i love him

blueridges‌:

“cool.  sake,  i  know.”  very  well - for  better  or  worse.  a  phantom  headache  makes  him  re-consider  their  plans  for  a  moment,  but  then  he  remembers  the  awful,  awful  words  of  his  professor  and  re-considers  the  re-considerations.  they  steer  towards  the  parking  lot  where  zeke’s  clunker  awaits  among  the  sea  of  other  student  cars.  like  hell  if  he’s  going  to  walk  all  the  way  to  town.  “yeah,”  zeke  nods,  hands  twisting  around  the  straps  of  his  backpack.  blinks  a  bit  at  the  relieved  -  thankful?  -  expression  on  jiyong’s  face  and   coughs  into  his  fist.  “on  the  way  to  the  lot.”  then,  “i  read  some  reviews  that  seemed  promising.  granted,  everything’s  a  little  limited  given  what  we  know  about  your  memory  so  far,  but— ”  he  shrugs,  “it’ll  give  me  a  good  idea  of  the  field.  starting  point.”  this  kind  of  psychology  wasn’t  his  field  of  study.  but  that  had  hardly  stopped  him  before.  

the  stop  at  the  school  post  office  doesn’t  take  long.  signs  for  the  package,  waits.  buys  a  few  stamps  while  he’s  there.  “shit.  heavier  than  i  thought,”  he  murmurs  once  the  white  fed-ex  box  sits  in  his  hands.  it  feels  like  a  chegg  textbook  order.  good,  maybe.  means  it’s  possibly  more  of  a  detailed  introduction  than  it  looked  online.  “c’mon.  we’ll  open  this  later,”  zeke  smiles  at  jiyong,  stepping  away  from  the  counter  to  open  the  door  out  with  his  back.  bitter  november  wind  sweeps  through  and  ruffles  his  hair,  chills  through  his  sweater  but  he  laughs,  “or  you  can  open  it  in  the  car  for  me.  wanna  get  down  with  some  brain  science,  ji?”

he was cautious when moving, when following the other while eyes filled with stars would look around and how their surroundings would change at each step —from the halls to the campus gardens to the entrance of the smaller complex where the mail was kept, waiting on zeke to receive his delivery just like he’d wait for someone to pop out of the airport doors. there was this pit of agitation seeping through his stomach layers and he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad —he couldn’t remember if he ever felt like it. probably he did.

so when all was done and zeke was out, boxed smile and box-filled hands, he’d smile along with his bunny teeth showing off in their cutesy charm, his hands fixing the bag’s strap across his chest properly as the weight shifted onto his opposite hip. “ no, let’s ——let’s do this at home. ” the car was not exactly the safest place to be dealing about mysterious memory emergencies. sure, nor the dorm rooms were as safe, but somehow walls made him feel more at ease. and he’d admit —he’d admit of wanting to be with the other, wanting to speak in a place where he knew no one except gods above was looming over them. “ what do you think it’s gonna be there ? some hypnotism thingy? ”

ooft

blueridges‌:

“it’s——fine,”  zeke  sighs  as  he  pulls  on  his  backpack.  his  shoulders  drop.  “s’not  your  fault.”  the  corners  of  his  lips  tug  up  in  the  smallest  smile  as  jiyong  tries  to  cheer  him  up.  “it’s—”  words  die  on  his  lips  when  jiyong  wraps  his  arms  around  him,  tensing  up  for  a  moment  because  when  was  the  last  time  anyone  had  touched  him?  he  can’t  even  think.  mind  sputters,  fizzing  out.  but  jiyong  feels  all  warm  and  soft,  so  zeke  breathes  into  it  and  relaxes.  “yeah,”  his  cheeks  darken  a  bit.  returns  the  hug  with  a  squeeze  before  stepping  back.  “oh—no,  i  haven’t  ..  tried  soju.”  he  shakes  his  head.  his  brain  tries  to  kick  back  into  gear.  fails,  utterly. 

“but,  ah,  yeah.  we  can  get  that  if  they  have  it  at  the  store,”  he  scratches  he  back  of  his  head  and  grins,  “unless  you’re  keeping  some  secret  stash  somewhere  that  i  don’t  know  about.  which,  first  off  rude.”  outside  the  academic  hall,  clouds  hang  heavy  over  the  sun  and  a  little  breeze  chills  through  his  sweater.  it’s  kind  of  dark,  even  though  it’s  still  the  afternoon.  “oh—before  i  forget.  campus  mail.  i  ordered  a  book  online  about  brain  stuff,  y’know?  some  psychologist  that’s  worked  with  memory  before.  i  think  it’s  mostly  about  alzheimer’s  patients,  but  maybe  there’s  something  in  there  that  can  help?  with  you’re—ah,”  a  quick  glance  jiyong’s  way,  “stuff.”  

he wasn’t going to lie —whenever zeke would hug him back, even if briefly, he’d feel his heart go all fluttery and his stomach making so many pirouettes he could compare it to a ballerina at a premiere. it was something that was making him feel so good and so agitated, almost afraid that being too expansive would make zeke hate him... and he didn’t want that. he didn’t want zeke to hate him. “ i have no secret stash, pinky promise —but i’m sure it can be found at the liquor store. i know there’s an asian market too, and you can get all the soju and the sake there too. ” soju was pretty strong of a drink, but it was something typical of his country and something everyone pretty much gets a glass of whenever there’s a dinner with friends or colleagues. sure, he probably had to explain the whole drinking rule to the other, but it was going to be funny.

“ oh ? for me ? ” now that came unexpected, but also not that really —ever since he confessed his memory problems and how he didn’t know how they started at all, ever since he showed him the things he apparently had written on walls and trees during some kind of trance zeke had gotten so invested in looking for ways and methods to help his memory up a bit and slow down its apparently imminent downfall. which he appreciated greatly. “ that’s really nice of you, maybe we could give it a try once we’re back in ! ” so he smiled, shining as lovingly and softly as the moon. “ the campus mail is on the left, right? ”

Placebo - Meds

I was alone, falling free, trying my best not to forget

blueridges‌:

zeke  glowers.  “i’m  late  because  that  idiot,”  pointed  stare  at  the  back  of  tweed  jacket—clearly,  his  professor  leaving  the room,  “refuses  to  listen  to  reason.  look  at  this  shit,  jiyong.”  zeke  hands  over  a  rubric,  bleeding  with  red ink  and  a  flourished  C  at  the  bottom.  zeke’s  indignant.  “can  you  believe  this?  me,  a  C — on  a damn  presentation  like  i’m  some  stuttering freshman  who  doesn’t  know  freud  from  piaget.  said  i  talked  too  much  and  should’ve  let  my  other  group  members  talk  but  they’re  idiots,  jiyong!  i  had  to  do  this  whole  project  myself  and i’m——-”  he  breathes  out  through  his  nose,  presses  his  lips  together.  center.  “me.  a  fucking  c.  can  you  believe  that?”

he  snatches  the rubric  back  and  crams  it  in  the  messy  confines  of  his  backpack.  zips  it  up  more  aggressively  than  he  should.  “c’mon.  let’s  just  go.  we’re  stopping  by  the  liquor  store  on  our  way  back.”

zeke was upset and of course, this was something jiyong ddn’t like —the sunny shine off his visage dimming away as he pouted,huffed,frowned at each one of the other’s words and wanting so much to give the other a quick hug just to make him feel better,just to make him remember that even if his brain was really unreliable he was there for him too. “ i don’t know much, but i am so sorry you had to deal with that, hyung, i know you do good.you’re very smart and cool a—and they don’t get it they don’t. �� zeke was just very unconventional,and he didn’t need a super memory to know that. he just needed to think about when he dyed his hair pink and his mother almost screeched the first time she saw him.

but he wanted zeke to feel better, so he tentatively wrapped his own arms against the other, trying a soft pull, a soft inch of comfort. “ we can get allthe fried chicken,and maybe i can make you try soju ! did you ever taste it, zeke-hyung ? it’s what we usually get in korea if we don’t want beer with our fried chicken. ”

blueridges‌:

the  angel  looks  nervous,  wide-eyed  and  soft  in  white  silks  and  wings.  so,  what  is  he  doing  in  this  den?  this  delapidated  shed,  an  abandoned  warehouse on  the  outskirts  of  this  warring  city?  zeke  shouldn’t  ask—-the  same  questions  could  be  applied  to  him—–and  maybe …  maybe  he  doesn’t  want  to  know,  either.  he  can  taste  a  once  in  the  lifetime  opportunity  when  it  presents  itself.  and  this?  it’s  one.   he  smiles,  fingertips  drifting  down  the  boy’s  arm  until  he  can  slip  his  hand  in  their’s.  stops  the  fidgeting,  the  nerves  with  a  warm  press  of  his  solid  grip. “let’s  go  get  you  one,  yeah?”  

and  then  he’s  pulling  the  boy  through  the  crowd,  leading  the  way  with  just   a  look  over  his  shoulder.  at  the  bar,  he  passes  over  his  empty  drink  for  two  mixed  ones.  something  fruity,  sweet.  laced  with  liquor  to  dampen  the  intuition.  zeke  glances  at  the  angel  at  his  back  to  make  sure  he  hasn’t  floated  away  before  he  passes  over   a  cup  — plastic,  clear,  and  clammy — and  moves  to  toast  with  his  own.  “hope  you  like  it.  careful  of  the  rum.  they — tend  to give  me  a  bit  more  than  everyone  else  here,”  he  admits.  for  the  first  time,  he’s  a  little  abashed  at  that.  lifting  his  cup  to  his  lips,  he  takes  a  long,  heady  pull.  throat  bobbing.  rum,  a  spike  to  the  gut.  clears  his  throat.  the  music  shifts  into  something  throbbing,  lights  flashing  low.  a  sensual,  smooth  beat  and  zeke  finds  he  can’t  take  his  eyes  of  this  boy.  “you——wanna  dance?”

it was clear that it was no place for him, regardless of whatever name or status would be hanging from his halo-crowned head —angelboy was too pure for the devious devices of the many, too much meant to be kept in glass bowls with glitter roaming around like snow while dew caressed his cheeks to make them rosy. he was such vivid contrast against the other who could indeed be lucifer himself without any disguise except for a drink or two clearly lingering nearby —for the head and lord of all sinners was the most beautiful of them all, many forget. 

and there was carefulness in how smaller fingers held onto the cup, an accidental brush of digits catching falange knuckles before clasping around the plastic container, the bright eyes hovering the drink’s indistinguishable surface before returning to the one with the luciferine eyes and delivering but a shy, gentle smile, daring to take a sip and feel the strong flavors making his throat burn and his nose scrunch. he’d wonder so naively how people could like those kinds of drinks when he too was more used to the much luscious tastes of milk and honey, trying again to get another sip as if not wanting to disappoint the one luring him to the dancefloor, barely giving a nod while the throbbing and flashing made him feel a touch dizzy.

dedicated to that choker

the moments he preferred to spend the most —and he knew it was true, it was written in his notebook, he could tell it was his writing— were always with zeke, and he knew they were genuine and truthful because of how much they made his heart flutter in glee and delight, even when it was something as simple as meeting to have lunch together or hiding somewhere to talk about conspiracies —those were moments he looked forward to and always wanted to enjoy the fullest, moments that would confirm even more how strong and how real his love for the other was. he wondered if zeke would like him back. probably not, but he was okay with just being friends, too. as long as the other wouldn’t leave him alone in the dark.

that day wasn’t that different —he was waiting for the other to be done with his class so that they could go downtown to get treats for the documentary they wanted to watch, big smile on his lips. “ i was starting to think the professor had kidnapped you, really —is he even allowed to keep you all for this long? ”

@blueridges

blueridges‌:

of  course  it’s  an  angel  that  attracts  a  devil’s  attention.  fucking  destiny,  or  some  shit.  watching  the  boy  from  the  bar,  zeke  runs  a  hand  through  his  sweat-soaked  hair  and  moves.  a  few  steps  closes  the  distance,  and  the  crowd  parts  the  way  like  they  know  they’re  standing  in  the  middle  of  destiny.  or  maybe  it’s  because  they  know  who  zeke  is  —  who  doesn’t?  art  on  his  hands,  art  on  his  chest.  a  familiar  brand  peeks  from  the  wide-open  collar  of  his  shirt  because  he  doesn’t  bother  with  the  first  three  buttons  of  anything  unless  it’s  to  take  it  off.  a  crown  of  horns,  a  slink  to  his  walk.  tight  pants  and  a  smile——god,  that  smile.  it’d  carve  hearts  out  if  his  hands  weren’t  so  willing  to  do  the  work  first.   

he  stops  in  front  of  the  vision  in  glitter  and  gold.  wide  eyes,  high  cheeks.  flushed?  hard  to  tell.  pink  bleaches  them  all  in  something  soft.  but  he  glimmers  with  mystery.  zeke  hasn’t  kissed  those  lips  before.  he  wants  to  change  that.  with  a  smirk,  zeke  leans  close,  asks,  “can  i  get  you  a  drink,  angel?”  nothing  immaculate.  zeke  doesn’t  want  to  be.  he’s  simple  and  curious  and  polite  as  he  reaches  forward  to  run  his  fingers  across  those  gossamer  wings,  lets  his  hand  drift  close  to  the  boy’s  arm.  looks  at  him  from  beneath  his  lashes,  simmering  with  heat.  a  look  of  danger,  a  look  of  sweetness.  zeke’s  no  newbie.  “you’ve  fallen  so  far.  must  be  thirsty.”

there were so many other details catching his attention, having those eyes moving ever so cautiously —like the way locks of hair shone as if the other had thrown himself in a fountain for the too much heat accumulating within those walls, the way fabric would fold against his frame, the touch of that hand feeling a bit callous but still gentle, inviting to follow. jiyong is soft ignorance, soft innocence —looking at the devil himself without thinking of it as one, but as a creature who perhaps was suffering the undeniable pain of loneliness.

and he had been taught better. he had been taught about not drinking what strangers offered, to always observe caution especially after he got poisoned and almost died, almost —the ache of his limbs still there he remembered. but he was so sure his friends wouldn’t take him where he could get hurt. “ ah ———thank you.  ” so at those words of invitation he’d feel his cheeks flush even more against the muted pink neons and his hands still fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, daring for a tentative nod. the place was hot, cramped, and it was indeed making him need for a glass of water.

© METEOR IT’S U | Do not edit.

au tags 

* ☼ ✧ * º ━━ v ; violent delights & violent ends ( starcrossed )

* ☼ ✧ * º ━━ v ; of gold merging into violet glimmer ( faefolk )

* ☼ ✧ * º ━━ v ; the origin & end of all entropy ( hunter )

* ☼ ✧ * º ━━ v ; writing down the story of love & space ( cryptkid )

blueridges‌:

the  air  thrums  with  a  new  sort  of  thrill.  heavy  music,  full  bass.  vibrates  through  the  overturned  crate  zeke’s  found  himself  on,  blunt  burning  low  between  his  fingers.  mystified,  he  watches  as  the  smoke  curls  up  and  catches  the  light,  plays  in  the  sharp  shades  of  red,  blue,  pink.  all  of  it  bleeds  together  before  dissipating  with  the  rest.  he’s  not  the  only  one  catching  a  smoke  break.  someone  prattles  away  in  his  ear  but  zeke  isn’t  paying  attention,  eyes  on  the  crowd.  observing,  bored.  none  of  the  faces  are  new.  it’s  just  a  saturday  night.  

“m’  gonna  go  get  a  drink,”  he  says  before  he’s  off.  maybe  they  heard  him,  maybe  they  didn’t.  who  knows,  who  cares?  his  mouth  tastes  like  ash  from  chain smoking  and  powder  from  the  pill.  shitty.  not  a  new  sensation,  either.  sucking  out  the  last  bits  of  good  from  the  rello,  zeke  drops  it  to  the  pavement  and  lets  a  raver  stomp  it  out  as  he  heads  towards  the  makeshift  bar.  gets  a  drink  and  waves  off  an  invitation  to  dance,  stacks  of  kandi  bracelets  jangling  from  his  knobby,  tattooed  wrist  as  he  downs  the  beer  and  waits  for  something  half-interesting  to  save  the  night. 

——  and  as  if  the  gods  are  goddamn  listening,  he  gets  it. 

all but a party he was used to, that was —made of neon flickers and music that felt plastified to the core, and yet had something so foreign and captivating to the eyes of the boy-angel born within the luminous flames of the heo family itself, a boy meant to live completely secured in whites and golds and the most opulent luxury given to those who oh so well mixed being a socialite with having their hands drenched in blood. anywhere but there, for sure.

yet, despite what run through his veins, jiyong was epitome of innocence to the point that friends who dragged him to the rave meant to be a curious escapade had him dress as an angel indeed —with soft white silks of a flowy shirt and cute little wings attached to his back, glitter of gold on hair and cheeks alike, his eyes only looking bigger, looking so confused as the party went on, playing masquerade, laughing from time to time while being tugged around and left to his own devices soon afterwards. the only thing closer and looking somehow safe in a rally of mischief and hardcore miasma seemed to be the bar, and his cautious step bringing him forth —starry irises looking as he was being looked, his cheeks flushing peach.

blueridges‌:

zeke  brightens,  “dude,  it’s  this  whole  thing  about  the  phoenix  lights — and  the  filmmaker  started  at  vice,  so  it’s  legit,  you  know?  and  she’s  the  one  who  did  that  other  documentary  we  watched,  about  the  freedom  of  information  requests  with  area  51?  remember  that  one?  yeah,  it’s  gonna  be  good.”  his  shuffles  through  a  thick  pile  of  leaves   hopefully  heading  back  the  way  they  came — away  from  the  tree.  “my  roommate’s  out,  probably  hanging  with  his  girl.  we  can  watch  it  at  my  place  if  you  want.”

“ yeah, kinda. ” he had some blurry images of that documentary at mind, but he didn’t really seem to care when the excitement of spending the remaining hours with the other were making his heart beat so fast and his smile so wide and glimmery. “ good, i hope he’s having fun with her ! we could order some delivery, and watch the documentary ——vice? really? that studio has some good video editing skills, i can’t wait. ” thankfully it took less for them to get out of the forest than going in, sighing at the sight of the all too familiar courtyard and the profile of the college. against the sun.

HAVE PEOPLE EVER TALKED ABOUT THIS?!?!

blueridges‌:

i  only  really  trust  you.  the  words  pack  a  punch.  a  weight.  a  quiet  command  to  himself  not  to  fuck  this  up  —  not  to  fuck  jiyong  up  —  more  than  they  already  are.  it’s  a  lot  to  place  on  a  person.  luckily,  zeke’s  got  broad  shoulders  and  a  body  made  of  curiosity.  he  can  handle  this.  he  can  totally  handle  this.  zeke  takes  a  long  look  at  jiyong’s  face  before  he  nods,  agreeing,  “if  that’s  what  you  want.  all  right.  we  don’t  have  to  involve  anyone  but  each  other.”  really,  zeke  doesn’t  even  know  what  he’s  agreeing  to,  exactly.  but  if  there’s  one  thing  he’s  learned  it’s  that  trust  is  paramount.  for  now,  this  is  what  jiyong’s  decided.  zeke  trusts  himself  enough  to  know  the  limits.    

he  takes  out  his  phone  and  snaps  a  quick  picture  of  the  tree.  “gotta  say,  ji.  your  body  takes  you  to  some  weird-spooky  places.”  a  bit  of  laughter,  an  awkward  attempt  to  lighten  the  mood.  zeke  looks  around  the  quiet  forest  and  huddles  a  bit  in  his  sweater,  turning  back.  “let’s  go  back  the  dorms,  yeah?  i  can  think  better  with  a  gallon  of  coffee  in  my  system.”

it was like losing some of that weight holding him onto his knees and depriving him of the gentleness of fresh air —knowing he could count on someone he really felt strongly about, knowing he could trust zeke for real and that his own weren’t the misplaced beliefs of a lost youth. the other made him feel safe, he always did —and it was making him smile, it was making him giggle at that attempt the other was making to lighten the mood. 

“ yeah, i know, i told myself that too, like ‘uh what the hell’— “ he’d shuffle a bit in his parka, his nose scrunching ever so cutely as its tip would already show signs of wintry redness, his starry eyes looking at the other lovingly, gently. “ yeah, let’s go! i really want hot cocoa, and we could sit under the blankets together and watch that documentary you wanted to show me, yes? you said it’s cool, and i wanna see what is it about. ” honestly, zeke could even tell him they were going snail hunting and he’d be as enthusiast.