&&. @pxjungs; it is looking into those eyes where one wishes to snap all ropes and fall.
there was a body bent in slight odd angles, curling into itself over the desk, head laid on the left arm and the right wrist rounds calmly. if that body was to be cut open and its insides were picked around, one was ought to find a pair of lungs inside those sharp ribcages – those lungs inflate and deflate air easily, though heavily. this body is our very own kyungsoo, and his mind calmly sipped ink, which stained his slander fingers as they whispered words to his notebook, secretive and yet vulnerable to any curious eyes that would eventually find his anecdotes.
though he writes in an unbreakable concentration, those eyes of his fell heavy every uncountable minutes – he was unaware of how long he let his spine bend in these odd angles to describe the sunrises dripping into themselves under soojung’s skin. and time now is just as heavy as his lids – you see, dear reader, time runs some days, and flies others; but as for now it sits, still and persistent. it is no coincidence that the boy acts the same, drowning his doubts in ink, for one is their time, and time is what one makes of it.
and for a moment there is white-noised peace.
he exhaled softly, eyes shutting and hand unfolding around his pen. and his lungs were filled with haze, eyes dazed by bursting colors and their bright, golden roars, and hand folded around someone else’s soft ones; then there is pressure on his shoulder, the weight feeling so comfortably familiar his eyes only later lazily rolled to figure whose it was.
he inhales sharply, eyes wide open and neck snapping to find his pen laying next to his chair on the floor. a frustrated groan blooming inside his throat: his response to falling asleep, and to falling asleep to the thought of her. eyes shut once more and he keeps them as such for a few seconds too long. oh it is cruel – the absence of her is a haunting shadow, lurking in between the wrinkles of his brain, awaiting for a light to come and darken his mind with thoughts of her, which engulf him whole and sing its wicked, loving lullaby. it is cruel, yes, and however those ideas bother him, they are frequent enough to become his favorite dreams.
jung soojung is often winter, autumn and summer. but in his dreams, those heart throbbing, vivid dreams, she is spring, kissing roses in his cheeks and touching sunsets into his skin. and he finds that forever sometimes is made of a mere second.
once kyungsoo accepts he cannot slip back into his previous dream, his eyes open lazily – disappointed, even. well, imagination is his only medicine for heartbreak, how could we blame him for craving it. oh but he does not know this is heartbreak yet – a mere injure to his ego, he supposed, actually, since she fled their encounter so harshly. for someone so attentive of other’s hearts, he knows his own very poorly – would you not say so, dear reader?
and so he strolls out of this room, dragging feet and inattentive to the mess left behind, sleepy hands occupied with his notebook and frustrated mind with thoughts of her. once, he was told to be careful of what he wished for – the universe, so vast and complex, could perhaps hear his words and grant him his desires. and it is very ironic, he found, that after stating soojung’s lips are made of the galaxy’s edge, she would be there, cross-legged sitting on his bed – book in hands, as if she had not pinched his ( heart! ) ego hours before.
he frowns, then checks the clock. 01:24am. eyes back at her, studying her beautiful figure under his bedside lamps poor, yellow light; and he wonders if she would lay her cheek against his chest as he reads those words for her – kyungsoo, pay attention!
he shakes his head, then checks the clock. 03:50am. this is a dream. he scoffs.
“this is…” he sighs, incredulous to his own, wicked subconscious, “you run away and my mind brings you back”
Mingling with the nobility isn’t exactly Skylar’s cup of tea but fulfilling her duty definitely is and as such she finds herself having to attend the soiree of sorts held in honor of all of Ouroboros’s employees. Everyone is dressed to the nines in their obviously expensive suits and opulent cocktail dresses and all the glitter and sparkle seem to only heighten the lavishness of the place. She feels entirely out of place surrounded by all these important people that not even her beautiful black lace dress and high heels could make her believe that she at least blends in, if not, belonging here with them.
After a round of introductions by the general and awkward small talk with vampires she’s sure won’t remember her in the morning, she makes a beeline for the bar. Really, the only highlight of the night is the fact that the party has an open bar that serves some of the best liquors available. She doesn’t hesitate at all to sit herself in one of the bar stools because she knows that this will be the only place she’ll be in tonight. Socializing really isn’t her thing.
“I’ll have some vodka please with a lot of ice, if you don’t mind.” The bartender gives her a look like he can’t believe she isn’t out there enjoying the party but Skylar only shrugs nonchalantly. She doesn’t owe him any explanations so she really isn’t planning on giving him one. A few hours is all she needs to pass and soon, she’ll be out of here. She simply cannot wait to get this night over with.
A cheshire smile, grin from ear to ear, has plastered itself onto the girl’s face. It stretched Yoojung’s chapped lips until it hurt, and continued to in spite of them.
“Of course, of course! I’ll do that.”
Platitudes were spilling from her mouth without a thought necessary to birth them. Auto-pilot navigated her voyage through the song and dance that happened each time she encountered someone who knew of her situation.
“The Kims are taking care of me, don’t worry! I’m fat and happy on three meals a day. Three. As well as snacks. And Mrs. Kim can actually cook!”
Unlike him. She would add mentally, although she did not have the strength to speak the words aloud.
With a controlled but loose-wristed wave of her hand, Yoojung would brush off their concerns as she reached the residence’s entryway and reached for her coat with her other hand. With room to spare, she slipped into the oversized black felt coat that was several sizes too large for her, clearly belonging to a male of a much taller stature, and not the petite teenager who bundled herself up within it.
“I need to go home, I don’t like leaving Snow alone for too long.” Yoojung would insist, and disregarded the chuckles her response would garner from those who were clearly not animal lovers.
But it was more than that, and she knew it. If she wasn’t home, and he should suddenly turn up? Well. She wouldn’t forgive herself.
While the reputation of social butterfly had never been hers, the cloistered existence Yoojung had lead up to this point had been troubling to say the least. But today, for the first time in so many days, the lord was with her and she had the conviction to push aside her own problems for the sake of something greater. The crisp evening air and tangerine sunset could only have helped, calling her toward it as she took the alleyway from behind her house toward the main road. Months had gone by, and Yoojung hadn’t dared to leave for anything but school or church obligations. How could she?
Just a little under six months ago her father had packed a suitcase, kissed her forehead, and left; smiling, laughing, and promising souvenirs. He was to be gone for only a few weeks. But clearly that was not how things had happened. Without him, she hadn’t dared do anything. She couldn’t be scared, because to succumb to fear was to welcome the devil into her heart, but shock had frozen her since the day that she, a mere teenager, had to file a missing persons report on her own father.
Walking had felt like a great relief. As if, should she walk fast enough, Yoojung could outpace her demons and become a carefree child again. That’s all she desired to be. Just a child, unremarkable but happy. Being a child must have meant something different to her though, for having seen the need of another, she was first to volunteer herself to help. A family had missed the community potluck, and as she always did, Yoojung had cast her lot to take an assortment of leftovers to them.
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Now, with arms bare of bags holding such precious goods, Yoojung’s pace was slow and methodical. The spring in her step that had carried her before was now gone. Perhaps it had been merely part of her facade, the warm up to her performance. In the public eyes, Yoojung had to be a strong girl, a good girl. The kind of child that endured onward, doing what she must in spite of the tragedy that enveloped her life.
But it could not be tragic. Not for her. She wouldn’t settle for it. Prayers had been cast to the heavens so often that Yoojung couldn’t care to count them. She didn’t understand the complexities of an international missing persons case, but cooperated however and whenever she could. Reflex jerked the muscles in her hand, clumsy fingers reaching through the layers of fabric for the cross that hung always around her neck, as was often her habit. He had to come home. If he didn’t, she — He just had to come home.
Engrossed in her thoughts, perhaps she simply hadn’t noticed when the names on signs had ceased to be familiar. The sky above her was dark now, and only the lights of streetlamps offered her any reprieve from the night’s oppressive darkness. Snapping out of her daydream, Yoojung stared down the long dark street that opened before her, and back toward the lighted street lamps that offered her no consolation or landmark.
“Oh no...” The girl lamented, realizing quickly that she wasn’t at all where she needed to be. In fact, she was lost. Emptied and quiet streets were her only companions, the houses around her were large, foreboding and dark, with gates and CCTV cameras that were far from welcoming to strangers. Clutching at her coat, Yoojung sucked in a sharp breath, having forgotten to breathe for a few moments as she took in the foreign scenery.
She had to find a street sign. Carefully she made her way further into the street, as if she were a cartoon character sneaking about, feeling cautious for seemingly no real reason. There did not appear to be any sign posts on the road behind her, which she optimistically hoped meant that she was near to one now. Surely at a nearby crossing there would be a sign to guide her with; something to tell her where she was, so that she could figure out how to get to where she needed to be.
It was as if Yoojung had stepped into a movie. Her black coated figure departed from the glow of artificial light that bathed the sidewalk in its dim yellow luminescence, melting completely into the void that seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her. The contrast was almost frightening, particularly as the curtain of abyssal night closed in around her.
The absence of typical urbane sounds elevated the state of unease that Yoojung had so easily slipped into. What was that snapping noise? Did wild animals live in the city? She had heard rumors, but having never been out so late, the idea that she might encounter something was not a subject she cared to entertain. Who would be out so late in what she assumed to be a residential area?
Quick to shake off this nonsense, her fingers pressed into the cold steel of the cross still clasped within her palm, the grooves likely to indent her skin for the pressure she applied. She had nothing to fear. God was on her side. He would guide her home, just as He would guide her father home. She wasn’t alone.
CRUNCH.
More than merely audible, the sound carried to her ears with such ease that she had been slow to silence the high pitched yelp that clawed its way out of her throat. With both hands clasped instead upon her mouth, Yoojung stood stalk-still on the spot. It had come from behind her. And it had company. The sounds were well-paced, like the sure footing of someone who had nothing to lose.
There was no mistaking it. Those were footsteps. Yoojung turned quickly. The lamp lights would reveal the person if they were walking the same path as she had, surely. But as quickly as her heart swelled with hope, it dropped like a stone into her chest so heavily that it hurt. No one. Frozen, half in determination to find the source of the sound, and partially with the fear she was so adamant to deny. Nothing changed.
A normal person wouldn’t hide. The thought arrived unceremoniously, signalling the quickly slipping logic that couldn’t parse together an explanation that wasn’t paranoid. If someone had taken her father, what if they would come to get her too? To a rational mind, that sounded about as likely as an urban legend. But Yoojung was not of rational mind at this moment.
“H...Hello...?” She called out, the fragile sound quailing in her throat as her mind cycled through contrary thoughts that demanded first to be heard, and then a second which quickly regretted it. "Is anybody there...?” She tried again, the syllables pushing through her trembling lips as though propelled by an unknown force. "bad idea, bad idea...” she would then whisper to herself. In quiet uncertainty, Yoojung fidgeted from one foot to the other, her hand passing over her chest rapidly outlining a cross, shaped through her right-to-left movement.
Suddenly a shadow moved, darting into the lamplight. A figure running. Running toward her. There was no reservations to the scream that would loose itself from her mouth as she took off running. No cares were given to be considerate now, charging like a miniature juggernaut in the opposite direction. What if she woke someone up? She hoped she woke someone up! She didn’t know this neighborhood, let alone where she was running to. Someone needed to know that she was out here. Somehow.
A four-way stop presented itself as if out of nowhere, and Yoojung was quick to make a decision. She would turn to the right and cut across the street to the opposite side. There hadn’t been time to look at the signs, but she didn’t care. Somewhere was better than nowhere. She hoped this would throw off who or whatever, was chasing her.
Adrenaline had kept her moving, but the burst was short and quickly died out. She didn’t know if there was still someone following her, the sound of her blood rushing in her ears and the pounding of her feet on the pavement had destroyed any chance at finding out without stopping first. Muscles screaming for release, Yoojung had no choice but to cease running. Immediately she was down; legs buckling, body tumbling forward into what felt like wet grass.
Her head was spinning, she couldn’t tell if it would ever stop. The world was dark around her, but somehow her vision managed to darken further, where nothing could be seen even with eyes wide open. This was it, then, wasn’t it? At least she didn’t have any regrets... except maybe that she hadn’t taken her PE classes as seriously as she should have...
