#xmcjoohyun

It’s something that he had been thinking about for quite some timenow, something he wished he could’ve pushed away from his thoughts, but itkeeps bothering him and nagging him, telling him that this was somethingimportant and that he should at leastattempt. But he’s still hesitant and wonders how bad of a reaction he couldearn himself after years of not communicating. After leaving for one reason andnever returning for another—could he be forgiven?

He wasn’t ever the type to think thoroughly over his actions; theywere always reckless, and he kept the mindset of, whatever happens, happens.It’s better to have tried then wimped out of an opportunity, right? That’s whathe always thought—up until the point where he was now, and he’s reminded ofjust how impatient he is. He knew that most letters took ages to send, evenlonger to send overseas, and then not knowing if the receiver was even going togive a reply… It was agonizing for Jae to constantly have the possibility inthe back of his mind. As much as he’d try to distract himself with the usual,the questions lingered on his mind: Had they received the letter? Should hehave even sent a letter? What if they never reply—never even see the letter?For the love of god, what did his parents think of him?

But then the day arrives, and…he wishes he hadn’t done it. It wasone of the few moments he regrets in his life.

Sure, he wasn’t the greatest kid to have and almost always talkedback, but—didn’t everyone? And plus they had sent him off to war, they musthave felt some type of guilt. He thought—he had the decency to at least speakto his parents after the years, maybe they would be full of joy after hearing fromtheir son, but he had never been so off the actual result. It was sad; he felt almostas excited as a child on Christmas day while opening the envelope addressed tohim. Of course, he had absolutely no idea what to expect, but he never imagined it to be this bad. 

To have them writeabout how disappointed they were after being notified that Jae never showed upat the site; they didn’t spare any detail of how worried they were, to wonderwhere their son could have gone, if he was alright or even alive, but then tonot have him come home? To hear from others who had also gone overseas andreturned home that their son hadwalked away from the war and didn’t help their own people… They were beyond ashamedto the point it’s clearly written in black ink—

forceful kiss

i’m very good with myhands, you know.”

a sly smirk curls on the corner of her lips. hersuggestiveness definitely didn’t go unnoticed. does she like byul?probably— what else would be the reason she walked all the way up here just tosay these suggestive lines, really. she finds it amusing how the other triedthough, and she finds herself leaning closer to her, even forgetting her dutyas the dj. fuck work, she let the song unchanged for quite a few minutes, butwho cares really. everyone’s probably drunk to notice that anyway.

Vampire:Someone offers you a chance at immortality. Do you take it, and why or why not?

Website Entry: UnnamedErased

Often, I am questioned about the idea of immortality. If options to live forever can be accomplished through things so simple as a bite, or even magic, why not take it? Not so simple to answer.

With immortality, they speak of it like permanence; something to achieve in life, and people are always so desperate to live longer. As an immortal, my existence would permanent and not in line with the natural order of the universe, and in that aspect I think everything would become temporary. I would exist, but the rest of the universe continues to decay around me. Rules change, society evolves, civilizations topple and rise, but I would still remember older customs, memories, and traditions that become obsolete and meaningless. My meaning would essentially be forgotten.

Ultimately, I would be placeless in this world, bound by no current structure, and become an outside observer to what I am no longer a part of. A certain apathy about the fleeting beauty of life is bound to develop, if only to protect myself from a loss of purpose. Is impermanence or finality the bigger fear? Even saying this, I cannot be certain I would refuse.

Moments like this, her speaking of things he does not understand, and he wonders where her mind has really wandered off to. He been had recording portions of a story, but never quite reaching the definite point. Pen may as well be a dry brush above an incomplete work. She is as much a mental block as she is an answer before fingers card across his skull. Eyes widen and her lips close a distance he had been conditioned to see as taboo in her place.

And this is cold. Not unlike pressing your face against glass in winter. Unpleasant is not the word on his mouth for describing it, but he does not know how to with shock pressing the silence into his mouth and words muffled by the senselessness of it all. Then it is all finished, him staring blankly at her retreating back behind an easel. Carry on. Simple as that.

So Daisuke stands.

First he removes the easel, ridding of her protective barrier so she is forced to face him. The painting stands against the adjacent wall, unfinished with hues replicated in locks of black hair her hands slowly combed through moments before her mouth completed the gentle motion. Now saturated with the pigment on her fingers and slick with the same colors smudged down his cheeks.

Just the week before, sitting next to her without warning was an offense. Now she had rambled off about him again, practically in his lap like a cat swaying a little closer just to scurry away when he reached to return any sort of affection. He is not angry, but tries to discern from confusion and a sense of desire to explore such an ineffable emotion again.

Even as he replaces the stand in front of her with himself, he cannot determine just what thoughts are running beneath that composed face of hers. Position switched, far taller but certainly no threat to her in a physical sense. He is looking down at her. True risk only the little space between them with his gaze on her lips, gradually tracing up the slant of a jaw, nose, cheeks, and finally resting over her eyes.

A few horrible words that began an insane hunt. From the mouth of an acquaintance who knew a girl, who knew a friend, who knew a boy who knew another girl. Being made aware of Joohyun’s existence is all the incentive he needed to track her down here. Disposition of a stalker aside, he remains blinded by an idea and exhausted from long nights of researching a potential lead.

Sometimes, even this curiosity is dangerous. It grows an edge even with well-meaning eyes and good intentions in a creative mind. In the worst case scenarios, it grows a face. This face had developed into the identity of a young woman with a peculiar name. Bae Joohyun had become a lead on a dead trail decorating his walls in lengthened notes and photos copied out of history books. 

Any other average Saturday night, and he might be out on the streets. Searching out for particular people to question. Or to just lose himself in the nightlife. He never acts without reasons, but he has a bad habit of ignoring everything else to accomplish a goal.

Take for instance his fist slamming into someone’s door. At first it had been polite knocking. He is patient, and was raised to be polite. Little momma’s boy. But Daisuke is never subtle. It leaves room for misunderstandings. So he shrugs his shoulders back and glances down the hall, afraid someone else would answer to complain about his noise first.

“Come on.” Barely a whisper as he waits to be greeted. Even if she never did, he would return.