And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth.
Dahye had lost count of how many issues she was currently handling by the time her phone lights up, plopping yet another urgent matter onto the list. It is not that it sounded urgent⌠it was just personal. A rare occurrence, an assignment that had crossed borders, broken boundaries, rattled her perfectly glued-together picture of an immaculate detective.
âHunter,â her voice bends under the heavy weight of fatigue, âI have to be up early tomorrow.â They both know very well that isnât a no, and they also know she isnât very good at being firm and inflexible when it comes to denying him when he needs her â or justsomeone there. Lord knows she despised ostentatious lifestyle, the fact that one of his shoes probably cost more than her rent, his perfectly polished everything. Having grown up in the middle of nothing, known the value of hard work, she was programmed to be satisfied withjust enough. Jealously? Oh, but why, wasnât he just as lonely? Didnât they bleed the same?
âDo I wanna know if youâre only calling because youâve had a few?â
ă â ă   MAINTAINING ANY KIND OF RELATIONSHIP WITH HUNTER is similar to loving a  FLAME; whether platonic or romantic in nature. oftentimes, the fire is low and manageable - just a hint of bright excitement and amazement about him; that passion that keeps him  BURNING high, but at a rate where he would not blacken his skin while burning himself to a crisp. on other occasions, the fire is  TOO MUCH TO BEAR, too bright or too hot or too DANGEROUS as emotion overpowers him and causes him to make decisions he is sure to regret once heâs been tamed - IF HE COULD BE. or, the  WORST option ... the flame goes out. heâs nothing, he hardly feels anything aside from a dark, deep sadness which weights every single one of his bones; making them too heavy for his skin. tonight has come to be a time where there is no fire: where heâs laying on his back, staring at the ceiling as numbing alcohol circulates through his blood and makes his stomach  TWIST, though he knows he will not vomit. heâs trained himself well enough, by this point.Â
         his fingers barely grasp his phone; most of what keeps the device upright is his hands positioning against his mattress - the rose gold contraption basically propped up against his palm rather than actually being  HELD. his eyes close, a shaky breath taken in through his nose as his lips quiver - does he actually  WANT to say anything ? not particularly, no - heâd rather just listen to dahye talk about something meaningful;  for all he really wants is for someone to give him attention, to verify his existence as a  âHUMAN BEINGâ and not some untouchable entity, or even something far  LESS than whatever being mortal actually  MEANS.  no matter how human he appears, he will never understand that ... he can only make notes by observation, only come to educated conclusions. but no, he will never know what that means. he isnât human ... SO WHY DOES HE WANT THIS ?Â
         truth be revealed, hunter isnât entirely sure what it is he does want. something like equality, something like love ? it seems that way, but he isnât in the state of mind to try to understand whatever  HELLSTORM is happening between his heart and his mind right now. he just needs someone to be there for him, and dahye always did that ... he hates to feel as though heâs taking advantage of the care she seems to have for him, but he doesnât know where else to turn. thereâs pressure behind his eyes, like heâll cry - but nothing comes out. nothing happens. he doesnât even feel  ALIVE. he doesnât want to talk about his feelings, at least not right now ... though it would benefit him, heâs too scared to acknowledge them. because if he ignores them, then they donât exist ... RIGHT ?Â
         he just wants her to talk him up. to pull him back into the real world, because he doesnât know where he is right now. heâs been thinking too much about the past, and itâs resulted in some ugly, warped reality where nothing but  PAIN can be felt. thatâs all he can remember feeling back then, anyway - he forgets more about his mother and father every day.  â  sorry,  â  he breathes in response to the fact that heâs taking up time she could be using to rest. his voice is slightly slurred, but steady enough to let her know that he isnât  INCOMPETENTLY DRUNK. just enough to numb him a little, heâd wanted it to make him happy - but he failed.  â  i jusâ ... need someone tâ talk to. about anythinâ. my head feels totally empty. â