#tiati

[imperfectharmonia]

Hey, Hati-hati di jalan ya!

Tiati

[demasiadament-e]

Ela fez tudo certo. Fez tudo o que deveria ter feito. Mas isso não impedia de doer, e constantemente doía, mas na vida a gente se acostuma até com as coisas que doem.

Time after time

[amaranthinedarby]

kematian ga milih-milih sob!!

[monstrance]

This Is All There Is (TIATI): Chapter 1

Name: This All There Is Pairing: Taemin & Minho Rating: R-15 (language and content) Genre: Angst/Gore This is for shineelovesramen. The setting of this is post-apocalypse, basically, i’m using the setting from The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The world is dead, by some sort of fiery inferno, and all those who are left alive are fighting for their lives among criminals. It’s also inspired by the song Blue Lips by Regina Spektor. Also, I’m not especially religious, or anything, but I’m sorry if this offends anyone ;A;. Yeah imma stop talking now. Just remember that any requests/comments/questions go in the ask box :D

Death was clutching his coattails and following after him, waiting for the chance to get the better of him. On several occasions, it almost did. But not yet. “It isn’t time yet.”

“Where are you now?” Minho’s question went unanswered as it was never uttered aloud. He looked to the sky, posing the question to the wrathful god who sat above, enthroned on the bodies of everyone Minho had once loved, and looked down mockingly at the struggling remains of mankind. The god of the damned, the god that damned them all, damned humanity to suffocate and die under the steady rain of ash that fell about the devastated world. Yet he walked on. He had no idea what day or year it was anymore. He had stopped counting six years ago. His father had died on a Sunday, leaving 13 year old Minho with nothing save a Bible, a gun and a small bag of canned food that he had been collecting. Within a week, he had burned the bible for lack of firewood, eaten all the food and wasted all his bullets wildly shooting in the night, trying to fend off invisible phantoms that were coming to collect him. But he walked on. If you had asked him then how he survived, he would have told you that it was all pure luck. He had gotten mixed up in a band of criminals, boys around his age, shortly after his father’s death. He thought he was doing something good by teaming up. However, he could see what he was morphing into. Perhaps it was the day he had killed an old man to take the expired cans of food clenched in his arms that he realized that he was a monster. He deserved death but it would not come, watching him from the corner of its hooded eye, waiting for an opportune moment to best him once and for all. The skirmish that got him out of the gang ended in a blood bath. Two of his “friends” were killed by his hands. He had been shocked at what apathy had come over him. Seeing those two boys, barely 15, lying in a pool of their own blood, eyes beginning to cloud over, ash covering their dead bodies, Minho did little more than take their guns and clothes, leaving them naked and dead on the road. They needed no humility in death. And he walked on, knowing that he was damned. He was damned to hell, where he would see all those other bastards that he met along the way. Death was clutching his coattails and following after him, waiting for the chance to get the better of him. On several occasions, it almost did. But not yet. “It isn’t time yet.” Minho would say to himself as he collapsed on the road from hunger. He couldn’t die without finding something to live for. **************** When he came across the boy lying in the road in a pool of blood, he thought nothing of it. He looked the boy up and down to see if there was anything worth stealing off his corpse. He knelt, tugging on the boy’s sweater. His own wasn’t enough to fend of the bone-chilling cold that was falling over the world. The corpse moved, and Minho’s gun was out in a flash. “H-Help me,” was the weak voice. Minho cocked the gun and put it to the boy’s head. “I know where there’s food.” the voice continued. Minho’s grip relaxed a little. “Tell me where it is and I’ll let you go,” Minho’s voice cracked a little from lack of use. It had been what? Two years since he last talked? “Mister. I may be dying, but I’m not stupid.” Minho said nothing, steadying the gun again. “Fix me up,” the weak voice continued. “Nothing extravagant. I just need to be alive. I just need to kill one man.” “Why would I believe you?” “Why wouldn’t you?” “I can think of a million reasons.” “Name one.” “You could just be a bandit putting on an act.” “A hell of a good one. It’s hard enough to find food here, much less fake blood.” Minho said nothing again. In the silence, the boy groaned again from the pain of the wound. Minho got up to walk away when he heard the voice, louder and full of desperation. “They have enough food for months!” “Keep your voice down. Bandits could hear.” Minho said as he walked away. The boy immediately took advantage of this, yelling as loudly as his dry throat would let him. “THIS MAN HAS FOOD AND CLOTHES! COME GET HIM!!!” Minho wheeled around in sheer fury, and thrust the gun into the boy’s filthy hair. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hissed at the boy. The boy slowly turned his face so it was facing Minho.

He was beautiful.

Minho didn’t know much about beauty, growing up in a dead world, but he knew that this boy was beautiful. Even though his features were coated in layers of dirt and blood and burned by the asphalt, he was beautiful. He was like a fallen angel. An angel lying in a pool of blood, bargaining for his life. The thought almost made Minho laugh. “Are you going to kill me?” the boy spat blood onto the asphalt. “Yes.” “I really know where food is.” Maybe it was the coldness messing with his head. Maybe it was him about to pass out from hunger. Maybe it was.... Minho didn't know but he knew that he had to take a chance. Any chance. “Fine. I believe you.” ‘No you don’t.” “No. I don’t.” “Will you help me?” “I’ll do what I can.” “Will you help me?” “Yes.” “I don’t believe you.” “Okay.” “But I’ll take the risk.” Minho looked into the boy’s defiant eyes before posing a question. “Do you believe in God?” “Of course.”