#nefariousen

“so you’re majorin’ in criminal justice, aye? it’s a bit ironic. so that makes me the criminal, an’ you’re the justice that’s sought out-- well. okay, let’s backtrack ‘cos that doesn’t make sense. tell me some interestin’ cases that you’ve read. i need a lil’ help ‘cos m’an amateur at this.” 

hyejung had been with soojung for the past hour talking about her grandmother’s death. it was difficult to bring up a year later, but if she had talked about it right after the event-- then she’d be a mess and get nowhere. so with time she’s kept herself calm and collected, seeking advice on what to do on a case like her’s. “i heard that the case doesn’t close until ten years after. one year has gone by an’ i’m tryin’ t’get some research. i don’t get it. grandma had stomach cancer an’ operations on the table were mostly successful. if i may recall-- at least a ninety percent success rate. that’s what i’ve heard, but don’t quote me on it. when my grandmother died-- the surgeon had no sympathy. he simply told me an’ i quote “sorry for your grandmother. talk to your parents about this.”” hyejung scoffs, recalling what had happened that day. salted tears stained the skin that was beginning to turn pale. it felt like she was going to pass out at any moment.

“my brother came by ‘cos he was old enough but since he was only the child of her child, also known as the demon himself, he was unable to ask any further questions. they brought my father an’ my stepmother t’the side. an’ y’know what they did?” it infuriated hyejung with every bone of her body every time it was mentioned. “there was compensation money t’keep quiet. that’s what my brother heard. keep quiet-- why? people keep quiet to keep secrets.. so what was the secret? i couldn’t think right away, so i ran off. i took the money that grandma an’ my brother gave me an’ fled with a friend. my brother didn’t know where i was for months but i did keep in contact. i jus’ never told him my location. as for my father...” a scowl replaces the pursed lips on her face.

“he stole some of my money when his name wasn’t even on grandma’s will. for what? for his dumb ass family t’support. he didn’t care as much as i did an’ that was his mother for fucks sakes. i don’t get it. this world is fucked up..” hyejung keeps silent before looking over at the other, chin resting in her palm before sighing. 

( @nefariousen​ )

let’s go explore the archives in the library she said. it’ll be fun she said.

the yonsei university library archives are untouched and unmatched. they are prestigious in that bits of knowledge float around in every cranny. the law department is always a bit too packed with students lining the columns and becoming one with the collection. As winter rolls by, finals and evaluations alike taeyang decided a late night visit for his friend buried in the books was way past due. What he didn’t expect was the detour towards the stacks, an area now squished and lined with unopened knowledge. taeyang wasn’t much of an explorer but one look up the stairs and an unflattering chicken noise from soojung had him heading up with newfound determination.

spiders don’t necessarily bother him little creatures and the like get a special pardon when they scurry past his dorm. they are definitely in a section they shouldn’t be and exploring is no fun when you stay in regulated areas. what bothers him is that soojung definitely isn’t helping. she can peek her head in from the shelf behind him and try to spook him but she can’t reach over to help clear him out the pile of books.

her words come out quick, whispered against his neck and startling him so that he ends up hitting another shelf with his head and getting attacked by another flurry of books.

“haha very funny soojung.” dust clings to his throat and it takes all he has not to cough a dust bunny in her direction. it’s cramped, books stacked here and there, books falling apart in his hands and falling apart on the shelves.

“i’m so selfish. I like to think that i’ve killed her heart.”

there’s a pack of cigarettes in his left pocket, a reminder that his friend had visited him earlier. if the cigarettes weren’t there, he wouldn’t have remembered, and he wouldn’t have thought of going outside to meet with someone that held the same interests as him. he wonders if his friend has ever smoked them, cigarette between bright red lips and smoke filling the blue of their room, fingernails yellowed from years of bad habits stitched to paper-thin skin. when he looks up at from the book he’s reading, some western literature ( catch-22 ), he finds himself looking into the eyes of the one person he’d love to figure out. when she speaks, he begins collecting pieces of her, like the way travelers collect the world in trinkets and photographs. 

they had somehow begun to speak about the past, and how it mingled with the present as well as the future. suddenly, without meaning to, jungkook had diverged onto the topic of mothers-- specifically, his own mother. he doesn’t mention her name neither where she’s from, or what he’s done to have separated himself from her, but he goes on talking about her as though he were telling a story to children.

“but she’s strong. she's always been real damn strong.” he looks back down, flipping to the next page, then tucks a ripped piece of paper between the pages. “which is good, I guess. but I dunno. I wanna be important. really fuckin’ important. so important that she would--” he falls off into silence, staring at his hands. the numbers begin their countdown in his head again, working to ease off tense muscles and the tremor in his palms. 

“Oh yeah?” He asks, following the other’s gaze as he observed the twinkling lights that were millions and millions miles away from them. Wondering what made the woman have such thoughts just by looking at stars. Not that Axel would be able to fully understand Soojung’s abstract thoughts -- emotionally speaking, he wasn’t as develop as he should be for someone his age, but still, he wonders.

              ( meme / accepting )

“do you always ask questions you know the answer to?”

how long has it been. how long. to answer the question would require the ability to count. he had the ability to count, to question that would be absurd. what he didn’t have was the capacity  to count the days as they went by. not as if something lacked from them but to remember them as if he was alive and that was a task in itself.

when had he last seen the female.

and it’s a tricky question because he has to store so many encounters in his tiny human mind it’s a wonder he can keep up. well it’s not a wonder, he’s a wonder that’s why he can file through the debris and find the little file with her picture on it. it brings a smile of sorts. always right where he wants it, always ready to pull out the small passerbys and the blurs that materialize into something more. a friend? an enemy? a target? which one was she.

“it was a warm and sunny day,” he begins. quietly because this isn’t his answer. but the lie doesn’t even taste good on his silver tongue and he wants to spit it out. it was never sunny when he saw her, it was always raining, she was always covered by the makeshift plastic, the one they give to newbies. and he was always shrouded in a jacket, the same jacket, black and welcoming however off-putting. now he’s laughing because there’s something.