Marlboro Lights

The fire crackles behind him as he explores the area of the camp that their home for the night or at least until Baekhyun wakes up. At this thought, Wade glances over his shoulder, making sure that the other hasn’t shifted in his sleep towards the heat but sure enough, he’s just as he left him when they first arrived hours ago and aside from the occasional twitch of his fingers and nose he hasn’t moved. Under normal circumstances, this would phase Wade but Baekhyun does this a lot, black out at random, usually at a inconvenient time like tonight — but he’s used to it now. He’s lost track of how many places he’s hidden his friends body or dragged him to some secure place. 

He shakes his head then continues to look around. What he’s looking for exactly is their ticket out of this shit hole — it wouldn’t take long for cops to trace them but he’s already managed to find someone to give a “favor” to one of guys living around here in exchange for enough money to get them through the next town... 

“Now where is it...” Wade mutters under his breath, swinging a set of keys around his fingers that he managed to swipe earlier as he peaks around the beat up rusty trailer. It takes a moment or so for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and not long after he spots what he’s looking for. Despite previous precautions, he doesn’t take extra care to quietly get the motorcycle from where it’s parked and bring it around to the front, setting it up near the highway so it’s ready for them them.

He then settles down by the fire to count the money he made tonight before he turns over Baekhyun just enough to fish out the other’s wallet too. Though he finds what he suspected, there’s enough to buy a cup of coffee and nothing more but still... a little is better than nothing and with his added sum they should have enough to get through the upcoming day.

He must have drifted off because he hears Baekhyun shuffle in his sleep the fire has died off and the sun is starting to shine. Wade sits up, yawning before the cold morning air hits him he removes his hands from his pockets and crawls over to where Baekhyun is waking up too. “I swiped the guys keys.” he says, jingling the set in front of him as he pushes himself up to his feet.

  When Wade comes to the first thing he notices are the walls — canary yellow, bright, and surrounding him it’s impossible to ignore the color throws him off and the longer he stares at it the more things that aren’t there start to move in the corners of his vision. And it starts off a bit of paranoia that he has to find other things to look at so he puts his focus on the white sheets of the bed and tries to think.

It’s abnormal for him to be in a situation like this: caged like an animal with everything in his surroundings set there to further piss him off then. However, it’s not until he actually tries to move that he realizes where he is exactly. A prison of some kind or an infirmary, maybe both, managing to sit up even with his arms locked into a strait-jacket he can feel another device on the side of his neck too and that’s what triggers his memory of the events of last night: 

Inhye. He ran into her at some shitty bar — the music was loud, too loud. There was at some point in the night that he vaguely remembers her leaning in close as if to kiss him. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, tilting his chin up to look at her while the other hand slid to the side of his neck with force before he blacked out. And waking up in the back of some cop car.

He had kicked out the window, that much he remembers but hadn’t gotten far without having to shove them off while trying to rip the device from his neck before there was another chance to electrocute him again, and seeing double of the flashing lights, stumbling, seeing white then blacking out again. 

It makes sense really, now. Considering their breakup wasn’t exactly on good terms. Regardless he’s on his feet again trying to free his arms with force two guards are already in the cell forcing him down the hallway. They’ve up’d their security since the last time he was here, if anything they been experimenting with ways to discipline those out of line. He can hear the screams of other patients and his smile briefly falters when he’s brought into a white room and forced to sit down in front of her. “Listen, princess, if you insist on having a foursome you could’ve just asked.” 

CAN THEY USE CHOPSTICKS -  yes.

WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY CAN’T SLEEP - he drinks. this used to help him before he got his powers but now it does nothing but old habits die hard. Sometimes he’ll put on an audio book and that usually does the trick.

WHAT WOULD THEY IMPULSE BUY AT THE GROCERY STORE - twinkies. he still hasn’t forgotten that one time they tried to retire them and he just can’t take the risk that they’ll try again.

WHAT ORDER DO THEY WASH THINGS IN THE SHOWER - the dirtiest part first which is usually his torso (blood, ok blood not what you were thinking) legs, feet, then arms then his hair.

WHAT’S THEIR COFFEE ORDER - he’d rather drink water or soda

WHAT SORT OF APPS WOULD THEY HAVE ON THEIR SMARTPHONE - he uses a flip-phone and refuses to upgrade. 

HOW DO THEY ACT AROUND CHILDREN -  like his usual self but with less cursing (he tries not to curse but fails)  

WHAT WOULD THEY WATCH ON TV WHEN THEY’RE BORED AND NOTHING THEY REALLY LIKE IS ON - Impractical Jokers, Sex in the City, Friends, Amazing World of Gumball

tagged by: no one!

@warsk​ a response to this.

Even in his psychedelic state, tripping on colors, sounds, and unable to focus — he’s able to register Juwon. Juwon who keeps multiplying and each new copy look at Wade as if he’s someone they want to forget. 

(I won’t let that happen.)

Wade keeps talking, most of what falls from his mouth are random words with absolutely no correlation to one another. His language is broken thrown out in stuttered patterns after rough intakes of breath to accompany rough exhale of breaths. “I think… I think some fucker tried to — I was poisoned.” Wade manages with a heaving chest. 

And he probably was, most likely by something that he drank, by someone in plain sight who managed to slip under his radar. The poison is slow traveling, made to shut down a normal person’s blood flow by reversing it but it has a different effect than intended when Wade’s body fights against it.

He keeps talking to reassure himself that he is alive, continues to talk because his eyes are unfocused and he can’t feel the tips of his fingers but he mainly talks to make sure Juwon is still there. He isn’t afraid— but this is the closest he’s felt to fear since he left weapon x. 

“You can sleep now, you said. You said that. I had a dream where you said that. Thanks for saying that. You weren’t supposed to.” Wade keeps repeating this yet he doesn’t know where the words come from, if they’re even his. Regardless he’s unable to communicate what he actually wants to say but he keeps talking, repeating the same nonsense.

(Why do you want to forget.) 

(Let’s not talk about it, let’s just not talk.)

One the edges of his vision he can see Sori’s fingers, electric green, playing that damn music on a multicolored spiral of piano keys. He can see his eyes as he plays the climax of one of his pieces as red and intense as the music echos in his ears morphing with the theme song of some children’s show he used to watch as a kid. 

The whistling is driving him crazy, the fact he’s not feeling grounded despite thinking of Sori is making him grind his teeth together, thoughts going between murderous and angry to shaky to helpless. 

He grabs the nearest thing that is stable. He grabs Juwon by the wrists, holding on too tight, shaking, creating bruises from his grip as he still refuses to say how much it hurts because he won’t give anyone that satisfaction so he keeps talking until the poison filters out and his body heals itself.

@warsk

i. Sori has a weird ability— the ability to keep him grounded. Wade’s always been cynical of the world. Nihilism always takes a particular stronghold of his thoughts, yet Sori keeps him grounded and unable to slip to deep into either vice. 

Wade observes things, occasionally,when there’s a break in his ever racing mind that allows him a moment of silence in a world that moves so slow that it’s nearly suffocating and to keep from feeling suffocated, he observes with legs crossed lazily, elbow propped on the piano edge, and his chin in his hand as Sori plays, and plays, and will play for hours without an end in sight. 

It’s a process he doesn’t understand. The tortured artist. It almost seems like a waste of time.

“I don’t understand why you waste your time with this.” Wades mumbles, staring at the piano with distaste. “It’s just music, how can you play the same piece over and over. It’s a waste of time.” 

How can Sori be tortured in a place like his apartment where everything is so crisp is nearly laughable. Sori’s irons his bed sheets, the corners of each room are free from dust, and the floorboards are so clean that Wade slides across their surface whenever he’s bored. 

He’s even willing to bet that the kitchen cupboards hold delicate porcelain thought he’s never bothered to confirm his suspicion, knowing that if he were to look… if he saw those cups stacked so neatly, in neat rows he’ll want to smash every single one against that polished floor just to hear something else break that isn’t him and to see something just as broken as him.

The fact he doesn’t break all the china is the mystery.Self control, rational thought, compassion are within his reach. And he doesn’t know this works, but Sori does keeps him grounded.

“Shoulda woulda coulda…” Every move he makes somehow sounds louder than usual— his actions turbulent. Xavier sits across from him, arms folded, shirt as white and crisp as the paper he keeps jotting notes on. He’s perfect in nearly every way, and his primness pisses him off more than it should but given it’s a monday night he takes it as an excuse to be more pissy than usual. 

“Didn’t.” The gun in his hand feels light as he points it at Xavier. He’s wanted to do this for awhile now. It’s a satisfying feeling, nearly as satisfying as watching asmr videos after a kill. A crooked smile spreads on his lips— Xavier doesn’t flinch but he does remain silent in Wade’s mind, knowing and ready eyes never once breaking eye contact with Wade’s unpredictable, unsteady, and impulsive ones. His mind bound to change directions even in mid thought, he nearly feels sorry for Xavier. He wonders if he gets migraines every time he has to come into his mind. 

“It’s funny.” Wade lowers the gun, flipping the safety before he tosses it into his backpack. “I think it’s so god damn funny that you, of all people, want to talk morals.” 

Wade stops talking for a minute, sitting back in his chair he takes a good look around Xavier’s office. It only further worsens his mood with it’s cleanliness, not a single book out of place, and pictures of both Blythe and Xavier smiling so bright it’s disgusting really. He sighs, slumping even lower in his seat. So far, their weekly ‘therapy’ sessions weren’t going very well it’s evident that Wade is making slow process. Now he only makes inappropriate innuendos about screwing Xavier’s boyfriend just to piss Xavier off rather than it actually being a real personal goal of his like it was when he first moved in. 

Raking fingers through his hair his eyes fall on the date on the calendar on the wall. Attention fully diverted he frowns slightly, fingers stilling. 

Abusive father. Cancer. Special Forces... today was the anniversary of the day his life went to complete and utter shit as he lovingly refers to it. 

Wade raises his eyebrows, blinking away the memories and forcing himself to return to his previous train of thought. “It’s funny because you took a boy that needed saving and turned him into a monster like me.” Wade returns his attention back to Xavier, leaning forward in his chair gauging the others reaction. 

“It didn’t matter to them that I would have done anything to survive. I was another test subject doomed to fail—that was supposed to fail, yet here I am.” I’m not Blythe. I won’t look at you like you’re my new religion, and you’re a god came to save me. 

@635mph 

Juwon’s message comes at a strange time.

The ding of his cellphone throws both parties present in the room off— a strange, nearly foreign sound in the midst of an already tense atmosphere sets everyone back a few minutes. “Sorry, that’s mine.” Wade holds his forefinger up before he walks off to the side to examine his phone he types back multiple messages.

(SMS: baby boy) did you know that there’s a group of people out there called ‘clowning for jesus’?(sms) basically these people dress up like clowns and go around witnessing to ppl. (sms) if this doesn’t scare the shit outta you enough to fucking hold my god damn hand then you’re fucking lying, you liar. 

Shoving his phone back into his pocket it takes him the better of a few seconds to roll his neck and loosen his shoulders. After he does this he turns back, large disheartening grin obvious even underneath the mask he’s wearing. “Now, where were we...” feigning forgetfulness, he taps his lips slowly just long enough to make the other person uncomfortable. “Oh.” he shoves the other against the wall. “We —“ 

The phone dings again. Wade hesitantly uncurls his fists. One from the others shirt and drops the other from were it’s already posed in mid-air to throw a punch. He pulls out his phone again.

[[ :: YOUR MESSAGE WAS NOT SENT.  TRY SENDING AGAIN? :: ]]

“DAMN IT.” hitting the resend button, he turns turns back to a blank wall. Evidently, the other took the chance to run for his life and he blinks a few times, trying to remember if he was hired to only rough up the guy or actually kill him. He gives up, allowing the other to escape for now.

He had more important matters to attend to: like, Juwon.

Just the thought of Juwon’s surly expression once he caught a glimpse of just how many messages he’s received from his least favourite (secretly favourite) person put the grin right back onto his face. Really, Juwon is too cute, Wade would even go so far as to say that he’s adorable.

And probably lounging in bed, abdomen wrapped in bloody bandages, wearing nothing but the cute pajama bottoms that show off the curve of his— God, Juwon is so hard to resist when he’s vulnerable, even though lately Wade has been giving him his space not wanting to appear too clingy. Plus, it was obvious Juwon was pissed at him... with good reason.

It’s not until hours later when he’s thinking about what to eat that it occurs to him that he never actually responded to Juwon’s text. He takes his phone and types: