𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐊 !

𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸    /     𝙞'𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬

[seoulborne]

⊱ ━━━━  hey everyone ,

                              THIS  IS  AN  EXTREMELY  PRIVATE  AND  LOW  ACTIVITY  BLOG  for  an  original  oc  named  baek  haesol,   estimated  to  have  been  made  in  2018.   the  chances  of  me  following  back  are  low   (   but  if  i  follow  you  first  it’s  because  i’m  genuinely  interested  in  roleplaying  with  you,   even  if  i  take  forever  to  respond  sometimes.   )   this  isn’t  my  only  blog.

                             WHILE  I  DON’T  THINK  IT  MATTERS,   this  is  a  blog  focused  heavily  on  mutuality   /   exclusivity.   like  i  said,   being  as  private  and  low  activity  as  i  am,   i  want  to  give  focus  to  the  mutuals  i  do  have.   if  i  plan  on  interacting  with  you  and  you’re  an  oc,   i’m  going  to  work  really  hard  to  be  invested  in  your  oc.   if  you’re  a  canon  blog,   you’re  likely  the  only  canon  blog  of  your  character  that  i’m  going  to  follow.   i  don’t  particularly  care  if  you’re  not  going  to  do  the  same   for  me,   but  it  would  be  nice.

                             I  AM  SINGLE - SHIP  WITH  @nymphxlis​.   despite  that,   i’m  a  big  fan  of  unrequited  love   /   jealousy   /   most  plots  where  misunderstandings  can  happen.   our  muses  can  still  be  friends   (   which  is  really  fun!!   )   but  i’m  not  here  to  ship  with  anyone  besides  minx.

                             I  DO  SUPPORT  “CALLOUT  CULTURE.”   if  i  see  a  callout  post,   i’m  likely  to  reblog  it.   that  doesn’t  mean  i’m  going  to  go  out  of  my  way  to  find  them  to  reblog,   or  i’m  going  to  save  up  dirt  on  you  to  call  you  out  later.   i  think  they’re  important  and  i  think  there’s  a  fine  line  between  having  fun  and  romanticizing  subjects  that  you  shouldn’t  be  romanticizing  within  communities  where  minors  could  be  present.

                            LASTLY,   I  DON’T  USE  ICONS.   with  t.umblr  consistently  changing  the  way  the  dashboard  looks,   i  don’t  have  time  to  photoshop  blockquotes  in  front  of  my  icons  the  way  that  i  normally  like  them  to  look.    i’ll  format  my  posts  heavily  to  achieve  the  look  that  i  want,   but  don’t  be  afraid  to  dm  me  if  it’s  too  much  and  too  confusing  or  hard  to  read.

                             ⊱ ━━━━  about me

                              my  name  is  peach,   i’m  20+  years  old,   and  my  pronouns  are  they/them.   my  rules  sound  mean,   but  i  promise  i’m  a  very  relaxed  person.

[hypervigil]

masquerade

Also available on Instagram

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis·

A laugh bubbles in his chest, comes out as only a little chuckle, but his smile is genuine, and warm. What a dork. Desmond brushes his hair back in a vague attempt to flirt.

“No, of course not! I don’t really care where we go, I just wanted the excuse to hang out with you. As long as you’re fine with that?”

He’s fishing, looking to get a response with the way he looks at Haesol. A smile would be nice, a blush would be even nicer. It’s teasing, and he knows Haesol has his limits, but a little wouldn’t hurt, right?

                         YOU  ARE,   AFTER  ALL,   THE  WORLD'S  BIGGEST  IDIOT.   it's  something  shy  that  blossoms  in  your  chest   (   a  beautiful  creation  like  wisteria  and  red  lotus   )   and  warms  you  up  like  drinking  honey  deep  in  your  chest,   your  throat,   your  face.   you  smile  genuinely  and  painfully,   bashfully  run  your  fingers  along  the  scar  in  your  eyebrow                                                                               too  nervous  to  look  him  in  the  eyes  but  too  fascinated  with  the  curve  of  his  throat  to  look  away.   he  meanders  like  a  river  you're  desperate  to  follow. because  after  all,   isn't  that  what  this  is?   his  waves  sweep  you  away,   but  you  know  he  hates  the  water   ;   maybe  he  even  fears  the  water.   desmond's  constantly  grounded  in  the  warm  musky  smell  of  dirt  and  flowers  you  can't  remember  the  names  of,   and  he  smiles  like  he  has  fifteen  secrets  and  he  cries  like  he's  known  you  ever  since  you  were  born  but  this  time  it's  different.   you  reach  out  before  that  picture  perfect  image  of  him  can  fade  away.   you  look  up  to  the  ceiling  and  try  to  fight  that  forbidden  urge  to  run  away,   because  his  hands  are  calloused  enough  from  thorns  and  you  don't  need  to  encourage  that  roughness  even  further.   you're  haesol,   a  mistake,   a  wandering  daydream. ❛   i  wanna  do  that,   ❜   you  say  suddenly,   faintly,   a  kiss  between  his  ribs  hopefully.   ❛   we  can  go  shopping,   stay  out  late  or  whatever  it  is  you're  supposed  to  do.   i  mean,   i  want  to  go  on  a  date.   with  you.   so  anything  is  fine  as  long  as  it's  with  you.   ❜ you  stumble  over  the  confession  like  you  stumble  over  every  confession  that's  not  about  being  afraid  or  running  away  or  hating  your  mother  or  missing  your  father  or  wishing  your  brother  knew  what  happiness  was.   the  words  are  out  there  and  that's  as  much  as  you  can  manage,   so  you  smile  again  and  stare  at  your  shoelaces  and  hope  that  it  was  right  to  call  it  that.   a  date.

[seoulborne]

starter call

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis·:

He looked like a nervous teenager, asking out his first crush. Which to Desmond meant he needed to be gentle. For as long as he had known him, Haesol was the kind of person who avoided people who were kind, and ran whenever he felt safe. As if safety and comfort were always false feelings, fleeting lies from the universe to lull him into letting his guard down.

In Desmond’s world, nothing was that intense, or that cold or cruel. It was hard to understand him, sometimes. But he wanted to try regardless. He smiles, soft and easy. “Sounds good, you lead the way and I’ll follow.”

                          YOU  SOUND  LIKE  THE  WORLD'S  BIGGEST  IDIOT.   you  also  probably  look  like  it,   because  the  answer  brightens  your  day  immensely  and  you  can't  hide  the  little  smile  that  creeps  up.   you're  giddy  and  it's  horrifying.   you  try  to  downplay  it.

and  then  you  feel  as  though  you've  been  set  aflame  with  embarrassment.   ❛   uh,   to  be  honest,   when  i  said  drinks  i  meant  soda  'cos  i'm  not  really   . . .   old  enough.   ❜   that  smile  you  had  turns  sheepish   (   old  enough  to  get  your  ass  kicked,   but  not  old  enough  for  peach  crown   )   and  almost  melts  away.    ❛   i  hope  that  doesn't  change  your  mind.   i  mean,   it's  fine  if  not  but,   i  mean  it  wouldn't,   y'know.   yeah.   ❜

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis·:

“Damn it, Haesol, what else am I supposed to say?”

It comes out as a plea, because Desmond is weak. His brows scrunch up in concern and frustration, and his voice gives it all away. Were it up to him, he’d face Haesol like this panic that brings him to the floor is nothing, be stoic and unyielding. But it isn’t nothing, it’s never been nothing. Desmond can’t stand aside watching him fall to pieces like it doesn’t upset him.

It’s always upset him, and he’s always tried to put him back together.

“Am I supposed to beg you not to go, so your fight or flight feels justified in turning me down again? Or am I supposed to smile and wave as I wait for you to need me again?… I’m not meaning to be cruel, I just…” 

He breathes out a sad sigh and brushes his hair back away from his face. But it catches between his fingers, and he whines, and ends up grumbling at his own hair. His glasses get caught, as he tussles it his hair furiously, discarded with a irritable groan, and they land on the carpet between them. In the end, he sighs again, feeling like a child who’s thrown a tantrum. Nothing good came of it, obviously, and he feels just as lousy as before.

He sits down in front of Haesol, because he doesn’t have any better ideas. And he breathes. He picks up his glasses between gentle fingers, staring at them in his hands rather than putting them back on. How does Haesol always make him feel like this? Is this what love feels like? Frustration?

“… If you don’t want to stay, I won’t force you. But I want to know why. Not just excuses. Please.”

                              YOU  REMEMBER  SEUNGHYUN  SAYING  ONCE   (   what  is  it  with  your  tendency  to  avoid  everything?   do  you  think  that  if  you  simply  don't  do  something,   it  won't  hurt?   you're  human,   haesol.   hurting  is  part  of  that.   and  you  can't  protect  yourself  and  everyone  just  because  you're  scared.   )   isn't  that  what  this  is?   the  deflection,   the  guilt,   the  blame?   the  shifting  eyes  and  pointed  fingers   /   intricately  decorated  words  made  to  sound  as  if  they  aren't  hollow  and  meaningless.    you  can't  stand  it.   you're  frustrated,   guilty,   exhausted  and  hurt  and  increasingly  desperate  for  tylenol.   you  wipe  your  chin  with  your  sleeve  and  stare  at  the  ceiling  and  hope  to  god  the  lights  do  something.

❛   i'm  not  trying  to,   like,   string  you  along  or  anything.   ❜   the  confession  is  wrenched  out  of  you  before  you  want  it  to  be,   but  you  know  if  you  don't  confess  it  now,   you  would  have  never  confessed  it  on  your  own  time  anyway.   you  decide  the  best  way  to  center  yourself  is  to  dig  shapes  into  your  palms  like  crescents  and  ascend  somewhere  else,   sizzling  edges  of  dissociation,   burning  breaths  of  remorse.  ❛   i  wouldn't  do  that  to  you.   i  know  it  seems  like  it,   but  i  wouldn't.   i'm  not  really  that  kind  of  person.   ❜

so  what  are  you?   a  loser.

it  hurts  to  try  to  say  it,   at  least.   what  else  holds  you  back.   surely  desmond  has  noticed  by  now  how  you're  held  together  with  stitches  and  bandages,   how  often  you  wheeze  because  something  is  inflamed  and  you're  tired  of  standing  around   (   you  didn't  want  it  to  end  up  this  way,   but  you  thought  the  nursery  wasn't  open  and  you  could  lay  there  and  die  in  peace.   )   you  think  of  your  boss  and  inhale,   hold  that  in  your  lungs  until  it  feels  useless,   and  give  it  up.

your  name  is  haesol,   you  remember.   your  father  smiled  as  he  said  it.  ❛   the  mister  who  i  work  for  doesn't  like  it  if  i'm  not  where  i'm  supposed  to  be,   ❜   you  say  carefully,   because  you're  terrified  of  saying  his  name  where  someone  might  hear.  ❛   he's  really  protective  of  like   . . .   his  assets,   and  i  make  him  a  lot  of  money  doing  what  i  do.   it's  illegal.   it  could  put  you  in  a  lot  of  trouble.   ❜

you  swallow  the  lump  in  your  throat.

❛   i  don't  want  you  to  get  in  trouble,   ❜   you  say.  ❛   but  the  longer  i  stay  around,   the  more  likely  it's  going  to  get.   ❜

[erupted]

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis·

He jumps, of course, because it’s the logical reaction to someone speaking so near without any warning, and because Desmond is always so easy to catch unaware. He manages not to drop his drink, and turns without accidentally hitting him, and is met with a familiar face, marred with scars and bruises but still so damn gorgeous. It makes him feel like a teenager, the way Haesol’s face can make his chest so fuzzy and warm. Without meaning to, Desmond smiles. “Oh, hey,” he answers. “What brought this on, some kind of special occasion?”

                              YOU  ARE  SIGNIFICANTLY  UNINJURED  CONSIDERING  YOUR  JOB,   able  to  smile   /   breathe   /   relax  without  some  pain.   it's  rather  twisted  for  the  most  part   (   and  the  more  you  consider  it,   the  more  likely  it  is  that  your  heart  is  racing  for  some  reason  other  than  anxiety.   )   you  watch  him  like  a  deer  in  the  headlights,   gaze  uneven  and  fleeting  as  if  afraid  to  rest  anywhere  for  longer  than  a  moment.   ❛   mmmhm   ,   ❜   you  hum.   you  smile,   feel  it  pull  at  your  lip,   and  try  to  not  look  away  because  fear  is  a  dangerous,   unfair  thing  still  coiled  in  your  chest.  ❛   i  think  i                                                     let's  go  somewhere.   to  eat.   for  drinks,   or  something.   ❜

[seoulborne]

you  don't  know  how  you  got  through  the  other  night   ,   but  you  won't  mention  it  if  he  doesn't   .   you're  good  at  ignoring  the  facts   .   you're  good  at  many  things   :   like  choking  on  hands   ,   air   ,   cock   .   you  smile  without  thinking   ,   absentmindedly  rub  your  fingertip  across  the  eyebrow  scar that's  still  sore  but  healing   .   ❛   got  you  something   ,   ❜   you  say   .   you  might  startle  him   ,   surprise  him   ,   appearing  like  that  from  nowhere  behind  him   .   a  shopping  mall  midday   ,   a  grocery  store   .   it's  hard  to  tell  but  there  are  people  around  to  witness  it   .

@nymphxlis

[desflorecia]

[lilyaforevr-deactivated20150911]

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis

The rejection drags on for 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜-- a soliloquy, a cacophony, of words that sum up to just “I can’t.” Even if Desmond wishes he would have just stopped there, they just keep coming, and what was first just a small sting from two little words hurts 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚. “Sir” feels like being punched in the face, and even if he knows that everything he’s saying is just to distance himself and protect himself, it doesn’t stop it from feeling really 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮.

“Yeah,” is all he can manage to squeak out, watching Haesol make excuses like that. God, he wishes he had something to do, anything, so that he could turn around and not face him right now. 

He 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 that their lives are different. Even if he hadn’t put Haesol back together a thousand different times in a thousand different ways, he would have been able to tell that Haesol’s life was falling apart just by seeing him through the shop window. He carries himself like a kicked puppy– avoids people like it too– and it doesn’t take a genius to see it. But frankly, he’d thought they’d made it to… something.

Trust, maybe? 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙮?

He could laugh at himself, if he didn’t feel so damn pathetic. He shudders a sigh, and crosses his arms awkwardly.

“Good, uhm… good luck with that.”

he  doesn't  get  it   ,   you  realize  belatedly   ,   numbly   ,   with  a  sense  of  endless  remorse  and  guilt  and  fatigue   .   you  want  to  feel  equally  adamant  about  it   ,   to  raise  your  chin  high  and  find  the  spine  of  a  horse  to  sit  upon   ,   to  usher  in  reckless  nonsense   .   and  if  you're  going  to  be  honest  with  everyone  including  yourself   ,   you  have  to  realize  then  and  there  that  he  will  probably  never  understand   .

          Q   :   WHY  DID  YOU  FALL  IN  LOVE   ,   THEN   ?           A   :   I  TRULY  DIDN'T  HAVE  A  CHOICE   .

you  see   ,   as  far  as  you're  aware   ,   love  is  supposed  to  be  patient  and  kind  and  understanding  and  impenetrable   .   you  get  your  teeth  knocked  out  for  a  living   /   your  father  is  dead   ,   your  mother  hates  you   /   the  man  who  promised  to  look  out  for  you  makes  money  off  your  miserableness   .   and  how  does  that  compare  you  to  him   ?   different  troubling  endeavors  are  troubling  all  the  same                                                            you  know  that  with  your  crusty  mouth  and  lips  and  nose  and  eyes  and  inability  to  breathe  because  your  lungs  are  knotting-knitting-gone   :   but  he  doesn't  get  it   ,   he  doesn't  understand   ,   and  it's  probably  because  he's  never  been  hit  like  you  have   .

you're  kind   .   you  think  of  fifteen  different  ways  to  explain  why   ❪   sometimes   ,   i  want  something  very  much   .   i  want  something  so  much  it  hurts  more  than  rings  in  gloves  in  sunken  stomachs   .   but  i  am  in  danger   ,   i  am  danger   ,   i  am  lost  in  the  clouds  for  heaven  is  close  when  i  close  my  eyes   ,   and  if  i  stay  then  you  will  be  in  danger  too   .   you  don't  get  it   ,   but  you  should  pretend  to   ,   like  i  pretend  that  flowers  can  speak  when  you  say  they  do   .   ❫   you  flex  your  fingers  and  count  to  one  hundred  slowly   ,   inhaling  and  exhaling  and  shuddering  and  choking  on  an  aching  moan  that's  not  what  anyone  deserves  to  hear   .   you  can  tell  by  the  way  he's  gone  rigid  that  he  doesn't  get  it   .   that  you're  denying  him  because  it's  fun   .   that  you  use  him   ,   will  abuse  him   .   that's  not  your  intention   .   you  can't  tell  him  what  that  is   .

because  you  love  him   .   you  do   .   you've  made  that  clear  to  any  and  every  person  who  stops  to  listen   ,   except  him   ,   because  desmond  listens  but  he  only  listens  to  the  pleasant  things  and  draws  his  own  assumptions  about  the  rest   .   you  walk  into  his  home   ,   and  he  thinks  it's  forever   ,   but  it's  because  he  insisted  and  threatened  you   (   and  while  you  can  easily  break  him   ,   you  love  him   ,   and  you  would  never  do  that   .   )   he  doesn't  get  it   ,   and  that  fact  squeezes  around  your  heart  so  tightly  you  think  you  may  be  having  a  heart  attack   ,   and  you  collapse  without  warning  with  a  nervous  whine  as  you  fist  your  hand  in  the  front  of  your  bloodied  shirt  and  try  not  to  retch   (   again   )   all  over  his  floor   .

stop  it   .   don't  be  mad  at  me   .   it's  not  my  fault   .   you  don't  trust  or  love  easily  either   ,   and  what  you're  doing  is  mean   ;   you're  being  mean  to  me  like  everyone  else  and  you  feel  just  as  righteous  doing  it   .   those  are  dangerous  words  that  cling  to  your  lips   ,   but  you  don't  say  them   .   you  purse  your  lips  and  chew  your  teeth  and  suffer  beautifully   .   ❛    that's  all   ?   ❜   you  ask  in  a  voice  that  is  small  and  quiet  and  timid  and  tired  and  everything   .   you  don't  recognize  yourself   .   you  know  he's  going  to  get  mad   ,   so  you  brace  for  the  exhaustion  that  has  never  left  your  bones  since  you  were  born   .   you  add,   ❛    and  i  thought   ...   i  thought  i  was  cruel   .   ❜   because  it  comes  from  nowhere  and  you  deserve  to  say  it  to  someone  in  this  lifetime  before  you  die   .

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis

          His lips break into a smile unbidden, and he exhales a laugh through his nose. It’s so sweet, the way Haesol stumbles through flirtation like that. He’s awkward, and fumbles over his words, and makes an entire mess out of it, and Desmond has never seen something so endearing and accidentally charming in his entire life.

          “After everything we’ve been through, I’d think you’d know how welcome you are here. If I have to put a lock on to keep raccoons out, I want to be sure you still have a place to go, and…” his shoulders scrunch up around his ears, and he tilts his head in a shy sort of shrug. He can feel his traitorous face getting warm.

          “I don’t… want you to feel like I would shut you out, y’know? Whether its the couch or the greenhouse or whatever, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

you  are  defeated  by  a  concession  of  emotions   ,   daydream  rivulets  and  aching  stomachs  and  everyday  passerby  shadows bidding  you  farewell   .   your  tongue  is  made  of  starch  paper  and  is  dryer  than  the  moon   ,   longing  for  moisture   ,   for  anything   ,   really   ,   that  could  lead  you  from  one  place  to  another   .   somewhere   ,   you  can  feel  the  end  coming   .   feel  crushed  by  apocrypha  long  before  the  moon  has  made  up  her  mind  to  split  in  even  halves   ,   smiling   ,   lamenting  that  life  as  she  knew  it  has  failed   .   you  want  to  stay   .   you  want  to  stay   .   that's  dangerous   .   that  could  never  end  the  way  you  wanted  it  to   ❪  you  want  to  hold  his  hands  and  smile  at  him  and  give  him  happiness  that  he  may  never  know   ,   but  you  can't   ,   you  know  you  can't   ,   not  when  you  spend  your  weekends  getting  knocked silly  and  eating  teeth  for  breakfast  and  holding  your  eye  back  where  it  belongs  and  ending  it  and  suffering  and  crying  and  screaming  and  dying  and  suffering  and  never  knowing  what's  going  on  next   .   ❫   you  look  away  with  budding  anxiety   ,   sick   ,   sick   ,   sick  and  dazed  and  afraid   .

❛   i  can't   .   ❜   you've  never  denied  him  out  loud  before   .   you've  never  confessed  all  your  sins  and  laid  them  out  in  front  of  you  like  the  world's  worst  game  of  poker  ,   unable  to  hide  the  confusion  and  fear  that  twists  your  facial  futures  into  something  monstrous and  ugly   .   god   ,   it's  pathetic    .   you  only  know  how  to  punch  your  way  out  of  things  and  you're   not  even  really  good  at  that   ,   and  you  only  know   how  to  run  away  and  stay  away  and  never  come  again   ,   but  you  can't  do  that  either  because  it  hurts   .   you   ,   it  hurts   .   him   ,   it  hurts  too   .   you  look  away  before  you  can  burst  into  thousands  of  light  beams  from  exhaustion   ,   and  you  reach  up  and  wipe  at  the  blood  that's  crusting  around  your  nose   . ❛   uh   ,   stay  the  night   .   have  something  important  to  do  tomorrow   .   another  thing  where  people  will  be   ,   and  if  i  miss  it  then   ,   well   ,   he'll  notice  and  that'll  be  a  lot  more  trouble  than  it's  worth  and  like   .   wow   ,   i  want  to  stay   ,   thank  you  for  your  hospitality   ,   sir   ,   i  really  appreciate  it                                                 but  i  can't  cos  if  he  gets  mad  then  i'll  be  in  a  lot  more  fucking  trouble  than  i  already  am  and  i   !  can't  really  afford  that   .   ❜   you  smile   .   it's  a  grimace   .    there  are  a  thousand  lies  and  you  want  to  disappear   . 

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis·:

          He must be hallucinating, because daylight and Haesol are never two things he experiences at the same time. It’s always in shadowy late night hours, when he can slink over a fence and into a greenhouse and bleed out peacefully that he encounters Haesol– and yet today he’s calmly 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, standing in front of him about as happy and healthy as he’s ever seen him. Is there such thing as 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 for a masochist who gets himself beat half to death for a living?

          But Desmond is a coward. He doesn’t ask Haesol any of what he’s thinking– are you okay, why are you here, is something wrong?– instead he just takes his presence as a sort of blessing. That he’s standing without limping or keeling over with blood across his face is a blessing in itself.

          Haesol is 𝙖𝙗𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩 without pain tainting his features. He’s awkward perhaps,  because they’ve never done this before, never just had a calm and relaxed conversation together, but it’s perfect like that. Awkward is perfect. His smile is rather handsome, without blood on his lips. Desmond quirks a smile in return.

          “It’s going alright. No proms coming up or anything, but people always need flowers for something. And yeah, finally fixed the door… thinking about what new lock to put on it, and whether to just hand you 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙠𝙚𝙮 or leave it hanging by the door.”

it  takes  a  lot  for  you  to  not  say  something  stupid     :     we're  both  indifferent     /     i'm  searching  for  you  in  everyone  i  meet     /     i  like  getting  drunk  enough  to  say  i  love  you  i  love  you  and  i  love  you     ,     but  you're  proud  of  yourself  for  keeping  your  mouth  shut     .     you  still  have  fuzzy  brain  syndrome  from  the  last  fist -kiss  you  took  to  the  back  of  your  school  to  doze  in  and  out  of  normal  daydreams     .     sometimes  seein' nothing  but  also  sometimes  seein' pretty  girls  in  okay  looking  gowns  runnin' around  and  showin' their  tits  'cause  beauty  is  pain  and  it  doesn't  even  have  the  namers  to  last  for  long     .     you're  a  good  kid     .     you  smile     ,     report  your  heart  as  missing     ,     and  think  about  doing  this  more  often  .

❛     you  could  fix  that  door  and  fasten  a  new  lock  on  it  and  i'd  still  find  a  new  way  to  get  in  and  see  you  .      ❜     that  probably  comes  out  creepier  than  you  intend  it  to     .     you're  still  dizzy  from  that  meal  two  nights  ago   but  you've  managed  to  fix  it  up  easily  by  leaning  carefully  away  from  the  flowers     .     don't  lean  on  them     ,     don't  lean  on  them     ,     so  you  don't  and  that's  amazing     .      ❛      surprised     ,  though     .     i  guess     .     that  you'd  even  think  about  leaving  me  a  key     .      ❜     leaving  you  anything  is  a  kindness  you  don't  really  deserve     . and  you  do  look  different     .     you're  pretty  sure  about  that     .     your  eyebrow  isn't  split  anymore  and  you  can  taste  things  normally  when  you  manage  to  taste  things     ❪     kinda  wanna  taste  him  suffer  him  think  about  him  and  sleep  and  relax  and  go  on  a  date  and  do  nothing  else  and  yeah  yeah  yeah      ❫     but  you've  got  nothing  going  for  you     ,     so  you  got  empty  pockets     /     empty  wallets     /     and  a  fighting  match  for  that  night  you  can  either  invite  desmond  to  or  pretend  won't  happen     .     it's  better  off  if  you  leave  sleeping  does  where  they  are     ,     but  you're  not  that  kind  of  person     .     you're  selfish     .     you're  dumb  and  selfish  and  conceited     ,     so  you  continue  with  it     .

[seoulborne]

nymphxlis·

          He doesn’t even have the heart to be 𝙢𝙖𝙙 at Haesol. The way he stumbles, coughs, 𝙫𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙨 – everything about it is so pitiful he can’t even muster a decent frown. There wouldn’t be any anger in it even if he tried. Instead, he’s left gazing at this battered and bruised boy in front of him, a sigh breezing through his lips.

          There’s nothing Desmond wants more than to just wrap his arms around Haesol and tell him he’s 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮– sorry for every awful way that the world has wronged him, has betrayed him or turned against him and left him cold and hurting and with no one to turn to. He wants to apologize for everything that made Haesol incapable of trusting in anyone’s kindness without fearing for the consequences. But if they stay there any longer, he won’t be leading Haesol by his hand, he’ll be dragging his unconscious form into the house when he collapses from exhaustion or blood loss.

          “Come on,” he says in a soft voice, and 𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 his hand squeezes against the one gripping him so tightly. The hand unoccupied with leading Haesol presses the stubborn greenhouse door open, and it swings halfway with a rusty creak and a screech of metal against concrete as he steps out into the drizzle of rain. The light from the house is enough to illuminate the slick pavement that leads to the greenhouse, and the cheap sneakers he threw on before leaving squeak on the wet stone as he walks. It’s a slow trek, but he doesn’t care how his hair and shirt get soaked, so long as Haesol doesn’t end up with his skull cracked open trying to keep up in that state.

          When finally they reached the back door to the house, it opens easily and quietly, letting out a breeze of warm air and spilling light out into the yard so strongly that Desmond is caught off-guard by how much worse Haesol’s injuries look in the light.

          “𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠,” he breathes, his voice heavy with concern and sadness. He helps Haesol up the step from the porch into the house, and closes the door, gently releasing the scraped and bruised fingers that held his own. It’s pitiful, the way his shoulders are scrunched up as he stands there dripping blood and rainwater, and Desmond can’t resist– he reaches out and lets his fingers graze so softly against Haesol’s cheek.

          “Make yourself at home, okay? I’m going to get towels.”

don’t  you  wanna  live     ?     this  shit  kinda  sucks  if  you  do  it  all  on  your  own     :     dying  and  tasting  salt  mingling in  the  air  just  like  your  daddy  who  probably  didn’t  know  what  was  going  on     .     you’re  sick  to  death  of  the  lying  and  cheating  and  deceit     ,     of  choking  on  nothing  because  you  can’t  even  feel  your  tongue   .      you  want  to  be  loved  but  there’s  really  no  way  to  go  through  all  of  that  without  suffering  more     .     𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐒𝐎  𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒  𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃     ,      𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒      ,     𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋  𝐁𝐄  𝐍𝐎  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐍𝐎  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐍𝐎  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒     .     shouldn’t you  accept  that     ?     suck  it  up     ?      endure     ?      or  are  you  really  so  pathetic  you’re  going  to  lay  down  in  the  streets  and  go     ?      you  rub  your  weary eyes  but  that  doesn’t  stop  the  clouds  from  forming     .      it’s  pathetic , really , and  everything  that  you  deserve      .

                              A     :     how  did  u  even  get  here     ?                               B     :     i  dunno  but  i  wanna  go  home  lmfao

home     .      a  noun     .      a  place  where  one  lives     ,     but  you  don’t  even  officially  live  there  and  you  share  your  space  with  six  other  powder-tongued  boys  with  broken  noses  and  bleeding  knuckles     .       the  entire  room  smells  like  death  and  armpit half  the  time      ,      and  there’s  definitely  no  privacy  so  the  only  time  you  get  to  jack  it  is  when  you’re  hiding  in  abandoned  cars  and  shivering  to  death  ‘cos  your  lungs  are  full  of  funk  and  your  head  is  too  hazy     .      but  that  makes it  seem  like  no  one  else  has  it  rough      ,      and  that’s  not  true . you  look  at  desmond  like  he  hung  the  moon  and  the  stars      /     created  divinity  and  perfected  it  just  by  smiling  and  asking  god  if  it  would  be  okay      .      he’s  that  absently  religious  tight  that  gets  your  skinny  jeans  even  tighter  than  they  were  before     .      he  probably  doesn’t  officially  believe .      he’s  so  good  of  a  person that  he  might  as  well     .     and  you      ?      you’re  going  to  hell      .

graceless  hungry  dizzy  sickly  to  the  point  of  exasperation  despair  guilt  trouble  and  pale  insanity  mixed  with  the  broken head  broken  heart  broken  dreams  broken  fingers  broken  eyes  going  blind  in  one  eye  sort  of  broken  blind      .      you  ask      ,      ❛     hey  man     ,      i  don’t  wanna  get  my  brain  all  over  your  couch  so  is  it  okay  if  i  sit  on  the  floor     ?     ❜     and  don’t  bother  waiting  for  a  response before  your  cross-legged  on  a  bit  of  carpet  that  looks  like  it’s  been  stained  before     .      you  push  your  finger  in  the  aching  spot  beside  your  kneecap  and  try  to  not  lose  consciousness  in  a  place  you  don’t  officially  belong     .      ❛     you  don’t  gotta  be  sad     .      i  chose  to  do  this   .      like     ,     i  made  this  decision  and  i’m  okay  with  it  so  shouldn’t  you  be  okay  with  it  too     ?     at  least  it’s  not  you .     ❜

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐖𝐇𝐎  𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃  𝐈’𝐃  𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐁𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆    .     mostly  because  they  were  right     .      you  try  not  to  cry  in  desmond’s  house  because  that’s  weird     .      you  do  anyway     ,      soft  sniffles  that  overtake  the  otherwise silent  nature  of  a  liminal  space .     one  minute  there’s  nothing  going  on     :      the  next  you’re  pushing  your  face into  a  towel  that’s  been  handed  to  you     .     a  short  hiccup  and  your  shoulders  are  shaking  hard  as  fuck  and  you’re  wondering     ❪     i  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  don’t  get  why  this  happened  to  me  like  i  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  really  don’t  know  what  i  did  wrong     .     ❫

❛     desmond     ,     ❜      you  say  brokenly     .     ❛     i  don’t  wanna  go  back  and  fight  again     .     ❜

[seoulborne]

you've  always  had  a  punchdrunk  sense  of  the  world     /     lack  of  fundamental  understandings  as  to  why  things  are  the  way  that  things  are .     𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄  𝐆𝐎𝐓  𝐀  𝐁𝐈𝐆  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐀  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘  𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ,     general  unease  about  the  way  you  think  and  talk  and  speak ,     pausing  only  in  your  whimsical  ways  to  confront  reality  when  you  absolutely  have  to .     missing  persons  dreams  of  classical  plays .     yeah ,    he's  a  different  kind  of  divinity    /     𝘢  𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺  𝘰𝘧  𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴  𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥  𝘰𝘧  𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯     /    good  at  nothing  but  good  at  everything  and  determined  to  continue  on .    he  makes  you  think  of  sunset  beaches  and  mimosas  and  being  knocked  in  the  head  so  hard  you  experience  a  kind  of  high  you  can't  get  anywhere  else .     you  think  about  getting  lockjaw  on  his  pretty  pink  cock .     you're  always  like  that ,    aren't  you     ❪     𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐁𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘  𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐁𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘  𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐁𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘  𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐁𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘  𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐁𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘     ❫     ?     you  smile .     ❛     𝘩𝘦𝘺 ,     𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 ,     ❜     you  say  because  it's  not  slurred  and  you  feel  alright  about  that  for  once .     he  may  feel  alright  about  it  too .      ❛      how's  business  been  lately ?     𝘪  𝘴𝘦𝘦  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺  𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥  𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵  𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 .      ❜

     you like him ,     you like him ,     and what may be okay ,   nymphxlis .

[liz-cat-meow-deactivated2020011]