#premortae

everything seems to be so blurry. like someone pressed the play then pause then rewind then forward button and every fucking button ever existed and his mind is in a complete mess. everything seems to move in slow motion yet at the same time it is faster that his eyes and mind couldn’t catch up. blink, blink-- what the hell just happened? it’s like his skull is crashing against the cold marble floor, crack open and every emotions and rational thinking flowing out like prayers.

(but he is not religious to begin with. does god even exist? --- wait what- where was he again?)

the music goes boom, boom, boom all too loudly almost resulting his ears to ring as if how hyunwoo would wake him up, no wait jae would wake him up. too loudly, too harshly but in a loving way because they are all friends. friends. this place isn’t friend, this place is-- he doesn’t know where the fuck he is right now. everything is green and red and everything become an endless light trails of green and red. people chattering, people singing, people screaming (stop, just stop for a hot minute. where the fuck is he? why there are so many people?), people bumping on to each others, bumping to teddy. he is losing control. of his limbs, mostly of himself; both in literal meaning and philosophically because he is a ‘depressed musician’, everything suddenly become a metaphor.

he laughs, he jumps. go stupid, go crazy. because everyone doing so when the sudden change of lights hitting them. it is now blue and white-- or is it still red and green? what the fuck is this? that kind of ‘what colour do you see in this shirt: blue and black or white and golden’ shit?

okay, okay. time out.

enough of this mambo jambo nonsense and let’s take a step back from all this craziness before his eyes. (he is still mentally debating if its green and red or blue and white-- fuck). the air that hit his porcelain skin make him shivers, but a sight of a symphony constantly on diminuendo in the middle of symphony played by five year old child banging on the piano shiver him more. in his stillness figure how come a man before his eyes in this lonesome outdoor pool on the highest floor of fucking wherever this is can easily the very aesthetics of: oozing honey, golden hour, steaming vanilla tea. the man is just--

oozing everything that this place isn’t. unsuitable but pleasing to have.

“h--hey--” right, what a smooth way to flirt your way to a random man by both staggering on your own words and also on your own feet. what the fuck is balance when you have too much alcohol in your system, “---i mean, sup.” he manages to bring himself back up. kinda. at least he is now much closer to the man and holy heck, this man is beautiful up close. “‘sup.” he repeats as if he is making sure that the man heard him and he is not staggering on his words.

 “you alone, dude?”