heavy

never give up, never give in

[wykyungcheol]

[ kkt ➝ potential love line ] is the next day too early to text someone, am i uncool now? [ kkt ➝ potential love line ] you were so cool talking about baking last night, thanks for giving me your number.

[ kkt ➝ potential love line ] oh, you said you forget to eat sometimes, don’t forget to eat today !! you were drunk though... but don’t people say more honest things when they’re drunk than even when they’re sober? in that case, EAT !

@wyserah ━━ /

[hrjungjin]

Is this flirting?

[wykyungcheol]

wyjungjin‌:

Calling @wykyungcheol to the board.

Jungjin hated to admit it because he didn’t want to sound conceited, but he also wasn’t blind, and as much as he tried to ignore the looks often thrown his way, or the whispers that would float to his ears sometimes when he would step on the bus, or just wait at a streetlight, they still happened. So maybe he was good looking, and maybe sometimes it helped him get something for free, but it wasn’t something he was willingly exploiting for his own personal gain. He always insisted to pay for what was offered to him, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to argue forever with someone who wanted to give him something.

So maybe being somewhat good-looking had its ups, but it also had downs, like strangers taking his picture without his permission, people sometimes mistakenly believing him to be a member of a boy group and asking for his autograph, it could get a bit ridiculous at times. That is why he often liked to go to shops or restaurants where he knew at least one of the employees, because he knew they wouldn’t give him special treatment. That’s where he was now, waiting in line at one of his favorite coffee shops for his turn to order. He was looking up at the menu, trying to decide what he was in the mood for. His current options were either a cold brew latte or a caramel one for a bit of festive cheer to his day.

How are you supposed to be an idiot like him who’s more worried about the next pokemon game rumors that were spreading through one of his group chats- and still soehow manage to become a tolerable cop. He doesn’t know if he can shoot for more than mediocre, being a cop is not what it’s cracked up to be.

Sure it’s been in his family as a profession for generations and he passed the exam with flying colors but he’d grown to hate it. Even just a year in and he’s got the blues. Ready to quit and run away. He’d complain to someone but that’s just uncool and he has an image to uphold so he doesn’t.

So he takes out his frustrations on other things these days- for instance, eyeballing the snack in line, eyes on the menu probably with no idea there were eyes on him. Kyung-cheol doesn’t hide the brow raise, small grin on his features as he steps closer.

“Which one are you going with?” He motions to the menu at the man, looking up and at eyelashes hoping to catch a glance, “something hot or cold? Something as hot as you? I’d understand something cold, must be a burden to be so hot all of the time.” His tone is a joke, smile crooked because this is what he does. He’s familiar here, in unnecessary, cheesy territory like this.

[wykyungcheol]

wyseulji·:

[ kkt ↪ Cheol ] i honestly have double shifts tomorrow but here i am, asking you to go bowling in the middle of the night [ kkt ↪ Cheol ] you get to see me, of course. [ kkt ↪ Cheol ]

{ ` she was never this cocky or arrogant, but he often times brought those playfully laced toned words out of her. Even though he had not given the O.K. that he was on board with this late night adventure, Seulji did a Mission Impossible roll off her beanbag chair and sprung to her feet, then dashing on tip toes through her apartment, fetching the essentials. ]

[ kkt ↪ Cheol ] PJs are the required attire

{ ` this suggestion only came as she found her primarily pink and white accented kitten PJs wrinkled in the corner under the jacket that was now on her arm. perfect. }

[ kkt ➝ Seulji ]if you thought I was putting pants on in the first place (ಽ ͡ಸ ͜ʖ ಸ)ಽ

[ kkt ➝ Seulji ]

[ He barely finished putting on his shoes and coat over-top of his t-shirt and coca cola pajama bottoms when the text flooded in. It’s too obvious but even if it wasn’t the official uniform he would have shown up in that and embarrassed her anyway. ]

[ It takes him no time at all to stumbled through his kitchen, chug down a yogurt drink to put the pep in his step and get to the door. He shoots her another text just for good measure. ]

[ kkt ➝ Seulji ] be there in sex sec* don’t be late or your 🍑 = 🌿

[wykyungcheol]

@wyjinhwan​  ━━ /

Excitement; that’s all he feels, excitement and comfort as he waits outside of the shop for Jin-hwan to come out. Things have been good between them lately, fun and he feels like they’re progressing. He can’t help but feel the budding in his chest, something he wants to call hope. Hope that they can make it out of this closer, that whatever small heat he can feel manifesting inside would grow into a fire.

If only Jin-hwan would open up to him and stay by his side, Cheol thinks this is could be something fun, real. Sure, they met because of Jin-hwan’s brother, because of happenstances that brought them together but it isn’t like that anymore. It may have all started like that but it’s not anymore.

Cheol likes what they’ve built. It has to be as sturdy as it feels in his ever-optimistic heart, doesn’t it? Jin-hwan will be getting off work soon if his guess was right, so hopefully his surprise greeting will go over well. 

[wykyungcheol]

wyseulji‌:

{ ` Seulji lied upon her unnecessarily large beanbag in the middle of her living room stomach down, tiny feet hanging over the edge, wiggling in the air as she scrolls through her contacts in her phone. It was a headache inducing week to say the least and she needed to blow off some steam. Sleep would have been the normal thing to do at 3 in the morning, but she was wide awake even without the aid of coffee. Ah yes, of course. The victim was chosen. }

[ kkt ↪ Cheol ] hey, hey you [ kkt ↪ Cheol ] [ attached img ] [ kkt ↪ Cheol ] do you have work tomorrow? we should go bowling. right now.

[ He flips in his bed at the sound of his phone buzzing over wooden table. A bleary eye open until he grasps around and grabs what he searches for. Unlocking and giving it a quick read, twice because he’s too tired to comprehend the first time. ]

[ kkt ➝ Seulji ] i read this twice just to make sure i wasn’t crazy but nope, ur the crazy one... [ kkt ➝ Seulji ] don’t you know i’m a professional working man? of course i work tomorrow, crazy

[ And he sits up with a yawn, debating with himself, peering at the clock on his phone he didn’t work until tomorrow afternoon, the night shift, long and hard hours. ]

[ kkt ➝ Seulji ] what’s in it for me, huh?

[ He asks, already sliding out of bed with a sigh. ]

[wykyungcheol]

@wyhyuk  ━━ /

The sun was beyond the edge of the earth and the sky was angry red. What a fitting way to run into Hyuk. Sometimes, Kyung-cheol wished they would never run into each other again, sometimes he thought that the only reason he was even trying to keep things civil between them was because of his competitive nature. 

Was being nice to someone a damn challenge now? A competition? He certainly made it one, setting up behind the boy, hands on hips and gaze a challenge even though they hadn’t exchanged a word yet. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, isn’t there ever a time you aren’t making trouble?” He says, leaning on tip toes to try to inspect the damage again. “Hacking the billboard, I’ll admit it’s a good one, real clever.”

His tone is deadpan as he nods, tosses up a thumb for a job well done. Troublesome as always.

[wykyungcheol]

wyyanbo·:

“mhm,” he sighs. “i promise i’ll tell you if i die. you’ll be the first person i haunt.” 

bo tries not to let his face scrunch in displeasure as kyung-cheol gets comfortable. he follows like a duet, his body shifting and rolling until they’ve both found the most comfortable position. they’re so tangled that bo can’t tell what hot skin is pressing against him. a forearm? a bicep? he doesn’t care, he just relaxes into the touch. it’s been too long since he’s been held like this, since he’s let his walls down enough to let another person embrace him. he lets himself enjoy it, in the liminal space between sleep and awake. kyung-cheol promises security and warmth, the void where judgement would be the perfect place for bo to pour his vulnerability into. 

“okay,” he sighs, and lets a pleased purr thrum in his chest when kyung-cheol’s fingers dig into his hair. it doesn’t help him fall asleep, but his body buzzes pleasantly at the touch. he keeps his eyeslids lax and shut, but his consciousness doesn’t slip as he enjoys the rare presence of someone in his bed. 

it’s something he still has to get used to. usually, having someone pressed against him like this was a promise of something sinful- his body was something to be controlled, and used, for the pleasure of both parties involved. but this, this wasn’t meant to lead anywhere. this was kyung-cheol checking up on him because he cared, curling against him with no ulterior motives. it’s something bo will have to get used to with their friendship. something he’s been working on. 

because he finds, for once, he likes this. likes being close to another person. it’s strange, but it’s something he thinks only kyung-cheol could bring to him. with his overflowing brightness and overwhelming charisma, how could bo not let him slip under his covers and hold him like he was something deserving? 

“i’m okay like this,” he assures. he can’t promise sleep, because he wants to cling to every second of this he can. if he was fully awake he knew he’d push away, so he’s content to hover in this limbo. “you’re not bothering me hyung,” he promises. his limbs tighten minutely around kyung-cheol’s waist, and he tilts his head up to press a chaste kiss against his jaw. “we can just stay here. i don’t want you to leave.” 

Their friendship is on cultivated. It’s a privilege to see Bo like this, Kyung-cheol is certainly that what he’s seeing is similar to seeing a shooting star. Bo is something rare like that, and the thought that his best friend had been working himself to the bone makes Cheol’s chest ache.

It’s just incredibly sad that it takes exhaustion and stress like this for Bo to relax into his touch, motions that are meant to calm. He never means to try forcing in skinship in a way that would make his friend uncomfortable. He doesn’t think he before he touches. His natural instinct is to reach out, so he hasn’t ever hesitated, even if it got him a kick in the ass.

The lips land against his jaw and Cheol hums softly, nuzzling his cheek against forehead and the bridge of a nose. “How can I leave when you’re like this? Isn’t this like heaven?” He jokes but it’s only half of a joke.

He’s still and silent for an entire minute, no movement to disrupt them and he wonders if maybe he could manage to fall back asleep despite being a morning person and an early bird. Experimenting by grazing his fingers over bicep in a soft, light pattern, he almost doesn’t want to speak in case he wakes Bo back in in the even that the other had fallen to sleep.

“Yan-bo,” he whispers the name without an honorific or weight because he likes the thrill of danger, “please start taking better care of yourself.” his words are such a serious tone, a barely there sound, muffled into skin, just in case

[wykyungcheol]

OOC - UPDATE - CALL

NOTICE !! Hello everybody, as you may have seen from the main blog post, I have decided to update my muse here, Kyung-cheol, because for a while I wasn’t very happy with him. So beneath the [read more] is everything you need to know about my muse update, from face-claim to other minor details. Consider this a call to plot for anyone I haven’t plotted with for him yet, as well !!

NOTE: Updated FC, from Choi Seung-cheol (S.coups of SVT) to Kang Hyeong-gu (Kino of Pentagon). This ages my muse down by 3 years. He is now 21 years old and his life experience and career now reflect this.

Kyung-cheol is a rookie police officer who’s been on the job at Yongdeok Headquarters station for one year. He’s still in the shadowing phase and will need 3 more years of experience before he can commit to moving to SWAT division.

His ultimate goal is to make it to SWAT.

[profile], [bio].

[violetsforkino]

( 180704 ) incheon airport joyyy ☾ do not modify. — 1, 2

[wykyungcheol]

wyyoosung‌:

@wykyungcheol

☾✩ – A hand automatically reaches for his head the second he’s conscious enough to move his limbs, a groan falling from slightly chapped lips. The hangover isn’t a rarity – in fact, he’s quite used to them and his free hand blindly reaches for his nightstand and rummages through the contents of the top drawer until his long fingers close around a pill bottle. He pops two into his mouth and swallows them dry without even bothering to open his eyes. Then he pushes himself to sit up, pills still in his hand whilst he stretches his sore limbs and slowly climbs out of bed.

A big, worn t-shirt is thrown over his head before he shuffles towards the kitchen for a glass of water. He doesn’t want to face the mirror just yet; he’ll save that for after his shower. The memories of the night before are very hazy, but the familiar discomfort of his body speaks volumes. Strangely enough, he doesn’t recall getting home and crawling into his bed, however.

Yoosung sighs, takes a few sips of water, then swallows another two or three pills. He doesn’t care, just wants the headache to pass. Was it too early to mix aspirins with Valium? 

It certainly wasn’t too early for the throbbing headache to mix with the anxiety that was building up inside of him. The more he woke up, the more he became aware of the stickiness between this thighs, though it does seem like he somehow managed to put on a clean pair of pink panties. 

Sometimes he wishes he could remember things, but he knows he really doesn’t want to. The blue pills and the drinks help to keep him numb, help him stop caring, help him FORGET.

He stands there for another moment, before his brain screams at him for a shower. He may not remember, but he can feel the hands on him, can feel the filth, the disappointment. So he turns around and shuffles back to the bedroom for clothes and towels.

It’s only then that he notices the man in his bed.

“E-Excuse me?” He stammers, afraid to raise his voice. This isn’t right – he doesn’t take men to his apartment. It’s one of the rules he’s made for himself, because his bedroom is his SAFE place. He can’t afford to have it tainted by others; by the reality of his life. But clearly he was too intoxicated to remember that simple rule. Had he really been that desperate?

“Why– Why are you here?” Dark brows furrow behind messy blond bangs. He’s aware of how little he’s wearing, but Yoosung has learned to stop caring about people seeing his body, years ago. He swallows thickly – he isn’t used to not being alone in the morning. “Look, I can give you a glass of juice, maybe some eggs, but–” He doesn’t even know the guy’s name, everything is a blur and if only that meant that this was a dream so he could wake up.

The ‘you’re not supposed to be here’ remains on the tip of his tongue; gets swallowed back. Then he unceremoniously throws the pill bottle onto the bed. “You can take some if you need to. I know my head is killing me right now.”

It wasn’t intentional, the night was mostly a blur, watered down by soju, not enough to become wasted but...he had pushed it. Having a night’s hiatus from work was doing well for him, not only because of his partner, but because his career was the last of things he wanted to spend his time on.

He doesn’t even really remember how he got here...Wherever here is.

Every inch of him feels foggy and stiff when he feels the body leave. He knows he feels it, it jars him from his sleep, knocks him into that half-way place where he’s neither awake nor asleep. Am arm scooping out and slipping beneath the pillow where someone had laid just a few moments ago to seek the warmth.

It’s not until he hears the voice that his eyes pop open, a squint and a soft grunt as the morning affronts his senses. It takes a minute to sink in. Blearily gazing before him, eyes scanning a face that’s familiar yet not at all.

And it sinks in, his head plopping back into the pillow and eyes screwing closed. “I don’t even know where here is,” he tries to speak and his voice is a scratch like sandpaper. He clears it and then a thought occurs.

He runs his hand down his chest, bare, a further, doesn’t dare to move but he doesn’t need to investigate far before he finds the information he had sought. Oh damn it... Wow, he really did that, huh...

“You,” his voice is a scratch too hard to hear and he has to clear his throat a second time and start again, peers at blond hair and dark, deep eyes. “don’t really have to worry about it, I know this is awkward enough without having to take care of some strange guy in your house.” He sighs, feeling a bit sea sick now that he’s waking up more. “I will take the meds,” he mutters after they crash into the blankets, startling him slightly. “How do you feel, you know,” he motions with his hand vaguely, “otherwise.”

The way he means that is too embarrassing to say out loud so he’ll settle for this.

[exwyyongguk-blog]

—.• Blood pounded in his ears, sweat dotting his skin. It was chilly in the mornings but that didn’t stop Guk from sweating. Were you working out at all if you didn’t end up sweating? Not in Guks opinion. AND he was pretty sure any athlete, trainer, or anyone serious about working out would agree. Hard to work your muscles if you weren’t warming them up properly. Gotta PUSH yourself or else it was all just a waste of time. 

—.• Normally Guk ran with music, but his damn headphones had died 5 minutes into his run. Leave it to his airhead self to forget to charge the damn things. So he was left with his thoughts, the sounds of nature, and his own breathing as company for his run this morning. MENTAL NOTE: CHARGE YOUR HEADPHONES.

—.• A figure appeared on the trail ahead of him- || @wykyungcheol ||- and Guk found himself picking up speed to catch up. Since he had no music, might as well find a little company so he wasn’t just sitting here talking to himself.

[wykyungcheol]

Kyung-cheol is sweating his ass off and it feels so damn good. His morning runs are always a highlight, nothing but the morning air and his heartbeat, his thoughts unburdened, without his nagging partner in his ear. Actually, not a hint of police work on his mind, especially his partner.

He slows his jog to keep track of his heart-rate so that he doesn’t have to cut his run short from exhaustion. He hadn’t slept well recently so he should monitor his energy, no matter how nice it is to run. It takes a second to realize he isn’t alone, someone catching up and hovering to his side and Kyung-cheol looks over with a questioning smile, luckily he never listens to music as he runs, preferring to focus on his thoughts. “No music?” He nods his head as he runs, indicating the seemingly lack of headphones or muffled music.

[wykyungcheol]

wychiharu‌:

❥ His bruises had mostly healed, a simply puffy eye the only evidence that he’d been bruised at all. The day at the aquarium was slow- no, correction, the gift shop was slow at the moment. He could hear the hum of people outside, and before lunch he’d been so busy it’d been hard to breath. But it was quieter now, and he was simply relaxing at the counter while he waited for the next customer to come in and break the peace. Eyes actually bega to drift closed, until he heard footsteps around the store. They popped open, a yawn leaving him as he covered his mouth. ❝Hello welcome to the gift shop!❞

@wykyungcheol

And he sighs. This isn’t exactly his finest moment... He was supposed to have met a cute girl here, someone he had been texting, tentatively, for close to 2 weeks. A first date at the aquarium? How more romantic and awesome could he be, and yet... he still stands here alone. Figures, maybe she was cat-fishing him. He tries to think of it that way as he fingers the tingling key-chains with names on them, considering picking up one for a friend or two.

A voice catches his attention and he spins around as if looking at the items was a crime. “Oh, hey. Yeah I’ve been here a while. You know, just...browsing. I guess I should leave soon...What time is it?” He doesn’t want to take out of his phone and risk sending another embarrassing, clingy message to her asking where she is. When it’s this clear that she isn’t coming.

Why is he still here anyway...

[wykyungcheol]

wyxahreum‌:

The long-awaited freedom came with a price. Ahreum knew it. She doesn’t have her manager to drive her around nor does she have her car at the moment. She just left it at the shop for maintenance. An actress has to make sure her safety was a priority, right? She didn’t mind taking public transportation, but the thing she minded was how packed it was. The fact that she had to cover up was horrible. It was autumn already but it was like summer on the bus. Her own cap and mask was a combo for people to ignore but for those with keen eyes, it as a sign that the person was a celebrity. She had given up her seat to an elderly, leading her to stand next to a stranger. It was too close to comfort, but she didn’t have much of a choice. The few first instances were easily ignored by her. It wasn’t his fault that they kept bumping with each other. 

The ride was a bit rough. A few bumps and there they were, looking like someone took a romantic scene from a film. She would’ve been flustered if she didn’t know it, instead, she just smiles at him with her eyes. Ahreum was sweating. Dripping on the side of her face. It was far from cozy, it was hot. She wanted to say, but even her voice was recognizable. Being famous wasn’t easy as it looked like. As the heat gets to her. She has no choice but to wipe her sweat with her free hand, while the other remained grabbing on what she could to hold her steady. 

The mask bothered her, enough for her to have difficulties in breathing. Pulling it off carefully with both hands, she meets the stranger’s eyes. Would he recognize her? The moment drew longer than it should. Her long hair framed her face perfectly even when she was sweating. Suddenly the bus drives over a hump, making Ahreum lose her balance completely and so she ends up embracing the stranger. She gasps and gets flustered. “S-Sorry..” She tells him, trying to pull herself together, Ahreum stumbles with her feet, trying to regain her balance. “I didn’t mean to.” Dipping her head in a bow, she bit down her bottom lip, embarrassed.

He can’t help but brace when she falls against him. It was the worst timing, gazing at her face with a focused expression as she revealed what was beneath, and then of course the cabin rocked and she landed herself right against him.

He can’t help but brace himself as she crashes into him, his free arm wrapping around her back to steady her and in turn himself. A quiet huff leaves him as he compensates.

It’s funny because he’s almost sure he knows who that is, but he doesn’t say a word about it. His hand pulls away the second she does, hovering near her shoulder but not touching, prepared to help if she lost her balance again.

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault the ride is like this,” he smiles, embarrassed but polite. He speaks formally because he’s sure now, he knows her face. Of course, formal speech doesn’t stop him from being himself. “Do you want to switch spots with me? I can stand if you want to hold the handle,” he smiles, “or you can just fall into me again if you need to.”

[wykyungcheol]

wyzitao·:

▪ ▪ ▪ He leans back against the shelves of herbs, bottles clinking as his head moves against them. ❝Guess you’ll just have to find out.❞ He breathes out the words, hearing movement in the shop below. ❝Cheol I can’t just sit here while they ransack my shop…❞ His stomach tightens, hearing something smash. Another curse and he’s looking around. Fingers close around the athame on his alter before hes slipping to the door, turning the lock and peering out.

▪ ▪ ▪ ❝If thats you down stairs, let me know or you’re gonna get stabbed-❞ He says in warning, door closing behind him with a click before his back presses to the wall. ❝Rather not go to jail for assaulting an officer…❞

He arrives way faster than he thought he would, but not so fast that he can manage to stop this. Zitao’s words stab and he fights an urge to close his eyes in a tired frown. “Listen, Z, don’t go out there. It’s not me so don’t.”

He’s never sounded more serious than he did right then, his tone dark as he speeds the roads, wishing more than ever that he had his squad car to throw on the sirens. “I’m almost there, alright. If you get yourself killed before I show up, I’ll resurrect you to kill you myself. I can’t get my payment for waking up at 3am to save your ass if you die.”

All of this to protect the fact that he’s afraid out of his mind that something bad will happen to the man on the line. His heart slams as he turns in at the shop. “I’m here already, don’t leave that room or I’ll kill you.” He scrambles out of the car.

[wykyungcheol]

@wyhaewon​  ━━ /

He can’t remember the last time he’d had a day off, weeks. With the station picking up slack from the transfers and shuffling officers around to new partners, things were in an uproar. Getting a minute alone was hard enough, with his new partner always up his ass and most of his free time spent checking in on friends or saving the day off the clock. He thinks he earned this one, something for himself.

So he pulls up on the curb, parks his car and climbs up at the orphanage with a look up at the place. It seemed different being here in his street clothes, flannel and jeans somehow make the place seem more calm and quiet compared to showing up to the nines in his uniform, with a kid or two in tow.

He strolls up, opens the door wide and lingers around, hoping to spot her, she has to be here somewhere. He’d asked if she wanted coffee last time he was off and he was ready to deliver. It was just a matter of finding her first...

[wykyungcheol]

wyyohan·:

“Mmm. I’ll hold back. For now.“ Yohan laughs, bright and easy. “It’s been, what–5 minutes? Plenty of time left to prove there’s still a kid trapped in there.” He pokes a finger into Kyung-cheol’s belly.

And it’s hard to sink and settle down roots when the ground constantly shifts. Yohan is always moving, and he’s always had to struggle to maintain any authentic relationships with the odd hours, changing locations, and constant demands. But this–the quick snippets of banter and Kyung-cheol’s easy company–it’s like no time has passed. Faded memories regaining color–the party, the clear bottle spinning, stopping, and the darkness of the small space as the closet door shut behind them. The scatter of years in between and Yohan’s time in Paris–all that distance fades in the warmth of old, comfortable history they share.

Kyung-cheol knows Yohan. Accepts him. And under that approval Yohan blooms open, chest lightening without the pressure of having to maintain perfection, the weight of masks dropped .

“And you could’ve just asked. Here.” Yohan turns, tucking his shoulder into Kyung-cheol’s chest as he holds his phone up. Aligns their faces–click, flash. And he brings the phone back down to scrutinize the photo. “Not too bad. Maybe this filter…” Yohan ignores Kyung-cheol as his thumb taps, sweeps through some quick edits before a PING of a message sent. “There. Don’t share it around, okay?”

Yohan’s lucky. He hadn’t expected to get Kyung-cheol, of all officers, when his manager brought up that the local police force was willing to spare a body to watch him. Tourist season was dying down, which meant less on the table of it’s officers, and Yohan had let slip he had a friend in the ranks. If Officer Yoon is free, I’d be more comfortable–and really, his manager needed a raise for pulling it off. If Yohan’s forced to have a baby sitter? He’s glad it’s a friend.

“It looks better on me.” He points out cheekily. And this–Kyung-cheol’s lack of respect when it comes to personal space is familiar too, the officer stepping so close Yohan can smell the crisp, clean smell of detergent from Kyung-cheol’s uniform. “And, ah. Isn’t that better? If it’s too easy we’ll both get bored. But I’ll think about it.”

Yohan eases the police hat up and off his head, combing his fingers through his hair to make sure it’s settled, fussing a little at the part of his bangs. “I want street food. Are the stalls by the beach still open?” Yohan’s face suddenly glows and he hushes conspiratorially, “Can we ride the police car? If the sirens are on we can get there faster.”

He can’t stop his grin when he’s around Yo-han, memories are too much fuel for smiles and laughter. Without Yo-han who knows how long it would have taken for him to find himself when he was a teenager. Finding yourself, the whole concept. It was because of this boy, now a successful man.

Grinning fondly like an idiot is all he can do.

When he’s swept in like a whirlwind with a camera pointed his direction he doesn’t miss more than a beat at their close distance. Just one second of stalling because it had been years and Yo-han’s hair smells the same. He doesn’t have time to get a sentence out before he strikes a pose, bends himself next to Yo-han for a camera flutter. “It can’t be bad,” he agrees before he even looks at it, “there’s not one but two face geniuses on screen.” 

A contagious smile bursts over his features, “I graciously accept this gift. It’s mine and mine alone.”

Effortless companionship.

“Everything would look better on you, I look my best with nothing-- except maybe my uniform. My uniform adds so much class doesn’t it?” He gestures over himself, “You should see my swat uniform, now that one adds ten points.”

He agrees with the concept that nothing will be boring between he and Yo-han. Never has been and he would lay his life on the line that it never would be. “You got me there, but try to be kind to my reputation. I’m not known for working very hard, if people see how hard I’m trying they’ll think I’ve cleaned up my act.”

Hat comes off and he grabs it back with a tortured sigh, effortlessly reaching his hand out to brush the bangs for Yo-han so that they’re flawlessly in place over the softness of his forehead. He didn’t miss a beat or notice, hand dropping when the task is done as he puts his hat back on. “Alright, I can do that,” he nods, takes a step back and ushers Yo-han to his side, “street food, i know a stand where there’s the best odeng you can find, seriously.” He hovers his palm over Yo-han’s lower back as he leads them towards his car. It would be a shame to leave this beautiful scenery, leaves falling and air fresh, memories in the air. “I’ll let you push the button,” he whispers in reply. “But after that, we’re in incognito mode, we have all day...OH,” he raises his voice again like a zipper without intending to, excitement lighting him up, “your event is tomorrow morning so tonight-- let’s do something fun. Yo-hanie, let’s visit an amusement park.”

He can’t stop the flame in his eyes as he says it.

[wykyungcheol]

wyyanbo·:

bo has been drowning in books. his kitchen table, his counters, his coffee table, the floor of his living room. there are papers and articles and encyclopedias and journals scattered all around his apartment. there’s just so much research he has to do before he can even begin. he has to make himself an expert in his field, know every study ever published so he can make his own research feel like its adding to the scientific world’s knowledge. 

he loses himself in it. he only eats when the pangs of hunger in his stomach hurt enough to draw him out of his work. he sleeps on his papers, his eyes involuntarily falling shut and giving him a few hours of reprieve before he dives right back in. it’s not healthy, he knows it, but it’s how he’s accomplished so much in his short twenty-one years of life. 

after a week, he finally draws himself out of his studious haze. the clock read three o’clock in the morning when he finally climbs between his sheets. they’re cold, unfamiliar after being abandoned for so long. but their comfort is welcoming enough that he falls asleep instantly. but it only feels like minutes since he let himself slip into unconsciousness when a body is flinging itself on top of him. bo groans in protest, his face scrunching up in displeasure but his body too loose-limbed to do anything about it. 

“hyung,” he whimpers. his hand wriggles free of the sheets to find cheol’s waist. he’s so tired, he can feel it aching in his joints and throbbing behind his eyes. he can barely focus on the sweet words leaving his friend’s lips. “‘m not dead, jus’ sleeping,” he sighs, turning his body into kyung-cheol’s. he forces his way against cheol’s side, molding as much of his body against the other’s warmth as he can. he props his head on cheol’s shoulder, humming contently at the soft press of lips on his forehead. “i’m done working now,” he promises. a hand sneaks under cheol’s shirt, greedily seeking out the warmth of his heated skin. “can we just sleep now cheol-hyung? just for a little bit.” 

“Just sleeping.” He agrees with the concept, a nod that bumps against Bo’s head.

Warmth and comfort, Kyung-cheol sinks into it, entwining himself closer until they’re tangled. The hook of his arm around shoulders, fingers inching up until they grip the base of a column of throat. A firmer grasp while Bo forms against his side. He tilts in bed until he’s at an angle that they can be even closer, slings his remaining arm over Bo’s head, suffocatingly close. Cool fingers sneak across the surface of his stomach beneath shirt and he flinches until they settle so he can settle after. It tickles but he doesn't show signs in fear that it would disturb the other.

“You sleep,” he clarifies, dislocates one arm so that he can put himself to work lightly massaging head, nails gently grazing scalp. “Sleep.” He grumbles, a command, eyes closing not to open again.

Time was kind to his friendship with Yanbo. There was a time he wouldn’t have been able to crawl in this bed without getting promptly kicked right back out, verbal and potentially with a foot if he were annoying enough. Curses and banter without the softness in between.

But Cheol was intent, his friendship wasn’t the kind you can just lock out behind a door. If people try to keep him out he just makes himself more clear. He won’t go anywhere, it’s his goal to stay as close as possible to the people he loves, make no mistake.

“Hyung won’t bug you anymore,” there’s a lazy grin on his voice, “not until you wake up. Think you can sleep like this?” Cheol asks, incrimination to his voice as his fingers tighten around throat and fingers play with hair.