#ecxstarter

Jongdae hated the cold. It wasn't so much that he liked the heat better, but between the constant uncomfortable tingling in his fingers down to how his shoes feel like ice boxes, Jongdae always felt more frustrated trying to constantly feel warm enough to stand still rather than enjoying the toe-tapping, finger-squeezing, spine-shivering fidgeting he must perform. It's more tiring to constantly be moving compared to standing there sweating without effort in heat and humidity.

The rain also reminded him of feelings of longing, of wanting, of being stuck, and what kind of mood was that to spend his day off? Still, water was fascinating the way it came down from the sky; terrifying in the way it was involved in stories like how gods would flood the world to cleanse it and how similar floods plagued parts of the world to this day.

ecxlilith said: It only takes minutes for his consequences to arrive, starting with a fizzle in his fingertips, nondescript. It spreads, until it covers his entire arm-- pins and needles digging in painfully, as the limb turns ashen, muscles trembling. The pain spreads enough that he's rendered inconsolable, stranded in the middle of the street, a ringing noise echoing in his ears while he gasps for relief from whatever it was which plagued him. Inert, the only thing he can hope for is help-- from someone else.

A hiss matches the fizzing sound that starts at the finger tips and they drop the crisp paper bag already softening beneath his sweaty palms. His only mission was to get downtown and get back up to his room, equipped with candles and food for the next few days, but luck turns the tides against him and Jongdae shoves himself against the nearest wall he could stumble to, chest heaving in and out, harder and harder, feeling suffocated.

Fuck. Fuck, what is--?

His eyes search for the source of pain, paper bag just a few centimeters out of his reach. His shoulder roll backwards, shedding the jacket that protected him from the gusts of wind that roamed the city, clammy hand peeling the sleeve off little by little as he gasps, the pins and needles climbing up over his elbow and towards his shoulder. Being tapped into his body at a cellular level made pain more sensitive when he was caught off guard; this particular pain brimming his eyes with tears as the seconds pass. It’s hot; too hot; the pins and needles have reached his ears. Panic sets in; ashen skin was scarier to see at first hand than to read about; it wasn’t a symptom he should be experiencing, but here it was, climbing higher and higher, the charcoal gray contrasting starkly against his paler skin. 

Jongdae cries out, disregarding the embarrassment that coupled the inability to hold pain; his pride goes out the window as the he sinks towards the asphalt, back to the wall, the roughed material catching the fabric of his shirt. He curls up as small as he could, knees to his chest as his ashened arm lays limp and the color creeps over his chest and up his neck. It burns; everything is too acute for his senses and he feels his blood boil against his veins. 

Checking himself out in the mirror had now become a ritual for Jet. After he had showered or was about to head out or in most cases both. He would stand infant of the mirror for a good few minutes. Mostly to check if his hair was okay. Running his fingers through his hair, he tilted his head to the side.

 It was his first time off in forever and for once Jet was looking forward to it. However what he didn't plan for was the event that was about to take place in Eden. 

The lights flickered, and then suddenly darkness. Jet’s eyes scanned the room. But it wasn't any use because it was just dark and he couldn't see a thing. A sigh escaped his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair one last time before venturing out of the bathroom. 

He felt his away around to make sure he was heading in the right direction, things were going smoothly despite the darkness that impaired his vision. Deciding it was a good idea to head out into the hall way to see if anyone else had ventured out - rather then trying to find candles.  His hand was resting on the door handle. 

There are consequences to following the same path as the people he so ironically mocked, temptation slithering into his morality like the serpent he wished to find. As a fitting punishment, he hears voices in every corner. Real or not, they’re there-- footsteps shuffling, faint. No use in hiding during the night time, the streetlights unlit. Paranoia bubbles in his stomach until one voice whispers, audible now, the footsteps louder. Just a single word to set him ablaze in a frantic chase. ‘Run.’

The paranoia takes only a moment to set in, eyes scanning wildly and the bag of non-perishables drop from his hand; forgotten. The whispering seems to echo around him and he has to resist the urge to cover his ears and curl in upon himself. For a brief moment he pushes against a wall seemingly flickering in and out of existence as he struggles to remain hidden. But the fear is making it hard to focus…

“Run!”

And he does, not a second look back at who or what has spurred his flight. He stumbles first but pushes on, keeping his momentum. Without stopping to catch his breath he pounds down the sidewalk, not even registering the people milling around in their own confusion. More than once he simply pushes people out the way, any courtesy forgotten in his hysterical need to escape whatever was after him. 

The whispers are still there though, a force taunting him with how impossible it is to escape them. He can’t tell if he’s actually hearing them or if it’s all in his mind and he doesn’t care, they won’t stop him.

darkness.

it’s a greedy substance, one which swallows everything around it, submerges them until they drown in nothingness. namjoon’s always been afraid of the dark-- who knew what lurked around the corner, when your eyes could not belie it’s contents?

that’s why, when the lights went out, namjoon did not go outside. he refused, clinging to yoongi and his (revoltingly outdated) flashlight for support. yoongi had complained plenty about it, but they both quieted when they heard the shouting outside, the waves of people, the sounds of a riot.

of course, they’d have to go outside, eventually. they were both hungry, and they had to get food at some point once they no longer had access to the luxury of being able to have it produced for you, out of a space in the wall.

so that’s why namjoon’s fingers are tangled into yoongi’s, careful, as he tries to dissuade him from doing exactly what they needed to do. “hyung,” he breathed out, shaky, tugging on his hand, “hyung, do we really have to go out there?” he tried for a nervous laugh-- he didn’t want to seem as scared as he really was. “we have plenty of bread to last us until the lights go back on, and i don’t think it’d be safe to go out right now.” sure, it’d quieted down-- but namjoon was still wary.

I’m here again. Walking down this same alleyway that’s devoid of all positivity, tears streaming my cheek as I reluctantly choose to sit on the skin-numbing hard floor. I’m now stinging from a sharp coldness that has damped my clothes and ratted hair. I seem to be choking again, the lack of oxygen from holding my breath as I attempt to stay calm is starting to make me dizzy, the fear stifling my screams as old memories flash back, this same place, same clothes, but just a different person, inside, anyway.

The rain is falling now, my tears matching the rhythm of the droplets on the ground, a puddle presenting an ugly reflection of my blotchy, saddened face. Shadows walking by without a glance, each creating a threatening thud that causes me to cut my breathing until they’ve passed. Leaning up against this breaking wall, the images hunt their way back inside my head and cause pressure to build within my chest.

A scatter startles me, I scan the darkness helplessly for any sign of movement, but lose myself from the touch of the soaked up leaves beneath my hand, digging deeper I notice the sharp scratching of stones and concrete slice along my flesh, and welcome the faint relief I get from this pain. Emotions bottled inside I find some release in tormenting my own inner demons by struggling to worsen my frustration, then feeling an eruption of pity flow through my mind from feeling so lost. Old memories flood through like a wave of destruction, breaking every sense of happiness and hope that were stored for a dark day, nothing left now but my sorrow bleeding through in faint scratches and blood marks on my sleeve.

A whimper of exhaustion escapes through my chapped lips, a useless cry for help, I shiver from the wind that entwines around my body. After searching for some kind of hope, I force my tired eyes shut, only to find more darkness. It always followed me, wherever I went. Even if it wasn't physical darkness, it was always in my mind. Whenever I closed my eyes images of memories never passed me, but instead I’d be swallowed by this painful darkness.

namjoon had the option to be a passive bartender, to simply serve drinks and nothing more, but he didn’t take. he, in fact, did the opposite-- which was partially why he was so good at his job, because he just cared too much to let that girl go home drunk with the man that was twenty years older than her. especially when she came here with friends, and they were nowhere to be seen.

there was always skeevy shit that could happen-- and regularly, did-- and namjoon just was not willing to look away. he couldn’t. he wasn’t like yoongi-- he just couldn’t do it.

thankfully, it’s a slow night tonight-- there aren’t many people, and there’s some song from before eden playing, that stirs nostalgia that namjoon would rather not dwell on, so he’s glad when someone pulls up to the bar. someone to keep him company, perhaps.