#feyminho

Minho eyes Yujin thoughtfully, downs the rest his beer, and clinks it on the counter. “I can walk you home,” he offers with a smile. He can only hope that he’s not being weird. The music in the next room fades, a slow beat begins to pulsate through the home like a heavy heart. Someone slumps into the kitchen, seemingly not noticing them as they go into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The pictures on the walls shake.

“So you don’t get attacked by chipmunks,” he adds. Or anything else.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ —

he nods at this, dimples in his cheeks as he sets his lips together in a little smile. “yes, but he was very kind. didn’t bother me at all. just kinda looked at me, which is fine,” yujin tells him, and he considers his drink before he takes it and finishes the rest off. he doesn’t go to make himself another one, though, and hums when he mentions the sunrise.

“i love the sunrise! everything always looks so pretty and soft. all pink and orange,” yujin rambles, words trailing off as he listens to him offer to walk him home. “oh, would you? but is it in the way of where you live too?” he furrows his eyebrows at this, considering it, because he wouldn’t want someone to go horribly out of their way just for him. it’s only occasionally that he doesn’t make it back home, anyways, and mostly that’s because he gets distracted by the world around him, and how his apartment back home seems to be swallowed in darkness.

“at any rate, we can start walking and look at the sunrise. maybe if you live close enough, it’ll be fine for me to get home from there! thank you for offerin’,” he tells him with a grin, eyes bright still, and frowns a little at the person that slams the door. “rude,” he mumbles in that direction, and starts to make his way out of the kitchen.

even for how much he had drank, he’s not too bad, able to keep his balance even if it’s a bit meandering, trailing his fingertips along the wall as he finds his way out of the place.

“the chipmunk was nice! i left before he could attack me. though i guess maybe there are other chipmunks that might attack. maybe it is good you’re coming with me. two against one, right?” yujin offers, and he keeps wondering where the door of the place is until he comes upon it, someone sleeping right next to it. he makes himself more quiet, then, as he opens it to leave, having assumed that minho had been following him this whole time, wondering if he had been talking to himself.

“minho!” he whisper shouts, fumbling with the door handle, “let’s go before we wake him up!” yujin says, a little theatrics involved, eyebrows furrowed again as he realizes he doesn’t know what time it is. “or miss the sunrise!”

     iseul goes through life with his head down, eyes glued to the ground, staying out of people’s way, trying to live his life around others’, giving in to others’ whims after entirely futile resistance. as an individual, iseul is horribly terrible at standing up for himself or voicing his opinions but as an employee, a part-time worker, those rules etched into his bones shift. there is a certain responsibility to being a cashier, a server, a cleaner even. he has to ensure he collects the correct amount of money, answer phone calls, tend to inquires, make sure the place is as spotless as it gets and without compromising himself or his colleagues, provide a pleasant experience to their patrons. the expectations of him as a worker is enough to override his usual self and makes iseul - if only just a little - easier to approach and maintain a conversation with. topics about work is comfortable, small talk between difficult customers encouraging. it’s easier to be just a struggling part-time worker rather than, well, himself. 

      perhaps it’s not so strange that iseul finds most of his bonds in his changing cycle of co-workers. from one place to the next, other part-timers joining the roster or leaving for something more, something new. and among them there’s minho, one of his co-workers at a fried chicken and beer place. it’s not always they get to work a shift together because of iseul’s absolutely wrecked work schedule trying to earn as much money as physically possible and trying to fit his handful of part-time commitments into a weekly schedule. surely, minho has his own schedule and commitments too so when they do happen to be on the same closing shift, iseul looks forward to it. it’s nothing terribly grand but it’s enough to be a sort of ‘ healing time ’ he supposes, a time to unwind with friends, to be normal even outside of work and it’s all thanks  to the alcohol. 

     they settle on the steps near the han river where the breeze blows this late into the night and there’s only the occasional runner on the tracks, it’s quiet enough to unwind but not entirely silent to where iseul is lost in his thoughts. the chicken and beers are pulled out from their plastic bags and the two of them divide the portions between them, breaking up the chewing with small talks that just flows and everything just seems so simple and easy if only for this moment. they talk about everything and nothing and there’s no pressure; it’s comfortable being with minho, iseul has long decided so maybe that’s why his alcohol addled brain loosens up and tries to unload some of its troubles onto his kind-hearted co-worker. “ minho-ssi, have you seen, well erm, twilight? like the movies, series. or maybe, read the book? because it, erm, came from a book. ” yeah, that’s natural. that’s good, unsuspecting, good job iseul.

SENTENCE STARTER MEME

*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ —

he leans back on his hands and looks up at the stars. they glitter in the dark sky, and it makes him feel small, all at once, thinking about how far away they are but still gleaming bright enough for yujin to see.

what minho says makes him laugh, quietly, something bubbling up in his throat, warm, soft. it fills him up like suds overflowing in a bath when you accidentally pour in way too much soap— spilling over the edges, gentle.

“not tonight?” if he looks at his hands he wonders if they’re covered in dirt, stuck underneath his fingernails if he digs his fingers into the grass too hard. trying to anchor himself down, trying to keep himself from floating away, finding himself among the stars. maybe things would be easier there, in the inky black, everything twinkling around him, soft, gentle, floating on galaxies and clusters of space dust.

“i don’t know if i ever feel ordinary. if i’m ever not reminded of who i am, what stays waiting inside of me, just one spark away, just one moment from being called forth. sometimes i wonder if there’s ever a moment i won’t think about it,” he murmurs, and he keeps his voice soft, like the trees nearby in the dark line of the forest would mind if he spoke loudly, if it would disturb their sleep, their quiet, watchful stance that spans many, many years, probably an abundance of stories carved and kept safe in the bark.

he thinks of all of the things he keeps wrapped up, safe, hidden away, that are etched into his memories, into his being, that will probably always be there. always be waiting.

“so tell me what makes this night any different— what even makes us unordinary? we are here, living, breathing, talking. we see the same stars and the same night and we can feel how cold the air is and yet.. still tonight, any night, we are not ordinary,” letting out a breath, he lets go of his grip on the grass and lays on his back, feeling the cool earth beneath him and wondering where it all begins. where it all starts.

“do you think we could be ordinary if we tried? or is it something that.. we’ll never be?” he lets out a bit of a snort, wondering if the stars could spin if they could, if they would twirl around in circles until the galaxies seemed like swirls and they couldn’t remember where they started, breathless and wanting for more.

“or.. maybe that’s just running. it seems kinda fucked, huh, to have to run from something that you are inherently, even though it’s something that makes you different, that doesn't make you ordinary— and maybe people would think that it’s extraordinary but there’s so many moments where it isn’t. where you didn’t ask for it. where you’re just,” yujin sighs and closes his eyes to the stars, seeing the black between his eyelids that dance in colors, and wonders if maybe that’s how the stars see, too.

“just trying to be ordinary. so maybe tonight we aren’t. but maybe every night we aren’t, even with how hard we try. everything else is just.. pretending. making sure people don’t notice, right? it’s funny that it.. takes so much to be something that.. isn’t,”

he laughs because he figures he’s probably rambling, opens his eyes and looks over to him, even though it’s dark.

“am i even making any sense? i don’t even remember the last time i slept,” it is the bags under his eyes, his soft voice, the way his mind works in circles.

for loving the dark so much, he is oh, so afraid of it. yet he still sinks deeper, deeper still.

` * ∞ ─── maybe canon maybe not ──────────

ever since killing that werewolf last year, since his pack hunted him down and he took solace with areum who wiped them out herself, kijung has been more careful. it doesn't sit well with him to simply ignore when someone is in trouble, especially a human, but it's not worth endangering his family for. it's not even worth endangering himself, because if he got hurt, it would hurt mei and kyuhwan by extension.

he tries not to get into trouble. now, he just looks the other way when he sees danger coming anyone else's way.

minho doesn't do that, however, as kijung finds out when...he gets into trouble anyway.

the werewolves are on edge these days, eager to attack anyone that they feel steps in the wrong part of their territory, anyone whose scent they don't like well enough. apparently kijung fits that bill tonight. a werewolf has been training him for several minutes now, and kijung's intuition told him the wolf's intentions weren't good. as such, he didn't return home. he took a detour, walking, trying to formulate a plan of how to shake the wolf without causing more problems for himself in the future.

it ends with him cornered in an alleyway, preparing for a fight that he isn't certain he can win. he believes in his own strength, but he would be remiss not to acknowledge the power of an angry werewolf bent on defending their territory, or their pride, or much of anything, really.

he smells human approaching-- human mixed with bird and a little magic, and kijung identifies it as a familiar quickly. the werewolf in front of him doesn't seem distracted, however, at least until someone behind them throws a piece of trash at the wolf. then another, until the werewolf finally turned around to look at him-- the familiar in question. the wolf growls, and the familiar takes off, the wolf after him, the familiar promptly turning into a bird and drawing the werewolf away.

kijung takes that opportunity to escape, reworking his route to head home again.

he's nearly made it back when he smells the bird again, and hears a heavy landing behind him. sure enough, the familiar, now in his very human and newly-transformed nude, finds his place at his side.

"i'm a vampire. you didn't have to do that," kijung informs him, though a thank you is probably in order. he didn't really know if he could've handled it himself, after all.

the familiar says-- kijung assumes jokingly, because he seems very happy to have done something heroic-- that kijung can properly thank him by answering a question. what's it like to be a vampire?

it's a harder question to answer than it should be. "not being able to have coffee," kijung settles on, equally jokingly, though it's said deadpan and completely expressionless, as most things from kijung are.

“if that’s the worst part, it doesn’t sound so bad," the familiar replies.

"sarcasm," kijung notifies him, just in case he didn't understand.

— MINHO⋆ˊˎ

“I’m Minho,” he takes a swig of his drink, which still sat at half-empty. He knows he’s never met this man because he definitely would have remembered the tattoos, the piercings that caught the light. His sense of style reminds Minho of a thundercloud, but his dimples convince him that he’s actually kind. “Are you having fun?” he asks, knowing it’s the most basic, easy question to throw around at a party - therefore safe. “Most people are already gone, or asleep.”

tw: alcohol

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ —

yujin sets down the bottle and replaces it with the cup that he had filled, though he has to lean over and sip a bit from it before he can pick it up to make sure that none of it splashes over when he does. he can’t help but laugh because it probably looks silly, but he doesn’t really care— it’s that time of night that he doesn’t, not anymore.

he hadn’t noticed the beer in the person’s hand until he had waved it around, so in hindsight, he supposes he should have been more aware of things before he had asked his question. he did think it worth it to offer, anyways. especially when he takes another sip of his drink, and it’s something a bit fruity, one that he’s tempted to sneak the bottle away and take home if it wasn’t nearly empty.

“m’yujin!” he tells him, after learning his name, using the counter to lean against, putting both of his elbows down even though it’s kind of mysteriously sticky from all of the alcohol that had been spilled throughout the night. it’s helpful to keep things from spinning too much, being able to lean his weight against it.

“having a great time— the music they’re playin’ is really good, i think. sometimes i can’t really stand the music because s’always the same stuff, over ‘nd over, you know?” he says, and he hums when he points out that most of the people had already left or slept.

“it’s a little sad. i was actually just goin’ to drink this and probably leave— i mean, you’d think, with all of this alcohol and the music, people wouldn’t want to sleep, but then! look at ‘em! like there’s nothing better to do,” he sighs a bit, takes a sip from his drink, sets it back down and taps his fingers against the counter to the beat of whatever song is playing, even though it’s a bit muffled through the wall, only really vibrations he can feel that leads him to recognize it.

“you’re awake though,” he points out, looking a bit thoughtful about it, but he’s really just paying attention to how everything’s blurred, how he feels a bit weightless, a light giggle falling past his lips once more.

“were you waiting for the party to pick back up again? i think it might not, at this rate,” yujin huffs, and he taps against the plastic red cup, watching the liquid resonate with waves, one right after another.

“might as well go home.. though, i keep fallin’ asleep before i get back to my apartment,” with this, he snorts a little, and laughs a little bit more at how silly that was, too. “does that happen to you? the other day, i woke up, in like, a park, ‘nd a chipmunk was staring right at me,” he recalls, and his eyes go a little wide, “just like this, not even mindin’ his own business. can’t believe it,” he says, and waves his hand, like it was quite an inconvenience.

“though. i guess i was like, in his home, or whatever, so maybe it makes sense he was mad,” yujin says with a little sigh, and takes another long sip from his drink.

“were you havin’ fun too? or are you getting ready to leave?”

@feyminho​

tw: alcohol

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ —

if he thought about it, one of his favorite moments is when the evening would wane, leading the skies to bloom into light with the sun. there had been so many times yujin had stayed awake, late nights that had led to mornings, standing on rooftops and watching the sun come up, alcohol making everything blurred, making his body feel lighter then it usually did. 

it was what he had intended for tonight, too. 

to drink, when his laughter came easier and everything seemed to be more in color, when he would allow himself to express all of the things that he usually kept hidden, had to, to be the perfect son that he was expected to be. he danced, he laughed, he let all of the tension smooth out until everything was easier. 

he supposed that in terms of things, he might have gotten a little too excited, mixed just a bit too much alcohol into his drinks. 

maybe it was the thoughts in his head, endlessly swirling, the phone call with his mother— you know this weekend you must perform that spell for us. perfectly. we must witness you conduct it correctly. no rushing through these things, it’s imperative that you do this spell flawlessly. your father and i are expecting this of you. be prepared. 

it’s not the way his mother doesn’t ask how he’s been doing. not the fact that she didn’t even start the call with hello. it’s the fact that he has never been able to enjoy his magic. he has never been able to see it as something personal to him. it has always been for everyone else. and yet— his hands still shake, his whole body still goes cold, encompassing and consuming. 

yujin goes to the kitchen for another drink. 

there’s not many people milling about save for one other, and yujin smiles, dimples in his cheeks, as he tries to maneuver his way to lean against the counter as he makes himself something else to drink. he misses the cup for a little bit with a giggle, looks sheepish for only a moment before he starts again. 

“whoops,” he says out loud, almost filling it up until the cup spills over too. 

“can i pour some for you too?” he says, tilting his head a little bit to the side in question, more giggles spilling from his mouth unwarranted as he looks to the other person in the kitchen— it’s not his party, not this time, but the alcohol was free and yujin wanted everyone to enjoy it.