In The Blink of an Eye

The defining moment. Hong Jonghyun. Ⓐ

[augenblvck]

Handcuffs hurt. The cold metal bites into your skin, chafes it, rubs it raw. And it sucks.

He's been in them only once before, and it was when he was being brought in at the beginning of this whole ordeal He doesn't like them, but he supposes he'll have to learn to get used to it. He's probably going to be in lockup for a while. Most people don't get off easy for the shit he's managed to pull. He's dead in the water.

The interrogation room he's chained up in is too small for his comfort. The florescent light overhead buzzes and it's too loud in his ears, too distracting. There have to be people on the other side of the giant mirror on the wall, watching his discontent. He'd be wiling to bet that they're laughing at him right now.

He hunches over in the metal chair, and it's awkward because he has to keep the arm in the cuff on the table while he does it. He lets his forehead hit the smooth surface and he closes his eyes, just for a moment. He needs to breathe, calm down. His stomach turns over and he feels like he's going to throw up. Way too nervous.

"Someone gonna talk to me or is this just Time Out?"

[ksung]

—hey

It is as simple as this. These phrases are matches that slide against the strike strip of a sensitive ego. Someone had once asked him if he ever harmed people for a legitimate reason. He never said, and now here is the scenario that defines him with actions rather than answers with just one phrase that acts as the ignition. Eyes are already rotating up with muscles tensing and shoulders rising, but he looks at them them as if they’re stuck between the grooves of his shoe.

—hey shorty. 

Everything falls out of his head but that one nagging tone. The greeting latches onto every available sense and mutes the sounds of a capital city. He doesn’t register Seoul rushing around him in smears of faceless bodies or cars spewing exhaust into the air. He sees their lips flapping, stares straight up into their face as if he’d crashed one thumb against the PAUSE feature on a remote control. One that is now glitching on the last, hey, shorty, hey, hey—

One arm winds back, fist smashing into their throat before they can inhale and repeat. He won’t let them agitate him further, and this is a means of stopping that. His feet are still spread apart, left side of his body still half-thrown into the punch. Nerves in one hand had been damaged irreparably too long ago, so he feels just a buzz along knuckles where they would feel a ton of bricks crashing against pain receptors.

“Hey,” is all he says in response.

[augenblvck]

He knows he's annoying. He knows that he grates on the nerves of too many people, gets under the skin of those that most would try to make peace with. He agitates. And that is precisely why he is here.

Poke, prod.

One name after the next; attempts to garner attention from someone he knows for a fact he shouldn't mess with. But therein lies the fun of it - doing bad things is always a thrill. Bad things to bad people is even better.

He should expect the fire that explodes out of his neck and into his lungs. His chest expands, contracts, but he can't get any air. Sputtering, coughing, half against the brick wall of the building next to them, half down the railing of the stairs that come down the front from the door; he's a mess. But as soon as an infinitesimal amount of oxygen sneaks into him, he's laughing.

This piece of shit.

"At last, I've gotten your attention."

And all it took was nearly choking to death.

[augenblvck]

Information.

He has easy access to all kinds of information. The world's secrets are his after only a few strokes on his keyboard. So it shouldn't be surprising to anyone that knows him when he shows up out of the blue, unannounced. If he's got business to conduct with someone, he'll make sure to check them out in advance. It pays to be cautious.

Yoon Hyunki has become a regular associate. He wouldn't classify the man as a customer of any sort. Rather a distributor - he runs information too precious to leave to the internet for transfer. He knows better than anyone that things like that can be tracked or traced, and he's gone to great lengths to make sure he hasn't yet been put on the NIS's watch.

So he's come to pay dear Hyunki a visit for two reasons - the first is obvious; to make sure he's trustworthy. The second is mostly just to waste time.

He makes sure to knock loudly, so it echoes through the mostly-empty building.

"Open up!"

[angstmemes]

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ...

{ ｂａｓｉｃｓ }

> Name: Hong Jonghyun > Age: 26 > Species: Human

{ ｂｏｌｄ   ｗｈａｔ   ａｐｐｌｉｅｓ }

drinker smoker done/does drugs knows what a broken heart feels like has committed a crime suffers a physical disability suffers a mental disorder has experienced severe trauma

{ ｄｅｔａｉｌｓ }

> Biggest fear: Death. > Recurring nightmare: Being encased in a glass box, slowly filling with water. > Something you miss: Kuwait. > Biggest regret: Not striving for some sort of dream. > Pressure point: Temples, and the area between his shoulder blades. > A secret: He has a few. but first and foremost: he's probably on the Wanted List.

{ ｐｉｃｋ   ｏｎｅ }

fire or water mother or father to hurt or be hurt eerie or gory unrequited love or no love

[augenblvck]

There's something in the way that he slumps his shoulders, hunched over the table at a cafe, that lets people know he is not to be bothered. The way he stares so intently at the screen lets them know that he is busy - too busy to care for anything less than an emergency. He types a storm, quick and intense... and then suddenly it's all over.

The laptop in front of him closes and he picks himself up, slips the computer into the case. He takes off.

There are sirens in the distance - a fire several blocks down.

He is now fifty and a half million richer.

[augenblvck]

                          Is there anyone out there that can justify wrongdoing? 

                          Is there anyone out there that can rightly condemn it?

    Who's to say what is right and what is not? Who dictates the morals of society?

                                   He does not. He doesn't care about any of it.

                                          He's just in this game for the profit.

                                                     Ⓐ

[augenblvck]

There's an alarm going off somewhere in the distance. He hears it only faintly, muffled through an invisible cotton in his ears. Everything sounds as if he's under water.

In front of him sits a lake - placid and serene, it reflects the light from the stars above without so much as a ripple passing through and ruining the picture. It's beautiful. Perhaps it's too beautiful. There is too much clarity.

He is dreaming.

As he begins to wake, he sees a face just beneath the surface of the water. Unseeing eyes fix on him and he feels a chill down the length of his spine.

Even after the scene fades and he's left to rub the sleep from his eyes, he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.

[squid-chip-deactivated20150202]

2014 S/S Seoul Fashion Week Backstage. KYE