RETROGRADE / @fatedandbound
— INT. ONYANG CAFE, 10 AM
won hasn't gotten much sleep lately. not since he heard his own voice echo through his kitchen that night. glitching, repeating, saying things he knows he's never said. it's nice here? nicer than i remembered? like hell it's nice in onyang. why would he even admit to being back in town? admit defeat? it's not him, he knows this. and yet, it undeniably sounds exactly like him. like something had crawled inside his throat and used his voice, learned to speak like won, but not as him. that's one nightmare he's had, anyway.
so he's found himself leaning on coffee more than usual the past few days. but his usual brew of cheap, instant coffee in his grandma's old kitchen finally lost its charm this morning, landing him in the onyang cafe. with laptop in hand, eyes dark and shadowed, navy blue baseball cap hiding a mess of hair beneath it.
"iced americano, for here," he mutters, voice low and rough like it's been out of practice. his eyes are trained on his wallet as he fishes out his card, and his mind is elsewhere too. far enough away that he doesn't quite register the barista's voice behind the counter. even as he pays, takes the receipt with his order number printed on top, his gaze is avoidant, an attempt to hide exhaustion beneath the brim of his cap. "thanks," he responds mindlessly, slipping away toward an empty table in the corner.
by the time his number's called, he's barely more awake as he drags himself back to the counter. this time, though, his eyes lift when he reaches to take the cup from the barista. and now, he sees her. baek jinri. for a split second, he freezes. maybe from shock, maybe something else. but he quickly regains, eyes almost smiling, "well, would you look at who the cat dragged in."
he grabs his drink from her hand, no longer missing a beat, "what, did winning awards get boring? or was pouring my coffee your real dream job?" he grins as he stirs the straw before taking a quick sip. it tastes bitter as ever, but not half as sharp as seeing jinri again. here, in onyang of all places. that woke him up more than the caffeine ever could.
at least, that's what won thinks as he bumbles through the cave, blood drying on his shin, dirt crusted into the cuts on his palms, and water dripping down from his shirt. that and other expletives and plans to dig out a hole in hell himself if one isn't vacant already. he ventured into the depths as the sun rose, and now as he emerges from the mouth of the underground maze, all light has left once more. all because of jung ilwoo.
is it partially won's fault for believing a word coming out of ilwoo's mouth? maybe. but how is he to resist? duct taping his mouth is his first thought. or better yet, knocking his teeth out. won spits the lingering taste of stagnant water into the dirt, starting towards the crow's nest; fantasizing the many ways he could prevent hearing ilwoo's proclamations in the future.
his hair is wild, white tee still damp and stained with grime from the cave as he shoves the bar door open, frame rattling. he scans the room, hunting for a familiar figure. the dead eyes on the walls feel as if they're burning into him. following him. as if they smell it on him, as if the stuffed crows could possibly know he's searching, looking where he shouldn't. but won ignores the slight unease, blood boiling hot again as he spots ilwoo waving at him from the bar with a grin on his face.
"you think you're real funny, don't you," he spits out sarcastic, intercepting the drink the bartender was sliding towards ilwoo. won downs the liquid, both from the thirst of exhaustion and to spite the other man. it burns going down and his temples begins to ache, stomach grumbling as a reminder to feed it first. but still, he slams the glass back down and gestures for another round. "if the goal was to waste my fucking time, then congrats you won, but if you were hoping i'd get stuck down there," he scoffs, "then you're gonna have to try harder than that. "
underneath it is a file, a random string of numbers with a play button next to it, like it might be an mp3 file. you're not exactly sure what this website is, or how you got here. did you click on a random link? was it purposefully sent to you, some strange phishing attempt? but they're not asking you to download the file, just play it. it can't do much to your laptop...
DO YOU…
>click the play button
>exit out from the website
won shakes his leg, glaring at the page as it loads. and loads. and loads. the quiet of the night more apparent now as seconds seem to stretch longer; a high-pitched ringing in his ears until the page greets him in ugly letters. WELCOME. to what? this has to be a stupid joke, he thinks, and again he moves to close the window until the rest of the page reveals itself and there lies a play button. right in the center, just begging to be played.
won's curiosity has burned him before. every initial instinct in him recognizes a bad deal, a bad idea, anytime anywhere. and yet, that never deters him. to won, red flags look more like a challenge, so caution always gets thrown to the wind.
tonight, sat in his too-warm kitchen confronted by the shoddiest website he's seen in a minute, is no different. he knows the internet safety rules. he's covered an alarming amount of stories rooted in the web. he's not stupid -- just reckless, even now.
dark eyes narrow with something between suspicion and skepticism as her gaze falls upon a once familiar visage, her lips pressing together thin before she decides that isn't enough, takes a swig from the bottle in her hand instead. "it's rude to interrupt someone's prayers," she informs him, tone tilting frostily between them even as the soju warms her inside-out, brows lifting slightly. "so you'd better have a compelling reason to be here.
there were very few thoughts won had about onyang and anything in it while he was gone. as best as he could, he let his hometown be out of sight, out of mind. still, there's only so much one can do when it comes to matters of the heart. or, rather, matters of addiction. obsession. he never could shake the onyang mystery that led him down the path to 'the lost won', nor the person at the center of it. he'd gotten too close to it, almost close enough to keep him there.
but ultimately the deep-rooted desire to flee was stronger, and so he left. silently. leaving fire in his wake as he crossed the bridge.
now, with no where else to go, he finds himself having to sweep up the ashes he left and build his bridges back brick by brick. on his first night back, he lingered by the forest just feet away from grandma's house; listened to the sounds of it, waiting to hear the faint echo of a familiar voice to no avail. multiple failures and a couple weeks later, he now stares at the abandoned chapel he'd desecrated in his youth, windows glowing with quiet life.
this is it. his reckoning.
time has weathered them both, but won unmistakably sees yunseol in the sole figure inviting faith back into the chapel as he drags the door open. he grins, despite the chill in her voice, and crosses into once sacred ground, "would you believe me if i said i converted while i was gone?" his fingers move, as if instinctively, forehead, chest, shoulder, shoulder, finishing with his palms together and a low, "amen."
"if i'd known having soju was part of the ritual, i would have believed sooner," he nods at the half-empty bottle in her hand, eyes sweeping across the shattered glass piled up in the corner like a visible confession. a brow rises as he fixes his gaze back on her. "been praying a lot, huh?" the words come out wry, in lieu of a how have you been.
but lately all you can do is think about leaving again, even if you don’t have the means to do so. for what might be the tenth time this month, you go online to look up the price for a train ticket to somewhere far away. this time, the webpage seems to freeze. it’s not unusual, you’re at home and not in the epicenter of wifi hotspots, the local cafe. the usual dead page screen pops up, and you move to exit out from it, but before you do, you notice the loading wheel is still spinning. that you’re being redirected. the page doesn’t have a lot on it, but it still feels like too much. you move to exit out of the screen, but before you can do so a popup appears. there’s a lot of small print text you can’t really make out, and it doesn’t improve when you zoom in, but you think you spot the word cookies at the bottom are your two standard options, I ACCEPT and DECLINE.
DO YOU…
>press I ACCEPT
>press I DECLINE
—
INT. HOME, 12:10 AM
onyang is as suffocating as won remembered it to be.
in fact, everything in onyang is as he remembers. flickering streetlights with mosquitoes buzzing around them, cicadas sawing relentlessly outside his open window. quiet, still, damp. barely a few weeks back, and already his bones ache. keeping him awake, like his body refuses the stillness. like resting in his childhood room would mean surrendering, accepting the inevitability of onyang.
now it's midnight again and there he is in the kitchen he hasn't bothered to dust yet. won sits at the table, hunched over, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his face in the dark. like he has been every night since returning, he scrolls through the train tickets out of here, mentally calculating how much further debt he'd be in if he left for this town or that.
except tonight, the webpage won't scroll.
it's no difference anyway, he can't afford to leave. looking only frustrates him more, so maybe it's for the best. he moves to close the window out but the cursor wheel spins. a new page loads, slowly, almost reluctantly. when it finishes, there's not much there, but won's eyes are wide open now, scanning. his chest feels heavy, as if there's something lodged in his throat the longer he stares. he doesn't notice how close he's gotten to the screen until the bright white of it all burns his vision.
reflexively, he sits back and pushes the laptop away. he reaches to slam it shut, too, but a popup appears and won can't resist. "the hell?" he mumbles to himself, squinting, pulling the laptop towards him once more. this time, he deliberately gets close to the screen, retinas burning, struggling to read the fine print.
... cookies ...
I ACCEPT
I DECLINE
there's a sound mind in won's brain, telling him to decline, to shut the laptop down, to hide it away. but the rest of him leans in. curious, unable to stop his fingers from moving the cursor towards the wrong button:
I ACCEPT.
choi won, yet another man with a podcast, but also a freelance writer. onyang traitor because he left for seoul, but look who's laughing now that he has recently returned after being kicked out / chased out by loan sharks. more info about him under the cut + in the pages linked below!!
— the writer
hi friends, super excited to be here! you can call me ria, or any fun variation. i'd love to plot with literally everyone, so let's please do so!! i'm okay with either discord or im. note that i will be slow this opening weekend as i'm on vacation, literally walking thru the grand canyon as this queued post goes out, but that won't stop me from trying!! anyway, enough abt me and more about won below <3
— the links: bio / profile
/////
— the additional info
won grew up unwanted and eventually abandoned, leading to him now being self-reliant and untrusting
you know that "men will do anything but go to therapy" meme? it's him, 'men' is won, smh
but if you somehow get through the walls, bro is pretty damn loyal like... if he loves you, god forbid, he might never stop; very prone to jealousy as well
has always been a little "too much" in many ways - too intense, too aggressive, too arrogant with frankly nothing to show for it
he's pretty restless, like literally he's a light sleeper, but also metaphorically he's never at peace; will always have/want something to do
and when he does do something, he'll act first and (maybe) think later. if anything doesn't work out, he will try try again
despite the too much gene and callousness, his first impression generally comes off charming in that dry, sarcastic kind of way
won is full of contradictions in that sense, self-reliant yet also self-destructive; observant yet also impulsive
i.e. he has lots of thoughts in that brain of his, but ultimately his emotions always rule over his mind
— the outro
annnd that's all for now! we can always discuss more as we plot n_n i am open to any and all kinds of plots, so if there's anything you want that won might be able to fill, just lmk! otherwise, we can brainstorm like normal. either way, i look forward to it all! <3
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