[ 𝐗𝐕𝐈 . ] 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 .

Instead, they both appear to be pursuing a romance in complete sincerity. It boggles the mind, intriguing and unexpected; it is romantic insofar as it is obviously doomed; but above all else it’s funny. 

he  knows  its  bound  to  come  to  an  end  eventually.  no  good  thing  sticks  around  long  enough  in  his  life,  the  only  difference  this  time  is  that  he  has  chosen  to  torture  himself  with  indulgence.  if  he  were  thinking  of  the  future,  really  thinking,  he  would  save  himself  the  heartache  of  this  situation's  inevitable  end.  he  doesn't  think  he  will  survive  it.  that’s  okay.

it  does,  however,  piss  him  off  when  those  that  orbit  around  him  tell  him  this.  it  really  gets  under  his  skin  when  they  try  to  tell  kangho  —  the  sweet,  innocent  boy  can’t  handle  the  truth  yet.  he  needs  to  come  to  it  on  his  own.  and  he  will.  and  maybe,  some  part  of  minsu  deep  down  beyond  the  self  loathing  and  misery,  will  be  happy  when  kangho  finally  realizes  there  is  better  out  there  for  him.

“  i  did  make  a  show  of  being  careless.  and  i  was.  ”        he  had  ever  intention  of  wringing  kangho  dry  —  deep  pockets  and  boyish  naivety  is  a  goldmine  for  a  money  hungry  man  such  as  himself,        “  it  is  human  nature  to  change  one's  mind.  ”

he  nudges  his  glasses  further  up  the  bridge  of  his  nose  with  the  back  of  his  index  finger.  he  doesn’t  look  izaya  in  the  eye.        “  i’m  sure  it  will  be  quite  a  show.  kangho  is  known  for  his  waterworks,  after all.  ”

          “I see.”          He nods, peering at the vial that lies in wait for examination. Currently he’s working with the tooth; the syringe is up next, with the skin and muscle cells picked up via injection. There will be blood cells on the needle too, of course, in a lesser capacity—a preview for the grand finale. 

He repeats what Jun has shared into his recording device, then sets it aside, pausing from work altogether to reflect. Its description of its own turning had been brief: an accident in an attempt to save a patient, the process painful. He wonders what key details might be missing, if any. He can’t rule anything out as irrelevant when his understanding of this species is so minimal.

He looks back at Jun, about to ask for more, but stops short, studying the pitiful thing. Then:          “Do you have a headache? There’s no need for you to suffer needlessly; if you need relief, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

the  demon’s  brow  pinches,  half  in  confusion,  half  in  pain.  he  shouldn’t  needlessly  suffer,  but  he  is  in  a  cage?  shouldn’t  needlessly  suffer,  but  he  had  his  tooth  ripped  from  his  head?  this  man  doesn’t  make  sense,  his  motives  are  unclear,  his  intentions  muddy.

“  i  don’t…  ”       junmin  croaks,  fingers  pressed  into  his  temple  to  ease  what  he  can  of  the  pain,       “  i  don’t  understand.  ”

he  feels  a  little  silly  for  asking  for  a  rational  explanation  to  all  of  this.  he  already  has  it  —  this  man  before  him,  the  one  on  the  other  side  of  the  cage,  is  clearly  insane.  he’s  antisocial  and  he’s  sick  and  he’s  been  left  unchecked.  jun  might  feel  bad  for  him  if  he  weren’t  the  one  in  a  cage.

when  pills  are  offered  to  him  through  the  bars,  jun  nearly  doesn’t  accept  them.  they  look  just  like  the  little  terracotta  clay  colored  pills  of  generic  ibuprofen.  he  doesn’t  even  need  to  ask  for  a  higher  dose;  more  pills  than  any  normal  human  should  take  are  offered  without  question  —  the  doctor  has  paid  attention.  everything  in  him  tells  him  not  to  take  them,  but  his  head  throbs  so  desperately  he  feels  like  he  might  be  sick.  the  promise  of  relief  feels  worth  the  risk;  that  doesn’t  stop  him  from  trying  to  focus  his  blurry  vision  to  check  each  individual  pill  for  the  number  marker  on  the  face.

“  why  are  you  offering  painkillers  now?  you…  took  my  tooth.  ”       he  takes  the  pills  in  small  groups  to  keep  himself  from  gagging  on  them.       “  you’re  sending  mixed  signals…  ”

Does she bow back? She's bowing back. But then he stops bowing, so she's stopped, and -- Okay, how about she just hugs the book? She's hugging the book. And blushing.

The ugly feelings slip away, replaced by a world-rending feeling of love. Kangho wanders back outside and lays on the soft moss, looking up at the sky and listening to the voice of the most important person in the whole world.

          “Don’t be sorry.”          His voice is languid and dreamy. He caresses the moss, then himself.          “You’re telling me now.” 

Minsu loves him. Minsu wants to protect him. Minsu knows best; he should trust Minsu. He just didn’t understand. Still doesn’t, really, but he isn’t upset anymore. He just really wishes he were here. He wants to be touched, kissed; needs it, in fact, or he might die. He touches his own lips with his fingertips, traces them down his jaw and neck, his chest, his torso, shivering. This is better. This is better than what he was feeling before. Minsu makes everything better.

he  doesn’t  need  to  be  told  what’s  happened  —  he  can  hear  it  in  his  voice.  selling  to  enough  desperate  users  has  taught  him  what  it  sounds  like  when  someone  gets  their  fix.  he  hears  it  in  kangho’s  angelic  voice  —  i’m  not  upset  ;  spoken  as  if  through  a  daydream.

he’s  only  just  woken  him  up  and  he’s  upset  him  enough  to  the  point  of  using.  he  wouldn’t  need  to  do  anything,  he’s  already  ruined  the  boy  into  relying  on  drugs  to  cope  with  existing.  kangho  is  just  a  boy  —  a  boy,  too  young.  too  young  for  drugs,  too  young  for  him.  he'd  take  it  all  back  if  he  could.  if  he  could,  he  would  go  back  in  time  and  stop  himself  from  ruining  this  poor  boys  life.  he’d  tell  izaya  to  tell  him  he’s  dead  or  that  he  didn’t  want  to  see  him.  he’d  turn  kangho  away  when  he  burst  through  the  library  doors,  the  happiest  person  in  the  world  to  see  him.  a  little  heartbreak  then  would  save  him  from  this  —  right?

jae  was  right.  he’s  always  been  right.  even  if  minsu  doesn’t  do  anything  to  hurt  kangho  consciously,  the  damage  has  already  been  done.  he  hurts  him  just  by  being  there.  but  what’s  there  to  do?  how  can  he  possibly  fix  this  without  causing  more  harm?  the  scarred  skin  of  minsu’s  forearm  itches  with  purpose.  he  digs  his  nails  in,  scratching  until  the  tips  of  his  fingers  come  back  with  blood.

“  i  think  you  should  be  upset.  ”        minsu’s  voice  is  small  and  feeble  in  his  throat.  uncharacteristically  unsteady  and  unsure.        “  it’s  awful  of  me  to  have  not  told  you  until  now.  you  deserve  better.  you  deserve  better  than  all  of  this.  you  deserve  better  than  m—  ”

minsu  licks  the  tears  from  his  lips.  he  tries  to  keep  his  breath  steady  as  the  tears  come  faster,  and  as  he  burrows  his  fingers  deeper  into  reopened  wounds.

“  …  are  you  high  right  now?  ” 

After her second cocktail, Fern excuses herself to the restroom. She touches up her makeup, carefully applying the ink over her lipstick to test its pigment. It adds a rich, dangerous hue, deepening the red. She smiles, admiring herself in the mirror. It looks good. She likes it.

After leaving the restroom, she doesn’t immediately make her way back to the table. Instead, she makes her way to the most shadowy corner of the lounge, where the stalker, @wickdcreatures, sits alone on a green velvet couch. She sits beside him.

he  doesn’t  often  hear  hyuntae’s  plans,  he  isn’t  told  or  included  when  hyuntae  goes  out  to  do  business.  he  imagines  it’s  because  hyuntae  doesn’t  want  to  deal  with  the  headache,  that  jun  is  a  little  too  obvious.  maybe  it’s  something  else  entirely  —  but  sometimes  jun  overhears.  sometimes  hyuntae  isn’t  far  enough  into  the  innards  of  the  house  to  muffle  his  voice.  so  jun  follows  —  for  hyuntae’s  protection,  he  tells  himself.  mostly,  he  just  wants  to  watch.

tonight,  he  isn’t  the  one  that  keeps  jun’s  attention,  though.

she’s  so  stunning  that  when  she  comes  to  sit  down  next  to  him  he  can’t  find  the  words  to  speak.  her  perfume  complements  her  blood,  her  eyes  are  sharp  and  it  makes  his  heart  flutter  in  his  chest.

“  i’m  following  him,  but  i’m  watching  you,  ”       he  says  once  he  finally  picks  his  jaw  up  off  the  floor,  taking  a  sip  from  his  own  glass.        “  you’re  so  beautiful  it’s  hard  not  to  watch  you.  ”

OMGGGGG A CUTE GIRL CALLING HIM PATHETIC THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF HIS LIIIIFE (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)😍💘💘💯🥹😭🙏💖💖💖

"Hehe, no waaaay~! Aaaall the pretty girls are -- hic -- hearts of gooolldd..~" His head bobs into her. He doesn't stop her

EHEHEHEHH YAAYYYYYYYYYY !!