He gets lost, sometimes, the people who left him behind didn’t bring their memories with them so he’s left with this... baggage, this whole baggage that keeps him from pursuing anything else, anything new, every time he tries to get close to someone he got reminded by the things in those baggage, the knifes and the guns and the sharp, sharp words.
So yes, sometimes Jun let loose and maybe sometimes he got too loose, maybe he did drugs and dance with buttons too opened and body too sweaty, and maybe he ordered a private room all by himself and drink too many pills, but he doesn’t need saving, he doesn’t need another future baggage. “This... room’s... occupied.” He said, his voice barely audible, the song Tyrant or something playing in the background, his needles and bags visible on the table, he turns to the stranger, automatically pulling a knife from his pants even though he’s barely lucid enough to stand on his feet. “Keep your... distance. I don’t-- know you... do I...?” Every face blurs to one another, who cares anyway, who cares right?
10- Your soulmates first words to you appear on your wrist.9- Cop/Criminal
‘Please don’t kill me.’
Ever since the sharp black ink trace around his wrist at the young age of twelve, his parents has been suspicious of him. ‘Why would this appear on your wrist?’ they would say, sometimes they wonder if their son is doomed to a life of crime, sometimes they wonder if their son would point a gun to their own soulmate’s head, so many things for such a small boy to handle.
Jun hated his mark.
Why would his soulmate say this to him. He used to wonder why, he used to think about it, lose sleep over it, but no more.
Contrasting what people expect of him, he became a cop instead, he spent his twenties being the rookie everyone pick on and ordered around but it all come to fruition when he became an official detective.
That was three years ago, people stop asking what the words on his wrist mean because why asks? Everyone have their secrets. Although unbeknownst to him, the words etched on his skin might be said by his lover, but not to him, well, not to him exactly.
-
“Don’t make me shoot you!” he shouts, but he did shoot anyway, a bullet missed the sneaky little thief’s legs and Jun climbs the fire exit to get to him. He shoots again, his only intention to cripple him for the moment and not to injure him in anyway.
His third bullet didn’t miss though, it grazes deep onto the thief’s left ankle, toppling him to the ground, blood starts to soak the thief’s socks and pants, sending him cowering to the corner.
“Please don’t kill me.”
His wrist throbs so hard he accidentally drops the gun.
He looks down to look at the source of his pain and realised– it.
Regret and shock washes over him as he looks at the cowering figure in the corner, the man’s own wrist seems to shake but he’s too busy trying not to have a panic attack to notice.
It didn’t matter than Jun became a cop, it didn’t matter that he tries to stop thinking about all the negative scenarios.
His soulmate’s first words would be to beg him not to kill, not to shoot.
Toru had a reputation , one that he upheld with the utmost pride. He was the best at his job , or at least that is what he had been told from humans and supernatural alike. He was powerful and that was one of the main characteristics customers sought when looking for an assassin.
Toru’s gaze flickers from the folder on his desk to the man speaking. Searching his face for any type of lie or sign that he’s going to be walking into something he can’t handle. The man is sincere , nothing that Toru can’t handle , and he finally gives a small nod. ❛ You know my wages ? ❜ He asks softly , leaning back before flipping open the folder slowly to eye his target.
Jun is sincere, his son is his life, and he will keep him safe no matter what, if that means taking another life while he’s at it then so be it. “I don’t.” He says truthfully. “But I know that I can pay you.” he reassured the other, not that the other would need that, only the people that can pay him can contact him anyway.
“She knows who I really am.” The witch says. “If the information about my son gets out there, there would be hell to pay for me and my son.” He had already said too much, but he needs to convince the other that time is of the essence.
“So if you can do it... when can you do it, how soon? I need her gone yesterday.”
it supposedly takes two hands to clap, but a slap on a stationary palm produces the same noise. nahui was like that, in a way: bare of any rings and nails kept neatly trimmed. she’s as much of a participant in her life as she was a bystander, coaxed towards any which way the wind blows. que sera sera was right. so she doesn’t really question this either.
“ meat or … milk, ” she echoes albeit uncertainly, sending something of a sympathetic simper and an affirmative nod at the man, “ got it. ” and then he’s muttering departing words and she isn’t as nervous as she imagines she’d be. for the next couple of hours at least, she now knows enough to keep the boy alive and well. so her focus is really fixated on the little one, considering he was the one coaxed past her doorway and into her humble abode. mumu, he says, and her grin grows comfortable.
“ it’s nice to meet you, mumu! i’m nahui, ” in between sentences does she glance up at the older male in attempts of reassurance, as if allowing him to leave. if his demeanour was anything to go by, time was of the essence. “ why don’t we go inside where it’s warmer? ”
Time really is of the essence right now, as soon as Mumu managed to introduce himself, he says his goodbyes and half runs to the shitty stairs (too slippery for whatever reason) and make his way out of the housing.
Mumu is left alone, he feels like he’s going to cry, but his father always say that he shouldn’t cry when people leave, and that he has to be strong because sometimes he will have to be by himself. Mumu followed the nice lady into the house, her name, Nahwi. “Nahwi noona...” That’s what his father say to call older ladies than him with. “I’m... I’m hungry...”
“But people will forget you eventually right?” Jun smiles despite the fact, he pats the sit next to him. “Did you have to let someone go recently? You look gloomy.”
Daehyun laughs a little, wrapping his arms around Jun. “Well. If they try to come and get you I’ll have to beat them up.” His tone is light, almost teasing, but they both know exactly how serious Daehyun is. “Hm~ they’re being very quiet out there. I hope they haven’t broken anything.” He pats Jun’s back and tries to kiss his cheek, but of course Jun is just too darn tall and it ends up landing on his jaw. “Has anything interesting happened since you got back?” Daehyun leads the way back to the living room, where Taesun and Mumu are playing with some brightly colored blocks.
“Hm... nothing major, I’m just surprised that Mumu got along so well with the other kids, he’s going to go to pre-school soon and I’m not sure I’m ready for that... how about you? How do you cope with it, Taesun will have to go to soon, right?” Mumu seems upset that one of the blocks doesn’t fit into the other and starts banging them together, Jun quickly puts the plate of snack between the two boys to distract them with food which-- works, great, they can snack on some munchies while they catch up.
♥▬ “I know, I just hate to trouble others.” Her lips curled into a small pout, eyes then fixating on her basket as she let out a faint chuckle. “Oh… yeah.. I tend to stock up so I don’t have to go back out, you know?” She hated making trips to the store she would always have to disguise herself. And she hated bugging her manager to do it too, she wanted to be independent.
“Yeah… what’s time though? Sometimes I get it… rarely..” Voice trailing off followed by a simple shrug the female walked along with him. She was honestly surprised he didn’t recognize her, but people are all about these newer groups these days that the oldies like her are often forgotten. “Yeah… tired as heck but here I am. Only to be back at it again in the morning. How about you? You’re here awful late too.”
“I just get off work too.” He lied, but it’s not like he’s going to expose himself to a stranger he just met, no matter how friendly she might seem. “I don’t work late shift every night, but I don’t have any ingredients to cook with tomorrow and my son has to eat something, so here I am, I probably will just stay up until morning.”
He’s probably oversharing, but that’s what people do when they’re sleep deprived at 3 a.m right? Who cares, it’s not like they’re going to bump into each other again in the future. “So... where do you live?” he goes there too because why not. He finished scanning all his groceries and pulls out his card to pay. “I live a block away from here on that small apartment with the butcher shop in the bottom.”
This wouldn’t be the first time he hurt himself on stage but god did it hurt. He did everything not to shed a tear, his face dripping with sweat and ankle throbbing with pain. He just wanted to be laying down, on pain fillers and sleeping the pain away but having to go through all that hospital crap was going to hold everything up. But maybe he was in luck, maybe god sent an angel but here was a man willing to help.
Taemin didn’t say much but mumbled for his staff to take him towards the male, he eyeing the stranger with a desperate look. Are you a doctor? Can you help?” He groaned out in pain some more. He wondered if this guy really could help him there is no supplies to help ease the pain, there’s nothing to xray either so was Taemin wasting his time? He figured he’d at least see what this man is about.
“I’m not a doctor but it’s not my first time fixing a broken ankle.” he cleared one of the thin beds for the other to lay on and clear his throat for some kind of privacy, the others seems skeptical, wanting to bring the injured male to the doctor right away but Jun tries to ‘reason’ with them.
“If he doesn’t get better, we can ice his ankles and bring him to the doctor, yes? Right now he can’t even breathe from the pain.” That at least gave him some wiggle room and people actually starts leaving them together for a time, Jun knows his time is short so he has to move quick. Placing his hand on the injured ankle softly, he starts to rub the swollen part with ointment just for show as he performed vitalum vitalis, a spell of giving one’s life force to the other to heal. “Are my hands cold?” He tries to make small talk. “How did you get injured?”
《 ※ 》 DEEP POOLS OF BROWN turn upwards, away from the young child towards the older male, the father. A shy smile curls on his lips and he’s standing upright, hand reaching back around to rub the nape of his neck at the compliment.❝ Er — I’m a part-time choreographer at a dance studio. It’s actually my first time in awhile performing publicly. ❞ This whole performance gig was just to garner attention, sort of market their dance studio a bit more to get more people curious and join. Maybe take a class or two. Not that they were having issues with numbers of people coming in to take a class. At least, none that he’s taken notice of anyway.
❝ But, uh, pleasure to meet you Jun-ssi. I’m Sangcheol. ❞ The hand that had previously rubbed at his neck gingerly drops down to hang idly by his side. Tiers had twitched into a brighter, much warmer smile and deep hues turn back to gaze at the other male’s son. ❝ And what’s your son’s name ? If you don’t mind me asking. ❞
“Well I’m sure a lot of people will want to join your dance studio.” He huffs while he talks because Mumu is still dancing, it’s cute how excited he is (or it might be the candies he devoured earlier, sugar rush is never a fun time, for the parent at least). “I suppose you don’t have class for toddlers.” It was a statement rather than a question, he laughs it off, knowing there probably isn’t any.
“Nice to be of your acquaintance, Sangcheol-ssi. Ah... His name is Myungjoon, but me and the others calls him Mumu for short.” Mumu holds up his small hand, hand-shaking is the new thing he’s learning from his father and now he’s doing it with everyone he meets, strangers or not, again it’s kind of cute, but of course a parent would worry about how trusting their four year old is.
Jun is nervous. It’s hectic in the ER but he has just been sitting there for what? Five, ten minutes? He’s hesitant to talk to anyone about this, besides, the bleeding had stopped- he isn’t sure if it’s because of his powers or if the wounds have dried after he tried sloppily trying to ‘fix’ the problem at home via the help of the internet.
He knows that wounds like this would be reported and questioned, it’s just the protocol, but--
Before he could get lost in his thoughts again, a nurse seems to have finally, finally took notice of the lone man sitting in the chair right outside the ER, a bloody cloth (thin blanket) wrapped around his left thigh.
“I...” He isn’t sure what to say, he just pilled the blanket away revealing a gunshot wound.
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