D E I C I D I U M

( sms ) mister– zero? i think i might just stick to my first name for you even though it is long.. you’ve lucked out, mister zero. >_> ( sms ) that is not ture! a spoon, a spoon would not make a decent weapon. not unless the person was already on the ground.. then you could just.. spoon out their eyes. but nothing else! it’s useless.  ( sms ) they do exist TvT they’d start bothering you if they hear that you are disrespecting them, yenno. aye, that’s just how it goes. ghosts have really great hearing– oh no, what if one of them heard that i thought ghosts were nuisances? this could be revenge TT ( sms ) i, lee ariah, am writing out my will and testament.. i leave everything.. to.. anyone worthy of my things. if you know my computer password.. do not look in it. or my phone.. or anything tech! also, to my coworker brenda.. i leave my 12% discount cafe card T_T ( sms ) mister zero, please make sure my will gets out there u_u i am trusting you! or else i’ll haunt you too. and that guy that refused to go out on a date with me back last week.

he remembered literature class, and he remembered that he didn’t like it particularly much.

don’t get him wrong, he respected the works of the greatest english writer as much as the next person, but he simply preferred numbers over archaic words, newton over marlowe, theories and concepts that made perfect sense over ancient scripted dramas.

that didn’t mean, however, that he did not pay attention during lessons. how else would he have made it top of his class?

[ sms to: stranger. ] Thanks for understanding, appreciate it. [ sms to: stranger. ] Yeah, it does. But the thing is - I’m kind of bad at directions because this is Seoul we’re talkin’ about. Sorry for just talkin’ about my problems with directions. [ sms to: stranger. ] I appreciate the thought of you helping out. Ah, well, I’m in Samcheong-dong.  [ sms to: stranger. ] If it’s too much, I could just go back home and tell my other friend to tell them that I can’t make it to their place and all, so. 

misbhved:

+

there were approximately two sets of suits in zero’s closet. one of which he had bought for his foster father’s funeral and another for special occasions. special occasions didn’t come quite often, however, but he was more than happy to dress up for his dinner date, only because it was at a high-end japanese restaurant. if he had a taste for something other than blood, it'd be japanese cuisine.

he couldn’t quite believe the girl’s ignorance, and with years of consuming japanese food at least once every week on his hand, he was more than confident of his answer.

Sehun’s smile falls into a disappointed grimace, and he tsks at the other male with a wave of his hand. “You’re no fun to tease if that’s going to be your response. I could make passes at you more often until you’ve learned to respond appropriately but well.. that requires energy on my part doesn’t it?”

 He speaks quickly and seemingly as if he wasn’t talking to another person at all, but more so just himself. But with a sigh, he flickers his gaze back over to the other. “What is your name, anyway?”

Scribbled upon a piece of paper embellished with blood that he found in one of the bathroom stalls, he is nearly certain whoever owns the number is not a typical person, though the likelihood of some mindless kid having written it down randomly works just as fine, too. No doubt, there are other, darker possibilities running through his head but for now, he’ll settle on the simplest one. What is the harm in sending them a little greeting anyway? Minutes pass him by before the device in the palm of his skeletal hand buzzes, suggesting a new text message which he immediately reads as he leans against the bathroom sink. The digital letters typed across the screen evoke a fine lift of the eyebrows, and curiosity makes his fingers glide around to write an insidious response just for the hell of it.

[ ᴛᴇxᴛ ; xxx ] aw, playing dumb? [ ᴛᴇxᴛ ; xxx ] that’s cute of you! so, you left the evidence on purpose then? [ ᴛᴇxᴛ ; xxx ] to make the cops’ job easier– how thoughtful.

there was a rise of panic in him.

zero was a calculated killer: skillful, strategic, and extremely cautious. however, even the most meticulous of killers are flawed, and he knew that fully well. he gave the briefing room a quick scan; everyone was engrossed in the meeting, but it was still too much of a risk to reply to such messages right there. the content of the messages proved to be urgent, but the meeting was ending soon, and whoever was messing with him could wait a little longer. maintaining a neutral expression, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

after the short meeting, he left the room and returned to the privacy of his laboratory with fleeting steps. he opened the messages and reread them again once the door closed behind him, thoughts racing. naturally, the first thing his mind focused on was his most recent kill. with a swallow, he closed his eyes and ran through the whole process in his head, recalling each scene with utmost precision. there were no room for mistakes; he always made certain of that.

[ sms to: unknown. ] i don’t know what you’re talking about. once again, i’m sorry, you must have gotten the wrong number.

( sms ) mister.. mister-full-of-logical-facts-yet-also-scary-logical-reasoning-and-precaution. ( sms ) ..ah, i don’t know if i have an extinguisher TvT should i buy one? or maybe just a wrench.. brass knuckles.. an aluminum bat.. ( sms ) ghosts do exist! spirits exist! mistermister, aye–! respect the air you’re surrounded by. ghosts can cause bad luck, they can do so much to you, they really can. please respect them!  ( sms ) u_u you have scared me.. ohgod. okay– what do you think i should do? what if it is a serial killer? i’m as light as a feather and too short to be superman.. or batman.. or even the joker TvT 

[ sms : stranger. ] Ah, I must have gotten the wrong number, sorry. [ sms : stranger. ] ….I’m really lost though in this neighborhood, what should I do? Is this strange to ask?

as of 210515

replies:

ohunz.

misbhved.

jdaehyxn.

hunero.

starter for:

sooncerely.

to-do:

edit bio because i’ll never be satisfied with it.

self  //  seventeen.

self  //  the ritual.

self  //  ( age 14 ) bad bishop.

self  //  ( age 16 ) she had the world.

self  //  ( age 19 ) pseudo-sacrifice.

( sms ) yo mister.. or miss, you cannot assure me then advise me to carry a gun, hm..? that's like telling me nothing is on fire but i better hold onto an extinguisher-- plus, i think my apartment is haunted. this place is brand new.. no old wires..

it comes every now and then; as a feeling, as a person, as an object, as something you've always wanted, as everything you've ever wanted.

but then soft murmurs begin to arise -- incoherent, little sounds that don't make much sense. you ignore it. they slowly become whispers, the words are fragmented but it’s there, it’s audible. you ignore it. whispers grow into little voices -- quiet, but you can hear them crisp and clear, and it tells you that something is not right. you ignore it.

because how can it not be, when everything feels so right?

you don't get explicit answers to vague questions. you don't question your sanity when you start doing things you've never done, feeling things you've never felt. it's okay, it's okay, it's all part of life.

and sadly, it is.

each sunrise marks the beginning of another day to rot away, closets can no longer contain those broken bones, and fingers don't fit between the gaps of her hand anymore.