#c:hyeon

[coliincorrect]

Hyeon, looking at the baby's toy: I just don't understand what the big deal is.

Eunbyul: Hyeon, how old are you and how old is she?

Hyeon: Well the package says 6 months and up. I'm up.

[margo-bowman-blog]

Text // Hyeon

Margo: I feel like death.

Margo: Not literally, but you know what I mean.

[margo-bowman-blog]

Text // Hyeon

Margo: I really really really really really really like you

Margo: That song has been stuck in my head all day.

[margo-bowman-blog]

Call // Hyeon

Margo: I am sorry times a million for yesterday. I'm so, so, so, so, so, so sorry.

[margo-bowman-blog]

Text // Ball Of Fun

Margo: So like, I'm not asexual or a lesbian. I just figured this out recently.

[deadarynn-blog]

Closed Starter for Hyeon

Sitting on rooftops was beginning to become a habit for Arynn. She wasn’t sure why, but perching high up in a lone street made her feel like all her worries and troubles would get blown away by the cool breeze of the night. She felt she was on top of the world; gazing onto the open roads and cluttered streets. Like she had power--a queen ruling over her dead subjects. And any courtsman that went out of line, she would have their head on a silver encrusted platter. 

So there she was, crouched by the edge of a building with a foot dangling off and her head rested on her hands. She stared at the sky, the dark, starry sky, with grey clouds rolling and ravens calling. The stars were splatters of white, thousands--millions--shining bright and twinkling like little children. And the moon peeked through the sheen of fog and it shone upon the earth, the shadows of the buildings waning and dancing in the light. It was the perfect scene to paint. 

She wished she had a camera, or her canvas--anything. Because she just seen her first night filled with stars, those little tiny stars, and it was beautiful. It wasn’t the case where she had never seen stars before. Her home in Los Angeles was set in a place scattered with stars. Clusters of them, really. But tonight was different. Tonight--tonight made her feel like she was home. Not at her estate in California. Not at her lake house in South Dakota. But she felt as if she was in a park, a park in the middle of nowhere, swinging on a rusty set of chains and plastic. And in her hand was another--the fingers of a boy--and together they rocked back and forth staring at the starry sky. She felt like she was there again. 

She sighed a breath, inhaling the sharp, fresh air. Her hair tangled in tendrils, waving with the breeze in a tango of soft tufts. Arynn closed her eyes, listening to the bird’s call; the rustle of branches; her heartbeat; the footsteps behind her, and-- “Holy crap!” she shouted, spinning around to spot a black-haired boy with a smile on his face. “You scared me.” 

[margo-bowman-blog]

Call // Hyeon The Great

Margo: I miss you.

Margo: My apartment is lonely without a roommate.

[margo-bowman-blog]

Physical Therapy {Hyeon & Margo}

Margo stood outside where she had once thought her new home would be. She puffed on a cigarette that tasted almost as bitter as she was feeling at the moment. The box was almost half empty and it wasn’t even noon yet. The red head leaned against her car and let a large sum of smoke escape her mouth. Margo looks up at the window of her bedroom which was left open to allow proper air circulation. She wasn’t sure what was more miraculous, the fact that she hadn’t thrown something to shatter the window or the fact that she hadn’t jumped out herself. 

The cigarette had reached the end of it’s life. Margo tossed it on the sidewalk and stomped on it with her red pair of flats. She wasn’t wearing heals today which was almost as uncommon as her being thirty feet away from her house before dinner. Margo honestly didn’t know why she decided to move back home. Maybe she felt guilty about leaving her mother stranded by herself for hours at a time. She was a lot happier living with her friend Beaumont, but the thought of leaving her mother alone in a broken household yet again stung her at the core. 

Cheating never seemed to be a simple concept. Sure, the girls that Margo’s father slept with were all young and attractive, but if there were to be a standard scale of beauty, they were no more attractive than Mrs. Bowman. The personality and interests of these girls weren’t anything remarkable either. They were all music students of his in their mid-twenties. Most had bitter and cut throat personalities that made Margo roll her eyes because they all reminded her of her own personality. 

After fifteen minutes of deliberating why people cheats she tosses her second cigarette of the hour and smothers it into the sidewalk. She knew what she was about to do wouldn’t actually make anything this situation better, but Margo was never very good at expressing emotions which led her to the decision to just fuck it.