#cvkangjoon

@cvkangjoon​

@cvkangjoon

jiyong wonders, vague and not all that concerned, about how long this party is meant to go on. he hadn’t paid enough attention to the invitation at all, given that he hadn’t even planned on coming until kangjoon had rustled some half-assed agreement out of him -- and then later balked at the sight of the equally half-assed outfit jiyong had chosen. now, clad in only the lower half of his initial outfit, his top half now apparently deemed frilly enough to pass, he takes a sip of what has to be his fourth drink of the night.

he leans over, a little past tipsy by now despite his initial plans to stay at least ninety-five percent sober while he was here, and pats at the black velvet found nearby, which is all too conveniently wrapped around his friend’s arm. he’s been eyeing it for the last five minutes -- in between eyeing the people around them, and very occasionally one person in particular.

@cvkangjoon​

seulgi’s steps are light as she spins across the makeshift floor, having mostly abandoned the charm that was keeping her shoes aloft, though it still allows her a hairs breadth of height should she will it very strongly, which she does now, as she twirls towards him, skirts flaring - she’s forgone a layer or two of petticoat just to have better movement, even if this mean the movement itself exposes the line of her legs more drastically, more daringly, the gold threads glittering as they catch the light refracting quietly around them. music pours from an unknown location, surrounding her in a merry sort of lightness that is mirrored by the glittering golden potion in the teacup she has in hand. she abandons it shortly thereafter, however, finding it very empty.

when she catches sight of him she can’t help but smile - of course, she’s been smiling an awful lot tonight, fingers moving to flutter up his arms to settle at his shoulders, resting against them lightly as she leans her head back slightly to meet his gaze, grinning wider still. she beams at him, fingers skirting up to cup his cheeks before a playful expression full of faux seriousness as she poses him a question, as though it might be the most important query ever uttered: 

@cvkangjoon

The breeze was warm as it tugged at tugged at Taemin's hair, sent it into a wild disarray, though he didn't seem all that perturbed. He hadn't brushed it that morning anyway. The rooftop garden was where he usually wasted away hours with the Life and Death Brigade, smoking, drinking, or contemplating life in a way that would make any Philosophy 101 student proud. For the moment though, he was alone, his feet tucked underneath him on one of the old foldout chairs and a cup of coffee he'd picked up earlier from the cafe balanced rather precariously on one of the wobbly metal tables that looked like they were more rust that cast iron. It had long since gone cold, and there was still a bitter taste lingering at the back of Taemin's tongue from the last time he'd taken a sip, almost overshadowed by smoke and nicotine – the evidence of which was stacked up in used filters in an ashtray that looked like it hadn't been properly cleaned out in months. 

He was contemplating lighting up another, but chain-smoking always gave him headaches, and he was already on a bender. He was waiting on Kangjoon anyway, had texted him a handful of minutes ago telling him to meet up with him – request spurred on by boredom and the desire to get his hands on some more of the potions that Kangjoon brewed up for the student body. Sometimes he got a little touchy about being the one that brewed for Taemin specifically, and while Taemin didn't necessarily mind that, he also didn't like waiting when he wanted something. Impatience ran rampant through him, and when the compulsion struck him, it felt like an actual need – would stop at nearly nothing until it was within his grasp. 

Taemin closed his eyes and he could hear the squawk of birds in the distance, could feel the lingering warmth of the sun against his eyelids – though it would no doubt disappear behind the mountains soon as it started to set. Taemin liked the night best though, liked the scattering of stars in the sky, drawn out in constellations with hidden fate tangled up between them if you knew how to pluck fortunes from the galaxy. He liked the quiet that darkness swept in, the feeling of secrecy that seemed to flood the school. There was loneliness, too, the company of his own thoughts when insomnia wouldn't let him sleep and he was the only one awake. Terrible company, company that drove him mad, angry, and desperate. But Taemin never really shared that with anyone, and who would really want to know? 

@cvkangjoon

At two in the morning, Seulgi is restless.  It is late, or early, and either way the moon is dim tonight, the stars muted by a haze of clouds, and there is a malaise that clings to the slender witch, a leaden weight in her heart that makes her sick. Her ribs ache and she longs to crawl out of her skin, to rend it from her bones, to cleanse herself in fire - and the thought of fire, today, leads her to the thought of one witch in particular.

There are times when she stumbles across him by mistake, and she pretends this is one of them. There are more often, however, times she returns to him simply because she can. She winds him up around her finger, sinks her claws into his heart and pulls, dragging him back to her if she senses his escape. Seulgi is wicked and she is cruel and above all else she is selfish. It is her central trait, it is defining, it is all encompassing.

So she goes to his dorm, a path she knows too well. She doesn't bother texting and she doesn't think twice about appearing int he middle of the night - this is who they are now, what they have become. Once they were tightly clasped hands and whispered words.. but then, had they ever been more than a maelstrom? Had there ever been more than angry words and grasping hands, tangling up in sheets and ripping at each other's insecurities? It was a pendulum with the two of them even at their best, and now, at their worst, it was a mine field.

Knuckles rap against the wood and she waits for a tense, anxious moment, her heart clenching in her chest, toes curling in her socks, until the door swings open and ---

And god - there he is, with tousled hair and wide amber eyes, light and piercing, his lips parted in something like confusion, but he moves aside when she pushes past him,breezing into his room wordlessly, fingers sliding back through her hair to tousle it back over her shoulders, toeing off her sneakers.