Status: Closed
This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted.
About
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.
(Note: art fills just have to include the phrase and remixes don't have to follow the rule.)
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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Prompting
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Filling
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You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection.
Remixing
- Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above;
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Art/media
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Note!
Need ideas? Have a look through the 2021 Fills Masterlist and the prompts there. You're welcome to keep interacting with, fill, or remix content from the previous rounds.
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[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