SEOMRI-MYEON, SOUTH KOREA

date of birth: december 15, 2003 occupation: morning barista at oni cafe length of residence: life faceclaim: myung jaehyun (boynextdoor)

freeform

It was supposed to be a quick stop by the convenience store to get a few packs of his favorite brand of ramen, the spiciest kind, a can of coke zero and some snacks to get him through the night while Eunho recorded new content for his gaming channel. But in Seomri things were never that easy. Not for him, though. The whispers followed wherever he went. “Poor boy, lost his only chance of success.” / “Isn’t he part of that family? How could he have turned out any better?” 

That night, while waiting in the small queue to pay, the young man noticed two old ladies staring at him. Frowning as he didn’t recognize them right away, he decided to just keep to himself. Until Eunho heard his last name being mentioned between them. Prompting him to finally turn his attention to the women. “Mrs. Kwon, Mrs. Min. What’s the hot topic tonight? Oh, I know! Such a shame how Yoona and Junseo’s marriage is falling apart, uh? They seemed so in love.” He had to hold back a chuckle at the surprised look on their faces. “Wait, you didn’t know? I just saw them arguing on my way here, it seemed pretty bad. Must’ve been if they were cursing each other out on the street and all that.”

date of birth: december 5, 2000 occupation: photojournalist for seomri daily news length of residence: 2 years faceclaim: choi soobin (txt)

freeform

the brightness of doha’s phone screen makes everything else seem darker in comparison. in the same vein, the lives of the people on instagram—real people, people he knows, people he left behind when he moved to seomri—make his own life feel small. his eyes are dry and itchy from yet another hours-long stretch of doomscrolling. he has no intentions of stopping.

his bedroom is quiet, save for the sound of the fishtank pump. a dull electric sound accompanied by the bubbling of water. there is nothing else; no cars on the highway, because there is no highway outside his window. no laughter, no chatter, no distant music, because seomri lacks a nightlife. he likes that about the town most of the time.

right now, it feels a little lonely. something in him keeps waiting for something to happen. it’s got nothing to do with seomri. he could go down to the wheat barrel and watch the same handful of people throw darts, and he could listen in on their conversations, but he wouldn’t be a part of their world. just like how in sokcho, he could go the club with his friends, but his head would be full of static the whole time, his mouth dry, his body restless. he’d fake getting drunk and he’d go home early. he wouldn’t be in these pictures—club pictures where everyone’s got flushed cheeks, empty bottles covering the table. he never made it that far, he was never in those pictures.

he tells himself that it’s seomri, though. seomri is why he isn’t having fun like they’re having fun. nothing to be said about the town; he chose to move here. but if there were more going on, he’d be involved in it… wouldn’t he?

he flips back and forth, looking at the same four pictures, full of old friends having a good time. his old friends. friends who’d always tried to include him, and he’d never made it easy. now he’s four hours away and they’re getting drunk at the same club as always. for once, he wishes he were there.