#202: Unveil Me
Prompt: #202
Title: Unveil Me
Pairing: Chen / L (Infinite)
Rating: PG
Word count: ~2.9k
Summary: Even though he tries to capture pieces of it on film, the world keeps passing Myungsoo by.
"The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up." - Paul Valéry
It's not that he feels like he's dreaming exactly; it's more that the lights and colours and sounds flow by in a stream of overwhelming everythingness and the only way he can keep anything is if he captures it on film.
Was I really in Japan? He's looking at his latest exhibition and even though he's been combing through his brain cells and tracing obscure nerve-endings, all he can find are the brief flashes he's captured in the eight by tens and eleven by fourteens that mar the spotless white walls. Everything else is gone. It would make him sad, but he's already used to it.
does the flower in
summer try to reach out and
grasp hold of the sun?
The best things in life are fleeting; there's a flash! a bright light...he focuses his thoughts, brow furrowing, but it's gone. Everything slips out of my fingers anyway.
❁ ❁ ❁
"We've assigned you an assistant for your next project."
Myungsoo looks up. An assistant? I've never needed one before. He'd protest but he's made a habit of smiling and it kicks in before he has a chance to complain.
"Yes?" He looks at the young man standing next to his editor. The man is grinning, eyeglasses perched on his nose and a newsboy cap perched on sandy brown hair.
"Pleased to meet you! I'm Kim Jongdae." Myungsoo isn't so much taken aback at the overt cheerfulness as simply bemused. Jongdae stretches out his hand for a handshake and Myungsoo tries to hide the moment of hesitation before he returns the action, his hand enfolded in a child-like grasp as his arm is swung up and down in happy exuberance. There's a flicker-something pink? but it's gone and Jongdae is giving him an excited-to-be-working-with-you smile but his eyes hold a knowing expression.
"I'm Kim Myungsoo," Myungsoo replies politely, carefully untangling his fingers from Jongdae's grasp and giving a shallow bow.
Th editor nods curtly and abandons them to their fate.
What am I supposed to do now? Myungsoo isn't good with people; he gets weird when he's excited and he has trouble remembering names and faces anyway. Jongdae seems to understand his bewildered expression though, and pulls the situation back from where it was threatening to spiral out of control.
"Your editor mentioned that you haven't worked with an assistant before," Jongdae explains, "so I'll try to make this easy, okay?" He pauses for a moment, which stretches on awkwardly. Is he expecting a response? Myungsoo quickly nods his head and Jongdae mercifully continues.
"What was the worry that first popped into your head when you heard that you were getting an assistant?" Jongdae looks so eager and understanding; Myungsoo wants to hang his head in embarrassment but he knows that won't be helpful in the long run.
"Truthfully?" he asks, testing the waters, ready to snatch his foot back before getting burned.
Jongdae nods encouragingly.
"I-was-worried-that-I-would-forget-who-you-were," Myungsoo mumbles, hiding his face in his thick wool scarf. I'm not blushing.
He chances a glance up at Jongdae to see if he's laughing or worse yet, offended but, despite a suspicious crinkling in the eyes area, the glasses-wearing assistant only looks thoughtful.
"Well, how about this?" he asks after a moment. He takes Myungsoo's favourite Canon that's sitting on the desk next to him and places it gently in his hands. There's a sizzle? Splash? Glimpse of su- and it's gone with Jongdae's smooth fingers slipping out of his grasp. Myungsoo blinks. That was strangely...familiar?
He stands, still, hands loosely cradling his camera until he notices that Jongdae is staring at him in puzzled worry.
"I'm okay." He answers the unvoiced question hanging off of his new assistant's lips, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "The editor probably warned you about my moments." Myungsoo kicks at the ground with his shoe. That's another reason I didn't want an assistant. Too many people to see how weird I really am.
But Jongdae still isn't looking creeped out as he clears this throat gently to recapture the photographer's attention.
"You're a photographer," he says. "If you're worried about forgetting me, then why don't you just take a photo of me every day that we work together?"
Myungsoo blinks. That makes...surprising sense. Nodding in agreement, he lifts the viewfinder to one eye, framing his new assistant in the photograph. He's pretty good-looking, now that I'm taking a photograph. The light falls at an angle from a casement window and dust notes drift lazily in the golden summer rays, haloing Jongdae's brown curls. As the shutter sounds a flashbulb goes off in Myungsoo's head and his vision goes white.
❁ ❁ ❁
this sharp daylight cuts
across the air; your glance now
emblazoned on dust
❁ ❁ ❁
Working with Jongdae is surprisingly easy. I almost feel like he's been here beside me forever... His cheerful smile, his help with managing lenses and batteries and memory cards; soon Myungsoo isn't sure how he ever survived before without an assistant. There's just the odd moment- a flash of colour or the soft feeling of fabric or skin, but the glimpses are so fleeting that Myungsoo can't get anything from them.
But there's that time, every day, when Myungsoo lifts the camera to his face and frames the Jongdae of the day: laughing Jongdae, smiling Jongdae, pensive Jongdae, mischievous Jongdae; as the shutter clicks next to his ear the sound triggers an explosion in his head and he's left bewildered, familiar yet unknown images escaping the depths and folds of his memories but fleeing faster than his mind's eye can focus. And slowly, a quiet resoluion forms in Myungsoo's shy determination. You remind me of someone. But who?
Jongdae discovers Myungsoo crouched on the ground one evening after they've torn everything down for the day, photo albums scattered over the floor trailing loose photographs like leaves.
"What are you doing?"
Myungsoo looks up from examining a photo of himself in tenth grade. Why did they let me dye my hair blond? Jongdae looks curious, eyes wrinkled in a smile, so Myungsoo decides it's okay to explain.
I hope.
"You sometimes remind me of...someone," he says hesitantly, stirring the pictures on the ground; leaves floating on a pool of memory.
Jongdae doesn't reply, which is strange.
After a moment Myungsoo looks up to see if the assistant is still there. He is, staring into the middle distance with a strange expression on his face.
"Jongdae?"
He seems to snap back into himself with a start, turning to look at the photographer.
Myungsoo remembers and stands up to get his camera. It's been a crazy day and he hasn't taken a photograph of Jongdae yet.
He's halfway to his Canon, sitting on an end table out of the day's fray, when he's surprised to feel a hand on his arm.
The soft velvet of skin; lips tracing bone.
Jongdae shakes his head.
"Not today," he says, and doesn't explain why.
As Myungsoo watches the assistant gather his things to go, he wonders why Jongdae looks so...disappointed.
❁ ❁ ❁
Leaves fall in autumn
Red and gold against your face
Eyes speaking winter
❁ ❁ ❁
There's nothing in his old albums but Myungsoo feels like something -
there are so many holes in my memory but this time...
He puts the books back on the shelf. Dust flies up and dances in the electric light. He reaches out a hand but they only escape his grasping fingers.
Like my memories.
Myungsoo takes a day off in the middle of the next shoot to take the trek home by train to look through his old yearbooks.
Jongdae waves him goodbye from the platform, curly hair glowing in the sun. Myungsoo snaps a photo but wind ruffling his hair and the clacking of wheels on the track he knows it'll turn out blurry.
That's okay.
Jongdae had a strangely perturbed expression on his face and that picture stays in Myungsoo's mind as he transfers from the train to a bus, bumping down the road, fields waving along the highway before he gets to his hometown.
His mother is surprised to see him.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, dusting off his jacket before hanging it up in the closet.
Myungsoo feels bad. I should go home more often.
"Of course not," he smiles and gives her a big hug which she returns, smoothing a comforting hand over his back. Her hair smells like lavender. Myungsoo takes a deep breath of his childhood.
She makes him supper and tells him all the lives and stories of his former classmates and the neighbourhood children - all of them faces he can't recall. Where do my memories go?
Later, he tucks himself into his childhood bed, looking at the photos framed on the wall. He doesn't recognize any of the faces, and for the first time it makes him sad.
❁ ❁ ❁
Leaving home with wind
Like leaves we drift away and
Only become fall
❁ ❁ ❁
He's looking through all his photo albums, all the photos he took in school and he can't find it.
Why do I feel like I'm missing something?
He storms out to the garden and watches the rain falling on the pond, tiny ripples billowing out from each drop, colliding and overlapping and merging with the shoreline.
The wind blows a few errant raindrops at his face. He blinks.
"Is something wrong?" His mother is framed in the doorway, wind ruffling through her silky hair. Her eyes are wrinkled at the corners.
Sadness.
He puts on a smile and shakes his head.
"I'm just looking for someone." She understands.
They stand and watch the rain in silence until she sighs and moves to go back inside.
"Didn't you have that friend in university?"
Laughter, sunlight tickling his face and fingers like dust motes dancing over his skin -
There's nothing in the yearbook graduation photos.
Nothing.
As he rides the train back to the city, the clouds roll in, covering the sun.
❁ ❁ ❁
There's something wrong with Jongdae's face now, he can see it out of the corner of his eye but when he looks it's gone. Jongdae smiles at him as usual as passes him his camera. Fingers slipping away - the cold sheets - "wait..."
The photos are selected and labelled and hung and people oooh and ahhhh. Jongdae smiles and stands and Myungsoo looks at the places and can't remember any of them.
Snap.
He has an undeveloped memory card of his assistant's face.
Snap.
"So this is goodbye." Jongdae smiles and shakes his hand - dust dust empty rooms and loud silence - there's something in his eyes. Something wet.
Myungsoo wants to say thank you? but he's lost his tongue in his mouth.
"..."
Jongdae pats him on the shoulder and turns away, his laugh trailing into the night.
So much broken glass.
❁ ❁ ❁
It's strange, not having Jongdae around. Nothing is right and everything is wrong.
"Can I see your ticket?"
Myungsoo pats his pockets before realizing he's forgotten it in his other pair of black slacks.
He keeps the memory card in the pocket of his camera bag.
"Hi! How have you been?" Myungsoo smiles and nods and smiles and nods and the voices greeting each other and catching up from university coalesce into a wall of wordless static.
"Congratulations on your success!"
"Congratulations on your new project!"
"Congratulations on your award!"
He tries to find an orange juice among the mimosas but there are too many bubbles.
"Do you remember that student from graduation year?"
"The one who transferred in mid-way and then -"
"- transferred out again before graduation? Yes that one!"
"What was his name?" Myungsoo doesn't care, he bursts into the conversation and for once his mouth keeps up with the words.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember." The blond-haired man looks regretful, swirling a scotch glass half full of amber liquid as he tilts his head in thought. "You could check the school paper archives I guess."
"Hey wait a minute!" Myungsoo turns to the other man, tall with an imposing expression. "Didn't he use to hang out with you?"
Voices laughter questions "why won't...let me...never...you take photos of everything!" friendly scuffles rumpled sheets
Myungsoo is gone before they realize who he is.
❁ ❁ ❁
All the sounds do not
Come together to make words -
Snow falls thick at night
❁ ❁ ❁
Of course they let him into the archive, even though it's after hours. He would usually complain about the special favours I can't remember you anyway but -
The archivist smiles and asked for an autograph. I hope I spelled my name right.
It takes a long time, tearing apart boxes under the slightly concerned gaze of the supervising student falling into leaves - bright colours red orange gold - laughter but there it is.
An unpublished shot.
It's a candid photo, Myungsoo snapping a picture of something he can't now recall, the other person in the frame looking at him.
Jongdae.
There's a longing expression on his face.
❁ ❁ ❁
I looked for you but
You were gone with the geese as
They fled the snow south
❁ ❁ ❁
Tap tap tap
He only had to ask for his former assistant' address at the office and it was in his hand with a train ticket and his feet were on the platform and he doesn't recall ever having been this awake in his life.
Tap tap tap
The door opens under his hand and he almost over balances -
"Myungsoo?" Jongdae looks - brown eyes curly hair a grinning face - "What are you doing here?"
Myungsoo barges in, trailing a smile slipping waving a train going growing smaller in the distance Jongdae behind and there's his camera.
The one he thought he'd lost in university.
"That's my camera."
Jongdae looks embarrassed.
"I wanted something to remember you by."
"But what about me?" Myungsoo doesn't get angry everyone says yes I do! "What if I wanted to remember you?" He glares at Jongdae who looks at the ground. At Myungsoo's bare feet. Myungsoo curls his toes who cares about socks anyway? -
"That's was the point," Jongdae says, his voice barely a whisper.
"Oh." The air escapes his lungs as Myungsoo sinks down onto the sofa.
Oh.
He doesn't know what to do. There's only static. An overexposed frame.
Jongdae breathes out a choking laugh.
"I knew about you." He sounds like there's something in his throat something that has been buried in the dark for far too long and is now clawing its way out - "I wanted to leave my past behind and you were there, so tempting, a person always in the present and as long as I was careful -"
He stops, takes a deep breath. Resumes.
"As long as I was careful not to be photographed I was an evanescent part of your life."
Myungsoo watches the sun play over his face, his jaw, the the beams tickling his Adam's apple as he speaks.
"But I guess I didn't really think - I had to leave but I thought that you wouldn't really - and then I found you again but you didn't know me."
Myungsoo stares at him. Glares at him. Drinks him in.
I wish my eyes could take photos.
"I remembered the moments," he says finally, when it's clear that Jongdae doesn't know how to continue. "I remembered the sun and your laugh and the texture of your hair."
His fingers feel empty, like everything is slipping by too fast again and will be lost before he can find anything to cling onto.
Myungsoo stuffs his fear, his apprehensions, his worries into the deep dark back pockets of his heart and steps forward.
Startled brown eyes -
Their mouths fit together perfectly.
❁ ❁ ❁
Warm sun laughter crumpled sheets velvet skin
Jongdae has his old camera. The one he though he'd lost.
"There's actually another photo on this roll of film," he admits, curly hair a crumpled mess.
Myungsoo looks up from where his hands are busy running up and down the smooth expanse of Jongdae's back and he nuzzles his face into the warm velvet, only half listening. The world is as from behind rose-coloured glasses.
"You took a photo of me once before, so I took the camera away, and then I left."
Myungsoo doesn't care about Jongdae's explanation, only the texture of hair between his fingers and the warm recesses of collarbones.
Snap
"Hey!"
Jongdae only grins.
"I need something to remember you by too," he smirks, holding the camera off the bed out of Myungsoo's reach.
Myungsoo only scowls before getting back to business. Jongdae manages to get the camera to safety before he stops smiling.
❁ ❁ ❁
Your mouth like a bud
Lips unfurling like petals
I taste sweet nectar
Author's note: Thanks so much for the lovely inspiring prompt and to S who is the answer to the world's problems. The title is from Say Lou Lou's Beloved (kind of from Chen's point of view). I wrote all the haiku poems in the story myself.
Title: Unveil Me
Pairing: Chen / L (Infinite)
Rating: PG
Word count: ~2.9k
Summary: Even though he tries to capture pieces of it on film, the world keeps passing Myungsoo by.
"The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up." - Paul Valéry
It's not that he feels like he's dreaming exactly; it's more that the lights and colours and sounds flow by in a stream of overwhelming everythingness and the only way he can keep anything is if he captures it on film.
Was I really in Japan? He's looking at his latest exhibition and even though he's been combing through his brain cells and tracing obscure nerve-endings, all he can find are the brief flashes he's captured in the eight by tens and eleven by fourteens that mar the spotless white walls. Everything else is gone. It would make him sad, but he's already used to it.
does the flower in
summer try to reach out and
grasp hold of the sun?
The best things in life are fleeting; there's a flash! a bright light...he focuses his thoughts, brow furrowing, but it's gone. Everything slips out of my fingers anyway.
❁ ❁ ❁
"We've assigned you an assistant for your next project."
Myungsoo looks up. An assistant? I've never needed one before. He'd protest but he's made a habit of smiling and it kicks in before he has a chance to complain.
"Yes?" He looks at the young man standing next to his editor. The man is grinning, eyeglasses perched on his nose and a newsboy cap perched on sandy brown hair.
"Pleased to meet you! I'm Kim Jongdae." Myungsoo isn't so much taken aback at the overt cheerfulness as simply bemused. Jongdae stretches out his hand for a handshake and Myungsoo tries to hide the moment of hesitation before he returns the action, his hand enfolded in a child-like grasp as his arm is swung up and down in happy exuberance. There's a flicker-something pink? but it's gone and Jongdae is giving him an excited-to-be-working-with-you smile but his eyes hold a knowing expression.
"I'm Kim Myungsoo," Myungsoo replies politely, carefully untangling his fingers from Jongdae's grasp and giving a shallow bow.
Th editor nods curtly and abandons them to their fate.
What am I supposed to do now? Myungsoo isn't good with people; he gets weird when he's excited and he has trouble remembering names and faces anyway. Jongdae seems to understand his bewildered expression though, and pulls the situation back from where it was threatening to spiral out of control.
"Your editor mentioned that you haven't worked with an assistant before," Jongdae explains, "so I'll try to make this easy, okay?" He pauses for a moment, which stretches on awkwardly. Is he expecting a response? Myungsoo quickly nods his head and Jongdae mercifully continues.
"What was the worry that first popped into your head when you heard that you were getting an assistant?" Jongdae looks so eager and understanding; Myungsoo wants to hang his head in embarrassment but he knows that won't be helpful in the long run.
"Truthfully?" he asks, testing the waters, ready to snatch his foot back before getting burned.
Jongdae nods encouragingly.
"I-was-worried-that-I-would-forget-who-you-were," Myungsoo mumbles, hiding his face in his thick wool scarf. I'm not blushing.
He chances a glance up at Jongdae to see if he's laughing or worse yet, offended but, despite a suspicious crinkling in the eyes area, the glasses-wearing assistant only looks thoughtful.
"Well, how about this?" he asks after a moment. He takes Myungsoo's favourite Canon that's sitting on the desk next to him and places it gently in his hands. There's a sizzle? Splash? Glimpse of su- and it's gone with Jongdae's smooth fingers slipping out of his grasp. Myungsoo blinks. That was strangely...familiar?
He stands, still, hands loosely cradling his camera until he notices that Jongdae is staring at him in puzzled worry.
"I'm okay." He answers the unvoiced question hanging off of his new assistant's lips, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "The editor probably warned you about my moments." Myungsoo kicks at the ground with his shoe. That's another reason I didn't want an assistant. Too many people to see how weird I really am.
But Jongdae still isn't looking creeped out as he clears this throat gently to recapture the photographer's attention.
"You're a photographer," he says. "If you're worried about forgetting me, then why don't you just take a photo of me every day that we work together?"
Myungsoo blinks. That makes...surprising sense. Nodding in agreement, he lifts the viewfinder to one eye, framing his new assistant in the photograph. He's pretty good-looking, now that I'm taking a photograph. The light falls at an angle from a casement window and dust notes drift lazily in the golden summer rays, haloing Jongdae's brown curls. As the shutter sounds a flashbulb goes off in Myungsoo's head and his vision goes white.
❁ ❁ ❁
this sharp daylight cuts
across the air; your glance now
emblazoned on dust
❁ ❁ ❁
Working with Jongdae is surprisingly easy. I almost feel like he's been here beside me forever... His cheerful smile, his help with managing lenses and batteries and memory cards; soon Myungsoo isn't sure how he ever survived before without an assistant. There's just the odd moment- a flash of colour or the soft feeling of fabric or skin, but the glimpses are so fleeting that Myungsoo can't get anything from them.
But there's that time, every day, when Myungsoo lifts the camera to his face and frames the Jongdae of the day: laughing Jongdae, smiling Jongdae, pensive Jongdae, mischievous Jongdae; as the shutter clicks next to his ear the sound triggers an explosion in his head and he's left bewildered, familiar yet unknown images escaping the depths and folds of his memories but fleeing faster than his mind's eye can focus. And slowly, a quiet resoluion forms in Myungsoo's shy determination. You remind me of someone. But who?
Jongdae discovers Myungsoo crouched on the ground one evening after they've torn everything down for the day, photo albums scattered over the floor trailing loose photographs like leaves.
"What are you doing?"
Myungsoo looks up from examining a photo of himself in tenth grade. Why did they let me dye my hair blond? Jongdae looks curious, eyes wrinkled in a smile, so Myungsoo decides it's okay to explain.
I hope.
"You sometimes remind me of...someone," he says hesitantly, stirring the pictures on the ground; leaves floating on a pool of memory.
Jongdae doesn't reply, which is strange.
After a moment Myungsoo looks up to see if the assistant is still there. He is, staring into the middle distance with a strange expression on his face.
"Jongdae?"
He seems to snap back into himself with a start, turning to look at the photographer.
Myungsoo remembers and stands up to get his camera. It's been a crazy day and he hasn't taken a photograph of Jongdae yet.
He's halfway to his Canon, sitting on an end table out of the day's fray, when he's surprised to feel a hand on his arm.
The soft velvet of skin; lips tracing bone.
Jongdae shakes his head.
"Not today," he says, and doesn't explain why.
As Myungsoo watches the assistant gather his things to go, he wonders why Jongdae looks so...disappointed.
❁ ❁ ❁
Leaves fall in autumn
Red and gold against your face
Eyes speaking winter
❁ ❁ ❁
There's nothing in his old albums but Myungsoo feels like something -
there are so many holes in my memory but this time...
He puts the books back on the shelf. Dust flies up and dances in the electric light. He reaches out a hand but they only escape his grasping fingers.
Like my memories.
Myungsoo takes a day off in the middle of the next shoot to take the trek home by train to look through his old yearbooks.
Jongdae waves him goodbye from the platform, curly hair glowing in the sun. Myungsoo snaps a photo but wind ruffling his hair and the clacking of wheels on the track he knows it'll turn out blurry.
That's okay.
Jongdae had a strangely perturbed expression on his face and that picture stays in Myungsoo's mind as he transfers from the train to a bus, bumping down the road, fields waving along the highway before he gets to his hometown.
His mother is surprised to see him.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, dusting off his jacket before hanging it up in the closet.
Myungsoo feels bad. I should go home more often.
"Of course not," he smiles and gives her a big hug which she returns, smoothing a comforting hand over his back. Her hair smells like lavender. Myungsoo takes a deep breath of his childhood.
She makes him supper and tells him all the lives and stories of his former classmates and the neighbourhood children - all of them faces he can't recall. Where do my memories go?
Later, he tucks himself into his childhood bed, looking at the photos framed on the wall. He doesn't recognize any of the faces, and for the first time it makes him sad.
❁ ❁ ❁
Leaving home with wind
Like leaves we drift away and
Only become fall
❁ ❁ ❁
He's looking through all his photo albums, all the photos he took in school and he can't find it.
Why do I feel like I'm missing something?
He storms out to the garden and watches the rain falling on the pond, tiny ripples billowing out from each drop, colliding and overlapping and merging with the shoreline.
The wind blows a few errant raindrops at his face. He blinks.
"Is something wrong?" His mother is framed in the doorway, wind ruffling through her silky hair. Her eyes are wrinkled at the corners.
Sadness.
He puts on a smile and shakes his head.
"I'm just looking for someone." She understands.
They stand and watch the rain in silence until she sighs and moves to go back inside.
"Didn't you have that friend in university?"
Laughter, sunlight tickling his face and fingers like dust motes dancing over his skin -
There's nothing in the yearbook graduation photos.
Nothing.
As he rides the train back to the city, the clouds roll in, covering the sun.
❁ ❁ ❁
There's something wrong with Jongdae's face now, he can see it out of the corner of his eye but when he looks it's gone. Jongdae smiles at him as usual as passes him his camera. Fingers slipping away - the cold sheets - "wait..."
The photos are selected and labelled and hung and people oooh and ahhhh. Jongdae smiles and stands and Myungsoo looks at the places and can't remember any of them.
Snap.
He has an undeveloped memory card of his assistant's face.
Snap.
"So this is goodbye." Jongdae smiles and shakes his hand - dust dust empty rooms and loud silence - there's something in his eyes. Something wet.
Myungsoo wants to say thank you? but he's lost his tongue in his mouth.
"..."
Jongdae pats him on the shoulder and turns away, his laugh trailing into the night.
So much broken glass.
❁ ❁ ❁
It's strange, not having Jongdae around. Nothing is right and everything is wrong.
"Can I see your ticket?"
Myungsoo pats his pockets before realizing he's forgotten it in his other pair of black slacks.
He keeps the memory card in the pocket of his camera bag.
"Hi! How have you been?" Myungsoo smiles and nods and smiles and nods and the voices greeting each other and catching up from university coalesce into a wall of wordless static.
"Congratulations on your success!"
"Congratulations on your new project!"
"Congratulations on your award!"
He tries to find an orange juice among the mimosas but there are too many bubbles.
"Do you remember that student from graduation year?"
"The one who transferred in mid-way and then -"
"- transferred out again before graduation? Yes that one!"
"What was his name?" Myungsoo doesn't care, he bursts into the conversation and for once his mouth keeps up with the words.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember." The blond-haired man looks regretful, swirling a scotch glass half full of amber liquid as he tilts his head in thought. "You could check the school paper archives I guess."
"Hey wait a minute!" Myungsoo turns to the other man, tall with an imposing expression. "Didn't he use to hang out with you?"
Voices laughter questions "why won't...let me...never...you take photos of everything!" friendly scuffles rumpled sheets
Myungsoo is gone before they realize who he is.
❁ ❁ ❁
All the sounds do not
Come together to make words -
Snow falls thick at night
❁ ❁ ❁
Of course they let him into the archive, even though it's after hours. He would usually complain about the special favours I can't remember you anyway but -
The archivist smiles and asked for an autograph. I hope I spelled my name right.
It takes a long time, tearing apart boxes under the slightly concerned gaze of the supervising student falling into leaves - bright colours red orange gold - laughter but there it is.
An unpublished shot.
It's a candid photo, Myungsoo snapping a picture of something he can't now recall, the other person in the frame looking at him.
Jongdae.
There's a longing expression on his face.
❁ ❁ ❁
I looked for you but
You were gone with the geese as
They fled the snow south
❁ ❁ ❁
Tap tap tap
He only had to ask for his former assistant' address at the office and it was in his hand with a train ticket and his feet were on the platform and he doesn't recall ever having been this awake in his life.
Tap tap tap
The door opens under his hand and he almost over balances -
"Myungsoo?" Jongdae looks - brown eyes curly hair a grinning face - "What are you doing here?"
Myungsoo barges in, trailing a smile slipping waving a train going growing smaller in the distance Jongdae behind and there's his camera.
The one he thought he'd lost in university.
"That's my camera."
Jongdae looks embarrassed.
"I wanted something to remember you by."
"But what about me?" Myungsoo doesn't get angry everyone says yes I do! "What if I wanted to remember you?" He glares at Jongdae who looks at the ground. At Myungsoo's bare feet. Myungsoo curls his toes who cares about socks anyway? -
"That's was the point," Jongdae says, his voice barely a whisper.
"Oh." The air escapes his lungs as Myungsoo sinks down onto the sofa.
Oh.
He doesn't know what to do. There's only static. An overexposed frame.
Jongdae breathes out a choking laugh.
"I knew about you." He sounds like there's something in his throat something that has been buried in the dark for far too long and is now clawing its way out - "I wanted to leave my past behind and you were there, so tempting, a person always in the present and as long as I was careful -"
He stops, takes a deep breath. Resumes.
"As long as I was careful not to be photographed I was an evanescent part of your life."
Myungsoo watches the sun play over his face, his jaw, the the beams tickling his Adam's apple as he speaks.
"But I guess I didn't really think - I had to leave but I thought that you wouldn't really - and then I found you again but you didn't know me."
Myungsoo stares at him. Glares at him. Drinks him in.
I wish my eyes could take photos.
"I remembered the moments," he says finally, when it's clear that Jongdae doesn't know how to continue. "I remembered the sun and your laugh and the texture of your hair."
His fingers feel empty, like everything is slipping by too fast again and will be lost before he can find anything to cling onto.
Myungsoo stuffs his fear, his apprehensions, his worries into the deep dark back pockets of his heart and steps forward.
Startled brown eyes -
Their mouths fit together perfectly.
❁ ❁ ❁
Warm sun laughter crumpled sheets velvet skin
Jongdae has his old camera. The one he though he'd lost.
"There's actually another photo on this roll of film," he admits, curly hair a crumpled mess.
Myungsoo looks up from where his hands are busy running up and down the smooth expanse of Jongdae's back and he nuzzles his face into the warm velvet, only half listening. The world is as from behind rose-coloured glasses.
"You took a photo of me once before, so I took the camera away, and then I left."
Myungsoo doesn't care about Jongdae's explanation, only the texture of hair between his fingers and the warm recesses of collarbones.
Snap
"Hey!"
Jongdae only grins.
"I need something to remember you by too," he smirks, holding the camera off the bed out of Myungsoo's reach.
Myungsoo only scowls before getting back to business. Jongdae manages to get the camera to safety before he stops smiling.
❁ ❁ ❁
Your mouth like a bud
Lips unfurling like petals
I taste sweet nectar
Author's note: Thanks so much for the lovely inspiring prompt and to S who is the answer to the world's problems. The title is from Say Lou Lou's Beloved (kind of from Chen's point of view). I wrote all the haiku poems in the story myself.