016. Quiet Places
[016] Quiet Places, Yesung/Ryeowook (9/100)
Archive
Length: 1205 words
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Angst
Disclaimer: I do not own real people.
Summary: A million things you want to say. A million things he doesn't.
Author’s Note: A challenge with rodiy using milkpoet #14. To all the yewook fans out there, I'm sorry. >_>
There are a million needles prickling along your arm, and a million choice words you have in mind to say when he first grabs you, and pulls you over to a group of rowdy, rambunctious children.
At least, that's what you think they look like.
Ryeowook is still clutching, gently, at your wrist as he introduces you to his group of friends. You’ve known him for almost a year and this is the most agitated you’ve ever been in front of him.
You give a polite bow of greeting before you’re dragged and nearly thrown into a seat you did not want to sit in, a restaurant you did not want to be in, with a group that you did not want to fit in.
So you stare. Glower, really, because when you try to smile, no one notices, except they do and decidedly ignore you. You don’t know why.
Softly, Ryeowook smiles at you in the midst of the rolling din and your expression softens with him.
He's the first real (human) friend you've had in a long while, so you can't mess this up. You can't.
So you sit. And endure. Endure the food that comes tasting strangely similar to the plain ramen you cook for yourself alone at home. Endure the inside jokes and personal conversations about who did who at that party last week that remind you awkwardly of when your roommate brings home his girlfriend; they make out quietly on the couch behind you as if you weren’t there and couldn’t hear every kiss and every whisper, even through your headphones blasting on high volume. You most especially endure Ryeowook's attention being taken away from you, though you have to give him credit for his effort of inclusion.
It was interesting, you think, to be surrounded by more people than you've seen around in a month, and yet, feel the loneliest you've ever felt in your entire life.
The funniest thing was that you had asked for this punishment.
("You should let me meet your friends one of these days," you'd said, after listening to him talk endlessly about how funny and unique and entertaining and sometimes stupid they were.
Before you can take it back, Ryeowook answers, with blunt surprise, "Really? Oh! Okay," with more excitement than you’d hoped for.)
Call it interested, or perhaps jealous, but you felt they needed to prove themselves worthy to be his friends (or you needed to prove yourself worthy).
The six or ten or twenty of them make enough noise to fill the entire restaurant, but when the hubbub becomes a hazy noise melting with the low hum of the rest of the room, that’s when you know your attention has waned. You need a break.
Excusing yourself, you stroll out to the side of the building, next to the shittiest smelling dumpster your nose has ever been honored with. You stand facing it anyway, thinking it apropos to your mood at the moment, and take out a smoke.
You quit six months and three days ago, when four months and two weeks after you met him, Ryeowook said something about ‘lung cancer’ and ‘worried’. So you quit because you couldn’t mess it up, but just for tonight, you had a feeling you’d need one cigarette.
Just for tonight.
It pulses between your fingers, familiar and comforting, for a few moments. You wonder vaguely if you actually, really need it, but the low hum returns, ringing hollow in your ears, and before you realize, the smoke is filling your lungs and you exhale it like a prayer.
“I thought you quit.”
You spin around to find Ryeowook standing, eyes glimmering with something you’ve seen before, but don’t feel guilty enough to recognize.
“I did,” and let the cigarette fall to the ground, grinding it out. Such a waste, you think, but you have enough of a conscience to stop yourself from taking out another.
“Do you… Are you okay?” he says, with the same quiet voice. Always quiet, always mild. Always Ryeowook, and you wonder if you could keep this up.
Whatever this is.
“I’m completely fine,” you start. The smile you offer him strains your cheeks, but it doesn’t give. “You’re worrying too much again,” you say, clapping his shoulders in a one-arm hug, and you laugh, “Go back inside. It’s freezing out here.”
And it is, you realize. You just weren’t aware in your distraction.
Ryeowook looks at you as you push him back indoors. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” your tone nearly trills with sugary nonchalance. “I’ll go back in a second.”
Another look is thrown at you, and before you know it, your arm is prickling with the same million needles, and you have yet another set of a million choice words to say, but the only thing your mouth could think to stutter out is, “Hey! What. I. Whe-Wait, Ryeo-“ as he pulls at your wrist, away from the restaurant, away from the dim building lights, away from the tumult of the masses.
He stops when you reach the underpass two blocks down and finally lets go. His eyes bore into you.
“What’d you take me here for, Ryeowook?” you say, trying to keep your words light, but those eyes won’t let you.
“Is this far enough away?” he asks.
Almost accusing, you can’t help thinking. But you answer, “From what?”
“From them, hyung. You don’t like them, right?” he says plainly, softly, and so… Ryeowook-ly. You can’t think of another word to explain him.
You don’t say anything, and only train your face to stay blank, because they are his friends. They’re more his friends than you are. You can’t say anything. You can’t mess this up (though you might’ve already).
“I want to ask why. Because you said you wanted to meet them. And I thought…” and his head bows low. “I thought you’d finally…”
“Finally what?” you prod, when he doesn’t continue.
In the end, he only lifts his head back up, smiles in that way that accents the apple of his cheeks (but doesn’t reach his eyes), and shakes his head. “We… should go back. I’m sorry for dragging you here.”
You feel as if you just missed something, as if you had just lost something, as if ‘here’ meant more than just a location. You hold him back.
“Wait,” you say, and all thoughts leave your mind when he looks back at you, eyes still glimmering with that something that you can’t recognize, but you’ve seen time and time again. The words you had wanted to say stop at your throat and never make it out past your lips, and instead, comes out in croaks.
In the silence that comes after, you know (just know) that things will be different. He will treat you different.
There will be more secrets and unspoken words. And there will be more silence.
And there will be unchanged eyes glimmering with that emotion that you don’t recognize, that you can’t recognize. Because you can’t see them. Because you don’t understand.
You can’t mess this up, you think, you can’t mess this up. But the moment he walks away, you know you already have.
I'm really sorry. I'm not good at writing pairings I don't OTP apparently. Don't break my OTPs in revenge plz. ;___;
Archive
Length: 1205 words
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Angst
Disclaimer: I do not own real people.
Summary: A million things you want to say. A million things he doesn't.
Author’s Note: A challenge with rodiy using milkpoet #14. To all the yewook fans out there, I'm sorry. >_>
There are a million needles prickling along your arm, and a million choice words you have in mind to say when he first grabs you, and pulls you over to a group of rowdy, rambunctious children.
At least, that's what you think they look like.
Ryeowook is still clutching, gently, at your wrist as he introduces you to his group of friends. You’ve known him for almost a year and this is the most agitated you’ve ever been in front of him.
You give a polite bow of greeting before you’re dragged and nearly thrown into a seat you did not want to sit in, a restaurant you did not want to be in, with a group that you did not want to fit in.
So you stare. Glower, really, because when you try to smile, no one notices, except they do and decidedly ignore you. You don’t know why.
Softly, Ryeowook smiles at you in the midst of the rolling din and your expression softens with him.
He's the first real (human) friend you've had in a long while, so you can't mess this up. You can't.
So you sit. And endure. Endure the food that comes tasting strangely similar to the plain ramen you cook for yourself alone at home. Endure the inside jokes and personal conversations about who did who at that party last week that remind you awkwardly of when your roommate brings home his girlfriend; they make out quietly on the couch behind you as if you weren’t there and couldn’t hear every kiss and every whisper, even through your headphones blasting on high volume. You most especially endure Ryeowook's attention being taken away from you, though you have to give him credit for his effort of inclusion.
It was interesting, you think, to be surrounded by more people than you've seen around in a month, and yet, feel the loneliest you've ever felt in your entire life.
The funniest thing was that you had asked for this punishment.
("You should let me meet your friends one of these days," you'd said, after listening to him talk endlessly about how funny and unique and entertaining and sometimes stupid they were.
Before you can take it back, Ryeowook answers, with blunt surprise, "Really? Oh! Okay," with more excitement than you’d hoped for.)
Call it interested, or perhaps jealous, but you felt they needed to prove themselves worthy to be his friends (or you needed to prove yourself worthy).
The six or ten or twenty of them make enough noise to fill the entire restaurant, but when the hubbub becomes a hazy noise melting with the low hum of the rest of the room, that’s when you know your attention has waned. You need a break.
Excusing yourself, you stroll out to the side of the building, next to the shittiest smelling dumpster your nose has ever been honored with. You stand facing it anyway, thinking it apropos to your mood at the moment, and take out a smoke.
You quit six months and three days ago, when four months and two weeks after you met him, Ryeowook said something about ‘lung cancer’ and ‘worried’. So you quit because you couldn’t mess it up, but just for tonight, you had a feeling you’d need one cigarette.
Just for tonight.
It pulses between your fingers, familiar and comforting, for a few moments. You wonder vaguely if you actually, really need it, but the low hum returns, ringing hollow in your ears, and before you realize, the smoke is filling your lungs and you exhale it like a prayer.
“I thought you quit.”
You spin around to find Ryeowook standing, eyes glimmering with something you’ve seen before, but don’t feel guilty enough to recognize.
“I did,” and let the cigarette fall to the ground, grinding it out. Such a waste, you think, but you have enough of a conscience to stop yourself from taking out another.
“Do you… Are you okay?” he says, with the same quiet voice. Always quiet, always mild. Always Ryeowook, and you wonder if you could keep this up.
Whatever this is.
“I’m completely fine,” you start. The smile you offer him strains your cheeks, but it doesn’t give. “You’re worrying too much again,” you say, clapping his shoulders in a one-arm hug, and you laugh, “Go back inside. It’s freezing out here.”
And it is, you realize. You just weren’t aware in your distraction.
Ryeowook looks at you as you push him back indoors. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” your tone nearly trills with sugary nonchalance. “I’ll go back in a second.”
Another look is thrown at you, and before you know it, your arm is prickling with the same million needles, and you have yet another set of a million choice words to say, but the only thing your mouth could think to stutter out is, “Hey! What. I. Whe-Wait, Ryeo-“ as he pulls at your wrist, away from the restaurant, away from the dim building lights, away from the tumult of the masses.
He stops when you reach the underpass two blocks down and finally lets go. His eyes bore into you.
“What’d you take me here for, Ryeowook?” you say, trying to keep your words light, but those eyes won’t let you.
“Is this far enough away?” he asks.
Almost accusing, you can’t help thinking. But you answer, “From what?”
“From them, hyung. You don’t like them, right?” he says plainly, softly, and so… Ryeowook-ly. You can’t think of another word to explain him.
You don’t say anything, and only train your face to stay blank, because they are his friends. They’re more his friends than you are. You can’t say anything. You can’t mess this up (though you might’ve already).
“I want to ask why. Because you said you wanted to meet them. And I thought…” and his head bows low. “I thought you’d finally…”
“Finally what?” you prod, when he doesn’t continue.
In the end, he only lifts his head back up, smiles in that way that accents the apple of his cheeks (but doesn’t reach his eyes), and shakes his head. “We… should go back. I’m sorry for dragging you here.”
You feel as if you just missed something, as if you had just lost something, as if ‘here’ meant more than just a location. You hold him back.
“Wait,” you say, and all thoughts leave your mind when he looks back at you, eyes still glimmering with that something that you can’t recognize, but you’ve seen time and time again. The words you had wanted to say stop at your throat and never make it out past your lips, and instead, comes out in croaks.
In the silence that comes after, you know (just know) that things will be different. He will treat you different.
There will be more secrets and unspoken words. And there will be more silence.
And there will be unchanged eyes glimmering with that emotion that you don’t recognize, that you can’t recognize. Because you can’t see them. Because you don’t understand.
You can’t mess this up, you think, you can’t mess this up. But the moment he walks away, you know you already have.
I'm really sorry. I'm not good at writing pairings I don't OTP apparently. Don't break my OTPs in revenge plz. ;___;