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] i wanna see you (but you're not mine)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: hurt/comfort, no one really knows what they are, every day things as metaphor
Permission to remix: Please ask
***
There's a mishapen mug sitting by the granite countertop, a comma of sorts amidst the clean and straight lines of the kitchen. It sticks out like a sore thumb, with its handle askew and lop-sided rim—it would be a miracle if it can hold anything liquid without spilling. But things like these are valued not for its functionality but by the sentiments Wonwoo chooses to keep.
Wonwoo is like this house: clean lines, sharp edges, soft-closed doors and the single potted plant sitting by the foyer. There are no photos on the wall, the television untouched despite the contractor boasting how it's the most stylish unit and other –ishes Wonwoo had tuned out of; there was a bed and a functioning bathroom, what else would he need?
But the mug is there and it's not Wonwoo's.
No, the mug isn't his and it sits collecting dust on the countertop—untouched. Here time stands still, unchanging and suspended.
Wonwoo refuses to move it, he doesn't know if the decision had been conscious or if the days had just bled into weeks and the weeks to months until it became a permanent fixture in his kitchen, a statment piece if you will or a tombstone.
Here lies the remains of what could have been, what has been lost, what has been left.
Jihoon had given him a long look when he noticed the mug during one of this monthly visits to Wonwoo's house but chose to say nothing, Soonyoung on the other hand had been more vocal—trash bag in hand and a threat forming in his lips: get rid of it.
But Wonwoo's stomach had rolled, nausea building in his chest as he snatched the mug out of Soonyoung's hold—disrupting time, unsuspending memories, a snow globe shaken and chaotic.
"He won't come back," Jihoon whispers from his seat by the couch, back turned against Wonwoo.
"He will," Wonwoo finds himself saying: optimistic beyond doubt, a stark contrast to the house he had built for himself.
"How many months has it been," Soonyoung asks, tone like the nail on the coffin but Wonwoo wrenches it open with a hammer.
Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn.
"He will come back," Wonwoo speaks with finality.
The mug is placed back on its perch and time stands still, once more.
And when Wonwoo comes home four months later with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he finds that the mug is sitting on the drying rack, water gently seeping out of its rim—time moves, warps, twists and then rights itself.
"You kept it," comes a voice from the stair case behind Wonwoo.
"I did," is his reply, feet rooted on its spot, watching the snow move around the globe as it drifted slowly into the ground.
"Why?"
Wonwoo sighs before turning, a despondent smile sitting on his lips, "You hated the ones I owned."
There's a furrow sitting on Jeonghan's forehead, a reminder that he's closer to the human than the divine.
A man, not a ghost even if sometimes he feels like one.
"Why," Jeonghan asks again and Wonwoo watches him carefully, notes that he has grown his hair out, blonde this time. A shirt too big on him is sitting on his shoulders, a blue splotch resting by the hem from when Wonwoo accidentally spilled a pen. There are pillow marks on Jeonghan's left cheek and if Wonwoo were to check the bed upstairs, he'd not doubt find the very same print embedded on the material.
Jeonghan doesn't have to ask why, him standing in the middle of Wonwoo's living room is enough of an answer.
"Do you want to order take out?" Wonwoo asks, placing his bag by the couch and fishing his phone out of his pocket.
Jeonghan likes Chinese, Wonwoo muses despite his sensitive stomach.
Extra spicy, he picks.
Jeonghan is silent as he walks over to Wonwoo, cheek pressing against his shoulder as they pick dinner options.
Wonwoo picks up a congee, checking the add chilli flakes option before thinking better of it and placing the order.
"I'll set the table," Jeonghan hums, twirling away like starlight and something in Wonwoo's chest constricts before it rights itself when Jeonghan still remembers where the bowls are kept.
The memory is a muscle, no matter how long time has passed.
Food arrives, Jeonghan fills the misshapen mug with water, sliding it to Wonwoo before picking out his own from the cupboard by the sink—clean lines, perfect rim.
They share a quiet meal.
Later when the lights are dim and Wonwoo can still feel the slight dampness from his face after washing up, he finds an added weight sinking into his bed.
They say nothing for a long while, breathes syncing quietly in the silent air as their bodies reorrient themselves with each other, a homecoming of sorts.
"Why," Jeonghan asks again, whispers it to Wonwoo's chest, close to his heart.
"I like the mug," Wonwoo not-answers before he shuts his eyes, draws Jeonghan close, the first time he has held him in seven months.
"Should I make more?" Jeonghan mumbles, quietly.
"If you want," Wonwoo replies, smells strawberries in his pillows, "We can replace my old ones."
"Even if they're misshapen?"
"Especially when they're misshapen."
Wonwoo is like this house: clean lines, sharp edges, soft-closed doors and the single potted plant sitting by the foyer.
But his heart? His heart is a misshapen mug sitting on the countertop beside a cracked clay bowl that they use for keys.
Re: [FILL] i wanna see you (but you're not mine)
its some muted yearning some comforting domesticity??? personally im not too sure either but it definitely adds to the allure. The Exception... oh man.
(But Wonwoo's stomach had rolled, nausea building in his chest as he snatched the mug out of Soonyoung's hold—disrupting time, unsuspending memories, a snow globe shaken and chaotic)
this is crazy i love the way you just... melded time in this. its mindblowing. the desperation. pivotal if you will.
the details... it's all about how you've made this come so alive by all the little details. the ink blot on the shirt the sentimentality of it all is so appropriately portrayed TT i really. really love it all.
(But his heart? His heart is a misshapen mug sitting on the countertop beside a cracked clay bowl that they use for keys.)
i also love the roundabout.... the way it feels cyclical in some kind of way. this is a never ending process of yearning and optimism almost.... whatever vibe you've sought to achieve i genuinely believe you've done it.. and so well. so well. thank you for this work really!!!!
Re: [FILL] i wanna see you (but you're not mine)
Re: [FILL] i wanna see you (but you're not mine)
(Anonymous) 2022-12-28 12:02 am (UTC)(link)thank you for writing and sharing!