street rat 🍕

laser tag attendee, PCC slacker.

[hreunjae]

closed starter ❤ eun seungwon

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

wyyoosung·:

It doesn’t take a genius to sense the discomfort, but Yoosung understands. He’s a stranger, some VICTIM seeking shelter. He has half the heart to walk straight back out the door; apologize for the trouble and just spend the night outside. He hates feeling like an intruder – feels pathetic for standing there, lingering in the hallway whilst he tries to figure out what to do with himself. 

Though he normally would have been able to relax a little at the sight of a cat, there’s too much tension in his body. Besides, he feels like trying to touch it would be another breach into the other’s privacy. This isn’t his home, he’s lost and almost hesitant to just breathe. He really doesn’t like this feeling, especially because he’s still shaken up and really just wants to curl up and pray for the mercy of sleep.

Yoosung can’t even bring himself to return the forced smile, but manages a nod. “Seungwon.” He echoes in a whisper. It’s almost surreal – the entire situation – but the anxiety in his bones reminds him that he’s really here. That the events of that night have actually happened and he isn’t sure how to act because of it.

He curses the tears that fall as soon as he’s alone, hates the way his body trembles and threatens to crumble, fingers tightly wrapped around the cold porcelain of the sink to keep himself upright. Some days he feels like he might be doing better, like he has a shot at a semi-normal life. But it’s events like these that bring everything back; cause the memories to crash down on him like waves, pulling him under until he runs out of oxygen.

The knock on the door startles him. How long has he been standing there, feeling sorry for himself? “Yeah– Yes, I am.” His voice breaks again and he feels so PATHETIC. So he clears his throat and wipes at his cheeks before he opens the door, managing a weak smile. His eyes fall on the clothes Seungwon is holding and isn’t sure why they make another wave of panic surge through him. 

The blond swallows thickly and averts his eyes. “Look, I– I can leave.” He’s torn between wishing he could and knowing that being alone when he’s feeling this way is probably the worst idea. “I really don’t want to intrude and…” He trails off, sick of feeling so vulnerable. He knows he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, but mentioning that out loud will only make him sound more pathetic. “You’ve already helped a lot by, you know, making him leave.” He takes a shaky breath. “You don’t owe me anything, I’m just–” What was he? Who was he? In his mind, he’s still nothing more than a whore. 

Still, something makes him reach out to accept the offered clothes. “I’m just sorry about… all of this.” He finally finishes, even if it wasn’t what he originally intended to say.

・゜゜・:*: ┊›                     it’s not ideal but, he tries to normalize as desperately as possible, his defensive reflex kicking in to make things easy, to keep himself from having a panic attack. he isn’t prone to spiraling that far down the rabbit hole, usually puts a wall up before things can get that bad. it’s not easy, but at times it’s the difference between life or death. seungwon had been through too much over the years, too many things had broken him down and pushed him to the brink. he doesn’t like to think it effected him so much, to give it that much control, but it seems that way. impossible to deny. he watches the door swing open and feels that familiar prickle of discomfort, but he tampers it down into a mask of neutrality. the orbs that shoot away from him makes it easier. considering the words as the clothes slip from his hand, he feels the impact of pain and discomfort like a wave of water, a virtual ocean that crashes against him and he’s reminded that the stranger in front of him–yoosung he inserts– had just gone through something quite unspeakable out there in the street in front of their complex. he sighs gently, takes a step away from the door to put space between them.  “don’t worry about it...” he says, thinks he’s said most of that before tonight but it’s all a mash of anxiety, anger, discomfort, he isn’t sure. and it’s not like he’s the most expansive conversationalist on a good day. “that disgrace wasn’t a man,” he clears his throat to work out the anger that builds.

“it’s not about that; whether i owe you anything...” he decides, his sentence dying off as he struggles to complete the thought. quickly distracted as his second cat pounces across the room, apartment awake and willing to greet him at last. he feels as it wind’s it’s way between his legs but he doesn’t look down. he hears the apology alright, apologizing for something you can’t help is a familiar concept to him; one corner of his mouth lifts into a tight smile, his shoulders tense but his doesn’t feel the storm of aggressive concern he was swamped with before. “change if you want.” he offers, nods at the clothes and steps over his cat towards the kitchen without waiting for a reply, intending to make dinner for himself, and apparently his guest.

[jneya]

😭

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📱 ;— seungwon social media 1/∞ !!

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wykyeo‌:

         ◮´ ▸ ——— ▒░ AND THE MORE SEUNGWON speaks , the more kyeo realizes that he has exactly what he needs to stay calm … seungwon himself was a blessing . but what puts kyeo at complete ease is when their hands intertwine , fingers laced and palms pressed together . kyeo suddenly has the flashbacks — the good kind — where he is sitting with the one boy he used to be in love with and … well , the good thoughts end when he remembers the reason the two aren’t together anymore .

         it has nothing to do with seungwon and never will . kyeo , though , will never stop letting that situation influence all others despite this . he knows seungwon doesn’t know what happened and kyeo does not know if he will ever but right now , all he can think about is the way the boy he once loved walked away . it was a tragedy — the boy could not love him despite his scars , bruises , and , most importantly , his rejecting family . kyeo still bares those marks to this day and he would be damned to let seungwon see them . there are so many precautions kyeo has to take in order to make sure this isn’t ruined but … truthfully , kyeo believes it does not matter in the end .

         in the end , seungwon will realize there is no place for a sentimental boy like kyeo in his life . it was that simple .

         but seungwon’s slip up is in kyeo’s favor . the taller male is quick to fix his question into a plethora of sentences but kyeo has already caught onto his true intentions . he nods his head but knows that this really isn’t affirmative enough . he just feels … swelled in the moment , despite having both heavily negative and few positive thoughts . it was funny in a way — the way one word , once sentence , one question could turn kyeo’s whole world around in the duration it took to say such . and while kyeo still is not sure what to make of the situation , he squeezes seungwon’s hand and sends him a smile through his swollen eyes and red face .

         his head tilts and he feels tears coming to his eyes again . they are not tears of sadness but … perhaps tears of need , want , and desperation for seungwon in his life . kyeo does not know if he wants to try again or if he even wants to try at all , but seungwon makes it hard to say no . he is holding his hand , calming him down , slipping up on words and kyeo is completely smitten with the way he is . he did not plan for this and that was the worst part — it just happened . kyeo just … fell and he struggles to push himself back up . he is like a child that is learning to walk , and seungwon is both the obstacle keeping him from taking the first step and the guiding words that encourage him .

         how can one person start to mean so much to him ?

         ❝ i want you to stay — ❞ he braves through his sore throat . he knows seungwon asked if he could stay but he also knows seungwon did not mean to say it , so kyeo continues on with big baby eyes looking up at the male to ask sweetly , ❝ so can you stay over ? ❞ in hopes that he will agree despite asking prior . kyeo know he can’t bare to have him leave , and he also knows that even after he stays for so long it will be hard to let him go . his hand tightens once more around seungwon’s and with his free arm holds out the blanket he has wrapped around him as if gesturing him to crawl underneath with him . ❝ please ? ❞

f.｡.:*･ﾟﾟ┊ — the tears don’t cease their cascade, and he’s quickly learning how to look past them to the emotions kyeo seems to want him to see. something small like a distant star winking in the dark pool of kyeo’s eyes, a nebula of thoughts swirl behind his gaze but so few of them are vocalized. truth be told he can’t even begin to predict what kyeo is thinking, what that blanket of stars is really about, but just the fact that he can see it there, unhidden by the blur of tears, strengthens his resolve. kyeo is soft, and there’s a depth that can’t easily be seen at first glance, and seungwon can relate in some way. and when those words, that confirmation, parts from his lips, seungwon exhales in relief. he bites back a smile that bubbles forward but doesn’t commit to the corners of his lips. 

           can you stay over?

he reminisces about meeting, the way kyeo fell apart that day, in such desperate need of a hand, a friend, looking so alone huddled there, unable to catch his breath, tears flooding much like they were now. seungwon recalls how pale the boy was and how, he never once questioned himself after he crouched down and told him to breathe, and kyeo looked at him, a bit afraid, unassuming and uncomfortable. they shouldn’t have became friends. they shouldn’t have became anything really, he should have gone about his business but, it was the breathless gratitude and vulnerability that did it. seungwon nodded, a bit awkward, a little quiet, but he didn’t run away from this. he stood his ground, and because he extended himself, he met kyeo. truly met kyeo, not as the kid who needed a hand but kyeo who was so so much more than just that.

              please?

he licks his lips, his heart clambers between his ribs, a strange excitement that makes him wonder how long it had been, if ever, since he’d been willing to spend this much time with someone beyond professional or forced company. it takes a second, and he can’t speak and he can’t smile, but he squeezes kyeo’s hand so lightly, timidly. “alright.” it’s a fault of his that he’s always been a man of few words, but he hopes that means they count for more when he does speak. he hopes his actions speak louder. kyeo’s hand is warm, and the way he opens his arms, invitation clear and so endearing, makes seungwon freeze, shock and a strange kind of affection seeping in. it might be sudden in ways, but it doesn’t feel so much so when he glances down between them, at kyeo’s warm hand. he initiated that gesture, he initiated all of this really.  he always initiates everything between them; everything but this. he finds that he doesn't want to turn it down, doesn’t know how to respond either so he ducks his face, hides beneath the brim of his hat as he moves, navigates across to slip into the heat of the blanket and into kyeo’s side with a bite of his lip that he hopes can’t be seen. settling in he finds it difficult to get comfortable here, side to side, hand in hand, but for a different reason entirely than he thought. his ears burn and he tries to behave normally. “hungry?” he asks, he hopes switching the subject might help kyeo out of the final throes of his panic attack which seungwon fervently hopes is receding (and because being this close is making his heart slam and his thoughts scramble and he doesn’t know what else to do). a thought pops up a second later and he lets it free without even a hesitation, natural and light of tone in a way that spoke to the level he was letting kyeo sink into his subconsciousness. make it past his filter. he gazes at their clasped hands as he speaks. “oh, uh. i hope you don’t mind...” he nods across the room to the bag he had carried in and instantly thrown away, “got you something.” he manages a smile, a real one, turning his chin to look back at kyeo.

[hreunjae]

closed starter ❤ eun seungwon

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

wyyoosung·:

Yoosung already feels bad; embarrassed. He knows it’s too forward to invite himself into someone’s home – despite being painfully used to it, this is different. He’s in a bad state, barely trusts himself to speak, and just wants to be alone. Not that being alone will help him; if anything it’ll make it worse because he’s alone with his thoughts. They get so loud, so DARK and the only way to escape them is by begging his body to allow him to fall asleep.

If the roles were reversed, he isn’t sure if he would have invited the other into his home. Of course, that’s him picturing himself as someone with no similar experiences in the past – someone normal. But as the person he is now? He figures he might have invited the other in without a second thought, despite the risks. He knows how much it can shake a person up; hell, he’s been through much, much worse, but it never gets easier.

“I– I don’t mind,” He manages, his voice barely audible as he follows the male. Teeth sink into his bottom lip – another thing one never gets used to is feeling so vulnerable. Though he wants to convince himself he’s invincible all day long, he’s nothing but a scared child, despite his age. He’s been robbed of most of his teenage years, his graduation, his dreams. Of his body, his WORTH. He feels like a piece of trash, maybe a plastic wrapper or paper bag someone has thrown out of the window of their car. 

No, he isn’t much more than litter. Dirty and forgotten.

The blond follows the stranger into the apartment – quietly. Maybe it’s best if he pretends he isn’t there. His gaze falls onto the door and he gives a nod, shakily bending over to untie his shoes so he can carefully place them by the front door. He then briefly looks down at his clothes and feels his cheeks burning. “No, I– That would be nice, thank you.” He replies. Though he isn’t eager to wear someone else’s clothes, he also isn’t sure how much longer he can stand wearing the little bit of clothing he’s dressed himself up in before leaving his house.

“I’m… Yoosung, by the way.” He figures it’s only polite to introduce himself, even if his own name still sounds foreign to him. For years he’s been called disgusting pet names and it’s strange to introduce himself as an actual person. Not a toy, not a possession, not an accessory. “Thank you, I really… appreciate it.” His voice shakes and he knows he’s on the verge of tears once more, so he takes a deep breath and excuses himself before ducking into the bathroom where he attempts to calm his shaking hands by wrapping his arms around himself. His breathing is irregular and he instantly has to move his arms so he can lean onto the edge of the sink. “Shit…”

・゜゜・:*: ┊›                    only one cat comes when called, kiwi bouncing across the room, a fluffy gray ball of sleepy affection, a high pitched meow calling seungwon after he closes the door behind them. he crosses into the living room, flinging his bag across the room and scooping up his cat in one smooth motion. no one ever came here; his apartment was residence only to his cats. even boram who he most likely considered his best, maybe only friend (aside from kyeo but that’s different) didn’t come here. it was his safest place, worn walls enclosing memories, pain, hopes and dreams. since getting himself off the streets he’s been here, alone. he looks back and see’s the person in his foyer and his thoughts go haywire, like flickering strobe lights in his mind, cautioning him that it can’t be real; must be an optical illusion, a haunting or an intruder. his spine goes rigid as he forces his gaze into a cool nonpartisanship, like painting over a crack, filling it in for the sake of viewing pleasure. no weakness, never let anyone in. “yoosung,” he smiles and he knows his smile is stiff, “seungwon,” he offers back, pets his cat to lull his nerves and do something with his hands. “don’t mention it.” he watches with abashed vigilance until yoonsung is behind closed doors, his silhouette one that seungwon won’t soon forget. his eyes hone on the door for moments, fixated as though it would disappear. it makes him anxious, but he stuffs the thought in a box and throws it into a hole, buries it to make way to his room. no time for shutting down, there’s a stranger in his house and he has to find some way to live with that. he finds a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, plain and threadbare, almost shabby really, he had never considered how his clothes would be perceived and for the first time ever he’s self conscious of his frugality, long time borderline poverty that caused him to hold onto things he should have long ago let go of. but then again, that was always his problem; in every aspect as it were. an exerting issue with letting of. it’ll have to do. he strides with clothes in hand across apartment to knock on the bathroom door. he doesn’t allow himself to hesitate. “you in there?” he questions, almost expects himself to have been hallucinating this entire night, truthfully.

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dabinwy·:

        Dabin could be petty when it was absolutely necessary - it rarely was for her but this was a special case. Dabin and Seungwon had been forced together for a project and while Dabin had tried to make the best of the less than ideal situation, at this point she had had enough of the male’s attitude.

The male would ignore any texts she would send asking about getting together to work on their project most of the time,  and any other time, the other would respond with some sarcastic comment. And in class, any time the class would have to splinter off into their respective pairs for discussions about their projects - Dabin would usually be the only one to talk about any progress. Kind of a buzzkill when it was only you offering up information when it was supposed to be a team effort.

She’d been on campus for the meeting she had initially set up, of course, but if the other was going to take several hours or up until a day to give him any semblance of contact to her for a pretty time sensitive information, then Dabin was going to take her precious time as well. See how he felt about that. … But really she only lasted about twenty minutes before responding back.

       [✉ ➙ Seungwon]:   oh im sorry, you needed me now??

       [✉ ➙ Seungwon]:   ill be there in 10 minutes, i just got out of class.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ┊ —   reading the message draws a sigh from him, pupils dilating as his eyes look up to wander the room in weariness. it’s true that she had been particularly difficult as far as classmates go; most of the time they were too afraid of him or maybe they simply didn’t care about classes as much as she seemed to. it’s frustrating to a degree, endearing to another, but mostly, he wishes they could get this over with now that he’s finally been forced to meet with her and go out of his way to do this. the second message indicates that she’s on her way; interesting that she says she had class now but she was the one who set up this meeting. setting up when she intentionally had class, huh? he scoffs softly, a chuckle leaving his lips because it almost seems like something he himself might do. he didn’t know she had it in her. he shakes his head, fingers punching at the numbers to send her a reply that he intends to seem playful, but maybe they aren’t that close yet. he quickly erases it and stares a second before trying again, this one hopefully to seem less contrived. ✉️:➝ 「 DABIN-SSI🙄 」: do you want a snack? he considers it, it’s still too close-seeming. they don’t even know each other and he isn’t the kind of man to give off a warm feeling. ✉️:➝ 「 DABIN-SSI🙄 」: i’m already at the snack machine. better. hopefully she won’t interpret it as being rude, or the opposite; too friendly. he pushes himself up to make his way to the machine, might as well take his time.

[hwan-tastic]

june was questioning his entire existence

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What is your muse like when they are drunk?

ok well for starters, seungwon doesn’t like to drink much at all, and when he does drink, he stays very aware of his limit and it’ll be pretty difficult to push him past it…uh that being said, he’s pretty low-inhib compared to usual when he’s drunk, a bit more talkative, more prone to laugh and smiling, and cracking jokes he would normally only share with very close friends. he’s much less uptight, i’ll say that much. good luck getting him to that point though…

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wykyeo·:

         ◮´ ▸ ——— ▒░ HE DOES NOT QUITE feel when seungwon shivers — he is barely paying attention to anything except the way his chest is rising and falling . kyeo’s attention span is so short lived when he is having one of his moments and that includes now . but somehow , everything that seungwon is doing is on his mind and followed by his eyes . from the way he slides himself in the spot that was basically reserved for him on the couch to the way his hand is gently pressing onto the top of his . for a split second it is feelings of bliss — but this is short lived as well .

         the boy hiccups . it was embarrassing but it was a way to catch his breath in a fit of sobbing tears and uncontrollable breathing . although he is on the ending spectrum , kyeo is still suffering from a few things . having seungwon there is both comforting and adding fuel to the fire — it was part of why he started freaking out in the first place . he hated that he liked being around seungwon in a way that was fluttering hearts , stomach butterflies , and hand brushing … but he also hated the thought of someone seeing him feeling this way and treating him the way his mother used to . he knows everyone is different — or does he ? — but in a world where people have the right to judge , kyeo just knows they will turn their heads in his direction if he ever got caught out with seungwon in a way that was more than friendly smiles and discussions about cats .

         there are two options to kyeo . dive into the feelings he knows he has or avoid them like wildfire … and kyeo is struggling to figure out which one is the right one versus which one is the one that will make him feel the most comfortable and at ease . everything is so jumbled in his head and he is trying to remember how it feels to have at least one-fourth of his life put together but he can’t — he just can’t . he wants to get caught up in the situation , but he also wants to break away in disgust . kyeo is disgusting , pathetic , sad … ugly overall .

         seungwon’s words bring him out of his negative trance . he finds words on the tip of his tongue but they refuse to slip out . his lips tremble and he bites down on his lip once more to try and keep himself now from saying things he knows he will regret … even if , at this rate , he feels like he can’t feel any worse . finally , the last breath of his panic attack sets in in the form of a heavy sigh out of his nose and he closes his eyes to let more tears fall .

         after a moment , he looks back up at seungwon and shrugs . ❝ i don’t know … ❞ he mumbles . ❝ sorry i … lose track of time and i really … don’t remember what set me off so … ❞ he constantly trails , finally ending with a cut off sentence . he sighs again and uses his free hand to wipe away some tears before looking back at seungwon shyly , yet kyeo keeps a look in his eye that says he is refusing to look away . ❝ sorry … ❞ he keeps apologizing , the words starting to choke him up again . ❝ first you catch me in public and now you catch me here and i didn’t mean for you to see me like this because it’ — it’s — ❞

         a deep breath again … he is telling himself not to cry again over and over and over and over again . but it does not stop the tears from falling again as he thinks about how much he wants to tell seungwon everything but he can’t .

.｡.:*･ﾟﾟ┊ —seungwon is shaken down with an odd obsession with kyeo’s tears, pupils honing in and watching with discomfort settling in as he thinks it would be nice if he never had to see them again. this is only the second time he’s seen kyeo this way since they met, and it feels like he’s seen it one time too many. a helpless resolve building in his heart to make those tears disappear, because they make him uncomfortable, for too many reasons. the words pour out, a stuttering, wobbling mess, and he squeezes the hand beneath his lightly while the boy speaks, let’s it all out. the second sorry is noted with a small press of seungwon’s lips and a sigh through his nose. he doesn’t need a reminder of the first time they met, it’s already on his mind. truth be told, he popped up every so often, shooting by his thoughts at night like a satellite, riding the burning coattails of intrigue and compassion that seungwon hadn’t felt in so long. maybe it was because the depth of vulnerability and gratitude that kyeo had shown him that day tore a hole in seungwon’s expectations of just what is and isn’t appropriate to show a person. not in a negative light; it’s just that—— seungwon had always thought withholding that kind of vulnerability was typical. it’s natural for people, isn’t it? it’s certainly natural for him. seeing kyeo so honest and susceptible to danger had sparked something almost, noble, almost good, in eun seungwon. someone who thought he had long ago boxed away that side of himself along with his brothers things and his stepmothers memory. back when he became a thief, when the streets were a comfort and he thought being good got you no where. “— it’s fine,” he insists, finishes the sentence with a nudge, licking his lips as he considers how bad at this he must be. “it’s just me.” it’s meant to be comforting or encouraging, he certainly hopes it comes across that way, but words haven’t ever been a strong point. he isn’t sure what he wants to say: it’s just me, it’s okay if it’s me because i won’t hurt you or judge you. it’s nothing to be ashamed of. don’t worry. instead he says none of that, looking down at their hands. he’s struck with a thought that the contact should be uncomfortable, forced as it is with so many others he finds himself in circumstances to touch, but it isn’t really. he’s distinctly unaccustomed to the warm soft feeling of skin on skin, of the way he could almost swear he can feel kyeo’s heartbeat tapping along the vein’s in kyeo’s wrist. but it’s notably not bad. he waits a second before moving his larger hand, a fluid motion as he flips kyeo’s hand over to be palm up, readjusting the clasp of his hand so that they’re connected—— life lines — heart lines — head lines — fate lines. the tears are pouring again, a flood of emotion so raw and bare that seungwon feels a flux of veneration that he’s privileged to see such threadbare defenses. though he knows it probably isn’t intentional, it’s heavy; the weight of another human life entrusted to him. “breathe,” tears like that only lead to sobbing which leads to that tight feeling that he doesn't want to see kyeo go through. “can i stay over?” the words come out so quickly and naturally seungwon actually startles himself, the softness of his eyes edge into a near wince; words making it through his thorough filter? his thought checker that makes sure there’s no abnormalities or open invitations, suddenly on the fritz it seems. “i mean i won’t go anywhere.” he quickly corrects, features schooling into neutrality like a mask. “i mean...” he inhales, tries again, “i’m here,” he ends simply, gives up entirely, his ears growing hot against the fabric edge of his baseball cap. he almost laughs at himself; what an idiot he can be, apparently.

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

Does your muse trust anyone with their life? [ +Welcome to Wonyang. ]

i think he has people he trusts very much, certainly. his brother, wherever that kid is, he still would trust with his life, despite the fact that he was abandoned by that punk. he also finds a lot of trust to be had in his best friend, and his cats. 

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

wyhaneul‌:

          𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞, 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖚𝖕. perhaps, it has become tradition now for every win to be thrown across shoulders, sashes that glowed, mimicking the glittery tutus of pageants. a ridiculous comparison of sports to that of frivolous charades and one of beauty, to think that a ball itself could be guided with ease to its goal, is an art form itself. shirts with names, numbers beneath them, as a tint of cerise spreads across his features. hues of henna quick to examine the vicinity, almost instinctively as he would have on his own court. the silence that once reigned throughout his reverie, drowned out by the triumphant cheers of his much, much louder colleagues. his coach in the same uniform he was always in, excluding his infamous whistle, directing his basket ball team inside of the vicinity. 

laser tag.

he was told that today was a day of new changes, alterations that differed from the last. ceremonies so far have been celebrated at various fancy restaurants, only to have today be the one that would stand out the most. his coach explaining what the game encompassed, everyone excited, cheers accompanied by the frequent booing of his teammates echoing throughout the place, some already divided up into their own individual groups. a defeated sigh, audibly leaving him as he was dragged by the arm to join one of the teams. 

he loves his team, they were like family. his own, being very much neglecting of his own needs, having forced him into the music industry at a young age, only to rebel, becoming a world class athlete to prove a point. pathetic. or rather, humorous. his veins glowed a tint of green, the pleasant sister was the golden child, and he was nothing more than a rusted chunk of gold… perhaps copper. true gold does not rust, albeit this fact, the golden cage that stored his beating organ showed signs of early failure. perhaps it was heartache… it was inevitable after all, he had broken many bones as to finally make it here, his heart was surely not invincible.

another sigh leaving him, as he stands with his team, preparing to be allowed into the laser tag game. his gaze drifts and falls onto one of the employees ( @seungwonwy ), ❝ rough day ? it’s about to get rougher. ❞ a scoff leaving him, his expression altering to one of tiredness, he’d much prefer to be at home celebrating by himself. 

.｡.:*･ﾟﾟ┊ —              time passes in a way that illusions a minute into an hour, in a way that makes seungwon think he might just be losing his mind. the blinking lights may have fried his brain, he thinks, idly watching over the laser tag court as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. more than anything he just wanted to go home, so many work hours picked up this week that he can’t handle it anymore. between work and class he’s overloaded and overworked. whoever said being a college student is the best times in your lives must have had it much easier than him. the group that walks in almost wrenches a sigh from him that would have been more than a little unprofessional, turning his attention from the duo (most likely a couple) that had previously been his only wards, to what appears to be a whole team. sports aren’t his thing really, but he thinks he could be good at them if he tried. the words draw his attention to the voice, quiet but audible over the red velvet blaring in the arena. he offers up a tired smirk, half-hearted to the point that he almost forgot about his customer service promise. “you have no idea.” he answers honestly, taking a second to talk to what’s obviously a coach who talks up to the desk to hand him tickets and handle the charge. the man says they’re celebrating a victory and most of the players cheer softly and laugh among themselves. he grins, “picked the right place,” he says politely, fake pleasantries lifting his voice an octave and warming it. once the coach takes back to his students, he stands from his desk to walk before them; “alright, grab yourselves some vests,” the group hustles too and he grabs a vest from his desk and tosses it to the one boy who had spoken to him moments earlier, as his teammates rush to the scattered boxes to grab their own. there’s something kindred in the boy’s features that is a draw for seungwon. both seeming exhausted and unkneen to be there at all. “want some help getting strapped?” the other was right; it was going to be a long night. he steps forward a bit, placing them closer together, close enough to feel the disinterest amplified.

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

✧*:･ﾟ✧ .・| :—                   it’s not often that time stops and things are so fuzzy seungwon forgets momentarily how to breathe, think or feel beyond the splitting migraine that he can feel all the way down to his toes. “oh god,” he croaks quietly and the sound vibrates through the room like war drums, vibrating up the bedposts and into his bones a second later. he attempts to roll over, the motion aches but the way strange warmth and comfort he draws when he curls himself around a form, not very much like his pillow at all, lulls him right to sleep without even a second of consideration. everything hurts too much to question, he just wants to not exist a while longer.      ✧*:･ﾟ✧ .・                     it’s hours later, he thinks, it still hurts but not nearly so much. there’s a stinging pain behind his closed eyelids, but his arms are looped around a radiating warmth that he greedily attempts to scoop into himself, gently pulling the heat against his chest so that it can melt the haze and agony away. minutes tick and seungwon knows he’s either asleep or half past crazy, when he thinks he can hear the sound of 2 heartbeats like a gentle rhythm dancing inside of his chest. he’s sluggish to rejoin the world of the living, his body and mind overloaded with that familiar waterlogged miasma, the way it is when he drank himself quite literally out of his mind. it’s not a habit of his but he’s been down that road before.

he releases another low, rumbling groan and he feels feedback like static electricity against his nose and cheeks; he dares to open one eye knowing the light would assault him, recognition ebbing in and making it all but imperative despite the incoming pain. hair, his arms wrapped around a form and hair tickling his nose, fluttering beneath his breath as he exhales into someones nape.  it takes every instinct of self preservation inside of him not to fling himself off the bed entirely, knowing that his migraine might actually kill him, or at least, make him sick to his stomach, if he were to make any sudden movements. squeezing his eyes shut he takes a moment to shakily exhale, the rate of his breathing picking up to meet the speed of his heart, off setting the once matching calm rhythm of their hearts until they sing 2 different songs. he wants to die. for a hundred reasons, but mostly, because it’s unmistakably clear, that he fucked up beyond reason last night.               it takes him a long time to stir, so long he thinks he might feel whoever it is in his arms, distinctly effeminate, petite and velvety smooth, body like a furnace and gentle, pretty scented hair. briefly, his panic renews itself, a burst of distress causing his voice to come out in a nearly inhuman rasp of deep, muffled sound. “fuck.” it’s the first word and all he really says, so quietly because he isn’t really sure whether he wants whoever it is in his arms, to actually wake up or not. his arms are still around her waist and he’s almost afraid to remove it, if only because that’ll make the whole thing real, not like a painting, statues of misfortune; if he moves that means he’s really there. 

[hreunjae]

closed starter ❤ eun seungwon

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

wyyoosung‌:

Yoosung doesn’t believe in miracles, doesn’t believe in any higher fucking powers. He’s learned far too young that life just happens and doesn’t have mercy on anyone. He’s heard he’ll be fine, that he just needs time. But there isn’t enough time in the world to heal his wounds as far as he’s concerned. Even if he manages to find healthier ways to cope with his anxiety, he doubts he’ll ever be able to walk the streets completely carelessly like he used to. Too much has happened, there’s too many mental scars.

Is it a miracle that someone pulls the drunk man off of him; shoves him away and tells him to get away? Is it a miracle that the creep actually listens and walks away?

He doesn’t want to believe in miracles, but maybe he’s finally granted a small break.

The blond slumps against the wall, his knees feeling weak. He can feel his heart beating in his throat, his hands shaky as he reaches up to almost angrily wipe at his eyes. He’s been taught not to cry, not to fight. And here he was, doing both of those things. There’s the urge to apologize, but he struggles to find his voice, so nothing but a pathetic noise comes from the back of his throat.

How many years had he prayed for someone to come to his rescue like this? How long had it taken to break his spirit, to make him give up that hope he had that surely someone would find him? Seven years. It had felt like an eternity. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, needing the wall for support to keep himself from tumbling to the floor. He wonders if it’s the alcohol in his system, but he knows it’s the flashbacks that threaten to consume him and pull him under. He’s fighting them, determined not to risk having one of his panic attacks.

Finally he lifts up his head, realizing he’s been quiet for too long; he didn’t mean to ignore the question but he knows it seems like he has. “I’m… good.” He manages, though he’s sure it sounds like a lie to both of them. He can’t even bring himself to offer a smile to try and reassure.

Yoosung slowly pushes himself away from the cold surface of the building, a little shaky on his legs still – like a baby deer. He wraps his arms around himself, but not before awkwardly tugging at his shorts to move them back into place. He hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled; it’s hard to tell with his head light from the alcohol and his heart racing with anxiety.

“… Thank you.” His voice sounds a bit hoarse and his eyes focus on the broken key that still sticks out from the lock. He pushes himself to reach out a hand and pull it free, then just stares at it for a moment. He knows he probably has a spare key, but it’s definitely not on his person and for a split second he worries he won’t even be able to get inside. A panicked glance at his company reminds him it’s a vaguely familiar face – one he’s seen around before.

Maybe he believes in miracles. Small ones. Quietly.

“I, ah… I broke my key.” He then says with a frown, as if that fact hadn’t been obvious. It’s dark; it’s too late to call their landlord to try and get him into his apartment. A tired sigh escapes his lips. Shit. “I don’t mean to be too forward or, you know, ask for more favors, but… do you– ah, do you think I could sleep on your couch? I’ll be out first thing in the morning.” Yoosung runs a hand through his hair and groans. “Or maybe just a cup of tea. I don’t want to be a bother,”

・゜゜・:*: ┊›                     poor thing really does look shaken up, the longer seungwon’s eyes train on those pretty features the more he sees the unmistakable glint of discomfort and lingering fear. like frayed edges of a wire, a hazard to all parties involved, unless it was taped or taken care of. that’s the part that sinks an uncomfortable weight through his muscles, not adrenaline but a borderline anxiety. it’s almost anxiety, almost. it’s unsettling nonetheless, the instantaneous recognition that if he doesn’t do something now, not only is he an asshole, he’s willingly exposing that frayed wire to so many harmful elements. it wouldn’t even take much to start a fire. he nods softly at the words, readjusting his backpack to have something to do, anything to do. they’re both tired, both shaken from that, understandable, he’s sure his floor-mate is more so than he is.  frankly, it is forward, it’s extremely forward, not like inviting a cat into his home, or like finally asking kyeo to come over after all this time, this is a perfect stranger. someone he had only seen stroll down stairs in supple pink, collecting mail or dragging trash out to the bin. it’s not enough for seungwon to feel comfortable allowing someone to invade his space; he’s not certain what exactly would be enough to warrant that, though.  “if you don’t mind sharing the space with my cats, you can sleep on the couch or pull out the bedroll i think i have somewhere.” he gently brushes past as the other speaks quietly, soft words, an appealing voice, seungwon is thankful for that, it helps ease his tensions. “not a bother,” he counts quietly, his door was only a few down from where they were, he lifts a hand to point in that direction, walking and gazing forward, oddly afraid to look back in case the stranger falls apart and he has to comfort them. he strolls over and fishes out his keys on along the short walk, silent and he’s sure, unapproachable, maybe even cold. sometimes he hates his mannerisms, but then he remembers they make his life easier. unlocking the door he looks over his shoulder and his gaze is steady, neutral and unassuming. “the bathroom is to the right when we go in, i’ll go find you something,” he swings the door open and clicks his tongue gently to call his cats in the middle of his sentence, sliding out of his shoes in a show of normalcy he intends to be calming, but might actually just seem too aloof. “--something, to wear. unless you usually sleep in clothes that cute.” stepping in, he makes space for his new companion to enter after so he can shut the door behind them.

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ┊ —   ( @dabinwy​ )                    a splintering thought like rain clattering in his thoughts as he crosses his arms stubbornly, stretches his legs out beneath the library table; repeatedly he thinks maybe he should drop out. not seriously of course but, sometimes school is way too much work. he doesn’t even have a major, doesn’t even know what he wants to do with his life. he remembers the confidence in his heart, like a dim heat spreading warmth through every aspect of life, when he decided he would set himself straight and get himself in college. it seemed like the thing to do to save his life, keep him from crashing right into becoming a phantom copy of his father. but then he reassures himself it’s the thing to do, even if school is a pain and he’s put out by the amount of work he has.  his eyes shift to his phone, the screen lighting up as he slides a thumb to unlock it, a terse sigh passing his lips. where is that girl —— . . . his classmate, one he hadn’t gotten to know (which isn’t surprising as he never took time to get to know any classmate, regardless of who they were) who he had limited experience with. mostly, admittedly, he had been ignoring her texts and pleads to get together and begin their project before the deadline approached any closer. after all that frustrating nagging, he’s the first one here to their meeting; go figure.

✉️:➝ 「 DABIN-SSI🙄 」: i’m here?  ✉️:➝ 「 DABIN-SSI🙄 」: where are you 👀

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

△▼ ━━  🙈 hey friends, if we haven’t plotted or spoken yet, feel free to hit up my inbox or send me a link to this post, and i'll show you some love.  

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ┊ —  ( etc. . . )

“want me to leave?” he asks quietly, he should want to leave but he doesn’t, not yet. “breathe, just like that,” he adds as an afterthought, because it seems like the thing to say.

         ◮´ ▸ ——— ▒░ EVERY PANIC ATTACK FEELS so alone and kyeo knows he truly is in a way . there would never be a soul to bring him down from such an incredibly difficult and dangerous all time high and he knows that . he knows that he has to conquer his fears on his own but the thoughts of his past and his present mashed together in some disgusting abstract painting is pushing him back towards a horrid breaking point . maybe this was his payback for not having cried in the past week … he thought he was on a start to something so good but — oh , nope , it was just his emotions saving up for the grand finale .

         and such was occurring right here , right now .

         it feels like a dream , like he just blinked and suddenly seungwon was there. he did not hear him come in , nor did he realize that he could come in despite knowing he had not locked the door . but even the sight of seungwon is not enough to push away everything he feels . in fact , he feels more emotional and his breathing increases for a moment . his hands are aching to grab hold of him for some kind of comfort but he can barely feel them to move them , so he only stares at the other male with a painfully sad and broken look . kyeo wants to stop — he wants to dry it up right now but it was like seungwon came in on cue for him to just … get worse .

         but when seungwon asks kyeo if he wants him to leave , kyeo is awfully quick to shake his head no . it is the best he can do in the moment to let the other know that in the end , he does not want to be alone no matter how alone he truly is . after a moment or two of just biting his lip and shutting back soft cries , kyeo finally reaches out from under his blanket and takes hold of seungwon’s wrist as if he needs it . kyeo can’t decide if he does or not but he holds onto it anyway and closes his eyes as he finally finds himself getting close to the end of his sharp breaths and numb muscles . he knows he will have an ache of some sort once this is over because of how prolonged it was …

         a deep breath comes from his lips followed by a few short ones again before he can finally get himself to a steady breathing pace . he opens his eyes and looks down at seungwon with embarrassment in his eyes . there was no way he would have wanted the other to see him have an attack not once , but twice … and the second worse than the first . his face is swollen and tear stained , his eyes red and soaked . how is he supposed to face him now ? kyeo swallows hard once he is able to and the only thing he is able to get out at the moment is a soft , ❝ sorry … ❞ before his hand tightens around the other’s wrist .

         it is a sudden feeling of security — but is this a good thing , or the beginning of something kyeo knows he shouldn’t get involved with ?

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ┊ — it’s the soft way kyeo’s hair flops over his pale forehead when he shakes his head, and the way pretty teeth peek out to tug at his lip, that keeps seungwon frozen still. the sole thing that initially keeps him from pushing himself up and fleeing on principle alone. years used to be cruel to seungwon’s memories, a hundred things keeping him locked up, a cage of quickly fading images; his brother on the streets, his father’s smile, his step mother, for all her flaws, those nights she called his name from the kitchen where she cried into the kimchi she prepared. those things are faded like a dusty mirror now. when he looks back on them, all he can see anymore is himself, his emotions, his anger and his discontent, his near crippling sadness. he hates to see people cry. hates tears as a function, they serve no purpose, he wishes he would never cry again, doesn’t want to see people he loves cry either.  the digits slip around his wrist soft and lightly trembling, feels more like a breeze brushing over the surface of his skin than a tangible, real human being. when the touch stills it’s heavy and warm and undeniable. seungwon visibly shivers at the feeling, certain the other could feel his body’s response, but he gulps down the instinct to defend himself. it isn’t the time. grip flexes around his wrist and he glances down at it with fluttering eye lashes.     —    it’s the apology that breaks him; like taking turpentine to varnish, the painted walls he put up between them dissolves and he attempts an imbalanced smile. “nothing to apologize for.”  he finds the habit of apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong all too relatable; it’s endearing somehow, puts a crack in the hard surface his heart. he reaches a hand out and squeezes softly over kyeo’s warm, clammy skin, hand over hand he leaves it there with what he hopes is reassuring weight. he doesn’t ask when he shifts his weight and slides himself tentatively up onto the couch, close enough that their knees touch, careful not to move his wrist and break the contact. he’s not certain why he takes such care, but he doesn’t question it. "did you stay like this for long? before i got here, i mean,” he asks gently, gazing down idly at their connected hands.

[hreunjae]

closed starter ❤ eun seungwon

@seungwonwy

The buzz in his veins had long since stopped being pleasant; though it had helped him get back to the apartment complex without completely freaking out, the alcohol now seemed to heighten his paranoia as he walked on. His key was already in his hand, jingling slightly in the grip of trembling fingers. Yoosung sucked in a deep breath as he dragged himself towards the front door of the building, forcing himself to keep looking straight ahead – there was no need to look behind him. He was fine.

Just as he’d tried to convince himself of that – key inches away from the lock – he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dark eyes widened when another hand found purchase on his ass, already pushing at the fabric of his shorts. The blond nearly dropped his keys; managed to turn his head to look at the person behind him. He vaguely recognized the face from the bar he’d just left. Had this guy just followed him home?

Another deep breath. “Sorry, darling, I’m not in the mood.” He managed, voice shaky. His brain was threatening to short-circuit, panic rising in his body. He could feel his heart beating roughly in his chest, the trembling of his hands intensifying when the stranger replied he surely could make an EXCEPTION. The blond shook his head and pushed himself to brush the hands away from his body, quickly jamming his key into the lock before hastily trying to turn it.

There was a SNAP and then he was holding only half of the key, heart sinking in his chest. “Fuck,” He breathed out, blood running cold as he felt a solid body press him up against the side of the building. ‘Where you going dressed like that, hmm?’ The question sent a shiver down his spine and once more he tried to push the roaming hands away, though he knew he would soon stop fighting – too weak, too scared.

“Please, don’t–”

[wynnnnnnsdfsdf]

・゜゜・:*: ┊› night shift at the arcade is undoubtedly the worst, the measures it always takes to clean at the end of the night, practically inhuman. he found himself headed home late, sky a smog of black-blue with any glittering stars tucked away behind a blanket of clouds, even the moon overhead was hiding away. he sighs, exhausted as he readjusts his bag over his shoulders and pulls his hood up over his head to gaze idly at his feet while he walks; the sky offering no draw.

soles of his sneakers scuff because he’s too tired to pick up his feet, thoughts drifting in a sleepy haze towards not his brother. he thinks of his school assignments willingly, anything but where his mind begs he go when he’s alone.

he hears the scuffle before he even finishing rounding the corner to his building, his gaze cutting up with little interest; lamp posts gleaming a spotlight on what certainly isn’t his damn business. someone he recognizes from his building, had seen here and there, carrying mail and towing out trash.

it’s sad to say he had seen something like this more times than he wishes to admit, the sight of it causes the muscles of his neck to tense, knuckles to grip white on the strap of his bag. getting involved in other people’s lives leads to messy ties, red lines of fate stain your skin when you interfere; he prefers to keep his hands clean.

his heart thrums.

his feet move without his permission, unconscious of the moment he’d even made a decision; he supposes that he didn’t, his teeth gritting painfully, jaw and gums ache from the contained indignation. 

the distance closes between them in an instant, like slamming a door. his eyes heavy lidded and wild as he crosses to them, breathing through his nose in long, low breaths like a dangerous animal, not with frantic rage, but in calm disgust. his knuckles scrape against collar bone as he fists fabric and wrenches the two apart, stranger in his arms peering at him in surprise and then annoyance.

he throws the other off, releasing the hold and pushing the vile stranger as far as he can, causing a trip and fumble like a stone down a hill until he nearly loses balance. 

“get the hell,” he snaps, “away from here. right, now.” scum.

he doesn’t look away and doesn’t back down, places himself between who he knows to live in his building, and the trash example of a human harassing a person in public. if the stranger seems willing to fight for his chance, it’s brushed away quickly, his face melding into a filthy scowl and he backs away with a scurry, trips over his feet stumbles away, and seungwon mumbles beneath his breath that he should have killed the scum.

everything hurts with instantly built and pent up tension as he breathes it out in a deep sigh, taking a second before he turns to the side, glances at his flatmate, someone who he’s certain lives on his same floor. 

at first, just a second, no words come, tightness from contained disgust closing his throat, before he clears it and attempts to appear calmer than he feels. “you good?”