soundscape to ardour

@wycheonsa​  ━━ /

He pockets his keys into his thick winter coat pocket, thankful for the cold as an excuse to keep his face mask in place so that he won’t have to talk to anyone or be recognized. His face doesn’t have the same draw now that he’s second-rate, but it’s annoying when he is recognized. He would rather spend his time with his bro at peace, rather than telling fans he’s just a guy out trying to have Chinese food after a long day.

Looking both ways before crossing the street he gives Cheon-sa a glance, his best friend without a doubt, the two of them didn’t get as much time together as Chan wanted. One good reason they were on the way back from the clinic right now. Multi-tasking at it’s finest.

“So what gives- how many did you catch? Definitely a few–” he smirks beneath his mask as he holds the door open to the restaurant for Cheon-sa, “meal is on me if it’s more than one, it’s the least I can do since you’re a just walking germ now. Just as long as you don’t touch me.”

          His brows furrow, shaking his head, ❝ definitely none, ya’ bastard. i heard you got laid by the town puta**. did you catch anything? ❞ brows raise teasingly, a black face mask pulling across his features, matching black cap over his hair. a hoodie clinging to his shoulders, as an equally black jacket sat on the outside. an audible hah leaving him as the other continued to speak, and he expects nothing less from his best friend. the insults that were exchanged in their friendship have become synonymous with compliments. calling each other beautiful and amazing had now become borderline disgusting and nasty, instead, ❝ oi you ugly head ass, i think this place is new. let’s try it. ❞ moving in to gently shove the other into the right direction as both his hands tucked away in his pockets. 

       Midterms - the busiest time of the year for herself and other students. She felt it especially much as she had her jobs to worry about on top of her studies, with the middle of the school year coming in hot there was more people than usual calling in to order pizzas for late night study sessions and they were short-staffed during this time. It was starting to get to the point where she would be rushing between school, to the preschool, to the pizzeria, to home with little down time because any time she was home, she was working on projects at home.

With so much on her mind, of course she’d totally missed the giant puddle on the floor whilst she was shuffling through papers in hopes that she could find some semblance of organized before slipping and falling back on her behind, papers flitting around her as she flailed her arms in a vain attempt to get her balance. No harm – just a bruised bottom and ego as the janitor was shouting at her, and now the surrounding students was seeing the spectacle before them. “Sorry sir, sorry – I should have been more careful,” she said hurriedly, picking up the scattered papers. She wasn’t going to be rude – she’d been in the position of janitor before and having someone undoing your work was pretty damn frustrating. The tossing of the mop was a bit much, though.

          Hands coming up to drag down his face, stopping amidst the bridge of his nose before a sigh leaving him. the apology settled his nerves a little, although he was still frustrated at the amount of kids in this damn school that kept whispering his name around their halls and the amount of times someone stepped into his masterpiece of wet mop patterns on the tiles, as well as the countless times so kid would dump their trash into a bin he just cleared out. it was ridiculous. 

Speaking more than what is required is tiring. Repeating herself is tiring. Having to put up pleasantries for whose sake she’s not sure is, well… tiring. Moving a lone strand of hair out her eyes before speaking, eventually she says. “I’m obviously talking to you. Who else would be blocking the way?” It’s not a question, more like a frustrated response to the situation. His being was too close for her liking, so she changes the spacing, leaves enough room so his face isn’t right next to hers. “Do you always feel the need to engage with strangers or did I catch you on a good day.” Toxicity edges the words, drips like venom.

          He lets out a frustrated exhale, letting her words slip pass his ear a frown forms onto his features, he lips move agape ready to spit out some sick disses but before he manages to do such a thing, he finds a force pulling at the back of his shirt, almost strangling him. his collar tugs at his throat, the food in his hand falls to the ground, and his eye twitching vigorously as his heel gets tugged backwards. and he is no longer speaking normally, his voice raises, ❝ are you trying to rob me?! ❞ recently, he has experienced a lot of choking and strangling from strangers, everyone has become so kinky in wonyang. his gaze falls to the girl before him, as the stranger behind him holds him in a chokehold. ❝ run or help, pick one. ❞ his voice still raised, headache inducingly raised.

In between classes and when time allowed, Daewon would elect for some relaxation. Though, there was the staff room with its comfortable couch, today he felt like drinking something warm–coffee, perhaps. The cheap liquid of choice housed beneath the second floor of his classroom, inevitably he’d have to climb down some stairs, to which he’d groan at the thought, but still do anyway. 

His longish legs make the ascend down the stairs short, coming to the last of it and good time. His ears picks up on small chattering, whispers– candid moments of youth. With an inquisitive look for no one else to see, he makes way towards the small prongs of student bodies. What were they even huddled up for? Did a celebrity enter the building and he was not informed? Should he run upstairs and grab a pen and paper just in case?

Though, all his questions were soon answered as he approached a familiar figure, mop close in their distance. Regarding the other with what he hoped was a stern voice, though a smile is given as an attachment. “You shouldn’t be so harsh with the students. They were only curious, some might even be surprised there was another handsome man in the building, besides I of course.”

         He turns back at the voice only to be greeted by an old geezer, a frown worms its way onto his features as the other spoke. was this old man joking? did he just call him handsome? more importantly, did he just call himself handsome? a smirk begins to grow on his features, the sides of his lips growing to a grin, ❝ the hell are you? i didn’t know this school had clowns. ❞ his hand comes down to retrieve the bottle he had kicked out earlier, unscrewing the cap before taking a sip, putting the lid back on as he slips it back into his apron. 

the entire morning, he had had some students approaching him (rather nervously for some unknown reason), stuttering their questions about whether or not he was the cheonsa they saw growing up, the same little angel that smashed the keys of the piano so gracefully on television, only to receive an annoyed huff followed by a furrowing of his brows and an audible who the hell else would be named cheonsa?! he thanks his parents for giving him the unique name that no one else shared, as if being an angel wasn’t enough, he was now a janitor (as well as an avid fanfic author who dedicates his free time to writing and reading chaneul smut) and a chanitor. two of the worst possible things mixed together. 

for the first time in a long time, bo loves what he does. before, it had just been a skill. his brain is built to understand the intricate workings of the natural world. science, math, he just gets it. but it’s not something he’s passionate about. it’s something he’s created his identity around, how other people see him. that one weird kid who’s too smart for his own good. but now, he’s taking all that knowledge and doing something with it. he’s got all of this theoretical knowledge in his head that can change the world. or at least, that’s what he wants to do. he sees the scars that humans have left on the planet, sees the patterns of weather and temperature and disasters getting worse and worse. its something tangible bo can focus on. 

now that he has a purpose, he’s like a man possessed. the second he came to the university, he locked himself away in the lab. there’s just so much he needs to do, so much he needs to learn for his thesis. the lab is thankfully state of the art, and he spends more time learning how to use the equipment than he does on his project. right now he’s testing the industrial-sized centrifuge, using different samples he’s taken from wonyang’s harbor. mostly it’s just to see what speed is optimal, but it’s fun to compare the different sand compositions at various parts of the harbor’s seafloor. now that he’s got the samples ready and put away in the fridge, he finally feels accomplished enough to go home. 

with his backpack slung over his shoulder, bo heads towards the door. just as he’s about to reach for it, the door shoves open, knocking into his arm. he stumbles back, startled, and watches it slammed close. his heart races, panicked, and he grabs the closest thing he can reach to use as a weapon. 

“who’s here?” he calls, voice high-pitched with nerves. his fingers curl around the object in his hand- a fucking erlenmeyer flask, like that’s going to protect him- and yanks to door open. at the sight of the other man on the other side, bo nearly shrieks. “it’s late, what are you doing here?” he knows all of the phd candidates, they’re the only ones who should have access to the lab. his eyes narrow suspiciously. 

          His hues flicker beneath the lighting of the room, eyes narrowing as the boy’s face reveals from behind the door. eyes widen as the other spoke, already annoyed from the sudden realisation that he wasn’t the only one here, ❝ what do you mean, what am i doing here? what are you doing here, ya brat? ❞ he leans in, squinting at the other, before returning to his usual posture, looking around the room. a scoff leaving him upon realising that the kid before him was perhaps a student, a nerd rather. his eyes rolls in their sockets before he could even regain his own mental stability words leak from his lips, ❝ are you trying to steal school supplies? ❞ his gaze falls to the other, ❝ a rich looking brat like yourself wouldn’t stoop that low would you? ❞ a slight hum leaving him before a chuckles pursues, ❝ just kidding. ❞ or was he? he’d take any opportunity to bash a kid of this academy as if it were his job to. he hates privileged, golden born people who had everything raised to their damn mouths, who had all functioning limbs that would never let them down. 

FROM THE DESK OF … . @wycheonsa!    ↳ NOTES :  SCRIPT-BASED STARTER FROM HERE .

✎  —–   HYUNG, I really don’t understand the urban legend. Bathrooms.. school bathrooms are haunted? Is that like… a made-up thing, ‘cause I guess to be fair, sometimes the bathrooms at Wonyang aren’t lit up at all, but like. Where is this even coming from. (  ` he wrinkles his nose with a look of disbelief ) Do people just make excuses to not fix the lighting in the bathrooms? And what’s this whole thing about red or blue toilet paper? I’ve never seen that in my entire life any time I’ve ever used a bathroom here. Please explain, hyung. This is the weirdest legend I’ve ever heard—and about bathrooms of all things. I don’t understand these Korean urban legends. ( ` he shakes his head while his nose wrinkles more, arms coming up to fold across his chest as he waits for an answer )

( `he turns to the other, a tug of his lips as his features morph to one of annoyance. ) people pull random ideas from their asses and call it an urban legend. it’s bullshit, if you ask me. ( ` a mere tch leaving him. ) none of it is real, if it were real, i dare one of the urban legends to come true right this instant and fight me, or better yet kill me. that’ll turn me into a believer. ( ` arms come to cross before him, chest heaving with vexatious breaths. these urban legends were but tactics to scare children and sadly some of them work. ) look, i don’t know how a ‘monster’ can grab onto your asscheeks and suck you into the toilet into the demon world. or how the mirror witch screams through the mirror and scratches your eyes out, if anything i should be an urban legend. ( ` he nods. ) i’m scary enough, don’t you think so kid?

CHEONSA AS THE FAMILY DISAPPOINTMENT

One thing that Ahreum knows is that she could feel the alcohol rise up from the pits of her stomach when she’s already drunk. Her body would immediately reject any excess alcohol that was being pushed inside of her system. More so, she can barely see anything when drunk, but this was different. Everything was spinning and the music didn’t make sense. Everything wasn’t making sense. For someone who has high alcohol tolerance, this isn’t how she remembers the feeling of being drunk. The small conversation between the to males made her squint her eyes, trying to make sense of everything but then she was pushed. 

Forced to walk amidst the crowd, zig-zag pattern on wide walkways but this was totally different. She kept colliding with bodies, her own body felt extremely weak with every step and her body started to feel hot as if something was burning inside of her but she kept walking forward. Step by step, her pace becomes a little hurried, feeling suffocated with each passing moment. Finally, upon reaching an empty space, she catches her breath. Coughing and gasping. Wait. Was this that guy’s plan? Have her feel suffocated and in need of fresh air to have her all to himself? Ahreum tried to think as clearly as possible but it always comes to a halt, leaving her with a huge question mark in her blank mind. 

“Lightweight?” She repeats. “I’m not a lightweight.” She’s a good drinker and she learned a long time ago it was the only way to keep herself safe from nasty men who want to take advantage of their colleagues after a dinner party. “I feel dizzy.” Her hand reaches for a wall, leaning herself against it. Beads of sweat decorated her forehead and she seemed to be in a daze. Hazy eyes and shallow breathing. This wasn’t what a drunk person should be like. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t think it’s polite to call someone stupid. I’m not drunk. I was sober till he gave me that drink.”

          A scoff leaves him as a response to her statement. not a lightweight, and here you are feeling dizzy. dark hues roll in their sockets, as arms come to cross before him, ❝ and i don’t think it’s polite to feel dizzy on someone else’s property that’s not yours. dizziness is a crime. ❞ sarcasm lathering his words as his gaze moves to rest on her again, annoyance exuding from his presence, vexed were the veins that became to appear on his temples as she continued to speak. ❝ maybe you’re just drun — ❞ he pauses mid sentence, his tone drops, as the realisation of her words and the seediness of the other male sunk into his reverie, processing through his jaded mind. ❝ why would you drink something someone like that gave you? ❞ he rolls his eyes again, a mere tch leaving his lips, ❝ you really are stupid. ❞ 

he turns back around at the noise of screaming that seemed to pursue him. the crowd of dancing bodies spreading slightly as to make way for the other male, his gaze meets with cheonsa’s for a moment, cheonsa having already forgotten who those pupils belonged to, turning back to the female only to have his collar pulled from behind. his eyes widen for a moment, taking in what was happening before the realisation of him being attacked struck him. it was almost morning, for crying out loud! 

Open Starter:

‘Could you please move. You’re in my way.’ Spiritless hues aren’t bothered being raised from their position. Dark, worn out combat boots align her straight view as the crispy, cool air and autumn leaves provided a solace backdrop for the raging thoughts. If she stood any closer, she’s sure they could be heard. “Please, could you just move a bit.” She doesn’t like how whiny her voice sounded, doesn’t fit with the character she created for herself. Asking a third time would be demeaning for her pride. 

 Instead she remains still, eyes glued to the ground as she waits for the other to move out of the way. Tension is evident in the way her fingers hold firmly in small fists.  

At of all the slimy, dark alleyways in this part of Wonyang, why had it been this one she ran across someone.

          He was walking home from his night shift at the club, he had eaten all night, nothing but a singular ham and cheese sandwich that managed to be his breakfast. he stole a few slices of bread from the club’s kitchen and made himself another, he pulls a bag from within his jacket, footsteps stopping in the middle of the narrow alleyway as he unpacks his dinner, only to be interrupted by a voice that kept ringing, he turns around to see nothing but a head of hair staring at the ground.

OPEN TO ALL 

It was already too late when Ahreum realized that she shouldn’t have drunk that much alcohol. It was too strong despite her high tolerance for the alcohol. Club Mute was packed and she’s not sure where her friends have gone nor does she care. She met a couple of people who has offered her some drinks but then this one guy offered her a glass of cosmopolitan and her vision became a blur not long after she drank the alcohol. The guy was saying something but Ahreum was too busy trying to stay sober to even understand what he’s saying. 

“I should go.” She says with a slur in her tone, grasping on the bar stool as she forces herself to stand up. “No, stay a bit longer.” He said, watching her with that sly grin on his face. She hums as she shook her head, grabbing her designer purse from the counter. “Nah~ I don’t know you and I don’t like you. So, I’m going.” Her honesty brings a scowl on his face, grabbing her wrist and pulling her. “Yah. You’re not going anywhere.” He says, but she still tries to pull away from him. “Let go of me!” Ahreum knew she was drunk or was it because there was something in her drink. There was no time to contemplate things, but she felt weaker as time passes by. 

Thankfully for her, someone pulls her away from the male. Caught in a daze, she clutches her head and mumbles something inaudible. The person held her close and the blaring music was masking whatever they were saying. The only thing she caught was when they asked if she was okay. Her reply was a slow shake of her head, feeling suffocated by the loud music and the crowd.

          It was nights like these that made his head hurt even without the poison in his blood, yet his veins glowed a tint of blue ( it was almost midnight, for crying out loud! ) and his old weary limbs about to give up on him. his back leant up against the wall of the club, careful eyes scanning the vicinity, at around this time he was swapped in with other bouncers and here he was tonight, making sure the peace was kept inside of the club. a sigh leaving him as he had to shove females and males off of his back, ensuring them that he was not here for a fun time, but rather here to make money to earn a living. his rent was getting harder to pay ever since he decided to buy himself a laptop he could not afford. 

a yawn leaving him, covered by calloused hands that barricaded his face, hues still scanning and as his arm drops back by his side limply, he catches something. or rather, someone. his brows narrow, steps steadily taken to inch closer to the couple only to eavesdrop on their conversation. at her exclamation, he hurriedly reaches for her arm, pulling her away, his own elbow shoving the other male back, earning himself a shower of profanity. the other male attempting to grab him by the collar, but his features do not change. he was used to this, he was used to being beaten, or at least threatened with his life. a scoff leaves him, eyes rolling in their socket, and before he could control himself a sneeze leaves him, spit landing on the other males features. a smirk peering onto his face, ❝ i sneeze when i’m angry. ❞ before the other male could regain his stability, cheonsa quickly shoves the female away into the crowd as he trails behind her, freeing himself as they reach the more empty part of the club. 

he stood up, a hand raking back his strands of his light brown hair, a sigh leaving him as his head rolls back. immediately upon his gaze meeting back with the machine, his foot stretching only to kick up against the machine, an angry grunt leaving him as he did so. seconds later the bottle of water tumbles from its shelf and falls out of the dispenser. he uncaps the bottle, taking a sip before sliding it back into the janitorial apron, the bottle sticking straight up from the bright blue apron that tied around his waist. 

he turns around, meeting the gaze of another student, eyes narrow, ❝ the hell you lookin’ at? ❞ the student shakes his head and waves profusely at him, a nervous smile wrecking his features only to receive a tug of disgust on his own lips before turning back to the mop that leaned up against the wall. 

he hasn’t been here for long, but he has been here long enough to know that he hated being here. the academy was filled with snobby rich kids that had gold laced around their very necks, spoons that catered to their every cry and fingers, fingers... fingers so bratty that clung to everything they touched, never ceasing to give up nor admit to failure. a scoff leaving him, perhaps he was just envious... rather jealous as the viridescent monstrosity of covetous limbs that refuse to forgive, they refuse! and here he stood, frozen in a time that he could not move forward in. and he gives up. both hands raised, and they raise to hit against the same door. 

his reverie is broken as the realisation that the pain in his hand would not heal at the angry smashing of his fists, and he stops. his hand moving to grasp onto the door as the realisation that the lights were still lit inside, opening it and before he could react the door hits something, or was it someone?