they lost their kids. the twins that barely started middle school. and even the eldest who came home from university for break. or how about any of my classmates? remember any of the ones you met? yeah, they’re gone too. or how about any of our neighbors– the people who we only know by face, not by name, but still share a smile with? they’re gone too! and that’s only a fraction of the billions– hell, maybe even trillions of people that fell comatose because of zero!” kisu roughly shoved iseul back. the air was sparkling with stardust as his emotions went haywire. “and do you remember my mom, iseul?” the tears that brimmed his eyes finally started to fall. “because she’s not waking up either. the one person i love the most is going to DIE. all thanks to your psychotic boyfriend!”
this viciousness wasn’t like kisu. he was like the sun– bright, warm, always looking forward. but when his ray of light was extinguished ( eomma – eomma – eomma – ) this deep buried ugliness kisu never even knew of surfaced. maybe there was more of his father inside than him than he thought. sure, kisu was bleeding glittery magenta all over the floor from injuries inflicted by zero. but even if his alien blood looked pretty, and the air was full of shimmering stardust, kisu didn’t feel like fucking sugar and rainbows and kittens. not today, at least. kisu hadn’t bothered to transform out of his starlight boy suit. he only pulled off his mask. iseul was one of the only friends who knew about his masked alter ego. but kisu couldn’t help resent iseul just because of his intimate association to siyeon zero. kisu knew iseul wasn’t at fault for what zero’s done to the world. and yet that grief over witnessing so much destruction, and the possibility of losing a loved one ignited his fury.
by now, 12 hours past since zero launched the first wave Virus. it resulted in billions of organic individuals to fall comatose. their minds were in the process of being digitized and uploaded into a virtual utopia in Cyberspace known as PARADISIO. zero was determined to send out an even more effective Virus that could infect people not only through contact with technology, but through other organics. fortunately, starlight boy and his allies were able to stop zero from launching the second wave Virus– for now. it was only a matter of time before zero continued with the next phase of his operation. zero held the Antivirus that could reverse this process, and ultimately wake up those who were still comatose and alive. while kisu’s allies were seeking out zero through Cyberspace, kisu chose to confront iseul. if anyone could reach zero, then it was iseul.
“why do you love him?” there was such hostility and disgust to his accusation. “HOW can you love him? HE’S A MONSTER!!! he’s only going to keep killing people. he’s going to destroy this entire world! you know that. you fucking know that! i don’t care what crazy fucked up idea he has about saving life. you don’t save people by killing them!” some of the comatose victims were already dying. nobody could predict when someone’s body shut down completely. it was driving kisu insane not knowing when his own mother might die. but he wasn’t only thinking about her. he was thinking about those who still had a chance to be saved.
“please tell me where he is. or how to reach him.” his voice choked. for the first time in kisu’s life, he knelt down in front of someone. to beg. “please, iseul–” more tears fell. the ugly sobs racked his body. “i need to save my mom. i can’t let her die. she’s all i have. and this world– our world– i know that our world can be ugly and fucked up. and that life can be full of suffering. but everyone deserves to live. i love our world and the people in it. please–” he grasped at iseul’s pants, looking up with wide, tearful eyes. “i’m begging you. please tell me where zero is.”
& so, it has come.
the world, falling apart. stay, he seems to want to say, but every time he opens his mouth, throat catching the ashes. it’s grey, fresh. like cut wounds. 0.03 millisecond later. in this monosyllabic yearning for the world to simply not crumble, internal bleeding. infernal bruising. on this plane of catastrophic intents, he sinks deeper into the lullabies stitched out of carnage. he’s been running, running, running, his feet trembling as they succumb to the weight of gravity. he’d lie if he said he didn’t know it was coming.
what’s worse: how denial replicates his feelings, quadrupling them into the notch where love has transcended into terminal silence. what’s worst: how knowledge ripples in his mind, eliminating conscience like the parasites that the love that he possesses has become. and then, below it, the fact that he’s a cause for apocalypse. he’s shifted the motives, in a way or another, but he hasn’t altered it for the better.
people are still dying, iseul. people are fucking dying because of you.
or is it? is it because of him? hasn’t it always been zero’s intent to ruin the world? he’s just an absolved solution to the machine, a pretty distraction that confuses the destruction for a brief moment before it navigates itself back into the main road. and once it manoeuvres back into the primal instinct, it’s not like he can stop zero. no matter what the cost is.
see, figure one: if he hurt himself, zero would self-destroy, and there would be no triumph because that would mean he’d go back to suicide ideations that he’d gone through on a good basis. figure two: if he killed himself, zero would self-realign, and there would be no winning as it would mean the same result based on different ideologies. maybe the former is the better — he should be—
he’s in the middle of thinking of hurting himself when starlight boy emerges, despair painting the airborne debris that’s already pooling in the area. wipes his own tears with his palm. he doesn’t deserve to be sad ( not when he’s a part of the reasons ). and when the question is posed, he’s only replying in a stagnant, somber voice. he remembers them all, yes. eyes red raw from all the tears. and when the cascade of words of reminders assaults him mercilessly, he swallows the numbness of all the grief, all the laments that he’s ever contained, down down down. first, he couldn’t save siyeon from the world. now, he cannot save the world from siyeon.
at the mention of his mother, he breaks. the memory of umma, limp, lifeless in his own arms, causes his self-hatred to flare. it’s all because of you, iseul. his own mother’s death, and now kisu’s is dying. saline streaks on his cheeks as the debris around him levitates, about to make a fortress to protect himself from the outside world, from kisu’s words. but no, he cannot do that — he cannot protect himself from the consequences.
he cannot stop zero; sat idly for hours a day trying to find the antidote to this insanity to no avail. should’ve said something, warned someone. but would anybody listen?
mouth stitched, his tears mean zilch in this. he knows that everything spoken in the spherical silence between them is true. and he savours everything shouted at him, watching as his friend, too, sinking neck-deep into the despair of not being able to save someone he loves. the questions rinse him awake all over again: he’s come to terms of becoming a monster by loving one, but does that change the fact that he has a skeletal heart made of the remnants of his own humanity? but it’s not like—
and the kneeling. the boy kneels, in front of him, pleading, begging. praying, too, perhaps. can prayers save them? no, but iseul knows the way to save them, to save kisu, to save everyone he’s come to know from zero. he falls onto his knees, too, levelling his gaze with kisu’s as he tries stopping choking on his own tears. “listen,” he speaks, finally, voice shaking heavily. “i don’t know where he is, but i know how he can find me. just— just promise to— live well. goodbye, kisu.” he swallows heavily, and he catches a sharp fragment of glass that flies straight towards himself. hoists himself back to his feet as he readies himself to slash his neck with the shard. ( @xhiimera )
wiltedpetal:
she stares him down, taking in his features as she drags her bat on the ground. she hates to make an innocent bystander afraid of her, but she also knows that fear can be used to her advantage. besides, this guy could be a creep just like the one she’d taken down. “actually, you’re pretty brave if i’m being honest… normally, you would have run away if you were actually scared” she replies, crouching down to stare at him. this was so against the plan she originally had, but there was nothing she could do. ignoring him wasn’t an option and she needed to make sure he wouldn’t say anything to anyone else especially the police.
“what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done in your life?” random, of course, but maybe in his fear she could get some information. she doubted he’d really answer her, but she was still curious. her distrust of men, especially those who stalked around at night like this, made her rather biased about how she felt about this stranger. she couldn’t help it, however, since none of the men in her life had ever shown themselves to be anything but distrustful. “to make things fair, i’ll go first… the worst thing i ever did in my life was kill someone, but… he wasn’t a good guy. probably doesn’t justify it in your eyes, but my conscience is pretty clear” she explained, glancing down at her bat and gripping it just a little tighter.
“your turn! what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
her eyes bear weight that she inflicts on him through the gaze, locked. and it reminds him, if he were the same person as han iseul weeks ago, he would’ve been standing there in solidified surprise, but none of the fear. death was an aftermath long-awaited. the core to his witness now, however, fears death slightly better. in ways that he understands how his death would affect too many people; thinks about umma, thinks about siyeon. now, thinks about fear. it’s there, but not enough to debilitate. he levels his own gaze with hers. maybe this is desensitisation.
brave; it’s almost risible. he wouldn’t have defined himself as such — but this woman ( girl? ) has just smashed and cracked someone’s cranium, killing the victim now lying in the depth of the alley’s darkness. he knows what she approximately tries doing; perhaps so that he doesn’t become a snitch. perhaps so that he doesn’t tell the police. anything around that fragment of motives. mundane. predictable. he looks at her as she speaks more in lieu of his silence, and then looks at the bat around which her grip tightens. he listens, however. people kill for various reasons. people kill for too many reasons.
worst thing he’s ever done? now it’s his turn. right. maybe confessing to a stranger would lighten the crucifix in his chest. he doesn’t know why — maybe it’s the fucking stress — but he’s laughing. not loudly, but enough. it’s as if they’ve been joking. he sounds sarcastic. “my turn,” he nods, solemnly. “does loving a monster count? you killed a man. he killed too many — even the innocent. does it make it better for your clear conscience?” he then turns his attention back to her bat. “i’m not scared,” he eventually scoffs.
I meant skies all empty aching blue. I meant years. I meant all of them with you.
Kate Clancy, from “Perhaps Patagonia” (via thebluesthour)
