when his headphones are in, the entire world is off. well, not literally, but he wishes it would be sometimes. instead, he drowns out the noises that the world holds with the music bumping through his headphones. he closes his eyes, using his senses to avoid colliding with other individuals. he doesn’t see their confused expressions, the annoyed expressions and when he peeks an eye at one in particular with a knowing grin because he knows he’s pissed them off, he gives a meager shrug and continues on with his aimless walk. hilarious. people are hilarious, humans are hilarious, supernatural beings are hilarious; he’s not going to discriminate. humans, demons, vampires, werewolves, whatever the fuck else of beings there are that roam these parts; they’re hilarious, entertaining and still piques his interest. 

fast forward and he’s got a cigarette settled between bruised digits, tapping the ash off the end of the stick before returning it between his lips. he takes a long drag and not even caring for the other’s opinion or thought on the whole smoking ordeal, he blows smoke in kinam’s general direction with a shit-eating grin plastered on his countenance. he can see it, the expression he’s grabbing from kinam, it’s out of his character to let the boy be, it’s out of his character not to fuck around with him—especially when he knows what can tick him off so damn easily. humans, other beings, they’re all of entertainment in times like this. so he quirks a brow, dropping the spent stick and crushing it under the soles of his combat boots and flicks his tongue along his lips out of sheer habit. 

“nice to know you think i got a pretty face, but that’s all wrong.” he clicks his tongue, stepping backwards before he turns and grabs onto the hanging step form the fire escape and climbs briefly, letting himself settle there as he swings slightly, letting the flame ignited from his zippo barely blow out. “somethin’ happens to my face, somethin’s gonna happen worse to yours.” then a cheshire grin etches as he hops down, stepping against the wall and onto the dumpster, using his palm to give some leverage before he swiftly returns back to the ground, easing forward and possibly a little too close to kinam. he turns his head before pointing to his jaw, a smirk too evident on his tiers. “go ‘head, just don’t get mad if i end up knockin’ your sorry ass out.”

the secondhand smoke taste like pompeii's ashes in his throat, like the lover's pumice. gas-rich, frothy toxin. (idly, he's craving a cigarette, and his eyes stare at the burning cherry with identical intensity.) kinam swipes his tongue along the edge of his top tier of teeth, biting down and dragging it back into his mouth. a hiss slithers between the pearly whites, like the bite of whiskey on a bullet wound. kerosine nails gouge crescent into his fire-hungry palms. they flicker, flicker, flicker, ebbing him to explode.  

       bang bang. 

he's a wolf and he's a bug, and he's big and he's small, growling/whimpering his voice into a raspy timbre. (fuck him up.) his self-destruction is an encompassing disease that soaks into his veins. "so fuckin' pretty," he agrees, but it doesn't sound quite like a compliment. a compulsion of violence gnashed between his macabre lips. he doesn't have a heart but he has a mouth and all he can do is bite down and chew. he blows a pink bubble and pops it with puckering, then laughs. it's a delirious sound, high pitched and much too giddy. he smacks wetly on his gum. a step forward has his feet stomping into a puddle and splattering water like a murder. his pants are wet, and they're so close that so are greyson's now. rancor alley piss. kinam thinks it fitting – for the both of them, these damn gutter babies. he mirrors the other's posture, head tilted, and sagging eyes wide and disconcertingly childlike. they look like a dead fish's.  

you have the right morals. you don't want to lose your temper but it is your greatest flaw. it's claws grip you and choke you out until it has it's way with you. if you can remove yourself from the situation before that happens you will find sanctuary. if not, the devastation you can cause is unrivaled. you will not explode on everything around you; rather, all of your anger that has been bottled up will explode on the one person who happened to trigger it. they will not stand a chance against your temper. you have the devil in you. you cannot tame it but you can walk away before it shows it's face. 

tagged by @skvllkd

he thinks they're like deep sea fish – pupilless bead eyes and needle teeth, picking through the bones of their companions, slurping up rotting, salt-soaked flesh. cannibalistic scavengers, waiting with an apt air of opportunity.  be still, be quiet. there's nothing but your own company to eat.  

his snarl looks like a smile. kinam's tongue presses eagerly against the backs of his teeth, white phosphorus. he wants to sear every line of his letters, bite every curl into greyson's skin like a printing press. "it'd be a shame for something to happen to that pretty face." sink a big O into greyson's adam apple and grip him by the throat. kinam’s arms unfurl at his sides, fingers splayed and palms towards the ceiling. ( coy, small boy playing tough and everybody is pretending to be scared, but all he wants to do is cave; go into the woods and beg for the big, bad wolf to fuck him up. ) his knuckles are smoldering and split with dried blood. he is a cold thing and those are hard to love, so he chooses to be hated, passion melting welts into the tundra of his skin. 

:,( shoot i will just hug a pillow. #mine since birth

i’ve worked so hard and now all my hard work is gone

THis is thE Aim stTATus alL over agAIn

    SONG KI NAM, koreanmade americanborn.