LOVEFOOL

EMOTIONS ARE QUIET. He has found over the years that Jumin rarely expresses them when possible. It is easier to be detached, removed from the volatile emotions that guide his PAST, PRESENT, and future. It makes him cold, turns him to stone to say to others that they cannot use him. They cannot hurt him if he simply doesn't care, but it is moments like this that he is reminded that this man cares more for people than he lets on —— ( he loves more than anyone might ever possibly understand ). Muted expressions turn lively and the photographer is hardly able to repress the soft upturn of his lips.

He does not deserve to be missed for all the lies he has told. He does not deserve to touch him because his heart still belongs to Rika even after all this time. He does not deserve, he does not deserve, but he craves it. To be warm, to be loved again, he wonders. In another life, could it have ever just been that simple? To not be afraid of condemnation, to not be afraid of telling him, to not be afraid at all?

"I missed you too," he answers. "More than you know."

HE RARELY IS SO BOLD TO VENTURE OUT. He finds it more difficult than not these days to do so. His vision fails him as per the norm and he finds himself in the company of his thoughts and the demons in his head —— ( to which, Rika solemnly protests is not the case ). Still, it is hard to allow his life to remain completely static without a single deviation from the norm. Skulking about the halls of his once-shared apartment, waiting for people to come but those who won't. Surely, death would be simpler than this and yet he finds himself at a loss when thinking upon it. He still has crimes to pay for, lives to live out.

JUMIN'S ECCENTRICITIES ARE NOT UNKNOWN TO HIM. He is well aware that the man can be quite troublesome to handle. He had been the corporate heir's chief secretary once upon a time too. He had found himself in his employ on a whim and quit just as easily for the same reason. He fears, however, that perhaps he was mistaken in helping Jumin pick his new assistant

Not because she was incapable, no. He only regretted his choice because he still vividly recalls the nights spent awake, meticulously planning out every lunch meeting to the detail. Every morning spent, clutching a cup of coffee in his hands like it was his very life line. At the very least, Elizabeth bore with him. To push that much work onto another human being, he thinks, was cruel.

"Are you ... well?" He asks in his quiet voice, hands secured around a warm cup of tea. "I hope you've slept, even for a little."

      new support: minteyed.

RUN  A  LITTLE  faster,    push  a  little  harder…    He’d  take  his  body  to  new  heights  when  he’d  train.    The  limit  spreading  farther  and  farther,    his  stamina  building  that  would  take  him  to  the  top.    Jogging  at  a  moderate  speed,    his  headphones  echoed  the  piano  of  his  free  skate  program.   Eyes  witnessing  a  phone  fall  to  the  ground. 

                     ❛     S-Sir  !    You  dropped  your  phone.     ❜

HE FINDS THE WORLD GROWING EVER SMALLER RECENTLY. He supposes that in some ways that this is simply the result of his vision narrowing. It becomes harder to go to and from places without entirely displacing himself. He still is not yet sure how he managed to make it to Hasetsu without much trouble. Yet, of course. The keyword ever remains: yet. Cane sweeps out back and forth, the sound of his mobile navigator acting as background noise for a time. Walk a few more feet, then turn right. No, left. Right. Left? He hears it no longer.

It barely occurs to him that his phone had fallen out of his pocket and thus his earbuds had disconnected. Not, at least, until someone calls out to him. The language is foreign to his ears and equally strange on his tongue. Japanese is known, but rarely practiced —— ( and that practice will become less and less the more his vision fades, he fears ).

    ❝ —- of course not, i wouldn’t possibly assume such a thing. ❞ honeyed is the gentle lilt of his voice, silvery flecks dancing in the storm-cloud grey of his irises ( playful, ablaze with childlike revolt ) ; a prompting smile emerges in the languid curl of his lips as the beloved feline nuzzles into his palm, ❝ but then… enlighten me— what else would you have meant by that ? ❞

@minteyed// SC

                                   “  V        !  ”   the  singular  syllable  is  EXCLAIMED  OVER  a  sharp  exhale .   IT’S  ALMOST  GLAD .       “   i’ve  been  calling  you  so  much …  have  you  been  getting  any  of  them ?   where  have  you  been ?   ”

                         ANXIETIES  CLOG   throat  ;  rending  cranium  with  every  question .   SLEEPLESS  EYES  /  MIND  are  still  on  maximum .

HE'S MADE HIM AFRAID AGAIN, HASN'T HE? He knows his absence is frightening, but he knows too that this is for the best. The less that Luciel knows, the better. If he knew the truth, he thinks, ... if only he knew, then he'd be in danger. Even now the life he leads is one of terrifying trouble, but the criminals that Luciel defeats ... they had nothing on his most beloved —— ( and again, he must ask who he is doing this for: is it for Luciel and the others or is it for her? ).

            HE’S familiar. She knows him, but only from a few pictures she’s seen             online. She’s never seen him in person. But her interest and curiosity is             peaked, causing the small frame to pick up her pace to catch up to him.             Fingers reached out to lightly grasp around the fabric of his sleeve, blue             eyes gazing up towards him.

                                               “  V…  ”

(  starter :// @minteyed  )