Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Chan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: vaguely idolverse, existential crisis, subtle references to mental illness Permission to remix: Yes
***
"Hyung. What makes you think you'd be different?"
If it were any other person, Wonwoo would've been offended. Chan hopes he would. But the older man lets it ripple the stillness between them, reverbing softly from where Chan is lying on his lap. Wonwoo's hand tread through his bangs like they're harp strings. It's pleasant. It makes him itch.
Wonwoo hums at him, "I never said I am."
His skin is cold lately. Not from the AC blowing incessantly in the dance studio, but from a deep seated chill underneath. Wonwoo isn't very warm either. It's still warmer than whatever lingers on his skin. It feels good. It scares him that it does.
"Don't you get tired?" he repeats. "I'm not good at staying, hyung. I always have this—" Shift, shake, look away. "—urge to run away. I'm only going to hurt you, hyung. Like I've hurt everyone else that tried. Like I've tried with other people. They want me to stay. To let them stay. I don't know how."
When humans evolved into settlers, they developed the ability to make a shelter out of everything, no matter where they move. It's the nomad in them that never went away. It's a survival instinct. Humans are wired to find a place.
Chan is stuck somewhere before that evolution.
He must be flawed. Whatever program ingrained him with a yearning for perfection makes him ill-equipped to receive affection. It's supposed to be a transaction, isn't it? You do well and do enough and do well enough and be rewarded. The applauses, the awards, the screams, the sold-out stages, the respect and adoration and awe. Sometimes it feels like the future he promised himself flinches when he comes closer. It keeps slipping away.
Chan keeps chasing the unknown feeling. Clawing at the sky, climbing for the stars. When the night sky darkens, where does he go? He doesn't know what to chase anymore. There's a constellation of twelve shining for him to come home, but the feeling of being the odd number grows a root deep in his chest and cracks open a void.
"Why is this so hard?"
Why can't he sit down? Why does he itch for motion and acceleration and speed, to run until the ends of the earth, grind his bones in the wind until he disappears?
"Why is this so easy for you?"
Wonwoo is an enigma. A ghost. He lingers, undeterred by the void that swallows Chan inside out, turning his head into teeth. He knows how many hearts have Chan broken and how many times Chan had tried and got left burned. The irony is that Wonwoo knows how to handle Chan better than Chan knows how to handle himself.
There should be an explanation as to why he's so adamant on staying within the orbit of a planet that wants to rip away.
Wonwoo doesn't act like Chan earns him. When he's pushed away, he draws back. There's an eerie timeliness in how he emerges back when Chan gets better, when Chan could laugh and dances around or argue with Seungkwan or takes hugs from everyone without running away. He teases him nonstop. He agrees with everything Chan says. He lets Chan know that he's wrapped around his finger. It's confusing. It feels safe.
Wonwoo feels safe.
Wonwoo might be the closest to the love that Chan allows himself to have.
"People are tricky, you know? Maybe they don't know how to handle you. Maybe you don't know how to handle them. I do know that you, sometimes, don't even know how to handle your own thoughts," he muses.
"I know. I'm too confusing even for myself." Chan averts his gaze to the flickering light above them. "I don't get how you do all this, hyung. Sometimes I don't even feel like I'm... me. But you keep coming for me and I don't—" He briefly forgets whether he has been breathing through the whole conversation. "I don't know why you keep coming back. I don't deserve this. All of this... whatever it is you keep wanting me to have."
Being the youngest has sometimes left Chan aching to do more. To be more. He pokes, prods, tests their patience a lot, stretches their limits.
But maybe deep inside all he wants to know is whether they're really going to stay.
It's almost shameful, really, his near-constant need for certainty. He always hungers for it. It's a terrifying craving to have in a world where everything changes and nobody is ever guaranteed to stay, not even the self he wants to be.
What makes Wonwoo think he's any different?
For starters, "You talk a lot about yourself in transactional terms, Chan-ah."
He reads Chan well, but doesn't act like he does. He doesn't show a lot of his emotions, but somehow it's all presented in a glass box whenever Chan so much glances at him.
"I believe everyone has a place among others. And it's not something they have to buy for themselves," He links their hands together. Chan lets him. "I may be a bit naive, but stay with me. I personally think," He squeezes their hands. "That your constant itch to run away comes from you thinking love should be something you receive when you think you deserve it. But it's not. Everyone here loves you, whether it's in the way they know or you want, or even a huge mess where it clashes and you hate it, but you also don't."
Wonwoo's hand wraps around Chan's. It's grounding. It's...
For once, he just wants to feel happiness without a shadow creeping behind it.
"I know," he tries to convince himself. "I know that, hyung."
When he looks at Wonwoo, the stars have shone upon his eyes. There's something in Wonwoo's smile that makes the knots in his chest loosen, and suddenly there's oxygen in his lungs again.
"And even if you think you'll never be ready for it, that's fine too. You're still meant for love even if you don't feel like it."
"How do you know?"
Wonwoo's next words are muffled onto Chan's neck, his figure a barrier protecting him from the outside world and himself.
i can water the moon
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vaguely idolverse, existential crisis, subtle references to mental illness
Permission to remix: Yes
***
"Hyung. What makes you think you'd be different?"
If it were any other person, Wonwoo would've been offended. Chan hopes he would. But the older man lets it ripple the stillness between them, reverbing softly from where Chan is lying on his lap. Wonwoo's hand tread through his bangs like they're harp strings. It's pleasant. It makes him itch.
Wonwoo hums at him, "I never said I am."
His skin is cold lately. Not from the AC blowing incessantly in the dance studio, but from a deep seated chill underneath. Wonwoo isn't very warm either. It's still warmer than whatever lingers on his skin. It feels good. It scares him that it does.
"Don't you get tired?" he repeats. "I'm not good at staying, hyung. I always have this—" Shift, shake, look away. "—urge to run away. I'm only going to hurt you, hyung. Like I've hurt everyone else that tried. Like I've tried with other people. They want me to stay. To let them stay. I don't know how."
When humans evolved into settlers, they developed the ability to make a shelter out of everything, no matter where they move. It's the nomad in them that never went away. It's a survival instinct. Humans are wired to find a place.
Chan is stuck somewhere before that evolution.
He must be flawed. Whatever program ingrained him with a yearning for perfection makes him ill-equipped to receive affection. It's supposed to be a transaction, isn't it? You do well and do enough and do well enough and be rewarded. The applauses, the awards, the screams, the sold-out stages, the respect and adoration and awe. Sometimes it feels like the future he promised himself flinches when he comes closer. It keeps slipping away.
Chan keeps chasing the unknown feeling. Clawing at the sky, climbing for the stars. When the night sky darkens, where does he go? He doesn't know what to chase anymore. There's a constellation of twelve shining for him to come home, but the feeling of being the odd number grows a root deep in his chest and cracks open a void.
"Why is this so hard?"
Why can't he sit down? Why does he itch for motion and acceleration and speed, to run until the ends of the earth, grind his bones in the wind until he disappears?
"Why is this so easy for you?"
Wonwoo is an enigma. A ghost. He lingers, undeterred by the void that swallows Chan inside out, turning his head into teeth. He knows how many hearts have Chan broken and how many times Chan had tried and got left burned. The irony is that Wonwoo knows how to handle Chan better than Chan knows how to handle himself.
There should be an explanation as to why he's so adamant on staying within the orbit of a planet that wants to rip away.
Wonwoo doesn't act like Chan earns him. When he's pushed away, he draws back. There's an eerie timeliness in how he emerges back when Chan gets better, when Chan could laugh and dances around or argue with Seungkwan or takes hugs from everyone without running away. He teases him nonstop. He agrees with everything Chan says. He lets Chan know that he's wrapped around his finger. It's confusing. It feels safe.
Wonwoo feels safe.
Wonwoo might be the closest to the love that Chan allows himself to have.
"People are tricky, you know? Maybe they don't know how to handle you. Maybe you don't know how to handle them. I do know that you, sometimes, don't even know how to handle your own thoughts," he muses.
"I know. I'm too confusing even for myself." Chan averts his gaze to the flickering light above them. "I don't get how you do all this, hyung. Sometimes I don't even feel like I'm... me. But you keep coming for me and I don't—" He briefly forgets whether he has been breathing through the whole conversation. "I don't know why you keep coming back. I don't deserve this. All of this... whatever it is you keep wanting me to have."
Being the youngest has sometimes left Chan aching to do more. To be more. He pokes, prods, tests their patience a lot, stretches their limits.
But maybe deep inside all he wants to know is whether they're really going to stay.
It's almost shameful, really, his near-constant need for certainty. He always hungers for it. It's a terrifying craving to have in a world where everything changes and nobody is ever guaranteed to stay, not even the self he wants to be.
What makes Wonwoo think he's any different?
For starters, "You talk a lot about yourself in transactional terms, Chan-ah."
He reads Chan well, but doesn't act like he does. He doesn't show a lot of his emotions, but somehow it's all presented in a glass box whenever Chan so much glances at him.
"I believe everyone has a place among others. And it's not something they have to buy for themselves," He links their hands together. Chan lets him. "I may be a bit naive, but stay with me. I personally think," He squeezes their hands. "That your constant itch to run away comes from you thinking love should be something you receive when you think you deserve it. But it's not. Everyone here loves you, whether it's in the way they know or you want, or even a huge mess where it clashes and you hate it, but you also don't."
Wonwoo's hand wraps around Chan's. It's grounding. It's...
For once, he just wants to feel happiness without a shadow creeping behind it.
"I know," he tries to convince himself. "I know that, hyung."
When he looks at Wonwoo, the stars have shone upon his eyes. There's something in Wonwoo's smile that makes the knots in his chest loosen, and suddenly there's oxygen in his lungs again.
"And even if you think you'll never be ready for it, that's fine too. You're still meant for love even if you don't feel like it."
"How do you know?"
Wonwoo's next words are muffled onto Chan's neck, his figure a barrier protecting him from the outside world and himself.
"I just decide that you do."