2022 Round 1: Quotes

[hwarium]

Status: Closed This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted. Seventeen Holidays Round 1: Quotes About "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." "What is grief, if not love persevering?" "You kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath" Calling all readers, lovers of poetry and music, screen and stage. Quote collecters and lyric hoarders, unleash your archive. Each prompt must contain a quote - you can combine them, add commentary, link to articles, and more. Steal from a literary classic, or WeVerse drama. Have fun! Examples Minghao + Ocean Vuong The most beautiful part of your body is where it's headed. & remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world. Ocean Vuong - night sky with exit wounds Hoshi/Anyone; "Beauty is terror" Thinking about these two quotes together and the idea of on/off-stage personas: "Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful we tremble before it. And what could be more terrifying or beautiful, to the Greeks to to our own, than to lose control completely?" - Donna Tartt, the Secret Histories "I am calm in everyday life but when I put on my in-ear device and step on stage, I can feel the tension and hear the cheers getting louder as the music gets louder. When the staff tells me it's time to step on stage, I feel something boil inside me. I feel it steaming inside and I think I have to give a burst of something, spill what is inside me." - Hoshi in Hit the Road Ep. 04 Any ship; "It's been so many years" Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost And I am calling long distance Don't worry 'bout the cost. 'Cause it's been forty years or more Now Martha please recall Meet me out for coffee Where we'll talk about it all. Tom Watts - Martha Rules Sign up is not required. Fills have a minimum of 400 words for prose, haiku-length for poetry (3 lines), and 400px by 400px for art (memes are also art). Other mediums are fine too! There is no maximum cap. Tag and provide content warnings at your discretion, but a good guide are the Ao3 four (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) and this list of common CWs (cr: SportsFest). NSFW/Explicit content should be tagged NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview. How it works Prompting Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post; Change the subject to something interesting; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want! <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Do Not Wants:</strong> None <strong>Prompt:</strong> <blockquote>[QUOTE GOES HERE] </blockquote> Filling Reply to the original prompt; Change the subject to [FILL], you may add a title or stay chaotic; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, edit the sections, and add your text. You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** Remixing Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above; Change the subject to [REMIX]. Art/media Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.) Using the same HTML code as above, copy the link into your fill or remix. That's it! Optionally, you can embed a picture into your comment. Please use the following code instead. (To explain, the HTML resizes your picture to 400x400px so that it fits on most screens. Users can view the full size if they click on it. You can also add a link to your work on twitter so that others can share it, or to any other website you want) <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** <img src="INSERT IMAGE URL" width="400px"> <a href="INSERT ANY URL YOU WANT">TEXT THAT DESCRIBES THE LINK</a> Note! On dreamwidth, you can't edit a comment once someone has replied to it. Navigation ABOUT DATES FAQ BAITS ✧ FILLS ✧ ❮ ROUND 1: QUOTES ❯ ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES ROUND 3: LAST WORDS

Comments

Re: [FILL] take the moon

[seasignals]

thank you for this kind comment!! tbh writing such a rare pairing did feel like shouting into a void so i'm happy someone enjoyed it! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Re: [FILL] matching your footsteps

[slytherminie]

the seductive cat-like creature he becomes sometimes, feeding off of butterflies in strangers' stomachs OH MY GOD I AM SCREAMING?!?!?!?! bro. bro!!! brooooo!!!!! you don't understand how i'm feeling. you have never written fic before?! well. you should start now. this was INCREDIBLE. i'm obsessed with everything, with the description of joshua from vernon's pov and with the way vernon's feelings come out, as he's out of his depth and trying to understand what to do with himself.
i especially like this line: It's like he's been thrown inside a kaleidoscope, familiar things creating unfamiliar patterns, colours changing all around him, it's very descriptive!!! and well. the triangulation of it all. the simmering jealousy. the relationship between vernon and joshie. ugh i'm obsessed!! thank you for this!!!!!

Re: [FILL] you know i'll do anything you ask me to

[lovekyeoms]

AAAA ofc!! i had so much fun writing this so ty for prompting and reading, i'm glad you enjoyed it<33

Re: [FILL] 또 거짓말을 해

[hyojungss]

i love this ♡♡♡ i really really do thank you for filling! we get awk jww and confident liar yjh, and with the over the top wingman job it makes u wonder does jeonghan even know what ww wants. eg "seems your type"... meanwhile what does jeonghan want!!

- “Our Wonwoo here is just such a great guy. Smart, kind. Wrote me poems all the time, but he would never admit they were for me. He was too good for me, you know. Never would have worked. But I want him to be happy. Did you know he volunteers at a cat shelter?” --> REALLY SEEMS LIKE HIS TRUTH. i would love to hear jeonghan's 2 truths and a lie answers

- Jeonghan left the two of them to coo about kittens, finishing his drink, and another, at the bar. READS LIKE HE HAS TO GET DRUNK TO NOT THINK ABOUT WW'S DATE...

- Jeonghan shrugs. “If it can happen to someone as good-looking as me,” he says, brandishing the phone towards the living room. “You better watch out, Wonwoo-ya.” this is just excellent voice!! also i think it's neat how you end the prev section with that ww would need to get another kitten if [guy] came over but yjh comes over the next section without any of that pretense necessary because yjh Knows All...

this leans fascinatingly hard into the ambiguous relationships tag because i realized after a few reads that there's little that indicates how wonwoo himself feels and i think the use of "60% is more than half, but it's hardly a reassuring statistic." after jeonghan asks if wonwoo meant something HE said is very interesting. like what does ww want jh to be lying about....! is he just repressing so hard he doesn't want jh to be into him!! or is he not interested back. i love how you could read it multiple ways (though if you had one intention i'd love to hear that too!) the wwjh dynamic is great in that you can really c jh is the hyung . + bonus seungkwan Sees All but declines to comment and lets ww figure it out...

Re: [FILL] There will come soft rains

[klav]

Ki this is SO cool T___T immediately from the first line I was thinking of Franny Choi's Soft Science, and the way you approached the sci-fi here was so fascinating & reminiscent of her poetry, I think. (have you read it?!) Cheerful and sunny pilot Lee Seokmin meets shy flower guy Xu Minghao... be still my heart!!! Up close, the larger-than-lifeness of Seokmin’s personality became something sweet and intimate and unstudied. When he smiled at Minghao now, it made Minghao want to hide his own face in his hands. - UGH I LOVE THIS LINE you nailed the sappiness in seokhao's dynamic so well + your characterization of Seokmin as always is unbelievable! He's perfect!! ((ALSO SUNFLOWERS... the implications OOOF)) it was the perfect blend of world-building and character/dynamic exploration, my heart just melted through this whoooooole snapshot thank you so much!
(also your vocabulary in this is so cool... maybe it's just my lack of knowledge in biological sciences but this world has /so/ much depth for me, partly because of the really interesting word choices + descriptions you use!! They were so fun I felt like I was genuinely exploring *__*)

Re: [FILL] 또 거짓말을 해

[furniished]

Hhhh this prompt was so genius it had to be filled and I’m glad you liked it!! Tbh I had a couple of potential threads for the actual backstory between the two to generate the vibes so it’s very open to interpretation >:) Scammer yjh x repressed jww is such a brilliant dynamic but I wanted to explore jeonghan’s potential vulnerability too... obviously he lies to get what he wants but what does he gain from the [supposed] misdirect!! There are so many flavors of self-preservation...

I think ultimately ww wishes jeonghan were honest with him on principle/didn’t feel the need to lie, bc they’re supposed to be friends. On another level he also knows that honesty could be scary as you point out... however wonwoo’s capacity for repression is best left open to projection ^^ But I also wanted to capture that like, ultimately he cares... and he feels compelled to do these mental gymnastics to match how inscrutable jeonghan is.

Thanks for the comment and for pointing out those lines I think u are so correct <3 I had this prompt saved in my Notion page under “the dreaded wonhan” but I’m glad I worked up the guts cuz it was really fun to write!!

Re: [FILL] matching your footsteps

[bluewhale]

oh my god thank YOU for hyping me up like that😭 to be honest i was prepared for it to be lost in the ether now that the first round has ended so your comment really made my day<3

Re: [FILL] French exits for me and you

[heartspound]

oohhhhhhh this triangulation... Devastating but also Perfect

Re: [FILL] There will come soft rains

[heartspound]

ki, oh my god. this was so lovely!!! i think you know my fave nolan movie is interestellar (right?) so when i saw this the other day i almost lost my mind!!! and i just read it and oh gosh... so many lines to pick from here. it's just so strangely beautiful and YOUR MINGHAO POV... it always gets me!!! how he prefers a touch of romanticism and how the beauty of the flowers sustain him and "What a silly, beautiful thought." ohhh he's perfect!!!

and as always your seokhao makes me sigh like i'm in a historical romance novel... "You look at me like that whenever I see you. Even in passing. I don’t know what it means" yeah.. yeah... just very them.

ALSO BIRDS!!!! AND SUNFLOWERS!!!! oh youuuu!!! i love this universe so much my godddd so immersive and strange and so WONDERFUL <3 thank u for writing!!

[FILL] more land than water

[notspring]

Ship/Member: minghao/junhui
Major Tags: vacation, depression/grief
Additional Tags: suicidal ideation
Permission to remix: please ask!

*

The waves are beautiful — tossing themselves into a frenzy, white caps at every peak. Minghao stares down from the side of the boat, transfixed, and imagines flinging himself downward to meet them.

“Sorry,” he says to no one as soon as he’s registered the thought, sick guilt rising up in the back of his throat. Next to him Junhui turns to give him a puzzled look.

“Sorry for what?”

*

Back at the hotel they split into their rooms — Chan and Soonyoung in one, Junhui and Minghao in the other. Junhui wants to order room service but Minghao’s stomach turns at the thought, anxious nausea seizing tight.

“I don’t want anything,” he says. Junhui blinks at him, then shrugs in acknowledgment as Minghao pushes himself to stand up, snatching a robe off the lone chair in the room and locking himself in the bathroom with it.

In the bathroom Minghao leaves the lights off as he feels for the tap, turning it on so he can let the rush of water lull him into a trance. It reminds him of when they were on the boat. With his eyes closed Minghao can imagine the waves.

He doesn’t know how long he stands like that, still and silent in the dark, letting the roar of the water tune out everything else. When he comes to the lights are on and Junhui’s hands are over his, guiding him to twist the faucet handle. The silence echoes in the empty space the water leaves.

“Oh,” Minghao says, blinking first at his own reflection in the mirror, then at Junhui’s. He can’t read the expression on Junhui’s face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Junhui says. His voice sounds very light, as though he’s talking to a child. Like he sounds when he calls his little brother. He meets Minghao’s eyes in the mirror, gaze pleasant and calm.

Minghao looks away first.

*

They came up with the idea for the trip last year. There were so many places Minghao had wanted to go back then — museums, restaurants, landmarks. Everyone had made lists, and when they’d compared them he remembers laughing. His had been so long, and all Junhui had written was “swim.” Chan and Soonyoung weren’t much better, so Minghao was the one who had to do most of the planning. He hadn’t minded. He’d wanted to do it.

Ironic, now, that he isn’t actually enjoying any of it.

Minghao was supposed to drive today but they must have changed plans without him, because when they go out to the car Soonyoung slides into the driver’s seat without second thought.

“Chan-ah,” he calls through the open door, waving Chan over from where he’s been lagging behind next to Minghao. “Come help hyung with the GPS, will you?”

Chan huffs out a breath but he smiles, too, always pleased to be needed. He picks up his pace a little to hurry into the passenger’s side, immediately swatting Soonyoung’s hands away from the navigation screen to try to figure it out himself.

That leaves Junhui and Minghao in the backseat. Minghao opens the door behind Soonyoung’s silently, buckling himself in and immediately resting his head against the window. He’ll get sick in the back, probably, but he doesn’t say anything.

He can’t see the sea from here. He hopes they’re moving towards it.


*

“Hyung,” Chan calls from further up on the trail, waving Minghao forward. Minghao thinks about walking faster but his body doesn’t cooperate, his limbs awkward and heavy. Every step feels like being dragged.

“Hyung, do you want a drink?”

Minghao stops short next to Chan, finally, trying not to let on how his hands are trembling. The little shack off the trail has the usual drinks — omicha tea, hallabong ade. Chan orders the omicha and then turns toward Minghao expectantly.

“I’m not thirsty,” he says, forcing himself to watch the way Chan’s face falls.

“You have to drink something, though,” Chan says, a little hesitant after Minghao’s snippiness. “You can carry it for later.”

“It’ll be too heavy,” Minghao says, like that’s an excuse. Chan frowns, the closest to irritated Minghao’s ever seen him, and then turns back towards the woman behind the counter, who’s been watching their entire exchange with a flat expression on her face.

“I’ll have a water too, please,” he says, and Minghao can’t tell whether he’s imagining an edge to his tone. He’s smiling when he turns to hand it to Minghao, though, expression flattened back out to his usual pleasant neutrality.

Chan’s like that, though. He lets everything slide right off of him, easy as anything. Minghao’s the one with the jagged edges. On Minghao everything always snags.

They catch up with Junhui and Soonyoung where the trail winds around the cliff’s edge, the water blue and beautiful below, and Soonyoung waves at them energetically when Chan calls out to him, motioning them forward with wild gestures.

“You gotta come see this! Myungho, come look!”

Chan moves forward obediently but Minghao doesn’t go, his feet planting themselves and growing roots where they stand. He thinks of the day before, on the boat, that sickening urge to hurl himself forward. He doesn't want to be so close to the edge.

“Myungho?”

Soonyoung’s voice falters a little this time, confusion bleeding into his tone, but Minghao shakes his head and doesn’t move. He watches as Soonyoung stares at him, just far enough away that it’s hard to make out what’s on his face, feet not moving at all. Soonyoung turns, eventually, back towards where the land cuts away to the sea, and Minghao doesn’t think he’s imaging the slump of his shoulders.

He forces his eyes away from Soonyoung only to find Junhui staring at him, squinting to make out Minghao’s features from the distance. Minghao watches, breath stuck in his throat, as Junhui says something quietly to Soonyoung and starts to walk towards Minghao instead, hands stuffed into his pockets, posture easy.

“You missed it,” he says, voice perfectly casual. “Soonyoung thought he dropped his hotel key over the edge.”

Here’s where Minghao should laugh, he knows, but panic rises up inside him instead as he imagines falling like Soonyoung’s hotel key, crumpling on impact as the waves rose up to meet him.

“It was in his pocket the whole time,” Junhui says slowly, still squinting. He refuses to wear sunglasses — he’s going to get eye damage. Minghao’s always telling him.

Minghao nods robotically.

“That’s good,” he says distractedly, too focused on trying to force his heartbeat still.

Junhui pauses.

“Minghao — ” he starts, and Minghao’s eyes snap to his at the shift in his tone. The moment stretches out as they stare at each other. “Never mind,” Junhui says, finally, shaking his head with a smile. “Did you try Chan’s tea?”

Minghao shakes his head, mute.

“It just tastes like sugar water,” Junhui says, dropping his voice low like he’s telling a secret, and a startled laugh rises up through the sludge in Minghao’s gut, coughing its way out of him.

Junhui grins back, pleased, and he doesn’t try to say anything more.

*

On the last day of the trip that Minghao blinks back to himself, resurfacing in his hotel bed with a gasp.

“Oh,” Junhui says next to him, gaze flicking up from his phone screen for a fraction of a second before an insistent beeping draws him back. Minghao must not have slept too late — Junhui’s still wearing his pyjamas, hair greasy and flat against his forehead. “You’re awake.”

“I’m awake,” Minghao repeats, marvelling at how light his body feels as he pushes himself to sit upright.

“Do you still want to go to that museum today?” Junhui asks, not looking away from his phone, not sounding like he cares much one way or the other.

Minghao pauses, thinking about it. He thinks about how he planned everything out so perfectly last year, all the pieces cut to fit neatly into place only to be ruined by Minghao himself. He thinks about how he felt looking down at the ocean, beautiful and dangerous and strange. The way it made panic rise in his chest.

“No,” Minghao decides. “I want you to take me to the beach.”

*

For all his bravado he hesitates at the edge of the water, feeling it rise up to lap against where his feet pressed into the damp sand but refusing to wade in all the way. It’s not so scary like this, but when he looks out he can see the way the waves rise up like open mouths, threatening to swallow anyone in their path.

“Come on,” Junhui says, wading his way back in, soaked to the waist. He left Soonyoung somewhere out in the water, and Chan’s further back on the beach. It’s just the two of them. Minghao hesitates but Junhui reaches for him before he can argue, scooping him up in his arms so quickly Minghao can barely tell what’s happening.

The wave rises up again as Junhui carries Minghao towards it, its mouth opening wide, and Minghao cringes, bracing himself, as the water hits them like a wall. For a moment he can’t hear anything, can’t see can’t feel can’t think, and then —

Minghao splutters, coughing a little, as the water drips down his hair and his eyelashes. His shirt.

The wave didn’t swallow him at all. Junhui’s arms are still holding him tight.

“Fun, right?” Junhui grins up at him, skin warm against his where they’re pressed together.

Minghao’s eyes fill with tears, he can’t help it, but he doesn’t know if Junhui can tell. He can barely feel it himself.

Tears are only salt water, after all.

Just like the ocean.

Re: [FILL] more land than water

[sunwalkr]

cat this was amazing.. this is something that i’m going to think about for a really long time thank you… ur prose (and characterization) is so gorgeous and artfully wielded, u have this way of touching upon emotions and feelings that aren’t easy to name but u capture just. so so well. i admire ur writing and love the way u look at the world. there’s this overwhelming feeling of aloneness and smallness but at the same time, throughout it all there is perf unit and junhui to catch minghao TT just in the periphery… and all of it was wonderful thank u … plus the references to the ocean, minghao saying sorry to say sorry for thoughts he can only internalize — i felt alone but together, with him, also, just staring out into the ocean and watching it stare back

some of my favorite lines:

He doesn’t know how long he stands like that, still and silent in the dark, letting the roar of the water tune out everything else. When he comes to the lights are on and Junhui’s hands are over his, guiding him to twist the faucet handle. The silence echoes in the empty space the water leaves. GAH this entire scene was entirely too visceral and u can hear the silence and the jagged edges it leaves (also i loved that part later, how everything seems to slide off chan but it catches, always catches on Minghao).

He thinks about how he planned everything out so perfectly last year, all the pieces cut to fit neatly into place only to be ruined by Minghao himself. He thinks about how he felt looking down at the ocean, beautiful and dangerous and strange. The way it made panic rise in his chest. i rly like how u reveal things about what the characters thinking and feeling without being obvious/explicit about it and i feel like it resembles the true nature of our feelings, how sometimes they’re hard to put a name to but its infinitely easier to reference it in past experiences

[FILL] do you feel it too?

[madeoutcreek]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Vernon
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: BBB Square: Homesick but no idea where home is, idolverse, capricornian overthinking, just regular dudes communicating (badly)
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

“I feel kinda bad,” Vernon announces one morning in the kitchen.

Joshua’s barely even awake, still making sense of the sleep in his eyes and the untouched cup of coffee he’d poured with the lucidity of a zombie. “Hm?”

“I feel bad you can’t go back home,” Vernon says, casually completing his thought.

Joshua would never admit it out loud, but he’s embarrassed how quickly the words shock him awake. It’s tortuous science, how billions of microscopic neurons work together against him and suddenly, he’s thinking of his mother alone in LA. Friends from high school he’d left behind. A vast ocean between then and now. How the water used to sting his skin.

Science. Facts of the matter, he thinks. Memories he's held so close they had become just as rigid and indelible.

But it isn’t always so clear-cut for Joshua. Sometimes it’s staring into the seemingly cavernous pool of steaming black coffee, buffering as he tries to process synaptic data.

Junhui and Minghao will be going back to China soon. Those are facts, too. The proof: he’s seen their tickets. He wants to think that’s all there is to it. No hard feelings. Not here.

Vernon stops rummaging around the cabinets for food and takes a seat. “Sorry,” he says quietly, wincing a little at himself. Joshua watches his eyelashes meet each other and entangle like hands threaded together, until Vernon opens his eyes. “I know that’s not exactly ideal for breakfast conversation.”

Joshua shakes his head, laughs as much as his body will allow him to. He’s still so tired. But at least they don’t have much of a schedule today. “That’s okay.”

Then he finds himself saying, “I feel bad, too.”

Vernon grasps at any straw he can get, his earnest face lighting up with concern and care. “I mean, with the virus over there, and everything—”

“I know, Vernon-ah. I know.”

Sometimes Joshua feels like he has to feign acceptance. And Vernon can be too sincere for him, intense in his stony expression and heavy-handed with his words. Something he’d subconsciously picked up from Minghao or Seungkwan. Maybe.

No amount of fame will get Joshua accustomed to scrutiny. He’s since learned how to retreat and hold some things close to himself for once. Maybe he isn’t quite ready to admit some things out loud. Does that make him a liar? A bad person? He hopes not.

“Shua,” Vernon tries.

Joshua belatedly realizes the coffee has gone cold, and that Vernon is furiously carding through his hair, making it into a mess.

“Hey, cut it out,” he chastises gently.

Vernon stops. He blinks at him, long dark lashes fluttering and crazy hair spilling into his eyes from his widow’s peak. “Hyung,” he says again.

Joshua knows that look. Talk to me.

He has grown to appreciate persistence like this. Reminds him of their pre-debut days, back when he was still grappling with what was meant to be innate for him. Learning the Korean language. The endurance, the determination. Thick skin. Joshua had almost quit this whole idol shit with Jeonghan back then. They even had a pact about it, like schoolchildren making promises on the playground. What seemed to be second nature to Vernon was just another skill Joshua eventually had to learn.

“We get homesick, too,” Vernon says suddenly. “Even after all these years.”

Joshua nods. He knows this, too. That’s why it doesn’t make him special. They’ve all signed up for the fast track to a lifetime’s worth of fraught rootlessness, so he can't linger on the negatives. He’s been comfortable. Modern technology has also been very good to him. He’s grateful he’s able to call his mother more often nowadays.

And he’s said it many times before—he’s at home with the members, wherever that might be. Right now it’s sitting at the kitchen table with Vernon, trying to be thankful for it all.

“I’m saying you don’t have to be all,” Vernon makes an indecipherable hand gesture, “you don’t have to be all you about it.”

Joshua rests his chin on his hand, letting himself smile wryly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean,” comes Vernon’s exasperated response. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself just because Jun-hyung and Myungho-hyung are leaving.”

Joshua’s eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. “Of course I know that.”

He wonders why Vernon would betray his nature so unexpectedly. Maybe one of the members—Seungcheol, maybe Jeonghan—had gotten some strange idea that Joshua was upset about something. Has he always been so obvious? It makes sense if they had put Vernon up to the task. If anyone could make sense out of the spacey loneliness that simultaneously bridges worlds while permeating Joshua’s brittle bones, shouldn’t it be him?

Vernon’s face tells on him sometimes, says things he might not be brave enough to make real by mouth. Things like, I’m on the outside. Do you see me?

Things like, I used to feel this way, hyung. Do you feel it too?

But Joshua figures Vernon is asking because he’s not only obedient, but honest and firm where it counts. He ought to play nice, keep him at arm’s length. Vernon’s bright eyes can’t actually speak for him. As usual, Joshua is wishfully seeing what he wants to see.

Right?

That's the rationale. Cold logic.

Honestly, Joshua has never been too attached to any of it. Some things are just things he tells himself over and over again, even if they don’t give him a quick fix or a sense of comfort. Neurons might just be neurons, but longing persists. It’s not like his tears abide by any science. Maybe what’s real is what he makes out of all these sights and sensations.

What’s real is Vernon reaching beyond their easy camaraderie, meeting him halfway. Joshua isn’t oblivious.

There’s that sinking feeling emerging in his stomach. Defeat has never been the most logical option, has it?

“I miss my mom,” Joshua finds himself admitting. “A lot,” He forces his gaze towards Vernon. “I— I wish there was something I could do.”

Vernon startles at the sound of his voice but nods encouragingly. He brings a hand to Joshua’s shoulder. “For sure, man.”

Joshua lets out a sigh—breaths he didn’t know he’d been holding. “And I’m happy for Junnie and Myungho, I really am, it’s just— I don’t know—”

“It’s hard, right?”

Joshua looks up at Vernon who’s staring directly at him. He’s never been good at handling that kind of eye contact, laser-focused and heavy. Signs of intent he can’t read just yet. He can't help but falter a little. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

“It’s okay, hyung.” Vernon sighs and tucks his head into Joshua’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

Oh. Okay.

“Promise?” Joshua asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

An aborted laugh startles itself out of Vernon. He isn’t good at this either, Joshua realizes. But he’s trying to get it out of his system, too. Together.

This could be halfway. This could be it.

“Promise,” Vernon mumbles into Joshua's shirt, and Joshua can hear him smile.

Re: [FILL] do you feel it too?

[bluewhale]

ohhh man. forcing yourself to communicate even though it doesn't come naturally... yeah. i loved your characterisation, it feels very them<3

Re: [FILL] more land than water

[seokmin_liker]

you're incredible. i might come back with a longer and more detailed comment but right now i just needed to say that

Re: [FILL] more land than water

[dumbo1510]

Chan huffs out a breath but he smiles, too, always pleased to be needed.
He's too cute 😞

Minghao hesitates but Junhui reaches for him before he can argue, scooping him up in his arms so quickly Minghao can barely tell what’s happening.

The wave rises up again as Junhui carries Minghao towards it, its mouth opening wide, and Minghao cringes, bracing himself, as the water hits them like a wall. For a moment he can’t hear anything, can’t see can’t feel can’t think, and then —

Minghao splutters, coughing a little, as the water drips down his hair and his eyelashes. His shirt.

The wave didn’t swallow him at all. Junhui’s arms are still holding him tight.
🥺🥺 I love your Jun ☹️ Small talk big action. He acts like he doesn't care but he is actually attuned to his surrounding 😞

[FILL] going home/going seventeen

[sanchen]

Ship/Member: Gen Dino/Seventeen

Major Tags: N/A

Additional Tags: Canon compliant, Future Fic (three weeks is still future), Dino loves his hyungs and they love him back

Permission to remix: Yes

i made a dreamwidth acc to fill this excuse any strange formatting! thank you for the flexibility of your prompt! i liked the gen interpretation a lot hehe

 

---

 

The noise is the first thing most people notice about a group of thirteen boys. Talking, laughing, shouting, screaming, their voices reach wherever they go before their physical bodies do.

For someone who had been immersed in it for well over seven years of his life, Chan was used to the constant ambient sounds around him. Mingyu's rapid rambling, Seungkwan’s jab, Seokmin hopping into the conversation that would eventually rope everyone into a debate over another stupid thing.

What Chan now found himself not used to, however, was the overwhelming silence of being away from the noise. Trips home weren’t rare, with the longest periods being the annual Seollal and Chuseok periods. Of course, he missed home and his family. His grandmother’s tteokguk, his brother’s chatter, the hugs from his parents. It still felt strange, though, being the only one in the car. Mingyu and Seokmin, their destinations passed, had left the car many hours ago, waving with smiles and promises to save some leftovers for the dorm in a few days.

Jazz music floated from the front-most seat, as the manager drove the vehicle down the expressway. They hadn’t switched out the CD since their commute to a recording a few days ago. Even if his team members mostly slept the rides out, there was always the soft sound of breathing, sniffling, and Soonyoung’s slight snores. The air in the car now felt too still.

“Younghwan-hyung?” He called out, “Can I turn down the window?”

An affirmative grunt came from the driver’s seat.

With a whirr, the pane slid down, a cool breeze entering the car. He leaned into the seat, wide awake, watching the stars whiz by. 

 

---

 

Before he knew it, he was at his home’s doorstep. The doorknob and number pad felt smaller than he remembered every beginning of every year. The number never changed, though, and he pushed the door open. 

“Oh my, your hair is so long now! Is this what’s trendy these days?”
 
“Hyung! You brought the hat I asked you to buy, right?” 

“Chan-ah! Put your stuff down quickly and come to the table!”

It was a different kind of noise at home, with the four voices he kept closest to his heart. He kicked off his shoes, falling into the sounds of warmth, into the aroma of home-cooked food, into the most familiar embraces. 

 

---

 

Chan hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep until he awoke curled in the corner of the sofa, a thin quilt over him. After the sumptuous dinner, the family had settled down in the living room to watch the Seollal special programmes. Unsurprisingly, the compounded fatigue of the past few weeks and the food coma sent him straight into dreamland. He sat up straight, stretching out the crick in his neck. Feeling a small hand on his shoulder, he raised his head. 

“Aigo, didn’t you have work earlier this morning? You must be so tired, why don’t you go to bed early?” His grandmother coaxed him, patting his arm. 

He would usually wave off her suggestion, insisting that he wanted to stay with them and catch up on hometown matters, but the past few weeks had been extraordinarily tiring. Without Jun and Minghao, him and Soonyoung had to really pull their weights for their group performances, and it had undeniably taken a toll on him. Raucous canned laughter resonated from the television, shooting pain into his head, the characteristic headache from poor sleep building up behind his eyes.  

“Thank you for the blanket, I think I’ll wash up and go to bed now,” Chan folded up the quilt and set it back on the sofa, standing up slowly with a wince. 

He made his way to his bedroom, his bags in hand and opened the door to darkness. If the air in the car was still, this was totally inert. With the apartment’s thermostat set to warm the place, his room felt insufferably hot, and he drew the curtains apart, opening the windows to let the winter air in. Taking a seat on the floor, he began unpacking the personal items he had taken from the dorm.

Kkatok!

He grabbed his phone at the sound and squinted at the notification. Another spam phishing message. He tossed his phone onto his bed. Then again, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. On a regular day, it would be a member making idle chat, a manager giving instructions, or asking where someone was. But it wasn’t a regular day at that moment. It was the day before Seollal, close to ten p.m. and he was in his bedroom in Iksan, hundreds of kilometres away from the broadcasting stations, from the company building, from the dorms. There was no reason for anyone to be begging in the groupchat to share chimaek delivery, or asking about their next-day schedules.  
 
The sound of laughter from the living room could be heard through his open door, but without the noises he had grown so accustomed to, it felt like a near silence.
He wondered what the other members were doing. Would they still be at the dinner table? Would they be chatting away with their families? Jihoon-hyung likes taking baths at this time, would he be having his soak? He must’ve reached his home fairly early, since he opted to take the train instead. 

 It was ironic that on the few days he got off work (in an industry that was already working them almost round the clock) he was still thinking about the members, or his colleagues, if he was to really get down to it. 

Taking out his containers of skincare and beauty products, he rolled them in his palm absentmindedly, before quickly realising something was off about their shape. He held one of them to the moonlight that streamed in from the window. 

“Ba…nila?”   

The tube of moisturiser looked deceptively similar to his own favourite, but the brand was completely different. He poured the pouch’s contents out to find it only containing about half his small collection of creams and serums. The rest were, somehow, a mixture of everyone else’s. Hell, the headband he packed wasn’t even his. His bunny ear one was swapped for someone’s bear-eared band. It was the inevitable result of him, Seokmin and Vernon having less than five minutes in the pre-recording rush to pack from their several dozens of products crammed into one small medicine cabinet. That was with the meagre amount of sleep they had been getting. It didn’t help that it was the whole group’s cabinet as much as it was their floor’s, too, as the hyungs from the five-member floors would come over to wash up when someone took too long in their bathroom.
 
Sighing, he packed the products back into their bag, grabbed clothes from his closet and headed to the bathroom. When he emerged, he smelled strange to say the least, with the mishmash combination of face and body moisturisers combining with the blind box of skincare products. Giving his forearm a sniff, it was like the time he got tackled by a straight-out-of-the-shower Soonyoung and Jun and Jeonghan joined in to make his life even worse. It was simultaneously completely expected and mildly surprising that he could think of an episode that matched the exact permutation of those three members whom he now smelled like. He’d chosen the shirt in darkness, but staring at it in his hands, he found it wasn’t truly his. It ended up in his closet at home after he borrowed it and wore it going back over Chuseok a year or two ago. He’d promised Joshua that he’d bring it back, but they’d both forgotten about their agreement by the time they reunited in Seoul. 

(He was slightly glad, because he really liked the shirt.)

So there he was, standing in another member’s shirt, slathered in other members’ products. The pants he wore were from the matching set with the other Performance Unit members, so whether it was really his was also questionable. It wasn’t all that uncommon of an occurrence at the dorm, but he was at home now. He was isolated from the context of Seventeen, just a man named Lee Chan. Could he even be Chan without Seventeen, though?

When he returned to his room, he ignored the light switch to go straight to his bed, instinctively searching for his phone. 

The notification wall was empty, as it was twenty minutes before. 

There was no way the other members didn’t get his stuff mixed into theirs too. But the chatroom stayed quiet, no shouts of indignation from anyone having their holy grail products stolen from them for the week. Then again, it wasn’t like they fussed much over whose was what and what was whose. Sure, sometimes someone would get mad over his clothes becoming almost communal, but it always ended in laughter and permission for his clothes to be sacrificed to the wear and tear of thirteen people. 

Putting his phone down, Chan looked towards the moon from his bed; the same bright sliver of rock that shone over the whole of South Korea, and everyone on Earth. Would the members be looking at it too? He tried to guess who would be awake and who would be asleep by this time. The voices of the members echoed in his head as he sieved through his memories of them, trying to remember their nightly habits.  

The silence now finally filled lulled him to sleep as he came to the conclusion that perhaps, it wasn’t a bad thing that he thought of the members so much. Somewhere, out there in another province, or maybe in China, his shirt too hung in a closet, his products laid out on a vanity. He knew it didn’t need to be said that the other members would wonder about him too. 

[FILL] LIGHT/HOUSE

[klav]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: internalized homophobia, drunken kissing without permission, heavy thoughts on gender + mentions of dysphoria, angst (there is offensive language used around gender expression that gets addressed but not resolved)
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

The house is packed. Half of their university must be here, crammed underneath those cheap red string lights going viral on Douyin. Later, that’s what Minghao will remember most—those blood-red lights, how they turned Mingyu’s dark fringe electric, how they caught in his teeth like wine stains.

They’re drinking whiskey, though. Minghao is wearing a black mesh turtleneck and skintight leather pants. He fiddles with a loose string on the hem of his own sleeve.

He’s happy, dancing over the line between tipsy and drunk, when Chaeyoung leans into the center of their tight circle, eyes fastened on Mingyu’s face, and says, “Okay, okay. Next. Kiss one of your same-age friends.”

“On the mouth!” Soonyoung adds, slapping Mingyu in the back.

Chaeyoung giggles. “On the mouth!”

“Ahh, why,” Mingyu whines.

He’s grinning, though. His teeth catch on his lower lip when he meets Minghao’s eyes. They’re sitting so close together, their thighs have practically melded into one sweaty hunk of flesh on the carpet. Minghao’s heart jolts.

“That’s worth two shots.” Chaeyoung claps with finality. Jihyo tips into her shoulder, tinted pink, laughing. “Do it or you have to take two shots.”

“Fine! Fine, I’ll fucking do it.”

Mingyu sits straighter to survey the room. He has a wide array of options—he’s close with Yoohyeon, mixing drinks at a table in the corner. Jisoo, her hair tied up in a gorgeous braid, talking closely with Ryujin only a few steps away. Even Jihyo might be a contender. Fat chance she or Chaeyoung would let him close enough to kiss her, though.

Minghao amuses himself by considering the options. It probably takes Mingyu less than ten seconds to decide, but it feels like longer, with their group huddled close and raptly attentive.

Mingyu’s face swivels unexpectedly back to Minghao. His gaze is dark, heavy, and wholly unfamiliar. “Alright, c’mere,” he says, just before linking a hand behind Minghao’s neck and pulling him in.

It happens so fast that Minghao doesn’t have a chance to protest. Mingyu presses their mouths together with cool finesse, the angle deliberately misaligned, like he’s thinking about how his jawline will look to the others. His thumb knocks against Minghao’s dangly silver earring. Shrieks erupt distantly.

Minghao kisses back on autopilot but his heart has come to a full fucking stop in his chest. Cardiac arrest. He thinks he makes a noise, too, something soft and gutted that no one else can hear over the music. Mingyu’s lips are soft and damp. He tastes as bitter as the whiskey and just as intoxicating.

It lasts fifteen seconds—maybe twenty—but that’s long enough for Minghao to experience all five stages of grief and arrive at acceptance with a screeching halt. He’s going to have to repress this, isn’t he? Just like everything else.

Mingyu pulls away and wipes his mouth. His eyes are shining like he’s just won a medal.

“Oh my god.” Minghao works a tight smile onto his face. Rolls his eyes and laughs a little, too. Tries to sell it as a joke. He has to act semi-normal or everyone’s going to know.

On the other side of Soonyoung, Jihoon is holding his own temple with shock and delight. “What the fuck! She didn’t say it had to be a guy!”

“That’s fine!” Chaeyoung swats him in the shoulder. Her mouth has not snapped shut from where it fell open, glossy and pink and surprised. “Shit, it was kinda hot?”

Jihyo wolf-whistles.

“We don’t care about things like that.” Soonyoung pats Mingyu’s thigh, bright and sort of condescending. “He did the dare, anyway.”

Minghao can’t look anyone in the face. His stomach twists. He thinks he might have to turn and vomit into the potted ficus. Would that be more embarrassing for him, or Mingyu? Hard to decide.

No one says anything to him. The game nearly moves on, and Minghao starts concocting the wisps of a plan to escape upstairs and find Junhui and drag him home to sob onto his shoulder—

But then Jihoon sets down his rum and coke. He pushes back his hair, a gorgeous, newly-bleached blonde, and looks between Mingyu and Minghao.

“So, wait, are you gay?” he blurts out. “Or what?”

Minghao can’t help it. His eyes fly to Mingyu, who looks startled.

“No.”

“Then why’d you pick—”

“I’m not gay.” Mingyu shrugs. “It doesn’t count. Myungho’s practically a girl anyway.”

Minghao flinches. He blushes so hard it stings, like he’s been slapped across the face. He balls his hands into fists.

It takes a thousand years to speak. His words emerge clunky and belated, interrupting Chaeyoung’s laughter. “What did you just say?”

Mingyu turns. The smile melts slowly off his face, like he’s cataloging Minghao’s reaction piece by piece and realizing that he’s made a mistake. Yeah. No shit.

Now this is too much. Minghao feels humiliated down to his bones. A lump burgeons in his throat. He stands too fast, catching himself with one hand on the wall, and picks his way out of the circle. Someone calls after him. Soonyoung, maybe.

Minghao shakes his hair out of his face and walks, tall and proud, past the crush of people upstairs. He greets Vernon in the kitchen, pours himself three consecutive shots of soju, and then walks right out the front door.

It’s a cool winter night. Seoul surges on around him. He almost makes it to the street corner before he starts crying.

Myungho’s practically a girl.

Practically.

He’s not a goddamn girl. He’s not. He’s—

Minghao wipes his face. When he drops his hands, Mingyu is standing in front of him, spotlighted in hazy gold by the street lamp, out of breath, hands posted on his knees. A car zooms by and ruffles his hair, darkened with beads of sweat. Alcohol gently blurs the edges of his silhouette.

He opens his mouth. Probably to spout some apologetic bullshit nonsense. Minghao aggressively beats him to it.

“How could you say that? How could you—when you know—”

“I’m so sorry,” Mingyu gulps. He strides closer, his hands hovering near Minghao’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was. I just. Wasn’t thinking.”

Minghao slaps his hands down before they have a chance to reach him. Their voices are hushed and the street is quietly approaching midnight. Minghao thinks he would detonate the block if he could scream loud enough.

“I told you because I trusted you.” Minghao wipes his face again, again. Fuck his nonabsorbent mesh shirt. He takes a deep breath. “That I’m not a guy. And you, what? Throw that back in my face? I’m not practically a girl either, Mingyu!”

“I know—”

“No. You don’t. And you. You said it in front of everyone, what are they gonna think? What the fuck." His voice breaks. "That was so mean.”

Mingyu looks crushed. Six years of friendship and Minghao has never seen him like this, pale and watery and shell-shocked. Like he genuinely didn’t think about what he’d said before he said it. What an inconsiderate asshole.

Minghao regrets telling him anything.

“Honestly, I didn’t mean it like that.” Mingyu bunches his hands into his own sweater. “They won’t think.” He takes a short, sharp breath. “I was just talking about—about your clothes. You know. You dress…”

“What. How do I dress.”

Mingyu’s throat bobs. “Pretty. Feminine, I don’t know. I just meant it like that. I wasn’t talking about you as a person.”

Minghao shakes his head. “You think that’s not part of me? My clothes are my…” He fishes for the word, too upset to think straight. “Like, personhood, too. That’s a shitty excuse.”

He looks down at himself. The mesh turtleneck speaks for itself, but he’s also wearing chunky black heeled boots (too tight, the largest women’s size they offered) and dangly earrings and thick black eyeliner. His hair falls in long waves down his neck.

And so what? He can dress however the fuck he wants and it doesn’t give Mingyu permission to make comments like that. It stings because in another situation it almost would've been a compliment. It stings because he’s still figuring things out, and Mingyu threw that in his face in front of a bunch of people they hardly know. Minghao isn’t practically a girl—he’s not. Even though sometimes he wants to be. Even though he imagines his body that way. How it might feel.

And Mingyu knows that—but he’d still made the joke.

“You can’t say shit like that,” Minghao says. The anger eeks out of him, leaving a disappointed hollowness behind. “Especially not in public. I’m not—I asked you not to tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Mingyu bites his lip. “There’s no excuse, I was kidding around and I fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

At least Mingyu is right about one thing—the others probably won’t take his comment the way Minghao fears. It’s unlikely they’d jump to that assumption first. The joke could be an indication that Mingyu is repressing some shit, or whatever. Which he definitely is.

“Also,” Minghao adds, crossing his arms over his chest, as the anger slides into indignation. “Why’d you kiss me?”

He isn’t expecting Mingyu to flood with color. It’s an immediate and sharp contrast with the way he’d blanched just moments earlier. His ears go up in flames, his chin ducks. Like he has any right to be embarrassed right now.

“Yeah, um.” Mingyu stammers. “Would you hate me if I said it’s because you looked really pretty?”

Minghao hears his own heart stop singing.

“You know what? Yeah.” Minghao shakes his head, pivots to begin his trek home. “Nevermind. I don't want to hear it right now.”

Goddamn. Was that kiss supposed to be a move? After Minghao cried to Junhui about Mingyu picking up girls at the bar, after months of their friendship slowly melting into a new, warm, liminal space, after he caught Mingyu staring at his mouth during class and on the bus and in restaurants, and billiard halls, and art galleries, and boutiques. Fucking everywhere. Just staring like a big pathetic dog.

All that waiting and hoping. For this?

Kissing me doesn't make you straight, he thinks viciously.

Tears prick the corners of his eyes again. Mingyu ruined everything. Minghao loves him, and Mingyu ruined everything anyway.

Minghao hears frantic footsteps tap-tap-tapping after him and sniffles hard. He kicks an errant rock into the gutter. His body feels like an echoing cavern.

“Let me drive you home.” Mingyu falls into step beside him. “You—you’re cold.”

Minghao says nothing.

“It’s the least I can do.”

Minghao says nothing. Let him grovel a bit more.

“Please.”

Minghao stops walking and faces Mingyu. “I don’t really want to be around you right now,” he says bluntly. No matter how they move forward from here, the memory of the first time Mingyu kissed him will always be overshadowed by what he said right after. How he smiled, beautiful and stupid as all fuck, cracking Minghao's fragile heart in his mouth like a pomegranate seed.

“You can drive me home,” he adds, watching Mingyu blink furiously with hope. “Just don’t talk.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious. I’m still upset. I’m gonna be upset for a while.”

Mingyu nods, his lips sucked into a thin, stressed line. True to his word, he doesn’t say a thing while they turn and retrace their steps down the dark street toward the parking garage.

It begins to snow. Minghao looks up and lets himself get lost in the maze of spiraling snowflakes, briefly closing his eyes and trusting his feet to glide him in the right direction. For the first time since bursting outside, he becomes aware of the temperature—cold enough to stir goosebumps on his arms and torso. Freezing.

Minghao remembers how scared he was to tell Mingyu, I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to. He sat them down on a steel bench at the park, just in case he needed to make a quick escape, and explained the way he caught himself staring at Jeongyeon for an inappropriately long time, mesmerized by her fluffy hair, her perfectly sharp eyeliner, her mouth curving with laughter. It wasn’t lust. It was a different feeling. Larger, hungrier. More uncomfortable. He tried to explain the way he looked at his own body and felt outside of it.

He remembers how Mingyu hugged him and said, “Okay. You know I love you, right? You’re still my best friend.”

Minghao remembers wanting to kiss him so badly that day. He hadn’t, though.

Just before they reach the car, a heavy warmth falls clumsily over Minghao’s shoulders.

He whips around to challenge Mingyu, but Mingyu is already hinging off the kerb toward the driver’s side. Damn him. Minghao pulls the jacket tighter around his shoulders and climbs into the passenger seat, noting the comforting smell of the fabric: musk, rose, sandalwood. A mixture of Mingyu’s cologne and shampoo.

Still, Minghao doesn’t acknowledge Mingyu. He leans his forehead against the window and watches snow fall softly over the city. When they hit a particularly bright intersection, the LED billboards flashing neon, he closes his aching eyes.

Quietly Mingyu reaches for his hand.

Minghao allows the touch. Squeezes back.

But he says nothing at all. Maybe they can talk in the morning, if Mingyu calls. Maybe then. Not before.

Re: [FILL] All your cells want freedom

[latespring]

oh wow this was beautiful!!!! you got at the heart of what I love about that quote, it was so incredibly lovely-- I caught my breath at

> "The first time Minghao saw the ocean, he thought that the whole world was meant to be underwater. The vastness of it seemed poised to overtake every dry thing, sand and sky alike. He would’ve given in."

> "In other words, the body is focused on how to keep you alive while you’re submerged. The brain is what fights to reach the surface."

> "He doesn’t need to ask why. There’s an intimacy in the witness; in watching an outstretched hand grasp at nothing. In knowing what someone looks like when every part of them is fighting for survival. And when he thinks about that feeling, of being swallowed up by the water without even an echo of the world he’d left behind — Soonyoung’s right. It’s why they’re all here."

This is such a full universe, it feels like there's entire lifetimes hiding around the corners. You craft so much depth in this, I loved lingering on Junhui--his admission that he grew up in a landlocked state, and what that might mean for him, especially compared to Minghao and Soonyoung who love water with everything they have.

The bookending with Minghao watching things+him following Soonyoung at the end was so good !! And I especially loved the way it was Soonyoung pulling Minghao after him. This was so so delightful to read, thank you for sharing <3

Re: [FILL] LIGHT/HOUSE

[seokmin_liker]

ooaaaaaaaahhhhhh this is so. oof. your gyuhao are wonderful as always. thank you for writing 💕💕

[FILL] THE ABSOLUTELY HUGE AND INCREDIBLE INJUSTICE IN THE WORLD

[maningning]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Jihoon, Wonwoo/Seungcheol
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Break-ups, Ambiguous relationships, Drunk dumb boys
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

Seungcheol didn't answer his phone anymore after the texts 3 hours ago that went,

FUCK HE BROKE UP WITH ME FOR REAL!!!!!!!!!!!

wonwoo his clothes are gone

he left his key

hes gone

So it was left to Wonwoo to figure out where Seungcheol was and whether or not he was still alive. Is that dramatic? But Seungcheol was not immune to such grandeur. Last time, when his nomination to be promoted as General Manager went down the drain, he'd gone radio silent for a whole two months. And then earlier this year when Jihoon had said no to Seungcheol's idea to move back to Daegu, somehow confirming to him this nagging and vague suspicion he had that Jihoon was not serious and was avoiding any long-term form of commitment with him, he'd threatened him: I SAID I WILL SHAVE MY HEAD! To which Jihoon just replied, Go ahead. Which, lo and behold, Seungcheol went ahead and did it.

He showed up February with a bald head.

Five months later and his hair had grown, but it's all the same.

Wonwoo got off the cab somewhere in Myeongdong and walked into one of the bars lining up the street. No Seungcheol there.

The next one, surprisingly, he wasn't there either.

Myeongdong was where he and Seungcheol went to drown their sorrows. When Wonwoo lost the role and he was already at his second callback, the farthest he'd gone for any audition ever. When he had to accept work at an advertising start-up instead, swallowing his pride and the fucking bitter pill that acting was nothing but a pipe dream. He just was not cut out for it. When Seungcheol wasn't promoted. When just some months later, management changed and Seungcheol was, although they refused to say was demoted, shuffled to a smaller team under an industry outside of the company's 2021 Big Bets instead. When Jihoon arrived in Seungcheol's life. Many, many nights since. Many sorrows since.

When he got to the third bar, the one they went to most recently, the guy at the bar instantly waved at Wonwoo.

"He's here?"

Mingyu nodded, fast and with relief. He pointed a thumb towards the dark hall leading to their restroom.

"Been in there for," he glanced at his wristwatch, "twenty, thirty minutes since?"

Wonwoo sheepishly apologized.

"S'okay. It's a slow night, anyway. Earlier, when one other male customer needed to pee, I just let them use the shared urinal in the staff room," Mingyu explained.

Once again, Wonwoo apologized and then headed to the restroom. He slowly pushed the door open and there he was. On the floor, his head leaning against the cabinet under the sink.

Seungcheol stared up at Wonwoo. His face is streaked with tears. Big, sad, child-like eyes. Like a small bird with a terrible hunger.

"Get up," Wonwoo said, looking away. Looking at his reflection in the mirror instead. He brushed his sidebangs neatly, fixed his glasses, as he softly kicked at Seungcheol's leg with his boots.

"Get up, I said," he repeated.

Seungcheol just made a wounded sound. And then in a hoarse voice said: "I want to d– nope... I'm going to die. How can he just– ? Just like that?"

Wonwoo huffed and squatted patiently in front of Seungcheol.

"You're most definitely not going to die. Look," he flicked at his forehead lightly. "You're alive."

Seungcheol just shook his head. His eyebrows furrowed as he sniffed.

"No, I don't want to be. No, this time. It's, fuck it's real. He just. He's just gone."

"Seungcheol, I keep te–"

"Jeon Wonwoo, am I hard to love?" Seungcheol asked, cutting into Wonwoo's scolding.

This was ancient history, but before all the sorrow, before all the injustice in the world, Wonwoo was brave enough to kiss him. To ask him to bring him home. In Seungcheol's one-bedroom, Wonwoo slipped out of his dress shirt, unzipped his perfect slacks. In the half-light, while Wonwoo took his time, Seungcheol turned around and retreated into his small pocket of a terrace. When Wonwoo called for him, Seungcheol soundlessly stepped back into his room and Wonwoo startled, swayed on his feet. Put his hand on his heart.

Jesus, you scared me.

"Will you please," Wonwoo breathed, the sharp sting of leftover pee and the cheap reed diffuser over the sink, the smell of a drunk Choi Seungcheol, hitting him all at once. Why was Jihoon so fucking heartless? "Get over it. You’re always– it's always. Like this. Get up, come on. Come here."

He hauled Seungcheol up until they were almost embracing each other.

"I am, aren't I?" Seungcheol slurred, insistent. His face was so close to Wonwoo's that it should be disgusting how hot his breath was against Wonwoo's cheeks, but it was just... it's Seungcheol.

It were comfort forever: just to look at Seungcheol, while he looked at Wonwoo and it’s just the two of them.

"You know my answer to that." Wonwoo leaned away as Seungcheol steadied on his feet. And then he added, just to be sure: "You know you are. You're the hardest."

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but he smiled. Pleased.

On the cab on the way back to his building, Seungcheol made the driver pull over so he could throw up on the side of the highway. Afterwards, he leaned into Wonwoo's right arm, tucking his warm and wet mouth into Wonwoo's neck.

When they arrived, Wonwoo whispered for the driver to wait as Seungcheol stumbled off.

He tugged at Wonwoo's hand, and for a moment, he thought Seungcheol would ask him to go up with him, to accompany him for the night, and already, Wonwoo had balled in his other fist in his coat pocket the cash he'd use to pay for their ride. He would walk inside with Seungcheol, ride the elevator up to the 12th floor, help him find his way to his door and fall into bed with him. Tucked together. The night, warm and silvery.

"Will you," Seungcheol hiccuped, then giggled. "Sorry, will you spot for me for the ride? I'm not sure where my wallet is."

Wonwoo pulled the cab door open again behind him and stepped back. He nodded and pulled out of his pockets both his hands to wave Seungcheol goodbye.

Back inside the cab, he gave the driver his address. He cackled and said, "That's a long way from here!" Sure, that's funny, isn't it? Wonwoo laughed with the driver as his phone vibrated. It's Jihoon.

hey did you find him? he ok?

[REMIX] pov switch: you're in the rancid, forest pond

[aranak]

Ship/Member: woncheol (ish)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: you ever read a line and it makes you pick up a pencil for the first time in five years? yeah.
Permission to remix: yes
***

remix

Re: [FILL] i wonder if he notices

[thisisrose]

I just read this this morning and I love it!!! It's so them and so precious! Thanks for filling it!!
Rose xx

Re: [FILL] Wonhui homecoming

[thisisrose]

this is gorgeous, oh my,
Rose xx

Re: [FILL] Nothing left, babe!

[thisisrose]

the way i wanna cry,
Rose x

Re: [FILL] et in arcadia, ego

[thisisrose]

i am full of noise and no words,
thanks ester xx
Rose