life together.
Till Life Do Us Part
LOCATION: AHN RESIDENCE / TIME: 01:14 JAN 01, 20XX
She picked at the scab that was starting to dry at the corner of .
It started off with something like she "was a waste of money and life" and then something about how she "wasn’t worth the family name". A small something that would always set him off on a rampage. A fire that sparked and died out in heated flames to only bite back every damn chance it got, re-lit by bottles of alchohol and dying pasts that a man so ed up and broken was too pathetic to let go.
That was life at home for Yeo.
That was her precious home, sweet, home.
That was how she lived, and breathed and died.
And it wouldn't have been like her if she left it just at at.
As Yeo left the house that starry-coated night, she was pretty sure her father was going to need some type of surgery for the nose she basically destroyed. Perhaps an x-ray of his lower region too (you know, just in case). (Though, she doubts he'd ever need it again).
Letting out a huge sigh, the girl pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking in the poisonous fumes her body learned to love.
Woong only lived a couple of bus stops down.
When Yeo arrived, she kicked the door with such a rage that a dent was made into the wall. She stopped to take a look, but only for a moment (to admire it, maybe?) before slamming the door tight behind her, striding hastily inside.
Across the room there laid a boy, dark and handsome and everything that was hers.
“The door’s always unlocked you know,” Woong called from within the premises of his broken home, body rolled out onto the wooden living room floor with the television’s static dying away in the background. He chuckled at how ridiculous his own words sounded (because he should have very well known that Yeo had never been one for quiet enterances) then cracked a crooked smile as he propped himself up on his elbows.
“Oh, not that you’d ever remember.”
His tired, half-lidded eyes watched as she came bustling towards him. There was anger masking over her face, in a haze that meant she was not in the mood to talk. An expression that the male saw quite too often enough to recognize the dull in her pretty brown orbs and the frown that just wouldn't go away. The familiar expression, the bruises that were littered so prettily on her body. Ah. Of course. It was unlikely of him to have thought of anyone else (and he hates that he isn't surprised).
Woong's head fell back with a frustrated sigh when realizing that yet again, the old bastard just could not leave Yeo alone.
He stands as soon as Yeo splays herself out onto the floor.
“I'll get your bed and the ointment, wait here."
Yeo shot him a look before rolling onto her side and winced as the cold wood grazed her small open wounds covering small sections of her arms. She could see bits of green glass dancing in her flesh and it got her to thinking that maybe wearing a sleeveless hoodie in the dead of Winter wasn’t the greatest idea.
With a grunt Yeo hoists herself into a sitting position and tries to pull her long ebony hair away from her neck in order to tie it up. Underneath the locks revealed a large gash that crossed the back of her nape and down the left side. It wasn’t deep. But also wasn’t shallow enough to not pool a bit of blood. Some of which that was already starting to dry and stick to her hair. How she managed to ride a bus without much question was something Yeo hadn't bothered to wonder. She stared down at the blood on her palm. I'm gonna need a shower.
Silence took over as Yeo waited for Woong to come back with the ointments, and as it did, his words suddenly began flashing through her mind.
It was always a habit of her to get lost in her thoughts. And an even bigger habit of her to speak before them (years of bluntness still hadn't taught her any good). In her fresh memory, those New Years Day words replayed themselves on a dying record; course and unpleasant like the man that had said them.
“Piece of trash. You weren’t part of the plan. She and I had never decided to have you. But here you are- here you ing are. Should have ended you the moment you entered.. But she wouldn’t listen to me, that dumb . And now she’s not even here. She left me with you. Of all things. ing leech. Taking all my money to buy drugs and smoke weed. When will you ever do anything useful in your life? Huh? When will you pay me back for actually caring for you? When will all this time and effort EVER be put to good use???Oh. That's right.. I never did care for you. I won't eve care for you. So give me back the years of my life wasted on your pathetic . Give me back what's mine. Give me back what you owe! GIVE IT BACK.”
Her thoughts were further interrupted when Woong lazily dragged a futon down the hall; in his other hand, the ointment that was used more on a girl that lived bus rides away, and a bundle of cotton balls were pinched between his fingers.
“Alright then. I’ve already left a shirt in bathroom for you, so just change into that when you’re done.” Woong slid the futon in the middle of the room and settled his rump onto it when it rested. His eyes then began to analyze the girl as she grasped her hair in what looked to him as knots.
Woong frowned.
The side of was beginning to bruise, and there were already marks turning green from the past events with her father (a man that still burned as a villain in Woong's heart, soul and body). Had she been born to someone of greater care, Yeo's beauty wouldn’t have seemed so wilted. He thought about maybe adopting her himself (he’d be an awful dad) but, then he remembered that he was only 19 and their birthdays were only months apart. Woong frowned a second time as he began squeezing the medicine onto a tuft of cotton, the scent bringing the same nostalgic memories of rotten childhood, and he gently tugged on her chin to face him.
“Look at me for a sec,” he calmly instructed while starting to dab at her hundredth wound.
Complying to his instructions, Yeo sat in silence as he patched her torn body. She wished she could’ve been better for him; he didn’t deserve to sit through this just to fix her every time. But then again, there was nothing the two of them could do, even as legal adults now. They could only fight the system of being treated like a nuisance or sit with unjustified silence, adults turned their way; "accept it".
She hissed as Woong started at her neck, squeezing her eyes shut as she remained lost in her mind again. Late nights and early mornings were time for the both of them to spend their life together as one; where their hearts could be as close as possible; where glances could be promises and actions could be conversations. It was a time that Yeo enjoyed most. She just hoped Woong would feel the same.
Yeo glanced up and gave Woong what was suppose to be a smile. “Way to start off the New Year, huh?”
Woong almost felt like laughing, but the unsettling feeling of discomfort was more than he could chew, so the laughter subsided into an indifferent grumble. "Hmn. Didn't think I'd be creaming you down in medicine this early into the year," he used his thumb to work the cotton into her skin and a blush settled over his skin. "Wait- no- that sounded kinda dirty-" his brows furrowed tightly. Yeo chuckled. "Ah, whatever. You get what I mean- turn around for me."
She cracked a genuine smile. "Oh, so now you're gonna do me from behind?" she said, causing Woong to let out a scoff, as if to imply that he was too good to even do such a thing. (He was at least the type of guy to want to see her face when he- What? He's an honest boy with honest needs.)
Yeo laughed a little harder at the response, only to stop when the wounds pressed a warning.
"Enough of this. Just turn around,"
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say." Yeo complied and turned around for him to begin to patch up her back.
A comfortable silence set in the room before Yeo spoke again.
"So. How much longer until it comes back?"
It. Referring to what Woong called "mother". The demon of a woman was known for creating a string of names for Yeo, so why not call it something special too? An eye for an eye right? Yeo would fight her if she could.
Woong simply hummed and pressed further into the gash, applying pressure to the wound.
“Knowing her, maybe a day or two. She’s probably banging up that sugar daddy of hers, or something. Could have found a new play thing, another job, another , so I don’t know.” he pulls her hair to her front to get more of the wound. "It's New Years. In the meantime, stay here."
It was almost like a routine. The constant bantering about family and hours of sitting in front of a static television that never played the right channels. She’d come home to him all busted up; broken. And Woong would be so quick to help her.
It had happened far too often to not know where her most recent bruises were, or where she was most prone to getting tender. He learned where all her sensitive spots were (in a non-ualized way, of course), which more or less brought them inevitably closer.
Woong wondered if he would ever grow tired of it... only to realize that he was already thirteen years too late to answer that.
He was quick with his hands. Within minutes of her coming into the house, she was already patched up and ready to fight the world all over again. Gauze over the deeper wounds and bandages to just cover up the minor. If someone were to take one glance at her, Yeo would have looked as if she had just fallen into a cactus; with the exception of certain bruises now turning a beautiful purple blue.
She let out a heavy sigh of relief. Everything still hurt, and her body was hard to move, but at least there was the comfort of bandages on her skin. She didn’t want to die from blood loss. That would've been a lame way to die. And knowing Woong he would have probably laughed at her for it, even afterwards.
The girl didn’t give the other any time to pack up before she had already leaned back onto him. Sure, her wounds had been freshly treated and the fact that she was practically topless (her shirt was dangling over her neck) wasn’t much of a surprise either. She wanted to rest. To sleep for a bit. To forget how trashy they lived for a bit.
Closing her eyes Yeo hummed. “I’m too lazy to take a shower now, And I'm hungry. Kimchi bokkeumbap...”
“Well, I just covered you in gauze.. showering isn't really the best option for you right now,” Woong leaned down to blow into her face and pulled back only to laugh at her expression. He tucked out his chin towards the futon beneath them.
“Just sleep now if you’re too lazy. I don't want to feed you anything either,” which usually meant he didn’t have any food to give her. He looked down at her again, brushing the bangs out of her face, then playfully pushed against the cut near her lip.
Ruthless girl, he thought. Could have easily avoided that one.
Although Woong had always acted maturely, sometimes, he thinks, Minyeo was a lot more grown up than he was. She took things on without hesitation and moved about with her own will. Woong, however, bended the rules in such a poor way that they had the ability to spring back without much of a problem. His restraint causeed his image to look frail and innocent; something that he was tired of feeling. With Yeo by his side he always felt like he could do whatever necessary.
In a sense, she was his muse.
Woong wasn’t ever going to deny that.
Leaning in again, Woong took a long whiff of the girl. His nose scrunched, but he grinned. “At least change your clothes."
The warmth of his hand felt comforting against her cold clammy skin. She opened her eyes just to get lost in his. An ordinary hazelnut, Yeo noted, but with the light over his head and his complete focus on her, she smiled and leaned into his touch. He always had that effect. Ever since they were little. To calm her when she needed it the most, to control her when there was no one else to; he was her angel in disguise. At least that’s how she liked to think of him; the level-headed calm boy-a-couple-of-bus-stops-away that her family of one grew to hate instead of love.
But for Yeo, despite their relationship, he was hers and she was his; a mark that was now both embedded into their skin in the form of clock. Its body, its hands and its numbers. Something that meant eternity together, but incomplete without the other; able to work on its own as a single item but only beautiful when both parts are combined. That's how it was and that’s how Yeo hoped it would stay.
The pain in her arms had begun to die down. Staring up, Yeo reached up, similar to how a child would when they wanted to be carried. Wanted to be loved.
"Change me," she said, in a voice that meant more of herself than the clothes on her body.
Woong stared at her sternly as her arms came about in front of him. He closed his eyes and took a breath in, shaking his head at the girl beside him before gently putting her down on the futon then stood up to get her the shirt.
It’s wasn’t the first time he changed the girl out of her clothes... and no, not in a ualized way.
Woong hadn’t even known how to unhook bra properly (a phased out memory of Woong's unsuccessful first time that had Minyeo yapping for weeks) let alone have the guts to do anything remotely as .
He came trudging back with a large black shirt in his hand, one that had once fit snugly against him, but was large enough to tent the girl entirely. The male tucked his hand beneath her back, forcing her spine to arch in order to fully remove the shirt from her neck. He carefully held her hair in a bundle too, to keep it out of her face as when he shucked it off. His hands then quickly slid to her waist, using his thumbs to lift the material and slid it off completely. With a blanket thrown around her, he laid beside the girl, acquainted with a comforting silence.
Yeo hummed in satisfaction as the black top engulfed her wounded body in its arms, presenting her with the coverage she could of had from the frost bitten air hours ago. And even though the sleeves reached mid-way down her forearm, tattoos still picked out from underneath the soft fabric. Yeo yawned, scooting closer to Woong for the much needed body warmth.
Shoving her face into the crook of his neck, the girl emitted a soft hum (although, it sounded more like a purr) and finally managed to close her eyes, allowing the silence to eat away at any thoughts she previously held.
The white static of tv, the eerie ticking of the clock.
Woong's breath.
Woong's heartbeat.
Woong's existence, lulling her to a slumber.
That was life at home for Yeo.
That was her precious home, sweet, home.
That was how she lived, and breathed and died.
And it wouldn't have been like her if she left it just at at.
As Yeo left the house that starry-coated night, she was pretty sure her father was going to need some type of surgery for the nose she basically destroyed. Perhaps an x-ray of his lower region too (you know, just in case). (Though, she doubts he'd ever need it again).
Letting out a huge sigh, the girl pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking in the poisonous fumes her body learned to love.
Woong only lived a couple of bus stops down.
When Yeo arrived, she kicked the door with such a rage that a dent was made into the wall. She stopped to take a look, but only for a moment (to admire it, maybe?) before slamming the door tight behind her, striding hastily inside.
Across the room there laid a boy, dark and handsome and everything that was hers.
“The door’s always unlocked you know,” Woong called from within the premises of his broken home, body rolled out onto the wooden living room floor with the television’s static dying away in the background. He chuckled at how ridiculous his own words sounded (because he should have very well known that Yeo had never been one for quiet enterances) then cracked a crooked smile as he propped himself up on his elbows.
“Oh, not that you’d ever remember.”
His tired, half-lidded eyes watched as she came bustling towards him. There was anger masking over her face, in a haze that meant she was not in the mood to talk. An expression that the male saw quite too often enough to recognize the dull in her pretty brown orbs and the frown that just wouldn't go away. The familiar expression, the bruises that were littered so prettily on her body. Ah. Of course. It was unlikely of him to have thought of anyone else (and he hates that he isn't surprised).
Woong's head fell back with a frustrated sigh when realizing that yet again, the old bastard just could not leave Yeo alone.
He stands as soon as Yeo splays herself out onto the floor.
“I'll get your bed and the ointment, wait here."
Yeo shot him a look before rolling onto her side and winced as the cold wood grazed her small open wounds covering small sections of her arms. She could see bits of green glass dancing in her flesh and it got her to thinking that maybe wearing a sleeveless hoodie in the dead of Winter wasn’t the greatest idea.
With a grunt Yeo hoists herself into a sitting position and tries to pull her long ebony hair away from her neck in order to tie it up. Underneath the locks revealed a large gash that crossed the back of her nape and down the left side. It wasn’t deep. But also wasn’t shallow enough to not pool a bit of blood. Some of which that was already starting to dry and stick to her hair. How she managed to ride a bus without much question was something Yeo hadn't bothered to wonder. She stared down at the blood on her palm. I'm gonna need a shower.
Silence took over as Yeo waited for Woong to come back with the ointments, and as it did, his words suddenly began flashing through her mind.
It was always a habit of her to get lost in her thoughts. And an even bigger habit of her to speak before them (years of bluntness still hadn't taught her any good). In her fresh memory, those New Years Day words replayed themselves on a dying record; course and unpleasant like the man that had said them.
“Piece of trash. You weren’t part of the plan. She and I had never decided to have you. But here you are- here you ing are. Should have ended you the moment you entered.. But she wouldn’t listen to me, that dumb . And now she’s not even here. She left me with you. Of all things. ing leech. Taking all my money to buy drugs and smoke weed. When will you ever do anything useful in your life? Huh? When will you pay me back for actually caring for you? When will all this time and effort EVER be put to good use???Oh. That's right.. I never did care for you. I won't eve care for you. So give me back the years of my life wasted on your pathetic . Give me back what's mine. Give me back what you owe! GIVE IT BACK.”
Her thoughts were further interrupted when Woong lazily dragged a futon down the hall; in his other hand, the ointment that was used more on a girl that lived bus rides away, and a bundle of cotton balls were pinched between his fingers.
“Alright then. I’ve already left a shirt in bathroom for you, so just change into that when you’re done.” Woong slid the futon in the middle of the room and settled his rump onto it when it rested. His eyes then began to analyze the girl as she grasped her hair in what looked to him as knots.
Woong frowned.
The side of was beginning to bruise, and there were already marks turning green from the past events with her father (a man that still burned as a villain in Woong's heart, soul and body). Had she been born to someone of greater care, Yeo's beauty wouldn’t have seemed so wilted. He thought about maybe adopting her himself (he’d be an awful dad) but, then he remembered that he was only 19 and their birthdays were only months apart. Woong frowned a second time as he began squeezing the medicine onto a tuft of cotton, the scent bringing the same nostalgic memories of rotten childhood, and he gently tugged on her chin to face him.
“Look at me for a sec,” he calmly instructed while starting to dab at her hundredth wound.
Complying to his instructions, Yeo sat in silence as he patched her torn body. She wished she could’ve been better for him; he didn’t deserve to sit through this just to fix her every time. But then again, there was nothing the two of them could do, even as legal adults now. They could only fight the system of being treated like a nuisance or sit with unjustified silence, adults turned their way; "accept it".
She hissed as Woong started at her neck, squeezing her eyes shut as she remained lost in her mind again. Late nights and early mornings were time for the both of them to spend their life together as one; where their hearts could be as close as possible; where glances could be promises and actions could be conversations. It was a time that Yeo enjoyed most. She just hoped Woong would feel the same.
Yeo glanced up and gave Woong what was suppose to be a smile. “Way to start off the New Year, huh?”
Woong almost felt like laughing, but the unsettling feeling of discomfort was more than he could chew, so the laughter subsided into an indifferent grumble. "Hmn. Didn't think I'd be creaming you down in medicine this early into the year," he used his thumb to work the cotton into her skin and a blush settled over his skin. "Wait- no- that sounded kinda dirty-" his brows furrowed tightly. Yeo chuckled. "Ah, whatever. You get what I mean- turn around for me."
She cracked a genuine smile. "Oh, so now you're gonna do me from behind?" she said, causing Woong to let out a scoff, as if to imply that he was too good to even do such a thing. (He was at least the type of guy to want to see her face when he- What? He's an honest boy with honest needs.)
Yeo laughed a little harder at the response, only to stop when the wounds pressed a warning.
"Enough of this. Just turn around,"
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say." Yeo complied and turned around for him to begin to patch up her back.
A comfortable silence set in the room before Yeo spoke again.
"So. How much longer until it comes back?"
It. Referring to what Woong called "mother". The demon of a woman was known for creating a string of names for Yeo, so why not call it something special too? An eye for an eye right? Yeo would fight her if she could.
Woong simply hummed and pressed further into the gash, applying pressure to the wound.
“Knowing her, maybe a day or two. She’s probably banging up that sugar daddy of hers, or something. Could have found a new play thing, another job, another , so I don’t know.” he pulls her hair to her front to get more of the wound. "It's New Years. In the meantime, stay here."
It was almost like a routine. The constant bantering about family and hours of sitting in front of a static television that never played the right channels. She’d come home to him all busted up; broken. And Woong would be so quick to help her.
It had happened far too often to not know where her most recent bruises were, or where she was most prone to getting tender. He learned where all her sensitive spots were (in a non-ualized way, of course), which more or less brought them inevitably closer.
Woong wondered if he would ever grow tired of it... only to realize that he was already thirteen years too late to answer that.
He was quick with his hands. Within minutes of her coming into the house, she was already patched up and ready to fight the world all over again. Gauze over the deeper wounds and bandages to just cover up the minor. If someone were to take one glance at her, Yeo would have looked as if she had just fallen into a cactus; with the exception of certain bruises now turning a beautiful purple blue.
She let out a heavy sigh of relief. Everything still hurt, and her body was hard to move, but at least there was the comfort of bandages on her skin. She didn’t want to die from blood loss. That would've been a lame way to die. And knowing Woong he would have probably laughed at her for it, even afterwards.
The girl didn’t give the other any time to pack up before she had already leaned back onto him. Sure, her wounds had been freshly treated and the fact that she was practically topless (her shirt was dangling over her neck) wasn’t much of a surprise either. She wanted to rest. To sleep for a bit. To forget how trashy they lived for a bit.
Closing her eyes Yeo hummed. “I’m too lazy to take a shower now, And I'm hungry. Kimchi bokkeumbap...”
“Well, I just covered you in gauze.. showering isn't really the best option for you right now,” Woong leaned down to blow into her face and pulled back only to laugh at her expression. He tucked out his chin towards the futon beneath them.
“Just sleep now if you’re too lazy. I don't want to feed you anything either,” which usually meant he didn’t have any food to give her. He looked down at her again, brushing the bangs out of her face, then playfully pushed against the cut near her lip.
Ruthless girl, he thought. Could have easily avoided that one.
Although Woong had always acted maturely, sometimes, he thinks, Minyeo was a lot more grown up than he was. She took things on without hesitation and moved about with her own will. Woong, however, bended the rules in such a poor way that they had the ability to spring back without much of a problem. His restraint causeed his image to look frail and innocent; something that he was tired of feeling. With Yeo by his side he always felt like he could do whatever necessary.
In a sense, she was his muse.
Woong wasn’t ever going to deny that.
Leaning in again, Woong took a long whiff of the girl. His nose scrunched, but he grinned. “At least change your clothes."
The warmth of his hand felt comforting against her cold clammy skin. She opened her eyes just to get lost in his. An ordinary hazelnut, Yeo noted, but with the light over his head and his complete focus on her, she smiled and leaned into his touch. He always had that effect. Ever since they were little. To calm her when she needed it the most, to control her when there was no one else to; he was her angel in disguise. At least that’s how she liked to think of him; the level-headed calm boy-a-couple-of-bus-stops-away that her family of one grew to hate instead of love.
But for Yeo, despite their relationship, he was hers and she was his; a mark that was now both embedded into their skin in the form of clock. Its body, its hands and its numbers. Something that meant eternity together, but incomplete without the other; able to work on its own as a single item but only beautiful when both parts are combined. That's how it was and that’s how Yeo hoped it would stay.
The pain in her arms had begun to die down. Staring up, Yeo reached up, similar to how a child would when they wanted to be carried. Wanted to be loved.
"Change me," she said, in a voice that meant more of herself than the clothes on her body.
Woong stared at her sternly as her arms came about in front of him. He closed his eyes and took a breath in, shaking his head at the girl beside him before gently putting her down on the futon then stood up to get her the shirt.
It’s wasn’t the first time he changed the girl out of her clothes... and no, not in a ualized way.
Woong hadn’t even known how to unhook bra properly (a phased out memory of Woong's unsuccessful first time that had Minyeo yapping for weeks) let alone have the guts to do anything remotely as .
He came trudging back with a large black shirt in his hand, one that had once fit snugly against him, but was large enough to tent the girl entirely. The male tucked his hand beneath her back, forcing her spine to arch in order to fully remove the shirt from her neck. He carefully held her hair in a bundle too, to keep it out of her face as when he shucked it off. His hands then quickly slid to her waist, using his thumbs to lift the material and slid it off completely. With a blanket thrown around her, he laid beside the girl, acquainted with a comforting silence.
Yeo hummed in satisfaction as the black top engulfed her wounded body in its arms, presenting her with the coverage she could of had from the frost bitten air hours ago. And even though the sleeves reached mid-way down her forearm, tattoos still picked out from underneath the soft fabric. Yeo yawned, scooting closer to Woong for the much needed body warmth.
Shoving her face into the crook of his neck, the girl emitted a soft hum (although, it sounded more like a purr) and finally managed to close her eyes, allowing the silence to eat away at any thoughts she previously held.
The white static of tv, the eerie ticking of the clock.
Woong's breath.
Woong's heartbeat.
Woong's existence, lulling her to a slumber.
DANI'S NOTE.
in which we see the life of a girl and a boy in a few poorly written words. (old writing makes me cringe lmfaokfaokfanfskljaf but i added and tweaked; maybe it got better)
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