persona non grata (i / ?)
pairing/characters: wonshik/hongbin, VIXX.
rating: PG for now.
summary: kim wonshik lost a best friend and himself when he was eighteen.
at nineteen, he's slowly falling for an ostracised half-blood vampire; the kind that he, and the rest of the society, despises so much.
(swear i will fix this summary because wow my hands are shaking it's been a long time since i posted a fic troollolololololoollololo.)
author notes: 1, 888 words. no kidding. my hands are shaking.
special shoutout for a-dead-koala, do you still remember our deep conversation regarding hongbin and his reservedness and ravi being the most likely to feelings-ing? yes please.
anyway.
this fic is quite ambitious. about coming of age-ish, first labbu, and me trying to decode the hell out of VIXX's artwork. ah, such a confusing and interesting creature.
the man is sporting a vibrant red hair that oddly suits his dark skin and his welcoming but careful smile. he hugs wonshik instead of a timid handshake any distant cousin would probably do in such occasion. wonshik doesn’t even remember a cha hakyeon on the great kim’s family tree, after all.
wonshik returns the hug with one awkward arm, sniffing a wave of vanilla in the air and bowing again when they break apart.
“please take a good care of me, hakyeon-hyung.” he mumbles to the floor of chuncheon’s eerily deserted train station. it’s about lunchtime. if it’s in seoul’s subway station, the place would be bustling with the crowd of hungry office workers. so yeah. eerie. that’s the word.
wonshik doesn’t know what else to say. the older man’s name feels weird on his tongue now that he’s saying it out loud. they’ve been exchanging texts for the past a couple of weeks after wonshik got his cellphone back; after his parents announced that it’s the best for him to spend his senior year in gangwon-do, where his distant cousin lives alone ever since his whole family moved to japan. they said hakyeon-hyung is a relative from wonshik’s harabeoji (his appa’s father) side. or something along those lines. they’ve never met before? wonshik’s not sure. but hakyeon-hyung seemed excited and actually willing to let wonshik stay with him.
(it’s not like wonshik is ungrateful. they’re just...practically strangers about to share the same space. wonshik has had enough, really.)
“you’re taller than i thought.” hakyeon-hyung reaches to pat wonshik’s slowly growing, crew cut hair. “and scarier. but don’t worry, if anyone is messing with you, please don’t ever hesitate to whine to me, wonshik-ah.”
wonshik can’t help but snorting like a horse. it’s been a long time ever since someone had called his name without a hint of malice on their voices. apparently, wonshik misses the simplicity of such thing. wonshik-ah. damn, that’s really good to hear. but wonshik is not going to admit it to hakyeon-hyung. nor to anybody. nope.
meanwhile, hakyeon-hyung fakes a seriously fascinating scandalized face and splutters,
“what? i’ve always wanted a little brother that i could protect! remember i’m eight years older than you.” he gently takes over one of the the brand new black suitcases from wonshik’s grip and leads them out to the, surprise surprise, deserted parking lot.
hakyeon-hyung tells wonshik to put the suitcases on the trunk of his, of course, maroon red kia sportage.
“are you a red mania, hyung?” wonshik does remember hakyeon-hyung is way older than him, and maybe he shouldn’t have teased hakyeon-hyung on their first meeting. but the older man is asking for it. look, he’s even giggling happily at wonshik’s careless remark!
“oh, kiyo!” hakyeon-hyung pats wonshik’s head again. “let’s go! your hakyeon-hyung is going to spoil you rotten starting from today. why are you so skinny, aigooo~ it’s time to have a feast! you’ll love the foods here. do you like chicken galbi?”
“i like chicken alright.” wonshik shrugs, acting cool just to piss off hakyeon-hyung some more, who makes another fascinating scandalized face and flicks his unprotected forehead. “wow!” wonshik frowns, but his mouth is stretching on its own to form a smile. “wow! child abuse!” he roughly rubs the stinging spot.
hakyeon-hyung just flashes him a mehrong before he gets inside the driver’s seat.
✖
wonshik is used to western fast food restaurants with their avant garde interior designs and brash ambiences of youth culture. but right now he’s sitting cross legged in a cramped room these chuncheon residents call ‘a family restaurant’.
the, what, 5x7 room is hot. it smells like chicken and someone’s cozy home, complete with a vague laughter from the people of television in the background. wonshik is thisclose to whine to his hakyeon-hyung―he’s expected to do it anyway―but huh. this complimentary iced lemon tea is so refreshing? the drink effortlessly washes down his thirst. it doesn’t leave a distinct taste of prickling sweetener on his tongue or on his throat, unlike his favorite mojito back in seoul that makes his head buzz after the first sip.
“hyung, can i get a refill, please?” wonshik whispers to hakyeon-hyung, who’s been chatting animatedly with a middle-aged, plump, and pleasant looking lady the second they arrive at the ‘family restaurant’.
“ahjumma, you heard the prince!” hakyeon-hyung twists his body to poke wonshik’s nose and wonshik makes an eye contact with the lady and he grimaces in lieu of a smile. the only older woman he’s been seeing for the past year is his umma, and she visited him twice a month. it’s like his skill to act in front of a woman, older or not, is slowly slipping away from him.
fortunately, the lady just chuckles at wonshik’s timidness. she goes to the kitchen and when she comes back she brings a big jug of iced lemon tea instead of a mere refill for wonshik’s glass. hakyeon-hyung sends flying kisses for her (why is he doing that? can he even do that? is that appropriate?)―but before wonshik can express his gratitude, a middle-aged man is coming out from the kitchen too; bringing a large, hissing pan and stating with a loud exclaim that hakyeon-hyung and his scary looking dongsaeng should gobble his masterpiece while it’s sizzling hot!
wonshik can’t recall the last time he salivates like a dog upon discovering delicious food.
and the chicken galbi is indeed, a fucking masterpiece.
(when was the last time wonshik curse over food again?)
✖
wonshik grunts as he grabs four heavy plastic bags with a blue supermarket logo that he never sees before. probably it’s the logo of chuncheon’s local supermarket chain? hakyeon-hyung told him that that was the only supermarket in town, unless you count the mall thirty minutes drive from here, and wonshik was amazed that such small town could have an awesome supermarket for its approximately 700-ish residents.
well. maybe chuncheon is not that bad. the middle-aged, chicken galbi couple gave an extra portion for wonshik when hakyeon-hyung ordered a takeaway for dinner. they said wonshik has an infectious laugh and they hoped wonshik would have a great time. in seoul, girls said that kind of line to him because they wanted him to buy them a drink or to take them out to dates or to bed. in seoul, people have a hidden intention when they praise his handsome face or his forceful aura or his overall perfection (their words, not his).
but this is gangwon-do’s chuncheon, where everyone knows everybody despite the cold weather even in the summer. that means a lot, right? he had read it somewhere that weather indeed can affect the attitude of people living in the area. wonshik already hopes that the people here aren’t as phony as the citizen of seoul.
“welcome to mah crib!” hakyeon-hyung makes a ridiculous pose like he’s projecting a swag rapper; he’s hugging himself but he winces because the plastic bags full with their bi-weekly’s supplies are hurting his ribs. wonshik blatantly laughs at the older man’s antics. it’s safe to say that hakyeon-hyung―who replies to his text in a matter of second, always showering the sentences with expressive emoticons which always reminds wonshik of ken―is a really really really really really kind person and wonshik mentally promises that he won’t be a burden for him.
“you can take my older brother’s vacant room,” hakyeon-hyung says, “it’s on the second floor, the last door to the left. just put the groceries in the kitchen and you can rest.”
wonshik bites back his tongue from commenting about the lack of red on hakyeon-hyung’s neatly decorated, white, brown and creme colored house, because hakyeon-hyung’s smile is no longer careful.
“i can help with anything, hakyeon-hyung.” wonshik follows the said man to the kitchen and immediately spots a huge maroon refrigerator; the only odd element in the brown themed kitchen.
“it’s okay,” hakyeon-hyung puts the grocery bags to the black marbled bar and he begins to take out the bought stuffs. “if you’re not tired, go sightseeing wonshik-ah. you’ll find a creek down the road. just walk north for ten minutes.”
“north?”
“yes.”
“so...north. got it. but should i go left or right?”
“you’re serious.”
wonshik folds his arms on his chest, widening his stance and raising an eyebrow and hakyeon-hyung’s bottom lip is quivering.
“oh come on, hyung!” wonshik uses his whining privilege to cover up his embarrassment. “i’m a city boy!”
“sure! mianhae!” hakyeon-hyung rushes to hug him. “mianhae! go left, walk straight for ten minutes and you’ll find the creek! go catch some fishes or eels! make hakyeon-hyung proud of my city boy!”
there’s an instant click and a whirr in wonshik’s nerves, and then he’s laughing―no, he’s howling because hakyeon-hyung is super weird and he likes it. there are tears of pure joy on his eyes when they pull apart and the joy is doubled when hakyeon-hyung gives him ten thousand won to buy snack or ice cream or whatever.
“you’re the best!” wonshik carefully folds the money before he puts it on his jeans pocket. “see you later, hyung!” he mocks a salute and hakyeon-hyung coos, insulting wonshik’s manliness.
✖
it turns out that hakyeon-hyung’s house is located at the very end of the main street, because after walking a couple of meters to the north the road is closing in into a smaller path; surrounded by an ocean of green fields. wonshik is not sure if those are rice fields or other vegetables business, but he appreciates the change of scenery. for a year, he worked mostly with colorful spray paints and dull, grey or white walls to conjure them up as livelier barriers. a photo of him showing off his original masterpiece; an optimus prime inspired robot head that he named rovixx― is neatly framed and stacked between his favorite self-improvement books and t-shirts, waiting to be hung on his new room.
he keeps on walking until he hears the calming sound of flowing water and without thinking twice, he runs and jumps to the creek, kicking off pebbles and splashing wet his sneakers. it’s a wrong choice letting his mind flying over to the old days when he spent his time trying to reflect on what he did after what happened to ken. but it’s not like he ever regretted destroying those bastards’ source of living. wonshik snorts. those pathetic vampires deserved it.
(this is not the time to be angry. if he’s angry it means he’s wasting a year of his life there and godfuckingdammit he’s not going to surrender to that useless feeling. not anymore.)
wonshik takes a deep breath and closes his eyes when a cool breeze is whispering the one thing that he never wants to acknowledge. not even when he’s all alone in chuncheon, so far away from seoul where it happened, the one thing that left him in an endless void of denial.
wonshik doesn’t miss his best friend.
to be c o n t i n u e d
rating: PG for now.
summary: kim wonshik lost a best friend and himself when he was eighteen.
at nineteen, he's slowly falling for an ostracised half-blood vampire; the kind that he, and the rest of the society, despises so much.
(swear i will fix this summary because wow my hands are shaking it's been a long time since i posted a fic troollolololololoollololo.)
author notes: 1, 888 words. no kidding. my hands are shaking.
special shoutout for a-dead-koala, do you still remember our deep conversation regarding hongbin and his reservedness and ravi being the most likely to feelings-ing? yes please.
anyway.
this fic is quite ambitious. about coming of age-ish, first labbu, and me trying to decode the hell out of VIXX's artwork. ah, such a confusing and interesting creature.
the man is sporting a vibrant red hair that oddly suits his dark skin and his welcoming but careful smile. he hugs wonshik instead of a timid handshake any distant cousin would probably do in such occasion. wonshik doesn’t even remember a cha hakyeon on the great kim’s family tree, after all.
wonshik returns the hug with one awkward arm, sniffing a wave of vanilla in the air and bowing again when they break apart.
“please take a good care of me, hakyeon-hyung.” he mumbles to the floor of chuncheon’s eerily deserted train station. it’s about lunchtime. if it’s in seoul’s subway station, the place would be bustling with the crowd of hungry office workers. so yeah. eerie. that’s the word.
wonshik doesn’t know what else to say. the older man’s name feels weird on his tongue now that he’s saying it out loud. they’ve been exchanging texts for the past a couple of weeks after wonshik got his cellphone back; after his parents announced that it’s the best for him to spend his senior year in gangwon-do, where his distant cousin lives alone ever since his whole family moved to japan. they said hakyeon-hyung is a relative from wonshik’s harabeoji (his appa’s father) side. or something along those lines. they’ve never met before? wonshik’s not sure. but hakyeon-hyung seemed excited and actually willing to let wonshik stay with him.
(it’s not like wonshik is ungrateful. they’re just...practically strangers about to share the same space. wonshik has had enough, really.)
“you’re taller than i thought.” hakyeon-hyung reaches to pat wonshik’s slowly growing, crew cut hair. “and scarier. but don’t worry, if anyone is messing with you, please don’t ever hesitate to whine to me, wonshik-ah.”
wonshik can’t help but snorting like a horse. it’s been a long time ever since someone had called his name without a hint of malice on their voices. apparently, wonshik misses the simplicity of such thing. wonshik-ah. damn, that’s really good to hear. but wonshik is not going to admit it to hakyeon-hyung. nor to anybody. nope.
meanwhile, hakyeon-hyung fakes a seriously fascinating scandalized face and splutters,
“what? i’ve always wanted a little brother that i could protect! remember i’m eight years older than you.” he gently takes over one of the the brand new black suitcases from wonshik’s grip and leads them out to the, surprise surprise, deserted parking lot.
hakyeon-hyung tells wonshik to put the suitcases on the trunk of his, of course, maroon red kia sportage.
“are you a red mania, hyung?” wonshik does remember hakyeon-hyung is way older than him, and maybe he shouldn’t have teased hakyeon-hyung on their first meeting. but the older man is asking for it. look, he’s even giggling happily at wonshik’s careless remark!
“oh, kiyo!” hakyeon-hyung pats wonshik’s head again. “let’s go! your hakyeon-hyung is going to spoil you rotten starting from today. why are you so skinny, aigooo~ it’s time to have a feast! you’ll love the foods here. do you like chicken galbi?”
“i like chicken alright.” wonshik shrugs, acting cool just to piss off hakyeon-hyung some more, who makes another fascinating scandalized face and flicks his unprotected forehead. “wow!” wonshik frowns, but his mouth is stretching on its own to form a smile. “wow! child abuse!” he roughly rubs the stinging spot.
hakyeon-hyung just flashes him a mehrong before he gets inside the driver’s seat.
✖
wonshik is used to western fast food restaurants with their avant garde interior designs and brash ambiences of youth culture. but right now he’s sitting cross legged in a cramped room these chuncheon residents call ‘a family restaurant’.
the, what, 5x7 room is hot. it smells like chicken and someone’s cozy home, complete with a vague laughter from the people of television in the background. wonshik is thisclose to whine to his hakyeon-hyung―he’s expected to do it anyway―but huh. this complimentary iced lemon tea is so refreshing? the drink effortlessly washes down his thirst. it doesn’t leave a distinct taste of prickling sweetener on his tongue or on his throat, unlike his favorite mojito back in seoul that makes his head buzz after the first sip.
“hyung, can i get a refill, please?” wonshik whispers to hakyeon-hyung, who’s been chatting animatedly with a middle-aged, plump, and pleasant looking lady the second they arrive at the ‘family restaurant’.
“ahjumma, you heard the prince!” hakyeon-hyung twists his body to poke wonshik’s nose and wonshik makes an eye contact with the lady and he grimaces in lieu of a smile. the only older woman he’s been seeing for the past year is his umma, and she visited him twice a month. it’s like his skill to act in front of a woman, older or not, is slowly slipping away from him.
fortunately, the lady just chuckles at wonshik’s timidness. she goes to the kitchen and when she comes back she brings a big jug of iced lemon tea instead of a mere refill for wonshik’s glass. hakyeon-hyung sends flying kisses for her (why is he doing that? can he even do that? is that appropriate?)―but before wonshik can express his gratitude, a middle-aged man is coming out from the kitchen too; bringing a large, hissing pan and stating with a loud exclaim that hakyeon-hyung and his scary looking dongsaeng should gobble his masterpiece while it’s sizzling hot!
wonshik can’t recall the last time he salivates like a dog upon discovering delicious food.
and the chicken galbi is indeed, a fucking masterpiece.
(when was the last time wonshik curse over food again?)
✖
wonshik grunts as he grabs four heavy plastic bags with a blue supermarket logo that he never sees before. probably it’s the logo of chuncheon’s local supermarket chain? hakyeon-hyung told him that that was the only supermarket in town, unless you count the mall thirty minutes drive from here, and wonshik was amazed that such small town could have an awesome supermarket for its approximately 700-ish residents.
well. maybe chuncheon is not that bad. the middle-aged, chicken galbi couple gave an extra portion for wonshik when hakyeon-hyung ordered a takeaway for dinner. they said wonshik has an infectious laugh and they hoped wonshik would have a great time. in seoul, girls said that kind of line to him because they wanted him to buy them a drink or to take them out to dates or to bed. in seoul, people have a hidden intention when they praise his handsome face or his forceful aura or his overall perfection (their words, not his).
but this is gangwon-do’s chuncheon, where everyone knows everybody despite the cold weather even in the summer. that means a lot, right? he had read it somewhere that weather indeed can affect the attitude of people living in the area. wonshik already hopes that the people here aren’t as phony as the citizen of seoul.
“welcome to mah crib!” hakyeon-hyung makes a ridiculous pose like he’s projecting a swag rapper; he’s hugging himself but he winces because the plastic bags full with their bi-weekly’s supplies are hurting his ribs. wonshik blatantly laughs at the older man’s antics. it’s safe to say that hakyeon-hyung―who replies to his text in a matter of second, always showering the sentences with expressive emoticons which always reminds wonshik of ken―is a really really really really really kind person and wonshik mentally promises that he won’t be a burden for him.
“you can take my older brother’s vacant room,” hakyeon-hyung says, “it’s on the second floor, the last door to the left. just put the groceries in the kitchen and you can rest.”
wonshik bites back his tongue from commenting about the lack of red on hakyeon-hyung’s neatly decorated, white, brown and creme colored house, because hakyeon-hyung’s smile is no longer careful.
“i can help with anything, hakyeon-hyung.” wonshik follows the said man to the kitchen and immediately spots a huge maroon refrigerator; the only odd element in the brown themed kitchen.
“it’s okay,” hakyeon-hyung puts the grocery bags to the black marbled bar and he begins to take out the bought stuffs. “if you’re not tired, go sightseeing wonshik-ah. you’ll find a creek down the road. just walk north for ten minutes.”
“north?”
“yes.”
“so...north. got it. but should i go left or right?”
“you’re serious.”
wonshik folds his arms on his chest, widening his stance and raising an eyebrow and hakyeon-hyung’s bottom lip is quivering.
“oh come on, hyung!” wonshik uses his whining privilege to cover up his embarrassment. “i’m a city boy!”
“sure! mianhae!” hakyeon-hyung rushes to hug him. “mianhae! go left, walk straight for ten minutes and you’ll find the creek! go catch some fishes or eels! make hakyeon-hyung proud of my city boy!”
there’s an instant click and a whirr in wonshik’s nerves, and then he’s laughing―no, he’s howling because hakyeon-hyung is super weird and he likes it. there are tears of pure joy on his eyes when they pull apart and the joy is doubled when hakyeon-hyung gives him ten thousand won to buy snack or ice cream or whatever.
“you’re the best!” wonshik carefully folds the money before he puts it on his jeans pocket. “see you later, hyung!” he mocks a salute and hakyeon-hyung coos, insulting wonshik’s manliness.
✖
it turns out that hakyeon-hyung’s house is located at the very end of the main street, because after walking a couple of meters to the north the road is closing in into a smaller path; surrounded by an ocean of green fields. wonshik is not sure if those are rice fields or other vegetables business, but he appreciates the change of scenery. for a year, he worked mostly with colorful spray paints and dull, grey or white walls to conjure them up as livelier barriers. a photo of him showing off his original masterpiece; an optimus prime inspired robot head that he named rovixx― is neatly framed and stacked between his favorite self-improvement books and t-shirts, waiting to be hung on his new room.
he keeps on walking until he hears the calming sound of flowing water and without thinking twice, he runs and jumps to the creek, kicking off pebbles and splashing wet his sneakers. it’s a wrong choice letting his mind flying over to the old days when he spent his time trying to reflect on what he did after what happened to ken. but it’s not like he ever regretted destroying those bastards’ source of living. wonshik snorts. those pathetic vampires deserved it.
(this is not the time to be angry. if he’s angry it means he’s wasting a year of his life there and godfuckingdammit he’s not going to surrender to that useless feeling. not anymore.)
wonshik takes a deep breath and closes his eyes when a cool breeze is whispering the one thing that he never wants to acknowledge. not even when he’s all alone in chuncheon, so far away from seoul where it happened, the one thing that left him in an endless void of denial.
wonshik doesn’t miss his best friend.
to be c o n t i n u e d