the art of losing (gwangchul/injoon)
title: the art of losing
pairing: gwangchul/injoon
etc.: g; 642 words (aka far too short)
summary: Gwangchul thinks it was like a game of tag.
Gwangchul thinks it was like a game of tag. He'd been the one to start it - albeit unknowingly - by giving Injoon that lingering handshake and bright smile on the day they'd met. Injoon was 'it.' And that is where he began his chase, though he never knew that's what it would end up being.
Injoon tags back when Gwangchul hears Injoon sing for the first time.
--
Things start out simply like that, subtle and unnoticeable to most. Injoon makes a comment about Gwangchul's face, an obvious sign that he's it, but also an attempt to pass the buck. But Gwangchul retaliates with a pat on the shoulder and Injoon is back where he started.
Injoon supposes what they're doing could be called flirting, though it's an odd concept because they're both so bad at it.
Cyworld becomes a battleground.
Gwangchul posts picture after picture, but Injoon spouts out posts, claiming Gwangchul as his own and calling them '92-line.' As much as Gwangchul wants to hold it back, the smile that proves he's been tagged - won over, even - takes up semi-permanent residence on his face.
He discovers the game long before Injoon does, taking his chance to discreetly and playfully whisper Your turn to Injoon while they're making sandwiches. Injoon is faced with confusion from Gwangchul's words, but falls victim to the feeling of Gwangchul's breath in his ear and is tagged yet again.
Gwangchul catches the look on Injoon's face, and it's at this moment he's sure he's only tagging so he can be tagged back.
Injoon's biggest move may not have been part of the game at all. In the middle of the night, deep in sleep, he has no control over his actions. Gwangchul wakes up to find Injoon's arms wrapped around him, tight enough that he knows he can't move. You're it. he sighs to himself, and starts to wish the game had never started.
Because now he isn't sure it will stop.
--
Neither views the separation as an ending, but rather halftime.
Gwangchul tries out some new playing parters, but finds they spend their time tagging each other, and Gwangchul has no way of winning - or losing, for that matter. Injoon continues on with his members, business as usual.
It's like a temporary cease-fire, neither side advancing but neither falling behind. It's in this time that Injoon probably figures things out, and realizes what a ridiculous and frivolous game it is. Not that falling for someone should be taken so lightly, but really it should be much simpler than they made it.
Besides, there's no real prize for the winner aside from a good night's sleep.
--
Injoon nearly quits the game when he leaves for Japan. It's not necessarily something he does intentionally, nor is he even aware they're still playing. It's not convenient to play from across the sea, he thinks.
Frankly, Gwangchul isn't sure who's it at this point, but with Injoon hundreds of miles away, he figures it must be him, and begins a chase of his own.
He swallows a little pride - Injoon makes him do that a lot - and uses Twitter to his advantage.
Waiting for a reply at four in the morning, he browses through plane tickets, from Korea to Japan - just for fun of course, he was only kidding after all. Maybe. It's just for future reference, he tells himself. It's a useless waste of time he realizes, when even the next day the reply never comes.
As he cancels that airline ticket he may or may not have actually paid for, it's hits him, hard like a brick wall.
He lost.
But with his iphone in his hand, finger hovering over the 'tweet' button for much longer than necessary, Injoon is pretty sure he's losing too.
ykw maybe i don't even know what this is. a metaphor filled with similes wtf even.
perhaps this is a late birthday present for yeonga. ♥
unless she doesn't like it, in which case it has nothing to do with her.
oh and enjoy these tweets keke. n___n
pairing: gwangchul/injoon
etc.: g; 642 words (aka far too short)
summary: Gwangchul thinks it was like a game of tag.
Gwangchul thinks it was like a game of tag. He'd been the one to start it - albeit unknowingly - by giving Injoon that lingering handshake and bright smile on the day they'd met. Injoon was 'it.' And that is where he began his chase, though he never knew that's what it would end up being.
Injoon tags back when Gwangchul hears Injoon sing for the first time.
--
Things start out simply like that, subtle and unnoticeable to most. Injoon makes a comment about Gwangchul's face, an obvious sign that he's it, but also an attempt to pass the buck. But Gwangchul retaliates with a pat on the shoulder and Injoon is back where he started.
Injoon supposes what they're doing could be called flirting, though it's an odd concept because they're both so bad at it.
Cyworld becomes a battleground.
Gwangchul posts picture after picture, but Injoon spouts out posts, claiming Gwangchul as his own and calling them '92-line.' As much as Gwangchul wants to hold it back, the smile that proves he's been tagged - won over, even - takes up semi-permanent residence on his face.
He discovers the game long before Injoon does, taking his chance to discreetly and playfully whisper Your turn to Injoon while they're making sandwiches. Injoon is faced with confusion from Gwangchul's words, but falls victim to the feeling of Gwangchul's breath in his ear and is tagged yet again.
Gwangchul catches the look on Injoon's face, and it's at this moment he's sure he's only tagging so he can be tagged back.
Injoon's biggest move may not have been part of the game at all. In the middle of the night, deep in sleep, he has no control over his actions. Gwangchul wakes up to find Injoon's arms wrapped around him, tight enough that he knows he can't move. You're it. he sighs to himself, and starts to wish the game had never started.
Because now he isn't sure it will stop.
--
Neither views the separation as an ending, but rather halftime.
Gwangchul tries out some new playing parters, but finds they spend their time tagging each other, and Gwangchul has no way of winning - or losing, for that matter. Injoon continues on with his members, business as usual.
It's like a temporary cease-fire, neither side advancing but neither falling behind. It's in this time that Injoon probably figures things out, and realizes what a ridiculous and frivolous game it is. Not that falling for someone should be taken so lightly, but really it should be much simpler than they made it.
Besides, there's no real prize for the winner aside from a good night's sleep.
--
Injoon nearly quits the game when he leaves for Japan. It's not necessarily something he does intentionally, nor is he even aware they're still playing. It's not convenient to play from across the sea, he thinks.
Frankly, Gwangchul isn't sure who's it at this point, but with Injoon hundreds of miles away, he figures it must be him, and begins a chase of his own.
He swallows a little pride - Injoon makes him do that a lot - and uses Twitter to his advantage.
Waiting for a reply at four in the morning, he browses through plane tickets, from Korea to Japan - just for fun of course, he was only kidding after all. Maybe. It's just for future reference, he tells himself. It's a useless waste of time he realizes, when even the next day the reply never comes.
As he cancels that airline ticket he may or may not have actually paid for, it's hits him, hard like a brick wall.
He lost.
But with his iphone in his hand, finger hovering over the 'tweet' button for much longer than necessary, Injoon is pretty sure he's losing too.
ykw maybe i don't even know what this is. a metaphor filled with similes wtf even.
perhaps this is a late birthday present for yeonga. ♥
unless she doesn't like it, in which case it has nothing to do with her.
oh and enjoy these tweets keke. n___n