live evil

why does he bother, anyway?

the phone on the bed chimes, and he kicks the last piece of unwashed article under his bed before plopping on his bed and unlocking his phone again.

( sms to ⇢ ivana ) yes ( sms to ⇢ ivana ) damn that autocorrect i meant no****

the pause in reply reminds him to check up on how he looks. “pretty good,” he thinks to himself, but subconsciously grabs a cleaner shirt to change into. does the room still smell like pixie dust? probably not, since he’s dousing the carpeted floor with renly’s branded cologne.

( sms to ⇢ ivana ) why don’t u have chips everybody owns chips

meanwhile, he checks the cupboard above the sink for anything edible. he finds chips. he knows it’s not his but still, he takes it.

( sms to ⇢ ivana ) i thought i didn’t, but i found an unclaimed bag of sour cream  ( sms to ⇢ ivana ) probably renly’s ( sms to ⇢ ivana ) let’s take a selfie later ( sms to ⇢ ivana ) so i can send it to him and caption it “enjoying your chips deliciously~”

seth chuckles evilly, ripping open the bag and getting a head start before she arrives. exactly two months ago he wouldn’t have touched any of renly’s furniture, let alone his food. but drugs bond people. and if he were to label both him and renly, he’d call it ‘an odd friendship’.

(he still dislikes the escorians)

he jolts out of his thoughts when he hears erratic knocking against his door, familiar enough for him to not want to open the door too quickly. carefully making his way towards the door, he moves his lips closer towards the gap between the door and the door frame.

At his offer, she gave him a skeptical glance. “You’re kidding,” she muttered with a small chuckle and a roll of her eyes. She was reckless and did stupid, impulsive things, but her body was her temple. Without that, she was nothing. She even had trouble justifying alcohol the few times she’d had it.  A small smile appeared on her face, and she held out her hand. “I’ll take the lighter though.”

“you can’t have the best of both worlds-- you either live a long life like benvolio, or die an asshole like tybalt. the only thing i actually like about juliet is that she has the guts to kill herself.” seth smacked his lips and folded his arms. “not many would willingly pierce a knife through their hearts.”

he’s sure that she wouldn’t take whatever he had said too seriously. the analogy of romeo and juliet was purely an analogy, and hinted at nothing else. their relationship? platonic. ziyi’s his partner-in-crime, and he intended for them to stay that way. he’s tolerant of her personality, but having her around all the time? constant angry vibes.

“entertain you?” he smirked. “not today.”

did one just reject his offer of a stick? who ever rejects free candy?

“oh,” he chuckled, slipping the box back into his pocket. “so it was a one time thing? just so you can let some steam out while you’re that mad?” he had seen her smoke once before, and had always assumed she was a regular smoker.

lighting up the cigarette between his lips, he played around with the little flicker of fire before tossing it over to the other. “playing with fire today? i’ve got just the spot that could need a little ignition.”

☓ 

as the team captain drowned out all signs of interest with his pep talk, he found himself slouching against the wall, arms folded while he stared at the faces of his fellow teammates. he could see nervousness, and a little fear in some of their eyes while they nodded at the instructions that were passed out. were they even listening?

he had to admit that the past few games had been shitty, with the team not even coming close to tying the match with their opponents. 3-0, 2-0, 4-0. Zeroes had grown so common on their scoreboard that it had affected his remedial goodness test (flat zero, and he needed an excuse). eyes darting towards the other three capable players (in his opinion, entirely), the kouri brothers as well as the team captain himself, he let out a sigh. it was the last few games of the season, and they had to prove themselves. 

“the players back at isle would’ve been better than all the wimps in this team,” he thought to himself while rubbing at the back of his neck. beads of perspiration was already rolling down his forehead, and the game hasn’t even started yet.

omen.

the team captain finally ends his speech, and the team shuffles out into their entry positions before walking into the stadium. the spectators in the bleachers are deafening, cheers and shouting pound into his ears. seth reminds himself to stay calm, especially when he could clearly hear taunts coming from the supporters of the opposing team. entering the field and into his position as the centre midfielder, he feels a nudge on his shoulder.

“after the game?” he shoots back, “that’s far too long a wait. bleachers at half-time.”

the opposing team is filled with elites, with expensive shoes that left little imprints across the field and spikes that were so sharp that they could cut through glass. the opposing midfielder was strangely familiar, he notes. nonetheless, he continues to stare while stretching his muscles, and it feels like he’s taunting the opposite player. 

well, he is.

the whistle sounds and he could only remember watching the ball fly up, and the contact of the tip of his shoe to the surface of the ball. his heart pumps with adrenaline, and on instinct, he directs the ball towards noma.

eyes follow as noma misses the ball, and seth curses out loud in annoyance. he should’ve seen that elf that was right under noma’s nose, watching his every move just to steal the ball. a loud thump follows quickly, and the player’s on the ground. seth shakes off all sympathy he has for his teammate, because ultimately, he lost the ball.

the referee flashes a yellow card, and cues the expected shouting of protest from the coach. he jogs over to noma, and extends a hand.

At the Romeo and Juliet comment, she raised an eyebrow. “Only if you end up dead,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to pick up on it. Really, she wasn’t sure how else he expected her to contact him–he knew very well she had chucked her phone at a wall the week prior to that one. 

She laughed at the gesture, mocking him from below. “Oh, honey; did I wake you up from your beauty sleep? Sucks, although I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you.” Really, she was surprised he even put up with her. She was snarky and sullen and quite the instigator. Leaning up against the dorm wall, she waited for him to come down.

“why not,” he commented from above, “he has awesome pixie dust. one of the the only reasons why i’m still rooming with him. also he’s stupid and that puts me above him-- which i clearly appreciate.”

renly was a good kid, he thought to himself. perhaps a little too soft for the warrior’s liking. subconsciously, he glanced around the room, and to his relief, his roommate wasn’t around. their relationship had been improving ever so slightly, and slipping back into the constant war would drive him mad. the tape that divided their two sides had been freshly ripped-- he didn’t want it pasted back on too quickly.

“if you were juliet, i’d kill myself in a heartbeat.” seth joked, poking fun at the fact that he’ll never see her as a girl. he has always seen her as a brother, and the incident of her chucking her phone at the wall out of sheer anger further enforced that vision.

“correction, power nap. beauty sleep are for wimps.” he rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to flash her the finger once more. “don’t piss me off or i’ll never come down.”

now fully dressed, he made his way down to her, a stick already in between his fingers and a lighter in the other hand. it has been his fourth pack in three days, and he’s almost sure that he’s going to die of lung cancer at the age of twenty five.

“want one?” he offered, extending his pack towards her.

⟪ ✉︎ : neansethal ⟫ A+ judgement on your part there, puppy. they’re totally not here to get wasted from our stashes (since apparently I agreed to share with you and your fellow savages) 

⟪ ✉︎ : neansethal ⟫ update on my cds: found one in the cd player, ironically enough on y o u r side of the room. not saying i was the last one to use the radio but I do blame you because it is y o u r side and not mine.

There were very few people she trusted, and even fewer who she actually enjoyed being around. Even fewer yet that came from the Isle, but Seth was one of those people. Deciding she needed to calm down and relax, she went straight to him–he could usually get her to loosen up. She went over to his dorm, throwing a rock at the window and crossing her arms as she waited for him to look. “C’mon! Let’s go do something fun,” she called.

the descendant of the he family, hailing from the magnificent land of escoria was not the typical escorian lady he’d expect at all. he had been hesitant to befriend anyone from the other land, and any form of contact would send warning signals to his brain. he wasn’t channelled to like the people from the other side, but ziyi-- ziyi was different.

her background consisted of lines of warriors and protectors, but she’d be better off running around with him and committing arson, that’s for sure.

seth isn’t too sure how he deals with her temper on a daily basis, for the other was like a ticking time bomb that’ll explode as the day goes by and the small irritants that accumulate. but he does, and he doesn’t question it too much. he isn’t too patient of a person anyway, but if things click into place by chance, he says nothing and goes along with it.

he stirred awake from his afternoon nap, funny noises echoing from his window. who would be so daring to rouse him from his weekend nap? groggily, he got out of bed with his hair messed up and body shirtless and sauntered over to the window to find out who the hell was causing him this ruckus. 

and in all her warrior glory stood ziyi, shamelessly looking up with her arms crossed. didn’t people only throw rocks at their lover’s window? or rather, didn’t guys throw rocks at their girl’s window?

“you could’ve just fucking came up,” he grunted, “instead of throwing rocks at my window. what’d you think this is, romeo and juliet?”

glancing at his now abandoned bed, and the disappearing urge to fall back asleep, he flashed a middle finger before throwing on a shirt.

“this,” he shouted, “is for waking me up. and i’ll be down in five.”

she had no ‘last seen’ status and he curses the application for such an option. time goes by extremely slowly while he scrolls up to look at their past messages, a small smile forming on his face at her replies to him. sometimes cold, sometimes hot. 

the flashing ‘typing’ letters under her name has him jumping out of his bed, eyes fixated on the screen while waiting for her response to his invitation. the messages flow in steadily, and he rolls his eyes at the reply. 

let her win? no way.

[ to : ivana ] 😒 [ to : ivana ] yeah actually u do [ to : ivana ] the pros are asleep [ to : ivana ] and u r nocturnal [ to : ivana ] i’ll consider that if u bring chips along with u

just then, a thought strikes his head like an axe. the room! filled with unwashed socks, clothes haphazardly scattered around the room, his roommate’s pile of ‘underwear to be re-worn’ and two-day-old sandwiches moulding on the pantry top. panicking, he decides on the quicker option-- shove everything into one of the cupboards. by default he selects renly’s, because he keeps his cupboards locked (he thinks of it as payback for the inconvenience renly has caused him previously).

and that left him wanting her to speak. he wasn’t going to leave this spot so soon, climbing up was a bitch and there wasn’t anyone chasing them off it anyway. the darkness of the sky was something he enjoyed, the street lights in escoria were too bright, too safe.

“no way in hell am i leaving this spot so soon.” he retorts, crossing his arms to further reiterate his point. 

the absence of conversation was pushing him to light up another cigarette-- and he had none. 

dark storms into the night, a churn of thoughtfulness lingers, enlightens the eyes and pushes down lashes as she takes in the sight of the deepening sky beyond her own twilight-smoldering hues. a small sigh falls from her lips as the length of long, pale legs dangle to their death; the lack of fear that the redhead fails to address is barely there – almost nonexistent as she looks to the land she’s called home for all these years. plentiful, green, fair and obnoxiously boring – fun came in the gal of overly-dressed princesses and big-headed princes that she knows makes even their banished sordid red queen look level-headed, and only zeus really knew how big her head really was. 

the flame from a nearby lighter passes the emblem of navy and the benevolent canvas of the night, it lights her last cigarette and disappears into the evening hours. fingers run through darkened tendrils that make their way through the dark, heavily red and also as obnoxiously seen – always an identifying factor, always the key to unlocking just where and who was to be avoided. the light air is tainted, easily taken by the heavy intoxication of smoke and the ash, of burning tobacco and a careless girl who teeters a little out of her comfort zone far too many times than was truly necessary. 

like a routine, his lighter is passed between the two of them, and he occasionally offers to light her stick. this was almost like the times back in the isle, where he’d sit on the rooftop with the cigarettes he stole from his father and thinking about how life could be like if he was born into a different family. as fucked as it may sound coming from his tainted lips, he actually wishes he had a mother. maybe things could’ve been different. maybe.

then again, he isn’t one to ponder too long about what ifs and could haves so he stubs out the remains of his last cigarette, and discards the empty box by throwing it down the roof. 

hair scatters, red loosening from the toying of absent-minded notions and bored fingertips until his words have her hand falling to her side and her grin brightening to the slightest notch upwards; a glint of amusement brewing in dark hues, a tidal wave of auburn against the brooding twilight. shadows cast against pale features, the cracks easy to cast darkness to one side as another is shaded by the toss of red tendrils and the influx of teeth that reveal, genuinely intrigued at the phrase – though technically not said to appease her.  

a single droplet of sweat rolls down his face as he stands there, staring at her, waiting for her to continue. the sun was scorching hot, and her head was almost fire red. it reminds him of the things that his father, his little brother had set on fire before moving to their newest home in isle, just to escape a couple of enemies that were up on the big bad wolf’s tail. he wonders how he looks like to her right now, back facing the graffiti wall, the wolf behind him staring menacingly at her. by the looks of it, she probably wouldn’t be afraid.

“are you fucking serious.” he stares at the other’s outstretched hand before stuffing his own hands down his pockets. “i don’t, and i won’t need to.”

❝ i would beg to differ.❞  he says, keeps his hand lifted, his eyes ridden with languid blinks and a tired shape.

it isn’t need that he gleans from the other’s eyes, just a small splinter of discomfort–enough to spark his interest, to entice him to lean closer in, to study in detail.

after all, these are the moments where he thrives, where he can make his presence bright and large, enough to thicken the air, both with movement and his words.

unwilling to receive any form of help, whether physical or verbal from the other male, he nods with a small smirk hanging from his lips.

( because i think you’re crazy, just like me )

pockets tucked, fingers curled, eyes following the lines the abstract design of adventurous color after color led to ; a swirl of fantasy and the obvious display of rebellion in the form of toxic fumes and empty tin cans. it was a wasteland of what was supposedly termed expressive ‘art’. demeaning, gritty and fresh – n creative relief that nox just couldn’t understand, but perhaps that was because she was probably the least artistic out of the hightopp siblings, she reserved picasso genius for the masculine hands of her good ol’ knock of a brother. 

so she continues to stare at the wall, to watch as seth finishes with the last of his ‘art’ supplies before she drops her hands out of the comfort of warm cotton and billowed pockets. twisting red locks around one finger as she cocks her chin out at an angle, eyes narrowing, voice low and almost mute. an inaudible roll of the tongue before the sound clicks and echoes in the silence of an answer she never speaks. “who knows, not i – for i know not and for that i must be a fool.” impish yet placate does her grin spread, eyes already zeroing away from his masterpiece. 

“you’re....fucking weird.” he shudders at the huge, almost fake grin that plastered itself across her face. “but that’s right, fool. i like that description of you, so let’s keep it that way.”