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@rksubin

( SMS ➝ baby marshal )

( ✉ ) hey ( ✉ ) heyyyyyy ( ✉ ) hey subin ( ✉ ) subinnie ~~~~~ ( ✉ ) are you free on may 31? ( ✉ ) wanna do something fun with hyung? ( ✉ ) 'fun’ ㅋㅋㅋ ( ✉ ) no jk it’ll actually be fun ( ✉ ) what do you say??

#rksubin #[ texts . ]#[ he is plotting ]

rksejun

things you go to

rksejun

rksubin‌:

( ... )

he sets the bowl down in front of sejun, steam collecting on the plastic wrap. beside it, a plate of yellow radish, some sliced onions. and then a plate of fried dumplings; a smaller bowl of fried rice—and he doesn’t mention they’re from his mom, who’d scurried to the door to add them to the box. don’t tell him they’re from me, she says, and subin doesn’t question it.

“busy day?” he asks, letting the box slide shut. the grin on his lips feels automatic at this point, and it’s scary how easy it is. “ah! wait! aw, man. maybe i should have brought the hand towels and aprons while i was at it…”

he’s made a career out of chasing ghosts. there’s his dream of being an idol, for one—in some ways, it died a long time ago, and sejun’s only keeping it alive out of sheer spite, out of the sincere refusal to let things end the way they did. there’s nothing glamorous about being stubborn; it’s ugly, he thinks, to not know when to give up. uglier to believe that choosing not to will make a difference.

but his life is a graveyard for more reasons than just a dream that should’ve been buried. the biggest ghost, the one he sees out of the corner of his eye even years later, is suha. you should feel honored, sejun tells him once. you take up so much space in my life even now. and he can almost hear suha sigh and reply, but i don’t want to. it’s wistful thinking, and sejun rarely thinks ‘wistfully’ for the most part, but suha is capable of unlocking the melancholy part of him he keeps hidden away without even trying.

it’s been years. years. he still hasn’t stopped waiting for suha to call him, to walk through the door of the laundry with his helmet tucked under his arm and a smile on his face. he still hasn’t stopped waiting for suha to respond to his last text, still hasn’t come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be able to bother him again (he says bother, but suha never seemed troubled by sejun’s antics). he still hasn’t stopped waiting for suha, period, as if his stubborn denial of his death would reverse its effects.

(it’s ugly, this futile refusal to face the truth.)

sometimes he sees glimpses of suha that aren’t a part of his imagination—in subin’s face, in the cadence of his laughter, in the way he offers sejun a small, familiar smile whenever he sees him. here’s a ghost too, though he can’t quite put his finger on what it is (or he can, just refuses to). sometimes he looks at subin, but sees suha instead, and his heart takes a moment to catch up with his brain, unwilling to let the illusion fade.

disappointment is a disgusting feeling, because subin is who he is, and sejun needs to appreciate him for that alone. subin matters, subin is here, subin is alive, and whatever sejun’s ghosts may be, they don’t need to haunt him all hours of the day. or if they insist on it anyway, sejun’s gotten really good at ignoring them. subin deserves his grin and his care—suha would want that for him.

“i was just teasing,” sejun says, a playful lilt to his voice. “i know you’re eager to see hyung’s handsome face, but you’re not supposed to rush. wouldn’t want anything happening to you out there, huh?” the last part slips out of his mouth unbidden, and he momentarily stiffens before forcing the tension in his shoulders to relax. “you’re probably right; the nice weather brings more people outdoors, and crowds can be kind of dangerous sometimes.”

will he ever be able to express concern without suha looming over them? every time he tries, it sounds like a warning, with the postscript of ‘i don’t want something to happen to you too’ attached. subin’s kind of a clumsy kid, and sejun doesn’t think he’ll never not worry about him, but his anxieties too often bleed with suha-related thoughts and—

it wouldn’t happen again. the universe doesn’t work like that. it can’t.

he pulls himself out of his thoughts, idly watching subin’s busy movements. “nothing exciting?” he echoes, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “so if i, say, left the first aid kit on the counter and looked away, you wouldn’t use it at all?” sejun always keeps a first aid kit on hand when subin’s set to arrive—just in case, for his own peace of mind.

sejun’s order is larger than he remembers it being, with extra dishes he didn’t think to add—all his favorites, of course, and the sudden, misshapen lump in his throat threatens to choke him before he can get any words out. i think you mixed up my order with someone else’s, he wants to say, but selfishly, sejun wants—well, he wants to believe it’s an acceptance of an apology he hasn’t worked up the courage to give. his fingers reach for the plate of fried dumplings, then halt.

he probably doesn’t deserve this.

probably.

but he can’t bring himself to reject it either.

“hm?” sejun glances up, meeting subin’s smile with one of his own. “i don’t know if i’d say that. busy wasting some time, maybe? daydreaming about you and the best jjajangmyeon in the city.” business is what is is, but he hardly wants to complain to subin about it. he knows subin’s not fragile, but he still can’t help but attempt to treat him gently.

“i guess you’re just going to have to come back here, or—” he pauses and taps the counter. “oh, i can walk you back and pick them up? then deliver them once they’re done.” it sounds like a lot of work he wouldn’t do for anyone else, but, well, this is subin, and sejun would rather not have him running around everywhere on errands and risk getting hurt. “i’ll even give you the special discount i reserve for cute customers only.” he punctuates the sentence with a cheeky grin, his dimple on full display.

it’s something he would’ve said to suha, calculated to elicit a reaction from him.

it slips out too easily with subin, and sejun wonders, not for the first time, if this isn’t more than a little fucked up.

#[ things you go to. ]#rksubin #[ clown noises ]

defbeoms

180615 time of sorrow ○ sejun

#[ i would die for u ]#[ mirror . ]

✨ GIVE BACK !!

his skills, while legion, have never lent themselves well to altruism. to say that sejun doesn’t care about others would be a lie, but self-sacrifice isn’t a word he’s overly familiar with. there’s always an undercurrent of what’s in it for me? running through his actions. it’s not a crime to want to benefit from whatever you’re doing, is it?

he’s never been one for charity work, as a result. gets the concept, broadly, but he’s hard pressed to devote time he could be spending on anything else to do a selfless good deed of the day. he won’t be seeking out opportunities to help the community or whatever on his own, but when a request falls into his lap--more like is flung and hits him square in the face--he finds it harder to say no than to say yes.

#rkcharity #[ solo . ]#[ +3 chr . ]

imddalgi • following

come to sunshine laundry 2 see this dimple in person!! *

* u can also see it tomorrow night over dinner...?

jk jk don’t just scroll past this please my crops (likes)

♥ like 💬 comment ⌚ just now

#[ instagram. ]#[ i'm exhausted and in a lot of pain rn so this will have to do ]#[ i'll catch up properly on sejun tomorrow tho! ]#[ thank u for being patient with my slow ass ]

things you go to

the laundry is quiet and empty—just another family-owned business on the brink of bankruptcy. the floor tiles are cracked and worn yellow with age, the paint is peeling, and the door sticks when it rains. when sejun was younger, he’d thought of the laundry as bright, cheerful, ebullient—sunshine felt like a suitable name. these days, being in here sucks the energy out of him. the photo prints of sunflowers and summer fields his grandparents hung around the place all those years ago to spruce up the place just come across as subtly mocking.

slumped behind the counter, sejun fidgets with his phone. he’d give anything to pop outside for a smoke, but his grandparents are extremely insistent about never smoking anywhere near the laundry, and especially when he’s supposed to be working. not that anyone would notice if he was back in fifteen minutes, or twenty, or even thirty, but he doesn’t have it in him to disobey the few commands his grandparents have given him.

in an ideal world, he would’ve become an idol, hit it big, bought a comfortable house for his grandparents, and sold this place by now. in an ideal world, he wouldn’t be stuck here for four more hours, waiting on customers who won’t come. in an ideal world, he’d—

well. no use dwelling on it. lacing his fingers behind his head, he sighs. the world isn’t ideal. it’s not even fair most of the time. thinking about it too much or expecting things to go the way you want them to will just piss you off. sejun’s had enough experience with the feeling to not recommend it to anyone. it’s not worth it to become bitter so young.

(ha, he wants to say. ha-fucking-ha. too young, and yet here he is.)

straightening up, his eyes fall on the loose stack of pamphlets and menus strewn over the counter. gathering them into neat piles separated by subject matter, sejun’s eyes fall on on a familiar name. jung jjajang. he fills in the rest of it automatically. the jjajangmyeon you’ll want to befriend! abandoning the other menus in the recycling bin, he makes sure jung jjajang’s menus are the only ones visible.

another one of those instances where the world isn’t fair, he thinks idly. the restaurant’s phone number glares up at him, chanting call me! call me! call me! honestly, he could go for a bowl of jjajangmyeon right about now—jung jjajang’s food never fails to lift his mood, and the number is already in his phone, but he hesitates before hitting dial. suha’s ghost hovers over his shoulder, saying, didn’t you say you weren’t going to make the same mistakes again?

same, selfish mistakes.

(he remembers dialing jung jjajang’s number and saying, send me your cutest delivery boy, with a cheeky grin, brimming with excitement at the thought of luring his best friend over to the company.

i’m the only delivery boy, suha’d replied, laughing. but sure—i’ll squeeze you in as my last delivery.)

subin isn’t suha, and it’s nowhere near the end of the day, and it’s just one fucking bowl of jjajangmyeon—nowhere near the end of the world. but his finger is still frozen over the dial button, and one bowl of jjajangmyeon isn’t worth a life at the end of the day.

god, but the taste of it reminds him so much of suha.

sejun hits dial without processing and places his order. his usual request rests at the tip of his tongue, but without suha to answer back on the other end, it dies in his mouth. instead, he asks, “this isn’t the last delivery or anything, is it?” nope! comes the reply. it doesn’t help unravel the knot in his chest much, but he feels a little less anxious as he hangs up and waits for subin to arrive.

maybe she should’ve just gone to pick up the food himself. no one’s going to come to the laundry, and sejun will be counting the seconds till subin arrives anyway, but going to jung jjajang is one terrifying situation he doesn’t want to dive right into. subin is different, subin is comfortable and kind, subin makes him feel—less guilty or responsible. but subin’s parents… sejun’s not sure he can face them even now. doesn’t know how. his shamelessness doesn’t extend that far, and he doesn’t have enough apologies.

so he waits, nails picking at the splinters in the counter, for the familiar silhouette to come to a stop in front of the doors—and when it does, for a moment he thinks, oh, oh, you’re here, you’re back—

but reality hits a moment later as the door opens. the deliveryperson who pops inside is not suha, will never be suha again. sejun arranges his features into a pleased smile nonetheless, because even though he’s not suha, he’s glad to see subin whole and unharmed. he’s always just glad to see subin.

“you’re late!” he says cheerfully. “i almost fell asleep waiting for you, subinnie.” a beat, and then adds nonchalantly, “everything okay on your way over here?”

for @rksubin ✨

#rksubin #[ threads. ]#[ things you go to. ]#[ i'm surprised i managed to keep it short ]#[ ha ]

rksejun

hey y’all! this isn’t my first time in rookies but i haven’t been here in a hot minute so i really appreciate all the lovely welcomes. i’m excited to be here with my garbage bin of a muse, lim sejun! he’s 22, works at his grandparents’ laundromat, and is a former trainee trying to #makeit again. i’ll drop some additional info about him under the cut, but i also have an about page up for him if you’d prefer to look at that! i also managed to get some plots up for him so if you see any you like or you’d just like to plot in general, smash that LIKE button and i’ll slide into your ims!

Keep reading

#[ tbd . ]#[ reblogging because i posted this at a bad time and i'd like to get more stuff going! ]