L I M B O

The 1975; starter sentence - ACCEPTING.This ones for you : @pareidvlia

A collection of moments between Yukwon and Minho.                         To my dearest : @goreravens

There was always a hint of anger floating above the words that were spat into the air between them. There were no hard feelings about it, but when it came down to the silence, there was always a small crack that would shoot between the unlikely friendship they committed to each other. The putrid smell of sweat and blood would arise into their nostrils and make their stomachs churn. One would toss bile onto filthy floors and the other would shut his eyes tight as if to fly away into non-existence. Anything to get away from the things they’ve done. Their hands were dirty, but not as dirty as the ones that held them by their throats. It was only by force coincidence that they met on a run away from the enemy. Seungjun had a way of tossing people into situations no one wanted to be in and when Yukwon was involved you can be damn sure it wasn’t good. He was Seungjun’s ‘secret weapon’. He wasn’t immortal and the pain was easily shot into his body, but he was the type of soldier that could die on the battlefield and return a few days later. The only negative aspect was his mental stability. Yukwon made it his life's goal to make sure that these runs never ended his life.

The boys didn’t know too much of one another. That’s simply because Yukwon didn’t make it his obligation to talk much about himself when he knew he couldn’t guarantee the male’s life. It wasn’t his job nor his responsibility, but growing through 3 deaths in his life has made his third awakening one to take care of. He was subconsciously caring for the people around him and those stuck in the game he hadn’t asked to be a part of. They had become partners without permission. Minho was always around when the situations were tight and Yukwon would willingly throw his life out on the line for him for no real reason. He just would. He could die just like any normal human could, except he was just a little harder to kill each and every resurrection. Minho was there for his breakdowns and when he would scream and break the objects around him or watch as he would throw his fists against brick walls with a silent vengeance. In an unconventional way, most would say they were best of friends. Now the two were locked in a freezer together, praying to the God’s that wished for their demise that those who were looking for them would give up.

Yukwon was lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with dried blood at the corner of his lips. He gave up a long time ago trying to explain why it was navy blue instead of red. He gave up trying to convince people of who and what he was because at this point… he didn’t really know himself. He was shivering, eyes seemingly dead and body aching from being thrown around. He had been there for 10 minutes now, listening to the slight noises from inside and out. Eventually, his eyes shifted towards the male and he spoke with broken lips and smoke.

“What have I become?”

Dragging feet and palpitated breathing. Forced movement and surreal surroundings. The shadows that walked alongside him were mocking him - laughing at the torment that had suddenly struck his body. There was like an electric pulse flowing freely through his veins and corrupting his common sense. He was a robot built with deteriorating parts and every twitch of a muscle or quiver of the lips were all foretold in his software. His eyes were rimmed with fog and tears that could no longer fall. They were frozen in place and yet threatened to escape over the edge. He could feel himself slowly changing into the decrepit monster that lurked beneath the skin that was slowly reverting to different shades of grey. Sharp lines of black protruded through the flesh to remind him that his veins weren’t filled with vigor and life’s power. He was a walking corpse - a zombie to a degree and an apparition of his former self. The beautiful Kim Yukwon who walked stages with his body moving to the rhythm of the beat - the one who returned home  to a man as delicate as a female and loved him truly was no longer there. The Kim Yukwon who laughed and joked along with his best friend with their hands held and lips so closely together had died again. The Kim Yukwon who was saved by an angel and then saved by a gentle fox was now falling to pieces. These memories - these fond memories of radiance and forgiving life were the cause and he knew it.

The dull ache of a broken heart was now drumming against the inside of his chest and causing any former deals of happiness to sting in the wounds that had once been physically stabbed into his gut and smashed into his head. There was no logical way out of this - not in the way he would usually dismiss the acts of terror brought on by his inner plagues. He couldn’t weep and slam an angry fist against glass over and over again. He couldn’t roll around in the sharp pieces to illustrate the beauty that was cascading cuts of his flesh. He wouldn’t be able to admire the blue drops of his blood on the fragmented shards nor view himself in the blurry image of his smudged face in the reflection. It wouldn't be enough for him. It will never be enough. The worst part of it all was that his last source of relief had now drained itself into oblivion and couldn’t be found. Oh, how he would love to be ravished by their knife again - caressed and kissed with soft promises of his own demise. A shiver would remind him of how delicious it was to have a foot jabbed into his ribs over and over again, but the most extraordinary part was the feeling of his back scraping down the brick wall to seat himself on the cold cement and feel his life pour out of his wounds. His vision would blur and he would stare at his savior - his murderer and smile at the handsome face that blessed him. It was he who helped bring a sense of joy back into his chipping body. Yukwon would do anything to have the cold metal dig into him as warmer lips pressed against his face.

A breath of fear fled through his chapped lips as the darkness began to drape over his vision. He would begin running now - running for the life that was never his to accept. He would flee in the same manner he had when he had been trapped in Limbo’s abysmal setting. Sweat was the only thing that kept him human - human enough for him to fight through his awakening and future path down a stray tunnel. Yukwon would never escape this hell. It was created just for him - this was his torture and his sin to bear. He had done nothing to atone for his wrongdoings and had yet to confront the problem that was facing him from the beginning. He was a killer. A murderer of the worst kind. He was obsessively suicidal in every way. Death was a relief that would come to him momentarily. It was a high he was addicted to regardless of his semi-careful nature and ‘strong’ sense of wrong and right. To a kill a person was terrible, but to kill yourself over and over was unforgiving. There was some part of him that knew that already. Some part of him that desperately wanted to bury it deeper but at the same time bring it to the surface so that he could stare himself in the eyes and apologize for everything he had done. The mere idea of it had him cowering deeper within himself and the result always  brought on a harsher punishment. He would transform into a darkened creature with the ability to self-destruct and take the lives of the millions that co-existed in his reality. Yukwon had been tainted by his own vile of poison.

He ran and ran until he could no longer grasp onto his sanity any longer and was pushed back into the confines of his mind to sleep while someone else took over. With ink staining his eyes and skin strapped in grey, he halted in his steps and lingered in the center of a deserted street. The night hair brushed his fringe off to the side and rustled his clothing. He was hunched forward with limp arms dangling as if the muscle and bone had been sucked out. Gradually, the wind began to pick up speed, circling like a small tornado at his feet which were easing its way off the ground. There was a howl - a whistle from the breeze. It was a signal to those nearby to take cover from the anger that was starting to thrash and shake the streetlamps. Light bulbs would burst, trash cans would topple over, and glass would crack and soon shatter with the noise that became more and more high pitched. Yukwon was being drawn into the sky, covered in layers of thick sand. To those indoors, it was merely a storm that was hitting the city viciously enough for them to close their windows and blinds. They had no idea that their lives were now being engulfed by an ominous future. Lights would flicker and worry would spread until the generators would stop supplying the electricity that prayed for and everything would blacken. The only light left was that of the moon and lightning that would spark through the sand that surrounded the ghost.

Higher and higher he would go until he had surpassed that of the tallest tower. Dangerous clouds gathered and for a moment, silence overtook the city. Seconds would pass before a shriek replaced the space and nothing but the force of Yukwon’s will brightened and flashed any spectators who had gathered like a flash bang. The eyes of many would become blinded by the painful light that would force them to shield themselves away and cover their ears for what seemed like hours, and yet -- as it continued, it started to fade and the man, whose tormented spirit rang through the city in a cry for help, was thrown back to the ground he bled on to slowly dissipate into a glimmer of dust to then be recreated and burdened by life on earth. His last few moments of awareness was spent staring off towards a wall. His breathing was slow and his eyes would droop. This sensation - of dying - of disappearing to become reborn was always so fascinating. Sometimes he would see the most beautiful of scenes. He would be thrown back into a loving memory and warmth would fill him once more. This time, he saw only the wall before him. He didn’t mind it because once it was his time to completely vanish, he saw the shoes of someone familiar and a voice that left him yearning.

PARAMORE STARTER SENTENCES : NOT ACCEPTING !      WRITTEN FOR : @pllwtalk