Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Jeonghan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: toxic ex yjh Permission to remix: Yes
my government mandated prosey fill for the year ✔
***
Said the scar to the blade, did you miss me? I remember your kiss. Do your teeth remember my taste?
Someone once told him that one day, he’d forget its cutting bite. But his heart remembers the searing pain. The heart is a muscle, the old trauma too deep a memory to ever fade away.
Jeonghan had once mused in bed how sad it would be to be someone’s last love. “You’d be so conditioned to other people’s hearts that it’d hurt more, don’t you think? You’ll have to keep remembering that you loved someone else’s infinite almosts.”
It feels like guillotine optimism that the heartache won’t come down heavy. He wakes up with a sword sticking out of his side.
(But last love promises a weathering, and a first love is an unprepared soft center, easy to be kneaded to shape to someone else’s desire.
He’s still peeling himself free from the shape that he’d been left in, but the blade keeps parrying him back into place. Stay in this shape for me. Weather me. Stay wanting me. Stay mine.)
Said the blade to the scar, you’re different than how I left you. The blade replies smoothly, I’m out of commission now.
“It’s been a long time,” Jeonghan calls out to him. The presence doesn’t puncture anymore, but the scar in his chest draws tight. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
It’s not sad, the way Jeonghan had mused it to be. To become someone’s last love, long after their first. Naturally, he does mean it’s not sad for him.
“I’m doing better now, I think,” he says to the glass in his hands, and Wonwoo refills his cup.
“You seem to be,” Wonwoo agrees, letting the silence cut deeper. Maybe the flesh gets bitter and weathered. Maybe being someone’s last love does mean that you have to undo the trauma of the first.
Maybe jealousy does sour at the back of his throat at the sight of the ring on Jeonghan’s finger.
Jeonghan gets shy for a moment, hesitating before fumbling for the phone in his pocket. “I think you know him, actually.”
You are the thing that wore me down, is what he doesn’t say, but when he says Seungcheol’s name, a caress forms around it that isn’t followed by the kiss of a sharp edge.
When Jeonghan leaves, his fingers find the scar at the center of his chest. From the scar, he can feel the hilt.
Re: pull it out without questioning why
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: toxic ex yjh
Permission to remix: Yes
my government mandated prosey fill for the year ✔
***
Said the scar to the blade, did you miss me? I remember your kiss. Do your teeth remember my taste?
Someone once told him that one day, he’d forget its cutting bite. But his heart remembers the searing pain. The heart is a muscle, the old trauma too deep a memory to ever fade away.
Jeonghan had once mused in bed how sad it would be to be someone’s last love. “You’d be so conditioned to other people’s hearts that it’d hurt more, don’t you think? You’ll have to keep remembering that you loved someone else’s infinite almosts.”
It feels like guillotine optimism that the heartache won’t come down heavy. He wakes up with a sword sticking out of his side.
(But last love promises a weathering, and a first love is an unprepared soft center, easy to be kneaded to shape to someone else’s desire.
He’s still peeling himself free from the shape that he’d been left in, but the blade keeps parrying him back into place. Stay in this shape for me. Weather me. Stay wanting me. Stay mine.)
Said the blade to the scar, you’re different than how I left you. The blade replies smoothly, I’m out of commission now.
“It’s been a long time,” Jeonghan calls out to him. The presence doesn’t puncture anymore, but the scar in his chest draws tight. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
It’s not sad, the way Jeonghan had mused it to be. To become someone’s last love, long after their first. Naturally, he does mean it’s not sad for him.
“I’m doing better now, I think,” he says to the glass in his hands, and Wonwoo refills his cup.
“You seem to be,” Wonwoo agrees, letting the silence cut deeper. Maybe the flesh gets bitter and weathered. Maybe being someone’s last love does mean that you have to undo the trauma of the first.
Maybe jealousy does sour at the back of his throat at the sight of the ring on Jeonghan’s finger.
Jeonghan gets shy for a moment, hesitating before fumbling for the phone in his pocket. “I think you know him, actually.”
You are the thing that wore me down, is what he doesn’t say, but when he says Seungcheol’s name, a caress forms around it that isn’t followed by the kiss of a sharp edge.
When Jeonghan leaves, his fingers find the scar at the center of his chest. From the scar, he can feel the hilt.