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Jihae

carpe noctem
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. 1-3 posts per week
  3. One post per week
Online Availability
Saturdays and Sundays.
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Transgender
Genres
Romance. Modern. Dystopian. Horror.
°☆ — sacrosanct love




( Worship ) your body as you walk my way
You're the only one who can make me pray*
I fall at your feet, your breath defined
And underneath my skin's an intrinsic shrine
Drink my tears, I'm at your mercy
I love you most, but I'm not worthy
I'll give my soul, sacrifice me
'Cause your l ❤ v e is holy

 
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H.
Your memory is a monster, it summons with will of its own. You think you have a memory, but it has you.
INCONCLUSIVE MEMORIES.
For what seemed like a full decade Hansol was stuck in his car traveling along highways in silence, the sound of gravel crunching under his tires a soothing melody. There were two places he frequently commuted to when he wasn't stuck inside his office signing paperwork or testing microchips and new phone features: His penthouse, or hospitals, the latter more frequented due to his condition. "Shit," Hansol muttered under his breath. Though he was in a state of halcyon, he did experience withdrawal symptoms a while back and he hasn't taken his pills for a while. Just the thought of his withdrawal made the symptoms of masochism linger like a mild heatwave, the sharp fragments of glass still embedded deeply into his skin. The nurses were probably going to send him to the place he dreaded most if he couldn't successfully draw a mask over his feelings: Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit, or PICU. Every time he went in there the woman who accurately and obsessively claimed to be his mother would interrogate him and make him susceptible to anything. Whenever he came out of PICU his experiences were mixed and no occurrences in that room made any sense. That woman, who he wouldn't even dare call his mother, was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Though they had the same genes it was like they were from entirely different worlds. The stars in the sky slowly moved passed him as he stared absentmindedly on the road in front of him, his index tapping softly at the leather steering wheel, waiting for the stationary traffic to finally clear. The feeling of glass inside his skin soon subsided into nothing. Feeling weirded out by this, Hansol touched his hand with delicate digits, though this caution didn't help much because as soon as he touched his hand, the pain shot through and moved to his whole arm, causing him to wince. "Fuck," he muttered frustratingly. He went too far, again. This sort of pain required surgery, but he hoped that through deliberate persuasion he would bypass that procedure. Hearing a car horn from behind him, Hansol snapped from his thoughts and realized that traffic had started to move. He nodded in apology, though he knew that the car behind him wouldn't even see it, and drove off.

The hospital peered over the hills as he drove closer. It was a massive building with many floors, and it shined more brightly than a nightclub at this hour. Curtains and medical equipment showed themselves almost intimidatingly through the clean glass windows, but there was one window in particular that stood out to him. A window that was oh-so familiar. The lights in the room weren't on, an immediate giveaway to who that room belonged to. His psychiatrist's office. Hansol knew she was always inside the building, walking around to get some exercise in, but she was never in her office unless there was a patient to be cared for. It always seemed like he was her only patient since the lights were never on during the rest of the week. Nevertheless, he parked in a space closest to the exit and could already see patients traversing through those automatic doors; stuck to oxygen tanks, IVs, walking canes, or wheelchairs. Thankfully, he was never in that sort of position despite his tendencies to send pain almost anywhere in his body. He walked towards those doors with a confident stride, a stride that was very familiar to the people around him. With a deep breath, he pulled a smile, a smile he had been practicing since his teen years to fool and deceive people into becoming kiss-ups and sycophants. He walked into the hospital swiftly, waving at the first nurse he saw, not even paying attention to who it was, since he basically knew every staff in the building.

"Hey Won Dae," he called out, pulling out the correct name in under a second since he walked into those hospital doors. The male's head shot up to the sound of a familiar voice.
"Hansol, you're here.~ Again.~ What is it this time?" The nurses in the building always teased Hansol because of his frequent visits, yet didn't mind them, in fact, he liked to play along. In this hospital, he was very bright, happy, and acted like a complete child sometimes due to the staff's adamant hospitality.
"I was mauled by a lion. The usual." He laughed, jokingly, before putting his hand out and positioning it horizontally, the blood immediately trickling down his arm. "Glass. It's bad. Like, really bad."
The nurse didn't give a single reaction until Hansol commented that it was bad. He hummed in agreement. "It looks bad. Let's see what's up."

The two ended up walking into a made up room, curtains draped by a metal ring to shield prying eyes. Before entering, Won Dae stopped them to ask, "Did you take your pills?" Hansol forced a laugh almost nervously before pulling the curtains away, avoiding the question completely. Hansol sat on the covered medical chair without instruction and waited patiently for a diagnosis. The nurse came over and touched his hand delicately, similar to what he did in his car. The same reaction was brought forth, a wince and a small hiss of pain uttered from his lips. The nurse clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side. "You put the glass pretty deep into your skin.. It looks like we're going to need to have surgery on this." Of course. Surgery. What he didn't want. Hansol tilted his head up to look at Won Dae straight in his eyes, achieving a perfect look of pity. "Please..? Can't we do something else other than surgery?.. I have so much work to do, and post-op care takes such a long time and--"
"Hansol Kim. Your hand is seriously injured, I don't know how you were able to keep going with that. You didn't even take your pills. You need surgery."

Hearing more than enough, Hansol sighed and pursed his lips. Taking his leg, he rubbed it against Won Dae's calf slowly and seductively, knowing very well that this nurse had some interest in people of the same sex. Hansol bit his lip to really get into Won Dae's libido, and it seemed to be working, as he was directing his eyes anywhere else but Hansol, the blood visibly rising to his face.. And something else.
"Come on Nurse Won Dae," Hansol said playfully, "There's really no other option for me?"
".. There is one way, but due to my hectic schedule I have to visit your house after hours.."
Bingo. Hansol smirked flirtatiously at the nurse in front of him, feeling nothing but mischief as he was able to get out of an unnecessary procedure. "Of course. Stop by my house any time Won Dae... I'll make sure to pay you afterwards."
Knowing that he meant something else, Won Dae cleared his throat in a flustered haze and smiled before walking out of the curtained room, returning with a metal tray and tweezers. "I'm just going to pull out as much glass as I can using tweezers. "
"Don't go easy on me, you know I like pain."
"Yes. Speaking of, while I was away, I scheduled you a meeting with Dr. Kim right after I stitch you up and bandage you. Alright?"
"Alright."

After small screams, curse words, and manic laughter, the nurse was surprisingly able to pull out most of the glass from his hand, the pressure greatly decreased compared to when he beat Juno to a pulp. With a hand now covered in layers of bandages, Hansol reached for his hand and touched it, feeling nothing but skin on skin. He smiled and commended Won Dae for his efforts. "Come to my house later, 'kay? I don't back out on my word. Plus, you've done such a good job I promise I won't disappoint..." Hansol looked up once again and winked, feeling grateful and unashamedly a bit lustful.
"I'll come as soon as I can.. I mean.. No, I won't.. You know what I mean."
"You're so cute."
"You have to go see Dr. Kim for your session now."
"I know."
"I'll see you later?"
"Of course."

Hansol walked out, leaving the nurse he was about to fuck behind him. He headed straight towards the elevator and right to the top floor. As the elevator inched up each floor, it released a small ding. To other people, they probably didn't mind this, but to Hansol, it made him angry.. Scared. Out of anxiety, Hansol fidgeted with the cuffs on his black button down shirt before finally the elevator doors revealed something that surged his anxiety. The top floor only had one unit, and it was the first thing a person saw when they came up here. The elongated hallway was suffocating to say the least, even though it was grandiose. It only led to one double door. The doors were a silver metal, one could guess steel. It was cold to the touch with no windows foreshadowing what went on behind it. A sign was right next to it, plastered with big bold letters in white: "PSYCHIATRIC INTENSIVE CARE UNIT." Sighing, Hansol started walking towards those very doors, the small heels on his shoes clicking against hard white tiles, echoing Hansol's subconscious cry for help. His face and his persona changed to something more daunting and cold, contrasting the persona he had a few floors down. Every time he went up here, Dr. Kim was always waiting right in front of the doors. Tonight was no different. There she was, standing as straight as a board. Calculating. Judging. Any warmth in her face, gone. Might as well be a tombstone. She speaks flawless English, and in a voice that tells you "Don't ever lie to me." She holds a metal tray like a hegemonic Goddess, the tray bestowing a small but strong dosage in a dull white pill. Beside it, a bundle of.. A bundle of God knows what. Whatever it was, she lit it aflame during their therapy sessions, the smoke filling her office in a whiteish gray cloud. Just so she wouldn't inhale the smoke, she always wore a mask, never giving Hansol one for himself. Today, she was wearing the mask even before their session, like she was trying to scare Hansol to the core.

Even though Hansol was scared of this woman, he never showed it to her. In order to hide his fear, he had to make sure he was physically the more powerful one, to become powerful, he must fill his emotions with pure hatred. As he stood in front of Chaerin Kim, one could look at them right now and know that they were related just due to their powerful, deadpan stances. Dr. Kim looked to Hansol, but it felt as if she was looking through him. She spoke, her voice distorted and muffled due to the mask, but it was still understandable. "You know what to do." she commented, her voice remaining in a single tone. Hansol spoke no evil to her, but just looked down at the one pill before ingesting it, letting it coat his tongue, letting it melt in his mouth as first instructed by Dr. Kim during his first session, swallowing his bitter flavored saliva. Chaerin nodded slightly before pushing a button inside her coat pocket. The metal doors came open with an audible swing. Hansol already felt a bit lightheaded. The two walked into a much larger room with blaring lights, making Hansol squint his now sensitive eyes. They walked past other closed doors, small conversations and sometimes a bit of muffled crying hiding behind them. They soon walked into an empty office, dark in all its glory, Dr. Kim turned on the lights and immediately rushed to burn the sage-looking bundle. "Sit, Hansol."

Obediently, Hansol sat in a single leather chair, right in front of Dr. Kim's office desk. Her desk was the focal point of the room, dark, and rich in color. Behind that desk, bookshelves filled to the brim with psychology and medical textbooks, which Hansol kept his eyes dead on, as they couldn't move anywhere else. Her office smelled of floral perfume, fresh paint, and hints of the sage-like bundle she often lit just for Hansol. From the corners of his paralyzed eyes, he could see the smoke dance gracefully throughout the room, and in a moment, he could smell a sickly fragrance enter his nostrils, his muscles and mind relaxing in a scent induced trance. Hansol's body went limp and slumped against the chair as Chaerin Kim sat back in her chair, fingers interlacing and coming to rest across her stomach as she regarded Hansol's tranquil state of calamity. She didn't say anything, in fact, she never said anything for the first five minutes, because she knew what was coming.

Hansol sat there, face relaxed and blank, his mind taking a life of its own, running wild as phantasmagorias popped like bubbles in his conscious state. Then, the sound of her office door opening sent Hansol further down the rabbit hole of suggestion. A blurry silhouette walked right next to Chaerin. Hansol's eyes started to finally gain control, signaling the final stage of his therapy session, and he immediately looked towards the figure. Juno Kim. Bruised and bloodied by his own cold, masochistic, hands.

Juno was just standing there. Motionless, silent, a mirage conceived by sly susceptibility and mind tricks. Once Hansol locked eyes with the man, he was all he could see. The room faded out from Hansol's view as Juno stood out like a sore thumb. Hansol felt a strong wave of guilt physically course through his body and felt a cold wetness trickle slowly from one cheek. Dr. Kim, whose voice now right next to his ear, was like white noise, whispering some words and phrases too inaudible to decipher. Then, as if her voice was like the little voice in his head when he read things to himself, the demand became clear.
"Tell me what happened."
 
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