( @vepid where do i even tag you wtf anw Transformers au! )
she smells like oil. she always smells like oil. always got in on her, around her, staining and marking. pretty faces no longer matter in this world. everyone’s either stained or kissed.
hyejin likes to think she’s been kissed. even if people say it’s by the devil themselves.
“he won’t hurt you.”
she’s not sure who she’s talking to. the twenty-foot sack of machinery, crouched down by her side, or the six foot human in front of them. he keeps wandering around here, getting lost in the stars, watching like he’s from it, and not like he’s afraid. these days everyone’s afraid. they get jelly in their knees when they think about what’s fallen, what’s to come. this kid, mikoto, looks like he’s flying when he thinks of it. reaching.
hyejin doesn’t reach, and somehow things always fall into her lap.
like brightstripe. he fell into her backyard the day they came. saved her after she saved him.
she’s been working with cars since she was a teen, so imagine her joy when a giant one falls into her lap. he’s all black, with yellow parts that turn into a big stripe when he’s a Lamborghini. it’s pretty cool but, no one cares about how cool it looks anymore. neither does he. they are forsaken and the only novelty in them now is a spear through a rusted head. a sign of hatred.
they know this and live in this world.
she tells him to go and he won’t.
“seriously he’s a good guy.”
hyejin’s talking to him, mikoto but she’s talking to brightstripe too. convincing, smiling. the two things they need a lot of in this world. the humans raided them all, ripped apart, wore down and drove them out. she remembers. but they, they did the same. tor humans apart, burned and broke them. they both broke the world and here she is trying to bridge it.
“brightstripe, mikoto, mikoto, brightstripe.”
“why does he watch the stars?” brightstripe’s voice is, rough, gruff, but always gentle in the night. like a whisper when he speaks to hyejin. he’s always been a quite comfort since the day he fell to her backyard. since the day the world changed. he’s always been by her side, much like how he stands by, hyejin’s feet kicking over the rusty top of the roof. “ask him.” “human.” “you call hyejin by her name why am I human?”
mikoto has become another comfort. a bright reminder of the good that’s left, of the laughter that hasn’t yet run out. she’s smiling and she hears brightstripe’s eyes roll before she sees them. she’s watching mikoto as he watches the sky. wondering, maybe even wishing.
“why do you watch the stars like that?” “like what?” “like you’re not afraid.” “brightstripe-------.”
hyejin knows she should face reality sooner or later. or rather she knows she should face reality all the time instead of in pockets of the day. hyejin knows the truth of the hell they’ve entered, endured, earned. she knows. she’d just rather spend her nights doing different things. some nights brightstripe apologizes, some nights she does.
i’m sorry for us, for them. is what it sounds like.
“I’m not afraid.” “why not?” “hell rained on us that day, but the sky isn’t full of hell you know? heaven came too.”
thank you. is what it sounds like on other nights. like now when she’s smiling at mikoto, when he shushes brightstripe into acceptance.
“you are strange human.” “isn’t he.”
hyejin understands the situation they’re in. as much as she understands the dirt ridden rag around her neck, as much as she understands the trailer and junkyard that’s become their home. as much as she understands life can end the next night, she could lose both lights as quickly as she’s gained them. she understands and yet she clings to both of them.
so she smiles, watches the stars and remembers. she’s done wishing but she thinks she can continue living.