Yay for my first blog post! Blah that it is about boring school and my boring life.

So, yeah, I've been working on the next chapters for Nothing and Everything and Desolation of Glass shards...but they have been coming... really, really slowly. Honestly, there have been some...unsettling... events that have been happening in my life ranging from personal family drama to just the stress of college. I will try my best to get them out within the month but I'm not sure if I can... I'll have more time once I'm off for school though, and I will probably be writing a lot. Including a new eunhae fluff oneshot!! As a break from all the angst in both my other fics! :D Well, idk if any of you have read this or care but for those who do this is what's up! 

As an apology take this short drabble that I wrote a while back~ yay!

It’s a sick fascination, Hyukjae thought mildly, this strange fixation he has with watching things fall down. The rain drops, for example, as they steadily roll down his window pane like twin tear tracks rolling down the face of an eleven year old child who has just seen his father shot in the chest, blood pouring out of his wound with each choked gasp he emits; stop, he screams, just make it stop. It doesn’t stop though; it never really does.

Currently, Hyukjae has taken to throwing things against the wall. His newest targets of interest being his previously prized action figures, not even flinching when his beloved Luffy figurine finally gives under the brunt of the all attacks it has faced as it ends up being lodged deep into the wall, right next to the Zoro figurine all but forgotten in the drywall next to the door.

It’s not enough.

None of it will ever be enough. And yet, he cannot stop. He just wants to feel something, to really feel his lungs expand with breath, his heart pound with a passion already long lost.

The suffocating silence surrounds him like a poisonous snake. But he ignores it. Even the pounding of blood in his ears when he finally picks up his plate of sliced apples, discarding the offending objects onto the floor with a clatter; all except for one, the one thing he believes will bring life back into his bones. And he’s right, he thinks, as he brings the cold metal to his pale arm; one slice is all it takes for everything to feel right again.

Blood falls down in the most graceful manner; slowly dripping down the sides of his arm like the rain on the window pane.

It’s almost therapeutic, every slice on clean flesh, it’s almost as if every sin he has committed is being washed away from his body.

So he slices again, and again, until he is so drunk on the feeling that he falls to the ground, knife clattering not too far behind him.

What do you guys think? Should I continue with this? (no this isn't the fluffly fic I mentioned earlier, don't worry!)

Anyway that's all for now~

Thank you ^^