2am.
immaculatc:
maybe she can ignore the truth a little longer, hold on another day, another week. selfishly, perhaps, but isn’t it only fair, cosmically, that for once she have some control over her own life? that for once, she could have what she wanted, for once she could keep herself safe?
maybe he’s been in love. it always felt like it at the time. most of his relationships were just as eclectic and fucked up as his life was. they always ended badly. he’s pretty sure they’ll all end badly (and why the fuck is he hanging around dani when he knows this -- the selfish asshole that he is, apparently). it’s impossible for things to ever end nicely with him. it’s just not in his wheelhouse. he keeps telling himself this time it’ll be different. somewhere deep, deep in the back of his mind he knows it wont be.
he’s not allowed to be happy in that particular shade. colored over warm and pleasant. love, real love, is something he’s supposed to be color blind too. he’s not, that’s the thing of it, he wants it. but he’s not supposed to see it, or hear it, or crave it. stay colorblind, be the cosmic fuck-up bomb of a human thing you’re supposed to be. don’t deviate, don’t pull on that leash. bad dog. it’s no wonder dani treats him like he might be an animal sometimes. maybe she can see through it. accidentally feral, ill-trained.
“my sensibilities are fickle.” he corrects himself, pairs it with a lopsided looking smile that only dimples at one cheek. he drops down into a crouch to drink, doesn’t notice the steady drip-drop of whiskey collecting in puddles on the pavement until dani does. he half-wonders if more are cracked inside. fractured glass that had bounced it’s way across the pavement as soon as they got close enough to the radioactive haze of bad luck. karmic distribution. whatever the hell it was supposed to be. all jaekyu knew was that he hated it.
he was stubborn about that hate. stole back what he could of the bottle with greedy gulps as it painted the skin of his chin, neck, sticky. a moment of ‘take that karma, you didn’t steal everything from me.’ only mildly pathetic. he can live with that. pulls the mouth of the bottle away when some of it overflows, spills over to the wrong pipe and leaves him coughing. it’s mostly empty anyway, and he’s wearing a good fourth of it, despite dani’s attempts to mop it off. but she’s a sweetheart about it. lifts his own sleeve up to help.
“okay but like, sexy hot or are you insinuating that i’m a trash fire of a person?” jaekyu asks, and maybe essentially shotgunning a bottle of whiskey wasn’t the best plan of the night. but he honestly never had too many of those. she kisses him instead of answering, but he supposes he can live with that, too. tilts his head and leans into it, ignores the smell of whiskey seeping into his shirt. “what about you then, why’re you here?” he asks when they part, drops down to sit on the deck of his board, rolls it back and forth with a heel as he shakes the sleeves of his jacket down around his palms. it’s thin, a little too worn. but it’s black, so it’s hard to notice unless you look real close. it fits him, thematically speaking. in reality it’s maybe a size too large, a stolen hand-me-down that hadn’t been passed down organically.
