ASIDO

SONG BYUL / 22 / LOTUS

[rmhwan-blog]

▍hunt&hide.

                                    – starter for @rmbyul

          ( — if he was a little less inebriated and steadied upon his ground, by the time the announcement was given would he have strolled over to byul in order to (happily) hand over his hellion badge. it’s the alcohol that finally slithers in his system that loosens him, broadens his mind against his natural rigidness and refusal to participate in fatuous alpha parties, and breaks down his stubborn defenses in allowance for fun. The alpha mansion is a chaotic cacophony of individuals going absolutely wild, vicious hands and explosions of laughter shoot from corner to corner, each person attempting to rise victorious in the given mission. For once, the robust atmosphere is reflected on minhwan’s features in a loopy grin, the shell of his ears and cheeks flustered from the alcohol he (forcefully) took half an hour or so ago. ) 

         byul-ssi! ( — the head of a certain brunette girl catches his attention despite his condition and, recklessly [for someone like him, anyway] does he call out to her. even in his far from sober state, the tendency to keep things somewhat fair still remains upon his personality. minhwan waits until she turns so that he could crinkle his nose and stick his tongue out, a silent taunt and an invitation to try to catch him. he then moves, weaving himself through the crowd as best as he could with hazed vision and two left feet. his pin placed on the side of his ivory swim shirt and concealed by his vibrant red jacket, minhwan cranes his head back to ensure that the chase has begun. )

[rmbyul-blog]

        ( ` in midst of chaos, she is a redly harpy with sharpened talons and a pistol mouth, hawk-like eyes scanning the frenzied mass for her prey. it matters little what song byul had been doing prior (not the bite marks that line the slope of her neck, not the bruising skin at her hips, nor the devil’s liquid that pumps through busy veins could deter her from the task at hand), the drumming within ivory cages beating to a different sound entirely. something like a war song, a hunting hymn, a rapid thump thud that has her blood rushing, head spinning, high on adrenaline. and where of her prey? she’s sure he’ll show sooner or later. )

   ah, ( ` yeo minhwan stands to be a forgetful force, no, something less than a force, something softer still, eased out of the smallest rib and sharpened to the point of a capable little prick to her side. that is, what the entity of hellion tends to be—but byul is more amused than not in this case, when plain forgettable minhwan loses his head to taunt her. and here, she laughs, a boisterous sardonic kind that shakes her insides, tickles the back of her head. cute. her fingers brush her pin (pinned proudly to her chest) absently before she sets off, seeing clearer by the second as she ventures into the crowd, careful in her usage of her power to nudge bodies out of the way. it didn’t take long for her to catch her prey, to curl her talons into the bright red collar and tug, lips curled wolfishly. ) gotcha. 

[nayeoh]

[rmjaewon-blog]

fairness

@rmbyul

live among wolves and there’s no mistake that you will become part of the pack. the alphas are not simply just one among a group: they stand as their own, and together, and in the same way, jaewon has never felt more at home than in a place surrounded by monsters. they can’t be their own kind of villains and heroes if there isn’t a fight to be had, and his veins are thrumming with too much alcohol, and his brain is lost in it. there’s a girl, nearby, who he recognises ( but who doesn’t he recognise, really? ), and he insists it’s boredom, reasons that it must be because he needs a distraction, and in a party like this, there simply isn’t enough –

he reaches for her arm, and gives it a little tug.

“captain!!! there she is – hey, are you having fun, captain?” a redundant question: it’s already assumed that everyone must and should have fun at an alpha party. he keeps on talking anyway. “there’s a table and beer and a bunch of ping pong tables and you know what that means, right?”

[rmbyul-blog]

there’s a saying about entering the house of wolves. perhaps byul could better recite it had she not been knocking back shots like there was no tomorrow. but that was the point of a party; and despite her reputation, she is far from a stick in the mud (plus, the chances of her tolerating any of alpha (or the rest of the school) sober was zero to none). so brings her to current scenario at hand, face flushed and body hot, phantom heat of the crowd she briefly weaved (and danced) through in the den lingering on her skin, swirling her senses. 

yes, so she might just be too drunk—enough that the tug at her arm has her near stumbling.

“yah,” surprise colors her words, body colliding against his with a small grunt before she manages to collect herself. “you realize i’m not your captain, jaewon.” a small laugh escapes anyway, almost nervous (unnatural) in the way she forces down the question that nearly slips off her tongue. where is your captain?

“what? you wanna play me in beer pong? i don’t think that’s a good idea for your big boy ego...” 

she grins, canines bared.

“meaning you’ll lose, big boy.” 

[lgcyiseul]

of champions

( @rmbyul )

taeyong was so fucking weak. two beers, a mixed drink, three shots of something later, and there he was: slurring his words and pouring whatever clear alcoholic beverage he could find in the shot glasses he procured from the alpha house’s kitchen, making sure to drag and force whatever poor, innocent soul waltzes by into downing one or two with him. ( whatever happened to the alcohol tolerance he so proudly built up at the last monster rush party? )

just as he finished spilling the last bit of this tequila bottle into two glasses, his eyes locked onto his next victim. “byul!” he shouted in probably the loudest voice he’d ever produced. “c’mere ol’ buddy, ol’ pal.” he hurriedly gestured her over, ensuring that an expression of excitement was painted onto his features.

“how ‘bout some captain shots, yeah? i’ve been tryin’ to find jongin for ages now, but he’s nowhere to be seen—but that’s okay! you’re the next best thing … or the best thing. either way: the best.” god, taeyong was embarrassing when he was drunk.

[rmbyul-blog]

it’s always the same fucking people at the end of the day. the lightweights, anyway, the one shot wonders that insists on getting shit-faced regardless of how much they could handle. byul usually never associated with that bunch, but some things are inevitable – especially when one of her friends fall under the category of messy ass lightweight.

but whether or not taeyong had always been lightweight (for he certainly boasted a high tolerance at the last party), it still didn’t deviate from the fact that he was also a fucking annoying drunk. 

the sound of her name has her grimacing, swallowing the sigh that surfaces as she trudges over, perhaps still a little too sober for this kind of shit. “you’re so fucking loud—” she hisses, face flushed with the slightest hint of embarrassment at the boy’s behavior. fucking jongin byul resists the urge to whine. how he managed to see this coming and give them both the slip was beyond her.

“how much did you drink huh?” words accusing, the captain reaches for the glass anyhow, head tilting. “how are you so wasted already?”

[rmjongin-blog]

into the fire

@rmbyul​

a mess of legacy kids—some already on the verge of drunkenness, some high off the extravagance of the alpha mansion—stream into the building, absentmindedly picking up their legacy pins from the baskets and spreading like wildfire in their bright red swimsuits. first years, as they always do, run for the pool and others, more seasoned members, dash for the huge display of alcohol in the center of the living room. there is a heightened sense of urgency in the air tonight. the youth are electric, bouncing from wall to wall, babbling like school children.

jongin picks a jaeger pin from the bowl as he enters. the pin is shaped as a white skull—their inauspicious emblem—and it weighs heavy in his palm with real metal and ivory. the quality of such a mundane thing was to be expected of the alpha house, whose budget could rival a whole college within gumi. “must be the gimmick this year,” he remarks, attaching it to his plain white shirt—an addition to his costume that one of the alpha bouncers sneered at.

“should we participate tonight?” he looks at byul, unsure if she’ll even be able to concentrate on anything other than sehun tonight. “for old times sake?”

[rmbyul-blog]

she is well on the way to being drunk before she even stepped foot into alpha’s doors. granted, lotus carried the tradition of pregaming before any party (as to give the captain a chance to offer the necessary pep talk) for longer than she’s been in the legacy. not that it meant that she had any reason to drink in preparation (though to be fair, it took a shot or two to even coerce the lotus captain into an agreeable enough state to go—even if it was, fucking mandatory.)

but still, all was in vain once she found herself queueing up to enter the house—decked out in all there was to be decked out in (how very alpha of them) for the occasion. and byul wonders if she’s just not drunk enough at the first wolf whistle directed her way, lips pulling into a pouty frown. aggravating. it makes her all the more grateful in having brought jongin as a date, a man with a multitude of goods that will inevitably raise her spirits.

well. her eyes flick over from the glass bowl of pins to him at his words, brow arching. almost.

“what, is that a challenge kim jongin?” byul quips playfully, wrapping her fingers around the detailed lotus insignia. “are you sure you’re up for that?” 

she grins wolfishly.

“what are you going to give me when i win? your most promising freshmen?”

[rmsehun-blog]

blind man

@rmbyul

buzzed, muscles lax, face warm. his face charmed with a grin, happier than smug – which is a novelty nowadays, despite the need for inebriation to have his eyes crinkling and the whites of his teeth poking out. our alpha’s captain, oh sehun’s heart lulls in its comfortable bay in the cage of his chest animated in monster rush antics, the alcohol running with the rush of his blood. 

despite being sub-human, advanced in his DNA (looks and all too), he still falls into the clutches of intoxication. 

not that he has a complaint, his red swim trunks and his oiled torso is garnering attention to these drunken foolish gumi girls who flutter their lashes thinking in bliss that sehun can’t see their chest rising and falling a tad bit too fast, and well – other parts of their chest he is sure they are here to flaunt for him. and it is here where in the flurry of red and white swim suits does he relish in the sweet, gratifying thought of how they’re all here because of him. 

and he was surely here to show what sort of force he is, to show how alphas are, like their namesake, alphas. 

so you could say oh sehun is happier than he normally is, not usually smiling in ease, so obnoxiously with his chest singing and shouting lyrics to the beat of the melodies that blare out like he is now. there are giggles and loud yelps that follow in splashes that resound from outside,  there is a comfortable smile that dances lazily on his lips.

you could say he is in a better mood than he usually is. sans grimace, sans sneer. (heck–, some alpha members have probably never seen their captain so happy.) 

but one problem that never really does get fixed in the boozy, thunderous night of monster rush – despite the frivolities that constantly berate his vision, muffle his hearing and dart his line of sight. again, there is something inevitable, magnetic and fateful (dare the science major say it). 

there is a force that shakes him from within, the warm alcohol coursing in his veins (relentless, yearning, stupidly fucking admiring, adorning, pathetically entranced – oh no). the ergokinetic who feels surges of force swarming his body is taken. -in which, he is taken by (always, forevermore and especially now- now, taken). 

taken by the rush of hot energy that bubbles under his skin from a girl whose parents named her after a star with her pretty pale skin his pink lips would kiss. the heart resounds ever so loudly, a bitter reminder of his succumbing infatuation. how his mind swims in its intoxication and his eyes feast on her amorously, the force of his unrelentless fucking attraction- 

(”you’re so beautiful girl - a blind man could love you.” the song that plays in the back goes.)

the way her ass looks in a tight red swimsuit- by god.

for he is wrathful not kind, nor patient (not anymore). but his heart is the same just bigger, still beating in the same chest for the same boy. 

and this very idea rises his sneer back, teeth seething. 

“song byul.”

you could say he is a blind man, 

blind to the blatant signs that jump at him that prod him to stop, blind to the yanking of the heartstrings, blind to the venom words that spit on him. (they say love is blind.) 

[rmbyul-blog]

nerves alight, song byul has never been more alert. a night at alpha’s is about the same as one spent on a monster infested island. given, those monsters sought after eating her in an entirely different way. (but even she knows no alpha would dare—not with the reputation the crown on her temples brings about.)

it doesn’t help that molten lava courses through her veins, rages in the pits of her stomach, sends her restlessly weaving through a moving crowd, drink in one hand and the ghost of interlocked fingers in another (intimate touches are fleeting, leave phantom heat that does little to sate a yearning heart)—unable to fully settle when her heart raced, urged, rushed with possibilities.

she, who, like the rest of humanity, is a hedonist by heart. she, held hostage by want, an aching sort of need to fill the hollowed chest beneath fair skin. she, a force to be reckoned with, a impenetrable fortress (sixty feet tall and enforced with indestructible steel). 

(song byul was no ice queen. but she’d guard her heart as such.)

now she, a wavering entity, victim to devil water, searches—despite herself and muted whispers of the little voice in her head—desperately, aimlessly, in a sea of heat and intoxication for the one thing that fills the hollowed hearth (sets it alight, living, breathing, feeling).

at the end of her search, she finds oh sehun.

aka the tender bruise in her heart. aka the bitter sorrow under her tongue. aka the reason her heart burns, hosts a frightful roaring monster of reds, blacks, and greens. aka why she fucking loses her mind (i’m talking all rationality, all self control). 

aka the man that has her taken, body, mind, and soul, mind-numbingly faithful despite herself as if she was seventeen again (and oh sehun with his soft hands and charming smile was all that mattered).

but, you could say things are different now. that the boy once responsible for the palpitations of her heart is now the man equally (if not more) responsible for the way the hearth in her chest burns (twists and turns).

now, he was far from the boy she fell for in high school. now, should she ever be able to bring herself to admit it, byul hated him as much as she loved him.

not that it stopped her feet from moving, magnetized to the likes of oh sehun and the inevitable heartache he brings her (fingers twitching the entire which way, aching to smooth over a body she knows better than her own). 

undoubtedly, she hated these parties. yet our cowardly prideful star would not have approached without any other prompting than this—the racing of her heart and low hum of busy veins at work—the devil’s courage dancing on her tongue, whispering into her ear better ways to ease herself into oh sehun’s life. one without a sharp wickedness she has grown into throughout the years.

to clarify: she is drunk enough. enough to operate with a startling amount of clarity still. enough to shoulder inebriation as an excuse to be uncharacteristic. enough to approach oh sehun and his hungry eyes (no longer soft, but wickedly charming) in skimpy red (like her face feels, like her mind rushes), mouth impish with the way her name falls from his tongue.

“sehun.”

she sounds almost breathless, lips curled to reveal a hint of teeth while her gaze lowers to drink in, if just a selfish second, the fruits of alpha’s training regime (and feels her face heat for just a fraction more, teeth torturing her lower lip slow when their eyes meet once more).

“...is that baby oil?”

[rmbyul-blog]

WARM WATER

@rmhwan

there’s a certain je ne sais quois about the lull that overcomes each and every occupant of alpha’s grandeur house. the push of body against body, lips upon lips. alpha with lotus, hellion with everyone, and (god forbid) the occasional jaeger fledging with their grubby little fingers smoothing over the small of a lotus girl’s back.

and she would care more—if cheap beer didn’t course through every busy vein and nursed earlier’s shots of tequila and whatever else—but as it is, song byul was officially too inebriated to give a shit about her legacy.

(read: it’s not that she’s too fucked up, just fucked up a moderate enough amount to care lesser than usual about who might or might not shit on lotus’ otherwise “pristine” reputation. pristine, as in generation after generation of lotus girls have yet to get caught for the shit they’ve done. in the games, out of the games, wherever.)

instead, her befuddled mind (big, beautiful, currently incapacitated from thinking beyond the rush to her head and the gnawing need to put her hands on something tall, broad, and alpha burning) fixates on the game she’s been coerced into, and the stranger (well, not stranger stranger) she pulled off the wall to join her.

“so,” the captain starts, words slightly slurred and lithe fingers wrapped loosely around the taller’s arm. “you know how to play right?” she gestures to the plastic cups lined up on either side of the table. “just drink—and then y’flip the fucking cup.” 

she pinches his arm lightly, lips wielding a disarming smile as if its born for that and that only.

“not so hard right?”

[detectivetimekhb]

[ bitchfest. ]

@rmbyul​

in the dull of a quiet, nondescript swim shop, there he stands, head bopping to a faint tune played on an overpriced speaker. this is how he spends his day: fingers gliding lazily along racks upon racks of swim shorts; taking articles of clothing off the rack, only to put them back again when he decides they’re not the perfect shade of red he’s looking for.

(or sometimes they are, but they’re overpriced and he thinks of all the money he could save and give to halmi instead, and so he puts them back again.)

he spends another ten minutes perusing before he settles on three swim trunks of varying shades, none of which are quite the neon red he envisioned.

and so he walks towards the change rooms, head held high while he whistles along with the background music. but as soon as he enters the narrow hallway, what he sees forces him to come to a halt.

his motive for coming here has since been forgotten. instead, he leans his forearm against the wall as an ever growing smirk tugs on his lips. eyes drift lazily down the length of her tight body, and his tongue presses against his cheek in amusement. her.

“you almost look like a lady,” he voices, making his presence known.

he pushes himself off the wall and steps towards her, and a low chuckle falls from his lips as his eyes drift downward once again.

there, he stops right in front of her.

and there, he obnoxiously brushes his finger against the bottom of her chin.

“i’ll give you a solid five.”

[rmbyul-blog]

there’s something about alpha’s parties that stresses her out.

granted, there are a lot of things about alpha that stress her out (at the top of the list is their captain, oh sehun—the infuriatingly handsome thing made of nightmares and daydreams) — but parties like this (mandatory, shitty themed parties) that has her shifting through racks of vivid red to find something that suits her tastes.

(vaguely, she recalls a certain captain’s likeness for the color—her stomach proceeds in its acrobatic attempts to further aggravate her—on her girls. a souring thought that draws a frown to her face, and is reason enough to return to the shop after previously visiting with jongin.)

not that her original choice was bad—but byul knows it could be better.

at the least, it would serve enough purpose to sour fucking oh sehun’s attempts to enjoy tonight.

(fuck this party, really, fuck it.)

but the act of picking and choosing is never easy—especially with the added company of one very boisterous (dumb as rocks) alpha boy.

(byul hears his footsteps—heavy, dragged, epitome of a man with power and a posture as poor as his grades—before she even hears the first syllable (drawled, as if he has an issue with proper speech) to escape undoubtedly sneering lips.)

still, it barely stops the reaction her body supplies with the sound of kim hanbin’s deep timbre (the feeling of his eyes on her swimsuit clad body). 

(it bristles, almost animalistic, jaw clenched and the ghost of a growl reverberating in the back of her throat.)

“and you definitely look like the perverted cretin you are, creeping up on someone in the women’s section of the fitting rooms.” byul retorts, arms crossing over her chest unconsciously; never self conscious (much), but cautious in the face of alpha’s resident horndog.  

kim hanbin, an impression burned into memory—is good at nothing else beyond the matters in bed and coercing women into them. well, that and being a complete sack of shit unworthy of the time of her, mideum, or any other self-loving female out there.

but, she’ll digress. 

the finger slipped under her chin has her eyes narrowing, teeth sinking into her inner cheek slightly in irritation. how was it that hanbin knew just how to get under her skin? that every glance, word, facial muscle movement, has tested the lengths of her patience. as if he assumes she won’t break the very finger that touched her.

“really?” she starts, head tilting to the side slightly as her eyes lower from his face to his lower body, raising a pointed brow at one very specific area. 

“because it looks like a four to me.”

byul snorts, pressing her palm flat against his chest to push the alpha back a couple spaces, decisive in the words she bites out, edged with an underlying tint of bite.

“mind your distance.”

[rmkw-deactivated20171001]

scorn & chagrin.

it’s hard to miss her. 

she walks with an aura. in name, she only reigns lotus. in reality, she reigns more. it takes a mere look to recognize who she is but she wins all the second glances too. her looks do not entirely attribute this. the tradition of legacies and their significance is strong in everyone’s roots. before personality and before identity, it is legacy. and before song byul, she is the girl on the lotus’ throne, its crown pretty around her head and its people in her delicate fist. 

she breezes past him at the hallway, and he thinks it’s possible that she’s blatantly ignoring him: would very much contribute her costly attention to matters that concern her more than a lowly alpha like him. but hesitance is also expensive, and it’s clear how much he lacks it – from the way he chases after her the second he slams his locker shut, hurried strides easily bringing him to her until they’re at even paces. kangwoo doesn’t wait for acknowledgement. 

“pyul-ah. let’s have a bet,” he’s smiling as he says this, feigning being jocular when it’s obvious he’s being audacious, playing with the waters without a need to test them, “my money says you’ll be all over sehun by the time the party ends.” 

[rmbyul-blog]

there is a stigma that comes with the crown.

it doesn’t matter that byul stands on top, carries on her back the weight and expectations of generations of alumni (not to mention her fellow sisters), the glory of being the best of the best. (that was what they baited her with, promises of success and power).

what they don’t tell her about power is that you have to step on everyone else to get it.

that the pride of lotus comes at the price of the soft of her underbelly—the tender parts of her left shredded to ribbons, buried beneath the foundations built for the “perfect” captain.

so, of course she must be prim, of course she must be proper, of course she must put the house’s legacy before herself, of course she must be assertive (bitchy) and devoted (obsessed) and ambitious (cut-throat). 

her seniors have taught her no other way and soon enough—when byul finds the next candidate for captain, she would pass on the tradition.

for now, she and she alone bears the weight of the crown, the envious gazes and pointed stares—as if she didn’t know what was said behind closed doors; stick in the mud, prude, words byul would have minded them more if she hadn’t been pushed upon the duty of being the face of lotus.

(prim, proper, untouchable, powerful — that was the tagline that possessed her to join wasn’t it?)

but it’s never up to her, how she wants her days to go (unbothered, mind you) — not when dumb and dumber remains a constant that hovers around her as of late, picking and poking in hopes of getting under her skin. as if any good would actually come from such a thing. 

though if she had to really pick and choose, she would say noh kwangwoo is an grievance easier to swallow of the two. at least in the fact that byul could just as easily walk past without ever noticing his small frame. 

that is, till he attempts to play catch up. that is, till he opens his stupid little mouth to say the one thing somehow all of alpha knows of.

“doesn’t sound like a very solid bet,” byul keeps her eyes forward, careful to relax her jaw as she’s determined not to show the male any feasible reactions (alpha dogs would eat it up like a rapid pack animal). “especially since i’m going with jaeger’s captain.”

she spares him a glance out of the corner of her eye, lips curving complacently, just as sure as she could be that the news would travel back to their captain’s livid ears.

“sorry to let you down.”

[rmbyul-blog]

LINE OF FIRE

there’s simplicity in silence. a sort of palliative spell that washes over the nerves of two formerly in love and hangs in the air like simpler days—days of youth tender pressed into the curve of ribs, mouths lining the slopes of soft necks, fingers entwined and palms sweaty; days of which byul doesn’t dare let herself revisit.

if only for the fact that makes her heart weak, summons a fluttering in the crux of her chest she’d snap her jaws around.

(and it is bitter—it is always bitter when it comes to oh sehun)

instead, she allows red hot ire to drive her through the everyday, to push her into meet oh sehun’s eyes during the day and stare back (as if his gaze doesn’t have her heart convulsing just the same now like it did when they first started dating), narrowed and hostile as if its the only way she knows how (to protect her quivering heart).

but the human heart is weak, riddled with faults and easily affected by the influence of alcohol. and in this case, inebriation almost always manages to heighten her yearning intoxication of a certain alpha captain. urging her to toss aside any reason or way (rightful ones, mind you) that kept them apart to begin with.

it is that that has them running off hand in hand—the heart that yearns to be whole after all; the nerves set alight by the single touch of an entity she’s long memorized by heart, the devil’s liquor dancing on her tongue, through thin veins, that screams fuck it, why can’t you have it all?

(why must she deny herself now, the only thing she’s ever wanted?)

sober, she knew why.  intoxicated, willfully ignorant, she did not care in the slightest. 

which brings our ill-fated two to the situation now: morning after, clothing disheveled, still a little drunk as they sit face to face, byul’s nose crinkled in distaste while sehun proceeds to scarf down his eggs like he hasn’t eaten in days.

but namely, it is the silence that has her at an unease. no matter how comfortable, how nostalgic the scene playing out before her is—it’s not real, after all. not realistic—as all there is left of the a two year relationship and four year friendship is an rotting ache festering beneath her sternum and a raging green monster that pounds and roars whenever he’s around.

so, this? right here? brunch with oh sehun after spending an intimate night in bed together? a mere facade made only possible by the devil’s water.

this, specifically, the fluttering in her chest byul chooses to let flounder for a while longer just this once. a fluke. a hoax. a complete and utter fucking lie.

her fingers tighten around the glass in her grasp. they’ll never be able to get this back.

a sigh.

“if only you’d eat pussy as diligently as you eat eggs.” she mutters pointedly, breaking the silence while her nails tap idly against the glass cup, bracing herself for impact. 

they all have to wake up at some point.

@rmsehun

[rmjongin-blog]

so the tide goes

@rmbyul​

jongin shuts his phone with a thwack! and grimaces, throwing it onto his bed and swinging open the door to this closet. there was no need to even look to confirm what jongin already knew. despite the fact that he visits the beach once a week to swim, no red or white swimming suit. shit. why did sehun pick baywatch of all things? the alpha house will be buzzing with drunken kids in color-matching swim suits in less than twelve hours. embarrassing, to say the least.

monster rush was the worst time of the year. the swim suit was the least of his problems at this point. first, more importantly—

he goes back to his bed, snatches up his phone and opens up the list of his message threads. her thread is the second most recent. last text message received:

[ byul ⇢ jongin: thurs, 11.03pm ] 👅👅👅

he punches out a quick message and hits send.

[ jongin ⇢ byul: fri, 1.23pm ] i need someone to go with to the party. go with me? [ jongin ⇢ byul: fri, 1.23pm ] sehun won’t be mad. probably.

[rmbyul-blog]

this party is going to be fucked. byul’s face is burning when she hurls her phone at the wall in a fit of fury (it halts before impact, floating in midair before shooting back to plop on her bed because you know what? oh sehun isn’t fucking worth it). the steady rise and fall of her chest does little to ease her ire—as always any conversation with the alpha captain is bound to test the extent of her patience—much less the thought that she is to show up, dressed up in something skimpy, and dateless (yes, okay, she fucking lied) just to be ogled at by the likes of alpha.

what’s worse, having to stomach their captain flirting with any girl within the vicinity just to piss her the fuck off.

and a date—when was she ever going to the find time to find a date?

but, ah! (the neglected mobile chirps) salvation!

byul doesn’t know it till she procures the phone, brow arching over the messages spilling over her screen. and her mood as so follows: relieved——and irritated all over again.

( sms: jongin ) you’re willing to break your bromance pact with jiheon to go with me? ( sms: jongin ) hah ya ok like i give a fucking shit what oh sehun thinks. ( sms: jongin ) do you even own red swim trunks 

she pauses, scrolling up to review her slew of messages before continuing.

( sms: jongin ) that’s a yes, by the way ( sms: jongin ) i’ll go with you.

sometimes it’s better to clarify with the likes of kim jongin.

[rmjiheon]

beck and call.

BECK AND CALL : @rmbyul

jiheon thinks byul cuts his lifespan by a year every time they interact.

see, it’s not that she’s even a terrible person or anything like that ㅡ debatable, he knows, but when he acquires the privilege of knowing the aforementioned certain entity called song byul for ten years, it’s hard to see her as anything but dumb ㅡ but it’s more like the sharp way she talks, the offhanded topics she mentions that requires him to take a deep breath and wonder whether he’d rather swallow needles. which is why when he sees the familiar contact name ‘송별이!’ pop up on his phone, he braces himself mentally.

maybe it’s his sudden sentiment for nostalgia that causes him to go through with her demand this time, or maybe it’s the fact that he just so happened to be in a convenience store at that precise moment.

though it takes him a little less than two minutes to call her back furiously.

“song byul, are you serious?” he hisses into the phone, barely able to conceal his deeply rooted a) embarrassment b) irritation and c) a startling blend of both. he’s hidden in one of the aisles, eyes scanning over the shelves. “why the fuck are there so many.. so many types of ㅡ “ he glances nervously from side to side before whispering the next word like it was blasphemy, 

“ ㅡ tampons? and period pads? how the fuck am i supposed to know what you want?”

[rmbyul-blog]

in reality, kwon jiheon couldn’t bear a life without her.

byul knows the feeling well, knows the imprint someone leaves on another’s life after sharing a decade together—she knows, because the last time she and jiheon gave each other the cold shoulder (it was over something stupid, don’t ask—she doesn’t remember), she suffered at the cost of not having to at the very least complain to. 

but sentimentality of precious friendships and the works can be saved for another day. a day perhaps when her uterus isn’t trying to eat its way out of her body like a b-rate horror movie.

and she is fucking suffering waiting for jiheon to deliver her monthly shopping list.

our little star sits like royalty in her bed, plush pillows pressed to her sides, propped up against her back—dramatic, yes, but byul has long eased into this role since high school (when every single one of her friends were on their period because she was)—hair (unwashed) tied up in a messy bun and netflix playing off her macbook.

the chime of her phone doesn’t surprise her in the slightest, nor does the image of a thirteen year old jiheon that pops up on her screen, prompting a small amused chortle before she picks up—brow raising at the distressed whisper that greets her.

“are you daft?” she barks, brows knitting together. “i gave you a list—jiheon—this isn’t even the first time you’ve gone a tampon run.” byul mutters the next words, but she’s almost sure he heard it. it’s not like you don’t have your own pussy to tend to.

“the sport ones! for tampons—and the winged pads, for night.” her eyes roll. “and mint chocolate chip ice cream, i want a tub too.”

[rmbyul-blog]

( kkt : 송별이 ) » rip jongin ( kkt : 송별이 ) » um... since never but if that will piss you off i'll try my hardest to ( kkt : 송별이 ) » why are you lotus girls so uptight like what's up your ass ( kkt : 송별이 ) » except sehun's dick

( kkt : hoheon ) yea ok( kkt : hoheon ) suck his dick id hate it sooooo much( kkt : hoheon ) shut-( kkt : hoheon ) fuck off omg( kkt : hoheon ) i hate u so much

[wingbeifong-deactivated20160204]

[rmbyul-blog]

( kkt : 송별이 ) » um why would i be bitter when i'm the one sharing an apartment with jongin? ( kkt : 송별이 ) » i can just hang out with lotus girls and hanbin :))

( kkt : hoheon ) hm he asked me instead of you so reason enough( kkt : hoheon ) ???? kim hanbin( kkt : hoheon ) when did you start sucking his dick( kkt : hoheon ) and :)))) my girls know better than to hang w you... mess

[rmbyul-blog]

( kkt : 송별이 ) » so ugly ( kkt : 송별이 ) » how many bucks should i bet that you're going to sleep with sehun tonight 😒

( kkt : hoheon ) omg shut the fuck up( kkt : hoheon ) why the fuck you bitter jongin is going with me and not you( kkt : hoheon ) wanna get ghosted for five weeks again

[rmbyul-blog]

seriously...