#.queue'd

♠ : Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

        It’s strange, the weight of memories from days long since passed that is still held in such simple moments, but he finds that it’s a sort of light reminiscence as eyes linger on the elder male, eyes forming crescents full of warmth and lips pulling into a smile that mirrors his happiness. Watching the usually well composed male fumble nervously with his tie brings a shake of his head, and he pushes away from the wall that he leans casually against, a chuckle vibrating through his chest. He remembers occasions, years ago, when they would get ready for charity events or fashion shows together; just like this.

"This stupid thing—” Frustration is evident is Kibum’s voice as he speaks, but it’s the anxiousness that Taemin’s attention latches onto, and he can hear the quickness of the other’s pulse as blood pumps through his veins, rapid and echoing his not so concealed emotions. There was once a time that polished masks and facades were their specialty, he recalls.

"Hyung," he murmurs, and his own attire of a tailored Armani tuxedo is complete with the bowtie that he had finished fixing long ago as he slips between the fidgeting man and the full-length mirror that he stands in front of. "I’ll help you; stop over thinking and breathe. You’re starting to play my part." The words are spoken in a soft tone that holds a teasing edge, hoping to soothe Kibum’s nerves. He can’t have the guest of honor passing out, after all. 

When he reluctantly releases the ends of the tie that have been clutched too tightly within his hands, Taemin takes them with gentle fingers, peering up through long eyelashes at the features contorted with worry and uncertainty before familiar lips part to finally allow words other than curses to escape.

"This is just so nerve-wracking… I mean, royalty, Taemin. I’m meeting royalty at an actual ball." Keen hearing picks up on the skip of a beat of the elder’s heart, and while Taemin has yet to explain how exactly he’s so familiar with this vampire royalty, lips curve into a reassuring smile as nimble fingers cross and loop the tie until a knot is neatly formed. 

"Mhm. It’s just like a fairy-tale, hyung. Shall I call you Cinderella?" 

The comment earns a shove to his chest as he pushes the knot up to the collar, using it as leverage to keep himself from budging as he laughs. It also takes Kibum’s mind away from the quickly upcoming event, if only for a moment.

some sentence starters. ( x )

         There’s an exasperated sigh that falls past his lips as the waitress he’s dealing with completely shoots down his explanation of not having the money for the rather pricey ticket, though it’s hardly out of his budget. The atmosphere of the restaurant is packed with a lively but elegant air, and as his senior at the ballet company leaves due to a sudden occurrence that requires his attention, he’s left with the bill.

This is no problem, but the issue is that he seems to have left his wallet in his car. With his counterpart having left, and no proof or person to back up his explanation, he’s stuck in a rather awkward situation , lips pursing  as fingertips tap against the now empty wine glass that sits in front of him, once filled with the best red wine that the restaurant carries, gaze fixed on the waitress that stands before him.

         It’s late, nearing one in the morning as he leaves the dance company, and there’s a cold breeze that has him pulling his too-light jacket further around him, as if that will protect him from the cool air. There’s a hot coffee held between his hands, bland and an awful brew, but it’s keeping him warm as he brings the cup up to his lips to take a small sip, slowly to prevent scalding his sensitive taste buds.

Send ✆ for a morning text

[ text → jong ]: I had to leave early this morning to get to the company on time

[ text → jong ]: but I made breakfast and got everything ready for you, so you can sleep in at least fifteen more minutes. I already reset your alarm. love you.

Send ♔ for an angry text

[ text → jong ]: are you kidding me?

[ text → jong ]: you're supposed to be the one that's good at domestic things!

[ text → jong ]: but you turned my favorite white shirt pink! along with every other white article of clothing that I own!

[ text → jong ]: pink! 

[ text → jong ]: ヽ(#`Д´)ﾉ

Send ♠ for a drunk text

[ text → jong ]: whe re are yuo ???

[ text → jong ]: wer'e out fo vodkafd

[ text → jong ]: bring mooore

[ text → jong ]: I'm hungry

[ text → jong ]: fuCK

Send ☏ for a vague text

[ text → jong ]: forget that I even said anything

Send ⁇ for a worried text

[ text → jong ]: are you sure that you're okay?

[ text → jong ]: that you aren''t overworking yourself?

[ text → jong ]: I know you're busy, but... I'm stopping by. just to make sure.

Send ♣ for a text not meant for you

[ text → jong ]: you can't tell him about the surprise party, noona! it's a surprise for a reason!

[ text → jong ]: goddammit shh you didn't get that text, okay? surprise party lmao what surprise party idk what I'm talking about

Send ✘ for a text that should never have been sent

[ text → jong ]: I don't want you to leave

Send ✺ for a sassy text

[ text → jong ]: well excuse me, mr. perfect. you're soooo cool now, aren't you?

[ text → jong ]: getting all close to that girl in the teaser

[ text → jong ]: she's not even that pretty

Send √ for a long-winded confession text

[ text → jong ]: I miss you

[ text → jong ]: like, consuming my entire being miss you

[ text → jong ]: I hate this empty house. I hate the silence that fills the air instead of the sound of your breathing, or pans clinking in the kitchen, and I hate these thoughts that only seem to come when I'm alone. I hate knowing you're out being productive and enjoying yourself, working hard on your career, and all I'm doing is sitting here close to tears because my fucking brain is broken.

[ text → jong ]: I hate wishing you were here, that you would just quit everything and stay home with me, I hate wishing that I could do the same. this selfishness... I'm disgusted by it, but god, I miss you, and I just want you here with me instead of out there with everyone else.

Send ☠ for a misguided advice text

[ text → jong ]: tell him to fuck off if he thinks he can pull that hierarchy crap on you. you're like, twenty times his age, anyways.

Send ☢ for a desperate text

[ text → jong ]: can you come home? pleeeeaaaase?

[ text → jong ]: I may or may not have started another fire--

Send ☼ for a congratulatory text

[ text → jong ]: congratulations on your solo debut! 

random sentence starters. ( x )

He had seen the entire thing, having stepped out from the dance studio for a breath of fresh, cool, and crisp Autumn air during the short ten minute break he was given before he has to return to his class and resume teaching his choreography. The scenario had been harmless at first, really, as his eyes wandered down the sidewalk and curiously caught on to a couple of children running and playing. Their laughter filled the air, the two boys unaware of their surroundings as they pushed and shoved playfully at each other/

However, things soon seemed to take a turn for the worst, as they ran into a young woman and caused her to lose her balance, sending her tumbling to the concrete ground.

Eyes widen, and concern immediately crosses his features, contorting them with furrowed brows and a frown as he leaves his position next to the studio door and quickly makes his way over, crouching and examining her with the intent to help her. Her face, though, now that he has a better look, is one that is familiar, so with gentle hands, he offers one out to her, clearing his throat.

"Fang Hua?" He questions, though he knows it’s her. He remembers that they used to be acquaintances, or perhaps even what he could call a friend, during their younger years. After recently running into each other, though, it seemed that their contact hadn’t stuck. "What hurts? Look, the dance studio I work at is just over there. I can patch you up if you need it, yeah? Let’s just get you out of the middle of the street—"