* / reticence

     𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒  𝐑𝐀𝐖  𝐈𝐍  𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇  like  any  other  stone  or  hurled  pebble  or  jagged  edge  and  he  wonders  if,  in  the  act  of  starving  the  divinity  out  of  his  body,  he’s  fettered  what  little  judgment  he  once  possessed.  small  wonder.  restraint  lends  more  weight  to  excess  than  he  can  hope  to  comprehend,  and  there’s  a  name  for  every  lesson  he’s  wrapped  his  jaws  around,  swallowed  and  failed  to  keep  down.  gabriel  watches,  eyes  shuttered,  as  a  girl  throws  back  her  head,  seized  by  a  bout  of  unbidden  mirth  and  her  sheet  of  silver  hair,  undulating,  but  never  catching  light.  it’s  dark,  he  notices,  even  for  a  fighting  ring.  the  stage,  which  has  for  the  better  half  of  the  night  made  a  sport  of  at  least  a  dozen  champions,  now  sits  pensive,  stripped  of  its  carnal  glamour  as  the  last  gash  of  light  is  put  out.  he  pushes  against  the  deluge  of  retreating  spectators  before  it  can  uproot  him  and  wash  him  out,  twisting  in  fissures  where  he's  sure  no  one  will  care  to  look  and  then  he’s  through,  gone  through  a  door  out  back.  blood  and  fresh  air  siege  faculties,  having  been  sorely  missed,  but  do  little  to  placate  the  fog  gathering  behind  his  eyes.  there’s  a  feverish  itch  he  can’t  quite  place  to  go  along  with  it  and  after  a  brief  pause,  he  decides  it’s   —  or  rather,  he’s   —   worth  chasing,  whatever  the  cost  may  be.  creature  of  habit.  sure  of  nothing  if  not  the  stuttering  heart,  or  whatever’s  parroting  its  throes  and  throbs.  it  nudges  him  forth,  back  into  the  complex,  where  only  shadows  are  left  dancing  in  the  dust  -  specked  dinge,  absent  of  their  bodies.  a  shadow,  then,  inky  wraith,  standing  still  as  a  plinth  by  the  steps  trailing  up  to  the  stage.  gabriel  halts,  chest  fraught  with  the  labour  of  breath,  gut  twisting.  fear,  like  he’s  never  felt  before.   ❛   what  are  you  ?   ❜               𝙙: \ 𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 \ @rcticere

     the ring cleans out after the final round, people redeeming their winning money or cursing out the fighter who lost them their money. which is, none of the fighter’s business, yisoo thinks to himself; it’s your own bloody problem for betting on the wrong person. he doesn’t voice it, doesn’t bother in the least and as the fighting ring grows silent in its emptiness, he steps back onto the ring, shuffling up the steps and then to the center. it’s comforting to be boxed in by rough fraying ropes, surrounded by everlasting darkness as if it stretches out to far, far beyond. the ring is big when it’s just him and the silence after a fight. it’s calming even as the stench of too many bodies, sweat and blood linger in the air. yisoo could perhaps argue that’s what makes it so comforting in fact. though, he’s alone until he is not. the fighter turns to the sound of a voice. he spots him by the steps to the stage, a tall and lean figure. perhaps its a cause for concern the way his insides twist oh so familiarly, like morpheus has something to say. he’s become much more aware, of the supernatural since his awakening. like recognises like, morpheus once told him. so, yisoo turns to the stranger who is apparently not all human as he appears to be and tilts his head, scanning him up and down before lips curl around his words, teasing but sharp. “ what do you want me to be? ” 

❝     i  know  i’m  kinda  late  ‘n  i  apologize  for  that     ───    but  we  live  man.     ❞    relaxed  smile  settles  upon  lips  moments  before  you  let  a  noise  out  once  he  pulls  you  inside,     chuckling  quietly  at  hyunjun’s  physical  state     (     only  because  it’s  a  mood     &&     not  because  his  exhaustion  is  funny     ).     ❝     uhh  probably     ?     might’ve  played  it  once  or  twice  i  dunno.     ❞    is  all  that  you  say  in  reply,     body  now  shifting  on  the  couch  so  it  can  feel  more  comfortable.     ❝     alrighty  man,     how  much  ya  payin’  for  me  to  test  it  though     ?     ❞     you  tease,     corner  of  lips  tugging  upward  as  you  peer  down  at  the  other  before  returning  your  gaze  to  the  laptop.     ❝     does  it  even  have  a  name  or…     ❞ 

     “ my entire soul and a thank you note when i graduate. heck, i’ll give you a special shoutout in the credits for this assignment, like tester — noah. ” hyunjung blindly reaches up a hand to pat at noah’s shoulder, or well, the vicinity of where he imagines noah’s shoulder is. “ according to the marking criteria we are to name it after the inspired game and tack our full name behind, so feel free to call it neko atsume version oh hyunjung. or navoh if that’s too long for you. ” the game design student finally raises his head to level at look to the other, deadly serious despite what just came out his mouth. it isn’t his fault the teachers are stubborn and strict! 

     the cocktail of intoxicants in his system have certainly given him weirder hallucinations, auditory or otherwise, yet he swears the effects of it should have worn off after an uncomfortable sleep upon his friend’s couch. but there is an annoying pitch of noises ringing in his ears and something soft nudging into his side, groan catching roughly in throat and blind hand swatting at his ear, as if the meows are a buzzing fly. heavy lids flutter open just in time to be swallowed by fur and darkness, and the groan that stutters through lungs is pitched, annoyed, hands scrabbling to shove at the decidedly new animal that wasn’t here the last time insu broke in to sleep off an impending hangover. “dude, when the hell did you get cats and why the hell did you do that to yourself ?”

     the decidedly-non-spirit shoves at dal in what seems like an effort to get her off and taeil’s eyes narrow. byul meows particularly loud and dal jumps off, whipping around to cast the stranger a look before curling herself around taeil’s leg, joining taeyang. okay, so he’s going to come in here, sleep on taeil’s couch and insult his cats? wow, rude. “ why don’t you open your eyes and see what the hell you’ve done to yourself. ” taeil crosses his arms around his chest and decides there’s no need to be too kind, a rude awakening makes people realise their situations faster, doesn’t it? 

time for some angst / accepting !

     there’s a sound nearby; clearer, separated from the rowdy cheering and ringing bell hanging in the ring that reverberates in his pounding head and he looks to it. yisoo’s sight takes a few seconds to focus and eventually, the vague figure turns into gabriel. oh, him. the fighter stares at the other, trying to place why he’s there and more importantly, what the fuck did he just ask? yisoo is, a little out of it, to put it lightly. the fighter has some otherworldly tolerance — years of practice usually does that to people — but tonight, he has gone above and beyond to make himself black-out drunk. 

     once in a while, he just needs a day like this, a day to knock himself out so he finally has some proper shut-eyes; finally able to retreat into a place within himself where not even morpheus can reach. he’s had plenty of bystanders tell him it’s ‘ not healthy ’ and that he should ‘ find another method ’ or even ‘ get help ’ but, who else can help him if not himself? hazy eyes squint, dragging foggy brain back to the present and trying to decipher what exactly gabriel said. how much have you had? oh. lips curl around a silent chuckle. oh. “ enough. ” yisoo drawls, eyes disappearing into bitter crescents and the smile is sharp and perhaps, angry. 

     ( enough to black out; it’s a practiced recipe, altered and tailored to his needs each time. more whiskey or more coke? depends on how fast he wants to fall. enough to forget; sluggish and groggy, he barely remembers what it feels to be in his own body, what more the other entity sharing a vessel with him? enough to stop; it’s the perfect blend of exhaustion, desperation and one big, horrible, coping mechanism but beggars can’t be choosers and yisoo will take anything to get away from the god in him. )

time for some angst / accepting !

     there’s no time for him to worry; not now at least, not until they are sure they are out of the vicinity, until they are in the clear. sure, yuchan’s brain may be replaying the split second before jae reached him; the dislodged, bloody, snapping jaw too close to his neck and the startlingly clear and steady thought of ‘ it’s okay, i gave him the map, he knows where to go. he’ll make it out to them ’. yuchan’s resigned and at peace for another moment more before a pair of strong arms drag him away to a loud squelch as meat gives way to rough blade. jae screams for him to ‘ get moving ’ and it’s autopilot from there. yuchan runs without tripping, somehow keeping up with jae’s speed, arm tight in the other’s grip as the older steers him. perhaps it should hurt but, yuchan wouldn’t know. he’s numb. it’s almost like running a diagnosis on someone else, being the third party, looking in. yuchan supposes this is what a ‘ out of the body ’ experience means. it’s weird but good; he wouldn’t have to feel the burn of muscles, lungs trying hard to take in enough oxygen to make sure he can keep running. he’s moving, they’re moving but for a long time yuchan just thinks, ‘ oh, i almost died. ’ ( and quietly, tucked into a place deep inside himself: ‘ oh, i’m okay with it. ’ )

     they stop in the ruins of a gas station maybe, out in nowhere. it’s isolated, quiet and after jae’s careful scouting; empty. the sun’s setting; how far have they gone? yuchan follows jae into a corner where two solid wall smeared with things neither wants to think about meets and fronted by a wall of shattered glass, overlooking the front of the gas station. just in case. as he comes back to himself, yuchan’s legs start to shake with the apparent effort to hold himself up and eventually stumbles nearby jae as he sets up camp, limbs giving way to the exertion. they sit in silence for the moment and then yuchan starts pulling out his first aid kit and as he reaches for jae, the other’s voice is soft but, heavy. “ you could have died. ” 

     yuchan’s eyes flickered to jae’s, only to find the other’s staring at him. he doesn’t dare to look too long. lips curl is what can only be described as a sheepish smile, “ it’s — ” well, perhaps ‘ it’s okay ’ isn’t the best thing to say. “ i'll be more careful next time, i promise. but how’s your hand? i’ll bandage it for you, ” yuchan smiles as careful hands reach out for jae’s. perhaps, that’ll be enough.