FROLIC LIES||Seongjoong

3: Cerise Lights

Love is death camouflaged as rhapsody, however no one knows that it is actually literal death -ugly and gruesome- veiling itself in the visage of beauty. It's divine, it captivates and stirs souls of folks, but leaves them craving and yearning for more.

It's like a canvas of tapestry, filled, but when the thread loses its track of time, it falls apart in the hands of the maker. With the vows of eternity, the lovers may begin, but it has to bid the last of its goodbyes before parting ways from the barrier it was attached to.

It falls, and an atramentous ink spreads through it, coating it in its wicked pigment. Love is not true. It's just a myth.

The sun had settled when Hongjoong stepped on the pavement in a city, the sapphire color of night enveloping the sky like a tyrant spell. The stars humming a serenade, and a cold breeze messing around with people.

Hongjoong didn't favor hell.

The bellicostic persona of devils and demons there piqued his senses, how they searched and scavenged for battles here and there. How each one of them has hurt each other physically.

Hongjoong didn't like it. His skin was known for being exaggeratingly pale and sensitive, their lord designing him in such a way to satisfy humans, but the other sins have always seemed to take advantage of it. Bruising him and scaring him in numerous ways which were nefarious.

Only if he could shut them off. But now it seems only death will stop them from bugging Hongjoong.

Hongjoong was made 25 years ago.

He is young and youthful, but his life is in dull colors of ash and dove. He has no confidant, that's why he is always restless. But does he need one?

Hongjoong's mantle swayed behind him as he lurched on a stone, staggering forward with uneasiness.

Strong arms caught him before he could touch the rocky ground, holding him up steadily. Hongjoong was met with big brown eyes, high cheekbones and full, mushy and fuchsia-like lips. He had a flamboyant aura around him, mahogany wavy hair.

"Hey there, are you okay?" He was huge, way taller than Hongjoong. But he had a genuine, altruistic smile taking over his lips.

"Yeah, I am okay." Hongjoong smiled back, small but authentic.

"You don't look like you are from here, yeah?" The tall man started.

'Only if you could know where I am from.'

"Uh yeah, no, I am from the countryside. I was involved in a theater play here, so don't mind the way I am dressed." Hongjoong grinned broadly, witty and astute.

If anything, Hongjoong deeply desired human touch. And this broad man looked extremely scrumptious. Hongjoong could make this man lose himself in a reverie, sirenize him keenly and throw him into complete disarray. He wouldn't mind, right?

He seemed affected, confound eyes peering at him. "Oh I wish I could see one of your plays." He sighed, like a forsaken husband, seeking to luxuriate in the warmth of his opulent wife. "My name is Yunho, what's yours?" He was deceived.

"Hongjoong."

"Pretty name for a pretty face." Yunho commented, eyes ogling at the curve of Hongjoong's gown, which was accentuated with extravagant ornaments.

Hongjoong smiled coyly, lifting a finger to Yunho's lips to silent him, "no talks, take me to your house?" He asked fervently, candid and spontaneous, but that's how humans preferred things.