[infinite] drabbles; myungsoo-centric and hoya/sungjong
glimpse; myungsoo-centric; 602 words; g
requested by trinketries, for the au summer fic game.
The first time it happens, Myungsoo figures he’s just having a memory lapse. After all, over the years he’s taken pictures of Sungjong in so many different cafés that it makes sense he might not remember all of them. So when he’s looking back over his shots from the past week or so and finds a picture mixed in of Sungjong sitting in a café Myungsoo doesn’t recognize, talking to a guy Myungsoo doesn’t know, he chalks it up to faulty memory.
He’s forgotten the picture completely by the time Sungjong drags him to a recently opened café two days later. Staring around the blue gingham-themed interior, Myungsoo can’t shake a feeling of déjà vu; but it isn’t until Sungjong straightens up in his seat and calls out to a classmate that Myungsoo makes the connection. Sungjong introduces Howon, a sunbae from his electrical engineering program, who Myungsoo has definitely never met before and who is definitely the other guy from the mystery picture.
His hands are shaking, and he does the only thing he can think of: raises his camera to snap a picture. It’s the exact same as the picture he’d found before, and it never shows up on his disk.
-
Myungsoo tries his best to forget the incident, and does a decent job of convincing himself that it was just the camera acting up mixed with his own overactive imagination. But then he finds a picture of his roommate Sungyeol sitting at their tiny kitchen table, doing his homework with one leg, in a cast, propped up on the opposite chair. It’s in the middle of his pictures from a wedding photoshoot he’d done the previous weekend.
Myungsoo squints at his computer screen, mouse hovering over the photo. To Myungsoo’s knowledge, Sungyeol hadn’t broken his foot since last year, before Myungsoo had bought this camera. And that had been his left foot - in this picture, it’s his right leg that’s in a cast.
“Hey, Yeol?” he calls out, getting a “what?” yelled back at him from the kitchen in reply. “Have you broken any bones lately?”
Sungyeol comes down the hallway to Myungsoo’s room, peering around the doorway. “No, why?” he asks, giving Myungsoo a suspicious look.
“I don’t know, I found a picture from last year mixed in with my files, and it confused me for a second. Don’t worry about it.”
Sungyeol nods uncertainly, but takes Myungsoo’s word for it and returns to the kitchen.
A week later he trips coming up the stairs to their apartment while carrying a bag of groceries, and breaks his right foot.
-
Myungsoo’s camera takes pictures of the future. Or, more correctly, it shows pictures that will be taken in the future. And once he’s done being frightened, Myungsoo thinks that it’s actually pretty fun. The pictures are mostly mundane things - Dongwoo grinning from ear to ear while playing soccer with Sungyeol, Sungjong holding a debate trophy, Sunggyu and Woohyun in a tangled mess while napping on the lawn outside the library. It’s nice knowing about things a step before everyone else, especially since his friends usually call him the oblivious one.
Then, one day as he’s flipping through his camera, Myungsoo notices a one that seems to be a gravestone. Frowning, he zooms in. There are some slightly wilted flowers, the grass is a bit overgrown, and it’s definitely a gravestone. Half curious and half terrified, he zooms in further, focusing on the text. As he reads it, his hands start to shake.
“Kim Myungsoo,” the stone reads in simple script. “1992 -”
Myungsoo drops his camera.
today, again; hoya/sungjong; 1150 words; pg-13(?); werewolf!au
i wrote this for the very first infinitememe post, back in april. figured that since i was doing a drabble dump anyways, i might as well post this up too ;; idk how to werewolf i'm so sorry
"Hey.”
Hoya’s hands are gentle against Sungjong’s cheeks, calloused fingers brushing across soft skin. It’s comforting in an odd sort of way, and Sungjong leans into Hoya’s touch as he tries to calm the tremors shaking his body.
“You did good.” Hoya’s voice is soothing, just loud enough to be heard, and Sungjong opens his eyes to meet Hoya’s gaze.
“Yeah?” Sungjong hates how weak he sounds, hates how vulnerable he feels. Hates that Hoya is already dressed again while Sungjong sits shivering in the cold, waiting for his bones to settle back into human form and his organs to twist back into shape. He’s nauseous, trying desperately not to puke all over Hoya and himself, and glad that he had figured out early on that although raw rabbit is appealing to wolf stomachs, human ones aren’t quite as enthusiastic. It was one of the few things Sungjong had figured out on his own, the very first time he had changed.
He had spent two months in a state of panicked hysteria, trying to sort out his life and control the new creature living inside him, feeling everything he had worked so hard for slipping further away. Then one day Hoya had walked into the same elevator as him and simply said, “I know what’s happening, and you’re going to be fine,” and Sungjong had slowly been able to start piecing his life back together.
“Yeah,” Hoya replies, resting his forehead against Sungjong’s. “Your control is improving a lot.”
Sungjong takes a shaky breath and wraps his fingers around Hoya’s biceps, gripping hard enough to bruise. His head is pounding and he can feel the tears pressing behind his eyes, threatening to overflow. Sungjong likes to be strong and independent - he had started a new life for himself in a country where he could barely even speak the language, had fought his way through university by hanging on to threads of mathematical equations and chemical formulas, had made it all the way to the pre med program with honors. He had thought he could handle anything, he had thought -
“I hate this. I never asked for this, I never wanted it.” Sungjong’s voice is barely a whisper, the words sticking in his throat. He hasn’t had a breakdown this bad since the first time he had changed back with Hoya there, and had cried in Hoya’s arms for well over an hour. That had been well over six months ago. Stop it, you’re being ridiculous, he scolds himself, swallowing back another wave of nausea.
“I know,” Hoya says, and just like that Sungjong crumbles. His hands slip away from Hoya’s arms and come down to rest against the dirt as Sungjong slumps from Hoya’s grasp. Because while Sungjong had spent two months struggling before Hoya had found him and taught him how to sense when the pull of the moon was getting too strong, how to control the wolf within him, the best places to go to avoid being seen, Hoya had had no one to do the same for him.
“I’m sorry -” Sungjong starts to say, only to get cut off by a pile of clothes being shoved in his face.
“The sun’s pretty much up now, so hurry and get dressed, and then we can stop by McDonald’s on the way back into town.”
Sungjong scowls as he stands up to pull on his boxers and pants. Although he’s feeling a lot more stable now, his stomach is still roiling in protest.
“Don’t look at me like that, we both know you’ll be starving by the time we get back to the car,” Hoya says with a grin, dusting the dirt off of his track pants.
“You know that I hate McDonald’s,” Sungjong replies with as much stony dignity as he can muster. Hoya simply snorts as Sungjong finishes tugging his sweater over his head.
“Right, I forgot that you need coffee in order to fully return to human state. I guess we’ll stop by Starbucks first.” Hoya reaches out to ruffle Sungjong’s hair and Sungjong huffs, grabbing Hoya’s hand and linking their fingers together instead.
Hoya’s face splits into a grin and Sungjong smiles back, swinging their joined hands slightly as they head back in the direction of Hoya’s car. The sun filters through the trees, dappling the path they’re taking. Around them the forest is slowly coming to life, and Sungjong inhales a deep breath of pine-scented air. He still feels unsteady, exhausted to the very core of his being, but his stomach is already starting to rumble with the telltale signs of hunger. Traitor.
Hoya starts to hum a song - most likely one of the atrocious rap monstrosities he always insists on playing in the car - and by the distant look on his face Sungjong can tell that he’s choreographing in his head again. His hand holding Sungjong’s starts the move slightly with whatever moves Hoya is planning out, and Sungjong opens his mouth to make a joke, except -
“Thank you.”
The words tumble out before Sungjong can really think about it, and he feels himself flushing immediately afterwards. There are so many other things he could have said, should have said, instead (I’m sorry for whining, I’m sorry for being weak, I’m sorry for everything you had to go through and that I couldn’t have been there for you) but an oversimplified expression of gratitude comes out instead. Sungjong bites his lip, free hand curling into a fist at his side. He’s embarrassed, but Hoya smiles, freeing his hand from Sungjong’s in order to wrap his arm around Sungjong’s shoulder and pull him closer.
“You’re welcome, princess,” Hoya says easily and Sungjong whips his head around to glare at him.
“I told you to stop calling me that!” Sungjong protests sharply. He can tell that his cheeks are now bright red, he can feel the warmth, and he ducks out of Hoya’s hold indignantly. “You better be glad I like you. Anyone else would be dead right now.”
Hoya just laughs, following Sungjong off the path and into the patch of gravel that serves as the parking lot for the trails in this area. The two of them look like nothing more than friends out for an early morning jog, not that there’s anyone else around to see - Hoya’s slightly rundown Civic is the only car there.
“Come on,” Hoya says as he fishes for his keys and unlocks the doors. “Let’s go get you your Starbucks and McDonald’s so we can get back in time for your 11am class.”
“We’re not getting McDonald’s,” Sungjong shoots back, pulling open the passenger door. As he gets in, he makes sure to avoid stepping on any of the rap CDs littering the floor and tosses the oversized purple hoodie (Hoya’s) that he’d left on the seat earlier into the back.
“Sure thing, princess.”
“Fuck you.
requested by trinketries, for the au summer fic game.
The first time it happens, Myungsoo figures he’s just having a memory lapse. After all, over the years he’s taken pictures of Sungjong in so many different cafés that it makes sense he might not remember all of them. So when he’s looking back over his shots from the past week or so and finds a picture mixed in of Sungjong sitting in a café Myungsoo doesn’t recognize, talking to a guy Myungsoo doesn’t know, he chalks it up to faulty memory.
He’s forgotten the picture completely by the time Sungjong drags him to a recently opened café two days later. Staring around the blue gingham-themed interior, Myungsoo can’t shake a feeling of déjà vu; but it isn’t until Sungjong straightens up in his seat and calls out to a classmate that Myungsoo makes the connection. Sungjong introduces Howon, a sunbae from his electrical engineering program, who Myungsoo has definitely never met before and who is definitely the other guy from the mystery picture.
His hands are shaking, and he does the only thing he can think of: raises his camera to snap a picture. It’s the exact same as the picture he’d found before, and it never shows up on his disk.
-
Myungsoo tries his best to forget the incident, and does a decent job of convincing himself that it was just the camera acting up mixed with his own overactive imagination. But then he finds a picture of his roommate Sungyeol sitting at their tiny kitchen table, doing his homework with one leg, in a cast, propped up on the opposite chair. It’s in the middle of his pictures from a wedding photoshoot he’d done the previous weekend.
Myungsoo squints at his computer screen, mouse hovering over the photo. To Myungsoo’s knowledge, Sungyeol hadn’t broken his foot since last year, before Myungsoo had bought this camera. And that had been his left foot - in this picture, it’s his right leg that’s in a cast.
“Hey, Yeol?” he calls out, getting a “what?” yelled back at him from the kitchen in reply. “Have you broken any bones lately?”
Sungyeol comes down the hallway to Myungsoo’s room, peering around the doorway. “No, why?” he asks, giving Myungsoo a suspicious look.
“I don’t know, I found a picture from last year mixed in with my files, and it confused me for a second. Don’t worry about it.”
Sungyeol nods uncertainly, but takes Myungsoo’s word for it and returns to the kitchen.
A week later he trips coming up the stairs to their apartment while carrying a bag of groceries, and breaks his right foot.
-
Myungsoo’s camera takes pictures of the future. Or, more correctly, it shows pictures that will be taken in the future. And once he’s done being frightened, Myungsoo thinks that it’s actually pretty fun. The pictures are mostly mundane things - Dongwoo grinning from ear to ear while playing soccer with Sungyeol, Sungjong holding a debate trophy, Sunggyu and Woohyun in a tangled mess while napping on the lawn outside the library. It’s nice knowing about things a step before everyone else, especially since his friends usually call him the oblivious one.
Then, one day as he’s flipping through his camera, Myungsoo notices a one that seems to be a gravestone. Frowning, he zooms in. There are some slightly wilted flowers, the grass is a bit overgrown, and it’s definitely a gravestone. Half curious and half terrified, he zooms in further, focusing on the text. As he reads it, his hands start to shake.
“Kim Myungsoo,” the stone reads in simple script. “1992 -”
Myungsoo drops his camera.
today, again; hoya/sungjong; 1150 words; pg-13(?); werewolf!au
i wrote this for the very first infinitememe post, back in april. figured that since i was doing a drabble dump anyways, i might as well post this up too ;; idk how to werewolf i'm so sorry
"Hey.”
Hoya’s hands are gentle against Sungjong’s cheeks, calloused fingers brushing across soft skin. It’s comforting in an odd sort of way, and Sungjong leans into Hoya’s touch as he tries to calm the tremors shaking his body.
“You did good.” Hoya’s voice is soothing, just loud enough to be heard, and Sungjong opens his eyes to meet Hoya’s gaze.
“Yeah?” Sungjong hates how weak he sounds, hates how vulnerable he feels. Hates that Hoya is already dressed again while Sungjong sits shivering in the cold, waiting for his bones to settle back into human form and his organs to twist back into shape. He’s nauseous, trying desperately not to puke all over Hoya and himself, and glad that he had figured out early on that although raw rabbit is appealing to wolf stomachs, human ones aren’t quite as enthusiastic. It was one of the few things Sungjong had figured out on his own, the very first time he had changed.
He had spent two months in a state of panicked hysteria, trying to sort out his life and control the new creature living inside him, feeling everything he had worked so hard for slipping further away. Then one day Hoya had walked into the same elevator as him and simply said, “I know what’s happening, and you’re going to be fine,” and Sungjong had slowly been able to start piecing his life back together.
“Yeah,” Hoya replies, resting his forehead against Sungjong’s. “Your control is improving a lot.”
Sungjong takes a shaky breath and wraps his fingers around Hoya’s biceps, gripping hard enough to bruise. His head is pounding and he can feel the tears pressing behind his eyes, threatening to overflow. Sungjong likes to be strong and independent - he had started a new life for himself in a country where he could barely even speak the language, had fought his way through university by hanging on to threads of mathematical equations and chemical formulas, had made it all the way to the pre med program with honors. He had thought he could handle anything, he had thought -
“I hate this. I never asked for this, I never wanted it.” Sungjong’s voice is barely a whisper, the words sticking in his throat. He hasn’t had a breakdown this bad since the first time he had changed back with Hoya there, and had cried in Hoya’s arms for well over an hour. That had been well over six months ago. Stop it, you’re being ridiculous, he scolds himself, swallowing back another wave of nausea.
“I know,” Hoya says, and just like that Sungjong crumbles. His hands slip away from Hoya’s arms and come down to rest against the dirt as Sungjong slumps from Hoya’s grasp. Because while Sungjong had spent two months struggling before Hoya had found him and taught him how to sense when the pull of the moon was getting too strong, how to control the wolf within him, the best places to go to avoid being seen, Hoya had had no one to do the same for him.
“I’m sorry -” Sungjong starts to say, only to get cut off by a pile of clothes being shoved in his face.
“The sun’s pretty much up now, so hurry and get dressed, and then we can stop by McDonald’s on the way back into town.”
Sungjong scowls as he stands up to pull on his boxers and pants. Although he’s feeling a lot more stable now, his stomach is still roiling in protest.
“Don’t look at me like that, we both know you’ll be starving by the time we get back to the car,” Hoya says with a grin, dusting the dirt off of his track pants.
“You know that I hate McDonald’s,” Sungjong replies with as much stony dignity as he can muster. Hoya simply snorts as Sungjong finishes tugging his sweater over his head.
“Right, I forgot that you need coffee in order to fully return to human state. I guess we’ll stop by Starbucks first.” Hoya reaches out to ruffle Sungjong’s hair and Sungjong huffs, grabbing Hoya’s hand and linking their fingers together instead.
Hoya’s face splits into a grin and Sungjong smiles back, swinging their joined hands slightly as they head back in the direction of Hoya’s car. The sun filters through the trees, dappling the path they’re taking. Around them the forest is slowly coming to life, and Sungjong inhales a deep breath of pine-scented air. He still feels unsteady, exhausted to the very core of his being, but his stomach is already starting to rumble with the telltale signs of hunger. Traitor.
Hoya starts to hum a song - most likely one of the atrocious rap monstrosities he always insists on playing in the car - and by the distant look on his face Sungjong can tell that he’s choreographing in his head again. His hand holding Sungjong’s starts the move slightly with whatever moves Hoya is planning out, and Sungjong opens his mouth to make a joke, except -
“Thank you.”
The words tumble out before Sungjong can really think about it, and he feels himself flushing immediately afterwards. There are so many other things he could have said, should have said, instead (I’m sorry for whining, I’m sorry for being weak, I’m sorry for everything you had to go through and that I couldn’t have been there for you) but an oversimplified expression of gratitude comes out instead. Sungjong bites his lip, free hand curling into a fist at his side. He’s embarrassed, but Hoya smiles, freeing his hand from Sungjong’s in order to wrap his arm around Sungjong’s shoulder and pull him closer.
“You’re welcome, princess,” Hoya says easily and Sungjong whips his head around to glare at him.
“I told you to stop calling me that!” Sungjong protests sharply. He can tell that his cheeks are now bright red, he can feel the warmth, and he ducks out of Hoya’s hold indignantly. “You better be glad I like you. Anyone else would be dead right now.”
Hoya just laughs, following Sungjong off the path and into the patch of gravel that serves as the parking lot for the trails in this area. The two of them look like nothing more than friends out for an early morning jog, not that there’s anyone else around to see - Hoya’s slightly rundown Civic is the only car there.
“Come on,” Hoya says as he fishes for his keys and unlocks the doors. “Let’s go get you your Starbucks and McDonald’s so we can get back in time for your 11am class.”
“We’re not getting McDonald’s,” Sungjong shoots back, pulling open the passenger door. As he gets in, he makes sure to avoid stepping on any of the rap CDs littering the floor and tosses the oversized purple hoodie (Hoya’s) that he’d left on the seat earlier into the back.
“Sure thing, princess.”
“Fuck you.