#p!ra

everything happening before her feels like a nightmare.

gelatin limbs force themselves to move as the jilted, disjointed world rocks slightly and her ears ring with something beyond the sounds of screams, curses and destruction; nonetheless, the girl pushes on, trying to swallow the taste of acid in her mouth.  she doesn't know when she starts clinging onto soojung's hand, or when the crowds become such a force that she loses sight of the x-men and fellow mutants they had come to the city with--all she manages is to notice all of this, far, far too late.

trying to find them would be a waste of time--it doesn't take much thought to realise this.

she's given everything she has left into a bowl of porcelain, to the walls that caught every single hysterical sob and cry that ripped themselves from pained, downturned lips; jinri is certain, if emotion was colour, the whole room would be stained an unforgiving, bleeding red.

change.

the fact of the matter is that jinri is growing to hate change, existence screaming for a halt as each neutral second is ripped away from her.  she does not want to know lays ahead, she does not want to face the turning of tides, for parts of her believe--no, they know--she can't; that she is capable of nothing other than gasping for salty, sharp breaths or drowning.

but kind change, fake change, sporadic choice--that, she does not mind, for it provides her with distractions, which she needs.  it's her desire to get lost in them that prompts her to paint her greying world with opioid oranges and alcoholic ambers, bright and blurring, and tonight, it's what drives her to stain ink stained tresses chestnut. 

"where'd i put them, where'd you go?  boxes, oh boxes," the girl murmurs to herself, half sing-song, digging through her things, their things, as jinri isn't sure where her stuff ends and soojung's begins.  a small, "aha!" parts from her lips as she picks up the box she was looking for.  turning it over in her hands, she grins--the colour is just a nice as she remembers, the brand, one she adores--before a beige envelope catches her eye.  

'throwing' the box of dye behind her--she merely leaves it to suspend itself in midair--jinri picks up the letter gingerly, anxious fingers brushing against its surface.  for a moment, the panic that she keeps bundled under the surface leaks, blocking the breath in her throat yet leaving her mouth dry.

'to jinri' it reads, font familiar.  the mutant lacks the courage to tear open the envelope, to match a name to the writing--scared, she's scared, though she doesn't have a name for this particular monster, this fear.  she feels herself being sucked into the ebony etchings of her name, growing smaller and smaller, cold, only to jolt as her box of colouring falls to the ground.

 "dye," she mumbles dumbly.  "gotta dye."  an empty laugh.

one hand still grasping onto the letter, tightly, almost desperately, she picks up the box with the remaining hand, wandering to the washroom and going through the steps provided, leaving her hair in a bun to settle.  sinking onto the tile floor, she begins to read.

there is no one to see her face or hear her voice, yet for some reason the girl still feels the need to knot herself together, tightly, body trembling from the effort of not screaming right away, breath shuddering as she gives into sobs.  she makes the sound of a wounded animal, wounded and broken, knuckles whitening as she grasps the paper with increasing force. 

who is this letter from?  mai isn't the same anymore.  mai wouldn't even look her in the eye, the last time she saw her.  who was this letter to?  jinri isn't even sure if she knows who she is anymore, let alone if mai knew.  perhaps now she knows, that the girl she had promised to not forget is already long forgotten; perhaps her dark eyes cut right through everything when she saw jinri again, and that was why she couldn't bear to rest her gaze on the very embodiment of rot.

she slams the letter down with a sobbed shriek, swinging her limbs about as she she feels something inside her ignite.  nothing is working, nothing is the same, nothing will ever be the same, this is all wrong.  "wrong," the aerokinetic chokes,  thrashing, voice straining, "wrong, wrong, wrong!"

gripping onto the sink ledge, she pulls herself upwards, tearful gaze staring into the place where their mirror used to be.  a fist raises and strikes the emptiness, curled fingers unfurling to rest a shaking palm against the surface.

even she is not sure if the sound that rips itself from her lips is a strangled sob or a laugh.  

it had been another hard night--not that any of them were particularly easy--one that leaves jinri with a head that feels seconds from cracking open, swollen eyes, and an overall desire to simply stay where she was--parked in her bed with her laptop on her lap. the stationary position definitely promised not only security, but the possibility of hitting level 70 today on maplestory or finding a sweet nx sugar daddy. maybe even both.  tempting was one way to describe the idea of staying.

five minutes of sleepy deliberation later, the girl manages to tear herself from thoughts of indulgence and her bed, steadying herself as her feet trace the swirls her lethargic, starved body draw. had she forgotten to eat dinner again? probably. but then why does she feel nauseous too? a moment is spent in a squinter's contemplation before she decides not to care, stumbling to the washroom with half lidded eyes and pulling herself through her morning routine. wearily, she smiles at the place where their mirror used to be, then twirling to the dorm's mini fridge to pull out two cold spoons and an energy drink before shutting it and turning to her nightstand to pluck out a granola bar and her bottles of medication.

normalcy awaits.

meagre breakfast inhaled, jinri lays back on her bed, holding onto the spoons and bouncing her feet against the mattress as she felt the metal utensils warm. she practically leaps off her bed this time around, floating to the washroom to quickly wash the tools and return them to the fridge. chemical confidence begins to pulse through her veins, and she finds that shoving herself into the role of the usual 'pleasant, airheaded choi jinri,' let her ascent come quicker, as if her thoughts were helium and she was a mere balloon, waiting to be filled.

stuffing her phone--but not before checking the time; she wasn't going to be late! or well, that late. you go, choi jinri--and the obligatory face mask into the back pocket of her shorts, the girl exits the empty room and shuts the door behind her. it feels weird, leaving for class alone, but in all honesty, what wasn't strange nowadays? she makes a note to whine to soojung about it later regardless, lips curving into a small, jilted grin at the thought of immature revenge as she makes her way to class.

it takes a few minutes too long to find her close combat class, though at this point, she accepts brain lag as a regularity (an annoying one perhaps, but it is hard to hold onto annoyance when one isn't sober) and decides to congratulate herself on wandering into the familiar hallway. seeing a foreign figure--one at whom she squints at, scrutinising with extra effort just in case her confusion is her own mistake--hovering near the class' entrance, the mutant pauses, thumbs finding where full, proper pockets should've been in her shorts and resting them in the small dip she was able to force.

there isn't much analysis that is needed to be put forward--it's obvious. the male in front of her is either lost or considering skipping; two spots she's beyond familiar with. and so it's with a friendly, bright smile that she walks over, prodding the fellow's shoulder.

"lost?"

jinri practically tears her blankets away from her laying form, slipping out of the bed with quick feet and drinking in the sites of the unfamiliar room with narrowed, scrutinising eyes.  

where am i? 

she is well aware of the fact that her current location was a dorm room, one that held another occupant--a dormant body in the bed a less than a few metres from her own (???), but it was entirely different from the ones she had been staying in until now; this is what utterly perplexed her.

"wonshik?" the woman murmurs, voice both small and apprehensive.  the shoulder's of the person were undoubtedly too small to belong to the man she had mentioned, but foolishly, childishly, she had hoped for a response that would've indicated familiarity.  maybe even comfort.  

the brunette is quick to dismiss her thoughts--survival on her mind--exiting the room with one last backwards glance; she doesn't know if she should be disappointed by the fact that the face--though nameless--was familiar or not, for the sight provides her with nothing.  

taking hurried steps down the dormitory halls, jinri attempts to gather her thoughts.  from what she could last remember, the school had flushed and shook itself out, yet now, everything looked not only dry and in one piece, but different.  completely different.  

running a hand through her hair frustratedly, a pulse of cool realisation shoots from her fingertips to her self's central--what had happened to her hair?  fingers attempt to clutch and lengths that were no longer there, her right hand rests momentarily on her now bare forehead.  she was no longer wearing her uniform either.  even she herself was different, utterly and completely different.

what does this mean?

...

ah, whatever.  she rolls her shoulders before beginning to jog out of the dorm, legs extending to break into a run the moment she reaches the outside.  jinri didn't know when things would really start, but had already decided that she'd rather be in a group of large people when they did--being alone could mean her blood on the ground this time; and frankly, if a fucked up flood and earthquake had been a prelude to the events, she didn't want to imagine what was surely coming next.  

running, running, running--why was everything so different?!--the woman opts to take a sharp turn, hoping to reach a more common area.

at first, the courtyard had seemed to be an ideal place, for with all the beasts attempting to swarm to make their way inside, attempting to make their way to their panicking prey, the outside had been definitely preferable.  unfortunately, with people’s survival instincts kicking in, the opposite soon became true and the young woman found herself rushing back inside, shoving past panic stricken fools with quick, yet heavy feet.

dark eyes scan the floor as she sprints through the halls, checking for a flash of blue; it would serve that coward right to be amongst some of the moaning, the injured, though the dead?

the dead were things to be ignored.

bursting into a room—a washroom, an empty one at that—jinri shuts herself in a stall, sitting on the toilet, back resting against cool porcelain.  her gaze travels upwards, resting on a plain, white ceiling and she snorts.

“guess that fuck isn’t dead—” 

(she hates herself a little, for being relieved)

“—which means i can kill him later.”

"th-this isn't hap-happening.  this i-isn't happening," hissed words as quivering fingers struggle to force open a medicine bottle, tearing into the childproof lock, pressing against it, stumbling, unsure and utterly ineffective.  she can't breathe, she can't breathe, she can't breathe; darting black eyes finally look up to stare at the mirror.

there was no mirror.

the girl exhales and inhales, forcing the breath in and out of her lungs, resisting the urge to manipulate it through her airways (for fear of puncturing her lungs, of destroying the traitorous structure).  focus, she needed something to focus on, anything.  as long as it wasn't the sight of the news, the truth, the red truth, the painful truth, anything.

(she had stood there, in the lounge, frozen, absolutely frozen, time spinning, head roaring, somehow able and unable to understand that the people that she drank with, that she laughed with, that she had seen, had talked to, had smiled to just weeks ago had spilt so much blood.  it's when someone asks her if she's okay that she smiles [the same way she had done for naeun, for mai, even for changmin] and murmurs a, "yes," and nearly runs out)

(that could've been me, that could've been me, that could've been me)

shaking, choi jinri is shaking so much that she can't stand and so she sinks, she sinks, she sinks, she sinks, laying on the cold bathroom floor, searching for air.  where had it gone?  the air was hers, where had it gone?  

(that could've been me, that could've been me, that could've been me)

(but it wasn't me, it was them)

(it was them)

suffocating, she's suffocating under god knows what--guilt?  fear?  fear of what?  guilt for whom?  hands clench around the bottle, squeezing until a fine line appears.  anger?  was she angry too?  why?

who was she?

what did she stand for?

(i don't know, i don't know, i don't know)

white noise.

between two ears sounded white noise.

(---ma--ybe--it's--better--not--to--know--)

it takes approximately twenty three minutes for choi jinri to gather herself up into a little package, lovely but admittedly more empty.  she leans against the bathroom cupboard, pressing capsules of varying colours pass twitching, curved lips; she wipes away at dampened cheeks.

(n----m-------d----------wh------------mu------)

clumsily getting to her feet, the girl splashes her cheeks with cold water, before opening the locked bathroom door--

(----mo--------------kil----------------------------------)

--and exiting room 101.  

jinri leaves naeun at the infirmary door with a few awkward words of good luck, meaning to leave right after but hovering at the door for a few moments longer.  it's when she's certain the girl has found what she's looking for--condoms, as many as her pocket could contain--that she makes her exit, lips quirked in a slight grin.  in all honesty, she wanted things to work out for naeun, for the girl was an exception amongst many; one of the few--if not the only--for whom she would question if myungsoo was worthy, rather than the other way around.

“question is, do i want details later?” a question murmured to herself as she passes through the night tinted halls of xavier's, punctuated by a minute breathy laugh.  buzzed--the girl was currently pleasantly buzzed, the alcohol she had consumed earlier settling comfortably at the bottom of her stomach, painting pale skin with the slightest strokes of rouge.  however, buzzed was all the girl could allow of herself, logic states, and so it's with slight sorrow that she dumps the emerald bottle she had (absentmindedly) carried from the lobby.

(she comforts herself with the plum jadoo candy she finds in her pocket)

when she finally reaches the library, the mutant lets out a sigh of relief--her scrambled brain had managed to lose a hold on the memory of the place's location for a collection of impatient moments.  in hindsight, she probably couldn't blame it--the girl had neglected the place for a good while now.  turning the doorknob, she floats into the room.