#ljh.replies

Send ✆ for a morning text

[SMS: lee jongsuk] Good morning, love.[SMS: lee jongsuk] The sun is shining bright and the birds are chirping their everyday tune, creating a nuisance as I sit at the table and starve, wondering where my breakfast is.[SMS: lee jongsuk] I believe you have the answer to this travesty.[SMS: lee jongsuk] I am waiting.

Send ✉ for a text that wasn’t sent

[SMS: lee jongsuk] Honestly, when you put it like that, I can almost guarantee that I will get over you if we break up and I won’t have a single shred of remorse for doing so. So, for the sake of both of us, I would advise you stop talking to him or else my past sentence will become a reality.( send? Y/(N) )*your message has been deleted.

Send ☎ for a rushed text

[SMS: lee jongsuk] come to the alley behind club seokjeon your presence is graely wanted and nnnneeded

Send ☏ for a loving text

[SMS: lee jongsuk] The bed is too cold when you’re not here.

Send ⁇ for a drunk text

[SMS: lee jongsuk] jjjoonggssukk in eed you right now pick me up at jangmi its freezng and im lonely without you

Send ø for a late night text

[SMS: lee jongsuk] I’ve been pondering for quite a while: Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I asked you to come visit my adoptive family with me?

Send ✘ for a hateful text

Send ✉ for a text that wasn’t sent

[SMS: kim byungjoo] They say ignorance is bliss and I couldn’t agree less. Perhaps we may have been fine acquaintance yet here I stand upon a grave of could-have-beens, fragments of the past surfacing to my knowledge and enlightening me of each ghastly thing your family has done to my late one and reminding me all the more of why I despise you //TEXT MESSAGE EXCEEDED CHARACTER LIMIT/// 

( send? Y/(N) )*your message has been deleted.

Send ☎ for a rushed text

[SMS: kim byungjoo]  4:00 at my door or else.

Send ☏ for a loving text

[SMS: kim byungjoo] I find it absolutely endearing that you still have the switchblade I’ve threatened to end to you with.[SMS: kim byungjoo] Note the sarcasm, I want it back by Friday.

Send ⁇ for a drunk text

[SMS: kim byungjoo] its 300am and ive bot a bottle of vodka and thinking about how divine it wouldbe if to see your bloodstained upon my verypalmsl;;;

Send ✘ for a hateful text

Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

It usually happens after they’ve had sex and everything’s mellowed out. Despite fatigue draping upon them like a thick blanket, Jongsuk was still eager for after-sex cuddles. His arms wrapped around Junho’s waist, his personal heater, his lips making their trail among the expanse of the younger male’s tanned neck. Cherished words exchanged between one another, Junho wondered as he gazed into his beloved’s deep eyes, if Jongsuk could feel how fast his heart beat. It was strange, the intimacy they held, the fire that would scorch up in Junho with every personal moment shared between them.

Gazing deep inside his love’s chocolate-colored hues, Junho didn’t know what to focus on. His haywire heart, fluttering in a way which he didn’t know what was possible, or Jongsuk’s features, oozing with perfection and every single aspect that Junho found himself attracted to. Breathing heavily, Junho found himself in an uncomfortable trance. It wasn’t until a second later that he flicked his gaze away, opting to stare at the wall, and he could hear Jongsuk laugh. He felt the older’s hand on his chest, feeling his pulse, before a kiss was directed upon his forehead.

Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

It’s not a normal occurrence.

Perched upon one of the building’s rooftops, the brunet watches as the busybodies of students mingle underneath him. He watches the little men and women, moving like tiny ants as he watches above, the wind gently tousling his hair as his fingertips shiver against the freezing metallic railing. Normally, he’d feel like a god daintily sitting on his mighty throne, watching down upon his people or future victims: a true king. In a usual occurrence, he would feel as though he would be the one to decide a person’s fate, judgement day.

Instead, today, he stood idly, with no sense of supremacy nor power surging within him. He stood isolated and, furthermore, baffled upon his own self.  It was, perhaps, one of those outer-body experiences, something he would forget within the next hour that passed by. For now, as he pressed almost too close against the railing, a peculiar urge to lung, he spotted a shock of purple hair underneath the slowly dwindling crowd behind him: Kim Byungjoo.

For once, he thought of what the younger male was doing.

However, as quick as the thought came, it vanished and left Junho shoving himself away from the railing, disgusted and lulled out of his trance. A wandering glance around to make sure he was alone, the brunet shook the intruding feeling off and made his way towards the stairs.

“No capes!”

“It’s not a cape– It’s a cloak.” Fingers tracing over the hem of his silk cloak, the deep scowl that decorated Junho’s lips indicated his defiance towards his lover’s words. The brunet enveloped himself in the hold of his cloak and, as Jongsuk reached out to snatch the fabric away from him, he moved to the side and away from the older’s grasp. “There’s a difference.”

“No, there really isn’t.” The eye roll that Jongsuk gave was anything but discreet and Junho found it ironic, how the older male was judging him for his superior taste in fashion. He liked the cloak, almost every super-villain had one and it was even a required uniform for kids in Hogwarts. Not to mention, he looked majestic when it swayed in the wind.

“You aren’t going to tell me how to accessorize,” Junho had pressed on once more, “not when your own costume looks like a homeless was the one who designed it!” The brunet tilted his head up, his body oozing of his indignation and, not wanting to have his lover critize him anymore for his superb tastes, the younger trailed off upstairs.

It wasn’t like he wanted to go to the damned party or whatever this trick-or-treat business was in the first place.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Junho!”

If there was a couple notorious for their vicious fights and disagreements, it would be Jongsuk and Junho. Hardly ever could the two men go a month without at least a fight or two and, had it not been for the fact that they knew how to please each other as good as they knew how to piss one another off, speculators would claim that the two mixed as well as water and oil.

Eyes piercing the surface of the table, there was a nasty vibration within Junho as his core shook with rage towards the older male across from him. His hands balled into fists, the brunet’s nails dug against his palms and threatened to make them bleed. The evidence of the younger holding himself back from his impulse desires, which almost always consisted of causing harm to his offender, and the strain that rung strong in him was prominent through his shaking frame.

Jongsuk spoke up once more, demanding for his younger lover to look at him, but Junho kept his gaze held down for caution. If he looked at Jongsuk, saw the older staring at him as vehemently as the younger’s glower would be, Junho was unsure if he could further restrain himself from his aggressive desires.

“I don’t want you talking to him,” Junho’s words came out like a strangled, silenced snarl. He didn’t need to look at Jongsuk to validate his opinion. “If you can’t respect me or my requests, then you surely don’t deserve staying in my apartment.”

Leave. Even though the younger didn’t utter the word, it was strung thick in the air, a silent demand that Jongsuk did nothing but accept if it meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with his boyfriend’s childish, toxic attitude.

“Do not change the subject! We’re discussing your attitude!”

Fingers paused at the hem of his shirt, Junho directed a glower at his love as he sat stubbornly on the older male’s lap. Of course, he had thought that he would have been able to seduce Jongsuk out of his rage and towards something else, something more worth his while, as he teased his love with fleeting touches and light kisses whilst he ignored the heated words thrown at him. It had almost worked, too, with Jongsuk running his fingers along his spine and playful nips at directed towards his tanned neck until, suddenly, the older male snapped out of his trance and back towards their previous and forgotten topic. Putting his shirt down, the younger male gave a dramatic roll of his eyes and he leaned back so that he could press himself against the table rather than the other’s chest as he crossed his arms and deepened his scowl. 

“My attitude is fine as it is,” he defended, “it’s an acquired taste and I’m quite disappointed that you haven’t gotten used to it already.” The brunet pondered for a moment, whether or not he should get off of his love and find something else more interesting to dwell upon, but his decision was already made as he felt Jongsuk shift his thighs, signalling for him to get off. 

“How could anyone get used to having to cater to Satan’s child everyday?!  It’s like almost every minute you have something new to get angry about and if you’re not busy throwing a fit about something you’re trying to get busy by fucking me!” Although Jongsuk’s words weren’t far from the truth, Junho found himself offended by the older male’s words.

“So you want me to be pissed all the time?” Then, fuming, Junho got off from his love’s lap, “Should I remind you of your own attitude? If there’s anyone with a problem, it would be you and your over sensitivity towards everything that I do!” 

Instead of replying, Jongsuk found it best to burrow his face in the palms of his hands as he let out an agitated sigh.

 The point had obviously flown over his love’s head.

“This is the third time this year you’ve been sent to the office.”

A pack of ice pressed against his slowly bruising eye, Junho gave a shrug as he relaxed himself upon his couch. As long as he had won the dispute, hardly anything else mattered.

“You act as though that’s a problem,” the younger scoffed and he leaned against the sofa’s arm, shutting his good eye. “I’ve gone more times before.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Junho, we’re not doin’ so hot either.”

“And?” 

Ignoring the fact that their tent was far from perfect due to his own lack of cooperation, Junho kept his gaze pierced upon the group of hikers from afar, an amused grin tugging at his lips as he listened to their distant shrieks, “We’re not the ones getting attacked by the wild.” 

“Look, I performed a public service. You act like that’s a bad thing.”

“They don’t deserve a silver of your time.” His arms were wrapped around Jongsuk’s waist, cheek pressed against the older’s shoulder as he gazed down at the near-empty pot of soup, a group of unfortunate city-dwellers sharing their meals from the distance. His nose scrunched in distaste he shifted his view to gaze up at his dear instead. 

“You didn’t even bat an eyelash at me today for these diseased mutts.” He gave a scowl and Jongsuk rolled his eyes allowing his fingers to thread through Junho’s hair.

“When I did, you ignored me.” 

“No, I didn’t.”

Odd enough, there was an eerie calm within the brunet as he listened to Byungjoo’s words. Standing at the doorway to his apartment, the door opened up wide enough only for Junho to fully see Byungjoo, the older male narrowed his eyes as he stared down at his fellow student. 

He could see Byungjoo fidget at the slightest, perhaps offput at the lack of reaction that Junho gave, the way the air grew thick with rolling tension as the older’s eyes registered as unreadable, neither a sinister nor intimidating aura emitting from the brunet’s frame. 

Byungjoo’s mouth visibly opened, the younger contemplating over what to say in order to make the situation less tense, less awkward, but before any motion of peace or reconsideration was made, Junho had slipped from the doorway and made his way into the plain interior of his home leaving Byungjoo with nothing to do but wait. When the older male came back, a thick glass bottle was clutched tightly within his hands, his knuckles nearly turning white at his vice-like grip. It was an opening, a glimpse of the tornado that ran amok within Junho’s frame, his dark eyes soon being filled to the brim with all the contempt that his lean body could muster. It was alarming, the sudden swing within the older’s mood yet, before Byungjoo could do anything, Junho lashed out spontaneously, much like a rattlesnake.

It was the bottle that he had grasped in his hand, slamming down and crashing against Byungjoo’s head. Despite the thickness that the glass had held, it shattered. As if Junho wasn’t done, he soon threw the broken neck at the poor male’s face and, snarling much like the rancid beast that he was, he shrieked down upon the younger, 

“Then what the fuck are you doing here instead of finding him?!”  His voice vibrated at a great intensity that it cracked slightly, Junho’s face a menacing red, before he slammed the door closed with all the force that he could muster. The window shook with the threat to shatter into a million pieces, the door nearly shaking at the intense force it absorbed, and the hinges squeaked desperately for their last saving grace.

Silence rolled over the area soon after and, with the calm, came an unspoken threat:

“Could someone hand me a heavy, blunt object?”

The older male had uttered the question out openly in class, a curt silence slowly following his request as the students whispered among one another. Finally, a kind girl had stepped forward and offered her professor her textbook, in which was responded with gratitude before the male had made his way over to where his sleeping lover had sat.

When Jongsuk had requested Junho to improve his attendance in class, he hadn’t meant for the younger to come in and sleep as though doing so would improve anything at all. 

Needless to say, Jongsuk was evidently quite pissed.

It happened in three seconds: Jongsuk slammed the textbook down against the desk, causing the surface to quake before Junho promptly woke up, startled, and the small jolt that he gave caused a ripple of laughter throughout the class. Not even a moment later had the brunet snatched the textbook from Jongsuk’s hands and chucked it at his poor professor, seething, before he laid his upper half against the desk once more and screwed his eyes closed.

Even though the book could have caused a horrible bruise to blossom against Jongsuk’s pale skin, the older found himself caught between either laughing at his lover’s reaction or solemnly shaking his head and sighing.

He didn’t know why Junho was taking a nap, to be honest.Knowing the younger’s schedule, the brunet already had enough time to catch up on his hours of sleep prior to class.

"So, we're not going out for dinner?"

“No.”

Junho didn’t want to admit that he didn’t want to spend any more money from his wallet. Instead, sitting down and curling up besides Jongsuk on the couch, he fluttered his eyes closed and pressed the side of his face against the older’s shoulder.

The flat part of the hammer hit lightly against Junho’s palm, the brunet nodded almost approvingly at the working utensil equipped within his hand. Durable, heavy, and with enough strength exerted he could give a disastrously good swing. Eye clouded over with hate and a simmering grudge nipping at his fingertips, he hardly registered the younger male’s desperate plea as his fingers stroked at the wooden base of the hammer, calculating how many bone-clattering lashes could be belt out before the iron head would snap off.

Toxins filled the brim of the brunet’s lungs and his fingers moved from the wooden handle to the sharp ends of the durable equipment grasped tightly in his hands. The remedy of an over-eccentric mind obsessed with bloodlust and the yearning to do harm Junho figured his sanity would be momentarily cured by appeasing once again to his dark desires, his drive.

“You’re lucky that it isn’t you.” Deep brown eyes flickered to meet the doe orbs of the smaller male before him, a lack of empathy rattled Junho’s body despite the firm ground Byungjoo seemingly held. Thrusting the sharp end of the hammer against Byungjoo’s chest, he set out to forcefully move the younger from his path of fire as he had business to deal with for the night. 

He found it pathetic that the purple-haired male had even tried; the younger’s pleas would only be met upon empty ears and a mind rotten with abuse.After all Junho, too, had once used the plea tactic, teary-eyed and all. Despite his young age, despite his desperation, and despite his fear, it hadn’t worked and he was met with his dead father.