#seulpeun

[warsk]

⭐️⭐️⭐️ !!!!

1: 15°C

She tells him in a dream that there’s a dead girl inside of her. He believes her, and he hates himself for doing so, but it’s all he can do, now that knowing means nothing. 

(Sometimes it can get so quiet in here that my own breath feels like an invasion that I have to fend off, even though holding it provides no rescue.) I know. (I can’t get this out of my head because I can’t get out of my head.) I know. (I think my heart is so cold; I wouldn’t survive a single night inside of myself.) I know. 

She tells him in a dream that there’s a dead girl inside of her. 

(I killed her.) I know.

Knowing has rarely meant anything.

2: 0°C

“Juwon.” He looks up, catching her eye. “Did you wait long?” She comes over to him, steps dreadfully slow. There’s a thin layer of snow piled on his jacket now, but the neither of them mention it. 

“No.” Eunha hums to his response but something about it is nerve-wracking. He lets himself a tremor, and he puts blame on the snow, (always on the sky).

“Didn’t I tell you to wear another layer?” He thinks she’s about to hum again, but he interjects. He takes her hands in his, bringing them and cupping them in front of his mouth. He smiles against her skin, before he exhales, lungs expelling out: warmth, warmth, warmth. “You’ll freeze to death before I can murder you with bad jokes.” He takes her hand this time with his own, pulling them both into his right pocket.

She doesn’t hum. Instead, they look up at the sky. “The sky’s telling you to smile, Eunha.” 

He doesn’t know how to touch her with anything but his hands; but he knows that her hands were supposed to be warm in his, never cold.

3: 5°C

(Does it ever stop?) Fall after summer. (The cold.) Winter after fall. 

((Yes.)) ((Just look for the blossoms, Eunha.))

Spring after winter. 

@seulpeun

[jeongchinoli-blog]

💌 ( does a plot twist: make it a hate letter instead 😏)

( ooc: plot twists to your plot twist and makes it a love letter )

SEND ‘💌’ FOR MY MUSE TO WRITE A LOVE LETTER TO YOU

Eunha                        New Year’s Eve 2012

Everyone thinks they have you all figured out, but they’re all wrong. You’re not like us. You’re not a chaebol. You’re not a suck up. You’re not a lot of things, but that is what makes you so great. 

I do remember what you said to me that night of our school’s ski trip? We were all drunk, but you seemed to be drinking the most. I cut you off, and you wobbled away. I thought you went to your room, but I found you later in that room with all the windows. You told me then all your secrets. You told me your fears. You told me how much you hated your father. You told me everything. Afterward, you asked me if I was going to use it against you now like I did to everyone else. You asked me if I was going to take away what your pride. You said it was all you had left.

No. My answer is no. I’m not going to use it against you. Not now, and not ever. It is not me saying this because I want your guard down. It is not me saying this because I think you’re pretty and want to sleep with you, though I do. I’m saying this because you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to help outside of my family. You’re the first person that comes to mind when I wake up. I feel concerned that you didn’t bundle up enough on your morning runs or that you feel lonely. I care so much about you. I want want to save you from all that you want gone in your life. 

I like you, Park Eunha. I know I’m probably the last person with the right to say that, but I mean that.

Sincerely, 

Choi Donggil

[kaikarie-archieve]

@seulpeun

           ☾ — Why did she bother asking anymore? People came to the bar to drink, not to chat. Yet she missed her intellectual talks so she’d keep asking in hope someone would talk with her. She would go mainly for the people who were young. She felt that it was so necessary that they liked an important matter such as History. 

           “There’s not one single person who tells History though, so that’s a hard question.” She smiled shortly as she appreciated the delightful question from the female. Quietly trying not to smile too much as much like the other, Marie had her questions about History too and the way it was told in schools. And in media. “But I’d say, from the real teller. From your perspective, you see sometimes you got position yourself out and read from as many authors as you can to know what it really happened and what it was told.”

            She began to clean the counter, her tongue flipping against the roof of her mouth. Curiosity was striking her, reason which she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “But why do you find it important to know who is telling?”

[kyurachu]

[haebxtna]

Comfort me.

DrabbleList || Status: Always accepting { you maysend more if you want to ;) }

ComfortMe: I’ll write a drabble about my character comforting yours- vice versa.

There are no walls too thick. No fence too high.

                      If it is meant to break, it will.If it is mean to crumble, it shall.

                                               But I’ll be there.

There is a void of whimpers – no sounds of cries, no tears.A faint noise, more of a silent thud, secluded the room from the rest of thewhole establishment. It’s at a dead hour, when people had enough of their fillof lunch, when the oven cools for a while, when the hustle of the busy streetssubsides to go back to their usual lives. It is when Haebitna places down herapron, dusts off the flour, sugar and crumbs off her hands. It is when she slowly realizesthe peculiarity of the momentary peace the bakeshop has offered.      

A soft thud, again, as though its sound sends a sublimecall. It does. Maybe? Sure there areno people around, only her and the chef who is taking a nap inside the employeeroom. Fear could have easily encapsulated her if not for the broad daylight –and she reprimands herself not to be superstitious to think of ghosts. Do not be afraid. And she tries not toas she braves herself. One step. Two steps. Three steps.

Silence. Stillness. Butnever calm. Heart beats, thundering beneath ribcage while light footstepsdraws her close, and closer. There’s no more sound to trace, only instinct tofollow.  Three.. Four… Kitchen clear. Where could it come from?

Storage was clear and so is the owner’s office and eagernessseems to die down. Was she trying to find something she shouldn’t? Perhaps itwas a trick of her senses – she always has those moments when she hears something. Hey, ugly duckling! Go back where you belong! You don’t stand a chance.Thisbetter teach you not to meddle with adult things, you little kid. Scrapsof memories hidden in the crevices of her brain. Erase. Delete. Forget. Mind stirs in a frenzy and body soon shakes.Consciousness easily defends its owner the way she always does. Her body takesquick strides, aiming for the restroom where she’d look at the reflection ofherself and smile. Maybe laugh. Andtell herself that she’s okay. It’s okay.

Door swings and reveals reflections on the mirror. Two reflections. One of a standing woman lookingstraight on her own image and one stopped on her tracks with mouth agape. “Eunhaunnie…” Words slips from Haebitna’s lips, barely above a whisper. Her voicehushed with the figure in front of her. Familiaryet unfamiliar. Eunha gazes at her own, eye to eye, as though unravelingthe image that faced her – deciphering the person behind the red dress and longhair. Haebitna had seen her smile – it took a while but she did and it was lovely.The older woman had such grace that composure was like a garb she wore – alwaysneat, always clean, always smooth. But what she does see is a face differentthan what she had seen. An expression not befitting the name she holds. “Eunhaunnie…” Name slips again, this time trying to catch her attention as herpresence doesn’t seem to register. Shedoesn’t recognize. Who is Park Eunha?

Perplexity and astonishment dwell in Eunha’s blank stare. Handsgrip tighter on the tiled sink table, her fingers pressing deep as nails pale at thesound of her own name. If it is just any other previous circumstance or one ofher moody states then Haebitna would have sent her fingers to her waist or anything toelicit laughter like she always does. But she knew it isn’t the right thing to do.Sounds of hinges creaks, the door closes. One click and it’s locked. Quietlyshe hops, hands on the side as she settles herself to sit on the table near the older, lookingat her through the mirror. And there she spends a good few minutes withnothing but the sound of their breathing. And her eyes looks at her, trying tofind what the other woman is searching. Yet no matter how hard she does, itwill always be the same for her. The lady in the red dress is her Eun-nie.

Haebitna’s hand gently lifts to land on the olderfemale’s shoulder. Eunha does not need to look to see the gentle smile herfriend cradles as she looks at her from the mirror. Behind her gentle stare are words left fleeting in silence, but will nevertheless be heard.  

                                                                         Somehow, it’ll be okay.

                                             I’m here.

I’ll always be here.

[haebxtna]

Sweet Sensitivity

Sweetness - a pure solace for those who choose to fill their hunger with a kind of taste that tingles one’s senses;  a magical thing that affects people’s mood, even though not entirely. Whether psychologically or perhaps because of serotonin and dopamine that it can lighten one’s mood, one easily indulges in it, even just from its mere scent.

It was one of the many reasons why Haebitna had found herself working behind the counter of a local bakeshop. There is a satisfying feeling of being surrounded with the scent of freshly baked goods, especially those of made with glucose-filled ingredients. As she has to cut down on her sweets mainly for the reason of keeping her throat clean from infections, Haebitna just took pleasure in seeing and smelling them. It seemed.. therapeutic. And it can literally swoon you away. And perhaps it was not only her who is drawn by the scent.

Croissant. Cinnamon Danish, Chocolate Éclairs, Blueberry Muffins. All these has garnered the attention of one lady, her eyes switching from one to another like she usually does. Haebitna had grown accustomed to the that certain customer as she has been there for a couple of times now, and her habit did not come unnoticed. It takes her a good five long minutes of going back and forth on the displays, showering her attention from one bread to another as though mere looking would actually let her taste them. When she has had enough of the sight, she'd quietly fall in line, wait for her turn, and place her order - a slice of their simplest, if not, the healthiest bread they have instead of those she previously eyed for.

And indeed, much like the lady's usual routine, she then stood in line after a good five minutes, of which Haebitna had curiously observed while tending to other customers. And just as the queue has gone and it was the lady's turn, Haebitna did not wait for her to speak. She took a tray, taking one each of what the lady had been eyeing, heated them a bit and then served to her. It is possible that just like her, the customer has been cutting off her calorie intake. But a day of indulgence wouldn't be so bad. "I hope you don't mind but I highly suggest you taste these." Haebitna punched one item after the other on the counter. She hasn't done a thing like this before, serving - insisting rather, items to her customers but there was so much in the lady's eyes whenever she sees her looking at the pastries. And this day, she was feeling a bit courageous enough to approach her differently. "Wheat breads are out of stock as of the moment but I am sure you would love to take a bite of these lovely pastries!" A white lie is quite needed, just in case. Her usual bright smile grew big on her face as she looks back at her. "A total of ₩8,000." And while she was at it, the bubbly girl leaned closer, letting her words slip in whispers. "One needs to have a cheat day even if they're on diet. And if you're worried about the price, I took the cheapest out of which you're eyeing." Her smile grew bigger as she ended her words with her signature wink.

[jkbaws]

measured_by_moments

start of the line, @consilian @aduros @seulpeun.

eyes peeking through the van's open window, she watches the headlights of other cars that pass them by shine like smudged stars. the wintry mist touches her cold upon the skin. the journey passes and the sunlight rouses more colors from their sleepy monochrome. and though the road still has the dark look of night, the sky is already more bluish than charcoal. under the fumes of the morning traffic, a tincture of dawn lingers, like dew upon leaves, a gift of freshness bequeathed anew each day.

becoming more aware of the loamy fragrance of the air, she yawns with the back of her hand hovering over her mouth. early schedules weren’t uncommon, but for a trip to successfully happen there needed to be a different kind of preparation. it was like moving out of the dorms except she spends packing in enthusiasm because of the promised time for leisure. she even includes an itinerary of her own, in case things go wrong and a back up plan was requisite. that’s the part that’s uncommon. she hadn’t been on a vacation with her group. she remains wishing for it to happen. her goal didn’t come to be what she had in mind, the set of people completely differing from the three girls she has lived with for years, but it didn’t excite her any less.

for one, she recalls miyoung to be an interesting character (just as the others, as far as she knew), especially with all the history credentials up her sleeve. she’s the first person to meet up with for the day. as planned, the van arrives to the gathering place. jennie hops off the vehicle, bidding her manager adieu, and heading on to greet the friend waiting in the car with a couple of knocks on the window. “wake up! i’m here, let me in!” she exclaims, as if she was being heard.