#chokedecho

[onethrills]

closed starter ft. @chokedecho

Whether it’s happy coincidence or red strings of fate, they always seem to find each other again. Pieces fall into place for two kindred spirits to cross paths, just outside of the mansion and just shy of dawn breaking, and Sejin doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry when he sees him. The whole reason he’d come to New York was to find him, lost somewhere in the depths of the city, and now that his life has changed permanently, it only makes sense that he would get hit this hard with a wave of nostalgia. There’s a distinctive twinge in his chest, followed up close behind by a rush of adrenaline, and he stumbles forward to put his hand on Bell’s arm before he has time to disappear inside.

“Is this --- is this why you didn’t come home?”

It’s the only question that comes to mind, the only thing that he can ask, that makes sense to him right now, in this moment. He might be new to all of this, only about a week turned, but he can still smell that he is vampire. It’s still obvious. 

[tosink]

closed starter / @chokedecho

the image of perfect health, keung bounds up, worrying his lower lip. “bai! i’m in need of your assistance,” the words are exasperated, as if the necessity is far more than his convenient excuse for a pretty bandage. keung remains authentic in that he certainly wouldn’t ask anyone else to treat any of his ailments. “i am wounded,” he exaggerates morbidly, presenting his left index finger, turned to the side to display the already healing edges of a paper cut for inspection.

[malasomnia]

closed, @chokedecho

             call it exhaustion— call it running into a phantom of a past they’ve tried so hard to run away from— call it a comedown, whatever the case, sometimes collapse is unavoidable. her closed door is an invitation without a lock so he saunters in without a knock of warning in a beeline for the bed. feet kick off their shoes as he crawls under the covers fully clothed without preamble. 

             “vi—” they say half into the pillow after they’ve made it to the other side. “—...” a sigh of an exhale is the only other explanation they give. even if they’d wanted to give the sorrow words finn wouldn’t; has never been one to divulge such things in any language even when he finds the right ones to do the job. violet knows without it, surely, the way they say her name; the way their soul-wavelengths coexist.

[gamblingsea]

closed starter / @chokedecho

ABOUT A WEEK AGO, JUST OUTSIDE QUEENS IN BAYSIDE, LONG ISLAND.

it is the usual place, the usual time. chance has made a point to be early for all the times he has shown up late, bursting through the door having not accounted for train delays or traffic or rain. a drink rests undisturbed on the bar in front of him, sweating. his eyes flit to the clock on the wall and back to his watch which runs a couple minutes faster on purpose.

it is still early, he reminds himself. it does nothing to settle the live wire nerves, quickening the pace of his heart every time the door opens and someone other than bai walks in. chance lifts his glass and swirls the amber liquid. the last letter he’d received lives neatly folded in his breast pocket. a habit he’d developed in the 1940′s.

he sets the whiskey back down without taking a sip. bai will be here soon, chance reminds himself, stifling the fear that always sits, heady, at the base of his throat until bai walks through the door. a promise to stay alive is one thing, an accident on the way home is another. he lifts the glass again and drains half of it. it is still early.