#muse.eunchan

oh, thunder in my heart, these razors cutting sharp and leaves me with an ever bleeding scar. @ppllvns / eunchan & hyunsu / building roof, 9:53 pm.

there’s something about roofs that eunchan likes. he thinks it’s that sudden drop. clifftop-steep without bars or barriers to keep anyone locked away from that promise of danger. he likes the feeling of that. danger, or something like it. the way adrenaline will rush underneath his skin and kick start his heart. the way it makes him feel a little less numb, flirting with the concept of death. he likes to say he’ll never die. he’ll laugh it out like he believes it. eunchan does that with a lot of things. a firecracker-bright smile, laughter that spills like a flood from his chest. a wild nature, a wilder heart. 

it’s easy to make people believe happiness, eunchan figured that one out a while ago. at least, it had been for him. he wasn’t supposed to be sad when eunwoo was. or when eunwoo wanted him to be happy. eunchan’s a burden of the boy, and revealing those lonely, wretched, aching pieces of himself would only make that burden heavier to bear. so he’s happy, a feather light soul, walking on air, laughing in the face of danger. he doesn’t tell anyone it’s because it makes him feel alive. makes him feel terrified. makes him feel like like attempting to fly (sometimes, only sometimes).

hyunsu’s different. maybe that’s why eunchan likes him so much. hyunsu doesn’t bother with pretending. hyunsu doesn’t care if anyone notices that he’s angry. raw. upset. hyunsu throws fists at walls and spits out curses. disappears for days at a time to hide behind his rage. hyunsu’s real. that’s what eunchan thinks. realer than he is. he thinks hyunsu might hate him, too, if he knew who eunchan was at the heart of it all. but eunchan doesn’t like to think about that, so he doesn’t. not right now, anyway. just wears his smile. a bottle of soju in one hand, cigarette in the other. has them both held aloft as he wanders up and down the lengthy edge of the roof like it might be a balance beam.

“i should join the olympics. team. olympic team? the balancing ones.” eunchan declares as he lets himself pivot on a heel. wobbles just a little bit, catches himself by jamming his second foot down to steady himself. laughs despite it and pauses only to take in another mouthful of booze. grape, it only tastes like candy when he’s drunk. otherwise it tastes like shit. “i’m so good at this. honestly. come too.” he starts back again, makes a face at hyunsu as he crosses past where the other’s sitting.

and he told me i was holy, he's got me down on both knees, but it's the devil that's tryna hold me down. @dearfaerie / eunchan & mincheol / building roof, 7:42 pm.

eunchan knows he’s fucked. fucked in the head. fucked in life. fucked in every way possible. fucked in the way that he can’t help but to stumble back to mincheol with greedy hands and a greedier mouth. can’t help that there’s this compulsion locked inside of him that he can’t seem to carve out, no matter how brutally, stubbornly he tries. it’s just part of him. that desperation to be wanted, needed, loved. anything. but it’s not something you can force, not really.

that doesn’t stop eunchan from trying. he does it with his brother, demands his attention. does it with the other boys, too. in different ways, with creeping hands and not-so-secret kisses. but mincheol pretends for him the best. he’ll say it, he’s not afraid of saying it. that he loves him, or when he calls him a favorite. and eunchan revels in that. would willingly drown himself in that affection. so that’s why he does it. that’s why he keeps coming back.it doesn’t matter how much mincheol hurts him, withholds from him, takes from him. eunchan can put up with the pain. he grew up in pain. but love? desire? that’s something different. 

eunchan’s got a cigarette propped between his lips. pulls it out every so often to spit attempted smoke rings at the sky. they’re all wobbly around the edges before the wind tears them apart. has got himself draped across the concrete, his head pillowed by mincheol’s thigh where he’s sitting. he likes this. being alone. the noise of the other boys lost between the thick floors. nobody else around to distract them. or distract mincheol.

“we should come up here more. together.” eunchan stretches an arm out to ash his cigarette against the edge of the building. the dilapidated neighborhood stretched out beneath them. he doesn’t really know what mincheol will say to that. sometimes he’s hard to predict. some days he’ll play along with eunchan, let his hands play over him in something nearly affectionate. other days he leaves bruises, makes eunchan feel like he’s not worth much of anything. like nobody else would even try to put up with him. but it’s only sometimes. so it’s okay. really.

fires are meant to burn us, fights are meant to warn us we could lose it all if we don't reignite this. @altcrlife / eunchan & sungho / kitchen, 9:02am.

eunchan’s still got bruises pressed underneath his eyes. they’re lidded, a little dazed looking. he’d been out late, drinking. he should still be asleep, tucked underneath a pile of threadbare sheets.but sungho had barged his way in, hauled eunchan up and demanded he help him in the kitchen. not that eunchan’s ever much help in the kitchen. largely useless in most things he attempts. last time someone demanded he help with dinner he nearly sliced a finger off. had to be carted off to a nearby hospital with his hand shoved into a mass of bloodied towels. had gotten too many stitches to count and a tiny bottle of painkillers. it hadn’t been all that terrible, all things considered. 

so perhaps it’s not surprising that he’s not being all too helpful now. has hefted himself up to sit on the counter, managed to wrangle himself a bowlful of brightly colored cereal, shoves methodical spoonfuls into his mouth as he watches sungho chop up vegetables. by the time everything’s finished eunchan will complain that he’s too full and sungho will get pissed. but it’s one of those problems that eunchan doesn’t bother to correct before it happens. he doesn’t care, he just wants to eat his damn fruit loops.

he knocks a heel against the cabinet door underneath him. a rhythmic one, two, three that he repeats on a loop. he’s not being all too helpful, but he doesn’t know what sungho expected. swallows down a bite and tucks a yawn into the crook of his elbow before he goes back to eating. he’s drowning, just a bit, in his sweatshirt. might just fall asleep sitting upright like that if he’s left alone long enough, if he doesn’t have the promise of sugar to distract him. 

hey lover come and be my alibi, i'm gonna burn down the house tonight. @dubbelster​ / eunchan & taekyung / the streets of seoul, 12:49pm.

they’re huddled outside a gs25, bodies thrown across flimsy plastic chairs, eunchan slumped down into it, shoulders hiding just beneath the line of visibility. it cramps at his back, but he refuses to move. taekyung’s legs are long enough that their knees are bumping when eunchan sits like this. slouching and lethargic. not that he’s tired. maybe just his body is. the night’s still young. especially for the both of them. nothing good ever really comes of them together, but it’s what eunchan chases after. that exhilaration that comes with doing terrible and dangerous things. the feeling of his heartbeat jumping up his throat, trembling fingers, a swell of adrenaline that has his pulse thrumming humminbird-fast. 

it feels like what being alive should.

eunchan nudges their knees together, lifts his brows at the other as he takes another swig of the bottle of soju. it’s nearly empty, has a scattered collection of empties on the teal-colored table in front of him. he’s tipping past tipsy, hitting that realization that he’d already managed to get himself drunk a good ten minutes ago. but he likes that feeling, drunk. it’s like being an amplified version of himself. one that doesn’t think. one that doesn’t worry. one that worries a little less over what everyone’s thinking about him. so he likes it. likes taekyung too. bumps their knees together again. 

“you need more?” he asks, because taekyung is a literal giant, and eunchan always gets wasted far earlier than him. he privately thinks that he should have worked up his tolerance by now, but he’ll accept his fate. at least he can spend less to get drunk. his pathetic body frame is at least good for something. he reaches out to drop his newly finished body into the midst of the collection. the world feels a little bit like it’s tipping every time he takes his time to blink his eyes closed. builds up his resolve, hooks his fingers in against the arms of the chair to haul himself upright. his hair’s a mess, ruffled by the wind and half tucked underneath the hood of his sweatshirt. 

we're making this buzz together, you're taking my mind off of the pressure i'm gone with the wind, high like a feather. @iridescenuous / eunchan & daeyeon / seoul, 11:11 pm

the world’s spread out before them. this vast and terrible thing. that’s how eunchan’s grown up thinking about it, anyway. a cruel place. twisted near the edges. but there are bits and pieces that are halfway decent. moments like this, far away from their rundown home. far away from the rest of the boys. away from eunwoo, where the guilt strangles him just a little bit less, one finger linked through a belt loop of daeyeon’s jeans to tug him into slowing down while eunchan’s busy trying to fumble a pack of smokes out of his back pocket. he’s laughing about how he’s out, how he needs to borrow one from daeyeon. daeyeon always seems to have more money than him anyway.

he uses it as an excuse to touch, just a little bit. but there’s something about daeyeon that pulls eunchan in. some gleam in his eye. or maybe mystery. enshrouded in ten different iterations of a backstory. a pile of lies glued together and cut out in the shape of a boy. eunchan wants to pick him apart, scrape off layers of obfuscating paint and discover who daeyeon is. because he thinks he likes him. he thinks he likes those slivers of truths that come out when dayeon forgets to pay attention. he thinks he likes the way he doesn’t feel like he has to kick up a show around daeyeon. he doesn’t even know why. maybe because daeyeon’s always so willing to play the role of an actor. eunchan doesn’t really need to. just throws on a smile and plays along with daeyeon’s lie of the day. 

but it has to come in tiny windows of time. the lost hours of the night when everyone else is asleep. tucked off into alleyways. or miles away, hand in hand, enveloped by the night. he doesn’t really know what would happen if eunwoo found out. found out that he likes daeyeon despite what he did. and eunchan feels terrible about it, really. he does. he’d been angry at first. the all-consuming sort. argumentative and brash. willing to drag daeyeon to hell with him for trying to dismantle his brother. but then, they were all a family. he learned to control that rage. or else, daeyeon had a way about him, managed to smother it with delicate hands. until it’s just embers that scald at eunchan’s hands when he plucks them up now, holds them close. 

because he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be doing this. he really hates himself for doing this. he’s certain eunwoo would despise him for this. but he does it anyway. it just feels a little different. halfway to something nice, and eunchan doesn’t have a lot of nice in his life. he has bruises, scars, cruel words he’s learned to treasure like compliments. but not nice. not this kind of nice. “maybe we should take off. leave seoul.” it’s not a serious offer, besides, he’s pretty sure daeyeon would say no. but sometimes it’s nice to think about. a stretch of days where he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking out, throwing glances over his shoulder if he feels like reaching out and bracketing daeyeon’s hips between his palms. 

and i know it was you i was looking for, i keep my back against the door i'm not leaving. @pictoratus / eunchan & eunwoo / run down park, 10:38 pm.

eunchan’s busy tucking his troubles into a half empty bottle of soju. thinks that maybe if he soaks all his thoughts in alcohol first it might make them a little more palatable. or maybe eunchan just has a drinking problem. he swings his legs, lets the heels of scuffed up sneakers smack against the plastic siding of an old slide. it’s got a hole punched through the middle, the park long abandoned. apparently the city didn’t care enough about it. they built a new one a few blocks down. eunchan didn't’ know it was possible to relate to an inanimate fucking place before. but here he is, drinking cheap booze and sniffing against the wind like he doesn’t need more protection than the bulky hoodie he’s drowning in. it’s probably taekyung’s. 

eunwoo’s next to him though. not that it’s surprising. they’re usually close to each other. revolving planets of people, pulled forward by some special case of gravity. where eunchan goes, eunwoo follows. usually with a worried frown in place. he loves his brother though. doesn’t know if he’d still be alive if it wasn’t for him. he’s more than his other half, it’s like they’re twisted together. this amalgamation that was supposed to make up one person. eunchan’s pretty sure eunwoo got all the nice bits. the things that people really want out of someone. because eunwoo knows how to shut himself up, and eunwoo’s got this way about him where’s he’s just nice. caring. something like that. can pull people in, an organic nature to it all. not the way eunchan does it. forced and awkward. has this strange brutality to him. a collection of fragmented, broken glass. that’s what eunchan is. the shattered leftovers that got shaved off of eunwoo before they were both born.

he takes another sip. feels the beginnings of tipsy start to creep in on him. but he likes that feeling. likes feeling like he could either conquer the world or succumb to it. likes it when he can forget all the parts of himself that he hates. 

“we should’ve bought more.” eunchan drops his head to eunwoo’s shoulder, taps their bottles together and listens to the sharp sting of a noise that follows. eunwoo smells like home, whatever that even is at this point, nuzzles his way closer into the fabric of his brothers jacket and lets his eyes slip shut. they haven’t done this, specifically, in a while. run off together when the sky’s colored in dark, hide from the world. eunchan’s doing something, or else eunwoo is. eunwoo’s been a little spotty lately. out of the house until the sun just barely begins to scratch at the gray coating the city. eunchan misses it. him. pathetic, since they live together. since they still see each other.

but eunchan’s pathetic, so what?