[b1a4] history, secreted in the glands of a million historians
history, secreted in the glands of a million historians
The world ends with a storm. Junghwan suggests a drive to the beach.
baro/sandeul | 1000 w | PG
On Tuesday, they get into the car, the one with the foldable top. Sunwoo drives with a sour expression and Junghwan documents everything with his camera.
Click, Sunwoo tightens his lips.
Click, Sunwoo changes lanes.
Click, Sunwoo worries with his eyebrows knotted together.
The radio is set to the local news station. The reporter sounds a bit too cheery with overcompensated enthusasium. Words resembling the rain has spread to Seoul and is moving fast reach their ears. What a storm!. There are no other cars on the road. Sunwoo drives on the wrong side. The reporter continues with the wind speed, the meters of precipitation. To Junghwan, the numbers sound more like casualities. Junghwan takes a picture of the radio.
Sunwoo opens his mouth to say something, but it gets caught in his throat. Goodbyes, which come in various tones of wistful and carry the weight of various amounts of memories, are always hard to bid. He wants to say too much at once. Bits and pieces of past conversations fling themselves at him like stones and stick to him like bittersweet honey. They drive in silence instead, the kind that simmers in its own futility.
Sunwoo had said that they should just stay at home. Maybe hide in a warm blanket like everyone else, maybe pass around a lukewarm cup of coffee, maybe read a book he’d never gotten around to reading. Maybe they’d just sit and stare while the rain drowns out their city, or maybe they could have gone out with a bang-with Sunwoo nestled snugly inbetween Junghwan’s legs. Sunwoo had said there was no point to this. Junghwan instead had come running back from the garage to announce that there was still half a tank of gas left. He just wanted to see the ocean.
Sunwoo had obliged, like he always obliges.
Click, they’re at the ocean.
Click, the waves.
Click-
“-What is the point?”
“Huh?”
Sunwoo points to the camera in Junghwan’s hands with a bit of annoyance. “What’s the point?” His eyes look a bit sad, almost regretful, like the look one gets around the end of a vacation as if there was some landmark he had forgotten to see or a postcard he had neglected to buy. He still snakes his hand into Junghwan’s free hand, despite the bitterness, or maybe it has just become an innate habit.
Junghwan shrugs.
“Memories.” He plays with the dials on his camera, his thumb stroking Sunwoo’s finger. “For the sake of memories.”
Sunwoo thinks about it for a moment, about all those memories swirling in his cranium: ginger candy that tasted bitter, kisses that were sad, arguments that were sweet. It’s like all the adjectives are in the wrong places; it’s like Sunwoo’s trying to remember everything at once.
Junghwan snaps a picture of him thinking. He thinks Sunwoo’s a bit too soft sometimes and Junghwan just wants to do something crazy most of the time. He wants to see the ocean. He wants to see the ocean with Sunwoo.
He lets the car’s top down just as the rain starts to pour. Behind them is the darkened sky of the storm. In front of them is the ocean with all its violent waves. The water crashes down onto the dashboard first, then onto the radio with the cheerful voice (soon after the radio also goes quiet). The rain soaks Junghwan’s knees first, then it finds its way into the crevices between his body and the leather seats. Rain dots the mirrors and runs down his face like tears he does not have the intention of shedding.
“Wh-” Sunwoo exclaims while throwing a free hand up into the air in desperate attempts to shield himself from the rain. It’s futile, like everything is. Junghwan, on the other hand, opens his mouth and lets the rain collect.
It crashes harder-somehow still hungry even after swallowing up all those other places, after swallowing Seoul. The skies are darker. Here at the edge, the waves also crash. The rain crashes. The waves crash. Salt water and acid rain. Somehow it makes sense. The car sways from the reletenless wind, and Junghwan can’t tell if he’s sinking into the sand or being lifted up by the wind.
Sunwoo’s staring at him with a blank eyes (Junghwan thinks Sunwoo has always been the kind of person that doesn’t want to cheapen the moment with something human, like emotions. He had always liked nonchalance above everything else, that or some variation of sarcasm.) He’s facing him while lying on his side on the car seat, an arm raised over his head hiding his features from the rain. Sunwoo kicks his feet, where the water in the car has already collected past his shins, and it splashes on to the already soaked camera. In this way, with no expression at all, Junghwan can read it as whatever he wants. He reads it as gratitude.
With a grip on Sunwoo’s collar, Junghwan brings their lips together-not at a crashing force-but light touches, tasting of love, of dependence, and of acid rain. He thinks, despite the nonbeliever in him, that where they’re going they have forever.
It’s two in the afternoon, but they’re washed in a rivet of darkness. Junghwan kisses him like they do indeed have forever. He snaps a picture, with the free hand not entangled in Sunwoo’s shirt, with a camera that probably no longer works, and it’s a memory recorded for the sake of memories.
The world ends with a storm. Sunwoo’s there, Sunwoo’s lips are there, his fingers too, and although the occasion is a bit a little wet, it’s just like any other storm. Junghwan closes his eyes and the sky belts out a thunderous roar. The rain crashes hard, the waves crash harder, and the car with the folded top gets dragged out to sea.
Somewhere later, the camera sinks to the bottom of ocean, and it awaits a future treasure hunter of a future time, an artifact for the sake of artifacts.
title is from john steinbeck's east of eden, which might possibly be my favorite book at the moment.
concrit is very welcomed.
♥
The world ends with a storm. Junghwan suggests a drive to the beach.
baro/sandeul | 1000 w | PG
On Tuesday, they get into the car, the one with the foldable top. Sunwoo drives with a sour expression and Junghwan documents everything with his camera.
Click, Sunwoo tightens his lips.
Click, Sunwoo changes lanes.
Click, Sunwoo worries with his eyebrows knotted together.
The radio is set to the local news station. The reporter sounds a bit too cheery with overcompensated enthusasium. Words resembling the rain has spread to Seoul and is moving fast reach their ears. What a storm!. There are no other cars on the road. Sunwoo drives on the wrong side. The reporter continues with the wind speed, the meters of precipitation. To Junghwan, the numbers sound more like casualities. Junghwan takes a picture of the radio.
Sunwoo opens his mouth to say something, but it gets caught in his throat. Goodbyes, which come in various tones of wistful and carry the weight of various amounts of memories, are always hard to bid. He wants to say too much at once. Bits and pieces of past conversations fling themselves at him like stones and stick to him like bittersweet honey. They drive in silence instead, the kind that simmers in its own futility.
Sunwoo had said that they should just stay at home. Maybe hide in a warm blanket like everyone else, maybe pass around a lukewarm cup of coffee, maybe read a book he’d never gotten around to reading. Maybe they’d just sit and stare while the rain drowns out their city, or maybe they could have gone out with a bang-with Sunwoo nestled snugly inbetween Junghwan’s legs. Sunwoo had said there was no point to this. Junghwan instead had come running back from the garage to announce that there was still half a tank of gas left. He just wanted to see the ocean.
Sunwoo had obliged, like he always obliges.
Click, they’re at the ocean.
Click, the waves.
Click-
“-What is the point?”
“Huh?”
Sunwoo points to the camera in Junghwan’s hands with a bit of annoyance. “What’s the point?” His eyes look a bit sad, almost regretful, like the look one gets around the end of a vacation as if there was some landmark he had forgotten to see or a postcard he had neglected to buy. He still snakes his hand into Junghwan’s free hand, despite the bitterness, or maybe it has just become an innate habit.
Junghwan shrugs.
“Memories.” He plays with the dials on his camera, his thumb stroking Sunwoo’s finger. “For the sake of memories.”
Sunwoo thinks about it for a moment, about all those memories swirling in his cranium: ginger candy that tasted bitter, kisses that were sad, arguments that were sweet. It’s like all the adjectives are in the wrong places; it’s like Sunwoo’s trying to remember everything at once.
Junghwan snaps a picture of him thinking. He thinks Sunwoo’s a bit too soft sometimes and Junghwan just wants to do something crazy most of the time. He wants to see the ocean. He wants to see the ocean with Sunwoo.
He lets the car’s top down just as the rain starts to pour. Behind them is the darkened sky of the storm. In front of them is the ocean with all its violent waves. The water crashes down onto the dashboard first, then onto the radio with the cheerful voice (soon after the radio also goes quiet). The rain soaks Junghwan’s knees first, then it finds its way into the crevices between his body and the leather seats. Rain dots the mirrors and runs down his face like tears he does not have the intention of shedding.
“Wh-” Sunwoo exclaims while throwing a free hand up into the air in desperate attempts to shield himself from the rain. It’s futile, like everything is. Junghwan, on the other hand, opens his mouth and lets the rain collect.
It crashes harder-somehow still hungry even after swallowing up all those other places, after swallowing Seoul. The skies are darker. Here at the edge, the waves also crash. The rain crashes. The waves crash. Salt water and acid rain. Somehow it makes sense. The car sways from the reletenless wind, and Junghwan can’t tell if he’s sinking into the sand or being lifted up by the wind.
Sunwoo’s staring at him with a blank eyes (Junghwan thinks Sunwoo has always been the kind of person that doesn’t want to cheapen the moment with something human, like emotions. He had always liked nonchalance above everything else, that or some variation of sarcasm.) He’s facing him while lying on his side on the car seat, an arm raised over his head hiding his features from the rain. Sunwoo kicks his feet, where the water in the car has already collected past his shins, and it splashes on to the already soaked camera. In this way, with no expression at all, Junghwan can read it as whatever he wants. He reads it as gratitude.
With a grip on Sunwoo’s collar, Junghwan brings their lips together-not at a crashing force-but light touches, tasting of love, of dependence, and of acid rain. He thinks, despite the nonbeliever in him, that where they’re going they have forever.
It’s two in the afternoon, but they’re washed in a rivet of darkness. Junghwan kisses him like they do indeed have forever. He snaps a picture, with the free hand not entangled in Sunwoo’s shirt, with a camera that probably no longer works, and it’s a memory recorded for the sake of memories.
The world ends with a storm. Sunwoo’s there, Sunwoo’s lips are there, his fingers too, and although the occasion is a bit a little wet, it’s just like any other storm. Junghwan closes his eyes and the sky belts out a thunderous roar. The rain crashes hard, the waves crash harder, and the car with the folded top gets dragged out to sea.
Somewhere later, the camera sinks to the bottom of ocean, and it awaits a future treasure hunter of a future time, an artifact for the sake of artifacts.
title is from john steinbeck's east of eden, which might possibly be my favorite book at the moment.
concrit is very welcomed.
♥