#heyheize

[epigrvm]

﹙  @heyheize cont. from . . . ﹚

﹤ sms  ⇢  sherlock hye ﹥ uh . . .  ﹤ sms  ⇢  sherlock hye ﹥ well you were the one who knocked me off my ass ﹤ sms  ⇢  sherlock hye ﹥ so shouldn’t you be compensating for having done so and payin` for MY drink ? 

[fairylander]

Get ready for a flow of red raincoat pics

[hhanseung]

starter for @heyheize

It is a quite sunny day in Seoul. So sunny that it is almost impossible for oneself to not take an advantage of the weather– and that is what Seunghyun has been doing, enjoying a bottle of beer under the sun at some local cafe while waiting for his friend. It’s been a while since the two of them met due to their busy schedules, and for whatever reasons their past meetings had not been for leisure but work. But this time is different, they are finally lucky enough to find one out of the seven days to spend together.

It is not long until the corner of his eye catches a glimpse of a familiar figure coming his way, someone he has known for almost half of his life. "Look who’s here. The last time I saw you, you were this small.“ he exclaims, showing her an inch gap between his thumb and index finger. His voice is surprisingly loud– well, not too loud, but enough to embarrass her in front everyone sitting around him whose attention is poured all over Dahye by now. "You’ve grown!” he then stands up, greeting the female with a cheeky smile and open arms, clearly not sorry for making a scene.

[cchilyoja]

; continued from here. 

He follows instructions, while not completely lost and pretty tech savvy, these types of hacks can't really be done off the cuff. Luckily an annoying old lady's hammering in his ear, is not solely annoying, but also very helpful. He is in a small room with crammed tables, where every piece of furniture has a wear and tear feel and look to it, while the computers are new, almost shinny compared to the layer of dust that covers everything else. Jung-hoo likes coming here because it hangs in the balance, its sort of like limbo, if limbo smelled of stale coffee and cheap sugar. He didn't pretend to be someone else, and he didn't say who he was. It was almost the perfect place for him. Stretching his back, he stared back at the ones and zeros, eyes blinking repetitively and quickly to shun away the endless exhaustion that he felt from the night before. As the doors opened and slightly creaked, he barely looked up to notice his fellow no name companion.

                                                             "Now, I'm sad." 

He quickly replied, fingers moving against the keyboard. He already knew her name, he knew all of their names. The nameless faces that hunched over their keyboards, faces glued to the screens as if they were looking at something holy, something not allowed for mere human eyes. Not that he cared, but it was a precaution. Who knew if these online vigilantes were there because they were planning the next revolution of if they were there to spy on him, being paranoid was boring, in his line of work it was just part of the job.

                              "Please should be a part of that sentence somewhere."

 Pushing himself, the chair rolled back and twirled right in front of the old coffee machine, he poured two cups and rolled himself back, placing her coffee on the desk opposite him. It wasn't clear to him what was exactly wrong with the coffee, somehow it was either bitter or too sweet, and no matter what he tried, he just couldn't get the taste to be right. 

                                  "Do you have anything, I'm starving, I was...." 

He was cut off by a beeping noise, at first he thought it was her phone, or maybe his, was he having a stroke? He couldn't figure out where the sound was coming from, but then the turned off computers started turning on one by. "This doesn't happen usually does it ?" He already knew the answer to that question. "Can you check what this is ?" He spoke, already hearing faint sound of typing inside his earpiece. 

                            GET OUT THEY ARE COMING GET OUT THEY ARE COMING 

That was the same message on each screen, typing itself over and over again. And he didn't have to be told twice, he didn't know who THEY were, but finding out is always better from a safe undisclosed location. And if this was any other internet cafe, he wouldn't have much blinked an eye at this, thinking that a teenage hacker somewhere was high fiving his friends for his amazing prank. But this was something else, this was danger. The details or what, who, when and why would be better left for later. "Go, move." He pushed her, opening the door first and looking if there was anyone there. "Were you followed?" Would she knew if she was? 

[gwyynbleidd-a]

@heyheize (since my inbox was being jank )

“Breathe”

His chest looked to be at a standstill while he stood over the male now crumpled against the bar’s wall. On the surface, he appeared calm, in control of himself and his actions. As if he had meant to send his fist flying into the other’s temple. The same hand that struck the unconscious man now shook itself out, attempting to rid the throbbing pain of his knuckles. Luckily for him, it was dark -- as most clubs were -- making his retaliation discreet. The small lounge area had been empty, aside from the three of them, having been reserved for Dahye and a few others wanting to celebrate a mutual friend’s birthday. A table well stocked with alcohol seemed to have been an open invitation to them. With a few protests and suggestions for the man to leave, something seemed to have snapped within Wonsik, resulting in their current situation. He stood there, taken aback by what he had done. Her words barely reached his ears from over the booming bass of the speaker system surrounding everyone within the establishment. It seemed she could tell the anger he often kept buried deep was still hovering beneath the surface of his untroubled facade. He ran his tongue through his lips, this time not from habit, but mild anxiety. She was someone who held a certain authority. Legally. And despite the fact she witnessed the man insult not only Wonsik, but her included, the fighter was concerned she may still take action. He inhaled deeply, his lungs feeling overwhelmed by the sudden rush of fresh air. “I’m fine,” he reassured her, “Really.. Should we get another section?” he glanced over at her, and away from the mess he made. “I doubt the birthday girl is gonna be happy about an unconscious guy in her ‘special’ booth?”

[yeozus]

✞ DAHYE. 

And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth.

Dahye had lost count of how many issues she was currently handling by the time her phone lights up, plopping yet another urgent matter onto the list. It is not that it sounded urgent… it was just personal. A rare occurrence, an assignment that had crossed borders, broken boundaries, rattled her perfectly glued-together picture of an immaculate detective.

“Hunter,” her voice bends under the heavy weight of fatigue, “I have to be up early tomorrow.” They both know very well that isn’t a no, and they also know she isn’t very good at being firm and inflexible when it comes to denying him when he needs her — or justsomeone there. Lord knows she despised ostentatious lifestyle, the fact that one of his shoes probably cost more than her rent, his perfectly polished everything. Having grown up in the middle of nothing, known the value of hard work, she was programmed to be satisfied withjust enough. Jealously? Oh, but why, wasn’t he just as lonely? Didn’t they bleed the same?

“Do I wanna know if you’re only calling because you’ve had a few?”

『 ✝ 』     MAINTAINING ANY KIND OF RELATIONSHIP WITH HUNTER  is similar to loving a  FLAME;  whether platonic or romantic in nature. oftentimes, the fire is low and manageable - just a hint of bright excitement and amazement about him; that passion that keeps him  BURNING  high, but at a rate where he would not blacken his skin while burning himself to a crisp. on other occasions, the fire is  TOO MUCH TO BEAR,  too bright or too hot or too DANGEROUS  as emotion overpowers him and causes him to make decisions he is sure to regret once he’s been tamed - IF HE COULD BE. or, the  WORST  option ... the flame goes out. he’s nothing, he hardly feels anything aside from a dark, deep sadness which weights every single one of his bones; making them too heavy for his skin. tonight has come to be a time where there is no fire:  where he’s laying on his back, staring at the ceiling as numbing alcohol circulates through his blood and makes his stomach  TWIST,  though he knows he will not vomit. he’s trained himself well enough, by this point. 

                 his fingers barely grasp his phone;  most of what keeps the device upright is his hands positioning against his mattress - the rose gold contraption basically propped up against his palm rather than actually being  HELD.  his eyes close, a shaky breath taken in through his nose as his lips quiver - does he actually  WANT  to say anything ?  not particularly, no - he’d rather just listen to dahye talk about something meaningful;   for all he really wants is for someone to give him attention, to verify his existence as a  ‘HUMAN BEING’  and not some untouchable entity, or even something far  LESS  than whatever being mortal actually  MEANS.  no matter how human he appears, he will never understand that ... he can only make notes by observation, only come to educated conclusions. but no, he will never know what that means. he isn’t human ... SO WHY DOES HE WANT THIS ? 

                 truth be revealed, hunter isn’t entirely sure what it is he does want. something like equality, something like love ?  it seems that way, but he isn’t in the state of mind to try to understand whatever  HELLSTORM  is happening between his heart and his mind right now. he just needs someone to be there for him, and dahye always did that ... he hates to feel as though he’s taking advantage of the care she seems to have for him, but he doesn’t know where else to turn. there’s pressure behind his eyes, like he’ll cry - but nothing comes out. nothing happens. he doesn’t even feel  ALIVE.  he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings, at least not right now ... though it would benefit him, he’s too scared to acknowledge them. because if he ignores them, then they don’t exist ... RIGHT ? 

                 he just wants her to talk him up. to pull him back into the real world, because he doesn’t know where he is right now. he’s been thinking too much about the past, and it’s resulted in some ugly, warped reality where nothing but  PAIN  can be felt. that’s all he can remember feeling back then, anyway - he forgets more about his mother and father every day.  ❛  sorry,  ❜  he breathes in response to the fact that he’s taking up time she could be using to rest. his voice is slightly slurred, but steady enough to let her know that he isn’t  INCOMPETENTLY DRUNK.  just enough to numb him a little, he’d wanted it to make him happy - but he failed.  ❛  i jus’ ... need someone t’ talk to. about anythin’. my head feels totally empty.  ❜

@heyheize.

[pijichu]

HEIZE.

from ( x )

For her, grocery shopping isn’t entirely a chore-- more of a break, some treasured time on her own in face of the hectic schedule ahead.  In the early hours of the day few customers are present, and those who are are regulars of the morning lull. She’s even started to memorize their faces- waves cheerily at familiar figures as she slips through the entrance with a tote slung over her shoulder.  

A sticky note’s wedged between the palm of one hand and the handle of the shopping cart, visual reminder for her to stay on task for once (she tends to get carried away, especially in the cereal section).  Somehow, in between the dairy and produce section it gets increasingly neglected. “...Because they charge so much for them nowadays, don’t you think?  I’ve never been so disappointed with the world we live in.” Some girl she’s seen once or twice has become the victim to her unnecessarily absurd tangents;  the amusement on her face suggests that she doesn’t mind, so she takes it as encouragement to plod on.  Groceries can wait.  “But don’t you think it’d be fun?- to be able to craft an entirely new identity, I mean.” Lips settle into a grin, worn subtly by traces of sleep as she crosses her arms.   “If there’s no adventure involved, even regular-priced avocados can’t make me happy.”

[sunmichi]

( + ) chugging along! @heyheize

“More like I tripped and landed flat on my face. Then I saw the lines.” Dahye sighs, a hint of desperation laced in her voice. She allowed herself to fall heavily on a chair as her friend worked on a Victorian dressing table. Always so methodical, patient and precise. Frankly, she thought most of those pieces were an eyesore, but boy did she enjoy watching it all come together, and the smells of the products used, especially wood-specific ones. That and the company, of course. Everyone needs someone to talk to other than themselves. 

Dahye’s words blend into one seamless string of thought, ringing at a near distance behind the acute focus of work. Mi slides a square of fine grit sandpaper across the old beveled edge of the dresser, fingertips applying precise and even pressure, feeling for the perfect balance of friction beneath. Straight across. “Whoo-oo-oosh,” she narrates aloud, trailing off into just -shhh as the paper reaches the back, at which point she turns toward the thump behind her. And grins, despite the fatigue that drapes itself over her friend’s limp form. 

“Aigoo.” Mi clicks her tongue, letting sandpaper and both hands fall to her lap as she shifts around atop her wooden stool. “Are you reenacting the fall for me? Careful not to land that chair flat on its back, or you’ll be flat on your face again,” she jokes in reminder; it had recently been retouched and fixed, and although it technically now stands in perfect shape, Mi still treats it with an air of delicateness. But Dahye is also one in a handful of people who have express permission to quite literally make themselves at home here. “Just kidding---here, just chill for a second.” Standing up now, Mi sets the sandpaper gently on the rest of the pile and crosses the few steps toward Dahye, hands dropping and molding to the form of her shoulders and beginning to massage, alternating between slow circles and playful thumps. “I’m sure it wasn’t that terrible! You probably just transitioned into a front-somersault and backflipped yourself right up again. I mean, in the end it doesn’t affect the investigation that much, right?”