they said love was beautiful. to cha sumin, it was nothing.
maybe it used to be something beautiful in her life once upon a time before. but that was long, long ago---she wasn’t sure if she still remembered how it felt like, how love felt like. there was no more love left in her body when her mother had died. as if her feelings had turned numb by then, she could hardly recall when was the last time she had loved, or been loved. why would people think love was so important? love got her heart broken. love made her break hearts.
love was what made her kill. to cha sumin, love was a curse.
“is this when you say, what was it again, ‘young love is beautiful?’” she blurted out of nowhere, slowly making her way to stand next to this tall stranger, who also seemed to be staring at the same couple she was looking at just now. “how disgusting.” her snarky remark came out like a whisper, it was soft but loud enough for the other to hear it. “it sucks that i’m stuck here. how’s the party for you, buddy? it’s pretty stupid to me if you ask, and so are all these people here.”
he leans up out of the bed and stifles a yawn, the lines of his body aching and spent, the stretch he can’t withhold giving him more dimension and length physically. he wipes a hand over his eyes and through his hair, bending forward before sighing and opening his eyes, the rumpled sheets everywhere around him. he’s not happy. he should be happy, but he’s not; he’s getting what he wants, what he expects to need from exactly the person he wants it from, but somehow, burning in the base of his brainstem, his throat on fire, there’s a disturbed sensation boiling in him, a dissatisfaction. he’s familiar with it of course, knows the ins and outs of it like every sort of fine wine he’s spent his life tasting, accustomed to this degradation, this deficiency, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
his head hangs for a moment, like the moon in outside the window, the threat of dawn nearing somewhere close to the eastern horizon, and for a moment, he doesn’t think he can do what he knows he has to; he doesn’t think he can leave like this again. a hard swallow scorches through him, dark eyes peering over to the body beside him on the bed, his routine screaming for him to disappear before the other wakes up. aesthetically sehun is perfect, all strong limbs and wry smiles and unshakable loyalty, their friendship, or whatever the hell this is, having spanned back since they were teenagers, jongin’s appreciation for him having never faded, only intensified. but things between them are more complicated than that, always so damn complicated, and jongin can’t see a feasible way out.
he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be tangling things up even more, burying himself in sehun more nights than he’d ever admit to anyone, in more ways than one. the idea that having sex with the guy who is supposed to be his best friend should help deaden jongin’s personal problems, is careless and idiotic, and he knows this. he should stop this, he should leave.
but then sehun stirs and jongin leans closer over him, the bed shifting slightly. “go back to sleep,” he murmurs, hearing sehun’s breathing shift to wakefulness.
jongin lights the end of his cigarette with bloody fingers, his knuckles torn from connecting with bone, the sleeves of his shirt stained and unbuttoned carelessly. his chest is full of fire, still undampened despite the fistfight he’s just incurred, despite the rage he’s just worked out on these poor, pathetic sods on the other side of the rooftop. there’s a group of three kids, all knocked out cold sprawled across the unforgiving cement a few yards away, probably going to be unconscious for at least another 30 minutes, which is fine. it gives him enough time to sip the smoke into his lungs and pray for lung cancer. he’s so fucking done right now.
at least sehun is sitting next to him, his partner in crime, the only kid in this goddamn school who doesn’t grind on jongin’s nerves and fill him with disgust. honestly, jongin burns with enough of a blaze he could set this whole building alight, leave it in the dust where it belongs, send it on down to hell with his well wishes to satan. well except that apparently, he is satan. if that’s the case though, it’s a title he’ll wear well, he’ll own it, he’ll live up to it—not that he doesn’t already. he certainly seethes like all of hell itself, and even after colliding violently with these idiots and pouring out his fury onto them all, it’s still not enough to cool him off. he wants to explode.
he sits, pressing his back against the short wall that encircles the rooftop, the cold brick reminding him that his frustration is feverish, and looks up at the sky. grey clouds. no sun. “i fucking hate people,” he mutters to his best friend, knowing sehun will understand. “everyone in this goddamn school is a posh idiot, and i’m really sick and tired of being surrounded by them.”
seunghyun comes home feeling all kinds of warm and happy, even though he stayed much later at the office than he’d intended to, even longer than required of him, since his coworkers present had required them all to sit around munching on cake and talking about various different aspects about their lives. a lot of them had already known him from his acting days before coming to the company—he’d found this out real quick after first joining the company, having written quite a few autographs for them—but this is the first time he’s ever actually been able to sit down with them and talk about stuff, talk about the process of acting and how much he’d loved it.
he feels a better connection to his workplace now, and that’s a good thing he decides, since he’ll be stuck there forever. he slides the key into the lock and hopes there’s still something good on television, since he intends to just collapse on the couch and pretend to stop existing for at least a few hours. it’s nearing midnight so he knows there’s no point calling anyone to hang out or come over; he’s not really allowed to go out drinking anymore anyway. not that he wants to tonight, surprisingly. he’s too tired.
he walks in and drops all his stuff by the door, taking his shoes off before realizing that his are not the only pair sitting there. he blinks a few times at the foreign shoes, trying to remember who they could belong to. a stranger? “hello?” he intones, hesitantly. suddenly he’s scared someone has invaded his apartment? should he run?
if there’s one redeemable characteristic about choi seunghyun at the very least, it’s that he knows when things are not okay and he knows when it’s important to make things up to someone he really cares about. when sumin first started exhibiting her hatred of him, he’d tried really hard to come to terms with her and talk things out, but she never would, just simply falling deeper and deeper into that hole. until they wound up where they are now. seungyhun has enough people in this world who hate him for one reason or another, so burning bridges isn’t exactly something he wants to do on purpose. he cares too much.
and he honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if sehun came to hate him the way sumin does. it’s a constant fear, a nagging on the back of his mind that never really leaves him alone; the fear that sehun will begin looking at him the way sumin does. to him, it’s scarier than any horror show put on in october, any frightening movie, anything anyone could ever threaten him with. their relationship is tumultuous and difficult, and sehun very often does have to pretend to hate him when they’re in front of other people, but he’s always quick to fix things when they’re alone. and it means the whole world to seunghyun—it means everything to him.
he knows they’re in public and things could be dangerous ( he’d heard a rumor that jongin is walking around somewhere in the festival ) but he’s wearing enough makeup to be slightly under the radar as to not cause a scene. and not be easily recognizable. so when he approaches sehun and grabs him by the elbow, pulling him away from whatever direction he had been heading in, he knows most people won’t even bat an eye. he just wants to get sehun alone, so he drags him over to the back corner of a game stand, out of the way, finally turning around towards him and huffing in a breath. “okay, i’m sure you’re probably mad at me, and i’m sorry. really, i’m sorry. sehun. please believe me on this?” he keeps his voice down to a low whisper.
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] tf i’m not drinking with you ever again[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i got so trashed i thought i’d wake up in like a week[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] so i hope you’re awake too[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] and if you are[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] let me know when you have the time to go out for some more drinks
✉ for a text that wasn’t sent
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i can’t even tell why knowing about you and seunghyun still makes me feel so... weird. i would say i’m happy for you two but when i remember that you must keep it in secret non-stop, it hits too close to home. but i hope it won’t end for you as badly as my oh-so discreet relationship once did. i wish the best for you.
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] qmy vdrunk ass wantced tno txt my ex[ ➤ Magazine Boi ]but sghe’s in twhe saem clkub lmao[ ➤ Magazine Boi ]shouzld oi still etxt herr ro go chat her uppp
✿ for a suggestive text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] most of your sex stories are disturbing[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i wouldn’t mind hearing about more of them
ø for a late night text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] if one more person comes up to me[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] and asks me to play the chainsmokers[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] my homicidal plans will change into reality[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] btw would you bail me out?
✘ for a hateful text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] wow asshole much?[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i thought we were friends??[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] and you’re getting wasted without me???
# for a random text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i just saw the ugliest versace knockoff[ ➤ Magazine Boi ]gianni didn’t die for this
@ for a scared text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i’m at a party[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] a kinda shady party[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] they started sniffing something and i doubt it’s baking soda[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i don’t wanna mingle with a drug cartel[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] those can be my last texts
& for a loving text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] you look a bit like a jerk[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] and usually you act like one[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] but... you’re not a bad guy?
% for a curious text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] do you remember anything we talked about last night?
ツ for an excited text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] I CAN’T WAIT FOR MY COPING METHOD TO GO TF OFF TONIGHT[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] GO HARD OR GO HOME, GET BLACKOUT DRUNK OR DON’T DRINK AT ALL!!!
$ for an accidental text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] SHUT UP IT’S NOT LIKE I FUCKED YOUR MOTHER[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] ….sorry it wasn’t for u[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] anyways sehun how have u been
♀ for a heartbreaking text
[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] sometimes i find it funny how we always unite in misery[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] though it’s quite tragic in fact[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] i don’t say this often to other but i feel like i should tell you that[ ➤ Magazine Boi ] you deserve much more than life gives you
It’s been quite the eventful couple of days for Yixing, so he’s glad that this day is growing out to be a rather normal one. He has no appointments today, no business deals needing to be made and he’s taken the day off so he doesn’t have to go into the office either. Basically he has an entire day at his disposal to do whatever he feels like doing. It’s almost a miracle with how busy his life has been lately.
In any case, an entire free day means he’s put on his most comfortable hoodie, a pair of worn out skinny jeans and his most comfortable shoes. The comfortable factor of course means his clothes probably don’t match plus that he might look like he doesn’t have a penny to his name considering how often he’s worn these clothes before. But he doesn’t quite mind. The outfit is almost like a disguise, so that no one would recognise him as the owner of AOMG Records. After all, he’d like to be left in peace today.
And so far it’s working. He’s already managed to walk from his home to the more populated parts of town without having had anyone try to talk to him. Which truly is an achievement these days, surprisingly. Still, now that he’s headed into the shopping district, Yixing puts in his earphones and turns on the music on his phone, not wanting to be included in random people’s conversation this afternoon.
He’s just here to find some nice presents for his friends, after all. Why is he buying presents in August? Well, why the hell not? He wants to surprise them, make them feel happy, and what better way than to give them a cute present? So there he is, strolling through the shopping district of Seoul, in his probably least decent looking outfit, with his earphones safely guarding him from conversational people. Well, most of them at least.
