Fast Food
*KPop, real people, male/male, Kim RyeoWook/Choi SiWon, one-sided love, one swear word*
*If you don't like it, please don't read it.*
It’s not like SiWon is really all that bothered by it…
Or at least, not all the time.
For the most part he’s just living his own life-- They both are--
But occasionally.
Occasionally there are months and months in-between where RyeoWook simply doesn’t contact him, doesn’t think about him–
There’s just nothing, not even a fucking text or at least a twitter post,
Nothing.
Just nothing, and SiWon…
He doesn’t think about it and he’s not upset over it, but he feels it. He can’t deny that he feels it.
After long days of starving and shooting; when his phone rings and it’s a different number; when the ‘Little Prince’ or ‘Eternal Maknae’ gets mentioned in a fan-cafe; when he sees the other members going back and forth online or when they post pictures of shared meals or set visits…
SiWon feels it.
A little tickle of something off, something lacking that nags at him too often to be ignored, but not enough to be acknowledged or confronted.
Every once-in-a-while though, in the quiet hours of late-night/early-morning, SiWon thinks of doing something crazy.
He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling and feels empty and thinks of flying back to Seoul.
He imagines showing up unannounced, barging in and pushing the small body up against a wall and…
Anything, everything, whatever it takes to make RyeoWook look at him, feel him, miss him the way SiWon does.
He wants to be a hollow space in RyeoWook’s chest: a craving that’s never satisfied and an existence that can’t be replaced.
He imagines it over and over again in vivid detail with every possible variation. He sees his own faltering steps and hears RyeoWook’s half-awake grumbles and watches the boy’s eyes widen in surprise, looking up at him and saying:
“I didn’t know you were back in Korea.” And then,
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” And maybe he’ll have been a little annoyed, but mostly he’ll be shocked and concerned.
He’ll be warm and soft and tiny and he’ll let SiWon cling to him without limit or complaint and SiWon will breathe him in and listen to his clear, sharp voice as it whispers kindness and SiWon will be reassured.
SiWon will be comforted and contented and after a while– As long as RyeoWook will allow– SiWon will detach himself and they’ll go and sit in the living room and RyeoWook will ask again:
“What’s wrong?” And SiWon will be honest and answer:
“I miss you.” And RyeoWook won’t know how to respond.
And SiWon doesn’t know how he wants RyeoWook to respond, but he wants to say it anyways.
And he imagines it so many times and so desperately every time that it almost ceases to be fantasy, instead becoming memory as tangible and distinct as any other.
But it isn’t real. It’s never real.
And RyeoWook continues to throw him away in TV interviews and holds him to his meager allowance of three hugs and three high-fives and an occasional:
“I love you, SiWonnie-hyung.” Off-handed and hardly sincere and never quite enough.
Never enough texts or ka-talks or phone calls or letters or tagged posts on Instagram, never enough of anything and SiWon doesn’t have a name for what would be enough.
He’s just feeling a little empty, a little unsatisfied.
It’s just not enough.