kim myungsoo was a gruesome young man masked behind a deliciously, deviant simper. he chose to be wicked, chose to be enticed in the misfortune of those left in his wake. if not for his charming countenance and impressive intellect [ attraction starts at the outmost layer, you see, cowards never dare to dig their nails beyond the outmost layer ], many would've come to the realization of how rotten myungsoo truly was.
except her. the metal witch that liked reckless thrills, the metal witch that may have stolen his heart in the spell of thirteen months spent intimately together: their bodies sheen with sweat, tangled in linen sheets, sustaining each other's carnal thirsts. these two witches could besiege a kingdom, but never rule together. a relationship between two distinctly bratty creatures proved to be harrowing indeed. and it was his audacity that held myungsoo back from admitting to that unexplained element of attraction, which he'd once felt strongly toward hyuna.. he doubted he'd ever experience that strange 'love' with anyone ever again.
the truth, as myungsoo saw it, was that they were too much alike--the assumption alone enough for myungsoo to throw water onto the flames, let it fizzle out. for if he stayed around hyuna any longer, she was bound to betray him, so he had to first. he had to.
the fire witch never fancied the taste of coffee on his tongue [ he'd cringe at the sourness no matter how much sugar was dumped into his cup ], thus far he found himself in the quaint cafe, recollecting memories of when he and hyuna studied at the table near the window [ rather he observed her studying, twirling locks of her hair ‘round his finger ]. he never reminisced as it was a sign of loss [ emotional weakness ], and so he scolded himself for doing so. myungsoo was not to be deemed weak-minded, or vulnerable. like a serpent he sauntered over to where she sat, awaiting for her to take notice of his ‘grand’ presence.
ah, how he missed seeing sheer disgust painted so vividly across her face. he slipped his hands into his pockets, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. his demeanor remained relaxed, despite the same disgust he harbored for her. if she was to only spare five minutes of her time, then he’d have to make it amusing.. for himself of course. “you.. generous? don’t be so modest now, you’re forgetting that wonderful temper of yours,” he bent over so his face was at her eye level, “seeing as you’re spending your time rummaging through my apartment, i believe it’s you who misses me. couldn’t you do something more.. self-destructive to get over me?--hm?”
such sick humor.. and to think he once made her swoon.