Various NCT 127 Requests

Photograph

Request: Bro prompt 4 with either mark or yangyang (you decide) coz of the ncthree photograph mv thing 🙇

Answer: Both? Both is good 😈

Non-Idol AU

Prompt: Lasting memories kept in disposable cameras.

TW: Language, Major Character Death, Implications of a Car Accident

Y/N Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.3K (Went a little overboard with this one)

Notes: NCThree (A fictional unit made up of Mark, Yangyang, and (Y/N)) comes from my social media au series [Prominence] and the part in particular that this derives from is [Pt. 4] but this can be read without prior knowledge of Prominence.

~

For the longest time, there were three.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Were the words that started it all. It was your idea. It was your idea to go out like this, on an adventure that neither of you would have ever dreamed of. The idea was to go on a simple road trip, you stole your dad's convertible, and Mark put together the funds for gas and food while Yangyang was in charge of everything else. But, to their surprise, you came with a bag full of disposable cameras with the idea of taking pictures with them, duh, but not developing them until afterward. It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, one that the three of you would never forget.

How were they supposed to know that you wouldn't come back? Ever?

Who would've thought that it would be the second time they arrived here that would hurt the most? It was like a painful reality check. You weren't here, you would never be there anymore.

Mark and Yangyang sat in your room. It wasn't messy nor was it neat. Off to the side were three luggage, no doubt filled to its capacity, but its contents would remain a mystery so long as they remained locked. Neither of them had the heart to go through your things, not yet. Mark sat on the armchair near your window while Yangyang sat at the edge of your bed, neither of them doing anything, just simply sitting in silence. On the table between them was a plastic bag of your belongings provided by the hospital.

Your cellphone was among them, the screen sporting a large shatter, but it was still functional, after all, the emergency responders used it to call them. There was a tube of lipgloss that had cracked from impact and had begun to leak out, such was now dried and crusted around the tube. Your wallet laid untouched, all of its contents, a $50 bill, and a few cards amongst them, were where they were when they last saw it. And, of course, your own disposable camera. It had cracked beyond repair, but the film inside of it was still salvageable.

Mark would know, it was the first thing he took when they were called over. According to the emergency responders, their numbers were the only ones saved on your phone, which remained unlocked throughout the entire aftermath of the crash. They called it luck, Yangyang didn't agree.

Suddenly, Yangyang regretted deleting all of those pictures off his phone. Sure, the friend group had dwindled after everyone moved out to college, but it still stood that the three of you grew up together. Those countless sleepovers, the game nights, the hangouts, and everything beyond and in between. When did he decide that those memories were just a waste of gigabytes on his phone? No, why did he decide that? And Mark, poor Mark, he had always tried to get the group together again at least once a year when everyone was back in town, but Yangyang had always brushed him off and came up with some lame excuse. And then you came rolling in saying "we shouldn't leave Yangyang out! We'll just wait for him" and still he never came. He had to have been the shitty friend, right? To think he outgrew this childhood friendship.

"I... uh... I developed them," Mark breaks the silence. Yangyang stared at him with an uninterested look. "I figured that she'd want us to," Mark places the large envelope on the table.

"I didn't even touch mine yet," Yangyang lies. He fumbles with the opaque bag in his pockets while he turns to face the table. Mark begins to open the envelope, but hesitates before doing so.

"I... I haven't looked at them yet," he says. "I can just develop yours and we can raincheck this-"

"Just open the damn envelope, Mark."

"Right, yeah," Mark nods his head and does so. He pulls out the photos and lays them on the table. Yangyang picked up the first one and he felt his heart crush. It was the first photo taken of the trip, they had just entered the highway and you loudly proclaimed "half an hour in and we still haven't taken a photo!" before leaning forward from your spot in the backseat, turning the camera around, and hoping that it got all three of you when you took the photo. The giddy smile on your face, it's one Yangyang would never forget because the flash caused Mark to swerve out of his lane. Now that was luck, no one else was on the highway that morning.

Yangyang looked over to see that Mark was holding the last picture you took, supposedly. It depicted the two boys sitting across from each other at the 24/7 diner, the one right before their argument. With tired smiles and excited eyes, at that time the only worry on their mind was how much longer the food would take to get out.

It was now that Yangyang noticed that amongst the fifty or so photos that the only one that featured all three of you was the one in his hands right now. All others only depicted duos or solos, and some didn't even sport a human subject. Yangyang felt his hands shaking. He placed the photo down.

"I threw my camera away," he says. Did he even have pictures of the three of them on that?

"We can still get it back though, right?" Mark's voice held that signature false hope he was known for. Yangyang thought back to the trashed camera, upon returning home from the hospital, it was the first thing that he did. In his pocket right now, however, was that roll of film. But he only ever recalled taking a handful of photos, and all of them were of you. He couldn't bring himself to even think about it.

"What did we even argue about, again?" Yangyang asks quietly.

"She lied to us," Mark shrugs.

"That wasn't lying."

"Lying is also not telling," Mark argues. "I... uh... I don't want to be that person but..."

"I started it, I know. You don't have to remind me," he says.

"Yangyang, it was a freak accident, you know that, right? There's no way we could've prevented what happened to her."

"But if we never got in that argument-"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Mark interjects. "What's done is done. She would've said that too."

"I know," Yangyang ruffled his hair harshly. He pulls out the film in his pocket and hands it to Mark. "Do whatever you want with this, yeah? I just don't want to see it anymore," Yangyang shakes his head.

"I knew you would've kept this..." Mark shook his head slowly and placed it into his pocket. "I should've stayed longer..." he mutters. Yangyang chooses not to respond. Instead of prying further, Mark stands up, grabbing his things from your vanity. "I'll see you next month."

"Next month?"

"The funeral?" Mark asks in a whisper. Yangyang's expression falls. How could he have forgotten that?

"Yeah, I'll see you next month then," Yangyang confirms. Mark leaves first, closing the door behind him. But Yangyang remained, skimming over the photos in front of him.

You were right, it was a road trip he would never forget. But not because of its ending, but because of the journey. How could he forget those motel mornings when you'd fight over who used the bathroom first? The late nights in the car just staring at the stars trying to make out incoherent shapes? Or even the loud music blasting in the old speakers that led someone to drive past the car and flip them off before speeding away? Those two weeks may very well have been the best two weeks of his life spent with people he had brushed off for too long. In those two weeks, he remembered why they were friends for this long.

And then there were two.