[infinite] 018. run
018. run
infinite, dongwoo/woohyun
pg, 311w
running is the only time woohyun can be good.
The Han River is the most common place for a run, but Woohyun prefers the indoor track at a stadium close to their dorm. It's private, especially early in the morning on a Sunday, and Woohyun likes its sense of purpose, how it's only been built for one thing.
When Woohyun runs, everything falls out of his mind except for the rhythm of his feet and the pace of his breathing. He times his breaths to the hits of his feet against the track: in for four steps, out for four steps, like the way Hoya counts choreography in the practice room or Jaeho and Seungsoo count melodies in the studio. He counts until he can't cram the syllables into his rhythm, then he starts over again from one. When he runs, he's no longer Woohyun the main vocalist, Woohyun the son, Woohyun who keeps secrets. He's just a man who runs and keeps running.
Up in the bleachers, Dongwoo watches him go around the track, but Woohyun keeps his eyes fixed forward, only looking at the stretch of red lane in front of him and not at the grey-blond head of hair in the stands. Five more, he tells himself, then he pushes into the straightaway, pumping his arms a little harder than before.
Later that day, in his room while everyone else is on the other side of the door, Dongwoo laughs and says, "You look like an ant down there when you run. What do you think about?"
"Nothing," Woohyun replies, and it's the truth. I don't think about you would also be the truth. So would I try not to think about anything. "I just try to run more laps than I did last time."
"You're so good," Dongwoo tells him, leaning in, and as Woohyun opens his mouth to his tongue he thinks, No, I'm not.
infinite, dongwoo/woohyun
pg, 311w
running is the only time woohyun can be good.
The Han River is the most common place for a run, but Woohyun prefers the indoor track at a stadium close to their dorm. It's private, especially early in the morning on a Sunday, and Woohyun likes its sense of purpose, how it's only been built for one thing.
When Woohyun runs, everything falls out of his mind except for the rhythm of his feet and the pace of his breathing. He times his breaths to the hits of his feet against the track: in for four steps, out for four steps, like the way Hoya counts choreography in the practice room or Jaeho and Seungsoo count melodies in the studio. He counts until he can't cram the syllables into his rhythm, then he starts over again from one. When he runs, he's no longer Woohyun the main vocalist, Woohyun the son, Woohyun who keeps secrets. He's just a man who runs and keeps running.
Up in the bleachers, Dongwoo watches him go around the track, but Woohyun keeps his eyes fixed forward, only looking at the stretch of red lane in front of him and not at the grey-blond head of hair in the stands. Five more, he tells himself, then he pushes into the straightaway, pumping his arms a little harder than before.
Later that day, in his room while everyone else is on the other side of the door, Dongwoo laughs and says, "You look like an ant down there when you run. What do you think about?"
"Nothing," Woohyun replies, and it's the truth. I don't think about you would also be the truth. So would I try not to think about anything. "I just try to run more laps than I did last time."
"You're so good," Dongwoo tells him, leaning in, and as Woohyun opens his mouth to his tongue he thinks, No, I'm not.