middle pages.

( private/1x1 roleplay blog )

[aumiliieu]

a happy birth day.

@560am with jb & minzy ( so so so soso so so late. )

“trust me, you only need two little things for this trip.” “two things. two. things. for. a. trip. are you crazy, that’s not happening im jaebum.”

she might be looking at him like he’s planning something as devilish as lucifer himself had when he’d whispered sweet nothings to eve, but jb’s not dropping the smile, or his gaze and he’s not budging on this.

“seriously.” he repeats, adamant, a nod, a quick lick of his lips. “stop it.” she exclaims, looking ready to possibly throw him out of his own apartment if he doesn’t shut up or agree with her--or stop messing with her. which is what she must think he’s doing.

“come on, i said to trust me.” this time, he keeps himself from smiling. it must be that, that’s making it hard for her to believe him. he can tell when her shoulders relax and her eyes fill with something else, something closer to curiosity than seeing him and his words as ridiculous. that’s when jb reaches his hands and she holds up hers. he wonders if she’s aware of it for a second, but then doesn’t linger on it as he tugs on the hold he’s got on her hands and bumps his forehead to hers.

“two things, trust me.” her gaze’s up at him, eyes searching, eyes wondering and jb loves that look on her. when he puts it there and he knows what it means. all the surprises that he could spring on her and she’d still look like that and tel a million stories with how she stops fidgeting and goes lax against him.

words are mere accessory in moments like these. where her arms sneaking around him is an answer before she’s sighing--as if it almost kills her to admit that she’s willing to just let it be. trust me, he says, and trust him she does as he kisses her.

that’s not before hearing her, “okay.”

“how long is this supposed to last?” this is’t her first question. jb’s been driving and for all of it, she’s been nothing but verbal. her feet up the front of his car and sunglasses on. sometimes she’ll open a window and catch some wind before closing it again. she’s fidgeting and it’s so unlike her that it’s given him been more of an urge to keep the secret just that. a secret.

“you have to say at least one thing!” it’s come to her sounding almost like a child. it’s made jb think of how she must have been. quiet as she looks, but not so much when she’s at ease as she is. minzy’s such a contrast when it’s a first and when it’s now, a hundredth, a thousands of times of seeing her. touching her. kissing and tucking her against his side. he’s done that enough times to repeat and make more than a hundred movies with the seconds he’s had doing that.

it’s a bit surreal to think about it. so much time spent with someone and still, none of it feeling like enough. feeling like there’ll never be enough. in fact, jb’s now thinking of the times where he wasn’t there, where she was still this little minzy but much more than that. a part of her that jb will never know and the same goes for him. a part of him she’ll never find as well.

it’s things like these that make two people finding themselves in path line more of a miracle than romance. this isn’t romance. this isn’t fate. it’s simply a wonder. they exist and minzy’s palm is outside the window, the wind strong--passing, making her hair float. blonde curls atop of her head, not just flowing but blowing and he’s had to at least let his fingers in them once during the drive.

“it’s been hours.”

when her voice goes quiet he glances furtively, wouldn’t want to be distracted and she’s always a big one. whether she’s cheerful and demanding, whether she’s reprimanding, upset. or whether she’s happy and content. or the sight she’s given him just now, cheek against her palm, sunglasses off, cheeks flushed from all the shifting around in the passenger seat.

not just that though. but that shes only clad in what he’s told her to bring. two things. a swimsuit and him or a two piece bikini. well, it did earn him a red spot somewhere on a part of his body but that’s worth it when he knows she’s got the same, lighter though--down her neck and shoulders and jb--jb needs to keep his eyes on the road.

with a frown and a tight grip on the wheel, he nods. the space within the car feels small and minzy’s soft laugh makes it warmer, softer.

“we’ll be there soon enough, then you’ll stop laughing.” until then though, her laughter doubles and jb soaks in the sound without complaining. the rest of the ride is quiet until he can hear nothing and when he turns on a curve, slows down. his gaze catches the bent of her neck and the slow rise of her chest. fast asleep, minzy like that. that’s something that’ll never feel like he’s seen it before.

she woke up with a husky tone to her voice, the kind that cracks with each sentence she wanted to let out. the kind that rubs against jb’s shoulder now as she leans against him. she isn’t quite awake yet, he can tell because of how she seems to want him to completely carry her. it’s tempting. what was even more tempting was to not only let her sleep in the car but push her chair down and settle down next to her so he could also shut his eyes and take himself in to a place that only peeks by when she’s wrapped tight within his arms.

it exists, one might think that sleep is just sleep, dreams are just dreams. but one must live it, experience it, before understanding that some things just aren’t just that.

just like how there’s much more to minzy than the way she’s sleepily mumbling against his shoulder and quietly holding a conversation with him. about what? mundane things. little things that happened to her this week and how this place is warm for a january and how she’s kind of missed the feeling of the beach and how--how she’s now catching up to where exactly they are and she’s pushing away from him with found vivacity.

“where is this place though? we’re in winter.” “we are.”

seconds of silence and then she’s turning around. there’s the flow of the wrap around her waist, covering her thighs but not hiding her skin from sight. it’s a flowery design against them, orange and green swimming across her skin. her feet are bare, tongs in her hands as she holds her arms up. the sun is warm and jb knows she’ll lose the bright white of her skin if thy stay under its ray for longer.

he intends to do just that. let her soak in everything.

then as usual, she stops time, makes it her own. makes his attention hers, makes his whole existence only hers to be lived and she smiles when she turns around. her footsteps are light in the sand. but they still leave a trail. one that jb quickly loses no time in following in.

first because of the words, “last to the sea never gets to take this bikini off!” second because he just can’t not. wherever minzy goes, jb will follow.

they swim, more than enough. enough that their skin stays damp even minutes after they walk out. they swim until the sea feels raw on their skin and the idea of finally leaving the waves feels like a dream more than a wish for it to become as such. they swim until they’ve swallowed enough sea water. from jb splashing her, from jb reaching for hr, from jb not being able to keep himself away and from a lot of other things.

mainly because it kept her laughing and as she laughed she would go down and she’d go down she would swallow. then cough, then accuse him of it when he’s a distance away and trying to not lunge towards her. he tried. they swim, he tries. they swim, she falls quiet again.

they swim until minzy’s now chin dipped in the water, arms floating and she’s watching him do lazy strokes towards her without budging. limbs might be tired, mind might just be numb from how warm the water is. the sun has done all it could to keep it that way but now it is time to set and let the night cool down the surface of it.

maybe that is why she’s fallen silent. looking instead of grinning and swimming away when he tries to get close. there’s no flinching, no retracting and when jb finally really gets his hands on her, he swears he feels her sigh before he catches it against his mouth. chapped and with more than a hint of sea salt.

it shouldn’t be this good, but it is. it’s even better than all the other times.

“you made it last to the beach.” “i did.”

minzy’s smile is felt with the cheek that curves against his chest. she hasn’t moved from this position the moment they fell in the car.

“maybe next time you will make it first.” jb hums. her tone’s getting lost with her mind, he’s sure. ready to drift off.

“thank you.” “for making it last?” her fingers lightly tap at his side. it’s a tickle more than a slap. “stop it.” “okay.”

he expects her to be quiet until tomorrow. expects her weights to grow heavier and then for her breath to get steadier. so before it all gets to that and he loses her to a land that she deserves, he tightens his arms, presses his mouth to the top of her head.

it’s important, “happy birthday.” it’s important and the way she slides up when he holds her tighter. slides up and hums and presses a kiss of her own against the arm that finds her mouth. they make jb happy that, at least, some birthdays might just always be happy.

[aumiliieu]

kissing fluttering eyelashes

( ft. nathanael & renae ) @jadisjavaisuncoeur ( one more before this inspiration to write dies -u- )

i. absentmindedly kissing the back of someone’s palm as you hold hands.  ii. chaste forehead kisses and brushes against their cheek. iii. silly boops on the nose. iv. kissing fluttering eyelashes. v. neck kisses that barely touch skin but are no less passionate.vi.kisses on collar bones or exposed tummies. vii. sloppy kisses at the corners of someone’s mouth. viii. kissing each and every fingertip with a delicate touch. ( source )

he’s got a kind of peace on his face when he’s sleeping, the kind that renae never wants to undo. but also, the kind she wants to press against, mouth to his temple, or cheek. it’s a sight she won’t get to see a lot--doesn’t get to see a lot. sleep overs are for kids. if they were younger their parents would understand the need. so it’s a tough spot, it really is. that’s why there’s both the urge to touch and at the same time, the one to make it last longer so not to wake him up.

but nathanael’s sleeping face has to be the first thing she wanted to always be able to see when she first saw it. she remembers the first night too, where they didn’t have to worry about her dad or his mum coming in the next morning. where they stayed up talking and half of them hidden under his sheets. it’s even better in his bed, but she’ll never admit--just yet--that she simply feels safer wrapped in sheets that he’s slept in.

surrounded by the warmth of his body that has lingered in every corner of this room. every parcel of his bed. then renae remembers the first morning and figuring on that day, that she understands why her father could barely talk about her mum without tearing up a bit. these days when her father looks at nathanel’s mum the way he does, renae doesn’t feel resentful, she doesn’t feel as if something wrong is happening.

she feels simply happy. because she thinks she must look just the same right now. hand hovering over nathanael’s face, fingertips a second away from his cheek and nose and her face warm from the rays sliding through partially opened curtains. 

if there’s a heaven to be had, renae won’t need to die to see it.  if there are clouds to be touched, renae won’t need to fly to reach it.

when she finally can’t resist and lets a palm rest on his cheek, it stirs him. he’s a light sleeper, she’s aware. moves the moment she shuffles away from him if they fell asleep embraced. groans when she moves around the room and so much as make a noise with her footsteps. renae also knows where it’ll start first. his eyes.

or more so, lashes. fluttering. they never fully open, never suddenly, but he still would be able to catch what is happening around him. she knows he knows she’s here, she knows he can feel her breath and her hand. and the pressure of her chest to his, her legs trying to tangle through his. when the sheets rustle and he moves on his back, he knows she’ll follow and lie on top of him. 

now with both hands against his cheeks and a soft chuckle that wraps up a lot of things. things that can’t always be said. but can be given in kisses. to his forehead, pushing his hair back. to his cheek, as she smooths over her fingers on his skin. then to the quiet fluttering of his lashes when he’s meant to fully wake up. 

he says, voice laced with sleep, “how long?” she answers, without needing to wonder what he’s asking, “five minutes.”

at first, it would be him mumbling about her not waking him up. so they could have more time. until the argument just silently got left behind. he must have sensed that there’s a selfishness within her, that he’ll never be able to overcome. 

the one she has to keep the little piece of haven he gives her at sunrise.  so when renae sighs and presses her cheek to his chest. his arms simply wrap around her and they both await to hear the creaking of doors that’ll signal the beginning of the day.

[aumiliieu]

iii. silly boops on the nose.

( ft. nathanael & renae ) @jadisjavaisuncoeur ( ah yes i feel accomplished each time i write something in this serie -u- )

i. absentmindedly kissing the back of someone’s palm as you hold hands.  ii. chaste forehead kisses and brushes against their cheek. iii. silly boops on the nose. iv. kissing fluttering eyelashes. v. neck kisses that barely touch skin but are no less passionate.vi.kisses on collar bones or exposed tummies. vii. sloppy kisses at the corners of someone’s mouth. viii. kissing each and every fingertip with a delicate touch. ( source )

“one more time.” he says and renae doesn’t stop to think about it, it being that she told me she wanted a break. needed it badly in fact, just a small fifteen won’t hurt will it? does he have to work her out as if he’s training her to fight for some championship? god at times she wonders why she’s still doing this. she doesn’t end to blackmail him anymore, things have changed after all, haven’t they? the linger animosity of their beginning has simply vanished to leave place ot this.

frustration when she’s pushed to limits she doesn’t want to push against. being stronger has been the goal all along and if she has to be honest, she’s grown to love this. fighting, or sparring as he likes to rectify. because fighting is much more than just doing some kicks, some punches and getting away with only sore muscles.

such a know it all when it’s something he loves talking about. 

but no matter how tired or how out of breath she does as she’s told. one more time, ten more sets, she’s throwing the fifth, then the sixth. by the seven she isn’t sure how her arms are able to still reach the pads he’s holding. but they are and she won’t try to stop and think about it. another, and another. the thump of the impact it makes and his hand retracting to give the other. her eyes following the movement.

she ends up getting absorbed, so absorbed that she notices nothing of the changes that occur next. of his steps casually pushing her back, she isn’t aware of it until her back hits the wall. and the breath is knocked out of her lungs with it. renae startles, an automatic responses that could have earned the sudden closeness of his face a punch if he hadn’t caught her hands right there and then to press the fists of them against his chest. 

it’s when time stills and she can hear her own breathing, thick against her temples, beating at the same rhythm as the heart where her hands are being held firmly with one of his. that’s when she blinks back to the reality of now and looks up at him a bit dazed, more than out of breath. she has to take in puff of air, they feel shallow though, so they’re quick and successive. 

it’s a surprise when she feels a touch to her nose. one moment she’s trying to not hyperventilate, the next--well the next, renae feels her lips pulling on a smile and her lungs slowly regaining full control of themselves.

the touch itself is his knuckle. when he does it another time, gentler than the first but still a boop, touched and gone. renae finds herself leaning her head back against the wall as her laughter can’t be held in anymore. the third time he reaches out though, she tilts her head to the side to avoid it and suddenly, it seems to become a challenge of how many he can lend on her nose and how many she can avoid.

time ticks and his own voice joins in the merry sound of her chuckling. at times breathless, at times loud and clear. until the hold on her wrists feel loose enough for renae to fist her hands in his shirt to tug him down and swallow the surprising noise that leaves him with her mouth on his. 

[aumiliieu]

lhavi:

[txt] i fail to see how the bottle of jack and the project are related but sounds good enough [txt] u know except the fact that i’m in class and all [txt] and also it’s 3pm on a tuesday afternoon [txt] if ur turning alcoholic before i become a meth addict, i’m breaking up with u

( txt ) not sure how you can fail to see how it’s related? ( txt ) write paper while sober : sure fire way to get distracted and forget it exists. write paper while intoxicated : everything is fun and peachy  ( txt ) it has nothing to do with time, i need to finish it, what else should i do? wait for boredom to knock me out and put the blame on my inability to go through such a dull class?  ( txt ) if you become a meth addict actually break up with me, since i am doing laws and i am going to be a lawyer and all, not good for my reputation to have a lover who deals sorry babe.  ( txt ) it’s not me, it’s you. 

[aumiliieu]

@gmj1x1 // @xximingkki

Memories, they linger. In the steps that take you back, physically, emotionally. Yixing thinks he knows a lot about what is let go of, found again in places that hold meanings. Whatever the meanings may be. For example, every night that he is on stage, with all of exo, there’s the memory of when they were whole. Not that they’re broken now, but there was a time when everything felt as if nothing could tear the apart. Until the foundation shook and they knew, they can break, they can fall and collapse. 

So every night on stage they do everything they can while the ground is still firm under their feet. They laugh and they hold and they cherish instead of thinking of each upcoming earthquakes. Life is led by the feelings we decide to let dominate us. Yixing wants to forgive, not forget. Simply go along with time and when he craves a piece of who he was, with someone else. He and Tao trying to find Chinese restaurant, he and Tao and Kris trying to find their roots back and tempted by the price of a no return ticket for China. 

Then he and Minzy, here one day, winter then, winter now. He slips his hands in his pockets as he walks inside the store, it looks different, smells the same. His eyes scan the menu and he steps closer, until he can almost hear her laugh and the words she used. The chocolate cake that is tempting to order, the only thing he might ver wish to eat in this restaurant. The ost peace he’s ever had, was the one he made with memories of her. 

He’s eager with the thought of tasting it again. It’ll never be the same as when she stood next to him, but that’s why this isn’t trying to relive but rather cherishing what it was and how it is now. He turns his head, left, right--right again. He tilts his head, further, lowers. He can hear the sound of an order being taken, cash machine opening, closing. She’s smiling, at least he thinks she is. It’s always been a bit unmistakable though, her cheeks rounding. Yixing can’t believe how light he feels, from the last time this occurred. 

But he does, he leans in and clears his throat. His elbows find support on the counter and he waits with a small smile. The bile in his throat is not guilt, it’s not sadness, it’s nothing but anticipation. 

[aumiliieu]

good morning.

( ft. aedan & kacia ) @jadisjavaisuncoeur ( wanted smth sweet for these two )

Fingers on her back and he knows if he so much as touches, rather than hovering as they are right now she will start stirring. The point is to not wake her up, just stay there and follow the touch of the sheet down the dip of her back. 

Aedan’s thumb brushes past the way it hangs before it falls down the curve of her ass and there’s the tingling feeling of wanting to tug it lower. He doesn’t, simply lets his finger hang as it is. The way that it always feels whenever he’s around her, hanging by a thread and not shaking with fear, simply delighted by what’s waiting should he let go. Or should he hold on tighter. 

The sun filters through a space in between curtains, vivid and bright against his eyes. He narrows them and almost grips when she moves. She does so against his hand, against him and Aedan should take her there, wrap her up in his arms and thank the morning for waking her up. But he feels as if it’s been stolen from him, the moment itself. Kacia has the time to turn around and face him and blink in a way that indicates she might just fall asleep again. 

Her lips find a smile though and Aedan starts thanking the morning because it might have shut a window but it’s opened the door to something even better. She looks a bit lost, as if she doesn’t know just yet where she is, then she looks softly awake, eyes narrowed but open and her eyebrows furrowed. Confusion might be what draw them together, then memories are what might make them go let go of the pressure. 

He expects a few things, he expects her to draw the sheet closer to where it’s sliding down her chest. But she doesn’t do that, instead she lets it just go. He also expects her to try to hide her face against her pillow, because she’s looking warmer by the seconds, rosy cheeks, full lips that lose a bit of blood when she purses them for a few seconds. She doesn’t do that either, instead she starts closing in.

He didn’t expect her hand, or her fingers and the touch that was not hesitating but reached as if it held wonder and slid against his cheek. Down his neck and then her arm going against his shoulder. Then, Aedan closing his eyes when she becomes close enough that he can only fix his gaze on her mouth and the line of her neck. 

Her, Good morning is all but a Good cut short and lost against Aedan’s lips.

[aumiliieu]

ii. chaste forehead kisses and brushes against their cheek.

( ft. nathanael & renae ) @jadisjavaisuncoeur ( i got inspired have some nathanae IT’S YOUR FAULT TOO THOUGH. )

i. absentmindedly kissing the back of someone’s palm as you hold hands.  ii. chaste forehead kisses and brushes against their cheek. iii. silly boops on the nose. iv. kissing fluttering eyelashes. v. neck kisses that barely touch skin but are no less passionate. vi.kisses on collar bones or exposed tummies. vii. sloppy kisses at the corners of someone’s mouth. viii. kissing each and every fingertip with a delicate touch. ( source )

“m’a bit tired, yeah.” there’s a nod pressed against his neck and renae’s not going to pretend like sinking against his body is not what she’s trying to do. there’s the whole night offered on a silver plate and if they don’t grab it. if she doesn’t make the most of it before tomorrow then she wouldn’t be renae and she wouldn’t be way past gone on nathanael. but she is renae and she’s seeking warmth and he’s pulling her anyways so there’s no way that the world can hold this against them.

not tonight, not ever if it was within her right to demand that. she knwos there are limits, she wishes there were non existent of course. but some lines are drawn without anyone even taking the chalk and pressing it to the ground. some lines are invisible yet the hardest to ever cross through. a year and some. eventually renae want it all but erased. she wants to come into the living room with her father and mother in law sitting there and she wants to do this. sit next to nathanael and lean in, ask for a touch, press her cheek against his shoulder. but in a way that means more than her just being affectionate to her brother in law.

she wants to do that, then kiss his cheek like now. then she wants him to ease into it, turn around, like now. she wants him to kiss her, like now. chapped lips against hers, and his breath when a chuckle slips past and his hands always knowing where to press. her stomach going taunt with his fingers before he pulls it back lightly, a fist curls in her tank top and he’s tugging her along instead. 

“hey, the movie, i am here for the movie.” she really came for the movie. heard the sound of it from her bedroom and remembered that the home was theirs for the night. parents gone to an overnight dinner at a friend’s house. the protest falls on deaf ears, he looks so focused. she never knows how to pll him out of that, gaze intent, mouth firm and teeth that find a chance to bite everything his lips open around. her neck, shoulder and down the curve of a breast. 

see, that’s what makes everything a bit desperate. the little time and the touches that can finally linger. nathanael pauses against the crook of her neck and sighs on her skin. renae understands the silence, the puff of hair, the slug of his shoulders against her hands and the way he all but sinks against the couch. she understands. with a bile in her throat and the space growing smaller in her chest. she pulls back, fingers cradling his face so she can look at him too. 

nathanael keeps his eyes closed so she swallows every little details her eyes can take in. time’s all but non existent when there’s no rush to be had and his breathing even with hers, her nose finds his cheek. the chuckle that comes from him lightly shakes her position on his lap. her knees press firmer against his and she smiles against his cheek before brushing her nose past. she mimics going for a kiss but passes by his parted lips too. the whine does not take her smile away, it makes it grow, less toothy more cheeks rounded and fond eyes. 

when she slides her fingers in his hair and then lean up, wen she stops smiling it’s to kiss his forehead, a soft touch, but not one that is meant to be erased. she feels his nose under her chin and he gets frantic or a few seconds. hands against her tank top, rustling it. against her sides, pulling it tight. then his arms, sliding around her and renae goes without hesitation, a quiet whimper that dies against his throat and her buried against his body. 

that’s where she says, “no movie then?”  “not for you.” he answers and makes her frown. 

she only realises what he means when he starts slowly stroking her back. fingers that come back bruised at times feeling quite tender against her, as if they want to lull her back to the sleep the noises of the tv took her out of. 

“come on.”  “hm?”  “sleep.”  “hm.”  “i’ll be there when you wake up.” 

note : remember when you said i would only write one out of this thing i started three months ago! well hah! i did two. take this. hope you like it!

[aumiliieu]

@jadisjavaisuncoeur // @lhavi

( txt ) where are you?  ( txt ) got a bottle of jack with me ( txt ) and a project that i need to finish for next monday. ( txt ) miss yooooooooou ( txt ) come to me?

[aumiliieu]

@jadisjavaisuncoeur  // @wechngethewrld

Anna’s been talking more these days, it’s a thing to note because she hasn’t been talking to mock Candide. Which is why Candide listen too these days, she listens and she nods and she feels at ease enough to sometimes catch an advice here even if it’s still thrown with ab it of a bite to her words. 

But that’s just Anna, that’s how Candide knows she is. Brash in everything, even if her face’s rounded and her stomach has as well and she keeps asking Candide for those cupcakes from the store in front of Candide’s building. The one where her apartment is. Which kind of is a reason why Anna’s being nice and Candide is having fun with taking it all in. Then Anna came to her yesterday and asked what she was doing for Valentine’s day and for the first time since she turned into this totally nicer version of herself, she laughed because she was mocking Candide. 

In her defense though, there is something to laugh about. Because Candide forgot it was even a thing, she forgot the month and the year. Well maybe not the year--because unlike the last one where she found herself stumbling in a future she had no idea of the color of. She came in with her legs firm on the ground and a hand in hers that she was tugging along despite Isaac’s protests of not wanting to go to the New Years party she was dragging him to. Still went, because that’s another thing. Candide’s grown bold. 

She calls her father and she talks with laughter in her voice and he asks her when is it that her heart’s lost its wall and built windows all over it instead? She tries to reason too, probably that Isaac won’t care, there isn’t a lot he cares about. Besides it’s so damn odd that Anna would mention this to her seeing as they don’t even do the whole buying presents and everything but she laughed and Candide’s been obsessed with that disappointed look she was given after. 

Four days before d-day is now and Candide’s going to stop running it in her mind without any way to get anywhere with her ideas. She has a better one by the time she slides back in her living room and finds Isaac right where she left him, sitting on her couch, fumbling with the pages of her book without opening it or even trying to look interested in it. Always such a nonchalant sight that she’s seen in the worst of his days, the best, the heartbreaking ones and the ones where she was the one who wanted to push him far enough that she could breathe. 

The idea leaves for a few seconds as Candide tilts her head, walks close enough to climb the arm of the couch, lean in and reach with hands and arms that are sliding across his shoulders so she can press close enough to put a kiss on his cheek. Then she says with her mouth still pressed right there, “We don’t want to do anything for Valentine’s right?” 

Anna would say Isaac’s rubbing off on her in the wrong way, Rory would be quite ashamed and force her hands into doing something anyways, which just means do as I told you and get him a watch, every men out there love watches.

[aumiliieu]

you’re here now.

@560am ( ft. jb & minzy & jb’s staff/crew/manager lmao ) 

his hand has a grip on where the sound comes from before it wakes her up and jb prides himself in that. for a second, then he picks up the call and looks down with a scowl. there’s no wish of wanting to move, there’s the thought of hanging up. but his manager’s voice is loud and clear in his ears. in fact it is singing, very off tune, and he sounds like it’s doubling then tripling and jb realizes through the end of it that wasn’t just his manager.

a whole group, most likely more than five. singing happy birthday to the very end and then screaming and he’s holding it away from his ear. “since you ditched your brothers here for the lady there!” he hears again and he wonders if they even know he’s on the line. he wonders if they even care. they keep talking, chatting like he’s not that’s why. they’re talking about what he’s done this year, the wishes they are giving him, then the cake he’s missed. 

how they celebrated with the fans and took some gifts, because of course some fans still show up even if jb says he won’t be coming. it’s why he makes sure to at least make a post the next day, or whenever he gets news if there’s been a party or not. it might be why some of them still come. because they know their gifts will be received and jb showcases them later on.

“this year was to expensive gifts.” “i think it’s because of the rumors of him finally getting tied down.” “yeah, they might want to buy his celibate back!” 

there, laughter and jb’s sighing against the phone. at least they haven’t bothered to ask him to participate, he would usually quip in easily. so they must know that something’s up and that’s why he’s not talking. or why else would they keep on going about the rumors and, 

“you know, poor girl, she’s the one who got tied down!” “with some heavy baggage too.” “can you believe it? if it was my daughter i would start visiting the shrine for good fortunes.” “you mean better fortunes right?” 

laughter again and jb’s sure they know this is going to backfire on them later. but the sigh doesn’t come, he’s smiling now, phone pressed to his ear. minzy’s body moving against his side and him following before she can get too far away to find her pillow. his arm might be numb, but that’s not something to care about at the moment. he’d rather it stays numb with her cheek pressed against it, rather than cold and comfortable. 

is that not why he’s also not talking? to not wake her up. at one point it just becomes a buzz. their words against the sight of minzy’s parted lips around each breath she takes in and out. their laughing voices, against his fingers letting go of his phone to slide against her cheek and find purchase in her hair. there’s no comparison, nor is there a battle, there’s a certainty that one is what will always be here before anything else.

jb hears, “he hasn’t hung up yet?”  “well, we’ve roasted him enough.” “yeah, it’s a miracle we still have our jobs.” “i think it’s good he’s got her then.” 

this round of laughter feels lighter, it’s also one jb agrees with. the line might go dead then, or it might not. he’s not there to tell, because he’s tilted his head and let the phone drop against his pillow. jb hasn’t understood the meaning of the word happy in the birthday song since the last time his mom sang it to him. she always made sure to as well.

he still doesn’t understand it, no, rather than that.  he’s feeling it. 

[wechngethewrld]

hit the road // candide&isaac

[aumiliieu]

wechngethewrld:

His mother was always the first one up, because she would go to the first church office around 7 am. She would wake him up, and him only. He had followed her steps in everything he could while she had been alive and his faith had echoed hers for as long as she had lived. Getting up early had stayed a thing to him, even when mourning. There was church offices, the last time he ever had gone was for the funerals. But he had kept waking up early. Through it all, it had weirdly been what had kept him on the right path, when the foster system would only fuck up kids.

He remembered the necklace with his name on big plastic pearl waiting on his night stand, the last present his sister had given him. He had hated it, but he had always loved her and he had worn it until it was close to breaking, and he didn’t want to lose that last memory.

He saw his father everytime he was looking into a mirror. That was what he left for him, the ghost of his own person in every reflection, shadow, picture. Sometimes, he had a hard time to remember who was who–

Isaac suddenly gasped as something excrutiatingly cold was put on the one of the most burning part of his body, his eyes wide-opened in shock. The harsh take of breathe got him dizzy in pain, his ribs, plexus solar and nose screaming in agony, waking him up a bit more from the fog he had been diving to chase the pain. A striking pain exploded in his head too and brought tears to his eyes.

Fuck, he knew he had had worse, but still, this was hell. And maybe it had to do with how slow and unused his carer was.

« I’m up. » He grumbled, the pain in his jaw throbbing a bit more at each minute. Painfully, he straightened himself on the chair. Now the adrenalin was gone from his bloodstream, every muscle was radiating in exhaustion. He heavily reached for the bag of ice against his ribs. He pointed his forehead vaguely. « Take care of this. » He thought blood was still pouring from the wounds, but that might be actual tears from pain. « If some are widely open, if you can see bone on my forehead– » He looked at her and squinted. « It needs to be sown. » He took a slow breathe, filling as much as possible without protesting his lungs, sending oxygen to his brain to clear his thought. That might be helping with the headache too. « Everything is in the aid kit. Disinfectant– Needle– Don’t puncture too far from each other– Half a centimenter– Cross symbols– Tight– Both edges of skin must touch– » Or something.

Was that nerves or just a terrifying amount of self-control being instilled in her gestures following suit with his words? It could be a bit of both, it seems though, the inner monologue about losing the panic had made her go into something else entirely. Something Candide didn’t even know she had until she feels herself almost mechanically reaching for a cloth to clean the wound first, it’s best if it’s proper before she can go ahead and stitch it right? Which, she’s making herself not think about, not t all. Although the way Isaac had put it made a clear image of the task in hr head and yeah, she might have internally screamed. She isn’t much of a drinker, shocker considering her past love for parties and the crowd she used to hang out with. But she understood why her friend would take a huge gulp before doing anything courageous or disastrous, never in between. 

“Okay, okay,” she’s so glad for her hair being tied and regretting that she can’t run her hand through it in a single moment to take a breath in. Instead she’s left pushing back at sweat starting to pearl at her forehead with the back of her hand, better not get any dirt on fingers that are going to be touching an open wounds. Pretty sure doctors had to wear gloves for these health reasons, but this is no hospital and again, she salutes and at the same time curses his actual refusal to have this be done by a professional. Although, she should have called someone, the owner of the shop, she had a feeling even Anna would know what to do in this situation. 

But no, deep breath, needle in hand already.  The gap that the wound had left honestly looked too big for the needle if you asked her, but who was she to judge what was put in a first aid kit. She’ll question later, herself of course, why this kit itself was so well prepared in such an odd way. It’s almost as if it was put together for something more than just a few burns. They do handle knives and such in the kitchen though, so maybe there’s nothing to question. But she’s seen fucking pincers in there, who needs that? Who would get anything stuck in their bodies to need a pincer to pull it out? A hand pulling the gap closer together after she’s gotten the needle and thread ready and she’s throwing a quick glance up at him. She’s glad he’s awake now at least, looks like ice isn’t just to cool bruises but perhaps to make the wounded a bit more aware. Either way, she’s glad it woke him up, shows he’s at least alive. 

Even if it’s horrifying because he’s going to be conscious enough to feel the first pinch of the needle in his skin. “Here goes, don’t lose your teeth, meaning don’t close your mouth, actually put something in your mouth, I’ve heard people have bitten chunk of their lips from pain before so you never know.” She would have done that, except she’s reminded of her father’s anecdote just as she was already at the task and she’d already sewed her first line and going for the second. Now, there was truly no going back, she was doing this. Literally, puncturing through thick bleeding flesh and tying it together to the part that had been dissociated from it. God, gross. She’s not going to eat meat without thinking about this for awhile. 

[560am-blog]

eyes on fire.

[aumiliieu]

560am:

( jayeon. )

Keep reading

[aumiliieu]

desesperancl :

It was a good, sunny day. She had been sitting on a chair, her guitar pressed against her, playing softly. Her garden looked like a jungle. She hadn’t taken care of it since he died. It was something they used to do together, and while she could stand in the middle of what they had created, she couldn’t find the courage to influence it on her own. Not just yet. So she just played to the plants, even the weeds.

The pain was dormant, a ruffle amongts a bag full of other emotions, some way louder. Her mind was freely wandering and it was peaceful. This particular day was asking nothing of her. No work, no compulsory monthly meeting with her sister, no call to her mother.

Myungsoo– Her fingers slipped and a discordant sound escaped from the instrument, herself surprised to spare a thought for him in the middle of him. She flattened her palm against the chords and looked up to the brilliant sun, her vision darkening in a second before closing her eyelids, watching the colors dance on the black canvas. She was missing Myungsoo, somehow. Not the awful hollow absence, the hole breathing in between her ribs, she sometimes woke up with. But an absence like a caress, a plaid delicately covering her shoulders.

She heard knocking. The possible identities of the intruder were quite limited and she bet for the postman. Sometimes, her mother would send a package of food, making sure she wasn’t starving. They might not be talking, her mother’s love for her daughters had always been limitless.

She pulled on the large t-shirt she was wearing to hide more of her thighs as she opened the door. She had been too out of the reality to change from her pajamas despite the late hour. She had a moment of disbelief as Myungsoo stood at her door, as if she had summoned him as she was missing him. The blanket of his absence was ripped away from her, and left her shivering, under the cool eyes, refreshed and urging to move.

« Myungsoo. Were we supposed to meet ? »

It drew a smile on his face and for a second Myungsoo found himself careless. Because his mind forgot that he hadn't seen her in that entire week he’d been processing over and over again. He hadn't seen her, it’s been busy within himself and outside with the world. His mother breathing down his neck about everything he was doing and who he was going to be meeting next She’s been even more persistent these days, as if she knows. The secret that lies behind the rustle of sheets at night and the footsteps of her insomniac of a son when he didn’t disappear for a whole day. He grew used to sleeping next to her, it’s a problem and at the same time, not really.

A problem means it needs a solution to eradicate it, but how is it even remotely that if the solution itself is the remedy to the problem? It’s complex in that way. A bit ironic that it’s present in the moment too, with his head titled as he studied her expression and his answer with a quiet and solemn shake of his head. He could speak if he wished to, but he rarely ever wished to. Words to him were just quite useless, especially in conveying how one felt. 

He missed her, he did, and seeing her makes him miss her even more. Rather than appease, it stirs. He chastises himself for forgetting, for being away for so long that he let himself forget. But then Myungsoo relishes in the way his heart’s reminding him, and the warmth that rises up his chest, against his face and his fingertips that are already reaching for the temptation without an ounce of hesitation. He finds himself pushing her back inside of the warmth of her apartment, so that he can still it for himself as well.

She looks like he should push her back deeper into her apartment, then past the open doors of her bedroom. Right into her mattress and exhaust every of her senses to lull her back to sleep. Exactly that image, the one he now knows. He knows, it’s just a fantasy, a wish sitting in a jar waiting for when he closes his eyes to be freed. It’s real and aching and it’s what has his mother looking at him at the table from above her cup of coffee in the morning with a scrutinizing look. He’s not transparent, Myungsoo strives to not let her in on anything It’s just that it used to just be, now he has to make it be.  

Despite wanting to capture that moment that’s sparked itself and burned against every corner of his mind he finds himself leaning down to kiss her. His body does most of the jealously keeping away what he cherishes about her. A thumb against her cheek and a hand pressed against her back, a breath drawn as he meant to steal hers and well. Just his body to hers and his back closing the door behind them. Myungsoo has a plan, he does--or maybe the term should be did, because he’s going to admit that he’s losing track of it at the moment. 

[aumiliieu]

                                                    colorboards ft. myungsoo & chaerin                                                             is it white for purity?                                                             white for innocence?                                                              he thought no, not quite so.                                                              for something that is both her joy and pain,                                                              her tears. ( @jadisjavaisuncoeur )

[aumiliieu]

                             “one for each day i think of you so you don’t grow too lonely.”                                                    fromme ( yoora ) toyou ( mark )                                                                       @xinanlide

[aumiliieu]

                                                     colorboards ft. nathanael & renae                                               grey like the smoke                                               from the fire we lit                                               grey like your skin                                               melting against mine                                               grey like the thin line                                               between sins and us                                                           ( @jadisjavaisuncoeur )

[aumiliieu]

                                                      colorboards ft. marco & anna                                                 red for passion, red for pain,                                                red for the crushed hearts                                                red for the blood that you leave on my lips.                                                            ( @jadisjavaisuncoeur )