moroccan flame ^(et)

what can be more interesting than soft eyes hiding hellish creatures behind it?

when you look at someone's eyes and recognise a glimpse of hell or something that might remind you of the concept , with flames and demons crawling out from it, what will you do?

the most logical answer is to run or to stand and watch in curiosity and see if everything is real. curiosity is a dangerous little thing if you are not clever in using it. however, those who stand back are still clever enough to not kill themselves.

yeri conjures a whole different option for herself when she is pushed in front of the existence of choi hansol. he is beautiful, ravenously beautiful and yeri admits that when her eyes scan across his features. she chooses to jump and swim in the muddy brown ocean of his eyes, dead and inhuman creatures taunting her with their claws grazing her legs now and then to see the impossible ; the end of the ocean itself.

her mother has warned her of boys with wild eyes inviting you to a perfectly foiled realm of butterflies, immortal flowers, pretty and heavenly things hiding a grotesque truth. it's not like yeri didn't listen, it's just that she is not interested in things that are too dainty to be in this world. indulging herself in a dream-like fantasy is a choice she puts back in the back of her mind. if one day she discovers that dreamy side of her, she will reconsider the choice of placing it inside of her heart.

it's not uncommon for her to walk into the wrong side of the town with narrow streets and a strong scent of cigarette and industrial smoke mixed into one. smoke is still smoke when it's being inhaled to your lungs, marking it in deep dents of cancer with every intake and every breath. 

her gaze stays still and the boy before her doesn't falter. why would he? when he was the one who saved her from strange teenagers with bad breath and slurred voices in broad daylight. it's the first time for her to see someone getting drunk in a day as bright as this one. she just witnessed the latter boy with brown bangs, his hair a little bit curly but not so much, just pushed them away with a taunting, "get away or you won't get any free beer from my father anymore," and it was enough to shoo them away, dragging their feets in loud hisses and mumbles of profanity yeri prefers to not mention.

"you're too pretty to hang around here," he suddenly speaks up but with no intent of flirtation. he says it as if it's a fact that she should have realized to not walk into a place as remote as this one. as if to point out her stupidity and carelessness. the flames she just saw is still there, and they lurk behind the softness of muddy brown ocean of his eyes. 

she looks down, and perhaps it's all the effect of this skirt. the white skirt with intricate while laces by the hem of it perhaps has give off the vibe of feminity, which attracts attention, and attention attracts danger. basically, wearing skirts in the sight of drunk teens are never a good thing, even though it's not a choice yeri made. she hates it, how her being is reduced to just a living creature with beauty that attracts danger. 

if yeri wants to attract danger, she wants them to be provoked by her bravery to walk to this side of the town, her intelligence of observing habits and things with keen eyes, her inquisitiveness to things that are both dangerous and ordinary. it's always beautiful to be interested in things that are mundane, no matter how boring it sounds to people.

she crosses her arms indignantly. she is not fazed by an underlying praise that sounds like an insult to her ears. "no one is ever too pretty to walk on their own, and i could have handled it by myself," irritation seeps through her teeth, stubborn words bouncing off her lips.

his thick eyebrows arch in irony. "oh really? if you name talking irritably to a bunch of drunk ed up high schoolers as handling things on your own, then your attempt was done terribly," hansol can't miss the flinch he just witnessed when a word of profanity slips from his tongue like a bad habit. and he can't miss the way she shades herself in a stoic and composed facade, when he just saw a glimpse of panic flashing through her when he just walked out from his father's convenience store, in cargo pants and the beatles t-shirt that was given by his cousin last christmas. 

he'd do it for anyone, really--stepping out for the sake of justice--even when the word itself seems strange in his tongue. justice? really, in this side of the town? he barely gets any justice in school by getting called mixed and half blooded mutt. but choi hansol has lost it a long time ago, the patience and the cowardice to stay inside his shell and comfort zone of not fighting back. he remembers watching a pirated movie of harry potter, being the half-blooded prince and such. he believes that he is destined for greatness one day, even though not as big as harry's. the promise of greatness runs the blood and engine of his body, and it's everything that hansol needs to keep moving forward. 

it doesn't make him bat an eyelid also, yeri's beauty in all its freshness like spring, flowers and a promise of everything that sparkles. but it's a fact that a pretty little thing such as yeri is too valiant to be walking around a bad neighborhood like this.

"do you even know your way back home?" now he sounds concerned, and she doesn't know if she needs to be offended or touched by that. she chooses the latter since this stranger who seems around her age just saved her. she can be too judging at times and too critical in analyzing situation. he doesn't look as fierce as when he snarled to those high school boys adamantly. and even though yeri's pride is wounded by the fact she can't protect herself, she still feels thankful.

she peers behind his back, the sun still shines brilliantly and it's too early to go back home in a lonely saturday such as this one. "it's okay, i got lost to this area pretty often," she shrugs off casually, casting an amused look to his face.

"how many times have you bumped to those people?"

"you ask too much questions," she replies irritably, and hansol raises his hands as if he gives up on continuing the conversation with a stranger (whom he just saved) who is rude enough to dodge his concern.

"well, ms. smarty pants seems to know what she's doing all along. my help was not necessary then, thank you for your gr-"

she huffs, shaking her head. "you're too short tempered as a boy, and it's yeri. now can you give me a detour around this area? because standing here seems like a boring situation," yeri peers up from her soft brown hair, parted in the middle. it's still a strange match of blue cotton shirt and a skirt that reaches her knees, with a pair of sandals. seems like her home is not as far as she just said to him. oh wait, she doesn't say anything yet about that.

he looks back at the convenience store his father owns. his father probably won't mind if he's gone for a bit, he has spent enough of his summer break at that place.

he nods, a hum in agreement. "c'mon, then. don't lose to my steps and show me that you're capable of catching up to me, and i'm hansol," he grins, and that ravenous beauty she saw earlier appears again, and yeri is more than interested to learn about this boy.

no, no, not in a way a girl is attracted to a boy's smile because it trips her heart into beating a beat faster. hansol fascinates her in the way a scientist is intrigued by the nature of an unknown species, of its rarity and uniqueness. there is indeed something in hansol's face that reminds her of handsome and shapely actors in hollywood movies, but that something is seen by yeri countless of times and what is in the outside is usually far less interesting then what is in the inside. at least for a complicated mind of a sixteen year old kim yeri.

they stroll around the area, passing more convenience stores, cheap restaurants, pirate cd stores, street food corners, and minimalistic houses in different sizes and colours. some of the paints have decayed and faded, and the gates rusty and cruelly brown. yeri takes every detail into her memory, every path and every step so she can come back and travel this place again. silence is a temporal thing and it's hansol who chooses to snap the lines between them.

"why did you always get lost in here?"

she turns her attention back to him. "i never get lost. the word has a nice and thrilling vibe to it, that's why i referred it that way. i just walked to this side of the town," she doesn't realize that a part of her that is sweet, the one she should have left back home somehow is injected to her voice. the raised pitch of her voice, the cheery laughter in her widened lips. 

he shakes his head. "well, aren't you interesting? there is nothing that id partially outstanding in this side of the town. it's the same round of old houses and factories and dirty air."

she kick the little pebbles and gravels beneath her sandals. "anything is better than home," and hearing this hansol frowns, as he tries to kill the mosquitoes flying around them with smashing palms. it's either kill or getting killed. everything is the same, really. especially related to this blood insect. when he lands a dead mark over a mosquito, its blood squashes to the surface of his palm and he rubs it all to the pocket of his cargo shorts in disgust.

"there is no place better than home," he trudges on, tilting his head by bit to look at her. "aren't you being an ungrateful little girl?" 

yeri's eyes twitch at this, the curves of her lips are pulled deeper into a frown and she glares at him. "that, is why anything is better than home. and don't call me that," she looks straight into his eyes and she is reminded again how this boy whose name she just learned is one beautiful stranger, even more so in the close proximity of his tilted face and her raised chin.

hansol's eyes that are filled with monsters are real, but it is perhaps because he has witnessed hell from day to day and those creatures decide to take a rest there when hansol wasn't looking.

"you seem to be in your rebellion phase," hansol assumes, and really who is he to say that when he's also young like her?

"this is no rebellion," and she ponders in asking these questions in her head. so much things she wants to know about the boy beside her who is indifferently taking her into a detour. now they have their heels to go back to the place they came from. "how can you rebel when too many people have gotten accustomed to this world?"

"because there are people who are pushed down by the rules of the world," the brightest minds don't need to be produced from private tutors and prim and proper teachers with high tuition fees taunting them to treat their students right. when you are raised amongst adults that spit profanities in mild carelessness yet enough affection and attention to keep you sane through your growth, you might end up as the kid in the corner who sell weed like matchsticks or the future leader from a suburban living surroundings. it's kill or getting killed, after all.

"hansol right? i just want to ask you....are you-"

"mixed right? that's what you're meant to ask, what am i? it's okay, really. a lot of people have questioned why i still exist," he is so fast in brushing this part off, and yeri catches the distressed annotation in his voice with a light toss to fix his hair. 

now she's the one that feels guilty, catching herself being insensitive. "is it.....they are harsh, aren't they? because you're different?" she asks carefully.

"well, you know public schools. unless you don't attend one, then i'm not sure if you will be able to understand," he holds her eyes for a moment, wide and curious and smiling. yeri owns the kind of eyes that smile even without cheery lips adorning it now. and he finds her steadiness comforting. how glad would he be to find a girl like her around school. not because the way her skin is clear and her lips are not cracked and the way she crinkles her nose when she smiles, but because she speaks the language hansol uses. the words, the comprehension; they are connected this way even for a moment. 

and then they continue to talk, and talk and talk. smiling, frowning, half laughing then falling in laughters with people staring , pointing and judging. sometimes yeri would shrink in wariness but then most of the time she lets it slip away amongst hansol's jokes that she finds rude yet entertaining (yeri refuses to curse, still) and tales of legends from his school. it variates from legendary senior who defeated a hundred students from another school by wielding no weapon, to the league of teachers who perform demonic rituals to lure students in (despite sounding ridiculous, yeri admits that teachers are demons in some kind of way).

she decides that she likes his laughter that way, with maniacal eyes and shining gum holding in perfectly straight pearly white teeth. 

"don't you have any legends in your school?"

"i'm not sure. the school is pretty new."

hansol turns to her. "then perhaps you can be the first legendary being in your school," he jests and she chortles buoyantly, finding him mildly amusing.

yeri looks at the fading orange of the sky, and her shoulders slump knowing that it's time to go back home. she enjoys every single thing that happened today, to learn about the remote part of this town and choi hansol. she wishes she can come back, she hopes she can. 

"i think it's time for me to go home," at this, hansol looks away for a moment, the summer heat no longer as visible as few hours ago then he nods cordially, and begins to move again to their starting point. he knows that things like this don't happen twice, and everything will fall back into place again. today is one of the moments when he can be himself and expresses his thoughts which people have shunned to silence. 

he doesn't want to ask her to come back, just because hansol is not someone who holds people back. 

when they arrive, they stand before each other. hansol's hands fumble inside of his cargo pants restlessly and yeri is wondering how to give her gratitude.

"i want to thank you, but i think a thank you won't be enough," she muses, browns tresses blown by the wind back and she shivers while tucking it back into its place. 

"i will come back and bring something-"

"no, there's no need to do that-"

"i will come back," at this, hansol only nods without looking at her and seeing this, yeri's cheeks turn a bright shade of red and she hopes hansol doesn't notice it.

he does, but he only hides his teasing grin and makes no attempt to point it out. he is not the type to fawn over girls, but he finds the heat creeping to her cheeks adorable. wait, did he just say adorable? well, adorable sounds more appropriate than cute because cute is too mainstream for hansol's choice of words.

yeri will come back, and together through filthy streets and dreary world, they will find themselves being alive on those small moments in their mundane lives.

at least that's what yeri wants, and what keeps hansol awake that night.

reviews;

cheesecake review + betashop

author's notes: omggg, it's my first time writing this pairing and with these characters, tell me what you think about this guys, it means a lot to me :DD