#this is an angst verse I made up exclusively with Nas and uhh yeah

[thecosmicsen]

✮ ┆  D-6 COUNTDOWN TO INÉS’ BIRTHDAY WITH @shesin​

he stares down at the muted twinkling of the metal band situated on his ring finger,  thumbing idly at the glimmers that catch the cosy dim lights of the bar.  the incandescence of fidelity.  once the lustre used to spark a slew of comforting warm trickles of utmost bliss that would curl his toes from the simple happiness he would gain from observing the proof of his lifelong ardent dedication to the one woman who he truly loves with all his aching heart.  but now he cannot say the same anymore as the dreamy euphoria has now dissolved into a slush of bitter resentment of what he perceives to be the worst betrayal to their adoringly spoken vows. 

another sip of his bourbon on the rocks is an unconscious reminiscence to what his treacherous love enjoys indulging herself for a choice of drink.  there is some woman perched besides him on one of the stools at the bar but he hasn’t taken a glimpse of her face yet despite the fact that she is relentless with her pitiful attempts of sultry engagement.  you’re not Inés.  you never could nor ever will be her.  she is on a different level to you all.  please shut the fuck up.   

he continues to thumb and thumb at his ring,  his eyes flitting half-closed as he sharply inhales the aromatic scents of the bourbon.  it all reminds him of her.  no matter what he fanatically throws himself into to at least get out of his mind for a few minutes,  her presence refuses to leave.  she has leeched her roots and implanted them far too deep in his heart that all he can do is sit at this bar,  close his eyes,  take in the earthy warm scents of vanilla and butterscotch that tugs on the strings of his heart with a gory twist of resentment that oozes out all his incubated hate towards her.  what have you done to me  ?  she has made sure that all his mental fixation remains solely on her and only her.  it drives him insane,  his knuckles whitening as his grip tightens fiercely around his glass,  teeth gritting in nostalgic agitation as the fog of Inés Inés Inés wholly engulfs his system.  this is the drink she likes take in that one crystallised whiskey tumbler she sets aside for the times they relax together in the bath together with.  these are the honeyed hints of what tastes off her skin with such tantalising allure.  this is all Inés Inés Inés. 

“  what is she like  ?  ”  is the one question from the incessant woman sitting next to him that pierces through his whimsical despise-tinged recollections of the woman who has destroyed him worse than any of his family members did to him.  he will make her pay for it,  that is for certain.  if she thinks she can shovel out his presence in her life,  she is about to become sorely disappointed.  he has always told her this before,  he is here to stay by her side and never leave.

without any disruption to his spiteful revenge fantasies that begin to manifest in a lustful storm of appeasement,  his gaze remains on the ever glimmering wedding ring band on his finger and how painstakingly perfect it naturally looks to be placed there.  another excruciating stab to his heart elicits an imperceptible flinch from him as he wonders what she did with her wedding ring yet.  

“  she is unlike any other,  ”  he smugly narrates to the ever curious female although the metallic tang of blood pools in his mouth as he bites down on his tongue in vicious spite to be admitting such a thing.  “  a fucking nightmare.  a daydream.  all the clichés of that paradox can be applied to her.  she is someone you aspire to be but you know that you will never even be able to glimpse the unreachable level she is at.  she can make you feel like you don’t mean shit to her but you will try your best to appeal to her with your redeeming qualities anyway.  she creates a new set of conduct and morals in you.  she isn’t untouchable though.  she is here.  she is present.  everyone follows her on social media.  I can reach out to her.  I can touch her if she wants it.  but she is a demon and makes no attempt to hide it.  she will rub your face into dirt and then make you lick it clean off her shoes.  you will have the illusion that you managed to secure her emotional intimacy and trust for you that you begin to think that you know the emotions surfacing to her eyes.  when she is deep in thoughts,  calculating and observing you,  you won’t be able to stop staring at her lips.  she has a habit of licking over her teeth and folding her arms when she is examining you  —  taking amusement from whatever you said or did.  over time,  if she lets you,  you will get to know all her quirks.  believe that you got touch and gently bring out her emotionally attuned functions.  but in the end,  you forget that she is a demon.  she hunts prey for fun.  she will get countries starting world war three over her just because she feels a little bored and wants to purposefully start shit as long as it doesn’t affect her wealth and assets too much.  lures you in with a false sense of security.  brings along her demon boytoy because she doesn’t know how to commit to the one person who is willing to accept every part of her.  she is smart.  she knows how to play her games.  she is a menace to the fabric of society by doing whatever the fuck she wants without any consequences.  ” 

willing himself to take another deep breath,  the action merely comforting and placebo from the mere habit of doing so,  he takes another sip of his bourbon with a forlorn sigh mingling with an uttered groan of annoyance.  a twisted smile upturns the corners of his lips,  his heart dropping to his stomach as he whispers out,  a few syllables cracking under his distressed state of mind.  “  but what do you do when you find out that this demon also gave birth to two of your baby boys who are the most beautiful ones to ever exist  ?  this woman who lives to hurt managed to mother my children with so much love.  where is her love  ?  I can’t see it for me.  I can see it in our beautiful baby’s eyes that light up when they see their mother.  I can see it lining their bodies with their fat rolls.  how they wiggle in happiness when she comes into their view.  she loves them but she doesn’t love me.  is it so wrong of me for wanting to spend time with my own boys  ?  she drives me insane . . .  I love her and I fucking hate her with my entire heart.  she is the only one who owns me and is allowed to have me.  Min Inhye.  that is who she is.  the love of my life.  the mother of my children.  my fucking downfall.  ”  

he spits out the last few words with utmost venom before he aggressively chugs down the rest of his bourbon,  the liquid scorching his already parched throat in the process but he pays no mind to it. slamming the glass back down on the counter,  he glances down at his ring once again.  something stirs within him,  a pathetic sense of all I want is her and to take me back.  but now she has his sworn enemy by her side now and that is something he cannot allow.  he will not lose this fight.  his heart craves for respite and reconciliation.  is it really too late to hope for that still  ?  but he remembers how she gave birth to their gorgeous baby boys all on her own,  already damning their life without a stable father figure that he knows he can be.  he remembers how she has so cruelly parted him from his own children without a single word of his say in this matter.  he remembers how she had the nerve to attempt to talk him down the moment he witnessed with his own eyes with how that fucking demon boytoy of hers just casually strolled in her living room to start playing with his babies.  the babies that are supposed to be carrying down the Ahn family name.  his baby boys,  the ones he always dreamt about having when the blood was still flowing through his veins.  she took it all away from him.

he yanks the wedding ring off.

finally,  he looks up to observe the face of the woman who provoked his bitter tangent about Inés.  you don’t look like Inés.  he eyes her distastefully from head to toe,  his mind automatically distinguishing her with repulsion on all the points that separate her likeliness to Inés.  no,  he needs someone like her.  it will make it easier for him.  after all,  why should he fuck someone who is five foot three with fried split ends  ?  he gives a curt dismissal of disinterest before moving on.  it has to be someone like Inés with the same gorgeous raven locks,  the amber hues of her eyes,  the tapered ends of her canines,  the proud impressive lifted back slope of her shoulders,  the legs that go on for days . . . 

where is she  ?