#t: interlude

[idaroon]

interlude.

with @idsanha at coffee shop near midas building

these days coffee is his best friend. aroon can’t remember the last time he slept well ( yes he can ), so drinking enough caffeine to keep him going through the day is important. he is on a strange position, career wise. too fresh in the minds of people to disappear, so midas keeps pushing titanium into things because their song is sort of working and they are sort of okay for a recently debuted group, aroon still has the pro.j fame to back him up, but he is not famous enough to do anything too interesting, so he just... lives.

and it’s good, it’s fine, aroon can manage. he can manage pouring everything into work and sleep on the way back to the dorm and the neck pain it gives him. he can manage sleeping alone on his bed, he can manage wake up in the middle of the night and miss the warmth besides him and stay awake because he can’t sleep anymore, jaehyun tossing and turning on the bed besides him the only noises in the night.

it’s okay, all of this.

except it isn’t.

it isn’t because the awkwardness around the dorm is too much and suffocates him, because aroon doesn’t know how to deal with the things he is feeling and he doesn’t know how to speak his mind. but if there is someone who knows and can help him it’s sanha and aroon is glad his hyung and him are on speaking terms again.

it was necessary a whole mess of getting drunk and doing dumb shit for aroon to realize that well... that is life. and sanha never deserved to be treated like aroon did, like he was such a bad person when it is far from the truth. would a bad person make time in his busy schedule just to meet aroon? sanha could make up an excuse, but he doesn’t and when aroon sees him entering the place he raises from his place in the back and waves.

“thanks for coming, hyung.” aroon says in means of a greeting. “i need your help.”

and isn’t it always like this?

[aintyourpuddin-old]

┼

Send ┼ for my muse’s reaction to walking in on your muse… 11: completely naked

She can walk on her own now. Her back has healed up nicely, her arm and leg don’t need casts anymore. She knows she shouldn’t be able to do this yet, not so soon after being pushed through a sixth-story window. It’s that stuff Ivy gave her. It changed her— boosted her healing process, made her stronger, strengthened her immune system. The other day she dropped a glass on accident and just stared at it, at her legs, watched the bleeding stop and scabs form far quicker than was humanly possible. It hurt like a bitch. She had to reopen the wounds later to get slivers of glass out from under her skin. Selina had helped her. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. She’d just wiped the blood off Harley’s legs with a wet washcloth and kissed her forehead and helped her back on her feet.

They both knew this wouldn’t last forever. They didn’t need to pretend it wouldn’t around each other.

But Ivy. 

Ivy didn’t know. Or if she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. And Harley was okay with that because it meant she had a lot less emotional pain to try and sort through when all this came crashing down. It smothered her sometimes, though, like hiding underneath a blanket but getting hot and suffocated by your own trapped breath. Harley was never meant to be solitary, no— but she wasn’t meant to be owned, either. And Ivy liked owning her.

So she'll go and try to explain this to Ivy before it's too late, and hope that they can still be friends. "Hey Red," she calls, and then walks right into the greenhouse to look for her. "... Reeeeeedd!"

It doesn't take long to find her. And she's buck naked. And Harley has no idea why her friend is naked, or why it makes her so incredibly flustered when she knows for a fact that the healing serum made her immune to Ivy's pheromones, and she doesn't know why she feels so compelled to go to the other woman and reach up and cup her face and kiss her, and she doesn't know why Ivy doesn't stop her. She doesn't know why green hands slither around the hem of her shirt and the button of her pants like creeper vines, she doesn't know why that bitter-tasting mouth moves all over her skin. She doesn't know why they're doing this. She doesn't know why Ivy cares.

But she knows that this won't kill her. She knows that she is strong and fixable and alive. And if this is how Ivy wants to collect her payment, Harley isn't going to complain.