Status: Closed
This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted.
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.
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[FILL] sunlit daze
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Hunger Games AU, unrequited love
Permission to remix: Yes
***
“Why don’t you talk much?” Junhui asks in the communal kitchen once.
Wonwoo is surprised. “I talk enough. We’re talking right now.”
They’re whispering, actually. It’s past midnight. If the District staff knew they were awake sneaking prawn crackers, there would be hell to pay. Tribute trainees aren’t supposed to snack.
“I mean, to other people. You’re so quiet during training.” Junhui’s eyes are dark when they flick over Wonwoo’s face. “We’ll be volunteering any year now. Don’t you want to make friends first?”
Not here, Wonwoo thinks. Not when there’s a chance I’ll kill them someday.
As if he can hear what Wonwoo’s thinking, Junhui adds, “Or are you scared?”
Irritated, Wonwoo snatches the bag. “I signed up for this. Why would I be scared?” He sniffs. “I just don’t like anybody else here enough to be friends.”
“Oh. Only me?”
“Only you.”
Junhui laughs. He’s never been able to contain it, his laughter. It rings out like a lighthouse. They get caught, scolded, and punished with ten extra laps around the training compound.
Wonwoo can’t be angry. Time is a finite resource. If he had a choice, he’d spend all of it sitting in the dark with Junhui.
/
Junhui is known as an all-arounder amongst the Careers. He can shoot with the precision of Victors twice his age. He can run for an hour without gassing out. He can contort his body like a professional gymnast to hide in crevices no one else can see. He has bouts of silliness and won’t stop talking if you get him on the right subject; he’s charismatic without trying.
To watch him fight is a gift. Wonwoo doesn’t talk to the other trainees because half of the time he’s too busy fixated on Junhui’s sleek calves or deft wrists. His gorgeous, lethal body. A beautiful weapon.
Junhui strides off the pitch one afternoon with another win under his belt, swinging his dagger like a child, leaving Mingyu flat on his back in the dust. The sun is high and hot in the sky. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek, toward the corner of his smiling mouth.
Before he can think better of it, Wonwoo reaches out and wipes the sweat away with the palm of his hand. Junhui’s skin is warm and deceptively soft.
A hush falls over the trainees. Heads turn in their direction. Intimacy, what a scandal.
Junhui’s expression fissures. All that joy, gone. “Don’t,” he begs.
He pushes roughly past Wonwoo, their shoulders colliding. The other kids watch him go. Somebody snickers and Wonwoo’s face goes hot.
The problem? If Junhui’s at the top of the pecking order, Wonwoo’s at the bottom. He once thought he wanted to win the Games—but that was before Junhui. Now he doesn’t have the stomach for it. He thinks about Junhui with blood speckled over that perfect face and feels nauseated.
Motivation gone. A classic case of burnout.
/
As it turns out, Wonwoo doesn’t need to volunteer. He is selected the old-fashioned way; his name, pulled from a glass jar. He walks to the stage with his head held high. He’s a Career, as far as anyone knows. Maybe they’ll sponsor him.
Before fate can settle in, Junhui volunteers.
Wonwoo’s stomach drops. Not for me, he thinks. Not now. Let me go first.
But Junhui bounds up to take his place. He waves at the cameras, points at the crowd, gets shy when they respond with a swell of noise. His teeth flash. He’s a natural fucking showman. Doesn’t know his own magnetism.
Wonwoo stays rooted in place. An officer tries to escort him away but he resists, waiting, until he catches Junhui’s eye.
Junhui looks at Wonwoo from the other side of the stage, across the spotlights and the fanfare and the cheering. He turns his back to the cameras for one precious moment.
He winks.
/
“Everybody out,” Junhui calls as soon as he sees Wonwoo. “I’ll see you all on the Victory tour. Goodbye—goodbye!”
A dozen trainees shuffle out of the tiny silver room. Junhui is left lounging on a sleek couch, popping lychees into his mouth whole.
They’re alone for the last time.
“Do you want one? These are amazing.” Junhui tosses Wonwoo a lychee.
It’s already been skinned, its flesh soft and damp between Wonwoo’s fingers. Wonwoo hasn’t seen such luxurious food since signing himself up to be a Career. He peels off a chunk and puts it in his mouth, sucks the sweetness dry. His throat swells with emotion.
“Junhui,” Wonwoo mumbles. “Why this year? I could’ve—I could’ve—”
“No,” Junhui says gently. “You couldn’t have.”
“I don’t want you to do this.”
Junhui leans forward, his eyes electric. “I want it, though. Do you understand? I want to win. I like the Games.”
Wonwoo’s breath hitches. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Don’t,” Junhui says again, urgently, an echo from months ago.
“You deserve to hear it. To know—”
“I don’t want it.”
Someone raps on the door. “One minute.”
Fuck. Wonwoo wipes his eyes and staggers closer. If these are his last sixty seconds in the light, he doesn’t want to waste them. He takes Junhui into his arms, reaches up to cradle the back of his skull. He folds into Wonwoo perfectly, like they’ve done this before, though they haven’t.
Junhui rubs a hand over his back. “S’okay,” he says. “You’ll be good. Just talk to other people for once.”
Wonwoo presses his nose into Junhui’s neck and says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His breath shudders out of him. He can’t help it. “I love you.”
The silence is so loud that Wonwoo thinks he’s done it—stopped time. Frozen this moment in amber. He’ll get to live here forever.
Then Junhui moves. He untangles Wonwoo’s arms and steps back, looks at the floor.
“I don’t—” he says.
It sounds like he cuts himself off. Like he meant: I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear it. Wonwoo waits for him to finish, but Junhui doesn’t say anything else. Just leaves it there: I don’t.
Wonwoo turns his face to the floor. As much as he wants to look at Junhui, he doesn’t want Junhui to see him cry.
“Time’s up,” someone calls, and the door wrenches open with a metallic clang.
At the last moment, Wonwoo thinks he feels something cool press against his cheek. By the time he looks up the door has closed. He’s alone in a dark, dark room.
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
this makes me so sad omg i'm glad you left it open ended. thank you for writing this is really incredible!!!
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
If he had a choice, he’d spend all of it sitting in the dark with Junhui. THIS GUTTED ME SO BAD. i hope u know that.
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
“Junhui,” Wonwoo mumbles. “Why this year? I could’ve—I could’ve—”
“No,” Junhui says gently. “You couldn’t have.”
this line broke me. the simple certainty, junhui knows this and that's why he volunteered because at least he stands a chance oh god no
also: Wonwoo can’t be angry. Time is a finite resource. THESIS STATEMENT OF THE FIC "time is a finite resource" god the thread of this is so raw and pulls right through every single moment of this. they're running out of time!! and right up to the end when they have like a minute to speak oh my god I'm shaking
this is gorgeous thank you for sharing it with us!!
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
…
he better win, klav.
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
thank you so much for filling this prompt! I love abdurraqib's poem ever since I first read it and you wrote it out in a way that made the feelings more tangible - like not just someone who you have a crush on and is out of reach in the way parasocial crushes are, but someone that was in front of you, who you've felt the potential of a maybe there could be more but then spun out of reach before you could grasp onto that opportunity. And ofc the wonhuiness of it all, you know I'm a jeongcheolist/gyuhaoist but 17hols brings out the wonwooisms ahhh. thank you for giving us this slice of (tragic) life. HUNGER GAMES AU IN 2022 HUH.
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
Trainee/trainee parallels are soooo good,, what if you knew exactly what kind of bloodshed you were in for... and junhui you hero!! Your story-setting and prose are as gripping and wonderful as always, especially the moments where you play with the pacing and lull/arrest us in time along w the characters - thank u for creating this!
Re: [FILL] sunlit daze
Wonwoo presses his nose into Junhui’s neck and says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His breath shudders out of him. He can’t help it. “I love you.”
This is so memorable and painful and SO well-crafted. Love this!!