#advbingbing

@advbingbing

He feels pathetic. The fact that he can’t take care of himself- his own issues and problems and everything that comes with being human- it disgusts him. What kind of pitiful creature is he that he can’t even figure out how to deal with himself? He can deal with everything else, can’t he? When other people have problems Kim Hansol is an easy go to. He can talk for hours about a problem- offer solutions like he’s been through everything the world can throw at him. He seems so stable, so controlled and yet here he is. Feeling like his mind is being torn to pieces by his own emotional state.

And how he hates it.

So he goes- finds himself searching for a person he’s seen- someone he has enough notes on to understand completely, or so he’d like to think. He wouldn’t be able to trust her otherwise, would he? It’s not like he trusts her now. No, he never could. He can’t trust anyone. Everyone is out to hurt him- break him down and show him why it is that he has to rely on his abilities to feel like he might stand a chance of ever being able to smile for real. He has to tie people in the binds of words and force them to stay by his side. That’s how he’s always functioned... She’ll likely be no different.

Fan Bingbing a thirty-five year old human who possesses an ability that Hansol can’t help but envy. She has psychological intuition. It lets her see things in people that he has worked so hard to also see. She’s just far better at it than he will ever be and that makes him want to cringe. He’s worked so hard to be controlled- to hide, and it’s likely that she can see through him. Because of that, he’d been avoiding her. There’s no reason for her to get to see how sick the contractor is underneath his mask and lies. She shouldn’t get to know when no one else does...

But she also is one of so few who he feels can maybe be of some assistance when it comes to his problems. There’s a chance that she might know something- be able to tell him something that will ease the gnawing in the back of his mind. He wants to feel better- wants to feel like something is going well... If she can just listen, maybe that’s enough...

So he stops by her room- expression neutral and body language as unreadable as he can possibly make it. He wants her to learn about him on his terms, not her own. His knock is solid- confident. He doesn’t feel the way it sounds, but that’s half the point. The door opens and his expression change is immediate. His head tilts to the side and his smile appears as bubbly and kind. His hands move to hold each other.

He’s cute today.

“Ah! Hello!” He gives a small, polite wave. “You’re, ahh... Fan Bingbing? I was wondering if I could perhaps talk to you for a little while. I’ve been... having a few issues and I thought perhaps talking them out might make me feel a little bit better!” The smile is fake as his eyes narrow just a little. His posture feels loose enough to him- it shouldn’t seem fake... But she’s good. She might know. He hopes she doesn’t...

♘: Our muses put up a Christmas tree and decorate it.

Hyeyeon walks through the door lookingmore excited than one would normally expect—at her own home, the most she andher mother had ever gotten was a tiny tree that had been on sale. During moredifficult years, the two usually opted for a plastic tree decorated simply intinsel and whatever they could scrap together, but Bingbing has an actual Christmas tree.

Her eyes overflow with naïve excitementas she walks up to the tree.

“Wo~w~” She mutters breathlessly, herhead craning back to stare up at its top. “Do you think either of us can reachthat?” She laughs before bending down to look through one of the boxesscattered around the tree.

One hand wraps around an ornament andshe pulls it out, revealing a glitter-covered sleeve as she scatters sparklesacross the floor. Her giggles grow louder as she spins the ornament around toadmire its design, then she leans over toward another box to pull out another.This time she pulls out a porcelain ballerina, and an audible gasp falls outbetween her lips when she takes in its pastel colors. “Unnie, you have suchpretty decorations!” She looks back at the woman with crescent eyes beforehopping to her feet and shuffling to the tree.

Porcelain trembles under his fingertips, groaning at his grip into the sides of the sink. The only light is the painting of muted silver that shimmers through a small frosted window located only an inch or two from the ceiling. Water circulates methodically around the expanse of an open space and slowly drains down a metallic epicenter. For a while it’s all he can focus on; beads of it slipping form his hair where it’s collected into tendrils on his forehead, down the slopes of his cheeks and off the precipice of his jaw and into the inevitable pull that recedes back into the drain. Lifting his head up and meeting eyes with someone entirely different as they come back into focus, and then out again enough to convince himself that he’s looking at his own reflection. The details are disfigured. Chartreuse behind his lashes and a mouth laden with teeth like needles. What was supple skin is now hardened scale, unforgiving as fingertips drag timidly across them, shaking in disbelief even though Jonghyun shouldn’t be surprised by now. This isn’t the first time he’s had to introduce himself to the unsightly reality of his new identity. Metastasized to every living cell.