IKTSUARPOK

maybe, if she wasn’t as irritated, she’d notice the little things about ares - like the way sleeplessness rims his eyes in the same way as hers.  she’d hold pity for him then, and maybe bombshell would be a little more gentle than he normally has a chance to see.  but the fact of the matter is, he caught her on a bad day.  as he does most days.

so what bombshell does notice is the way he finds amusement in this.  from the minute they met, ares has always been this way - she’s just not so sure why he’s so damn persistent when she’s clearly not in the mood.  it’s like seeing her riled up really gets him desperate for a roll between the sheets.  then again, he’s a guy so maybe it’s just in his nature to be annoying as fuck.

bombshell looks at him incredulously at his very straightforward invitation - and when does ares ever take a hint? apparently the thousands of other times she’s told him no don’t quite sit well in his head, or maybe he’s really just that desperate to get in her.  whatever the case may be, she holds some respect for the way he never gives up on the chase, but that respect is not found now when she’s already as pissed off as she is.  

“ funny that i never asked, but of course you supplied a remedy anyway.” bombshell says drily, rubbing her temples and not quite looking at him.  if she does, her headache might pound more.  “ maybe i do need to get laid, but i don’t think it’s gonna happen with you.  nice try, though.  now can you leave me alone?”

          it’s exactly that, the baffled expression, the contempt. whereas his brother would be horrified, he thrives on it and ares notes it as one of their vital differences. mars cares what others think, worries about what others think and how they feel but ares views it as entertainment and secretly he wonders what makes him different from the collective other than the most obvious: power. they hold all the power and he has none, a feeling he’s despised since he was young. things like this? he does have the potential to affect and manipulate. an ugly need he puts into practice at whim. 

          he’ll never tell but what amuses him most is that he’s not as eager as people believe he is. he’s not as desperate as he allows people to think and yet that’s the reputation that seems to follow him around. “ you mentioned your pain. should i sit idly by? ” 

          chuckling at the thought that she might actually try his suggestion in general, he lifts his hands in feigned offense. “ hey, i’m just trying to help out. ” because he wouldn’t admit it either but he thinks it better that someone as intimidating as bombshell explode at him than one of the weaker minded in the complex. ” he could name a few that would whimper at one glare from her and he finds it amusing. she can hold her own     —   in fact, ares is quite aware that not many can contest his strength but her? she could easily do so. 

the exo’rdium in japan:

she rolls her eyes, an automatic reflex, always rolling whenever he’s around. he’s rude, brash, never caring for others’ thoughts or input and is exactly the type to grate on her nerves, and yet, she never takes any action to push him away. she knows a part of it is because she still carries guilt about his twin brother’s death, had vowed to look after him should anything happen to mars, but there’s a part of her that can’t stand the thought of how empty things would feel without him around.

and she hates that.

she hates that she might actually like having him around, because she can never be sure if it’s genuine, or if it’s because he looks just like mars (even when she knows she could tell them apart in a split second glance). just looking at him brings back old memories, but it’s his words that bring about the unnatural pang in her heart. she looks away, unsure if she should acknowledge it, if she should open that wound again. but as much as she hates the pain, she hates the idea of pretending like it didn’t happen, like his existence didn’t leave a mark on her life. 

she sits beside him on the bed, no stranger to him being in her personal space, lets herself fall back, forearm coming to rest upon tired eyes. “i know,” she responds simply, because what else is she supposed to say to that? even though she’s moved through the stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, right back into anger, she doesn’t think she’ll ever reach that final stage of acceptance, not entirely, not when ares is around to remind her that she could have done something, anything. 

“i miss him, too.”

          it was cruel, that sehun lost his brother twice. purposelessly. wrongfully. helplessly. he could do nothing to stop it either time and that’s what disturbs him the most; that’s what made him blame iris for so long. his anger so misplaced that he took it out on the only person who understands how he feels. the emptiness, the loneliness, the anger, the pain, iris knows it too but she bore the brunt of the guilt while he had none. 

          but he should. 

          he should’ve been the third person on their team. he should’ve been there. if someone had to die, it should’ve been him. 

          whenever he looks at iris, whenever he acknowledges how broken she is too, he can’t forgive himself. he took away the future they had together, the feelings they had for each other, the possibility of more that his selfish self dares to think about. 

          but he can’t stay away. the guilt ebbs and flows when he’s around her, poison circulating through his veins. toxic and yet the only cure is to stay. because he needed to hear it, that someone misses seungho as much as he does. this must be what they mean by misery loves company. he can only spare a glance down at her, glad she can’t see the way his face falls, how his usually composed expression is gone, replaced with a weak facade of strength. 

“how stupid do you think i am?” she asks with a scoff, a rhetorical question, reaching out for the aforementioned item. she takes a hold of it carefully, because even though she’s offended that he would think she doesn’t know how to point a camera at a person and take a photo, it looks expensive and the last thing she wants to do is owe ares anything. she brings the viewfinder up to her eye, peering into it and at his retreating figure, but before she can even get it to focus, he comes back toward her, and messes with the camera’s functions from over her shoulder.

there’s a roll of her eyes and it’s all too familiar as he, once again, invades her space, and all she can think about is how unnecessary it all is. as much as she’d never had these kind of luxuries growing up, she’s become familiar with them now, items she never asked for, never needed, placed into her hands by sponsors. if only they knew how that fact alone only made those items even more repulsive in her eyes.

“we done?” she asks, shaking off the feeling of him hovering over her because it feels too familiar, peering into the viewfinder once again. there’s a sudden rush of memories, of having her photos taken, of taking photos of him, of times when it was easier for her to smile and laugh and she feels like the camera is giving her a view back into years ago. and yet, it still feels brand new, because, as much as she hates to admit it, it appears that it does come easily, at least for ares. he’s a natural, perhaps because he’s so god damn full of himself that he knows his best angles, and she doesn’t have to do much to take a good photo. “no wonder the sponsors eat this shit up,” she comments absentmindedly.

          “ knowing how to use a camera like this has nothing to do with intelligence or lack thereof. there’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced, iris, ” he says mockingly, dark eyes trained on her, a sardonic grin on his lips. if he were more cliche, more cheesy, more anything other than who he is, he’d tell her the more she rolls her eyes, the more likely they’d get stuck or roll back into her head. if he was his brother, he’d be able to make iris laugh by saying something like that. but it doesn’t suit him, maybe it once did but he can’t imagine it anymore. for the same reasons he doesn’t let siren know he remembers, he doesn’t try to go back to who he was before mars was taken. he doesn’t want to. 

          that version of him was weaker, shielded, and wouldn’t survive. that version of him would’ve given in, would’ve said something, anything, to iris about how he feels. that version of him is pathetic, that’s what he decides time and time again. 

          at least, that’s what he thinks until he’s put in a situation where his past is screaming at him to care, to give a damn instead of pretending and constantly escaping. being in front of the camera again is odd to him and he can feel the different times of his life competing with another. the shyer amateur he was when his brother still lived in the same home and the arrogant professional he tried to come off as when the collective so cruelly claimed him. the confusion when he came into the game and his brother lied, said they weren’t related when every picture told him otherwise. it was seungho who took the very first picture of sehun and told him jokingly that he could model and now that it’s iris on the other side of the camera, he feels uneasy. 

it’s become routine, one she’d never agreed to, had never asked to take part in, but ares never asked questions, only did as he pleased, and she let him, too tired of putting up a fight, too busy fighting off her demons.

it’s a silence that’s comfortable but not comforting, one she can sit in for hours if she was allowed, but having ares around often meant it would break sooner or later, and it does break in in the form of a question that’s so unexpected, she can’t help but react to it with confusion. “what?” she asks, sitting up in her desk chair, bringing it back up from its reclined position. “what for?”

a rhetorical question, as many of hers are when it comes to ares. the confusion wears off, as does her interest in the matter, and she returns to reclining all the way back in her chair, head resting along the top as she rests her eyes. she doesn’t even know where her phone is, let alone having it in her hand in order to talk to anyone.

she brushes off his request, because there’s nothing on that device that she cares about. “if you can find it, it’s yours,” she tells him with a lackadaiscal tone, pushing against the ground in order to turn her chair. “last i saw it, it was in the kitchen, but don’t quote me on that.”

          the confused reaction is well warranted and he doesn’t bother to properly answer her. part of him is amused by the fact that she’ll still ask despite knowing better. as always, iris knows him best, that fact he casually ignores when he needs to. “ it’s mine, huh? okay, call. ” because holding onto it sounds amusing even if he’s well-aware that isn’t what she meant. it’s only temporary. most things are. ares believes in that theory completely. permanence is a foolish fallacy, only sought after by romantics and idealists. optimistic people that he couldn’t bother trying to understand. 

          humming as he rises, making his way into the kitchen. he searches the countertop to no avail and he eyes the fridge as if it’s somehow possible. why or how he has no idea but iris truly doesn’t care for the device, not since   —   not since then, anyway. his better judgment leads him to the drawer near the sink and he finds it but doesn’t leave the kitchen without taking one of the few, rare snacks iris does keep and favor most, purposely eating it in front of her without offering or asking to draw her attention. 

          lord knows the phone in his hand won’t get her attention. 

          he scrolls through the gallery, displeased with the lack of usable pictures and he has to settle for sending them through messages so he can pick one to upload for her. if she won’t try to appease the sponsors or attract more through elev8, he’ll do it for her. 

                                       ⚠︎ !   ━━   ..   ..  PROCEED _ WITH _ CAUTION   ▇▇  ▇▇      <     SHE’S A TICKING TIME BOMB   //:    >     ✖︎   ✖︎     @aresblck

there’s a lot of people who whisper in halls when she’s around and it’s usually something like this: never mess with bombshell when she’s angry.  those people would be right.  

it’s just too bad that there are those few people who tend not to heed that very real warning and instead like to grate directly on her last nerve.  ares is one of those people, if only because he doesn’t know when to quit.  normally, bombshell would find amusement in it and just shoo him off.  she can actually respect someone who is a little persistent, because they know what they want and ares is no different.

the problem lies in the fact that he just doesn’t know how to take a hint and clear the room -  you know, like everyone else has the minute they saw bombshell stomping through with every ounce of hellfire burning in her eyes.  it’s the same way she’s been stomping around ever since the last b level mission that left quite a number of her saffron family dead.  

ares is different, though.  he always has been.

          he could understand. in fact, he should, considering why mars is no longer around, no longer alive. but that only gives him more incentive. the anger ate away at him until he nearly burned the most important bridge he had left, to seungho, to mars, to himself really (   though part of him believes, knows, iris would never fully burn bridges with him; neither could he   ). besides, bombshell was just that: both a bomb and a bombshell. how fitting. 

          twice as attractive when angry than she is normally, that’s his excuse for the day should she ask and she doesn’t. he’s only so self-important that his opinion has to be known. he prattles on about nothing in particular, small talk, mindless talk, meaningless in order to incite a reaction. that’s all he really needs. it’s not about what he says, it’s about what it does. 

“Oh, but that would be much too easy for you, wouldn’t it? I prefer to give you a challenge. Otherwise, I can tell you’re not having any fun at all.” Of course, Violet tacked on a coy giggle to the end of her sentence. It brought a smile to those pink painted lips ㅡ one only a crocodile would wear. The conniving girl was well aware of the machinations between the two of them and how much she would like to keep them. How surprising that this Vermillion boy fed into her idea of a good time without so much as a question. She was brain, he was brawn, and she preferred it that way.

The moment Ares’ fingers twisted the tips of her hair, she seized his wrist. Roughly. She could even hear a faint slap of her palm against his skin as she did so. Oh, well. It could be played off as an accident. After all, how much damage could a frail girl like her do to someone like him? It was a threat and a simultaneous flirtation. If he didnt wish to play their game fairly, neither would she.

As if to make up for it, she brushed the side of her thumb over the bony part of his wrist. This was merely part of the insurance that by the time the night came to an end, he would have paid for her every drink, every snack, whatever she claimed she did not have enough money for. Area said no countless times with his lips and eyes, and yet he still stood before her like a desperate puppy pleading for another treat. Violet wasn’t careless enough to make sure he got even a modicum of what he desired.

( It was her eventual goal to get at least one candidate to die for her. Even if it meant she was required to put on an act that either put them on a pedestal or further into their grave. )

“Anyway, I’m sure there are quite a few things about me that will end up surprising you, though. What’s the point in being predictable, silly?” She paused to tug at the light skirt of her casual attire. Lavender. The more color she slapped on her body, the more inconspicuous she became. However, upon revealing her concealed butterfly knife to him, the facade dissolved within an instant. Therein laid the uncertainty if both, one, or neither of them would return unharmed. “Which means… I would like you to take me anywhere, including a club at dusk. Who even cares what I would be wearing? They’ll all be too drunk to notice.”

          “ oh? and what’s wrong with easy? easy isn’t all bad, ” he teases but quickly his brow arches at the notion that she can tell when he’s not having fun. “ so you just see right through me, is that it? ” ironic, when he tries so hard to make sure that no one truly knows how he feels. staring at violet, he has to wonder, has to question, just how much she thinks she knows him, how much of this she thinks is real. 

          the grip around his wrist is telling and he has half a mind to question it but lack of genuine interest always prevails and he lets this game continue, the same way he has been for some time. whatever this game is, whatever her game is, he wants to figure it out. if this is retaliation, her defenses, so be it. 

          at least she’s consistent in some way, her back and forth, push and pull, it comes and goes as she pleases and he can’t judge when he operates in the same way. little touches here and there to appease him, further tempt him, keep him temporarily infatuated. she’s clever, he gives her that much, and he’s simple to entertain. 

          “ mm, do you want to surprise me? that’s cute too, ” because he has a feeling violet doesn’t actually take to being called cute. rather, she uses it and he’s content with that. as someone who uses his own looks, he appreciates another artist of the same craft. “ you could surprise me in much less than this in my room too. that’s not predictable of a girl as cute as you that dresses like this, like a little doll. ” 

it’s awkward. even before she’d been kidnapped by the collective, she’d never been comfortable with having her photo taken, not when her parents could never afford something as luxurious as a camera, not when she was so used to fading into the background that no one would want to take a photo of her. that, in addition to the fact that her photo is being taken for a social media that is only meant to give more ammunition to the soulless bastards who have put them in this godforsaken place, to say that she’s annoyed would be an understatement. “i already told you i didn’t want to do this,” she retaliates, a scowl appearing on her face, replacing her disinterested frown.

we’re not even in the same faction, she wants to say, but even though they’re in factions with such differing views, she knows that if there were another mission in which teams were required without regard for factions, then ares would be her first pick, the only one she can trust with her entire being.

“there’s nothing to smile about,” she says instead, leaning against the wall he’d chosen as their backdrop. though she says that, her body language changes, shoulders visibly relaxing as her gaze finds rest elsewhere, somewhere off into a distance she can’t see with her physical eyesight, a dream of freedom beyond the metaphorical walls that imprison them. she reigns herself in, retraining her eyes on him, frown reappearing. “why don’t you be an example first? you seem to think it’s so easy.”

          “ did i ask if you want to? ” he asks, tone too dismissive to actually require her acknowledgment. of all people, iris should know best that ares doesn’t ask, doesn’t really care. he does as he pleases and that’s one of many flaws. a scowl is better than nothing and he takes a picture, amused by the fact that yes she can be attractive when angry. most as attractive as she is tend to be. ares knows this to be true despite her own lack of knowledge. most people don’t recognize their own appearance and ares is on the very opposite of the spectrum. he could’ve made a career out of it. he almost did. 

          that’s why he chuckles when iris tells him to be an example first. but he quickly realizes he doesn’t know if she knows that part of his past, if mars spoke of that, if mars truly cared about that aspect of ares’ life before. they looked so similar and yet wanted such different lives. “ can you even use my camera? ” in his defense, it is expensive. though a sponsor bought it for him, he thinks of the inconvenience if it had to be replaced, whether he paid for it this time or not.