kisoap
in
thekpop100
#019 - synthetic love
Title: synthetic love
Author: kisoap
Fandom/Characters/Pairing: Seventeen/Lovelyz | Wonwoo/Myungeun
Rating/Warnings: PG
Challenge # & Prompt: #019 - sense
Word Count: 540w
Myungeun is a spatter of familiarity in between the limbs of strangers. She reappears, Wonwoo's hand in hers, tugging him behind her through the stop-start motion of the strobe lights, camera shutters of moments. Everything smells like smoke and sweat and hints of alcohol on breaths. Everything peaks into a too-loud crash of voices and high hats. Everything is overwhelming, but Myungeun's hand reminds Wonwoo that he's going somewhere, somewhere where everything can just be them.
She lets go of his hand once they're in a fairly secluded hallway, too dark that Myungeun is a part of the shadows and that Wonwoo can't see his hands when he looks down to where they should be, outstretched and upturned. There's still the faint smell of smoke and people, but there is also the smell of the shampoo Myungeun always uses, fresh in her hair like she washed it only a few hours before.
Wonwoo toes his way to the space next to her, copying the way she leans against the wall. They stand there in the silence that settles between introverts who think the darkness holds some kind of sanctity, a home for thought. Wonwoo still tastes the aftertaste of the brunt of someone's grapefruit smoke from an electronic cigarette in the back of his mouth, hears synths staccato in the background.
"I think," Myungeun starts just when Wonwoo's eyes start to adjust to the pitch. Her vague outline beside him taps her chin. "I think," she says again, because this was Myungeun, the beginner of open-ended thoughts, trailed off from where she would settle on the floor of his and Junhui's shared room, escaping the corner of her mouth as she dozed off to sleep.
Wonwoo hears himself swallow. "You think," he echoes, wrapping his arms around himself. Sweaty palms press against his thin t-shirt.
Myungeun takes a moment to reorient herself. When it came to the dark, there were certain ways you had to say things to respect the remembrance and deep thinking that came with the blindness. There were just certain things to say. "I think," she says again, slowly, clearly, a synth in the distance punctuating her words. Wonwoo doesn't know if her eyes find his. "You like me."
A stillness. Laugh from someone further down the hallway, walking towards them. He blinks.
And as that person walks past them, distorting the stillness and silence and sanctity of the darkness lying between them: the smell of Myungeun's shampoo. The imagined sound of her breathing, in time with his. The tingling left in his fingers from where she held onto his hand, an anchor of a boat docking at home, synths murmuring, muffled, in his ears.
Wonwoo doesn't think he likes Myungeun like that. But beyond the aftertaste of that sweetened smoke from someone's electronic cigarette is the taste of a cold, crisp apple on the back of his tongue of the words I do.
Synths and sense. A shiver of nervous energy flowing upwards from his toes. Wonwoo moves closer so their knees touch, feather light, and finds Myungeun's eyes in the darkness. And then closer, and closer, and closer until Myungeun's eyes glance down at his lips.
She covers them with hers.
And then.
can i please have a group: lovelyz tag? ;; thank you!
Author: kisoap
Fandom/Characters/Pairing: Seventeen/Lovelyz | Wonwoo/Myungeun
Rating/Warnings: PG
Challenge # & Prompt: #019 - sense
Word Count: 540w
Myungeun is a spatter of familiarity in between the limbs of strangers. She reappears, Wonwoo's hand in hers, tugging him behind her through the stop-start motion of the strobe lights, camera shutters of moments. Everything smells like smoke and sweat and hints of alcohol on breaths. Everything peaks into a too-loud crash of voices and high hats. Everything is overwhelming, but Myungeun's hand reminds Wonwoo that he's going somewhere, somewhere where everything can just be them.
She lets go of his hand once they're in a fairly secluded hallway, too dark that Myungeun is a part of the shadows and that Wonwoo can't see his hands when he looks down to where they should be, outstretched and upturned. There's still the faint smell of smoke and people, but there is also the smell of the shampoo Myungeun always uses, fresh in her hair like she washed it only a few hours before.
Wonwoo toes his way to the space next to her, copying the way she leans against the wall. They stand there in the silence that settles between introverts who think the darkness holds some kind of sanctity, a home for thought. Wonwoo still tastes the aftertaste of the brunt of someone's grapefruit smoke from an electronic cigarette in the back of his mouth, hears synths staccato in the background.
"I think," Myungeun starts just when Wonwoo's eyes start to adjust to the pitch. Her vague outline beside him taps her chin. "I think," she says again, because this was Myungeun, the beginner of open-ended thoughts, trailed off from where she would settle on the floor of his and Junhui's shared room, escaping the corner of her mouth as she dozed off to sleep.
Wonwoo hears himself swallow. "You think," he echoes, wrapping his arms around himself. Sweaty palms press against his thin t-shirt.
Myungeun takes a moment to reorient herself. When it came to the dark, there were certain ways you had to say things to respect the remembrance and deep thinking that came with the blindness. There were just certain things to say. "I think," she says again, slowly, clearly, a synth in the distance punctuating her words. Wonwoo doesn't know if her eyes find his. "You like me."
A stillness. Laugh from someone further down the hallway, walking towards them. He blinks.
And as that person walks past them, distorting the stillness and silence and sanctity of the darkness lying between them: the smell of Myungeun's shampoo. The imagined sound of her breathing, in time with his. The tingling left in his fingers from where she held onto his hand, an anchor of a boat docking at home, synths murmuring, muffled, in his ears.
Wonwoo doesn't think he likes Myungeun like that. But beyond the aftertaste of that sweetened smoke from someone's electronic cigarette is the taste of a cold, crisp apple on the back of his tongue of the words I do.
Synths and sense. A shiver of nervous energy flowing upwards from his toes. Wonwoo moves closer so their knees touch, feather light, and finds Myungeun's eyes in the darkness. And then closer, and closer, and closer until Myungeun's eyes glance down at his lips.
She covers them with hers.
And then.
can i please have a group: lovelyz tag? ;; thank you!