DRIVE SAFE

here comes better days. RYU KITAE / 류기태 twenty-five. socialite. seoul, south korea.

[chrkitae]

dare. 😎

1. on his phone, hayoung's contact is saved under haseok's little sister after exchanging numbers with her in high school and genuinely not knowing her name at the time. kitae has never bothered changing it since, even after their arrangement, because he knows it annoys her.

2. when he drove hayoung home after a night out for the first time, kitae was caught leaving her bedroom by her parents and was given an entire lecture around the dangers of premarital sex. in response, he tells them they have nothing to worry about because he's a good catholic who leaves room for jesus and the twelve apostles. (which technically isn't a lie — the first time it happens, he doesn't stay the night. the second, he takes the floor.)

3. curated an entire spotify playlist for her, where the first letter of each song would spell out jin hayoung called the cops when read vertically. it's taking her much longer than anticipated to get the memo, though.

4. kitae would never admit it out loud, at least not yet — but she's one of the biggest drivers behind his decision to give university a second try. he thinks she deserves a lot better than to be stuck with someone with an unsustainable career path for the rest of her life, that she could be with anyone else who could give her a better life. and yet, she's stuck with him simply because of parents who don't know any better. (note: he does it just in case they don't manage to break the engagement off. like there's a reason to hold onto it in the first place.)

5. as of late, he stands by around the gangnam and cheongdam-dong area during late night delivery shifts. if asked, he'd claim that there's better business. a half-truth, because he may or may not also be there to keep watch. just to be safe.

[chrkitae]

chrmimi​:

( ♡ ) closed starter: company building, present day        ⤷ @chrkitae

...

in hindsight, mimi realizes that there is a possibility that someone other than yoon taehee would be delivering her food and glanced over at the personalized message. it’s not as if he chose to deliver to them regularly, it was merely coincidence. but she ultimately decided to push any thought of embarrassment to the back of her mind with a quick roll of her eyes. it’s not that she meant anything by what she said — she simply wanted to thank the worker and pay whatever dues owed for the extra dishes, just as she wrote. mimi did not feel uncharacteristically giddy, nor were her cheeks flushed a faint red. she continued her other tasks for the day, all while keeping a careful eye on her phone as she waited anxiously for a notification message.

when you can’t pay it back, you pay it forward.

two hours into his shift and it’s countdown to lunch rush, the most dreadful and demanding of any delivery run. abundant with prissy office workers and personal assistants writing paragraphs of dietary requirements, jotting down items clearly not on the menu, whom he knew he shouldn’t blame for simply doing their job. the cherry on top is whenever he shows up on their doorstep just a few minutes late, all thanks to peak hour traffic; when he finds himself close to going down on his knees to avoid getting a one-star review? well, he’d be damned the rest of the day. 

as anticipated, a notification lights his phone screen, and kitae smiles. laughs a little at how absurd fate can sometimes be, and how quickly exhaustion leaves his eyes at the mere sight of a familiar name. a gentle tap turns the accept order button green and he proceeds to put his helmet on, pushes up the kickstand with his heel and releases the clutch inch by inch, driving away. 

kitae doesn’t think much of it at first. just like any other delivery, only ever going the extra mile for his own benefit — a free snack on the side courtesy of a vendor, or a pity tip from a charitable customer. it changes when he hands her order for the first time in the company building. questions whether it really is the girl he used to spend his afternoons with in the hannam high library, the girl whose mother kindly offered to be his makeshift family while he’s abroad, bridging the distance between seoul and tokyo a little closer. more stolen conversations between an intern and a good-for-nothing deliveryman slowly convinces him that it should be one shared by two friends: often brief, yet warms the soul.

in passing, he wonders if she’s starting to realise that it’s him too.

“ ahjumma, can i get more of those fishcakes please? ” he cries out to the kitchen, tone sweet and dynamics subtle. “ yeah, it’s her—um, my favourite. keeps me going on busy days. ” there’s a feeble smile he shoots back in response to the shopkeeper’s raised eyebrow, crinkled eyes and nose and all, and thanks her courteously while grabbing the red plastic bags from her hands. with a stolen sharpie he scribbles on the receipt — you’re doing well, mimi-ssi. fighting! — nothing out of the ordinary, a minor gesture that stemmed out of habit for his favourite customer. 

[ 12:11 ]  good afternoon mimi-ssi, this is taehee [ 12:12 ]  i’m really sorry to hear about your orders being mixed up and would like to extend my deepest apologies for my negligence, i can assure you that today’s deliveries will be exactly as requested. [ 12:12 ]  i’ll be arriving soon. see you at the back entrance in 10

the company is filled with the hum of conversations and gusty sighs, heavy footsteps thudding from a distance. someone’s running late to dance practice, someone’s eye make-up is smudged, someone’s complaining about their connection being cut in the midst of a livestream. the air around him turns stale — he’s unsure whether it’s from the prickling heat of a crowded lobby, or the uneasiness that transpires from the note she had left with her order. nerves brushed aside, he picks up his phone and types up another message. 

[ 12:20 ]  hi mimi-ssi, i’m waiting by the entrance now but there’s no rush [ 12:20 ]  let me know when you’re nearby :)

[rosechr]

hello, followers.

things are getting a little dull around here. so, let’s play a good old fashioned game of truth or dare. after all, the only thing more shocking than the truth are the lengths people will dare to go to to cover it up. i’m sure you remember exactly how we play it, but in case you forgot, here are the rules …

xoxo, rose.

Keep reading

[chrkitae]

chrsomin​:

...

light fizzles out four steps before impact, and somin just laughs a little at the other’s misfortune. the timbre of his voice is low, no doubt dyed darker by the cigarette too. “nah, i’m good here,” she says, turns down the offer. it’s late enough that the night has cooled, sea breeze comforting against the crush of heat from the party. somin’s never been too much of an extrovert—sociable, yes, in her wanting to be seen, demanding for presence in a space not meant for her, but at the end of the day she prefers the default state of being alone.

still, she doesn’t stop the stranger from sitting back down next to her, despite that first offer back to the party. backlit by the bonfire, she still can’t quite make out the rest of his face, but she supposes it’s not that important. just a silhouette beside her, stretching out into the sand before she can reply. “there’s a toll, one cigarette,” somin informs him, holding out a hand. she wonders if he can see it in the dark. reaches out until her knuckles find heat pressed against a forearm, and realises how cold she’s become when warmth seeps into her from that contact. “pay up.”

anger doesn’t consume him, even when her laughter echoes into the surrounding emptiness and she leaves him falling flat on the ground, abashed. doesn’t charge on impulse, doesn’t fight back — frankly uncharacteristic of ryu kitae, whose reception to misfortunes often render into acid-soaked words. instead, he wipes the sand away from his palms, followed by his knees, and perches himself beside the stranger. in the peaceful darkness lies solitude divine, her presence warm that it eclipses the flames behind them. 

her appeal incites a smile, and kitae doesn’t hesitate to accommodate them. shifts a little to the side, reaches for the case in his back pocket. “ not an hourly fee, is it? i’m afraid i won’t have enough to last the night, ” he says in jest, but amusement is cut short by the frigid pulse brushing on his bare skin. kitae quivers from the sensation, instinct telling him to move away. he doesn’t, though. uses his free hand to move hers, so that her palm cups against his forearm, letting more heat trickle through. “ you’re cold, ” he comments, as if it isn’t obvious. “ how long have you been down here? ” 

a single roll unveils itself when he flips his cigarette case open, fingers twiddling around the edges to search for more, however chance reminds him to not be selfish and provides him with just enough. “ consider my debt paid. ” holds up the hand that was resting against his skin, barely as cold as it was before, and drops the cigarette onto her palm. “ let me light that for you, ” he offers. a sharp flick ignites a flame from his lighter, hardly comparable to the bonfire behind them, but still as radiant nonetheless. he’s careful in the way he navigates through the darkness, a makeshift flashlight that leads him to painted lips, curving up just slightly along the edges. beautiful, he thinks to himself, watching the flames sketch around a glimpse of a smile as he waits for a cigarette to press against them.

[chrkitae]

it’s the end of the world as we know it ft. @chrbyungho the nam island trekking range, july 2021

when it comes to lee byungho, everything turns into a competition.

perhaps it’s the resentment he still holds from their days in hannam high, where it’s byungho’s name announced as class president instead of his own. the way soccer games would always garner more attendees than swim meets, an ideal setting for university reps to scout their star students.

byungho’s always been kind to him regardless, he recalls. a remarkable level of sportsmanship that could only be held by a saint. maybe there’s irrationality in the way kitae harbours his grudges deep. 

but sincerity meets skepticism when kitae always ends up being the one to sacrifice everything he had within a hand’s reach and most importantly, his pride: spending his high school years settling for second best, living under the shadow of lee byungho.

tonight, they’re sitting by the mouth of a cave, the dead end of a trekking range they had fought heavy downpour to climb up. watching the sun wane down the hidden horizon, then twilight looms and beckons the stars. kitae indulges in the serenity for a moment, thoughts drawing away from whether or not he’d managed to take the upper hand from byungho, and waits for flickers of light to trace the skyline. 

except it doesn’t.

“ holy shit, it’s pitch black down there, ” the younger notices. he’s unable to piece exactly why it’s happening, and it scares him just slightly. but this isn’t a place to show weakness, so he plasters on whatever confidence he could muster to save face. “ fuck, my phone’s dead. ” a downward tug of his lips while fingers continue to fiddle with the buttons, as though it would be any help with resurrecting it. “ wait, you still have yours, right? hand it over, ” he calls, hand reaching out to the other, “ i know the way back. trust me. ”

[chrkitae]

chrhaneul​:

a shoulder to lean on.

— closed starter for @chrkitae​​; present days, at the nam’s private island.

...

But before he can even take the first sip of his drink, he hears a familiar voice, one that he couldn’t mistake even if he was wasted. He looks to the side and spots Kitae in a very strange situation that Haneul has never imagined to see him: beaten up, and with a black eye. He frowns, and stares at the other man in complete awe, taking his time to examine his physical state before he can finally speak, “Kitae? What the fuck happened, you look terrible.”

one punch blows out, now he’s a broken record.

kitae leans close against the bar top, elbow resting on the surface. knuckles rap against the marble top, and for what felt like the millionth time, he pleads. “ yes, i know it’s not on the fucking menu. can i just get some ice, please? it’s literally in the cooler behind you. ” another unamused look shot by the bartender, no stranger to an intoxicated ryu kitae. at least this time, he gets what he asks for.

he wraps the ice cubes inside a napkin and presses it against the discolouration, sore yet self-inflicted. red wine stains cascade over a crisp white shirt, avenging what turned out to be misinformed judgement of a vandalised student council campaign from years ago. kitae wonders if he should stop believing in retribution — an eye for an eye, in which between him and sunan, only he had to pay with. 

a smile breaks through stern features, small and sheepish, at the sound of haneul’s voice. out of politeness, he supposes. he didn’t need to make things worse. “ i ran into a pole. during the blackout. it was, uh, it was really dark. ” the break in his voice makes it difficult to convince even himself, but he hopes the sheer disinterest is enough to move the conversation along.

“ you here with the missus? ” he wonders, a tinge of genuine curiosity, though mostly as a means of distraction. “ never pegged you for a yacht party person. ”

[plasticplums]

chungking express (wong kar-wai, 1994)

[chrkitae]

double shot ft. @chrahreum ​​ a cafe in samcheong-dong, circa 2021

he’s met with familiarity when he steps inside.

the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans wafts through the air, mellow instrumentals setting a warm ambiance while it plays in the background — soft enough that it doesn’t compete with the casual conversations from surrounding patrons. except this time, his eyes aren’t darted towards his phone screen to search for an order number. no cooler bag in hand as he approaches the till, no crinkled eyes and plastic smiles plastered across his features for a free refreshment on the side. 

at first, kitae wonders if the barista is kind to him merely because he’s recognisable. the deception of hospitality, where even the best of liars struggle to read between the lines. another pair of eyes fall on him, follows him when he walks over to where ahreum’s settled herself, a tinge of concern breaking through. then he realises it’s her they’re looking at. a sigh of relief heaves past. the price you pay when you’re out with someone holding as big of an influence as noh ahreum.

“ so, ” he starts, resting the cupholders on the table, “ i may or may not have gone overboard and got almost every tea-based drink on the menu. ” would make for a good video anyway, he reckons. no space is spared when he plops himself onto the bench, an innocent press of flesh against flesh. “ there’s matcha, earl grey, pu-erh... and i think this one’s supposed to be the houjicha latte? i wasn’t really sure what you’d like, ” he continues, eyes briefly trained on her expression before reaching out to arrange the plastic cups in front of the camera. “ would there be backlight if i set up the drinks this way? ”

[jjyubi]

[chrkitae]

chrhayoung​:

cruel summer  devils roll the dice angels roll their eyes and if i bleed, you’ll be the last to know for @chrkitae ​

...

she presses a cigarette against her lips. “you’re not as insufferable as you think you are,” she comments, watching as the grey puffs of smoke billow and curl absentmindedly. her voice is soft, mellow, stripped away of its usual tartness. it unsettles hayoung – there’s a warmth to kitae’s presence that invokes this delicate side of her and it’s disconcerting.

“why are you still here, actually? shouldn’t you be around somewhere getting your ego stroked? there’s only one of me here – don’t think that’ll be enough for you.”

much better.  

he’s always been good at following instructions. some say it’s diligence, others call him groundless. a life lived with no questions asked, the sole justification of because it’s what my parents say is best kept inside his pocket, a simple rationale that often reassures himself more than others. 

he wonders if he’s here tonight solely because of it.

sheepish laughter breaks through the idle atmosphere. “ ah, so jin hayoung’s capable of giving compliments too? what’s the use of looking elsewhere when the show’s already started here? carry on, i’m sure you’ve got more. ” against the soft cadence of her tone, his words are brusque in comparison, persistent to stick to routine. though somehow, it doesn’t feel quite right.

slowly, he removes the cigarette from his mouth and steals a quick glance at her, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “ someone’s got to look out for you, ” kitae utters gently, unprompted and hesitant, before taking another drag. 

the burn is satisfying and familiar, warmth bubbling inside his chest. contrary to the fondness that begins to creep in — anomalous, puzzling, unsettling. he decides to take a step back to safety, a familiar territory. “ heard that dumb instagram account’s made a comeback. you can never be too careful. ” a pathetic excuse, absent of the bite that usually presents itself in his responses. he's sure that it’s not enough to convince her, so he looks away.

[chrkitae]

chrhaseok​:

stay feat. @chrkitae nam’s divorce party, the yacht

...

“you fucking idiot,” the solo cup is tossed aside to give haseok room to dramatically gesture to the small stain on the bottom hem of his pants, “you made me spill my goddamn wine all over myself. what the fuck are you doing standing around a corner? and why the fuck are you even here?” he already knows the answer to the latter question, it’s for hayoung, so god, why the fuck does he always manage to find where he is? 

his arm shaking as he runs a panicked and angered hand through his hair, haseok soon finds both hands shoving kitae backwards. his blood is about to start boiling. “why the fuck are you always so goddamn attached at the hip? are you fucking stalking me now, ryu kitae?” 

tonight, ryu kitae’s a walking shit show.

he presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to wash away the bitter aftertaste of alcohol lingering inside his mouth. there’s a burning sensation that trickles down his throat, pulsating along the sides. all the tequila shots he had downed back in the open bar, a clear recollection of its heavy scent running under his nose. at the back of his skull, a throb of a headache beginning to bloom.

the cooling droplets against his skin wakes him up just slightly, quelling the drowsiness that droops heavily on his eyelids, levelling his thoughts. he’s used to seeing jin haseok through his rose-tinted glasses, in his rose-tinted dreams; not jin haseok with his arm draped around noh ahreum’s shoulder, fondly exchanging smiles and giggles that once were his. the sight alone stirs an uneasiness in him, the implications of it suffocating. there’s only one thing that kitae cements in the forefront of his mind when he steps back into the party — go find hayoung. 

but perhaps, god had other plans when he’s met with her brother instead.

kitae’s nose scrunches at the accusation, a glimpse of a smirk spreading out on his lips. “ two seconds, let me give my sugar mummy a call so she could buy you a new pair... ” he pulls his hand away, reaching out for the phone in his pocket. a retort sits at the tip of his tongue, sharp and scathing, though it ends up being swollen down when he feels the weight of haseok’s hands on his shoulder, pushing him back.

he’s too disoriented to fully comprehend what’s going on, only aware of the flicker of irritation sparking up his veins. but fire shouldn’t be fought with fire, so he retracts. “ jesus, what are you so worked up about? i had to use the bathroom. now if you’ll excuse me... ” kitae lets out a sigh and slowly walks along the corridor, but betrays himself when he stops right by haseok. 

when an opportunity presents itself, he’ll selfishly take it. the very question posed to him a few moments back, now echoed back to the other, “ actually, what are you doing here? gave up on going after my sloppy seconds already? unbelievable. jin haseok’s worked his way through everyone else and now he’s getting desperate. ” he takes a step forward, arms folded. there’s a change in his voice, a hint of confidence that was previously lacking. “ if you were looking for me, you could’ve just said so. ”

[chrkitae]

midnight express ft. @chrsomin​ the bonfire, july 2021

somehow, everything comes with an expiry date.

even those with no explicit mention of one, like the cigarette tucked between his fingers: dry, harsh, stale. left to drown inside the front pocket of his jeans for much too long that it crumbles slowly under the pressure of his fingertips and leaves a barren taste in his mouth, but the pleasure that came with it all remains the same. once burning embers flicker for the last time, he tosses the remains to the ground. 

time’s up.

one smoke is all kitae lets himself, a moment of pure selfishness before he’s coerced into another round of small talk and frozen smiles. footsteps drag along the sand, hands hanging by his sides with no jacket pockets to tuck into, the light drawing closer and closer with each step. there’s uneasiness that rushes through him, though it all dissipates when all of a sudden he finds himself losing his balance, stumbling upon something, but he quickly catches himself on the ground with his hands.

he turns back, eyes narrowed. a silhouette.

“ oh my god, i’m so sorry... are you okay? ” truth be told, kitae wasn’t sure if he was referring to whatever he had just tripped over or why this other person, too, was nestled so far away from the crowd. “ i’m just heading back to the party, if you’d like to come with, ” he gestures towards the bonfire as if it’s not obvious enough, as if it’s not the only strobe of light within their current proximity, as if whoever it is he’s talking to could even discern what he’s doing when his peripheral vision’s almost pitch black. 

then something pulls him back, like a crisp ocean breeze that wisps by, some sort of calling that prompts him to stay. he already situates himself beside the stranger before asking for permission, leaning back onto his arms. “ actually, do you mind? ”

[chrkitae]

chrhayoung​:

...

tonight, they’re together again at some self-gratifying charity event for a foundation her father couldn’t care less about – an idyllic background for the son of a politician to be photographed at. hayoung won’t lie; it’s easy to spot him – boys like kitae are what all the songs are written about. tall, dark and handsome with a lyrical smile; she watches the trail of eyes glued onto him as he makes her way towards her, drink in hand. if it had been in a wildly different place and time (and if kitae wasn’t so… kitae), hayoung wonders how things would be. “thank you,” she responds, uncharacteristically courteous. the civility fades as quickly as it appears, replaced with her most saccharine smile and a sugary tone of voice. “wow, you know me so well! no wonder our parents want us together. quick, babe, what’s my favourite colour?”

there’s a tantalising edge to her words, a goading smile curling up the corners of her lips, as though challenging him to some unspoken duel. “you know your bible verses too? nam kitae, what can you not do? other than graduate med school, of course.”

suffice it to say that the attention he craves is satiated when he feels the pairs of eyes watch his every move, while his own reduces into tunnel vision at the sight of jin hayoung. something deep in his chest begins to pound when he’s greeted by her smile — that goddamn lilt of mischief in her sweet, sweet smile — as if he’s being trapped into her web of control and it’s far too late to turn back. masking his doubt, kitae scoffs at her question, buying himself some time to think. “ has anyone told you that this is a nice colour on you? it really brings out your eyes. ” not exactly the answer she’s looking for, but an answer nonetheless. “ you look beautiful tonight, ” he adds, a glint of truth to his words, just loud enough for those around them to hear.

a chuckle escapes past his lips, almost mocking. “ ryu. ryu kitae, ” he quickly corrects her, swollen in pride that’s often absent from any mention of his family. “ if you’re planning on taking my surname, you should at least remember what it is. ” his tone is teasing, no sign of malice clear in his expression. although, there’s a sour taste that creeps up in the back of his throat at the sudden mention of the four years of medical school that he had failed to commit to, a reminder of his shortcomings, a hefty price to pay for momentary bliss. feeling his lips twitch downwards into a slight frown, he simply responds, “ it wasn’t my calling. ” 

bank accounts hitting overdraft and a fake bachelor’s diploma ( courtesy of his father’s printer ) never posed as a threat, until they became one. the day he’s told about the plans for an arranged marriage, he laughs. it’s one thing to cover for your own family, but another to rope in someone else’s into the narrative and deal with future repercussions. the day he delivers an order to a house party and finds hayoung answering the door, he smiles. a secret in exchange for a secret, which he dangles around while there’s still space for shits and giggles. though with time, he realises that hayoung serves as a reminder that the responsibility he bears is bound to extend past himself, so he begins to question whether some things are worth changing.

but that bridge won’t be crossed until it needs to be, and kitae snaps back to reality as he reminds himself of the responsibility he bears at this very moment — to play pretend.

his free hand reaches out to wrap around hayoung’s torso, pulling himself closer to her. eyes soften as they sneak a glance to ask if this is okay, waiting patiently for a sign of confirmation, fingers ghosting over the curves of her waist in hesitation. his next words are a stark contrast to his actions, comes without much thought, slowly sailing back into routine. “ gosh, aren’t you bored out of your mind, too? do you still have 112 on speed dial, hayoung-ie? maybe that’ll help us get out of here. ” he pauses for a moment, watching her features, “ oh wait... that trick’s not exactly going to work this time around, wouldn’t it? so much for being a veteran at breaking up parties. ”

[chrkitae]

☢ x2

☢ — four eight most recent tweets my muse has made

an avid twitter user, his original handle is @/ryuukii until an unfortunate incident ( that may or may not have involved @chrsab ) occurred. yes, he tried to change it back. no, twitter didn’t let him. he still has to wait for another eight days until he’s allowed to revert the changes.

@catgirlinacoffin69: breaking news... i think i might have found a better coffee chain than ed*ya @catgirlinacoffin69: yes it’s because the barista was cute and he gave me a free drink @catgirlinacoffin69: wait wtf since when was this my handle @catgirlinacoffin69: does anyone know how to change this back?? @catgirlinacoffin69: i contacted the help centre and they literally just laughed at me  @catgirlinacoffin69: ok round two of contacting twitter help centre wish me luck!!!! @catgirlinacoffin69: so... i’m stuck with this handle for 14 days. could be worse ig

[chrkitae]

☎

☎ — the last picture my muse took

multiple selcas of him and @chrahreum (to make sure that he gets their best angles) in front of his father's campaign banner that they stumbled upon during their stroll in samcheong-dong. he posts it to his instagram story the night after, along with the following caption: taking my ex to meet my parents!

[chrkitae]

(don’t) close your eyes ft. @chrsab ​ the shilla hotel carpark, circa 2021

they say third time’s a charm.

showing up on time was never his strong suit, though it’s often with fabricated excuses which he pleads apologetically to warrant his lateness as fashionable. a politician’s son has his duties to tend to, especially at a time as strenuous as the upcoming elections, and the general public seems to have understood that. so it’s easy enough to fool a group of fellow hannam alumni, praying that he’s cleaned enough of the rancid smell of gasoline off his messenger bag. 

things are oftentimes first come, first served for a reason. he diligently goes through the list of volunteer roles for this year’s reunion, almost covered entirely with handwritten names. under logistics he finally spots the only empty space, and at first, he’s content. there’s plenty of hotels and convention venues that he had browsed through for his father’s rallies, and enough catering vendors he had visited on his bike when the stars had shut their eyes.

but it’s too good to be true, so karma appoints him to work with sabrina park.

there’s always an excuse to celebrate something, and the finishing of an academic year is no different. they’ve exchanged their lab coats for blinding accessories, their beakers and test tubes for shot glasses overflown with hard liquor. for it’s clear that those who worked hard, played hard too. ( and the sentiment remains, even for kitae, as he completes his first year of delivery services. whether it’s also worth celebrating is a different story entirely. )

it’s precisely like ryu kitae to be urged through shot after shot, letting the burning sensation trickle down his throat and the liquid courage emerge victorious in taking control of his actions. if asked the following day, he’d shake his head and feign innocence, one denial after another as he blames it all on the alcohol. but he’s sure that there’s a fight he picked tonight, a bone of contention, which led to a spilled drink ( or two ) on a partygoer’s precious designer handbag.

the unfortunate victim? of course, it had to be sabrina park.

there was, however, nothing charming about what happens next. 

there comes a chilling sensation that shivers down his spine when kitae regains consciousness the morning after, the stuffiness of his father’s car exponentiated by the weight of a woman’s head on his shoulder, his fingers interlaced with hers. almost immediately, he sits up straight. pulls his hand away from her grip, no regards to whether or not it would wake her up. kitae’s left to drown in his own confusion when his clouded memory betrays him, even more so when he began to study her features.

it can’t be.

“ jesus, ” he breathes out, breaking the silence, “ i never thought i’d have to be wary of becoming one of your stalking victims. ” perhaps a low blow when he has more important things to worry about, like how the gaps in his recollections between dusk and dawn should be filled. kitae hesitates for a moment, bottom lip caught between teeth. eyes dart downwards towards the floor, purposely avoiding her gaze while he shifts away from her, slowly. “ do you, uh, remember anything from last night? ”

[chrkitae]

☯ ❄

☯ — my muse’s top 5 most used apps

insert name of food delivery app here kakaomap (because he hates naver maps with a burning passion) melon kakaotalk twitter

❄ — three most recent notes my muse has written

barely opens the notes app on his phone, uses it to jot down any restaurants and cafes that has given him any lasting impressions (both good and bad, of course). examples include:

dated 01/07/2021 accept more orders from dal.k*mm mapo-gu!!!! 8/10 gives out free coffee if you flirt enough w the barista

dated 19/05/2021 be extra careful when dealing w the halmeoni at the pojangmacha in jongnju smile enough for her to give u leftover dakkochi but not for her to set you up with her granddaughter

dated 03/04/2021 don't come back to *** unless you want to witness a rat infestation shouldnt this be reported as a health and safety breach