text post sentence starters w// @ephermality )

haneul is aware of a few things. for the first time he can confidently say so. or think it as so, because his brain’s a little muddled and that might be the alcohol. but he’s not aware of if he’s tipsy or not. just that for one thing,

this beer is awful.

awful in how it scratches his throat, and the tip of it tastes like grass and dirt and the entire trip that it took someone to lug it here. but he’s not above dirt and grass and rolling in it, being in it, so he doesn’t mind it much. smiles each time he spits a stem out his mouth.

second, he might be tipsy. because the look that he gives her, feels unfamiliar on his face. feels a bit silly and a bit otherworldly. and everything, he decides, everything is a bit otherworldly right now. the fact that they’re all sprawled around this park in the cold for the sake of this marathon. that it’s far too past october to do horror movie marathons, on projectors, in closed off university fields, but, film clubs are weird and film nerds are both weird and wired differently.

third, he can’t recall any of the movie, or why that’s the first thing on her mind but, he’s going for it.

“is this like a - if I could pick a layer kind of thing? or by requirements? ummmmmmmmm,” he recalls what he knows about it, what he’s picked up in late night readings. “think i’d be split up. you think hell does that? splits you into pieces? sounds like a hellish kinda thing,” he’s not laughing at the bad pun because he’s still thinking. “part of me would be in the fourth? cause like, i’m a little greedy - most would be in the first?” he’s surprised at the lack of slurring because - don’t people slur when they’re tipsy? maybe he’s not.

“i need,” his breath catches, it’s a small hitch that no one but him would notice. he breathes, gathers his bearings before speaking again. “i need everyone to calm down okay?” it’s quiet enough in the salon that as low as he speaks everyone can hear him.  everyone’s eyes are on him too, well him and the male who’d stumbled into the shop. bloodied, charging, before he hit the floor. dripping blood and dropping to the floor.

dae was on the man in an instant, covering him from the sight of the customers, knowing his co-workers would do their best to calm them. soft words and softer whimpers from wounded and onlooker alike. all he knew is he had to search for the wound before red covered the salon floor. it would streak, paint and steal life in seconds and that’s all he had. he searched and searched and searched, hands delicate but quick. when he finds the gash he knows the handiwork, sees red and flesh disfigured around a tattoo and suddenly knows what’s going on.

“get everyone into the back, don’t let anyone call the cops.”  they’re not safe with him here. 

it was quite the spectacle for a Wednesday morning, and daewon couldn’t remember that last time he’d seen someone bloodied like this. he reacted relatively well, as opposed to the gasps and yells of the few customers they had. wednesdays weren't that busy so he was grateful. he could think, he could move. 

random angst startersaccepting

the fuck do you mean, he wants to snarl at her in his first reflex. his face already scowls like he’s about to do it, eyes sharpening and upper lip drawing a little upward at the side in a twitch, like he’s a dog that’s getting ready for an entire salve of violent barking. but instead of lunging forward, his tense body chooses to settle back down, spreading against his semi-comfortable seat like he’s about to melt into it and become one with the wood and steel and some crappy fabric.

he might’ve been a goddamn mess, alright; but he wasn’t an uncultured swine. (most of the time at least.)

“the fuck do you mean,” he ends up saying anyway, except that it sounds more indifferent than violent, with how his eyes roll in their sockets and eyebrows shift when he looks at her. it’s the first time he’s come outside in days, and he feels anxious enough to reach out for a pack of cigarettes, quickly lightning one up and taking a long, suffocating drag of it. (thank fucking god they chose to sit outside, because the crappy coffee they served was one thing, but being unable to have a cig with it would be insufferable.) when he exhales the smoke, it’s in a way so it wouldn’t reach his company’s face – which can’t be said about the face of some random girl, looking like a college freshman, at the table on their right. the ugly, disgusted face she pulls almost makes him glee.

so, yeah. first time outside in days, as he’s been working on a project with a ridiculously short deadline and struggled to make it on time. he almost did it, somewhere between one anger attack and another manic episode, and his hair haven’t seen a comb all that time (his fingers were just enough), and his eyes were bloodshot like a rabbit’s, with shadows underneath that wouldn’t seem healthy even to himself, and he never bothered to tend to the nasty cut on his cheek he got himself while trashing around his place and smashing face into a cupboard’s door that he had forgotten to close after taking some shit out of it. instant ramyeon probably.

일: SALTY SENTENCE STARTERS이: Not accepting삼: @ephermality