#jaenv

“Anywhere that sells cheap drinks.”

                                My muse makes a drunk confession to your muse. 

On nights of opulent solitude, he chooses to submerge himself in a torrent of his own thoughts. This is when he delves into everything that has been bothering him for the past week or so and searches for a solution to his problems. Tonight, Taeyong had taken to the balcony with a few bottles of soju and aimed to drink the night away (or at least, until he feels sick to his stomach). 

Taeyong lingers near the back of the balcony, leaning over the metal baluster with a half-empty bottle of soju wielded between his hands. He twiddles the bottle, absentmindedly, watching as its contents oscillate from one side to the other in a quicken pace. He’d been doing this for the past forty seconds now and still does not know exactly what he finds so enthralling about this. However, he stops when he raises his arm mid-air and takes another swing out of the bottle. It has been months since he last had a drink, let alone on his own. But given today’s occasion (re: his birthday), he figures he’d do what the majority normally do on their birthdays and celebrate, even if that meant doing so on his own. He doesn’t mind, though, he finds comfort in being by himself every now and then. 

He gradually loses himself with each bottle that he consumed. It isn’t long until he’s inebriated. Taeyong does not drink often, but when he does, this is the problem that almost always arises: he hasn’t an ounce of control in him, especially whenever he entertains a myriad of despairing thoughts. Losing count after the third bottle, he discards the one he’s currently drinking on the floorboard and settles down beside it, lissome fingers ensnared in his hair as he shut his eyes. 

His head is spinning, his vision is waning. 

It isn’t until he vaguely picked up on the distant reverberation of the front door being unlocked that he diverted his attention into the apartment. Due to his bleary vision, it was actually rather difficult to make out the features of the face his eyes flickered over. Difficult, but not impossible. “Jaehyun, is that you?” He succinctly asks, words slurred when uttered. Grasping onto the railing in an effort to haul himself off of the floor, he struggles to stand; nearly loses his footing. His shoulders meets the iron balusters, knees planted firmly upon the cement flooring. 

This is embarrassing, he looks pathetic. 

Making his way into the apartment and down the hallway, he stands before Jaehyun sporting a perplexed expression and a flushed countenance. “What are you doing here? You told me that you’d be back late tonight,” he takes a long pause, brows skeptically furrowed. “Did you, by any chance, happen to miss me while you were away? Is that why you returned home early?” 

He’s three long strides away from invading Jaehyun’s personal space. As soon as he does, Taeyong drapes an arm over the younger’s broad shoulders and turns to face them with a sardonic simper embellished across his mien. “You did miss me, huh? Fortunately for you, I missed you, too. I was wondering when you’d return home. I wanted us to spend the evening together.” His head falls onto the other’s, eyelids faltering with each second that crawled by. Taeyong remains in this position for god-knows how long, breathing slowly: inhales, exhales. 

           “Taeyong, have you been drinking?” 

Before he had even been given time to answer, he was already being dragged to his bedroom. Taeyong follows sluggishly, feet scuffing against the carpeted floor as he obediently follows in Jaehyun’s lead. Needless to say, it is almost always this way between them: Jaehyun will pave a path to safety and Taeyong will follow the other as if he was a newborn puppy following around its mother. 

He’s being pushed onto the bed, but he doesn’t want to lay down. He’s being told to rest, but he doesn’t want to sleep. He does not want to do anything other than what he had mentioned earlier, and that is spending this evening with Jaehyun. Taeyong has waited all day for this; he had even thrown on the ‘night’ shirt the other had given him and saved his birthday cake for them to share together (although he had blown out the candles). 

Yet, looking at Jaehyun like this, It gets him thinking: his thoughts contain no plausible answer as to why he feels the strongest emotions he does towards them, neither can he even fathom the inexplicable feeling in his chest whenever he exchanges so much as to a single glance with the younger. Taeyong does, however, have a remote inkling as to what these feelings are and where they’ve derived from, but he’s terrified of acknowledging them. Acknowledging them, professing them, wouldn’t that put a strain on their relationship? He just got Jaehyun back, he doesn’t want to lose them again. However, he has been keeping this to himself for ages now; any longer, and he just might combust internally. 

Unbeknownst to even himself, Taeyong prevents Jaehyun from leaving his bedroom by grasping onto their wrist and heaving them towards him. In a matter of seconds, his arms swarm around the younger’s torso from behind, chest pressed flush to the flat of their back. He embraces the as if he had not seen them in ages – tight and secure – with no intention of releasing them from his arms. When was the last time Taeyong had last held Jaehyun like this? When was the last time they had last shared any form of skin skip with each other? It’s been too long that he’s no recollection of either or. 

i decided to do some random starters (:

if anyone had observed jisoo for the past 48 hours, they’d think she was making an effort to play the damsel in distress (they’d also be a stalker, so there was that too). she had nothing against the role itself, but she wasn’t too fond of the title; self-sufficiency just seemed much more appealing.

it seemed she was alone in her thoughts.

despite the neutral expression on her face, her lips itch to be set into a childish pout at how she’s fared in the last two days.  there are good days, and then there are bad days, and then there are awful-- she’s been thrust unwillingly into the last category. her morning coffee, mournfully empty (and marking a vigorously rubbed out stain on her black jeans), sits beside her on the bench.  practice after practice allowed little time to rest. it shows in the shadows beneath her eyes, the yawn that skitters out behind her palm before she casts her gaze to the rapidly dipping sunset.  the best consolation she can afford is that the day’ll soon be over, and she’ll have the day after to attend to. a new beginning.  sort of.

thoughts distract her from the essence of time and before she realizes it, the sky is dark.  a shiver courses through her body as she rises to leave the park, her favorite necklace in hand-- necklace? empty hands rise and she freezes; in her panic, she grasps the sleeve of the boy who’d been peacefully sitting beside her.

From the very moment that Heiran had sat opposite her friend at one of the cafe’s few spare tables she was left with a feeling of unease and she didn’t know why. Leo was a man she felt comfortable around and while no lover of large crowds and packed places she would never be left feeling quite this uncomfortable. It was so strange but not wishing to draw any attention to it however she forced a smile to her lips and pushed one of the laminated menu’s across the table towards him and took the other for herself. “I heard the foods supposed to be really good here.” She informed him in a mumble as her attention turned to the listed meals.

Pondering her choices the woman’s fingers gently rubbed at her jaw, head turning and eyes looking over the cafe as she tried to decide between the bulgogi and the bibimbap when she finally found the source of discomfort. 

“I mmm...can we go?” She questioned him a little too quickly to sound as calm as she had wanted.

When you happen to be friends with someone like Jaehyun, you spend most of your time in the library, hitting the books and brushing up on material your teacher went over that following day. But when you have been studying for as long as he has, you are bound to get distracted easily. 

He spares a glance down at the watch strapped onto his wrist and checklists the current time. 07:48 in the evening, which means they have been in the library for approximately four hours. “Fun.” It is an exceptionally dry, sarcastic comment to himself, muttered beneath his breath as he diverts his focus towards the boy beside him and opts to suggest their leave for the night. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to see Jaehyun perched atop both his books, fast asleep. 

Taeyong stares at him in silence, and holds his breath. 

It is admirable, really, to see how hard someone is willing to work in spite of their circumstances. In this case, it is February fourteenth: both Valentine’s Day and Jaehyun’s birthday. Rather than going out to celebrate this day, together, Jaehyun somehow coaxed Taeyong into joining him in the library for another one of his daily study sessions. Lips pressed together in a tight, thin line, he reaches forward with the intent to wake them up, but stops when an idea enters his mind. 

Perhaps he can use this to his advantage, leave and head into town to purchase a cake. 

Now he’s rummaging through his backpack, blinding search for something that he can write on. Taeyong grabs the first thing he could get his hands on, a pack of sticky notes, and retrieves it from within its confinements. When he has them out in front of him, he inscribes the words, “I went to grab a bottle of water. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” sloppily in hangul on the paper before he detaches it from the bunch and presses the sticky end directly onto the younger’s forehead. 

A humorous sight it was, he wanted to laugh.  

He slowly – cautiously – scoots his chair back and rises from his previous position, posture returning to its original stature as he twists his torso from one side to the other. He’d been seated for an ungodly amount of time, surprised his limbs weren’t numb. Reaching for his jacket, he removes it from off the back of the chair and stares at it for longer than intended. Another moment of thought, Taeyong carefully drapes his jacket over Jaehyun’s shoulders, rather than over his own. 

He’ll be going out into the cold, and yet, he still chooses to prioritize the latter over himself. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He murmurs, caressing the younger’s hair out of pure, instinctual habit. “You better be here by the time I return.” 

Then, he takes his leave.

x /sparring and training. accepting.

The night had split open with the rain, sheets of it hammering the alleys of Seoul until the city bled silver. Zero's footsteps splashed through the puddles, the sound lost to the raging storm. His breath burned against his teeth. The scent was still there, faint but undeniable. Taeyeon. Kris. He could taste them in the downpour like copper, so close it made his vision sharper, made every vein in his body coil with immeasurable fury.

Close. Too fucking close.

He turned a sharp corner and there, through the veil of rain, shadows darted across the rooftops. His chest tightened with triumph, the pulse of vengeance hammering so loud he mistook it for clarity. He should've waited. He should've thought. But thought was ash when bloodlust and memory tangled, when the ghost of his parents' screams pressed like a knife to his heart.

So, he lunged.

The darkness at his feet surged, answering his will. It spilled like smoke and coiled into his palm, lengthening into the shape of a blade; black, serrated, and hungry. He drove it forward, recklessly, desperately, the weapon cleaving through the storm with a snarl. For a fleeting moment, he swore he had them - the silhouettes froze, startled, but his momentum betrayed him. The slick tile slid out beneath him, his footing gone.

Kris turned, faster than they had any right to be, his own shadowing flaring in response, their blade meeting his mid-swing. Sparks of black fire hissed where the weapons met. Zero staggered, his control slipping, his blade fraying at the edges like smoke about to dissipate.

It was too late to recover.

Kris' counterstrike came for his chest, and then a hand clamped his wrist, dragging him back from the edge with a force that jolted bone. He hit the rooftop hard, the impact knocking breath from lungs. Kris and Taeyeon dissolved into the rain like smoke, gone with the wind, while rage clawed at this chest; the feeling raw and uncomfortable.

"You're out of your fucking mind." Leo's voice cut through the storm, sharp and controlled, burning with anger. Their grip was like iron on Zero's arm as though daring him to struggle. "That was really stupid of you, and you know it."

His jaw clenched. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, blood slick on his lip where he'd bitten down too damn hard. He wrenched his arm free, the shadow still writhing his palm before dissipating into the mist. The urge to bare his fangs at Leo nearly overwhelmed him.

"I don't give a fuck," he ground out, voice low and ragged. The words trembled with something volatile, barely contained. His fists ached to tear the night apart, to smash, to kill, anything to release the frenzy rattling his ribcage. But instead, his brows narrow as his gaze meets the others, his fist slamming into the air. "I almost had them."

They'd been right there, right within arms reach and he fucking lost them.

Thunderbolts Sentences — Accepting.

The manor is quieter than it has any right to be, tucked away at the edge of the city where even the storm's reach feels muted. The fire in the hearth crackles lazily, painting the walls with flickering shadows, while the scent of aged wine and smoke clings faintly to the air. It's a place Baekhyun rarely opens to anyone, but tonight, it serves as a sanctuary — if only to let the dust settle after Joohyun's inevitable wrath.

Baekhyun sits in a high-backed chair, legs crossed, a glass balanced loosely in his hand. He doesn't look unsettled, if anything, he looks like the storm outside has already told him everything he needed to know. Or rather, everything he had expected once the truth unraveled.

"Of course she does," he finally breaks the silence, the smirk tugging at his lips tempered with something more precise. "Joohyun's pride has always been sharper than her bite. And you know better than I do how the royals see hunters. Protecting one? That's not just rebellion, it's an insult."

He lifts the glass, studying the reflection of firelight in the dark red liquid before glancing back at Leo. "But tell me, when has your family ever tolerated anything they couldn't chain or control? She's not furious because it's dangerous. She's furious because it makes her look powerless."