#lsaang

          [ five minutes, take shelter — out of the unholy church for the rich and insane, rest at the back door. and fold those shivering petals around the filter of an expensive (lethal) instrument, suck in the substance that pervades the lungs so addictively and taste the flavor that won't leave the tongue (anytime soon) then think, delete, repeat ; this is what he goes through when his mind is cluttered with a mélange of thoughts that nearly make sense, the only reason he's in a dark alley at maybe 12 AM, slumped against the hard wall while trying his best to respire properly with a cigarette in between his teeth (something he personally calls an attempt to burn the anxiety within). he'll go back inside (return to all that noise and shit) when he feels a little cooler. at least here, he can drink in the silence and breathe out his butterflies as the wintry air tickles his skin. ]

Sometimes, she likes to drink. Sometimes, she doesn’t. It really depends on the person she’s with, the atmosphere, the club; Hanna isn’t the kind of girl to just drink when she feels like it or when someone gets her a bottle of whatever, no she’s the kind of girl to hang around with friends and talk nonsense and laugh until her stomach hurts     

But she does it too, like any normal adult would, yet she does it with friends instead of random strangers that she meets at various clubs. People she’s comfortable with because she knows she can trust them and that’s all that she needs to feel safe, no matter the location or the place. And sometimes she wonders if that makes her a boring person, a prude but at the end of the day she’s lucky to be surrounded by good people with hearts that aren’t made of stone, hearts that seem to have a spot for her reserved. They care for her, she cares for them. That’s what friendship’s all about, isn’t it?

That’s also perhaps why she finds herself sitting next to the male with whom she regularly goes out with just because she knows he isn’t one of these guys, not a man like her father was. A chuckle escapes her dry throat at his words that she finds oddly amusing, even if she can tell that he’s being serious because work is hard and he needs a drink to relax for which she really can’t blame him.

♡: Our muses kiss under a mistletoe. 

"A mistle—" Seulgi’s gaze shifted to the plant situated above her head and she almost shrugged upon the male’s words, at first not realizing what he meant. Her golden hues were still focused on the small ring positioned between her skinny fingers.

Oh. Wait a second. 

"A mistletoe." She repeated quietly, bringing a finger to her lips before pointing back at the man standing next to her, the small, almost teasing smile ghosting over his lips not coming unnoticed. "Is— it— neccessary?" Seulgi asked almost stupidly, yet an obvious innocent look she threw him somehow soothing the childish attitude of the female. He seemed like insisting. Or the tradition itself was. 

"You know," he started as he turned his head to narrow his eyes at the stranger, this person that had decided to interrupt one of the few and far between moments he got to himself a day. He wasn't really upset, but he liked being dramatic, at least in his head. His expression cleared before going on, clearing his throat as he held his phone up in front of the other's face. 

"It's not porn. It's--.. it's artsy. These kinds of videos are big in the fashion world right now." Well, it wasn't a lie, it just sounded like one. He pursed his lips, pulling his phone back to tap out of the video.

♆

A little bit of effort can make the most radical of changes. It was evident in her reflection – lips painted a dark crimson (her favourite shade), her usual long hair curled and pushed to one side to reveal the pale skin of her neck and a classic black mini dress; the type that accentuates a girl’s curves – that complete transformations were possible in a little less than an hour. Not to say she wasn’t attractive generally, it was just that there was always an additional sense of confidence after getting ready for a night out that created an aura of allure.

Often or not though, she’d lose that allure by the end of the night to a drunken haze; the suaveness and sophistication swapped with alcohol induced giddiness or extreme aggravation. Lucia was known for her eccentrics – jumping on top of the bar to attempt to crowd surf or communicating very physically her hatred for something or someone – particularly in the club she currently resided in. The owner, an old associate, could handle her well when wasted and never failed to take care of her (even if, perhaps she was the one in the wrong).

He wasn’t in tonight though, one of the bartenders told her – Lucia wasn’t completely sure why but convinced herself that it wouldn’t matter much anyway, she’d take care of herself. After a couple of drinks though (some shots, a few grasshoppers and some others she can’t quite recall), her initial reservations dissolved and found herself on the dance floor, lost in the beat of a generic club tune.

And it was fine, at first. Lightheaded with exhilaration, she ‘danced’ with whoever she could; body pressed flush and lips brushing against unfamiliar faces. It was all fun and games, in the heat of the club. Until a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, whispering filth into hear ear that, even in this state of mind, she didn’t appreciate. Lucia was far from innocent, but she had her standards – it was a rule of hers never to pick someone up from a bar or club, because even though not everyone there was terrible it was always the scum that tried to get in her pants – and this brute was defiantly not up to standards.

She struggled to squirm away, his grip tightening as she began to thrash around in the sea of people bumping and grinding. Curses slipped from her red lips as she jerked her elbow backwards with enough force to slacken the hold. She didn’t escape though, that would be far too convenient for the likes of Lucia. Instead she spun around and blindly threw her best attempt of a punch – landing square on the jaw. He staggered backwards, most probably from the shock rather than the pain, as she spat in his direction. “Fuck you.” It still wasn’t enough, not for her, so she brought her knee up with as much force as possible to his groin area – and god, if that wasn’t gratifying she doesn’t know what is.

Now it was time to escape. The expression of fury evident on the thug’s face sent her speeding (as fast as one could speed in killer high heels) through the doors and into the cold night. She hardly had any time to process the sheer frostiness in her bid to escape; looking behind her Lucia was met with the sight of the male quickly catching up to her. She probably should’ve paid attention to where she was going to because moments after looking back she found herself falling backwards after the impact of walking into something. Or rather, someone. “Jesus fucking Christ, watch it!” She screeched, scrambling off the cold ground rapidly. There was no time to even glimpse at his (she assumed it was a he) face, or to even demand for an apology.

➤lsaang. 

"You must be crazy-- you know what, I don't need to listen to this; I'm not backing down." 

{ &; perhaps she’s commonly known for being rather crazy, stepping over the boundaries most of the time and doing things that were rather reckless. she was someone who isn’t afraid to speak her mind hence is why the words slid right out of her lips in order to inform him otherwise. simply stating, he was being idiotic. at least during this scenario and somehow everything begins to shatter, the atmosphere was heavier than before and there’s people shuffling around from every single direction that made her uneasy. the woman says what she does out of wanting the best results for the other, despite her tone of voice saying a whole different story in their own eyes. }

❝Can you fuckin’ wait for one second?❞

{ &; hayoung raises her voice towards the male, unsure of whether it caught his attention or not and she finds herself ushering over towards his direction in attempt to pull him back. she was never too sure for his reasons on why he’s behaving that way or the determination that was displayed in his words along with his movements as well. sighing in frustration, hand resting on the side as she moves at a quicker pace. }

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