#jcmood

kc, though things draw his attention, rarely is he interested and rarely can they hold it. he sees the screen for all but two seconds before his eyes are on his brother, chin over the seat of the couch. if he takes a seat he’s invested, if he stays on his feet he’s ready to move on. 

why do you want one? why do you need one? can you take care of one? 

“so you drown what you’re afraid to hear?”

sounds familiar. 

it’s probably not as clear cut as all that. and jc’s probably not talking about the same kind fo fear that kae knows. but then what fear does kae know, fear at fingertips or from it. fear from things or thinking of things. he knows fear and doesn’t hide from it anymore. he hasn’t touched a pen in a month, he knows fear.

► short stories, my favorite kind of poetry (meme) — accepting! 

“i am,” she answers the way everyone else does, reassuring despite erratic heartbeats and a few strands of hair out of place. there was always something … off about them all. (and she does mean them all.) the smile she offers is hesitant by nature, already overthinking where her gaze should rest. (the left eye, or the right. the left, or the right.) her beam sits unwavering despite it all. “yeah, everything’s going … well.”

this was the blissful ignorance of the life led by someone so chronically nervous: the line separating who’s intimidating and who isn’t blurred to nothingness. but yubin wears it like the blissful ignorance of someone who simply is. (for years now, she has learnt to get away with it.) “how have you been?”