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Prompting is currently open. Prompting is open from 28 December 2024 to 19 January 2025.
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"the poem begins not where the knife enters, but where the blade twists"
"beauty is terror"
"you'll just have to taste me, when he's kissing you"
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 a hit tweet.
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onions
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: unrequited love? shrek-like transformations? all of the above?
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
--Aska Yang, 洋蔥 (Onion)
--Shrek (2001)
FILL: like secretkeeping
Major Tags: AU, Friends with benefits
Additional Tags: ambiguous relationship, not actually unrequited love, drinking, somewhat unreliable narrator. (this got away from me due to extreme jeonghan feelings and is not quite the unrequited love you probably wanted)
Permission to remix: Yes!
***
They kick their shoes off at the door and Jeonghan scolds Seungcheol for getting mud on the tile, even though his boots are just as muddy from the rain. It’s not a serious scolding, made clear by how much they’re both giggling. They’d split a single bottle of soju between the four of them, Jihoon and Mingyu ordering a second one entirely for themselves to enjoy after Jeonghan and Seungcheol said their goodbyes and parted ways.
Jeonghan drags Seungcheol over to the couch, and pushes him down to sit. Seungcheol makes grabby hands at his waist, trying to pull him down into his lap. Jeonghan sidesteps him easily and laughs, shaking his head. He ducks quickly into Seungcheol’s bedroom to grab a change of clothes out of his drawer. When he comes back, Seungcheol is sitting ramrod straight and looking at the bedroom doorway – as if he’d been waiting for Jeonghan to come back after being gone for two minutes max. Waiting patiently only to immediately try to pull Jeonghan into his lap again. At some point tonight, Jeonghan will go easily. But not yet.
Jeonghan laughs again and drops down on the other end of the sofa, turning sideways so he can sit with his legs crossed. He can’t stop laughing. He’s not even tipsy. He’s just giggly, feeling lighter than he has in days. Seungcheol’s in high spirits too, and a pretty flush sits high on his cheeks. When the downpour had started, conveniently right as they decided to walk home from the bar they had met their friends at, they’d taken off together at a sprint. Counterproductive, considering it took them longer than usual to get home because they kept ducking under awnings and trees to press their mouths against one another. Then, about a block from Seungcheol's apartment, they’d started bickering, which had continued through the lobby of the building and for the entirety of the elevator ride.
“Chan totally knew already,” Seungcheol says, taking a moment to scroll through their friends’ group chat, where Wonwoo was currently scolding everyone for ruining Chan’s surprise party that’s supposed to happen tomorrow without him knowing yet. That’s what they’ve been bickering about, picking up the same conversation they’d been having with MIngyu and Jihoon earlier.
Jeonghan snorts. “Of course he knew, you can’t keep your mouth shut.”
When Seungcheol lets out an outraged gasp, Jeonghan rolls his eyes but still reaches out once to nudge his knee with his foot.
“Me?! Yoon Jeonghan, you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”
It’s true, at least when it comes to their friends. The younger ones in their friend group can get almost any information out of Jeonghan if they try hard enough.
“I have plenty of secrets, Choi Seungcheol.” Maybe Jeonghan has had a little more to drink than he remembers.
Seungcheol pouts. “Yah. Like what?”
Jeonghan’s words catch up with him. All of a sudden, it feels colder in the apartment than he can stand and Jeonghan itches to turn the heat on. He’s very aware that his hair is still wet from the rain and all he managed to pull on was a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. He shivers. Seungcheol immediately stands and rushes to grab a throw blanket from the small closet across the room.
Jeonghan replies to Seungcheol’s question when Seungcheol’s back is turned to him before he can think twice.
“Well, there’s you.” The words don’t make sense. He’s aware they don’t make sense. He elaborates, even though he really would rather just leave the room. Instead he clears his throat and says, “How I feel about you.”
The air gets sucked out of the room all at once, and Jeonghan has a real moment of disbelief. That those words had actually come out of his mouth. Maybe he can play it off like a cheesy line, contort his face into a smarmy grin. He could throw finger guns. Seungcheol will think he’s a pod person, and then he can make his escape. It’s no good, he thinks. The words had sounded entirely too honest to be played off, even to his own ears.
He could mean: the well-kept secret of his arrangement with Seungcheol that he has maintained for the last eight months that they’ve been doing whatever this is. Sleeping together. Kissing on their way home from drinking nights with their friends. He’s almost sure none of them know.
What he actually means: the whole truth of it. And it’s a faltering step in his well-practiced slight of hand routine. The one where he kisses Seungcheol when he feels like it, and goes to bed with him, and lets Seungcheol fuck him with the lights on. Does all that happily while the truth of his feelings sits unnamed. He’s fucked it up a little now, though.
In real time, he’s facing the harsh reality that loving Seungcheol has peeled back at least a few of his hard-won layers, and, really, the only thing stronger than the humiliation and resentment is the relief. Because if he’s being honest, it’s been a little exhausting, working so hard to pretend that he’s not so in love with Seungcheol that he’s sick with it.
Seungcheol turns so quickly that a small pile of blankets and towels falls off the shelf behind him, but he doesn’t turn to pick them up. It rankles Jeonghan. Isn’t that annoying? He loves him so much.
“That’s not a secret though,” And it’s such a Seungcheol thing to say. He bends, then, to pick up a single blanket and walks over to drape it around Jeonghan’s shoulders. Jeonghan huffs but tightens the throw around himself. He says it casually, like he’s either exposing Jeonghan’s lie or letting Jeonghan get away with it and he hasn’t decided which one it is yet.
“I mean, I know. It’s not a secret to me.”
“It is,” Jeonghan insists. And god, why is he doubling down on this?
He clears his throat. “There’s so much. How much I feel about you –” Jeonghan mutters, pretending he’s just talking out loud to himself. He can say it, he wants to say it.
“What?” Seungcheol whispers, back on the couch across from him. He’s looking at Jeonghan with his eyes wide, so earnest.
Jeonghan shakes his head. “There’s so much to how I feel about you... All the time, Cheol. All the fucking time.” He tries not to sound mad about it, but he is a little bit. He’s a little low-level angry at the depth of his own emotion pretty much constantly.
When Seungcheol shifts, he’s a little closer but there’s still space between them. He knows Jeonghan will want space between them right now. “I don’t want you to keep that a secret from me, though.”
Jeonghan laughs. It’s not unkind, but it’s not actual mirth. It’s more like he’s making a sound to fill the space between them.
“Or,” Seungcheol continues, “Sometimes secrets are okay I think.” He looks at Jeonghan so earnestly that Jeonghan feels something tighten in his chest. Honest to god tightening, like a fist clenched in bedsheets, like a string pulled taut.
“They are?” he asks softly.
Seungcheol nods, his hand reaching out to graze the delicate arch of Jeonghan’s foot where it rests between them on the sofa. “When we get to share them, yeah. I like when things that belong to you belong to me too.”
Jeonghan hums.
Seungcheol scoots a little closer and drags Jeonghan’s feet into his lap. Jeonghan searches his face for some indication of what he’s going to say next. He’s gotten very good at that, reading Seungcheol. It’s easy, really; Seungcheol doesn’t keep secrets. He’s not built for it. Only when the anxiety truly eats at him does he let things fester, but it’s not how he likes to operate.
Sometimes Jeonghan feels like all he does is carry things he doesn’t know how to put down, and here’s Seungcheol saying here, let me. He’s always there with a hand outstretched, saying it’s as easy as handing it over.
He’s doing that now. He presses a thumb along the tendon that runs along the arch of Jeonghan’s foot and it’s all a little bit like a port in a storm. An obvious place to surrender, if Jeonghan will allow it. He’s getting better at giving himself permission.
“Lots of things,” Jeonghan says finally, when it becomes clear Seungcheol is waiting for him to speak. He meets his eyes and he’s speaking in a low, slow voice. As if Seungcheol is the one moving through this like a spooked animal. “Lots of things that belong to me belong to you.”
It’s not the whole truth of it. He knows what Seungcheol wants to hear, but he can’t form the words. He wonders if Seungcheol will ever get tired of waiting so patiently, and immediately feels a hot spike of shame because he knows the answer is no.
When Seungcheol kisses him, it feels like secretkeeping. The warm feel of his mouth and the earnest press of his tongue against the seam of Jeonghan’s lips is another secret passed along. And then another, and another, and another.