Realistic or Modern 〜 kalopsia 〜

[akeno]

kalopsia

akeno & matcha girl

 

[akeno]

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kinda awkward ...

outfit link

the train

narin

seunghyuk

seunghyuk

the train's back-and-forth motion between his workplace and home was lulling seunghyuk to sleep, but when the clock struck midnight on that monday evening, the train became quiet. he'd just ended his last day, and a shroud of dread had wrapped itself around him. he submitted the missing report exactly four days ago, and he hasn't heard anything from the police department since. seunghyuk swallows the lump in his throat and tucks his chin into his knee even more. it's not necessary to be concerned; everything is alright. it's great; he'll put his faith in them for the time being. he can’t gain anything from unnecessarily nulling over it.

the fluorescent lights flickered as they went underground again, no longer exposed to the on-off street lights outside or distant automobile noise, and instead the screeching sound of the wheels on the metal tracks jolted him awake slightly, though he didn't open his eyes. the train came to a halt, seunghyuk clutched his knee closer to his chest, and someone exited the train. after that, someone else boarded. they were two or three seats away from him and on the opposite side of the car, according to the sounds of it. the train began to move as the doors closed behind them, and seunghyuk felt himself doze off again.

it trundled and creaked its way into the tunnel, turning each curve as if trying to avoid being pursued, and the person on the other side rummaged through their bag for something, as if hunting for their rescuer, which they had suddenly misplaced. something heavy spilled out of the bag and onto the chair next to them (a potentially risky maneuver given the circumstances), followed by a water bottle, and they swore.

or she swore. since seunghyuk had opened his eyes by this point.

she was a brunette, an incredibly pretty brunette. however, her attractiveness wasn't what kept his attention. to him, the heavy object wrapped in bubble wrap looks strangely familiar. perhaps he's just paranoid. as the pretty lady zipped up her bag as if nothing had happened, as seunghyuk continued to stare. and, yes, it's possible that seunghyuk was just being nosy because nothing had happened. however, the item appears to be eerily similar to one of minjae's personal paintings. the paintings that he refused to sell and only showed it to the people to who he was closest.

strangers are an odd concept, he had always remembered his parents teaching him about how he should never speak to a random person. but how will we ever meet people if we don't? make new connections? so, what's the big deal about talking to strangers? perhaps it's the fact that they have the capacity to harm you, or in the worst-case scenario, kidnap or kill you. so he decides to disregard his mother's concerns, such as when she said he shouldn't move out of his parents' house. and decides to poke his nose into something that shouldn't really concern him at all. but what options did he have? he’s not going to be sitting still like ducklings and wait for the radio silent police station to feed him some useless information, or some pity apology about not being able to find him.

he tilts his head back to look at her, only to discover that she was already staring at him. seunghyuk's cheeks light up and warm up in response to the gesture. and he swiftly breaks eye contact, his gaze wandering away from the girl. he asks after a few seconds of silence, "ah, that painting—do you know who made it?"

seunghyuk clears his throat again because he fears he's lost his voice. “i—i mean i’m just asking because i’m friends?” voice perching up as he seemingly questions himself, because are they really considered friends then again? “well, maybe acquaintances or some sort. and he happened to like—disappear? so i was wondering if you kinda like—know what he’s up to right now. i guess?”

[]

 

[matcha girl]

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sorry pretty boy

[ 1 ]

the train

seunghyuk

narin

narin

"what a polite bastard, leaving and making me clean up his mess."

narin didn't quite understand why she was the target, the one who is always supposed to clean up her brother's messes for him. was it because she posed herself as weak, made himself more vulnerable, or was he has simply given to her as punishment from god herself.

whatever the reason is, she still somehow finds herself standing in front of his old apartment, breaking the locks to get into his home. the stupid police force and their need to lock and tape everything up. who even is the kid that ordered them to look for minjae. because all they have been doing is making a bigger mess than it is and interfering with her work. and frankly, it's incredibly annoying. muttering curses under her breath, it's going to be midnight soon and if she wastes any more time doing this, narin is going to be late for the meeting. that she was not informed about until earlier today. but her boss is already incredibly pissed at her, over trivial matters too. perhaps it's racially motivated.

with a tiny little cackle, she stumbled backward and maneuvers her handy work. after thirty whole minutes, she has finally managed to break into her own brother's house. slinging her backpack up, she slowly pushed the door open and quickly moves into his bedroom to get all of his stupid paintings. the one that he insists her to protect no matter what all those years ago as if minjae perfectly knew what was going to happen. or maybe nothing happened to him, and he just wanted to flee from her life once again.

whatever the answer was, it caused narin to linger a little too long, which resulted in the outcome she had predicted. prompting her to sprint two at a time down the steps to the platform so she wouldn't have to wait 30 minutes for the next train. she hears the familiar sound of a robotic voice booming through the empty station as she swipes her card: "the next uptown train, x, is about to arrive. please keep your distance from the platform's edge." there is no way she's going to miss that damn train today, her boss is definitely going to fire her, regardless of her high position in the company, if she does.

she can hear it approaching as she runs towards the platform, can hear the metallic clacking of the train as it barrels into the station, can hear the grinding scream of the brakes as the train slows to a halt. narin practically throws herself down the stairs feet stumbling over one another as she sprints towards the train, slipping through the closing doors at the last possible moment.

at the very least, today's train isn't jam-packed with sweaty and irritated passengers; instead, there's an elderly lady reading a hardcover book with the paper sleeve removed and a boy on the opposite end of the car who is currently having his knee pulled up to his chest. who seems to be sleeping. as the train begins to move, she lets out a quiet sigh and drops into one of the unoccupied seats.

it takes her a few moments to recover her breath, but as soon as she had regained control of her operating levels, her phone began to vibrate in her purse. while she was trying to retrieve the still vibrating phone, one of minjae's old paintings slipped out

she doesn't miss the way the boy in front of her opened his eye. observing her stuff the ridiculously large picture into her backpack. as she quirks one eyebrow up at the look on his face, the notion of acknowledging it flashes through her head her amusement continues to increase as his face begins to heat up at the sight of her staring right back at him.

"ah, that painting—do you know who made it?" the...painting? out of everything, why would he mention that? well, maybe he does technically somewhat looks like an art nerd, maybe she should ie and tell him that she was the one who created it. after everything narin has done for her little brother, she would after all appreciate getting a little something back.

as if noticing her hesitation, the boy spoke up once again. "“i—i mean i’m just asking because i’m friends?" ah, good thing she didn't lie there then. was he the one who filed the missing police report then? maybe, just maybe she can keep him around for a little while.

but then again, she wouldn't allow herself to do so, to let him linger in her business any longer and possibly ruin his life. he most likely has a normal and innocent life. what is the point of destroying it just for her personal needs? and so narin decides to play nice as she doesn’t let her own gaze drift, only continues to maintain eye contact as his question reaches her. "this painting?" she starts off "it was laying randomly in a dirty alley, and i thought it looked pretty nice. so, i took it."

her reasoning is irrelevant, although he does look like he did take it for real. and while she's already possibly talking to the kid that filed the police report, why not get rid of him once and for all. the more he pokes his head into this matter, the more at risk he is.

"however, that friend of yours." she pauses, but when she speaks up again, the tone of her voice has dropped lower as she tilts her head up at him, and her eyes so slightly darken, "if he really was your friend, would he really leave you out of nowhere like that? with no notice too, i'm assuming. wouldn't it be best if you just stop looking for him?"

 

[akeno]

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fuck being conan

outfit link

the train

narin

seunghyuk

seunghyuk

the nervousness that consumed him had quickly been drained out of him, one thing that seunghyuk does know for a certain is that the pretty lady is lying to him. for what reason he doesn't know yet, but there are a hundred or more reasons that could answer his question, and all of them running through his mind before the darkening eyes looked up at him, and sets his ever-busy mind to rest.

his headache sharpening and black eyes fixed on the other girl as she continues to talk, "wouldn't it be best if you just stop looking for him?" a faint scoff was forced out of him, perhaps she would have been a tad bit more persuasive — possibly a lot more persuasive — if she hadn't made up the thoughtless explanation on the spur of the moment — he's presuming, to cover up the fact that whoever this stranger is, with the weird big black bag and all of the plastic wraps, she has one of minjae's most beloved paintings. (or, again, was he just envious because he was never allowed to even touch it, yet now here he stands, watching a complete stranger is holding the painting?)

as he thinks about it, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, "i guess you could be correct." seunghyuk trailed off hesitantly, mostly murmuring quietly to himself. there's a chance she, the stranger, is lying, but there's also a huge chance he's just being paranoid. and, as it turns out, acting on his sentiments alone and calling her out on the premise of flimsy evidence isn't the brightest decision ever. if worst comes to worst, he could get shot, or he could simply look like a dumb douchebag for getting mad at a stranger after his big brain started assuming all sorts of stuff.

what could he possibly do now, he sighed. persistent questioning will heighten her suspicions and, well, there's always the risk that he's merely banging on death's door by even questioning her. burying his head into his knee, potentially making himself even more vulnerable than before. however, while seunghyuk's inner argument continues, the warmth provided by his own body heat is possibly the only thing keeping him sane. "so i take it that you don't know minjae—the painter of that artwork you're holding, right?" whether or not she lies to him, it doesn't really matter; his day has been exhausting enough as it is; adding further stress to the mix won't help.

in the state of half-consciousness, his mouth gets a little bit looser. he didn't realized what he'd accidentally said at first; it wasn't until the stillness that followed and surrounded the train that he understoodl he'd mistakenly referred to the stranger as: a liar. a slight grimace crossed over his paling face, as he clears his throat again. "sorry—ah i didn't mean that. ignore it..." he drawls the word out, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, and failing miserably. at first, he was hoping that she wouldn't catch what he had mumbled out, but perhaps then again the clear silence would have answered his failed prayers. "what was i on about before .. that?"