*░NIGHTMARE｡

            to skye, there was nothing unattractive about someone fucking up their own life, and/or being fucked up. because well– that’s all skye’s ever known. he was inherently fucked up, and it was in his nature to continually fuck up left and right. he was never one to judge others. ( the only lines he ever drew were if someone tried to fuck over his gang– both the business and his brothers. ) watching jongin these days was like watching an inevitable train wreck. the fire started long ago. it wasn’t as if skye didn’t intervene sooner, because he didn’t care. but sometimes, you had to fuck up so badly that you couldn’t be saved. that’s how you grew. that’s how you shaped yourself into an actual person instead of another carbon copy of trillions on this shit planet.

            “bro– three things: 1. stop apologizing. 2. i don’t do pity 3. can’t say that i know how to solve whatever mess you’ve got going on, buuuut–” he drew out the word while a smile grew on his face. it was akin to the smile of the Cheshire Cat: ominous, perhaps devious. seemingly full of good intentions. but too much smoke and mirrors. “–i think i know how to help you get through it.” skye leaned in closer. “alcohol, drugs or all of the above?” 

            vices were the only way to make existence bearable. skye was such a fucking good friend that he’d supply drugs to his closest friends for free. sounded insane ( ‘cause it was passing up a whole lot of business opportunities ), but it was true. he had the money to do it. and if putting pills or needles or powder or whatever else into his friends’ hands kept them from taking a gun to their head or blades to their wrists– fuck it. self-destruction was a way of staying alive. no matter how paradoxical it sounded. “you’ve already fucked up,” skye said with a shrug. “so you might as well fuck up some more. there’s a party going on tonight. you wanna go and forget for a bit?”

            Jongin is still a phantom of who he once was. Clean-cut and law abiding. Even now, torn from the stress and cruelty of life, there are shadows of the prim and proper life he had before. Previously, he would have never even entertained the idea of putting something toxic in his body. He was a dancer. His body was his temple and the sole reason he could afford his lifestyle back then. Now, he was stuck with a bad leg and a bitter heart. He had nothing left to lose. Everything else had been snatched from him without remorse.

            Even though, he reasonably knows it's a horrible idea his thoughts travel darker. What did it matter, anymore? What did he have left to lose? Absolutely nothing. His first love, his sole purpose for existing on this fucking planet, his passions, and his career -- it was all gone down the metaphorical drain.

              THE HOMELESS WOMAN TAKES A bite of the food in her hand as he asks his question, eyes casting up towards him before she weighs on the pros and cons of staying with him. it was supposed to get cold later that night, so why not, right? packing back up the sandwich and placing it back in the bag, she nods slowly, clearing her throat to begin talking, “i would really appreciate that.” She stands slowly, bringing her light jacket (too light for the chill that was in the air) around her midsection as she sighs. “where do you live?” she questions next.

Could anyone really be blamed for another person's perspective of them? 

Jongin knew there was some fault in it for everyone but ultimately he couldn't be blamed for what assumptions people would make of him. It's why these things are so sad. They expect successful, happy, and heroic people around them when so many are just broken or lost or just as uncertain. His head tilts, "Did they think wrong?" He asks. If he were in the other's shoes he would say absolutely. Jongin was no hero. A coward who ran from his family and lost his dreams. The idea anyone might see him as such left a nasty taste in his mouth. 

It was sour, it was disappointing.

                 JOLTING FROM HER SLUMBER under the awning of a old cafe (that was since vacant), she hears someone rustling near her, a bag of some sort. rubbing sleep from her eyes quickly, the young woman begins to try to find something to defend herself when she sees the familiar stranger setting down a bag of food next to her. “o-oh… sorry.” she whispers quietly, eyes examining the bag. “t-thank you…” she whispers, reaching for the bag slowly to only open it. a chicken sandwich and fries from a local fast food restaurant were the contents inside, a small smile gracing her lips as she takes the food from the bag. eyes gaze up towards the kind samaritan. “w-why are you so kind to me?” she questions.