“i miss everything,” she confesses, feeling a wave of relief hit her. she’s never managed to say these words aloud. “i don’t miss the fights or the last few months, but i just miss you, junhyung. god, i just keep thinking of you and sometimes, i wonder whether things could have ever been different or were we just destined to crash and burn? and it’s so fucking stupid because it’s over, i can’t change anything anymore and you broke my heart.” 

“so, why am i still thinking about the way you laughed that one time i told you that you were probably just the third cutest guy in freshman year? why do i wish that i could go back in time, so i could just experience those late-night dates, where we laid under the stars and kissed until the sun came up, one more time? i even miss just lying with you in your room, wearing one of your shirts, feeling safe and warm, knowing that you liked me the way i liked you. you probably haven’t noticed this but i kept that shirt. it’s here with me and it smells like you, but it’s fading and i should just throw it away. but i can’t. because i’ve erased all the pictures i’ve had with you, thrown out any note you wrote to me, deleted all the songs that reminded me of you and this is the only thing that makes us seem real. i’m scared that if i throw it away, all we’ll be is a memory in my head.” 

would you say you’ve ever loved me? 

{ ft. @sgnjunhyung }

there are few people on this campus whom taeho considers to be as polarizing as himself. who knew? it’s easy to find unfriendlies on all ends of the campus social spectrum when you act too freely and don’t intend on ingratiating yourself with an in-group. anyways, among this small, elite(?) circle of polarizing figures is junhyung, who seems deadset on ingratiating himself with every pretty girl on campus, a task that unsurprisingly makes many ‘friends’ but also many of the opposite, he’d imagine.

it’s beyond him how the younger boy so relentlessly pushes on with this herculean task. he can’t say he quite agrees with the morals of it all, but the morals of just about anything quickly enters a messy grey zone, even for the philosophy minor. what is clear though is that his friend’s (yes, he ultimately considers junhyung a friend, however unexpected that may be) ways take a big heart, a bigger ego, and an even bigger resolve; and he’ll take that over many of the other dry personalities around.

« @sgnjunhyung​ » 

— ‘ ⋆ ˚｡ her gaze, blank, flickers between the large mass of bodies moving forward and the stalls lining the quad. she would not willingly put herself through the pain of loud chattering, high pitched squeals, and booming music for nothing. while she would much rather be back in the confinements of her apartment, she finds herself wandering the spring festival for the fourth year in a row. at this point in her academic career, the festival has nothing interesting that catches her interest; she’s seen it all before. food stalls, activities booths, performances from both seongnam’s clubs and orgs and musical guests, just with slight variations. 

the only reason she finds herself back every year is simply to observe her fellow peers. thousands of bodies at the the festival? for students it’s a chance to escape the stress from school, but for jiah, it’s an opportunity for her to find a potential new story for signed, wooyoo. with this many people gathered here, there’s bound to be drama. 

she stops in her stride when the group in front of her stalls. her gaze harden, corner of her lip twitching as it wants to curve downwards. what’s the point of standing in the middle of the pathway if they’re just going to stop at random points? jiah lets out an inaudible huff, having half the mind to just push through them, but that would only ruin her image as the gentle, quiet cheerleader. she turns her head to see which booth has caught their attention, only to find herself captivated by a photograph hanging. 

it’s a picture of the skyline at dusk. the scene itself is nothing special but she finds herself drawn to it anyways. she hesitates, but quickly decides to approach the photograph. she does not want to block the walkway unlike the group in front of her. her steps are light as she walks closer, stopping in front of the image that caught her attention, hand raised and finger out as she moves to stroke it. but she freezes and stops before she can commit to the action. she’s quite sure that she’s not allowed to touch, something about protecting the artwork or some bullshit like that. her gaze darts around the booth, searching for anyone who could’ve caught her red handed and slowly begins to walk backwards out of the booth. the photograph isn’t that interesting anyways.  

honestly, she doesn’t know why she keeps doing this.

as interesting as she finds all of it, the mystery, the unexplained, the eerieness, it’s probably best left to the professionals. that way, she’d still be able to read up and watch all of the research and information gathered, but she wouldn’t have to put her life on the line. it all makes sense, is quite logical in her head, but there’s also a part of her that knows stories are so much better told when the one who’s telling it has actually lived it. there’s details and a personal touch when told in first person, and she can’t express all of that if she stays home behind a screen.

that’s her rationale when they’re on their way there, anyway. but as soon as they begin wandering the empty halls of the old abandoned house a few blocks away from campus, she begins regretting her decision the more the seconds tick by. it doesn’t help that junhyung seems to be in much the same situation, despite his otherwise heroic statement that he’d protect her.

“i hear there was a massacre here about twenty or so years ago,” she says at a whisper. talking has always helped her calm down, but the subject matter might be a bit of a misstep. still, she keeps talking, camera poised and ready to capture anything they may run into. “it was an at home hospice care facility, but the staff wasn’t always nice to the elders living here. eventually one of the patients lost it and....” she pauses, dragging her thumbnail across her neck, making a slicing sound with her throat. “they had to close it down soon aft---”

she stops talking abruptly, whirling around to face the other direction, pointing her camera down the hall. “what was that?” she asks, swearing she heard footsteps. “is someone there?”

he’s lost count of the days he’s stayed in his apartment, refusing to go out except for necessity arrangements. it’s become increasingly hard in recent days to maintain his devil may care demeanor when all he can think about is having the last sliver of human decency and happiness within his grasp, only to have it slip through his fingers before he could actually get a firm hold on it. it’s crushing, on a level he’s never felt before, and it reminds him of all the reasons he’s always refused to get his hopes up for anything, because what goes up, must come down, and the come down is always more difficult than the climb.

he knows he has to start going out soon, though. the rumor mills are fast and efficient, not only within seongnam itself, but within the circle his family parades around within, and as much as he hates adhering to the rules set by that upper echelon of society, he knows that if he doesn’t at least keep up appearances, everything that’s within his grasp will be gone---all the clothes, the cars, everything he could honestly care less about, but also all the resources, the money to pay for those resources, all the things he needs to keep his search going.

but even though he knows about all this, he just can’t bring himself to do it, not today. eventually, he’ll have to, at the very latest, by the time the spring festival happens, because as much as he absolutely loathes such huge events, missing one of those would be the equivalent of announcing his weakness to the entire world, and that is something he’d rather die than do.

for now, though, he’s content with laying on the couch, dolce resting upon his chest, television on in the background for a bit of white noise. he’s still waiting for his phone to ring, for an update, an announcement, anything, but it’s been radio silence for weeks now, and he’s starting to believe it’s the end of the road now.

he stares at the door when he hears a knocking, and while he’s been trained himself all of his life to expect nothing, he can’t help but allow a little light of hope to get him to his feet, but the light flickers and dies as soon as he sees it isn’t one of the private investigators he’s hired, but a face that’s burned into his memory, perhaps a bit too much for his liking, etched far too deep to forget. “what are you doing here, junhyung?” he asks, running his hand over his own face. “i’m busy.”

his head feels flighty. perhaps it's because he's been looking forward to this day for months and there’s a high possibility that he’ll combust into tears at any moment now. or maybe it’s because his excitement kept him up last night and now he’s running on an one hour of sleep and pasta water coffee. it might be a mixture of both in addition to the butterflies that won’t stop flying in his stomach. either way, as he stands in the long merchandise line, he’s feels that this moment is both a reality and a dream, simultaneously. and as he finds himself surrounded by like minded people-- those who he’s sure are feeling all the same butterflies as he is, his feelings are only magnified.

the line is slow to move and it’s in the quiet, hazy moments of the day that he has to remind himself to breathe. had he had his partner in crime, his baekso hyungie, who ditched him to spend time with his maybe boo thang (alexa, play someone that i used to know by gotye), he would not have this problem. baekso always anchored him down from his excitement. but his friend has other matters to attend to and hansung is an adult. he can handle going to a concert by himself. while he may be bummed that he has to experience the concert alone, it ultimately is better than the other scenario of not attending at all.

still that won’t stop him from complaining though. no, he’ll make sure his hyung knows how upset he is for being ditched through the various text messages of sighing, glaring, and skull face emojis. hansung’s just finished sending his fifth you completely betrayed me texts to baekso when he swears he hears his name being called. he’s intent on ignoring it-- playing it off on a fever dream making him hallucinate, but the person calls him again. louder this time. he looks up from his cellphone with a huff, eyes fluttering around to find the source calling him.

█ ▌ ‹ @sgnjunhyung › 

 — [ ♡ ] having spent the entire night grading finals so that she could fully enjoy this camping trip without having to worry about inputting grades, yooa planned on using the bus ride over as time to catch up on much needed sleep. an unforeseen consequence to her allnighter was the pounding headache she currently had, and she knows that she’s only going to feel even more shitty if she doesn’t sleep because she’s prone to getting motion sickness on long bus rides. she shifts in her seat, letting out a loud sigh as she tries to find the most comfortable position. yooa is also a little grumpy because she was careless and packed her neck pillow into the wrong suitcase. so it looks like even if she does manage to get some sleep on the ride over, she’s going to wake up with a sore neck. sure, all of these may seem like minor inconveniences, but if the beginning of the trip is already staring off sour, yooa can’t help but feel like the rest of the trip will follow in the same manner. 

 her mental complaining is interrupted by someone sitting down next to her, and one look at her seat partner makes her want to complain even more. but she doesn’t, because per their agreement, yooa and junhyung are now friends. she has to admit, the moment she received the text message boasting his final grade, yooa pulled the pillow she was hugging up to her face and screamed into it. after she came to terms with her despair, yooa was left feeling baffled and well, impressed that he actually managed to get such a high grade in the class. she thought with his work ethic, it would be an impossible task, but he somehow proved her wrong. just her luck. she closes her eyes, turning so she’s facing the window rather than the male. ❝ listen, i’m not going to ask you to move somewhere else, even though i know there are still aisles empty. so for the sake of my sanity. please just sit there and look pretty.. i’m not in the mood to talk. ❞

@sgnjunhyung

How many of these parties was Emily expected to go to?  Her stepdad was always dragging her and her mom to these fancy rich people’s parties and she always felt like she was expected to be prim and proper and all uptight like the rest of the people were.  Sure, maybe she wasn’t a social butterfly in other situations, but this was Boring with a capital B.  She had to find little ways to amuse herself through nights like these.

Idle hands are the Devil’s playthings.  

First, it was simple, and albeit a little childish stuff.  Sneaking around, moving people’s drinks on them, setting them up while no one was looking so they’d fall at the slightest bump of the table.  She stole someone’s lighter that they had set down next to their pack of cigarettes. She had no use for it, but the frustration the person would go through looking for it would be entertaining. 

She soon got bored with these little mediocre things and started looking for things a bit more personal.  She scanned the room, like a lioness stalking it’s prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.  Finally, she spotted something of interest.  A cell phone.  She made sure she wasn’t being watched, stealthily blending in between the party goers, all too enthralled with business talk and alcohol to pay her any mind, and she casually snagged it off the table and found a door to the outside to slip out to. 

She had no idea who’s phone it was, but who doesn’t lock their phone?  This guy deserved it for being careless.  She looked through the contacts on this guy’s phone, finding a number or two to send a few suggestive messages to, including one name of a guy that she remembered being introduced to earlier in the night.  A message from this phone saying “I want a night with your wife, how much?” was sure to cause a few additional questions.  Satisfied for the moment, she made her way inside and placed the phone back, it’s owner none the wiser.  She thought she had was unseen this whole night.