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[divenaz]

there’s something special about it, being here. as though he was like a kind of otherness detained by a sliver of the world and now released unto the rest of it. the coming of something subservient to like-minded unknowables, blooming in the midst of the people. it’s a gushing kind of feeling, a warmth, whose fever incinerates the very pit of his gut with a lustful hell, stretches from end to end of his body in a wholehearted encapsulation. one that leaves the inside of him stretched so thin, he’s impalpable. is that the word? a nonsolid, something too undefined to be adherent to any definitive rubric—he’s in the midst of it all and reaping its greatest parts like a very lucky vulture, like the one who gets there first. he’s thinking about that person in the corner, their rich eyes and their hair even richer. how pretty they are generally and how they intone their laughs depending on the people they’re around. would they laugh like that with him? he’s covered in a drink now, though; not thinking about that person anymore but this person here. they’re saying something like an apology and an explanation and glasses. dowon is watching, wry smile on his lips, vulpinely, felinely—either way, the kind of curiosity that feels somehow ominous at its very tip. he tilts his head, smiles like he’d reached into himself for that piece warmly kindled and tore it out with his bare hand to smother them both in it. feigning pain but not too much pain, nothing physical. the kind where you’ve been inconvenienced and you know that you have but you don’t want the other person to worry. the persevering kind that musters a little bit of sympathy, maybe. makes someone think how nice you are. kind. he’s kind.

“ahh. hmm.” dowon tilts his head, gives his body a dismissive once-over like what really matters is the contents of the other’s drink and whether or not they'll ever find happiness again after this. “are you okay? i hit you really hard—that’s my bad.” the smile on his mouth withstanding. he’s kind. “i don’t think i saw any glasses but i can help you look for them? may be tough ‘cause there’s so many people around but it’s worth a shot.”

[404karma]

the issue with dowon is that kiha's been so used to watching him from afar that now that he's this uncomfortably close, they're not quite sure what to do with themselves. unprepared isn't enough of a word to encapsulate just how flustered they are to be watched by him like this, the corners of his lips turned up like they always are whenever he interacts with others. is he smiling because he's annoyed? they ask themselves, and that thudding of their heart gets that much more louder to their own ears, or is he smiling because he's being nice? the way that he's always smiling with others, even if it doesn't seem to reach his eyes? they can't decide on an answer quick enough to stop the words from spiling out of their mouth, a ramble in their form and content. "no!- i mean -- i'm okay. no to you hitting me hard -- that was my bad, i wasn't looking where i was going. you were just there." kiha bites their tongue, the pink of their skin deepening into a flush that definitely negates the effect of any of the stars that jiwon had stuck onto their face. the alcohol catches up to their mouth far quicker than the embarrassment does, but the combined effort of both is enough for them to run their words together like a motor. "sorry, again. i should've been looking and not rushing around like that. it would've been bad if i ran into someone that wasn't as nice as you, right?"

they break off into an awkward laugh then, their nails digging into the palms of their hand like they're trying to ground themselves back into reality. reality strikes when they realise that, as hard as it is for them to believe that dowon's having a conversation with them, their glasses are still pitifully lost. "ah -- i don't want to, um, take you away from your -- " they glance over at the gaggle of people watching them, and kiha tries to act like their voice doesn't falter when they say the next word, " -- um, friends. i think they're waiting for you."

[404karma]

@divenaz

moving fast in a party is easy. slipping between bodies and weaving through crowds comes like a second nature when your safe haven is the shadows, and kiha's one too many drinks into the night to care about the spilled drinks on the sleeve of their shirt. what's difficult is moving slow -- to watch where you're stepping, to move from room to room without having to hold onto the wall or reach out for a stranger's arm and rapidly pull your hand back in embarrassment. unfortunately, they haven't quite learned to master the technique of the latter yet, because they turn on their heel back to the quiet (quiet in comparison to the rest of the party, anyways) kitchen the second they realise their glasses aren't resting on the bridge of their nose -- and turning on their heel means they ram right into the shoulder of a poor stranger. "oh-!" they exclaim, barely catching themselves from falling flat on their face, at the expense of at least half of the other's drink spilling over onto their shirt. they don't care about that as much as the flush on their cheeks that only deepens when they glance up and see who the unfortunate casualty is. it's almost half two in the morning, and the smile on han dowon's mouth still holds in a way that means kiha stammers over their words. "sorry. glasses. i, um, think i lost them here -- and i ran into -- sorry. are you okay?"

[divenaz]

there was a time he thought he could be happy here; thought he was happy here. it was only contentment, at first. hand grazing hand, romantic subliminals inside a highschool corridor, or waiting outside the school doors because the ending of the day was better spent together. it blooms into happiness when jun is scouring the empty shelves of the kitchen in his boyfriend’s family home, thinking about all the additions he’d make. the food they’re missing, the snacks hyun knows he likes. when jun feels comfortable enough to even make suggestions like this and needs no invitation to announce as much. when hyun’s home becomes his home and it’s special because jun loves his mother as he has his whole childhood yet somehow it’s still better because he’s sharing a place with the guy who means the world to him. when she doesn’t compare anymore but there was never any parallel really being made. it was just the gradual shift of his life in this forward trajectory, in-bound toward another heart and colliding, intertwining in the lifelong river of forever and then some. he was more than happy here, probably so happy it stopped being an overt happiness and transformed into this commonplace sensation. like the kind of certainty that testifies that the weekend is always going to be great because it’s a break from the rest of the week’s rigmarole. it doesn’t matter what saturday and sunday hold, he’s looking forward to it regardless. bliss with that kind of unquestioning-ness; it was so enmeshed he hadn’t thought about it until now. must be because it was leaving him. them. he hears the way hyun is talking, after all. that quiet acquiescence, how surrender doubles-up with his recline against the couch. jun is half-resolved to join him, with the other half of himself an overwhelmingly forceful pride that claims even an inch more of providence in his heart and dissuades the idea entirely. he won’t be found longing.

“no worries. i don’t feel bad. i know it’s fine.” he rectifies, laughter perfect and disguising nothing because he had strangled whatever needed to be hidden. his eyebrows pinch, countenance another flawless assembly of guiltless curiosity.

“are you okay, hyun?”

[404karma]

the problems with nights recently is that the nights hyun spends with jun are far and few inbetween. there's a difference between physically being there, fingers running through his boyfriend's hair absentmindedly like an anchor to keep him grounded, and really being there. sometimes, he feels like he's left most of himself behind in the forest, amongst the stray twigs and the faint smoky smell of a burnt out fire. he can see it in jun's eyes too, when hyun's brought the ritual back home with him. when neither of them explictly mention the dirt under his fingernails or the new scratches on his arms, the lingering scent of alcohol and the stumble in his walk. this is why hyun loves jun, too -- his implicit concern is a manifestation of his sweetness, the gentleness that incites that intense feeling within him. i love you, hyun thinks whenever the other coaxes him to bed quietly, pressing kisses against his temple, fixes him a cup of spearmint tea in the morning because he knows hyun is going to wake up with a headache. it's this familiarity, the feeling that nobody knows me like you do.

he just doesn't know when he had started hiding parts of himself to jun -- as if he could really be successful in doing so, anyways. maybe it stems from wanting to protect jun from it all, the way one cradles a four leaf clover or a precious jewel within their hands. whatever it is, he knows keeping him separate from the inner workings of the group is a necessity.

hyun smiles when he hears jun's peal of laughter because that's what he always does, though the upturn of his mouth feels shaky even to him. "i'm fine, baby." he murmurs, sitting up so he can lean forwards onto the table and rest his chin on his crossed arms. "i just have a headache, and i miss you -- i feel like one of these must have a remedy, hm?"

[divenaz]

he grits his teeth through the brunt of it, eyes buried in a shadow cast from the overhead furrow; tension is one way to describe it. i didn’t answer because i didn’t want to. so he shouldn't have asked. jun’s hands are trembling and the breath he takes in does little to assuage him—asphyxiates him more, if anything. it tightens a figurative grip around him, one with jagged teeth and ineluctable claws; it peels him away. that’s the way to react, he thinks. dissever himself into pieces, keep the most valuable intact and exclusively reserved for himself. keep his heart uninvolved. you can do whatever you want sitting a bitter, inconsolable weight on the tip of his tongue. his fingers wrestling with the fabric of hyun’s shirt with a strength that twists tighter than what he knew. you can do whatever you want sticking thick and indivisible between his hands. it’s too adhesive; he can’t touch anything else, anyone else, like this. you’re getting away from me, aren’t you? something is changing and you’re not telling me. you’re going away, aren’t you? “sure,” he says, gentle and frank, head nodding a cuddle deeper into the nook of hyun’s neck. “that makes sense. it’s not that i don’t believe you, either. i just wanted to make sure everything was okay, you know.” his smile is perfect and his chuckle poised its equal mirror. none of it matters. “honestly though, i’m really sorry about the trip. you know i’d go with you if i could but i just can’t justify it right now.” his index finger burying its nail into his thumb. he pulls back into himself, hovers over his spread of textbooks and other disorganized cataclysm. “sorry."

[404karma]

he wishes there was a certain word for the emotion that overwhelms you when you realise something, someone, is slipping away, but that you can do nothing to stop it. it's eerie, if anything. like hyun can see the end, the fragments of their relationship and what it used to be. being powerless to stop it is another feeling entirely, when jun's voice is gentle but there's a quiet look in his eyes that says what his words can't and won't. hyun swallows, suddenly overcome with a sense of dread that he's typically learned to detach himself from yet can't hamper down entirely. instead he musters up a boyish smile. there's only inches between them, and hyun can feel the heat from jun's body against his -- yet it feels like miles of distance. "it's fine." he says, a little more clipped than he intends for it to be, eyes fixed on how jun's fiddling with the corner of his textbook page like a lifeline. sometimes, how easily the air in the room can turn down to a chill scares him. not that he would say anything about it, though: addressing the elephant in the room makes it that much more tangible. "i know you're busy, baby. you don't have to feel bad or apologise. i just thought it would be nice." his tone is softer when he talks, and he leans back against the bottom of the sofa. "but you're right. we don't have to go anywhere special for us to have fun. don't worry about it."

[divenaz]

“‘vying to take you on trips with me’?” there isn’t anything wrong with it, which, maybe, is why he can’t let it go. there’s an anomaly adumbrating every would-be horizon, every could-be glistening silver-lining opaque and dull. looking at it one way makes another vantage point. he can’t name it, struggles to do more than laugh the way he does. somehow tremblingly, starting at his shoulders and tasting sour enough to twist up his expression the way it does, everything souring. jun shakes his head, as if to rebuke—hyun, himself, the curiosity, the thought. “are you serious? i’m asking you if you got a new tutor. you didn’t even answer that. we were supposed to go out last week, remember? but you were—” he raises his hands in abrupt forfeit-and-half-victory, a bittersweet tang when he pulls his hands back towards himself. when he detaches. hyun should follow. hyun will follow, won’t he? he’s eying the distance between them like it was the deepest, most hollow gorge. “i don’t know. i just—i worry.” jun says, knowing his concern stretches as far as what he looks like in hyun’s eyes and barely an inch beyond that. shifting, he leans into hyun suddenly, plants his head in the crux of his shoulder, mouth so close each word doubles as featherweight kisses pressing into his skin. “am i making sense?”

[404karma]

there's only so much he can do to dress up the unappealing facts: the facts are that hyun's felt like he's slipping between fingers for the past few months, regardless of whose palm he's in. secondly, that he's been skipping dates to partake in rituals and feeling stuck in a position that leaves him inbetween. he doesn't quite know where his beliefs lie, but he knows that the one stable person in his life is growing alarmingly distant. hyun's first line of defence in a situation like this is always changing the topic. when it doesn't work, his indignation is overwhelming. "jun. i didn't answer the question because i didn't want to. it makes me unccomfortable -- i told you already, didn' i? i just don't like talking about them with you. it's, they're, not important to us, anyways, so it just makes me feel bad when you ask about stuff like that when i'd rather be having fun with you instead." he kisses his teeth, mouth turned down because there's distance between them and he moves to close the gap immediately. he's humming quietly when he bares his neck just a little more, pleased with the butterfly kisses he can feel pressed against the skin there, and his hand stretches so it can slide its way up the front of jun's shirt transparently. "i just don't want you to be worried, sweeetheart, when there isn't a probem to begin with. you believe me, right?"

[divenaz]

“otiose.” he murmurs, inquisitive and playful, gaze drifting to its periphery because looking directly at him isn’t possible anymore. his acquiescence is always easy and maybe that’s the way it should be when you’re in love with someone, but. and that’s where it ends. jun has never been able to fully realize the rest of those feelings, this weird apprehension growing inside of him, thickening this kind of blockade. hyun must be able to sense it, too. their last few months together in his apartment feel more like ritualistic, fulfilling procedural standards than whatever it had been. but love changes. is that how it ends? love should always be changing, maybe; people are always changing. to be loved is to be known. nascent love requires metamorphosis—everything should be different. not with me, though. “where’d you learn a word like that? i’ve never heard it before.” he’s half-teasing, the other half so serious it couldn’t be professed. he’s reaching his hands down, fingers interlacing within hyun’s, helping him to his waist like a kind of sly offering, the rest of him thinking of ways to dilute the suspicion, wear it more comfortably. “you’ve got a new tutor or something, right? you’re always so nonchalant about everything. it fucks me up a bit, haha.”

[404karma]

"what? don't be silly. i've used it before." he's impatient at best and waspish at worst, particularly when what he wants is just barely out of reach. to be prevented from running his fingers along the side of jun's waist and tugging at his shirt, to have to put a pause on murmuring sweet praises about the other just so he can discuss some new word that he's used for the first time -- it's a sin in itself for him, for someone who spends the better half of his time chasing after the quickest happiness he can get. hyun pulls away from him somewhat reluctantly, tongue-in-cheek, though his hand remains firmly against jun's waist. evading topics relating to the group, outside of the group, even when it's jun, is something he's gotten unnervingly good at, and the words to change the conversation come like second nature to him. evasion. he's always doing that nowadays, one way or another. like staying too much in one place means he'll burn out as a dimming light does, like staying still with jun means the latter will confront him with the unease that's been surrounding him, them, lately. "mm. you're still sensitive here, right?" he asks even when he can feel the goosebumps under his thumb, now brushing over jun's ribcage. "you're so cute. no wonder i'm always vying to take you on trips with me."

[divenaz]

“i don’t believe you.” he’s against persuasion, anyway, content to slip into the softness of his touch and their togetherness like this, fingers intertwined, slowly and heedlessly. he’s taking some kind of bait, probably, brought in like this and sifting through a sea of academic slop that isn’t availing him any. the unconscionable thing is letting hyun look at him with those eyes, speak like that—and for him to feign some kind of steely impenetrability back at him. it’s nice being disassembled, having those pieces wrapped up in-between warm arms, all of him safe-guarded by the bosom of something unconditional. something. the afterthought makes him wince. he’s slinking through touches now, barely reclaiming all the effort he’d put into making their distance only a figurative, emotional thing but still, reclaiming it. his lips are twisted up in some kind of petty curiosity, felinely bemusement carving out his expression with a wry keenness.

“now that i think about it, shouldn’t you be studying too? i’m surprised you even want to go on this trip. what are your priorities right now?”

[404karma]

"then that just means i have to persuade you that i wouldn't distract you the entire time. and to persuade you, you have to be there. so you should come, right?" his father's a lawyer but hyun's never really picked up on the sort of deductive arguments that the elder seems to make at the drop of the hat, though this is a somewhat pitiful attempt borne from the desperation stemming from wanting to spend a week nestled away with jun. the urgency of his future is a conversation topic he sets aside easily for the delights he wants to chase now, and a huff is the only sign of displeasure he expresses at the topic being raised. hyun shuffles ever so much closer so he can nestle against the sliver of skin between jun's shoulder and neck, his safe haven, mouth pressed against the other's heartbeat. "my priorities currently lie where they should be lying. not with something as otiose as studying, but someone." he imparts a kiss there, another before he carries on talking. "that's you, by the way. who would want to study when they could spend that time kissing you breathless instead? don't rain on my parade."

[divenaz]

“i’m not.” he assuages. one hand combs through the other’s fleetingly, their brisk departure—he hopes it says what he doesn’t have the strength to say directly. i don’t want to talk about it anymore. things have changed. beyond changed, maybe contorted into something so unknowable there was no going back. it was like a feeling inside of him had metamorphosed into this separate, unconscionable entity. like something fundamental had been divvied up from the rest of him and replaced with abnormality, its sole foe: him.

“i’m not annoyed, hyun.” bared teeth feel more real than metaphor when he elaborates. jun breathes inwardly, reminding himself to relax. “and,” his hand wrung about dismissively, “if i sound annoyed, it’s because you keep asking me if i’m annoyed or not. i’m not going on the trip because i just don’t want to. you guys have fun without me.” he lets it linger, glancing toward his boyfriend like it’s a look he had to pull and push for to make happen. his hands wrestling the sleeves of his own jacket just the same, jun forgets the composure he’d indoctrinated.

“i’ve still got to study, you know.”

@404karma

[404karma]

"you're sure you're not annoyed at me?" hyun's always been shameless -- thick skin is an easy layer that he pulls over himself because it's much easier to be brazen than it is to try and fix the mess you've made. like now. his thumb brushes over the back of jun's hand, turns it over so he can trace over the faint lines of his familiar palm. he's writing out an unspoken apology that's cut short when the other pulls his hand away, and his own response is to let out a quiet sigh. "why don't you want to go on the trip with us?" he asks, only half-forlorn because he knows the answer deep down. even he barely wants to go, and he's not quite sure how he's meant to last there without his boyfriend by his side. he takes jun's hand, nestles it into his own again, uses it as a fishing rod to pull the other closer to him. hyun can lean forwards when they're this close, blinking up at him, head tilted with an upturn of his mouth. coquettish like usual, never taking anything seriously, he continues. "you can study there, too, you know. i just want to spend more alone time with you, get away from this city for once. i'd never take you away from your work."

he'd only ever make it more inconvenient, of course.

[aryaofoldstones]

Are you spying on me now?

[404karma]

07, 08, 98 / @divenaz

they can't help the way they work themselves into a state sometimes.

or at least that's the second excuse that they tell dowon, whenever he asks. the first is that they actually aren't that stressed, even though they know he's had years of experience when it comes to reading them. that he can tell from how they've been recently, wound up tight like threads, that whatever assurance leaves their mouth is more to try and appease him than it is the truth.

it doesn't stop them from trying anyways.

kiha knows it's him before he even enters the room, footsteps all too familiar to them even when they're muffled because of the music they currently have blaring into their ears. they push their headphones down to their neck when he enters, body turned away from their table, eyes like half moons when they spot him.

"oh hey, dowon." their voice comes out more clipped than they mean it to be, a faint smile tugging at their mouth as they're resting their chin on their knee. they can't find the energy to get up just yet, bound over to him like they usually would and tackle him in an attack of kisses. but it's twenty-four minutes past two in the morning and dowon's still devastating in a way that means their heartbeat kicks up when it hasn't for the past, motionless eleven hours.

kiha's eyes flicker to the plastic bag he has grasped in his hand, and they reach out with both hands. "you brought lunch?" a glance at the time on the bottom right of their computer. ".. dinner?"

[404karma]

11, 12, 37, 48 / @divenaz

it's too easy to forget that there was a time where he wasn't with yerin.

he supposes it's one of the idiosyncrasies of their relationship -- letting it lapse all too quickly from his memory that she had to fill in the cracks of his life. that she wasn't there with him from the beginning like he always assumes she had been, the ever-standing pillar that remains at the forefront of his mind. she anchors him in a way that he hadn't quite realised he needed until he met her, and it's for exactly that reason that any past relationship effortlessly becomes a distant memory.

they don't talk about it often, the person he was with before he found yerin. maybe because however much time he spends with her, days preoccupied with working around each other at the museum and lunch breaks taken together, evenings spent on walks and making dinner -- it never feels like quite enough. there's always an extra minute, an extra hour, an extra day he'd prefer to spend with her.

but the thing is, saying it feels like there was nothing before yerin isn't the same as that being the actual fact, and it isn't.

seeing the bracelet his ex-girlfriend made for him clasped in yerin's hand when he's had it tucked at the bottom of his cabinet for the last year is startling. seeing yerin's expression, morphed uncharacteristically into one of hurt is that much worse. an explanation (however much it would and could possibly explain, anyways) for why the silver band engraved with "CY + SH" hasn't been discarded yet doesn't leave his mouth before yerin's hurtling it at him, the door to their bedroom shutting promptly afterwards. the lock clicks.

when he finally knocks, his words catch in his throat.

"yerin?"

[isamovingon]

220625 bibi @ waterbomb 2022 seoul (cr. BIBI_ONLY)

[404karma]

41, 46 (reverse), 47 / @divenaz

nights like these are far and few between.

probably because sunan makes them far and few between -- when he knows hansol's watching, gaze soft because it's on sunan but sharp because he's trying to search for any discomfort in his expression, in his body language. because if sunan responds a second too late or at a pitch too high, the rug's going to be pulled out from under hansol's feet and he'll know sunan's still the fifteen year old boy who entered a far too quiet house that one day.

hansol does know, though. maybe that's why it hurts more, to see him like this.

nights like this are far and few between, but they're never entirely absent. "baby?" hansol's voice is hushed where the silence in the house is loud, and the consequent lack of response is enough for his stomach to churn just because he knows something's wrong. his fingers rest on the handle of their bedroom door, tentative to push. the realisation that he'd much rather be with sunan than let him be alone is the trigger that nudges him inside, eyes flickering to where he can see sunan pressed up against the corner of the bed. his choked sobs don't go missed, and hansol almost doesn't hear it over the unpleasant thudding of his heart against his chest.

sunan's like this when he's had a nightmare. when he thinks hansol doesn't know the reason why he's so agitated, that the way hansol curls up against him even closer is just a coincidence, every limb of his trying to find some part of sunan's that he can latch onto.

like now. he's purposefully slow when he closes the distance between them, one knee pressing against the bed when he reaches towards sunan. it's like clockwork, fingers intertwining with his wife's when he's pulling him towards him. further away from the corner, closer to the centre when hansol can wrap around him more easily. more gently.

kisses pressed against his temple, other hand brushing through his hair. his voice is lowered to a murmur, repetitive but he means every word. "sunan, baby. you can cry. come here. you don't have to talk."

[404karma]

MOON HANBIN / visual / musings / threads it's a dog eats dog world.

28 years old, 11/04/1995. a typical rags to riches story, where he grew up in a poor family on the outskirsrt of seoul. his life was rocked when his parents passed away from a car accident when he was seventeen, forcing him to take care of his younger brother (fourteen years younger than him). he worked multiple part-time jobs and, out of pride, rarely accepted money from his aunt to get himself and his brother through school. developed a bad habit of studying on shifts or until five in the morning, eventually graduating top of his year and a first class ticket to study economics and accounting at a sky university.

graduated with first class honours from there and now currently works as a hedge fund manager at a top consulting firm. the lack of sleep that's accumulated from all these years suddenly feels much more worth it, and his experiences have weathered him to develop a mindset that thinks meritocracy is the most important concept in the world. if you're lazy, you're not going to go anywhere in life.

lee dohyun. 182cm, 5'11" light brown eyes, often wears glasses at his office. black hair, typically styled. no piercings and no tattoos. feels most comfortable in suits because it's what he's gotten used to. expensive watches, customised cufflinks, neat dress-shoes. outside of work, wears a lot of brands. long trench coats, sweaters, dress pants. very rarely wears joggers and hoodies, ie when he's at home (which he rarely is).

lawful evil. aries. entp. smoking / drinking / drugs - yes, yes, no. deadly sin is greed. + hard-working, resourceful, witty - uncompassionate, competitive, blunt

[404karma]

YOO MINHYUK / visual / musings / threads bite the hand that feeds you.

26 years old, 14/07/1996. mugunghwa native born as the only son to the yoos, a family of extremely wealthy lawyers. rejected academia at a young age, preferring to spend his day indulging in the arts and painting. the heavy neglect from both parents only ceased once he started showing signs of childhood pyromania, forcing them to stick him in every counselling service available. he became the black sheep of the family and, after his parents died in a car accident when he was seventeen, was subsequently disowned from the family and cut out of the will. he barely graduated high school before he moved out to seoul, where he worked odd jobs here and there to make rent.

came back to mugunghwa to work as a librarian for the university once he turned twenty four. reunited with ikeda kojirō, who he started a relationship and eventually moved out of the town with. he hasn't kicked his habit of being a busybody just yet, working two part time jobs and painting on the side because the idea of doing nothing whilst his boyfriend persists as a slave to capitalism is unnerving. not quite sure where to go from here because the options are endless -- start painting as a full time job, go back to academia for fine art, continue working shifts and living paycheck to paycheck. for now, he's just happy to be out of mugunghwa.

nam yoonsu. 187cm, 6'1" dark brown eyes, wears glasses at work. black hair, typically unstyled. no piercings and no tattoos, for now. notable features inclue deep dimples on both cheeks, a beauty spot under his right eye, a burn scar on his left forearm. fashion wise, wears a lot of unbranded clothes or is typically in his respective work attire. loves his hoodies, cargos and puffer jacket (his holy trinity).

chaotic neutral. cancer. infj. smoking / drinking / drugs - yes, sometimes, no. deadly sin is pride. + hard-working, perceptive, honest - irritable, pessimistic, humourless

inshik.

[ ... ] Both him and his breath are shaking. “I know. You deserve real love. I deserve to be alone. I know that.” He’s quiet because he means it; because he knows that. “I can’t lose you. I can’t help it. It’s selfish, but I can’t. I don’t want to be by myself. I want to be with you.” A pause, a second where, for once, he can’t meet the eyes staring back at him.    “I can’t hate you. I don’t. I will never. I’m sorry.”

"you're so used to lying that you've convinced yourself you're telling the truth." it's hard to talk around the acid in his mouth but he manages to anyways, whether that's sheer willpower or bitter resentment that pushes the words out from between his lips. "you -- do you enjoy tormenting me? is that why you keep asking questions about why i stuck with you, why i acted the way i did when you already know the answer?"

too many why's, too many questions. his heart's always been a fluttery thing -- once forced to be an adult's heart in a child's body, now it persists as a child's heart in an adult's body. years of failing to take care of it, failing to shield it from the world around him means he doesn't quite know how to handle any emotion quite as strong as the ones inshik instil in him, fanning the smoke until the flames lick away at the inside of his body. he can't quite call it grief. he can't quite call it rage, either, because there's a dull ache that's much too humane for it to be something as animalistic as unadulterated anger. the shame of being caught out on samgaksan's grounds, the knowledge that the rest of the pack is listening in on his conversation had long wilted as something important for him to keep in mind when he tries to avoid inshik's blows, tries to keep himself grounded. tries to keep himself afloat, if that's possible anyhow because they both know it's inshik that kazuki always drowns in anyways.

hate comes easily to him. it's even easier for love. it's always been easier, even moreso for someone who's rarely ever been exposed to it before. because not knowing what love is meant to feel like means everything and anything can feel like love to him.

like this. like when inshik's trembling, when his hand is bleeding because the pain from how broken glass cuts into his skin can't be more numbing than what it feels like to have a lover's words cut into your chest. when he's shaking with his exhalations, when each sentence that leaves his mouth falls out one after another, interrupted by heaving breaths that he pushes through because he knows if he stops talking now he won't be able to start again. kazuki wonders if this is what love feels like. if this is what love is meant to feel like.

if it's meant to be this painful. if it's meant to be so miserable.

"i want to hurt you. i want you to be hurt, so you can feel the way that i do, how i always felt when i was with you. it's not bad for me to want that -- it's not bad for me to want to see you in pain because of me, so don't try to make me feel like it is." the pause that follows afterwards is unintentional. he just hadn't realised just how much he needed to breathe until he's physically unable to, anymore. "don't -- don't fucking talk to me like that. don't tell me i deserve real love, or that you deserve to be alone. that you want to be with me. don't lie to me just because you miss fucking someone. fucking anyone. i'm tired of empty words."

"do you want me to admit that i'm scared of you? because i can. i'm scared of what you make me feel, of how i don't want to leave you even after everything. i'm scared about how i had to -- force myself to leave, about how i keep trying to put myself in danger so i'll get hurt and forget all about you. you asked me why i bothered with you. why i stayed, if i hated it so much." he sniffs. wipes the back of his hand over his nose, like the rain doesn't render that act fruitless in the next second. "i stayed because i wanted to. because in the end, those moments when it felt like you really did love me outweighed everything else. i only left because i realised you never meant any of it. and you tell me you can't lose me now. that you want to be with me. i don't -- i can't believe you. i want you to prove it to me."

[404karma]

KI RAON / visual / musings / threads we're here for a good time, not for a long time.

24 years old, 27/09/1998. born in a rural town just outside busan to a single mother who always tried to force her to shrink into the background. stuck a middle finger to both her and the rest of the world from a young age, picking fights in every situation she could and grew up with the belief that she was destined for greater things. "borrowed" instruments from her highschool's music room, developed a knack for song-writing and producing, feeding into the starving artist trope. ran away from home after her mom found out she lied to her about studying business management at snu, when she was actually studying music production. never made up with her, until her mother passed away.

likes to pretend she has a strong heart but gossip girl taking over her life and revealing that one of her best friends is actually her step sister due to an overzealous father has taken its toll. often seen skating around, just trying to get through university, pay her bills (part-time bartender, part-time dj), perform with her band, spend an extortionate amount of time partying and continue producing music at the same time. she's had a few love calls from idol companies that she's turned down because (raon vc) i like indie rock music. the epitome of "you only live once"!!!!!

kim hyungseo (bibi). 168cm, 5'6" brown eyes. usually wears contacts. glasses rarely. long black hair. usually in a messy low bun or shoved into a claw clip somehow. always gets annoyed because strands keep falling out. two standard ear piercings. helix piercing on right ear. conch piercing on right ear. daith piercing on right ear. tragus piercing on left ear. belly button piercing. tattoos included a red wisp of smoke from her right wrist to her index finger; a panel of nana smoking on the inside of her left arm, 3 daisies on her left thigh, a matching tattoo with her band typical acubi fashion. a lot of straps. little tops and big cargo pants enthusiast. simultaneously, a mini skirt and mini-er top enthusiast. always steals yoonsu's shirts and hoodies. loves her trusty nike dunks. chunky rings, chunks necklaces, chunky earrings.

chaotic good. libra. entp. smoking / drinking / drugs - yes, yes, sometimes. deadly sin is pride. + extroverted, talented, adventurous. - overbearing, entitled, blunt.