Throughout the week, Dae hadn’t been to any of the events. The gala wasn’t something he liked, the carnival was something that reminded the half-blood of how he once died, even if it wasn’t anything even similar, but the cook out? Well, now, he could fuck up some barbecue. And he could certainly fuck up a barbecue with with one of his friends and fellow gang members, Jisoo. That is, until, 𝟷𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ.
𝟷𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ was the moment the bomb went off, causing Dae to jump, drop his food onto the ground, and cover his eyes from the sight of the bright flames. Then, the screams followed suit, the chaos breaking loose, and Dae.... well, so much for enjoying cook outs.
His eyes flickered up whenever he heard Jisoo speak, realizing right away, what was happening, when the officer was snapping handcuffs onto his friend. Right away, he knew there was nothing he could do, and so he did the only thing he could think to do--run. Surely, they wouldn’t catch him. Surely, they wouldn’t do anything stupid. Surely, he was wrong.
Dae was shot by an oncoming police officer before he could even think about running in a different direction. It happened so fast. He heard the gun before he could even react, felt the pain, before he could even catch himself from falling to the ground. He fell, hard, face first, and tasted the concrete. He groaned. Pain shot through his abdomen, black blood following suit and soaking his shirt. He was given a kick, a police officer before he was left, confused, injured, and dazed. His arm was stepped on my a civilian and he hissed, picking himself up quickly, despite the fact his whole body was screaming for him not to. Stay, it screamed. Fuck off, he screamed back.
He stumbled, practically dragging himself, with his hand pressing on his abdomen to keep the bleeding from beginning a pour. It didn’t help. As soon as he removed his hand to slump down onto the ground, his wound began to bleed more. “Shit,” he grumbled, rubbing the blood onto his pants to slip out his phone, needing help now.
𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟶ᴀᴍ
His breathing was shallow. His stomach hurt. He was getting quite use to feeling this type of pain, always stuck in his stomach. He wouldn’t be able to move for a few days again. Go figure. Dae’s skin was pale, but he kept himself distracted, eyes fluttering as he watched videos on his phone and texted Seokju.
You better be okay enough for kisses when I get home. If you’re not, I’m going to be pissed.
I might not be home.
I meant when I get to you. You are my home.
The conversation enough was something that made Dae want to fight more, causing him to sit up, just in time for Vic to arrive to him. He grumbled lowly, cursing, as the bullet was taken out, but otherwise, was relieved, and once to safety, relaxed.
Sy was bored. The barbecue wasn’t exactly something he could enjoy. Ever since Yunhee’s death, he had been numb, drowning himself in drugs, alcohol, and sex with a few connections who knew how he worked and how he wanted it. No strangers, aside from his job.
Eventually, he slipped off from Storm when she was distracted, making a small excuse that he had to find a restroom. He most certainly did not have to use the restroom. Not for what it was suppose to be used for.
𝟷𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ
Sy, truthfully, was no where near the blast. All he heard was the sound of the bomb going off, causing him to jump, spilling his coke from his wrist. “Fuck,” he muttered, looking at the powder that had fallen to the sink. He snorted the rest left on his wrist, rubbing his nose afterwards with a groan in frustration. His eyes flickered up whenever he heard a stall unlock, heart sinking whenever he noticed the uniform. The badge. And the scowl.
“Ah... ” Sy was didn’t know what to say, he was caught. Red handed. The bag of white powder still in his hand. “Want some?” he finally stated, a shy smile on his face, but one that clearly said shit.
Moments later, handcuffs were being slapped on his wrists, and he was left sighing. So much for the rest of his coke being snorted. Again.
𝟷𝟸:𝟶𝟶ᴘᴍ
“Keep looking a little longer, and I might think you want to fuck me. Just come into the cell, yeah? I’ll give you the time of your life. I’m a bit bored,” Sy purred, a look of lust across his face, towards the police officer, who admittedly, was staring at him. At the words, the facial expression of the officer quickly turned into disgust.
“Like I’d have sex with someone of your kind, and your gender. Not everyone likes dick, like you,” he laughed, before swatting at the fingers clenched around the bar of the cell with his nightstick. Sy hissed out in pain, glaring. Why’d he have to get caught for drugs? Why did someone have to be in the restroom with him. Why hadn’t he noticed?
“Dickhead,” he muttered, nursing his fingers and finally, sitting back, with a sigh. He wanted out. If he even got out for his coke possession. It was going to be a long stay.
Smiles. Laughs. Enjoyment. Pollux tried to forget the week, to remember why he was here, what made him live. And he was enjoying himself. To celebrate species, to have fun. That was the point of this week. So far, he hadn’t been able to enjoy the week as much as he could have, and there wasn’t exactly going to be another week until well, next year. He hated himself for ruining his lovers’ week, but he was trying to make it up today. He knew all wasn’t forgotten, and that was okay.
𝟷𝟶:𝟻𝟶ᴀᴍ
Pollux had gone for drinks, to grab something sweet for himself and something vampire friendly. Fortunately, they had drinks catered to all sorts of species. To celebrate species, to unite everyone, human and non-human alike. To donate, for kids, parents, lovers, friends, to all enjoy themselves. There was suppose to be no hostility, despite the increasing number of human officers. They made him uneasy. This was suppose to be a time of unity. They weren’t making it a time of unity but more a time of distress. That was the point of this event.
𝟷𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ
The sound and light is what threw Pollux off.
His eyes ached from the bright light--the flames--and he could hardly hear. He smelled fire. Smoke. Burnt flesh. And something he couldn’t place. Something that he would later place as something highly flammable used to make the bomb that was planted. His three drinks were dropped, forgotten, as he tried to process what was happening. It was too loud, the ringing in his ears and the screams he could hear over the ringing. He was disoriented. The people pushing against him, trying to escape, to leave, didn’t help with him with his attempts to gain focus and get a grip on reality.
Yes, he was safe. He wasn’t harmed, but damn his sensitive hearing, smell, and sight. It wasn’t an advantage at moments like these. The day had become a nightmare, and it all felt surreal. Completely and utterly surreal. He hadn’t even processed that a bomb had just been detonated.
He stumbled around, disoriented, eyes searching the scene even if he couldn’t hear for the moment, searching--searching for two individuals. After a few moments, minutes, when he came up empty handed, or more like empty sighted, he focused on his breathing. He was trying to keep himself calm. This was not the point of this event or week.
