choking on diamonds. sipping on pearls.

he doesn’t know if she’s listening, nor can he really tell. for some strange reason, time seems to have changed very little about her which is rare and new and unexpected and hanbyul has yet to figure out what exactly that means for him and the two of them. but a thought has been present in his mind ever since she has appeared again and he wants to make sure to share it with her before she takes her leave again. if he doesn’t today, he might never get the chance to and he knows for sure this thought will drive him insane if he doesn’t get this out of his system anytime soon. better he takes her off guard now rather than waiting for pain to hit her out of the blue, right?

”when i die,” he drawls out, avoiding her gaze. no question of if because he knows he will, and she probably does too, but he needs to say this. mina won’t have her chance to interrupt because he isn’t giving her one. “i want you to bring flowers to my grace. only once.” not realizing he might sound very childish (or straight up suicidal), he wills himself to look at her briefly. reading people has never been his forte but he wants her to give him this promise. “can you do that?” as a matter of fact, he’s begging her to say yes; maybe she’ll notice it in the way his eyes gleam with a little bit too much hope. she’s always told him to keep that close to his chest.

today he has decided to show her his cards. / @diamina

time has a funny way of playing with humanity. the moments mina wants to cherish, the ones where hanbyul’s a little loose and grief and memories don’t hold onto him, those moments always breeze by. like her words, like the movie before them that she’s sure he isn’t paying attention to. that’s what happens when sorrow finds permanent refuge in someone’s skin. sweet as he is even hanbyul can’t escape it and mina can’t fault him for that. she’s got her own memories taking hold of her words and her skeleton. today however she chooses to forget them, today they choose to fasten themselves to him. just like that the moments she wishes would slow and float by begin to clump together and the words she wants to flutter by are slowing down.

time stops when she’s brought out her fantasies. time stops if only to remind her of bitter reality.

“if you die,” as if she hasn’t thought of it a million times, as if it isn’t her biggest vulnerability. attachment in the simplest and deadliest of terms. “when you die,” correcting herself is her first step into acceptance, her first foot in despair. she fixes her hand through her hair, tussling the now black strands and trying to collect anything, everything. the future isn’t exactly tangible but the way hanbyul says it makes this one seem as if it’s within grasp. as if the days spent wondering if he’d come home black, blue or bright didn’t flit through her mind. “I’m going to sing.”

“at your gravestone I mean.” this isn’t acceptance. “a new song every time.” this isn’t compromise. “old songs, new songs.” this is cowardice. “if I bring flowers I’ll plant them? and if I plant them I won’t just visit once. so I’m going to sing as well.” this is mina’s taste test of despair and it mocks her as she chokes on it. this is mina looking into hanbyul’s eyes and caving to desperation while ignoring her own. her own still plays in her head as she smiles back at him and it says,

he knows he looks the part of messed up young boy but he’s not anymore. the body might grow up but the mind doesn’t necessarily have to so he doesn’t say anything considering her remark and chooses to let her enter the comfort of his four walls. what use would it be to ask for some time? if people want something, they will force their way into your life regardless of possible consequences and he’s, quite frankly, not awake enough to put up a fight. besides, he assumes he knows mina     if she still is who she used to be when she decided to disappear. he figures he can never really know for sure unless he gives it a try so he holds his hand out in hopes of getting his drink. he’s thirsty, his throat is dry and she’s not gonna get any conversation with him until he gets his milk.

“how is it bad? it’s just milk.” he doesn’t tell her that water reminds him too much of the sterile taste of a hospital, or moments where a younger self wanted to drink water but couldn’t reach the sink or the shelf where his mother stored the bottles. he doesn’t tell her because he doesn’t see the need to reopen old wounds, so it’s really a defense mechanism. it has nothing to do with mina, hanbyul muses to himself. he’s almost certain it’s got nothing to do with her or her sudden disappearance before she chooses to show up again, step back into his life like everything’s alright. the last time he’s been put in a similar situation, he has been close to making the biggest mistake of his life. this time around, he’s smarter. he’s not going to spit into trouble’s face again.

reaching up to grab the cartoon, he finds himself unwilling to return her playfulness. again, it’s got nothing to do with her but he’s just really tired and he has to go and see his therapist again tomorrow morning. so things change and he does too and she doesn’t know and that’s nothing that should astonish him but the sudden realization is enough to have him remaining silent. would she ask? he’s always hated to be asked questions he can’t answer because he can’t lie either. he’s not good but he’s not bad per se. mina knows this, has for a long time.

he wouldn’t want to disappoint her, of all people, so he rests his arms on the table before him prior to moving to let his head rest there too. “new year, same old me. i don’t have any resolutions.” after a pause, he adds something else. “how about you?”

playfulness dies just as soon as it takes the reins. it’s like adolescence slipping from the innocent. except she’s not innocent. she traces wounds from eyes to the heart and she sees those still littering his body and dragging his smile. hanbyul’s always had a sleepiness about him. he’s always been tired of the world and tired of the time he’s spent being tired. it was apparent the first night they met and it’s apparent now. time goes on and drags against the body, fast, slow and unforgiving. she sees it on him and the familiarity in her eyes dies as quickly as it starts. she doesn’t want to but it must. her smile doesn’t fade, it’s permanently fixed in favor of a new perspective. that this,

this is hanbyul but this is also reality and time waits for no one.

mina never asked life to be kind to her and so she doesn’t expect it now. she expects is raw. she expects the plastic of her previous self to melt off as she burns her happiness for truth. as such the expectations leave her mind just as the carton leaves her hand, pushed forward towards him. “drink but if your stomach starts hurting I didn’t warn you.”

carefulness has always been her game. she’s always gentle with the things around her even if her heart lets them wrap around her and suffocate. she’s gentle. she expects nothing in return and that’s okay because hanbyul is alive and he’s not sporting the bruises he once was, because he still has some of himself left in the hand that yearns for the carton. hope isn’t just an old wive’s tale. hope is alive and waiting. mina won’t cling to it even if she wants to because she can’t. not right now. 

“mmmm none? I’d probably want things to be a little smoother but,” she’s never known anything to be as such. “that’s not really a resolution.” that’s fine. mina shrugs the thought off and she’s still smiling, not at him and not at her own words. she’s smiling at her acceptance of the fact. that’s the smoothest part of this year, smiling against whatever is thrown at her.

“be permanent? instead of painful.” she plays with her hands now. evaluating, choosing. “honest?” not like she’s not, but she’s something like a thorn right now and she’s trying to pluck what she can. it’s almost too much, even a tug and her words can’t pull back so she stumbles.

QUIZ.

tagged by: @consilian ( ayyyyy ) tagging: ( boi lets see ) @sanguinae @atrvcvus @shcllshcck @muertev

Result: Artemis

Your godly patron is Artemis, goddess of the moon, the hunt, wilderness, chastity, maidenhood, archery and childbirth.

Hunters are extremely close-knit and form strong bonds with those they hang out with daily. They will die for people who are just like them. You are probably very suspicious of outsiders, especially those who might harm your group. You are also mature, and often the voice of reason and calm to others. You have a natural talent for smoothing out discord, and you also give pretty sound advice. You also have a knack for getting out of trouble, the rare instances that you're in it that is. Artemis represents all that is wild and mysterious, and you might have distinct sides to your personality people are not usually privy to. Much like the Hunt/Moon duality of Artemis, Hunters of Artemis can be enthusiastic, athletic, and in-tune with nature; or they can be calm, soothing and mysterious. However, sometimes your perspective can be narrow, and when circumstances do not fit your unique view, you can brutally shut down the other person. When disrespected, you can become harsh and unforgiving.

@diamina.

these days, he hates the fact that he never really knows what to say anymore. hanbyul knows he has run out of words to use, of visions to paint and people to memorize but that doesn’t make things any easier. if anything, the realization stings because now, the only thing that has taken away a little of his foolishness and proved to be enough of a distraction to keep his mind from wandering, is seemingly worth nothing and now he’s here again, back in the same old place with nothing to look forward to and stupidity gnawing at him like a hungry lion.

and you see, the problem isn’t that he’s lonely or that nobody hears the cry of a lone wolf. the problem is that he cannot differentiate between those who care and those who stay to steal from him: bits of his jaded tenderness, part of his raw emotionality and almost all of his broken heart. he sighs, eyelids fluttering shut in an attempt to block out the noise of the world. he’s so tired of the things he can’t change but that keep on influencing him regardless. maybe it’s overrated but he’d like to go back to bed and don’t wake up for another few years.

(it’s not overrated, he knows. it’s sad.)

“happy new year to you too.” she comes back in his life and he doesn’t really know why she bothers or what’s going on or why she has come back in the first place. he doesn’t question it, decides against satisfying his curiosity. it’s not his question to ask and not his story to assume so if she wants to, he’ll welcome her with open arms. if she doesn’t, that’s fine too. he’d rather have nothing but a manufactured web of lies. “can you pass me the milk?” he’s thirsty but water seems as plain as the worn out clothes sticking to his thin frame. “i’m too lazy to move.”

always be porcelain in appearance and steel in blood. steel in bones, steel in skin and steel in smiles. be impenetrable by definition but elegant by description. this is what her mina’s mother taught her and this was her biggest mistake. she made it so that it was easy for mina to leave people but hard for them to leave her heart. see no matter what you teach her mina was born with a magnet for a heart. whatever she attracted stuck to her, tattooed and imprinted. she could harden as she wished, like clockwork she could stiffen to a situation. it’s how she left her family so easily but once the steel trap opened it was hard to pry out whatever got stuck.

hanbyul was one such thing. 

one such sweetness, unsuspecting and occupying a cavity in her heart that only stung when she was deprived of it and deprived she had been. the reasons for her departure she wasn’t purposely secretive it’s just that that’s all she’s been since she arrived here. she’s spent too much patching up what she could to form who she was now and to open up a patch would make the whole quilt fall apart. she knew this and yet as she looks at the hollow in his eyes and hears the dryness in his tone the cavity is opening rather than filling. mina is if anything, a responsible person. she’s never really considered resolutions until now. hanbyul is a sweetness that forgets to keep some for himself and she’s someone who never forgets the taste of any person around her.

it’s cruel who some people carry around those close to them even when it hurts.

“isn’t drinking milk late at night bad for you?” she’s not exactly in a place to be allowed this kind of teasing but she tries it. she goes to get it anyway. familiarizing herself with something that could never really be unfamiliar. the apartment, the atmosphere, the playful grin on her face when she dangles the cartoon above his head. “hey coach potato, i’ve never seen you so still.” maybe there’s a reason for that, the drawl and drag of his body but it’s still a question of what’s to be addressed and what isn’t. 

@runest

men dangle money like bait. like an angler fish at the bottom of the ocean, like a bottom feeder scrambling for bits. women dangle money like bait as well but this isn’t about women this is about men. this is about men and how their dirty money is still respected money. this is about men and how all money is good money because it’s their money. this is about how money is a window to the soul. money that sees broken souls cracked under the pressure of life, strained souls drained of their virtue and cleansed souls that are the fortunate and the few.

men dangle their money so easily now that a penny for thoughts has become a dollop of character. this isn’t judgement day and mina isn’t exactly a saint but she could place herself in whatever category she wished. she could be the head atop the pedestal or the hand chopping it down.

in her line of work she sees it all. she’s seen money dangled before her for primal indulgence. that’s what she did, she catered to vices. she could be a devil’s dealer. she sang siren songs and let men drown in their desires. it wasn’t intentional. the money she gets is just as dirty as but mina has a way of wearing it without weight. see she lets the men teeter right towards the edge before she finally refuses the push. she’d rather be the temptress than the dealer playful rather than responsible.

jack? the sins of his money don’t stick to him. she smells it on him sometimes and sees it on him in other times. she lets it rub off on her fingers when she’s paying careful attention but it never sticks to him. there’s something about those boys with a touch of angel in them. mina thinks that sometimes he wants it to stick, not like battle armor but more like badges. the difference is one is for war one is for show.

“no one who comes in here has good money jacky boy.” she says it with amusement on her smile, she says it fondly instead of bitterly and she says it with acceptance. 

[ it’s 2017 and kwon minhee is dead. ]

unlike most people she did not die new years and paint a picture of herself out of her dreams. like most people however, she was the one to commit the sacrificial suicide. it was necessary. her death was not on this night as many people in the bar were. her death was way before but it’s still a death is a death and she thinks the new year brings cause to celebrate it.

people shed their skins in the bar and leave it behind for her to gather. they belt their dreams to empty walls and grasp at air for courage to show it to the world. it’s a person at their most vulnerable at their most true. she’s seen alcohol tear a man’s pride apart and shoot a woman’s confidence up. she’s seen alcohol make someone and destroy them at the same time.

new year’s is no different but it’s beautiful. mina’s hands swipe across the surface of the counter as she recalls boisterous voices and laughter that was once broken become bright. that’s what new year’s does, metaphorical baptism. people are washed clean and laid bare for all to see. redemption in mind they begin to cleanse with poison. it’s ironic really. they preach a new body and soul but drown themselves in alcohol to top it off. she’s not complaining.

it’s three hours after midnight. everyone has drifted away to their own devices, dreams of new journeys and fresh starts lulling them to sleep. dreams so deep and real they don’t smell the alcohol on their breath and don’t feel the headache in the morning. that’s the magic of new year’s. the first day is always sweet and potent. 

the glass in her hands doesn’t feel that different. the smell of the bar now clean and swept doesn’t feel any different. she embraces this day just as she did the last, starts it the same if not a little later. last year still clings to her and she doesn’t want to shake it, she doesn’t know how. mina’s never really understood how other people did it so easily. it’s not a problem but a curiosity.

there are no promises with the new year but there are also no regrets.

there’s no promise that kwon minhee will stay dead, no promise she’ll hold onto this body as tight as she did last year. still, she doesn’t regret working late into the new day. she doesn’t regret staying up to clean the entire bar after the new year’s party. she doesn’t regret not closing her eyes until the sun peeks above the horizon and she doesn’t regret starting the new year as song mina. if there’s anything to hold onto for this year, any resolution to make mina vows she won’t regret her rebirth.

Winter clings to Mina desperately. It bites at her skin and tries to penetrate her smile. It’s lazy but scrambling to fix itself on her body. Fix your lips; the words of her mother echo somewhere in her mind. Mina’s spent so many years being frozen and still that the winter is nothing but a reminder of her strength. It’s a reminder of her warmth. If anything she wears the cold as a protectorate, a charm. See how the cold slides off her and sits on shoulders like fresh snow and know that this woman is a conqueror in her own right.

It’s why she doesn’t flinch much when she first steps outside. Her attire consists of shorts, fuzzy boots and a sweatshirt. Her colleagues at first glance might not believe it was her but the woman beside her knows her too well. Mina trudges down the street with her hands on her lips and her cries out her throat. 

“Sunny-ah!” This is perhaps the only time desperation ever crawls out her body. She can’t say it’s the last but she aims to have control over it. She has control over her movements, though they appear scattered across the pavement. She has control over her voice as it echoes into the empty night. “Ahhhhhhh Rose what if she’s caught under something? You just had to go and scare her huh?” She means no harm by the words though, she laughs them out in fact and waits for the female to catch up.