CURIOUS MANNERS

is he making her tick? – sehun enjoys the little frazzle of the neurones running through the head, whizzing endlessly, stripping and dissecting the very drawl of his words. from his tone to the way the dismissive, placid eyes to the girl, sehun wants her mind to whirl in intrigue. 

because surely, his does. 

because who is ‘jennie’? there is an infatuation with curiosity this meddling man has, his familiarity, friendliness even with the unfortunate concept of how curiosity killed the cat. there is an attraction, allure to an elusive nature to someone. – he’d like to think ‘jennie’ was lying. 

after all, she says something like ‘just as you are’ with the double reassurance, pointing out that once again, she was ‘not’, she was just as he is. (now any commoner, let alone the spectacular vibrant brilliance could sniff out a little dancing facade of a lie!) 

“right, right.” he doesn’t give her the benefit of a single comforted thought. 

he pillages the mind, reaps and claws the fertile grounds he manages to walk past, spilling his flowing venom to seep into others. aggression in subtle hostilities, that was oh sehun. 

writer, gravedigger, certified creature of havoc (synonym of monster, but he wouldn't’ go there.) 

“a girl like you isn’t just like me, i’ll tell you that.” tepid blood, only rising to the occasion of this little jennie to pique with a secret to have his ears ringing. oh sehun’s arrogance proves as a repetitive act of hubris but there is something that rings in the divine air he carries that even smells peculiar in the air. 

our said jennie, with her words like a sharp whistle ringing through the air, liar liar. “for one, my mouth doesn’t spill fabrications, and girls like you –” 

and maybe, if he’d rile some flaming ego in his audacious talk, they’d make progress. 

“you stench of something of the sort.” 

_{Who knew all along this quest could be the final, and one to become her undoing.}

_{She despised being read. She didn’t need anyone analyzing her or bringing repressed fears and conflicts into her conscious mind. She imagines only the twisted would. For what purpose? To take advantage of her flaws? To feel superior?}

_{She’s especially susceptive to this kind of behavior now that she was perched on the edge and petitioning for sanity like a flimsy trinket suspended by a single fraying string. Her internal tracks were diseased, every crevice like death. Her body ached with alternating bouts of gastric pains and a burned back. Even waking up and walking to the bathroom every morning was sheer agony.}

_{The quality of her life was greatly diminished with the daily thought of dying, and the inability to reach out to a myriad of modern doctors to seek treatment for the incurable illness no one her age should suffer. She would sink into periodic pits of despair; berating herself and denying this was her fate. For the first time ever in her life, she had to seek help or she would die. And this man was acting like he knew. How?}

_{‘You stench of something of the sort.’ Such words were something she would hear only from those aware or at least acknowledge the possibility of this other reality she springs from. She first dismisses the implications with prejudice; being indirectly told she’s lying and being bundled into a certain simplified image. Her skin forms a crease in the middle of her forehead, teeth gritting in her suppressed anger. “I asked you what I get out of this. And what do you get out of this?” She reiterates with emphasis and a tone firmer than the previous, stepping closer. Close enough to where her eyes cross within the focus of her sight, stare piercing like a thousand paper cuts.}

_{This was being human. To have a full range of emotions — a full ‘tool kit’ in the terminology of a tinkerer. She devolved to have them all deeper.} 

_{Arms stay tight to her core, forearm pressing against her chest along the narrow keystone of her rib cage. Regardless of his towering height, she aims for a neck grip with the impulsive grab on his collar. She could take him down or set up a throw anytime (she was halfway to it with her hips tucked and under his) but his lanky body and the chanting words of her conscience constant with ‘honor’ held her back. Slowly, her hands retract.}

_{A battle was happening inside her. The lump in her throat against her thoughts. “So what if I’m fabricating?” There’s instant regret in admitting and it’s manifested with the way her gaze falls. “What do you want…” It turns out it was true she was begging yet with a false face to poke holes at how very weak it was of her.}