nope. nope, nooooope, nope-- oh, ew, no. gross. [break][break]

"nope, nope, aaaand nope" says a woman lounging on a couch, her back against the seat with her legs resting upon the backrest. her hand hangs upside down off the edge, locks of pink and brown curling slightly against the floor. mixed eyes stay glaring at the screen as she maintains her hand on the remote. flickers of show covers pass by her, though none of them break her from the monotonous hell that is: not being able to find something to watch. truly, the bane of her existence. someone end her misery.[break][break]

there has to be something i can put on, she thinks. the woman hums as she crosses her legs, but it just proves fruitless. damn, nothing good to watch, then. the plan was to maybe start on something new, just so that they had something they could binge through tonight, but it looks like plan b will have to be put into motion. plan b, being just pull up one of the other series they paused on and binge watching that through. speaking of.. how much longer was it going to take for him to get here? she glances to the clock, and it's getting pretty late. she should be able to expect him s--[break][break]

"Eun…!" ryan calls out down the hall, but it sparks a sudden jolt from eun as she nearly jumps (or tries to) on the couch, prompting her to suddenly roll over and hastily move to sit up. unfortunately, she ended up hitting her leg against the arm rest of the couch, and it results in her squinting and hissing softly, one hand holding the toe she ungracefully, probably stubbed, while the other reaches to the whiteboard next to her to start writing. [break][break]

when he comes into view, both eevee and zorua who were by her side (and watched the trainer suffer in her pain, thanks) perk up, and all four critters scamper over to ryan with soft yips of excitement at the mention of food. the woman's still silently wincing while holding the whiteboard with a hand that read 'not yet, i've been trying to find things we could watch tonight'[break][break]

goddamn, was it really the arm rest she hit her foot on? maybe she hit the edge of the table that was next to it..

Ryan Arcken

☉

Ah, exactly how he always loved his partners.[break]
Suffering and ungraceful.[break][break]

Although he hadn’t quite caught a visual at first, the bump had been something he’d heard even while still by the front door; the force of such prompting a small pause in both processing and stride for him as he let it sink in. Before long, however, he curled his lips inward and pressed them flatly against one another, inhaling deeply and doing his best to stifle an amused smile while continuing to walk along.[break][break]

A dual hued gaze settled upon the four creatures as they noted his arrival; a sight that prompted the smile that he wore to broaden wider as he briefly crouched down to meet them. Only momentarily, he set the bags he still held down (all while his own Pokemon set scampered about and set the bags they’d been given onto a table), reaching his hands out to greet them with a copious amount of head pats, chin scratches, and more.[break][break]

He glanced up all the while, eying the familiar writing that met his line of sight.[break][break]

...I see~...[break][break]

A silent thought meant for none other than himself. His smile faltered the faintest bit at the sight of the words, though in such a manner that it could’ve easily been attributed to a sense of thoughtfulness as he properly read them to himself. Nevertheless, he quickly looked from the ink to the woman that held it up, offering her an ongoing smile of amusement while standing back up and taking the bags with him.[break][break]

”Really, though? All this time~?” His tone was teasing as he hummed the words aloud, narrowing his eyes and perking a brow in mock disbelief as he rested his own bags by the ones his little companions set down.[break][break]

He opened one of them and quickly picked a plastic sealed cup out, offering it over to her alongside the straw that came with it.[break][break]

”Didn’t I text you, like, an hour ago? You’ve seriously been trying to pick something all this time?”

EUN-HA PARK [break]
mission: slumber party

☉

how dare. [break][break]

how dare he relish in her suffering. ... revel in her suffering? potayto, potatoe. he'd doubtlessly smother his hand in her face could he read her thoughts, and thankfully, he cannot. she narrows her eyes, giving a man a closer to deadpanned stare (that's trying to stifle in the pain, mind you. she's suffering and he knows that she's suffering, but this is a matter of pride she's trying to hold up). [break][break]

after she's sure he's read the note, she lowers the whiteboard and pulls the eraser over, clearing the dry-erase marker from the surface. this, she's found, is much more efficient than paper, and much easier to read than her phone. sure, she could just use her phone to text him when she wants to say something, but that would involve him having to pull his phone out, and using it, right? besides, it's not very healthy for the eyes to always stare at a screen all the time (she's better than that. better than nano over here). [break][break]

eun blows her tongue between her lips, followed by as groan as she begins to scribble again on the board. her hand releases her foot, which she - carefully - placed onto the ground. once again, she turns the board to face him, whilst her eyes turn to the plastic cup so nicely set before her. 'yeah,' it starts, holding the remote with her now free hand 'there's literally.. nothing to watch, so i guess we can continue watching business proposal' which she won't complain about, actually. it was a good drama, and it was a good choice, since they weren't able to binge it too much. [break][break]

she glances at the purple drink, with its familiar tapioca sitting at the bottom. with a smile to her lips, she takes the straw and breaks it free from its shackles (hah, take that, plastic) and pokes the pointed side through the top of the cup. she takes a sip until she gets a ball of tapioca in her mouth, then she turns back to the whiteboard to erase, and scribble, then show. [break][break]

'do you need help there? if you bought things to cook with, i can help you out too' she's written, with the image of.. what looked to be a little pikachu, peeking in the corner of the board like a gremlin.

Ryan Arcken

☉

His gaze briefly and instinctively drifted towards the board as she turned it away from him.[break][break]
It drifted towards the ground with a vaguely pensive look after the fact.[break][break]

He made sure that her attention was on none other than the blotches of ink that she was scribbling down, of course. Save for the times he was willingly expressing his comfort with someone he cared for, he was nothing if not subtle— and it was something that he couldn’t help but revisit and think about more recently in later days with each sentence he’d been given to read.[break][break]

...Stop being so selfish.[break][break]

It was a thought that almost made him cringe and smile wryly at himself— and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he wasn’t alone, it definitely would’ve done just that. Alas, though…he wasn’t alone. Not only were there other little creatures scampering around them (he smiled a bit more softly as he caught a glimpse of them playfully fighting with one another, just as they’d always seemed to do), but she was there, too. She was there.[break][break]

…She was there, but he found the silence deafening.[break]
On the topic of pride, though, it was something he’d never mention on his own.[break][break]

You’ll get to hear her talk again. …Just be patient, for fuck’s sake.[break][break]

Logically reasonable, but emotionally unnerving— all while being visibly unseen. Such thoughts were common to him, but he couldn’t afford to think on them so easily; he couldn’t afford to slip down into the depths of the rabbit hole he’d familiarized himself with so often. Though the silence was deafening, it was still comforting. It was better for the silence to be from her, after all.[break][break]

…Definitely not the absence of her.[break][break]

So, he continued on, peering back towards the board once the whites met his eyes and responding with a smile, as well as a humming, ”Yeah, sounds good to me~. I’ve been needing to catch up, anyways,” before glancing towards the other bags that she’d made reference to. Taking a quick moment to free a straw of his own, he took another one of the cups from the same bag the first one came from and stabbed it through the seal. ”Everything’s takeout, though~. Should be utensils in the bag, so it’s already ready to eat while we—...”[break][break]

He paused, blinking as his attention drifted to the corner of the whiteboard.[break]
His brows furrowed as a look of faux judgment surfaced.[break][break]

”...Eun, what the fuck is that?”

EUN-HA PARK [break]
mission: slumber party

☉

he tries so hard to hide it, and her, to ignore it. [break][break]

'why don't you just say something?' she asks herself in her head; 'it's not like you despise him, or resent him, so why torment him so' she asks again, with more of a bite to her own decisions. to any logical thinker, yes, perhaps she is coming off a smidge more petty than she should be. speaking doesn't take much effort, she was able to speak perfectly fine around her pokemon, and she knows that he's heard her voice before (he's heard it numerous times in the past, when she was openly talking and openly laughing around his presence, back when she was enjoying the small, mundane comforts like these til the days where she cried at him to listen to her explanation). [break][break]

selfishness? she should be the one apologizing when she's being so stubborn. when she's the one who wants to open her mouth and talk like she has in the past, when she's the one who wants to speak all the words she's in her mind. she's the one being selfish when she keeps her mouth shut, deluding herself into thinking that 'this is for the greater good', thinking that 'this is better for the both of us' (when it stings her, when it makes her cringe; when she has to start using the pain from her foot to mask the needles pricking at her heart). ah, had the pain transferred? she never noticed the transition. [break][break]

she knows better than any that the silence - though appreciated in some circumstances - has become a third wheel in their """friendship""". nowadays, the whiteboard is always between them and nowadays, her lips are always hidden behind the rim of the border. maybe she wouldn't catch his gaze the first few times with how diligent he is at masking the discomfort and the guilt, but after enough she's realized that the guilt is still with him, even after apologizing. even after forgiving. talking won't solve it, but talking will ease him of his suffering. [break][break]

she knows this. [break][break]

it's faint, but she's on the verge of parting her lips to say something - anything - before he starts to speak again, then she's brought back to her senses. he's being so casual, talking to her like he's having a one-sided conversation. would it be better for her to use a text-to-speech on her phone? that way, it would spare the both of them from the silence as she has to write (even if it may cause slight discomfort as her typing lags behind). to distract herself, she glances at the bags she now know holds take out, then smiles a little more. she's already eager to know what it is, and apparently her snorunt does to, with how she eagerly waddles up to the bags set to try and sniff at the components inside. [break][break]

her silence is only broken when ryan points at the little figure in the corner of the whiteboard, and she tilts it back to her to remind herself exactly what she drew. at, yes, the pikachu. another turn, a scribble, and all he'll see is an arrow pointing, written in big, red letters 'PIKACHU ==>' pointing at the little gremlin. her eyes squint as she smiles (at his bewilderment, and at his expense) then pulling out her phone to type out a message, and letting goomy translate speak out her message of: "what? you don't like the pikachu? question mark question mark" the robot speaks.

Ryan Arcken

☉

But it was only fair to treat stubbornness with stubbornness, now wasn’t it?[break][break]

That was the way he saw it, at the very least; similar to the saying, ‘blood for blood,’ or, ‘an eye for an eye,’ there had always been instances within the world that could only be fairly reciprocated and solved with equality. The same applied to the sheer gravity and stakes of a particular scenario. Equality had always been key. Equality had always been an important factor.[break][break]

So he, throughout all the time following, had always figured that she was as gracious as ever for not repaying him equally.[break][break]

Though she shifted her lips faintly within what could have (and perhaps was, in another universe; oddities and distortions in time were recently discovered to be a reality, after all) been the key to breaking a long, rightfully earned silence, it had simply been something that he hadn’t noticed. Be it due to his own thoughts or the simple thought to keep to leisure, he’d only given the little drawing (abomination) staring at him from the corner of the whiteboard several more moments of a judgmental stare prior to shaking his head with no shortage of exasperation.[break][break]

Reaching for the bags of food (though note without offering both his smile and a gentle pat to the ice type that found interest in them), he hooked a good few of them onto his fingers before making a swift, shortened stride towards the kitchen; his hands deftly and smoothly picking through the cupboards leveled with him in search of bowls and the like. With a soft rustle from the room he’d occupied himself within, he made quick work of undoing the knots that bound the bags before fishing their boxes out and beginning to transfer the food into the dishes he’d selected.[break][break]

He’d only paused for a split second at the note of the unfamiliar voice speaking to him.[break][break]

The connection of what it was sparked within his mind practically immediately, and the realization of such had faltered his smile so suddenly despite how he knew that it had to have been out of consideration— but the sight of such had been far from being able to be noted as he, himself, had been turned away towards the counter before him. A soft, silent huff of a sigh (a laugh; wry and disbelieving not towards her, but himself and the first thoughts that sparked within his mind as swiftly as transmissions between synapses) passed through his lips as he stared idly down at the box within his hands.[break][break]

…And just like that, he’d recovered.[break][break]

With a smile upon his lips and a perk within his voice, he glanced over his shoulder with a teasing look, calling a playful, ”Looks like Pikachu’s cracked up cousin, if anything,” out to her before promptly turning back towards the food before him. Gently setting the emptied box aside, he pulled the next bowl and container over to do the same. ”Bet he doesn’t get invited to too many family gatherings~...”[break][break]

Before long, he took the bowls within his hands, and even balanced a couple more against his wrists within a careful manner once the containers, themselves, had been properly set aside. His eyes narrowed naturally as the smile upon his lips broadened, and he nodded towards the television awaiting them before leaning down to set the food upon the coffee table set between it and the couches bordering it.[break][break]

”Anyways, I’ll be right back,” the teacher hummed, sparing her another look from over his shoulder before starting down another hallway. ”Gonna change out really quick— go ahead and just bring the show up and skip the intro~.”

EUN-HA PARK [break]
mission: slumber party

☉

mutual stubbornness was going to be the death of the both of them, and she's unsure if she wants this to be the hill they die, hand in unlovable hand on. by the time he has turned his attention back from the drawing, her lips have returned to being sealed, and the moment of weakness [break][break]

(where she was close to uttering a sound) was no more. maybe things would be going differently if she spoke. maybe she wouldn't be hurting him so, if she finally said something (but every time she wants to, eun has convinced herself that speaking will only hurt him. the words she speak are knives, after all. sometimes they don't cut immediately, but their blade will remain forever sharp, and will pierce through a heart in some future when she least expects it). again, eun, delude yourself into thinking that it's better to say nothing. [break][break]

let the silence convey the love he'll never confirm.[break][break]

because you're doing it for him? please. she knows she's doing it for herself. even when she knows the robotic voice might hurt him more than it will put him at ease, she does it anyways in the slim chance that it won't carve in yet another mark around the wound. he's recovering as quickly as he's cringing, but it's a bandaid fix that he can't hide - not when the blood starts seeping through. not when he's so desperate to reach for new cloth to cover the previously soaked. [break][break]

were it not for the whiteboard, he'd see her smile dip. were it not for how he's turned to the counter, letting out a soft laugh of disbelief, he'd be able to see the pensive, thoughtful, guilty expression to her face as she ponders. then parts her lips. then closes them again. a deep breath, and the flimsy resolve has returned. the flimsy, faux resolve that's gotten her this far.[break][break]

deep breath, eun. [break][break]

and smile again, and snicker again. smile and chuckle (the only vocal sound he'll probably get tonight) as you usually do, and play the part of ignorance until the pain has been laughed away. it'll do both of them good, she thinks. there's love in her silence when she gazes up at his profile, when she fixates her eyes on him in a way he probably has noticed (but insisted in his head not to think deeply on. insisted against on acting on. insisted that wasn't directed to him, and he'd no right to return it). [break][break]

so she types in her phone again, with the robotic voice to say "have f-you-you-you-you-you-you-you-en squiggly line" translating to 'have fuuuuuuun~'. sadly, the phone didn't translate when it wasn't an actually a word. she's already comfortable in her brown, pink and white onesie (distinctly inspired by a stufful) and she intends to stay that way, turning her attention back to the screen as she clicks through the shows, before coming across the one they were waiting for. [break][break]

... yet in her silence, she whispers to herself (certain he's gone, out of earshot, in his room, her voice is so soft), wondering why she didn't talk. why she can't talk. [break][break]

"why haven't i spoken to him?" the voice is drowned through the walls, muffled by the initial music that plays in the introduction sequence.

Ryan Arcken

☉

”You’re. So. Fucking. Sensitive~...”[break][break]

The first words (the last of which, specifically, seemed to be more of a laugh of disbelief) to leave his mouth amidst the sounds of a closed door, clicking and locking itself into place. While he hadn’t quite been lying when he’d told her that he intended to change into something more comfortable (the softened fabrics and cloth had been quick to find their ways between his fingertips, after all), the gates had already been pried open against his own preferences. He was always like this; he was always thinking. Beneath the guise of a smile, he was always thinking. Beneath the guise of idleness and neutrality with the less familiar, he was always feeling.[break][break]

His own silence had always been a curse that he cursed so profoundly.[break][break]

The words were spoken with a faintly wider and significantly more wry smirk to himself, though despite the expression (despite the click of the tongue he gave himself, and despite the press of his tongue against the inner wall of his cheek) he continued to walk through the bounds of his room, voicing an absentminded, ”Just take a breath…” as he drew his arms down to the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off, as well as an additional, ”Compose yourself! Just compose yourself…” while opening a drawer to pick another couple pieces of clothing out.[break][break]

Just get over it.[break][break]

And so he did. To the best of his ability, he did. As if a snake shedding his skin for the umpteenth time, he’d ridded himself of the clothes he’d donned during the day, and after trading them for the fresher ones he’d selected throughout his own, personal conversation, he took care to toss the former into one of his hampers before taking a deep breath. A quick sit upon his bed—as well as a deepened, venting sigh—later, and he shifted his gaze towards his door, once more; his fingers grazing the wood within an idle, absentminded manner as if they had a mind of their own prior to taking the knob and turning it.[break][break]

He opened the door silently and began his venture back through the halfway. The music from the show met his ears only moments after beginning his return, and as his feet carried him along within the same, silent manner that often warranted obliviousness from most people, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweats. Closer. Closer to the living room. Closer to the television, closer to her…[break][break]

And then he found himself slowing to a stop some feet away from the corner.[break][break]

It was faint. It always was, and he remembered as such after committing it to memory despite how long it’d been by then. Yet, faint as it was, it was something that he couldn’t help but notice within the lull of the volume between the scenes of the opening— and if it hadn’t been for the particular volume of the television itself, he may not have heard it, altogether.[break][break]

Truthfully speaking, he hadn’t quite known what happened. Blank. As far as he was concerned, his mind went blank, even as the show fell silent (he figured the program was paused once the beginning was finished playing), and even as all fell silent. His gaze fell upon the floor beneath him within an idle pensiveness, and before he knew it, he’d turned around and began walking back along the way he’d came from.[break][break]

He pushed his door open again.[break]
He entered his room again.[break][break]

Initially, he’d faced the door, itself, as he kept the knob turned, and the simple mechanism that would’ve otherwise clicked into place in; only releasing it once he’d pushed the door back into its frame— though silently and slowly so, lest the noise he was avoiding be made. Hues of gold and crimson lingered upon the divots and other indentations of the wood standing before him within an absentminded manner before he eventually—gradually— turned around and rested his shoulder blades against its surface.[break][break]

Grimacing softly to himself, he pressed his thumbs against the bottom of his chin, and he pressed his index fingers against his temples while the remaining fingers touched against the bridge of his nose. He sighed into his palms while shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows, breathing a low, slow sigh against his palms.[break][break]

”What the fuck am I even doing…?” he whispered softly, barely audible to even himself.

EUN-HA PARK [break]
mission: slumber party

☉

like usual, right? she'll just act like usually. she'll smile, snicker, and poke at him like usual, like she used to before they started talking more. like usual before they started getting closer, before she started getting too comfortable with him and before she started uttering words. before she started hurting him. yes, that's a good idea. go back to when they were enjoying their time together. she couldn't hurt him when she was silent, and bad things only started happening (things only started hurting) after she started casually talking to him. say it, eun. say it to yourself like a broken record, and repeat it in your head until you've committed it to memory. [break][break]

fake it til you make it. [break][break]

he'll hear her voice one day, this she knows. she can only hope that he won't talk about it, or react to it, or even acknowledge it (because she knows that by doing that, he'll be hurting again. she'll be hurting him again, she'll be making him think that he did something wrong, so wrong that she can't talk in front of him anymore (and to be blunt, he did, but to this degree she's on her own, keeping the words to herself, unspoken, even when the words can be read on her expression). [break][break]

pay attention to the screen as the pause symbol pops up, and don't mind the sound of the door that opens up - surely, she tell herself, he doesn't hear her - and wait for him to return with a smile on his face, looking cozy, and they'll sit down together to watch a drama with their bubble tea on the table. then they'll scream or snicker and point at the screen like a pair of idiots trying to shove their hands into each others faces. it'll be business as usual. it'll be as it always is. [break][break]

... it was supposed to be as it always is. [break][break]

that is until she hears the ever faint closing of the door a second time, and the beating of her heart drops, momentarily. it skips, and suddenly her chest weighs a thousand pounds. suddenly, it's become so much more difficult to breathe. suddenly, she's absentmindedly gripping on the remote, and something feels like it's wrapping its tendrils around her lungs, squeezing and coiling (was it always so hard to breathe?). in that moment, the pokemon stop to stare at the woman who gets up from the couch, quickly waling down the hallway. [break][break]

there was.. no way, right? there was no way he would hear her voice - not when she was so quiet. he couldn't have heard her speak when her voice was muffled by the walls and by the television. he shouldn't have heard her. he couldn't have heard her. god, please, make sure that he didn't hear her. there's so much she wants to say if she knows he heard him, she'll be closer, walking, inching closer to the cliff that will make her fall. fall into the temptation to talk more, hurt him more, she can't hurt him anymore. [break][break]

her footsteps stop at the door, and she parts her lips, wanting to talk. she's so close to talking. "ry--" she can bring herself to say, but it's so quiet. god, she wants to say his name. she wants to say it. why can't she just fucking say it?[break][break]

she wants to say it. [break][break]

but instead she takes a deep breath, choking on her own hesitation, and raises her hand to gently knock on the door. she won't say it - she can't say it, lest she shivers, and trembles - the regret was already weighing heavily enough.

Ryan Arcken

☉

Silent, just as he needed himself to be.[break]
Silent, just how it always had been.[break][break]

The time had been lost upon him before long; the sounds of idle life and occurrences (the ticking of the clock; the sounds of life beyond the windows; the footsteps that distantly approached beyond the door) swiftly becoming irrelevant and unnoticed to him, altogether, as they all fell into nothingness. Within a longer period of time, the tips of his fingers had applied more pressure against his skin. Within a longer period of time, the lids of his eyes clenched more tightly together. A familiar pressure made its gradual appearance within its head as it weighed down upon both body and soul, and as a dull sensation began to form within his throat, a slow, hissing, hoarse breath trickled from his lips in both agitation and attempt to comfort, alike.[break][break]

”Breathe…” he murmured to himself, furrowing his brows as even the airiness of the word prompted a rise within the sensations. With his shoulders lifting steadily in tandem to his chest, the air rushed in once more. ”Just breathe… You’ll be fine…”[break][break]

Faltering amidst a faint waver, he exhaled with a vague shakiness.[break][break]

”...You’re overreacting… Just get ahold of yourself…”[break][break]

In due time, his hands shifted further along his head; the pressure from such relieved from the form of his face, only to rest firmly against the sides of his head. Rather than his fingers, he’d sought to lower the palms of his hands against and into his temples, all while the fingers, themselves, curled and grasped more softly against his hair and scalp. The earlier words transitioned into a mantra. Airy. Calm. Tired.[break][break]

A toll, truly— and one that required a means of rest and support. Although the words escaped softly and silently between his lips, there came a time in which he allowed his weight to shift back; his shoulders pressing further into the wood of the door behind him as a means of security before he, himself, began to fold. Halfhearted within his desire for composure by then, the man moved his heels apart, slightly, in order to allow himself the space for descent. Amidst the light shining throughout the room, darkness had been all within his sights as hues of fatigued gold and crimson remained continuously veiled over, all while the chilled touch of the floors beneath him caressed him, and the light, itself, found itself severed slightly as it cast itself within the hallway beyond from the space it reached through.[break][break]

He smiled softly to himself, his head tilting up and against the same surface he sought sanctum against. Though frayed and tired, a brief strength resided within his chest as his tongue touched against the inner wall of his cheek once more, and in contrast to his earlier attempts at soothing, his words escaped the threshold of a whisper; his tone inheriting a faint presence.[break][break]

”...Don’t do it~...” he laughed softly, a light scrunch of the nose surfacing at the immediate note of the wavering tone his words had ridden upon. ”Don’t do it. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t—”[break][break]

His breath fell short as knuckles met wood.[break]
He fell silent in processing.[break][break]

Briefly had a sharp sense of panic resounded within his mind, but even then, through clenched teeth and a wry grin, he took a deep (and as stable as he could possibly muster, even if it was of a poorer attempt) breath. His hands lowered as he took a second breath, resting upon his knees as he eyed the space between them.[break][break]

”...Yeah~?”

EUN-HA PARK [break]
mission: slumber party

☉

a few moments feel like an eternity. [break][break]

what should she say? what could she say? should she even say anything? the way her body hangs before the door after the knocks linger in her air is nerve-wracking; her body is frozen and the regret is clamouring from the soles of her feet, but it's too late to pretend that it never happened. ah, this silence is deafening. this silence was going to be the death of her (never minding that she brought this upon herself; the fact that she won't speak means that she's the one bringing this silence, and the lack of response she hears on the other side of the door confirms it plenty, does it not?). she's hurting him, isn't she? because he heard her speak to herself. hadn't he heard the words that slipped from her tongue and from her lips, he'd be able to hold on for longer. had he not heard her talk, none of this would have happened. [break][break]

had she never talked in the first place, he wouldn't be in this state now. [break][break]

yes, eun. it's your fault. all of this is your fault. you talked to him, became comfortable with him, started enjoying yourself too much and started to get too comfortable with him. putting him through this is cruel, no? to make him sit through this torment, while the two of you still act as friends (when you know your heart will sting and when you know your breath will hitch when someone else mentions it). the question is: does she make it more of her fault by saying something? what should she do when her heavy heart starts racing, and her knees grow weak as her gaze stays fixated on a door she can't see past? ah, this feeling is suffocating. was this anxiety? [break][break]

it's so hard to hear him and it's so hard to see him through the door, and silence befalls them again. she's standing at the door, hands lowered down to her lap as she gently (anxiously) grips one arm in the hand of the other. calm her beating heart; she's starting to panic, and starting to feel light headed for something she can't even see. for someone's reactions she can't even hear; why is she being so anxious right now? because the air demanded her to be? why is she holding herself in such a way that tells her that she's scared? why are eyes of pink and brown narrowing at the crack beneath the door, and just what is she thinking as her fingers tremble, and as her lips part, then close, then part and close and part and close and part--[break][break]

then close, hearing a very faint murmur on the other side of the door. don't do it she hears once, twice, maybe three times if her ears are sensitive enough. her beating heart stops for a moment, cold as she stands at the door, knowing what she's done - knowing what she's done to him. ah, this was getting to be a bit too much, wasn't it? when only a word from her is enough to get this big of a reaction (part of her has known, though she's only wished to avoid it for as long as she could). she'll take that, however, as a hint. don't do it, she tells herself in her head. don't say his name, don't call for him, don't say it. don't do it. don't hurt him any more. don't do it, eun. [break][break]

.. but what if she regrets it? [break][break]

don't do it, but her heart will ache as she stares at the door. don't do it, but she'll regret not saying a word. don't do it, she'll tell herself, as she backs from the door and rests her back against the wall in the hallway, just across from the room. ah, her heart is pounding. it needs to shut up.[break][break]

"i.." her voice is low, in a whisper. she can barely cough up the words, never mind a sentence. so she frantically pulls out her phone, and wants to type, but her hands are shaking and the screen is becoming hazy, and fuzzy, and it's becoming hard to see as her face flushes and a drop runs down her cheek. ah.. it's frustration and guilt catching up, isn't it? when she wants to say something and when she knows that saying something will make him feel worse. when she knows she'll feel worse for making him feel worse. when she knows that she's the problem. [break][break]

eun trie to wipe the drops from her phone screen with the hem of her shirt, but her hands are so shaky, she fears she'll drop her phone. this isn't going to work, she thinks, and she lets out a forced chuckle, stifling back brief tears of frustration. "are.." she starts, unsure of her words. thinking too much on her words. not knowing how to speak. "you.. okay?" they're only three words, and yet her nails are digging into the side of her arm "are.. you okay?" repeat it, louder. [break][break]

"are.. you okay, ry--" and she stops, because she can't do it. [break][break]

ah, she can't do it.

Ryan Arcken

☉

...Don’t cry. Don’t do it...[break][break]

A plead to none other than himself, unbeknownst to the matters and struggles occurring just beyond the door that served as the only reprise and sanctum within the face of both mercy and mercilessness from whence she stood mere inches apart from him. Even as the singular word escaped his lips, the constrictive force weighing down upon him sought a tighter grasp upon him; its hand further digging its talons by his throat as the pain dwelling within it intensified for all of a few moments.[break][break]

He swallowed it down while waiting for a response of his own.[break][break]

Within an absentminded manner, his hands drew further along his knees in some shorter distance; the tips of such grazing lightly upon the tops of the bends prior to tapping upon them within a soft, rhythmically imbalanced manner. Orbs of aurous and scarlet hues continuously remained upon the space between their own places upon his form, dulled and tried with a vague loss of spark and life all the while. They lingered upon the expanse before him in general prior to focusing more intently upon the divots carved within the wood, and soon after, the divots within each individual plank. [break][break]

A means of waiting.[break]
A means of distraction.[break][break]

A means to save himself the ongoing pressure of mere existence within the midst of silence— and one that he figured would only continue on and on as he eventually turned his head towards the sight and averted his gaze towards the chilled floors by his flank. Inhaling deeply and and quietly, he settled his gaze upon the gap beneath the door as if awaiting some form of message or other means of communication, telling himself, I wonder how much she’s writing down,” as the silence within the midst of his reply only proved to lengthen more and more. The soundlessness of the scenario by those moments in time had admittedly brought a brief, albeit pitiful, sense of calmness and relief upon him as it gave him the opportunity to further gather his thoughts— though even then, the extensiveness of it had only proven to instill it once more as the thought of what could be happening within the hallway crept within his mind.[break][break]

Furrowing his brows, he began turning his head in order to examine his other side; an action that, in general, had never quite finished its round as the gentleness of spoken tongues touched lightly upon his ears. Although unseen by her, his eyes widened faintly upon note of the few words spoken to him, and his jaw hung slightly as he allowed himself the proper means to process it.[break][break]

…The proper means to process her words, and her tone, and her voice.[break][break]

Silence, responded to with silence. Though she hadn’t seen it, his eyes remained idly and vacantly upon the fabric resting upon his leg as he thought to himself. Though she hadn’t seen it, his lips gradually brought themselves together once more in a feeble attempt to further still himself in the midst of the further growing lump within his throat. He tried to swallow it again, and once he felt it surface once more almost immediately, had merely turned his gaze back towards its initial focus between his knees before trying again to no avail.[break][break]

...She’s talking. Why is she talking? had been the first thoughts and inquiries to roam his head, and with a small, grimacing furrow of brows, he narrowed his eyes while softly digging his nails into his knees while sliding a vague amount along the floor, all while his shoulders dug all the more into the grooves of wood behind him. Is this pity? Is this guilt? Why is she—...[break][break]

He paused.[break][break]

...What if it is guilt?[break][break]

The possibility, alone, caused a further furrow within his brows, and as his hands slowly reached forth to clasp together within a pensive manner, he fought back a third attempt of attack as the pain crept further up. Another silent, yet shakier breath drew itself in as a means and attempt to appease it. It worked to some minor degree, though he clenched his jaw, nevertheless, as he began tapping a thumb upon the other in rapid repetition.[break][break]

...What should I do? he thought to himself once more, achingly aware of the seconds—vital as they were—as they passed on and on. Shutting his eyes within a slow, gradual manner, he tilted his head up towards the ceiling. The tapping grew quicker. She already caught you. She’ll know if you’re lying, but the truth would just make her feel guiltier. It’ll just make it worse.[break][break]

The words settled for a while longer before he grit his teeth slightly, shaking his head with another, softly wry smile to himself.[break][break]

...Lies only ever make things worse, though. She doesn’t deserve that after all this time…[break][break]

Another breath. Deep. Held. Steeling. it remained within his lungs for a number of moments before escaping within the same, gradual span of time; his eyes slowly and narrowly opening to gaze distantly upon the ceiling above him all the while. Though faltering, the smile tugged upon his lips remained as his eyes creepy further along the spaces above him, and then in front him, and then ultimately towards the very same space before him again.[break][break]

”...I’ve been better. Not gonna lie~...” he murmured, his tone soft, yet surely enough to be heard, nevertheless. Tilting his head slightly towards his right, he trailed his gaze along and placed it upon the respective wall bordering him absentmindedly.[break][break]

They lowered in thought.[break][break]

”...What about you? You’re actually talking for once~...”

EUN-HA PARK [break]
mission: slumber party

☉

what a lose-lose situation. [break][break]

talking to him will result in regret. staying silent will result in regret. there's nothing she can do that will appease her, especially not when she's dealing with him. it's so difficult, isn't it? trying to strike a balance when she knows that the balance is what's going to hurt them. when she knows that it's the balance that's going to hurt him. so she pauses and she's quiet, keeping her gaze on the wooden door all the while. anxiety begins to creep at her heart again, and it's getting harder to figure out what to do. where does she start? where does she even begin? [break][break]

is it too late to revert to silence? perhaps it is, after she's struggled so hard to talk (breathing is starting to become a gruelling task; was the air always so heavy? was it always so difficult to breathe?). hand on her chest and hart desperately concealed with the sleeve, she takes another deep breath, and somehow it weighs even heavier against her shoulders. no doubt, he's asking himself why she's talking - or rather, why she's talking to him - and honestly, she'd take it back if she could. she can't anymore. [break][break]

though he hides it, pain is clear in his voice. even though he tries to steel himself and even though he's trying, so desperately, to keep her from knowing. he always was a horrible liar, but he was always good at finding ways to conceal his emotions - and frankly, she doesn't like it. not a bit, and yet here she is, entertaining it by not pushing against the door she imagines him leaning against. mixed eyes maintain their gaze, and she's pondering, deeply in thought before she hears his voice once again. [break][break]

and at that she pauses, pressing her lips thinly together. his silence is telling, really. it means he's spending more time alone in the room. alone in his thoughts. alone in his head. he had a habit of doing that (and when it happens she used to fill the silence with her voice, didn't she? but it's different now, when she told herself that she wouldn't talk until she's comfortable, but what's there to say when she's wanted to talk for such a long time, only to convince herself that "now isn't the right time"). her lips dip into a frown, and she's pensive while eyeing the only barrier. [break][break]

he's asking her why, and she has to ask herself. at least he's being honest this time. it's all she could ask for (it's more than she could ask from herself, really). but this time in their silence, she takes a deep breath and moves toward the door, fingers gently caress the knob as she tilts her head downwards. a mixed gaze lowers in thought, and she takes another deep breath. opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it, then closes it, then opens it--[break][break]

then she closes it.[break][break]

"mhm.." she only hums in acknowledgement, and agreement. at what? she's no clue, but it's to acknowledge his words. she intends to stay silent again, and to go back on her words, but it's a bit too late when he's already heard her voice. but maybe it's not too late, and he can pretend that she didn't talk at all. maybe that's for the best. maybe it's what he wants. maybe it's what he needs to be able to compose himself again. maybe she's deluding herself again. [break][break]

"... i can--" try to stifle the sting in her heart "go back," she continues, go back to what? to the living room and wait. the last words are kept to herself, in the back of her mind, as she takes a deep breath and envelops the knob in the rest of her grip, her other hand raising up to lightly tap the back o her finger against the wood ".. can i come in?" she asks, so softly by the door.

Ryan Arcken

☉