Aaaand I'm finally back to somewhat of a normal writing schedule. Let's hope it continues. I hope my handwriting's not to messy up top. If it is just let me know.

Also, Ji has the worst facial proportion to draw. It's kind of rediculous.

The cold of the sterile white tiles ran a bitter chill from his throbbing head down through his aching back. His bosy hung suspended in haze. Even the sun seemed reluctant to shine, clouded rays barely finding their way through the small bathroom window above his head. This was not the way he had envisioned the night being. But the again things rarely go his way.

Even for a Sunday the small house was filled with bodies, writhing to a bass heavy beat. Jiyong easily worked his way through the crowd, a casual nod or flash of perfected smile to those who called to him as he passed. Normally he’d stop, accept a free drink, receive hallow compliments, but tonight he was a man on a mission and his eyes looked for nothing but that distinct shade of blue. He finally spotted the mop awkwardly inching it’s way from the dining room and he quickly changeed directions, nearly resulting in a crash into a very particular toned chest.

“Hey.” Seunghyun smiled down at him. “I was wondering if I’d see you before I left.”

“Leave? But it’s still early.” Jiyong smirked. He had plans for this boy, and none of them involved Seunghyun leaving with anyone but him.

“Yeah, early enough for me to finish that triptych draft sitting on my desk.” Seunghyun laughed and Jiyong faltered.

“Come on, one drink.”

“How about coffee? I’ll owe you an almond mocha. Extra hot right?” He placed his hand upon Ji’s shoulder, a warmth tangling its way through tensed muscles. It’s lingering heat left him feeling that much colder.

“Yeah yeah. You’ll be paying.” His words easily rolled over the knot in his throat.

“Alright, I’ll call you. Take it easy, okay?” Seunghyun’s grip slightly tightened on what know felt like a fragile shoulder, eyes burning into Jiyong, and Ji felt that knot quickly double over.

The burn of acid clung behind his teeth, lips dry and throat parched. But now there was no reprieve, no sleeping boy the next room over.  He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to come home with him. He was supposed to be in his bed. 

The shots came quickly, their burn running to his finger tips. Somewhere between shot 9 and 12 he ended up on the dance floor, the remainder of Bae’s vodka in his hand. The roll of the bass and the heat of the alcohol left his mind in that all too familiar spin. It was now nothing more than skin on skin, a craving for contact. A pair of familiar cold hands found their place on his hips, body pressed to his.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Wearily he made it to his feet, tired bones resting against the porcelain sink. He faced his reflection in the mirror, wondering when exactly he no longer recognized the young man before him. He was tired; the darkness that clung to his eyes was more than heavy remnants of overused eyeliner, their once honey glow all but dimmed to a muddled brown. His skin hung heavy on his bones, a staccato of purple and blue already beginning to form against the once golden glow.

His back hit the steely gray wall, head flinging back with a numbing thud, but the alcohol coursing through his system downed out the newfound ring in his ears. Bursts of pain bloomed down his neck as teeth assaulted the smooth flesh.

“Take it off.” Hyuksoo ordered as his teeth found their way to his collarbones.

Even in his haze, Jiyong easy slipped the flimsy shirt from over his shoulders as fingers dug bruises into the curve of his hips. It was a routine that had become muscle memory. It wasn’t always Hyuksoo, but it was always the same.

He wasn’t sure when, but eventually the faint rays of sun had faded to pale moonlight. Cigarettes and notebook in hand he made his way to his sanctuary of stone and soil; hidden away from prying eyes and false expectations. Hidden away with his muse and his words, though both had long fallen in rather short supply.

But what he didn’t realize, what he never realized, was one set of eyes never left him. As he discarded his journal and found his eyes searching the starless sky, Seunghyun’s eyes searched him. Above the dim glow of his cigarette’s cherry he watched, a deep sense of unease creeping into his bones. He watched as Jiyong’s frame swayed in the evening breeze, afraid the wind would whisk him away with too strong a draft.

Jiyong missed the sight of stars. It had been a long while since he was able to crane his neck in an attempt to map the sky, counting each star until they seemed to spin in nothing but a blur. A blur he felt he had now become. Nothing but a blur in the night’s sky, until his brief crash landings to earth. It was only a matter of time until he would simply just float away.

He laid back and reached his hands to the sky, hoping to clear the city smog for just one sight of the stars when he was dragged back to earth again by the vibration beneath him. He pulled out him phone and placed it to his ear, the hum of the voice on the other end settling into his chest.

“Hey.”