Ship/Member: Seokmin/Minghao Major Tags: Major Character Death Additional Tags: mourning, is it a ghost or a grief response? Permission to remix: Please ask Word count: 400
going for exactly 400 words! also this is very [gestures vaguely]
***
It’s been five weeks since Seokmin died. No cards anymore, no flowers. Minghao’s colleagues used to tread on eggshells around him, but only so he would notice how they took their shoes off first. Now they don’t even bother doing that. It’s been long enough that Minghao’s mother has stopped texting him every day – clearly she thinks she doesn’t need to worry anymore. The world has decided it’s time for Minghao to move on.
But Minghao sees Seokmin everywhere. His therapist tells him it’s a grief response. His mother tells him it’s Seokmin’s spirit. But whatever it is, Seokmin is still there. When Minghao walks into his apartment, Seokmin is on the sofa, face contorting into a grin when he looks up to see Minghao there. When Minghao wakes up, Seokmin is beside him, the weight of his cold touch floating over his chest. When Minghao tries to cook, Seokmin comes up behind him, wrapping his leaden arms around Minghao’s middle, digging his bony chin into his shoulder.
It’s not really Seokmin, Minghao knows that. The real Seokmin would be warm and light, his fingers gentle, his frame broad and strong. That isn’t the Seokmin that permeates every corner of Minghao’s home. The new Seokmin is heavy against him, yet weak, like he’ll snap in two if Minghao tries to keep him here. His voice isn’t dulcet and gentle but somehow hoarse. When he laughs, his laughter is slow and joyless, like he’s just pretending for Minghao’s sake. It sends a chill down Minghao’s spine, weakens him like a poisoned candy. The Seokmin that beams at him from the photo on the wall is not the Seokmin that whispers, Remember when you took that? Five years ago, wasn’t it? We were so happy back then, Myungho-yah.
This Seokmin doesn’t make Minghao happy, but he’s everywhere. He’s on the bedside table, where he used to leave his books, looking at Minghao with cold eyes as he grabs his watch. He’s in the bathroom, hovering near the half-full bottle of his shampoo, smiling with a menacing wryness when Minghao uses that shampoo rather than his own. He’s on the other end of the couch, staring at Minghao like he’s going to pounce, laughing that mirthless laugh when Minghao catches sight of him.
After another month, Minghao moves out of the apartment. He can’t bear it anymore. There’s laughter in every room.
[FILL] why is he still here?
Major Tags: Major Character Death
Additional Tags: mourning, is it a ghost or a grief response?
Permission to remix: Please ask
Word count: 400
going for exactly 400 words! also this is very [gestures vaguely]
***
It’s been five weeks since Seokmin died. No cards anymore, no flowers. Minghao’s colleagues used to tread on eggshells around him, but only so he would notice how they took their shoes off first. Now they don’t even bother doing that. It’s been long enough that Minghao’s mother has stopped texting him every day – clearly she thinks she doesn’t need to worry anymore. The world has decided it’s time for Minghao to move on.
But Minghao sees Seokmin everywhere. His therapist tells him it’s a grief response. His mother tells him it’s Seokmin’s spirit. But whatever it is, Seokmin is still there. When Minghao walks into his apartment, Seokmin is on the sofa, face contorting into a grin when he looks up to see Minghao there. When Minghao wakes up, Seokmin is beside him, the weight of his cold touch floating over his chest. When Minghao tries to cook, Seokmin comes up behind him, wrapping his leaden arms around Minghao’s middle, digging his bony chin into his shoulder.
It’s not really Seokmin, Minghao knows that. The real Seokmin would be warm and light, his fingers gentle, his frame broad and strong. That isn’t the Seokmin that permeates every corner of Minghao’s home. The new Seokmin is heavy against him, yet weak, like he’ll snap in two if Minghao tries to keep him here. His voice isn’t dulcet and gentle but somehow hoarse. When he laughs, his laughter is slow and joyless, like he’s just pretending for Minghao’s sake. It sends a chill down Minghao’s spine, weakens him like a poisoned candy. The Seokmin that beams at him from the photo on the wall is not the Seokmin that whispers, Remember when you took that? Five years ago, wasn’t it? We were so happy back then, Myungho-yah.
This Seokmin doesn’t make Minghao happy, but he’s everywhere. He’s on the bedside table, where he used to leave his books, looking at Minghao with cold eyes as he grabs his watch. He’s in the bathroom, hovering near the half-full bottle of his shampoo, smiling with a menacing wryness when Minghao uses that shampoo rather than his own. He’s on the other end of the couch, staring at Minghao like he’s going to pounce, laughing that mirthless laugh when Minghao catches sight of him.
After another month, Minghao moves out of the apartment. He can’t bear it anymore. There’s laughter in every room.