Ship/Member: Seungkwan/Wonwoo Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: navigating the fallout, lovers to strangers Permission to remix: No.
I'm usually not so literal but uhhh yeah.
***
"Have you seen my rackets?"
Somehow, in the innocence of the texted question, he gleans something much more loaded inside. A text sent offhand, probably while coming down the stairs or crawling into bed feels accusatory. Feels like, what else have you hidden from me?
The aftermath is a messy sea to navigate, something that Wonwoo learns moving aside the daily supplements for the container stashing his hoard of instant coffee mix.
They're estranged now, but their lives are still collaged for the remainder of the year, like laundry baskets once piled together now carefully sorted separately. Separate bedrooms, separate lives.
It's an uncomfortable swallow after the first phone call, after, when the absence of I love you sinks to the pit of his stomach like a stone.
They often meet each other in the kitchen, trying to avoid the elephant standing in the middle of the room after. The storming, the disagreement, the slamming door. Wonwoo had gotten onto a train and followed it down the line until the last of the fumes turned to vapor, turned to tears, turned to showing up at Soonyoung’s doorstep unannounced and sleeping on his couch for three miserable days.
In the kitchen, he can feel Seungkwan’s eyes linger on him, trying to decipher the things that he no longer recognizes. Wonwoo does the same, watching Seungkwan deep clean the kitchen during his lunch break, like clockwork, every Tuesday afternoon. The sound of his singing carries a wave of nostalgia, and for just an hour he can forget the mess made.
Funny, how falling out of love can also feel like learning someone for the first time.
Still, he stares down at his phone.
The weird mix of longing and numbness swirl together for a long moment. Three nights ago, they’d shared a laugh over something in passing, and Seungkwan’s hand had instinctively reached for his arm. A handful of months ago, it would’ve been nothing. A moment that had led to something boring, like ordering out for dinner, or gone completely ignored out of habit.
Little things, like the brush of fingers smoothing his hair down in the morning, or a hand on his waist, moments that go long forgotten but now are sorely missed.
It’s like trying to unravel a knot the size of his fist.
Each new thing pulled from the wreckage pulls them toward a happier permanence. He carefully crafts an apologetic and hits send.
FILL: recessional
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: navigating the fallout, lovers to strangers
Permission to remix: No.
I'm usually not so literal but uhhh yeah.
***
"Have you seen my rackets?"
Somehow, in the innocence of the texted question, he gleans something much more loaded inside. A text sent offhand, probably while coming down the stairs or crawling into bed feels accusatory. Feels like, what else have you hidden from me?
The aftermath is a messy sea to navigate, something that Wonwoo learns moving aside the daily supplements for the container stashing his hoard of instant coffee mix.
They're estranged now, but their lives are still collaged for the remainder of the year, like laundry baskets once piled together now carefully sorted separately. Separate bedrooms, separate lives.
It's an uncomfortable swallow after the first phone call, after, when the absence of I love you sinks to the pit of his stomach like a stone.
They often meet each other in the kitchen, trying to avoid the elephant standing in the middle of the room after. The storming, the disagreement, the slamming door. Wonwoo had gotten onto a train and followed it down the line until the last of the fumes turned to vapor, turned to tears, turned to showing up at Soonyoung’s doorstep unannounced and sleeping on his couch for three miserable days.
In the kitchen, he can feel Seungkwan’s eyes linger on him, trying to decipher the things that he no longer recognizes. Wonwoo does the same, watching Seungkwan deep clean the kitchen during his lunch break, like clockwork, every Tuesday afternoon. The sound of his singing carries a wave of nostalgia, and for just an hour he can forget the mess made.
Funny, how falling out of love can also feel like learning someone for the first time.
Still, he stares down at his phone.
The weird mix of longing and numbness swirl together for a long moment. Three nights ago, they’d shared a laugh over something in passing, and Seungkwan’s hand had instinctively reached for his arm. A handful of months ago, it would’ve been nothing. A moment that had led to something boring, like ordering out for dinner, or gone completely ignored out of habit.
Little things, like the brush of fingers smoothing his hair down in the morning, or a hand on his waist, moments that go long forgotten but now are sorely missed.
It’s like trying to unravel a knot the size of his fist.
Each new thing pulled from the wreckage pulls them toward a happier permanence. He carefully crafts an apologetic and hits send.