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wavesmp3 · 22 days

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[tbz] 8000 layers of inyun

younghoon x reader, jacob x reader - inspired by the movie past lives - wc: 6k - warnings: mentions of alcohol, like one curse i think - a/n: reader should be completely inclusive, i.e. not adhering to the background of the main character in the movie.

****

[first hello]

when you met jacob for the first time, it was in the grassy backyard of a house in long island one mile away from the beach. at a rickety, white table with spots of black showing up beneath the layers of paint. it was three glasses of red wine in, two hours after you had laid eyes on him, and one hour after everyone else had headed inside for sleep.

when you met jacob for the first time, you had told him about inyun. how even brushing by someone’s shoulder on the street or locking eyes with a stranger on the metro meant there was something there between the two of you in a past life. he looked amazed at the notion. you thought he looked quite pretty. “that would mean we had something together in a past life, wouldn’t it?” he had asked. and even then, you could tell–he’s such a writer. there was a story already rising from the dark corners of his mind. you had just nodded. and told him about all the layers between two lovers, and about the 8000 it takes to take one’s hand and whole-heartedly decide you want to marry them.

you don’t really remember jacob’s cheeks turning pink at the line. what you do remember is the sky changing colors. you remember how golden he looked under the string lights. you remember leaning into his face, almost falling forward, bracing yourself with a hand on his knee.

you remember kissing him for the first time.

*****

[younghoon’s coming]

jacob is already cooking dinner by the time you come home. you stop in front of the gray door, noticing for the first time in a while the scratch in the top corner from the massive yellow armchair you stuffed through the door even when it refused to fit through. you smile at the scratch, stretch your arm out to finger over the light brown mark. how long ago was that now? was that before or after you got married? you inhale. the air smells like wet concrete and basil. jacob forgot to turn on the exhaust fan, didn’t he?

you don’t remind him to do so once you finally find your keys. instead you slip off your old, faded sneakers, drop your keys on the counter in the lime green dish you made in a pottery class two years ago, and greet him in the kitchen, kissing the side of his chin and reaching over his head to turn the exhaust fan on. he kisses your forehead as an apology, or at least he tries but you’ve already moved and his lips end up catching on the corner of your left eye. you wash the day and the grime off you, washing away the train and the throbbing in your feet. you meet him again for dinner, at the table you call your dining table and your home office. he brings over two plates of the pasta. you bring the wine.

“you know younghoon.” it doesn’t hit you then that that’s the first thing you’ve said to him since you left that morning.

jacob squints. his eyes, his eyes, his eyes. they were the first thing you noticed about him. the first thing you fell in love with. “yeah. your childhood sweetheart.” this he says with a teasing smile. you smile back. his smile was the second thing you fell in love with.

“he, uh, emailed me earlier today.” you shift in your stool. “he moved out of his parents’ house, i think, and is between jobs. he said he’s going to be visiting new york soon.”

there’s a stillness in the air, then. a shock beneath the table that’s curling around your calves and inching up your arms.

jacob, though, despite how well you know him, despite your knack to see through every emotion he feigns, still tries to nod it off. “oh. when is he coming?”

“in two weeks. “

“that’s soon.”

“i know.”

“are you going to see him?” there’s no mask of emotion here. everything in jacob’s mind and heart you can read in his eyes, except that reading doesn’t mean understanding and five years of marriage doesn’t mean you know someone’s every thought. you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what he wants. you don’t even know what you want. all you know is younghoon’s email. you spent two hours staring at it this afternoon. younghoon, as you knew him, was a straightforward guy. he explicitly said in the email what he wants: to spend a day or two with you while he’s here, as much time as you can spare, show him the city you moved to when you turned 21. show him the country you moved to when you were 13. but beneath the straightforward request feels like a million subliminal ones. like he wants you to prove to him that you’ve made a life worth living here. like he wants to gallivant around new york telling you about a country that used to be home and asking you what would have happened if you didn’t go all those years ago.

but younghoon isn’t like you and jacob, he doesn’t make reading into subtext and writing a 100 pages about it his job. so you tell jacob what you decided on the train ride back.

“yeah, i think i will.” and with the way your stomach twists, it feels like a confession.

*****

[first goodbye]

your first goodbye with younghoon is when you’re young. it happens on the last day of school for you before your family’s big move to the states. even though you only found out a couple weeks ago, you knew this move was a long time coming. maybe that’s why you didn’t say anything when your parents told you it was happening. maybe that’s why you just went to your room and started packing.

younghoon’s been in the same class as you your whole life. his whole life too. and for your entire lives you’ve been making the same walk back home from school together. today is no different. and yet, isn’t it? it’s the same roads, yes, the same stairs and the same shops on the way. but the air is different, it smells like home. it smells like you already miss it. and you haven’t even left yet.

the walk is almost entirely silent.

the roads diverge towards the end, into a smaller path that leads to your home and the main road that younghoon takes to get to his. you take one step into the path and stop. younghoon stops too. he stares. you stare back.

(you don’t realize it then, but it’s the last time you’ll see him in person for almost 20 years. one of the last times you’ll even speak to him in around 7. it’s the last time you’ll ever stand on this street, and one of the last times you’ll breathe this air. most importantly, it’s the last time you’ll ever be this young.)

your first goodbye with younghoon isn’t much of a goodbye. it’s him asking when you leave. it’s you saying sometime tomorrow. it’s him frowning, patting your shoulder, and saying, “be well, and don’t cry over maths anymore.”

*****

[second hello]

you round the corner by the candy shop and walk inwards to the park. you used to live around here. but god, where haven’t you lived? you used to come into this park and watch people. the man towards the south entrance that always sat on the middle bench. the tourists walking up and down and around looking amazed and bored and helpless. tompkins square park used to be your favorite park in new york, but walking into it now, you can’t really remember why you liked it so much. you wonder why he chose this park specifically to meet in. did you mention it once on a skype call? does he think you still like it? or has he figured that you’ve already fallen out of love?

you see the back of his head before you see him. and for a moment you get an instantaneous rush of every feeling there is to feel from seeing him again, here, in a park you thought you loved. but it’s not the park and it’s not the city that makes your entire body go numb. it’s seeing him. younghoon. younghoon. younghoon. it’s seeing him for the first time in–you don’t even want to admit to yourself how long.

but the instantaneous rush ends, and your body and blood come back to earth and back to this park you hate, when he turns around and faces you facing him.

and there are no words to be said.

there used to be oceans and countries and cultures and decades standing between you and him, but somehow now, all of that has compressed into four squares of broken concrete. you were never very good at maths. younghoon, the one who comforted you whenever you cried over it, knows that best. but even you know that there is no way 20 years can turn into 20 feet. so much has changed. more than could possibly be encompassed in any greeting. it’s indescribable and overwhelming. it’s you and him and the whole world. there are no words to be said.

so you hug him instead.

*****

[ferry]

it takes almost a full hour for the pure shock of seeing each other again to wear off. there’s so much joy and excitement between the two of you that for a couple minutes all you do is say ‘wow’, throwing the word back and forth like two kids playing catch.

the first thing on your itinerary was already decided by younghoon over email: seeing the statue of liberty. so, you and him board the ferry together, asking how his family’s doing and telling him about yours.

“your husband,” younghoon starts, turning slightly towards you in his seat on the ferry.

“jacob.”

he nods, mouthing his name silently. “how did you guys meet?”

“we met at this writer's retreat thing. we were kind of… i don’t know–together–i guess, while we were there, and funnily enough, it was only on our second to last day there that we realized we both live in new york. and then, it was only when we got back that we started dating.”

younghoon’s lips make a small ‘o’. “he’s a writer too?”

you nod. then smile.

“is he good?” this he asks with a hint of mischief.

you scoff. “you think i’d marry someone who isn’t any good?”

he just shrugs and smirks. an action you’ve seen him do a million times before. when you were a kid, it pissed you off. when you were 21, it made your heart flutter. now, it makes you feel like a stranger. it reminds you that all he is is somebody you used to know.

“what?” he laughs, covering his mouth embarrassedly. you didn’t even realize you were staring.

“you’ve just been a kid in my head for so long.” you shake your head, a smile haunting your lips. “it’s so weird seeing you all grown up.”

he hums. “i feel that too.”

“are you and-” you leave the space blank there. social media had told you a lot, but you don’t remember it ever telling you a name, “still together.”

he grimaces. you wish you didn’t ask. “no. we broke up some time ago.”

younghoon doesn’t say anything more about it, but honestly, it’d be more shocking if he did. even as a kid, he took things at face value, not going any deeper into contexts and double meanings. he isn’t too shy to ask what you mean, nor is he too shy to say it. that’s just who he is.

“do you have pictures from your wedding?” younghoon asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. you fetch your phone out of your pocket and show him your favorite picture from the event. you and jacob didn’t really have much money at the time of your wedding. it was a small, courthouse wedding with a dinner afterwards with just your families. the picture comes from when you were walking out of the courthouse together. with the small bouquet, jacob had purchased that morning, and the simple white dress you had thrifted a couple weeks prior. you were so happy, walking out of that building hand in hand. you were so hopeful.

“you look very nice.” younghoon tells you quietly, staring at the photo. you mutter a ‘thanks’. he then surprises you, bringing a hand up to the picture and wordlessly zooming in on your face. his gaze bounces between you and your picture. finally, looking up, he says, “you look so young.”

*****

the ferry stops for a bit near the statue, everyone rushes towards the corner nearest to the monument to take a photo. you offer to take his. he accepts, awkwardly smiling at first, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack, but then eventually, lightening up, posing cutely and requesting different angles.

while the ferry heads back to manhattan, he carefully examines all the photos you took. it reminds you of when he told you about his photographer friend in college who took photos of him for fun.

“why didn’t you want to keep talking then?” you ask abruptly.

somehow, he knows exactly what you’re talking about. your second goodbye with him. the four minute skype call.

he looks taken aback. he doesn’t look at you. “it didn’t really feel like you were giving me much of a choice.”

it’s not what you wanted to hear, but you don’t really think there’s anything he could’ve said to mend a ten year old wound born from a petty 21 year old desperate to love and be loved.

“i held that over you for a long time. i was a bit mad.”

he responds immediately. “you said goodbye so quickly. i was a bit mad too.”

you frown. “should i be sorry?”

he half laughs at that, shrugging and finally looking at you. “we were kids.”

and of course, that was all that really needed to be said.

*****

[second goodbye]

your second goodbye with younghoon happened when you just moved to new york. it was a short period of time marked by running between 10th and 14th to catch your train and eating too many meals at the ukrainian place in the basement of 7th.

the two of you had found each other again online. a friend request turned to messaging turned to skype calls every evening and sometimes even in the morning. and somehow, someway, despite the years between your last words with him, the two of you were able to pick up right where you left off. he told you about home and about all the classmates you hadn’t thought about since you left. you told him about america, about your new life, and about new york. but mainly you talked about how weird it was to see and talk to him again and about how alone you felt here.

the goodbye comes when your laptop crashes and it takes a week before you’re able to talk to him again. it comes after you spend the week devastated, crying in the middle of the street over a dropped bacon egg and cheese. it comes when your laptop is finally fixed, when you call him again, and when he doesn’t even seem worried.

“do you plan on coming to new york?” it's the first thing you say when he answers the call, two days after your laptop was fixed.

he looks like he just woke up, hair crumpled and bent in places it shouldn’t be. between a yawn he says, “what?”

“i can’t leave new york right now. so if you don’t plan on coming here, there’s no point of this anymore.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking off to the side of his camera. you stare into it. you had been practicing this conversation all day. you knew what you were going to say. and in your heart, you knew what he was going to say too.

all he ends up doing is smiling awkwardly and patting down the back of his head. “do you want me to visit?”

no, you think with a sigh, you just want more.

“i think we should end this. i need to focus on becoming a writer, and you-“

you falter here. he what?

he nods. you nod too, just as an excuse.

“okay.”

and the call ends in 4 minutes.

*****

[first confession]

the bar you’ve chosen to take him to tonight, is a small, irish pub on the corner of a street you spent half your 20s in. you feel so much older than you are, when you get off the subway, point to an old red brick building, and tell younghoon that you used to go to school here.

his gaze lingers at that building. you try not to notice, but you do.

“remember inyun?” he says after you get your drinks. his martini, your beer.

you laugh at him. “it’s actually how i got jacob.” a memory flashes in front of you: the golden glow of the string lights and jacob’s lips on yours for the first time. you can’t tell if it's the beer or the memory that makes your entire body flush with warmth.

“that game we used to play as kids,” younghoon says, excited, “we should do that here.”

you smile. how many days did you and younghoon spend sitting next to each other on the train and making up a past life for every two passengers?

“okay.” you point to the two girls sitting at the bar, one of them on their phone, the other resting her head atop the counter. “what about them?”

younghoon turns to face them. “classmates.”

you make a noise of disapprovement. “sisters.”

he mimics the noise. “no way.”

“look.” you say, gesturing to the way the girl that was on her phone places her free hand on top of the other’s head. “it’s just so…” here you lose the words for it. the girl on her phone bends down and places the smallest kiss on her friend’s head.

“familiar.” younghoon finishes. and when your gaze falls back to him, you find that he’s already looking at you. the game somehow feels different than it did when you were kids.

younghoon inhales sharply and nods his head towards a boy and a girl playing billiards in the corner. “what about them?”

you take a moment to observe them. these two seem less familiar with each other. there’s a lot of extra laughing, a lot of awkward pauses between turns. “coworkers.” you finally say.

“strangers.” younghoon counters. “like she took his order at a food place that he left a bad review for.”

you give him a look. he shrugs.

the game continues. you do the two bartenders which you both agree must have been lovers. you do the group of boys, in business casual sitting two tables over. younghoon says they were all dogs in the same shelter. you say they were in a band together.

the game continues until the only two people in the pub who you haven’t made up a past life for are you and younghoon.

younghoon gives you a half smile. “what do you think we were in a past life?”

this was always how you and him ended the game. you wonder how many past lives the two of you have created for each other by now.

you think for a moment, eyes flicking between the bartenders who were lovers and the friends who were once family. “two people squished next to each other on the train.”

younghoon laughs at that one, knocking his head back and accidentally kicking your leg under the table. he shakes his head. “a bird and the branch it sits on.”

“a keychain and the ring it’s attached to.”

“a celebrity and their bodyguard.”

“enemies.”

“friends.”

something snags on your throat at that.

you laugh, not meaning for it to sound as forced as it does. “but we’re that now.”

a silent question hangs in the air: are we?

“why’d you come to new york?” you ask him. you already said your goodbye to him. years ago, on a skype call that felt akin to a breakup. seeing him and facing him again was not something you had expected to ever have to do. and the thing is, it’s not just facing him. it’s facing your past, and it’s facing all the different ways he’s known you.

younghoon doesn’t seem surprised that you asked, but his eyes do this…thing as he looks up from the glass. this fearless, shameless thing that makes you feel things you wish you didn’t feel. “i came to see you.”

you don’t take your eyes off his. what is it they say about eyes again? windows to the soul?

“but you and jacob.”

you flinch.

“you guys have those layers of inyun.”

“all 8000,” you whisper back to him, like the world might burst if you spoke any louder.

he nods solemnly, hopefully. “maybe you guys have even more.”

he looks at the bar. the warm light paints him in colors you’ve never seen him in before. he’s so much older than you remember. he’s so much more real than your last skype call.

(your memory of this moment fails you. you can’t remember which one of you it was that asked)

“how many layers do we have?”

a number hangs off the tip of your tongue. but the world will burst if you say it outloud. so you don’t. for the world, for yourself, for jacob.

*****

[you were right]

“you were right,” you tell jacob when you come home that night.

“about what?” he meets you in the kitchen, exhaust fan whirring in the background.

“he came to see me.”

and even just the admission of it, of the entire day you spent with younghoon, has you exhausted.

you hug jacob. he sets the book that was in his hand down on the counter and lets you. he feels so warm next to your heart. he feels so at home. and you, in your apartment, in his arms, feel split in two.

carefully, you ask him: “are you mad at me?”

“of course not.”

“do you want me to cancel tomorrow?”

“you haven’t seen him in forever. you should go.”

you exhale into his shoulder.

“i mean, it’s not like you’re going to run away with him or anything, right?” he jokes.

“please,” you scoff, “you know me.”

“i know you.” he laughs, and you feel it throughout your entire body.

“i know you.” he repeats.

you hug him tighter.

“you’re it for me.” jacob tells you quietly. “you make my life so much bigger.”

you can’t tell if it’s the confession or the exhaustion or both that brings you close to tears. “what if something happens?”

he doesn’t ask what you mean; he just repeats himself. “it’s only you.”

*****

[not touching but almost]

you meet younghoon the next morning at the hoyt-schermorhorn street station. he asks how you slept. you say well.

you stand in front of the sliding doors, holding onto the pole. he follows suit, his hand right under yours. staring at his face, you search for which features of his have stayed the same and which have changed.

“your eyes.” you say at the same moment the train screeches. he leans forward, mostly to hear you better but also to stay upright as the train sways. his fingers inch towards yours. “your eyes are still the same.”

he looks embarrassed for a moment. then smiles. you do too.

the train stops. the signs outside read: ‘fulton st’.

you look back at him. “i can’t stop smiling.” fuck the train, you’ll repeat it until he hears what you have to say.

he doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself this time. he just laughs. “why?”

you shrug, smiling again, and feeling entirely, wholly like a kid. “just ‘cause.”

his fingers inch towards yours again. you don’t even think he means for it to. you look down at your hands. close but not touching. not touching but almost.

the train stops again. ‘chambers st,’ it reads this time. you both get off.

*****

[a whole part of you i’ll never know]

there’s this memory that bounces around your head from time to time. it was before you and jacob had gotten married, in your old apartment, the one in hell’s kitchen above the thai place with the light up dragon that played pop music late into the night.

so with an old miley cyrus song floating up through the air and in through the open window, jacob tells you that there’s a whole part of you he’ll never know.

you don’t deny it at first. you turn in bed to face him, cup his cheek in your hand and flinch at the stubble growing in. you kiss him and tell him, “you know me better than anyone.”

“but i-” he hesitates here, mouth opening and closing like he can’t decide what kind of conversation he wants this to be. “it’s like there’s this whole portion of your brain that will always be out of reach. like i can see it there in the distance, but i can’t get to it.”

“just ask. i’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“it’s not that.”

“what is it then?”

“he knows that part.”

the song goes quiet. you can hear a drunk person vomiting. you can hear your heart beating. breathlessly, you say, “younghoon?”

and jacob, jacob, jacob. he looks like he regrets it. “you, just, you always talk about how you reinvented yourself when you moved to new york and how different you used to be. but what if that wasn’t the first time?”

you shake your head. “i’m not a kid anymore.”

“i know.” and against all odds, jacob smiles. “sometimes, i just wish i knew you when you were.”

*****

[second confession]

the day, in all honesty, is some of the most fun you’ve had in a long while. you and younghoon get dumplings and rice noodles in chinatown and eat them in columbus park while watching people play ping pong. he wants to go shopping in soho and so you take him to your favorite spots. you wait with him in line at the famous bakery on lafayette only for him to hate the pastry he got. and in the evening, you and younghoon meet up with jacob to get dinner near your apartment.

“so how do you like new york,” jacob asks while walking to the restaurant.

younghoon nods slowly. “not bad.”

your husband’s eyes widen. he was born and raised in new york. it’s the only place he’s ever known. “not bad?”

younghoon shrugs. “it’s a little smelly.”

jacob just chuckles at that. “you get used to it. what have you seen so far?”

“yesterday i saw the rockefeller center, times square, and central park. and then,” younghoon looks at you, “we met in tompkins square park, and we took the ferry to see the statue of liberty.”

“you know i’ve never actually been to the statue of liberty.” jacob confesses, lightheartedly.

“really?” younghoon asks dumbfounded.

“really?” you mutter to the ground.

jacob shoves his hands in his pockets and nods.

younghoon looks at you, disappointed, and jokingly says, “what are you doing? you should take your husband to see it.”

younghoon doesn’t really wait for a response, but you still give him a half-hearted laugh before putting a hand on jacob’s elbow, and quietly, almost shamefully asking, “have we really not gone?”

the conversation has moved on without you it seems. while laughing at something else younghoon’s said, jacob shakes his head ‘no’.

the rest of the dinner goes well. the food is good, and the conversation flows. jacob heads back home once it’s over to get work done, and you and younghoon go to your favorite bar in the area, a posh sort of place with dim lighting and fancy cocktails. the two of you grab seats at the bar.

“what’d you think of jacob?”

younghoon looks happy, a smile gracing his face for a moment. he tilts his head, and you almost miss the way his smile turns down. “i didn’t think liking your husband would hurt this much.” (almost). “i can tell he really loves you.”

“i love him too.” you say, just to fill the space. but what you really want is to beg him to take it back. beg him to say something else. anything else. say he hated him instead.

“yesterday, you asked me why i didn’t try to keep talking back then.” younghoon continues. “the truth i learned here is that it wouldn’t have mattered how hard i tried even if i did. you were always going to leave because you’re you. and i liked you because you’re you. and who you are is someone who leaves.”

you start to refute, but stop yourself because… he’s right. the last two times you parted ways with him, it was because of you. you started the goodbye. you were the one who left.

“but for jacob,” younghoon says, eyes scanning across the bar, staring at every bartender and every customer before finally, finally, landing on you, “you’re someone who stays.”

and it turns you fucking inside out.

“i’m sorry if i hurt you in the past, younghoon.”

younghoon doesn’t falter. he never has. “i’m not.”

*****

[last confession, last goodbye, last hello]

you walk younghoon to the uber from your apartment. the address has always been a little finicky; the uber will only stop two blocks down. the long ones. not that that matters much. nonetheless, you and younghoon walk it slowly, pausing for a couple seconds each time the wheels of his suitcase get caught on a cellar door.

“thank you for emailing me.” you tell him, lifting your chin up slightly. “i’m really glad that you did and we got to do this.

he nods. “i’m glad i did too, but i was actually a little unsure about it.”

this surprises you. the sentiment yes, but also the way he says it. tucking his hair behind his ear, and squinting his eyes at a stop light, refusing to meet yours. younghoon is the surest person you’ve ever known.

something catches in the back of your throat. something foul and hopeful. something that makes you feel young. “why?’

he shrugs, looks up at the second deli you’ve passed and mouths the name of it. like he’s practicing it, memorizing the name, the location, the guy sitting out front, and the cat that always lingers in the back. why does he care so much about the little things?

“i didn’t know if you’d want to see me again.” he finally says. “the last time we spoke was so long ago. i wasn’t sure if you had left me in the past for good.”

you hit the end of the second block where the uber will be picking him up soon, right under the ice pop shop that you always walk a little slower by on the hottest summer afternoons. across the block the walking signal is red–a memory comes back to you: your first summer in this new apartment, your first month being married too. you standing on this side of the block and jacob standing at the other. waiting for the cars to pass, waiting to greet each other in the middle of the road. you can feel that day in the bottom of your stomach. you remember exactly what jacob's hand felt like in yours.

“i think i did.” you tell him. “but i don’t regret doing this with you. it was like meeting you again, and meeting the version of myself that last saw you too.”

you turn away from the signal and look at him. he looks sad almost. “sometimes i still think of you as that kid i used to walk home from school with.”

you remember what you used to tell jacob: how you reinvented yourself when you moved to new york. you remember what he used to say back: what if that wasn’t the first time. and so, you reach into your past and try to remember who you used to be before you moved to america.

“i haven’t been that kid for a long time now,” you frown, watching younghoon’s pupils dart back and forth between yours, “but they still existed. they were still real.”

the uber pulls up. younghoon puts his suitcase in the trunk and opens the door to step inside. and with one foot in the car to the airport and one foot planted on the street you call home, he says, “what if this is just another past life and we’re already something else in another?”

the only thing you can manage to give him in response is a nod. you don’t like to think about what if.

he smiles. and you feel something break apart in your heart.

“i’ll see you then.”

in another life, younghoon is more than just a series of goodbyes. but in this one, he gets in the uber, and you don’t imagine seeing him again. you don’t think you will. because for the first time in this life, you're not the one that left–he was.

you make it halfway back down the two blocks back to your apartment when you see jacob. it just so happens to be in front of the deli younghoon had committed to memory silently beside you. you inhale deeply; it feels like the first breath you’ve taken since younghoon landed in new york. jacob is 8 stoops away from you.

at 5 you think about when you met, the writers retreat in long island, the most beautiful serene place you swear you’ve ever been and the stupid pick up line you said about inyun.

at 4, you think about his eyes, his eyes, his eyes, and the line he wrote about them in an essay that was published 3 years ago saying that they're the only part of the nervous system that's exposed, a direct line to someone's head and heart. was he right? did you look into younghoon’s mind tonight? have you been staring at jacob's heart?

at 3, you think about all this talk about past lives. and you think what if it’s not about your past lives with younghoon or with jacob? what if it’s about all the past lives within you?

at 2, you think about the kid you left in a country that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

and at 1, you think about younghoon.

he stops right in front of you. staring at you staring at him. your whole world feels bigger than it ever has before, and your heart, in response, splits in half to fit him inside. you feel that something in your throat rise and boil.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, before falling into his arms. the sob that’s been waiting in the bottom of your soul for the past 20 years comes bursting out of your throat. you cry into your husband's shoulder. you feel the weight of all your past lives and all your future ones like they aren't in the past or in the future, like they're now beside you begging you to imagine what could’ve been and what was.

jacob holds the back of your head. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t need to. it’s all been said before. instead he kisses the corner of your eye and takes you home.

**********************************************************

a/n: originally posted as an svt fic, but i loved this movie and this story too much to not repost. i hope someone sees this and enjoys it. i hope this means something to someone. i hope i've convinced you to watch the movie cause it is truly one of the best pieces of media i've ever ever consumed.

#moni your reviews leave me speechless everytime #thank you for reading this #I’m so glad you enjoyed :)))#8000 layers of inyun

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wavesmp3 · 24 days

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✍️ Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers you know. Let's spread some self-love! 💛

I love this idea!!!

I’m afraid I haven’t written very many new fics and so I’ll definitely be sounding like a broken record here haha but

1. the sea is yours to take — my love and heart and child forever

2. oasis — another one of my children who is so spunky and really feels like a proper story to me. I realized recently that I do this thing when I’m planning pieces that really makes them just collections of scenes but with oasis there truly is a proper plot and the characters are changed and Stuff is happening. also the characters I love dearly and are real characters with strengths and weaknesses and wants and faults. namely of course crown who is so opposite from who I am and who helped me really experience how writing and reading leads to more empathy lolol because I love crown and crown can do no wrong in my book but i would just never do some of the stuff crown did

3. are you happy? — not my most engaged with fic but one of my favorites nonetheless, she breaks my heart

4. eurydice — it’s probably not my favorite showcase of my writing itself but i had so much fun writing it and it kind of jumpstarted a really fun time of me writing on tumblr. and the theme in eurydice of like you can’t bring back the dead even when you can is so special to me.

5. 8000 layers of inyun — just to change things up something new perhaps lol. but no I really do like this piece of mine and although again engagement was quite low, I feel like it’s such a wonderful exploration of such a real thing. the grief over the what if? facing who you used to be? accepting the fact that you are who you are now? idk, a lot of those aren’t very explicit in the piece itself except for maybe the first one but it’s a lot of the questions I was asking myself and the characters when I was writing that piece. and I think partly the reason why I like this fic so much is because i just loved past lives so much

special mention of today I want to burst into flames since that technically isn’t a fic

#asks #the sea is yours to take #oasis #eurydice #are you happy?#8000 layers of inyun

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wavesmp3 · 24 days

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✍️ Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers you know. Let's spread some self-love! 💛

hi ally i love you!! thank you for letting me talk about my works :33

familiarity (it’s all sticky) ➵ i love this fic so much because i am forever a fan of the spiderverse series and i love sunwoo as my loser guy who still loves you in spite of the downfall between reader and him @togeqii really help me flesh this out and betaread this one :')) definitely a forever favorite

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ this fic was heavily inspired by @wavesmp3's work entitled "are you happy?" which changed the trajectory of my life. i have always been a big lover/enjoyer of apocalyptic media (the walking dead, the last of us, dying light, etc.) and ive always enjoyed reading them!! so i thought it's only right that i explore that with jacob

of guitar strings and peeled tangerines (i’ll bruise my fingers just for you) ➵ i know it's not complete but this one has and always will be one of the fics that feel like a big reflection of me. alot of the themes present are ones that i personally relate to, and it's always an experience to write about returning back to a place you wish to stay away from, the idea of returning to a place that never felt like home. and also i just love writing about jacob who holds grudges because i like exploring what circumstances mustve pushed him to that!

the perfect pair ➵ we know this series would be here.... i mean we all love a good enemies to lovers fic with sunwoo, and i mean... GAMER SUNWOO!!!!! LIKEEE i love this fic in particular because i am very Passionate about writing afab reader who is a gamer to be such a good and competent gamer because y'all..... i need that win for them okay!!! i like proving that they're capable and i love uncovering the harsh realities of what its like being a woman in the esports/streaming/gaming scene you know

of linked arms and bruised hearts (you are the reason i keep on going) ➵ my baby forever.... 2-3 months in the making and pumping out a 72.5k word fic series that reflects so much about love in friendships <3 it reflects my friendships actually, so its a homage to them!

sorry for the ramble but i really like explaining the little details of my works and the process that happens in making them <33

#tagged #are you happy?#moni this is so cute!!!#the little descriptions and reasons 🥹🥹 writing is very special idkidkidl #but also like 👀 some more fics of yours to read #mi amor: fic recs

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wavesmp3 · 29 days

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actually working on next chapter of i know you know now

#if you see this and youd like to be tagged when/if it comes out lmk lol #but to be frank ive started working on it again but idk if ill finish it

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wavesmp3 · 1 month

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all of moni's loves

in here, i like to mention some of my mutuals who i absolutely adore. i hope you could take some time to check them out. (if i haven't listed a personal favorite, that means i'm still getting around to checking your works! please be patient! )

➵ ally (@winterchimez) ❄️ m.list personal favorite: beast in the beauty

➵ bar (@sohnric) 📟 m.list personal favorite: sweet like candy

➵ beam (@sungbeam) 💫 m.list personal favorites: party people, and the entirety of the love in unity series

➵ cat (@wuahae) 🍮 m.list personal favorite: gravity (is the distance between you and me)

➵ cece (@ceebit) 🦅 m.list personal favorite: this jacob drabble... (nsfw)

➵ clo (@cloverdaisies) 🍀 m.list

➵ daisy (@daisyvisions) ✨ m.list personal favorite: screw it in tight (nsfw)

➵ dal (@hongyangi) 🍯 m.list personal favorite: see for yourself (nsfw)

➵ dora (@littleroaes) 🥀 m.list personal favorite: boys in cat's clothing

➵ fawn (@juyeonszn) ☕ m.list personal favorites: nectar, blah blah, there's no escape (you've taken tenure in my heart), & cyber sex (all nsfw)

➵ fleur (@sunfleursgarden) 🪷 m.list

➵ ipah (@i520cm) 🐿️ m.list personal favorites: wedding delicacies & racoon ramen

➵ j (@justalildumpling) 🍒 m.list

➵ k (@deobienthusiast) 🌲 m.list personal favorite: this christmas

➵ mae (@sureogi) 🍓 m.list

➵ matty (@stealanity) 🎐 m.list personal favorite: easier

➵ maya (@kimsohn) 🎧 m.list personal favorite: 10:21 pm

➵ mona (@invuwrld) 🪴 m.list personal favorite: dive

➵ peony (@hyungseos-cafe) 🌻 m.list

➵ reese (@itsbeeble) ☄️ m.list personal favorite: no bitches?

➵ rhea (@chrrybbomb) 🧶 m.list

➵ sana (@heemingyu) 🥞 m.list personal favorite: rainy days

➵ shawna (@wavesmp3) 🍃 m.list personal favorites: the sea is yours to take and are you happy?

➵ vae (@hcuyk) 🍂 m.list personal favorites: kidult and headline

➵ yumi (@cupidjyu) 💘 m.list personal favorites: warmy (& secretly), one point off, win over your heart (goal!), and clair de lune

if you ever want your emoji changed, let me know!

➵ sponsored by @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @k-labels

if you would like to be part of my tag list, feel free to send an ask!

permanent tag list: @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

#thank you moni!!!#this is so sweet 🥹#tagged #the sea is yours to take #are you happy?#glad to see you around and writing again!!! I hope you’re having a blast with it :))

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wavesmp3 · 2 months

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oasis

pairing: choi chanhee x reader genre: high fantasy, adventure, romance, drama, ex childhood best friends to lovers warnings: violence, slight gore, minor character death wc: 42k (tumblr might crash if you’re on mobile lol) - inspired by “water” by the boyz - for the time capsule collab hosted by @atbzkingdom find more here!

Keep reading

#happy oasis 3 yrs 🫠🫠🫠#feeling aged again #wrote this as a freshman in college #now I graduate (god willing) in two months #all that to say #the passing of time is passing us indeed

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wavesmp3 · 2 months

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SERIOUSLY CAN'T WAIT FOR ANOTHER PSYCH CHAPTER🥺

ah thank you for your enthusiasm!! It’s nice to hear that someone is looking forward to it

progress has been very slow as my psych rewatched got trumped by a gilmore girls rewatch but hopefully once school slows down a bit I’ll get back to it!

#asks #i know you know

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