"Oh my my darlin' keep your head up, keep your heart strong.
'Cause I'll always remember you the same.
Oh eyes like wild flowers within demons of change."
hyoyeon steps through the door into the dark hallway. she can make out the shapes of the other kids, some confused, some just thoroughly unamused. it’s laughable that a facility this tight doesn’t have a generator in case of power outages.
she moves quickly through everyone, trying to find a single figure in the darkness.
"jongdae," she asks as she stumbles closer to the door she last saw him enter. the large metal door is surprisingly easy to open, once the latches are loose, and she peeks in.
"you can come out, there’s nothing scary out here."
"it's roku, remember?" comes his small voice from the corner of the room. he's been sitting in the darkness for as long as the lights have been out.
"it's my fault," he whispers to the girl as he drops his head but doesn't move at her words, "i caused the lights to go out. it's my powers." he bites his lip but gets to his feet.
publicly known information: male, 14 years old, arrested after livestreaming, and posting pictures of dead animals he had maimed and killed, on the popular community website reddit. added to his charge is downloading and distribution of illegally acquired copyrighted music and sharing underage pornography on the internet (of himself, but nevertheless, illegal). sent to the institution for the time being as he awaits his trial, which will both decide his sentence and where he goes after the institution. is quiet, soft-spoken and does not look anyone directly in the eye. spends any time outside of his room staring at the walls, legs tucked in underneath him.
rumours: he was part of a human trafficking circle and he killed his pimp but the police looked the other way on that issue so he can give them information on the circles' information.
only known to the few who have ever spoken to him: he’s scared of electricity because he thinks he can harness the energy and create it into a weapon to harm those around him; unsure of his gender, and prefers others to call him roku - the number six in japanese.
; how to go nowhere (and lose yourself in the process)
whiskey and rum
blood on my tongue
(you h a u n t me)
fuck this shit, he thinks, before taking a deep breath and submerging himself, fully dressed, into the water. the water is cold and he shivers instinctively, but he closes his eyes, counting the seconds.
five.. six..
the door is locked but he knows he can't trust the fragility of a doorknob, so he's propped a chair against it, making sure that anyone trying to get in would, at least, have a semi-difficult time trying to get it open. the windows are closed, and there is a small radio on the edge of the swimming pool blasting old music in a language he's never heard of.
ten.. eleven..
he's fourteen, five feet, four inches of awkward and this is his first suicide attempt. in later years, jongdae would probably wonder why he chose an empty public swimming pool rather than his home's private one. but he's a teenage fool and he believes that when he closes his eyes, the world stops and only restarts when he opens them again.
twenty-six.. twenty-seven..
it's like going to sleep, a distant cousin had told him. you just close your eyes and you sink deeper and deeper and then it's just black. there's nothing else - just darkness. jongdae had wanted to ask how he knew but his question had been cut short by three shots of whiskey and a dismissive glance to get lost. maybe all the adults knew how death worked - it was their biggest secret and if jongdae could just uncover their mysteries maybe he wouldn't be so miserable or so lonely.
thirty-three.. thirty-
a humming sound disrupts his counting and he resurfaces. he coughs and splutters water from his mouth and slowly he recognizes the sound as the slow whine of a sob rising from his own throat. he breathes hard, chest rising rapidly up and down, and he tries to gulp down his tears. he feels exhausted, as if he'd been running in a miles-long marathon - trying to be the first to the finish line.
lazily, he kicks his way towards the edge of the pool and slowly raises himself out of the water, groaning as he flops onto the tiled floor. his chest feels like it is on fire and he'd probably swallowed more chlorine water than was necessary in a lifetime. scrunching up his nose and sniffling back more tears, he shuts his eyes and waits.
there were only two kinds of people jongdae associated with: drunken ones looking for sex or at least someone warm to sleep with, or ones without any kind of personality. he enjoyed the former's company when he felt lonely or scared shitless by thunderstorm, and he preferred the latter's company when he felt like listening to dull conversation from equally vapid individuals whose world didn't exist past the tip of their nose.
he liked imagining these flippant creatures in another world, another planet unlike their own; liked to pair their odds of surviving in that entirely different environment, full of danger and intricate technologies built by powerful strange beings, a world so different from the one they experienced everyday. it often didn't end very well for them and he imagined their deaths as horrific and fascinating as they were not. he nodded and agreed with their materialistic consumerist lives and pretended the caviar didn't stick to the top of his mouth like the thick disgusting semen of a man twice his age.
once in a while, he'd meet someone with an electric hint in their eye. there was nothing exactly different about these outliers but their fingertips seemed to spark with a curious pull that made jongdae's heart ache and his stomach flip with nervous energy. it was like suffering from heartburn and their proximity was the cooling solution he needed for his ailment. they were a scarce breed, though, and sometimes he found himself sweeping a room, any room, in hopes of finding that rare connection. it had happened again not to long ago, and he was curious to find anyone else that possessed that same spark.
unfortunately, so far, this search has ended up with him sitting at the bar of some random club in the city for an uncomfortable amount of time without a drink in his hand. he's watching, surveying the space around him. it's a sizable room with an insurmountable number of people and probably well above the capacity limit. it's friday night and even the most vacuous and insufferable human being has the absolute need to get wasted on this particular day before going home with a complete stranger and fucking until they've passed out. it's part of their unbreakable routine in leading an extremely monotonous and meaningless life. he has no qualms in this matter, having gone home with an uncountable amount of men and women, adding his name to their little black books.
but he finds something comforting in observing their winks and perverse motions; he finds it amusing to listen to their endless barrage of pick-up-lines. he find these every day actions safe because he knows it'll never change for them. these simple beings won't ever know what it means to fear the deepest part of their own shallow selves.
he returns his attention to the bar in front of him, catching the tail-end of a hollow and grammatically incorrect sentence that was probably meant for him. he snorts, shaking his head as he tries to ignore the person trying to get his attention and instead tries to find the bartender in the mess of spilled drinks and others calling for them.
the person right next to him, he expects, will end up with their right (or left) hand in between their own legs by the end of the night, if they kept up with those cheesy one hit wonder lines. but he didn't let it bother him as called his drink towards the pretty bartender,
"a dirty martini, three olives - and don't squander, make it as filthy as possible," and he winks even though he hasn't imbibed nearly enough alcohol to be acting like this.
jongdae gagged on words, at a loss for what to say. he shivered involuntarily, caught by the raw emotion that had worked its away into the other's voice. the strong hand curled around his arm carries him as if he's a paper doll and, malapropos, he remembers those same hands holding him down, holding him close, just moments ago. he tries to stand up straight, trying to seem stronger than he felt and, reflexively, he looked around for the exit points and considered his options: escape and never look back, or try and explain himself. this was, after all, a one night stand and he barely remembered the other guy's name. there should be no need to explain himself. but he wavers as he's flung towards the door, and he stumbles and he hears the indistinctive sound of hurt in the other's voice.
"i-" he stops, his voice cracking and he nervously plays with the hem of the other man's sweater.
"i'm sorry?" he tries breathlessly, the next words coming out rushed, all in one breath, "i lied, my apartment isn't being fumigated, i just didn't want to go back there alone. i liked being with you - i'm sorry i pretended to fall asleep. you're grandmother is very nice, i didn't know you had a kid, though. i probably woke it up, didn't i. i -" he stopped abruptly as the lightening from the impending storm illuminated the room, and he closed his eyes, counting the seconds. the thunder boomed shortly after, much closer this time. he wouldn't make it to his apartment on the other side of town before the storm was upon them. he choked on the electricity in the air.
"p-please. um, i won't get in the way. i don't think i can leave before the storm.." he glanced up at minseok, and he curled a finger into his hair, out of habit, letting his unspoken question linger in the air.
peering around the fur-lined hood drawn over his head, he knew he had crossed a line somewhere around twenty minutes ago and now he was ambling about the area outside of his family's property. he shuddered in the cold, letting out a long exhale, watching as the air materialized itself into uneven puffs of white air. he drew closer into his thick coat, and started walking again, the snow crunching underneath his boots. sneaking out a gloved hand from one of his pockets, he hurriedly pushed his dark thick-rimmed glasses up his nose before returning it to the warmth of his pocket. his heart beat with excitement and anticipatory fear as he turned full circle and could not spot a single familiar marker of the land he had grown accustomed to. it was too far. but not far enough.
it started to snow again, as it always did in baeksol, light at first but turning heavy in just a few minutes. curling a hand around a heavy object in his right pocket, jongdae remembered the cellphone he always carried but didn't bother to check it. it was permanently dead. it was more of a habit now, something to remind him of what he was. gulping down freezing air, he felt his lungs stutter as he heard an abnormal sound to the left of him - something had broken the muted peace of the surrounding woods and he felt a surge of panic as his drug-induced overly heightened fight or flight senses kicked in. he roughly kicked up snow as he fell backwards and he threw his legs up in defensive strikes, turning his face away from his would-be attacker.
it couldn't have been more than ten seconds, but it felt like eternity before jongdae righted himself and stared blankly at nothing but the still-undisturbed white snow around him and he let out a snort that turned quickly into derisive laughter and he threw his head back, nearly toppling back to the ground. it was stupid and he was high and he was stupid and what the hell was he doing anyway? there was nothing but snow around him. nothing else.
♡ jongdae is in an r&b group, minseok is in a rock band. have fun~
warning: assaulting pieces of clothing ahead. please watch your ego as you read on.
jongdae’s just run through his first set of vocal exercises when he’s abruptly attacked by loud and assaulting pieces of clothing as they make their way on stage to set up their equipment. it takes him a blink or two, as one particularly hideous outfit sits at the drums adjacent to the bassist, to realize that there were people in those garments. he shudders visibly and the pianist sitting somewhere near his right hand pokes curiously at him, wondering, perhaps, why he’s stopped reciting the scale. he returns a blank stare at the other and exasperatedly (but quietly) gestures at the rock band gathering in front of them.
"don’t they look absolutely horrendous?!" the extra exclamation is expressed as a whisper because he doesn’t want to ruin his beautiful voice with unnecessary shouting nor get his gorgeously sculpted face damaged by fashionably impaired individuals. his less better-looking assistant pianist raises his neatly trimmed eyebrows up at him, this time he’s wearing a more judgmental look but it’s not directed at the band, it’s pointed at jongdae.
jongdae narrows his eyes and hisses, “well, you’re colourblind and wear too much of your boyfriend’s shitty non-brand street wear, anyway. why did i even ask you.” he clucks and turns away from the only slightly deflated man, focusing his attention on the style disasters in front of him.
“somebody has to put a stop to this,” he whispers, and vibrates his lips, making an engine sound as he strolls casually up towards the band. he connects eyes with the drummer, who seems to be the leader, and he decides this is the man he has biggest problem with. he’s wearing a cheap knock-off boy london sweatshirt over severely distressed forever 21 black skinny jeans. he has a giant rabbit’s foot attached to his hipbone or something and it dangles like a massive hairball every time he moves. jewelry is minimal to two piercings, one on his right ear in the shape of a snowflake (so unique, jongdae rolls his eyes) and another on his left eyebrow in the shape of barbed wire (tacky). the only thing going for him are the all-white converse sneakers he’s sporting and the tussled hair and dark eyeliner he’s wearing.
jongdae clears his throat, “h-hi, hello,” he doesn’t stumble, it was on purpose, “um, i’ve noticed your particular,” he coughs sarcastically into his hand, “fashion. do you not realize this is a city-wide competition and that probably thousands of people are going to be here and that scouts will be watching and this could be your only chance to get recruited into a label? why would you wear all that?” he signals at the other’s clothes and tries to keep the snort of laughter just above discourtesy.
an incredibly fiery blaze starts just under the other man’s eyes, and the burn of it makes jongdae’s knees lock in place. the man slowly appraises all of jongdae before making his way off the stage and stepping under his nose, just shy of couple of centimetres shorter than jongdae. the drummer raises his eyebrows and an absolutely gummy smile dripping of scorn spreads across his delicate features.
"what," he deadpans and his voice is so manly and so unmanly at the same time that jongdae lets out his breath in slow exhales as he tries to keep his face from pinking up.
"your style," he tries, failing in keeping his voice steady and demeaning because in the name of the almighty michael kors, he’d burn his versace wallets and collection of stussy snapbacks, to have those piercing dark brown eyes looking up at him from his cock. the latter agrees, as it twitches involuntarily, like a genie awakening from a deep slumber.
"not now, genie." he whispers, and the other’s eyes crumple into a frown. jongdae shakes his head, "never mind. what i mean is, don’t you want to look, well, like someone with talent?" he regrets the words instantly because fucking glorious bedroom eyes turns on his heels and immediately orders his group of ragamuffins to gather for practice.; they fall into place quickly, and soon, a broody melody starts. it starts of slow, without any vocals at first, but then picks up into a driving harmonization between the keytarist and bassist. jongdae watches, physically rooted to the spot, as sweat gathers on the drummer’s face and as he slicks his hair back even as he propels the song into a litany of disastrous but addicting chords. and just when jongdae thought it couldn’t get worse, the man opens his mouth and delivers a blow to jongdae’s heart (and ego) in the form of a sweet melodious voice exploding in the silence of the drummer’s solo.
jongdae only manages to tear his eyes away when he feels a familiar hovering over his shoulder and he turns around to meet a cocky smile on his pianist’s face. shut up, he wants to growl at the man with fantastic fingers but a shitty personality, except the song’s ending and his attention is again sequestrated by the drummer’s dazzling smile. on a second glance, jongdae can see the benefits of the distressed jeans, as they do very little to hide the well endowed ass the man has. why hadn’t he noticed that from the beginning? jongdae suddenly questioned his priorities of fashion over pleasure.
"now what were you saying?" the drummer is out of breath, and he’s glistening with sweat and all jongdae wants to do is ram his tongue down the other guy’s throat because what the fuck raging hormones.
"my name is jongdae, but you can call me-," he’s cut off by the other.
"minseok. but you can call me tonight, that is unless, you’re not allowed out past midnight. i mean it is a school night, and ya know, the ‘scouts’ might be watching” and jongdae’s cheeks burn but he relishes the sharp tongue because by the end of the night, he vows he’ll be making the other sing his name.
hyoyeon likes games. loves them. they’re not real. there are no consequences to them. but each one gives her new ideas for how to expand her power. this is how she practiced before, back when she was still only just learning how to produce a shield. she figured with the majority of her power fizzling out, playing cards again would be a good way to gain some strength.
"in the deck part of the deck," hyoyeon smirks and sticks her tongue out at her opponent. "looks like i rewired your ass, dickweed."
she shuffles her new ae.s card into her deck, slipping a finger through it so the card will come out relatively close to the top. aesthetic cards were generally useless to most decks, players tended to focus on maxing out their error points or collecting new weapons like the biT/cannon sitting pretty somewhere in her deck. she uses aesthetic cards differently, most people don’t know you can apply them to weapons and to pets—they give her attacks more power even if most of her deck is made up of level 2 and 3 weapons.
"i call ARMY to the field, recharge points 30%, and end my turn.” army is a squadron of computer mice. such a weak card, but if she can keep the card from getting rewired long enough to play her new aesthetic card, she could wipe the floor with this asshole’s face and get a few new cards out of it.
a grimace settles slowly into his face as he watches the girl in front of him slide her slender hand across the table and nick one of the prettiest card from his deck and slip it right into hers. he frowns at his stack of cards and resettles himself in his chair; there's a bug bite on his right butt cheek and the combination of itchiness and slight pain is driving him insane bit by bit. he knew it had been a bad idea to let some hippie musician convince him that it'd be absolutely romantic to do it under the stars right next to his run-down rooftop room. the bite twinges and he chews obsessively on his tongue. he hates guys with nice deep voices; they always managed to convince him into ridiculous situations.
his right eyebrow twitches as the girl ends her turn, the smile on her face unintentionally irritating him more than necessary. he sighs, contemplating his deck before reshuffling two or three cards, placing one face-down, and pulling out another pretty but useless card from his hand.
tapping the facedown card, he clears his throat, "i call d.angel in defensive mode, and leave these facing down. i'll end my turn now." he shrugs, distracted by the buzzing of his charging phone next to him. it was an unknown number but he knew who it was; no one else called him. he places the cards in his hands in his lap and reaches for his phone, only looking up when he feels the intensity of eyes from across the table.
"sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. he had to admit, he was more interested in collecting the extravagantly designed cards rather than play with them. he'd figured winning a couple of games against middle school students who were just as clueless as he was about the cards would earn him prettier cards but this game was sucking for him, as he was losing more cards than he wanted to. notwithstanding, this was also the least physical game that he could participate in without having to use modern technology. he resented that the venue he had accidentally chosen today was next to a video game arcade. the sounds of kids having fun just a few feet away was driving his annoyance.
he leans back in his chair, his eyes lingering on the pretty curve of her breasts underneath her t-shirt. there's something attractive and dangerous about this girl that makes him curious.
"why do you like this game, anyway?" he asks, intrigued.
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