it bites back

he seemed to be brighter than the lights that were on. which, truth be told, weren’t that many anyways. but, in a place where the energy wasn’t all that full with all the celebrities that were lingering around the gala with the glitz and the glam, duri brought high energy, and it was energy that was much different that the energy being held within the place itself. nonetheless, he comes skipping over to the them, making sure none of the shirley temple spills out of the cup.

 he nodded his head rather excitingly at their words, a happy giggle that leaves his lips. “i’m more than sure!” the older says, clear excitement lingering within his voice as he spoke, an a bit of a happy giggle leaves his lips now. “it’s okay if i lose! it’ll be fun either way, so i won’t be embarrassed if i don’t end up doing well!” he said, nodding his head. truth be told, duri just enjoyed playing games, not really caring if he won or lost - he would just have excitement for the other person winning. though, of course, it did kind of suck to lose. but, he always got over it pretty quickly.

their tongue clicked on the roof of their mouth. how could one person be so filled with sunshine and rainbows? it made them a bit nauseous, and felt like the fakest thing they’d ever seen. people liked to refer to them as inhuman, as if this wasn’t on a whole new level. to be fair, ‘people’ referred mostly to scorned women in their past, who logically probably had the right to be upset, while andy simply never gave a shit. still, those same people would be those that would welcome a person like duri into their arms, tooting him as the pinnacle of nicety, with no layer of suspicion. andy couldn’t get behind that.

she didn’t mean to approach, at first. wallowing on her misery had sounded like a better alternative, as it had now become her usual state most of the time. joohwan didn’t remember the last time she had spent a night completely sober. perhaps when she filmed the music video for her solo debut? but then… she wasn’t entirely sober for that either. not to the point where it would risk her performance, but the medicine that kept her anxiety at bay had never felt more needed and appropriate. 

hwan should leave andy alone. she doubted they wanted her to bother them like this, doubted they wanted to confront her especially in such a public setting, but joohwan couldn’t help it. before she noticed, her legs were taking her towards andy, the glass in her grip still half full with whatever the bartender had thought to give her. in her heeled boots and the posture she was expected to keep, considering the outfit she was wearing, joohwan properly towered over andy, but she felt nothing but small under their gaze. 

“i—” what did she want? joohwan didn’t know. “just wanted to speak to you,” she whispered. her mind was clouded, thoughts scattered, none of them making a lot of sense to her or remotely stitched together. “you look good.”

their arms partially crossed, one hand resting upward at their other elbow, the other pressing cold glass to skin. for, maybe, a couple of minutes, it could soothe the heat ever threatening to engulf their body. “i know i do. i’m a hot piece.” the words, in another time, another place may have been toned for cockiness, flirtation, yet then, they laced with slithering bite. their eyes raked over her another time, while thoughts stayed locked behind their tongue. if only it were easy enough to set aside their anger as much as they could other emotions. betrayal could be boxed up long enough to slip inside her clothes and reveal her wings. anger had no place to go. instead, they envisioned ripped, tattered clothes, bruises and screams.

so, fuck it. andy’d let themselves forget the woes of this horrid night, and nitpick the mannerisms, clothing, and whatever the fuck else they felt like. at the least, with alex as their partner in crime, they wouldn’t have to go down alone.

dumb ass gyujeong was not like that at all. to someone who might not be close to him, they’d likely have thought he'd gone through multiple bottles in an attempt to quell the pain of one of those big, life altering events. like when your snake dies. tragic that andy couldn’t even pretend to have a good enough reason like that.

they pulled in a long breath before they stood off the bar stool, “alright, gran’ps,” and took their jacket off the chair, tossed it over their forearm. their other hand came out to smack, albeit gently, up the back of gyujeong’s head. “get up. gotta get home sometime or these fucks’ll start writing new bullshit about you.”

jihoon couldn’t help but snort at the way andy replies, rolling his eyes and shrugging “your attitude might make me change my mind.” he teases grin pulling on his lips as he continues his way down the corridor. there were really many situations in which he could think of where being selfish was the best solution, but he couldn’t say them out loud because that would be insensitive.

“yeah but selfish is a very debatable thing. like, i might do something that i think is selfish and you would think its another tuesday.“ he replies, looking at andy over his shoulder. when he is asked about his tone, jihoon can’t help but grin. “that’s a good jab, is it because i’m english and should love harry potter?“ he asks, brows raised. he wasn’t a huge fan it was basically some of the little culture they have, so he had to pretend.

it wasn’t really that long before they reached the vending machine and jihoon dug out some coins from his pockets “what do you want?“ he asks, hand hovering over the buttons waiting for andy to pick his drink. it was a nice little distraction, to just have a small walk outside of the dance studio and take a breath of fresh air like this.

grimace tugged half their lip up this time. there were scots in harry potter too, weren’t there? not like they’d be surprised to find that author was more of a shit bastard than they’d thought if not, but it’d be a bit strange to not have a single scot. “should be glad i tolerate you at all knowing you’re english.” they hadn’t a need to get into yet another conversation that might stretch on too long, keeping it to the simple: fuck england.

exclusive gala: the fit

damn it.

she looked good. that much more adventurous within a sea of goldfish; andy’d expect no less. she was always different, had been different, was the difference. fuck their head hurt. inebriated was a terrible time to try to rewrite their emotions and desires. forgetting, slipping into her pull, crashing planets and chunks flying off, damn if that didn’t sound nice. they clenched their jaw, tightened their fingers around the glass in their hand. pissed, they were. can’t forget that. “what do you want?”

joohwan was no stranger to trauma. much like everybody else, she carried her own around, buried deep, unwilling to stare at it straight unless her therapist forced her to do so. joohwan didn’t like it, the process of reliving whatever had caused her to be like this, even if she was able to acknowledge why it was necessary, why she had to go through it. for some unfathomable reason, joohwan still clung to the ideal of becoming better. a better person, a better sister, a better dancer and performer, a better grandkid, a better— a better girlfriend. and there was no way for her to do that if she refused to work around the good and the bad that had both shaped her to the person she had become. 

already, she felt her trauma making itself known, felt the racing of her heart, her breathing that increased the more and more andy paced. she knew what was going to happen from here — joohwan didn’t recall the last time she saw andy this angry, at least not in a situation where she wasn’t angry as well. usually they fed off each other, their emotions matching, the volume of their voices matching. it happened more often when they were younger, when neither of them had the softened edges they do nowadays, for each other at least, when the only thing both of them knew how to do when faced with feelings too strong to handle was to lash out. she knew what would come next. and as much as joohwan knew it was her fault, she couldn’t help but being terrified of it.

not of andy, no. she flinched, as they threw the chair down, as they kicked and slammed their hands on the table, but hwan knew better than to assume andy would ever hurt her. no, andy’s anger was a familiar beast, one hwan didn’t dare believe would ever bare its sharp claws at her. she was terrified because she knew andy was going to leave. she knew, deep down, that there was no scenario in which andy did not leave. no matter what she said, no matter what excuses she gave, joohwan knew. 

her automatic reaction was to want to keep her gaze down, to evade their eyes, but she thought they deserved better than that. so hwan held their glare, even as the fury contained within sent a shiver down her spine. “i don’t— i don’t expect an apology to fix it,” she whispered, clutching her hands in her lap, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “it doesn’t mean i’m not sorry. i can’t change what happened but it doesn’t mean i cannot regret it. you deserve better, but what i can give you is an apology. even though i don’t expect you to take it.”

“but i don’t—,” she cut herself off, faltering, staring down at the table. god, she loved that table so much, she didn’t want to sell it. “i don’t know what else to do.”

with a head busting at the seams, registering, categorizing, understanding so many words in a row was an infinitely difficult task. straining, stretching what mental capacity wasn’t overridden by lakes over fire, they attempted anyway.

her lip would bleed if she kept that up. maybe it should. bleed, swell, keep the rotten fucking whores away from it. excess water left a glaze over her eyes; if only theirs could act as a kiln, harden hers until all they could see was andy. that wasn’t the case, though, was it? hadn’t taken much for the agreements in their relationship to be smashed to pieces. they bet that fucker enjoyed fucking them over, enjoyed using someone in a poor mental state. sick asshole.

they hadn’t even been that upset, when they woke up that day. still mildly annoyed with hwan, sure, but nothing notable. average. so why would she--

fist, fingers curled in tight, nails seeking to make four prominent crescent moons within their palm. the fist lifted, hit down. the table shook as if it might have inherited the shake in andy’s muscles. sharp, heavy, “look at me!” their jaw shook, so they clenched it. facing the petrified look in her eyes, no, they didn’t want that, but, that was it. what else was there to do?

thinking when angry, being rational, it’d all left. andy couldn’t sort through their own thoughts properly, let alone hwan’s. they were exhausted already, yet anger had its own mind, its own license on andy’s physical form.

lux had never really bothered to learn much about andy. they knew they were in catalyst, they knew they had a solo career, and some of their music even tickled their fancy. they wouldn’t have called themselves a fan, but it was decent shit, all things considered. their words (and generally combative attitude) caught them off guard. 

“no, actually, i didn’t.” their words are cool, far more collected than they feel. “i don’t know how i would have guessed you even played, and weren’t just admiring pretty things, but regardless, you should.” perhaps if they worked on their fingering they’d get laid and calm the hell down. at least he hoped it would help, because otherwise they were formally invited to fight him, preferably behind a fast food place of some sort. imagining the headlines in such a situation, a smirk ghosted his face before he added, “i’m gonna go get a drink, you’re killing my vibe.” and turned to leave.

“then out of here, we go. come on now, with my years of experience, i’ve learned to quickest ways of leaving this place,” jiah says with a comforting smile and a happy pace as she leads andy by the arm and heads towards the elevators that will take them close enough to the rooftop of the building. being seen together wouldn’t bring anything positive to the table, and even though jiah couldn’t care a whole lot about it now, she had to at least look out for one of her juniors.

“i hate this time of the year,” jiah says just to fill the silence. “it’s always so busy and there’s also so much for us to do, and so many places to be. it’s like they didn’t have other ten months to schedule things properly,” and even though it’s not of her character to complain about the things that happen, especially when related to her work, jiah can’t help it. with decalcomanie’s promotions and then the practices for the end of the year performances, jiah is feeling the fatigue weighing on her shoulders. “what is troubling you, by the way? you didn’t look all that well when we were inside, but it looks like you have some color back to your face.”

more breath than word had left andy’s lips, making it all the more surprising that someone had responded to them. unintended for response, the wheels of their brain caught, oilless and unable to continue turning. their own response was delayed, mouth shut, then eyes falling to her touching their arm. like a build up of grime before their eyes, they could imagine it, growing and growing, superseding their skin until there was no arm left. they slipped their arm away from her touch.

the chill down their arm was soon replaced by biting rooftop wind. it was almost pleasurable.

then, jiah prodded. no thought process was necessary for it; andy didn’t trust her, so she’d get their easy lie, “was feeling a bit hot. nicer up here, thanks.” the cogs pushed at one another, trying their best to get turning again. coming out here probably was for the best. wouldn’t catch them saying this about fresh air most of the rest of their life, but it was easier to breathe. they indulged themselves in a deep breath expanding lungs that felt like they might have cracks on their surface.

oil dripped between the gears, and gave them enough momentum to break through the blockage. turning, turning. they readjusted the conversation to a previous one, “ain’t gold star notorious for shit scheduling? maybe they just can’t get enough of your pretty face, eh? who could?” and tacked on a half-smile, closer to a smirk. practice had them reaching for the pack in their pocket, flipping the top, turning past the joints in favor of the more acceptable cig. within a quarter second’s hesitation, they recognized three things. one, it was polite to offer cigarettes to those nearby when pulling one out. two, they cared enough to be polite in this situation so as to not become suspicious. three, they didn’t want to give her one... this pack had been hers. blackness dropped into their stomach, swirled up into the only emotion andy knew. they imagined fingers pinching out the fire before it could rise.

one butt in their mouth, two fingertips pinched at another, “want one?”