#vetricol

[kaikarie-archieve]

mysterious.

               Glasses were clicking. Laughs were heard and there was a scene of lovers kissing, friends hugging and strangers exchanging numbers. The night was just beginning and there was a feeling in the air of fun, happiness and to some — sadness. It was a friday. Even if you were sad, you had to be happy. For friday nights meant fun. So why was some sad. One behind the counter sighing and wiping the empty glasses, another by the end of the bar crying over a picture and one with his friends but nothing related to them. He didn’t fit in.

There seemed to not exist fun for them, for they were the only ones not laughing. Not drinking and definitely not vibrating with excitement. Preparing to go somewhere else after finishing there, like most were. Marie was the one behind the counter. Hair caught in a pony tail with some of the bangs making their way to her forehead. In a messy way. Her lips were pink, but they had been red by the beginning of the night and she was on a dress, silk one. Despite working on a bar, she had the need to dress nice, look great.

In front of the bar there were some people sitting. Most group of friends and then a man alone. Drinking his drink with no one but himself. He wasn’t looking friendly as the others but definitely not sad like she was. He was just there, drinking and somehow he had gotten her attention. Because who doesn’t love a stranger that is lost in his thoughts? For sure Marie did, and for sure she wanted to know him. But today there were no guts to be flirty. Mood was low. She could pretend of being happy, but it would sound too idiotic, too fake. 

He finished his last glass and asked her to meet him by the bar, he wanted the check but she wanted him to stay. Her small hand curled up around his wrist, for once, she needed someone who wasn’t an idiot like most guys she went out with. For once she wanted to talk with someone, a stranger. Strangers are always good to talk to. For once she didn’t want to click her glass with someone, she did not want to laugh. She wanted to talk. Talk of nothing but books. 

But why was she so sure he would know of books to begin with?

Now it was too late to back out, she had hold his wrist. He was looking at her. Her hand slowly retrieved back, somehow filled with guilt. ‘I’m sorry, I…’ She spoke shortly and then laughed. But I don’t want to laugh. ‘Are you going somewhere after this? I’m thinking… I was thinking… Maybe we could go somewhere. I leave in 20 minutes, what do you say?’

[zureo-blog]

"Look at me. Just look at me and stay awake. Can you do that?"

He lives a life he wishes he did not live, painted over with blood and marked for misfortune. But in this cruel, dark world of uncertainty, the power to control one’s own life is nonexistent. Taeyong knows this, and it is the reason behind why he has stopped trying to alter his fate.

When he becomes semi-aware of his surroundings, he opens his eyes, and finds that it takes a moment longer than anticipated to make sense out of his current situation. His vision refocuses only after a minute elapsed, running his gaze over the physiognomy of the man he sees beside him, and then he blinks; once, twice. He thinks he has seen them before, but he can’t seem to recall where and when, or if they had any tangible linkage to begin with. 

But he doesn’t spend too much time mulling over this thought, not when there were other that deserved more attention than that. Taeyong’s hand blindly meets the stranger’s chest, and he, with whatever strength he had left, makes an attempt to push them away from him. How humorous, even when it was obvious he needed help, he blatantly refused to accept it. “Don’t get so close to me,” He utters, unable to speak above anything other than a murmur. “It’s fucking suffocating.”

For the time being, he chooses not to answer their inquiry, and instead brings an arm over to his forehead. Slim fingers trace over once unmarred skin, clearing away traces of blood he could feel steadily pooling out from the wound slashed across his left temple. He wonders how much blood he’s already lost, and when will it stop. “Ah,” He breathes out  – continuing to prod the aforementioned even when it warned him to stop through each painful throb it effectuated.

Idiot. 

Using his hand as a makeshift gauze, he compresses the extremity against the open wound and struggles to sit upright again. His muscles tense, his body trembles, and gravity draws him back down to his previous position - on the cold, hard ground, where he lays, uselessly. 

@vetricol

[flxriciide]

( @vetricol )

"So what do you do?”

Her brother was not the only one that needed amusement around him, Anastasia, herself, needed to be entertained as well. Sure she acts disinterested and was an ‘all work and no play’ kind of person but she needed a distraction from work from time to time. And getting her hands dirty whenever she had the chance to won’t amuse her unlike how it does for her brother. Heck, it was his job to do so and he’s in love with his work. This doesn’t mean she disliked serving her brother, one shouldn’t misinterpret her intentions, it was indeed an honour to even stay in his shadows but again, she, too, experience boredom. 

“Do you turn invisible? Travel through time? Shape-shift? I’m a lot of things but not a mind reader.”