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Junsu slipped into his home silently, rubbing a bruise on his cheek a little as he slipped into a closet. Locking himself into it, he sat in the corner and rubbed his arms and body as well. He felt in pain everywhere but stayed silent about it. No need to bother anyone with him.
As someone gently pocked her shoulder, she turned surprised. «Mh?» is the only thing that escaped from her lips, as the other got into her view.
The streets weren't usually this crowded. It was worse than hell for Minseok, having to walk past groups of strangers, bumping shoulders as he did. He despised large crowds. Too many people in one place for his comfort. Though, he did try to ignore it, keeping his eyes glued to the ground as he walked. Not the best idea. He ended up falling back into his bottom, whining. Someone had bumped him way too hard. They must have been running. Minseok bit his lip, hissing in pain as he looked up to see who knocked him over.
"Yah! Watch where you're going!"
inhale me {open, a/b/o}
It seemed that everyone was bonded these days. Mark felt a mix of embarrassment and intimidation as he walked about his daily life, nostrils clogged with the scent of strong soul bonds. He wanted something like that for himself, more than anything, but the Omega was just-- so shy. He didn't know how to go about finding the right Alpha, didn't have the courage to approach anyone and no one had approached him thus far.
During his heats, he was a massive shut-in, which didn't exactly help his prospects. He just felt so vulnerable going outside like that. Not that most Alphas were exactly thinking about anything other than sex once they've been exposed to so many pheromones...but that was beside the point.
With his YouTube channel being at least somewhat popular, it wasn't as though he hadn't gotten...offers. But he wasn't that kind of person. It just felt gross, dating a fan-- especially after the whole Alex Day shebang. So he wanted to find the right person through his daily life, experience it all without there being stupid expectations upfront.
God, he was just so awkward.
Mark sighed lightly, pushing open the door to the coffee shop he frequented. He ordered his usual plus a bagel, sitting down to each the latter and await the former. His sneaker-clad feet rested against the bottom rung of his stool, occasionally swinging out. His baby blue tee framed his torso nicely, hugging all the right places, and the dark jeans he'd chosen to wear today complimented aforesaid bright shirt perfectly. His glasses had slid down his nose a bit, and after another small bite, he fixed them, just as his name was called.
"Mark Fischbach?"
He hopped up-- just in time to bump into another person. "Oh-- Oh, I'm so sorry," he said immediately, shifting a bit so he wasn't quite in the person's way anymore. "Wasn't paying attention."
drowning {open}
ah-themadking asked: ✘ send me an ✘ and i'll put my music on shuffle, get the song, and post my favorite line as a starter.
He hadn't slept in three days now.
He'd hoped it would have stopped by this point-- but no. He was awake ceaselessly, so horribly worn, and he was sure people were starting to notice. The only reason the fans weren't freaking out was because he had lots of prerecorded content queued up, plenty to make them think he was perfectly fine when, in reality, the Mark they were watching was from days before.
The young man was quiet in crawling out of bed-- and he wandered into the bathroom, pressing the door closed as slowly and silently as possible. He splashed his face with some water, sighing lightly at the visible bags below his eyes.
He felt like he was drowning. Like he was being engulfed in something unknown, something scarier than any horror game he'd played. Because this was real, this was him-- and he felt like this was smothering him, keeping from getting enough air.
"Oh, how I long for the deep-sleep dreaming," he mumbled to himself, knowing his phrasing was pretty archaic but he was trying his damndest to inject this with some sort of humor. Big words were funny.
But he couldn't laugh. Couldn't even force a chuckle.
Sitting down on the closed toilet, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, elbows on his knees as he rested his face on the heels of his hands.
[ song was imaginary by evanescence ]
[ open: electricity is in my soul ]
You came home last night and seemed far away,
I could not believe
That you were alright with everything.
He hadn't retched in a long time. Not since he got food poisoning from some bad lobster, like...three years ago. It was concerning. Mark didn't exactly know why he was feeling so shitty, but he knew it wasn't physical: no indicators that he was sick, like a fever or clamminess or anything that would scream 'flu' or 'stomach bug'.
The fact that his emotions were running so rampant made him wonder if he was just pushing himself too hard. It was likely, he was really anxious about his work lately...and he always had this idealism to 'push through the fear' and fight those demons actively rather than shy away from them. And it worked, usually. It was a good way to live.
But was it killing him?
Night is the key that unravels everything
When it all comes down...
And people tend to erupt without a sound.
He wiped his face down in the kitchen sink, splashed it with some water-- used the mouthwash he'd snatched from the bathroom to clean the horrid taste from his tongue. It seemed to cling to his tastebuds, so much that even after three rinses, he swore he could still taste and smell it. It made him want to outright bleach his entire mouth.
Mark leaned over the sink and breathed a few times, just in and out slowly, regaining his bearings. He snatched a cup from the cabinet above and filled it with water from the filtered tap, sipping at it slowly.
He'd been about to sit down on the couch, try to numb himself with mindless television, when there was a knock on the door. Huffing a sigh, he placed his cup down and went to answer it.
"--Hey, um, this...maybe isn't the best time."
"Fuck.." He groaned and held the back of his head, sitting up from the dirty ground in the back alley of his bar. I drank way too much.. He held his head in his hands, tugging at his hair.
Yixing bites his lower lip as he attempts to set down all the settings in his new phone. It's not his first phone, but Yixing has been way too used to small, rusty mobile phone that could only call to fully comprehend what a smart phone is.
The model in his hand is light despite it's size, and he thinks he'll like it -- if ever understands how to work it. His phone had come in by the mail all the way from Italy, and Yixing had barely been able to hide his contentment. The very nuns who raised him always kept in touch, and he loved them despite the way he feels about their lifestyle. They had tried their best to be their family, after all.
It's been 2 days though, and at least, he has calling and texting down. His eyes grow slightly large when a notification spreads on the top of the screen, and his fingers moves to press at it, lips puckering together as his fingers fly over the keyboard. Writing should be easier if the phone is smart, he thinks.
[text] What do you mean 'smh'
[text] Who does the seeking monkey heal? Who's the monkey? Are you talking about your roommate
