❛ dynamic duo ❜ w/ @nclisa

there isn’t anything taehyung loves more than a clean fight, an outlet for his energy and rage. sure, he hates losing his fights, but he won’t deny that there’s a strange enjoyment in receiving pain as well. it makes the fight fair, his victories more well earned.

though right now, tae is leaning more towards losing this fight. he stumbles at a solid punch to his cheek, stepping away to gain his bearings before he’s throwing himself back at his opponent with renewed vigor. fists fly and before he knows it he’s decked and sprawling onto the rough pavement. tae chokes, a hand coming up to his face to feel the blood leaking from his nose, hissing in pain. what the fuck.

looking up, he sees a boot coming for his face and braces himself for a blow that never comes. instead, he hears a similar hiss of pain to his own. when tae opens his eyes, he can’t help but smirk at the person standing over him.

he’s okay with this, the silence. 

he’s okay with it because in silence he already made his home. and he once shared it with his father, years past, when words failed and silence was a major figure filling in father’s absence.

he’s holding a cigarette, unlit, between his fingers. wonders whether or not to smoke another, ultimately ending up lighting it anyway. the sky is looking down at them and if he were to look back, it would look the same as it did yesterday. he inhales, the heel of his boot colliding with concrete in a cadence of uneven thud, thud, thuds. exhales smoke and he finds his gaze meeting his companion; she’s fire, burning hot--- while he’s a perpetual winter, relentless and unforgiving. 

he’s okay with the silence, but it doesn’t seem to be enough this time, not with her; not when he has too many questions and too little answers. it’s somewhat annoying, the way he finds himself wanting to know more about lisa when he should have gotten so used to not caring about stupid little things like these. he frowns but eventually, it is curiosity that prompts him to open his mouth.

“what’s with you?” a small pause. jongin raises a brow in question, flicks the ashes next to his feet, shifting so he could have a better look at her.

The frigid and unforgiving chill of ice cold air sunk its dull teeth into Jackson’s protruding cheekbones and the summit of his nose. It froze the inside of his mouth – dry tongue outlining his teeth to create friction and the poor excuse of saliva that pooled around his molars – and the canals of his nostrils where the breaths that left lacked the fog trails of warmth. Heavy shoulders that matched the dark rings around his eyes reminded him that he had not found sleep in days, and that the overwhelming frustration of work alluded to sleepless nights and his poor habit of tapping the ashes of his worries into a glass tray.

The soft bell chimed to welcome Jackson as his palm pushed at the frozen metal bar, leading him into the small captivity of the convenience store. Fluorescent lights flooded and flickered over the speckled tiles as his eyes skimmed the shelves behind the cashier who was paging through a month-old magazine balanced on the crossed legs of their lap. With his pay-check arriving on Friday but his expenses to fuel his vices over drafting what little money he had, checks and balances told him that he had to buy the cheapest box available.

If he wanted to eat tomorrow, that is.

The plastic bag crinkled and dug along his wrist, the pendulum effect swinging the sparse contents into his leg and back out. Due to his preoccupied thoughts and rushed behavior, it slipped his mind to take along his Zippo – which worked effortlessly even when the wind was present. The cheap butane was completely against his efforts as his stiff thumb rolled along the metal striker wheel, attempting to light the flint. Teeth grit deep into the filter now, he finally managed to manifest a flame as he took an inhale of the singed paper roll. Shoving the neon green plastic piece of crap into his pocket, he allowed the nicotine to slow him down and ease the migraine that was ricocheting against his temples.

“It’s been a month, Wang. Get your shit together because I have no problem getting them to pull you out of this assignment, you ungrateful piece of shit.”

The reminder of the commissioner’s harsh words, projectile spit included, drummed against Jackson’s ribs with a sharp pain of frustration and guilt. It was a private correspondence they shared when the superintendents had stepped out of the room. Of course, he knew he was lacking progress and that he was fortunate enough to have moved up to a position in his department that others – well over his seniority – deserved. But the pressure was ridiculous.

Exhaling a cloud of fog, the smoke cleared up to reveal a skinny shadow dimmed beneath the street light, as if it were revealing trick on a stage hosted by a magician. Pale hair, a small face, thin fingers, and long legs stretching as far as the shade obstructed light carried. Familiarity kept Jackson’s unmoving eyes towards the figure as her quick fingers seemed to shuffle a few different items with another stranger who had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

@nclisa , 4701

he shouldn’t be surprised, not really, but he still pauses when he sees the boots by his door, eyes scanning the entrance of his house with suspicion. he knows those boots pretty well, it’s not a question of who is in his house but how did the little devil even get inside. he doesn’t remember ever giving the key to his house to her. though now, on a second thought, he should’ve done it. if she will make her way inside nevertheless, better for it to be through the front door.

he takes off his shoes, noticing, with furrowed eyebrows that his dog doesn’t come running to welcome him, which probably means she is busy elsewhere. so he walks to the kitchen, finding, it further furrowed eyebrows that his cereal box has been opened and that the girl had left the milk open - out of the fridge! - on his table. yunho sighs, puts it back in the fridge, hears a bark coming from outside. he smiles. now he knows where they are.

9: Have any fetishes?

The act of obsession over obscurities, something that boiled down between strange and interesting. Mostly associated with sexual behavior that honestly lacked a presence in public when it came down to the young Chinese man.

So the inquiry comes as quite the shock, and his face contorts for only a moment before he practically heaves the laughter that lurches so quick up his throat he can barely hold the audacious sound in. And it spills from his lips in a mild hysteria.

Not to mention the fact that the girl before him is the messenger.

“…You sure a kid like you should be asking those types of questions?” A tooth grin reveals itself on his mouth as he folded his arms across his chest, head tipped sideways in a sort of act of defiance. And he knows she hates that term, “kid” but he can barely help it when she carries the softest face for someone who would blindly open their mouth for poison.

“I’ll give you a hint, it involves a mirror.”

13: What’s a guilty pleasure?

And quite honestly, he is embarrassed to reveal anything related to said subject.

“…This is sort of a subjective question, don’t you think?” Masking his discomfort, he chuckled a bit while using his index and middle fingers to form air quotes, “Guilty pleasure could mean anything.”

But he knows she looks dissatisfied, and her hits packed a punch.

“…I like to use the toilet completely naked, the song Style by, Taylor Swift literally makes my entire day, and I am a fatass for cheese and potato anything.”

18: What’s a grudge you’re holding?

“Mm…”

And it’s not that he is a saint, holding virtue amongst those around him with forgiving hands and loving nurture. Honestly, it’s not that he even forgets but he cannot find it within him to grip those to their actions.

Everyone was just a person, and if you did bad things sometimes – did that also make you a bad person?

Moral compasses didn’t work like that, they never worked like that.

☠ for a threatening message

[ kkt  → lisa ] where do you want to go?[ kkt  → lisa ] choose quickly or you’ll have to eat my food

❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message 

✉ a 2AM text.

Delivered to Pad Thai at 2:10 » Hey hey, wakey wakey eggs and bakey.

✘ an unsent text.

Drafted for Pad Thai » How much you charge for a dime bag?

☠ a threatening message.

Delivered to Pad Thai at 16:33 » Don't you ever come around the station during the day.

Delivered to Pad Thai at 16:35 » I don't even want to see you a mile away from the building, got it?

❤ a lusty/loving/affectionate message.

Delivered to Pad Thai at 22:20 » Thanks again for covering up for me.

Delivered to Pad Thai at 22:21 » You have no idea how much it means.

♣ a drunk message