Basically Monsta X oneshots spanning over a range of themes and genres and MX ships/members, originally written from my Monbebe Amino (MBBA) account. Just puttin' 'em out here.
Read inside for further info :)
Requests open :)
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Raising the tall flute to his lips, Hoseok takes a delicate sip.
The bubbling, golden champagne fizzes in his mouth, deliciously ice cold. It leaves a pleasant buzz on his tongue before he swallows it down, into the brunt of his body heat. He follows the feeling of the icy streak down his eosophagus until it disappears into the heat of his stomach.
He takes another sip, staring out unseeingly into the night as he refocuses on another cold shot seeping down his throat, down the canal that he's pretty sure lies so close to his lung cavity, close enough that the pleasant coldness brushes those nerve endings, spiking a shortlived burst of semi numbness through the expanse of his lungs.
He likes it. He likes the cold. He likes the numbness.
He likes how he can't feel his fingers holding the icy flute of champagne; he likes how the drink itself is so icy he can barely taste it but feel it instead with each sip and swallow. He likes standing out here in the balcony, unprotected by the cool, nightly breezes that have the tip of his nose numb and aching and find their way through the fancy dark blue suit he wears to sting at his body. His muscles are aching in the involuntary stiffness they're held in, his body shuddering unevenly from the freezing atmosphere. His feet too have gone numb and aching, given how long he's been out here, his back turned to the warmth and lights inside where loud laughter and chatter await to welcome him.
Hoseok sucks in a long, deep breath of the biting, raw air that smells of winter and snow. Breathes it into his lungs as long as he can. The cold reverbates inside him, and he decides he'll stay here a bit longer. He takes another sip, unseeing eyes lingering until they fall onto the balcony railing. And the numbness he tried to encase himself in cracks ever so slightly as his mind scrambles at something to think about.
He looks at, does not see, the flowers and ribbons twining around the rails in picturesque decoration one would pinpoint to some kind of celebration taking in place inside the stylish black building. And who would know better than Hoseok, the person in charge of all this decor? He looks at the flowers, and even though the night is so dark it would swallow him up, save for the dim yellow lights shining from above, he can see the dark, majestic purple petals streaked with black, perched atop stems the darkest, velvety green. The boquet is set off with a thick satin ribbon and bow of a light, creamy shade that twines along the railing till the ends wrap around the flowers in the middle.
"You know what to do, hyung. I know you do."
Hoseok is a horticulturist. That's what everyone insists on calling him, even though he has no degree in botany, or anything faintly close to biology. He prefers to stick to his own story wherein he worked part time at a flowershop, just another university student short of cash and wanting to be more authorative of his life. Besides, he liked flowers okay, and he thought himself lucky to get a nice job with a not-so-bad pay, as long as his employers were nice. It had seemed like the most cliched thing in the world at the time: a flowershop run and owned by a friendly old couple who were to remain satisfied with the life they'd lived to the very end. And as time went on, he realized some cliches are cliches for a reason.
