ahnserin

WHAT?! (Read: Thank you!)

Chuckling, Jeongwoo was getting himself together, standing a little taller with his arms crossed over his chest to match Serin’s stance. The girl’s insult went in one ear and out the next with only an eye roll followed by a wink as a reply. He lent his shoulder against the wall beside him, pulling out his phone before handing the unlocked device over to the other. “Bit of both, I guess, but the brain side is always the most polite,” he spoke, grin spreading as he continued, “But the big guy keeps requesting your number for another time… He’s usually the nicer one to be around.”

She bristles when he starts getting too comfortable, lips pursed and weight shifted on one foot and then the other. Serin controls her expressions well, remaining passive in spite of her wariness, her gaze stays trained on his, politely, only shifting downwards when he offers his phone to her. She makes no move to take it since 1) she didn’t need a new phone, and 2) she didn’t need to give him her number. “I can’t give it to you,” Neither time nor her number. “I guess I’ll just have to live on without having met the nicer one.”

‘Excuse me, but it sounds like you’re calling my clothes trash. clothesbin? I’m a little offended.’ His words held no actual offense as he knew that she was just joking around. Instead he chuckled. ‘My clothes are of very high quality, I must tell you… and my clothes definitely dont smell.’ He responded with a shocked expression. ‘But I guess if you’re going to complain then I’m forced to take all these clothes back and leave you to wear only your own. 

“I’m not complaining, I’m just telling it as it is!” She sounds confident, almost convincingly so if not for the unmistakable quirk playing in the corner of her lips. And it becomes more apparent the longer Serin has her gaze trained on his, so she looks away first. “And of course they smell. They smell like … guys.” She begins, for lack of better description. It reminded her of what her brothers’ rooms smelled like. A sniff, prompted by the cold and muffled by his scarf helps to put thought into words. “They smell like you.”

open: m/f/nb connection: stranger summary: beck gets caught up chasing after a robber

they raced throughout the shopping streets, beck was hot on his heels and was so close to grabbing him by the back of his jacket and forcing him to the ground. his jaws were tense as his eyes narrowed in, trying to avoid people the best he could but there was this one person he didn’t see in time. slamming straight into the innocent by-stander, his heart thumped as he hurried to put his hand under the back of their head as they crashed to the ground. his weight pushing down on the stranger. “are you alright?” the officer sat up hurriedly to keep from crushing the other. 

it’s rare that you avoid a close shave more than once, and serin finds this out the hard way. earphones in and deaf to her surroundings, her cassettes are abandoned for her phone which effectively halved what little attention she was already paying to the rest of the world. her gaze is fixed on her screen when she sees the first runner in her periphery, their movements a blur as they barely make it around her.

shock is translated oddly in serin: where her actions aren’t quite telling of the chaos she has to recover from internally. she’s barely able to catch her breath, watching them bound down the road, only to walk straight into another runner’s path when she faces forward again. (she thinks it’s a person, at least, although it feels more like she’s been hit by a truck.) they land in a heap on the cement, and she lets out a hiss at the feeling of limbs knocking against the floor clumsily, sure to leave bruises in their wake. “yeah i’m- fine,” she fibs through her teeth, if only to get him off and away from her, sitting up when he does and hoping he wasn’t planning on lingering for much longer. because she knows she wasn’t going to.

it’s an unfairly bitter question of him to ask. he, who has already lost EVERYTHING, to make someone else ponder what would they do if they were given an option: die or watch those around you die? kuze has nothing else left to watch wilt and wither away before him. he has no life even to sacrifice if he wanted to. yet, knowing how horrible he is being he cannot help it. it’s dragging someone down with him to know he is not alone in this moment of suffering, this fucking moment of self-pity. drowning on his own past memories and longings. would he have been a father? a husband? a good son? would he have gotten a dog? perhaps went into law as he always dreamed? yet it all was stolen, snatched from his clumsy grasp to life, and ROBBED from him. any possibility for a normal life he had lost. that ache never seems to go away no matter how healed he thinks he is. there is no comfort in dying. it doesn’t ease any of his pain. it just makes him suffer it alone. “that is noble of you.”

distracted from her pondering she finally does turn to look at him properly, sparing a moment to wonder what he was thinking about. there was no smoke without a fire and this reeked of ashes. so where was the flame? the question was never truly about asking her, was it? she wonders if he’d been asking himself the same thing. her musings are cut short by his remark, the praise effectively tugging at her lips to form a small, crooked smile. “noble, huh?” and she allows herself to actually chuckle this time, “i’ll take what i can get.” surely there were worse things to be remembered by. it’s a split-second debate, whether or not she wanted to keep talking. whether or not she’d like where the conversation was heading. (but maybe he’d make a better conversation partner than she does. maybe he’d take her less(more?) seriously.) “i guess it all lies in how much you value your own life, and how much that is compared to other people’s lives; there’s really no right or wrong answer to that. it kinda just ... is.”

           there is surprise, and there is also fear. he withdraws his hand like he’s been burned, face going blank. shinji is very aware that the smaller the person, the more sheer evil packed per square inch. it’s poetic, really — the things he loves will always hurt him in some way. that’s a little dramatic, yeah, but so is threatening to cut his legs off because he called her tiny. ❝ y’know, actually, you have a point. that’s fair. i — i think i’m okay with my height, actually, yeah. ❞

gazing back at the other, she’s careful to maintain his composure until after she hears what she wants. which hasn’t been fully granted, but they’re getting there. "good.” (credit where credit was due.) she remains mum apart from that and a small charitable smile, although the look she gives him suggests that the conversation wasn’t over. her eyes flit away after what seemed like an eternity, running fingers through her locks and tucking the strays-away behind her ear. “and i trust that you like your hands enough to start keeping them to yourself?”

KUZE is fading. it’s a t e r r i f y i n g realization when he notices how weak his spirit has gotten. he knew the day would come when eventually he would have to move on from this life yet the idea of experiencing death twice was unsettling. he hadn’t been prepared the first time nor would he be this time. he expects that response. most people would presumably say the same. he wonders if they would answer the same after experiencing a taste of the loneliness accompanied by death or would they change their mind finding this solitude to MADDENING — would they end up like him? drifting in and out of his own mind to avoid the reality around him?  ❝ do you really think you could? ❞

“better me than them,” and from how quiet she’d muttered it, serin wonders if he heard her at all. it was a kind of disjointed conversation: she as lost in thought as he, knowing full well that this conversation would haunt her for nights to come long after he stops talking. yeah, better me than them. “i don’t keep many people around. but ... they’re important. to me.” important didn’t even cut it; some days, serin feels like she’s living and breathing for the sake of the people around her. if not to be of use, to simply be ... around while they still are. (read: alive only while they still are.)“i think it’d be harder to not do it,” she supplies further, something akin to bitter mirth in her sharp exhale.

♡ | @serindpty

           ❝ you’re so TINY. ❞ fond of all things small and/or cute, shinji is unable to resist the urge to pat her on the head. alas, it’s not the first time, but despite being nearly killed more than once he’s yet to learn better. ❝ how can someone be this tiny!!! ❞ (mind you, he’s not much taller himself.)

serin tolerates most(some? a few?) things. but it’s safe to say that this(standalone, or shinji as a whole.) does not fall under that category. but she lets it happen, if only to justify the repercussions that would soon follow. she watches it happen, really, as he tussles her hair enough to have loose strands fall out of place. (bastard!) “you know,” she considers after a pause, “you can be this tiny too after i hack off your legs in your sleep.”

“Torture devices?” he asked, eyes widening as he was unsure whether or not she was joking. The little cloud of not-knowing hung over them, and he wondered exactly what she really was doing. Taking a small bite from his own muffin, he spoke again, voice softer. “Really?”

LILO & STITCH QUOTES STARTER PROMPTS | ACCEPTING!

She stares blank-faced at where the other has a hand half-raised, hovering just a little ways above her head. Though Serin keeps her expression mostly unreadable, her pursed lips didn’t exactly suggest any signs of mirth. (Not even if you squint.) “Okay,” she answers finally, perhaps not as remorsefully as one would have hoped. “But if you’re about to suggest anything other than somehow making me tall enough to be that ‘bad’, I don’t want to hear it.”