wallet.
wallet
sonyong/junwoon (junhyung/dongwoon/junhyung), pg-13, goosebump-inducing unbeta'd
a quick something inspired by regina spektor's song of the same title.
we travel on asphalt rivers.
The bus zooms past brick and metal monsters that are all sharp angles and teetering heights. The balding trees and fading flowers are blurs in the foreground that Dongwoon strains to see but his own breath turns a patch of the window smoke-white. And now there is nothing but solid, unmoving giants to see and to make sense of.
In the neverending days of work, the construction workers bury seeds in soil, feed them steel and they grow upwards into the sky. Many Jacks in uniform and safety gear shift up and down the incomplete Giant Beanstalk (bound to mature into a new shopping mall for immature teenagers to hang out at or a company building full of stiff workers), drilling and hammering it into its new shape.
Poor them, Dongwoon shakes his head. They don't get a say in their own future at all.
The bus stops in front of a neat row of apartments and Dongwoon struggles to get out of his seat with all his books and groceries, hopping off the vehicle right before the automatic doors catch him between its metal jaws.
Dongwoon balances plastic bags, files and books that probably weigh twice as heavy as himself, sticking the curve of his chin on top of the book pile and hoping that he wouldn't have to use the tip of his nose to keep them from toppling over later on. Being a student can be such a pain sometimes.He takes a step forward, shoving one foot into the air and walking proves to be difficult when you have such a burden to bear. Thank god home isn't too far away, Dongwoon thinks and focuses on the path ahead, taking careful steps forward.
An old lady walking by stares at him weirdly and the corners of her wax-red lips are dragging downwards in disapproval. Dongwoon continues ahead and wonders briefly if he looked like he had just stolen some groceries and useless textbooks or something. Old ladies these days are getting way too suspicious.
Another step forward and there's something under Dongwoon's foot, a persistent lump of something. "God, no, not gum." He groans and sets down his load slowly, lifting his foot to find a leather wallet lying flat on the path. The grey lines of Dongwoon's shoe sole marks the dark brown skin clearly; decisive evidence for the murder of this unknown wallet. He imagines drawing a chalk line around the soft edges of this victim and dusting for fingerprints on its skin. What am I thinking. So Dongwoon pinches the side of the wallet and lifts it up to examine it.
It looks almost like his own wallet, except it looks rather expensive (he hesitates, looks around). Like a surgeon carefully pulling apart a patient's skin to peer inside, Dongwoon opens its inner pockets and lifts extra flaps to find cards and receipts and more cards. There isn't any money in it, save a few coins (he sighs). Dongwoon slides out a polaroid.
The gulping clouds sift evening light onto the miniature face of a boy, captured in what seems to be a moment of happiness because his eyes are curled upwards like his mouth. Not a wide, sunny smile with teeth showing, Dongwoon tilts his head and stares at it. What would you call it... a Mona Lisa sort of smile? Whatever it is, it has Dongwoon staring intently at it for ten minutes, curious irises attempting eye contact with the polaroid until he snaps out of it.
A voice bounces off the walls of his mind, reminding him about what one should do when one finds a wallet lying around randomly. So Dongwoon being the good boy he is, looks for any sort of identification card so that he can locate the owner or at least, help the poor policemen out a little when he visits them later on.
He holds up a shiny red card (membership card for some department store?) and the print reads: YONG JUNHYUNG
Dongwoon looks through the rest of the cards and they are all the same. So that's his name, Dongwoon glances at the polaroid and slides in all the cards and receipts carefully, eyes scanning them one by one, picking up random words like '7-11' , 'item no. 005 coke' and '#cd THEQUIETT-RAPSOLUTE'. He paints a picture of a pale boy sitting near a 7-11, holding a bottle of Coke and admiring the cover of a new CD with that small smile of his. A simple kind of happiness against the cold background of overwhelming skyscrapers. Dongwoon fingers the polaroid's yellowing edge, thumb hovering over one shoulder of the frozen boy named Yong Junhyung.
He pockets the wallet, sandwiches the polaroid within his own wallet and picks up all his things slowly. Dongwoon marches in the direction of home, drops off the groceries and books when he reaches and lets his worrying mother massage his aching arms before heading off to the police station.
The polaroid stays in his drawer and Dongwoon doesn't know why he took it in the first place. Isn't it stealing? It's bad, he hums to himself on the way back from the police station. It's bad.
But later when he takes the polaroid out and looks at it under the electric white of his desk light, guilt worms its way into his heart. Dongwoon fingers his lower lip and sighs, it's too late to return this, besides polaroids are kind of fascinating and I'm starting on a collection anyway... right?
Self-denial tastes like bitter chocolate.
Darkness engulfs the city (except not entirely because artificial lights keep it alive) and Dongwoon yawns, curling up into the warmth of his pillows and blankets.
Good night, I hope you'll find your wallet waiting for you in the safe hands of policemen. I don't know you and you don't know me, but I hope you'll be happy when they call you up.
And then you will smile, just like you did in this picture.
I'm such a kind soul. With that thought in mind, Dongwoon smiles himself to sleep and
dreams of an endless path strewn with lost wallets, leading to a lone figure in the distance.
sonyong/junwoon (junhyung/dongwoon/junhyung), pg-13, goosebump-inducing unbeta'd
a quick something inspired by regina spektor's song of the same title.
we travel on asphalt rivers.
The bus zooms past brick and metal monsters that are all sharp angles and teetering heights. The balding trees and fading flowers are blurs in the foreground that Dongwoon strains to see but his own breath turns a patch of the window smoke-white. And now there is nothing but solid, unmoving giants to see and to make sense of.
In the neverending days of work, the construction workers bury seeds in soil, feed them steel and they grow upwards into the sky. Many Jacks in uniform and safety gear shift up and down the incomplete Giant Beanstalk (bound to mature into a new shopping mall for immature teenagers to hang out at or a company building full of stiff workers), drilling and hammering it into its new shape.
Poor them, Dongwoon shakes his head. They don't get a say in their own future at all.
The bus stops in front of a neat row of apartments and Dongwoon struggles to get out of his seat with all his books and groceries, hopping off the vehicle right before the automatic doors catch him between its metal jaws.
Dongwoon balances plastic bags, files and books that probably weigh twice as heavy as himself, sticking the curve of his chin on top of the book pile and hoping that he wouldn't have to use the tip of his nose to keep them from toppling over later on. Being a student can be such a pain sometimes.He takes a step forward, shoving one foot into the air and walking proves to be difficult when you have such a burden to bear. Thank god home isn't too far away, Dongwoon thinks and focuses on the path ahead, taking careful steps forward.
An old lady walking by stares at him weirdly and the corners of her wax-red lips are dragging downwards in disapproval. Dongwoon continues ahead and wonders briefly if he looked like he had just stolen some groceries and useless textbooks or something. Old ladies these days are getting way too suspicious.
Another step forward and there's something under Dongwoon's foot, a persistent lump of something. "God, no, not gum." He groans and sets down his load slowly, lifting his foot to find a leather wallet lying flat on the path. The grey lines of Dongwoon's shoe sole marks the dark brown skin clearly; decisive evidence for the murder of this unknown wallet. He imagines drawing a chalk line around the soft edges of this victim and dusting for fingerprints on its skin. What am I thinking. So Dongwoon pinches the side of the wallet and lifts it up to examine it.
It looks almost like his own wallet, except it looks rather expensive (he hesitates, looks around). Like a surgeon carefully pulling apart a patient's skin to peer inside, Dongwoon opens its inner pockets and lifts extra flaps to find cards and receipts and more cards. There isn't any money in it, save a few coins (he sighs). Dongwoon slides out a polaroid.
The gulping clouds sift evening light onto the miniature face of a boy, captured in what seems to be a moment of happiness because his eyes are curled upwards like his mouth. Not a wide, sunny smile with teeth showing, Dongwoon tilts his head and stares at it. What would you call it... a Mona Lisa sort of smile? Whatever it is, it has Dongwoon staring intently at it for ten minutes, curious irises attempting eye contact with the polaroid until he snaps out of it.
A voice bounces off the walls of his mind, reminding him about what one should do when one finds a wallet lying around randomly. So Dongwoon being the good boy he is, looks for any sort of identification card so that he can locate the owner or at least, help the poor policemen out a little when he visits them later on.
He holds up a shiny red card (membership card for some department store?) and the print reads: YONG JUNHYUNG
Dongwoon looks through the rest of the cards and they are all the same. So that's his name, Dongwoon glances at the polaroid and slides in all the cards and receipts carefully, eyes scanning them one by one, picking up random words like '7-11' , 'item no. 005 coke' and '#cd THEQUIETT-RAPSOLUTE'. He paints a picture of a pale boy sitting near a 7-11, holding a bottle of Coke and admiring the cover of a new CD with that small smile of his. A simple kind of happiness against the cold background of overwhelming skyscrapers. Dongwoon fingers the polaroid's yellowing edge, thumb hovering over one shoulder of the frozen boy named Yong Junhyung.
He pockets the wallet, sandwiches the polaroid within his own wallet and picks up all his things slowly. Dongwoon marches in the direction of home, drops off the groceries and books when he reaches and lets his worrying mother massage his aching arms before heading off to the police station.
The polaroid stays in his drawer and Dongwoon doesn't know why he took it in the first place. Isn't it stealing? It's bad, he hums to himself on the way back from the police station. It's bad.
But later when he takes the polaroid out and looks at it under the electric white of his desk light, guilt worms its way into his heart. Dongwoon fingers his lower lip and sighs, it's too late to return this, besides polaroids are kind of fascinating and I'm starting on a collection anyway... right?
Self-denial tastes like bitter chocolate.
Darkness engulfs the city (except not entirely because artificial lights keep it alive) and Dongwoon yawns, curling up into the warmth of his pillows and blankets.
Good night, I hope you'll find your wallet waiting for you in the safe hands of policemen. I don't know you and you don't know me, but I hope you'll be happy when they call you up.
And then you will smile, just like you did in this picture.
I'm such a kind soul. With that thought in mind, Dongwoon smiles himself to sleep and
dreams of an endless path strewn with lost wallets, leading to a lone figure in the distance.