expectique

COLLOQUIALLY KNOWN AS OH SEHUN, PROTOTYPE MODEL XN041200 ETERNALLY NINETEEN, AGELESS ▲▼▲▼▲▼▲ ＤＩＳＣＬＡＩＭＥＲ [!]

[amarebony]

She couldn’t help the grin that curled up her features the minute he spoke about his fondness for the series. Hyosung absolutely adored the story – or was it even that? She had learned to believe that each fairytale had some truth behind it. Especially when she had come face to face with such truths. The Madhatter, a character that she believed was nothing but fictional, and yet a man she had met a year or so back. The realization of it always left a mark of the slap reality left across her features, but she quickly shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. Now was not the time to think about herself, but about the boy before her. See if her theory about his sight had been true.

She waited patiently, nodding as he took the flower from her grasp. He seemed to be eyeing it for quite some time, and she began to wonder whether he would describe it at all. When he spoke, all her attention fixed on him and with each word her heart sank further into her stomach. She kept the emotions off her face and only let the seconds tick by after he had spoken. How was she supposed to break it to him that what he saw wasn’t reality? To break apart what he had always seen, tell him he was wrong. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but neither did she want to immediately send him to a doctor for him to be prodded and poked with needles till they found a way to diagnose his disability – if it could even be called that. 

Instead, she reached out to carefully take his hand into hers. It was what she always did when comforting someone else. Even though the boy was nothing but a stranger to her, old habits die hard. She let her fingers fall into place between his and gently ran the pad of her thumb along the side of his hand. At this point, she was unaware as to whether the repetitive action was to soothe herself or to soothe him as she attempted to make a mess of the words jumbled in her head. “What I’m going to tell you, love, might be hard to take in, okay?” She shuffled slightly so that she sat right in front of him, practically forcing the young male to look right at her. With her free hand she reached out to raise his wrist so the flower sat in both their line of sight. With her index finger she began pointing at each bit.

“The petals, you see as white, no? But everyone else doesn’t see that.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, as though comforting a young child. “The petals are yellow, dear.” She paused for a moment, letting her grip on his hand tighten just slightly. “The stem isn’t teal, but green. And the center, not salmon, but orange.” Her words appeared blunter than she had hoped, but now all that was left was for his reaction (and for her to exhale the breath she held in). A stranger offering a brand new perspective on life itself, would he believe it?

[optiquehun-blog]

He's confused by her coddling, it striking him as sudden, as suspicious. She seemed to be of a tender nature, but this behaviour was offset from how she previously treated him. He does not hesitate to bring his eyes upon his hand cradled in hers, the distinctive size proportions between the two bringing a slight smile to his lips as he listened, somewhat hopeful about the evaluation of his description.

Again, he's confused by her words. Might be hard to take in? He understood them, but he could not look past their ulterior meaning, what she was implying. Something bad, perhaps? He detected a shift in mood between them, sullen and drained of elation. Almost like the clouds dipped in grey cast across the sky, a foreboding symbol to a bad storm or downpour. Just like that.

Nodding to acknowledge what's been said so far, he brought his gaze to meet hers, studying her features, attempting to draw a conclusion of some sort from expression alone, which still seemed cradled in warmth, but of kind sorrow, pity.

Yellow, yes. He knew what the colour was like. He reminisced the days of art class where he, combined with his classmates, recited the major colours that made up the basic rainbow, yellow being one of them. But what exactly was yellow, then? It shared a striking resemblance to white, and he thought it was a mind trick, that his eyes were playing him for a fool and it was but a shade lighter than its counterpart, but as she continued, he seemed to be in the wrong.

While he was not about to scream out an objection to her explanation, he took the few moments of reprieve from the news to let the words settle and absorb as he pondered them over. Of course, he's unable to grasp her definition, for when he looked from her to the flower, and repeated, it was still just as white as before, and if she desired for him to reiterate his description, it would not change. The petals were snow. He blinked a few times, wondering if doing so would help to restore yellow back to its true state for him to witness. Nothing changed.

Still, he was speechless, his lips pursed into a fine line as he hummed softly in response. "I see." Nodding once again, he took the daffodil into his own hand to inspect it further. While disappointed with the realisation, he was still intrigued to know that she perceived it differently than he did. Was he truly the one in the wrong? Or was the perception of colour merely opinionated and nothing else?

"No one else sees this the way I do, really?" He quirked a brow and glanced back at her, returning the flower to its rightful owner, although it lingered in the corners of his eyes, and he refused to let it slip away, still clinging to the hope that it would somehow unravel and peel back its masquerade to showcase her illustration. "Yellow is not just a light shade of white? Not even with traces of pink?"

[drmprk]

From the get-go, Mary knew the male was being sarcastic about being frozen to be donated to science. His blank expression cracking only confirmed his sarcasm to know once he was finished. “They are. Politics and religion hold back science.” It was a serious statement in return to his playful one, but there was truth in her words. “I make the bloody mess. I don’t clean it.” She hoped he would take that as a joke to offset her earlier statement. He didn’t need to know that that was also a true. 

[optiquehun-blog]

"Religion." He had to refrain from scoffing at the word, but nevertheless he was unable to completely hold himself back, his resentment flowing in with a roll of his eyes. "I've met more than my fair share of religious zealots to know where that would go, and how it impedes. But anyways, I won't go on about that." Waving a hand to dismiss it, preferring to abstain from its controversial embodiment, he thought about the last part of what she said, and nodded. "I see. Should I take a lucky guess and say you're a doctor of some kind? Or in medicine? Quite a bloody profession. Unless you prefer surrounding yourself with the dead, a mortician, perhaps?"

[optiquehun-blog]

a7jl:

     Well, you could say it looked like she’d just left the world. Her slender limbs were splayed comfortably on the mahogany bench she had decided to temporarily rest upon. Arm straight, it hung off one side of the bench, trapped firmly between her index and middle finger lay the butt of a half-finished smoke.       The piled up ash soon collapsed from her cig, speckling the pavement slightly. She felt a light hint of frustration nagging at some part of her brain when she heard a voice inquire; a sigh slipping out her lips. Her arm folded, the cigarette yet again between her lips and she took a long drag, letting the poison seep into her lungs, the foul smoke soon puffed out her lips.       Her eyelids remained closed, and with an arch to her brow, she uttered a reply.       ”Right now? I’m alive.”       A scoff.       ”One day? We’re all gonna die.” 

"Well played." Meant to poke fun at the situation, a use of satire, if they will, he nestled his hands in his lap and crossed one leg over the other, staring out at the park expansion before his eyes.

The use of the word all seemed rather subjective, given she may or may not have been a completely separate entity from his own being, but he decided against questioning it any further. It was intellect best saved for another day, when he did not begin with such morbidity.

Eyeing her briefly from his peripheral vision, he took brief interest in the charcoal fog that dissipated through the air, writing it off soon after to look in no particular direction, aimless.

"Do you see death as a good or bad thing? Sometimes life is so bad for people they think death is better, but death is also a permanent problem to a temporary solution. Are you one to live in the moment instead?"

[infernalkai-archive-blog]

accompaniment ; sehun & jongin

[infernalkai-archive-blog]

{ —he raises his eyebrows at Sehun’s remark about how he’s being the great Jongin, nodding approvingly. when the compliment turns into a local performance in the nearest amateur theater, though, he nearly spits Sehun for his cheap dramatization, but the mouthful of pizza which still occupies his mouth cancels out that plan, and he can only roll his eyes to show his faux disdain over Sehun’s hyperbolic act. shrugging at Sehun’s comment on him being lucky, he smirks indolently as to mock Sehun teasingly. } Well, yeah, I know. That’s the perk of being a college kid, so hurry up and graduate from high school. { —he says, before digesting as to what Sehun has said pertaining to coming out of the school early. } What would require you to get out and take a walk to calm your nerves down? Really? { —he squints at Sehun suspiciously, almost too serious with his pretense as it’s been ingrained in his bones—the art of donning facades—but he cannot hold it for too long since being with Sehun always inexplicably allows him to relax, shedding his taut self-consciousness in exchange for being more normal. } It’s around five. { —he replies to Sehun in approximation since the last time he checked the time was before he went to Sehun’s place, and he’s too lazy to retrieve his phone from his pocket. } Yeah, genius, because we don’t have actual massage chairs designated for back and feet. { —another bout of chuckle escapes his lips before he takes another bite of his pizza. } What were you up to at school anyway that you killed your feet?

[optiquehun-blog]

Perhaps I am perpetually stuck in time and I'm forever repeating my last year of high school, even as my life flashes before my very eyes. {/ further testing the waters, he raises a brow and tears his attention away from the slice of pizza still in hand to look at the other, and somewhat questionably, expecting a rebuttal of some sort that would challenge his theory. in a game of wit, he always checkmates. } But college requires even more effort than high school. Maybe I'll somehow prove I'm not capable of handling the real world just yet and they'll keep me for another year. Or I could pull some strings. The one time I have to say that it sucks they force you to graduate no matter your standings, and they don't hold back students. {/ sighing, he refrains from outwardly rolling his eyes at his own comments, nibbling on more of the ends of the pizza, a fortified smile of triumph playing on his lips as he refuses eye contact. } I have my ways, Jongin. I just say the environment stifles and suffocates me. Like a severe case of claustrophobia, wherein I can't stand being surrounded by others. Works like a charm. They did always take good care of their students. {/ as he continues to chew, savouring the mixture of melting cheese and tomato sauce infused with doughy bread, he sets the slice down in the box to wipe at his fingers, brushing off the fine trail of particles left by the pizza. he had a princely-demeanour, and refused to be treated or regarded as anything but. he's even been coined a prince on a couple of occasions by his close friends, and he never hesitated to agree with all speed. so when questioned about what killed his feet, his smile further grows when he draws his legs up to cross them. } Dancing takes a toll on a man, Jongin. I get tired. My back hurts. I need to invest in my own masseuse of some sort, but I'm too broke for that. {/ as if implying that his friend be the one to fit the status quo, he looks to them, grinning. } I can make it worth your troubles.

[optiquehun-blog]

drmprk:

Mary gazed at the man silently, thinking over whether the request was a literative or figurative one. It was probably a figurative one, since people have been known to be uncomfortable with who they are. However, she chose to reply as if he had been asking her literally to get him out of his skin. “You’ll just be bones and bloody muscles if you do that.”

"Why not? I might as well be cryogenically-frozen and have my body sold to science. Maybe scientists can learn a thing or two, because clearly they aren't learning fast enough." Rubbing at his chin, he hummed in thought, pondering over what else to add as he looked to her, squinting, examining her features with critical attention. "I'll even pay for your services to clean up the bloody mess that's left behind." Of course, his words were that of sarcasm, but his eyes remained fixed upon her own, expressionless, stoic, until the façade came crumbling down at last and he smiled slightly.

[optiquehun-blog]

jongdaexk:

He raised his eyebrows and looked at the stranger with an astonished expression. Deep down, Jongdae was in fact scared inside, but he didn’t know what was pestering him. He looked into the other male’s eyes, proceeding to speak, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about..how would you know if I was scared of something or not?”

Indeed their expression was muddled by confusion, and he does not blame them, for he, too, would be curious as to why and how someone could speculate something so outrageous, and no less to a stranger. Instead, he shrugged a little, lips pursed into a thin line as he thought it over a few times. "I can see it in your eyes, like there's tension or something. Fear of the unknown, perhaps? I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something off."

[optiquehun-blog]

((oh so you're the one Sooyoung's typist says writes so beautifully. interesting. i do agree))

Why must Sooyoung mun do this to me. She’s embarrassing me so much. You flatter me way too much, and I’m still at a loss of words, but than you so much for everything! I really appreciate it, and it helps to further inspire me to do better.

[optiquehun-blog]

seokjinious:

"nothing is normal."              he turns his head to the side              smiles softly and then shakes              his head as the smile drops into              a thin line.                 “but taking out your anger on                  my piano isn’t normal.”     it could have been anything.     a cup, a plate or anything else     but this piano. he had to take     his anger out on the piano.                  ”do you at least feel better?”

  even as he slammed his fingers down on the keys to bring the ballad to a screeching halt, still he was unsatisfied, there was a lack of fulfillment and the rage which manifested in the haunting flats-and-sharps of the minor key curbed his need, if only temporary.

with a sigh, he withdrew his hands to look up at the male.

                "music is perhaps the one thing which calms me most,                  and I am not fond of taking my anger out through means of violence                  and breaking things."

and then he thought about the question, and wondered himself whether or not he felt better. his hands were no longer tensed and curled into tight fists with knuckles bearing a white-hot intensity, and he seemed rather subdued for the moment.

the tips of his fingers found themselves upon the keys once more, and they froze.

                "you can say that. I think I do feel better."

with the slightest smile and nod of his head to show acknowledgement, he returned to his own interpretation of a symphony laded by soft, higher notes and ill-sounding, lower ones — his fingers in control without a second thought before he's pausing once again.

                "shall I continue, then?"

[amarebony]

Knowing little about the situation at hand, Hyosung made the safe assumption that his words were not reality, but instead held a deeper meaning to them. With the kids she approached nowadays, all seemed to have a maturity that excelled their years. Perhaps he was no different. Interpreting the scenery from his eyes was not a saying she took literally, even though she most likely should have. She let her fingers run through the grass below her for a second or so, wondering how much their views truly differed. It was only when he spoke again did her brows furrow. There was so much on the page that caught her attention that it took her a second to realize that the inquiry had been sincere rather than sarcastic.

“Well, for starters; the colours. They’re definitely not what normal colours are. I assumed you did that on purpose. Some are a shade lighter, and others a shade darker. It’s visually appealing, yet still a slightly strange view. Have you ever seen Alice in Wonderland?” A soft laugh left her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while averting her gaze for a moment. To make such a childish connection sent a wave of embarrassment rushing through her. Majority of those that knew her, knew of her love for anything consisting of cartoons; specifically Disney, but it wasn’t a fact she wanted the world to know. Hyosung cleared her throat before speaking up, her tone altering to a more factual one. “It’s much like the aesthetics in that. The bright psychedelic colours, and the overly dark eerie tones. I personally love it.”

It was the curiosity that lined his features that lead her to question his words. Had he truly not realized what had been wrong with his picture? Well – wrong was perhaps not the best term to use, but as someone who had grown used to seeing realistic portraits lining the walls, it was the only word that came to mind. Her gaze broke from his as she searched the vicinity for something to test her theory. Her eyes fell on a small daffodil and with one fluid motion, she snapped it out of its place. She held the flower out to him before looking straight at him.  

“Tell me dear, what colour is this? All of it, from the stem to the petals.”

[optiquehun-blog]

"Ah! Alice in Wonderland, yes." Tearing his attention away from the masterpiece still to be finished, he slid it back into the pocket of a folder, the occasional gust of wind rather merciless, one that should not be trusted, no less when it came to his homework. "Good book, the movie was so-so, but I liked their computer-generated interfaces and everything. Especially what they did with Cheshire." Realising he was deviating from the point of their conversation, he cleared his throat and offered an apologetic smiling, shuffling to face her completely.

Catching sight of the daffodil extended out to him, he first questioned whether it was for him to take possession of, but without verbally expressing it, he relieved her of the flower and studied it for a few moments, letting its image soak in. Each petal was a flawless white, much like what the sun was to him, or the snowfall in the dead of winter. He brushed his fingertips over them, their silky feel somehow stimulating, causing a ticklish sensation when he pulled his hand back. The corona a delicate pink, like salmon but a shade lighter. It first brought to mind flamingos, and then those pastel roses he's seen beheld by young ladies. Eyes brought to the final portion, the stem, it seemed to be a murky shade of blue, almost like a teal, sharing a resemblance with the field of grass he found himself engulfed in.

After a few more moments, he believed to have his explanation ready for her hearing.

"The stem is a lot like the field of grass around me. It is blue, but not a true blue, it is murky, contaminated with another colour, and so it is teal." In the midst of his pause, he let his fingers run over the stem, a fingernail dipping into its encasing to test for durability. "Each of the petals are a flawless white, just like the ever-present snowfall in winter, the fresh precipitation which has not yet reached the ground." Fingers gliding along the curves of the petals, he took one further into his digits to feel once more for the smoothness, plucking it free from the flower itself to let it lay in the palm of his hand. "And the middle part, the cup, it is a soft pink. It is a lot like salmon, but lighter, like one of the lightest feathers plucked from a flamingo, or pastel roses young girls are commonly seen with in their hair."

Following a minute of silence between them, he nodded at last, satisfied with his interpretation when he returned the damaged daffodil, keeping for himself the petal. Lifting his head to meet her gaze entirely, he smiled, awaiting an analysis of how he did, although still curious as to why the question was brought up in the first place, but something rather trivial when he considered that he's asked about more bizarre phenomenon.

[bhuns-blog]

     ”I’ll eat whatever you can’t finish then,” he said with a smile as he nodded his head. L.Joe wasn’t really paying attention to how the other played with his food, instead giving his attention to his Siamese twin kittens instead, petting their heads in unison with both of his hands after crouching down to give them attention. “Mm! Living alone most of your whole life,” he lied, “can work wonders. It was terrible at first, let me tell you: Burnt eggs do not make a good meal for an eight year old child, but I kept at it. Practicing whenever I had the supplies for it or watching the cooks at school.” He nodded, “Thank you, though! Broken record or not, a compliment’s a compliment.”

[optiquehun-blog]

"If it makes you feel any better, I can barely make myself a sandwich. I've burnt a series of slices of bread over the course of years that toast might as well be a luxury for me to get my hands on." Chuckling, he set the fork down momentarily to resume his chewing on the bits of food, focused on the rather dull taste that lingered at the back of his throat in-between, and even when he swallowed, there was something strange about it. "What about you? Do you normally cook yourself breakfast or really any meals? I find it to be so much effort... I'm literally that person that's been blessed by the likes of fast-food and takeout. Once upon a time I almost burned down a friend's kitchen when they requested I bake them cookies because I ate all of theirs." With a small sigh, he lowered his head and shook it, the memory bitter, more unsavoury than the omelette without its share of ketchup. "I tried to warn them, but they didn't listen."

[kimjongen-blog]

      [ ∞ ]   — Suddenly, his tongue tastes bitter to his own amusement, he seems bewildered with the whole scenario and once again, his brown optics only fixes at the other, trailing from tip to toe; completely mortified at the similarity which also come with the same name. Jongin feels a little bit light-headed for a while, dragging his palm along the back of his neck and somehow thinking that this is just an awful dream. The dancer only tones down into a small cough before replying back, trying not to sound too perplexed by the other’s features. “Jongin, you can call me Jongin or Kai.” He answers subtly. “It’s just- you remind me of someone.. and honestly I have no idea how to explain this but you two look.. I mean you look- just like him.”

[optiquehun-blog]

"Ah, is that so?" Blinking a few times, his curiosity piqued at their words, and he desired for an elaboration on everything. Although, their own name struck a familiar vibe, and he took a step back from them to first scrunitise their facial features, eyes proceeding to glaze over them from head-to-toe, analysing the exposed skin and attire that clung to their figure. Then he figured out why, a wide smile played on his lips, one dipped in fondness. "Jongin! I knew you looked familiar when I saw you through the crowd but I thought it was just my eyes acting up." Tempted to extend his arms out to them and envelop them in a tight hug that painted their friendship, except deceived by the illusion that this was not the person whom he's been friends with for years, the one he aided in the relief of their depression, he digressed, letting his arms remain at his sides. "I swear your memory is worse than mine. How could you not remember me? I might as well be your best friend." Proud, he set his hands at his hips, basking in that moment of glory before bringing his attention back to them. "Did you just get out of class?"

[yisins-deactivated20140711]

He noticed a small twinkle in their eyes, either one of amusement or sympathy for his misfortunes (or so he says) as a child. He simply nodded his head, and followed. Yixing was never one to lead, not in public, not with strangers, not ever. He let them take the initiative and lead the way around the store. “Chivalry is not dead, indeed,” with a nod of his head and a soft thank you under his breath, he passed by into the cool air conditioning and brightly lit store. “Shopping is fun if you have money to buy new things. Sadly, I’m still saving up for college tuition. I don’t want to get student loans at all, that would ruin the rest of my life. I also burnt a friend’s kitchen down to ashes recently.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the last part of the story; he didn’t want to turn the conversation down hill with sad words and sob stories. The optimist had his ways with life and would eventually pay up, he just doesn’t know when.

"But you’re right! Shopping is fun. I like buying scented candles for myself, because of reasons unknown. I just like the thought of lighting up something and giving the house a fresh smell. It’s weird. I also like a lot of souvenirs and stuff." He looked through the selections, picking up a few articles of clothing to look at after a few seconds; some were too ugly, others were too expensive. And so the struggle went on. He never found something he liked at a reasonable price and in his size. It was always too big or too small, too much for a piece of cloth he could buy somewhere else. "Games are still better than candles and decorations. At least you spend time with them. I just buy them and slap them on a spot in a corner of the house, to look or maybe never look at again." Yixing smiled when he looked at himself in the mirror, poking the other’s side whilst trying to shy away from the spot light. "I don’t shop much. Only when I need to, you’re right. Once I start shopping I buy everything, so I try not to. Plus, the only thing I ever really shop for is food anyway." He bit his lips, shyly tugging on the hem of his shirt. "How do I what? Think I look? Uh. I look average. You look great."

[optiquehun-blog]

As they poked blindly at his side, whether with mischief in mind or not, he reached out to swat their fingers away, his arms securing themselves around his own midsection, refusing to let himself be victimised to the likes of tickling. He found them to be suspicious, possibly impish and with ulterior motives he has yet to decode. But he must warn them that he fought back, and hard. Instead, he did not comment about the motions of their hands, not wanting the conversation to fall off track to something so trivial despite how ticklish he could be at times. Reluctantly did he have to pry his arms away from his sides, eyes boring into the back of their skull and settling upon their hands for any sudden rift in their motionlessness.

"So you're a college student? That's cool. Are you majoring in anything yet? Do you know what you want to major in? I agree with you on tuition. On one hand, having the money accessible is convenient and nice, but on the other, you'd be spending the rest of your life paying it off, and you might as well be a slave to the likes of debt bondage. A horrendous cycle." Shuddering at the thought, he smiled somewhat sheepishly at them as he shuffled to stand by their side, still looking at the mirror, the reflection of the other male a perfect replica, albeit proportions were rather off by the angle.

"Time's kinda scary. The days go by so fast and I'm just taking it all in as time goes by. I'm not one for planning too far ahead in the future. Which would probably explain why I have no set plan for college or anything. I'm not even fretting over the college entrance exams yet while everyone else in my class is studying day and night." He rubbed the nape of his neck, cutting his rambling short to clear his throat and hand back over the spotlight, an apologetic act for his wordiness and bombarding of incessant questions. "Average? Do you think you only look average? Is that your honesty or is that what you truly see? Just average?" With his head turned to them slightly, he stole a glance at the mirror once more, pausing to collect his thoughts. "Yes, I am confident I look great. Why do you say only average?"

[zithecon-deactivated20141016]

“A she?” Zi considers for a moment, walking into this woman’s art class pretending to be a student. He’s tall but he still has a baby face and he could probably get away with it. He would sit in the back of the class and watch her stifle true creativity little by little and when she finally got to him; because he’d certainly be a face she’d never seen before he’d put on some phony act about being from the school board. Tell her how it’s people like her who make the world lose out on great artist. Embarrass her in front of her entire class, and then really get to teaching about art. It’s something he might consider if he finds the time. He takes his love for it a bit more serious than most.

"That’s kind of fucked up man. Realism is a tough nut to crack though. A lot of artist have a hard time getting into it. Maybe you did something to piss her off and it’s only making the situation worse." He’s still trying to see the good in this teacher he’s never met. No one passionate about art would force their own opinion onto someone else. It was why he even got into it in the first place. When he was in high school he never failed an art class. His teacher said he couldn’t. Promised them that art what was they made it and he liked that idea. That he couldn’t be judged on something because it was his own emotions being reflected back at him. Who understood him better than himself?

He’s carried that philosophy all throughout his life and it’s certainly what pushed him towards wanting to become a con artist. Funny how so many people complain that school never teaches them anything. He just likes to think that they aren’t looking in the right places. He learned a thing or two but maybe he just lucked out. If his art teachers had taken the approach this one did he might be out working some standard nine to five job and while the world needed people who did just that he wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t even fake it with the best of them for more than a few hours. 

"Yeah, when you said you got on stage to perform that’s what I assumed. My bad." He shifts the bag in his lap a little, and turns to check where they’re at on the bus route. He has to figure out how he’s getting back to his place and thinks he may just book it with this guy at least until the search has cooled down a bit. Plus one of his stash spots is coming up and he’s thinking he better hide it away — whenever there’s a major crime like the one he just pulled off they always come knocking on his door. Flashing their search warrants, wanting to know where he’s been in the past twenty-four. For good reason. He’s almost always the cause of it. 

"Oh so doing the instrumental thing? Or dancing rather? That’s really cool. I mean I can play the piano and I’m kind of good with the drums but that may just be me banging on them and not actually playing anything cool. It’s just a hobby though. Everything else I’m involved in is more artistic and doesn’t require nearly as much talent. Should let me hear you go at it one day that could be kind of cool." 

There’s a brief pause and then the bus comes to a stop as people begin to file off. “Question, where do you plan on getting off at?” 

[optiquehun-blog]

He pondered over their words, and thought once, twice, about everything that's been discussed so far, and he came to the conclusion that he agreed completely and totally with them — which then brought him to sift through his memories for a point in time in which he may or may not have gotten on the art teacher's bad side. The results are inconclusive by the time the bus comes to a halt to let off its next batch of passengers, and he drew a blank, lips slightly parted, yet not a sound filing out. Stumped, he stared ahead without so much as a blink of an eye, brows even furrowing, determined to keep on track with his train of thoughts and to draw from it some sort of plausible resolution that put together the story. Nothing. He blinked, returning to reality.

The corners of his lips twitched, and he smiled, eyeing them from his peripheral vision.

"I spent a good minute or two there trying to think of what I did wrong that would cause the teacher to have some sort of vendetta against me, but alas, I cannot think of anything. Maybe she does not like how I dress." Upon finishing his own perspective on the matter, he glanced down at himself for a quick analysis of his attire — cut short by the fact his backpack was nestled in his lap obscuring the articles from his lower half and below. However, he did pick at the hem of his shirt, as if in search of a flaw, any flaw, minor or major, something that would dictate a disheveled appearance. It's spotless, flawless, no imperfections his eyes could perceive.

"Have you ever had a teacher that just seems off? Like they just seem like they wouldn't like you because you are you, you exist, and no matter how good of a person you are or your virtues, you will never find yourself on their good side? I'm starting to think that's me. Maybe she just hates kids or hates her job. I wouldn't blame her. I wouldn't want to teach a bunch of high school students either." He chuckled, freeing his hands from his clothing to set them on top of his bag, looking out the window once more, scenery still stationery, the pinging of a nearby machine and an automated voice reciting thanks to those that swipe their card to get off.

"But yeah, I do both. When I first got into high school, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, so I just sorta took general classes to figure out what I was most passionate about, then I continued on from there. I like playing instruments, but dancing is just as fun, if not more fun, so I'm currently putting forth more time into that." He looked back to the passenger seated to his right, beaming with renewed motivation. "Would you be interested? You could probably stop by my school one day and watch us practice. Every Friday we gather in a big auditorium to listen to select groups and students perform. It's fun!"

Motion stirred all around him, and soon enough, the bus took off again after closing its doors. Vacancy become more apparent as time went on, with some seats being freed, others taken, the process an on-off switch. Again did he have to think over their question, and the logical answer would be to say he was heading home, yet he was in no rush to return. He craved for some sort of adrenaline rush not obtained by the likes of public transport, not at all, but rather something spontaneous that would keep him on his toes and leave him breathless.

What does he say?

"I'm... That's a good question." Still struggling, he dragged on his words to buy himself extra seconds to improvise. "I got so sidetracked I forgot where I was supposed to be going. I could head home, but I don't know if I want to yet. I'm in no rush. Maybe I'll just sit here until I finally get kicked off, see the city." He laughed, shifting in his seat to reduce the stiffening of his joints. "And you?"

[baejuko-blog]

                    { ✯ } — watching him with confused eyes, yujin slowly climbed up a tombstone sitting across from the boy and tipped her head slightly. resting her chin on her knees, the female blinked rapidly as she pushed her lower lip out slightly, nodding as he spoke. sleepwalking? mortals are very weird. how could one simply walk around while sleeping? it surprised her how the boy seemed okay; how did he reach the graveyard without getting injured? was he some sort of supernatural creature, as well? ❝ hm? that’s good, then. i wondered maybe you hit your head and forgot your name. i’m yujin and yeah, i do. ❞

[optiquehun-blog]

As if taking her words into consideration, his fingertips prodded around each curve of his skull, feeling for some sort of indentation or indication that he really did hit his head and suffer from some sort of blunt trauma. Upon further inspection, there's nothing out of place, no depressions, nothing sinking in, and so he wrote off her possibility as negative, and even with a frown. He was as curious to debunk this mystery. His eyes fell upon the gravestone of which she sat on, reading the scripture engraved, not too keen on the religious reference when he brought his attention back to her. "I hope this isn't too terribly odd of a question,  but mind I ask what day and time it is? I can't seem to remember much of anything at the moment."

[kyvgsoo-deactivated20140808]

Se Hun’s offer hadn’t seemed like an option, but more of a choice to Kyung Soo. It’s for him to automatically grab his hands on. However, he did have a choice to have the acquainted stranger accompany him to the pharmacy, but then there was the latter option, where he ditches the guy all together. Though it would’ve been an awkward trip to the drug store; having Kyung Soo remaining on his toes around the guy the whole time, but it would seem a bit unethical of him to openly accept the suggestion as they were kind enough to guide him there. Making it seem like he wasn’t grateful for the stranger to take the time out of their day to escort him to the place. Or maybe it was his way of dodging critical thinking. It wouldn’t come to a surprise if he had irrational thoughts skepticism of right off the bat. He even held suspicions of the guy, why else would he discreetly pre-dial 112?

So, Kyung Soo shook his head, appearing reluctant to the idea as he comes up with an excuse which labeled itself to be plausible. “I was hoping if… You would pay for the medicine.” He began to say, as the made up excuse actually had pillars to back it up. He forgot to bring his wallet and they were so close to the drug store as he looked back at the restaurant that was just a few blocks down. He wasn’t up to turn back around and travel underneath the blazing sun again. He needed cool air and shade—lots, and lots of shade.

He enters into the establishment through the motion-sensor doors. He didn’t give the other male enough time to have a say or an objection to his own opposition. A crisp chill of artificial air overcame his body, an internal rush of heat crawled up the spinal latter to the nape of his neck. A satisfied grin became visible, making him more approachable than anything else. He didn’t wait for the stranger, Se Hun, to catch up with him. He was already conducting an exploration, taking in the sights of the merchandise/products from each aisle that he was frolicking in and out of. It had come to a point where his headache was non-existent, which made him wonder if the cause of the said head pain had been from the heat. Now that it has suddenly came to mind, the main air conditioner that kept the restaurant cool had broken down just a few days ago. Naturally, he was obtain headaches/migraines whenever he operates the kitchen, but this past week had been anything but stressful for him.

He came to a halt at the aisle where the varieties of pain medication hadn’t vary to a selective few. Some of the brands were in hangul, while others had been in English, the foreign brand of pain medicine. He picks up the one with the name ‘Advil’ on the brand before he walks down the aisle to the front. He wonders if Se Hun was following after him; he didn’t bother to double check.

[optiquehun-blog]

                “I was hoping if… You would pay for the medicine.”

Had they not been so forthcoming and bold with their words, for sure he would have perceived this to be a joke, for anyone with a sense of politeness and hospitality in dabbling with the likes of strangers knew better than to expect of such things.

And so he took in their words at mere face-value and nothing more, letting it simmer superficially as he considered what else they had to say, which, was not much to go by. Still, he went on the belief they were joking with him, for while he had unstable jobs aside from his usual schooling, most of the time he could be found splurging on designer brands and other tangible items not really necessary.

He chose not to reply to wish, only offering a nod of the head, which was not much to go by either, and it did not stand for automatic confirmation. They marched off almost instantly without a warning, and he was on their tail and in pursuit of them the entire walk to the drugstore. Occasionally did he speak about the weather or how the humidity seemed to be at an all-time high, and how it was like trying to swim through the thickness of fog and choking on the dew. Droplets certainly did stick to the exposed parts of his skin, which he would pass off as the foreshadowing of downpour at first, until remembering that the sky was clear as can be.

Upon reaching their destination, he continued his idle banter with them, despite whether or not they reciprocated, but he paid no mind to it. He was well aware he was quite talkative compared to most of those he's met, and it came naturally, something not to oppress and try to shackle.

"It'll probably be in the aisle with medicine for colds and flus, and things like that." Pointing out and circling in midair to one of the rows ahead, he let them venture ahead as he parted ways with them to embark on his own personal excursion. The thought of what he needed for himself escaped him, and he found himself instead wandering the aisles without a sense of direction, attempting to refresh his memory. Eye drops? Bandages? Bandaids? Something along those lines he could not bring back to his mind.

Again, the other male's words echoed back to him, and as he got his hands on a small box of aspirin, he looked to his left-and-right for any potential witnesses, the corridor vacant save for his being.

Did he dare?

Perhaps they would buy into his sudden realisation that he had some medicine stuffed away in one of his pockets that went unnoticed until he checked it.

Not one to be framed for kleptomania, he was a petty theft on a couple of occasions in his time, most items being of trivial value that a store would not care to part with anyways. Although, he did consider the swindling of diamond jewelry for profit at some point when he reached an all-time desperate low.

Checking the aisle up-and-down yet again, he opened the small box and pulled out a line of tablets, tearing a few off from the rest and pocketing them, setting off to find the other whom he first came with, eventually finding them near the front counter, a small adorning his features when he cleared his throat to gain their attention. His eyes fell upon their own medicine clutched in hand.

"Hey, funny thing just happened. I was just in the other aisle looking for a card and I heard my phone ring. And when I pulled it out, I found I had some medicine stuffed away in my pocket because sometimes I'd be out and get terrible headaches too."

Without hesitating, he snatched the Advil from them, looking to them for reassurance when he began to turn back in the direction of where the medication was found. "Do you want me to put this back then?"

[yxfvn-deactivated20140811]

( `;he lets out an almost disappointed sigh when you bring up being a broke student just trying to get by, pursing his lips in a small, playful pout, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. ) Well, yeah. Whoever offers, has to pay. Isn’t that how it goes these days? ( `;he flashes a toothy grin, a soft laugh escaping him afterwards. of course he really hadn’t expected you to pay — he knew students had the worst income of all, even they even had any income at all, that is. 

he has no problem meeting your gaze, as his own was filled with pure curiousity, and maybe even slight concern — did you know that it was possible the colours of your drawing were off? he didn’t want to blurt it out, he’d rather learn how you saw things, just to see how off they really were. so when you start to speak, he listens as closely as he could to make sure he doesn’t miss anything, his brows raising and his eyes widening a bit. so the grass is blue to you… and the sky is as well. and the sun was white? that was… interesting. he presses his lips together into a thin line, glancing down at the drawing again before back up at you, letting out a quiet sigh. ) To me, the grass is green, and the sky is blue. And the sun— well, it’s a burning… yellow-orange colour that may sometimes look white, but for the most part it’s yellow. ( `;he says with a nod, reclining back in his chair a bit. ) Most people… depict the grass, sky, and the sun as I described them. Have you told your art teacher that this is simply how you see the world around you? I mean — that could give you an easier time with not failing, if he or she were to understand, don’t you think…?

[optiquehun-blog]

{/ he's beyond adamant about not having the burden of purchasing for the two of him, even going so far as to shake his head in disagreement, wiggling a finger out at you, clicking his tongue. } I thought you knew me, Yifan. You know I'm a broke student. I can barely afford to eat for myself sometimes. {/ he's aware they're still picking fun at each other, but he can't help but to continue raging on, for he was never one to back down so easily from a playful skirmish, no less with someone he's all too fond of. }

{/ as he's listening to your own interpretation of the world around them, he's intrigued by the very colours you mentioned. he knew his colours like the back of his hand, or at least he thought he did. green was not an icy blue? an icy blue much akin to the icicles hanging from roofs as he previously mentioned? was the sun really a yellow-orange? whenever he peered into the harsh rays, nothing came from it, he drew a ball of white absent from any and all pigments. he even began to consider that maybe you were the one that was the odd-one-out set apart from the masses. but that was him — one of denial that's unable to admit nor come to face his fears that there's something wrong with him when he's built with absolute perfection in mind, flaw perhaps one of his ultimate fears. but he does not falter, and he even mirrors your actions by canting back into his own chair, hands reaching out for his fingertips to touch the artwork out in front of him, sliding it closer and turning it around so he may inspect it for himself. } Is that so. {/ he nodded in response to the revelation, his words not a question, but a statement, crestfallen by it. } Do you think it's worth it? I didn't want to say anything because I figured I'd get slapped with a detention because they thought I was raising my voice and challenging their authority or something.

[optiquehun-blog]

"Take. This. Off. "

                "Take. This. Off. "

Rolling his eyes at their demand, he shook his head in utter defiance, even going so far as to make himself comfortable by standing up from the chair to sit on the table instead. Tipping the bill of his hat further past his forehead, letting it just barely graze his eyebrows, he lifted his head almost adjacent to the ceiling in order to look them in the eye, smiling.

How he loved testing the patience of others.

In an academic setting, never would he think to oppose authority or even consider the possibility of insubordination. But here, he held free reign to do as he pleased, and that included being stubborn.

"I think it looks a lot better on me." Sliding his phone closer to him, he angled it so that his reflection appeared in the blankness of the screen, hat veiling most of the top of his head, stray blonde hairs peeking out from underneath it.

"Besides. You're making it sound like I'm about to ruin your precious hat or something. Maybe I just wanted to try it on to see how I'd look with it. And yeah, I hate to break it to you," as he set his phone back down on the table, he gripped the edges of it, fingers curling underneath as he scooted towards the brink, shuffling closer to them, "but this hat does look better on me. For how much would you be willing to part with it, hm?"

As he looked to the other for guidance, delight coloured his features, the corners of his lips curved up in a smile lacking the bare necessities to qualify for a grin.

"I swear, sometimes you're too serious."