He had waited a week. Hakyeon wasn’t quite sure why he had waited this long to press the send button. Instead of sending it after waiting just a day or two, he took more and more days to just stare at it and continue tapping on dismiss over and over again – the message had been sitting in his drafts since a few hours after he had discovered Taekwoon’s number in his phone.
Maybe he had been a little scared, realizing this just now as he felt nervousness bubble up inside his stomach once the message finally showed that it was delivered and he wondered if Taekwoon would even give him a reply. The sudden thought of having been given a fake number was back; even though he knew that the idea itself was stupid. Taekwoon could have chosen to just not put in any number at all.
Hakyeon had decided to wait when he had first found the number in his phone, yes, but suddenly he wondered if a week had been too long, if it was awkward now that he had taken what was a felt eternity to just say a simple hi, by the way this is my number.
He puffed out a cheek, pondering over the situation, his eyes narrowing at the message he had sent and decided that it didn’t really give Taekwoon any way to respond other than with “okay”; which was why he quickly typed out another two messages to follow, fingers moving fast enough to be sending them nearly at the same time.
[ To: Hamjji♥ | Today, PM 2:28 ] I’m sorry this took so long, I didn’t forget! I was just busy and thought it would be better to message you now…
[ To: Hamjji♥ | Today, PM 2:28 ] Are you busy right now? It’s okay if you text back later!^^;;
Or, not at all. The blonde male took the straw of his orange juice in between his lips, still staring at the phone while he took a small sip, huffing out amused at his pessimistic thought that was so unlike him usually. But the past events were still lingering in the back of his head, even though he violently kept trying to push them away. There was nearly only air left in the plastic cup, he noticed, another sip and he’d be down to the ice cubes which where slowly melting into the remains of the beverage.
He had a free day today; off dance schedules, off coffee shop shifts, and so he had decided to sit in the park close to his home and just enjoy the warmth of the sun tickling on his skin. Just for a little bit; he would move onto a different bench that was more into the shade later.
Maybe he should close the app, he hummed to himself to that thought, the messages still reading a mere delivered and he wondered if Taekwoon had to work today. He probably did, of course, it was a normal work day, he shouldn’t be this nervous about it not being read within two minutes. Not everyone could get lucky like Hakyeon did – and he did that every once in a while. He could be practicing, but he had worked hard the past few days. There would be a dance performance the upcoming week, on Sunday, and he had helped choreographing that piece.
Lifting his gaze to the small playground at the corner of the park, there were no kids playing right now, he wondered if Taekwoon would be interested in watching him dance on stage. The thought was shaken off again, and he pushed himself up from the bench to walk a bit. He locked his phone as he did so, but kept it in his hand, afraid to miss a notification he was waiting for.
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Two feet paced in time to the slow drip of IV fluid. Pit a pat. The sluggish mechanisms in a circuit closed to the world, functioning oblivious. Aimless even, as the blank gaze from a snowy white face through a tangle of long wet hair. The figure, who was barely a shadow, made the slow decent along the cracked sidewalk cloistered between intersection traffic and the precariously perched establishment that molded the queues of cars around its facade.
Clammy pale hands practically glowed in the light of passing cars, drawn tight to the body, small and female. She was Yoo Shiah, and she was cold. It had been no mistake but merely the result of shortsightedness, that she had not worn a jacket. A thin, loose and illfitted teal hoodie clung around her shoulders, sticking to her stomach and her arms which were wrapped so tightly around her middle in vain promise of warmth. The hem extended past the cuffs of worn whitewashed shorts that were far from acceptable in this weather.Â
Shiah was lost, but the revelation did not seem to occur in spite of it all.
From where she had been walking or for how long, was truly anyone’s guess. It had only been noon then, the crisp kind of light that to any regular person would have been seen as pleasant. But shiah was not a regular person. Nor was she a person at all. Yet she was not exempt from the elements in this body; The supposed perk of her enlistment. Some perk, she had often chided, for all the good that having a body did. It always needed something.
Blue tinged lips and blue veins stood out from her chalky palor. Her waifish frame shuddering almost as often as her lower lip quivered. The feeling was certainly not a pleasant one, yet somehow the demon couldn’t find the motivation to do anything about it. In the halo of a streetlamp she was finally made to stop, her cheap black sneakers standing in a puddle as she waited for the light to change. Water filled the soles, colder and colder still her sockless feet gave in to the chills that radiated up her bare legs. To her left a second light source had cast a shadow on her features, a cafe of some sort whose patrons were huddled in the warmth of comfortable chairs or in the cup of coffee clasped in their hands.
Shiah looked through the shop front window, responding more to the presence of light than the possibility of shelter. There were humans in there. Her empty expression did not match the disdain she felt for them. She never liked them, these creatures. In fact, one could have drawn the conclusion that it was the nature of a human that she detested. They were living, breathing, striving. somehow their energy was enough to repulse she, whose very nature opposed them.Â
“Useless...” she mouthed to herself, line of sight passing over each individual from couples and groups gathered in conversation with smiles upon their faces, to the lone figures lost in the artificial glow of a laptop’s screen. Why did they bother to leave their homes if they were simply coming to sit in another building? What was wrong with them?
If there was one place Takeru spent most of time in was the library. Granted he was mostly out and about hunting; he would always make time for the library. Growing up he was home-schooled to some degree but never really made it past a middle-school education. All the things he learned about were what he read in books from the library. It was his sanctuary of sorts. He had access to all kinds of knowledge from fictional stories to textbooks to journals. He truly loved it. The peace and quiet, the smell of the books, the flipping of pages, he loved it all. Takeru almost felt bad when he stole books from the library. Almost.Â
The biggest challenge for him moving to Seoul was the books. Luckily the library did have books in Japanese but the books in Korean? Takeru could not read Korean. Learning to speak it in the past was a challenge but he got past it. Forcing yourself to submerge into a new culture teaches you new things. He could speak Korean, but hand him a book and he is totally lost.Â
There was a journal in the library, written by a past hunter about the various forms of demons, that Takeru wanted. He went to a computer to look up the book but alas, it was all in Korean! After trial and error he found the search bar and typed in the title of the book. A results page came up but he could not read a single character on the screen. Giving up, he printed off the page and decided to find someone to read it for him.Â
He wandered around trying to find a staff member of sorts to help him in predicament. He did not want to admit he had problems reading Korean but he did not want to search the shelves one by one to find a damn book. It would take him probably the whole day just to find the thing. That’s when he spotted the black-haired boy. He had seen him around the library many times before but never actually approached the kid. Takeru assumed the kid worked at the library and he seemed nice enough? The kid seemed quiet but again, it’s the library. Everyone is supposed to be quiet. If the kid worked here then maybe he could just tell him where the book is.Â
The black-haired male seemed to be on his way somewhere so Takeru had to be fast. “Hey, you..” he spoke as he approached the other, running his hand through his silver-hair. “Show me where this journal is.” Takeru handed the paper over to the other, not saying anything about not being able to read it.
