handgrenade

it’s an odd feeling - to feel this out of place inside his own home. 

their home. their place. it’s been over six months since they moved in together, six months after their wedding. they had woken up after that morning to pictures of them in the newspapers, and hyuk remember lying naked on his bed in the morning after, staring at kana smiling in that picture with wonder and fear. then he had looked to his side, stared at her back. stared at the scratches on his forearms, the marks on hers. to what he has done. to what she has done.

things have changed much since then.

she doesn’t speak to him unless it’s to taunt him at first. breakfasts that hyuk tried to get ready so they could have any resemblance of normalcy only for them all to end the same way: plates scattered around the floor, the food wasted, her legs hugging his torso, her nails craving on his back as he bites, and fucks her, and hates and hates and hates. hates that this is where they always end up. that this is the only thing they have.

but what he hates the most, the one thing is the feeling that starts building up inside his chest. that whenever she is in the room his eyes lingers, craves for her to look back. that his heart start to react whenever they are close, an insesant pull that makes him breathless. suffocating. 

because what kind of feeling can grow from this? from this mess that they have? how can he fall in love with someone who shows nothing for him but disdain? someone who only wants him at his worst, that pushes him until he reaches it time and time again. he can’t love someone like that, can he?

and still.

he goes up the stairs and inside his room. she sleeps in a separate bedroom from his and only comes when she wants, when she wants him. but there is a sound coming from his bathroom and hyuk pauses, looks at the half-way open door. he can hear the sound of his shower. he can hear a soft humming come from the inside and he leans in, exhausted from the day of work. he likes when she sings. he likes his voice. 

hyuk opens the door.

with her back towards him, hyuk allows himself to stare at his wife. because it’s only like this that she lets her guard down, those small, tiny moments. hyuk wonders if maybe were those that made him fall in love. that soft smile she gives him sometimes when she allows herself to speak to him before going back to her snarl, her teasing. those moment when she sits down after they had sex and fixes her hair. or when she gets angry at some piece of news and rants and rants. he likes it.

he likes her.

for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with him if he likes her?

“got bored of your own bathroom?” he asks, eases his tie. he wanted to take a bath himself but he’ll be damned if she ever allows him to join her. 

the way back home is long, but hyunsu prefers to walk. it’s the sort of thing that makes his coworkers laugh at him, call him a cheap stake. he could buy a bike, maybe or just take the bus, but this is not even about the money. hyunsu enjoys  taking his time, walking through the busy streets until he reaches the emptier ones, closer to his neighborhood. he enjoys the wind, even now, even in winter. he enjoys the time to think, even if it takes much longer to arrive.

hyunsu is not that eager to arrive home, if he’s all that honest. to go back to his tiny apartment with room barely for himself. here, in the street, he has things to look at, people to see. but there?

well. in a few more months he will have saved enough for a video-game, at least.

it’s not that his life is boring. or is it? he doesn’t like to think of it as such because then it seems that he is being ungrateful. he has a room above his head, money enough to pay for his bills and even some to save if he doesn’t spend it in frivolous shit. yuna helps him a lot with that with her excel sheets and organizational skills. speaking of which...

he picks up his phone and is unsurprised that there’s a message from her. hyunsu smiles slightly as he reads it: “it’s cold today, please take the bus, okay?”. “too late,” he sighs, lifts his phone and takes a selfie and sends. 

don’t worry, i’m all warm. presses send. 

he likes that she took some time from her job to worry about him, it’s the sort of small things that yuna likes to do that make him feel loved. those small things. she has a real job, unlike hyunsu. a nurse. a proper thing. sometimes he can’t help but wonder how she wastes her time with him, but that is a question that she hates so he keeps it to himself now. and there’s no use thinking about that. but it’s a weird thought, really. that he is deserving of love. of caring. of-

whatever thought that was crossing his mind stops, everything suddenly forgotten. hyunsu stares at the entrance to his building where a figure stands, a cigarette between his lips. and for a second he believes he is hallucinating. it has to be. there is no way he is here, is there? is he seeing things, finally gone mad?

hyunsu walks slowly now, approaching his door as though it is something magical. or that he could scare him away with his presence, with sound. but the closer he gets, the clearer he gets and fuck, it’s real, isn’t it? he’s real. he is fucking real.

and his name come to his lips and it shiver as he speaks because hyunsu can’t believe it. even this close. even then their eyes meet.

“eunchan?” 

he’s lucky he’s stunning. 

that’s what she thinks of, right now, in this moment, when his lips are close to hers and his hands dent the bed to either side of her. her heart races. “oh look, now you’ve got bite. sorry puppy, did i hurt your pride?” she coos at him, as if he isn’t twice her size easily, “what else did you want then, huh?” she questions, drawls it at him with a cruel lilt to her lips, “besides your bullshit fantasy?” she pushes a finger into his shoulder, prods against the muscle of his arm. “you’re pathetic. you want to be a perfect trophy son so you let them serve me up to you on some stupid platter. what did i get? i got my parents out of four lifetimes of debt. and you? you got the short end of the stick and you better get used to it.” she tells him, pats condescendingly at his cheek. “cause baby, i’m going to tell you the secret to this marriage. if i’m not happy, you don’t get to be happy either.”

it’s sort of a scary thing, that he notices she is actually enjoying this. that this is making her happy. the angrier he gets, the worse he gets the more she seems to relish, a smile on her face as he gets darker and darker. 

but the scarier part is that someone he barely knows has this power over him. that she manages to claw over his skin and rip it part, pull from the inside this side of him that he has managed to keep hidden even from people who have known him for years. it’s a secret, the lee’s one male heir biggest flaw. maybe the only one, they liked to think. hyuk knew better.

he reaches for her hand on his cheek, grabs it and pines it against the bed. and nothing about this is in his control anymore.”shut the fuck up!” he whispers, though it sounds more like a growl, something primal and horrible. maybe he wouldn’t have lost it so bad if this was any other day. if he wasn’t already so on edge, so ragged. if he wasn’t already annoyed enough he was forced into this wedding. but for this girl to tear him apart for at least trying to accommodate? 

no. not this girl. his wife.

 it’s his wife he is so angry at. his fucking wife. this is not what he wants, but this is the only time she seems at least a little happy. at least a little- and it gets to him. the way she looks now. this beautiful, this in control, a complete contrast to the way he seems to be falling with nowhere to grab. kana seems to just be playing with him as she sits on her chair, laughing and laughing. 

this woman thrives in chaos, he notices. the whole atmosphere of the room seems different now, almost tainted, but also raw. something intoxicating about it. something very, very wrong. 

but also-

vxctrcs‌:

“well, i’m sorry for at least trying to not make this the shit show you’re so obviously wishing for. how should i act then? like you? like a fucking child throwing a fit?” he asks as he opens the wine. his glass is forgotten at the table, and he has no patience to conjure it. “because it looks like you really want this to be a fucking nightmare.”

kana would never be able to tell exactly why she enjoys riling people up so much. it’s the reaction she wants, whatever it is. something about plucking and pulling emotions into shape appeals to her, prodding at buttons until she can watch the explosion. maybe, in this case, it’s a way to take her control back. to poke at him until she can crack that facade, until she can reduce him to the same overwhelming frustration that she herself feels. 

she’s always been like that, with too much emotion trapped up inside her. she wants other people to be slave to it the way she is, wants other people to crumble and fracture under the weight of their hearts like she does. so his placid impassive nature had been nothing short of horrifying at first, but as in all things, enough poking and prodding and she’d finally gotten a rise out of him. she sees his jaw stiffen and tense. he closes the cabinet too loudly, too hard. the glasses on top rattle gently. 

her eyes widen first, then narrow with a grin, a glint of fascination glittering there, some unreadable amusement flickering to life. he yanks the wine open and she takes a sip of her own. much better, she thinks, as he begins to grumble and complain. “you could act more like a person than a robot, for starters,” she drawls, draining a mouthful of the wine. it stains her lips crimson and she uncrosses her legs, leans back on one hand to regard him critically, with a slow moving, feral excitement. “and what did you want? a docile little princess to chat you up over wine, so you could smile a few times and win her over? did you want me to simper and sigh and confess i’m just so scared?” she taps a nail against the crystal of the glass, clicks her tongue. “did you have it all thought out, how this stupid farce would play out? i bet they told you all about how it would be for the best, how you’d just need to be patient and i’d come around, and we’d have babies and you could fuck your secretaries and it’d all be just fine in the end,” she waves a hand dismissively at him. 

“so think about it, for a minute. who has the shitty deal here? is it you? do you need to lay back and think of the good of the pureblood race and end up with some parasite growing inside you for nine months? are you expected to give up your ambitions or careers to manage the household, whatever that’s supposed to mean? no, you’re a man, so you’ll go to work like you probably do now, and you’ll fuck whoever you want, like you do now, because that’s how it’s always been, and you’ll tuck your little spawn in twice a week and call it parenting, if you want, and no one will say a damn thing.”

she sets the half emptied bottle down with a clatter. “so stop trying to push me into being a pleasant, friendly little pet on what is literally the most obnoxious and absurd day of my life, and the nail in my coffin, figuratively speaking, you insufferable toad.”

the walls are closing in.

what is this? is this marriage? is this what he is going to have for the entirety of his life now? some bitter girl who seems to have fun by rilling him up until he is suffocating? is this the sort of shit he will have to deal with every single day for the rest of his life?

the simple thought of it drives him mad, and his body reacts before he can. his mind is not his own anymore, just a mess of thoughts and images and a terrible will to fight back. she uncrosses her leg, and she seems all but the image of composure, still beautiful in her wedding dress, smiling as she spills a dozen poisoned needles at him. 

so guess this is his honeymoon.  so guess this is his fucking life.

“i didn’t want some docile dog but i also didn’t want a fucking asshole,” he punches his words out, and his hand hits the dresser by his side, a sound that resonates around him. terrify him. he doesn’t want to lose it here. but the alcohol. and the pain. and her. fuck her. fuck the way she just cannot stop making matters worse. 

he walks towards her, places both arms by her side on the bed as he leans down. 

“so…?” she prompts, brows lifting, “so what, huh? do tell me, what am i like? am i a let down already, darling?” she drawls the word like a slur, crossing one leg over the other, the silk climbing up the line of her thigh, as if in continued protest that he hadn’t had the decency to be distracted by her. “oh for fuck’s sake,” she groans, snatching the bottle offered her, setting the glass to the side to drink from the mouth of the bottle instead. “no wonder you went along with all of this, you’ve as much spine as a jellyfish.” she rolls her eyes, takes another drink and flicks her fingers in his direction. “you’re right. i’m tired. go make yourself a little bed somewhere,” is the derisive instruction, as if one might instruct a dog.  she’s fair past tipsy at this point, having drunk her way through the reception in an effort not to scream obscenities. 

“no, but you’re trying really fucking hard to be one, huh?” he says, and his voice rises in tone, his jaw stiff in the anger she wakes in him as she keeps talking and talking, each word filled with venom. 

no. fucking no. this is not what he expected, sure. he doesn’t like it as much as she doesn’t. they are in the same page about this, well, maybe not excatly in the same page. kana obviously her torn and ripped her own and sees him as the enemy. she sees him as the one she has to fight with.

and it seems easy for her. to push his buttons like this. to make him feel as bad as she can. like this is something she is used to. 

is this how she was raised? this ready to fight, to pull her claws out?

but any thought of trying to understand is gone. rage starts to rise inside of him, hot and burning, suffocating. he stands up and this time picks up the wine with no magic, closes the cabinet with a little too much strength maybe. 

how can this girl, this woman, who barely knows him, who has no idea who he was prior to this know exactly where to push, where to break. 

it has always been his one weak point, wasn’t it? he has done well in everything but this. and this is why he is so overly patient, tries to be. he has to stay calm. has to. he cannot ruin this. 

one look around the place and he shouldn’t be here. 

how many times has he tried this at this point? those senseless nights out that only make him feel worse afterward, only serve to point out the hollowness in his chest with a pointed tone. taeil eases the leather jacket around him, picks up another drink. numb himself, it’s the only way to get through it. to try to get through it. a play, a role. either that or have his friends on his back for longer. after this one night he has at least one month of excuses to be left alone. 

he looks around the crowd, and he doesn’t even notice he has been searching until he finds it. 

her. 

he hasn’t seen her since that night in the elevator. he has, for once when it comes to yani, kept consistency ad avoided her at all costs. well, he hasn’t been out much ever since but still.

still.

just the sight of her is enough to send a pound down his chest, like a bucket of cold water that he swallows and freezes him from the inside. he allows himself to look at her, here, hidden in the shadows. she won’t look his way, he’s sure. she’s too busy drinking, laughing with someone but it looks weird. fake. she throws a glance to the side and chews on her lower lip. taeil knows that look. 

he follows where her gaze was and sees what is causing her so much distress. sure. of course. he almost wants to laugh. so changed he was from that very moment they share - as terrible as it was, as worse as it was. but here she is, still pining over the same man who doesn’t want her, still craving for something she can’t have. well. maybe at that they are the same, as opposite as they are. the sharpness of the ache inside his chest leaves him breathless and taeil turns his back towards her, picks up another shot. then another. 

time to leave. if just the sight of her mkaes him this mess of a man then it’s time to leave.

instead, he turns on her direction.

taeil walks amidst the clashing bodies of people dancing, make all the way towards her. he scraps as a smile to the girl with her, a blunt, “excuse us,” before he looks down at her, swallows any shame. “come with me, i need to talk to you,” he motions to the back door.

she drains the rest of the wine in the glass, lifts it towards him in a silent request for more. “what is there to talk about? i don’t want this. you don’t want this. we’re both doing it, whatever.  i do n’t really want to play a game of twenty questions lets get to know you icebreaker nonsense.” she sighs, settling onto the edge of bed, covered in the skimpy wrapping of barely there silk. her mother in law is really eager for the continuation of the bloodline, clearly. ugh. “you can sleep on the couch.”

he has never been so out of the loop his whole life.

whatever he says this girl finds a way to turn into something vile, horrible. this is not what hyuk is used to. he’s used to smiles and praise. he’s used to people beaming at him and to being adored. the golden boy with the straight es in school, the quidditch keeper that made it into captain, the man who got a job in the ministry. not that this is the such of thing he seeks, and this is not a conscious feeling. this i just how he learned to navigate the world he was in. 

he needed to be the best. he needed to stand out. otherwise he’d just be a stained page in his family’s book. and he couldn’t have that. 

but kana? she is completely unfazed by him. not just unfazed, but she seems outright disgusted. or maybe disgusted is too much, too much of a reaction. it doesn’t even look like she would regard him with so much attention. she seems simply... bothered.

“well, that makes both of us,” he replies in regards his mother, and he can’t help scanning the room for a second. maybe she has some sort of magical device here sending her images- better not to tink of that. this is already bad enough. 

she lifts her glass towards him and for a second hyuk gets confused in what to do. he inhales, tired. minutes here and he is already exhausted. 

because this is too far off his game. her wits. the way she speaks with so much detachment, almost as if this is just a transaction. and maybe it is. hyuk presses his lips together and ends up pouring her more wine. if this is bad for him, it must be just ten times worse for her, the words she just said ringing in his ear.

how are you feeling now that your family sold you away like a whore?

he feels slightly nauseated. maybe it was all the wine he drank at the wedding. and before it. he needed it.

“i know this is not ideal,” he scoffs, understatement of the century. maybe he is being a fool, being this overly patient, this accommodating. maybe this is why she is treating him like this. maybe this is why he was shoved into this situation when his sister got to marry who she wanted. oh well. she did choose a pure-blooded-rich-ass so maybe there was that too. “but we don’t have to make it even worse, do we? i understand you’re not happy, it’s not like this is my dream as well, but there’s no need for you to be so-,” he trails off, shut up by her stare. the sharpness of it. the coldness of it. 

and hyuk feels drawn to her, the way one feels drawn to the ocean. or to a forest fire. or to anything that is deep, and dark, and endless and obviously dangerous. and you still step in. and you still want to dive. but it also wakes something inside of him, an annoyance, a rage it’s not usual for him to feel. not in moments like this, at least. not what he thought he would feel with his wife.

he takes a step back.