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(/ he quietly approaches the other, veiled footsteps until he’s right behind…then a slender digit reaches out to poke the other on the cheek, waiting for the other boy to turn around before saying with his usual gossamer tone and mischievous curl of his lips ) long time no talk, did you miss me?

(/ nothing.  hours upon hours and days upon days and the ticking of clocks; these are what he watches as monday, 4:27 turns to 4:28 and still, it’s all the same.  he feels rusty, and it’s true that ash may or may not have called him that — he’s old, he’s worn, he’s tired.  but still, his blinking eyes find peace in the familiar ocean blue that surrounds him, the white caps of mountains and sitting high atop places that only real people can see.  all he sees is white, and the ticking of clocks.  minutes.  hours.  he wonders what time is, why it ticks, why it moves and still he doesn’t change — still, he’s stuck.  

he feels like he has enough time, either way.

but in his world, it’s white.  it’s always white.  the shade of blue is distorted by eyes that aren’t his, he’s tired, tired — shocked.  it’s been the longest time since his skin ( ???? he doesn’t have any, he knows, he is just a figment of imagination and letters and lines, but for the sake of writing — ) the finger is bony and after pictures upon pictures, he knows who it belongs to — he knows the face from still images and moving photographs, high quality, 360p and everything in between.  he knows the voice, he’s heard it through her ears.  his eyes blink slowly and he turns his head to where he knows he should because this is the way it should be.  he sees white, and outlined in the white looking like an angel — or what media views as an angel, is him.  byungjoo smiles, or forces what looks like one — feels like one? he’s not sure, he doesn’t understand.  he tries. ) uhh i dunno, what does it feel like to miss someone? i mean, did you miss me —? from what i hear, i haven’t talked to like anyone in six months so, i’m not sure how it feels.  i think i hibernated.

[notbjoo-blog]

Do you believe that because you actually believe it, or do you believe it because you heard it from them first?

The Diviners by Libba Bray

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There are many answers, none of them right, but some of them most definitely wrong.

Ruth Ozeki, My Year of Meats (via desdemonv)

[notbjoo-blog]

bjoo, w h y?

[notbjoo-blog]

I can't act according to the rules, so I'm only going to DISAPPOINT you! ✖

[notbjoo-blog]

" ... ?" (/ okay, there's more punctuation but he can't help it so -- .  a speech bubble with the question mark forms above his head, he's curious, he's searching for the reason because he knows, he just doesn't know why.  he wonders what it feels like -- the sting, the biting of words.  does it hurt? can the words cut you and make you bleed red ribbons from your wounds, or is it just a saying? it's words that form monsters and mutants and them; he wonders why hansol's hurting, just when he spoke the truth and the truth is something you should always say, or --.  well, that's what she says, he frowns, he frowns deeper. ) 

" i'll always come back?? i mean, i didn't really leave i've been talking to cinny for like months i don't really know what you're talking about --.  or well, not talking about but thinking about ?? sorry for reading that, oops i guess it was kind of bad to do that, or maybe it wasn't or maybe you don't care?? hansol, why are you so upset you're acting like i'm gone forever i'm just .. 

i'm just back where i started.  back to a blank slate, it's okay i just.. i don't really like the colour white." (/ he stops for a moment, frowns.  that was written somewhere before a long, long time ago for a reason much unlike this one -- white trapped him once before, now he's lost to it.  it seems like he doesn't have much luck with the colour white -- ) " it's absent.  everything.." ( / the absence of colour.  the absence of worlds, only words fill up and cover him like black snow or dark ash raining from the sky like in that weird movie silent hill she watched the other day -- oh wait, backtrack.  

let's not get off topic, he thinks, he scrolls back up, he reads --. oh. ) " you weren't written to go away though, i mean not really you were just gone and you stopped existing because you weren't written for that's how these things go, you just.  disappear.  i disappeared, too.  it's not that bad once you get used to it, y'know --"  ( / he blinks. and  how can a soul bruise? it's something that you can't touch, just like him.  just like him. ) " ... ..." ( / his eyes shift closed, and when he opens them they're very far away when he smiles. ) " i think i need a reason."

hey — i know … i know i left first. ( ’ he sort of expected the sting that comes with saying that out loud, but that failed to lessen how much admitting it brought him down. all hansol thought about beforehand was where his lilac-wired, all-knowing friend had gone off to — he didn’t linger over the fact that he’d done the same thing, if only because kim byungjoo was more important when it came to things like this.

he was more important because you never knew if you’d be able to bring him b a c k. ’ )

i, uh … had to go away for a while and it lasted way longer than i wanted it to. honest — but … i’m back now, alright? ( ’ you wouldn’t have to twist his arm to get him to admit that he missed bjoo; it was a given, since that’s kind of what best friends do when they’re separated. ’ ) fancy … yeah, joo. ( ’ he doesn’t want to frown because that’s just not something kim hansol does, but there’s a fault in his smile as he looks at bjoo and sees all the ways a soul can bruise. ’ ) let me help you get out of there. to where i am — okay? just tell me what i have to do. 

[notbjoo-blog]

"Do you believe in luck?"

( / close your eyes, open them.  it's a daily routine, still nothing, still white surrounding him while words of black drown him out and blanket him in their sentences that form images that form worlds.  but the world never builds around him, never changes from the white he sees but he knows it's there, somewhere, lying outside him -- he just can't get to it, a frown, he wonders what it's like to want something; he wonders if he wants to get there anyway.  desire -- this isn't the point of this question, he knows that but it's thoughts that run rampant through his mind, especially when he sees the square image of a pretty girl in the corner asking him questions that make him laugh in retrospect.

luck.

maybe somewhere in some other world, he could believe in ' luck ' -- the ' him ' that plays video games, the ' him ' that dances, the ' him ' that's an idol, all of them, maybe not one of them but neo -- kim byungjoo -- the imaginary friend of a girl behind a computer screen typing out his thoughts into words, no, he doesn't believe in luck.  because what's luck to a contrived being; it's all plot device and furthering a story -- his fate is in the hands of a tiny girl while he sits upon a living mountain and gazes into the blank spaces and the blue that gathers at the edges of his vision.  luck.  luck is something extraordinary, he'd like to believe in it but it's not for him -- 

luck.

he wonders what it feels like to be lucky, to have golden sparkles trailing at your toes and push you the extra step to win the race, to win the lottery, to win, to win, to win --.  he wonders if he'll ever win anything, but then again, it wouldn't be him that's winning.  it will be the idea that drives it, so is it really luck at all? a sigh, a smile.  distant eyes that look at her but don't really look at her at all since she's just a picture at the corner of a tiny screen -- ) " i don't really think that luck is something that can happen to me, i mean, i guess it can, but it's hard to explain because really it's all just the contrived notion of someone that powers me it's not really luck that happens -- well, that didn't make much sense; did it.  i guess the simple answer is no ??? yeah, i keep using too much punctuation, i need to stop doing that hm."

[notbjoo-blog]

And how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

[notbjoo-blog]

The only people who ever get anyplace interesting are the people who get lost.

Henry David Thoreau  (via vespurs)

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[notbjoo-blog]

who did you leave behind at xavier's? do you miss them?

( / gray faces.  he half missed them but they're the ones that tend to ' hurt ' people, they bring something dark that dampens the people he can see, the people he can talk to and it makes their shoulders sag when they think, when he reads their words and there's something heavier about them.  he thinks that's what they call sad, and surely this question is meant to be no different because it pulls a kind of emptiness in like a blanket and brings tears hot and stinging to bright blue eyes that are not his own.  and then there's the tell tale clacking of keys, he should be answering instead of thinking of gray faces and the way they mask their sometimes horrid curiosities, their sometimes horrid words.  

because he's really supposed to be thinking about xavier's but thinking about xavier's is another lifetime, a loss -- it's very far away and he struggles to bring the words to his tongue, struggles to think, struggles to make it real before the memories wash in over him like a tide and it's like he's watching a movie that isn't visual, only letters that become pictures that thrust him back in time -- 

there was the dancer boy who brought with him fire from his hands, the ' older brother ' who swore to bring him light but cast demons into people's heads.  the girl who calls himself his older sister when she's still younger than him, she's graceful like a wolf and can turn into one, too --.  there's so many people.  so many that he half forgets their names but it's easy to roll them off his tongue -- but it's a sin, he was cast into a white hell and so he does not speak their names lest they turn to nothing, too. ) " i'm not sure what you want to know, gray face -- you know, it's been written somewhere that i'm not meant to have friends and missing someone seems like an awfully hard thing to do --

besides, what does it feel like to miss someone?? for me, i feel monsters nipping at my toes and the rest of me and sometimes i wonder if there's anything left but then i'm still here talking to you so does that mean you're missing someone or does that mean you're suffering?? i wonder if you can see the bloody mess." ( / a quick and biting laugh.  he continues to think and all his memories of xavier come to him in droves, he tries to stop but it only intensifies the throbbing in his temples so he just lets them wash over him like the sea he's drowning in. ) " i left behind a lot of people, but -- i don't .. .. " ( / a pang in his heart and he's certain it'll rip him in two, and if he's not careful it could.  he sighs, he purses his lips, he continues, ) " but i guess you want to hear about someone since you're curious enough to ask and idk should i be talking to you in italics, i hope you don't think i'm rude or i'm mad or anything because i don't even know what it takes to be angry, i -- " ( / he clamps his mouth shut like it'll stop the train of words pouring from fingertips, and it almost does, for a moment -- but it doesn't stop the thoughts, so he's still watching letters become words and words become sentences and wow, this is probably really confusing and not what this anon expected at all.  oops, he's probably been doing that a lot tonight -- )

" there was once a boy who could turn things to gold and it was written to be that he was special, and i created butterflies in the pit of my stomach that exploded in shots of gold and blue and colour.  but something happened, and he left, too."  ( / a thin, wan smile takes his face and he rests his head on the nothing that surrounds him, closes his eyes. ) " we were all of us born from nothing, so we go back to nothing.  xavier's is easy to leave and die a death without words, or maybe it isn't since i'm still sitting here.  or well.  i don't know, does being able to type these words to you mean i'm really sitting here?? what do you think, anon?" ( / he laughs and it's loud and it echoes in the nothing, so he just sprawls his limbs out onto white expanse and lets himself be covered by the words. ) " anyway, that was another lifetime in a closed directory so maybe it's time for some new memories.  or not.  i don't know.  maybe it's just better if i sleep if i can, but oh, insomnia --"

[notbjoo-blog]

yknow you're not very good at keeping the people who care about you updated on where you've been kim byungjoo >:/

( / ... awkward that he shows up when ash was crying over hanjoo five seconds before. okay. way to make an awkward entrance, that's just fantastic. ) " you have impeccable timing, kim hansol." ( / his eyes blink open and he sees him, but he doesn't -- his eyes are still far too distant and swimming in the blue, focusing in on an unmoving face like a photograph and the way that words pepper the screen and fill it full.  ) " didn't i tell you that you shouldn't talk in emotes i mean technically i'm the only one that can do that and you still can't even see it, but like why are you making that face at me what does it mean -- ??? i really need to stop with the extra punctuation ... " ( / he sighs, he sits up from the position he's in lying spread across a white and solid ground, pulls his knees into his chest and thinks.

he's nowhere, and he's everywhere or maybe he's just hidden someplace in south korea like his bio says but even still, this doesn't look anything like the south korea shown to him in pictures passing.  he thinks, he thinks hard -- but wasn't hansol the one who left before? time is a blur and it's been written once before that kim byungjoo does not understand the passing of time for a creation of a little girl behind a computer screen -- he thinks that it should be mother time, not father time in this case but this is going really off tangent and he should be thinking about hansol, should be thinking, should be -- ) " you left before i did." ( / it's true, the events were a blur but he was written on a check and was so written out of existence and there was loss and then there was nothing, but now he's here and that's a very very strange occurrence indeed.

not much stranger than byungjoo himself, but -- ) " you won't like it where i am.  i think i'm someplace between memory and a dream, but that sounds really fancy don't you think --"

[notbjoo-blog]

Honest hour. Nothing will be deleted. Just come and ask.

[notbjoo-blog]

suuup?

( / he opens an eye, opens two; white and blue sift into his vision and he's back at it again --.  he knows what this is, he's been here once before though he shouldn't be back again.  he has no reason to be back again; but here he is and it's what she wants, so.  oh well.  a frown, a smile, he's not sure what he should show and if he's to be honest he's not really even sure what he should be feeling because, well, his setting is gone and the only thing left is an expanse of white that keeps filling up with letters and words and --

he sighs 

this was just supposed to be a simple question but things are rarely pure and never simple.  or that's what he heard when he watched a scene from atop a living mountain, through the eyes of a girl that gives him life with the words that drown him in lines of text.  he blinks, he purses his lips, his eyes slowly shift their focus and he's real, just for a moment; just for a moment he can see something different than the white that usually plagues his vision, the blue that swims on the edge of his focus.  a strange feeling prickles his skin and he smiles with eyes half - closed. ) " i don't really know if i'm tbh i only just got back -- shouldn't be using chat speak but here we go again, i'm too lazy to delete that or, well, i guess it doesn't matter.  what's up with you?"

[notbjoo-blog]

　　I'M AFRAID I CAN'T EXPLAIN MYSELF SIR, BECAUSE YOU KNOW I'M NOT MYSELF

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 　　　　　　██　 ██　 ██　　　　　　　( NOW LEAVING XAVIER'S SCHOOL )

　　　　　　　　★ `  kim byungjoo, neo. formerly affiliated with xavier's school 　　　　　　　　for gifted youngsters; an expert mutant gifted ( though some 　　　　　　　　would call it cursed ) with ' fourth wall awareness '. he doesn't 　　　　　　　　know where he is anymore, he's lost to a sea of white memory. 　　　　　　　　he says he knows too much, and that he speaks for his mun, 　　　　　　　　who is inclined to agree.

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