shelter.
pallid blue lines run the length of her hands. it is bones and white skin with her nowadays; jiyeon doesn’t remember the last time she’s had proper sustenance pass through her system. one shot, one hit, one smoke -- repeat. that’s how it’s been the past few nights, and even in her hazy, red-eyed state she knows: this isn’t going to end well. but he won’t care and her parents won’t care and she can’t burden anyone else with her jutting wrist-bones and the empty she’s been trying to seal over with bottle caps and cigarette packs.
but she’s so tired. and she’s so lonely.
and her hair is lying flat and her kenzo is rumpled and the shimmer has left her cheekbones. all jiyeon is now is a lost, broken shell of her vibrant girl self and she’s tired.
she wants to go home.
( but, she thinks, where is home? soojung is home -- soojung with her equally pale arms and scrupulous, clean scent -- but jiyeon can’t let her see her like this. jiyeon is sunshine and spitfire mouth and manic-eyed sparkle; she’s not wretched and dull and lifeless. and he was home -- was. until she realized she’s been living in a house with no walls and no fire in the earth.
so where is home? )
it’s 3:06 am and she’s alone outside a gangnam club and without realizing it, she finds her home. for now.
( sms ) octagon in gangnam-gu ( sms ) come pick me up ( sms ) please, sehun
@sehunhs : february ‘16.
