like jumbo shrimp

What Is Written (Part One)

               Right, so this is long. It was absolutely monstrous, but after much deliberation, I decided it was best to shorten it. So that being said, it cuts off shorter than where I wanted it to and you end up knowing even less than I had originally intended. Lol. This one is out there, so I’m not sure if you all are going to be into this, but this is me testing the waters…. Although you won’t really know what I’m talking about until later chapters. I honestly hope you all do like it though, because I tried my best to make it not hokey and it was fun to write. So, here is part one. Feedback is awesome and greatly appreciated (: I hope you all like it and the second chapter will be released soon!! (: xx

Part: (2) (3) (4) (Final Part)

               “Contradiction…” you whispered under your breath, tapping the cold tip of a blue ink pen against your lips in thought. “Illogical incompatibility between two or more propositions…”

               You couldn’t make sense of it. A contradiction was bad, wasn’t it? A diabetic who eats sweets, a policeman killing a human being; those were bad right? The entire point of a contradiction was that one was the opposite of the other; positive against negative. So how in the world were you supposed to write a philosophy paper on the positive influence of contradictions when in your mind, there wasn’t any? No one ever liked to order jumbo shrimp, just to see it’s really not jumbo because after all, it was still a shrimp. If not a contradiction, then maybe you could write about paradoxes. As you thought, your frustration grew. A paradox was still just as messy in your head. Of course you understood the concept, just not the logistics; you didn’t make it to university while being clueless. But inevitably, contradictions led to destruction or disappointment for someone. The oldest house on the street always gets remodeled to look modern like all the others, a lion that’s a vegetarian would eventually die, and the sun would overtake the moon every single time. The cogs in your brain spurred like clockwork; there was no dispute about these facts, and yet that’s what you were asked to do. What was the point? One side always lured the other without fail.


               Jumping in place against the kitchen counter, you quickly muttered apologies to your boss, grabbing the orders waiting to be taken out. The remnants of your internal debate raged in your head as you worked, though you still maintained your polite demeanor. Work dragged on, as it always did. For what seemed like the millionth time, you silently wished you were rich and never had to deal with stuff like annoying customers or leering guys. You felt slightly guilty for thinking that way when the owners of the small restaurant had treated you so well all throughout your employment. But sometimes that wasn’t enough. Dreaming of an easier life had become a favourite pastime of yours; dipping into your alternate reality in your spare moments and imagining a life without rules or responsibilities. In the end, reality was cruel and you could never stay in your fantasy for long when school fees and rent money were constantly knocking on your door. A sigh heaved through your chest as you glanced at the clock, relieved when you saw you only had a few minutes left. Grabbing your things from the back of the small shop, you sauntered to the clock, dragging your feet as you went. Staring at the number on the small digital display, you cheered it on in your head. Distantly, you wondered why minutes always seemed so short on your break, yet so long when it was time to go home. An eternity seemed to pass, when the clock finally flashed in a change of numbers. Punching yourself out, you sighed in relief even though you knew you would just be back tomorrow. Waving good bye to the owners who treated you as family, you made your way to the door, all too happy to go home to your small, overcrowded apartment.

               It was fall; wind whistled through the trees and leaves fluttered across the pavement, a telltale sign that winter was most definitely coming. Cupping your hands, you breathed out, fingers wriggling in delight at the burst of warmth only to shrivel again in the frigid air. Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you buried your face in your maroon colored scarf; the last thing you needed right now was to catch a cold. It was an eerie sort of night; the kind that set even the most stable of people on edge. You weren’t sure why, but each time your foot connected with the pavement, you felt that much more uneasy. Brushing it off as superstition, your mind drifted to more pressing matters; like your paper. The image of your teacher’s disappointed look loomed in your head making your jaw tense. You didn’t have a single word written yet, though you’d had plenty of time to start. That wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t due in two days. Feeling the wind nipping at your heels, you picked up your pace, desperate to be welcomed by the warmth of your home and hopefully food if your roommate was feeling generous. Shadow blanketed over every surface and as you passed an alley in between homes, you almost didn’t see him; Almost.

               A glimmer of silver caught your eye, instinctively making you turn your head to see what it was. There, in the middle of an abandoned alley which was littered by trash and stray pieces of nature, was a boy. Dressed in all black with a backpack slung over his shoulders, you couldn’t make out his face as he seemed to stare blankly at the wall in front of him. His fingers were stuffed in the pockets of his ripped skinny jeans. His shirt hung loose on his skinny frame, and you couldn’t help but shiver just from looking at him. Speculating at how he wasn’t freezing in a mere long sleeve shirt, you stopped in your tracks, tilting your head and outright staring at the boy. You would have moved on and continued home, curiosity growing short, but then he spoke. Unable to make out the words, your brow furrowed, squinting to see who he was talking to with no avail. Your heart quickened against your rib cage when you realized there really was no one there. Frozen in place, you wondered if you should just continue on, but a misplaced sense of responsibility prevented you from doing so. Taking a step closer, you realized now that it wasn’t only his jeans that had holes, but his shirt too. Not enough to be obvious, just tiny dots of milky skin peeking out in spots, but it was enough to fortify that feeling of concern inside you as your mind immediately ran to the thought of him being homeless. His lips moved once more, but you still couldn’t hear with the wind whispering in your ears, then he nodded once and his gaze drifted to the ground like he was watching something. Your eyes caught sight of something like a flash, making you stop in your tracks. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw the gleam of bone, exposed and shimmering in the moonlight. However when you blinked, attempting to peer through the shadow of night, it was gone and his fingers, which had looked skeletal only moments ago, appeared perfectly normal. Shaking your head, you dismissed the thought, convinced it was a mere trick of the eyes. But for some reason, a lingering feeling of trepidation remained. Quaking in your shoes, you walked closer to the boy, clearing your throat, despite your better judgement.

               “E-excuse me? Are you okay?” Your timid voice filtered out from your cold lips. His head whipped to the side, his eyes latching with yours and drawing you short of breath; he was beautiful.

               The chiseled line of his jaw tensed as he eyed you with indifference, the black pools of his iris’s sending a shudder down your spine. His hair shone in the blue cast glow of the moon, though you could clearly see that it was a very light blonde. Tousled perfectly across his forehead it was nearly silver in fact, almost devoid of both color and shading. Smooth pearly skin stretched over his cheekbones, sharp and just wide enough to create an elegant line slanting down to his lips. They appeared soft, even while in a bored line, though perhaps a little chapped from negligence. Catching hold of his gaze, which had analyzed you, just as you had done so to him, you felt your heartbeat quicken, suddenly feeling like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. But he didn’t care if you burned. You knew he could tell you were squirming under his stare as the side of his mouth quirked upward in a cocky smirk. Realizing he wasn’t going to answer you, you tried again, “Can I call someone for you? I thought I heard you talking to someone… but maybe not. I can help you if you need it.”

               A flash of a smile played on his lips as he lowered his head, shaking it and moving towards you. Lifting his head, he stared you down, coming to stand a mere thirty centimeters away from you. Flustered by the sudden proximity, you gulped nervously, unsure if you liked being placed under this level of scrutiny. Unable to hold his gaze, you averted your eyes, choosing to look at the ground instead. Panic shot through you, now terrified that you’d made a very big mistake by talking to this gorgeous, but undeniably strange, boy. For all you knew, he could be a nutcase, waiting for the perfect prey.

               “Why do you think I need help?” Low and rough, his voice made your skin prick. Raising your eyes, you saw the devilish look which most college guys carried plastered on his features, tempering the flurry of caution raging inside of you.

               “Well, you only have a shirt with holes on and it’s definitely not summer.” You replied, eyes flicking up and down his body, not missing the way he didn’t even flinch as the wind picked up while your own body curled in to shield itself. “Not to mention you were talking to a wall.”

               He barked out a short laugh, though it didn’t seem to reach the iciness in his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to a wall.”

               “But, I saw you—“

               “You’re young,” He replied shortly, seemingly annoyed, while pulling his hands out of his pockets, revealing a white phone in his right hand. Lifting it in front of your face so that it nearly touched the tip of your nose, he shook the chunk of plastic to taunt you. “Haven’t you ever heard of a cellphone?”

               “I’m not an idiot—“swatting his hand away from your face, your skin brushed his briefly, but it was enough for you to realize just how cold he was. Eyes widening, you snatched his hand in yours after he slipped his phone back into his pocket. His skin felt like marble; smooth and soft, yet freezing to the touch. Instinct made your limbs move, ripping your own hands out of the cloth shielding your fingers from the cold. As soon as he realized you were trying to place them on his own hands, he moved to pull his hand back only for you to snatch it up again. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he stopped struggling to allow you to slip them over his knuckles. Staring down at his wool covered hands you almost giggled, finding the contrast of his black clothes to your bright turquoise gloves comical.

               Seeing your lips trembling as you held back a smile, he glared at your figure. “This isn’t gonna help, you know.”

               “Don’t be dumb. Your hands were freezing; there’s no need to try to act cool just so you can freeze to death.”

               “I’m not trying—“

               “What are you even doing out here like that, anyway?” You cut him short, not wanting to hear more of his excuses.

               Blonde eyebrows rose, caught off guard by the question, only to relax into the same uninterested gaze. Sarcastically, he replied, “I was going for a walk.”

                Ignoring his obnoxious response, you prodded. “Do you have anywhere to go?”

               A sly smile etched across his lips, “and if I don’t?”

               You knew it was a challenge, but you weren’t sure what type it was. He was guarded; that you could tell. But he didn’t seem dangerous; he looked about the same age as you and the only thing he seemed to have was a backpack, so how much harm could he really do? From a young age, you were chided and preached to about bringing strangers home, but something about him made you go against what you had been taught. Finding yourself trying to sway your mind into believing that you had no ulterior motives, you debated your options. Unsure of whether it was your conscience or the way the downward slope of his eyes made your heart flutter in your chest, you came to a conclusion.

               “Well, I guess you’ll be coming home with me then.” The words tumbled out of your mouth much brasher than you had intended and you could feel your cheeks growing red. His eyes widened at your words, evidently not expecting that reply, before he let out a low chuckle, making you sputter. “I mean if you want to, because you really don’t if that’s not okay with you. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable…”

               The soft rise and fall of your voice became lost in the wind as he stared down at you, something flashing behind his eyes that you didn’t quite understand. When he spoke, it was different from before. No longer playful, though he only ever spoke coldly, now his words held a note of warning, as though pressuring you to see something you could not. “Are you sure?”

               Were you? Honestly, the answer was no. But as far as you were concerned, you couldn’t very well leave him and let the cold turn him towards his grave. So, though a little reluctant, you responded, “Yes.”

               His features immediately softened, lips upturning into a small smile, the creepy look dissipating altogether and reverting back into the nonchalant boy you had originally come across. “Alright, then.”

               A little unnerved by his sudden change in attitude, you nodded. Even though it was you who had invited him, you hadn’t really expected him to come along. So when you heard the sound of his shoes scratching the pavement behind you, you jumped a little. Refusing to look at him, you walked on in silence, though he hadn’t seemed to mind. Your brain was in overdrive, trying to process what had just happened as you tried to grasp at your sanity. Silently, you screamed at yourself for not only inviting a stranger to your home, but one that talked to walls to boot. Hoping to alieve a little of the tension and gather at least a little information before he stepped inside the walls of your sanctuary, you attempted to make conversation.

               “So, what’s your name?” You asked bashfully.

               “Suga.” He replied plainly, his manner remaining aloof.

               Your brow furrowed, trying not to laugh when you realized he wasn’t joking. “Your parents named you that?”

               He snorted under his breath at your question and you were graced with a small lipped smile, sending warmth flowing through your body like honey. “No, it’s just a nickname.”

               “Then what’s your real name?”

               “Suga; or at least it is to you,” He said firmly, making you feel small. Noticing your confidence shrink, he drawled, “For now. Maybe I’ll tell you eventually; if you don’t kick me out first.”

               Nodding, you felt your cheeks warm up, happy that he was at least a little compassionate somewhere beneath his exterior. “Well, I’m Y/N.”

               “I know.”

               “What?” Caught off guard, you looked at him suspiciously. Your body tensed, trying to not freak out and demand he tell you how he knew your name. Taming your panic, you merely muttered, “How?”

               “Your coats not zipped up and you have a name tag on.” An amused smirk peeked out from the side of his lip.

               “Oh,” you replied lamely, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner that you still had your work clothes on as the air between you two quieted.

               Continuing home, you had to admit that the extra pair of feet clanging against the pavement along with your own was a welcome sound. Though you barely knew the tall lanky man, his presence made you feel safer than when you had been alone. However, his accompaniment couldn’t change the weather. The wind bit at your limbs and you shivered, cupping your hands to your mouth and breathing on them. A small part of you regretted giving the mystery boy your gloves as you eyed his hands swinging comfortably by his sides. Noticing you staring, his head turned toward you and you immediately responded by turning your gaze away. Being quicker than you, he caught what you were looking longingly at.

               “I told you not to give me them.” Suga growled beside you, sliding the fabric off his hands and holding them out to you.

              “Actually, you didn’t.” You replied, obstinacy getting the better of you as you shook your head to say no to his offer. “You said they wouldn’t help.”

               “Same thing.” He said shortly, putting the gloves back on before scooping your hand up in his. The fuzz of the glove rubbed against your fingers as he laced your hands together and stuffed them inside your coat pocket.

               “What are you doing?” you sputtered, trying to remove your hand but to no avail as his refused to budge from its spot.

               “You won’t take them so this is a compromise.” Latched on like an octopus, he side eyed you.

               Tilting your face away, you took your best attempt at hiding your flushed face. Erratic thumps of your heart hit your ribs, though you knew it was silly for you to be so worked up. After all, he was just a stranger. Thankfully, the walk came to an end as your home came into view. Standing tall in the night, you knew it wasn’t the most impressive of apartment buildings with its chipping paint job and broken screens. But it was better than nothing.

               “We’re here.” You mumbled. A breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding left the confines of your lungs when his hand slipped out of yours, though an odd feeling of disappointment crept up in you as well.

               Walking up the stairwell, you fumbled with the keys in front of your door before sliding the lock free and pushing the slab of wood open. The familiar scent of your roommates cooking wafted towards you and you felt your mouth beginning to salivate. Suga followed you in, slipping off his shoes just as you had done. Perking his head, he gazed around the small home interestedly. In the light, you could see that his clothes were more worn than you had thought. Dirt stained the fabric and the damage it looked like it had taken was seemingly unrepairable. His body pivoted, turning to face you, fully satisfied with his inspection and as he did you saw a flash of red beneath his shirt. Alarm broiled inside you and you tried to discreetly peek through the hole to see what the shirt was hiding. A low clearing of his throat made your head snap up, meeting his eyes in a suffocating gaze. Tearing your eyes from his, you shrugged your coat off of your shoulders, hanging it in the closet.

               “There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to shower and get those clothes off. I’ll bring you something else to wear.” You motioned your hand towards the empty hall.

               Without a word, he disappeared into the bathroom, backpack in hand. Hearing the door slide shut behind him, you scrambled towards your roommates room. Knocking a few times, you entered the room, happy to see her sitting on her bed and staring into her books. Her voice filtered lightly through the room, “Who were you talking to—“

               Plopping on the bed, you frantically cut her off. “Okay, so don’t get mad but this guy was in the alley when I was coming home and I think he might be off or something but I didn’t want to leave him there so I kind of brought him home?”

               “You what?!” She replied, fury exuding from her body as she slammed her school book shut.

               “I know.” You hung your head low. “I’m sorry but he’s not like a murderer or anything… at least I don’t think so. It’ll just be for tonight.”

               “Y/N…” She groaned, her palm covering her face in frustration. “You really need to learn when it’s not a good time to be charitable.”

               “I’m sorry… can he borrow some of your boyfriends clothes though?”

               “What? Doesn’t he have clothes?” Shaking your head no, she sighed and got up to go to her dresser. Picking out some basketball shorts and a plain black tee, she threw them at you, hitting you in the face. “If I get killed tonight, I’m totally coming back just so I can haunt your ass.”

               “Thank you.” You said cutely, slipping out of the room before she flung something else in your direction.

               Re-entering your living area, you analyzed the area. Being students, you weren’t exactly rolling in money and had opted for cheap furniture when you had gotten the apartment. There was more space in your apartment than objects in all honesty. A low budget had left you with a small two seater couch and an arm chair. Neither was really bed material, much too small for the dream-like boy you had picked up on your way home. A bittersweet feeling ran through you as you realized you were left with minimal options. Not wanting Suga to have to be greeted by your roommate in the morning, you decided he would have to sleep in your own room. Passing by the bathroom, you could hear the heavy streams of the shower through the door and placed the clothing on the floor where he would find it. Lifting out fabric from the closet, you shuffled to the room, throwing it lazily on the floor. Spreading the futon, you made up a small bed for Suga beside your own. Testing it once, you decided it was good enough and changed into your pajamas.

               Thirsty, you got a glass of water from the kitchen, the door of the bathroom opening and Suga barrelling out of it and bumping into you. Letting out a surprised yelp, you nearly lost your footing. Your hand with the glass shot out to the side to stabilize yourself, only for your fingers to lose its grip on the beverage. Frigid fingers caught your hand, saving you from dropping the glass. Blinking, you looked up to see his eyes glued to your drink. His hair was messy and wet, tendrils sticking to his face and neck. Beads of water, dribbled down his skin while a slick sheen of moisture stuck to his flesh, making him shine. Mere centimeters away from him, you could smell the fruity scent of your shampoo clinging to his body. His lips were plump in the low light and a carnal part of you ached to reach up and claim them as yours. Despite all the odd quirks, he seemed like a manifestation of your own imagination; perfectly handsome, but mixed with a splash of danger. Hand still encased by his, he flicked his eyes toward you, faces only a small movement away. Eyes bore into yours and you became aware of the way his body loomed over yours, curling towards you as the wall brushed against your back. The places his fingers touched yours seemed to burn, only to fade as he removed his hand from yours, backing away from you.

               “Where do you want me to sleep?” He rasped, spurring you out of your day dream.

               “Um…” You mumbled, doing your best to hide the disappointment in your voice, though you yourself couldn’t understand where it was coming from. You weren’t usually like this; fawning over strangers and getting into suggestive situations. Keeping your iris’s glued to the ground, you walked toward the bedroom. “I made up a bed in my room. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep on the couch seeing as you wouldn’t be able to fit on it.”

               He hummed in response, curious eyes fluttering around your room as soon as he stepped foot in it. Quietly, you crawled under the plush covers of your own bed, shakily placing your glass of water on the small table next to your bed. Suga didn’t go to the makeshift bed; he simply skimmed his eyes over it before plopping down in your desk chair by the window. Propping his feet up, he stared out the window, eyes flickering back and forth from different stars. The moon filtered through the glass, striking his cheekbones and turning them alight. You were by no means a painter of any sort, but an itching came to your fingers that you had never experienced before. Watching him was like watching a masterpiece unfold and you couldn’t help but want to capture that beauty. Surrounded by a feeling of remoteness, he seemed untouchable to you; in a league far different than your own. But nevertheless, you wanted to be let in by the golden gates of his defences. You wanted to know why he looked so tired, staring into the sky. Why his actions didn’t seem to match is gruff exterior. But words eluded you as your body felt heavy, sinking deliciously into the mattress. Though he was a stranger, you didn’t feel cautious at all, in fact you felt just as comfortable as any other day, despite his presence. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking about that made him look so serious, but sleep was upon you and sucking you in.

               “Thank you, Y/N.” A low grumbled cut into your senses, though not rousing you fully.

               “You’re welcome; though I’m sure someone would’ve taken you in if I hadn’t.” You slurred, your brain slowing to a crawl as darkness dragged it down into its depths.

               Exhaustion finally got the better of you and you could feel yourself falling into the world of your imagination. The last sound hitting your ears being, “That’s not what I meant.”