◜ lost ★ boy ◝

❝ best way to not get your heart broken, is to pretend you don't have one ❞ choi sungjong aka apollo, a twenty year old magical boy, college student, and fashion magazine intern

[ccxhowon-blog]

accidental demise

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

Moments later he pulled back; not before leaving a small kiss upon Sungjong’s cheek and smiling slightly. “Let’s go to yours? I don’t think Hyung would appreciate me dirtying up his place…” Even though Sunggyu was long gone, he knew the other wouldn’t like the mess. If Eunji decided to pay a surprise visit - well they’d be screwed..

So slowly, he moved and pulled Sungjong up to his feet, before wrapping his arm around Sungjong’s waist.

[ccsungjong-blog]

As much as Sungjong wished he didn’t feel like relying on those strong arms curled so tight and strong around his delicate figure, he couldn’t help but lean into his hold and let his muscles loosen. The pressure inside his head and his chest only increased, and he was so sure he was about to cry, or scream, or simply pass out. Nothing seemed to make sense, but in that same instant, did Sungjong really care?

Howon had kissed him, but he was questioning it - questioning the entire encounter even. It felt fuzzy, rushed, like a dream, and half of Sungjong wished it was. He didn’t want to own Howon, he didn’t want to have killed, and captured him, but that would also mean the kiss wasn’t real either. It would be a lie to say Sungjong hadn’t wished for months already that Howon would want to kiss him, but it felt far fetched. Why would someone like Lee Howon want to kiss him?

Even so, with all the doubts and worries flooding his mind, Sungjong’s arms curled tight around Howon’s neck, and he could only nod at the question. Trying to hold onto the moment, keep reliving it in his head, the soft press of lips against lips, he couldn’t help but chew on his lower lip. He feared that as son as they moved out of the alleyway the dream would deteriorate, leaving him waking in his bed with a sinking feeling in his chest. 

For months now all he’d managed to think when with Howon, other than the sight annoyance he’d started to use as an excuse to frown at him (when it was just annoyance that he couldn’t kiss Howon), was how much he was falling. He could feel his heartbeat speed up every time the elder was nearby, the shivers that overtook his body when Howon touched him - it was ridiculous really. 

But Sungjong couldn’t deny just how much he’d fallen for him. 

“Yeah... My place.” He murmured softly, voice cracking as he steadied himself once on his feet, trying not to let the arm around his waist distract him from the task at hand - getting back to Sungjong’s apartment without causing a scene. They were, after all, both drenched in blood. There, fortunately, were a few back roads leading toward Sungjong’s building. 

Only a few minutes into the walk Sungjong found himself finally able to pluck up the courage to reach out to the hand not around Sungjong’s waist, and gently take it into his own hand, purposefully avoiding Howon’s eyes as he did so, his cheeks flushed a pretty powder pink. 

If it was a dream, it had gone from a nightmare, to the best dream he’d had in a very long time. 

[ccsungjong-blog]

Darkness

darkness ‘dɑːknəs/

the partial or total absence of light. 

It’s not been easy.

Some nights he lies awake. Not because he wants to, or because he’s not tired. He’s always tired. No, it’s because he can’t sleep. He feels like he’s about to fall apart and collapse with the fatigue, but he just can’t fall asleep - his mind is awake. It’s so awake that it hurts, so he’ll push himself from the confines of his bed, the action taking more effort than it should, to go and retrieve painkillers to rid himself of the incessant pounding inside his skull. But it never really helps. It doesn’t still the twitching of his fingers, the pounding of his heart, the guilt that was so much a permanent part of him by now that he simply can’t split the guilt from him - it’s a part of him, that he can’t imagine himself being without, as much as he wants rid of it.

It’s like a constant ache, and he’s not even sure what it is anymore. Maybe it’s still just the guilt, maybe the self-loathing slipped through by now, or maybe the fear or the feeling of being so very alone had started messing with him too. It’s so easy, putting on his ‘better-than-you’ front, making people believe he thinks he’s amazing, beautiful, intelligent, justified. God, if only they could see how every single one of those is a lie.

So maybe Sungjong doesn’t think he’s ugly, in fact he doesn’t think that at all. But he knows he’s not good enough to be a model, he’s not good enough to catch the eye of anyone and make them want to know him. All he ever wanted was attention - the attention he was deprived of while growing up, the attention that his sister received. It makes him feel ashamed of himself, wanting people to look at him and compliment him and tell him just how much they like him and how he looks, because being an ‘attention-seeker’ isn’t something to be proud of; Sungjong knows that.

He was never stupid, he knows that too, but he wasn’t smart enough to be top of his class, never enough to be patted on the back and told he’d done well. All his life he’d been normal enough to get by under the radar when all he wanted was to have eyes on him constantly, praising him, looking after him, telling him he wasn’t alone. Loneliness was something Sungjong knew like a best friend - it tormented him constantly, to the point that having people to talk to and lean on felt too different. It was unfamiliar and made him want to turn tail and run, give up on trying to rid himself of that loneliness, because what would he be without it? It consumed him, flooded his veins with a chill that no amount of sweaters or blankets could rid him off.

In the end, he realised he was neither nothing, nor something. He was somewhere in between, in the puddle of middle distance, someone people looked right through until he tried harder to get them to notice him. Everything was ‘try harder’, or ‘don’t try as hard’, but Sungjong could never find the in between, the just enough, but not too much. He’d only ever be normal, imperfect, just not good enough.

But that was all he’d ever wanted - to be good enough.

So he comes home after a day of college and work, he studies, and he goes to bed. He lies awake and tries not to think about the darkness he can feel eating away at him from all directions like the darkness that starts to creep into the corners of your vision when you start to lose consciousness. It’s got a chill to it that Sungjong finds he’s already familiar with, as if it’s been there all along, lingering in the background, and he’s only starting to notice it. It doesn’t yet terrify him, but piques his interest. He wonders what it is, what caused it, whether it’ll consume him altogether, or if it’ll just go away.

He doesn’t think he’d mind if it devoured him, though.

[ccxhowon-blog]

accidental demise

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

But he had to.

“Jongie?” he mumbled, “Was that okay, that I did that? If it wasn’t, I’m sorry. I just really … needed to, you know? I’ve wanted to for a while and can’t keep myself from…expressing myself.”

[ccsungjong-blog]

Howon was, under all his muscles and stiff resting expression, and monstrous true form, incredibly gentle. Sungjong had realised that a long time ago, that his touch was careful and warm, comforting and everything Sungjong ever wanted to feel in a simple touch to his forever chilled skin. Howon’s touch seemed to ignite fires inside Sungjong, keep him wanting more, hooked on the euphoria he felt flood his system with each brush of fingertips to pale skin.

Sungjong, over time, realised how very addicted he was to Howon’s very being, his scent, his touch, his smile and his voice, it all sent shivers through him like tidal waves of something so utterly foreign that Sungjong didn’t know whether to welcome it or cast it out with a fiery dismissal. If he were to welcome it though, he never quite knew how he’d go about that. Not when he’d never been so utterly smitten before, never let someone so far past his defensive walls. His one relationship he’d ever had in the past held barely any romantic feelings - it was purely built on attraction.

But this was so terribly different.

Though never as different as the feeling of Howon’s plush lips against his own was. The sudden touch had him frozen where he sat, eyes widening as he tried hard to figure out the mess in his head. emotions, screaming thoughts and memories all raced through his head, and he wondered just why he wasn’t kissing back, just as Howon pulled away; he was too slow.

It was neither the time nor place for kissing, or at least Sungjong would have thought it wouldn’t be, both of them being covered in blood, Sungjong having just killed, and captured the man who had already captured Sungjong’s heart. That, however, didn’t really matter as Howon’s words floated into his head and bounced around inside his skull, reverberating and reiterating that Howon had wanted to kiss him for a while now - it seemed too good to ever be true, and Sungjong half expected to have had some awful head trauma befall him, and currently be deeply unconscious, dreaming up these ridiculously perfect situations in which Howon felt the same.

“I’m dreaming… Aren’t I?” He had, by now, all but forgotten Sunggyu stood in the background - though he wasn’t even sure if he was still there anymore, or if he’d left to give them privacy.  

[ccxeunji-blog]

monster.

[ ... ]

The other picked up; “Yah! Lee Sungjong I’m in t-trouble. The park, I’m at the park and this -… thing! Thing, monster, creature – whatever… It’s right in front of me. What do I do? Ah, my heart is going to explode out of my chest.”

Her words were rambled mostly, mushed together as tears finally began to stream down her cheeks.

Just her luck really, that her average life would be interrupted by a creature like this.

“Please… Help.”

He was the only one she knew that could help.

[ccsungjong-blog]

Evenings are Sungjong’s wind down times - no classes, no work, just him and his kitten and a cup of herbal tea. He’ll sit down with a book by the window, some music on low, and let the time pass by as the story in his hands unfolds. He reads of excitement, the ups and the downs the characters wade their way through, right until the end, when all is resolved, and life goes back to a mindless normality, and the story ends.

Sungjong often wished life really was like that. Ups and down, until the inevitable calm after the storm. Would the storm of Sungjong’s life ever calm? It seemed not to ever give him a break - it was unfortunate experience after unpleasant circumstance, all leaving Sungjong just a little bit more broken every single time, incessantly bashing more cracks into his already weak shell.

He often wondered whether it was just him that life was hard on. If other people had their ups and downs, their rollercoaster lifestyle that people were supposedly meant to have. Or if really, it all was just downhill forever. Sungjong couldn’t really remember the last time he felt like something was going his way. If he were to pick one instance, maybe he’d pick getting his interning job at Nylon, but other than that, he didn’t see much light in his life.

Fingers trailed over the card spine of the book he’d been planning to read that evening, laying atop the coffee table where he’d laid it earlier that morning after bringing it in from his bedroom. It was a story he’d not expected to enjoy, just as he never expected to enjoy anything much he ever did - he’d come to expect disappointment, but he really did live for the few perks.

The interesting characters, just as in the book, existed in his life. But it just so happened, as he picked up the heavy book, his phone began to buzz, Eunji’s name flashing onto the screen. It was out of character for her to phone at such a time of day, so it was with a frown that he lifted the phone to his ear and pressed the answer call button.

The voice on the other end had him frozen where he sat - if anyone being in danger was to terrify Sungjong is was Eunji. She was, in a way, like a mother, or older sister figure, to him, and her safety meant a lot to him. It was uncharacteristic for Sungjong to care so much about someone, but it seemed to be something he’d come to find himself doing a lot more often recently, however Eunji had been important to him for years already.

So he was on his feet in seconds, rushing out at breakneck speed with a rushed “I’m coming.” shouted over the phone.

Wind whipped at the flushed skin of his cheeks as his eyes scoured the park as he got through the entrance, and it didn’t take long for him to spot Eunji, cornered by a monster the size of a small house. Within seconds he’d thrown his rings into the air, let the gentle warmth of the light embrace him entirely and leave him clad in the outfit that last time he’d donned had ended covered in blood, the transformation complete when his pistols landed safely in each hand. In just another few seconds he was stood in front of Eunji, eyes locked on the monster.

“Let’s get this over with quickly. Eunji, go! Get out of here!”

[ccsungjong-blog]

culinary escapades.

[ccwoohyun-blog]

[ ... ]

Atleast that was until Sungjong had come up to him with an interesting proposition. The younger was a close friend of his, despite his bratty attitude and for as long as Woohyun knew him, he had never made a request. Demands, yes but never requests in the nicest (atleast in Sungjong terms) way possible. Honestly he had almost declined, given that he’s not sure he can teach someone while still trying to get used to doing things with one eye. But Sungjong had asked and he couldn’t just refuse. Which is why he’s standing in front of the other’s apartment with a bag of groceries for a cooking lesson. 

Woohyun’s not sure how he’s managed to fend for himself without knowing how to cook but he plans to change that today. He swore to himself that he would not be leaving today until he was sure the younger could manage to cook some dishes without completely ruining them. 

“ I hope you remembered to clean your utensils Sungjong “ is what he says in greeting once the door opens. “ And possibly your entire kitchen, I’m sure its collected dust from not being used”. 

[ccsungjong-blog]

If it weren’t for the fact that living off of store bought salads and the occasional, very much secret, cup ramen, was terribly unhealthy and damaging to Sungjong’s palace of a body, he’d not need to ask for help with cooking. He’d tried online recipes and throwing things together himself but he always managed to undercook, or overcook things - he just wasn’t a natural born cook. He wasn’t all that crazy about food either, which was probably why he so easily maintained his thin figure so easily; that and the fast metabolism.

Had it been only a year prior, Sungjong would have seen asking someone like Woohyun for help as a knock to his pride. Nam Woohyun really wasn’t anything like Sungjong, or like the people Sungjong usually preferred to hang around with, but times had changed, and Sungjong had let himself open up to the older male. Woohyun, as much as he irked Sungjong sometimes, wasn’t all that bad. In fact, over time, it was a lot easier to see Woohyun as a friend.

Maybe not a best friend, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t see the possibility of it. Something about Woohyun made him, despite annoying, likeable.

So, as he tugs the door open and lets his eyes scour over the elder from head to foot he doesn’t feel that same distaste he felt during the first few months of knowing Woohyun. In fact, he smiles. It’s rare, to get a friendly smile from Sungjong, but he’s having a good day so far, despite bashing his head against the sink, the dull throb a subtle reminder.

“Of course, what do you take me for? A barbarian?” Sungjong could only think of one instance when he’d leave things dirty, and that was in the case that he lost both hands or was in a coma.

Or dead.

He wasn’t in any of those situations, so his apartment stood to remain in a homely state of untidiness - everything clean and dusted, but a few personal items laying around to make the place feel more lived in. “You won’t find one speck of dust in this apartment, Nam Woohyun.” Holding a hand to his chest, somewhat offended by the assumption that he could possibly leave anything dusty, he shook his head, tutted, and stepped back to let the elder in.

This had really better be worth it.

[ccxhowon-blog]

accidental demise

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

His teasing isn’t working, he knows it - but he tries at least.

“Just let me stay by your side if you don’t want to control me? I like being with you, in any way you want. I want to be with you. It’s selfish of me I know, but I’ve always been a little selfish you know? It’s a nasty habit; but I don’t seem to give a fuck right now - about that. Not when it involves you. Dammit - You’re really something, you know that right? That you’re something so fucking special to me? I … Let me stay by your side? Sungjong, please.”

[ccsungjong-blog]

In a way Sungjong felt a little like he was the one who’d been shot through the heart. It was no secret to himself that he was completely and utterly in love, though he did hate the feeling with every fibre of his being. Being in love was stupid, especially when it was with someone like Lee Howon. He may be a card, but he was the most human card Sungjong had ever met. To hope for him to feel the same, however, would be beyond foolish. So Sungjong was able to liken the terrible pain of realisation to that of being shot through the chest.

He could imagine it to be dull at first, like a numb kind of throbbing ache, before it heated up and began to spread a wildfire of mind numbing pain that wrapped itself around his entire being - he didn’t know quite where the pain ended and he began. Drowning in a sea of his own foolish despair he tries so desperately to convince himself he did not, in any way, need Lee Howon.

But would he ever really believe his own lies?

Howon may be thankful for Sungjong capturing him, but Sungjong, in that moment, realised just how terribly he’d managed to doom himself too. As much as he loved being around Howon, he could now never not be around him - he was stuck looking at, talking to, and controlling the temptation that almost made his soul ache with longing.

Who was he to be able to hold this power over Sungjong?! He hated it with such a passion it burned almost as bright and furious as the love, and the pain of the realisation he’d never be loved back by him. It was so clear that he wasn’t made for Howon, and Howon wasn’t made for him. They were not built like puzzle pieces to be fit together, and it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - that realisation.

His hand was warm - of course it was warm, Howon was warm. It was like this comforting, almost seductive warmth, tugging in Sungjong so easily - and he was so utterly powerless to stop himself melting as the large hand took his own delicate, slender one. Despite his words the tears kept falling. He’d never admit that they weren’t only for having captured Howon, he’d never tell anyone how he cried over not being able to love Howon and be loved back.

A watery scoff passes his lips and Sungjong wants to throw up - Howon was gross, he was always gross, and he really didn’t like how he should have judged him so hard for that, but it only made the butterflies bat against his ribcage more furiously. It was no longer delicate though, it felt like their wings were razors, cutting into him from the inside out. It hurt, but could he expect anything else? Sungjong was never right for anyone. He didn’t deserve Howon as a friend let alone as anything more. Wanting it was foolish, Sungjong was foolish.

He was special to him. It should have made him smile, comforted him, but it was bittersweet. Sungjong was such a good friend, he was great. He just wasn’t good enough to be a romantic interest - he knew that, he didn’t need to be told it. He didn’t even know why the realisation had hit him so hard, but it was just there, as Howon sat drenched in his own blood. It was so blatant that his eyes lacked the feelings Sungjong desired to see in them.

“Okay… Yes, yes okay.” It was all he could reply, sniffling and wiping angrily at his tears - he was pathetic. Choi ‘pathetic’ Sungjong.

[ccsungjong-blog]

tracker ;

WRITING:

None

WAITING FOR:

Coffee Cup Love Story - @ccsungyeol

Unfortunate - @cczitao

Culinary Escapades - @ccwoohyun

Talk Shit, Get Fit - @ccxhowon

Accidental Demise - @ccxhowon

PLOTTING WITH:

None (?) [ IM STIL VERY MUCH OPEN FOR PLOTTING SO PLS HMU ]

[ccxhowon-blog]

accidental demise

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

Leaning back, he moved his hands to cup Sungjong’s cheeks – “now, calm down a bit okay?” he whispered out, voice soft – his gaze softened as his thumb brushed yet another stray tear away. “…I’m kinda glad it was you who did it anyway. If it had to be anyone… I’m glad it was you Jonggie.”

He would let the other do it over and over again. He would give Sungjong his life if the other wanted it. He would –

He’d give his entire being to Choi Sungjong.

[ccsungjong-blog]

Though it may be true that Howon’s ‘death’, hadn’t been a death at all, rather simply a capturing, Sungjong still couldn’t get the image of Howon’s body falling to the ground, laying in Sungjong’s arms and bleeding out, fading away like the sunlight bleeding out of the sky as night overtook. Sungjong felt like the light had left him as he’d held Howon as he died and came to be captured, and only as he was held by him once more did he feel that light return, even though the connotation underlying it, that Sungjong never was able to ignore, reminded him of his own pathetic feelings.

“But I had to see you die, even if it wasn’t permanent - and it was me who did that!” There were fractures in his voice, withering and fraying away as he settled on Howon’s thighs, losing his strength and simple leaning into the elder who felt so incredibly hot compared to the crippling cold that had taken over Sungjong during the moments he’d held onto Howon’s card.

He knew what he was trying to do, and for that he was thankful, but the lightheartedness did little to affect his own deep-set regret. All Sungjong could be thankful for was that Howon was a card - as strange as it sounded, had he been human, or hero, he’d be gone and he’d not come back from that death, at least now, captured but alive, Sungjong still was able to see him and hear him and touch him.

He relished in what little he managed to gain from interacting with Howon - he lived for the smiles, or the moments when their eyes met, or when Howon laid a large, warm hand on him. Addicted to the feeling of him close by he didn’t know how he’d cope had he been gone for good.

Simple answer was he wouldn’t.

Without Howon, now, Sungjong didn’t think he’d be able to function. He’d gone from being someone who annoyed Sungjong beyond belief, to someone he tolerated easily, to someone he ended up being unable to live without. He knew just how dangerous that was though, relying on him, when Howon didn’t need, or want Sungjong the way Sungjong needed and wanted him.

His soft voice, the touch to his cheeks, the nickname - it all had his chest aching, the hatred he buried under all his false-confidence slithering back to the surface for a second. Pathetic. It was easy to ignore when coming from someone else, but when directed at himself, by himself, that wasn’t something he was able to brush off as easily.

“I… I don’t want to control you- I don’t know what I’d have done if you… If you had been gone permanently.”

[ccxhowon-blog]

accidental demise

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

It wasn’t a time for joking, or teasing – or anything of the sort. But his weak attempt at a smile and his lame excuse for a joke was who Howon was. Just, someone trying to ease the situation a bit. He knew he had a lot to answer for, a lot of questions that he needed to elaborate on. But first, he wanted to make sure Sungjong was okay. Reaching out, he pulled the other towards him, not caring about their rather messed up state and wrapped his arms around Sungjong in a sort of hug. It was awkward, the other was kneeling while Howon sat and the height difference was clear but he just closed his eyes and pressed his face against Sungjong’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. Like the monster I was born as. I never, ever wanted you to see that side of me Jongie.”

[ccsungjong-blog]

He’d never witnessed this before, the changing from card to human, but if asked later what it had looked like, his answer would have been either vague, or non existent. He didn’t pay attention the change in form, he paid attention to the human form in front of him, the gentle touch to his cheek that reinstated that complete and utter trust he knew was never misplaced, and broke every single string that kept him in tune.

A choked sob left his lips and his composure, or what little was left of it, crumbled. The cold, collected attitude crumbled and slid from his grasp, leaving him with nothing but his regret, his tears, his pain as he felt that familiar swell of his chest. Even after seeing him as a monster, after killing him and taking control of him, Sungjong still couldn’t stop the feelings he felt for him from flooding his very being like a bright, warm light - it was foreign, so very foreign when Sungjong had been used to being nothing but cold for so many years.

Howon, he was sure, was destined to be his ultimate downfall, however, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He broke, crumbled and shrunk as soon as Howon’s arms circled him, and though he knew Sunggyu was still there, watching them silently, he didn’t care enough to tell him to piss off, as he usually would have had no problem doing. He slumped forward, throwing his weight against Howon as his arms slid under the card’s, hands gripping at the back of his blood-soaked shirt, his face pressing into his shoulder as he choked out his sobs, and his apologies.

Sungjong felt as if Howon would disappear if he let go in that moment, that this moment was so delicate that any wrong move might break it and cause Howon to shift to hatred as Sungjong still expected would come - the gentle touch and soft voice after the huge dark mass of shadows didn’t fit. He was tense, muscles taut as he clung to Howon, slowly and hesitantly shifting until he was practically in his lap.

“I’m the one who should be sorry- I killed you!”

He’d never forgive himself, he couldn’t - he had too much blood on his hands, and he wondered just how much more he’d be stained with before he too became a mere spot on someone’s timeline of killings, as so many others were becoming to Sungjong.

[ccxhowon-blog]

accidental demise

[ccsungjong-blog]

[ ... ]

[ccsungjong-blog]

- CONTINUATION

What felt like both mere minutes, and lengthy hours later he lifted his head, opening his eyes and clutching tighter at the card. A numbness had spread from his fingertips and deep within his chest, trickling out along his bones and veins and arteries, filling him up until he knew nothing but the chilling cold and lack of anything but the dull ache in his chest. It was only when a familiar voice met his ears, sounding as if he were underwater, did he break out of the grieving trance he’d slipped into and choke out a sob.

It wasn’t immediately clear whose voice he was hearing, saying things Sungjong simply couldn’t understand in that moment when all he cared about was Howon, now simply a piece of card held in his hands. From only an hour ago believing Howon was nothing more than a simple human, to knowing now what he truly was, Sungjong didn’t think he could handle even moving for hours longer - he didn’t know what to do, who to seek out for help, or even how to stop crying.

It took a few minutes before the hand on his shoulder was registered and the soft voice, belonging to Sunggyu, Sungjong only then realised, sifted through the blanket cutting out the world around him, and reached his ears. “Sungjong? Tell me what happened.”

It’s meant to be soothing, he thinks, but it’s anything but. It brings it all back - what he’d done, what situation he’d been left in. It hurt, knowing that he’d captured Howon. Many heroes would be elated at the fact they’d just captured their first card, but Sungjong had never wanted this. He’d never held any interest in capturing cards himself - it was the only reason he’d joined a team, to help the cause, but hand over the chance at capture to other heroes, ones who oozed enthusiasm and naivety.

Sungjong didn’t want control over Howon, he wanted him to be free, but to set him loose once more meant he was a traitor, and he’d very likely be hunted down if anyone ever found out.

It took him a while to choke out what had happened to Sunggyu, his eyes still locked on Howon’s card. The Shadow Marionette. It was such an intriguing card, but he knew what lay within it and he wanted him back. He wanted his Howon back-

Even though he knew he wasn’t, and never would be his in the way he desired.

Sunggyu’s advice was what Sungjong would expect from the leader of the rookie group - it was level-headed and experienced advice, laying out his options for him. He could keep Howon and control him and make sure they were both safe, he could keep Howon’s card, but give him back all his freedom he’d had when still uncaptured, ignoring the few necessities of holding a card - like the summoning thing that Sungjong didn’t even want to think about. Or he could set him free and hope no one ever found out. Sunggyu promised, if he picked that option, that he’d keep his secret - Sungjong wouldn’t expect any less from him.

The first option Sungjong instantly ruled out - he’d never cut off Howon’s powers. It made sense now, the time Howon had saved Sungjong from getting hit by a car. He remembered thinking the distance made no sense, that there was no way, with their placement, Howon could have saved him.

But he did, and now it made sense. So Sungjong was sure Howon wasn’t a bad card. He’d never given Sungjong a reason to not trust him, and from that one instance he knew Howon used his powers to help - he just hoped it wasn’t only for him. He didn’t know what circumstance the rookie kid had tried to fight Howon in, but Sungjong would put money on the presumption that it wasn’t Howon who started the fight.

So, after a moment thought he picked option two. It was safer for them both, and if Howon still asked to be set free when he wasn’t stuck within the card Sungjong simply wouldn’t let go of just yet, then Sungjong would let him go, no matter what repercussions Sungjong would then suffer. “How do I summon him?”

His voice was weak, quiet and feeble, barely holding up against the noise of the busy Busan street at the end of the alleyway. “Just call his card name.”

Even though he was eager to see Howon again it took him a moment to summon him - he was scared that Howon would hate him. That he’d resent him for capturing him, for so pathetically shooting him when he back was turned. It was a coward’s killing and Sungjong could feel the guilt and regret seep into his very bones and stick like glue.

Taking a deep breath he gently set the card down before him, hands coming to rest in tightly clenched fists on his thighs as he breathed softly.

“Shadow Marionette, I summon you.”

And then he watched as his form changed once more.

[ccsungjong-blog]

. talk shit, get fit

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

As he fell back again, Howon swallowed thick – telling himself not to think about it, telling himself to focus on just counting.

“Three – “

Sungjong came up again; but a gasp left the other as he fell back quickly and Howon was left staring after him feeling a weird feeling erupt from his chest – warmth spreading throughout his body. Sungjong stayed down and Howon dropped his hands from Sungjong’s legs and sat back a bit, the palm of his hands bracing themselves on the floor behind him as he re-evaluated his life.

[ccsungjong-blog]

A soft squeak escaped his lips at the tug, dragging him across the mat and closer to Howon, whose hands were on his calves, sending warm tingles shooting up under his skin and distracting him from his current predicament. He was never going to get past five - he could feel it in his weak little bones. So maybe he wasn’t so weak, at least his weapon needed very little strength, his eyesight made up for what he lacked in strength. He weapons utilised his better abilities, which he was very much thankful for, but when it came to sit-ups he wanted to die.

When he started to count Sungjong gave it his all, pushing himself into a sitting position, a deep frown set into his bro. It hurt and his body was shaking already, muscles protesting already at the unnatural movements. Sungjong wasn’t built for this, but he most definitely was not built for being so close to Howon when he sat up - he could feel his breath against his lips.

Head beginning to spin he didn’t know whether he wanted to lie back down and never get back up, or if he never wanted to move away at all. Howon, from up close, seemed both perfect, and imperfect - every little dip and curve of his face was distracting, and Sungjong, in all honesty, wanted to reach out and shove him away, even though he knew he’d fall back.

He held back however, leaning back with a huff, then swinging his arms slightly to get the momentum, holding it as he was sat up, eyes lingering once again on Howon, this time flicking to his lips, plump and terribly tempting.

Sungjong wanted to punch him.

Laying back he felt the burn everywhere, the damp feeling of hair stuck to his forehead, and in that moment he’d never felt more unappealing.

Third time and he was done, falling back with a huff and a soft whine, eyes closing. He felt the warm hands leave his legs and instinctively his brow furrowed, fists curling tight into balls at his sides for a moment - he wanted to go home. This was too hard, and though he’d thought he could handle working out with Howon, even after he realised just why he annoyed him, he still couldn’t keep away - Howon was toxic.

Opening one eye he peered over at Howon. “Now… What?”

[ccsungjong-blog]

. talk shit, get fit

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

He reached out his hand, wiggling his fingers slightly. He didn’t want to reach out and touch Sungjong without his permission again, he wasn’t sure if he would be pushing any boundaries. If there was one thing Howon knew, it was that it wasn’t best to push anything with Sungjong.

Plus, he liked being his friend too much to accidently ruin it by doing something stupid.

“You okay with that?”

[ccsungjong-blog]

So far this exercising thing didn’t seem too bad; his muscles didn’t ache and he didn’t have the overwhelming urge to lie down on the ground and accept death just yet. In all his life Sungjong had never found much concerning physical activity fun, or pleasurable. He’d liked gymnastics during high school, but he’d been beaten up pretty badly when the guys in his class found out. So that interest was very much short lived.

It wasn’t the burning pain he didn’t like, it was the sweating, and the lack of breath, and the feeling of being ridiculed for not being fit enough. He hated the way he could feel eyes on him all the time whenever he was in a gym. It was disconcerting and he hated how everyone could see how awful his stamina was. It felt odd, dressed in sweats and a baggy shirt that would hang so it made him look daintier - which definitely wasn’t what he wanted when in a gym with butch guys ridiculing his thin body.

“I have absolutely zero abdominal muscles, Howon, I will die.” He stated simply, bringing his knees up to his chest as his eyes locked on the hand with it’s wiggling fingers. Unsure as to why, he knew he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Lee Howon - not because he expected him to laugh and tease him about his inability to do anything that required great physical effort, but because the thought of not seeming good enough in Howon’s eyes scared Sungjong.

Over time he’d come to disregard the opinions of others - he knew he was attractive, and that he had talent when it came to designing and had a great passion for fashion, but it seemed, after all these years of nonchalance, Howon had managed to break Sungjong’s resolve to stay uncaring about what others thought of him. Sungjong cared this time. He cared that Howon might think him weak, but on the other hand, Sungjong also wanted Howon to hate him, and he wanted to hate Howon.

He didn’t want to be friends, or maybe he did, he didn’t understand his own feelings - all he knew was that if Howon hated him, felt at least something strong toward Sungjong, that he’d be okay, and he’d not miss having him around. He wanted not to care about what Howon thought of him or how he saw him.

Maybe Sungjong, under it all, knew he felt a little something more than friendship for Lee Howon, but he was fighting it, and didn’t plan on letting the slippery feelings through his fingers - he’d protect, hide and crush the affections. He didn’t feel like having his heart broken by a straight man.

It was, in the end, easier to simply pretend Howon annoyed him, that Sungjong wanted nothing more than to hit he man.

Eventually, however, Sungjong gave in, a heavy sigh leaving his lips, accompanied by a nod of his head, shoulders hunching as he slid himself properly onto the mat and lay on his back, eyes closing for a moment to block out that feeling of being watched, waiting until he felt Howon’s hands on his legs to keep him stable.

[ccsungjong-blog]

culinary escapades.

If Sungjong had any forte’s, it was designing clothes. Most things he found himself mediocre at - he was an average dancer, average singer. He could at least say he was intelligent. But something he’d always been bothered by was his lack of ability in cooking, which was why he was currently trying to search for the couple aprons he owned, but had used maybe once, and misplaced since. Head under his sink as he searched in the very corners of the cupboard he cursed under his breath.

All he wanted to do was invite annoying Nam Woohyun over to teach him how to cook. Sure, Woohyun was annoying, but in a way that Sungjong was able to handle. He wasn’t too loud, or too quiet. Wasn’t too touchy, or too aversive. If anything he was, somewhat, what someone would think of when thinking of a house maid - he was pleasant, but had a slight motherly vibe to him, even at his young age.

It wasn’t something Sungjong minded all that much, and he could cook.

A small meow had him startled, however, banging his head on the underside of the sink with a pained squeak, shuffling back out of the cupboard to stand up, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around for Duchess, who, presumably, had made the noise. There, sat on his kitchen table, was his little kitten, cleaning her paw and watching him as if curious as to what he was doing.

“I’ll be busy in here later, sweetie, so you might want to go and find a nice place to keep out of the way.” His words landed on deaf ears, it seemed, as the kitten simply continued cleaning herself. A heavy sigh left Sungjong’s lips as he turned to return to his search, only to see the end of one of the aprons hanging from another cupboard. Clenching his fists in frustration he made his way over to retrieve them, just as the doorbell buzzed.

@ccwoohyun

[ccsungjong-blog]

. talk shit, get fit

[ccxhowon-blog]

[ ... ]

He sent a grin over towards his tall friend before beginning to show him – First he bent down and touched his toes, hands wrapping around his ankles – “I’m gonna take a guess that you’re already pretty flexible. It’s important to keep that up,” letting out a groan, Howon stood tall and bent his back slighty, before hearing a loud pop and sighing. “Your muscles tense when not in use. It’s important to keep them worked,” he reminded, before going about doing the rest of the stretches. A few mountain climbers, and nearly doing the splits; Howon wasn’t even that flexible yet.

“Now that I’ve shown you what to do, can you copy them? If you need help just ask.”

[ccsungjong-blog]

Sungjong didn’t take kindly to being touched without giving permission, at least that’s what he told himself as his cheeks flushed - it was a frustrated flush, just the anger seeping up into his pores at how annoying Howon was currently being. Sungjong didn’t come here to be insulted and told he had love handles; he was a little soft, sure, but he in no way had love handles. With a grumble he thanked the disappearance of the warm hands, shoving away the slight desire to tug Howon’s hands back. God, he hated that man and his warm hands - Sungjong was just cold and Howon was like a human heater, that was all it was.

It surprised him that Howon remembered that Sungjong was a vegetarian - not many people remembered that about him, but the sight of a protein shake had his nose scrunching like a bunny's, brow furrowed and eyes locked on the beverage suspiciously. He’d never liked the look, or sound, of them, but at least it looked like a milkshake - he liked milkshakes. So tentatively taking the cup, holding it delicately in both hands, it being rather larger than he’d expected, he peered down at the lid with a slight grimace, deciding he’d leave the first sip for a while.

He listened to the rambling Howon was spewing as he hesitantly made his way over to him and the mat. The strange phrasing of ‘catwalk’ had Sungjong chuckling - he’d never heard anyone split up the words literally before, but then Howon was strange, just another reason Sungjong found himself annoyed by him.

Watching Howon stretch turned out to be enough of a reward for dragging his ass out of his house to go through torture. The way his muscles rippled had Sungjong’s eyes locked on his biceps and shoulders, lips parted slightly, losing his focus on everything and almost dropping the unusually heavy drinks cup. The cracking of his back however snapped him out of his reverie, his nose once again scrunching. Everything looked easy enough - Howon was right in thinking Sungjong was flexible.

Setting down the cup he made his way over next to Howon with a heavy sigh and leant down to wrap his hands round his ankles, bringing his face to his knees easily, then slowly lifting himself back up. The strain in his muscles wasn’t even a burn yet, and so maybe he was showing off a little bit, but he’d not be Choi Sungjong if he didn’t. The next stretch was easy enough as well, doing only one on each leg as he sighed - he didn’t even feel the burn yet, so what was the point of this all? The last one he’d not tried in a while - he knew he used to be able to do the splits, but he gave a slight shrug, wondering if he’d still be able to - he hoped so, he really did like showing off.

As expected he slid into full splits and looked up at Howon expectantly as he sat there, legs stretched out to the sides. He could feel a couple gazes lingering on him, but he was somewhat used to that, even if it most definitely bothered him in this environment, where he didn’t have the usual power he retained in a habitat he knew well and had control over.

“Now what?” He shifted after a second, bringing his legs into a criss-cross on the floor, hands clasped in his lap, hoping whoever was looking would stop - he was going to humiliate himself for sure at some point and he didn’t want it being witnessed by too many people.

[ccsungjong-blog]

murder

Murder: I’ll write my character killing yours or vice versa.

tw: (graphic?) murder

Hands trembling he clutched at Jihoon’s wrist, his fingers slippery with his own blood that was now pouring like a crimson waterfall from the wound in his chest, the dagger still sticking out. Eyes wide he stared down at the handle of the blade, wondering why he was only now noticing how pretty the engraved weapon was. 

Numbness seeped through him from the point in his chest where the dagger lay embedded - he couldn’t even remember how they’d got here, but he now knew he wouldn’t be the one walking away from whatever fight they’d been having. 

His palms were clammy, his vision slowly blurring and the sounds around him slowly seeming more and more as if he was underwater, everything muffling and melding together as a chill curled through him and licked at his heart. Trembling where he leant against the wall, he felt his legs giving out, letting him slide to the ground. Blood bubbled past his lips in a spluttered exhale, and he worried that in his last moments he wouldn’t look beautiful.

He’d striven for beauty for so long it felt wrong simply setting it aside and not caring about the blood staining his outfit, or the thick carmine liquid flowing over his chin and down his neck. The pressure on his chest and in his throat made him dizzy, and slowly the darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, shrouding him in the black chill of death. 

[ccsungjong-blog]

Pet

Pet — I’ll write a drabble of my character buying yours a pet. (specify what kind.)

Woohyun was someone who Sungjong at first thoroughly disliked. It was easy to think a boy with a pretty face and too often seen smile would be bad news in anyone’s life. However he was wrong, and Woohyun, though he’d never say this to his face, was someone Sungjong cherished in his life a lot. He was almost the brother figure he’d never had. 

Sungjong was always the big brother, so it was nice having someone somewhat look out for him. 

But Sungjong had seen the little puppies in the window of the pet shop and was physically unable to pass by without stopping to peer in, the little teacup poodle reminding him of the elder boy. 

He didn’t plan at first to walk away from the shop with the puppy in a little carry case, essentials in another bag, he made his way to Woohyun’s apartment, unsure as to where the uncharacteristic gift had really even come from. 

Woohyun had better love the pup, or Sungjong would hit him over the head. 

[ccsungjong-blog]

Holiday

Holiday: I’ll write our characters celebrating a holiday together.

Christmas was possibly Sungjong’s favourite time of the year - the snow creating a thick blanket beneath his feet that crunched with every new step, the fairy lights hung throughout the streets and the hot chocolate carts dotted along almost every road. It was beautiful, and calming, and though Sungjong wouldn’t usually want to spend time with someone else out on the streets, heading for a Christmas market, he couldn’t help but be cheerful - or well, cheerful for Sungjong. 

Keeping close to the shorter, simply for shared warmth, Sungjong pointed to a stall selling hoddeok and hot chocolate, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s get that! C’mon!” 

Sungjong wouldn’t ever admit to grabbing Jimin’s hand in excitement and dragging him along to the stall with a childish smile on his lips, grinning from ear to ear as if the hoddeok was Santa Claus.