streams of youth

hey y’all so,,,, I have come to a big decision. it’s been kinda rough thinking about it but -- honestly, I haven’t been having as much as I’d like on this blog. I dunno what it is really but I don’t think I’ll be returning at all to this part of the rp community. so !! I decided to move sunny elsewhere, to another blog. and I’ve also based his story on another fandom that im currently thriving in.

just to let y’all know, he WILL have a modern verse, so basically all information on this blog will just be moved to another verse on my new blog. it sounds complicated but it really isn’t.

anyways, that’s pretty much it. I don’t wanna write a whole ass essay about this. if you want to follow, then go right head !! again, he does have a modern verse with all the same deets as this one, so if you’d like to continue our thread there then pls let me know!! I do have some amazing threads here and it makes me sad that they might be dropped.

if you don’t wanna follow, then that’s fine !! I suppose that means this is farewell. it was knowing you kiddos.

you have two (2) brain cells

a good amount. one can take a break while the other one is working. unless they both decide to take a vacation at the same time. then it's like you have 0 brain cells

tagged by: @sweetmarzipan

a strange mix of fleeting boredom and the absolute horribleness of life is what lands sunny in lyla’s tattoo shop, hopes and dreams and his shattered, tiny little heart aching for some kind of change in his life. and no matter how much he seeks it, fingers desperately clawing at whatever comes his way, he never seems to be able to hold onto it for long. and as always, his inspiration leaves him, leaves him a shadow of a thought, and half his brain for important decision making moments. and right now, his few remaining brain cells are overworked, cooked to the core like little burnt beans.

it’s late into his shift when someone finally enters the store. they immediately head over towards the little countertop where people like to eat whatever they’ve bought, and settle quietly into their seat. it’s a bit odd, he thinks. some people would prefer to buy something instead of heading straight there. he takes a quick glance outside. no rain. no hint that it will rain soon. not wanting to think of it much, sunny glances back down at the paperwork he was trying to finish. it’s around half an hour later that he realizes that this stranger has not left yet -- if anything, it almost looks like they’re asleep.

“I mean -- he’s been lookin’ at ya a lot.”

the comment seems to come out of nowhere as sunny tosses the last dart, knowing that he has already lost the game. still, he turns and faces hyunji with a pleasant enough smile. they’ve been at this game for a while, moving from darts to pool and back to darts, sometimes with a bottle of alcohol curled in their hands. tonight was meant to be nice, relaxing, especially since hyunji seemed frustrated with school (or perhaps something else, but she won’t tell sunny the truth -- and as much as that hurts him, he learns to let go). his gaze falls somewhere behind her, at the odd man staring at her -- or, well, at them both now. sunny is unsure of what to do. he doesn’t often himself in the midst of a stare down with some middle-aged man, but he also doesn’t quite have the energy right now to deal with him.

they’re out on some roof, the cool chill of night welcoming them both in a gentle embrace, as moonlight peaks and sinks into seoul’s watery skyline.

his thoughts, too, settle upon that skyline. quiet and unassuming, hopes turned jagged in the prior hours. sometimes he wonders if he hopes too much, sees too little. it almost feels as if every time he tries to do better, be better, his own actions come round and bite him until he bleeds. he tries not to think of it much, still lingering on the whimsical tunes played in tonight’s bar, where he had watched sungil perform for perhaps the tenth time. and it never gets old. he can only hope that it won’t -- for the both of them, at least.

“tell me what you think, please...” sunny seeks validation in the bodies of others, in the words that seem to reflect his own, in fragile friendships and uneasy bonds. “my co-worker thought it was a good idea to go around takin’ stuff. when I caught him, I thought it would be a good idea to tell my manager -- turns out they’re, like, besties or somethin’. and I got blamed for it instead. and fired!! ugh...” he wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut. but he knows, deep down, that he is is a boy with a ‘heart of gold’ -- either that, or he’s just a boy with a no good brain incapable of surviving in retail. greediness is the ill of humanity that sunny knows nothing of.

and if he were greedy, he would only truly lust over human connection. friends and friendships, a boatload of it.

it’s not that sunny is afraid or anything like that -- but the very thought of touching something so massive, so bizarre, so frightening, that makes him reconsider his entire friendship with connor. it isn’t often that sunny gets to see animals. after all, most of his time is spent either at work or goofing around in the relatively normal, quiet streets of his neighborhood. visiting connor at work isn’t a regular pastime (and it might never happen again, ever). connor soon approaches, smile wide, looking like the angel that he most certainly isn’t. fear renders sunny immobile as he stares with wide eyes, arms locked tight and close to his aching chest.

dusk pours through the shutters and rests like light snowfall upon the scattered potted plans in every corner of the room. it nestles into lightly tousled hair, eyes that never seem to see past the peak of horizon, and a nice little cast wrapped firm around a broken arm. sunny soaks in the last of today’s warmth, watching jaewoo pace around the little space like a curious child, rummaging through anything that would open and picking up odd little trinkets tucked into the far back of old, creaky cabinets. it was just another late evening spent in the attic of the plant shop, where sunny often works as a cashier. his manager, having seen the ugly little cast on his arm and the cut across his cheek, allowed him to take some time to rest at the top. somehow, like a shadow, jaewoo popped into the attic for a little visit. strange, but not something sunny had the brain to really think about.

“hmmmm...if I were to die?” somehow, in the midst of this lounging about and talking about the intricacies of piping hot tea, they had slithered into a rather bizarre conversation topic. death, death, and even more death. “I dunno.” he stands rather methodically and walks to the little kitchen set. he tries picking up the kettle with his broken arm, his brain lagging at least 20 seconds behind the motions of his body, and finds himself crying out in pain as the kettle drops and the tea spills out, burning both his leg and foot.

“fuck -- ahhh. my luck is so -- trash!! jaewoooo...pick this up, pretty please? I feel like i’m gonna collapse.” he drapes himself dramatically over the countertop, waving around his lightly burn foot in order to ease the tingles of pain. “man. if I died, seriously, my final wish would be to get some good ass ice-cream. seriously.”

if his life were any different, perhaps he would have responded differently.