writing dump.
two more ficlets done for kpfw, one of which i kind of like and the other of which i kind of don't.
i.
jiyong always wants to go somewhere. when his eyes become vacant, pupils expaned as big as they can be to accommodate thoughts and dreams of even bigger cities, seunghyun knows he's planning his next trip to some faraway country. seunghyun peers over jiyong's shoulder one night when he's picking another place to travel to, and a thought makes his skin prickle and itch.
"why do you always want to go so far away? it's like you're running from something."
"it's not that far away," jiyong answers quietly as he makes a red dot somewhere in europe. seunghyun bites his tongue and says nothing more because he supposes nothing is really out of reach on a map.
but seunghyun's skin keeps itching with that one thought, and the fact that jiyong practically steals off in the dead of night doesn't help anything. he doesn't get a call or a note or a text message or anything like that; there's only a post it note left in his mailbox with 'paris 2 weeks' written on it. he's left to assume that jiyong is fine and will be back in fourteen days, staying to rest a while and play at being settled before flying off to some new location. seunghyun is okay with it, it's nothing new.
so like always, he goes to the airport that he knows jiyong will arrive at and hangs around for the day. like always, he buys something sweet to give jiyong when he arrives even though he knows jiyong doesn't need it. like always, he waits patiently and faithfully. except this time, he waits and he waits and
nothing. he goes home at some ungodly hour, without jiyong and with a cold, heavy feeling in his stomach that lasts for days and weeks and months. eventually, the feeling becomes less noticeable, but it never goes away. a year later with no jiyong to speak of, he looks at the box of year old, uneaten candy on his desk, and he realizes that he should've expected it, anyway.
ii.
maybe there's something to this erasing your memory thing, he thinks. they say that there's research, lots of graphs and charts and numbers and data about all these new drugs. maybe all of this scribbling on paper is useful to someone with a college education and a starched, white lab coat, but to him it doesn't mean shit. all these pills and serums made of the fragments of mad scientists' broken dreams melted down and compressed into something consumable are far out of his reach. not that he was grasping for them anyway.
he places the tube into one of his nostrils and sniffs long and hard. there's a kick afterward that leaves him shaking his head and putting his fingers to his nose, and this is his miracle drug, this is his savior. he inhales old air made new with the sudden spinning of his head.
"jiyong?"
jiyong rubs at his nose again and looks up, putting the cap back on the tube and shoving it in his pocket. there's someone standing in front of him, looking angry and sad all at once, but it doesn't bother him; he doesn't know what those emotions really mean any more.
"and you are?" he asks coolly.
the other pulls at his hair and his face like maybe he can rearrange them into something that jiyong can remember.
"seunghyun," he says. "i'm seunghyun, don't you remember?"
jiyong fingers the tube in his pocket, the only real solid thing in his life.
"sorry, but no. nice to meet you anyway."
i.
jiyong always wants to go somewhere. when his eyes become vacant, pupils expaned as big as they can be to accommodate thoughts and dreams of even bigger cities, seunghyun knows he's planning his next trip to some faraway country. seunghyun peers over jiyong's shoulder one night when he's picking another place to travel to, and a thought makes his skin prickle and itch.
"why do you always want to go so far away? it's like you're running from something."
"it's not that far away," jiyong answers quietly as he makes a red dot somewhere in europe. seunghyun bites his tongue and says nothing more because he supposes nothing is really out of reach on a map.
but seunghyun's skin keeps itching with that one thought, and the fact that jiyong practically steals off in the dead of night doesn't help anything. he doesn't get a call or a note or a text message or anything like that; there's only a post it note left in his mailbox with 'paris 2 weeks' written on it. he's left to assume that jiyong is fine and will be back in fourteen days, staying to rest a while and play at being settled before flying off to some new location. seunghyun is okay with it, it's nothing new.
so like always, he goes to the airport that he knows jiyong will arrive at and hangs around for the day. like always, he buys something sweet to give jiyong when he arrives even though he knows jiyong doesn't need it. like always, he waits patiently and faithfully. except this time, he waits and he waits and
nothing. he goes home at some ungodly hour, without jiyong and with a cold, heavy feeling in his stomach that lasts for days and weeks and months. eventually, the feeling becomes less noticeable, but it never goes away. a year later with no jiyong to speak of, he looks at the box of year old, uneaten candy on his desk, and he realizes that he should've expected it, anyway.
ii.
maybe there's something to this erasing your memory thing, he thinks. they say that there's research, lots of graphs and charts and numbers and data about all these new drugs. maybe all of this scribbling on paper is useful to someone with a college education and a starched, white lab coat, but to him it doesn't mean shit. all these pills and serums made of the fragments of mad scientists' broken dreams melted down and compressed into something consumable are far out of his reach. not that he was grasping for them anyway.
he places the tube into one of his nostrils and sniffs long and hard. there's a kick afterward that leaves him shaking his head and putting his fingers to his nose, and this is his miracle drug, this is his savior. he inhales old air made new with the sudden spinning of his head.
"jiyong?"
jiyong rubs at his nose again and looks up, putting the cap back on the tube and shoving it in his pocket. there's someone standing in front of him, looking angry and sad all at once, but it doesn't bother him; he doesn't know what those emotions really mean any more.
"and you are?" he asks coolly.
the other pulls at his hair and his face like maybe he can rearrange them into something that jiyong can remember.
"seunghyun," he says. "i'm seunghyun, don't you remember?"
jiyong fingers the tube in his pocket, the only real solid thing in his life.
"sorry, but no. nice to meet you anyway."