exomeme | part seventy two

part seventy two

EUREUREONG EUREUREONG EUREUREONG（●＾o＾●）

kis seu

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i'm one of those anons who said i prefer ot6 promos at the beginning but i have gotten so attached to chinaboo/chinaline now idk what i'm gonna do without it

oh i know, my good friends all know and have read my stuff, but they kinda get it? and knew me as a person before. these ppl will just know me as weird bc of it probably and that's ok but i'm worried they're gonna bring it up to make fun of me all the time now

nooooooooooooo :( ot12 ships >>>>>>>>>>> ot6 ships and ik everyone gets less camera time but everyone looks so happy together ;;

same. ot12 is everything i didn't know i wanted, until i saw k only today.

da but fuck i hate it when people do this. if i want you to know what i'm working on i will tell you, please stop asking for the cliff notes on everything i'm writing. not your business.

http://fy-exo.com/post/56958365752

higher quality sexing kisseus, their peppero broke really early on lmao

this is exactly how i feel, at first i was like NO.. i don't want my bias to only have 5secs screen time, but that became so irrelevant when i saw how happy they were as ot12

"Tomorrow's Mnet Countdown MC will be Chanyeol and Sulli" oh

don't lie to me anon, u have no idea how badly i've wanted chanyeol/sulli

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BQfa9-wCMAIxeME.png

Chanyeol together with Sulli will MC Mnet Countdown tomorrow

the visual

http://blog.naver.com/360mnet/40194203746
no anon... it's for real

m2 but then, there are better promos in china

omfg they used my fave picture of sulli ;________; they're gonna look so good holy hell

http://31.media.tumblr.com/9fb4e1d07c085a09fccd577ed26266a0/tumblr_mqskdfDy0S1rl1ahyo1_500.jpg

found a picture of chiyu ge, can't tell if his hair is different or not lol

wail fic about triwizard champion senpai getting squashed by a dragon

collapse

lay's hand shouldn't be on his shoulder so they can't control their lips

looks the same. yay

These days, Yixing’s favorite of part of the day is the brief moment of bleary grogginess that of waking up, when he’s thinking about getting rid of the disgusting dryness in his mouth or when he’s hoping that the elves are serving cornbread at breakfast today. Thinking about anything at all before the rest of his brain catches up. So as Yixing wakes up the morning after the memorial feast, he experiences perhaps thirty seconds worth of blissful ignorance. And then he remembers that Wi Yifan is dead, and any interest he has in getting out of bed vanishes, as though it had never been there at all.

He does get up, of course. A quick glance outside the window informs him that the sun is already high up in the sky, and he probably only has an hour or so before meeting up with Junmyeon. He gets up and shuffles across the dorm room. All the beds other than his have been emptied of both belongings and roommates. Parents have been pulling their kids out of school early this whole week, and he reckons there are only a quarter or so of the student population left in the tower by now.

The showers are also empty. He’s distracted by his own movements in large body length mirror by the entrance and somehow he winds up examining the reflection. It is only now that he realizes he had forgotten to change out of his uniform last night, the white shirt full of wrinkles and the tie tangled around his neck like noose. His face looks even less familiar, the skin sallow and tinted gray and his eyes seem contain as much feeling as a dead man’s. He blinks several times to make them look livelier before giving up.

He thinks about Yifan’s eyes, which were actually dead, and before he can stop that train of thought he’s seeing blood flowing of Yifan’s open stomach onto the pavement, which makes him drop to the floor, retching. Nothing comes out because there hasn’t been anything going in for days. The contents of his stomach as far as he remembers consist of sips of wine from last night. He stays kneeling more minutes, though, coughing, until he realizes he’s making strange whining noises unconsciously, so he gets up and into the shower.

By the time he remembers Junmyeon, something like a half-hour must have passed already, because his skin is red and almost scalded and his stall is full of steam, which is odd, because he can’t remember feeling anything.

It is only in the aftermath of a person’s death, Yixing has realized, that you can truly understand what that person meant to you. It seems fairly obvious but it has never really occurred to him before, at least not with the force or clarity with which it now burrows into his brain. He tries comparing to his late grandmother, who left when he was thirteen, and it stills feel like a brand new revelation.

The problem with Yifan is that his absence confronts Yixing at every turn, at nearly every moment of every day. Of course Yixing bears most of the blame for this problem, even if he would like to think otherwise, because when you let your life revolve around a boy you saw on top of a stairway at eleven years old, grief can operate far beyond the emotional level. That stupid, beautiful boy that ransacked through Yixing’s entire practical existence and vanished without bothering to pick up the pieces.

It amuses Yixing, in a morbid sort of way, that they have taken to calling Yifan a hero. The fact is due to some careless mishap Yifan was torn apart and crushed to death by a monster, the process crushing an entire corner of the stadium and killing two unsuspecting students, watched by the entire student body like some sadistic sacrifice ritual. Yixing thinks it’s a stupid way to die; he’s almost sure anyone who gives a damn about the dead at all would agree.

He’d seen them, friends of those two kids, yesterday, during the headmaster’s eulogy. They were leaning onto each other, some crying openly, some with their head bent far down so their faces are obscured from view. Yixing wonders if every memory they have of their friend turns into the pivotal moment where his death could have been prevented. Yixing can’t look back at anything Yifan have ever done or said without also seeing Yifan placing a piece of paper containing his own name scrawled in that trademark chicken into the goblet, looping over and over in slow motion.

He has gone to through all of it: the anger, the resentment, looking for someone to blame, the school, the press. But now at the final stage, his body feels weighted down as though his bones have turned into lead, going through the motions, a theater performance for a ghost audience.
It has been fourteen days since.

Junmyeon insists on meeting up in the courtyard, and Yixing’s sure Jongdae has been going to around telling all of them about how he’s been refusing to go outside. It’s not that he doesn’t like the outside, but he’s safe in his dorm room, where his upright, prudish roommates have barred Yifan from entering since fourth year. The school grounds are filled with minefields, on top of the damp grass, underneath the trees, by the lake, fresh and bleeding.

Junmyeon is already sitting on the lawn. There’s a box beside him, and Yixing sits down on the other side of it.

“Slept well?” Junmyeon asks.

“Alright,” Yixing tells him. “I slept over Potions though, even though I finished the essay and everything.”

“Classes are canceled, Yixing,” Junmyeon says patiently, as if talking to a child.

“Right.”

Junmyeon is looking at him like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to say it. His face is still pale and puffy, the way Yixing saw it at the feast last from across the Hall before crumbling into tears. Junmyeon isn’t a pretty crier.

“Um, they were cleaning out Yifan’s things today. You know, send them to his parents to keep.” Junmyeon pushes the box towards him. “But I know these things are yours.”

Yixing recognizes it now. It’s full of possessions he brings over but never remembers to take back like quills and toothbrushes and even underwear. Yifan was always nagging at him to stop leaving stuff behind on his bed, but he eventually began keeping them in a box. Yixing even uses the items sometimes when he stays over, spending the night curled against Yifan’s big bony body.

“I think he would want you have them back.” Junmyeon gives him a sad smile. “Maybe he’d stop complaining.”

Yixing stares at the box. He can’t decide how to tell Junmyeon he doesn’t want it, and it would be weird for Junmyeon to take the box back to his room again to Yifan’s now probably spotless side of the room.

“Thank you,” he says instead. He picks the box up and place it his lap. It’s not heavy and he can hear the contents shifting inside as he lifts. He wants to shake it around, or maybe throw it into the lake. Or maybe open the lid one day, whenever that may be.

oops forgot the word count. 1222w.

even after it broke they still went on? lol

omg they're eating it even tho it broke...

isn't this last night tho? sekai were fine last night as well... now look.

ikr! ^^

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Page 161 of 201

part seventy two

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hg: fanxing hp!au (team ccm)

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1222w

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