fair trade.

toast & coffee 24h diner ( 8 years ago ) with @sparkydx

a fresh bruise marred sae’s face—a reminder of yet another fight he’d gotten into. apparently, the kid was just familiarizing himself with his new routine of squabbling with the foolhardy customers ( and strangers ) somewhere in the neighborhood. the dark circles beneath his eyes, deep and prominent, only added to his image as the punk who always seemed to make the headlines for school violence. last night, he did not sleep well. he was bitten by the bugs.

ironically, no matter how much of a threat he posed, sae was still a child in his boss' eyes. hence, as a punishment for punching one of their customers in the face, the kid had to clean every corner of the restaurant in one week straight. leaving behind the thinnest layer of dust and his ass would be fired. and, of course, no more punches.

sae was mopping the kitchen floor with a long face when he saw the new cook walked in. they barely exchanged words since the standard introductions—name, age, job title. truthfully, sae couldn’t care less. in his mind, people took these jobs for one reason: money. there was no need to get friendly, no point in getting to know each other better.

(...) “i got to ask, was it someone in the bar that gave you that?” he points to the cut. he turns around for a second, then returns to looking at the other, pushing a glass towards the other. “a glass of whiskey, on me, seems like you could need it”.

in his fuzziness, sae could've sworn he was talking to a ghost. one moment he heard voices and the next he's alone at the bar. and then, to the drunk man's surprise, a towel is pushed towards him. sae stares at the towel, dumbfounded, for nearly a minute before taking it and tapping on his open wound gently, appreciating the stranger's kindness even though the concept of being vulnerable is a brand new experience to him.

he pulls the glass of whiskey towards him, eyes fixated on the bartender. not to be a creep but the other man truly looks otherworldly, which makes perfect sense if he was a ghost or some sort of celestial being—— sae, stop. it's the alcohol talking. this guy is literally a human being and you know ghosts don't exist.

"thanks, but i'll pay for it myself." the bruised man mutters, his independent ass will not let anyone pay for him. "why do i look like i need it though?" head slightly tilts with a small frown, sae's just genuinely curious. what does it mean when someone looks like they need a whiskey? does he look sad? upset? depressed? does he give off the vibes of a poor dude who's just been dumped?

(...) " i'll deal with nepa. " and despite the encouragement to flee the scene, there is a part of bona that hopes he'll choose to linger, just how she fails to move. she's stuck in place and his face is the main focus — her gaze notices how his features have matured, yet the sae she's always known is still there, right there, looking back at her.

an idiot. a complete fool for wandering around on his own when powerless. wasn't this how his father nearly met his end years ago when a mutagen's worst nightmare manifests before themself — the loss of what makes them inhuman, the very thing that instilled fear in others? without those peculiar abilities, they're just like everyone else: fragile, breakable.

yet sae, as stubborn as he can be sometimes, tightens the strings of his black hoodie while heading straight towards the warehouse despite sparky's warnings about n.e.p.a's watch.

if someone wants to eliminate a person without leaving a trace, the warehouse would be the ideal venue — it has always been. it's where sae himself left behind his own blood-stained footprints.

a friend texted him this location, pleading for help. let's not break this down; it's sae. oh sae. of course he would be there in a heartbeat though little does he know, there was never a friend of his. dear god, his mother at home is praying, every day, to the lord they never believe in that he will never die a hero. fortunately, as insane as it sounds, the lord listens to her prayers.

heavent sent lee bona.

the instance their eyes lock, sae cannot look nor run away. feels like a mountain is pinning him down, suffocating him, and crushing his poor heart. with the unfolding events before him, man doesn't even know where to start. should he listen to her and escape, or should he ask how has she been, after all this time?

"i can't." he replies to her command, voice strained. "shit, bona," the way he calls the hero's real name sounds personal, like he knows her so well. his eyes, widened in disbelief, dart between her and the lifeless body on the ground. eventually, the man lets out a heavy sigh, pulling off his hoodie, and moves again after a temporary paralysis.

red light lane, west side with @dxjiha ( tw: blood )

always wandering around red light lane and looking for trouble—that was the way he lived.

it was a rarity, perhaps only once in a blue moon that oh sae shrugged off the burdens on his shoulders and pushed open one of these doors. though even then, he found it meaningless. the hookup culture, the hypnotic sway of exposed bodies, and a wave of uneasiness that swept over him the moment sae felt someone's warmth against his body; he loathed all of those.

yeah. he wasn't fond of flesh and desire. hence, aside from trouble, there was nothing for him to seek here. not friends, not intimacy, not any sort of connections that sprouted from a human's fundamental need for love and belonging. so why, with a fresh cut still oozing on his left cheek, and half a glass of alcohol in hand, was he seated alone at the bar, initiating a conversation with a stranger?

because he was still human after all. even if every so often, he was certain that humanity viewed creatures within the walls as nothing more than monsters. especially the likes like him.

the guy's face was a vivid shade of crimson, his cheeks flushed and almost glowing from a combination of alcohol and agitation. where the cut was, it was raw and bleeding. a fresh bruise formed around his jaw, a darkening mark contrasting sharply with his red skin. his wounds told a story.

henlo, i'm bee 🐝 (22, she/her, gmt+) and i'm so excited to be here as a big fan of the boys and district x's setting !! today i bring oh sae to the table, an antihero and a criminal who punishes criminals. that said, his sense of what's right or wrong is ambiguous and his golden heart is kinda twisted. i have so many plans for him so i'd love to write with every single one of u, please like this post and i'll jump to ur inbox first! but i'll eventually reach out to everyone soon hehe (˶´ ˘ `˶) here's his profile (warning: wall of text) and i do have a plots page if u r interested! below is a quick summary of sae and some plot ideas, but i'm a girlie that loves brainstorming more sooo enjoy ur stay! it's midnight here so i'm off to bed now zzz