Ship/Member: past wonwoo/jihoon, wonwoo/minghao Major Tags: mcd (implied) Additional Tags: past relationships, grief is a thing with wings and a beast to tame, but in the end just know that we can start again if you’re brave enough, seokmin as a wingman might be terribly embarrassing for all involved, of first dates and being brave (wonwoo) Permission to remix: yes!
a/n: sending you warm hugs the long way around. let me know when it gets to you (ilu)
***
love is a funny story. it wakes up and builds a plot. it wakes up and shapes you into the kind of woman your mother studies. i am not perfect in it. i am not even remotely articulate. but it is big, this love. it is airborne and triumphant. i am no easy show. - Tonya Ingram, Until the Stars Collapse
Wonwoo is trying again, for better or for worse.
Seokmin had pestered him about apertures for the thousandth time, getting it all wrong, and instead of mutely letting him talk around in circles, Wonwoo had sighed and gestured for Seokmin to hand over the camera. They’d talked for a long time after - partially about camerawork but mostly about other things, because that’s all Seokmin had the attention span for - until day bled into night and the stars took over. Wonwoo couldn’t get over the suspiciously shiny sparkle in Seokmin’s eyes 24 minutes into Wonwoo’s spiel about lighting fixtures.
“What?” Wonwoo grumbles self-consciously, flipping his collar. He’d brushed his hair this morning, hadn’t he? There weren’t any crumbs on his face, right?
“Nothing,” Seokmin laughs wetly, a small smile cautiously adorning his face. “It’s just… nice to see you again, hyung.”
“You’ve seen me every week for the past eight months,” Wonwoo frowns, not following at all.
Seokmin just smiles even harder. “I know. I’m just this happy every single time I see you. You’re so handsome it hurts.”
Wonwoo lets out a snort before he can stop it. Liar. How ridiculous.
The sound of it echoes off the walls of the apartment, and as it makes its way back around, Seokmin lets out a delighted holler. He launches himself at Wonwoo, planting little sloppy kisses all over, much to Wonwoo’s chagrin. It’s futile in the face of so much love, Wonwoo’s learned; he lets Seokmin do as he pleases, squirming all the while.
That little thing, that damned inconvenient little muscle, the one housed in Wonwoo’s chest, gears up to beat again. Slowly but surely.
For how calm Wonwoo appeared on the outside, his heart was a magnificent beast.
There were many times in Wonwoo’s life that it beat like crazy.
Like when he learned that he was going to be the first in his family to go to college, for a degree that he wasn’t sure was going to pay much but was his dream. Or when he finally got that perfect shot, after hours of adjusting and re-adjusting his frames, waiting for just the right moment.
It beat the craziest the first time he met Jihoon, making his way determinedly across campus. Wonwoo couldn’t even see properly, but something about Jihoon made Wonwoo’s heart flutter.
And all the instances that happened after, in between.
Their first date. Their first kiss. The first time Jihoon brought Wonwoo home, after so many misunderstandings that Wonwoo had chortled so loudly the morning after, when Jihoon buried his head into the blankets and cursed him out as he recounted everything. Jihoon had bemoaned falling for such an idiot, but the pink of his ears and the way his hand stayed nestled in Wonwoo’s, linked together, said otherwise.
Wonwoo was an idiot who liked the look and sound of that. So together they stayed.
Wonwoo’s heart continued to beat like crazy.
The final time it fluttered, it gave such a horrific splutter that it felt like Wonwoo was dying two times over, once for Jihoon himself, who looked so small and frail on that hospital bed, and once for all the lost futures they wouldn’t be able to live out together.
Since then, the thing in his chest has been eerily silent. A ghost with nothing to haunt.
Until now.
Life is in the business of working miracles. Fate isn’t cruel. She just does her duty, just like everyone else. You have to play your part, regardless of where you end up.
Because even if it feels like an endless winter, spring comes again eventually.
Wonwoo is trying again.
So he’d put on his fanciest coat, the one Jihoon claimed made him look like a chaebol in those dramas, some handsome rich man made to rescue the poor female lead (“What, does that make you my damsel in distress, then?”), and walked all the way to the fancy restaurant that Seokmin made him promise to take pictures of, and showed up for the reservation.
“This is a mistake,” Wonwoo hisses into the receiver, nearly ten seconds after he plops down into the seat.
“Sit back down! He’s really nice!” Seokmin insists. Wonwoo thinks this is a horrible standard of reference, because Seokmin is really nice, and by default, everyone is really nice back to him.
“What if we don’t understand each other?” Wonwoo pales. “What if he doesn’t get my jokes?”
“Myungho has been here for years,” Seokmin huffs. “You should hear him when he gets mad, he cusses me out better than my mother ever has, and she’s lived here her entire life.”
Wonwoo is stubbornly quiet.
“If he doesn’t get your jokes, hyung,” Seokmin sighs, with all the patience of an elementary school teacher, “then explain it to him, like you do with me. He’ll listen. You’re funny. Kind of.”
Wonwoo flattens his lips into a mutinous line. Jihoon thought he was funny. Jihoon thought Wonwoo was hilarious, actually.
“Hi.” A voice cuts into his thoughts.
“Is that Myungho? Myungho-yah, hiiiiiiii–”
Wonwoo hangs up.
Xu Minghao smiles softly, shyly, blond hair all windswept and chin tucked into his scarf to protect him from the cold.
“Hi,” Wonwoo stammers. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jeon Wonwoo.”
Again, with the beating.
Shouldn’t his heart know to quit by now?
“That’s it?” Minghao giggles, ears pink. The blush that started with the first sip of wine only grows heavier throughout the course of their meal. Minghao is also a lightweight, Wonwoo is fascinated to discover.
“Should there be more to it?” Wonwoo laughs, feeling embarrassed. And then embarrassed at feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t know what else to say, except that it was love. There was so much of it, Wonwoo doesn’t know how to talk about it. He still can’t, some days.
Minghao hums, finger trailing the circle of his glass. “I don’t know. Is there?”
Wonwoo startles when he spots a glint in Minghao’s eyes.
A spark — one that he’s only ever felt with one another person before — catches aflame.
[FILL] and when you feel like you can try again
Major Tags: mcd (implied)
Additional Tags: past relationships, grief is a thing with wings and a beast to tame, but in the end just know that we can start again if you’re brave enough, seokmin as a wingman might be terribly embarrassing for all involved, of first dates and being brave (wonwoo)
Permission to remix: yes!
a/n: sending you warm hugs the long way around. let me know when it gets to you (ilu)
***
Wonwoo is trying again, for better or for worse.
Seokmin had pestered him about apertures for the thousandth time, getting it all wrong, and instead of mutely letting him talk around in circles, Wonwoo had sighed and gestured for Seokmin to hand over the camera. They’d talked for a long time after - partially about camerawork but mostly about other things, because that’s all Seokmin had the attention span for - until day bled into night and the stars took over. Wonwoo couldn’t get over the suspiciously shiny sparkle in Seokmin’s eyes 24 minutes into Wonwoo’s spiel about lighting fixtures.
“What?” Wonwoo grumbles self-consciously, flipping his collar. He’d brushed his hair this morning, hadn’t he? There weren’t any crumbs on his face, right?
“Nothing,” Seokmin laughs wetly, a small smile cautiously adorning his face. “It’s just… nice to see you again, hyung.”
“You’ve seen me every week for the past eight months,” Wonwoo frowns, not following at all.
Seokmin just smiles even harder. “I know. I’m just this happy every single time I see you. You’re so handsome it hurts.”
Wonwoo lets out a snort before he can stop it. Liar. How ridiculous.
The sound of it echoes off the walls of the apartment, and as it makes its way back around, Seokmin lets out a delighted holler. He launches himself at Wonwoo, planting little sloppy kisses all over, much to Wonwoo’s chagrin. It’s futile in the face of so much love, Wonwoo’s learned; he lets Seokmin do as he pleases, squirming all the while.
That little thing, that damned inconvenient little muscle, the one housed in Wonwoo’s chest, gears up to beat again. Slowly but surely.
For how calm Wonwoo appeared on the outside, his heart was a magnificent beast.
There were many times in Wonwoo’s life that it beat like crazy.
Like when he learned that he was going to be the first in his family to go to college, for a degree that he wasn’t sure was going to pay much but was his dream. Or when he finally got that perfect shot, after hours of adjusting and re-adjusting his frames, waiting for just the right moment.
It beat the craziest the first time he met Jihoon, making his way determinedly across campus. Wonwoo couldn’t even see properly, but something about Jihoon made Wonwoo’s heart flutter.
And all the instances that happened after, in between.
Their first date. Their first kiss. The first time Jihoon brought Wonwoo home, after so many misunderstandings that Wonwoo had chortled so loudly the morning after, when Jihoon buried his head into the blankets and cursed him out as he recounted everything. Jihoon had bemoaned falling for such an idiot, but the pink of his ears and the way his hand stayed nestled in Wonwoo’s, linked together, said otherwise.
Wonwoo was an idiot who liked the look and sound of that. So together they stayed.
Wonwoo’s heart continued to beat like crazy.
The final time it fluttered, it gave such a horrific splutter that it felt like Wonwoo was dying two times over, once for Jihoon himself, who looked so small and frail on that hospital bed, and once for all the lost futures they wouldn’t be able to live out together.
Since then, the thing in his chest has been eerily silent. A ghost with nothing to haunt.
Until now.
Life is in the business of working miracles. Fate isn’t cruel. She just does her duty, just like everyone else. You have to play your part, regardless of where you end up.
Because even if it feels like an endless winter, spring comes again eventually.
Wonwoo is trying again.
So he’d put on his fanciest coat, the one Jihoon claimed made him look like a chaebol in those dramas, some handsome rich man made to rescue the poor female lead (“What, does that make you my damsel in distress, then?”), and walked all the way to the fancy restaurant that Seokmin made him promise to take pictures of, and showed up for the reservation.
“This is a mistake,” Wonwoo hisses into the receiver, nearly ten seconds after he plops down into the seat.
“Sit back down! He’s really nice!” Seokmin insists. Wonwoo thinks this is a horrible standard of reference, because Seokmin is really nice, and by default, everyone is really nice back to him.
“What if we don’t understand each other?” Wonwoo pales. “What if he doesn’t get my jokes?”
“Myungho has been here for years,” Seokmin huffs. “You should hear him when he gets mad, he cusses me out better than my mother ever has, and she’s lived here her entire life.”
Wonwoo is stubbornly quiet.
“If he doesn’t get your jokes, hyung,” Seokmin sighs, with all the patience of an elementary school teacher, “then explain it to him, like you do with me. He’ll listen. You’re funny. Kind of.”
Wonwoo flattens his lips into a mutinous line. Jihoon thought he was funny. Jihoon thought Wonwoo was hilarious, actually.
“Hi.” A voice cuts into his thoughts.
“Is that Myungho? Myungho-yah, hiiiiiiii–”
Wonwoo hangs up.
Xu Minghao smiles softly, shyly, blond hair all windswept and chin tucked into his scarf to protect him from the cold.
“Hi,” Wonwoo stammers. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jeon Wonwoo.”
Again, with the beating.
Shouldn’t his heart know to quit by now?
“That’s it?” Minghao giggles, ears pink. The blush that started with the first sip of wine only grows heavier throughout the course of their meal. Minghao is also a lightweight, Wonwoo is fascinated to discover.
“Should there be more to it?” Wonwoo laughs, feeling embarrassed. And then embarrassed at feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t know what else to say, except that it was love. There was so much of it, Wonwoo doesn’t know how to talk about it. He still can’t, some days.
Minghao hums, finger trailing the circle of his glass. “I don’t know. Is there?”
Wonwoo startles when he spots a glint in Minghao’s eyes.
A spark — one that he’s only ever felt with one another person before — catches aflame.