Status: Closed
This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted.
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For this round, there is no theme for the prompt and you can suggest whatever you want. However! You can only prompt a single sentence and the fill must end on that sentence. Be controversial, be vague. Fillers, add to the atmosphere or subvert expectations, the choice is yours.
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Examples
Joshua
"Did you think America would change things?"
Soonyoung/Seokmin
Seokmin looks at Soonyoung one more time, "I may not trust you with my wallet, but I do trust you with my life."
97 line
In the dark they grasped each other, fingers intertwined, and stepped forwards.
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night reminiscin'
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: childhood friends that have drifted apart to lovers
Do Not Wants: major character death, really heavy angst
Prompt: "It will be just like before, I promise."
[FILL] night reminiscin'
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: screen writer wonwoo, actor junhui, shared history, reunions....and rooftops.
Permission to remix: Please ask
***
“Déjà vu.”
Wonwoo glances over his shoulder to address the intruder. He would've been startled if he hadn't expected Junhui to find him. He's always had a talent for discovering Wonwoo’s hideouts.
“Shouldn’t you be downstairs? The party is in your honour.”
“I remember coming up to Jeonghan-sunbae’s roof to find you hiding away from the crowd,” Junhui answers instead, joining him by the railing.
Yoon Jeonghan. Bright. Dazzling. An aspiring actor. Junhui idolised him so much, he’d followed right in Jeonghan’s footsteps. Jeonghan made it, but Junhui made it bigger, and Wonwoo resented everyone’s golden-haired angel for planting the seeds of dream in Junhui’s impressionable mind.
Every time Junhui had dragged him to Jeonghan’s, he would tell the same lie: it will be fun, Wonwoo-yah! I promise.
"The others must be looking for you." Junhui's the type of person whose absence gets noticed, after all. "Go, celebrate with them."
"Why can't I celebrate with you? Has it been troublesome, having me around?"
"Quite the contrary. It’s been a pleasure working with you, Junhui-ssi,” Wonwoo responds, ignoring the bait in Junhui's voice.
Of course, he's leaving out a good portion of the truth. But what's Wonwoo to say? Did you know, I wrote the main character based on you? When they cast you to play him, I got drunk. Alone, in my room, on the brand of beer you advertised.
Junhui laughs, hollow. "That’s the last thing I want to hear from you."
Wonwoo grits his teeth. Right. Why does he even try?
“I was being nice."
Every summer his colleagues stick him with the new interns—according to them, he’s patient and accommodating. He doesn’t know where those characteristics go where Junhui is concerned. He doesn’t know where anything goes where Junhui is concerned.
"Not the compulsory courtesy, Wonwoo-yah. The Junhui-ssi."
Oh. Wonwoo supposes he has gotten used to addressing Junhui formally over the past three months. It wasn't something he said intentionally to draw a line between them. The crystalline silence holds strong until Junhui clears his throat, shattering it.
"Shooting in Korea is tough."
“Which part? Being away from home or speaking Korean?”
"Where’s home?"
Home should be here. Home could have been here. But when Junhui said, it will only be a year, Wonwoo-yah. I promise, one had turned into five turned into ten.
It's not about home, then. That leaves the second option.
"You sound like a native these days," Wonwoo offers kindly.
Junhui gazes at the moon. “You know, Wonwoo-yah... the problem with having learned a language from someone is remembering them in every word they ever taught you.”
He waits for the other shoe to drop.
“And you, well, you were hello. There is no escaping you.”
Escaping him? Wonwoo wants to laugh. That sounds absurd. Escaping Wonwoo is easy. Effortless, even. He’s not the one with his face in every third C-drama, every second ad during prime hours, every billboard from Wonwoo’s office in Mapo to his apartment in Gwangjin.
“That was a good line,” Wonwoo comments. “I should write it down.”
Junhui's mood doesn't lighten up. "I wished you had told me sooner."
"Told you what?"
He turns to Wonwoo, leaning sideways against the railing. “That hello also means goodbye.”
The weight of his gaze pins Wonwoo to his place. Junhui stares at him like Wonwoo's something he had rediscovered and is at the brink of losing once more. Wonwoo relaxes his fingers. He hadn't realised he'd gathered them into fists. There is no escaping you. Why couldn't he just carry Wonwoo with him, then? They could have saved themselves some pain.
"One can argue correlation does not imply causation," Wonwoo finds his voice again. "Let's say one does cause the other, just to entertain the thought—how do we know which one is the root, which is the branch? Does hello mean goodbye, or does goodbye open up the possibility for another hello?"
Junhui considers this.
Then he says, “Hello, Jeon Wonwoo.”
He has a nervous smile on, but Wonwoo recognises this smile better than the ones he shows to the cameras.
“I want to take you out.” His lips are trembling, eyes star-bright under the silvery moonlight. The constellation on his face, Wonwoo wants to trace them with his fingers. “Let's have that date we should have had a decade ago. We can go to our usual place, order our usual meals, have our usual conversation.”
In theory, the plan is sound. But ten years is a long time and Wonwoo has actively avoided the area since Junhui’s packed his bags to shoot his first movie in Wuxi.
"The place’s probably been closed for years."
"No, it’s open."
Wonwoo raises a brow. "How do you know?"
“Because I went there to check,” Junhui answers, confidence seemingly returned to his person. “Last night.”
There's nowhere to run now. Wonwoo can no longer hide behind the excuse of distance, not when Junhui is close enough to touch. To hold. To kiss.
Perhaps third time's the charm.
"What do you say, Wonwoo-yah?"
So Wonwoo lets himself fall into an old and familiar trap, one set by hope and Junhui’s beguiling words:
“It will be just like before, I promise.”
Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
YOU AND ME BOTH WONU
this was beautiful! Thank you!
Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
(Anonymous) 2022-02-12 12:51 am (UTC)(link)Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
i love how you use the ending phrase, contextualizing it with how this is a pattern and leaving it open as to whether it will really work out or not this time - "Does hello mean goodbye, or does goodbye open up the possibility for another hello?" i hope it will.
Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
Re: [FILL] night reminiscin'
Re: [FILL] the same as seventeen
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, pining, character study, repressed little wonwoo
Permission to remix: Please ask
***
Wonwoo doesn’t make promises.
He says he’ll try. He’ll do his best. But he won’t promise. Language is a powerful thing and Wonwoo would be the last person to mess with it. To promise is to commit and suddenly, Wonwoo has one fear.
Enter Wen Junhui.
A long, long time ago, in Seoul, South Korea, Wonwoo was a wee ninth-grader, shuffling his way from Changwon, Gyeongsang-do into a pistachio-green room with foggy mirrors and the worst body odour imaginable. He didn’t expect much, let alone a big welcome from the rest of the boys who were busy playing games, practising dance moves, or strumming instruments. He bowed, introduced himself, and the others followed suit, establishing their age order amongst other things, like their specialties and what they were currently working on. He was forced to spit out a verse by Seungcheol, who had a kind smile but stern demeanour and didn’t so much ask as he did demand. There was a pecking order and Wonwoo was dead last.
Soon, he would be flanked by Soonyoung and Mingyu, who clung to him like limpets, and Seungcheol wasn’t as terrifying as he used to be. Jihoon mainly kept to himself but let Wonwoo in from time to time, content to stay in the same booth as him so long as Wonwoo wasn’t too loud.
Enter Wen Junhui. He joined alongside Seokmin, a bright boy who could belt notes like no other and got along swimmingly with Mingyu and Soonyoung. Birds of a feather flock together it seemed, but that also meant that Junhui, fresh-faced from China and armed with an accented Korean greeting and lots of hand gestures, found a friend in the equally-as-quiet Wonwoo.
Wonwoo didn’t have to make promises as a seventeen-year-old with just enough money for a KTX ticket home and a dream, but seeing Junhui, a giant with noodles for arms and long, silky hair that he would tuck behind his ear with no recognition of how it made other people (re: Wonwoo) feel, he wanted to promise him the world. Yet, as their whole life was recorded on dated video recorders and everyone was privy to their adolescence, he grew increasingly afraid of what uttering a promise would mean.
Promise you’ll wake me up in five minutes otherwise saem will beat my ass.
You promised I could go on bathroom break!
Don’t say that. Promise me that we’ll debut together.
When Junhui sidled next to him in the practice room one day, their sweatpant-clad thighs squished together when Seungkwan and Chan started play-fighting next to them, he wanted someone to promise him that they could just stay like this forever.
“Do you want water?” he asked, offering Wonwoo a bottle after he chugged half the thing down. It was a gross thought to have but Wonwoo wondered if Junhui had tipped that bottle to his lips.
“I’m okay, thanks Jun-ah,” he responded but Junhui pushed the bottle into his hands anyway.
“I didn’t put my mouth on it, if you were wondering.” Wonwoo wanted to die in the walls of that studio.
He coughed in lieu of expressing his true thoughts and gingerly opened the lid again. Junhui laughed at him in that moment, pretending to hit the bottom of the bottle as Wonwoo waterfalled the rest of the water.
The only thing that was stopping Wonwoo from walking over to Junhui’s bunk in the middle of the night and kissing him senseless that very day was fear. He was afraid of what he would do if he didn’t keep himself in check and why, why, why kind, sweet, compassionate Junhui had to be the victim of his feelings. If it was Soonyoung, maybe they could just french it out and be done with it. He would never hold it against Wonwoo and would have just cashed in the favour later down the road. Ask him to buy him condoms and lube from the convenience store for him and call it even when they had the checks to justify dangerous acts like that.
That marked the first time Wonwoo made a promise to himself. Sure, he’d made promises to himself before, like promising to work hard to achieve his dreams, to make his parents proud, and other adjacent statements but this promise had arguably more gravity than all of the above.
Don’t tell Junhui that you’ve fallen in love with him. Don’t do it, or else you’ll never forgive yourself.
So ten years down the road, sixteen albums alongside sixty-something awards and even more nominations, hundreds of flights and concerts under their belt, Wonwoo has still kept his promise. Even when the nights were long and lonely, even when they were forced to change in close proximity backstage, mics tangled in each others’ and studs on jackets getting caught on each others’ threads, he never came any closer.
Though promises to yourself were the easiest to break, Wonwoo refused to do that himself.
So when Junhui calls him up, asking him to eat Chinese food with him, he doesn’t think twice. When Junhui wipes peanut sauce off his lips, he doesn’t cave.
But when Junhui boldly grabs his hand when they leave the restaurant and it begins to snow and everything goes quiet, fear strikes. As Wonwoo goes stock skill, staring at their intertwined hands, Junhui laughs again, the beautiful thing muffled by the yellow scarf pulled up to his chin. Has this happened before?
“You haven’t changed at all, Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui says softly, and under that fond gaze, Wonwoo feels like he’s missing something.
“You haven’t either,” Wonwoo says in apropos of nothing, clearly not understanding what Junhui is trying to say. Not until he gets tugged closer to the other man and can see the snow piling up on his lashes.
“So you must’ve known that I’ve loved you since we were seventeen, right?”
Wonwoo blinks like it’s the only bodily function he remembers. Junhui squeezes his hand to remind him that he can do that too. In fact, he can do anything in the world as long as Wen Junhui, not so skinny and long-haired as he was all those years ago, is by his side. That fear congealed in every artery and valve in his heart all but dissolves.
Wonwoo doesn’t make promises. So Junhui, the boy who knows him inside and out, makes him one instead.
"It will be just like before, I promise."
Re: [FILL] the same as seventeen
Re: [FILL] the same as seventeen
and this: In fact, he can do anything in the world as long as Wen Junhui, not so skinny and long-haired as he was all those years ago, is by his side. That fear congealed in every artery and valve in his heart all but dissolves. is truly melting MY heart.... i love ROMANCE SO MUCH!!!!! the snow imagery is so beautiful! only wnh can do this to me. love is real. thank you so much for this <3
[FILL] Behind your eyelids
Major Tags: None
Additional Tags: Childhood friends to lovers, But do you love your friend or do you love your childhood, Author is not immune to 17hols sadboi wonuisms
Permission to remix: Yes
***
“Close your eyes.”
“Junhui, no, last time you said that you put a worm in my hand.”
“It was cute!”
“My hands smelled like dirt all day.”
“Okay, open.”
Wonwoo’s vision is filled with a glowing, green-yellow blur. He pulls his head back, his periphery coming into focus, the familiar scene of Junhui’s wide grin, eyes lighting on Wonwoo expectantly. In the early dusk Wonwoo can see a droplet of sweat trailing down his temple, the bangs of his bowl cut sticking to his forehead.
A blip of light draws the gaze of the two boys back down to Junhui’s cupped hands. The firefly blinks back lazily, still waking up with the setting sun. It ambles out of the valley of Junhui’s palm and onto his thumb; its striated wings flutter and flare, testing the cooling air. They’re both silent, transfixed. Junhui’s breath slows, almost matching the rhythm of the slow illumination.
There’s a buzz. Wonwoo realizes too late that the insect is about to take off and reaches out to cover Junhui’s hands with his own at the same time that the other pulls away.
The firefly flies directly into Wonwoo’s curved palm as he brings it down, the momentum of the unintentional swat sending the bug tumbling to the ground, where it lies motionless.
“Oh,” Junhui squeaks. Wonwoo winces, his cheeks burning. The place of impact where his hand hit the firefly itches intensely.
Junhui squats down slowly, until he’s almost fully seated, bringing his face close. His balance is good. He picks up a twig and prods gently at the ground.
Wonwoo’s been squinting at the board a lot lately, struggling to make out the chalk letters from the middle row. His dad’s been too busy to take him to the optometrist for his first pair of glasses. From where he’s standing, Junhui is just poking at a random speck of dust.
After a few moments, a faint glow against the dirt catches Wonwoo’s weak eyes, and he exhales. Junhui looks up, his expression blurred and head tilted at a funny angle. Wonwoo barely notices the indignant streak of light that flies past his right shoulder.
//
“Smile!”
The cellophane around Yujin’s bouquet pokes Wonwoo in the ear as they huddle together and pose for the selfie. Junhui’s balancing his phone in one hand to take it, thumb tapping at the screen in quick bursts, the other arm wrapped around flowers, boxes of sweets, a stuffed teddy bear. A stack of envelopes is wedged precariously under his armpit —goodbye letters, from all the girls in their year who’d channeled their post-exams adrenaline into heartfelt confessions, indulging themselves in the meaningless, romantic gesture of proclaiming their love to someone they’d never see again.
“Oh — I’m really going to miss you both!” Yujin cries out, pulling Junhui and Wonwoo in for a hug. The flowers are crushed between them, a tulip nestling against Junhui’s cheek. “You’ll come see me in Busan, won’t you?”
The question is obviously meant for Wonwoo, but Junhui nods seriously in response, the full, orange-pink bud bobbing against his jaw. Yujin giggles, smacking at Junhui’s arm.
“Yujin-ah!” The call draws all of their attention, Yujin’s mother searching for her daughter in a sea of navy and black. She lets go of the two boys and turns to go, barely sparing a wave. The promise to meet up again later that day, that week, is implied. They each have their own ways of counting down the goodbyes.
Wonwoo takes advantage of the brief lull to tug at Junhui’s sleeve as students jostle around them. His uniform jacket is still buttoned up all the way from the graduation ceremony, all of them fidgeting in folding chairs under the fluorescence of the school gymnasium.
“Hmm?” The boy turns, and Wonwoo gets another face full of petals. It occurs to him suddenly that he didn’t expect Junhui to be so happy, saying all of his last goodbyes. At this point, he shouldn’t be surprised at how Junhui somehow always manages to surprise him.
“I closed my eyes in the photo,” Wonwoo says. “Before, I — I think I blinked.”
Junhui’s laughing brightly before he even finishes the sentence, nudging him with his hip. “I took like 20 pictures, Wonwoo. I’m sure one of them will turn out alright.”
//
“Say something.”
Wonwoo winces. “I don’t know if this is right.”
“Oh.” Junhui stands up from the couch immediately, running a hand through his hair. “Um, okay.” He turns away and surveys the room with a slightly baffled smile, like it’s the first time he’s seen it.
“What do you think of, when you look at me?” Wonwoo isn’t sure which of them was supposed to break the silence, but he feels responsible for it.
Junhui frowns. “What am I supposed to be thinking about?”
“Like a memory, or something about me, something from — from back then.” Wonwoo hates having to explain himself to people, but especially to Junhui. “There are so many things.”
Junhui doesn’t respond for a moment, and Wonwoo suddenly feels utterly transparent. Junhui only slows down when he’s afraid of hurting something. When he realizes his own potential for cruelty.
“Well…” He turns. “I’m looking at you.”
Wonwoo’s throat is suddenly dry.
“And I’m thinking about… how I didn’t eat enough for dinner, and the pack of ramen I saw in your kitchen earlier.”
Wonwoo wants to laugh, but he’s afraid it’ll come out more like a scoff.
Junhui’s gaze roams gently over him. “And… how your hair is kind of messy now.”
“And?” He asks hoarsely.
“And… whether you’d like to do this again sometime. Soon, that is.”
The question lingers in the air.
“I can’t do what you do.”
Junhui lets him deflect. “What do I do?”
Wonwoo takes a breath, and then another, a long exhale.
“I think I like you.”
“But?”
“I’ve liked you for a long time.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Everything about you reminds me of when we were young, just kids,” Wonwoo says. “When everything was easier. But life is different now, isn’t it? I’m not sure if I even know you, really, anymore, or if —” He’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence, but the thought is there, fully-formed; he was only able to run from it for so long. “I just miss those days,” he admits instead.
“You're afraid that nostalgia isn’t love.” Junhui’s gentle, affirming even in his stark discernment.
“It’s not fair.” Wonwoo hopes he doesn’t sound as impetuous as he feels. The distance between him and his desire was easier to understand when it seemed impossible to traverse.
“Is that what you want, Wonwoo? For things to be fair?”
“Don’t — shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t you?”
“What if I don't care?”
“What?” Wonwoo looks up.
“Your memories seem like an awfully heavy burden to carry.”
Wonwoo chuckles humorlessly. “It’s my own fault.” History has only ever served as relief, a landscape he could run his hands over, trace its peaks obsessively against the terrain of the present. “I’ve always been like this.”
Junhui crosses the room to stand in front of the couch, his body eclipsing the overhead light. “And if we split the weight?” His hand grazes up Wonwoo’s arm to rest on his shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, he crouches down until they’re face to face once again.
“You’re not the only one who remembers things, you know.”
Wonwoo inhales unsteadily.
“Close your eyes, Wonwoo.” Junhui’s voice is soft. Wonwoo swallows as he takes in the contours of his face, the proximity blurring the background like a dream. The glow dims to black.
“It will be just like before, I promise.”
Re: [FILL] Behind your eyelids
a few fav lines:
- Wonwoo hates having to explain himself to people, but especially to Junhui. “There are so many things.”
- Junhui only slows down when he’s afraid of hurting something. When he realizes his own potential for cruelty.
- “I can’t do what you do.” / Junhui lets him deflect. “What do I do?”
and i think my favorite part of how you've written wh here is that junhui exists to challenge wonwoo on those ideals of his which are giving him such a hard time. wonwoo's implicit 'things should be fair' and junhui's explicit 'what if i don't care?' it's such a breath of fresh air sort of contrast between them that makes their relationship so interesting. and i think why ww hates explaining himself to jun is just that jun is so good at unraveling those knots once they're not trapped in wonwoo's head, reminding him that not everything matters as much as he thinks about them. jww you classic intp! but i also love the arc about nostalgia, confusing your feelings for someone with your feelings for what you associate them with. thank you for writing ♡
Re: [FILL] Behind your eyelids
Re: [FILL] Behind your eyelids
Re: [FILL] Behind your eyelids