â â â â â ... 4:13 in the morning. he had gotten a total of two hours of sleep, at most. that was a new record this week. the feeling of dread was still squeezing his heart tight, but his breathing slowly calmed down as he reached for the wheelchair that was parked beside his bed. as sam pulled himself off of the bed and into the chair he could only sighed at the way his clothes clung to his body -- cold and damp. he could really live without this. since there was no use going back to sleep he gathered a clean outfit in his lap and wheeled himself through the apartment as quietly as possible. he noticed that dahye was still asleep when he went past the living room, and he wanted to keep it that way -- no need to wake her up in the middle of the night without a good enough cause.
â â â â â after a quick shower he felt much better. just the procedure of getting rid of the cold sweat he always woke up with was therapeutic in itself. after getting dressed he quietly wheeled himself through the apartment again, peeked into the living room to see that yes, dahye was still asleep, before continuing to his room. he had some hours to kill before her alarm went off, so he ended up turning the computer on to work on an assignment. or three. but only fifteen minutes each because he could hardly concentrate, and after an hour he gave up and went into the kitchen. âhey there.â sam reached out to scratch the white fur at her neck as the cat jumped up onto the counter. âwhat do you say? should we surprise her with breakfast in bed?â he took the meow as a âyesâ.Â
â â â â â after the ambitious toast with mashed avocados seasoned to perfection he had big plans for the breakfast at hand, but when he opened the fridge he saw nothing but fruit. fruit everywhere. and thatâs when he remembered that he hadnât gone grocery shopping yesterday like he promised himself he would. so he ended up using the last of the yogurt and some added berries. after some deliberation he made a fruit salad too, and a glass of orange juice to go with that. by the time the tea was soaking he felt pretty good about this initiative of his. so did the cats, as he had continuously bribed them into silence with treats to make sure they didnât wake dahye up before it was all done.
â â â â â to the sound of her alarm going off he grabbed her tray and put it over the armrests before he carefully wheeled himself into the living room. followed by the cats, who immediately jumped up onto the bed, he let her go through the entire process of waking up and all that it entails before bothering her. but soon enough he got solid eye contact, and so he slowly handed the tray over so as to not spill the tea. âhere, breakfast in bed -- you better like fruit.â
Wren blinks a few times and at first, heâs not entirely sure itâs him whoâs being spoken to, but after a few moments it becomes clear that it is him, by the way the fellow student stares up at him expectantly, and he replies with only the utmost intelligence, âUh.âÂ
Sound? Had he made a sound? He glances down at himself and tries to figure out what the heck he could have done to make a sound intriguing enough to catch a strangerâs attention, fingers wiggling and weight rocking back and forth on his heels. Heâs picking at his shirt and scuffing his feet into the floor when he stirs, eyes rounding and hand lifting to settle right above his navel as his cheeks go the slightest pink, âIt wasnât.. you didnât hear my stomach, did you? I havenât eaten today, it might have growled or something. Sorry, if it umâ bothered you?â
â â â â â patience and anticipation engulfed him when he looked up at the younger student, expectantly if anything. in the meanwhile he tried to wreck his own brain to remember what he had heard, but it was gone as soon as it came. instead it turned into something much more comical. when he noticed the overall confusion and tint of pink to the sophmoreâs cheeks he had to lock his jaws to not smile, or god forbid chuckle. maybe the element of surprise caught him off guard, but the entire situation just seemed a bit too funny. or he was so sleep-deprived that everything had the potential to make him laugh. get a grip, sam. âno, i donât think so. my bad--â or something. he really did feel quite out of it at the moment, and truth to be told he didnât think further investigation would do any good. and if it actually had been the otherâs stomach sam heard, then he could very well recreate that on his own later. instead he turned his focus on... âchoi wren, right?â from what he had gathered the novelist was still a teenager, and one glance was enough to confirm the thinness of his entire frame. it was too obvious, but most likely none of his business. yet this aching heart of his remained a curse. âiâm sorry that i interrupted you with my nonsense.â a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. âthereâs still twenty minutes left before lunch hour is over, you should go grab something to eat while you still can.â he gripped at the handrails of the wheelchair to turn himself in the direction of the cafeteria. he wasnât necessarily hungry so what heâd do next would be quite manipulative, but luckily his conscience was easily turned off when needed. âi was actually heading there myself before i stopped you, so feel free to tag along if you want.â the whole âyour body needs fuel to functionâ crap conveniently never left his mouth, but it was definitely at the forefront of his mind.Â
i suck at introductions, so this will probably be super short-- but iâm happy to be here, and iâm looking forward to writing with all of you! i have a plots page up here if youâre interested to take a look (â: sam can be a bit slow sometimes and any mention of sports will immediately sour his mood, but heâs a-okay i promise. he just doesnât get much sleep and that grates on his nerves, haha.
my brotherâs birthday is coming up so i might not be that active âtil the weekend, but iâll try to answer some open starters! and if youâd like to plot but didnât find anything suitable on my plots page just like this post and iâll hit you up!!
àź~ Only two things ever come out of her meetings with her coach: the first one had her ending up in a bad mood which seemed to the trend these past few months ever since her coach started dating and the second one had her leaving his office with a bounce in her step and in a cheerful mood. Thankfully, today it was the latter with him having told her that she had qualified for the next international tennis open happening in Australia. She couldnât wait to tell Hanna about it and her cousins for she knew that theyâd be excited as her, in the last Australian under- 23 open, she had managed to bag the womenâs championship so everyone had high hopes for her next bout. Too focused on her excitement, she barely registered the question asked and took a moment to respond to itâ much to her embarrassment. âOh, this?â She asked tentatively, swinging her tennis racket in order to recreate the sound of air speeding through the nylon strings. âItâs just my tennis racket.âÂ
â â â â â of course. he knew he had heard that sound before, but it had all been so sudden that he completely blanked. âthat makes sense.â and he had to admit, a tennis racket could prove quite useful for making a plethora of sound effects. he remembered that particular tone the nylon strings made when you caught a very hard serve, or the equally specific sound of the ball hitting the edge. or just a failed retaliation that caught the net. there were so many possibilities to-- no. his own sudden disruption was like a mental slap in the face. he wasnât going to go down that road. not again. any temptation to even touch the athletic life on campus would leave him wallowing in self-hatred by the end of the day, so he better cut that shit out right now. instead he focused on adrienne and recalled how he had seen her just moments prior -- before she gathered herself to acknowledge his presence. before she knew that sheâd be interrupted. he recognized that bounce in her steps and slightly rosy cheeks as excitement and elation: happiness. but it only took one glance at the tennis racket to wonder whether or not it would be a good idea to inquire further about it. he feared that she had gotten good news (most likely of the sports-related kind), and he wasnât sure if he wanted to have that reminder hanging over his head for the remainder of the day. but of all the times he had seen her in the passing on campus he had never, not once, seen such a radiant and genuine expression on her face -- so he couldnât quite bite down the curiosity. âyou looked very happy back there.â he noted carefully, yet with an undertone of genuine thoughtfulness. âdid something good happen?â
âmaybe i really am, youâre pretty attractive though.â he shrugs, he should keep the compliments for when he sobers up, his smooth mouth gets lagged while heâs in this state. âcan you get me up? wait no, you canât- i mean i donât know, can you? i didnât mean it like that hold on.â he groans and grumbles some more muttered words. wow, heâs going to live up to his asshole name. âsorry..? why is this our first conversation.â the question was mostly aimed at himself, mentally cursing at what ever pushed him to speak his thoughts out loud. furrowing his eyebrows, Hoon looked up to the other male. âi swear iâm not an asshole..? i mean i am but this is unintentional, my minds kinda in dystopia at the moment, yaknow? ever been this smashed before?â that being said, he gestured to the empty bottles around him. âouch.â he let a hand sit on his cheek. does he really look like shit? heâs in public, thatâs bad. he needed to get up with the little strength he has, but heâll probably fall over and make a big idiot of himself, shit. âwhat? i donât know, what time is anyways?âÂ
â â â â â sam just watched with patience: silent and calm. he knew enough about drunks (and being drunk) to understand that hoon would ramble more than anything -- and the outcast would let him do just that. none of what was said was new to him, and if it was tiring arguing with sober people about the same topic he wouldnât even attempt to do it with someone who was intoxicated. so for the time being he let the younger man figure it out on his own, and it was only when the stream of words seemed to die out that he deemed it easiest to chip in. âyes, iâve been this smashed before.â and that was the reason he had decided to help in the first place, because he knew from experience how humiliating it was the morning after if someone didnât intervene. that was also samâs way of saying âitâs cool, donât worry about itâ -- but whether or not hoon would pick up on that was another story. he stole a glance at the watch on his wrist and realized he wouldâve forgotten about lunch altogether if it wasnât for the other. âaround three. a little late for lunch, but thatâll do.â sam knew that he was being very short with his responses overall, but he preferred the idea of getting the junior something to eat first -- and to get him off campus away from judging eyes. but mostly to sober him up some, since he really didnât care much for rambling. not if he had to be sober while dealing with it, that is. instead he released the handbrake and turned the wheelchair around before backing it up just in front of hoon. âjust grab the handles and use them for support. iâll drive it, so no need to push. letâs grab something to eat in town.â this was very rare, and he could literally feel it in his heart -- the reluctance to let the man do what he had just instructed him to do seconds prior. he knew that he was helping him and not the other way around, but he still had some quite toxic thoughts about how being pushed was a definite sign of weakness. but he wasnât going to take it back, instead he gripped the handrails and braced the wheelchair for the otherâs attempt to get up.
âI think it was somewhere between what I imagine a whales mating call sounds like and a genuine cry of pain, fury, and absolute exhaustion.â Her words are almost as lazy as her look as she lolls her head to the side so she can fix him with her usual stare. Sam, her fellow outcast, her quirky companion, she never minded giving up a little of her time when he came rolling aroundâŠit was just the desperation in which he seemed to need to know just what the hell she had been doing a moment ago that made her honestly want to tease him. She didnât know what the sound was other than that of a student too tired to function whose entire 10 page paper had mysteriously not saved to her hard drive and had gone missing. Some called it a curse, some called it a wail, she just called it patheticâŠthe chances of her slamming her head down onto the desk repeatedly until she ceased to simply exist would have been high if he hadnât come rounding on her like someone on a mission that she and her human mind could hardly comprehend. Curiosity flickering behind those dark orbs had her entertaining the male for just a bit longer, resting the end of her chin against her open palm. âAre you on another adventure or somethingâŠ? Tell me of your stories, I might live vicariously through you.â
â â â â â oh. that made sense. âon a scale from 1 to 1, with 1 being âyes, absolutely: anything for you, samâ, what would you rate the chances of you repeating that sound so that i can record it?â there was a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes, but most of all he was dead serious in coercing her into letting him officially record the sound. he wheeled himself closer to the table with ease, much happier about his sudden interruption when he realized who it was. since he didnât see himself leaving anytime soon he parked the wheelchair so that he could rest his elbows atop the table. he knew her facial expressions well enough (however minimum they usually were) to detect something very destructive. he equated this to a bad day, which aligned well with her previous statement on the origin of the mystery sound of the day. âsince i doubt youâre genuinely interested in mating with a whale iâll assume youâre in some kind of distress: whatâs up?â the outcast glanced at her open laptop, and it felt safe to deduce that whatever plagued her was school-related. while technology could be fickle, that usually only applied to those who didnât know the secret wonders of computers. he was ready to bet a small fortune that he could resolve whatever had happened to her moments prior, but sam was going to wait and see if skye would even enlighten him about her struggles before offering. a small grin pulled at his lips for a few seconds before he stretched his long arms in front of him: it had been a long day. âyou make everything i do sound so grand.â when in reality it was quite the opposite -- something even he, who was conducting the search, agreed with. âiâve outgrown the generic free sound effects weâre using in class, so i want to make my own.â he scratched at his nose before resting his cheek in his open palm, now looking about as effortless and casual as skye did. that was one of the things he truly did enjoy about her: the fact that he felt comfortable enough to be lazy around her. âand you can never have enough mating calls.â
to say Hoon wasnât a little off-minded at the moment would be a lie, he got bribed into drinking so many bottles mid day and in campus for fucks sake, was that even allowed? typical asshole friends, get him into shit and leave him alone to embarrass himself. he hasnât gotten this drunk in a while, shit, alcohol poisoning is probably already in his system by now. shaking off distanced thoughts, he lowers the half empty bottle to the ground, squinting at the person in front of him. âam i drunk or are you really that beautiful?â
â â â â â âyouâre drunk.â not to say that sam didnât believe he was as visually appealing as hoon was intoxicated, but it had never been any of his interest to discuss physical appearance with royalty. or discuss anything with hammered rich assholes, so maybe there was a tinge of regret that he had stopped by in the first place. but it was vague, and easily brushed off. the outcast knew as much of the fellow junior as he ought to, but this had already become the lengthiest conversation they had ever held -- and maybe that was for the better. sam parked his wheelchair since he didnât see hoon up and running any time soon, and he hadnât decided that it was wise to leave the student unsupervised just yet. âiâm not going to ask how youâre feeling, because you already look like shit.â was that harsh? probably. but it was true, and he felt like it had to be said. he wasnât going to scold hoon for drinking on campus, but he might as well portray how much of an idiot he was to make it so obvious. âwhen was the last time you ate something?â
â â â â â âthat sound...â sam wheeled around on a dime to not miss the source of what caught his attention despite the constant buzz in his head. he immediately locked eyes with the student, as if that would make them halt and stay put. but he didnât have any powers âsuperâ enough to freeze people on the spot, so he had to say something before the moment slipped through his fingers. âwhat was that sound you just made?â he kept the hands resting on the handrail of the wheelchair to keep in position, alternatively readying himself to move in unison with the other -- always keen on being in the most beneficial position in any situation. he could barely recall the sound if he tried to, but the fact that he acknowledged it for a split second with an urge strong enough to halt his endeavor meant that he needed to find out what it was. his mind had been focused on sound effects lately, and thatâs probably why he was so receptive to mundane sounds that could be used for something else entirely. and thatâs the category the sound he had just heard fell under: useful sounds for future projects. the confrontation had, however, been initiated on a whim and, in a matter of seconds, he managed to think three thoughts in the line of âi shouldnât haveâ before drawing his next breath. this could easily become awkward, and the ball wasnât in his court anymore. but he appeared calm as ever, and his eyes held a genuine curiosity as they flickered back up at the student. even so all he could hear in his head was âdonât walk away, donât walk away, donât...â
â â â â â lately daejeon had come to feel like a necessity, while berlin remained a treat -- something nostalgic and grand. luckily his sister agreed, and before they knew it they were on a plane heading to germany. she was up to her ears in assignments and desperately needed a change of not only scenery, but culture as well. and the same applied to sam, but for different reasons. ever since he moved back to south korea he could only deal with the country in small doses if he wanted to stay sane. so whenever he got some time off he usually packed his bags and left for his second home, however brief of a visit. and since christmas was spent with their mother, the siblings could easily justify spending new years eve with their father when they purchased the last-minute tickets.
â â â â â âwith their fatherâ, they said. but even so they ended up just the two of them in a pub. or outside a pub: if there was something they loved about germany, it was their tradition of using the outdoor seating all year round. and it was new years eve, so theyâd have front row seats to see the fireworks later on. but most of all they loved to talk german in a place where they didnât automatically turn heads by doing so, and sam donned a wide smile when he heard the word âbierâ somewhere over his head before his sister put the two pints of beer down. âbottoms up!â she merrily exclaimed. since he became disabled sam had to watch how much he drank if he wanted to make it to the menâs room without an accident, but in the past they always chugged the first pint to establish the hierarchy sibling-wise for the remainder of the night. but even so the vocal âbottoms upâ was still alive and well.
â â â â â âokay...â she hummed in thought. âthe worst part about 2015 has to be school, i mean jesus fucking christ." sam took small, repetitive sips of his beer as he listened to her (well-deserved) rant about university as a whole. it was ridiculous and he agreed wholeheartedly. he had never quite liked the education system in south korea, and he often wondered why he couldnât have just gone to school in germany instead. he felt like a lot of what he went through in the past couldâve been prevented that way. but if thereâs one thing therapy had taught him, it was to leave the past where it belonged: at the back of his head, easily accessible if he wanted to dwell on it and drown in âwhat ifâs... okay, letâs just say the lesson hadnât quite sunken in yet. when she reached for her own pint sam took that as his cue to start, and he ran his index finger up and down the surface of the glass in mild concentration. he had to try and rank his âworstsâ, because a lot of things popped into his head when he opened that particular door. the question was what had truly been bad, and what he had made worse by overthinking it. surprisingly he had nothing negative to say about his physical disability anymore, and that was quite big. but they where still on the âworstâ part, so he stuck with that. âthe nightmares...â he tried, as if taking the words in his mouth would confirm that he had chosen the greater of many evils. âi think the nightmares has been the worst part of 2015. i got the night terrors somewhat under control, but the nightmares took their place. itâs like iâm not designed to get a proper nightâs sleep: iâm not allowed to.â
â â â â â âłyour turn to start.â sam nodded and swept the last of his second pint. âsure. letâs see...â he reached for the peanuts and took a handful, then he proceeded to put one after the other in his mouth. âhm. the best thing about 2015...â this was a bit more tricky. he usually didnât think about, or more likely acknowledge, the positive nearly as often as the negative. what had been good about this year? or more likely, what had been the best? he had done some breakthroughs in therapy, but was that really an accomplishment? correction: was that really an accomplishment he wanted to share with his sister? he didnât want her to know that he struggled in therapy to begin with, thatâd only make her worry more. no, he had to think of something else. school was pretty good. things had finally gotten interesting project-wise, and he was learning a lot of useful techniques. he was optimistic for the future, but that was hardly the best of 2015. it was nice, but it wasnât relevant. âhave patience with me.â he giggled and chucked a peanut at her when she pointed out that he was slow as a snail. moving on, then. what else had been good enough to share? ah, fuck it. he couldnât think of anything else. âokay. the best thing about 2015 was that i became happier. i think. iâve had more fun than iâve had since... shit, since forever, i guess. so, you know...â sam had focused on the last few peanuts in his palm as he rambled. when he trailed off and looked up he was met with his sisterâs grinning face, and wasnât her eyes unusually watery? âaw, come one.â he huffed and chucked the last of the peanuts at her, but he couldnât hide the tug at the corner of his lips. he was lucky that she loved him as much as he loved her, and he was happy that she could finally share in his joy as opposed to his endless sorrow.
â â â â â five pints and three toilet breaks later and he was rightfully buzzed and excited for the new year to come: only fifteen minutes left, and he could hardly wait. âhow about the bridge?â his sister had returned after paying for their little outing, and now she wrapped her gloved hands around the handles of the wheelchair. he was a wobbly drunk, and they both knew that -- which is why sam accepted the help without any fuss. âyeah, thatâd be great.â while this was their first new years eve spent in berlin, they had heard enough stories from friends and relatives to know where the fireworks looked the prettiest. it was give or take a ten minute walk from where they started, so they wouldnât miss it. âhow about new years resolutions: you got any this year?â sam reached down to tuck in a stray corner of the blanket in his lap when the breeze caught it. last december had been pretty rough on him, and he hadnât even bothered to humor the thought of making resolutions that he didnât care whether or not he kept in the first place. and now, when he was in a much better state, he still felt pretty âmehâ about the entire thing. ânah.â he craned his neck to look up at her. ânot really. unless i can get away with âsleep betterâ.â he gave a neutral sigh and let his head lull forward again. âbut thatâs just wishful thinking at this rate.â
â â â â â when they reached the bridge they joined the other people currently gathered there, and with a handful of âexcuse meâs his sister landed them a pretty good place right by the railing. berlin was beautiful at night, breathtakingly so. he felt a pang of pain in his chest as he truly acknowledged how gorgeous it was, and how he wasnât living there anymore. he missed his life in germany from the bottom of his heart. his sister reached down to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze, but before he could tell her that he was fine she just shushed him with a smile. and within seconds he realized that he did the same. with a quiet laugh he looked ahead again, anticipation yet again rushing through his veins. 10, 9, 8... the arms that suddenly wrapped around his neck came as a surprise, but he welcomed her warmth and comfort. âiâve got a resolution for you.â she whispered in his ear. 7, 6, 5... âyeah?â 4, 3, 2... âkeep on smiling.â 1. the hitch in his throat was timed with the first firework that reached for the sky and exploded with grace. after that they just kept coming, and sam noticed how it all blurred into a sea of colors. when the first tear fell he had to reach up and take her hand. she responded by hugging him closer with her free arm, and planting a gentle kiss against the back of his head. he loved her so much. and just like that he realized that he did have a resolution to make: âlet her love you backâ.
You are the observer who watches your emotions as they push, pull and stretch you. The beauty inside of you is unmovable. Your deepest and most truthful self does not care about trends, times, struggles, losses or worries. Your deepest self is free from the worldâs petty, made-up demands, judgments and expectations. You love yourself and you are happy, and what you perceive as self-loathing and misery are really outside of you. Quit trying so hard and sit quietly with yourself and you will see that there are no demands within you. Only your surface is disturbed; in your deepness there is stillness and total tranquility. Only your surface feels empty and longing; in your depths there is a firm weight of fullness.
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