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@litheelixir
#LITHEELIXIR. independent and selective multi muse writing blog . strictly 21+ only , minors do not interact . a peek through my guidelines down below is a must before interaction . ෆ ─ the muses , wanted , opens .
enchanted by fawn , twenty9 , she/her .
"oh no," it slips from her lips before she's realized in a soft whisper, her hands immediately clasping over her chest. rhegan has a tendency to not think things through completely, typically ending up in a situation like this. "i hate i've done this," she mutters as yumi's eyes shift away from her, a deep frown on her features. all she wants to do is reach out for her. "please, let me make things better."
yumi swallows hard . “ you can't ” it's not cruel . if anything , it's unbearably small . her fingers curl against the fabric of her sleeves . eyes remain fixed firmly on the ground between them . anywhere but rhegan . “ i don't think you can make this better right now ” the words sting even coming out of her own mouth . because she wants rhegan to prove her wrong . wants her to say the exact thing that'll magically fix everything . but life doesn't always work that way . people don't always work that way . a shaky breath slips past her lips . “ and i think that's what hurts ” finally , she chances a glance upward . just one . her expression crumples almost immediately . " because i know you're sorry . "
minho nam is quite good at pretense. it's the price of business, yohan would guess, but he's masterful. layers topics the way one does their perfumes, a careful guidance and mixology. there was once a time when yohan could press his thumb into just the right space and watch it all unravel. knew top notes for what they were and recognized untouched odors all the same. it's been years since he could take minho at his word, half as long since he could look at him once and know the person standing in front of him.
it's hard to tell, is what he means — if this is pretense or minho or the next convex sequitur.
he sits with the instruction for a few seconds. lets his eyes soak in the image of minho sitting before him, his suit of armor unbuttoned enough to wrinkle against his chest. he looks tired here, every bit his own age. the lines on his face announce themselves despite his makeup and fine tuning, and he just looks ... tired. like the twenty - year - old who would drop facedown onto his bed after midterms, eyes damp with migraines and tongue lazy with confidence. failure had never been a reality ; he hadn't even entertained it as a joke. he'd only ever won, and his body dragged with the weight of it.
it's rare to see minho unbuttoned. authentic. he can be tired or humanly, but never both. one is a pretense, and yohan's throat seizes around the question of which.
❛ she'll be my first call, ❜ he hums, a veiled promise. ❛ next time. you ... ❜ stops himself, trailing off quietly. there's no demand he can make of the mayor. their histories and prehistories aside, who they are now is a product of the image they publish. he cannot demand anything from the man who powers the town. but the tired bones sagging into his chair with clothing slipping down his arms — he is something altogether more tangible. ❛ don't have to take the trip here to make sure i'm not dead. elif can always call the front desk. ❜ never says : you don't have to come. but i hope you do. he's long past the age of wishing on stars, after all. he saves his confessions for caleb, his prayers for the altar, and his childish wishes for his next fitful sleep.
yohan acts out of kindness . nothing else . and minho knows where it stems from . not simple generosity , nor some innate softness people mistake for virtue . faith - unyielding and all consuming . the kind that asks for sacrifice before comfort , mercy before desire . yohan carries it the way a candle carries flame - steadily , even as it burns itself away . he had spent years trying to understand it , standing close enough to feel its warmth without ever quite sharing in it . as difficult as it is to see beneath everything obscuring it , there has never been a deed done , nor a word spoken , that wasn't offered up in service of what he believes to be the greater good . minho cannot fault the conviction . only knows it has never belonged to him in quite the same way . wishes , desperately , that it didn't leave him feeling so hollow . that it didn't sting to know the same gentleness had always belonged to everyone who needed it , never to him . it is a selfish thought and therefore one he buries immediately . still , the ache remains . for one fleeting , humiliating second , he imagines arguing . not with words - he abandoned that particular indulgence years ago . but with every selfish thing buried beneath a lifetime of discipline . don't have to ? as though that had ever been the point . as though minho had crossed cities to confirm a pulse and nothing more . as though a phone call from a front desk clerk could stand in for seeing him with his own eyes . as though concern could be delegated , neatly handed off to someone else and considered settled . the protest rises before he can stop it . latches onto the question he never asks . . . who , exactly , is supposed to make sure yohan is alive ? taking care of himself , eating , sleeping . the thought surfaces unbidden , carrying with it the memory of a lifetime spent arriving first and sorting out the consequences afterward . even now , despite everything that has changed between them , there are some instincts he has never managed to unlearn . some concerns that refuse to become anyone else's responsibility . it rises . and dies just as quickly . “ elif will be thrilled to know she's first priority . especially if it's actually you calling and not one of your front desk staff ” he comes to stand , practiced ease already pulling robes of fabric back into place . “ just between the two of us , i think she loathes them . just this morning she said them to be the sole reason for her stress related hair loss ” nimble fingers correct the tie , correct the collar , correct the hair . “ she , of course , said it with much more cuss words that i am doing you a favor of leaving out . i will send your staff a gift basket as an overdue apology ” knowing full well the woman had spat those exact words , if not worse , into their direction , first and foremost . “ i trust this matter is closed then ? ” the ache follows immediately , he bears it . “ i've kept you for long enough and i'd like to pretend you're actually trying to rest after i'm gone ” pushes the chair back into it's old place . removing proof he had been here at all , piece by piece .
yohan knew a cornered animal when he saw one. he's felt teeth snap at him and take away skin, leaving him a little less of the person he used to be. it was maybe why he's unrecognizable unto himself now : too many feral things clawing at him, too selfish to back out of their way. when he stared at the wounded animal struggling in front of him, his skin already sang with blood loss, like preemptive grief. there were causes he didn't need to martyr himself for — this boy was undoubtedly one of them.
he didn't back out of the alley. he didn't put an extra step of space between them. he'd ruined himself for less heart - wrenching sights.
❛ i won't touch you if you don't want me to, ❜ he agreed, crouching down in front of the boy. wince cut through his teeth ; he was too old to treat his knees so callously. he'd feel it in the morning, and he'd hear it from suri right after, he was sure. ❛ but i can't very well let you bleed out here, either. ❜ when his eyes slipped down the other's form, he let it be obvious ; let it be a traceable, patterned thing that reveals all there is to be known about it. analyzing, considering. it was obvious enough that he'd been beaten, but from a distance, yohan didn't stand a chance of knowing if it was worse than that.
picked his eyes up again. obvious. kept his shoulders relaxed, pulled inward, so he was as little of a threat as possible to the trapped gutter pest in front of him. ❛ i'm yohan, ❜ he offered. ❛ a surgeon. if you tell me what happened to you, i can tell you how not to die from it. ❜ the ' probably ' went unstated, for obvious reasons. if the boy's death couldn't be subverted, then he wouldn't open himself to yohan's advice anyway.
the laugh that left junho's throat wasn't actually a laugh at all . it scraped out raw , caught somewhere between a cough and a growl . a surgeon . of all the people that could've turned into this alley , it had to be a surgeon . his head tipped back against the brick behind him . the wall was grounding . he focused on that instead of the way his side throbbed with every breath , instead of the dizziness pulling at the edges of his vision like greedy hands . dark eyes tried their hardest to track yohan's movements with open suspicion . could sense the man crouched . made himself smaller , softer . and junho hated him for it immediately . hated the careful way he folded himself down , hated the patience in his voice , hated that after being kicked into the dirt often enough some pathetic , starving part of him still yearned the indifference between a boot and an open hand . the realization burned hotter than the pain . anger flashed white hot through him - blinding , ugly . fingers tightened against the fabric stretched over his ribs , bunching the material there to conceal one of the deeper wounds carved into his side . it was a pointless effort - instinct kept dragging his hand back to it anyway , protective and unconscious . the pressure barely helped . warmth still seeped stubbornly between them . junho's eyes drifted somewhere over yohan's shoulder instead of meeting his gaze . the alley swam in and out of focus , edges blurring together beneath the pulse pounding behind his eyes . every time he tried to settle on the man's face , it seemed to split apart into indistinct shapes and shadows . blood loss , concussion . whatever it was , it made concentrating feel like trying to hold water in his hands . “ wrong place , wrong people , bad night ” each answer skirted around the question without touching it . like every detail he surrendered might become a weapon the moment he stopped paying attention . he waited for the disbelief . for the accusation. for the moment the stranger decided junho wasn't worth the trouble after all . people always wanted something before they helped . the trick was figuring out what before they took it .
there's always an element of physical revulsion when sasi is involved — heat that spreads through and drums against their belly, a ferocious clawing in their veins. it emphasizes itself when sasi plays this game of touching but not touching. teasing the line of being insufferable without blatantly crossing it. suri wonders if she finds herself cute. ❛ jihoon doesn't have a freak cave. we'd all hear about it if he did. ❜ truly does find it admirable that he never hides the depths of his affections, as ... perilous as they tend to be. they only withdraw their hand when she snags the wine bottle, folding their arms over the counter and leaning their weight against clothed elbows. ❛ careful now. someone might have mistook that as you actually complimenting me just then. and how would you recover from such flagrant mischaracterization ? ❜
“ aw , honey , don't do this to me ” sasi's hand flies to her chest as if they genuinely wounded her , eyes wide with theatrical distress . “ do you know how hard i've worked to cultivate a reputation for being difficult ? years . actual years . and you're trying to unravel all of it over one little moment of generosity ” laugh spills out soft as cream , warm enough to feel sincere . the sort that has sold out venues and convinced strangers they know her . “ please , if i were complimenting you , you'd know . i'd have to schedule a public announcement . print flyers . maybe hire a skywriter ” a delicate shrug lifts one shoulder . “ i merely said something that happened to be true . if that feels suspiciously close to praise , maybe that's your conscience trying to tell you something ” clicks her tongue , shaking her head . “ while i do think it's sweet that you're so eager , try not to get used to it , i'd hate for you to start expecting things from me ” a moment passes , washes over them both in , as sasi faintly notices , silence that isn't as uncomfortable as she wishes it to be . “ why are you here by yourself , anyways ? ” no bark , no bite . a question , neatly wrapped in ribbons - hand delivered and solely accompanied by a pair of pursed lips . “ where's yohan ? ” because sasi knows . knows that , usually , the pair was found together . it made far less sense for suri to show up , though prompted through sasi , by themselves . not that she was complaining , neither would she openly admit to such , but she also wasn't complaining . which should stand for itself more than anyhting else . plus , if one of the members were able to read minds , it surely would come down to suri . “ hey , tell me what i'm thinking right now ” because why have an inner thought , when sasi could drag the other into it , as well .
for all of it's glamour, the room in front of them was nothing more than a battlefield, one bora had known her entire life how to navigate. twisting and turning until it was her at the top — until she thought power would give her everything she wanted. except being rich and powerful was nothing to these people. in there, she wasn't a mother, she wasn't a wife, she was nothing more than the girl who'd always tried sitting at the boys table. she does fix his tie — albeit slowly, glancing in dismay at his attempt at a smile. "no. but it'll do. maybe some teeth will help." it's fake, all of it is fake — and she has nothing else she can do but play along. smile of her own is forced, cheeks blossoming but eyes never crinkling. she smooths out his lapels before letting her arms fall to her side. she picks a spot other than his eyes to look — forehead, nose. never his lips. even knowledge of reality couldn't stop unneeded thoughts. best to avoid them, avoid, avoid, avoid. his hand burns against her waist, she's sure she'll feel the ghost of it long after the night is over. “i need a drink.”
jun huffs out something that might've been a laugh on another night , the sound dying somewhere behind his teeth . his gaze follows her's when she pointedly avoids his eyes and for a moment he considers calling her on it . instead , he reaches up and straightens the tie she'd already fixed , giving himself something to do with his hands . “ one drink “ singular eyebrow raised , an empty warning more or less . ” maybe two if you're planning on being charming tonight ” the jab is automatic , familiar . easier than acknowledging the tension curling between them . " after that , you're on your own . contrary to popular belief , i'm not paid enough to compensate for your personality " for a dangerous second , he becomes acutely aware of how easily she fits beneath his palm , of the heat of her through layers of expensive fabric , of every thought he's spent months teaching himself not to have . he shoves them down with practiced brutality and guides her toward the nearest bar with all the enthusiasm of a man heading toward his own execution . " c'mon , let's get us moving before one of these vultures decides we're approachable . ”
only lifts his head to award the other with a lifted middle finger ⸺ an audacious action only pulled because of the late hour and how it's worn at their flesh. the layers they've sewn around themselves in an effort to keep things uptight and orderly have loosened, stitches popped from the strain of hours spent bent over bodies of paperwork and mountains of blood bags. they're peeled back to a few layers shy of human beings : uncouth, carnal things.
regardless : he knows he's old. knows that his skin creases and folds around the needless cut of his insatiable humanness. his grief, his catholicism, the wrinkled sheets of the bed where they lie together and go ignored in tandem. he doesn't have the beauticians that minho has, the careful hands that pluck his brows and gloss his lips for every public appearance. lacks the media training and the unbiased charm. yohan hasn't been pretty in a long time, but he's as much minho's now as he was back then. one takes priority over the other.
brows lift, lightly, briefly, at the switch of topics. first emotion to leak through is pride ⸺ kimiyo's handwork is never anything less than efficient, beautiful in its gruesome artistry. how he's made a craft of something he doesn't even consider his skillset is a tedious mystery, one that yohan doesn't care to unravel. expends more energy to ensuring he never ends up the subject of kimiyo's art.
occurs to him seconds later that he maybe shouldn't be proud. ❛ is minsu alright ? ❜ is the first question he offers. figures minho would mention it if he weren't, but. still. ❛ how many men did he lose ? ❜ follow - up question : how many deaths were our fault ? calls himself wise to not ask outright.
three dead , seven injured - the words linger long after they've left his mouth , settling heavily between them . minho exhales through his nose , slow and controlled , though the effort behind it feels unusually studious . “ he's alright . a few cuts . his bruised ego is what he struggles with the most , though ” the urge to wash his hands suddenly crawling up his veins . his fingers flex once at his side before he curls them loosely into his palm . water . . . soap . clean hands , clean slate . a ritual more than anything else , as though enough scrubbing might somehow remove the lingering residue of a gnawing consciousness . his jaw tightens . loosens . tightens again . concern has never sat comfortably in his mouth . he's spent years learning how to ask about injuries , operations , reports , casualties . things with answers . things with solutions . people are easier when they're a problem to solve . yohan has never been easy. when he looks up again and finally meets the other's gaze , something shifts . his coat slips from one shoulder without warning , expensive fabric sliding loose as though some invisible tension has finally given way . the movement is small , almost imperceptible but for a fleeting moment he feels strangely exposed beneath that look , stripped of more than he intends . the sight feels strangely fitting - the carefully tailored armor he's worn for years slipping . the mayor , the politician . the man who always knows what to say and how to say it . all of it cascading by degrees until only minho nam remains . just minho. the overly ambitious university student who once survived on bad coffee and impossible deadlines . the man yohan met long before titles and responsibilities settled onto his shoulders . the man yohan stitched back together in a hundred different ways long before he ever became a surgeon . a sigh leaves him . for once , he stops moving . stops finding things to straighten , things to fix , things to occupy his hands . instead , he finally crosses the distance and lowers himself into the chair opposite yohan . his coat slips fully from his shoulders as he sits , dark fabric gathering around him in tired folds . makes no effort to pull it back into place . his head tips against the back of the chair and for a moment he closes his eyes . “ when you didn't answer your calls ” voice catches on the words before they can fully settle . few loose strands of hair now fallen forward into his eyes , the careful perfection of his usual appearance quietly undone . “ just make sure you inform elif about your absence next time ” the words attempt firmness and fail . because beneath them lingers something else . something needy . something hopeless . something that sounds far too much like fear .
portions off only a fragment of thought towards the correction. bears thought towards how much minsu knows about that truth. about the shadow of death that nipped at kimiyo's heels so long, he had no choice but to adapt, right down to the durability of an exoskeleton. nothing easily removed ; nothing that comes without consequence anymore. it's a gross analogy, but even that is fitting. minsu wouldn't find him interesting if he were palatable. attention takes a quick pivot — it's all for the best. as minsu delivers succinct exposition, kimiyo's head turned over his shoulder, running a short gaze over each stack of paper. sweeps through odd facts tucked away into the infrequently visited corners of his mind, volumes, measures — takes a rough guess at how many pages sit in each stack, throwing out a few to account for the presence of staples, wrinkles, paperclips. he'd always been good at those games : guess how many gum balls are in this jar ! always an easy victory, if not an exact estimate. a skill only worth anything if your business was sordid and drenched in red. he returns his gaze to minsu, brows lifting at the mention of some of his own being guilty. ❛ the situations you find yourself in the middle of, ❜ he remarks, halfway to a joke but a few miles short of commiseration. kimiyo worked alone for this precise reason — undocumented affiliations aside. he's never liked cleaning up after anyone but himself. doesn't so much as blink at the question aimed towards him, but has to admire the tact. appreciation and amusement express themselves in his chest, there to stay and die. minsu really is soft for him if he's padding his blows. ❛ i heard yohan had gotten stuck on shift, ❜ he recalls. he's not minho, but there's little he doesn't remain apprised of. mostly because of minho. ❛ i saw the news about the pile - up ... didn't realize it'd fallen into your lap. ❜ corrects the tilt of his head to lift brows at the other. ❛ part b to that question is awfully loud, oh. are you asking a question or prompting a confession ? ❜
the suspicion earns nothing more than the faintest adjustment somewhere behind his eyes - a microscopic recalibration , a tectonic shift disguised as stillness . duly noted . filed away with all the other things that might become relevant later . “ comes with the territory “ unhurried . the conversational equivalent of a lock sliding into place . ” yours included , i'd imagine “ the thing that interests him is the particular texture of i didn't realize it'd fallen into your lap . the craftsmanship of it , the meticulous architecture of innocence - it occupies space , it carries mass . a pressure system settles across the room , invisible yet undeniable . the sort of silence minsu constructs with deliberate care , the way others construct arguments or fortifications . every second left undisturbed becomes another layer of weight . eventually , he sets his pen down . ” three dead “ the delivery possesses all the emotional variance of careful nonchalance . ” the kind of number that attracts scrutiny before anyone has the opportunity to manage it . my people did what they could with the timeline , with the narrative , with the optics . . . “ a fractional inclination of his head . the closest thing to acknowledging catastrophe without granting it the dignity of the word . ” but a pile up of that magnitude doesn't disappear cleanly . it leaves signatures . it leaves paperwork . it leaves auditors and journalists and very nervous people asking very expensive questions . it leaves yohan pulling double shifts and minho on my ass about it “ and elif yelling his ear off for making her break her ‘ no overtime ’ rule . overall a situation utterly unsatisfactory . a beat , a breath settled into a heavy sigh . ” but what i find myself returning to the most . . ." his voice remains exactly what it has always been , level . “ is the truck . the driver , the exact stretch of road . at that exact hour. the statistical improbability of coincidence stacked neatly atop the statistical improbability of timing . the fact that whoever orchestrated it knew my route well enough to execute with precision . and the fact that the threat was neutralized before my security detail had even finished identifying it as a threat “ dark hues find kimiyo once more , intent now . the deceptive calm of deep water concealing catastrophic depth . hook , line - ” my men are exceptionally good at their jobs . which is precisely why i notice when something has already been handled before they've been given the opportunity to handle it themselves . "
junho's recoil doesn't even strike as insulting — his chest is already swelling, rib cracking around his laughter. ❛ i can cop to one of 'em, but both is a bit much, don't you think ? ❜ there's certainly something wrong with him ; he's always been too easily swayed, given over to intoxication of a fluttering heart and dauntless devotion. he's uttered every ' i love you ' and suffered every ' it'll pass ' like clockwork, like routine, like love itself. the drumbeat that precedes the kick. he's used to that, has trained his tongue to joke that he's been thrown out of better places. but then he meets eyes like junho's that tell all before they conceal, that reluctantly contradict every word of banishment — eyes that soften before he reaches a hand and cushions his fall. the same hand lands atop his head and leaves him warm, hot, and warm again, and he just peers back at junho with such dreadful need and inescapable want. something wrong with him, indeed. ❛ i've never had a wet cough in my life, ❜ he boasts. he's darkened yohan's door for one or two reasons, but that's not one of them. he opens his mouth and strongly considers carrying on with the joke, but he's not blind to the limits of junho's patience. he has been kicked out before, after all. ❛ and i've been told that i'm really good at sitting around and looking pretty. i'll even bark for you again, if you want. meowing optional. i'm joking ! ❜ he hurriedly clarifies, reaching up to take junho's hand between his before he can be swatted or thrown out. if he's snickering a little while he does, he has no choice but to blame it on how fun junho's reactions are.
junho snorts before he can help it , sharp and disbelieving , the sound dragged out of him by sheer fucking debilitation with this man . “ yeah , i noticed . you’ve got a real talent for running your mouth without dying from it ” and maybe he should stop touching him . maybe that’s the smarter thing here . every time he gives in - a hand on his head , letting him lean too close . . . it feels like rewarding bad behavior . encouraging it, encouraging him . “ what if i actually said yes one day ? ” the threat lands crooked , dulled at the edges by the fact that the idiot grabs his hand before junho can shove him off properly and junho freezes for half a second too long . annoyance flashes across his face on instinct , quick and sharp . “ you’re so damn clingy ” says it like an accusation , like it isn’t his own fingers refusing to pull free right away . and that’s exactly the problem , really , because junho still has to go back to work in a few minutes , still has people expecting competence from him , while jihoon apparently gets to sit here freeloading off oxygen and junho's precious spare time . “ i have to get back to work , by the way . some of us actually contribute to society , you know . try to be less . . . you for a moment , yeah ? ” intent meets obnoxious amusement . “ and by that i mean , if you even so much as breathe wrong into my direction , i will grab you by the throat and throw you out myself ” which would certainly serve as a dimming light in regards of his public image - the kind , gentle and , most of all , caring grief counsellor . . . junho mercer . known for nothing if not for his generosity and perfectly placed sympathy . a man of honor , a man of his word . everything he truly , deeply and sincerely isn't .
he wants so badly to interrogate him about the date he brought. he wants to badger him with questions about why, where tad found them, if he actually likes them, if he was purposefully trying to piss him off. knowing tad, it probably was. and if it was, it was working. getting sulky over such a menial inconvenience at a work event was beneath him; seething quietly, simmering his animosity at low heat all damn night, while putting on a good face for the sake of his colleagues was more in line with how he operated. but it was hard to keep that strangle hold on the thin string his sanity was swinging from when the other seemed intent on watching him erupt like mount vesuvius. found a sick pleasure in it. don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact, don't ma —— but brown hues suddenly snap upwards, radish mid - stab, as if he's just heard something horrifying. " ... you made sure of that, " he repeats, jaw clenching and then releasing before he can continue on with as much of a level tone as he can muster. " good for you. and for them. so why are you standing here talking to me and ruining the hors d'oeuvres? " how symbolic. how emblematic. has to physically tear his gaze away, back to those stupid vegetables he hates. " i didn't sound miserable? really? " deadpans, very carefully placing the serving fork back in its proper place ( before he winds up using it as a weapon ). " what did i sound like, then? "
he shouldn’t be enjoying this . that’s the thought that tries - and fails , to take shape somewhere behind tad’s ribs . it arrives mostly half hearted , already late , already irrelevant . because reed’s doing that thing again . . . the careful control , the restrained irritation , the very deliberate way he refuses to look at him as if looking might count as losing . it’s almost impressive , if tad were the kind of person who handed out praise instead of problems . instead , he finds himself staggering - just for a second. a single , crystalline second . sharp enough to cut , delicate enough to deny it ever drew blood . and isn’t that the worst part of it , that something so small could still land so precisely . feels it happen before he admits it to himself - that infinitesimal shift in reed’s presence , like he has always been calibrated to sit just at the edge of tad’s awareness , engineered to be exactly inconvenient in ways that should’ve stopped mattering by now . and yet here he is . standing there like he’s got every right to occupy tad’s peripheral vision , like he didn’t walk in and immediately start rearranging the air in the room without even trying . he should pull out of it , should let it rest and give the other some space . yet , old habits and all that . “ oh , you want to revisit that ? because i’d be happy to ” leans in just enough to be invasive about it , shoulder nearly brushing his . knows that proximity makes this entire thing only so much harder . he watches the tension gather in reed’s jaw like he’s admiring craftsmanship . “ breathless , mostly . like you were trying so very hard to remember why we shouldn’t be doing that while simultaneously failing at it ” a faint hum follows - thoughtful , indulgent . “ kept making these tiny little noises every time i touched you , too . not exactly the soundtrack of a miserable man , reed . so forgive me if i’m having trouble reconciling this whole wounded martyr act with the man who could barely get through a sentence without pulling me back into his lap ” his mouth twitches upward . “ you were downright affectionate . i almost got concerned ” then , because he’s incapable of mercy . . . “ if this is your version of regret , though , i have to say , i’m a huge fan . ”
wordlessly, she steps aside to let cipher into the apartment as she rambles. despite the dilapidated neighborhood her building sits in, her apartment is well - kept, nearly to the point of being opulent in comparison. her furniture is pristine, as if it's come fresh out the packaging and hasn't been touched since. it's belied, sort of, by the faint layer of dust sitting across her coffee table — furniture isn't necessarily fresh, so much as it is neglected. evidence of her night job sits tucked away, locked in drawers out of sight and now in cipher's mind. blank eyes fall onto the memory display, taking it in from an impersonal distance. after a moment, she tracks her gaze over to her company, cataloguing the expressions behind her words. ❛ what did you take ? ❜ she asks, though she doesn't truly expect an answer. it was the price of cipher's help : an extraction of memory at cipher's discretion. not a deal she'd take from anyone else, but cipher's business is just as illicit as her own. she's hardly in any position to call the authorities over arabella's business.
she drops into the chair like she owns stock in the place , one leg folding up beneath them immediately , all bright eyed curiosity and restless energy . the kind of person who walks into a room and somehow makes it feel like the room is being inspected instead of the other way around . gaze ricochets everywhere at once . shelves , curtains , corners , the lamp , the painting cipher had been eyeing every since stepping foot inside . the suspicious little crack in the ceiling no one else probably notices . “ you have excellent furniture . like . . . genuinely excellent . this chair ? ” she pats the armrest affectionately , scandalized . “ this chair has seen things ” one finger glides along the wood . checks the fingertip . holds it up for arabella to see with the gravity of a forensic investigator . “ dusty , though ” their attention’s already skipped onward before the words fully land , bouncing around the room with sunbeam chaos until suddenly - “ something small ” the answer arrives late and cheerful , like she’s only just remembered they were having a conversation at all . she digs through the inside of her jacket with theatrical seriousness before producing a tiny sealed capsule pinched between two fingers . show and tell . it glints under the light with her grin widening . “ teeny tiny , adorable , honestly . barely even counts as anything ” considers . “ you probably won’t notice at breakfast ” tilt of her head . “ lunch is still looking optimistic ” another tiny tilt . “ dinner . . . could get exciting ” beneath all that fizzing warmth and airy playfulness , something else settles quietly into place behind their eyes - something ancient and patient and catastrophically self assured . the stillness of deep water right before something enormous moves underneath it . “ we should play guess , see if you figure it out yourself . ”
❛ i won't judge you if you just say you're worried. ❜ coming from the mouth of someone who absolutely will, by the way. closes the distance between the two of them and leans down to press his lips to her cheek with an exaggerated smack. then he drops into the seat beside her, crossing one leg over the other and settling in for his favorite time of day : tea time. ❛ if you must know, though, i was actually having drinks with judge dou — who, remember, is presiding over that murder trial since judge huth got caught in that whole embezzling scandal. terrible luck, truly, ❜ he hums, as if he was nothing more than a bystander to said scandal. ❛ anyway, we were having drinks, because you know i love a free drink from a silver fox, and he had a few too many, and he just starts telling me about the case. the embezzlement one, not the murder one, you know i couldn't care less about that. anyway, he tells me that huth went to trial the other morning and started saying that she only got into the embezzlement thing after having drinks with the senator, who, mind you, has been flirting with minho since the stone ages ( coincidentally, the era in which they were both born ). and, listen, she and the senator are both. married. so dou is like, okay, are you both cheating on your spouses then ? which, duh, we already knew that. so now, on top of huth being under fire for embezzlement, they're also looking to investigate the senator and everyone that he's connected to to see who else is in on this plot. you know i'm all for illegal polyamory, like go off, but god if i didn't have to spend, like, half an hour convincing this drunk man that minho doesn't even like senator cho, let alone commit crime with him, then i had to get him to focus on me just so he'd drop it. yuck. fucking that man felt like a hate crime onto myself, but you know i'd do anything for minho. ❜ he scoffs, aggrieved, and rolls his eyes. ❛ oh, also, heard it from the grapevine that minsu's guys might've fucked us over. so, you know. it's wednesday. ❜
“ oh , my god ” the words leave her in a breathy little laugh , somewhere between genuine disbelief and delighted horror , like he's just handed her the world's messiest tabloid headline instead of real information that could very realistically ruin multiple lives . “ okay , wait . hold on . because this story had , like , seven separate crimes in it and i need to organize them chronologically before i can react properly ” lifts a hand immediately when he opens his mouth again , silencing him before he can interrupt . “ no , no , don't talk . i'm building a flowchart ” one finger lifts . “ judge huth steals money , nothing new ” second finger . “ senator cho continues his lifelong commitment to being a public health hazard ” third . “ judge dou gets drunk enough to start violating at least twelve ethical codes over cocktails ” fourth . “ and then you - rather than simply saying ' wow , that's crazy ‘ like a normal civilian , decide the most efficient way to protect minho is apparently psychological warfare via sex appeal ” blinks once . perhaps a different explanation produces out of thin air somehow . she shifts closer into the couch cushions , angling herself toward him fully , chin propped lazily against her hand as she studies him with unconcealed amusement . “ though i am obsessed with the mental image of you sitting there across from this greasy fuck while he's drunkenly unraveling state corruption scandals and you're just internally going , ‘ great , now i have to fuck him for the public good ’ honestly ? so courageous . patriotism comes in many forms . thank you for your service “ presses a hand dramatically to her chest after saying it , solemn for all of three seconds before the composure cracks entirely and another laugh spills out of her . ” did you at least get a good drink out of it ? if i'm going to support your descent into espionage prostitution , i need to know there was top shelf alcohol involved . otherwise my bartender heart might shatter “ then , softer - though no less teasing . . . she reaches over and smooths back a piece of his hair that had fallen out of place during his rant . nimble fingers making sure to leave his state marvelous as ever . ” poor baby . protecting us all through the power of emotional manipulation and civic duty dick . the burden you carry . minho better buy you something insane as a thank you . like a handgun or a seven thousand dollar coat . something deeply impractical but emotionally loaded “ but the amusement finally falters a little at the mention of minsu . not completely , though her expression pinches with exasperation as she drops back against the couch . ” god , that part i hate . because senator cho scandals are survivable . rich old men cheating on their spouses and committing white collar crime barely even counts as news anymore . but minsu's idiots operate entirely on impulse and bad cocaine . every time they touch something , it turns into an emergency “ probably also why every text , every call , in yohan's direction was met unanswered . “ that pile up , huh ? ”
doesn't quite have the time to feel the sunlight of junho's quick negation before the next thing comes — a question, short and walled off. claustrophobia builds through words alone, and something in jihoon's throat clicks. he's met so few people who speak with such gravity without resorting to prettily - veiled threats. ❛ i'm here because i wanted to see you, ❜ he points out. if he had any semblance of skill or grace, he'd have polished off a better reason and tied it to his tongue before making the journey here, but that's not what he does. he only ever walks into a room with his heart first and his common sense trailing four paces behind. he narrows his eyes at junho, not bothered so much as he is confused, because that's obvious. jihoon knows as well as anyone that he's never anything but obvious about his all - consuming infatuations. ❛ wh ⸺ ❜ words cut unevenly by the abrupt screech of metal feet against linoleum. he blinks. he glances at the stool, then at junho. and — against all of his better judgments — feels a smile stretching the line of his mouth. all else aside, he's smug as he slides into the seat. tilts his head back a fraction to let amused eyes rest on the other. ❛ woof. ❜
he stares at jihoon like he’s something dragged in by the rain - inconveniently pretty , probably carrying diseases , definitely refusing to leave . the kind of stray that plants itself in your doorway and yelps at you like you’re the problem for noticing it . junho blinks once . then twice . the realization lands slow and ugly across his face before instinct catches up to it . it hits him square in the forehead . recoils immediately , shoulders jerking back with a sharp grimace twisting across his mouth . “ jesus christ , ew ” the insult comes fast enough to sound rehearsed , something he’d prepared in advance specifically for jihoon’s existence . “ what are you , twelve ? sick in the head ? both ? like , sometimes i genuinely wonder who the hell let you into this whole thing ” except he knows . knows exactly who did . and worse . . . he trusts him . yohan’s judgment has never failed him , or them all , before . if jihoon is here , then there’s a reason for it , no matter how badly junho wants there not to be . despite himself , junho exhales quietly through his nose . then , almost absently , his palm settles against jihoon’s dark hair on the top of his head . the gesture pretends to be rough at first , like he only means to shove him away again but the touch softens before it ever gets there . fingers spread slowly through the curls , nimble enough to let the strands slip between them . words of appraisal fit for an act like this dying on their way out his throat . “ you are still one wet cough away from getting quarantined outside . ”
❛ you are awful, ❜ they throw over their shoulder as they swipe her glass from the counter and venture to the refrigerator. they open the door and skim the selection of liquors. they're grossly unsurprised by how luxurious the brands are, but that doesn't make them any less grateful for it. they sip idly from sasi's glass while flipping her off without looking. reaching in, they wrap lithe fingers around the neck of pinot blanc and set it on the counter. ❛ i have boundaries, ❜ they point out as they grab a spare glass. ❛ you just make a field day out of overstepping them. ❜ which, again, only happens because they barely fight back — they know, they know. minho and yohan have one more time to sit them down about it before they set off bombs in town hall. they finish off the drink in hand, then set it down to fill both glasses with white wine. ❛ you may not touch my hair, but feel free to tell me how pretty you think i am. ❜
sasi tips her head , watching them swipe her drink like a particularly arrogant housecat , all narrowed eyes and entertained disdain . watches them with the long suffering expression of someone being robbed by a person she unfortunately finds absolutely intriguing . “ mhm , no . see . . . boundaries are supposed to sound serious when you say them ” her eyes flick down , then back up through her lashes - shamelessly obvious about it . the second they pour the wine , she reaches over and taps the stem of their glass with one finger , making it wobble just enough to annoy them on purpose . “ there . that was me respecting your boundaries . zero hair touching , all at an arms length . i’m evolving , wouldn't you say ” her smile grows luscious when they shoot her a look . “ to be fair , pretty doesn't even begin to cut it . i think you look like the kind of problem people write songs about after ruining their own lives a little . jihoon probably has a ton of those stored in his little freak cave somewhere “ then , before they can retaliate , she plucks the bottle from beside them and pours herself more wine first .
yohan had sought salvation in worse places than a dive bar. the stench didn't sting his nose anymore, though it'd never been his vice of choice — he'd mopped puke out of confession booths and measured alcohol in cadavers too often to be enticed or bewildered by it. his appearance tonight wasn't even his choice. it'd been gyeongjun's recommendation, petal - soft and disarming enough to ease the sting of his pity. for a kind man addicted to minding the business that paid him, he'd looked at yohan — if only for a moment — like something rotting from the inside - out and wholly blind to it. as if yohan couldn't take a marker and sketch out the site and source of the malignancy.
the date was nice, either way. yohan had all but been pushed out of sliding glass doors by the coworkers too eager to see him put himself out there! and turned his phone off before he got in the car. if ... anyone asked after his radio silence, then they could get a response in the morning. he'd sat at the bar beside a woman with features soft and hair dyed a familiar brown. he looked in her eyes, because they were bright and full of life and joy, and when she put her lips on him, he tried to focus on her eyes and not the color of her hair. a failing endeavor, but a noble one, anyway.
so maybe this was punishment for that. for being in a place he wasn't even fond of, for turning his phone off instead of just saying he had a date, for associating such a skilled touch with large hands that he'd never know. he stared down the alley, his gaze stuck on the familiar shape of a human body. a living one, if the way it tried to pick itself up was any indication. he closed his eyes and willed himself to walk away. it wasn't his business. he had no idea what'd transpired with the person and he had no desire to get wrapped up in any business messier than his own. he was off the clock — he'd done worse things than let someone die. none of it called to him.
and yet, his feet turned and led him down the darkened alley, the stench of trash and alcohol guiding him steadily closer.
* 。 𑁯 ֺ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒐 ⨾ @litheelixir
junho heard the footsteps and knew immediately they did not belong to the men who had left him here . ultimately too careful , too hesitant . not the swaggering stomp of drunk cruelty or the lazy drag of someone returning to finish the job . these steps paused between puddles . shifted against gravel . way too human to fit the blurry picture left behind by previous bloodshed . junho’s stomach lurches violently . the alley swimming around him in bleary streaks of amber light and darkness . rainwater dripped steadily from rusted pipes overhead , each drop striking concrete with the slow persistence of a clock counting down toward something ugly . the pravement smelled rancid - stale beer soaked into brick , cigarettes extinguished in rain puddles , rotting garbage split open beside him . underneath it all lingered the copper thick scent of blood .
his blood .
it coats his tongue . . . fills his lungs . warm where it crawled from his nose and split lip , sticky where it dried against his throat . every breath hurt with how his ribs shifted wrong beneath his skin , sharp enough that inhaling felt like swallowing broken glass . still , when the stranger drew closer , junho forced himself backward . his hands slipped uselessly against wet concrete . a broken hiss escaped through his teeth as pain tore through his side but panic drove him harder than injury . shoved himself deeper into shadow , shoulders scraping brick , movements frantic and graceless - a wounded animal dragging itself toward the illusion of safety . then the stranger stepped beneath the alley light . junho looked up . and something feral flashed across his face immediately . fear first . then shame . then something infinitely worse . . . the sick realization that this person was seeing him like this .
ruined .
the sound junho made lodged somewhere between a growl and a gasp . raw and instinctive . split lip curled before he could stop it , bloody teeth bared in trembling warning . not because he wanted to fight but because terror had stripped him down to the simplest thing possible - hurt things bite . “ don’t ” rasped instantly . his voice broke apart around the word , every syllable wet with crimson . junho swallowed hard enough to ache . his throat burned . one eye was swollen nearly shut now , his vision fractured at the edges but he kept staring at the stranger with frantic intensity . . . waiting for recognition - disgust , pity , violence . “ don't fucking touch me ” but the threat died weak in his mouth .
has she ever known a voice so grating ? wonders how minho deals with this and considers if politics are cut - throat enough to make her incessant barking survivable in comparison. accusations pile up, and they're so clumsily stacked, meryem almost worries after the state of minho's office. if this is the height of elif's detective skills, then meryem supposes they'll never have to worry about her having a position of power. baseless jabs remain ignorable to a point ⸺ then they're ill - timed and stupid. patience snaps and meryem stands from her seat. ❛ will you join me for a dance, elif ? ❜ she doesn't await a response, grabbing the other's hand and pulling her towards the dance floor at once ; would typically never be so forward but considering she's been assaulted with aggressive jabbering for the past five minutes, the other can forgive this. she finds them a spot near the cusp of the dance floor, situated evenly between other nameless couples with cheesy grins and drunk - blushed drinks. moves expertly to rest hand at the small of the other's spine, joined hands raised near their shoulders. she shuffles a step forward, eyes directed over the secretary's shoulder. when she speaks, her voice goes to elif's ear in soft, dulcet tones brokering no room for further nonsense. ❛ think of me what you wish, ❜ she whispers, guiding the other in a light sway, ❛ but have some consideration towards where you open your mouth. you call me rude, but you're the one retching vitriol at full volume during the reception. ❜ turns head just so, angling mouth towards elif's ear. ❛ if you are so convinced that i am doing something illicit, please feel free to report me up the chain of command. should be easy considering your connections, no ? ❜
elif is not the kind of woman who softens . she arrived into every room she has ever entered already decided - jaw set , shoulders squared , the whole architecture of her built for war and nothing kinder . she is the storm that comes too early and outstays the wreckage . people brace when she gets angry . they step back when she speaks . not from fear , exactly . moreso from the particular exhaustion of standing in the path of something that will not be redirected . she has turned entire rooms into battlegrounds by doing nothing more than deciding that she was the force to be reckoned with .
until meryem .
the thing about magnets is that they do not choose . the iron does not deliberate . there is no negotiation between the poles . only the ancient , indifferent pull of unlike things recognizing each other across the space between them . elif has known this about herself and meryem the way she knows the shape of her own hands - without having to look , without wanting to know , without being able to ignore . so when she takes her hand , every part of elif that has ever known how to perform herself rears up and readies . flare , she thinks . make it a scene . turn this into the argument it is . instead , though . . . she relocates . some quieter , more treacherous part of her simply moves . steps into the pull , lets the floor swallow the distance between them . the dance begins the way their silences always do - like a continuation of an argument neither of them are willing to have out loud . every step a sentence , every turn a rebuttal . every movement is precise in the way conflict becomes precise when it stops being public and starts being personal . there is only the music and the motion and the unbearable structure of two people who fit together like a wound and the thing that made it . “ there you are ” whispered , nothing beyond the proximity they share . . . singular hand increasing it's grip at meryem's hip . anger long stretched into something else entirely - curiousity , maybe . “ got you close enough , haven't i ? ” gaze cuts sharper suddenly , the gentle curve of lips serving as sole indicator of the placid silence they previously shared . “ since you are so dead set on misunderstanding me . . . ” palm slides from hip to lower back . enough pressure to make intention known . “ why don't i tell you exactly what i think , mh ? ” long lashes flutter . “ i do not give a single shit about what you do , who you are , what you bring to the table in regards to mr . nam . there is something wrong with you , around you . it rots from the core whenever you open your mouth , it follows you . and i won't sit around and wait until you've consumed every single person within this organization , you hear me ? ”
kimiyo wonders if pet names ever coat his tongue with good intention. minsu isn't the type for it, certainly — he isn't one that kimiyo can imagine with soft eyes and unguarded disposition. he himself walks around with two layers of armor and a full artillery packed against their person at all times and his business isn't half as deadly. ( though in any case of confrontation with kimiyo kifune, one always has to worry after the other person. ) the interjection of unfortunately makes his lips twitch, half - amusement, half - pride. ❛ and would you believe, ❜ he says with the same low gravity, ❛ i'm a cockroach motherfucker who just can't seem to die. ❜ says nothing of minsu's interest or his warnings — kimiyo's never much cared to act in anyone's interest but his own. but he leans closer, nearly pressing into minsu's chest. ❛ tell you what : i'll pretend you were really, really hard on me about this whole thing. your secret's safe with me. ❜ he winks at the end of it, sealing the promise with a gesture that'd be rendered meaningless from anyone else. but for someone who forges signatures on contracts and lies prettily through his teeth, it's always the little things that matter most. his gestures are never dealt without gravity and consequence ; his promises mean nothing until he lends sensitive tangibility to them. a wink, a cupped cheek, a pinched chin. he leans back out of minsu's space and cleanly snaps the moment in half. ❛ what are you working on, really ? as much as you can tell me, anyway. ❜
“ cockroaches survive because the world keeps trying to crush them ” quietly . “ that’s not the same thing as being impossible to kill ” somewhat of a praise , a compliment wrapped in barbed wire . then kimiyo leans away and the moment snaps clean down the middle , intimacy gutted neatly from the room . ” cleaning up after my people “ the words taste bitter on the way out , swallowing something that had already gone cold hours ago . behind him , the paperwork sits in uneven towers across the desk - contracts , incident reports , payout ledgers , photographs clipped neatly beneath legal documents that would never see the inside of a courtroom . minho liked things organized in a respectable sense . even corruption , in his hands , wore a pressed suit and polished shoes . the man could stand beneath cathedral light with blood under his fingernails and still convince the world he belonged there . minsu had spent enough time beside him to understand the real work was never the violence itself . that part came easy . . . the difficult part came after . signatures , rerouted money , grieving families paid off before they could ask the wrong questions . the police reports rewritten in cleaner language . smiling pleasantly while entire lives disappeared between lines of legal jargon . and lately , there had been far too much to bury . “ a pile up to be exact . minho sent me after part of the paperwork , seeing how some of my crew were likely the cause of it . and he wanted a cleaner cut , you know . easier to distinguish what`s our job and what ends up on yohan`s table “ with a shrug way too nonchalant for a matter like this . ” you heard about what happened back there ? " decent way to ask involvement .
