#irisblck

even in the darkness, o sole mio // irisblck

she doesn’t care for any of this and it’s odd that he does. odd that he cares, odd that he’s interested in this, odd that he still holds onto something from his past life as a wayward hobby now that they’re in this stupid game. peering through the lens, iris appears dismissive towards his efforts and it strikes too close to home for him for some reason. “ can you pretend to be interested so this isn’t a waste of my film? or like i would willingly choose you as a model today? ” words spoken if only to elicit a reaction, anger, hate, the bitterness they feel towards this life for taking away what mattered most. 

more lingers on the tip of his tongue and he hates thinking that mars would be so much better at this. he would joke, say stupid things, make her laugh and smile. the more time that passes since his brother’s death, the more he thinks of things like that. like wanting to make iris smile again the way she used to and it’s pathetic. he has his brother’s looks, more of it, he used to joke, but none of his brother’s effortless charm. 

tell me why your face haunts me and yet your voice is the only lullaby that could put me to sleep, iris

( REWIND ↺ 180330 ) it’s nothing personal. he knows it isn’t. common sense deems it so but he’s a narcissistic idiot that would say he’s not common and a fool that secretly takes everything to heart. he hadn’t been in the game for long but it was still another attempt that resulted in failure. vermillion itself hadn’t even won the tournament and he couldn’t feel at ease. a child in an adult’s body. mars isn’t like this, that he knows too; that his brother went to iris for actual emotional wounds whereas ares only dressed up smaller ones to disguise what truly ails him. 

                             (   he isn’t his brother, that truth always hurts him most.   )

it’s unceremonial ; the way he often turns up in front of iris’ door but his usual abuse of the door is replaced. instead, he knocks placidly, dully, and it’s odd to himself too. probably because he has no real excuse for why he’s here again. he hadn’t for months but still he went and went and went. endlessly, tirelessly, again and again, because there was something about her that still meant comfort to him. 

conflicting images, sounds, scents but one cuts through the air clearly. he’s so tuned into her presence, he despises it. why does he have to be so aware of her? he finds her without meaning to, without wanting to, and he’s almost amused by the sight. wouldn’t it make things easier on him? he wouldn’t have to see her, be around her, and yet he can’t just let her continue to be trailed. 

it isn’t what his brother would want. he cuts through the crowd, bobbing and weaving, black cap still concealing his face, and it’s been successful so far. putting himself in the direct path of one of the mercenaries hunting them all is a risk he has to take if he wants to take her out of it. he’ll be on their radar as one of the undoubtedly many nearby, especially this close to the temple but taking her hand makes him realize just how small she is. maybe this is one of the reason why his brother was so fond of her, of why he wanted to protect her, and sehun curses that the thought even crosses his mind when he’s certain he dislikes her. 

( REWIND ↺ 170603 ) he wakes up disoriented, an occurrence he’s so tired of. stuck in a monotonous pattern of nightmarish sleep months after he felt as if he was unconscious for too long. decisions made for him, a fate he wasn’t meant to have. but it’s the damn headaches that make it unbearable. they’re barely human, meant to be almost unbreakable but his head feels like it’s splitting, torn about by the memories that come back to him far too late. he doesn’t know fact from fiction the longer he’s in the hive but the truth is what he so desperately craves. 

to his core, he despises the lies he’s been dealt. the lies he believes he’s been so willingly told and his latest dream is no different. his vision is hazy, but the person is clear for anyone to tell or maybe just him. six months getting to know her, six months, and she lied to him for all of them. every month, every week, every day, every minute, every single second. 

no, ebony tresses and the scent of bergamot is undeniably iris.  

three in the morning and he’s tossing on a white tank, door slammed behind him. recently awoken but there’s no ache in his limbs as he breaks into a sprint towards the harlequin section. even when his brother was alive, she’d always been closer. closer to him, closer to seungho. he was jealous. he was bitter. but most of all, he’s angry. 

two months and all he can see is the last time he saw his brother, the last time he saw them both together, and the last time they gathered as a trio. two months and every time he closes his eyes, he sees the two of them walking off together and he can’t say a damn thing. he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. he yells, screams, but there’s no sound. he can’t do anything to stop them from going on that mission. even looking at her haunts him but he can’t stop, he can’t let go, he can’t stay away from her. 

the image of his brother in blue and the smell of white datura are inseparable, the same way his brother was with iris. it wafts around them, a smile and a rare laugh let out by sehun himself. god, he can’t even say his own name anymore. he can’t say his brother’s name and his nails leave crimson crescents in the palm of his hand when he finally reaches the door. 

and there it is, patchouli. he can smell every scent in her perfume and yet all he sees is red. 

until i can find you again, iris

          “ tell me how you got that black eye, sehun. ” he hears his brother but pretends he doesn’t, a constant game of distract and deter, a skill he’s long ago learned from their mother. “ hey, did you notice jaekyung was wearing her skirt three inches shorter today? i think she heard me talking about her legs yesterday. thank god. ” they might as well be standing 300 feet apart, seungho’s sigh is that audible and sehun hides the smirk playing on his lips. his brother’s too shy when it comes to anything improper. short skirts, buttons undone, any semblance of indecency, he’s the first one to turn away if he’s not busy trying to encourage the others to follow suit. 

          their personalities and likes are just as different as their hair colors. seungho is the perfect student body president type with his quirky glasses and neatly-kept black hair while sehun is too unruly, the student the teacher chooses to avoid with blonde hair as messy as the way he makes his decisions. but there is one similarity between them that no one would pick out if given the option: a sense of justice. 

          it’s why sehun doesn’t tell his brother that he technically told him why he has a black eye. the other guy looks worse and he deserves it for trying to grope jaekyung when she’d taken brushes to wash in the school fountains near the track. it’s the same sense of justice that brings them to one person who makes those differences obsolete when it comes to their feelings. 

the one to create an ocean that will swallow it all, it’s you iris 

          just as before, he’s made himself at home, lounging on her bed as if it was his own. a notification lights up the device beside him and he eyes it with mild interest before a thought crosses his mind. sitting up, he goes through the processes to find the answer himself and it’s worse than he thought. 

          last post: a year ago. just tragic. 

          “ give me your phone, ” he says, voice gruff from not speaking for the last few hours. nothing had to be said, that was one of the problems. he knew that being able to stay in complete silence with iris and not feel the urge to find entertainment or satisfaction in some manner elsewhere meant something, just not something he was willing to acknowledge. not now. maybe not ever, even at the risk of his sanity. “ come on, i know you’re not talking to anyone right now. ”