#feyjinyoung

[feyharin]

veritas.

↳ @feyjinyoung

For a house as small as this one, it’s impressive how many people have managed to fit comfortably inside without raising the possibility of a noise complaint. But that’s the thing about this area; the rental properties go to students, while real people spend their salaries on homes that have room for more than single beds with cheap mattresses. If things are still the same as they were a few years ago when Harin spent a lot more time in this area, then half the neighbors are invited to the party anyway, and the rest … well. Studying too hard makes someone dull. There’s no excuse for spending your formative years hunched over a desk, especially in a vibrant city like Seoul.

And speaking of vibrant, it’s a good event! Harin’s been flitting back and forth between friends and acquaintances and the host’s refrigerator, which still has more soju in it than food even as the night presses on. He’s gathered followers on the instagram he rarely uses these days, which is an ego boost, including from one pretty girl who claims she’s getting her first sponsorship from a lens company. She does have pretty eyes, so if it’s true, it’s deserved.  

He’s between conversations (actually, he’s dodging requests to sing, because no one needs to hear that tonight) when he encounters a situation. This kid’s alone, which in a house full of people is cause for concern in and of itself. He … he doesn’t really look that good. Harin recognizes it because he’s been doing more chatting than drinking himself, but this looks like the opposite: all drink and no talk. Big red flag.  

“You okay?” Harin asks, and drifts a little closer. Figures that the one having a hard time is someone he doesn’t know—but that’s not about to stop him, especially when the initial question doesn’t seem to trigger a response. “Hey. Who’s looking after you?” 

[feykijung]

` * ∞ no one gives us any time

the psychic fair is a good excuse to visit an old friend. that’s what he tells mei and kyuhwan anyway, when he leaves their side, venturing through the booths on his own, searching, searching for someone in particular. he’s sure jinyoung will be here; he didn’t receive any information to suggest such, but why would a fortune telling witch not show his face in a place like this? 

jinyoung isn’t really his friend. he’s closer to an enemy now, because of the betrayal kijung feels. that might be too extreme, but kijung’s anger is too. he’s been meaning to find him for the past year, but he’s been busy, raising a fledgling, trying to flunk out of school-- a myriad of other things, and he tried to tell himself it wasn’t important. at times, he actually forgot. it’s impossible to today.

kijung lost many best friends in his 400 years-- so many that he refused to make another until kyuhwan weaseled his way under his skin with his kindness, and soft way of never giving up on him even though kijung wanted him to. kyu is who propels him to find jinyoung, though his best friend doesn’t know it-- kyu and all of the friends kijung lost, too early, too young. he lost most of them to war, and one to his own kind, enough to swear off humans but never enough to stop them from reaching his heart somehow anyway.

he asked jinyoung if kyu would die an early death. the answer was yes, and that weighed heavy on kijung every moment afterwards, every violent demise or deadly illness playing behind his eyelids. he decided he couldn’t lose anymore friends, so many gone in their early 20′s, kyuhwan turning 20, so he broke his neck. of course, it wasn’t before subtly getting him to drink his blood, secretly, ensuring he would never lose a best friend again.

he finds jinyoung without too much trouble, and his displeasure surely shows in his eyes as he bursts forth, into jinyoung’s presence. simply, bluntly, because kijung is never one to beat around the bush: “why didn’t you tell me how kyuhwan would die?” 

                  ──────────────────             ` @feyjinyoung ​ *

[feyxzhixin]

PROTEA

Send A Flower: Closed

…dare your muse to do something.

First there’s a sweet smile behind his americano, and then he’s convinced he’s never consumed so much coffee in his life than he has this year alone. Sometimes it makes his stomach even more of a bundle of knots. Sometimes he vaguely questions if he’s having a heart attack from all of the accumulative stress or the caffeine or both. Really he just wants to hear the sound of someone recognizing him through a smile whether the gesture is genuine or not. It sounds sad when he thinks about it, but he can’t really say he cares all too much if the act is just another form of emotional labor; he’s selfish enough to lie to himself for now.  First, Zhixin is ordering the same one part espresso three part water beverage over ice, biting the inside of his cheek and waiting at the end of the counter for it to be handed to him with the usual send off. But now he’s hesitating with his hand around the cup and the barista is playing guessing games with what went wrong like if he needs an extra straw or if he accidentally meant cappuccino or drip coffee, because for a whole twenty agonizing seconds it feels like Zhixin says absolutely nothing. He hasn’t even taken a sip yet and he can hear his pulse in his ears. “Truth or dare” he nearly blurts, finally fixating his eyes on a head of pink hair and then the widened eyes staring back it him.  It doesn’t really matter what answer came next because before he can eloquently pause himself he’s already sliding into another embarrassing jumble of words. Every sentence is an avalanche and he swears he feels like he’s been running for miles to get to this point. “I dare you to have a cup of tea with me, at uh,” he blinks slowly, forgetting words in both Korean and his native language and he swears he would be dead under a pile of snow were this an actual natural danger. That isn’t to say this doesn’t already feel like a danger in and of itself. “ At my work I uh, I work at a tea shop in the historical district.”