Ship/Member: wonwoo/chan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: horror, antarctic researchers Permission to remix: yes
i hope this is even slightly similar to anything you were picturing! and also i hope the fact that i know nothing about this topic isn't obvious!!
***
Wonwoo wakes up gagging on nothing. Pressure like a hand unwinds itself from around his throat, slipping away so fast he wonders if it wasn't part of a dream. There's no memory of a dream lingering anywhere, though, and his skin is hot all over like he might have a fever. He allows himself a few minutes to wallow in the feeling. If he's gotten sick, he'll have no choice but to push through it to meet the deadlines he has hanging over him. There's very little Wonwoo dislikes more than pushing through anything.
He could easily fall back asleep despite the fingers of sunlight leaking in past the shutter. He's used to the disorientation of the long day by now - going to sleep in sunlight and waking up again not knowing whether it's morning or the middle of the night - and his phone tells him it's 3:42am, hours before he needs to be awake. The persistent press of his bladder is what gets him up. He forgoes his glasses, though, because if he puts on his glasses he'll wake up completely and then he'll be lying in his bunk staring at the ceiling for hours.
Wonwoo is fine. He thinks he's fine, really. The hallway is long and out of focus without his glasses, but he's walked this route enough times to find his way to the bathroom in his sleep. Halfway down the hall, Wonwoo is not fine. The heat he woke up with is prickling all over his skin now, and he can feel the way the fabric of his clothes grate over his arms, his chest. The tightness is curling its way back up his throat; he wonders if he's about to throw up. A pressure builds in his head and wraps around his skull tight enough to make his ears ring. There's a useless kind of panic - he shouldn't have gotten out of bed, he's not sure now if he could even get back if he turned around. He wants to turn around.
The bathroom is not empty. Wonwoo smells it the second he pushes the door open, strong enough to choke. It smells of earth. Unfrozen earth; wet dirt, the sweet smell of rotting plants. It's like nothing Wonwoo has smelled in months - there is no dirt, there is no rain or rot here. In the mirror, their eyes don't meet. Chan is looking at himself.
"Chan?" Wonwoo asks, and he can barely hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears, "Is that you?"
It's a stupid question. It's him, he knows it's him - Wonwoo thinks he knows it's him.
That's the first time.
***
Isolation is the reason most people don't take the job, but it's also the reason most people do. Wonwoo had never been worried about it like his family were. Most of his friends were certain he'd be back after the 3 month probationary period of his contract finished. He's been gone over a year now.
"Won't you get lonely?" Mingyu had said. The without me had remained unspoken, and Wonwoo hadn't given him the honest answer, which was: No.
"I think I need this," he'd said instead, and Mingyu had helped him pack their life together into boxes. The truth was that Wonwoo liked the idea of the isolation more than the job itself. The idea that he could disappear. He wouldn't have to live beside Mingyu's disappointment or his heartache or his tears. He'd always been a coward like that.
The other truth was that it wasn't lonely, really. Wonwoo had never needed a lot from other people, and the type of people who took these jobs were usually the same. They all had their reasons for coming out this far and none of them felt the need to ask each other about it. They all got to keep their reasons to themselves.
Wonwoo had been given a room next to Chan, most likely because the two of them were the youngest on site by a fair margin. Chan was serious - terribly serious, and was often made the butt of jokes he couldn't recognise as jokes. He was kind, though, and funny when he wasn't caught up in his work. Wonwoo taught Chan how to play chess using the set in the rec room, and Chan would download movies he thought Wonwoo might be interested in. They never talked a lot. It was nice to just have Chan there. Wonwoo found himself thinking of Chan, often, perhaps because there wasn’t all that much to think about here besides their work.
They eat dinner together most nights, because both of them prefer to wait until it’s close to the end of food service and they can eat in relative peace. They don’t talk about that night, either because Chan doesn’t remember it, or because it didn’t happen in the way Wonwoo remembers it, or because it didn’t happen at all. Wonwoo never convinced himself that it wasn’t a dream. Chan is the same as he always was; steady, comfortable. He’s also bone tired.
Being alone doesn’t bother Wonwoo, but it does make him want things in a way he didn’t before. That was something Mingyu had often complained about - he never initiated much, he didn’t think to reach out and take Mingyu’s hand while they walked. He does now. The skin under Chan’s eyes is so dark it’s almost bruised, and Wonwoo thinks about laying his thumb there.
“You’ve been out on the ice a lot these days,” Wonwoo says. He lets the question hang in the air without asking it.
“Yeah, you know how it is. Winter isn’t that far away. I’ve got a lot to do before the sun sets,” Chan says. There’s no trace of tiredness in his voice.
“Still, make sure you’re sleeping enough. And you should eat more,” Wonwoo says, sliding one of his own sausages onto Chan’s tray. It makes him feel a little foolish when he plays the part of a hyung, like he’s wearing someone else’s clothes. Chan never seems to notice he’s even doing it.
“I will. Actually,” Chan hesitates, before visibly coming to a decision, “I think I found something.”
He keeps his voice low, but his excitement is obvious. His eyes are bright despite the bruising.
“Found what?”
“I don’t wanna say yet,” Chan says, his smile pushing his cheeks up. The only time Wonwoo ever sees Chan get worked up is over his research. “I’m not sure if it’s anything. I don’t wanna look dumb.”
“You can tell me,” Wonwoo says. I wouldn’t make you feel dumb, he wants to say. Trust me, he wants to say.
“Not yet,” Chan replies, smile spilling over into a grin, “I’ll tell you when I know.”
Wonwoo lets the topic drop between them. He was never one to push.
***
The days get shorter, gradually, and there’s something that pulls at Wonwoo’s stomach. It feels a lot like dread. It’s not his first winter here, though, and the darkness didn’t bother him last time. He thinks it could be the way the wind picks up - he can hear it outside his window, the hollow whistle of it.
The second time, Wonwoo is awake. He knows he’s awake. The smell of dirt is so strong he can taste it at the back of his throat. He goes to sleep in the dark, he wakes up in the dark, and he is not alone.
[FILL] and the wind will be my hands
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: horror, antarctic researchers
Permission to remix: yes
i hope this is even slightly similar to anything you were picturing! and also i hope the fact that i know nothing about this topic isn't obvious!!
***
Wonwoo wakes up gagging on nothing. Pressure like a hand unwinds itself from around his throat, slipping away so fast he wonders if it wasn't part of a dream. There's no memory of a dream lingering anywhere, though, and his skin is hot all over like he might have a fever. He allows himself a few minutes to wallow in the feeling. If he's gotten sick, he'll have no choice but to push through it to meet the deadlines he has hanging over him. There's very little Wonwoo dislikes more than pushing through anything.
He could easily fall back asleep despite the fingers of sunlight leaking in past the shutter. He's used to the disorientation of the long day by now - going to sleep in sunlight and waking up again not knowing whether it's morning or the middle of the night - and his phone tells him it's 3:42am, hours before he needs to be awake. The persistent press of his bladder is what gets him up. He forgoes his glasses, though, because if he puts on his glasses he'll wake up completely and then he'll be lying in his bunk staring at the ceiling for hours.
Wonwoo is fine. He thinks he's fine, really. The hallway is long and out of focus without his glasses, but he's walked this route enough times to find his way to the bathroom in his sleep. Halfway down the hall, Wonwoo is not fine. The heat he woke up with is prickling all over his skin now, and he can feel the way the fabric of his clothes grate over his arms, his chest. The tightness is curling its way back up his throat; he wonders if he's about to throw up. A pressure builds in his head and wraps around his skull tight enough to make his ears ring. There's a useless kind of panic - he shouldn't have gotten out of bed, he's not sure now if he could even get back if he turned around. He wants to turn around.
The bathroom is not empty. Wonwoo smells it the second he pushes the door open, strong enough to choke. It smells of earth. Unfrozen earth; wet dirt, the sweet smell of rotting plants. It's like nothing Wonwoo has smelled in months - there is no dirt, there is no rain or rot here. In the mirror, their eyes don't meet. Chan is looking at himself.
"Chan?" Wonwoo asks, and he can barely hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears, "Is that you?"
It's a stupid question. It's him, he knows it's him - Wonwoo thinks he knows it's him.
That's the first time.
***
Isolation is the reason most people don't take the job, but it's also the reason most people do. Wonwoo had never been worried about it like his family were. Most of his friends were certain he'd be back after the 3 month probationary period of his contract finished. He's been gone over a year now.
"Won't you get lonely?" Mingyu had said. The without me had remained unspoken, and Wonwoo hadn't given him the honest answer, which was: No.
"I think I need this," he'd said instead, and Mingyu had helped him pack their life together into boxes. The truth was that Wonwoo liked the idea of the isolation more than the job itself. The idea that he could disappear. He wouldn't have to live beside Mingyu's disappointment or his heartache or his tears. He'd always been a coward like that.
The other truth was that it wasn't lonely, really. Wonwoo had never needed a lot from other people, and the type of people who took these jobs were usually the same. They all had their reasons for coming out this far and none of them felt the need to ask each other about it. They all got to keep their reasons to themselves.
Wonwoo had been given a room next to Chan, most likely because the two of them were the youngest on site by a fair margin. Chan was serious - terribly serious, and was often made the butt of jokes he couldn't recognise as jokes. He was kind, though, and funny when he wasn't caught up in his work. Wonwoo taught Chan how to play chess using the set in the rec room, and Chan would download movies he thought Wonwoo might be interested in. They never talked a lot. It was nice to just have Chan there. Wonwoo found himself thinking of Chan, often, perhaps because there wasn’t all that much to think about here besides their work.
They eat dinner together most nights, because both of them prefer to wait until it’s close to the end of food service and they can eat in relative peace. They don’t talk about that night, either because Chan doesn’t remember it, or because it didn’t happen in the way Wonwoo remembers it, or because it didn’t happen at all. Wonwoo never convinced himself that it wasn’t a dream. Chan is the same as he always was; steady, comfortable. He’s also bone tired.
Being alone doesn’t bother Wonwoo, but it does make him want things in a way he didn’t before. That was something Mingyu had often complained about - he never initiated much, he didn’t think to reach out and take Mingyu’s hand while they walked. He does now. The skin under Chan’s eyes is so dark it’s almost bruised, and Wonwoo thinks about laying his thumb there.
“You’ve been out on the ice a lot these days,” Wonwoo says. He lets the question hang in the air without asking it.
“Yeah, you know how it is. Winter isn’t that far away. I’ve got a lot to do before the sun sets,” Chan says. There’s no trace of tiredness in his voice.
“Still, make sure you’re sleeping enough. And you should eat more,” Wonwoo says, sliding one of his own sausages onto Chan’s tray. It makes him feel a little foolish when he plays the part of a hyung, like he’s wearing someone else’s clothes. Chan never seems to notice he’s even doing it.
“I will. Actually,” Chan hesitates, before visibly coming to a decision, “I think I found something.”
He keeps his voice low, but his excitement is obvious. His eyes are bright despite the bruising.
“Found what?”
“I don’t wanna say yet,” Chan says, his smile pushing his cheeks up. The only time Wonwoo ever sees Chan get worked up is over his research. “I’m not sure if it’s anything. I don’t wanna look dumb.”
“You can tell me,” Wonwoo says. I wouldn’t make you feel dumb, he wants to say. Trust me, he wants to say.
“Not yet,” Chan replies, smile spilling over into a grin, “I’ll tell you when I know.”
Wonwoo lets the topic drop between them. He was never one to push.
***
The days get shorter, gradually, and there’s something that pulls at Wonwoo’s stomach. It feels a lot like dread. It’s not his first winter here, though, and the darkness didn’t bother him last time. He thinks it could be the way the wind picks up - he can hear it outside his window, the hollow whistle of it.
The second time, Wonwoo is awake. He knows he’s awake. The smell of dirt is so strong he can taste it at the back of his throat. He goes to sleep in the dark, he wakes up in the dark, and he is not alone.