Ellieel
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Summary
We accept the love we think we deserve.
Namgyu used to be sunshine incarnate. He was the kind of person who could light up a room just by walking into it. His laughter was infectious, a bright, tinkling melody that drew people in. He volunteered at the local animal shelter, fostered stray kittens, and always had a kind word for the grumpy corner store owner. Then he met Subong. At first, Subong seemed intriguing, enigmatic. He possessed a dark, brooding charm that was a stark contrast to Namgyu's sunny disposition.
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Subong's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drummer in a silent concert. He'd followed Namgyu for months, mesmerized by his unapologetic authenticity. Namgyu's TikToks weren't the perfectly curated, airbrushed content that dominated the platform. They were raw, unfiltered glimpses into his life, filled with quirky art projects, hilarious fashion transitions that always ended with him collapsing dramatically into his new ensemble.
What happens when a rapper falls in love with a tictoker ?
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Pip pirrip is very bright, so who always had a genuine smile across his face his blonde hair with a few blue and pink highlights were hard to miss. He was probably the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, but was not really how he was? Maybe there was something darker about him.
The next day at South Park High, picture day was in full swing. Students lined up, trying to feign nonchalance while secretly hoping to present their best selves. Bebe Stevens, the epitome of popularity, struck a glamorous pose, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed. Craig Tucker, ever the stoic, glared at the camera, his usual deadpan expression firmly in place. And Richie, his boyfriend, looked flustered but managed a watery smile just before the flash. Damien, as usual, radiated a brooding aura. He sat for his picture, his face devoid of emotion, a black hole in the sea of smiles and forced cheerfulness. Nobody batted an eye. This was Damien. Then it was Pip's turn.
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Their apartment, a cramped two room affair above a bustling restaurant reeked of stale smoke and forgotten promises. Tonight, the air was thick with the cloying sweetness of Percocet. Namgyu sat slumped on the worn sofa, the world a blurry impressionist painting. "Hello?" Subong's voice was a rasp, cutting through the haze.
Nam-gyu would never be enough. Not matter what he did, he only seemed to make mistakes.
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The bass thumped through Nam-gyu’s chest, each beat a pulse against the backdrop of flashing neon and the hazy cigarette smoke clinging to the air of the Pentagon club. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, a small figure caught Nam-gyu's eye. He was perched at the edge of the bar, looking like a lost kitten in the neon jungle. His features were soft, almost delicate, and his eyes held a hesitant curiosity that contrasted sharply with the hardened faces surrounding him. This was Min-su.
Nam-gyu, a master manipulator in his own right, saw an opportunity. He leaned across the bar, his smile turning genuine for the first time that night. “Hey,” he called out, his voice a soft counterpoint to the booming music. “You look a little lost.“