#hryujin

In a city like this, he saw all sorts of cars. It was nice for the mechanic, who used it to build up his knowledge base of how to fix the plethora of problems that rolled in every day. Today is was an Audi r8, and Tao could guess it had something to do with the shocks or the ac. Those were huge known problems- he’d read of a few whose AC had crapped out within months of buying the car. His hands are cleaned off with a rag- the rag tucked into his back pocket-, before Taos heading over to the now parked car. “What seems to be wrong with it?” He asks, eyes already going over it. He wondered if the guy even knew how to take care of it- so many people with super cars didn’t.  They just got it to look cool.

"This is so boring,” Jae mumbled to himself, a slight pout on his lips and his face leaning against the palm of his hand. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, in fact, no one seemed to be paying much attention to him at all, but he knew the minute he walked out those doors, he would be in trouble and so, he was trapped indoors.

Jae let out a sigh and stood up straight, deciding to take what felt like the fifteenth lap around the room that night. He stopped here and there, talking to other people, laughing and sharing jokes and exchanging pleasantries before moving on.

Eventually, he made it back to where he started at the bar, but he noticed someone else was there now. 

Jae paused for a moment, unsure of what to do but the longer he stared at him, the more sure he was that he was alone and so with a shrug, he took his spot back. 

His head was spinning, breathing just a touch labored as his back rested against the wall. Eyes a touch wide.

It was happening again.

There had been a flash of blonde hair, a face that was unmistakable, and it left him reeling. It was always like this. Saeran would allow his guard to drop, he wouldn’t be paying attention, and then He would be there. And with Levon always came disaster.

A hand clad with long black nails and shimmering rings clutched at his chest, and though the lower half of his face was always covered by a black surgical mask, the horror was evident. His heart, he was certain, could be heard stuttering against his ribs.

The issue always was that Saeran could never verify what he had seen. He could never tell you if he was seeing a dead 19-year-old with his own eyes or if he was simply losing his god damn marbles. But right then, there had been blood. The vision had shown him blood. It had been bright with the flash of blue eyes and Saeran couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t breathe.

But a voice broke through. It kept him from sinking down and bringing his knees to his chest. It kept him from bolting the other direction. What if this all had been a product of his dwindling mental health? What if he was just seeing things? He wouldn’t say.

“I-it’s just what my face looks like.” He managed, voice trembling. Saeran had wanted to wait. He had wanted to give himself the time to gain some semblance of composure, but the words were tumbling past chapped lips. He was afraid.

he’s sat at a table close to the stage with other young entrepreneurs and heirs, some of which he’s quite amicable with and some of which he simply takes a sip of wine while rolling his eyes at every word they attempt to speak toward him. he doesn’t mind the table at all, and he likes to be in this particular spot so that he doesn’t have to walk far, yet all the photographers have plenty of time to get several good shots of him as he walks up to give his speech when he’s inevitably named as one of the top benefactors of the evening. everything is fine, up until he shows up.

jude’s glare is sharp enough to cut glass. everyone at the table looks tense, as if sensing the energy radiating off him the moment bang yujin sits down in the seat jude hadn’t previously noticed bearing a card with his name on it. “they really should learn to tell the difference between a grandfather and his grandson,” he utters in the most seemingly polite and idle tone, looking nowhere in particular as if addressing the whole table, “to avoid such inappropriate seating mishaps.”

looking up, seungwoo finds that, sure enough, there is mistletoe just hanging right above their heads. an instant warmth conquers his cheeks – this is a scene straight out of one of those hallmark holiday movies hwamin likes to force him into watching with her, and he can’t believe he’s living it out this instant, especially with none other than yujin. 

“well, uh…” he quickly avoids yujin’s eyes, the sound of his own heartbeat a little too loud in his ears. he clears his throat. he adjusts the scarf around his neck, just to give his hands something to do rather than hang awkwardly at his sides. “i’m not usually one for tradition, so…”