Ship/Member: Seokmin/Jeonghan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: vague handwavey idolverse, unhappy ending Permission to remix: Yes
***
Taipei is muggy as a summer storm, and Jeonghan kicks Seokmin out of their hotel room.
He'd asked if Seokmin wanted to stop at the convenience store across the street and grab something for dinner, but Seokmin asked why they couldn’t just go together, and Jeonghan said actually never mind, he wasn’t really in the mood for 7-11 food after all.
So then they fell silent under the tired hum of traffic and their half-broken fan rattling all its parts like coins in a box.
Jeonghan asked, mouth twisting with frustration, “Isn’t there any place at all you want to go? Anywhere? Just tell me what you want to see, and then go and find it.”
And Seokmin wasn’t sure how to tell him that it wasn’t the place that mattered so much but only that they were together. When he failed to say anything at all, Jeonghan looked at him with something unreadable and said, “Maybe you should just try taking a walk by yourself.”
Seokmin still isn’t sure why Jeonghan chose him to come. What were his grand hopes? They only have two days, and anyway Seungcheol would’ve been a better option. Right now Seungcheol would be making plans to go drinking, or he'd be putting up a good fight against wherever Jeonghan might decide to drag him, or planning for dinner by himself, valuing the weight of his own opinion no matter how much he might be teased for it later.
But instead, Jeonghan chose Seokmin. And now he has realized his mistake and has un-chosen Seokmin, cast him out like an unwanted pet onto the streets.
The air is unbreathable and the fabric of Seokmin’s shirt is sticky all over him like a second skin. He stands in front of the hotel like a lost kid. He wonders why he is unable to escape the radius of Jeonghan's gravitation.
Maybe Jeonghan chose and un-chose Seokmin on purpose. Maybe this whole thing was meant to be a lesson in dramatic irony, and in being a braver person, in not being bewildered at the terrible prospect of having to become something other than a dependable friend or someone to laugh at or someone to lead into new places by the hand.
But this is terrifying. And Seokmin doesn’t want terrifying. He wants Jeonghan to tell him how to come up for air and what to want and where to go and how to love. He wants Jeonghan to let him stay inside their room until he’s ready, until he’s not terrified, until he can breathe again, until, until.
When Seokmin comes back into the room Jeonghan is napping on top of the sheets. His shadow is pale blue on the pillow. Asleep, he looks so kind.
Seokmin tests his weight on the edge of the bed, and when Jeonghan miraculously doesn’t stir, he puts one leg up, and then the other and lies on his side gingerly.
He and Jeonghan are, cruelly, like mirror images of each other. Seokmin tries to breathe, feather-light, steady, but it doesn’t work. His chest hurts. He is unused to having to take so much care. It’s like being told not to drop a glass bowl. Of course you’ll drop it. Of course you’ll be picking shards out of your feet weeks later.
“You make me so sad,” Seokmin whispers, and he curls forward and rests his forehead against Jeonghan’s for one unendurable, unendurable minute.
Then he leaves the room again because he has discovered, horribly, that air is even harder to come by inside with Jeonghan than outside without him. He walks to the Daan Forest Park five minutes away. The sky is dark but it refuses to rain. He sits down on a bench and tries not to cry.
[FILL] Don't know what else to try, but you tell me every time
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vague handwavey idolverse, unhappy ending
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Taipei is muggy as a summer storm, and Jeonghan kicks Seokmin out of their hotel room.
He'd asked if Seokmin wanted to stop at the convenience store across the street and grab something for dinner, but Seokmin asked why they couldn’t just go together, and Jeonghan said actually never mind, he wasn’t really in the mood for 7-11 food after all.
So then they fell silent under the tired hum of traffic and their half-broken fan rattling all its parts like coins in a box.
Jeonghan asked, mouth twisting with frustration, “Isn’t there any place at all you want to go? Anywhere? Just tell me what you want to see, and then go and find it.”
And Seokmin wasn’t sure how to tell him that it wasn’t the place that mattered so much but only that they were together. When he failed to say anything at all, Jeonghan looked at him with something unreadable and said, “Maybe you should just try taking a walk by yourself.”
Seokmin still isn’t sure why Jeonghan chose him to come. What were his grand hopes? They only have two days, and anyway Seungcheol would’ve been a better option. Right now Seungcheol would be making plans to go drinking, or he'd be putting up a good fight against wherever Jeonghan might decide to drag him, or planning for dinner by himself, valuing the weight of his own opinion no matter how much he might be teased for it later.
But instead, Jeonghan chose Seokmin. And now he has realized his mistake and has un-chosen Seokmin, cast him out like an unwanted pet onto the streets.
The air is unbreathable and the fabric of Seokmin’s shirt is sticky all over him like a second skin. He stands in front of the hotel like a lost kid. He wonders why he is unable to escape the radius of Jeonghan's gravitation.
Maybe Jeonghan chose and un-chose Seokmin on purpose. Maybe this whole thing was meant to be a lesson in dramatic irony, and in being a braver person, in not being bewildered at the terrible prospect of having to become something other than a dependable friend or someone to laugh at or someone to lead into new places by the hand.
But this is terrifying. And Seokmin doesn’t want terrifying. He wants Jeonghan to tell him how to come up for air and what to want and where to go and how to love. He wants Jeonghan to let him stay inside their room until he’s ready, until he’s not terrified, until he can breathe again, until, until.
When Seokmin comes back into the room Jeonghan is napping on top of the sheets. His shadow is pale blue on the pillow. Asleep, he looks so kind.
Seokmin tests his weight on the edge of the bed, and when Jeonghan miraculously doesn’t stir, he puts one leg up, and then the other and lies on his side gingerly.
He and Jeonghan are, cruelly, like mirror images of each other. Seokmin tries to breathe, feather-light, steady, but it doesn’t work. His chest hurts. He is unused to having to take so much care. It’s like being told not to drop a glass bowl. Of course you’ll drop it. Of course you’ll be picking shards out of your feet weeks later.
“You make me so sad,” Seokmin whispers, and he curls forward and rests his forehead against Jeonghan’s for one unendurable, unendurable minute.
Then he leaves the room again because he has discovered, horribly, that air is even harder to come by inside with Jeonghan than outside without him. He walks to the Daan Forest Park five minutes away. The sky is dark but it refuses to rain. He sits down on a bench and tries not to cry.
***