wip graveyard 1
one day i may revive these. for now just enjoy them as short drabbles.
juncture, hoya/eunji
aff contest: enchanted cursed ring, post-apocalypse au (2013)
It was Hoya who found the body.
His skin graying and sallow, the man looked frozen in time. A thin film of death had already begun to spread across his eyes, making them seem cataract-ridden. Parts of him had already begun to swell, leaving the skin distended. He looked as though he was in the middle of a speech but the words were lost to the wind, never to be heard again. On his right hand he wore a simple band of silver around his pointer, an unusual sight for both of them. Hoya squatted down and peered into his eyes, as if hoping for some sort of clue as to why there was another dead man so far from the city center.
Eunji felt sick.
It was not the first body they had come across, nor would it be the last, but there was something sinister about this one. There was no indication as to how this man had died; the bodies they usually came across had signs of struggles, traces of dried blood, crushed bones. Apart from the usual signsof decay, this man looked as though he'd simply dropped dead in the midst of a sentence. It unnerved her.
“Don’t do that,” she protested, wrapping her thin arms tightly around herself and backing away slightly. “Let’s go.” As she spoke she could feel the evil permeating through the air, tainting the ground they stood on and seeping into her bones. She shivered again. “Come on,” she called out weakly, her voice high against the wind. “The sun’s going down.”
That seemed to do it. Hoya turned his head to find the weary orange sun beginning to sink into the hazy horizon, just as she’d said. In the distance the new city glittered in the light. “Let’s go,” he agreed, his eyes dark and devoid of any emotion, much like hers. She couldn't remember when he lost the naive, innocent look in his face, but she remembered the exact moment his eyes stopped twinkling.
Hoya broke her reverie by scrambling to his feet, his ragged boots scraping heavily in the sand. Eunji was only too relieved to turn her back on the body as he dusted himself off, her thoughts already preoccupied with their next step. There would be no dinner for them tonight.
She didn’t notice Hoya stooping back down. Didn’t notice him slip the ring from the finger of the dead man and pocket it.
By the time she did notice, it was all too late for the both of them.
When they ventured to the same spot the next day, the man was gone. All that remained was a soft pile of ashes that whirled away with the wind.
Lost forever, just as they were.
dead like moths, chanyeol/baekhyun/minseok
rejected f(exo) mutant wip (2014)
“There are two kinds of people in this world,” Minseok holds up two fingers, and then checks himself. “In any world. The ones who kill,” he pushes down his middle finger, and Baekhyun knows that he’s had to restrain himself from leaving that finger up. “And the ones who are killed.” Chanyeol stirs slightly but Baekhyun ignores him. “So which one do you prefer to be, sunshine?”
“Neither,” says Baekhyun firmly. “I don’t want to fight anyone.”
“You say that now.” The pressure from Minseok’s stare is suffocating, and Baekhyun has never ridden pressure well. He's only ever known how to wilt under it. “But when the time comes you’ll have to fight.”
“I'll let you know when the time comes. Call me when it happens, okay? Come on, let’s get out of here Chanyeol.” He’s turned to leave, is a few steps away when he realizes that there is no second pair of feet beside him. He turns back to see his friend - or, at the very least, someone who he thought was his friend - still in his place, his gaze flitting guiltily between Baekhyun's stare and his own shoes. Behind him, Minseok’s expression is bordering on glee.
“Everyone knows when to run," his voice rings out. "But only the brave get some distance away before death catches up to them."
Baekhyun doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Because when Chanyeol speaks, there’s nothing really left to say.
“I… I think I’m gonna stay here,” he inclines his head a little nervously towards Minseok, and Baekhyun sees the sweat beginning to form on his forehead. “I’m sorry Baek.”
Baekhyun still doesn’t say anything.
Chanyeol offers a small grin. He’s trying to ease the tension, but in it Baekhyun sees the first time Chanyeol ever betrayed him, when they were both seven and catching tadpoles in the drain at the back of the school. Baekhyun knows they'll be punished if they get caught and he tells Chanyeol to get a move on, who only grins, tells him not to worry and waves him off. Baekhyun spends the next half hour worrying.
Later on when Chanyeol slips and falls with a great splash into the algae infested water, Baekhyun is the one who ends up with detention for a week for goading your best friend into breaking the rules. Now look, it’s your fault he’s ended up with a sprained wrist. Chanyeol doesn’t come to school for a week. By then, Baekhyun has stopped caring. They make up about a month later, and his mum whispers to Chanyeol’s mum that children forget so easily.
Except Baekhyun doesn’t forget. Baekhyun never forgets.
In the decade since then Baekhyun has always been prepared to forgive and forget when it comes to Chanyeol because that’s what best friends do, but now all he can do is stare as he watches Chanyeol smile while the teacher is handing him a detention slip to take home and sign.
“We’re still friends though, this doesn't change anything,” Chanyeol is saying. He takes a step towards Baekhyun, but all Baekhyun can hear is the sound of broken promises and the blood roaring through his head. I’ll kill you, Park Chanyeol. “Baek?” He lifts a hand to touch him on the shoulder, and the flood of blood stops.
Baekhyun recoils and grabs Chanyeol around the eyes. “We were never friends,” he snarls, and his hand begins to glow. Chanyeol yells out and struggles against him, but Baekhyun has never felt so strong in his life. “I’m not going to be weak, meek little Baekhyun anymore,” he yells out his grip tightening as he forces Chanyeol to his knees, his screams reverberating around them. Baekhyun's hand is glowing white beneath his skin, and he knows in another five seconds that that white glow will be the last thing Chanyeol sees before darkness takes its place forever. Rage is coursing through his veins, and the uncontrollable amount of energy within him is exhilarating.
He forgets that Minseok is still there until the man sends an icy wall between them and sends them slipping and spinning away from each other. Baekhyun digs his nails into the frost at his feet and glares.
“So you decided to fight huh, sunshine,” Minseok‘s face is expressionless as he slings Chanyeol’s arm around his shoulders. Chanyeol is whimpering slightly, his hand over his eyes, and Minseok melts the ice beneath his feet so he can stand.
Baekhyun rises as well, albeit more carefully. “My name isn’t sunshine,” he says firmly. He finds it easy now to look Minseok in the eye. “It’s Baekhyun.”
But Minseok only laughs. “See you around when this world ends, sunshine.” He turns away, and then pauses. "Oh wait, let me rephrase that." And before he can react, Minseok stamps hard on the ground and waits calmly as the frost travels up Baekhyun's legs, his chest, up his neck and finally to the tips of his fingers. “Or maybe I'll see you never. Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun can only watch as Minseok walks away with Chanyeol leaning heavily on his shoulder, one hand still over his eyes.
And that is how Luna and Lu Han find him.
rope constricts, kai/krystal/chen
dead WIP: soojung has 39 minutes to figure out which of her two best friends is dying. (2014)
2.21am.
The fan is whirring in her face when the phone rings.
She isn’t doing anything in particular, just staring into the whirling blades as it whips loose strands of hair across her forehead. The rest of her hair is pulled into a loose, messy braid over her shoulder. It’s a warm, still, night, and she is in shorts that she would never wear in public for fear of lack of decency. Despite going out nearly every day during the summer break, her legs are still that silky, milky white that she hates.
She sighs and throws herself backwards to the floor, her arms flying akimbo. Her right hand lands next to the cell phone that she had thrown to the side just a few minutes ago and she stares at it, willing for it to ring, willing Jongdae or Jongin to call and suggest a spontaneous late night outing to a 24/7 convenience store just for something to do.
Just as she’s about to turn away, the screen lights up and the device bursts into song, startling her out of her skin. She grabs the phone, all ready to tell Jongdae or Jongin how telepathically close they are and how they should think about using it during exams when she notices that the name on the screen, while still starting with j, is neither Jongdae nor Jongin.
"Soojung."
Soojung cocks her head, sandwiching the phone between her ear and her shoulder. Her long black braid swings over to one side like a thick rope, but she doesn't respond.
"Soojung, are you there?"
She pauses. She can hear the dread in Jinri’s voice. Jinri has never called her before. Jinri has always preferred to be on the side lines looking in.
"yeah." she turns her head to stare out the window. "I’m here."
Suddenly Jinri doesn't seem to know what to say anymore, and Soojung simply listens to the voice that seems unable to make its way past the receiver and down the line. After listening to a symphony of uhh's and umm's, she's decided that she's had enough.
"Jinri," she starts, just as Jinri seems to have worked up the courage to tell her what she really wants to say.
"He’s dying, Soojung."
Soojung stiffens.
"What?" she manages, and then lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. She's been told that it's probably the worst part of her, laughing at moments that aren't even funny and making awkward moments even worse. She'd been meaning to stop, but somehow quitting anything cold turkey has always been hard for her. Jongin always said -
"I’m sorry Soojung. I heard it from Taemin and I thought you would want to know."
"Who’s dying?"
She can tell Jinri is regretting this call.
"I think you should get down to the hospital right now."
"Who’s dying, Jinri?"
"It’s Jong -."
Soojung hangs up violently before she can finish. She sits for a while longer in front of the fan, but she isn't seeing it anymore. Why did she hang up? Didn't she want to know who was dying? Didn't she want to know which Jong she was about to lose?
That's when it sinks in - a Jong is dying. It could be Jongin. It could be Jongdae. She glances at the clock. 2.21 am. She gets this horrid feeling that whichever Jong it is, his last breath would be when the hour hand touches three. Jongdae always said she had a natural intuition for strange things like that. She jumps to her feet and stumbles across the landing to her parent's room.
The fan continues to whir after her.
-
Autumn is fast approaching. Soojung can feel it in the slight chill that the wind cuts through the warm, balmy air that she has grown used to in the recent months. She can see it in the way the sun is beginning to set a little earlier than it used to. She can hear it in the lowering volume of the cicadas when dusk begins to fall. They have a week left til their second semester starts. Two more semesters and they would be graduating from high school. Soojung wishes she could keep replaying this summer where they are all 17.
17 forever. It has a nice ring in her head.
She says this to Jongin and Jongdae when they are sitting on their usual grassy spot in their usual park, watching the ducks swimming in the large pond before them. An old man is sitting in the bench overlooking the water lilies, his wrinkled, sun spotted hands resting on the cane standing between his legs. A little girl and her younger brother are standing a little way to the side, throwing crumbs at the ducks from a plastic bread bag. A small dog with a collar and no leash comes trotting down the grass and snuffles at Jongdae, who fondles it affectionately on the head before it turns and trots away as silently as it came.
“Sure, 17 sounds great, but I always said that the right time to die is always between 18 and 19, didn’t I Soojung?” Jongin flumps backwards on the grass and crosses his arms behind his head.
“Why specifically those ages?” Jongdae asks, bending forward and pressing against Soojung’s knees so he can look at Jongin past her.
“Because your life really only starts once you hit 19.” Jongin sounds as though he is describing the weather, his eyes closed. Soojung has her own gaze trained on Jongdae’s face. He glances at her for a second and then hurriedly looks back at Jongin, but it isn’t fast enough for her to miss the keen look in his eyes.
“… and once your life starts it’s harder for you to end it,” Jongin continues. He cracks open an eyelid and eyes Jongdae with one soulless stare. “Geddit?”
“What are you thinking, Jongdae?” Soojung asks with a nervous smile.
“Nothing,” he insists, resting his chin on her knees and staring into the distance. Soojung sighs and throws herself down beside Jongin. His eyes are closed once again, and she can tell by the way his facial muscles have relaxed that he’s probably fallen asleep - Jongin really only looks alive when he sleeps. It isn’t long until Jongdae disengages himself from her knees and lies down beside her, straight as a plank with his hands clasped just above his stomach.
They stay that way - Soojung and Jongdae staring silently up into the clouds and listening to the light rise and fall of Jongin’s breath - until the sun begins to set and the slight chill begins to settle into Soojung’s bones.
/
juncture, hoya/eunji
aff contest: enchanted cursed ring, post-apocalypse au (2013)
It was Hoya who found the body.
His skin graying and sallow, the man looked frozen in time. A thin film of death had already begun to spread across his eyes, making them seem cataract-ridden. Parts of him had already begun to swell, leaving the skin distended. He looked as though he was in the middle of a speech but the words were lost to the wind, never to be heard again. On his right hand he wore a simple band of silver around his pointer, an unusual sight for both of them. Hoya squatted down and peered into his eyes, as if hoping for some sort of clue as to why there was another dead man so far from the city center.
Eunji felt sick.
It was not the first body they had come across, nor would it be the last, but there was something sinister about this one. There was no indication as to how this man had died; the bodies they usually came across had signs of struggles, traces of dried blood, crushed bones. Apart from the usual signsof decay, this man looked as though he'd simply dropped dead in the midst of a sentence. It unnerved her.
“Don’t do that,” she protested, wrapping her thin arms tightly around herself and backing away slightly. “Let’s go.” As she spoke she could feel the evil permeating through the air, tainting the ground they stood on and seeping into her bones. She shivered again. “Come on,” she called out weakly, her voice high against the wind. “The sun’s going down.”
That seemed to do it. Hoya turned his head to find the weary orange sun beginning to sink into the hazy horizon, just as she’d said. In the distance the new city glittered in the light. “Let’s go,” he agreed, his eyes dark and devoid of any emotion, much like hers. She couldn't remember when he lost the naive, innocent look in his face, but she remembered the exact moment his eyes stopped twinkling.
Hoya broke her reverie by scrambling to his feet, his ragged boots scraping heavily in the sand. Eunji was only too relieved to turn her back on the body as he dusted himself off, her thoughts already preoccupied with their next step. There would be no dinner for them tonight.
She didn’t notice Hoya stooping back down. Didn’t notice him slip the ring from the finger of the dead man and pocket it.
By the time she did notice, it was all too late for the both of them.
When they ventured to the same spot the next day, the man was gone. All that remained was a soft pile of ashes that whirled away with the wind.
Lost forever, just as they were.
dead like moths, chanyeol/baekhyun/minseok
rejected f(exo) mutant wip (2014)
“There are two kinds of people in this world,” Minseok holds up two fingers, and then checks himself. “In any world. The ones who kill,” he pushes down his middle finger, and Baekhyun knows that he’s had to restrain himself from leaving that finger up. “And the ones who are killed.” Chanyeol stirs slightly but Baekhyun ignores him. “So which one do you prefer to be, sunshine?”
“Neither,” says Baekhyun firmly. “I don’t want to fight anyone.”
“You say that now.” The pressure from Minseok’s stare is suffocating, and Baekhyun has never ridden pressure well. He's only ever known how to wilt under it. “But when the time comes you’ll have to fight.”
“I'll let you know when the time comes. Call me when it happens, okay? Come on, let’s get out of here Chanyeol.” He’s turned to leave, is a few steps away when he realizes that there is no second pair of feet beside him. He turns back to see his friend - or, at the very least, someone who he thought was his friend - still in his place, his gaze flitting guiltily between Baekhyun's stare and his own shoes. Behind him, Minseok’s expression is bordering on glee.
“Everyone knows when to run," his voice rings out. "But only the brave get some distance away before death catches up to them."
Baekhyun doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Because when Chanyeol speaks, there’s nothing really left to say.
“I… I think I’m gonna stay here,” he inclines his head a little nervously towards Minseok, and Baekhyun sees the sweat beginning to form on his forehead. “I’m sorry Baek.”
Baekhyun still doesn’t say anything.
Chanyeol offers a small grin. He’s trying to ease the tension, but in it Baekhyun sees the first time Chanyeol ever betrayed him, when they were both seven and catching tadpoles in the drain at the back of the school. Baekhyun knows they'll be punished if they get caught and he tells Chanyeol to get a move on, who only grins, tells him not to worry and waves him off. Baekhyun spends the next half hour worrying.
Later on when Chanyeol slips and falls with a great splash into the algae infested water, Baekhyun is the one who ends up with detention for a week for goading your best friend into breaking the rules. Now look, it’s your fault he’s ended up with a sprained wrist. Chanyeol doesn’t come to school for a week. By then, Baekhyun has stopped caring. They make up about a month later, and his mum whispers to Chanyeol’s mum that children forget so easily.
Except Baekhyun doesn’t forget. Baekhyun never forgets.
In the decade since then Baekhyun has always been prepared to forgive and forget when it comes to Chanyeol because that’s what best friends do, but now all he can do is stare as he watches Chanyeol smile while the teacher is handing him a detention slip to take home and sign.
“We’re still friends though, this doesn't change anything,” Chanyeol is saying. He takes a step towards Baekhyun, but all Baekhyun can hear is the sound of broken promises and the blood roaring through his head. I’ll kill you, Park Chanyeol. “Baek?” He lifts a hand to touch him on the shoulder, and the flood of blood stops.
Baekhyun recoils and grabs Chanyeol around the eyes. “We were never friends,” he snarls, and his hand begins to glow. Chanyeol yells out and struggles against him, but Baekhyun has never felt so strong in his life. “I’m not going to be weak, meek little Baekhyun anymore,” he yells out his grip tightening as he forces Chanyeol to his knees, his screams reverberating around them. Baekhyun's hand is glowing white beneath his skin, and he knows in another five seconds that that white glow will be the last thing Chanyeol sees before darkness takes its place forever. Rage is coursing through his veins, and the uncontrollable amount of energy within him is exhilarating.
He forgets that Minseok is still there until the man sends an icy wall between them and sends them slipping and spinning away from each other. Baekhyun digs his nails into the frost at his feet and glares.
“So you decided to fight huh, sunshine,” Minseok‘s face is expressionless as he slings Chanyeol’s arm around his shoulders. Chanyeol is whimpering slightly, his hand over his eyes, and Minseok melts the ice beneath his feet so he can stand.
Baekhyun rises as well, albeit more carefully. “My name isn’t sunshine,” he says firmly. He finds it easy now to look Minseok in the eye. “It’s Baekhyun.”
But Minseok only laughs. “See you around when this world ends, sunshine.” He turns away, and then pauses. "Oh wait, let me rephrase that." And before he can react, Minseok stamps hard on the ground and waits calmly as the frost travels up Baekhyun's legs, his chest, up his neck and finally to the tips of his fingers. “Or maybe I'll see you never. Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun can only watch as Minseok walks away with Chanyeol leaning heavily on his shoulder, one hand still over his eyes.
And that is how Luna and Lu Han find him.
rope constricts, kai/krystal/chen
dead WIP: soojung has 39 minutes to figure out which of her two best friends is dying. (2014)
2.21am.
The fan is whirring in her face when the phone rings.
She isn’t doing anything in particular, just staring into the whirling blades as it whips loose strands of hair across her forehead. The rest of her hair is pulled into a loose, messy braid over her shoulder. It’s a warm, still, night, and she is in shorts that she would never wear in public for fear of lack of decency. Despite going out nearly every day during the summer break, her legs are still that silky, milky white that she hates.
She sighs and throws herself backwards to the floor, her arms flying akimbo. Her right hand lands next to the cell phone that she had thrown to the side just a few minutes ago and she stares at it, willing for it to ring, willing Jongdae or Jongin to call and suggest a spontaneous late night outing to a 24/7 convenience store just for something to do.
Just as she’s about to turn away, the screen lights up and the device bursts into song, startling her out of her skin. She grabs the phone, all ready to tell Jongdae or Jongin how telepathically close they are and how they should think about using it during exams when she notices that the name on the screen, while still starting with j, is neither Jongdae nor Jongin.
"Soojung."
Soojung cocks her head, sandwiching the phone between her ear and her shoulder. Her long black braid swings over to one side like a thick rope, but she doesn't respond.
"Soojung, are you there?"
She pauses. She can hear the dread in Jinri’s voice. Jinri has never called her before. Jinri has always preferred to be on the side lines looking in.
"yeah." she turns her head to stare out the window. "I’m here."
Suddenly Jinri doesn't seem to know what to say anymore, and Soojung simply listens to the voice that seems unable to make its way past the receiver and down the line. After listening to a symphony of uhh's and umm's, she's decided that she's had enough.
"Jinri," she starts, just as Jinri seems to have worked up the courage to tell her what she really wants to say.
"He’s dying, Soojung."
Soojung stiffens.
"What?" she manages, and then lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. She's been told that it's probably the worst part of her, laughing at moments that aren't even funny and making awkward moments even worse. She'd been meaning to stop, but somehow quitting anything cold turkey has always been hard for her. Jongin always said -
"I’m sorry Soojung. I heard it from Taemin and I thought you would want to know."
"Who’s dying?"
She can tell Jinri is regretting this call.
"I think you should get down to the hospital right now."
"Who’s dying, Jinri?"
"It’s Jong -."
Soojung hangs up violently before she can finish. She sits for a while longer in front of the fan, but she isn't seeing it anymore. Why did she hang up? Didn't she want to know who was dying? Didn't she want to know which Jong she was about to lose?
That's when it sinks in - a Jong is dying. It could be Jongin. It could be Jongdae. She glances at the clock. 2.21 am. She gets this horrid feeling that whichever Jong it is, his last breath would be when the hour hand touches three. Jongdae always said she had a natural intuition for strange things like that. She jumps to her feet and stumbles across the landing to her parent's room.
The fan continues to whir after her.
-
Autumn is fast approaching. Soojung can feel it in the slight chill that the wind cuts through the warm, balmy air that she has grown used to in the recent months. She can see it in the way the sun is beginning to set a little earlier than it used to. She can hear it in the lowering volume of the cicadas when dusk begins to fall. They have a week left til their second semester starts. Two more semesters and they would be graduating from high school. Soojung wishes she could keep replaying this summer where they are all 17.
17 forever. It has a nice ring in her head.
She says this to Jongin and Jongdae when they are sitting on their usual grassy spot in their usual park, watching the ducks swimming in the large pond before them. An old man is sitting in the bench overlooking the water lilies, his wrinkled, sun spotted hands resting on the cane standing between his legs. A little girl and her younger brother are standing a little way to the side, throwing crumbs at the ducks from a plastic bread bag. A small dog with a collar and no leash comes trotting down the grass and snuffles at Jongdae, who fondles it affectionately on the head before it turns and trots away as silently as it came.
“Sure, 17 sounds great, but I always said that the right time to die is always between 18 and 19, didn’t I Soojung?” Jongin flumps backwards on the grass and crosses his arms behind his head.
“Why specifically those ages?” Jongdae asks, bending forward and pressing against Soojung’s knees so he can look at Jongin past her.
“Because your life really only starts once you hit 19.” Jongin sounds as though he is describing the weather, his eyes closed. Soojung has her own gaze trained on Jongdae’s face. He glances at her for a second and then hurriedly looks back at Jongin, but it isn’t fast enough for her to miss the keen look in his eyes.
“… and once your life starts it’s harder for you to end it,” Jongin continues. He cracks open an eyelid and eyes Jongdae with one soulless stare. “Geddit?”
“What are you thinking, Jongdae?” Soojung asks with a nervous smile.
“Nothing,” he insists, resting his chin on her knees and staring into the distance. Soojung sighs and throws herself down beside Jongin. His eyes are closed once again, and she can tell by the way his facial muscles have relaxed that he’s probably fallen asleep - Jongin really only looks alive when he sleeps. It isn’t long until Jongdae disengages himself from her knees and lies down beside her, straight as a plank with his hands clasped just above his stomach.
They stay that way - Soojung and Jongdae staring silently up into the clouds and listening to the light rise and fall of Jongin’s breath - until the sun begins to set and the slight chill begins to settle into Soojung’s bones.
/