spectacular. ptg

🥀 | wordless (wooyan)

this isn't so much dark as it is poetic!!!
this is like a poetic story based around a metaphor

see if you can catch what the metaphor is!

He isn't normal, in the best, most beautiful way.

That's what Wooseok thinks to himself, his usually jumbled mind at a standstill as he stares at Kim Yanan, the transfer student who had arrived in the classroom that morning.

His mannerisms are peculiar and swift, like ones of a fearful prey; it is if he felt the heat of others' eyes atop him, searing straight through pale, paper-like skin, and he feels slight uneasiness from those burning gazes. Still, his face is blank, unmarked; it's lacking a certain something.

Wooseok hums and looks down at his notebook, ridden in the ink drawings he had sketched as he pretended to listen to the teacher's lecture. His eyes drift from his notes and onto Yanan, who is still expressionless.

Wooseok takes a liking to him: an interest in a boy that spoke so little but held so much unsaid mystery.

He looks down at a small portrait he had drawn of himself, and next to it, he begins to draw the student that had caught his eye.

At the end of class, he invites Yanan to sit with him at lunch.

—

It's now the eleventh time the two have had lunch together. When Wooseok speaks Yanan listens intently, as if he takes every little word and holds in his grasp, intending to interpret it as best he could.

He remembers small, insufficient things Wooseok has muttered and reiterates them perfectly, as if he had embedded the information into his mind. Yanan had stopped adding cucumber in his lunches (due to Wooseok's disgust of that particular fruit) and swapped the empty space for a sugary treat that the two would split after sharing the rest.

Today it's particularly basic today though, the two were sharing two containers of rice that Yanan had cooked that morning.

"Why do you eat your rice plain?" Wooseok asks, mouth full of food as he douses his portion of rice with more sauce.

"Why do you eat your rice with sauce?" Yanan replies in a small voice, smiling shyly. He is still quiet and reserved, but he'd banter with Wooseok once in a while.

"It tastes good, obviously," Wooseok chuckles, "plain is just...plain... what's the point?"

Yanan says nothing and places a chunk of his bland, white rice into his mouth.

"I guess my life's just been plain..." Yanan mumbles.

Wooseok's smile falters a bit. He wads up a section of brown, seasoned rice in his chopsticks and holds it to Yanan's mouth. The elder looks up at him in surprise.

"It's good!" Wooseok insists, "I swear... the sauce is so good I could eat it without rice."

Yanan narrows his eyes for a second then lets out a small laugh, his face lighting up in amusement. Wooseok smiles, content with the sight. Yanan doesn't laugh often.

He tells Wooseok he doesn't feel like trying something new today.

—

It's the car ride home. It's been a couple months since the two had met and they sit together in the back of their friend Hwitaek's car, lost in their own little world.

"Hey, hey Yaaaanan," Wooseok calls, grinning as the elder turns his head. "You're quiet."

Aren't I always?

Yanan shrugs and sets his head atop Wooseok's shoulder, closing his eyes. Wooseok smiles; Yanan doesn't see him do it, but he knows he does.

"I don't understand why you like me so much," Yanan says softly, as if he didn't want Wooseok to hear the words. Wooseok is rich, plentiful with meaning and color and expression; his hair is ebony, shades of inky blues and blacks that make him seem so intriguing.

Why does he waste his time on someone so... blank?

He feels Wooseok's body shift and Yanan raises his head from the younger's shoulder, only to be met with Wooseok's big, dark eyes staring into his own. Eyes that hold so much; ones that are carrying this unfaltering emotion that Yanan couldn't understand.

"I like you for so many reasons, Yanan.." Wooseok replies, "thousands of reasons—" Yanan smiles shyly, looking down at his feet. Wooseok reaches out for Yanan and takes his hands, smiling soundly as he glances down at the thin, flimsy fingers, almost weightless in his palms. "Look at me, Yan."

"You're special," Wooseok whispers, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you more than anyone else in the world."

Yanan's face is seared with the hot blush of bewilderment and he looks away.

The air is now warm to him so Yanan rolls down the vehicle's window, letting the cool gusts of wintry wind seep inside of the stuffy car and sink into his hot skin. He's sweating but he's cold; he's nervous but he's joyous; he feels love but he feels hate. He can't look back at Wooseok.

But Wooseok looks at him.

Him, who is deep in thought. Him, who is delicate: his light, thin hair, rustling like tissue or gossamer in the fierce, persistent wind. The breeze pulls the blonde pieces back to show a face struck with anxiety and unforeseen emotions. An expression that Wooseok has not seen before.

Yanan, somewhat unexpectedly, begins to cry. His sudden dismay, however, makes him seem so much more intense; the plainness had disappeared when Wooseok given him that significant confession. Wooseok's presence itself is already so overwhelming, for he expresses himself to Yanan so easily; it as if Wooseok had all these words and thoughts he had bundled up inside of him only to expel them onto Yanan, who could barely reply. With the revelation, Wooseok's emotional complexity has rubbed off onto Yanan, making him so, so unprepared, miserable and perplexed.

He does not know what to do with this newfound feeling.

Wooseok keeps looking at Yanan, bewildered. Yanan's no longer plain. Intense, vivid eyes lie below furrowed eyebrows in black, thick lines, and dark lips quiver slightly, bending into a frown. A tear, a multitude of tears falling from the corners of a pair of wet eyes, fall onto his rosy cheeks.

The water runs down and tears him, leaving a redness around his tired eyes and a blueness in his white aura. He's falling apart, the tears that moisten his skin are tearing him into pieces: sopping, useless pieces.

Sorrowful for a reason that no one could decipher, for he is still without the words he so desperately longed to grasp. The confessions Wooseok spoke are ingrained in Yanan's brain but could not be uttered through his mouth, for this new hysteria was far too much to be dealt with right now.

He feels like he had almost grasped clarity, understanding, completeness, but it smudged. His hysterical tears had smudged and ruined it all, all the beautiful words that Wooseok had created for him. 

Now there was nothing to say.

end.

any interpretations? ideas?
(btw the rice was just the metaphor for the overall metaphor, which is something else)

but interpretations for the moral of the story are endless; what do u think it is?