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]: In the Heat, It Searched For You
Major Tags: Major Character Death, Cannibalism
Additional Tags:
Permission to remix: No
A/N: I finished the book today and I’m worse now
***
Soonyoung is not the first, but he’s the first person Wonwoo regrets. They sneak out of their hotel, run around on the beach, fall back against the sand and reminisce about their last year of high school. The rhythm of the waves lulls Wonwoo into a comfortable calm.
“I really like you, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says. His eyes shine in the moonlight. Wonwoo can smell the salt on his skin.
Waves crash into the shore. Whoosh. Whoosh. Like the beating of a heart.
The normal spike of panic he feels isn’t there. The sand is cool, Soonyoung’s hand is warm against his, and Wonwoo tugs their bodies closer together.
“Me too.”
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whatever sounds Soonyoung makes are drowned out by the waves.
Junhui is the first person Wonwoo meets that is just like him. He is nineteen years old, on a bus to nowhere, when Junhui sits in the seat across from him. Their eyes meet and Wonwoo feels like he’s been hit by lightning.
Junhui’s eyes widen, a knowing smile on his lips.
Introductions lead to Wonwoo following Junhui into the woods. They camp under the stars and heat up cans of food over the fire. Junhui is like him but he is not like him at all. That’s the feeling Wonwoo gets the longer they’re around each other. Whatever compels Junhui to eat, it’s not the same feeling he gets.
And what feeling is that, a small voice in Wonwoo’s head taunts. What really makes you hungry?
“Who was your first?” Junhui asks him. Curious. He asks a lot of questions. Wonwoo doesn’t have a good answer for most of them.
“I don’t remember.”
“I don’t believe you.” Junhui’s smile is sharp in the firelight. “Everyone remembers the first one.”
“I was a toddler.”
“Your parents must have told you about it. Even if they didn’t think you were the one that did it.”
Wonwoo remembers flashes of it. Long hair shining in the sun, the lacey curtains pulled back from the window. It seems impossible, even now, that a little boy with baby teeth could eat that much.
But he did. He couldn’t eat the bones then. He’s never told anyone that. He remembers them in a pile on the floor.
“They only told me we had to move. They’ve never wanted to admit it.”
“But they let you stay with them,” Junhui says. He falls back against the grass, his eyes fixed on the stars. “Do you think they were afraid of you?”
There is a dream Wonwoo has sometimes, when he’s sick or stressed or so anxious he can’t breathe. He’s back on the wood paneled floor in his living room, a toddler staring into his mother’s stricken face. She reaches for him but recoils. His father shoos her into their bedroom. They share a look, but Wonwoo is too young to understand what it means.
In the dream, Wonwoo’s father unhinges his jaw like a snake and swallows the bones, his eyes on Wonwoo but looking through him.
He looks at Junhui that way now, seeing but not seeing.
“They loved me. That was worse.”
Junhui is gone when he wakes up. There is no bad taste in his mouth or shreds of clothes caught on bushes. He wonders if they’ll ever see each other again.
Wonwoo meets Seungcheol in a convenience store. They are both buying the same brand of mouth wash. Seungcheol keeps looking at him like he wants to make conversation. Sometimes, when Wonwoo feels especially bad, he thinks about walking up to strangers and telling them what he’s done.
I ate the first boy who told me he liked me. How can a person hold that much inside of them? Where do they go when I’m done with them? I still have his ipod in my bag.
Seungcheol leaves before he can say anything to him at all. It’s not until two days later, when Wonwoo walks out of a rest stop and into an almost abandoned parking area, that he even learns his name. Seungcheol is wiping blood from his mouth, truck door open, the dome light making him look particularly monstrous.
“You headed anywhere special?” he calls, beckoning Wonwoo closer.
He shakes his head. He can’t stop looking at Seungcheol. They both know what he’s done but neither of them really cares.
“How did you know that I —” Wonwoo starts. The words die in his mouth when Seungcheol shrugs.
“I just knew. My name is Seungcheol. Do you wanna head west with me?”
The sunlight is warm in the truck. Wonwoo loses track of how many days they’ve been traveling together. There is a plastic bag tucked under the seat. They could just throw it out, but Seungcheol doesn’t want to litter. They’ll find a place, he assures him. Wonwoo isn’t sure if he realizes what he’s saying could mean many different things.
“How do you choose?” Wonwoo asks him one night. They’ve scrounged up enough money for a room in a large cabin rental. They wash their clothes in the sink, hang them to dry next to the window, and settle into a bed that’s barely big enough for them both.
“Bad people,” he says. It’s the easiest, nicest answer in the world. Wonwoo’s stomach drops. “People who deserve it.”
“Then add me to your list. I’m the worst of them all.”
Seungcheol shakes his head, reaching between them for his hand.
“You’re not bad, Wonwoo.”
“I’ve eaten anyone that’s ever cared about me.” Wonwoo whispers it in the dark. He wants Seungcheol to ignore it. There isn’t room in the life they’re forced to live for these kinds of truths.
“Even your parents?”
Wonwoo shakes his head. “They must have loved me, but —”
“But not enough,” Seungcheol finishes for him. “Some people believe that when you eat someone, they live on inside of you. Maybe you’re just keeping them safe, preserving their memory.”
Wonwoo lets the words settle over him. Is that why he ate Soonyoung? Mingyu? Jisoo? His babysitter?
Is that what love really is? Devouring until there’s nothing left?
Seungcheol kisses him in the bed of the truck they’ve parked on the beach for the night. The waves are soft, rhythmic, an easy pace they match with their mouths. Wonwoo can smell the lingering smoke from the fire on Seungcheol’s skin. He shoves him away and wraps his arms around his middle.
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says. “We have to stop.”
“You’re afraid.” Seungcheol reaches for him but Wonwoo moves away. “What did I do?”
“It’s me. If we keep going, what if I…” Wonwoo takes a shaky breath. “I don’t want to do that to you.”
“Have you ever been with someone like us?” Seungcheol asks.
If Wonwoo concentrates, he can hear the strong, healthy pound of Seungcheol’s heart. Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
He shakes his head.
“I really like you, Wonwoo. I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
Wonwoo lets Seungcheol move closer, lets him uncross his arms and take his hand. His breath smells like cinnamon mouth wash.
“If you eat me, I’ll still be with you. I’m not afraid to die like that. It’s a pretty nice way to go.” He cups Wonwoo’s face, thumb smoothing over his jaw. “Can I kiss you again?”
Wonwoo is in love with Seungcheol. He’s not sure when it happened, when sleeping under the stars and eating cheap canned food and sneaking into abandoned vacation homes to shower became something he wanted to do with Seungcheol forever.
Wonwoo loves Seungcheol and Seungcheol loves him. That is the truth, but two things can be true at the same time. It’s also true that Wonwoo hasn’t eaten in weeks. His body is quick to remind him of this.
He wants Seungcheol and he wants to eat Seungcheol. Wonwoo tastes the salt of his own tears when they kiss, hands roaming over Seungcheol’s body with every type of hunger.
He’s not sure how far they get by the end. Wonwoo tastes blood. Seungcheol doesn’t scream. The only sounds are the pounding of his heart, the rush of the ocean. Bones against teeth.
People like them, they’re the monsters. Monsters don’t get happy endings.
Re: [Fill]: In the Heat, It Searched For You
Re: [Fill]: In the Heat, It Searched For You