ʙᴜʀɴʙᴀʙʏ—

park chanyeol, firebender, 21 not the real chanyeol!

[es-chanyeol]

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[es-chanyeol]

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[es-chanyeol]

❝ MAKE OUT KIDS ❞ sᴀ ☓ ᴄʏ

Chanyeol was spread out across his mattress, the sheets crumpled up underneath the small of his back uncomfortable, but he decided his best solution for the moment was to ignore it. The light was dimming, shuttered through buckled blinds and scattered in stripes across his bed, warmed his ankles. His pants were slung low on his hips, shirt tossed halfway across the room and his guitar on his lap, half propped up by his chest as he fingered the fret board, plucked a few of the strings with his fingers in a lazy collection of notes that went nowhere, just filtered through the small space of his apartment--faded out just as fast. He repeated the motion, like he might have been throwing together the music for a new song, sloppy though, and halfhearted. When he realized he was getting nowhere fast he leaned over to prop his guitar against the wall, stretched further to grab a small tin on his side table, dropped it next to his thigh to pull out rolling papers, some tobacco. The cigarette he rolled was messy, but it was functional and that was all that mattered. He propped it up between chapped lips and sparked a quick flame to light it, inhaled long and let his head drop back to exhale a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

Chanyeol was debating on whether or not he should actually  find food when there was a heavy knock on his door. His brows furrowed, didn't think he'd invited anyone over, but he rolled out of bed with a grunt anyway--thought about grabbing a shirt for maybe five seconds, decided against it when a knock sounded again. He let out a gruff "fucking coming," fumbled for the handle and flipped the lock before he yanked it open. He was met with a familiar face, long dark hair, her lips pulled in a mischievous expression. "Didn't know you were back in town, Aisha." Chanyeol mumbled out, pressed his forearm to the top of his door frame and leaned his weight against it, took another drag as he gave her a once over. They had history. Nothing spectacular, but Chanyeol would consider them to be friends, close enough that he trusted her. Gaps of time before she was back on the island for vacation and they met up to hang out, drink, maybe fuck. It depended on the day, on the year. "Come on in, then." he decided with a husky laugh, pulled himself away from the doorframe to give her enough room to walk through, waited until she had crossed the threshold before he knocked the door closed with his heel behind her.

"How're. I dunno, things?" he settled on lamely, chuckled to himself and ruffled a hand through her hair, subsequently messed it up as he crossed the room to find his ash tray, flicked embers in against the murky colored glass. He yanked a chair closer - propped it up near the end of his bed for her to sit in, dropped down on the mattress and ran a hand through his hair. "Have you ever heard of this thing called being invited, by the way? I hear it's all the rage." Chanyeol snorted out, equal parts amused and sarcastic as he continued to smoke his way down the cigarette, eyes fixed to her in something curious, a fond sort of nostalgic. 

[es-chanyeol]

❝ THROWDOWN ❞ ʟʜ ☓ ᴄʏ

There was a bonfire raging a few feet away, driftwood piled high on the beach and every so often someone would toss a flame at the warped wood when the it started to dwindle.  It sparked up green, sometimes blue through the orange haze, whenever it licked at salt and bubbled up multicolored and enticing. The sky was heavy and dark, no room for the stars to shine through, but Chanyeol didn't really mind. He didn't go out to stargaze, just for company, maybe a few drinks at the slapdash bonfire party one of his friends had thrown together. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt down to cover his palms, was settled against a rock and watching as a few people made complete asses of themselves, stumbling around drunk and trying to fight over some girl in a short skirt. It had Chanyeol laughing to himself, stretched himself out and felt the thick press at the shift of his weight, money from his pocket digging into his skin.

It wasn't his, not rightfully at least. He'd taken it from some pretty little thing earlier, doe eyes and he looked like he might tumble over if an airbender happened to pick a fight with him. All Chanyeol had seen was an easy target, honestly. He had been feeling bold, it was easy to see he was a tourist, even struck up a conversation--an easy enough diversion as he kept his attention occupied and snuck a hand into his pocket to pinch, well, way too much money. Apparently the kid had been loaded. That was the nice thing about tourists though, never on guard and carrying way too much for their own good, and it was how Chanyeol paid the bills. It maybe wasn't the most productive thing he could be doing with his time, and he'd had a path--he'd had connections, could have made himself into someone decently important, could have made himself into something in the military. He was smart enough, but he didn't have the drive. Not for that at least, his father had put a bitter taste in his mouth at the prospect of it all and Chanyeol was too hot headed to just push himself through the motions like a good son, like a drone.

Chanyeol was contemplating pushing himself up in search of another drink, or maybe finding some hot chick to talk into going home with him, instead he rocked up to his feet and came face to face with pretty boy and well, that hadn't been exactly part of the plan. He played innocent anyway. "Oh, hey. What brings you around here?" he asked him, an easy drawl - slouched in place though was gauging the others reaction, wondered if he could make a break for it. The kid didn't really look like he would be much of a threat, Chanyeol was mostly concerned on actually landing his ass in trouble. "There's, uh, booze. That way." he nodded towards the fire, played like he definitely wasn't the one who'd lifted a shit ton of money off of him. 

[fyexo]

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