#msuelissa

                                             TOO FAST ((AFRAID TO COMBUST                                                                    & AFRAID I WON’T))

                                                                   🔥

                  IF YOU KNOW HIM, YOU KNOW HE IS CONSTANTLY—BURNING.  that eugene eom is, at his very core, consumed by fire. driven by passion. flicker flame that burns bright, white hot; all encompassing. that he is but a scalding touch, seething tongue, ash ridden throat. that he is wayward bound, impetuous embodied, and astoundingly turbulent. that it matters little to the world to be nice, friendly, engaging when not a lick of compassion exists within the hearth of his chest. all pretenses and very little heart, this guy.

                                                            say with me: a wild, rocky ride straight to hell. 

if you know him know him, you’d know that his degree of recklessness trickles down to a lack of self preservation. that’ll he’d any day douse himself in gasoline and set oneself aflame—faster, brighter, quicker than the human eye—uncaring if you burn with him. that he is a taker rather than a giver. that he’d sooner take, take, take, and take from any willing being—thoroughly impenitent—than offer a morsel of himself. but, that’s eugene for you. greedy, gluttonous; voracious is the mouth that eats and eats. gorges to fill the dead mother-sized hole in his chest. or the absentee father-sized hole. either or. 

                                               BUT IT’S NEVER ENOUGH.                                                OR IT NEVER LASTS,                                                SO HE NEVER RESTS.                                       

with elissa, it is slightly different but still the same. it is the act of giving up a piece of him. it is breaking ties between them staggeringly messy and not speaking months after. it is seeing her again after swearing to cast her and her smile and her touch and her voice out of his brain forever. it is the two years of push and pull—in which elissa bites and he bites back. like a dog with a bone, chasing at her coattails. or was it the other way around?

it is how they are now, fated—no, fuck that—trapped in a school project together. as if hearing eugene eom and elissa chwe used in conjunction was not enough to rot his mood for the week. he sits now, knee bouncing under the table and brows knitted in predisposed agitation. to think, he had been so worked up (over antagonizing in his head? check. kicking his covers at night? check) and she hadn’t even spared the decency of arriving on time. 

                typical.  

he redirects his attention to his phone, lips twisted into a thin frown whilist he scrolls uselessly through social media. maybe he should’ve skipped out as well. though, as luck would have it (literally, he wouldn’t have wasted a breath longer waiting), the chair across from him slides back. and eugene could hardly contain the vexation that crosses boyish features, eyes lifting to meet hers.

“you’re late.” his eyes roll. “suddenly you can’t tell time or something?”