Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Mingyu Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: college au, breakup, Kim Mingyu Permission to remix: yes!
***
“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” Wonwoo said. “Us, I mean. I don’t see it leading anywhere in the future.”
He waited. Mingyu stared at the glowing ember at the end of his cigarette, watched smoke waft from it to curl around Wonwoo’s face like a caress.
“Mingyu?”
“Yeah,” Mingyu said. “Yeah, I’m listening.”
-
Sometimes he’d replay that conversation over and over again in his head, searching for anything in Wonwoo’s words that might tell him why and how they’d ended up there. When he was in a particularly pathetic mood he imagined he was looking at it from the balcony opposite, watching the tableau with a horrible fascination. He’d be unable to hear the words, but he’d know enough about the two occupants to fill the dialogue in himself. Tell me what’s wrong, one of them would plead, tugging at the other’s sleeve. I can fix it.
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo had said on that balcony, looking—almost sad. “It’s not you, you know. It’s me.” It was so cliché he wanted to laugh, but more than that he wanted Wonwoo to tell him where the problem was, wanted Wonwoo to tell him he was the problem, he’d fucked up, he’d been too needy, too clingy, too much of everything. At least that way he’d be able to do something about it. At least that way he’d know what had gone wrong, what he was missing. Why Wonwoo was leaving.
-
“Do you ever think there are some people who’re better off as friends and some people who’re better off as lovers?” Wonwoo asked.
It had been winter, the morning after they’d slept together for the third time. Mingyu had kept count until the numbers ticked into the double digits and he felt like he could afford to stop putting an expiration date on their arrangement. Maybe he’d never have to keep track again. Maybe this would end up working out after all.
“Sometimes,” Mingyu admitted. “Like looking at two people and thinking they fit together?”
“Yeah,” Wonwoo said. He was shivering a little, the tops of his ears red with cold. Mingyu had come onto the balcony prepared; he handed Wonwoo one of the mugs he was holding and Wonwoo wrapped his hands around it, soaking up the heat. “Something like that.”
“Well, which are we?” Mingyu asked, joking.
Wonwoo smiled slightly. “Neither,” he said.
Later he’d realise it was supposed to be a joke, a reference to their own status as friends with benefits. It seemed glaringly obvious in retrospect. But in that moment he’d found himself seized only by an inexplicable terror, all the warmth bleeding from the drink in his hands. What was he to Wonwoo, if not at least a friend? What was he, if not a lover?
-
Wonwoo exhaled. “I really like you, Mingyu,” he said. “That’s not the problem.”
“But I love you,” Mingyu said helplessly, and hated himself instantly for how stupid it sounded, hanging there in the crisp autumn air between them.
Wonwoo pressed his free hand to his temple. “See,” he said, quiet. “That is.”
-
“Move in with me?” Mingyu asked.
He saw rather than felt Wonwoo stiffen, the tense lines of his bare back as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Mingyu. “I’ll think about it,” he said, terse, and Mingyu should have been able to tell from the tone of his voice that maybe that had been the fatal mistake. He’d accidentally revealed how far down the waters went and Wonwoo had jumped ship as soon as he could.
It wasn’t surprising, though. He could write a whole stack of books about all the people with whom he’d waded in too deep, how he’d still been surprised when everyone tore free and tried to swim back. I don’t want this. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t know you’d want so much.
But it kept happening, and he kept letting it, like a kicked dog that always came back, clinging on to the surety of it. If nothing else, he was at least consistent.
-
“I think I’m done,” Wonwoo said after a long silence, still staring out at the sidewalk below like he hadn’t just split the world down the middle, broken it cleanly into two distinct halves: before, after. He put his cigarette out on the railing; inches away, Mingyu was gripping it for dear life, knuckles gone white. “Are you?”
Mingyu stared down at the people walking below and wondered what any of them had that he didn’t. What they had that Wonwoo was looking for. He could fix this. He could. What was he missing? What did Wonwoo want that he couldn’t give? He wanted to know so badly. He wanted to know. “Not yet,” he said, and somehow it came out steady.
In his peripheral vision he saw Wonwoo nod, and go inside, and as the balcony door clicked shut he imagined he could hear Wonwoo sighing. But he’d never been very good at dreaming; maybe it was just his mind constructing a kinder fantasy, one more forgiving. One generous enough to give Wonwoo regret when there was none to be had.
[FILL] in your wake
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: college au, breakup, Kim Mingyu
Permission to remix: yes!
***
“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” Wonwoo said. “Us, I mean. I don’t see it leading anywhere in the future.”
He waited. Mingyu stared at the glowing ember at the end of his cigarette, watched smoke waft from it to curl around Wonwoo’s face like a caress.
“Mingyu?”
“Yeah,” Mingyu said. “Yeah, I’m listening.”
-
Sometimes he’d replay that conversation over and over again in his head, searching for anything in Wonwoo’s words that might tell him why and how they’d ended up there. When he was in a particularly pathetic mood he imagined he was looking at it from the balcony opposite, watching the tableau with a horrible fascination. He’d be unable to hear the words, but he’d know enough about the two occupants to fill the dialogue in himself. Tell me what’s wrong, one of them would plead, tugging at the other’s sleeve. I can fix it.
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo had said on that balcony, looking—almost sad. “It’s not you, you know. It’s me.” It was so cliché he wanted to laugh, but more than that he wanted Wonwoo to tell him where the problem was, wanted Wonwoo to tell him he was the problem, he’d fucked up, he’d been too needy, too clingy, too much of everything. At least that way he’d be able to do something about it. At least that way he’d know what had gone wrong, what he was missing. Why Wonwoo was leaving.
-
“Do you ever think there are some people who’re better off as friends and some people who’re better off as lovers?” Wonwoo asked.
It had been winter, the morning after they’d slept together for the third time. Mingyu had kept count until the numbers ticked into the double digits and he felt like he could afford to stop putting an expiration date on their arrangement. Maybe he’d never have to keep track again. Maybe this would end up working out after all.
“Sometimes,” Mingyu admitted. “Like looking at two people and thinking they fit together?”
“Yeah,” Wonwoo said. He was shivering a little, the tops of his ears red with cold. Mingyu had come onto the balcony prepared; he handed Wonwoo one of the mugs he was holding and Wonwoo wrapped his hands around it, soaking up the heat. “Something like that.”
“Well, which are we?” Mingyu asked, joking.
Wonwoo smiled slightly. “Neither,” he said.
Later he’d realise it was supposed to be a joke, a reference to their own status as friends with benefits. It seemed glaringly obvious in retrospect. But in that moment he’d found himself seized only by an inexplicable terror, all the warmth bleeding from the drink in his hands. What was he to Wonwoo, if not at least a friend? What was he, if not a lover?
-
Wonwoo exhaled. “I really like you, Mingyu,” he said. “That’s not the problem.”
“But I love you,” Mingyu said helplessly, and hated himself instantly for how stupid it sounded, hanging there in the crisp autumn air between them.
Wonwoo pressed his free hand to his temple. “See,” he said, quiet. “That is.”
-
“Move in with me?” Mingyu asked.
He saw rather than felt Wonwoo stiffen, the tense lines of his bare back as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Mingyu. “I’ll think about it,” he said, terse, and Mingyu should have been able to tell from the tone of his voice that maybe that had been the fatal mistake. He’d accidentally revealed how far down the waters went and Wonwoo had jumped ship as soon as he could.
It wasn’t surprising, though. He could write a whole stack of books about all the people with whom he’d waded in too deep, how he’d still been surprised when everyone tore free and tried to swim back. I don’t want this. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t know you’d want so much.
But it kept happening, and he kept letting it, like a kicked dog that always came back, clinging on to the surety of it. If nothing else, he was at least consistent.
-
“I think I’m done,” Wonwoo said after a long silence, still staring out at the sidewalk below like he hadn’t just split the world down the middle, broken it cleanly into two distinct halves: before, after. He put his cigarette out on the railing; inches away, Mingyu was gripping it for dear life, knuckles gone white. “Are you?”
Mingyu stared down at the people walking below and wondered what any of them had that he didn’t. What they had that Wonwoo was looking for. He could fix this. He could. What was he missing? What did Wonwoo want that he couldn’t give? He wanted to know so badly. He wanted to know. “Not yet,” he said, and somehow it came out steady.
In his peripheral vision he saw Wonwoo nod, and go inside, and as the balcony door clicked shut he imagined he could hear Wonwoo sighing. But he’d never been very good at dreaming; maybe it was just his mind constructing a kinder fantasy, one more forgiving. One generous enough to give Wonwoo regret when there was none to be had.