jpsdm (jpsdm) wrote,

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Title: Untitled
Pairing: Narrator/Luhan, Narrator/Jongin
Rating: PG13
Summary: Sometimes they're a beauty, sometimes they're a wolf.
a/n: I don't know what I'm doing anymore honestly. This is exo, I don't specify the narrator, so have fun with that. This has no edit, and it is simply me writing without stopping. Enjoy~

There were two main stars in my life. Two people that made the most impact on my character. And by this point, they're both gone. Each for their own reasons, partially caused by my own hand, lips. They were each beautiful. Antagonist to the other, light and dark, the forces that would in the end tear me completely in half.

I was in college, mostly alone. I dormed by myself, ate every meal by myself and struggled to keep a job that involved little to no human contact. I was in debt, low income, and freezing in the coldest of months even with all of my winter sweaters on and a blanket. I had no warmth whether it was physical or mental. I was simply walking through my prime of life. Until Jongin.

Jongin was sun kissed in the dead of winter. His cheeks not tan enough yet, and the cool winter showed itself in rosy eye-smiles and chapped lips. He was all muscle, not an inch of him was anything less. He played hard to get, but blushed each time I brushed his bangs from his eyes, an eyelash off his cheek. I will never forget his eyes. They were the definition of sweet brown puppy eyes. But in an instant he could change. He could put up a front of a hardened man in seconds. His eyes darkened to sultry almost, and his awkwardly smiling face froze. He was a sight that had chills running up my spine.

He did this often. We would be joking, laughing, doubled over in the pure joy of life, and he would freeze. Sometimes I could feel the blood run from my cheeks and then his eyes would crinkle at the corner and he would hit my shoulder. I never knew what to make of him until I found him swimming in my sheets. He was vulnerable, so so vulnerable. This split personality, the front he put up, it was a show. His cheeks flushed from start to finish, I had scratches down my back and he never made a noise. He breathed so heavy, a breathy moan perhaps, but never a full throaty noise. I was perplexed. And after each time we found ourselves swimming in ecstasy, he would break down into tears. Even if he initiated the encounter, he always ended up with his cheeks against my chest sobbing until he fell asleep. He was so vulnerable.

He never held my hand, only linked our pinkies. He told me it was more sentimental and I believed him. He could tell me the grass was pink and I would probably believe him. He didn't like kissing in public, but many times I found myself pressed against a brick wall in a side alley having the breath kissed out of me. He wouldn't hold my hand in supermarkets but would wrap his arm around my waist in thrift shops. On Mondays he preferred to be called Kai, and he would slick all of his hair back with my shaping gel and take me out to eat on his dime. On a Monday is when he finally moved in.

I didn't have a lot, but he did bring a heater with him. His stuff fit perfectly next to mine. His tshirts folded neatly next to mine, and his sweat pants on the floor with mine. The heater stayed in the den, because "body heat is the perfect heat" in bed. He always used my toothbrush and ate all the rice cakes I ever bought before I had the chance to a taste. He got so comfortable with me that he rested his head on my butt when I studied on the floor in front of the heater. He never cried after that Monday.

And just when everything was perfect, my stars aligned and sun shining, darkness fell. Darkness fell in the form of the sheep. A pale beauty from a few hundred miles. Red lips and fragile being, skin and bone and small muscle. His eyes were that of a deer in headlights, and he bit his lip when I spoke. He kissed me first. I fell in with a hard shove.

Luhan drug me under with promises, empty threats, and soft, slow ectasy. Unconventional places that he managed to get keys to. A janitor's closet, the science lab, the employee's lounge of an Ikea. He had me wrapped around his bony little finger and I was caught. Hook, line, sinker. It was my fault though. I was much stronger than him, I could have resisted. I probably could have broken him in half with the way I grabbed his hips. I bruised him and he never scarred me in any way that I couldn't have stopped.

But his cologne was strong enough, and maybe I was a little drunker than usual. I remember Jongin, screaming, crying, I woke up with bruises. His beautiful tan face tear stained and that's my fault. Jongin didn't leave though, he curled up behind me at night. He wrapped his arms around my torso and his legs around my hips. He sobbed into my back until I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone. Only his heater was left, and some ibuprofen on the floor next to a tall glass of water. I wasn't thankful though.

And eventually you learn that they're not all pale skinned angels with ruby red lips and soft brown eyes that kiss all of your worries away. They make your worries worse, they're out for blood. They drop you once their work is done and they're out of town the minute they see you with the bruises and the red eyes. You can cry all you want, but they will simply kick you further down. They've dug your grave for you, you didn't have to lie in it.

Some of them are wolves in sheep's clothing. Their red lips are nothing but bloodstained, their skin is pale from being dead so long, so emotionally detached that they can't stand the sight of a human. They're terrible life draining creatures that only have the goal of bringing you down. They don't want to help you, they don't gain from this encounter. They thrive off the pain, the suffering, and that is their blood.

Sometimes, you need Jongin. You need a sun kissed devil with an innocent stare and a troublesome smirk. Sometimes, they're your saving grace. The air that feeds your lungs. The blood that feeds every inch of your being, and the spark that ignites your soul and makes you crave more, and more. But they're gone. They might never come back, maybe only for their favourite blue shirt, but they want nothing to do with you. They simply push past you and grab what they need because they are through with you. And you become dead, dead to them, dead to the world, and you're back at the beginning. And you will never make the mistake of trusting another human ever again as long as you live.
Tags: drabble, exo, jongin, jpsdm, kai, luhan

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