falling easy

@feyhyeseong​

Here’s the thing about being friends with Gunwoo: it involves copious amounts of bribery food, patience to deal with his incessant whining, and enough willpower to handle his bullshit. 

So here Hyeseong is—hero of the day, frankly—sitting across of him for what seems like the nth time watching him shovel spoonful after spoonful of rice into his mouth. Or, pretty much, part and parcel of the aforementioned Package Deal of Being Friends With Oh Gunwoo. 

A privilege, really. 

“D’you think,” he mumbles, in between a mouthful of galbi and rice, “they’d notice if we dined and dashed?” He’s half-joking, half itching to cause trouble, and kinda looking for a reaction out of Hyeseong (tl;dr, he’s bored). After all, she’s pretty much his partner in crime—or... basically Mom #2 hauling him out of trouble. Mostly. 

And so, Gunwoo wipes his mouth with the napkin on the table when he finishes and props his head on his hand. “Just kidding. But I think it’s time,” he says fake-ominously, heaving a resigned sigh as he pulls his wallet out from his pocket, waving his card around. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you’ve fed me like, what, five times this past week? My turn now. Otherwise, people are gonna think,” he scrunches his nose, “you’re my sugar mommy, or something. Not that I necessarily mind, though.”  

Gunwoo flashes a grin at Hyeseong as he hands it over to the waitress, because what is he if he isn’t being shameless (“Dude, I’m being fucking charming—”) and even more so with Hyeseong? Because within a few months of knowing her, she’s already managed to worm her way into his heart, and there’s an unparalleled level of comfort he feels whenever he’s with her. 

@feyseunghyun

this is gunwoo’s scene—in the midst of blasting music (and good one, at that) and pure noise. it's nothing new, loud screams and bodies pressing to the front. almost standard procedure by now, even.

but here's not what he's expecting: their guitarist, who's taking centre stage, an all too familiar face to the point where there's almost no chance of mistaking it. and—holy shit.

so this is what he exactly says, stopping in his tracks, eyes wide open.

"holy shit."

ten years (give or take) is a long time, gunwoo supposes. it’s nothing and everything in between, so the initial shock of seeing seunghyun’s face—on stage, no less—is. well, startling, to say in the least. granted, there’s a different quality about him, something gunwoo can’t quite comprehend. 

"you know him or something?" his friend asks him skeptically, noticing how gunwoo stutters into a pause over the noise. and all gunwoo can do is nod and say, a little in disbelief, "yeah, i know him." 

or rather, used to, but whatever, because semantics are all the same. he’s practically a stranger to him now, so who is he to talk? practically nobody.

something gunwoo can't quite define spreads gooey, thick and bittersweet right smack in the middle of his chest as he watches seunghyun on stage—lost time and easier days and god look how much he's grown, and gunwoo gets hit by an unexpected yearning he doesn't realise he's missed all these years.

so it's barely surprising when his feet guide him one, two steps later on after the show and he ends up right backstage, shoulder hesitantly nudging the ajar door fully open and peeking his head around the corner. his fingers are a little numb from the cold bottles of soju he's holding, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"hey, sorry to intrude but... is seunghyun here?" gunwoo questions awkwardly, but the tension dissipates the moment the other steps in front of him, and his mouth crinkles into a splitting grin. the wave of nostalgia that overwhelms him is almost stifling. so many things have happened in the time in between—but here, now, in this familiarity, some things just remain the same.

@feykazuki

It always starts like this.

The equation is simple, Kazuki = Gunwoo. They huddle together, the two scraps of little boys they once were, and Gunwoo can’t help but think this is all he has in the world, bundled up in his small arms. It should be safety and warmth, because after all, Kazuki’s his lifeline—the only way he’s securely tethered to the ground after all these years. He grips him as tight as he can and doesn’t let go. 

But in this stupid dream (a fucking nightmare, really), he never manages to hold on. Kazuki is always tugging, tugging, and there is only so much little Gunwoo can take. In the end, he always finds Kazuki’s shadow sprinting away out the edge of his line of sight. 

So here’s what it actually is: blind panic, gripping fear. Because no matter how loud Gunwoo shouts, or how fast he runs, he never catches up. Always almost, almost there, fingers brushing his shoulder—yet, Kazuki remains just barely out of his reach, every time.

The dreams come sporadically, but they never change. He always ends up waking in cold sweat, heart thumping, and a little hollower than he actually feels, because—

Kazuki always leaves in the end.

—"Fuck," Gunwoo rasps, jolting awake with sheer panic broiling in his chest. He's shaking, he knows he is, but the disconnect between him and his limbs is jarring and he barely realises he’s the one trembling.

“Fuck,” he repeats, running shaky fingers through his hair. His breaths are ragged and shallow in the raw fear. So it’s only when Gunwoo notes the warm figure by his side that he almost collapses in relief, hands scrabbling to grasp the material of Kazuki’s shirt and haphazardly burying his face into his chest. “‘Zuki. Oh my god. You’re here, you’re here.”

And, Jesus, Gunwoo pretends there isn’t a newfound wetness in his eyes from how real it all feels. All he can seem to do is mumble Kazuki’s name incoherently, eyes shut tight, fingers grasping at as much of Kazuki he can find. 

Yet, all that runs through his head is: please don’t ever fucking leave me.

What the fuck were you thinking? (Or, by far the most obvious choice)

Are you incredibly stupid? What if you—

How did you—

Why?

But Gunwoo’s never been good at tying up the ends of his thoughts, so why seems like a convenient choice. It fills in all the gaps on its own, giving voice to everything left unsaid so Gunwoo doesn’t have to. Instead, to him, it sounds a lot more like—why would you do that for me? Why do you care? 

Rather, do you have a death wish?

I do. I don’t. I do. Or, not anymore, at least. You don’t have to worry about losing me. You couldn’t get rid of me as easily even if you tried. 

And, well. She’s just saved his goddamn life. He might as well show a little gratitude.

(So, thanks, I guess.) 

(Never mind that she’s the one paying for him and watching him stuff fries into his mouth. Or the fact that they make quite an odd pair, in this shitty diner at 3AM, scraped and dirty and bruised. Or that he’ll probably retort later and indignantly insist that I played a role in this too!)

Either way, he can’t complain.

But when the table’s inevitably cleared the air hangs heavy with the implication of something intangible involving feelings and Gunwoo hates it. Naturally, he’s barely armed with any words, and instinct tells him to flee.

(But I’m a werewolf, and you’re—) 

Trust trust trust. Shut the fuck up, Gunwoo. Fight for what you want this time. (How about my fucking friend, for once?) 

After all, he’s always fallen head first, eyes open, into unfamiliar dangerous territory. He supposes that this time, it’s no different.

Don't be so fucking blindsided.

Nevermind if but Can’t promise you much, but. I’ll try. Kinda. Maybe. For you, this time. (Don’t bank on it.)

“Okay, Seongie. Let’s talk.” 

HEY WHAT’S POPPIN’ i’m super super super excited to be here!!! this is literally the most prepared i’ve been for a rp in the longest time ?! you can call me yue and here i bring u 23 y/o beta werewolf oh gunwoo. here’s his stuff: stats & bio, so if you wanna check that out it’d be cool!! discord or tumblr im’s are fine with me, and either way i’m hella excited to write with everyone so drop a like or smth and i’ll hit u up 👉👈 i’m gonna leave some plots here so we can get things rolling so… plz write with me