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the careless black hole
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: amnesia / memory alteration / Eternal Sunshine au? growing out of a relationship or situation? the liminal space of a difficult conversation?
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
&
[FILL] between horror and acceptance
(Anonymous) 2022-12-26 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)Major Tags: grief, implied character death
Additional Tags: amnesia, resurrection (or is it), open ended/ambiguous, liminal space of a difficult conversation, dealing with grief, letting go/moving on, idolverse, fantastical/supernatural elements,
Permission to remix: Yes
a/n: op i feel like this is very much not what you were aiming for but i hope you can still enjoy! wc: 1.3k. i apologize for any errors, this is very lightly edited.
***
The next time Jihoon sees Soonyoung, itâs five months after his dead body was found, mangled and roughly deposited under a nondescript bridge.
The world screeches to a halt around Jihoon. Water roars in his ears. Something screams in the back of his mind. He feels like the one drowning.
Soonyoung leans casually against the jamb of the door to Jihoonâs apartment building, teeth wearing down another one of his nails. Jihoon unsticks his limbs and forces himself to walk.
There are three steps leading up to the door. They feel like three miles. His feet come to a stop in front of Soonyoung. Jihoon wills himself to look at Soonyoungâs face. Itâs perfect, beautiful, the same familiar shape. Absolutely no sign of damage or death. Nausea racks his stomach.
He meets Soonyoungâs eyes, brown and bright, but utterly devoid of recognition. Dread drowns his lungs.
âAnnyeong,â Soonyoung greets, an upward lilt at the end of the greeting, as if heâs compelled to speak in banmal, but heâs not sure why. âDo you live here?â
Jihoon gulps in air. He feels fuzzy, detached. A hand hovers near his arm. Jihoon wishes, vehemently and suddenly, that Soonyoung werenât here.
âSoonyoung-ah,â he croaks out at last, pushing past the quiver in his lips, âH-how?â
Soonyoung tilts his head, a smile half-hung on his face. HIs eyes are quizzical. âDo I know you?â Jihoonâs stomach sinks. His breath comes out shaky. Soonyoungâs concern bleeds from his eyes.
âMaybe you should go in,â Soonyoung suggests quietly. He reaches for Jihoon, who slaps his hands away. Soonyoung shrinks. âI was just asking for your keys.â
Pulling in another breath, Jihoon nods. He doesn't know if he should apologize. A part of his brain says that heâs hurt Soonyoung. Another part argues that this is a stranger. He pulls out his keys and aims the one for the front door at the keyhole. His hand shakes, and the metal scrapes noisily. Soonyoung takes the key gently from him.
âLet me,â he says softly. âYou donât look well.â Wildly, Jihoon wants to laugh. No, of course heâs not well. He saw the love of his life dead on the news months ago. And now heâs back in front of Jihoon, in perfect health and with absolutely no recollection, it seems, of what happened. But before he can gather the strength to snort, or do something normal, Soonyoungâs pushing the door open.
Soonyoung leads him to the elevator like heâs the one on the verge of death. Jihoon tugs his elbow away once they reach the elevator doors. Pretends he doesnât notice Soonyoungâs wince. He jabs his finger into the up button like itâs some sort of silent, tactile defense to whatever mean things Soonyoung must be thinking about him.
They wait in silence. Jihoon wonders if Soonyoung has any intention of coming up with, and then adamantly refuses to consider which option he himself would prefer.
The door opens. Jihoon steps in. Soonyoung follows. Oh. Well. Jihoon positions himself in a corner and wraps arms around himself, feeling less disoriented but no less confused, and horrified. How the hell is this happening?
âWhat floor?â Soonyoung asks a moment later, when the elevator doesn't move. The back of Jihoonâs neck burns from sudden embarrassment.
âSeventeen,â he mutters. Soonyoung turns to press the button, but not before Jihoon catches his furrowed brows, as though the word rings some bell thatâs long been gathering dust. Jihoon wonders how the members would react if he told them.
Theyâd probably stare at him in horror. Are you crazy? Chan might say. Seokmin might frown and catch him later, his disbelief always the quickest to cave. After all, heâd cried the most when the news headline numbed them all with shock and grief, hoping that this might have just been a nightmare.
The door slides open and Jihoon reawakens in this new nightmare. Soonyoung gestures for him to go first.
Jihoonâs shoes click against the tiles as he walks. Soonyoungâs makes no noise.
Heâs able to get his apartment door open this time and briefly considers slamming the door in Soonyoungâs face, but Soonyoung jams his shoulder against the door like he knew itâd happen. Jihoon jerks back from the door. Soonyoung sidles in.
Jihoon does his best to ignore him, kicking off his shoes and throwing his coat over the back of a chair. Soonyoung hovers nearby, uselessly. Jihoon scrubs his leftover dishes furiously. They say nothing.
Eventually, Jihoon runs out of things to do. He reluctantly joins Soonyoung at the table.
âWhy are you here?â Jihoon finally asks.
Soonyoung smiles lightly. Itâs cordial. Itâs horrific. Soonyoung never smiles at him like that.
âI figured there are some things youâd wanna ask,â he says softly. âBased on how you reacted when you sawâŚme.â
Fair enough, Jihoon supposes. He looks at this sculpture-Soonyoung in front of him, hair neatly styled, dressed in a black blazer, face calm but cool, devoid of the fire Soonyoung had always carried with him, like an internal hearth, and knows that this is not his Soonyoung.
âOkay,â he says wearily. âYeah.â
-
âWho wasâŚI before?â
âThe love of my life. He died five months ago.â
âOh.â
âYeah. How are you here?â
âI donât know. I woke up under a bridge.â
âWhy are you here?â
âI knew I had to come here. I donât know why.â
âOh. Okay. Do you rememberâŚanything?â
âNo. Can you tell me?â
-
Jihoon talks for much longer than he anticipated. He tells this Soonyoung in front of him about the little things Soonyoung liked to do, the river walk dates and the songwriting sessions, the tiger stuffy collection, the dance studio he opened after disbandment with Chan. He talks about Soonyoungâs ricocheting laughter, the birds that liked to land on his shoulders. He talks about his gentleness, the way he loved Jihoon like everyday was their last.
He recounts the first time Soonyoung asked him out, a brazen two-year old idol, backstage at Inkigayo, when the infamous sandwich was still a thing. They had their first kiss in the dorm shower, both of them giddy on the high of winning another award. He smiles as he talks, and maybe he cries too, but the Soonyoung in front of him sits quietly, listening, and Jihoon keeps talking.
âWhat was he to you?â This Soonyoung asks, finally, when itâs dark enough that they can see their reflections in the window.
âEverything,â Jihoon answers hoarsely, honestly, scraped raw and hollow, and not just from the talking. âHe was the fire to my wood.â
Soonyoung tilts his head. âHe burned you out?â
Jihoon huffs a laugh. âMaybe sometimes,â he admits. âBut he helped me burn, helped me light the way.â
Soonyoung hums. Jihoon falls silent.
âIâmâŚsorry,â Soonyoung says after a while, hesitantly. Jihoon looks up, startled. âIâm sorry Iâm not your Soonyoung.â
âItâsâŚâ Jihoon trails off, fingers twisting together. Itâs not okay, but â âMaybe I needed you more,â he tries. Soonyoungâs the one startled this time.
âWhat?â
Jihoon breathes in. The horror has receded, leaving behind the dull ache heâs grown used to now. He smiles a little at this Soonyoung.
âMaybe you were what I needed, to begin moving on.â He rolls his head around, hearing the light cracks, tension being let go of. âI think I needed to see him again, but tell someone else everything. Someone who didnât know him.â
âPerhaps,â Soonyoung agrees. âMaybe you needed to see him to let him go.â
They fall silent again, but this time it feels comfortable. Jihoon feels his eyelids droop. Itâs the first time heâs felt properly sleepy since that day.
âGo sleep,â Soonyoung says. Jihoon nods.
-
When heâs drifting in that liminal stage between sleep and wakefulness, Jihoon asks a question into the darkness.
âAre you real?â He croaks, groggy. The question feels too important to wait.
The darkness ripples, then stills.
âMaybe, maybe not.â Soonyoungâs voice is close, gentle. Jihoon misses him in a sudden surge, but it doesnât overwhelm him. âDid it matter?â
Re: [FILL] between horror and acceptance
personally i am in love with the way you work dialogue. you navigate and use it in a way that adds so much value + the actions that accompany the words make it cut deep so much... and like. i too feel like drowning.... wow TT
i dont really have words to describe this... some kind of lingering emotions that feel muted in some way but so pleasantly really. the grief and horror that accompanies jihoon's emotions... the shell of what once was soonyoung (and jihoon's fear + reactions to it)
and the acceptance. sigh. it feels oddly comforting really. i dont read a lot of these kinds of things (mcd namely) so this... was. yeah. Something for me. thank you for writing <3
[FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Eternal Sunshine AU (with a bit of artĂstic license)
Permission to remix: Pls ask!
***
There was something cold and hard against his cheek. It reminded Mingyu of someoneâs shoulder, but he couldnât remember whose.
He opened his eyes. He was sprawled onto the floor of a hallway, his hoodie soaked through with rain. He tried to stand but heâd lost his center of balance. There was a key in his pocket which fit the lock of the door in front of him, so he dragged himself over the threshold and into a dim, cramped room with a ceiling glinting dreamily with lights from a mirrorball on the floor.
It took him a few seconds. He smelled stale cigarette smoke and then the memory hit him like a bullet in the back of the brain: where he was, who was waiting for him.
âItâs three in the morning,â Wonwoo said.
He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring down at Mingyu. There was no fondness in his gaze.
âIâd never ask you to stay awake for me,â Mingyu said. It came out hollow. It was like re-enacting a dream heâd believed heâd forgotten.
âWhy would you do this?â
Now the memory was beginning to reassemble in earnest. It was strange how Mingyu couldnât recall exactly what came before or after but he could remember how the way Wonwoo was sitting, slouched and overly casual, cheek resting on palm, was the same way heâd been sitting the first time he had made eye contact with Mingyu across a crowded room.
It had been oddly charming at first. How he seemed so taken with Mingyu that he needed to hide everything he felt.
âWhy would you do this to me,â Wonwoo repeated, his voice cracking.
It was growing beyond the words theyâd exchanged in the past. There were feelings, too: bitterness, regret, the fear of being left. The fear of having to leave. The first time heâd asked it, Wonwooâs question had been about only that night. Now it could be the more general question of why Mingyu had decided to get a procedure to excise him from every memory. Why he would ever want to leave Wonwoo no choice but to excise him in return. Mingyu crawled over slowly across the carpet and rested his cheek on Wonwooâs knees because he didnât want to look at his face. The walls of their apartment were mostly bare in the memory. Wonwoo was already succeeding in forgetting, too.
âBecause I was lonely,â Mingyu said. âBecause you made me feel lonely even though I knew you loved me. I thought I could live with it at first. But I guess I wasnât as strong as I figured.â
âI donât know why Iâm putting myself through this.â
âMe either.â
âSo leave,â Wonwoo said.
Mingyu could tell he didnât mean it. But there it was again, just like it had happened the first time.
Maybe it was a sign that things would always end this way no matter which alternate reality they remembered themselves into. Mingyu nodded and put his key on Wonwooâs knee, his hand trembling so hard it rattled slightly against the ring.
âGoodbye,â he said.
But this time, he didnât get to the door.
***
âYou never tell me things,â he said.
They were on the couch heâd pulled in from the street sometime over the summer, he couldnât recall when because he barely recalled the couch itself as a definite concept. His head was in Wonwooâs lap, competing for space with a book. He smacked a kiss onto the back one of Wonwooâs hands even though Wonwoo was too busy with his book to react.
âI feel like I donât even know you.â He had known even back then that whining didnât work with Wonwoo. Now he was beyond caring.âI wanted to know you so badly. Didnât you want me to?â
âYou knew me,â Wonwoo said absently, petting Mingyuâs hair with the hand heâd kissed. âBefore you decided to erase me from your head.â He seemed to be unfairly at peace. Mingyu fake growled and shook his head like a dog. Wonwoo glanced down and finally smiled. Mingyu had really loved that smile. The way his nose scrunched.
âWhat did you like about me? I mean, why me?â
Wonwooâs hand paused, then resumed its stroking. âI could ask you the same thing.â
âYou already know. Iâve told you. But I never ever knew what you were thinking, you kept it to yourself.â
Wonwoo put the book to one side and looked down at him fully. His hand moved under Mingyuâs head, where it anchored itself, knitting into his hair.
âYou read into everything,â he said lowly. âIf I was quiet it didnât mean I was trying to pick a fight with you. Or that I didnât want to be near you. You should know this by now.â
His shirt was buttoned lopsidedly, heâd skipped one. The stick-and-poke Mingyu had given him on his hip was peeking out and his glasses were slipping down his nose. Mingyu would never ever stop being shattered by him. Wasnât that the problem?
âI miss you,â Mingyu said. âI missed you even when I still knew you.â
The hand in his hair tightened. He exhaled; he couldnât help it.
âJust talk to me,â he said.
Wonwoo didnât pull away. He drew closer instead. Both their breathing had gotten a little heavy. Mingyu waited.
âSorry,â Wonwoo murmured eventually, his gaze flickering from Mingyuâs mouth to his eyes. âI still donât know what I couldâve said.â
He slackened his hand and moved it away. They watched as it rested on the couch, flexed hard into a fist, and let go.
Mingyu disentangled himself from Wonwoo and sat up. He tipped his head back and watched the colors swirl on the ceiling instead of leaving.
His knee touched Wonwooâs. He focused on it. He would be gone soon from this part of Wonwooâs head.
He was still there in the room watching the colors brighten, feeling a little floaty and unreal, when Wonwoo whispered up to the ceiling like a prayer to no one.
âLet me out. I donât think I want this anymore. I still want to⌠I still want to⌠please, let me outââ
***
They were sitting behind a rain-spattered window, watching the city outside.
Everything felt like it was slow motionâ the hazy headlights of cars, traffic lights blinking green, the glossy streets. Mingyu had watched a movie like this once. He didnât think it ended happily.
Grainy images flickered past in washes of warm red light. Each a different memory, their supercut running backwards. Through all the ways in which Wonwoo could dismantle him, in which he could dismantle Wonwoo in turn by not staying Wonwooâs hand, through long silences and loneliness even when they were in the same room, through fucking and being fucked, through looking at each other when people could see, through holding hands when people couldnât, through the time Wonwoo had asked if Mingyu even liked him and Mingyu didnât know how to convince him other than to tell him not to ever leave, ever, because he didnât know what heâd be without him.
He tore his gaze away. Wonwoo was watching him. Just watching him, his eyes bright and sorry.
âCome on,â he said, nudging Mingyuâs ankle with his own.
He slid off his stool. Surprised, wary, grateful, Mingyu followed him into the next memory.
***
Rain finely misted his face. They were standing in an alleyway lit by paper lanterns bobbing in a storm.
âI canât really remember this one,â Mingyu said.
A slight smile spread across Wonwooâs face. âYou asked if I wanted to run down the street with you in the rain. I said, who, me? And you said, no, the other person standing here with me.â
It was coming back now. Before, they had gotten wildly drunk together in the empty restaurant Mingyu worked in after heâd closed down. Wonwoo had fled soon with the excuse of needing a smoke. Mingyu listened to the Cocteau Twins on the jukebox and looked from inside, through the droplets trickling down the windowpane, at Wonwoo under an overhang across the street staring up at the rain with a dazed half-smile.
He looked so different when he didnât know he was being watched. Mingyu had felt a sense of possibility so keenly that it was like tears building behind his eyes.
âIt made you feel a little out of your depth,â he said. âThe whole night. It was overfamiliar of me. I know Iâm right because you still see it so clearly in your head.â
âBut you tried to fix it.â
âYeah. I smiled so you smiled too. And I got a little closer.â
They both hesitated. Wonwoo took the first step this time. Watching him from this close-up was still new. It was terrifying how there would always be more of a person left to learn. How two people could look at each other after years and find a small black hole at one anotherâs center. How memory could be so mistaken.
âAnd thenâŚâ
âAnd then I said, come on. I donât bite.â Mingyuâs voice had dropped to a hoarse murmur. Wonwooâs smile went a little crooked. It melted away soon as they both remembered what Mingyu had said next. It had been a joke with a hint of earnest the first time but was now only the second thing. âUnless you want me to.â
Wonwoo was closer than heâd dared to get the first time. Their noses brushed. Mingyu had thought back then, Iâll do anything you want me to. Even after everything, when Wonwooâs hands gripped his wet jacket collar, he thought it again.
âAfter this,â Wonwoo said. His voice was too dry. He cleared his throat and his mouth ghosted against Mingyuâs. âI said I had work early in the morning. And I opened my umbrella, and I left.â
âWhat if you stayed?â
âI donât know. Iâve never thought about it.â
There was an unwelcome twinge somewhere in his heart. He shook his head and stepped away from Wonwooâs grip, out into the rain.
âI think about it, I think about it all the time. If things would have ended different then maybe we wouldâveâ why couldnât you stay?â
âI was scared.â
âFuck you,â Mingyu said. âI was scared, too.â
The rain was soaking his socks. He wanted to go home, but he was starting to forget what exactly that was.
âWeâre going to forget this in five seconds,â Wonwoo said, sounding very distant, âbut I want you to know that I would have really liked running through the rain with you. More than anything in the world.â
âItâs too late,â Mingyu murmured, though it killed him to realize it again.
Wonwooâs expression crumpled. He stepped out from under the overhang to join Mingyu and tried to say something, but the street was already becoming a long river of black, and the lanterns were sputtering out.
***
The first time they had talked:
Another rainy night, a few drinks, small conversations between the two of them, prickly on both sides as theyâd felt each other out.
Later Mingyu had been drunk by the side of the road, stumbling home. Their mutual friend, his designated driver, had left with someone else.
A motorcycle had pulled up to the curb. He remembered being annoyed that anyone could believe he wasnât self sufficient. He didnât need to depend on another person. But when the visor came down to reveal Wonwooâs eyes, all of the bad feelings had simply evaporated.
Now he only felt a bone-deep exhaustion.
âI know I shouldâve stayed,â Wonwoo said. âAnd I know I shouldâve said that earlier. I donât want to forget you. I really donât want to forget.â
âWe canât stop it once itâs begun,â Mingyu said softly. âI know. I tried, too.â
It cracked Wonwoo open but he still said, desperately, âThen tell me goodbye properly. Please.â
Mingyu swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and nodded. He mounted the motorcycle and gripped Wonwooâs narrow waist as he had done a thousand times before. He smelled Wonwooâs aftershave and cigarette smoke and soju and felt that his heart might burst. They accelerated and the tunnelâs fluorescent greens and blues streaked into long columns of light. For a while he watched the back of Wonwooâs head through his tears.
He was thinking about their past selves the first time they had lived this moment. That Wonwoo, that Mingyu.
They hadnât known about any of it. They hadnât seen each other yet in every state of despair, elation, undress, humiliation, grace, love, too. Love, too.
Mingyu rested his chin on Wonwooâs shoulder. It was cold and hard, but he didnât mind. Ahead of them the strips of lights began to blink off, one by one.
âI didnât want to forget you either,â he said even though he knew Wonwoo couldnât hear him over the rain. âItâs just that I needed to.â
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
your descriptions are so horrifyingly vivid... the bittersweet mv aestheticisms are strong. i do not even have the words to speak about this because i would just absolutely lose it in like. i dont even know it's just incredible beyond words the way you write.............. wow. Wow. i feel like i just got slapped in the face with a brick
(How two people could look at each other after years and find a small black hole at one anotherâs center. How memory could be so mistaken.)
this is seriously one of the most cutting lines i have ever read in the context of whatever it is. thank you for this seriously........... i will ache for this for a long time
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
âIâd never ask you to stay awake for me,â Mingyu said. / Mingyu would never ever stop being shattered by him. / âItâs too late,â Mingyu murmured, though it killed him to realize it again. / They hadnât known about any of it. They hadnât seen each other yet in every state of despair, elation, undress, humiliation, grace, love, too. Love, too. so powerful... thank you for writing this!
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
âBecause I was lonely,â Mingyu said. âBecause you made me feel lonely even though I knew you loved me. I thought I could live with it at first. But I guess I wasnât as strong as I figured.â) GAWD
mingyuâs sadness feels pitched and keening but in the end itâs also wonwooâs desperation at the end (âbut I want you to know that I would have really liked running through the rain with you. More than anything in the world.â) there is just so much hurt and loneliness between them two portrayed in a way that didnât let me tear my eyes away from as they hurtled to the end. you my friend are an artist. i hope you are doing well
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
[REMIX] versions of these belong to you
Major Tags: infidelity, mentioned drug use and sex
Additional Tags: eternal sunshine AU, angst
Permission to remix: please ask
***
âAlright,â Jun says, standing up, âIâm gonna go get some air. Is that alright, Seungcheol?â
Seungcheol doesnât reply, focusing on his work. Seokmin likes that about him, the furrow of his brow as he does god-knows-what at the computer.
âSeungcheol?â Jun calls again.
âYeah, thatâs fine,â Seungcheol replies, still not turning away from his work.
Jun is still for a second. He seems to be deciding whether itâs worth waiting around. Then he turns to the door and leaves the apartment, as easily as if itâs his own.
It may as well be, given how long theyâve been up here. Seokmin got here at around half ten, and Jun and Chan were here at least an hour before him. Chan left to go sort something out with his new guy, and then the guy on the bedâWonwoo? something like that?âstarted causing problems for Jun.
In hindsight, part of it may have been Seokminâs fault. Once Chan left, Jun and Seokmin had the whole place to themselves. Maybe it was the weed, making Seokmin a bit too relaxed, or maybe it was the thrill of being in someone elseâs house, but Seokmin and Jun couldnât keep off each other. So what if Jun wasnât as focused on the whole computer setup? It was on autopilot, he said, so it should all have been fine. They could have fucked. They nearly did fuck, and then Wonwoo-or-something started glitching.
Secretly, Seokmin is kind of glad they didnât fuck. Fucking doesnât do much for him anymoreâor rather, fucking Jun doesnât do much for him anymore. Not that heâll tell Jun that though.
Regardless, Wonwoo-or-something glitched, which is why Seungcheol is here. Bold, smart, competent Seungcheol. He looks serious, with his razor-sharp focus and the determined glint in his eye. The lights are dim in the room, but they frame Seungcheolâs face perfectly, showing off the line of his slightly clenched jaw, the arch of his long fingers.
He cares about his work. He cares about it the way Jun should. Junâs probably gone out for a cigarette in the middle of this sleeping guyâs brainwaves being fucked up, and he didnât even think to ask Seokmin to join him. But that doesnât matter. Seokmin can watch Seungcheol fix it.
âSeungcheol,â Seokmin calls from where heâs sprawled on the couch, âdâyou like quotes?â
That makes Seungcheol look up. He doesnât look confused, just curious. âQuotes?â
âYeah, like famous ones. Thereâs a nice one, goes like this.â Seokmin closes his eyes tight. ââBlessed are the forgetful, because they get the better even of their blundersâ.â
Seungcheol smiles, a tentative thing. Seokminâs heart melts.
âThatâs a good one,â Seungcheol replies. âNietzsche, right?â
âOh. You already know it. Dammit, I feel so stupid-â
âHey, itâs ok! Itâs a great quote. I like that we both know it.â
And suddenly Seokmin feels better. Itâs magical, the way Seungcheol does it. The way he makes Seokmin feel special, like theyâre tied together by knowing a quote he read in Bartlettâs one time.
âYouâre too nice to me, Seungcheol. Thereâs another one that I like, too. Itâs by- fuck, is it Pope Alexander? The poet guy?â
âAlexander Pope.â
Seokmin groans, buries his face in his hands. âGod, I really am the most stupid-â
âEasy mistake to make. Go on, whatâs the quote?â
âItâs something like-â Seokmin closes his eyes again. âHow happy is the blameless vestalâs lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned.â
Seokmin opens his eyes again. Seungcheol isnât really smiling anymore. He looks like heâs been stunned, like heâs been told some great secret.
âDid I say something wrong?â Seokmin asks.
âNo, not at all,â Seungcheol replies, a little breathless. âItâs beautiful.â
âItâs poetry, right?â Seokmin gets off the sofa, wandering over to the chair next to Seungcheolâs. âLike, obviously itâs part of a poem, but itâs poetry. Itâs beautiful. Iâm totally dense about this kind of thing, but eternal sunshines and spotless minds⌠itâs powerful, you know?â
Seungcheol just turns back to the computer, nodding.
âAnd thatâs why what you do is so great,â Seokmin adds. âYouâre giving people that spotless mind. Itâs like a whole new page they can use to rewrite their story.â
Seungcheol swallows. Seokmin knows because he canât take his eyes off Seungcheol, off the golden skin of his neck, off the bob of his throat.
âItâs more complicated than that.â
âIs it?â Seokmin asks, tilting his head to the side.
âWell, I may be giving people a fresh start, but they have to give something up for that, right? Like, this guy, Wonwoo. Heâll wake up with nothing left of Mingyu. He wonât just lose the bad times, heâll lose the good times too. Giving up all those memories⌠itâs not an easy thing to do. I donât know if I could do that.â
âBut once you give it up, youâre free! You get to forget all these things that have happened to you, and you get to try again! Wouldnât it be great if you could just forget everything about someone? You wouldnât ever be hung up on them, and you wouldnât remember all the bad stuff they did to you. Itâs like being a kid again, right? You get to do everything over, without being scared or overthinking the past or whatever. That doesnât appeal to you a little bit?â
Seungcheolâs jaw clenches again. âNo, not really.â
âI suppose itâs a good thing not everyone thinks like you, or youâd be out of a business.â
Seungcheol smiles wryly. âI suppose so.â
Seokmin canât help the grin that spreads across his face. He likes Seungcheol, so much. Seungcheol shouldnât be paying attention to Seokmin. Seokminâs just the receptionist at his clinicâhe shouldnât even be here right now. But he listens to Seokmin, like Seokminâs worth listening to, like he has something smart to say. Somehow, Seokmin canât remember the last time someone has treated him like this, like heâs worth having a real conversation with.
He should tell him. Thereâs no harm in telling him, is there?
âSeungcheol,â Seokmin says, sliding onto his knees, closer to Seungcheolâs chair, âyouâre lovely. You know that, donât you?â
Seungcheol stiffens. âI- well, thank you-â
âLook at me? I want you to hear it.â
Slowly, Seungcheol turns his head towards Seokmin. The air is hyper-electric, his eyes big and full of something Seokmin canât quite place. Seokminâs insides feel like jelly. He can feel his breathing getting quicker, and he doesnât know what to do with his hands.
âSeungcheol,â Seokmin breathes, âI canât- I need-â
âWhat?â
Seungcheol puts a hand on Seokminâs shoulder to brace him, and thatâs when Seokmin leans in and kisses him. Seungcheol doesnât kiss back, though. Heâs frozen against Seokmin, turned to stone, Gorgon-like.
Seokmin pulls back. âOh God. Iâve fucked it up, havenât I, Iâm so sorry-â
âSeokmin, no, please, itâs not you, itâs just- you know Iâm married, donât you?â
âI do, I do, but-â Seokmin grips his hair. âI just thought- I didnât think, I just-â
âSeokmin.â
A warm hand tilts Seokminâs chin up. He lets go of his hair, silently begging for Seungcheol to forgive him. Seungcheol doesnât. He gets off his chair, kneels opposite Seokmin, and kisses him again.
Seokmin didnât know he could feel as happy as this. He didnât know that his limbs could feel so warm, that sparks could shoot through him like this. He pulls Seungcheol in closer, gripping at his waist, wanting more and closer and everything and-
A car horn honks outside. Long and loud. Seungcheol pulls away, goes to the window to see what the matter is, says,
âOh God.â
âWhat? What is it?â
âMy husband. Heâs here. I need to go outside.â
Not looking at Seokmin, he runs out of the apartment. Seokmin follows him into the piercing night air. He sees Jun, standing near the clinic van, and next to that thereâs Seungcheol, leaning down to a car window. The car starts to drive off, and he runs after it.
âJoshua!â Seungcheol calls. âPlease, this was just a one-time mistake.â
Seokmin instinctively rushes to catch up.
âIâm sorry,â he says. âIt wonât happen again, Iâm just a stupid guy with a stupid crush, I practically made him do it, so donât be-â
The car suddenly brakes. Joshua turns to look at them. Heâs handsome, sharp. He doesnât look like heâs caught his husband kissing someone else.
âWhat?â he asks, frosty-voiced.
âItâs all my fault, so donât-â
âSeungcheol. You didnât tell him?â
âTell me what?â
Joshua turns to look at Seokmin, smiles mirthlessly. âYou can have him. You did.â
With that, he drives off. Seungcheol lets him, not taking his eyes off the car until it turns away.
âSeungcheol,â Seokmin asks, âwhat does he mean?â
Seungcheol turns towards Seokmin, but doesnât look at him. âWe have a past. We had an affair. And then you wanted the procedure done. You wanted to get over- you know.â
Seokminâs heart falls away. He wants to crumble to the ground.
âIâm sorry you had to find out this way,â Seungcheol continues. âI have to finish the job upstairs, but we can talk about this. Ok?â
Seokmin doesnât move. His limbs feel dead. All he can do is watch as Seungcheol heads back to the apartment. His head is swimming, his thoughts curling away like the misty air he breathes out. He doesnât notice footsteps coming towards him until he hears,
âHey. Seokmin.â
Junâs standing there, hands in his pockets.
âWhat?â Seokmin asks, voice cracking.
âLift home?â
âDid you know about this?â
âKnow- about your procedure? No, God no.â
âAnd you didnât know me and Seungcheol wereâŚâ
Jun fidgets a little. âWell, there was one time. You were at his car, and you were talking to him, and you looked- happy. Happy and secretive, I guess. But I never saw you two together afterwards so I thought I was making it up. I should have-â
Seokmin shakes his head. âDonât.â
Jun sighs. âI really like you, Seokmin. You know that, right?â
Seokmin does. He canât look Jun in the face.
âIâll get my stuff in the morning,â he says.
And with that he walks to the clinic, staring at the ground the whole time.
***
âOk, do you want to just tell me what you remember?â
âYeah. I liked you from the start. It was hard not to like you, Seungcheol. You really noticed me. Not in like a creepy way, but in a way that felt like you cared. You never talked down to me. People talk down to the receptionist a lot, and we all know Iâm not the smartest, but you never made me feel like that. Even though youâre smart. I wanted to impress you so bad, you know? Pretending to know all these big words and quotes. But you must have seen right through me. It didnât matter, though. I wanted everything with you. I wanted to shack up with you, properly. I wanted to live with you, I wanted us to take care of each other as we grew old. Stupid, right? Given how married you were. But your marriage didnât seem to matter to you. What we had together made me so happy, happier than I ever knew I could be, and- oh Seungcheol, I donât think I can do this.â
âWe agreed, didnât we? Itâs best for both of us.â
âI know, but- I donât know if I can do this. I donât know what Iâll do without you.â
âYouâll live. And so will I. We have to. You said we have to, right?â
âI know, I know, but- God, itâs hard. I want you. I want so much. I guess thatâs why I have to let this go, but itâs still hard. And I-â
The door opens. Seokmin hits pause on the file, quickly wiping his eyes.
âSeokmin?â
Seokminâs blood freezes.
âSeokmin,â Seungcheol continues, walking towards him, âplease tell me you werenât playing your file.â
Seokmin watches as Seungcheol gets closer, gradually illuminated by the lone amber light.
âI have a right to know, donât I?â he says, lacklustre.
âLook. You chose to get the procedure done. We both did. We both thought it best for you to move on, and we decided this was the best way to do it.â
âNobody told me it would be like this. How was I supposed to know?â
âI didnât want you to forget me, you know,â Seungcheol says, louder than before. âYou think I did? I wanted you to remember me well, and to think of me as someone who was kind to you and who loved you. I didnât want to forget you either, otherwise I would have had it done myself. But you were so desperate to move on. You wanted me out of your head so badly that you wanted the procedure, so I did it for you. I just- I wanted to take care of you.â
âWhat?â Seokmin snaps. âTake care of me? You think that was taking care of me? Seungcheol, you sat there for god knows how long, listening me tell you how much I adored you, and you did nothing! I told you everything, and you did nothing! You never even tried!â
Seokmin doesnât try and stop the fresh tears stinging his eyes. Seungcheol says nothing.
âYou know what?â Seokmin continues. âWhen I played that file, I wasnât surprised by what I said about you. I still think youâre as charming and clever and kind as I did then. But what I didnât know was how much I could feel. I didnât know I was capable of loving you that much, of wanting you that much. I didnât know just how much I wanted to care for you. I didnât know how happy I could be. But now I realise there was a part of me that was that happy, that could feel so much and love so deeply, and I donât have that part of me anymore. Iâve lost a part of me. You have it. And now I can never get it back.â
Through Seokminâs tears, Seungcheol blurs into the light. Seokmin canât bear to look anymore. He turns his head away, wiping fiercely at his eyes.
âSeokmin,â Seungcheol says, voice hollow, âI donât want you to-â
âPlease,â Seokmin whispers. âPlease just leave. Iâll have my two weeks on your desk tomorrow morning.â
Seokmin leans on the table, buries his face in his hands. He hears footsteps getting further away. The door closing. Silence. Then his own sobs echoing through the room.
***
Dear Mr Jeon,
My name is Seokmin Lee. You wonât remember me, but I am the receptionist at the Lacuna clinic. If you receive this, itâs because you came to the Lacuna clinic to have your memories of a particular person erased. I donât know who that person was, and it doesnât really matter. What matters is that you have the files and the CD accompanying this letter. The files and CD have everything youâll need to know about the memories you erased, and why you did it.
You might be wondering why Iâm sending this back to you. Itâs because Iâve decided that this clinic is horrible. Itâs a horrible thing to do, to take someoneâs memories away. I used to think it was a great idea, giving someone a fresh start, without remembering someone you canât have anymore. But I have come to realise that itâs not just the other person that youâll forget. Itâs yourself. Youâll forget who you were around this person, and youâll forget how this person changed you. Who you were back then is part of who you are now. You shouldnât be able to lose that so easily.
Iâm sure you had a good reason for wanting to erase those memories. Maybe theyâre painful. Maybe they remind you of something you couldnât fix, someone you couldnât know, someone you couldnât be with no matter how hard you tried. But itâs the trying that counts, right? Itâs the trying that makes it all worth it. Itâs the trying that tells you youâve lived. And I think we should all remember that. Our memories, however bad, tell us that weâve lived.
Maybe this wasnât the smartest idea. Maybe youâll never even look at these files. Maybe theyâll go straight in the trash. But please, at least think about it. Listen to the CD. You might find something that you thought you lost a long time ago. I promise that itâs worth it.
Re: [REMIX] versions of these belong to you
Re: [FILL] But nothing is like the heart of a person
reading this was such an Experience... the atmosphere you create here is so good it feels suffocating, almost, like being caught in the rain on the one day you didn't want to, you know? your prose is wonderful as always, and the parallels with interviews and the bittersweet mv just make this that much more painful and bittersweet itself! thank you so much for this, you hit it out of the park as always.