Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Junhui Major Tags: non-explicit sex, themes of death, multiple minor character deaths (no MCD or other archive warnings). see ao3 for full warnings Additional Tags: OCL+tamtam cameo! Permission to remix: Please ask
It begins deep underground.
It asks, What are you capable of? What are you capable of giving up?
Every year, after the weather turns, Wonwoo’s phone starts to ring a lot more than usual.
It wakes him well before dawn, yanking his consciousness back into place and out of whatever dream he’d been having in a way that makes him queasy.
“I’m coming,” he says. He forces himself upright in bed, shoulders hunched and eyes squeezed shut into his palm. “Yes, I’m coming. Thirty minutes. Yes.”
It’s cold outside. Cold inside the car too, and the dusty smell of the seats sticks at the back of his throat. He starts the car with a roar that’s sure to wake his father. He’ll understand of course, but Wonwoo wishes he didn’t have to.
He pulls the car out of the driveway and guides it up the hill. It’s a dark night, almost no moon. The treeline is deep black. At the crest of the hill looms the abandoned development: several monstrous grey houses that aren’t even worth what it would cost to knock them down. They’ve sat there for five years now, empty and unfinished. Wonwoo barely notices them anymore.
He notices them tonight. At first he isn’t sure why, but then– his eyes catch on movement.
There, in the empty space cut out by one of the upper floor windows, inexplicable: a flickering orange light.
Jihoon stands on the railing at the bow of his boat, as unafraid as a cat on a high ledge.
“Wonwoo,” he calls down as Wonwoo approaches. He jumps and lands with both feet on the creaky wood of the dock. He moves like a much younger man, a staunch physicality granted by a lifetime of working with his body. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” says Wonwoo. “Have you been well?”
“We ran into a school of yellowtail today,” he recounts. It’s very typical of Jihoon, when asked about himself, to give a response about fish. “Huge, couldn’t keep them off my hook if I tried. Saved the best fillets—they’re back at the stall. Ask Jun.”
Before Wonwoo leaves, Jihoon wipes his palms on his salt-stained pants and grasps Wonwoo’s hand in both of his. In a low voice he mutters a blessing, wishing him well.
Back at the stall is someone Wonwoo has never seen. Tall, sharp eyes set in an open face, and—most strikingly—a head shaved completely bald.
The man, Jun, is watching him curiously. “What did you do?” he asks.
Wonwoo blinks. “Excuse me?”
“My boss basically just hugged you. I’ve worked here for weeks and only seen him smile once. And that was because a kid dropped his ice cream.” His voice isn’t high but it has a strange lightness to it, like he’s speaking his words off the edge of a cliff. “So you must’ve done something.”
Jihoon used to smile all the time. Wonwoo remembers trailing his father around the markets as a child. Jihoon was in his twenties then and seemed almost invincible in the clear morning sun. He always laughed when Wonwoo twisted up his face at the reek of salt and fish guts on the breeze.
“I’m a friend of his wife,” Wonwoo says.
“He’s married?” says Jun. “I didn’t know that.”
Not Wonwoo’s story to tell. “I’m told you have fish for me.”
“Ah!” exclaims Jun, latching easily to the diversion. “Name?”
“Jeon.” Jun disappears below the table, where there are two large foam cooler boxes. He rummages for several moments.
“Jeon what?” he asks, head popping up so that only his eyes are visible.
“There’s only one Jeon in this town– well,” Wonwoo amends, “two. The other is my father.”
Jun rises back to his full height. There’s a paper wrapped bundle in his hands, which he offers to Wonwoo. The word PREPAID is scrawled on the side beneath his surname, though Wonwoo knows for certain he hasn’t paid a cent.
“It was right on top,” Jun admits. His smile is big and square, and his laugh is embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to ask your name.”
[FILL] Vesuvius
Major Tags: non-explicit sex, themes of death, multiple minor character deaths (no MCD or other archive warnings). see ao3 for full warnings
Additional Tags: OCL+tamtam cameo!
Permission to remix: Please ask
It begins deep underground.
It asks, What are you capable of?
What are you capable of giving up?
Every year, after the weather turns, Wonwoo’s phone starts to ring a lot more than usual.
It wakes him well before dawn, yanking his consciousness back into place and out of whatever dream he’d been having in a way that makes him queasy.
“I’m coming,” he says. He forces himself upright in bed, shoulders hunched and eyes squeezed shut into his palm. “Yes, I’m coming. Thirty minutes. Yes.”
It’s cold outside. Cold inside the car too, and the dusty smell of the seats sticks at the back of his throat. He starts the car with a roar that’s sure to wake his father. He’ll understand of course, but Wonwoo wishes he didn’t have to.
He pulls the car out of the driveway and guides it up the hill. It’s a dark night, almost no moon. The treeline is deep black. At the crest of the hill looms the abandoned development: several monstrous grey houses that aren’t even worth what it would cost to knock them down. They’ve sat there for five years now, empty and unfinished. Wonwoo barely notices them anymore.
He notices them tonight. At first he isn’t sure why, but then– his eyes catch on movement.
There, in the empty space cut out by one of the upper floor windows, inexplicable: a flickering orange light.
Jihoon stands on the railing at the bow of his boat, as unafraid as a cat on a high ledge.
“Wonwoo,” he calls down as Wonwoo approaches. He jumps and lands with both feet on the creaky wood of the dock. He moves like a much younger man, a staunch physicality granted by a lifetime of working with his body. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” says Wonwoo. “Have you been well?”
“We ran into a school of yellowtail today,” he recounts. It’s very typical of Jihoon, when asked about himself, to give a response about fish. “Huge, couldn’t keep them off my hook if I tried. Saved the best fillets—they’re back at the stall. Ask Jun.”
Before Wonwoo leaves, Jihoon wipes his palms on his salt-stained pants and grasps Wonwoo’s hand in both of his. In a low voice he mutters a blessing, wishing him well.
Back at the stall is someone Wonwoo has never seen. Tall, sharp eyes set in an open face, and—most strikingly—a head shaved completely bald.
The man, Jun, is watching him curiously. “What did you do?” he asks.
Wonwoo blinks. “Excuse me?”
“My boss basically just hugged you. I’ve worked here for weeks and only seen him smile once. And that was because a kid dropped his ice cream.” His voice isn’t high but it has a strange lightness to it, like he’s speaking his words off the edge of a cliff. “So you must’ve done something.”
Jihoon used to smile all the time. Wonwoo remembers trailing his father around the markets as a child. Jihoon was in his twenties then and seemed almost invincible in the clear morning sun. He always laughed when Wonwoo twisted up his face at the reek of salt and fish guts on the breeze.
“I’m a friend of his wife,” Wonwoo says.
“He’s married?” says Jun. “I didn’t know that.”
Not Wonwoo’s story to tell. “I’m told you have fish for me.”
“Ah!” exclaims Jun, latching easily to the diversion. “Name?”
“Jeon.” Jun disappears below the table, where there are two large foam cooler boxes. He rummages for several moments.
“Jeon what?” he asks, head popping up so that only his eyes are visible.
“There’s only one Jeon in this town– well,” Wonwoo amends, “two. The other is my father.”
Jun rises back to his full height. There’s a paper wrapped bundle in his hands, which he offers to Wonwoo. The word PREPAID is scrawled on the side beneath his surname, though Wonwoo knows for certain he hasn’t paid a cent.
“It was right on top,” Jun admits. His smile is big and square, and his laugh is embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to ask your name.”
continued on ao3