#re;turned

He can't say he believes her. Maybe it's his nature, skeptical to a fault; maybe it's the circumstance, the unlikelihood of her claim; maybe its the trembling of her breath, the lilt of her intonation. Or it's the whole impersonality of a phone conversation. Something just straight out stinks and he can't ignore the stench, he never excelled at subtlety.

Outrage.

Rioh looks her dead in the eye and wonders, sincerely, how he even puts up with her. Not only is Taeyeon not apologizing for dumping glitter over his head (it's the seventh time he tried to shake it off his hair and the thing still sprinkles out in heaps), she dares steal from him his trusted go-to protest against anything terrible she does to him.

Read: everything she does to him.

[ ✉ ➟ rioh. ] Yes, I am. Deadly serious, in fact. [ ✉ ➟ rioh. ] When we first met, you were terrible to talk to. And that hasn’t really improved ever since, but at least now I know the way your mind works, so it’s somewhat bearable.

This statement was a little tricky to think through—Sehun didn’t disagree with it completely. He would always want more and that was good, right? Ambition was a key trait in a good man and that he could quote from his father. Reaching a hand to the back of his head so he could pat it down slightly, he tried to think through it. “I don’t think there is anything truly wrong with wanting more in some instances, but for a bucket list I don’t think it is truly impossible.” What he learned from his psychologist was that realistic goals were important and were not only easy to accomplish but also did not set yourself up for failure. Wouldn’t that apply for any goal?

“I think maybe… setting up a bucket list full of attainable goals would be better than say, wishing to travel to a number of places when at the moment you have limited resources.” What he was then realizing was that he was saying to aim low and to not dream bigger and that did no man any good. “Well, I mean… it’s okay to dream, but I think also knowing and basing your dreams off of reality before creating a massive list would be best, wouldn’t it?” Sehun’s lips suddenly fell into a flat line as he tried to reason everything but not sound too harsh. It was difficult! There’s nothing wrong with believing but not setting yourself up for failure was best in the end, wasn’t it? “What I’m trying to say is—be reasonable. Then as you accomplish things maybe add more of the things you want to do.”

Rioh wants to laugh, but doesn’t. Instead, limits himself to a small smile as he cocks his head in ponderation, though he knows there’s nothing in the other’s words to be measured. Not for him. It’s all good theory, and he’s been introduced to the basics of that rationale, believe it or not. The method to success, it’s all hammered into his memory, to the very last nail, follows planning, execution and dedication. Additionally, self-knowledge is your best armour against your own self. Terrible stuff.

The catch is evident, though. Moderation doesn’t apply to dreams, they’re simply not a natural match. They are dreams, they’re meant to be big, bold and idiotic, not practical, feasible and realistic.

"What do you want me to do? Eat shoe leather? I'm hungry and what you do in the kitchen is unholy."

His ego is hurt, but only by a fraction. The injury is minor, akin to a scratch, really, and it shouldn’t keep him from making obnoxious comments regarding how gifted a chef he can be. He'll cope. “With the right condiments, why not? Mom taught me you should say you don’t like a certain type of food only after trying it.”

As soon as he finishes his dish, he slides it around the frying pan with a pair of chopsticks, aware of her nauseous gaze following his ministrations. He considers a plate, but he doesn’t feel like adding another item to the to-wash dishes piling up in the sink. After the steam subsides, he brings a piece of the yellow to his lips, giving it a tentative nibble. Regret is instant and spread over his tongue. He unceremoniously spits the stuff right back into the pan, betrayed by his own instincts, and tosses it into the trash bin, shuddering as he lifts his gaze to Storm.

“get away where?” no time wasted on fruitless speculation, she faces him with a sudden sense of urgency, acutely inquiring with little in the way of understanding attempts at suspense.

pointless, perhaps. people generally get away to get away, but she’s capable of such overbearing hopeless optimism when she wants to. she can spare him as much, not so confident in that it’ll be worth it as much as just seeing the need.  

“if, if, if!” gradual increase in volume and general fervour rises steady along her finger waiving, index finger pointed right in his face and being  intently brought closer and closer by every moment, and every syllable that warrants the activity. “if you go anywhere, you take me with you, okay? it’s not a question.”

perhaps it’s just more of her very hush hush top secrete avoidance of lonesomeness seeping through, but celia supposes she won’t mind him seeing her through anyway. it could be worse.

“Does it matter where to?” is all he offers as a reply for the moment. He’d just been talking, body running on automatic after his mind switch was rolled out of consciousness. He couldn’t explain what he’d meant by the careless muttering even if he wanted to.

But honestly: there’s always somewhere he wants to escape to, somewhere where everything will be better, as long as it’s not where he is. People on the internet call it wanderlust, he likes the term -- better than evasive personality. He’d rather sound like he carries a borderline mystical thirst for the world than like an hour with the shrink is in order.

He smiles to her, attention slowly returning, lurching back in portions at each escalation of her voice. It feels like waking up from a nap, blinks batting rapidly as he registers her words. “Whenever it is? I’m touched you’d leave your life behind -- to elope with me, no less! That’s more romance than I think I can sign up for.” The smile is an annoying grin by then, tone every last bit as teasing.