#masuoi

@masuoi

( ... ) and her eyes rolled, those little brown irises swarming in the horizon of her lids as she merely mocked his statement while she was cleaning up the mess they had created. it was a two part crime after all. “are you chickening out now? its already been done.” she was referring to the graffiti on the brick walling, all frugal and colourful. “if you don’t want to sign your name just use some sort of code, like a123. don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” that last line had her snorting too; who did she even have to tell? no one. “i think it turned out pretty nice though, better than my last attempt at block art.”

"Please," he scoffs, glancing at the art - hers was certainly better than his. He leans forward, a nearly depleted can in his grip. "You know all you had to do was bat your pretty eyes and I was game... you know my police buddies will be pissed if they figure out I had anything to do with this."

Actually, they'd probably just give him no end of crap for years. He puts his initials under his 'art' - a very badly done penguin. It was very conspicuous, he didn't care. Graffiti was far below the belt compared to homicide, and it was nice to do something risky that didn't risk his life, more his honor. He smiles, and tosses that last can into her duffel bag.

      In an existence where stars can not survive, men endure no better. Stars are drowning: humankind is drowning. And Dead Boy does not know Jangmi well, but he does know that they’re both sailing a boat made of the same poor materials. This means they are not bound to drown, but already are in the process of sinking lower. Water envelopes their ankles, swallows their legs. Maybe Jangmi is only knee-deep, but Jungsu is up to his pectoral region. They are already with the stars, with their fate. 

      So when Jangmi questions the man as she does, he finds no reason to lie. “Well, this girl—” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, backpack clutched in his dirty paws. He’s stuffing a wad of bills inside. “She was easy to win over.” There’s a hint of pride to his tone, and Jungsu knows Jangmi will understand.

@masuoi

☆ • ★ • THROWING HIS HANDS up in the air, Hun spins around on a heel dramatically, facing the girl who lays on his living room couch like she owns it. His tone is laced with exasperation, disbelief clear in the raise of his brows and the way hi mouth remains gaped open. “I didn’t know you were being serious!”

Who would take such an offhand question sincerely, as if it’s a promise he’s been bound by after agreeing to it? She’d brought it up so casually, at a time too early in the morning for Hun to want to be alive during, and she wouldn’t let him go back to sleep without an answer for some unexplained reason. He barely remembers giving her the positive, because mere moments later he was unconscious once again.

“I thought it was a joke since, you know, we’re not really living together, technically.” He adds he last word as an afterthought, because, if he’s honest, if Jangmi asked he’d allow her to stay as long as she wishes (spoiler: he already does as much, letting her crash in his apartment any time). “A puppy needs even more attention than a kitten like Kabocha, it’d be messy and noisy and-”

Hun cuts off, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at his friend, and then he turns his head abruptly, lips pursing. “Okay. Say we did get one, you’d need to take good care of it!”