#krxalyiah

Emotions and Ilhoon should not even be mentioned in the same sentence, at least that’s what he thinks. He thinks he’s confusing, that everything he feels is confusing and therefore everything is too much mainly because he always feels too much. And there is where the problem lies. 

@krxalyiah

The usually empty and quiet apartment was noisy today as a fluffy ball of white furry dashes around the place, barking occasionally at stuff it deemed as interesting. A beeping sound echoed a few times through the room as the water in the electric kettle came to a boil. At the same time the bathroom door slid opened as Jongkook got out, proceeding to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for himself from the hot water.

He grinned in amusement at the 3 months old puppy who was running around chasing after a rolling ball. The simplicity of enjoying his morning with a warm cup of tea, as the orangey-yellow hue of the sun ray filtered through the window and into his apartment, was a luxury he seldom got the chance to experience. His schedule was too hectic for that to occur often. He does get long break from his work once in awhile though; like how he didn’t have any shift for the whole of today and tomorrow, for example.

Of which somehow he got convinced into taking care of the Maltese puppy that belonged to his colleague’s relative who had gone on a short vacation. He does love dogs, and so he didn’t mind. Although right now he was stuck in a dilemma of wanting to go to the gym yet unable to leave the puppy alone in the apartment.

The name of a person immediately came into his mind and it didn’t take long for him to scroll through his contact list. He was quite certain she would be at the gym at this time of the day, but he would text her just to be sure.

[ msg → Alyiah ] The world most amazing Aly, are you at the gym? [ msg → Alyiah ] How do you feel about taking care of a 3 months old maltese puppy? [ msg → Alyiah ] Just for a few hours while I exercise. ^_^

the world fades into a heavy red and dark grey, oxblood shading his vision and making him want to spit. he feels sick to his stomach, probably from having swallowed too much iron or gritting his teeth too many times. he is woozy but that’s not surprising after having been hit in the head as many times as he has tonight, or downing enough alcohol to make an elephant trashed. he could drink just about anybody under the table, but that still comes with plenty of set-backs, and it isn’t exactly anything to be proud about.

then again, kwon jiyong doesn’t have much to be proud about anyway, not like he has a very clean history or a bright future ahead of him. this is pretty much it; killing strangers, drinking at bars, getting into fights, toying with the idea of death finally claiming his sorry ass in some gutter alleyway one of these days. does he have a death-wish? absolutely. it’s also just a part of his nature, he knows that, a very real background noise in his head, like static, constantly blaring and screaming at him to keep fighting some battle that never ends.

everyone is the enemy, that’s what his brain strives to convince him of. trust nothing, trust no one, fight until your knuckles are bloody, bite until your teeth are chipped to the gums, scream until your voice is hoarse. there is no escape because the whole world is a battlefield and whereas he used to know which side he was on, he used to understand where the lines were, he has come to acknowledge that there are no boundaries. there’s nothing between him and the chaos, there’s nothing between good or bad or right or wrong or up or down. all of it is just struggle—the never-ending war to just survive, make it to the top of whatever pile of shit you’re given before you die.

and death is surprisingly imminent, he realizes as he wanders through the midnight streets, holding his side and feeling blood in his clothes. some motherfucker must have cut him. it’s him against the world, but his apartment is too far away and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get into the lift, bleeding out like this. he makes a detour and falls against the door of one of the few women he knows are too much a fucking sucker to let him die out here like this. sure he has a death-wish, but it ought to be by cooler means than this. “a… alyiah…” he falls to the ground and weakly bangs against the wood, before yelling, “ALYIAH!”

@krxalyiah

taemin steps out of his car and takes a deep breath, the sea-tinted breeze ruffling through his hair like fingers, the sun high in the sky boring down on the asphalt and tiny grains of sand. he can almost smell it from here, the beach cooking under the pressure-pointed noontime hour; a strange mixture of seafoam and salt, day-old slushies left to rot, and the occasional slug that wasn’t fast enough to find cover before the late spring daylight boiled it alive. he can hear a few kids wailing off in the distance, obviously upset that they have to leave soon, or maybe they’re upset that they’d come in the first place—he doesn’t really know, he’s not good at understanding children.

taemin hates the beach in all honesty. he pushes his sunshades up higher onto the bridge of his nose as he slowly strolls off the parking lot and into the sandy area beside the water. he’s not fond of coming here, but apparently this is the only place he can find one of his oldest friends and siblings; she hasn’t been answering her cell phone all day and he needs to talk to her. alyiah and irene are pretty much the two only people he can stand going to for advice about things, even though he rarely makes much of an effort to follow through with what they tell him. he wants to be a good person, life’s just not letting him.

but for as much as he despises the unending noise of the ocean, or the coarseness of the sands, the way it gets everywhere, or the constant messiness of it all, it’s nowhere near as bad now as it has once been, back when they were gods. getting poseidon to answer a summons or come out of his watery depths was almost harder than prying a conversation out of hades. hades would tolerate zeus as much as he could, but even though zeus and poseidon got along better, it was never easy finding a middle ground between them. zeus has always hated going underwater; the pressure, the slowness, the darkness—it really isn’t his thing. and even now as a human, taemin has a big dislike of the water, having never tried to swim in his whole life. swimming has always been a confusing sport to him because sometimes you do it for exercise and fun, and then other times you do it to not die.

when taemin first manifested his abilities, the shock of the lightning bolt going through his body was strong enough to send his father into a coma that has since lasted 13 years. he himself went into the hospital as well but not for any substantial amount of time and they let him go when they figured there was nothing wrong with him.

even though he survived the ordeal without a scratch and has since used his abilities to control the electric current many times, there’s still a corner in the back of his mind that worries something might go awry. lightning is one of the most unpredictable elements and he is self-aware enough to understand that he’s been diminished extensively from his god form. he is not zeus. he is still human. one wrong move, one second of less-than-perfect control could mean the difference between freedom and a hospital bed.