[ ✉ to : egg ] comin to my place?   

 “Oh.” when he finally catches her,  his ashes are crumbling over, and billowing smoke blowing from his nose as he finally breathes out and he knows she’s sure to smell like menthols later in the night. “How can I help you sweets?” he moves, holding the door open for her and offering her entrance, his chest already glistening from water and sweat and he almost frowns at the idea of having to actually put his shirt on.  It proves for him to look a little less menacing when he’s wearing it however, kicking the door closed behind her, with a soft smile carefully placed on his lips and with an easy, attentive gaze he watches her. “Here for somethin’? I don’t see a car--must be a different kind of fun you’re looking for, I’ve got those amusement park coupons,” he clears his throat, sitting down where his usual customers get comfy, kicking his feet over to cross his legs. “Kids like that kind of stuff, 60% discount when you bring a friend n’ shit,” his eyes smile as he takes another drag, he’s not a chain smoker by any means but tonight feels like the night he wants to savor the nicotine. “That’s what you want, right?” 

He seemed to enter Taemin’s personal space as if it were second nature to be this close. Taemin thought that he would have gotten used to it by now, having had to fix the man’s bike from the pile of wreckage, into working racing condition within a short period of time with all the new upcoming races happening this month. Taemin  was starting to think that he was doing it on purposely with the sheer number of times he had seen him in the last week and a half alone. “If you do wreck it to shit again, i’ll be the one to see you in pink,”  he knew he could always refused to fix his bike, but not only did the money apease him, but the enjoyment of having in on the games made his usually lonely nights. “Unless you’re buying it though, I don’t know if I have somethin’ like what you’re talking’ bout., --and i’m not,” he gets ready to reject any claims of him being short, but he decides against it when he as to look up at him when he wasn’t wearing his favorite boots with the heels.

he sells drugs out the back of his garage for extra quick cash for a project he’s working on. will offer a free trial with a smile, to do it with him just to get you hooked and coming back for more.

“I think I’m not the only one who has that urge every once in a while, I’ve been known to start a first fight or three. It’s not a big deal, just try not to get fucked up in the process. As long as I can protect what’s important to me, I’m okay with going in head first, but at the same time, I like to see somebody else throw a punch. It’s sexy right? Fights?  That’s why they’re all over the TV those MMA fighters ‘n stuff,”

“I think I just wanted to be spoiled, I wanted to be able to be a brat and get anything I wanted without having to do anything, but as I grew up, I thought I just wanted to be a this famous racer, get all the fans I could ever want or need. Maybe it’s a need for attention, or feeling like i could fly with my own two hands. That wish isn’t too far from the other, right?  Flying spoils you, like an addiction in its own right,”

“Honestly, I thought you’d say something like a book,-- turn it into another history metaphor, but that’s just me being me,”  he brushes his fingers through his hair, thinking of what he’d do if it were actually a zombie apocalypse and he thinks he’d be better off with the way he’s lived, least he could drive fast, but running? maybe he’d get eaten soon enough. “Is being a bartender boring then? That’s what you are right? I can’t say I haven’t met a pretty one so, wouldn’t be surprised.” he laughs softly, his nose wrinkling as he thumbs the fine strings of a violin to his right. The sound is off, an untuned instrument but to him it sounds pretty in a shop overflowing with so many trinkets. “Water would be an okay weapon, least you won’t go thirsty for a while I guess,”  he crouches down, his boots squeaking against the old floor boards as he looks underneath one particularly full table for hopefully a tire iron. 

“You’re going to either laugh, or never talk to me again. I was a stupid kid, not even going to say that I thought stealing was okay because I felt entitled or some bullshit, ‘cause it was only because I wanted to scare the ladies behind the counter and make the girl cry because she said I was cute or somethin’ a few days before. Look when you’re thirteen you don’t want to be cute, I didn’t fucking watch Pororo anymore. I had spray painted this watergun, it was believable too since I thought I was some hell-ova-mazing artist back then too. Chrome spray paint, got all over my hands and everything so If i remember correctly, I had to wait a whole day before I hatched my little plan. Next day, go into the store and snatch up all the expensive shit, --the good noodles, the black kind that mom never let me have, those too and pointed that gun at them and screamed some bull I heard on the news.  Anyway, funny part is, I was in this goddamn pink basketball shirt that said ‘Slayer’ on it, and had my dad’s construction overalls on, I thought I was on some boss stuff.  I dropped everything but a damn tube of toothpaste and led them right to where I was hiding too. Spent a whole three days in the little police box thing crying for mom, and another six months with a 6pm lights out curfew. I learned my lesson, promise. ”

 “Let me see if I heard you correctly,” he clears his throat, brushing his eyebrow to sooth that annoying itch that came with being in the heat for too long. “So you want me to get naked, and smear blood and organs all over myself, right? Like, theoretically, assuming they’re real and shit, real actual guts like the shit you get when you gut a chicken, guts? --” he pauses to laugh, wiping the tears threatening to fall and he’s not sure if it’s fear or amusement or both mixed together over the reality of his answer. “Not even kidding I’d do it for 10,000 ₩,  I’m cheap--fuck, I’m so cheap,”

happy! writing.