Round 1 2023: Quotes

[hwarium]

Status: Closed This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted. Seventeen Holidays Round 1: Quotes About "Someone will remember us, I say, even in another time." "How inconvenient to be made of desire." "It's me, hi, I'm the problem its me." Calling all readers, lovers of poetry and music, screen and stage. Quote collecters and lyric hoarders, unleash your archive. For this round, every prompt must contain a quote - you can combine them, add commentary, link to articles, do whatever. Steal from a literary classic, or copy WeVerse drama. 🛑 HOLD UP If this is your first time on 17hols please check out our About Page which contains helpful information and links to pages explaining dreamwidth and HTML. We are a prompting fest where all the action happens in the comment section. Rules Sign up is not required. Fills have a minimum of 400 words for prose, haiku-length for poetry (3 lines), and 400px by 400px for art (memes are also art). Other mediums are fine too! There is no maximum cap. Tag and provide content warnings at your discretion, but a good guide are the Ao3 four (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) and this list of common CWs (cr: SportsFest). NSFW/Explicit content should be tagged NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview. How it works Prompting Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post; Change the subject; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want! Need ideas? Check out our 2021 and 2022 Quote rounds. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Do Not Wants:</strong> None <strong>Prompt:</strong> <blockquote>[QUOTE GOES HERE] </blockquote> Filling Reply to the original prompt; You must change the subject to [FILL] - this is to help the mods track. Feel free to add a title Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, edit the sections, and add your text. You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** Remixing Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above; Change the subject to [REMIX]. Art/media Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.) Using the same HTML code as above, copy the link into your fill or remix. That's it! Optionally, you can embed a picture into your comment. Please use the following code instead. (To explain, the HTML resizes your picture to 400x400px so that it fits on most screens. Users can view the full size if they click on it. You can also add a link to your work on twitter so that others can share it, or to any other website you want) <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** <img src="INSERT IMAGE URL" width="400px"> <a href="INSERT ANY URL YOU WANT">TEXT THAT DESCRIBES THE LINK</a> Note! On dreamwidth, you can't edit a comment once someone has replied to it. Navigation ABOUT FAQ CHAT BAITS ✧ FILLS ✧ < ROUND 1: QUOTES > ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES 2021 2022

Comments

be gentle

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: apocalypse vibes, some weird sense of solace and security in the end of the world ie: we are no longer struggling
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

When I laid the rags I wore
beside the woman
who had been cold when I found her,
I wasn't afraid.
I never once thought of you.
Write back soon. Tell everyone I'm not dead.

— Paul Guest, from My Index Of Slightly Horrifying Knowledge, "Oblivion: Letter Home 2"

[FILL] blue hour

[fleurissons]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Soonyoung/Jihoon
Major Tags: Read A/N
Additional Tags: sci-fi; a gentle apocalypse; what becomes of the hero who loses their war, what becomes of the saviour who needs saving?
Permission to remix: Yes

A/N: please be advised that character death is up to interpretation, it depends on where you sit on the spectrum of optimism (haha.) if you have read "the ones we're meant to find" by joan he, the environmental catastrophe & corresponding solution are loosely inspired by the book!

dearest mods, entry for 3P rarepair pls <3

/

OFFICIAL MISSION COMMUNIQUE
CLEARANCE LEVEL: POSITIVE VETTING
LOCATION SENT: 37° 31′ 57.3600″ N and 127° 1′ 28.6032″ E (GEOGRAPHIC)
LOCATION RECEIVED: 11h 08m 08.0950s, −15° 00′ 43.213″ (EQUATORIAL J200)

General Choi,

I am writing to inform you that the Committee has unanimously approved Researcher Chwe Hansol's proposal. The Earth is due for another mass extinction event, a ball that had started rolling long before human civilisation set up camp. We may not stand a chance to stop it, but we may be able to fool the ball into thinking it has reached its destination.

Large-scale manufacturing begins tomorrow, with the latest estimated duration for complete rehabilitation being 526 years. We continue to hold out hope, though I suppose half a millennium of deep sleep is preferable to learning how to farm on extraterrestrial soil.

Cordially,
Jeon Wonwoo
New Eden Lab Director

/

At 0100 hours, Jihoon punched in the code to Seungcheol's cabin. The muted lighting that embraced him as he opened the door was reminiscent of the wintry landscape of Halmeoni's seaside town. He closed the door carefully and sought out Seungcheol’s whereabouts, finding him in seconds. His heartbeat was steady and strong, unmistakable.

“I must have looked awful, huh,” Seungcheol chuckled as Jihoon lay down behind him. “It usually takes a crisis to draw you away from your post, Lieutenant Lee."

Jihoon closed his eyes. The flashes visited him again, in their usual non-chronological fashion.

Seungcheol embracing Jeonghan in their training room. “Do you think I would ever let you fail?” Him telling Jihoon some months later: "I have Jeonghan and Joshua, they're enough." Joshua placing his packed bags between himself and Seungcheol; a barricade. His fingers intertwining with Jeonghan’s. “I need to go, Seungcheol. They're assigning me to one of the hospitals—I can do more down there.” Seungcheol nodding and turning to Jeonghan. “And you?” Jeonghan smiling. “I go where Joshuji goes.”

Wonwoo clasping Seungcheol’s shoulder so tightly his knuckles were ivory, an apology shining through his eyes. Seungcheol not saying I forgive you, but rather, “Be happier than everyone else down there.” Wonwoo joking, “I doubt tedious research would make me happy.” Seungcheol’s empty laugh. “It better, or I’ll take you back up myself. Take care of Hansol for me.” Wonwoo promising to do so.

Minghao’s radiation shield failing on a routine EVA, pushing him over the lifetime exposure limit in under a minute. The Committee refusing to send him back up ever again. Seokmin seething, tongue becoming a vicious lash, wielded in outrage. “You took everything away, with nothing to give in return.” His badge leaving a dent on the console. Agony tearing through Seungcheol, another limb ripped apart from his body.

When they first explored space in search of a new home, there were 13 of them. A decade and countless failed missions later, only half remained, barely a quarter of their initial determination. Most of it was Seungcheol’s.

"Tell me about Haeundae beach," Seungcheol requested gently.

He loved these anecdotes about the home he never knew, the home he never got a chance to experience. Unlike the others, Seungcheol had grown up inside the walls of the academy, born and raised to do one thing and one thing only. All he ever had, before they surrendered themselves to him, was the mission.

Jihoon had acquired important survival skills throughout his career, but refusing Choi Seungcheol wasn't one of them. Shifting closer, he began to describe Busan summers to the best of his recollection. The last time he went, his father had to park behind the perimeter set by the local council. The heavy metal ions concentration had exceeded category II of acute toxicity, the news warned. It was hard to believe those bleak reports when the waves' calming shade remained unchanging.

Seungcheol listened, attentiveness second to none. He'd cling to Soonyoung's story of the bunggeopang ahjussi the same way. Soonyoung's description of how the red bean filling would melt in his mouth always ended with Seungcheol kissing him deeply, as though doing so would allow him to taste what Soonyoung did.

"I’ll take you there," Jihoon promised. "When we wake up, the water will be clear and we can go for a swim."

He kissed Jihoon too. Not for a taste. For a victory in defeat.

/

OFFICIAL MISSION COMMUNIQUE
CLEARANCE LEVEL: POSITIVE VETTING
LOCATION SENT: 37° 31′ 57.3600″ N and 127° 1′ 28.6032″ E (GEOGRAPHIC)
LOCATION RECEIVED: 07h 15m 06.0960s, −20° 00′ 15.342″ (EQUATORIAL J200)

General Choi,

Two out of three pods in the pilot batch have failed to open on simulated release. The engineers haven’t been able to find the root cause and we have no time or resources to replace them at this stage. The Committee has decided to proceed with the existing limitations.

Please be advised of the next steps.

Travel safe,
Jeon Wonwoo
New Eden Lab Director

/

Like any other cadet, Soonyoung had a perpetual longing for home when he first started. He craved the feeling of his dobok against his bare skin. Wanted to have dirt under his fingernails again and feel the wind in his hair. Hell, Soonyoung even missed fighting for the TV remote with his noona.

Seungcheol’s spots were prime-time broadcast in the years leading up to Soonyoung's recruitment. The exact words used had since become a faded memory, but he recalled the visuals with perfect clarity. The spots showed Serenity first, the spaceship meant to take a highly-trained crew on a journey of finding Earth 2.0. Then they showed Seungcheol, its future captain. Bright-eyed and broad-shouldered, the poster child for hope.

The boy Soonyoung saw on the TV became a man, and the man his true north.

"1 hour to morning briefing," Soonyoung jostled Jihoon gently. He held his amusement at bay when Jihoon’s eyes immediately took to his perfected glare the moment they opened. "I'll ready the crew.”

Seungcheol's gravelly voice stopped him from leaving. "Soonyoung."

"Yes, General."

"If I wanted you to respond formally, I would have called you Lieutenant Kwon."

Seungcheol said nothing else, but Jihoon made an impatient sound as though Soonyoung was disobeying a direct order. “How much longer until you notice the space we made for you?” Soonyoung stared at their tangled limbs, a source of warmth in a numbing cluster. “We don’t have much time, Young-ah.”

That did it. Soonyoung walked over to the other side, seeking refuge under the covers Seungcheol raised to accommodate him. His fingers naturally found Jihoon’s, linked over Seungcheol’s hip. Soonyoung exhaled slowly.

They were allowed some momentary reprieves. The ozone layer started repairing itself. University researchers found a way to remove microplastics from the ocean using magnets. Tigers were taken off the endangered species list.

But those moments never lasted. Earth’s every attempt to sustain its existence was overthrown when humans continued to take at a faster rate than they replenished. None of these was Seungcheol’s fault, and yet—

“I’m sorry.”

“Never say that to me again,” Soonyoung chided. “Just take me home, will you? I want to see the others.”

Heartache claimed Seungcheol’s body, weary soul unravelling in between his last strongholds. “Jihoon—“

“Ironically, our first mission was also the last time I wanted to save the world.” Oh, what a grievous sin Jihoon just confessed. Breaking their investiture oath was a crime punishable by death. But Soonyoung understood; this, too, he would not hold against him. “From then on, I just wanted more time with you. I wanted more time with everyone—to keep going, doing what we’ve been doing. You gave me that.”

Jihoon stroked Seungcheol’s hair until the tidal waves retreated from shore. “Let's make the best of our final sunrise up here," he said softly. Seungcheol's dark, damp lashes swept over the purplish ring under his eyes. "What do you want to do?”

“Me?” pondered Soonyoung. “Go to sleep.”

His displeased punches were hard to take to heart when Jihoon was visibly smiling against the nape of Seungcheol’s neck. Shaking his head, Seungcheol covered their joined hands with his. They stilled, only moving again when he did; the moons orbiting around him.

“I love you." Seungcheol set his cheek against Soonyoung's. "I will love you," his fingers framed Jihoon's jaw reverently, "until the beginning reunites us.”

/

OFFICIAL MISSION COMMUNIQUE
CLEARANCE LEVEL: POSITIVE VETTING
LOCATION SENT: 37° 31′ 57.3600″ N and 127° 1′ 28.6032″ E (GEOGRAPHIC)
LOCATION RECEIVED: 17h 45m 40.0409s, −29° 00′ 28.118″ (EQUATORIAL J200)

Seungcheol-hyung,

You must've heard by now: Project Dangun has reached its final execution stage. Our preliminary data showed promising results, that full rehabilitation is feasible once we remove ourselves from the equation. But hope is a tiny spark, so easily extinguished. 526 years is a long time. The pods' failure rate remains an unsolved problem.

Seokmin took me to our old barracks to clear my head. He’s been taking care of the olive tree you planted behind the mess hall; it has grown almost as tall as Mingyu. Even now, time and space apart, you still give us the best gift of all: reassurance.

Per your request, we have prepared three model IX pods at the Seoul facility. When, if ever, the probes decide the Earth is inhabitable once more, these pods have been assigned to open first, and together.

It is time to come home. We will be waiting.

Your dongsaeng,
Jeon Wonwoo

The Tiger

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Hoshi, of course!
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: unhappy ending

Prompt:

The tiger
He destroyed his cage
Yes
YES
The tiger is out

by Nael, age 6, from They're Singing a Song in Their Rocket

thorns and all

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: hurt/comfort
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“I think of his riddle. How do people like us take off our armor?
One piece at a time.”
Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

&

“ ‘I love you,’ he whispered, and kissed my brow. ‘Thorns and all.’ “
Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

[FILL] brick by brick

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: wonwoo/mingyu
Major Tags: Canon compliant, hurt/comfort
Additional Tags: physical fatigue
Permission to remix: Yes

***
For a time, Mingyu had wondered what it would take to tear down Wonwoo's walls. For a time, it seemed like nothing could.

Now, it's just this: a touch on Wonwoo's wrist during practice, a "you look tired" whispered low enough that only the two of them can hear it. Brick by brick an embrace, Wonwoo's sweaty head resting on his shoulder, shaking hands curling into the sides of his torso.

Everyone else is on water break. Wonwoo hums into the crook of his neck. "I am."

An answer when it used to be dismissal. Mingyu keeps his stance taut, shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of another. "Thirsty?"

"No."

"Sleepy?"

It earns a shake of Wonwoo's head. His hand—it's cold—reaches for Mingyu's. Lifts it up to his forehead. "Try sick."

His skin is burning. Alarm bells ring in Mingyu's head: shit, shit, shit—

"Stop." Wonwoo pokes a finger into his other side. His hairline is wet with sweat, voice unsteady. "Stop thinking. I can feel it."

"You're sick." Mingyu pulls back, stamps a hand into Wonwoo's forehead. The signs are there now that he looks for them: paling complexion, clammy skin, Wonwoo's deadpan gaze not as sharp it should be. He should have noticed sooner. "Come on, I'll take you back."

Wonwoo shakes his head. The others are staring now, Jihoon's brow quirked in question. Wonwoo's lips are pressed in a firm line, not wanting to involve anyone else.

Mingyu reaches for Wonwoo's hand. Keeps his voice down. "Come on."

"No." Wonwoo tugs on his hand. "I took a paracetamol. I just need to sit."

"No," Mingyu tugs back, "you need to lie down. Let's head back to the dorm—"

"It's fine—"

"Don't make me lift you." Mingyu puffs out his chest, ears heating up when Wonwoo's lips curl. "You know I can."

"I do." Wonwoo rolls his eyes. "Fine."



For a time, it seemed like nothing Mingyu did could tear down Wonwoo's walls.

Now, it's just this: a glass of water and a washcloth. Mingyu's attention on wiping Wonwoo's hairline, brick by brick easing out a sigh.

"Thanks," Wonwoo says when for a time it used to be you don't have to. He closes his eyes, lifts his arm for Mingyu to roll back the sleeve. "Didn't know you could be domestic."

Mingyu holds back from throwing the washcloth on Wonwoo's face. "Don't make me stop."

"Don't stop," Wonwoo echoes, lips curling in a smile. "I like it."

"I know," Mingyu says, threading the washcloth between his fingers.


🚀

so scarlet it was

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy
How the hell did we lose sight of us again?
Sobbin' with your head in your hands
Ain't that the way shit always ends?
- Taylor Swift, Maroon

[FILL] the song that says my bones are your bones

[klav]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Jungkook/(Yoongi)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: break ups, ambiguity, title from Ada Limón
Permission to remix: Yes

Happy birthday week friend! A small (yoon)haokook for you!! <3

***

Minghao isn’t ready for the call. It’s past midnight and he’s sprawled under the covers, floating at the sweet precipice of sleep. After the third buzz, he flips the phone screen around. Blue light cuts open the room.

Jungkookie.

Minghao answers.

“Myungho. You’re awake,” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is thick and low. “Sorry. Um. Do you think I could come over?”

“Now?”

Silence, followed by a sniffle. Minghao sits up and rewinds the greeting in his head. The apology. It dawns on him that something is wrong.

“Not if you’re about to sleep,” Jungkook says. “Just—it’s okay—”

“No,” Minghao interrupts. “Now is fine. I don’t have a schedule in the morning. Just text me when you’re here, okay?”

“Alright.” Another sniffle. “Thanks.”

The line goes dead. A pit of trepidation settles in Minghao’s gut. He gets up to put the kettle on.

-

Minghao hasn’t seen Jungkook in person since—God, was it May? Months ago, at least. They’ve texted sporadically. Called once in a blue moon. Between concurrent comebacks and international tours, it’s to be expected. Minghao misses him anyway.

He’s thought about making plans. It takes a certain preparation, though, to be around Jeon Jungkook. He’s got magnetism. His proximity dazzles Minghao in ways he doesn’t like to admit.

It’s dangerous to be friends with Jungkook. It makes you want more.

When Minghao opens the door, Jungkook is hunched in the hallway with his face entirely obscured by a large black bucket hat. A few scraggly curls poke loose. The hem of his jeans are soaked brown with mud.

Horrified, Minghao hisses, “Did you walk here?”

Jungkook looks up. His eyes are a heartbreak: red, swollen, wet.

“Yoongi broke up with me,” he says.

Minghao’s hand falls from the doorknob. “Oh.”

-

Tea can’t fix this, Minghao thinks wildly as he ushers Jungkook into the bedroom. He gets him a change of clothes—a soft flannel that once belonged to Mingyu and oversized sweats—and pours him a mug of chrysanthemum jasmine. They sit side-by-side on top of the covers and work through stilted, delayed greetings and catch-ups. Jungkook’s hands tremble around his mug.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minghao asks. He doesn’t know how to do this. He shouldn’t be doing this. Not for Jungkook.

Jungkook makes a face, scrunches his nose. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“I think so.”

“Okay.”

Floral steam warms the room. The string lights flicker, drawing Jungkook’s attention. His bottom lip is bitten raw. Minghao reaches out and touches his wrist, gently, to steady him.

“How long have you been together, again?” Minghao asks softly.

“Depends on who you ask.” Jungkook’s breath hitches. “But. Um. Three and a half years?”

Ambiguity is hard to quantify, harder to explain. Jungkook sets the untouched tea on the nightstand. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and suddenly bursts: “He’s just—he’s such an asshole! After everything—he said he couldn’t do it, like it wasn’t worth it anymore. And he really meant it this time.”

Minghao feels useless, unmoored. He doesn’t want to talk shit about Yoongi. He likes Yoongi, despite everything. Respects him.

“He said what?”

“He said that I.” Jungkook ducks his head. “Wasn’t worth it.”

All that respect dies. Yoongi can go fuck himself.

“No,” Minghao says, the word springing emphatically from his chest. “No. That’s bullshit. It’s not fair, and it’s not true—I’m sorry.”

Minghao goes to put his arm around Jungkook. The second he opens himself up, though, Jungkook is lurching forward and collapsing directly into his chest, nearly sending his tea through the wall. Jungkook buries his face into the crook of Minghao’s neck. His arms link around Minghao’s waist and squeeze. The smell of cigarettes and clean rain cling to his hair where it tickles Minghao’s chin.

Oh.

Minghao’s hand drifts down to cup the back of Jungkook’s warm neck. He holds himself very still. Deep, shuddery breaths wrack Jungkook’s shoulders.

“It’s such bullshit,” he mumbles into Minghao’s sweater. Then, quieter: “I hate him.”

You love him, Minghao thinks, and strokes Jungkook’s hair.

They sit for a surreal length of time. It can’t be long, though it feels eternal, because Minghao doesn’t breathe even once until Jungkook lets go. They separate slowly, like a resurfacing. Jungkook’s cheeks are pink and blotchy. He stays close enough that Minghao’s eyes are drawn to his pink mouth, his lip ring catching the light like a crescent moon.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” Jungkook whispers.

“No problem.”

Minghao swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. He wants to ask, Out of all the numbers in your phone, why did you call mine? But he doesn’t really want an answer. This fragile ambiguity, he’ll hold onto.

“Could I…” Jungkook’s tongue darts out to wet his lip. His eyes are dry and hazy with exhaustion. “Sleep here tonight? I promise not to snot all over your pillows.”

Minghao laughs. The atmosphere shifts, brightens, even as they turn out the lights. They crawl under the blankets and divvy up the pillows with ease. Minghao stays firmly on his side of the bed, even when Jungkook’s shirt rides up his hip, revealing a strip of tan, goosebumped skin. Even when Jungkook makes the sweetest sigh, curling into the blankets like a kitten.

Minghao stays still until he gets a look at Jungkook’s nails in the murky blue moonlight. They’re bitten down to the quick. Before he can think better of it, he’s rolling over and taking Jungkook’s hand. He links their fingers together loosely.

“So you don’t fall off the bed this time,” Minghao explains, half-delirious from exhaustion, his heart pounding.

Jungkook doesn’t giggle, but he gets close. His breath skates over Minghao’s face. “Mmmkay.”

It will hurt tomorrow when he leaves. It will hurt more when Yoongi apologizes and Jungkook forgives him and the whole thing repeats, like this night isn’t real, like every time this happens it’s a mirage that only touches Minghao and no one else.

He falls asleep listening to Jungkook breathe. It isn't the first time. He hopes it won't be the last.

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I'm okay
I'll just let it burn everything around me
'Cause you can't save me from my sadness
No, don't save me
- Vernon, Black Eye

You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself
But do you know you're demolishing me?
And then you squeeze my hand as I'm about to leave
Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these?
-Big Red Machine ft Taylor Swift, Renegade

how did love become love

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Wonwoo
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Thank you for the love that doesn't make me feel lonely.
-Wonwoo, Vivi Seventeen Issue, December 2022

[Fill] how did love become love

[leomoonwonu]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

The thing about Mingyu is that he’s almost painfully easy to read. Always has been. The first time Wonwoo met him he thought it was some kind of joke, that Mingyu was leaning into this earnest kindness because that’s what he thought an idol should be. Every expression is a clear paned window to view inside of him. Anger. Sadness. Happiness. Love.

That’s the one that Wonwoo doesn’t know how to navigate. Love that big and genuine. Love that stings your eyes if you look at it too long. Like a fire.

The years fly by. They all grow up. It’s not that Mingyu doesn’t change with the rest of them, it’s more that the fundamental parts of him are already cemented in place. He is all the things he was as a teenager, but he understands them better. Maybe Wonwoo most of all.

Because he’s paying attention. Because he wants to love Wonwoo without burning him up. Wonwoo isn’t sure what he wants. That’s the problem.



Wonwoo talks about things at his own pace. It’s how he’s always been. Something bothers him and he either gets it off his chest right away or he lets it simmer, bats it around his mind until he’s satisfied with the words he wants to say. Mingyu used to chase him when he’d run from problems. He would bang on the bedroom door until Wonwoo begged him to leave.

“I’m not leaving, hyung,” he said every single time. “You don’t have to say anything, but I’m staying here until you come out.”

These are things about Mingyu that Wonwoo used to hate. His constant need to be around other people. The way he said everything so truthfully, unafraid of the consequences of his words. The way he was younger but made Wonwoo feel small and incompetent. His hot hands and the way his lips tasted and the sound of his voice cracking when he cried.

He’s used to it now. All the things that make Mingyu Mingyu. Maybe more than used to it.




Wonwoo and Mingyu move in together, and the realization of how much he actually loves Mingyu hits him like a bus.

They’ve always been opposites. Hot and cold. Introverted and extroverted. Wonwoo pulls away and Mingyu waits outside of whatever place he’s secluded himself, present, always present. That’s the thing about being in a group. There is always someone to talk to, to eat with, to catch a movie or hold your hand or wipe your tears when you cry.
He could count on one hand the amount of times he’s been truly by himself. Without the soft sounds of other people, he can’t sleep. Maybe Wonwoo has always needed that, to only be as alone as he wanted to be. He just didn’t know how to ask for it.

It’s an end of year magazine shoot where Wonwoo catches himself. He’s a little too happy. Well, no one would say that to him. You should be a little bit happier, Seungcheol’s words echo in his mind. He’s been trying. Honest.

So he says it, keeps his eyes locked with Mingyu because he hasn’t been running away for a long time and he doesn’t plan to now.

“Thank you for the love that doesn't make me feel lonely.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen so slightly Wonwoo only notices because he expects it. This is the language they’ve learned to speak after years together. The twitch of mouths, the set of shoulders. The quick blink of an honest expression before it’s smoothed away.
Even if no one else understands what he means, Mingyu will.



Later, Seungcheol will laugh at him in the van and say great timing, and Mingyu will still be wearing an impossibly happy grin, and Wonwoo will let Mingyu curl their pinkies together on the seat between them.

He will pretend to be asleep, and Mingyu will let him.

That’s the kind of love they have.

[oransodacan]

Ship/Member: jeongcheol
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: none but I do love angst and sadness and pain
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

When I saw the girl looked just like me, I thought
Must be lonely loving someone
Trying to find their way out of a maze

I haven't given you what you need
You wanted me, but couldn't reach me
I'm sorry, it should've been me
I'm sorry, it should've been me

mitski, Should’ve Been Me

[FILL] it must be lonely loving someone

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Seungcheol, Seungcheol/Original Female Character
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: implied internalized homophobia, slight mention of sex but not overall nsfw, angst, they don't actually interact it's just jeonghan Thinking So Hard
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

When Jeonghan gets the invitation in the mail, he laughs out loud; helplessly, wildly, with disbelief. It comes out of him like he’s a cornered reptile spitting acid. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Oh Nayoung, reads the dainty script inside the card. Jeonghan would bet money that Nayoung picked it, that she showed Seungcheol and he said sure, darling, whatever you want. He’d always been a bit of a pushover.

There’s a QR code to RSVP online at the bottom. How romantic. Jeonghan shoves the card back into its color-coordinated envelope and leaves it at the bottom of the junk drawer in his kitchen.

But the thing is—he wants to go, if only to look Seungcheol in the eyes and ask why he was invited in the first place. He can imagine what will happen on Seungcheol’s face when he sees him, when he realizes his mistake.

Because it is a mistake. Not just for Jeonghan to be there, but for Seungcheol to remember him at all, for either of them to acknowledge each other; it was a mistake for them to meet and not immediately run in opposite directions without looking back.

Jeonghan goes to the wedding. He scans the stupid code, he marks attending unaccompanied on the little RSVP form, he buys some sort of laundry rack from the registry. He wonders if Seungcheol will see his name under the gift receipt and think of him every time he uses it.

It’s not hard to follow the suggested guest dress code, because the pastel wedding colors match half of Jeonghan’s wardrobe. Some hideous tiny part of him whispers that Seungcheol knows this, that he remembers Jeonghan’s favorite colors, that Jeonghan left a sweatshirt on his floor eight years ago and Seungcheol never got rid of it. That Seungcheol still wears it, sometimes.

Everything I wear would be too small for him, Jeonghan reminds himself.

The wedding is in a beautiful rose garden, and the weather is perfect, and Seungcheol looks nervous and handsome in his baby blue suit. Jeonghan gets lucky and doesn’t have to talk to anyone he might know; all of Seungcheol’s friends from college are in his wedding party, so they can’t be seated next to Jeonghan, can’t recognize him from a hasty Sunday morning walk of shame.

They recognize him anyway. He swears Jeon Wonwoo looks right at him and makes the conscious decision not to point him out, pretends he saw nothing, but his eyes are burning holes in Jeonghan’s face for the rest of the ceremony.

Jeonghan ignores it—he’s too busy watching Nayoung swish her way down the aisle in miles of white lace, watching Seungcheol lean forward like he just can’t wait for her, like she’s the thread leading him through a maze. Her hair is dyed blonde, the way Jeonghan’s would be if he was eight years younger.

He blocks out most of the vows, too, afraid that Seungcheol will say something and it will be familiar. Jeonghan doesn’t think he could handle hearing an echo in this cave he’s in, seeing his own shadow on the walls.

Jeonghan tells himself he won’t stay for the reception, and then he does it anyway, because he somehow hasn’t had his fill of setting himself on fire.

The wine is free, at least, and good, but Jeonghan watches Seungcheol and Nayoung sway from across the room and it turns bitter in his mouth. He’s curious, yes, self-destructive, often, but he isn’t stupid. He knew all along why Seungcheol invited him: out of self-indulgence, out of desperation, to prove to himself that he’d moved on and forgotten and didn’t care anymore.

It was selfish of him. Jeonghan is suddenly a thousand times more conscious of the fact that he knows no one here, that he’d never been introduced to Seungcheol’s family or even really to his friends. He’d always been a secret, ushered out of bedrooms and down hallways, fucked with Seungcheol’s mouth against his to keep him quiet, to keep from sharing him.

This was what Seungcheol had wanted, this big fairytale wedding, this gentle press of lips on a dance floor in front of both of their families. The lace that Jeonghan would look good in but never wear, the crowd of people that Jeonghan would hate to stand in front of, the vows that would get stuck syrupy in Jeonghan’s throat.

Jeonghan leaves before Seungcheol can find him. He figures it’s easier to disappear than to look at Seungcheol and say I’m sorry that you wanted me. I’m sorry that I wanted you back.

In another world I wouldn't have let my hair grow out black again. It would have been the golden thread that led you out of the labyrinth.

if you saw me tweet this no you didnt x

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: any but please consider...seokgyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: recognition of self through the other (derogatory)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? there is nothing in you to like — you know that” -- tale of two cities, charles dickens

[FILL] cloaked as indifference

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: misunderstandings, early svt trying to get used to each other, hasty resolution because i realized i was writing a Lot
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

okay once again i have written wayyyy more than i thought i was going to so i've just made it public n posted on ao3 here!! enjoy my love

lonely together

[lachrymosy]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I might hate myself tomorrow
But I'm on my way tonight
At the bottom of a bottle
You're the poison in the wine
And I know I can't change you
And I, I won't change

- “Lonely Together,” Avicii

[FILL] less lonely together

[arundels]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Seungkwan; implied Jeonghan/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: canonverse, friends with benefits, unrequited love
Permission to remix: Yes
[going for rarest pair!]

***

Jeonghan is fucking Seungkwan when Mingyu calls.

Seungkwan bites down on a moan, angling his head towards the bedside table. Jeonghan's phone is vibrating on the spot, slowly turning in a small circle. If he cranes his neck, Seungkwan can see the contact name on the screen. Kim Mingyu — full name, no emojis or terms of endearment. It's just like Jeonghan to be the most brusque with the people he cares about the most.

Jeonghan’s hips don't quite still, but his movements do falter, and Seungkwan sees his eyes dart over to the phone. He sees the flicker of surprise light up his gaze, sees the moment of hesitation that tells Seungkwan everything he needs to know.

"Are you — are you gonna pick up?"

Jeonghan looks back at Seungkwan, almost like he's surprised to see him there. Then his face clears, and he pushes Seungkwan's fringe off his forehead, fingers raking against his scalp. Bestows Seungkwan with a beatific smile.

"Mingyu can wait," Jeonghan says, with a wink, "I'm doing something more important."

Seungkwan closes his eyes and sinks into the feeling of his own body, sticky with sweat and electric with desire, and tries to believe that Jeonghan means it.

—

Seungkwan is cleaning himself off in the shower of his hotel room when he hears Jeonghan call Mingyu back. It's not that Jeonghan is trying to keep his voice down, but through the sound of running water and the partially shut bathroom door, Seungkwan can't quite make out his words.

He turns the water off and steps out gingerly, towelling himself off with exquisite care.

"—just because you can't sleep?" Jeonghan is saying. There's that lilt in his voice, the one that he uses when he's trying just a little too hard to be nonchalant. Seungkwan knows it well; he has his own version of that same voice. He runs the towel up and down his soft thighs, the terrycloth material feeling scratchy against his skin.

Jeonghan laughs, creaky and bright. "Okay, okay," he says. "Give me five minutes."

Seungkwan wraps the towel around his hips. He looks at himself in the mirror. Pale and squishy and no muscle definition to speak of whatsoever. He prods at his non-existent pecs.

"Shut up," Jeonghan says, but there's no force to his words at all. Seungkwan can imagine him, grinning his charming, devious, boxy little grin. "Yeah, sure. Meet you in the lobby."

Seungkwan steps out of the bathroom just in time to see Jeonghan hang up the call. He's standing at the foot of the bed, in his sweatpants but with no shirt on, and he looks up when Seungkwan appears. There's something so captivating about the sharp jut of his collarbones and his angular shoulders. Like the glint of a knife's blade.

"You gonna go?" Seungkwan hears it now. The odd lilt of his own voice. He tousles a hand through his damp hair.

Jeonghan turns away, ostensibly searching for his shirt. Seungkwan watches as he slips it on, dangerous edges disappearing beneath the swamp of material. Not gone, just disguised.

"Mingyu wants to go for a walk," he says, shrugging with one shoulder. "You know what he's like."

Seungkwan does know what Mingyu is like. Unfortunately for him, he also knows what Jeonghan is like. Even so, as Jeonghan goes to leave, he can't stop himself from asking—

"Are you going to come back?"

Jeonghan pauses by the door. He half-turns, just enough for Seungkwan to catch his profile in the stark overhead light. "I don't know how long I'll be gone."

Seungkwan turns away, fusses with his toiletries bag of skincare products on the desk. "I'm going to sleep," he says, "so you should probably go back to your own room."

So Jeonghan leaves, and he doesn't come back. That's the way things have always been.

—

Four months ago, in the dorms. Jihoon had gone to visit his family and Soonyoung was having late night filming for his solo comeback. Which left Seungkwan, alone with far too many bottles of soju than could strictly be considered a good idea.

And with Jeonghan, of course. That also turned out not to be a good idea.

By the end of the evening he was handsomely pink-cheeked, and he'd leaned across the sofa without warning, put his face close to Seungkwan's. Not close enough to make his intentions clear, but close enough to raise the question.

"Boo Seungkwan," he'd said, voice slightly raspy from the alcohol, "do you ever get lonely?"

All the time, Seungkwan thought. What is loneliness but the insurmountable chasm between what you have and what you long for?

He didn’t say that. Instead he'd tilted his head towards Jeonghan and asked in return, "Do you?"

Jeonghan had kissed him then, sweet and bitter from the soju, soft chapped lips tasting like the most dangerous kind of mistake. Knobbly fingers digging into the flesh at the back of Seungkwan's neck. Long fringe dancing out a ticklish warning against his cheek.

To this day, Seungkwan tells himself that Jeonghan was the one who made a move on him. Clever, calculating, Yoon Jeonghan, snaring him in his web of glittering charisma. But, the truth is — Seungkwan had let his mouth part in an invitation, and he'd looked at Jeonghan with bright, challenging eyes, and he'd dragged them both to the brink, from which there was nowhere else to go but to fall.

—

"Eleven."

Seungkwan's eyebrows shoot up. He knows that Jeonghan has slept with a fair few people, but that still seems like a lot given their jobs and how little time they have for a personal life.

"Nayoung," he says, counting off the ones he knows about. "Sowon. Jaehyun. Johnny. That's four."

Jeonghan laughs. He's fun like this, vibrant and electrifying. They're in bed together, fluffy white hotel blankets thrown over their bare bodies, legs tangled together. Seungkwan is on his side, propped up on one elbow, looking up at Jeonghan. Always looking up at Jeonghan.

"One of the dancers, back when we'd just debuted," Jeonghan says, continuing the list. "Two of them were fans — don't make that face, I've stopped doing that now. Sana from Twice."

"Sana from Twice?!" Seungkwan sucks in a breath and smacks Jeonghan on the arm. "How did you even manage that?"

Jeonghan shrugs. "Bumped into her backstage at some awards show. Asked if she would help me with my Japanese. One thing led to another."

Seungkwan gasps again. "Is that why your Japanese is so good?"

This, to Seungkwan's shameful delight, draws a surprised giggle from Jeonghan. He reaches over and ruffles Seungkwan's hair, in a way that should be patronising and not sexy at all, and yet it makes heat coil in Seungkwan's gut.

"No, my Japanese is good because I'm naturally talented at everything I do," Jeonghan declares, winking.

Seungkwan shoves Jeonghan's arm away from him. "That's only eight."

Jeonghan becomes more subdued. He trails his fingers along Seungkwan's collarbone. "Seungcheol," he says, and it takes Seungkwan a second to realise he's continuing the list. "Wonwoo. And, you."

Seungkwan stares at Jeonghan. It was a poorly-kept secret in the group, in the early days, that Jeonghan and Seungcheol had feelings for each other. Most of the members were convinced that they had dated for a while, but the two of them never talked about it and it had become an unspoken rule not to ask. Seungkwan wasn't expecting Jeonghan to admit to it so easily.

"You and Coups-hyung—" Seungkwan starts, then trails off. He doesn't know where he's going with the question.

Jeonghan smiles at him. "We loved each other as best we could," he says. "But we were young, and when you throw sex into the mix — it gets messy."

Seungkwan frowns. "And Wonwoo-hyung…"

"That's surprising, right?" Jeonghan's face brightens. Seungkwan can't tell if the shift is genuine or telegraphed for his sake, but Jeonghan brushes Seungkwan's hair off his forehead and it becomes hard to concentrate on anything else. "Wonwoo and I never had any feelings for each other. We had a good thing going for a few months, then broke it off when we got bored. It's better that way. Cleaner."

Seungkwan doesn't know what to say to this. He leans into Jeonghan's touch. Number eleven. He's number eleven in the group, too.

"And now, me."

Jeonghan presses a kiss into his forehead. "And now, you." It feels like love, even though Seungkwan knows that it isn't.

—

If Jeonghan isn't going to come back to his room, then Seungkwan will go over to his instead. Well past midnight, he marches down the corridor, the infinite carpeted loop that links all thirteen of them, and knocks on Jeonghan's door. For a single heart-stopping moment he's afraid that it will be Mingyu who opens it.

But no, just Jeonghan.

He doesn't seem surprised to see Seungkwan, or if he is he doesn't show it. The dark circles beneath his eyes look even darker than when he'd left, and as he steps into the light Seungkwan realises that his eyes are rimmed with red.

"Have you been crying?"

Jeonghan exhales a breath that sounds almost like a sigh, but not quite. He turns and heads back into the room, leaving Seungkwan to trail after him. "Why are you here? I'm too tired for round two."

Seungkwan stands in the middle of the room and watches as Jeonghan crawls into bed and just lays there, looking half-dead and defeated.

"You're in love with him," Seungkwan says. Jeonghan doesn't even flinch. It's only as Seungkwan says it that he realises, it's not a question as much as it is a statement. He doesn't need confirmation from Jeonghan, he just needs Jeonghan to know that he knows. "You're in love with him and that's the only reason you haven't slept with him yet."

Jeonghan closes his eyes and tips his head back against the headboard. "What do you want me to say?"

Seungkwan is angry, but mostly at himself. Jeonghan is here, though, and as good a target for his rage and shame as anything else. He yanks the covers off Jeonghan and bites out, "You can't use other people as a tool to stave off your own loneliness."

Jeonghan's eyes fly open. His gaze is dark, monstrous in a way Seungkwan's never seen it before.

"What exactly is it that you're doing with me, then?"

Seungkwan wishes he knew.

His limbs feel heavy and sluggish. He walks himself over to the other side of the bed, and climbs in next to Jeonghan. Pulls the covers back up to cover both of them. Jeonghan is staring at him the whole time, Seungkwan can feel the heat and confusion of his gaze.

"I'm staying here tonight," Seungkwan declares. He sounds surer than he feels.

Jeonghan is silent and still for a long, frozen, moment. Then he reaches out, one hand to Seungkwan's cheek. His fingers are ice against Seungkwan's skin, and it makes Seungkwan shiver. He bites it down and leans into Jeonghan's touch.

"Yoon Jeonghan," he asks, an echo back to that first night, the night that he wishes he could erase and re-do, except he's not sure he'd do anything differently, "do you ever get lonely?"

Jeonghan smiles at him like he remembers. Like he understands. He drags Seungkwan closer, until their foreheads are touching, until their noses crunch together, until Jeonghan's teeth graze like a vice-trap against Seungkwan's lips, ready to snap shut and draw blood.

When he speaks, his voice is raspy. Hot with desire, and cold with the stark absence of—

Seungkwan's breath hitches.

Jeonghan whispers, "Do you?"

Despair! Anguish! Horror!

[lachrymosy]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan (/any)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“I’m dying of boredom,” Howl said pathetically. “Or maybe just dying.”

- Howl’s Moving Castle, Diana Wynne Jones

[FILL]: we still have a long way to go

[yoonouvre]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan & Chan, very background implied jeongcheol, this could be read as literally anything
Major Tags: NA
Additional Tags: dystopian AU, hot mv inspired, chan centric, chan POV, mentions about death, mentions of retching, this is very vague
Permission to remix: No
1.9k words, not beta-ed, I'm not sure if this is what the prompter had in mind but please accept my humble fill :) ao3 link
this is my first ever 17hols fill :) hope you like it. this could also be considered a part of the same universe as this or be read as a standalone

***

It all happened too fast. Too fucking fast.

One moment Chan was trying to fight off one of them that had been able catch him off guard and the next moment Jeonghan was in front of him, shoving him behind himself and placing him behind the protection of his massive wings.

Chan wanted to tell him off, throw a tantrum about how he didn't need his help and how he was perfectly fine of fighting for himself, protecting himself but then suddenly Jeonghan was on his knees, crumbling down under his own weight. He tried to support him but was only able to slow down his fall, the added weight of the metal wings weighing both of them down.

With Jeonghan on the ground he could clearly see that he was able to take down the one Chan had been fighting with the metal piece sticking out from his neck but something was wrong, very wrong. There was an empty syringe next to him, the shape and color of which was something Chan had learned to know by his heart. Something he dreaded and something that brought back memories, the kind that he would rather keep buried in the deepest parts of his mind.

But now was not the time for any of that, he just needed to know if that person had been successful in injecting Jeonghan. He quickly went to the front to look at their resident angel, kneeling down to mirror his position but not before kicking that man far to the side. He didn't need him anywhere near them even though he was dead.

One look at Jeonghan was enough to confirm his deepest fear. The angel was on his knees, the color of his skin turning into a deathly white rapidly. There was blood marring his pale face, it made him look terrifying especially with the large metal wings that sprouted from his back.

He looked every bit like the nightmare Chan had been told he was when he was first brought into the facility. Oh how ignorant they had all been, Jeonghan was not a monster. He was far from it, he could never be the monster they painted him to be. The irony of it all was not lost to him given how they had been the ones to turn him the way he was now.

"Hyung, Jeonghannie hyung look at me," Chan said, his voice surprisingly level, scarily contradictory to how fast his heart was beating. Jeonghan's eyes were glassy with a sheen Chan knew all too well but he could see him trying to shake himself awake.

"I am." Came Jeonghan's reply in a hoarse voice, so different from his usual sweet, airy voice that always made it seem like he was speaking in a fairytale.

"Okay, it's going to be okay. I'm going to take you back to our safety spot and then I'm going to call Seungcheol hyung. You're going to be okay." Chan told him as he held his face in both hands and brought their foreheads together, the skin of his face uncharacteristically cool to the touch.

They were not that far from where they had set up their temporary camp in an abandoned warehouse. He should be able to take both of them back within ten minutes max. Seungkwan should still be there if they had hopefully not ambushed their space too.

"Hyung-hyung I'm going to try and pick you up now, okay? At the count of three, okay?" Chan tilts his head back a bit to look at Jeonghan who is looking back at him with a small smile. Chan would have silently marveled at the rare sight had it not made an appearance in such a tense situation.

Jeonghan suddenly shook his head at him before resting his forehead against Chan's shoulder, slumping down against him. He could feel his warm breath fan against his neck but even that was not enough to quench the fear he felt at the action. He was about to ask him what happened when Jeonghan spoke up.

"It's not worth it," was what he said in a low whisper, his voice so low that it almost got lost in the sudden ringing that took over Chan's ears. He tightened his hold around Jeonghan, a different kind of fear chilling his bones. It was not a possibility. Never in a million years had he even considered the possibility of what Jeonghan was trying to insinuate.

"Don't. Don't say that. Don't joke about it like that." Chan was surprised at how strong it came out, he was nearly not able to recognise the intensity in his own voice. He had never talked like this before, especially not to Jeonghan.

"What we're going to do is take you back to the warehouse and what you're not going to do is make it difficult for us," he tells Jeonghan, his hold on him still tight as if he was afraid of him slipping away. Chan stood up first and fixed his grip around Jeonghan, huffing a breath as he helped him stand.

It was more difficult with how much the injection had started affecting Jeonghan, his energy level going down more and more but he could see him trying his best to hold his weight. He put Jeonghan's arm around his shoulder and gripped his waist tight, making sure that he was supported before they started making their way back.

The walk was quiet for most of it apart from the muffled painful whimpers from Jeonghan and his own labored breaths. They only stopped once when Jeonghan had to empty his stomach at the side, it was the all the more reason he needed to move them faster.

Seungkwan saw the both of them before Chan even realised they were at the warehouse. He rushed towards them and helped Chan prop Jeonghan up, supporting the other side of his body.

"What happened?" Seungkwan asked him as the laid Jeonghan down near one of the walls, propping him upright and making sure not to jostle his wings too much.

"They got him. Syringe. Bring Seungcheol or Joshua. Anyone." Chan told him as he searched for anything that would keep Jeonghan warm. It was enough for Seungkwan to understand the situation as he picked up his own machete and was rushing out the door, not before screaming at him to not let Jeonghan fall asleep.

When he had found multiple sheets and covers he quickly wrapped them around Jeonghan. The quietness of the room was uncomfortable in a way that made Chan's skin crawl with anticipation for the worst. He wanted to speak or say something to break the silence but the words were stuck in his throat. It must've showed on his face because Jeonghan spoke up instead.

Because of course he would.

"Channie I'm bored," his voice comes out surprisingly put together. He had stopped shivering now which was somewhat a good sign.

"Just some more time, Seungkwan will be here with them any moment." Chan told Jeonghan as he turned to look at him, the colours of the sunset from the broken window paint him in a beautiful blue and purple.

He was so beautiful.

Jeonghan only let out an annoyed whine like the child he became when he didn't get his way.

"I'm dying of boredom ugh, entertain me," Jeonghan spoke again and now Chan had half a mind to leave him be if he was going to be so impossible.

"Just a bit more and then we'll put up a performance for you, I'll even request Joshua hyung to lend us his music player." He told Jeonghan who has become suspiciously quiet. When Chan turned to see him he's looking back at him with an expression he doesn't remember ever seeing on his face. It's unsettling.

"Or maybe I'm just dying," maybe it was better when Jeonghan kept his mouth shut. Chan could endure the tense silence over this any time.

"You're not dying." Chan told him fiercely, his voice hard and Jeonghan only gave him another small smile.

"I'm just joking Channie." Jeonghan raised up his hands defensively, his lips curved up in a mischievous smile as if he hadn't just made a joke about dying, about leaving them behind in this hellhole.

"Will you hug me?" It came out in a small whisper, the previous lightness in his voice now gone.

"Of course I will." Chan said as he wrappped his arms around Jeonghan, holding him close to himself. They stay like that for a bit, where the fuck are they? Jeonghan is still as cold as before but it doesn't seem like his temprature has dropped any more which was a good thing.

"Was I a good hyung to you Channie?" Jeonghan asked him trying to tilt his head up to look at him, Chan doesn't let him. He held his head close to his chest instead. He didn't want to see the expression on his face, afraid that it'll give a sense of realness to the possibility of whatever he was trying to convey.

"You can always be a better one. You are not going anywhere. Don't talk as if you are." His own voice has lost it's earlier hard egde now. It feels cruel to speak to him like that now, Chan won't do that to him.

Jeonghan's reply came in the form of a small, breathless laugh.

"Oh my Channie has grown up so much." Chan ignored the wetness on his neck where Jeonghan was snugly resting his face. He ignored the wetness on his face too, it's just sweat he told himself.

"If things don't go as expected, tell Joshua to do it because Seungcheol won't. He's stubborn and an asshole like that, won't even respect my last wish." He knows what Jeonghan is talking about. This is a conservation they've had before as a group. Jeonghan if it was Joshua or Seungcheol and Joshua if it was Jeonghan because Seungcheol would never take a decision like that. Wouldn't subject himself to the pain of having the blood of his friends on his hands.

"If I sing for you now, will you stop talking?" Chan asked him in a pleading voice, he couldn't listen to Jeonghan talk about dying anymore. Talk as if he won't just take away a part of all of them if he does.

"Ohh well well, now look at that. Now you want to entertain me." He said in a teasing voice and Chan woudl take it. He'd take any amount of teasing if it meant Jeonghan not talking about death.

He started singing. It was a lullaby that Jeonghan would often sing at night after all of them had survived another day. It felt different to hear it in his own voice, so vastly different from Jeonghan's but it's worth it when the elder joined, singing along with him.

It was not too long until Seungcheol came running to them with everyone else in tow. He was just as bloody and bruised as all of them but he had a worried glint in his eyes as he took in the sight of them both. But with how determined Seungcheol was to make sure all of them get out this alive, Chan knew Jeonghan was not going to die. No matter how much it seemed like he had resigned to his fate, he was just as desparate to live as each one of them.

Jeonghan was going to be just fine and then both of them were going to pretend this conversation never took place.

They will make out of here alive. No one gets left behind.

i dont know if this works but if it does...:)

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“and so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. i looked away, hiding my eyes as i thrilled to the word.
"qhat a stupid lamb," i sighed.
"what a sick, masochistic lion.”
-- twilight, stephanie meyer

&

"allow
me these treasures, lord.
time will break what doesn’t
bend — even time. even you."
-- despite my efforts even my prayers have turned into threats, kaveh akbar

[FILL] a bleeding, loyal heart

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Junhui/Minghao
Major Tags: explicit sexual content, minor character death
Additional Tags: royalty AU, junhui is a mercenary, non-linear narrative, once again nj writes about falling in love with the person you have to kill
Permission to remix: please ask

[1/2]

Junhui rolls over. Minghao is peacefully asleep next to him. The room is silent, save for the gentle sound of his breathing, steady and quiet. A sheet covers most of his slender body, coming up to the middle of his torso. Minghao’s skin is soft and clear, save for the wine-coloured marks Junhui sucked into his neck and collarbone not even an hour ago.

Part of Junhui wants to do it all again. He can feel the warmth radiating from Minghao’s lithe body, and he wants to put his hands on him again. He wants to take some of that warmth for himself, to run his fingers over Minghao’s chest and hips and thighs, to make Minghao come again and again.

But Junhui knows he shouldn’t. There’ll be no better time than this. Minghao is asleep, peaceful, and totally unaware of his sword gleaming in the corner of the room. Now is the time to act.

He slips out of bed, the chill stinging his feet. Carefully, he makes his way over to the corner of the room where Minghao’s sword stands. The royal sword. Junhui’s hands aren’t worthy of it, not for this. And yet use it he will. He has been given a job to do, after all. No bed, no body, is more important than his task.

He unsheaths the sword gently, not even daring to breathe as he does it. It’s heavy, but it sits well in his hand, and it has a sharp beauty in the glow of the candlelight. It’s a beauty befitting Minghao, Junhui thinks—cold, austere, and yet somehow radiant.

Junhui doesn’t want to think too much.

He slowly makes his way over to the bed. With each step, he takes a shallow breath. Now is not the time for nerves, and yet the thumping of his heart rings louder the closer he gets to Minghao. His shadow casts a gloom over the room, and Junhui wishes it didn’t. He wishes he wasn’t there, and that he could just lie next to Minghao and think of nothing but how to wake him up in the morning and of running his tongue over Minghao’s teeth but he’s already there, he’s at Minghao’s bedside, and he’s taking a shaky breath and holding the sword over the body that he has taken apart so often and he’s just about to drive it home and then-

Minghao’s eyes open.

***

It started with a mission. Renjun’s kingdom and Minghao’s kingdom had had a rivalry for goodness-knows-how long and for goodness-knows-what reason. It was nothing to do with Minghao, the fairly recent king. Nor was it anything to do with Junhui, a lowly mercenary with nothing better to do than risk his life trying to kill Minghao. But that was just the way it was.

Which was why Junhui stood before Minghao and his courtiers, using his best acting skills.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I am a tax administrator fleeing from the kingdom of Renjun. They are persecuting me for speaking ill of the king, even though I know of the atrocities the king has committed here. I have heard of your generosity, and I’m seeking refuge here. Even if you can only have me for a few days, I would be grateful. It would mean that Renjun’s soldiers would lose track of me.”

Minghao was impossible to read. Cold and sharp as a blade. And yet, as Junhui kept talking, he couldn’t help but think that Minghao was starting to soften. Minghao was renowned for his compassion to the downtrodden, whether from his own kingdom or from others, and it made him a popular and respected king.

Junhui felt a little bad that he was taking advantage of such uncommon kindness. But only a little bad. A job is a job.

“My friend, anybody fleeing tyranny is welcome here. Since you are in need of special protection, I could find a room in the palace for you. You are welcome to stay as long as you need until you can find a place to go and establish yourself.”

Something warmed in Junhui’s blood. This was it. The first stage of the plan was complete.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Junhui replied, bowing. “I am eternally grateful for your kindness.

Minghao nodded. The faintest of smiles graced his handsome face, as he beckoned a maid to lead Junhui to his room.

Now all Junhui had to do was get close enough to Minghao to kill him.

***

Junhui freezes. Minghao wasn’t supposed to wake up. But now his eyes are open, moving from the tip of the blade up to Junhui’s face.

“Oh,” is the first word Minghao utters.

“Minghao,” Junhui replies breathily.

Minghao sighs. It gets Junhui’s hand trembling. For some reason, despite the position he’s in, Minghao seems unperturbed. It’s as if he wakes up every morning with a blade pointed at his chest. He doesn’t look at all surprised.

Why doesn’t he look surprised?

Junhui doesn’t have time to think about it. The next thing he knows, he’s being kicked in the chest. He yelps in shock as his head slams against the floor. The sword clatters somewhere beside him, but Minghao is quick to grab it, pointing it at his torso.

“What?” Minghao asks cruelly. “You think I don’t have spies? I know who you are, Junhui. I’ve known for a while.”

***

“Do you always spend this long talking to the strangers who seek refuge with you?” Junhui asked one night.

Minghao smiled. “Only to the interesting ones.”

This was the third night in a row that Junhui had spent staying up with Minghao and talking. It usually started with Minghao asking about Renjun’s kingdom, about what it was like to live in such a repressive place and whether Junhui knew anything about their defence strategy. But Junhui was good at deflecting, so they’d talk about other things too, things that Junhui wasn’t entirely sure he should know about a king like Minghao.

Kings shouldn’t be unsure of themselves, should they? They should be strong and majestic, all the time. There’s no room for hesitancy, not when there are pressing matters to attend to. And yet Junhui knew about Minghao’s doubts, about his concern he wasn’t doing well enough, about his fear that he couldn’t repel Renjun. Why did Junhui know all of this? Because he was interesting?

“So you think I’m interesting?” Junhui replied, raising an eyebrow.

“That much was obvious, wasn’t it?”

Junhui shrugged. “Part of me was wondering whether you were just using me for information about Renjun.”

Minghao opened his mouth, as if about to speak, then sighed. “Maybe initially,” he admitted, “but- well. You’re nice to talk to, Junhui.”

“You’re a king, Minghao. There must be no shortage of people you talk to.”

“Not like with you. It’s hard, when you’re a king. You have to be careful with who you trust, who you share with.”

“And that’s why you’ve chosen a near-stranger?”

“You haven’t given me reason to doubt you so far. Will you?”

Junhui’s heart lurches. This is the man he’s meant to kill—the man who thinks Junhui’s the only one he can talk to. Junhui wants to do nothing of the sort. He wants to keep being trusted by Minghao, he wants to stand over him and shield him from harm. Minghao’s too good to die like this.

And yet, this is what he has to do.

“Of course I won’t,” Junhui lies.

A job is a job. Junhui just wonders if it’s worth it.

***

“Minghao, please,” Junhui begs, “I can explain this.”

“Explain what? The lying, the cheating, the attempt to murder me? I’d like to see you try.”

“You think I wanted this? I’m just doing a job, I didn’t want it to turn out this way.”

“But you didn’t stop it. If it’s just a job to you, you could have found a way out. But for some reason, you simply had to betray me.”

“Minghao, wait-”

“Although you didn’t betray me, I suppose. You can’t betray anybody. You can’t betray someone for whom you have no loyalty, and mercenaries aren’t loyal to anybody.”

“That was uncalled for. I may be a mercenary, but my heart beats like yours does.”

“Does it? You tried to murder me in my own bed, after… after we…”

Junhui swallows. Minghao’s right, of course.

“And that’s the most cowardly thing about you,” Minghao continues. “Being a mercenary is excusable. But using me the way you did? That was cowardly. You could have faced me properly, like a warrior. But you chose to do it this way.”

“I didn’t always plan for it to be like this, you have to know that.”

“You weren’t planning on abusing my generosity?”

“I- well- not in the way that I did. I admit, the refuge thing was a ruse, but I never intended for it to… progress quite this far.”

Minghao scoffs.

“Besides,” Junhui bursts out, “you’re the one that started it!”

“What?” Minghao snaps. “Are you a child? Is that the best excuse you have?”

“Well- it’s only because-”

“What difference does it even make if I started it? You nearly finished it—whatever it is—all for a job. Didn’t you? You couldn’t bend even a little, even for me, could you?”

Junhui doesn’t know what to say. It sounds stupid when put that way—that Junhui would throw it all away for a job. But what is it? What even is it that they have?

***

Whatever it is, Minghao did start it. He was the one who said they should practise their swordfighting form together. Junhui agreed, even though there were probably a million other people Minghao could have asked.

Even so, they went to a room and practised with wooden swords. They corrected each other’s form and showed each other different techniques, and it occurred to Junhui that he had missed this. He had missed having a partner to practise with, someone who could read him and challenge him and get him to do his best. Since he had joined the army, he was trained to view everyone as an enemy, but that wasn’t what he really wanted. What he wanted was to be better. He wanted technical perfection, and he wanted a comrade to help him get there.

Minghao wasn’t a comrade. He couldn’t be. If all went to plan, he would die by Junhui’s sword. But that didn’t matter in this duel. In this duel, the clashing of the swords was just a beat to time their dance with each other. Where one went, the other followed. Evenly matched, the duel went on and on, and Junhui had to give it his all. This was what he wanted. This was what made his blood run through him.

“Junhui,” Minghao called, pulling Junhui from his reverie, “you seem a little distracted today.”

“What do you mean?” Junhui asked.

Minghao didn’t reply. Instead, in a few clever moves, he managed to disarm Junhui, knocking him to the floor. With his wooden sword pointed at Junhui’s chest, he knelt over him until their faces were just inches away from each other.

“See what I mean? Distracted,” Minghao said, barely more than a whisper.

Minghao’s breaths ghosted over Junhui’s face. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and neck, and before he could stop himself, Junhui wiped some sweat from Minghao’s temple with the pad of his thumb.

“What was that?” Minghao asked.

“You- you’re sweating, your Majesty.”

“Junhui. Look me in the eye.”

Junhui did as he was told. There was something inscrutable in Minghao’s gaze.

“You really are distracted, aren’t you?” Minghao said.

“How do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes, Junhui.”

Junhui didn’t know what this meant. “How do you mean?”

“You should know. You must have seen me looking back.”

Junhui closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The air smelled of sweat and salt and Minghao in the midst of it all.

“Your Majesty, what are you trying to say?”

Minghao moved the point of the wooden sword from Junhui’s chest to his chin, keeping Junhui’s head tilted up.

“You can call me Minghao, you know.”

“Minghao… I don’t-”

“Come on, Junhui. You can work it out.”

A lot of words, but not much action. Junhui decided to make the move. He moved a hand to the nape of Minghao’s neck, trying to pull him down. Minghao threw the wooden sword to the side, moving down easily until their lips connected. Their lips were dry, but that didn’t stop Minghao sighing into the kiss like he’d been waiting for years. They kept going until Junhui’s leg was wrapped around Minghao’s hips and they were rutting desperately against each other.

“Wait,” Minghao gasped as they broke apart, “we should probably go somewhere else. Somewhere we won’t be found.”

Junhui nodded, too dazed to even speak.

And that was how Junhui ended up in Minghao’s bed for the first time, nipping gently at Minghao’s earlobe, hands running down Minghao’s arms. He moved away to just look at Minghao. His face was red, his chest rising and falling with each panting breath. But for once, he didn’t look as stern or impassive as usual. Under Junhui, he looked more delicate, more glass than metal.

Junhui dipped down to kiss Minghao again, gentle and slow. Minghao gripped tight onto Junhui’s shoulder and whimpered, moaning louder as Junhui made his way down his jawline, his neck, his collarbone. When Junhui bit down, Minghao gasped and held onto Junhui even tighter. Junhui licked and sucked at Minghao’s nipples, and Minghao groaned, his eyes screwed shut as if he couldn’t even bear to keep them open.

Junhui ran his hands and tongue all over Minghao’s skin. At that moment, it was all his. No swords to think of, no kingdoms to protect. It was just them, just Minghao writhing under Junhui’s gentle touch. He gripped Minghao’s hips, licked the head of Minghao’s cock, looking up at him as he did. Minghao groaned, low and loud, tightening his fingers in Junhui’s hair as Junhui bobbed his head up and down.

Junhui looked up at Minghao whenever he could. This wasn’t Minghao the king, this was Minghao the man, surrendering his body to a man he barely knew. As Minghao’s orgasm drew closer, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes tightly closed, Junhui couldn’t help but think that this was enough for him. Why spill Minghao’s blood when he could have his whole body?

Minghao came into Junhui’s mouth, limbs covered in a sheen of sweat, glowing and panting as Junhui came back up to kiss him. He was beautiful. Junhui had always known that, but now that he was underneath him and at his mercy like this, it was all the more clear.

메타몽

[kisoap]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None, go crazy!

Prompt:

Do you want somebody
Like I want somebody?

-- "Ditto", NewJeans

[FILL] swipe

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Seungcheol
Major Tags: The mortifying ordeal of seeing the same person on every dating app
Permission to remix: Please ask!

***


Joshua lets Seungcheol choose the restaurant this time.

He does this for a couple reasons: one, because he’s nice, and the other, because he’s tired.

They aren’t dating. Like, Joshua calls his mom a couple times a month and she asks him if he’s seeing anyone and his answer is no. Describing their time together in any way that would get his mother’s hopes up feels mean.

It’s December. Joshua is on date 38. Seungcheol is on date 34.

—

Seungcheol chooses an italian place that Joshua always walks past on the way to the gym. It smells good outside, and it’s a dim place with a faux-wooden entryway and dead plants hanging in the foyer. They’re seated near a window and shown a wine list that Joshua finds to be both small and underwhelming.

Still, he orders them something decent and finally, they can start.

“So,” Seungcheol says, swirling his wine around in his glass. “It’s been a while. You’re up to 38?”

“Mm. Yeah,” Joshua sips his wine, feels it run over his teeth. Hopes it doesn’t stain.

“How was it?”

This is how it always, always goes. They wouldn’t work, exactly, but they work well enough for what they both need. Someone else who gets it. Someone else who hates being alone enough to entertain anyone’s company.

“Good enough,” Joshua says. “He took me to Rolling Pin, and then a cafe closer to him.”

His date had inched them, block by block, cafe by cafe, back to his place, where he plied Joshua with wine and kindness and Joshua accepted. Always did.

“What do you think?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow.

“Not… not it.” Joshua slides a finger against the rim of his glass, wondering if he can touch it just right, so it makes a high-pitched howl. It doesn’t whine under his finger.

Seungcheol looks sympathetic. “On to the next,” he says, raising his glass for a halfhearted cheers.

“You?” Joshua says after swallowing another sip.

Seungcheol smiles, a little sad. “Nothing good. I met up with 27 but it didn’t go anywhere.”

Joshua remembers 27 from pictures. Short and a little shy, Seungcheol had said, but he smelled good.

Seungcheol continues, “And then I saw someone new last week but it turns out we’d matched on Tinder a while ago and he ghosted me back then. And that was sort of… hard to build off of.”

Joshua purses his lips in sympathy. He doesn’t get why Seungcheol is doing repeats.

In fact, Seungcheol is the only guy Joshua’s seen more than once since he moved to Seoul. He just doesn’t see the point—what would he get out of someone that he can’t see immediately.

Their date was decent, actually. Joshua liked the wine. He liked Seungcheol’s gums, his laugh, the way he paid the bill, shiny watch on his wrist.

He liked how Seungcheol put a soft hand on his back as they walked to the train. Not quite low enough to be scandalous, but low enough to give Joshua something to think about.

It wasn’t good enough, though. So, whatever. It was fine. Joshua didn’t seek out another date because he wasn’t looking for good enough.

But still, Seungcheol kept popping up. Joshua would make a profile on a new platform and on swipe number seven, Seungcheol would pop up. Tinder. Hinge. OkCupid. Grindr.

Seungcheol. Seungcheol. Seungcheol.

Maybe he was the only one who could understand the gnawing emptiness Joshua was trying to fill. Other people disappeared, fell in love and deleted their profiles, but never Seungcheol.

So, he texted him. Asked him how it was going.

Here they are now.

The pasta comes and they split two dishes, a steak and a fish. Seungcheol gives him more steak and Joshua gives him more fish.

Joshua wonders if this would be enough for someone else. A person who knows what he likes. A person who wants him to eat well.

He gets tipsy off the wine, without meaning to. Tipsy enough that the light painting Seungcheol’s face makes him look new. And then Joshua considers. Thinks. Imagines.

What if he could try being someone else tonight?

He gently lowers his fork and knife, suddenly full. He takes the time to look at Seungcheol, at the smear of oil on his lip and the grown-out length of his hair, and he tries to look at him like he’s never seen him before. Tries to point out the flaws, and finds none. Finds someone he could see again.

They take turns paying, and this time it’s Seungcheol’s turn. That, too, makes Joshua feel new. They bundle back up, scarves and gloves and coats and Joshua drops his wallet in the rush and Seungcheol stoops down to grab it for him, patting him gently on the shoe before standing and Joshua’s stomach flutters a little.

He can’t remember why he didn’t call Seungcheol back.

He can’t remember why he didn’t take Seungcheol home.

They share a cigarette outside the restaurant, leaned up against a planter. Joshua can’t stop thinking about indirect kisses—such a stupid, childish concept. He tries to keep his lips as much off the filter as he can, but every time he brings it back to his mouth it’s cold, wet from Seungcheol’s spit.

They walk to the train in comfortable silence, shoulders rubbing together, and Joshua’s heart beats like he’s been running. Doesn’t he want this? Can he want this?

At the last second, he’s brave enough to thread his hand through the crook of Seungcheol’s arm and pull him a little closer.

Seungcheol looks at him, red-cheeked and confused.

Joshua doesn’t know what to say—nothing really feels like the right thing. Nothing feels like how he’s feeling right now, tipsy and warm and cold and scared and here.

“Do you want to—would you come back with me? To my place?” Joshua asks.

Seungcheol looks away from him, his breath turning into clouds. Then he smiles.

“Lead the way,” he says.

do you feel like a young god?

[arundels]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

He says, Ooh, baby girl, don't get cut on my edges
I'm the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon

- 'Young God', Halsey

[FILL] the two of us are just young gods

[lachrymosy]

Ship/Member: SCoups/Jeonghan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, complicated relationships, unrequited-ish love
Permission to remix: Yes

***
Jeonghan’s midway through a long-winded story that Seungcheol hasn’t actually been paying close attention to when Jeonghan pauses, tilts his beer toward Mingyu and Minghao, and says, “Sometimes I wonder if they can tell when it’s fake.”

Seungcheol isn’t drunk but he doesn’t know what Jeonghan is talking about, so he stares at the shape of Jeonghan’s hand clenched around the bottle, bony and pale. The ring on his pinky clanks against the glass in a nervous rhythm. Seungcheol can almost feel nervous energy radiating off of Jeonghan, even with Seokmin sitting between them. He imagines his palm pressed against Jeonghan’s chest, cupping the staccato flight of his heart.

“When what is?” asks Chan, leaning into Seungcheol’s space as he reaches for more food.

“Everything,” Jeonghan says, with a razor-sharp laugh. “All the bullshit we say on stage.”

Seungcheol speaks without thinking. “I never lie on stage.”

He watches Jeonghan’s face come into view as he leans around Seokmin. His eyes, dark and unreadable, meet Seungcheol’s. “Don’t you?” he asks.

Seungcheol opens his mouth to protest—just because Jeonghan lies with every breath doesn’t mean the rest of them do, doesn’t mean Seungcheol does—but Minghao speaks before he gets the chance to argue his point.

“I think it’s a matter of perspective,” Minghao says. “It’s not so much about whether or not it’s true but whether or not you believe it.”

Jeonghan holds Seungcheol’s gaze for a moment longer and then his eyes flicker towards Minghao, plunging Seungcheol into cold water. The lamp over their table refracts into a pattern of light and shadows. Seungcheol’s mind numbs, as though he isn’t really here.

“It’s not,” Jeonghan argues. “You’d have to be delusional to really believe everything you say on stage—I mean really believe it.”

“Maybe I do,” Seungcheol interjects, if only to drag Jeonghan’s gaze back to him.

A pause. Jeonghan looks at him, assessing. Seungcheol’s mouth flattens into a hard line.

“You care about the fans,” Seungcheol protests, the edges of his words curling in the heat of his anger. What he’s angry about, he isn’t even quite sure. “They’re real. They spend their time and money on us. They love us. And you’re going to sit here and tell me everything you say to them is bullshit?”

Jeonghan smiles, barely. “Ah, Seungcheol,” he says in a drawl that always precedes his sharpest words. “We’re not really gods.”

--

But regardless of what Jeonghan thinks: Seungcheol is always truthful on stage.

“I love you,” he says into his microphone. His words reverberate through the stadium and his eyes slide over to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan looks back at him, aglow in stage lights. To Seungcheol he seems like a star fallen to earth—radiant, celestial, ephemeral. The crowd roars with devotion, every scream a sacrifice at the altar of the stage. Seungcheol, watching Jeonghan, feels the same roar rip through his chest.

Carried on a wave of adoration, he wanders the stage and spots a fan holding a sign in the crowd. Jeongcheol forever, it reads, alongside a picture of them when they were younger, less aware, more desperate to be loved. He turns and catches Jeonghan’s eye just after he spots it.

He tilts a smile in Seungcheol’s direction and then fades away, too distant and cold to touch. For once, Seungcheol does not try to reach out a hand to catch him before he disappears into the night.

--

How can it be a lie, just because it happens on stage, if everyone watching believes it to be true?

--

“So you just think of it as lying,” Seungcheol says, later, only the green glow of the alarm clock on his nightstand piercing through the dark. “Everything you say in front of a camera?”

Jeonghan groans and shifts away from Seungcheol, a gap of cold air rushing into the space he left. “Are you really still thinking about that?”

He is thinking about how Jeonghan’s mouth, velvet and warm when they kiss, must be the truth. It can’t really matter what words he says as long as the physical weight of the truth shoves its way into the foreground, undeniable.

“I mean it,” Seungcheol says. “I mean all of it.”

Jeonghan remains quiet. Seungcheol listens to the sound of his breathing and shifts toward him, but stops himself from chasing after the thin warmth he’d left.

“Then I mean it too,” Jeonghan says, his words a mirage of comfort. “Go to sleep.”

--

It didn’t start like this. At the beginning it was blurry but absolute, and Seungcheol plunged headfirst. Only later did he realize his lungs had filled with water.

But at first—stage blended into home, on camera meant as much as off, and they were tired and desperate and—

I need you, is what he’d said, his voice small but clear.

At least back then, they were the same.

--

The orange glow of the setting sun casts warm stripes across the cavity of the plane. Jeonghan, looking out the window, burns bright.

“It’s not the same for me as it is for you,” he says so quietly Seungcheol almost misses it. His head swivels back around, and now he is outlined in a halo of dying sunlight. “I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

Seungcheol’s stomach swoops like they’re experiencing turbulence, but the plane remains steady, filled with an endless whir of noise as they speed across the sky.

“What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“You can mean what you say,” Jeonghan answers. “But I just have to get by.”

There’s something hidden underneath his words, endless double meanings Seungcheol doesn’t really want to dig up. He reaches for Jeonghan’s hand instead.

It shouldn’t mean something when Jeonghan doesn’t pull away.

--

“You should date,” Jeonghan says when they’re back in Seoul, milling around during a lull on set. Seungcheol searches his face for a hint of sarcasm or cruelty, but finds only sincerity where he expects poison.

“There’s no time,” Seungcheol mumbles. He can’t hold Jeonghan’s gaze and his eyes drop to his shoes, an embarrassing sign of defeat.

“You’re in the prime of life, hot, rich, and famous,” Jeonghan continues. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his linen pants, selected for him by a team who all cooed over how good they looked as soon as he stepped out of the dressing room. “It’s a shame not to use all of that.”

Seungcheol looks up at him again. Jeonghan meets him with the same cool, impenetrable stare as before.

“What about you?” Seungcheol says lightly—teasing, maybe. Trying.

Jeonghan, for once, is the first to look away. “Who said I wasn’t?” he retorts airily. “This is about you.”

He hesitates for a split second too long before he walks away. In that split second the knife twists deeper into Seungcheol’s gut, blunt and predictable but excruciating all the same.

--

Another country, another hotel. Seungcheol goes to the swimming pool at dusk, distantly worried about someone photographing him but not enough to stay entombed in his room. He slides into the water, sinking down until he hits the concrete bottom. The quiet thrums in his ears. He wants to let go, leave his feelings floating in this pool like debris.

When he reemerges, the sun has slipped beneath the horizon, leaving Seungcheol in the afterlight of its death. Until the next day, when it will rise again, and again, and again.

--

The yellow haze of a sky before a thunderstorm draws Seungcheol to the window of his hotel room. He looks out at an indiscernible mass of concrete, his reflection a faint shadow within the glass. Carats, be safe coming to the concert! He composes in his head. It smells like it’s going to storm.

A beep signals him to turn around before the door to his room opens and Jeonghan appears in its gap, slight as a shadow. His eyes are as dark and heavy as a rain cloud, falling on Seungcheol with the intent of thunder. An ache pools low in Seungcheol’s stomach, familiar and unwanted.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

If Jeonghan is surprised, he doesn’t show it, crossing the distance between them but stopping just short of an arm’s length away.

“I got lonely,” he says, joking, but Seungcheol hears the honesty laced through his words.

A clap of thunder startles them both. Seungcheol turns back toward the window, searching the sky for rain. There is no sign of the incoming storm.

“I thought you were seeing someone,” Seungcheol says.

He looks at Jeonghan. Neither of them moves.

“I never said that,” Jeonghan answers. “You inferred.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol agrees. He hesitates, fighting against the way the room shifts and tilts towards Jeonghan. Gravitational pull. He’s always losing his footing. “I think you should go, anyway.”

The slightest flash of anger crosses Jeonghan’s face, but then it’s gone, smoothed out and undetectable.

“If you really loved me like you say you do, you wouldn’t do this,” Jeonghan spits out.

It’s such an obvious manipulation that even Seungcheol can see it. He wants to argue, but he can’t seem to think of anything to say.

A few raindrops splatter against the window. Jeonghan takes a step closer.

“Do you love me?” Seungcheol asks, voice hollow with fear.

Jeonghan’s steps falter. “Of course,” he says, cool as water. Seungcheol slips beneath the surface, his want rendering him immobile, likely to drown.

Jeonghan reaches for him with cold hands and cups his cheeks. “I need you,” he says softly.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath and lets the water flood his lungs.

life is for the living

[arundels]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse/canon universe, the arrested development of idols
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

All of us have to learn how to invent our lives, make them up, imagine them. We need to be taught these skills; we need guides to show us how. If we don’t, our lives get made up for us by other people.

- The Wave in the Mind, Ursula K. Le Guin

sometimes all i care about is you but i know you really don't

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Seungkwan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: misunderstandings/incompatible love languages/unrequited love? pining????
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I hope you understand how much you mean to me / I hope you understand you're mean to me

- Best Lay by Wild Child (posted by stvsyndrome)

if you will be my bluebird returning

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Seungkwan/Any (i would prefer not verkwan cause i'm a rarepair lover but if you will die without verkwan go ahead)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse but not canon? influencer/brand ambassador/idol seungkwan + his nonfamous partner, long distance, light angst but a happy reunion
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

You sent a photo out your window of Paris / of what you wish that I could see
But someone's gotta be the lighthouse / and that someone's gotta be me
And I hope your absence makes us grow fonder / I hope we always feel the same
When our eyes meet past security / we embrace in the baggage claim
When we kiss in the baggage claim

- Little Wanderer by Death Cab for Cutie

tender to the touch

[corar]

Ship/Member: Any Minghao pairing (consider Joshua/Minghao...)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: Character Death

Prompt:

Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.

Ursula K. Le Guin

i never take my own advice

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Seungcheol or Joshua/Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: new relationship, josh wanting to take it slow because he's less experienced and then realizing he's actually sooo horny and trying to communicate this but being too embarrassed, josh getting jealous and them having sex about it
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I thought love would keep me satisfied / but you know, but you know
I want more than what they advertise / and you're so rational

&

But you didn't even notice
I was jealous of your company
Ooh, boy you've got a reputation

- both from Anxious by Carly Rae Jepsen

[FILL] Re: slow it down, could we move it to the bedroom?

[purplepinkskies]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Seungcheol
Major Tags: College AU, new relationship, jealousy but just a little bit
Additional Tags: josh wanting to take it slow because he's less experienced and then realizing he's actually sooo horny and trying to communicate this but being too embarrassed, josh getting jealous and them having sex about it, horniness fuelled by feelings, in the tenderhorny scale this is closer to tender but he is still quite horny, he is kinda in love and he doesn’t know what to do about it
Permission to remix: Please ask :)

this got way TOO long and it was not supposed to lol. you can read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43973116

thank you so much for this prompt i really couldn't get it out of my head once i read it. i hope this is close to what you wanted and that u have a lovely new year! <3

know you're my favorite

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Any but I like Seokmin/Minghao or Seungcheol/Seungkwan
Major Tags: rule 63
Additional Tags: "unhealthy female friendship that was sort of gay" vibes, codependency, parties, pining while fucking/secret relationship, i'll take you any way i can get you even if it hurts me
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

[Warm enough for you outside baby, yeah / tell me that it's warm enough here for you
Warm enough outside, inside me
Sorry, I just need to see you / I'm sorry I'm so clingy I don't mean to be a lot
...
Cause it's hard enough you got to treat me like this / lonely enough to let you treat me like this]

- Drew Barrymore by SZA

[FILL] warm enough here for you

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: seokhao
Major Tags: rule 63, straight seokmin, drinking
Additional Tags: n/a
Permission to remix: ask!

***


“I wanna call you unnie,” Seokmin slurs out, her voice too loud and close to Minghao’s ear for her own comfort. “Unnie, unnie, unnie…”

Minghao says nothing. While alcohol makes Seokmin loud, playful, clingy, it makes Minghao anxious and overheated, something churning violently in her gut.

Minghao pats Seokmin’s hair, feeling how hot her head is. Seokmin has always run warm, though. Winters in their apartment in Mapo became an excuse for Minghao to slide under Seokmin’s blanket, run her freezing toes up Seokmin’s calf and wake her up.

Seokmin would wake up with a squeak and push Minghao out of her bed. Minghao had enough dignity to pick herself up and not try again.

Seokmin is straight.

Minghao needs to tattoo that to her eyelids, it seems. Needs to study the words every night as she falls asleep, every time she blinks. Seokmin is straight. Seokmin is Minghao’s roommate. Seokmin is so beautiful right now, skin warm and eyes bright—no, Seokmin is straight.

Minghao wrestles with it all night. Tames her own desire, chokes it until it can barely breathe and then drags it deep inside of her, even as Seokmin plays with her fingers and pulls her skirt down for her when she stands up, wobbly, to go to the bathroom.

In the mirror, Minghao looks at herself. Her hair is a mess, over-bleached and fried. Her face is flushed, her nose shiny. Seokmin’s skin never gets— “Stop,” she says out loud. It rings in the relative quiet of the bathroom. “Stop it.”

But if she could, wouldn’t she?

She splashes water on her face, watching it turn redder and redder. The lighting in here is harsh. It makes her look gaunt, her eyes protruding enough to create sloping shadows on her cheeks. She pokes at her face and tries to calm down.

Eventually, Seokmin follows her, of course.

“Unnie,” she says, making Minghao cringe in the bathroom mirror. “Unnnnnie, why did you leave? Why?”

Seokmin comes to stand behind her at the sink, wrapping her arms around Minghao’s middle and digging her chin into Minghao’s shoulder, smelling of beer and food and sweetness.

“Sorry,” Minghao says, her voice reed-thin. “I’m too hot.”

“Unnie is always hot,” Seokmin says. Minghao really wishes she’d quit it. They’re the same age. Technically Minghao is younger than her. “Hot girl Minghao,” Seokmin continues, her breath wet against Minghao’s ear. “Come back to the table, I want to do a shot with you.”

She squeezes Minghao, so hard it hurts, and then drags Minghao back out to their table. Minghao goes easily.

Maybe that’s the issue—maybe she should be fighting it more. Fighting back. Telling Seokmin to quit it, to stop flirting with her, that her heart can’t handle it.

But Seokmin isn’t flirting, Minghao reminds herself. Seokmin is just friendly. Seokmin is funny. Seokmin is beauti—Seokmin is straight.

[oransodacan]

Ship/Member: Any (but consider... verkwan?)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: unrequited (or is it?)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Oh, I see that you care a little bit
But if you cared enough you’d be talking to me
Why don’t you try?
You know how I can be when i’m afraid

Try Me, My Ugly Clementine

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Siken-isms, observing as a declaration of love, being partners in the detective way but also the gay way maybe
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

["Sunrise, parabellum," the lieutenant says. He's in the middle of a freshly cleaned room with the fan above his head like a halo. His face is covered in bruises.
...
The lieutenant isn't studying the powder in the mirror. He's studying you.]

- Disco Elysium

[FILL] looking at you looking at me

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: Soonwoo
Major Tags: detective!au, drug ment, very very slight mentions of violence and medical stuff, wound tending
Additional Tags: not beta'd as in probably full of grammar errors
Permission to remix: Yes

Soonyoung has done this before; he’s done it a thousand times by now. He doesn’t particularly mind it, but ‘stitching up wounds’ wasn’t exactly in the normal job description for a detective. Still, he’d gotten pretty good at it by now.

The lieutenant had a thing with doctors. When he’d first stumbled into the office clutching his side, blood dripping onto the hardwood floor, Soonyoung had tried to call an ambulance– but the lieutenant had shaken his head and pointed at his desk, and he’d said ‘there’s a first aid kit there. Give it to me, and I’ll take care of it myself.’

And he had. Soonyoung had sat outside at his desk while the lieutenant had stitched himself up in the bathroom. When this happened the second time, Soonyoung went home and looked up how to stitch a wound together.

The lieutenant doesn’t even have to say anything now. He comes in, bloodied and bruised, and Soonyoung is there– but the lieutenant waves a hand, groaning.

“The blood isn’t mine,” Wonwoo says, taking off his jacket and gritting his teeth. “Just a bit bruised, that’s all.”

“Do I want to know whose it is?” Soonyoung asks, sitting back down in his chair.

“Probably not,” Wonwoo says.

He walks over to his desk and puts something on it. Soonyoung peaks over his computer screen and sees a small plastic bag. He can’t make it out from where he’s sitting.

“What’s that?” Soonyoung asks.

“A mirror,” Wonwoo replies. He’s used to Soonyoung’s questions by now. He’d said he enjoyed them once, but Soonyoung isn’t sure if he meant it. He’s never really sure what the lieutenant is thinking. “Come here. Take a look at it.”

Soonyoung slides off his chair and walks over to the lieutenant’s desk, bending over it and looking down at the mirror. It’s small and round, and extremely dirty. It seems to be covered in a fine powder. Wonwoo is standing on the other side of the desk, and when Soonyoung looks up again, he sees that the lieutenant isn’t studying the mirror– he’s studying him.

A flush creeps up Soonyoung’s neck and he coughs, suddenly very hot in his button up and slacks. He feels like something is worming around under his skin. Wonwoo’s eyes never leave him. The sun is behind him, bathing him in light and crowning his dark haired head with a halo.

“Drugs,” Soonyoung says at length. “It was probably used for drugs.”

“Good,” Wonwoo says. “Soonyoung?”

“Yes, lieutenant?”

“Can you order us some food?”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. He stares at Wonwoo dumbly for a few seconds, then shakes his head. He’s not sure what he’d expected the lieutenant to say, but he’d sort of gotten lost in Wonwoo for a second– “Yeah, of course. The usual?” Wonwoo nods, and he goes over to the couch– he’s about to sit down when Soonyoung says, “lieutenant, the blood… I’d just gotten the couch clean from last time…”

Something like a smile forms on Wonwoo’s face, but it looks like a painful thing to do– he flinches slightly, then says, “you’re right. I’ll change.”

He walks past Soonyoung and grabs a clean shirt from his bag, then he walks into the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door completely, and when Soonyoung sits down on the couch to order, he catches a glimpse of Wonwoo inside– he’s just unbuttoned his shirt, and it slides off his shoulders, exposing his scarred back. It’s bruised too. Soonyoung remembers some of the scars, remembers which ones he was the one to fix.

He thinks about what it would be like to touch Wonwoo without the pretence of wound tending. He wonders if Wonwoo would let him kiss the scars, and he wonders since when he became the sort of person who fantasised about their work partner.

And Soonyoung studies Wonwoo, like Wonwoo had studied him before.

His eyes wander; he can’t help it. Eventually they make it to the mirror in front of Wonwoo, and then, as he pulls his shirt over his head– their eyes meet in the mirror.

Wonwoo smiles again, and Soonyoung looks away, flushing.

twt: @/gyuhansoup or @/moonbreezeao3

you held aloft the sword. i still love y

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: leader and their right hand, self-sacrifice, being brought back to life/reincarnated, devotion and duty
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

[Harrow, the last time I chose to die, I died with your face the last thing I ever looked at. Let me tell you a secret: it was easy to die thinking I wouldn't have to see you go. It was so easy to check out before you did.]

- Gideon Nav, from Harrow the Ninth

[FILL] Undone

[poppyseedheart]

Ship/Member: Jeongcheol
Major Tags: The Locked Tomb, potential HtN spoilers
Additional Tags: sharing a body, involuntary resurrection, violence, body horror + monstrosities, grief but no mcd
Permission to remix: by all means

***

Carrying a sword with Jeonghan's noodle arms is not only tedious and impractical, but it's soul-wrenching, too.

"I hate you," Seungcheol says with Jeonghan's voice. "I hate you," with Jeonghan's mouth. With his throat.

The mass of bone and sinew in front of him barely looks like a human form, but it's close enough to be psychologically horrifying even if Jeonghan's body refuses to respond. Does he not experience anxiety? It seems unlikely considering how goddamn high strung he is all the time, but these must not be the situations that get to him. Probably because his magic is massive and frightening.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, is determined but all wrong, fitting awkwardly into the sharp, unforgiving angles of Jeonghan's body.

It's easier, he can admit to himself, to complain than it is to face the crush of grief.

One clean slice takes the figure's arm off, but another one sprouts slowly and grotesquely from the socket. Seungcheol swings for the neck next, and takes off an approximation of a head, but the monster presses forward. It grumbles as it does. It groans like it's in pain. "Where are you?" Seungcheol whisper-shouts. Jeonghan's voice nearly gives out halfway through.

He keeps hacking at the creature. If it were his own body it would be through a blur of tears, but Jeonghan's body has better things to do than cry.

When it's finally dispatched, Seungcheol feels viscera all over his skin, soaking into his robes and coating the longsword.

He turns the corner only to see Joshua, smiling beatifically while snapping a bone between his hands. Behind him, three different monsters explode in puffs of dust. "Coups," he says. "Hello. Where's Jeonghan?"

"I don't know, but it had better be somewhere fucking good."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"I died," Seungcheol says. Jeonghan's voice goes thready, rises in pitch. "I should've been— consumed, used up, I shouldn't have—"

Joshua's smile mellows. "He loved you too much to let that happen."

"Some plan," Seungcheol spits. "Some love."

"If Jeonghan weren't smart he'd never have gotten this far. Your devotion only made him stronger."

Seungcheol, miserably, knows that's true. And yet. "I promised him my life. I didn't promise this."

Joshua laughs. "Check the fine print," he replies, as he pulverizes another creature before it even gets all the way through the door. "By the way, how badly are you bleeding?"

Seungcheol had been trying not to think about it. His robes are slick with Jeonghan's blood. The gut wound is gushing sluggishly but steadily. The only way out is through, though. He keeps pressing forward, from one hallway to another, from one window to the next displaying inky black and a prickle of stars.

"Get back here, asshole," he mumbles, because it feels better to be furious. "I'm fighting like hell for the both of us. If it's for nothing, I'll haunt you in the afterlife too. As many as it takes."

"Nice monologue," comments Junhui, appearing so suddenly Seungcheol nearly dies for real. "By the way, need some help?"

"Yes," Seungcheol answers, pathetic and grateful and overtired, and together they hack their way towards their necromancers.

It'll work. It has to work. Seungcheol holds his sword with Jeonghan's hands and prays.

hate me, hurt me, love me

[bluemening]

Ship/Member: soonwoo or soonhoon or soonhao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: strong codependency vibes, hurt/very little comfort, angst
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I want to go far away, start over, pretend we can wake up from this. To stop hurting you, and to hurt you so badly the scars will never fade. Never to see you again. Never to see anything but you.

- Micah Nemerever; These Violent Delights

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any (rare) Chan pair (pls consider gyuchan)
Major Tags: Established relationship
Additional Tags: being so smitten that it hurts, love is comfort
Do Not Wants: Angst
Prompt:

And I will breathe for you each day
Comfort you through all the pain
Gently kiss your fears away
You can turn to me and cry
Always understand that I
Give you all I am inside
- Mariah Carey, "Whenever You Call"

hiccup

[sunwalkr]

Ship/Member: any but am begging u to strongly consider a member whose ex is joshua hong
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: post break up????? revenge dating???? fake dating to incite dangerous bouts of jealousy???? go wild with this one
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

If I could be anybody, I would be you
Keep my emotions in a box like you do
And do you ever think about
Coming back to kiss my mouth?
I miss the taste of you (and it's always been you)
- hiccup, VALLEY

[FILL] wanna know what you're doing tonight

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Seokmin
Major Tags: post-breakup, getting back together (maybe?), aren't you tired of being nice? don't you just wanna go apeshit?
Additional Tags: basically seokmin gone-girling josh on a smaller scale to spice up their relationship tbh
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

“You don't have to ring the doorbell, hyung, you literally have a key.” Seokmin steps back to let Joshua come in, but he hangs in the doorway for a moment like he isn’t quite sure he wants to.

“Well. My hands are full. And considering I came to return it, that kinda seemed like it would be in bad taste,” says Joshua, hovering while Seokmin closes the door behind him.

Seokmin can’t resist a little hmmph at that. “Ah yes, and of all people to keep up appearances with it has to be me,” he says. “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean you have to start being all weird around me, hyung. But I guess you never really stopped.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Joshua follows him into the kitchen. He’s still holding the cardboard box he’d arrived with, the one Seokmin knows is full of every sock he’s ever left on Joshua’s floor, meticulously washed and folded, and every paper he’d printed out to annotate and then abandoned in favor of crawling into Joshua’s bed.

“Nothing. Forget about it,” says Seokmin. “It’s—whatever. You could have just come in, though, it’s not like I was naked. Or anything.”

He fills a glass of water and drinks half of it to stop himself from rambling. It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen Joshua, and he looks good, t-shirt straining across his chest and tucked into his jeans to show off his waist. He’s gotten a haircut. The two of them observe each other carefully, like animals sizing each other up in the wild, testing the limits of their territories.

Joshua sets the box down on the counter. “You were doing something, though,” he says. “You’re wearing makeup.”

“Oh, I—yeah.” Seokmin chokes a little on his water, coughs, is very embarrassed about it. “Um, I have a date.”

He watches Joshua’s face for any sign of life, any twitch of the eyes, but there’s nothing. Joshua remains placid and unruffled. Seokmin itches at the sight, reins in the urge to scream, to beg, to grab him and shake him until his perfectly styled hair is loose and his face is red.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, don't let me interrupt your getting ready, then.”

Please interrupt me, please, Seokmin wants to yell. Tell me not to go. He frowns at Joshua, inches toward the door a little as if he might be able to block him from leaving. “That’s all you have to say?”

Joshua shrugs. “What do you want me to say? Am I supposed to be jealous, Seokmin-ah? You broke up with me.”

“Yes, you’re supposed to be jealous!” Seokmin says. “We only broke up two weeks ago, hyung, you’re supposed to be mad that I’m moving on so fast and slutting myself out to random men and having soooo much fun without you.”

“Are you?” Joshua finally raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Am I what?”

“Having so much fun without me.” He moves nearer to the door, but doesn’t leave, not yet. “Moving on so fast.”

Seokmin wants to throw his glass against the floor, so instead he sets it down very carefully in the sink and steps out of throwing range before he replies. “Not really.”

“What are you doing, then?” Joshua crosses his arms, which makes them look extra big and does not help Seokmin at all. “Wait, actually, can you answer my other question first? What did you mean by saying I was always weird around you?”

“Ugh, hyung, I don't know, I was just saying it,” says Seokmin. He doesn’t want to talk about this now. He needs a long bubble bath and three glasses of wine before he can even start to talk about this, but he feels the words rushing out of him anyway, like the wind is being knocked right out of his lungs. “You didn’t ever have, like, feelings about anything. I couldn’t tell if you were actually in love with me or not.”

He digs through the cardboard box to give his hands something to do. “Well, I was,” Joshua says. Seokmin refuses to make eye contact with him. “I said it, didn’t I? Even when you were literally breaking up with me, I told you that I loved you.”

“I couldn’t tell if you meant it,” Seokmin says petulantly. His winter gloves are at the bottom of the box; those must have been at Joshua’s apartment for months without Seokmin noticing, but of course Joshua didn’t miss them when he went to clean every last bit of Seokmin out. “You don't even care that I’m going on a date two weeks after we broke up. He’s really hot, by the way, and his arms are huge.”

“Cancel your date.”

Seokmin’s head whips around to stare at Joshua. “Huh?”

“Cancel it. Tell him something came up.” He’s looking at Seokmin, this weird little glint in his eye that Seokmin hasn’t seen before, like he’s daring him to say no. Or to say yes.

“Okay,” says Seokmin. “Yeah, okay, I will.” He’s fumbling for his phone, scrambling to open his messages with this poor guy who’s been caught in the crossfire. A strange feeling keeps crawling up his throat, a giddy sort of lump like he’s about to hiccup or laugh, the solid weight of disbelief behind his tongue. “Are you gonna stay?”

“I didn’t have any plans tonight,” Joshua says, rising from his chair. Seokmin is already reaching to tangle his perfect hair, snag his fingers through the belt loops of Joshua’s spotless light wash jeans, yank him like a chew toy.

He says, “Have you been thinking of me, hyung, these last two weeks?”

“Not really,” says Joshua. “I’ve been missing you.”