( • had it not been for the fact that he was in shock, he would’ve shown her the way out himself. the faint smell of expensive cologne mixed with her usual, as strong as it had always been. he never liked it, shitty quality for a hell of a lot of money. that’s all she was, good money and low quality in everything she strived to be. of all the things she had committed, this was by far the lowest of them all. )
i paid them, it held up my campaign a little. but i paid them, they did exactly what i told them to do. and -- and i had no idea, you would go this far.
( • you had to go this far. you are the source of my problem. these words served as a mantra to the patter of his bare feet on linoleum. each muscle forced another to tense, his teeth dug into skin. his knuckle still couldn’t bleed, he looked at the wall and hesitated -- leaving his hand to tug at his hair -- god his hair, so unkempt and long overdue he wanted to pull it out. he wanted momentary wreckage, secondary severance, some kind of relief. )
( • his hand holds porcelain, soil taints that knuckle before it’s flung at a wall. a loud crash sounding before he turns regardless of the pain in his chest. the throbbings on either side telling him he’s done it again, gone too far. he turns his head, his neck stretching to its furthest angle when he sees Taemin. but he has no reaction, he just smirks. a small smile like a warning, as if to say he could break once more. his cheeks wet, his neck pulled taut, and his knuckle is still not fucking bleeding. )
( * the collar was tight, his side itched from the seams of his shirt, and his hair had been falling out of place all night to earn the top spot in his annoyance list. it was nearing one in the morning, his birthday already passed its due date as he dropped his keys onto the dresser and turned on the lights. ) jesus — ( * he jumped slightly at the sight on his bed. taemin laid there far too casually to his liking, looking as though he were trying not to act out of sorts. his best friend knew well enough that he hated his birthday not for the typical hipster reason but rather for the fact that it basically meant he’d sit through a long business meeting. the only difference was the cake that was more expensive than his tuition and the attention from the other business ideals in the room )
the hell are you doing in my room?
( * though granted, he couldn’t help but start to smirk after seeing taemin’s impeccable grin. something’s up. )
[text to: the taedevil] hyungggggggggggggggggggg i want coffee[text to: the taedevil] nOW
Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.
[text to: the taedevil] btw… this is stupid but.. I’m really glad I met you ^^ [text to: the taedevil] you’ve really helped me, hyung <3
Send “☎” for a RUSHED text.
[text to: the taedevil] ok i’m drinking ur coffee bc u fell asleep and dont need it anymore ok luv u hyunggie bye i’m heading out now
Send “&” for a LOVING text.
[text to: the taedevil] did it hurt when you fell from heaven?[text to: the taedevil] i think you know how this ends[text to: the taedevil] -whispers- lucifer
Send “#” for a RANDOM text.
[text to: the taedevil] do you ever wish you hadn’t met me?[text to: the taedevil] sometimes i wish I hadn’t met me[text to: the taedevil] like i could be someone else[text to: the taedevil] someone who understands things idk
Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text.
[text to: the taedevil] my friend just sent me a link, here [attachment] [text to: the taedevil] ur welcome
Send “@” for a SCARED text.
[text to: the taedevil] how could you have hurt me like that hyung??[text to: the taedevil] I thought….[text to: {CONTACT NAME CHANGED TO: dont text this number anymore damnit}] I thought we were friends. I thought you had my back. what the fuck i’m shaking
Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text.
[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit] Y DID U HURT ME THO
Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text.
[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]i had that dream again. where we were still friends.
Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text.
[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]i literally cannot fucking look at you please stop trying to talk to me in the hallway, i dont want to converse with you okay????
Send “%” for a CURIOUS text.
[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]at what point, do you think, did you know you were going to screw me over? did you know well before it happened or?
Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.
[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]why do i need to have pants on to go ghost hunting tho???[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]oops
Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.
[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]you were like my brother… i really looked up to you[text to: dont text this number anymore damnit]i feel really stupid now
GRIP TIGHT, LIPS SNARLED, HE GROWLS — “stop it, soojung.”
krystal sees fire. initiation is never easy, self preservation is basic human nature and yet--baek ho expects submission to their commands, unwavering cruelty and all. and she does, for the most part, she does, because she’s young -- because she’s desperate, because the prestige of baek ho means far more than her own self. but it doesn’t mean she isn’t angry, that molten lava doesn’t run through her veins after every meet, that she’s not a raging creature desperate to release vexation pent up within. it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t treat lee taemin a little worse every time after.
here, she is pushing against between him and neglected books in the far end of the school’s library. here, her mouth is hot against his, nails breaking skin, tearing and pushing and pushing till he breaks. krystal likes it best when he does, likes the way her wrists hurt and shoulders ache with the way he throws her against the shelves, likes the way it distracts from the twisting organ in her chest ( pumping agony and humiliation with every beat ).
if ever, she had loved taemin best for his ability to distract.
You have the skin of your enemies between your teeth and their pleadings under your nails —
and you look like a burning pyre.
Disgusting.
It’s only in times like this where he feels the most burden.
Jaebum sits alone.
Back, slouched against one of the many duplicates of chairs. Knees, with the slightest pressure atop them from the bottom of the desk. Hands, incredibly dry and numb as they rest in his lap. His gaze remains lazy and subdued, in a blank stare at nothing in particular. Yet, if he moves his eyes at all they would be hindered from their strangely blurred focus.
His mind wanders, recklessly into what he admits to never forgetting.
Shin Jaeho stood taller than him, as always.
He had something new that stained black and blue, per usual.
Jaebum made sure to wait in the right places, even corners and behind doors, to get a first look at their newfound experimentation. He would find himself trembling, in case he set his eyes upon his own fate. He would shiver at the thought of blades grazing his skin as they did here, or bruise the very bone as they did there, or perhaps send such a fucked up message elsewhere.
Occassionally, he’d find Jaeho biting down on cloth — by choice.
To keep from making sounds, but to keep his pride from escaping in any way. Jaebum’s noticed a few “initiate scars”on his own skin, but on the other there’s something so much deeper that he now watches the other in caution. He’s no longer waiting, but he’s anticipating to see what those blades and bruises have created two years later.
Chest, rising with a deep inhale and falling with a sharp gust of breath.
Arms cross, a chainmail to keep his burden from bursting.
The feel of tailored cotton is stark from the silk.
So this is how it feels, to straighten your sleeve and clip your cufflink as your figure stands in the mirror. Where Jaebum stares at himself for once, to think that he’d have to get used to it all.
How his cufflinks would be in his pocket by the early rise, and tailored cotton would be hanging in the corner. It would be too hot to bother with looking sophisticated, even the styled look from this morning is tousled from fingers grabbing and frantically brushing. Where stress rises with each changing number, any wrong estimate causes his estate to drop, for relations to fault, and for his career to crumble.
Jaebum watched his dad, his mirror, every day from there on out.
Eyes, they blink and fall out of the blurry gaze.
There must be something better to think about, as the day dies to birth the night.
Jaebum pissed him off only once.
Only when he came back, with a hefty stain on his shirt. Crisp clean met a blueberry hue that day, when the idiot had the audacity to walk into the lunch room and ask a girl out to a party. Jaebum wasn’t there to hear Taemin’s words, but he managed to see Sungjae sneak out from the heavy swinging door later on.
Taemin had called Jaebum an asshole.
Sungjae couldn’t stop laughing.
Jaebum apologized to him only once.
Taemin complained that he didn’t even want to go to the party in the first place, that it was for pretentious assholes like Jaebum and Sungjae (as if Taemin knew him at all). But Jaebum couldn’t help but follow the other to his room, in a silent apology for laughing at something as sincere as his feelings.
Lips, they curve ever so slightly.
Though, it leaves sooner than the thought.
Jisu had told him that Jiyong would be there, even Bobby was going to be there.
She was his only way of knowing anything about dumb and dumber, of knowing when he should turn and act like nothing happened on porcelain and tile. Where there was a damper of music and an acceleration of physical friction.
Jaebum remembered walking out, flustered and caught in a daze.
He remembered seeing Bobby look at him, first with a smile, but then it’s disappearance as he realized what he was looking at. That moment, it reminds Jaebum of why he was here. Why he lets polished red graze his cheek and sequined hips align so close to his own. It reminds him of why he hides, and why he can’t ever walk past the fucking bathroom without feeling —
Guilty.
He thinks, only for a moment, what it would mean to smile at Jiyong.
To have him smile back.
For once, Jaebum closes hie eyes.
His arm stretches out on the desk, where his head would rest to hopefully gradient to slumber. To his own day dying, to birth a night of numb understanding. Even in his unconscious state, Jaebum finds himself wandering amongst these memories. Where faces stare back, blank and with victimization written all over them.
For once, Jaebum feels such guilt.
That he never did enough.
That he never showed the truth.
That he’s hidden for too long.
“ There’s nothing wrong with that.
I won’t tell anyone, I promise.
I’m just curious about — you. That’s all. ”
He remembers it all too fucking vividly.
How Jinwoo reminds him of the blades and bruises; yet his words, words that are so much sharper and harder than he’d ever felt before. Where a voice like his hisses a curse so dark and sinister, so much like who he remembers.
It’s only times like this where Jaebum despises having a mind.
Back, cold and leaning solely on the pressure of his spine.
Hands, still dry but cold and numb from a lack of touch.
He doesn’t dare to open his eyes, even in the dark.
