feather

read between the lines

[umhaeil-blog]

geumum‌:

there’s a knowing smile, the feeling that accompanies it much larger.

[ 💬: haeil ] you just do

#onlychild #stillknowshowitgoes #goodatpickingupcontextcluesbothbigandsmall

[ 💬: haeil ] you’re a brother, not a third party [ 💬: haeil ] or well. first of kin in your case [ 💬: haeil ] EITHER WAY… [ 💬: haeil ] you’re allowed to breathe now

the following silence is allowed for all its worth, for however long his dear old cuz needs it.

[ 💬: haeil ] lmk how it feels [ 💬: haeil ] i’ll celebrate it with ya

as difficult as it is, it’s not too much to mourn.

easier said than done—when half his life has been spent holding his breath (in what? anticipation? what for, and why?), the perpetual tightness in his chest now exists on the basis of familiarity alone. 

either way, it’s the thought that counts. has to, when it serves its purpose in having him think twice about the search and rescue at hand here.

[ 💬: Elijah ] Just like that?  [ 💬: Elijah ] Is separation anxiety worth celebrating? 

two minutes later: 

[ 💬: Elijah ] Kidding!  [ 💬: Elijah ] I’ll hold you to the offer after the 1 week trial period is up 

[umhaeil-blog]

ice cold, baby

@umhaejin, with a cameo from @umkiho

he’s lost count by the seventh (eighth?) shot glass: the rum cake’s tasting more like rum than cake and it has to be because kiho’s coming in strong with the tour de booze supplied by his very own  liquor cabinet. everything’s a slur-blur concoction of the five senses, but haejin’s face cuts into his line of sight with an impressive amount of clarity in spite of it, or baby bro is actually that close to his face. “haejin-ah.” one hand raises weakly, one movement away from looking like he’s waving, but then it drops back down with a slump and a drunken laugh. again, this time louder: “haejin-aaaah!” 

[umhaeil-blog]

( kkt — 권해일 ) +1 🎉( kkt — 권해일 ) feel any different?

( kkt — gahyun ) Yup! It’s another year gone...

( / by now it feels like a waiting game, with each passing june seeing if it, in fact, is supposed to evoke something—anything—beyond the physical. though when beggars can’t be choosers, that might just be his best and only bet ) 

( kkt — gahyun ) Is it supposed to feel any different? 🤔

[umhaeil-blog]

[ 11:59 / haeil ] 💬 hyung! hbd bro [ 11:59 / haeil ] 💬 i’m editing smth rn but i just checked the time and yea lol [ 12:00 / haeil ] 💬 oop here it is [ 12:00 / haeil ] 💬 🎉 drink extra for me

( / on the dot as always. old habits do die. still, he’s grinning all loopy, after effect of kiho’s jaeger bombs or it’s just that familiar, familial affection—as far as his bloodstream is concerned, it courses through all the same ) 

[ 12:01 / elijah ] 💬 !!!! Thank yo u

[ 12:01 / elijah ] 💬 Enabler...

[ 12:01 / elijah ] 💬 I mightve already though oops

[umhaeil-blog]

pre-surprise party 

dinner plans are nothing special, but neither is sitting at the cusp of thirty at last. rosemary, green olives, a list of whatever’s needed for caramelized onion sauce, and a slab of ribeye steak, but he’s staring into blank space in the middle of Aisle 5, eye to eye with the shelf housing packages of tapioca pearls. world’s his oyster, but this is as close to pearly white self-emancipation one is going to get: to choose, and not to choose. haeil does neither and just chooses something else instead, first shaking himself out of this momentary daze to reach for the box of chicken broth that he’ll need one cup of for later, the purpose for the rest of the 24 oz, status pending, like the report that needs to be sent to the finances team by wednesday. life goes sans switch, the midpoint between on and off in the ambiguity of stagnancy. but remember, it’s all about playing to your strength(s) too; if that’s in numbers or in the consistent way you manage to trek along the same weather-beaten paths because it’s what you know and all you’ve known, so be it. 

[umhaeil-blog]

[ 12:05 am ] 💬happy birthday [ 12:06 am ] 💬🥳🥳🥳

( / he didn’t see it coming, but suppose that’s the point of birthday surprises, regardless of the shape and size that they come in ) ( / blinks and feels the warmth in his face that’s a cross between punch drunk elation and something else entirely that doesn’t have him thinking right, hence this: ) 

[ 12:31 am ] incoming call from KWON HAEIL

[ 12:31 am ] (1) voicemail from KWON HAEIL 

[riversonfire]

[tinyalmondteats]

Visit Original Link

[umhaeil-blog]

almanac

@umhwan

nam seokwoo is what they call a parachute around these parts, but with a dad high up in the hierarchy of the company, no one would dare think the letter N in ‘nepotism’ right in front of his face. 

at the moment, seokwoo is a point in his radar that haeil hopes to hunt down at last. sales team three has had a heinous track record with interns thus far, and their latest addition somehow is the whole lot of past rookie mistakes combined into one walking, talking smarmy present-tense disaster. 

in his haste to corner him, he doesn’t think to pay close enough attention. zeroing in on the back of the closest figure receding into the canteen⁠—sky blue shirt, dark hair slicked, and a stature-height combo that he is too familiar sighing in exasperation at⁠—haeil quickens his pace, and is firm with the hand that goes up to stop the other from walking any further and a voice to match. “nam seokwoo!” 

there’s more he has to say, but the second the man turns around, it’s lost to him with the realization. 

“oh.” that’s definitely not seokwoo. he drops the hand immediately. “sorry–thought you were someone else.” under his breath, not that loud but loud enough to catch: “god, these interns...” 

[umhaeil-blog]

room 402

@umgyul

continued from here 

“she was nice about it.” the receptionist, he means and only if he wants to keep the association at that and nothing more. reason being: any labels beyond that, and it’s a whole nose-dive into exploring why and how running into an ex-intern could possibly be more painfully awkward than a chance encounter with an actual ex, but that can wait until they head in. 

haeil slots the card, and the dot above the door handle blips green, then turns it. what he expects on the other side is nothing out of the ordinary. reaching for the light-switch, he flicks it on. 

what he actually sees: this. 

“...”

(img cred: @umgoeun) 

[umhaeil-blog]

geumum‌:

[ 💬: haeil ] uh huh…

there’s no choice but to laugh. he swears it’s only out of affection though. eighty percent, at least.

[ 💬: haeil ] i mean [ 💬: haeil ] let’s not forget that you’re literally [ 💬: haeil ] ten years older than him [ 💬: haeil ] there’s some leniency there… but yeah, hyung [ 💬: haeil ] kid’s growing

he remembers his height. that one girl haejin’s talked about more often than not, and how excited he is (they both are, heck) when he does.

[ 💬: haeil ] in a lot of ways!

[ 💬: Elijah ] It’s true...? 

still, god. a decade has never hit him this hard since the actual end of 2010, now 2020 on the horizon. texts shouldn’t be this emotive, should they? 

[ 💬: Elijah ] That much I know  [ 💬: Elijah ] I’ve got eyes too 😅

he goes along the coming curb, steps leisurely. he remembers his time getting lost around their own block, pre-algebra woes, and boyhood as all three of them know it. 

[ 💬: Elijah ] How do I parent myself to not act like a parent, then

[umhaeil-blog]

wingspan

[umhaeil-blog]

umhyebin‌:

The pitfalls of a 9-5 (though hours deviate severely and without warning) job are more or less consistent from person-to-person: the physical strain, emotional demand, and lack of any noteworthy stimuli.  Hyebin expects no less, but it doesn’t curb her excitement each time she gets a chance to take a breather.

By mid-morning, her left foot’s fallen asleep and her joints are aching.  Maybe she’s getting old.  Or work’s just aging her.  Or both.  Either way, the stairs leading up to eighth are a welcome reprieve from being planted in a shabby rolling chair for hours on end.  They really need to get to replacing them.  

“Oppa.” Deadpanned, paired with a brief sweep of their surroundings before she confirms it herself– Asshole is nowhere to be found yet again. “Do you really think I do it on purpose?  I swear he hates me.  He’s never scratched you.”  Which reminds her:

“I’d really like to ask him what qualities you have that make you the superior human being.” (She’s only half-kidding.  Blame Haejin for that.)

"hyebin." call and response, though he makes up her lack of emotion with an enthused lilt on his end. she's vexed, and for a valid reason. cattitudes are always tricky, case in point being the calico stray (?) that slinks his way to join their break time.

leaning against the rail, haeil crosses his arms like he’s thinking, except all he can really come up with is. “i don’t know what to think.” a chuckle. “i’ve never tried to approach him first, so there’s that.” there’s that saying about letting sleeping dogs—er, cats—lie, and lacking the disposition to do otherwise. “didn’t give him that name, either.

he’s got two cans balanced on the ledge, one that he turns slight to toss across and into her hands. “what makes you say that?” he asks lightly, playful and unaffected, though at his core, he’s perplexed at what’s become a running joke he’s not in on at all. 

[umhaeil-blog]

lights on

[umhaeil-blog]

gahyum‌:

factoring time into the equation? not exactly what she had in mind when she said that, but.

there’s a time and a place for everything. she’s only now starting to realize the truth behind the words for every slight she’s made that someone has subsequently let slide, and yet. as she grows older the consequences hit harder as tolerances and patiences narrow. excuses mean far less now than they did a year ago, and she can only imagine it’ll get worse with time. 

“maybe i should have rephrased.” she doesn’t. “on the contrary. seems to me like there’s a perfect time to unleash a day’s worth of complaints,” if she’s talking time and place, then, “in a taxi.” she laughs. “can’t imagine how many lousy grumps you’ve run into.” lousy grumps like her, but she doesn’t feel like painting herself in an entirely sorry light, strangers be damned.

like most silences at this time of night, she suspects this one runs deeper than what he lets on. her response, meanwhile, is immediate. “can’t,” gahyun echoes. “ugly without making a statement.” to that effect, she adds teasingly, “maybe we should both go for crocs instead. next best thing.”

it takes a moment, but consider him sold. "you got me there." a sigh and a shake of his head, but the white flag of surrender doesn't wave with remorse. just as easily, he laughs too. fingertips lift then unlift from either side of the steering wheel as he drives down. perfect is subjective, which warrants a subject to change, anytime, anywhere, with anyone. “only one time?” and only here? on second thought, where else would it be?” 

"they're not all lousy. and if they are, not all of 'em are grumps, either." suppose the variety of both keeps the job interesting. haeil glances at her through the rearview, suddenly contemplative. "i think you fall somewhere in between, actually." this too, subject to change, but remains as so for the sake of the jest. 

another red light, and they stop once more for seemingly no one; seemingly because it’s also at this time of night that perhaps phantom, shrouded things cross paths with this plane of existence and over this road, invisible or never really there at all or his mind is wandering again. he’s pulled back from it just as quickly as he’d caved into the previous bout of silence. “are crocs ugly while making a statement, then?” a hum, lips pursed in thought. “what’s the next best thing after that?” 

[umhaeil-blog]

precipice

[umhaeil-blog]

umyeop‌:

“negative.” he finishes ring-around-the-rosies like this. what is that classic nursery rhyme if not morbid? still sick, still is what it is: speculation, folklore. lore about your folk, which is him and his, which is not something sangyeop would’ve ever imagined to witness having to emerge through the surface anytime soon. he goes around in circles by himself in his mind, bummed. who starts? when, where. it’s not too hard to figure out how. after all, what had just been said?

what seconds have passed being absorbed in that thought process, sangyeop excuses on just waiting for the other end of the line to break the silence. no blame. it’s been warm lately, even warmer now, the chills of his reality aside. his breath catches in his throat, would’ve even if haeil had something else to say with every passing moment. in vain isn’t quite the term for it. not anymore. “been wanting a good one for a while.” his smile stretches where the phone can catch it, details amiss. it’s not a grin, the man a fool either way for thinking his friend can or can’t tell.

"that's–" unexpected? uncalled for? since when has life been all about equal playing fields, anyway? pausing to absorb the word for what it’s worth, then speaking again before the minute hand ticks forward by another fraction of a blue-tinged hour. “not what i had in mind.” honesty is all he’s got for now, plainly put like a chuckle is supposed to follow through when in its place an eerie feeling takes root. 

the hairs at his nape rise in the wake of it. inexplicable at this point in its sense of déjà vu,but that’s only because he doesn’t dare to ask. not yet, now now, not when in tandem, haeil wonders just how bad and for how long. the weight of it all will fall eventually, merely an inevitability of being under perpetually under the throws of gravity. another tick, and he lets it drop like there’s something in the dark that’ll catch it whole. “no reason that can’t happen.” his foot taps quiet against the carpet, and he ducks his head. “does now work?” 

[umhaeil-blog]

geumum‌:

it’s only a little funny. might just be one of those times in haejin’s brimful life. adulthood is coming, as it should.

[ 💬: haeil ] nothing wrong with this or whatever [ 💬: haeil ] but you sound like a dad fr

it’s time.

[ 💬: haeil ] could be fun to loosen up a little and start being his brother instead of his parent [ 💬: haeil ] 😼🤩

this is what makes him freeze in his step, the next churn of thoughts of the panicky sort cut short cold turkey. 

[ 💬: Elijah ] What? No  [ 💬: Elijah ] I’m just checking to see if he’s okay

resumes in direction and mission, though with significantly less urgency. 

[ 💬: Elijah ] Have I been acting like a parent this whole time...

[umhaeil-blog]

tight rope

[umhaeil-blog]

umgoeun‌:

her gaze flits to him for a split second before she looks back at the painting.

why isn’t he leaving?

the condoms are right there, not ideal nor what he asked for — it’s not her fault there was suddenly an influx of customers today. the other part-timer was supposed to restock anyways. however, as much as she wants to, goeun would never bring it up. she can only hope that this will be an isolated incident. it’d be a little concerning if this becomes a repeat occurrence.

she only looks at him when he asks another question. “oh, um…” she glances at her computer, clicking around a bit to see if there’s anything available. it’s been a busy night, for whatever reason. “the only one available right now is room 402.” 

the shin ramyun room.

deciding to omit what room it is to avoid making the atmosphere much more suffocating than it already is, she passes him the card for it with a tight-lipped smile. “sorry ‘bout that.” 

all the while, he does a mental count to three. three beats between this ending in relief or walking back to the suite like this never happened in the first place. cue a good old fashioned stare-down with his shoes and the kitschy blue-orange pattern of the lobby floor. 

one. two. three. 

he breathes out in a wordless 'thank god’, picking it up with genuine gratitude. her expression registers only for a fraction of a second as off—something that doesn't sit as merely patron-directed irritation or even the sheer bafflement of this situation—but he doesn’t linger on. not when he’s been wanting to leave just as much she’s been wanting him to. “it’s no problem.” 

this time, there’s no buffer, last-minute requests, or points of hesitation. a silent nod for farewell, and the keycard to an unexpected disaster slipped into his back pocket before he finally, finally moves.

there’s only one silver lining to this: that the sole witness to this had been none other but the disrobed woman from La Maja Desnuda staring down at them from her place in the frame, her eyes painted in such a way that they appear to follow his path as he makes the left and walks back down the hall. 

bizarre is an understatement. but it won’t be anything close to what’s waiting for him in room 402.

[ogomel]

cr TOBTOBTOB7