𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒐 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 : 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆

00:18

( tw: mentions of past general/child sexual abuse and general/child abuse and suicidal thoughts. Nothing is detailed, only mentioned. )

The sun's flare is gone, hidden behind the Earth's horizon curve, now the moon glows at night and the man made street lamps light the way. It's clear, the stars are brights and visible even under neon signs and convenience store fluorescence.

Mingyu followed Wonwoo like a lost mutt wanting shelter, a small abandoned pup looking for scraps of food and love. Everything's been pushed aside, doubts and guilt forced into a jar deep in his chest that he'd put there just for this. He didn't question anything, for better or for worse he set his life in the hands of a damaged person with the rights for revenge.

Wonwoo, despite the bright red scars on his soul and the fresh drips from his trust, didn't take Mingyu out behind the EZ Mart and beat him to a pulp. He didn't take revenge served chilled by the November breeze, he didn't scream in his face nor did he push Mingyu away.

Instead of what should have happened, beat up Converse shoes and forever trembling hands lead him to a place Mingyu had never been. Tight grins and strained gestures pulled him along.

"I thought you needed help with something?" Mingyu finally asks, his eyes glancing around the Laundromat that he'd been dragged into.

Wonwoo pauses in his march towards the half wall of machines, he turns towards the other.

There's an tense silence between the two for a moment, only the sound of a washer going and the lone tv screen on low. Sharp eyes, dark ones with light shines that make them seem wet, meet his own lighter brown. His chest tightens again.

"Yeah, help me fold these..."

Mingyu doesn't move as Wonwoo starts his walk again only to stop in front of the two baskets that sit atop the island just hidden by the washer wall. He's a blank smudge amongst the pale blue and white walls, standing stark against the colors void in his life.

He watches, curious and confused, as Wonwoo tips one of the baskets over and dumps out the clothes onto the counter top without looking up to see if Mingyu had followed. His head tilts down, hands moving in sluggish movements as he begins to fold a shirt he'd pulled from the pile.

Mingyu swallows down the growing lump in his throat and finally follows like he'd done so many times before. He stands on the opposite side of the island, eyes moving around between the clothes pile, Wonwoo's hands, and his face.

Truth be told, Mingyu had never folded anything before. He watches the other work on a shirt, he blinks and grabs a yellow t-shirt from the pile.
It's nearly uncomfortably quiet as Wonwoo folds clothes and Mingyu tries to copy.

Left sleeve, right sleeve, half, half.
Left sleeve, right,  half, half.
Left, right, half, half.

'...you have to lean to the left if your falling right Wonwoo! You can't always bail when you start to teeter....'

'I'm gonna bust my ass if I don't Mingyu!'

'Just trust me you baby!'

Mingyu frowns, his chest tightening again as I feels unwanted waves of lost times flash by him.

It was an odd memory to suddenly think if, a day at the park, one that shouldn't have been impactful or important. But, as he thinks, curious as to why he'd been hit with a crash of bittersweet nostalgia, he finds himself glancing back up to the other still at ease folding a shirt much too small for himself.