invisible.

their contempt breeds a different sort of chaos. one that is silent, pins them together, caters to their opposite needs and binds them into a routine that kills them both. there’s no destiny here to take sides, no karma to catch her dues. just two bodies filled to the brim with a past that convolutes their present and plagues the conscious that’s brought them thus far. it nestles deep into their thoughts, rises with every breath they take in the others direction, and only wanes thin in the seconds before they submit to sleep. this is what a haunting consists of: a cast of however many, in this case, two. one prey that’ll definitely be caught, and one predator that’ll sink into a lasting impression even if he’s exorcized. 

this is them. this is how they’ve grown to exist — co-exist. even when they feel their history kiss along their neck in the shrinking space of his studio. feel the weight of words tie around their skull and squeeze until — pop. feel the silence and the sin that accompanies it through its bewitching stare — his stare. that’s just the setting at this point, a background noise that only rarely makes a visceral presence. 

jaeyul doesn’t have much on jihyun than that. a slanted sort of gaze, some numbered words, and an old kiss to match. there’s a couple cigarettes thrown into the mix too. it’s for the aesthetic. the tragic lackluster type. something that feels a bit like the view of tokyo backstreets and the diva perception of old hollywood. something where the girl drags the smoke from his lips into her own and exhales an empty breath full of sorrow and longing and the hints of — don’t you love me? don’t you love this? 

he doesn’t love her. he never has. but he loves this, and that’s one thing that remains unchanged even when he returns. the impact he bears may never match hers, but their situation exists regardless of the weight either one of them has to lift. they’re still an issue unresolved. one that always will be. like habits good and bad, this too has transitioned into something static. something that has a spine and sits in the back of their closets. 

jae pulls at his hair. his focus is shrouded with fatigue and his limbs sink deeper into his seat. the studio comes to a standstill as his shoulders cave, neck shifting to catch a glimpse of jihyun and the years of work he’s crafted on her presence. jae’s left indelible markings on her that slowly shift into focus. they’re a draft of what he means to keep — the spots where he’s carved himself into her; bruised into her skin or buried into the black pools of her eyes. the same set that he can’t get a hold of tonight, or most nights lately. 

it’s what’s been taunting jaeyul since his return. how her stare glazes over, droning on in an attentiveness that normally graced the outline of his silhouette and hummed in the static by his ears when he was working. he could always feel her trying to reach him through the line of her gaze. now she doesn’t look at him even when she’s pointed in his direction. 

he submits, the curiosity winning over. “for fucks sake, what are you daydreaming about.” 

rian and jaeyul have always been caught somewhere between spare moments and choked memories. they’re incomplete halves trying to make a whole as their threadbare edges untangle further into a mess that can’t be resurrected. 

he recalls her through certain features. a type of scent, the kind curve of a smile, maybe the texture of the jacket she always wears — like a portable home. he recognizes her in the shadow of her profile against the wall; the bridge of her nose, the outline of her cheeks — all painted black against white. it’s with the embers flaring up in her doe eyes that they properly converse — the raw hatred that spills from her honey mouth through which they connect. 

it’s what draws them close. what makes them friends. they’re a pair humbled by life — the hardships they’ve been subjected to and the ones they’ve instigated. it never seems like it though. they argue more than they comfort, banter littering the space between their faces than a calming silence. everything with them comes in layers rotting away, unfurling by the ends to reveal a vulnerable core dying by its breaths. everything with them comes with either thunder or the clash of lightning against a tar sky. yet it’s never enough to draw them too far apart. for jaeyul it’s the guilt of past mistakes, a type of soured regret that pools in his stomach when he tries to distance himself. with her, he can only wonder what makes her stay. 

tonight, however, he’s her 911 call. 

she’s seated before him, elbows digging into her knees. her feet are rooted on the ground while her fingers tug at her lips. she pulls at the flesh like she’s pulling on strings. as if trying to play some chords. attempting to drag notes from her mouth and make a noise — anything to fill the void that stretches between them. 

jae waits. his thoughts are cast off, examining the reality of her picture-esque home and all the small decorations to further accessorize it. to him, it’s a blatant reflection of her, but then again, he can find her in anything if he tries. his gaze dances around, then falls on the soju and beer he’s brought. "at least join me for a drink. i didn’t drive all this way for nothing, you know.” the tone is graceless; attitude wrinkled into messy lines. it makes him sound half-insincere and half-exhausted — like he’s aged in the still moment. 

hey hey guys!! i’m back, this time to give jaeyul a proper intro. he’s had quite a few changes tbh! the most obvious being that he’s a soloist now, but his narrative is the exact same. instead of debuting with poizn, he ended up training an extra four years — eight years total ;; he had his dui scandal and went into military enlistment in 2016 and recently came back this past year! in terms of his career, currently, his goal is to get back on his feet and return to releasing music again, but he’s feeling quite jaded after his whole situation lmao. therefore, his focus has shifted more towards the bts of music production, etc, so with his career, he’ll likely be taking a stronger producer stance with some fashion bits speckled here and there! pls lemme know if you’d like to plot, he could defs use some more connections! his plot page also lists his former connections, so hmu if you wanna change/confirm them <33 

they’re running along the bounds of familiar territory, one they’ve engaged in various times before, but one that always lands them in physical disagreements with arms drawn and fingers curled into fists. they know the taste of metal caught red between their teeth and in their gums, and the burden of malicious remarks weighing their egos toward the dirty ground. they know what the cost of every encounter is, yet they spend their patience and let a war wage in bets just for the chance to see the other kneel in a pathetic defeat. there is more dissatisfaction to gain each time, yet it never hinders them from pursuing each other in vehement hostility. 

jaeyul, for certain, can never turn the chance down, and tonight is another of those bitter moments. 

the bar reeks of sweat and a disgruntled attitude. a hoard of men claim the space, but in a corner, there’s a group of young girls stowed away to their drunken paradise. he doesn’t come here often anymore. it’s the same place he’d visited before his dui. before then it was a weekly indulgence, but now his visits are scarce and brief. it's an overcrowded place that leaves him feeling more hollowed than rejuvenated. regardless, he continues to return with similar intentions, and his expectations remain low for the night. it’s safe here. just as there is no room for something exciting, there are no risks for insolent behavior either. or so he’d innocently assumed. 

a figure intrudes into this weary haven. he can’t be missed as he saunters in with an attitude in his shoulders and the glint of mischief in his eyes. 

jaeyul’s gaze falls into a narrowed glare. “out of all the places on this street, you come here. what a lovely surprise,” he sneers. his words sound threatening, laced with a sort of frustration that can’t be described. but nothing with jae is half-assed, and if he sounds so malicious, it’s because he means it. with his heart set racing, and a kind of puzzling anxiety distorting his motives, he can feel a warning murmuring in the brief static before jaeyoon’s response. it feels like 2015. 

the air is sort of frigid. it buries a home in his breaths, coming out in puffy exhales as the setting shifts darker with every blink and every small movement of his jittery limbs. a part of him aches, gears into the repetitive symphony of longing, desire — anxiety, desperate to see her face, to engage her in another conversation. something that they can hold onto or feel as the hours shift and the mood darkens. something that he can carry with him for another while until he sees her again and the cycle repeats.

jua. the name rings clean in his mind, bells tolling between his ears, gaze fluttering towards the pavement; half in disgust and a half in disappointment. what the fuck has he become? some shit-faced puppet dancing to her tune, reigned in by the allure of her gaze or the thrumming sin building up like aching suspense. it always leads him to this: moments caught on the edge of blackness, her fingers pinching his shirt. he can never decide if she means to drag him close or shove him off. he supposes it doesn’t matter. they’d both feel the same anyway. 

his thoughts whisper. jaeyul bites down on his cigarette as a reminder clears. pathetic. still, he waits, hoping she’ll show, that she won’t turn back on her word as she’s done many times before — as he has done to her. he throws the stick onto the ground, heel burying it into the dirt as he glances around, surrounded by nothing but a hollow, empty-sort of air, and the entire dead night. 

when she arrives they’re nothing more than figures taking space in the dark, loitering around in an empty space between two streets, two buildings. just silhouettes accentuated by the streetlights and stretching across the pavement, the image of his curved stature intercutting to the trembling dissonance in her shadowed eyes. the contours of her face are permanent to his memory, refusing to fade. he knows because he’s tried, yet all he can recall when he looks upon her is that he’s kissed them; the line of her cheekbones, the bow of her lips, the curve of her jaw just before the swell of her breasts. all of it. 

“honestly, i didn’t think you’d show.” he murmurs, words heavy, loud and somewhat mordant; testing the taut balance lingering between that both bounds and separates them. it feels criminal even saying anything. “but i’m glad you did.” 

he knows how this goes. it starts slow, somewhat steady between a pair of gazes; one angered, and another amused. they place their bets with the twitch of their brows, then ease their confessions into the mix. a series of phrases testing the balance, one drop at a time. i hate you, then, no you don’t. 

they’re diving in the deep end, mingling with a different language, drinking something that’s not as sweet as grape juice or as bitter as alcohol. he can feel her tension, the way she’s demanding it. how dare he, so villainous, so utterly devilish. using their secrets to pin her at her mercy; words slipping over the taste of something lucrative that yet none know. it’s something only their thoughts lay privy to. 

he entertains this. foreseeing the way their interaction will pan out before she’s even managed to roll her eyes. in his defense, mona is inviting to company. her silhouette is a stunning accessory to the storm twirling in her gaze, asking for a dance, for someone to sweep her off her feet — should they so dare. jaeyul could never deny such a challenge. 

“this setting is familiar,” he muses out loud, approaching her with a drink in hand, an offering of bad intentions. “are we going to make some mistakes tonight?” it’s all bark no bite. some light-hearted teasing. it’s more fun to get under her skin and probe around in her thoughts than to make a genuine move. 

she never failed to remind him of the crimes they’d commit that weekend in tokyo, how it could never happen again. can’t, either because she has a new beau, or because this — them, isn’t anything close to feasible. he agrees, but he’s not looking for his match tonight; a flame to his cigarette, the smoky exhale in his greedy inhales. he just wants company over a drink and some reminiscing of certain memories. ones doused in hues of sin, sex, and the wonder of a foreign city at their mercy. 

he bets this will last more than thirty minutes, but the way she reacts tells him that she assumes it to end sooner. 

it must be an addiction: this. 

hellooo, this is jiyong’s mun, and i’m back with a second chara cause i just can’t help myself lmao. please welcome my poizn bb, go jaeyul! he’s the group's main vocalist with the rich boy vibes, except not really, rip. i’ve got some info on him under the cut in case you’re curious, and for other links you can check out his handy dandy navigation right here. if you’d like to plot, just give this post a lil like and i’ll slide into your ims! thank you sm for the welcomes, i’m so excited to bring him and i can’t wait to write!