#Jae vc: GO AWAY I'M TRYING TO KILL MY EMOTIONS IF YOU DON'T MIND

[gcldfanged]

@thronelessprince

How much blood could the human body hold?

It was a question that he’d asked himself countless times. How much blood did a person have? What injuries would it take to kill them? How would they look as they begged for their lives?

It hadn’t even been planned out, just a lucky guess. Sawing through the carotid artery in Masa’s neck. He was a well built man- Thick with muscles, strong, even a little handsome. His veins were easy to spot, they bulged from the backs of his hands, down his arms, through his neck. His heart was still beating, fruitlessly pumping more blood up to his brain. Spraying out of the severed artery like water from a burst pipe. 

It was warm when it misted his clothing, soaked into the knitted fabric of his sweater vest. Pure white blouse and pleated skirt streaked with red. Loose socks heavy with vitae. He’d never stepped foot into a school building in his entire life. The uniform was little more than a sick parody, a mocking spectacle made to entertain his former owner.

The image of his savior had burned itself into his memory- Tall with auburn hair, steely eyes, and a scar running along the side of his cheek. The tall man stepped forward and suddenly his jacket was draped around Jae’s damp shoulders- the collar smelled like crisp wintry woods his grandfather used to hunt in, herbaceous and green, with just a touch of sweet sulphurous cognac. 

Jae had loved it. The way he looked, smelled, spoke. It wasn’t enough to be like Verdot, he wanted be Verdot. It was a dark desire that coiled deep inside his chest, too ruddy and intense and obsessive to be called a distant dream.

And yet, in this moment, Jae-hyo sees him for what he truly is. He’s just a man- Human. Fallible and flawed. Vulnerable. Selfish. Tragic.

Broken.

He takes a step forward and rests his hands upon broad shoulders he can now easily reach, and smiles. 

“From now on, I hope every day is a quiet nightmare. I hope that every moment is terrifying and meaningless. And when you do finally begin to take your last breath, I hope it’s somewhere dark and cold without an ounce of warmth or kindness to ease your rotten soul into the afterlife. You’re going to die, pitiful and alone, in complete ruins with no dignity left.”

Jae leans in, pressing his lips to the side of a scarred cheek, lowering his voice to something soft- like a lover might use. Granting his former idol a cold and gentle kiss of death.

“Don’t let me down.”

-

Rows of empty bottles and glasses form a kind of defensive wall around the former Turk, who currently has his face buried between his crossed arms. He looks like a depressed salary man (albeit with a better suit), having long overstayed his welcome. The employees just look tired and too frightened to ask him to leave so they could go home and pass out, only to wake up and do it all over again.

A black and gold cigarette smolders in a crystal tray, burning down to the ornately decorated filter with a long, cylindrical piece of ash- Untouched and forgotten.

Crisp footsteps echo on a tiled floor, announcing someone’s presence in a manner too obvious and dramatic to be anything than the lofty display it was.

Jae clenches his eyes shut against the dim lighting of the bar top, crushing his forehead against his designer watch and leather gloves. Maybe if he presses hard enough, he might hit brain matter. The alcohol should have long numbed his emotions, fermented his amygdala. 

“Get lost, I’m busy drinking here if you haven’t noticed,” he remarks icily, the effect somewhat lessened due to being muffled.