#gamblewithfire

Blood poured down his paws as he stumbled through the dark alleys. It hadn't been long since he escaped the man, so he might still be after him. He walked, his paws stumbling as he weaved through the trash. His vision swirled as played tricks on him, shadows on the walls reaching out for him. He tried to run away, his paws unsure and unable to carry him far. 

He collapsed on a homeless man, who screamed and ran away, leaving the wolf to lay on his coat, panting and whining. He dry heaved before puking up what little was in his stomach. He lay there, shaking and bleeding as the silver pulsed through his body like a slow poison, making him sick and weak. He whined out for help. 

    “Everythin’ ends eventually.”

    He doesn’t know what makes this kid act like he knows more than anyone else. More than any “human” at least. He’s still not entirely convinced Sehun is a demon. Demons don’t exist, because if they existed, so did angels. And SeLin doesn’t want to know what it means if there are angels and a God and the world is still shit.

    “If time’s up for me, or you, or someone else, ain’t much of a surprise.”

    He drops his cigarette to the pavement and grinds it down with the toe of his shoe. Death is overrated, and the whole afterlife thing isn’t his cup of tea. He doesn’t like thinking about it.

"You’re a stupid fucking kid, you know that, right?"

There’s a sneer on the demon’s face as he strolls through his apartment early in the morning. It’s too early for even the birds to be awake, or for the public workers to be going around cleaning. The whole world is blanketed in silence, slumber taking most of its inhabitants for at least another hour.

He stares at young man sprawled out across his bed with a clear distaste, rather annoyed that his space is again being claimed by someone else. He needs to stop letting people in.

His expression changes, though, as he watches the rise and fall of Sehun’s chest, a nearly silent reminder that he is alive, and he is a person with feelings and hopes and dreams, even if he doesn’t seem like it most of the time. Is this what it’s like to experience sonder?

He’s not sure if he’s still frowning or if he just looks as tired as he feels, a bone-deep weariness that took root around the ninth century and has since plagued him.

"So stupid."

He needs to rub the gunk from his eyes as he takes the few steps over to his kitchenette and opens up the fridge to find something to drink. Sleeping on the couch sucks.

"Not sure why I even like you so much," he rambles, "You’re probably the only kid I’d take a bullet for." He snorts, quietly. "You’d be the one dumb enough to be in the line of fire."

He pulls out a bottle of water and shuts the refrigerator.

Seungjun scowls, staring down at the small creature before him. He was pretty sure Sehun had been about twenty-looking last night. Or had he just imagined the last few hundred years?

                                              ᴄɪᴛʏ ʟɪɢʜᴛs;

City lights do a good job of blocking out the stars, painting the skies onyx and isolating Earth from the galaxy above. As far as anyone is concerned right now, Seoul is the center of the universe and they are the most important person there.

The sounds of the cars and crowds carry even into the seclusion of bars and dives off the street, open doors mixing laughter and music with engines and shouting to create a cacophony that grated harder against the nerves with every passing second.

Seungjun couldn't stand humans.

But this was the best hunting ground - dirty bars where lonely souls showed up to forget or let loose. He was decidedly after his next victim, his next "friend," who would supply him with a good amount of amusement before he dropped them altogether. He'd provide the spark that set their life up in flames.

The rain on his parade came in the form of a familiar mop of white hair, popping out over a sea of brown and black.

He was determined to ignore it at first, focus on the drink in his hand and the girl on the other side of the counter. He didn't need to worry about the kid, he'd be fine on his own. He was old enough now to make his own decisions.

But when his soju was too bitter to down and the bar tender was more or less as interesting as a piece of gravel, he couldn't put it off any longer. He rose from his stool and sidled over to the lanky blond that occupied the last space at the bar, drink in hand.

    He's not sure why he turns to drugs so often. He supposes it's to cope with life and whatever stresses it brings. But he does it too much for it to be just coping. He can't take being in the present moment more than half aware. Something in him just snaps and he goes off. He hurts people. He's technically a danger to himself and others. But nobody will put him away for it - he's made sure of that.

    So tonight, the escape is a combination of several things - he can't even remember, exactly, what he's taken in. Several pills and spice, probably. He can't remember if he dipped into his reserve of peyote.

    The cool winds of the park do well to keep him from overheating; he refuses to take off his leather jacket, despite the heat tonight.

    He's half gone when he feels more than hears the approach of someone else.

    "What d'ya want?" he demands,"I'm tryin' ta relax."

    It takes him a moment to realize that the person was just a stray cat, and it was just passing by. Startled by his voice, it bolts in the opposite direction. He rolls his eyes and tips his head back, listening to the sounds of the city around him.

    Seoul is a quiet place at the best of times, and deafening at the worst. He's not sure which he prefers right now, but the low hum of cars in the distance soothes him a little. He doesn't mind if it's broken every once in a while by a car horn or two. He can't hear the people on the sidewalks shouting.