#unironically this scene went from being kind of difficult to get through to housing my favourite paragraph ive written so far. all because | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nwkrp-blog · 7 years

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⋆ — WELCOME HOME, TRAVELER.

THE SHORES HAVE GIFTED US A NEW RESIDENT. born on APRIL 12TH, 1994, OH SEHUN has been on the island for 1 YEAR AND 2 MONTHS and is currently a MANAGER AT WASHINGTOWN. you can always find them at BITNA STUDIOS, 303.

ONWARD !

⋆ EVERY STORY HAS A REASON

sehun cannot count the amount of times he had been asked the question, “why are you here?” in his naive mind, nearly a being on its own that adores even the silly disney movies ( unironically, though that is classified information ), he imagines himself pausing the frame in which he is living, breathing and moving with no script whatsoever, pointing to his own paused expression in the middle of the shot as his own voiceover explains, ironically: “yeah, that’s me! i’m sure you’re wondering how i got in that situation–” the image would proceed to backtrack with a shrill sound of reversed voices in a very high speed, until it stopped in his own face again. there he stands, a slice of cake in front of him, his hair then jet black and flopping in front of his eyes in a way that made him shake his head to move it away.

the voiceover would come back, “that’s me around a year ago. i had just finished college – i had been some kind of prodigy when i was younger, so i skipped a grade. i had an economics degree, a pretty girlfriend, a possible job set, and that cake.” each image should show each of his accomplishments, as to demonstrate how perfect it all seemed, “life seemed pretty set. i should’ve been happy, at least that’s what i heard from everybody else. the problem is that i wasn’t. life sucked big time. so i moved away, i moved away to paradise–”

the movie would end a few seconds later, after he let himself ramble about all of the oh so amazing things he now has, how beautiful the place is, and how much fun he has. it’s the intro to a movie for his friends he left behind, he supposes, because it is terrible even as a joke, and one should definitely not tell every inch of the truth to those who were not with you. what was sehun supposed to say, that he had seen the opportunity in a website at three in the morning and packed his bags a week later without any sort of concrete plan? or perhaps the realization that he would never become what he dreamed of finally fell onto his lap as soon as his degree did, too? the truth felt childish. peter pan found an old watch and realized time had caught up to him – there was no wendy, and no lost boy except for himself. time did not stop for him, and it did not move any slower with each day that passed. on the bottom of his old dresser he found a map coated in a tad of pixie dust, and with it he ran away to neverland. lonely, foolish, and afraid. peter is a coward – all children grow except one, and he was determined to keep it that way.

⋆ EVERY STORY HAS ITS ROOTS

INT. CHILD’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

( 1999 )

all this has happened before, and it will all happen again, but this time it happened in seoul. it happened in a quiet street on the other side of the han river. that corner house over there is the home of the oh family and peter pan chose this particular house because there were people here who believed in him.

sehun believed this happened, because he had dreamed it around age five, on a ride home in the backseat of mom’s car after a day of too many ice creams scoups and disney movies at his best ( bestest! ) friend’s house. he dreamed that he was already home, sleeping soundly tucked in bed – but only pretending, you see, he was determined to catch it when peter pan knocked on his window. what came, however, was not the boy himself, but a tiny star, which zoomed through his blue curtains in the room he shared with his brother.

the tiny star, which sehun saw had a couple of sheer wings flipping within its glow, made a little bell sound and a trail of twinkling specs followed it in a line that then disappeared as it moved.

when he woke up, startled, he swore to his mom that he had seen tinker bell, and that she promised to teach him how to fly. his mother said, then, that her little boy was special, so smart that he would fly towards his dreams without any help. he sneezed from the fairy dust.

EXT. STREET. DAY.

( 2007 )

the sun as is setting as a boy and his father exit a movie theater, view from inside a ticket booth. sound is drown out, but the child is talking excitedly about the movie they’d just seen, while the father nods and smiles, giving his own input from time to time.

sehun doesn’t believe any other movie that year is better than this ratatouille thing him and his father had just seen, but the man told him that it was, in his own opinion, hot fuzz, though sehun was not old enough yet to watch it. sehun let go of his father’s hand as their feet met the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and on a whim told him looking up, half confused, half curious to the reaction.

“dad, i think i wanna make a movie someday” he looks down as he kicks nothing in particular, then back up at his father who smiles kindly.

“a movie, huh? about what?” the big hand ruffles sehun’s hair, then he frowns as he tries to fix it and think of a subject. well, he doesn’t know – he thinks of his toys, first and foremost, but toy story is already a hit and how many films about kids and their toys can there be? sehun supposes not many. then school comes to mind, and he wonders if his situation of skipping a grade this year to study with the bigger kids is movie worthy. he thinks he is, so he says it. father laughs – huh, well, maybe it isn’t. sehun thinks a bit harder – he thinks of his friends and how funny they are; everybody could use a joke like the ones his friends tell. he thinks of yerin, who he just met when he switched classrooms a couple weeks ago but sehun thinks love is not about time, but the fluttery feeling two people get when they share new crayons.

“i’m gonna make movies about beautiful things because it’s nice to look at them” he says, and father snickers. he stares, eyes narrowing – he pictures himself in a cowboy hat as he speaks in his own thoughts: this is a stone cold world. they go home with ice cream cones.

INT. TEENAGER’S BEDROOM. DAY.

( 2011 )

there are two boys sitting on the twin sized bed, both staring intensely at the sealed letter between them. nobody moves or speaks, the only sound in the room is the computer’s running noise and a pop song coming from the other room.

when sehun’s mother handed him a letter with the seoul national university seal on its back as he entered his house with a friend who was supposed to stay the night, the boy immediately grabbed it with the roughest, utmost care, then proceeded to sprint up the stairs to his room, shutting the door behind him.

now, when jihoon opened his friend’s bedroom door, a few seconds after it had hit him on the nose, he found sehun sitting on the bed, back straight as pole, pale complexion, and an empty gaze fixed on the floor. the shorter boy gulped, fearing the worst as he sat next to his friend, letter between them.

“so… were you accepted?” sehun had never heard jihoon speak so carefully, and perhaps that had been enough to snap him out of his mindless trance for a couple of seconds only to reply that he didn’t know, he hadn’t checked it. jihoon takes a big breath, and looks over at the letter. the clock on sehun’s beside table ticks, they breathe, a car honks outside, they stare at the letter, sehun’s brother turns on music on the other room, they stare at the letter, they stare at the letter, they stare at the letter…

“sehun, you little bitch!” jihoon snaps at the three minute mark of intense staring in absolute silence, though sehun is barely startled, “open the goddamn letter! you’re killing me here! you have perfect grades, you’re a goddamn prodigy, you’ll be accepted!” he groans loudly when his friend provides no answer, and pulls the letter from its place himself. sehun’s eyes grow wide as he yells to know just what jihoon thinks he’s doing.

what follows is the incredibly-mature-and-not-at-all-childish scene of a short eighteen year old and a recently-stretched seventeen year old yelling, hopping, pulling, grabbing, fighting over the letter, endless groans of cuss words and death threats. the shorter boy takes the lead and flops his friend onto the bed, straddling his chest and pinning his hands to the pillow. sehun hates that jihoon got stronger than him over the last summer break while working physical jobs – he was taller, for christ’s sake, and jihoon insisted on calling him a dried noodle every time they went into the pool.

“jihoon, i swear to god! i swear– what are you doing!? jeon jihoon, you’ll sleep on the street!” a rip on the envelope with jihoon’s tooth as sehun squirmed and pushed and pulled pathetically, which only made his friend’s task difficult, however not at all impossible. he shut his eyes tight with a whiny ‘oh my god, why?’ as he gave up and jihoon read out loud, dear oh sehun… then he stops. and laughs, bright and surprised and glad as he waves the letter way too quickly in front of his friend’s nose.

“holy shit, you’re in, sehun! they really let your airhead in! fucking scholarship and everything!” and there was too much excitement for sehun to complain about the insult or the fact that jihoon really is too stunned to be truly witty, because sehun is pulling the letter and laughing in disbelief along with his friend and they hug each other so tight that sehun really cusses those paid bodybuilding hours jihoon had. they buy ice creams on their way to yerin’s house.

INT. KITCHEN. NIGHT.

( 2016 )

there are two men standing by the kitchen counter, and a woman who is sitting on it. the first boy stands with one of his hands on the stone, his black hair slipping in front of his eyes as his head hangs low. the second has a hand running between the strands of his blonde hair, sighing heavily as he looks at the other, and then at the woman. she only stares at the first, gaze icy, angry, and eyes glossy, the tip of her nose pink.

“what the fuck is wrong with you? is this some kind of help call?” there’s venom in her words and a scoff by her question mark, “oh poor me, poor oh sehun, i graduate top one percent of the country and i’m not happy about it! it’s not enough! i have to run away to some kind of magical fucking island to feel happiness again!” and her tone builds up as her sentences roll, aiming for sehun’s heart though they barely pierce skin. he reasons she is still upset that he broke up with her in front of their other friends as they ate the cake she baked herself. he reasons he would be mad, too, if he had to bake.

jihoon calls her name softly reprimanding, but she bats no eyelash at his direction. she simply stares at sehun as he stares at her. she calls for a response, a loud ‘so?’ as she crosses her arms, and he gives her what he can, “the flight is in two days. i’m sorry i called you over while you’re still mad–” jihoon shakes his head with a ‘dumbass’ under his breath and yerin lets out an incredulous scoff that are commas to his sentence “– but my plan to tell you the day i left was too cruel, i think.”

there’s silence, hot anger in the air, and a sickening strawberry shortcake smell stuck to the walls. yerin bites her lip, jihoon moves as if he were to speak but sehun can’t hold his tongue and mumbles much quieter “you have clothes here in my apartment, i think you should take them away–” and yerin cuts him off as she flops down the counter and pushes his chest as hard as she can, yelling him to go fuck himself and to not come back ever.

jihoon stays as she leaves with tears on her cheeks. sehun thinks he this is the first time he has seen her cry since her uncle died a few weeks after she started university. to look at jihoon hurts a bit more than to see her tears, truthfully, because while yerin bursts in her sadness she mistakes for anger, jihoon looks at him with pure disappointment. the younger imagines if he just had thought this through, just given it a month, told jihoon everything going through his mind…

the older’s tone says it’s too late. “why?” and sehun can’t answer for a moment. he can’t say he let himself abandon his dreams while jihoon had all of his intact, he can’t say he felt sorry for himself while jihoon gave all of the people around him nothing but pride, he can’t say he’s terrified of growing up while jihoon is already what he wanted to be.

“i just need to get away. i’m sorry.” and that’s all he can say.

#nw:resident

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