d i s t r u z i o n e ;

Skylar wasn’t really surprised when the others hands were on him. In fact he had all but verbally asked for him to kick his ass. Of course, no one really wanted to get beat up in a CD store over something as trivial as them both not being in the best of moods, obviously. What he hadn’t expected was the amount of unwavering pride he seemed to have. How, even though this shit absolutely hurt and he knew this guy could actually kill him, something really just made him want to push their buttons. That was what Skylar did best though.

“Funnily enough, you caught me on a really bad day.” He winced through his words, the pressure making his hands twitch as he tried to push against the shelf. The blonde had never been one to know much about self defense or what to do when someone had him pinned like this, or how to deal with the newfound aches that he was receiving.

“I could just scream really loudly and see who comes by, yeah?” They were big words for someone in the position he was in; acting as if he was in any sort of place to try to appear tough.

Roman’s patience had been put to the test and like always, he’d failed. It would’ve been easy to snap the one in half and move on. He’d done it so many times to others--- including the closest of family--- a stranger was no feat. Calling his bluff had struck a chord. Roman’s desires skyrocketed and he’d imagined every way that this could go. He could snap his neck. He could aim for his central nervous system and turn him into a vegetable. He could break every single bone in his body and walk away without a word.

Yet, he pulled away. He’d already caused enough damage and if he were in a worse mood, he would’ve made sure this kid had something to remember him by. His mind briefly went to memories of Kai and how easily he’d ruined his life with a simple snap of his finger--- well, fingers. He lost everything that year, but Roman needed a turn-around. Something to pry his thoughts off of violence, no matter how tempting it might’ve been.

“Oh yeah? You think they would buy you writing the lifestyle of a 24 year old Korean-American girl?” She questioned with a smirk. “I’d buy it.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” he attested with a daunting grin. “I would be commended for writing such a beautiful masterpiece. Throw in some traumas and--- boom--- profit.”

“Like a cold shower.” She joked in a very even tone. “Oh I really should. I’ll be sure to send you the manuscript once it’s done.” She nodded with a smirk. 

“Careful,” he warned with a coy smile. “I’m known to take what’s not mine.”

“Fucking prick,” Skylar said, his hands resting on his hips. He knew that he was absolutely pushing it, but the second the other pushed passed him, Skylar found himself pushing back. The musician was obviously trying to get himself hit at this point, he knew it. It wasn’t his best choice to go picking fights with people that were obviously a bit stronger than his generally wispy form. “Honestly, what crawled up your ass?” His hands shoving against the others shoulder.

His mood had been pretty shit since he climbed out of bed only to find that Yoosung wasn’t there, for whatever reason. Of course, that wasn’t why he was frustrated, but he was so damn needy that it seemed as though his mood wouldn’t improve unless he had Yoosung with him right then.

Being out of the media’s eye for some time had left quite the gap in reputation. Of course, he couldn’t bargain on anybody knowing who he was anymore. He’d been gone for three years and had sunk to B-lister status. Sometimes he hated how the world worked. Still, he couldn’t be upset about that sort of thing. He had all the time in the world to ensure no one forgot his name again--- but could it wait? 

He’d still been on unsteady ground since his return and despite low levels of paparazzi chasing him around like a dog after a bone, he had to watch his temper. This was nothing to fret about. He’d made a mistake. Opened his mouth and was delivered what was coming for him. That didn’t stop Roman’s hand from flying into the back of this person’s skull and shoving it hard up against the shelving. They were alone for the most part, but he could easily gather unwarranted attention with one wrong move.

For some reason, she sat with him, Jeanie now hiding over in her cat house up in the highest box. Mila smelled the sushi as he opened it and sighed. “Wow… and you said it’s spicy, yeah? Better actually be spicy. My latina ass can’t have some smiled bullshit.” She smirked, shaking her head. “So what exactly do we have to talk about?”

“How could I forget?” He arched an eyebrow, a coy smile playing at his lips. “You’ve got the fiery personality of one. Always considered you an enjoyable chew toy,” he winked, digging out a pair of chopsticks for himself. At her question, he let himself set up first. Taking a small packet of soy sauce and working into the small pile of wassabi he had to his right. He thought about the words he’d use this time. It’d been a while since he interacted with this one and the last time he did, some stronger words were used. 

Since his release, he’d become accustomed to stepping on eggshells. He watched his mouth and his advances. Been careful not to put too much attention on himself despite the media’s eye tracking him like a hawk whenever he left his apartment. It was nice for a while, but he had to watch his temper and doing that never really amounted to much. 

“I need something,” he advanced, taking the first bite of his food. He savoured the flavour slowly, eyes nearly drawing to a close out of pleasure. Much better than prison food. Tenfold. “My brother, as you may know, has been getting himself deeper and deeper into the little--- Hell-world--- he created for himself. Mostly to get away from his family,” he continued with a full mouth. Swallowing thickly, he continued. “I need your help to push Narcissus out from behind his mirror. Set him up with someone. You have a lot of friends. Some single and desperate, probably.”

Mila had been relaxing that afternoon, watching 90s Nickelodeon and eating chips and guacamole. Wynnie wasn’t around so she had the place to herself. Her cat Jeanie sat nuzzling into her hip. When the voice from outside came into earshot, Mila sighed, knowing that voice all too well. So when Roman came waltzing into her apartment unwelcome, she really wasn’t that surprised. When he spoke, she squinted, annoyed already. “What… are you doing here?”

Maybe he’d been far too used to not hearing himself being referred to as any sort of gendered term for a long time. Maybe it came from how his partner never seemed to slip up and then there was the added fact that he rarely left his home—but something about the word ‘man’ being used in relation to him really fucking bugged him. Probably more than it should have being that he’d been one to slip up with his own pronouns from time to time out of a habitual need to make other people feel comfortable. Today, however, was not a day where he felt particularly inclined to oblige that need.

His face screwed up a bit, eyes narrow and mouth set as he finally took in the person close to him. It was probably wise not to go mouthing off to them, but then again, Skylar was never the smartest person in the world.

“I’m just saying it’s their job, ya know, but whatever—fuck me for not knowing where something is when everything is mislabeled, right?” His tone showed more agitation than necessary but damn it something about the other’s tone added with the misgendering along with the god-awful hangover he was suffering made this all seem very appropriate. “I guess by wanting to know where a fuckin’ album is I deserve some overgrown fuck head with some holier than thou attitude and a god complex belittling my need for order, yeah? Perfect sense has been made. Thanks for that—oh look, I managed to get through an entire sentence without assuming someone’s gender. That was so difficult.” He gave a dramatic eye-roll.

Roman sighed, the regret of opening his mouth beginning to settle. Often times Roman did things with purpose. He usually did things to benefit from them. Impulsivity ranged, though. He could never quite get himself to keep his mouth closed; even in the direst of moments. He’d begrudgingly been aware of his lack of manners from the moment he hit the streets of New York but it was like home to him. The crowded streets nearest Times Square. The crudest languages following the amass that trailed usually aimlessly through the streets. Street laws were often ignored, personal spaces were usually invaded, and Roman lived for all of it.

Still, he was a strong promoter of equal rights. The fact he’d unknowingly misgendered someone was almost too embarrassing to comment on. Being a part of the community himself, he felt compelled to apologise--- but being the kind of person he was, he wouldn’t do that. No, he’d revel in having some form of control over a person’s deepest part of themselves and use that to his advantage. He had a knack for pissing people off, and his moral compass had long since broke. 

“Cry me a river,” he scoffed, taking the item with him as he shouldered past the other intentionally. “Fucking Millennials.”

“So is there some kind of qualification that you have to be super hot in order to work for uber- or do I just have amazing luck? Come on you can’t tell me a hookup with a mysterious driver doesn’t sound like a good time.

I’m not saying I would do it– i’m not that desperate. But you know….. pretty spicy”

“I’d say it must be pure dumb luck--- or, your taste in men is god awful,” quipped the taller smugly. “I’ve only taken Uber a handful of times and not once has my dick stirred in my pants from an immigrant chauffeuring my ass from meeting to meeting.”

Sana made a sound as she leaned against the nearest wall. “I know it is such a beautiful day out but I’m trying to convince myself not to waste it but I kind of just want to sit inside and re-watch the OC…I forgot how addictive it is.” 

“Invigorating,” he quipped apathetically, studying the text alerts flying in seemingly from left and right and center as he horked down spoonfuls of his meal. “You should write a book.”

Skylar stood on the tips of his toes as he rested the cd’s back on the shelf they had rested on previously. It was all a gesture, really, he didn’t need the extra height. Standing at six foot four inches it was hard to find a shelf that he couldn’t reach.

He took a few steps back and let out a sigh. “One would think that the organization in these places would be better,” he mused. Skylar had been looking for a specific album, nothing special really he had just managed to play his to the point that the disk wouldn’t read anymore. He was a purist, after all, and he just couldn’t move away from his CD’s. But, for whatever reason—be it that the store just didn’t have it, or it was missing in these haphazardly organized rows, Skylar just couldn’t seem to find it.

Roman’s initial response could’ve very well been anything. He was an impulsive kind of man with limited filtering. Sometimes it got him into trouble and most of the time, he didn’t care. The man glanced over and immediately rolled his eyes. Social cues were never his forte. Involving himself with any form of communication was always off the table. He couldn’t tell if it was even a social phobia anymore. It was probably something along the lines of internalised misanthropy. 

“With the invention of the iPod, I don’t imagine they’ve found time to care about organisation,” he scoffed in response, glancing down to the case he’d already been studying. “But how dare they?” He added. “How could they not think about the poor integrity of the man-child beanpole who needs everything perfect in order to shop? What a world, what a world.”

“No one’s caught my eye just yet.”

Addie usually never cared if people messed with her or if something happened to her, but she was usually aware enough to see if someone tried to pull something. This time she missed it. “What a dick..” She looked over at the door, “You don’t have to, but I’m not going to stop you.”

“Just think it’s a cryin’ shame anyone has to deal with those kinds of people. Twenty-fuckin’-eighteen and guys are still slipping roofies into girls’ drinks,” he practically snarled. “I’ll be more than glad to take care of that asshole soon as I’m finished my drink. Keep a sharp eye on him ‘til he’s gone.”

“Most don’t feel that way, sadly.” Flint replied, “So I could have easily been face down on the subway platform in the next hour here.” He definitely wasn’t going to refuse an offer for free alcohol so he replied, “Thanks. I promise to keep  a good eye on this one.”

“Sad fuckin’ world we live in nowadays,” he attested. Roman had done his fair share of misdeeds in the past. It was a way to keep himself entertained, but the acts he had to put on made him feel like he actually had a moral compass. It was a strange feeling. “Not your fault, man. Feel free to order ‘em under my name. I’ve got a tab goin’.”