comment prompt fills

[hyojungss]

originally posted for 2020 MINI COMMENT FICATHON

1. like the weather - moonbin/sinb - canon - 500w
2. born to be alone - joy/hayoung - au - 380w
3. the way i love - the8/kyulkyung - canon - 700w
4. i don't think i could stand to be where you don't see me - jiho/binnie - canon - 800w
    

#1 - 500w
like the weather - moonbin/sinb - canon

prompt: markohmark: moonbin (astro) / sinb (gfriend) - everyone thinks they're dating but it's hard to have a crush on someone you knew when you were in diapers (based on the fact that they're childhood friends?) - either

a/n: watched this video yesterday and now i cant stop. discl i don't know them well outside of a few clips but i'm obsessed

-

“You fucking suck at this,” Eunbi says, hands rattling the metal caging that stands between them.

 

“Your mouth is so dirty and that’s why no one will date you,” Bin replies. He swings his bat. The ball hits the side netting before dropping on the ground.

 

“Ouch,” she says flatly. “My turn.”

 

Bin sighs and pulls the cage door open, dragging his bat behind him. Eunbi flounces in to take his place, helmet already fastened.

 

“I bet I can hit a home run before you,” she says, glancing back to look at his slumped form draped over the spectator bench.

 

“I bet you can too, you’re so experienced after all,” Bin shoots back, sitting up, and the compliment is so kind that she’s sure it’s not what he was actually getting at.

 

“Meaning?” With a crack the ball goes virtually flying into the outfield.

 

“I have so many bruises from the times you’ve hit me,” he answers.

 

“Oh please, that just means you’re weak.”

 

“Think about it though. People see you,” he says, mock fear in his voice and a hand to his mouth, “acting violent towards me, on public television, and they get scared. Maybe you should change your ways.”

 

“You probably scare them away more than I do,” she says without thinking.

 

“You mean because they think I’m your boyf-”

 

Eunbi smacks the next ball extra hard and it hits the wall with a loud bang. “Don’t finish that sentence or die.”

 

“Sanha said Yewon told him during their show taping that you were complaining about not being able to get dates.”

 

“That bitch!”

 

Bin crosses his arms as if to say you just proved my point. She turns around slowly with a tinge of guilt that she won’t let show and glares at him.

 

“You know I’m joking. I love her, and I love Sanha too, even though he doesn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth shut. You’re the only one that I hate.”

 

“Real talk,” he starts dramatically, and Eunbi groans. “I know that you don’t think I’m a factor in all of this, but I feel genuinely bad if I am. A little bit of good fun with my old pal isn’t worth dooming you to a life of singledom.”

 

“Believe me, I’ve never considered you a factor,” Eunbi says, but she fans her face as she turns back towards the game screen. It must be all the movement. Physical activity. Burns calories.

 

“But,” he says candidly, “I think you’d know by now if I had feelings for you. You’re stupidly perceptive.”

 

“That’s an oxymoron, idiot.”

 

“Not if you’re Hwang Eunbi.” He sticks his tongue out at her. “A girl full of impossibilities.”

 

“Here’s one more,” she says, shuts her eyes tight, and swings.

 

Bin stands up as the speakers shower her with cheers. “You actually got a home run,” he marvels, walking up to the door to meet her face to face.

 

“If I can do that, I can do anything,” Eunbi says with a grin.

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

#2 - 380w
born to be alone - joy (red velvet)/hayoung (apink) - au

prompt: anon: joy (red velvet)/yerin (gfriend)/hayoung (apink) - lovesick girls - either

Oh Hayoung wakes up at 3AM to the door beeping and someone stumbling through the doorway.

 

“You look horrible,” she says, internally a little relieved.

 

“You do too,” Park Sooyoung points out, and Hayoung can’t see it but her bedhead is awful, and her shirt isn’t even buttoned properly.

 

Sooyoung is leaning against the wall in the entryway. She sighs deeply, rainwater dripping from the tips of her hair. Hayoung had watched Sooyoung straighten it carefully in the hours before she went out with Yerin. All traces of that are gone now, returning to its natural waves. It sort of looks like when she gets out of the shower, but the red stain on her lips is still vibrant, like Sooyoung had forgotten to scrub it off with everything else.

 

Yerin is still out with someone, Sooyoung says. Before they went out it had sounded like a team cheer in here, Hayoung leading from the sidelines. Now Sooyoung looks completely defeated.

 

“I broke a heel,” she says, holding her left shoe in hand, the heel dangling from the strip of fabric on the base.

 

“How did you get back?”

 

Sooyoung shrugs. “Aren’t you a heavy sleeper? Were you still awake?”

 

Hayoung doesn’t quite have the heart to explain that she’d tried to read a book off the living room shelf and nearly fell asleep just out of boredom. “I didn’t really have it in me to game tonight,” she responds, not really answering either of the questions.

 

“Then you should have come out with us after all, you homebody,” Sooyoung says, but the bite’s all gone, even in jest.

 

“Should I have?”

 

Sooyoung looks like she’s about to cry.

 

“I think you should take a shower,” Hayoung tells her kindly.

 

She grins bleakly. “I kind of already have.”

 

“Fascinating how we thought the same thing, but I mean a real one,” she says, and takes Sooyoung by the arm so they can walk to her room. The cold water from Sooyoung’s jacket quickly seeps through her pajamas. “Geez, you must have been freezing out there.”

 

“Well, I don’t think anyone is ever going to get me like you do. Or Yerin,” Sooyoung adds. “No man, anyway.”

 

“But we still look,” Hayoung says lightly.

 

“We still do,” Sooyoung agrees, resting her head on Hayoung’s shoulder.

#3 - 700w

the way i love - the8/kyulkyung - canon

 

prompt: the8, jun, kyulkyung - birthday reunion - either

Jieqiong had called him out of the blue, banking on the fact that he hadn’t lost his SIM card and his number wasn’t tossed to the sasaengs like food for wolves. “It’s been a long time,” she said.

 

“Don’t think you’re in my contact history anymore,” Minghao said, and it was sort of wry.

 

“But I’m still saved?”

 

“Won’t tell you under what name,” Minghao answered, and she took it as a cue to get to her point.

 

“I want to bake Junhui a cake.”

 

There was silence for a few moments.

 

“You know, his birthday is coming up,” Jieqiong added.

 

“It’s April,” Minghao reminded her. “Ah, but you don’t know how to cook.”

 

“You catch on fast.”

 

 

-

 

 

Minghao’s Seoul apartment was only lightly decorated. After months in China on a long-term schedule he came back to dust everywhere and quickly reassessed the practicality of his display methods. “Take it all,” he’d told Mingyu, who with his 23 billion won in assets obsessive maintenance would have no problem putting the decor in his mansion personal art gallery. “IT’S NOT A MANSION,” Mingyu had shouted, and then hung up. A truck was in front of Minghao’s building an hour later.

 

“It’s nice,” Jieqiong said, finger on her chin as she put her face far too close to his favorite painting. The sunlight filtered into the room quite nicely, though Minghao knew it was dangerous for the art.

 

“Hey, no one said you could wander around,” Minghao told her as he sliced a box cutter through the packaging of his delivered groceries. He’d ordered essentially everything he could think of that would go into a cake because he had none of it on hand, and in another packet under the coat rack was a few box mixes in case something went wrong. Jieqiong didn’t have to know about that.

 

“I gave myself permission.”

 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

 

“Well,” she said, and suddenly she was right across from him on the other side of the kitchen island. Jieqiong had a way of sneaking up on people like that. Minghao would be lying if he said it didn’t make him uncomfortable sometimes. “What do we have here?”

 

“You could say thank you for buying the ingredients,” he said, shaking the hair out of his face, laying everything out on the counter. The floor was covered in tape and bubble wrap. Again he wished Jieqiong would actually do something.

 

“Shouldn’t I wait for the lesson first?” Jieqiong asked, face resting in her cupped hands.

 

He looked at her contemplatively. “I’m an artist, not a chef.”

 

“Oh, so you’re here trying to impress Junhui too?”

 

“I can’t tell if this is cheeky or serious.”

 

Jieqiong sighed. “You were always like this.” She pulled up a recipe on her phone. “Do you have a printer?” No, but he had an iPad stationed in the living room.

 

Minghao had really hoped the redirection of Jieqiong’s interest over to Junhui, in whatever form you could call it, would prevent this kind of conversation. He was probably being too optimistic. Both of them were a little too stubborn about these things. “I want to draw neat icing on it,” Jieqiong would probably say, knowing Minghao decorates everything with abstract art. Never compatible.

 

 

-

 

 

As fate would have it, Junhui would be on a plane to Shanghai the eve of his birthday. “I’m a little too busy to meet up this week,” he’d told Minghao apologetically, who might have been more hurt if it was anyone but Junhui. He had worked really hard this year, and... sometimes Minghao had to stop himself from getting emotional about it. Minghao was proud of him. Shenzhen’s prince, and all that.

 

Minghao thought that was the end of that until Jieqiong called him again, long distance though, this time. “I’m in Shanghai, did you know?” The pang of jealousy hit him like a mallet against a metal gong.

 

“We were both going to bake him cakes,” Minghao said slowly. “Your idea in exchange for my help.”

 

“I know,” she said, and it sounded like she was sorry about it. “I’ll bake him two for you.”

 

“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it,” Minghao said. “It just didn’t work out.”

 

“We’re friends, you know?” Minghao couldn’t tell if she was talking about him or Junhui.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Junhui,” she started, and hesitated. “I was never going to steal either of your hearts, you know?” she continued, blabbering on like always, things he didn’t want to hear. “We just-”

 

“Let’s not-”

 

“That’s not what I wanted-”

 

“Jieqiong,” Minghao said.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Just have fun,” he told her.

 

When Jieqiong hung up the phone Minghao walked over to his wine cooler and pulled out a bottle to drink. He closed his eyes.

 

He opened them again.

 

#4 - 800w
i don't think i could stand to be where you don't see me - jiho/binnie - canon

prompt: jiho/binnie (oh my girl) - "no one falls in love under the fluorescent lights" - any

“I wanted to try a new place, and my friend recommended this place to me,” someone says near the front of the shop. The receptionist presumably smiles and leads the customer to the waiting area. Today’s main character is listening from the first chair without looking up, closest to the entrance. Her hair has been washed and dried, and now it’s evenly distributed across her shoulders as she waits for the stylist to return to her station. The cover of the magazine she’s reading reflects into the mirror, revealing a fourth-generation soloist as its centerpiece.

 

“Your hair is still in wonderful condition,” her hairstylist comments, having retrieved a sharp pair of scissors and a spray bottle.

 

“I try my best,” she says, but deep inside she feels the credit is all due to the hair dye in the trash at home, and the way that she never leaves the place. She would cut her own hair if it wasn’t sort of relaxing to come to the salon once in a while and eavesdrop on other people’s lives. At any rate, she doesn’t need to have an identity here.

 

“Would you like to keep it long or go short?”

 

She takes a moment to consider this, and touches the tips of her hair gingerly with her fingers, which stick out of a worn navy hoodie. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for change.”

 

“That’s fair,” the stylist says, starting the process of pinning up her hair with sectioning clips.

 

Across the room, the new customer sits up a little straighter and narrows her eyes. “Kim Jiho?”

 

Jiho stiffens. It wasn’t a loud exclamation but from the intonation of her name it’s immediately clear whose voice it is.

 

The stylist pauses, and out of consideration continues to work while quietly asking if the girl is speaking to her. Jiho has always requested the same person because it isn’t easy to find someone who understands you’re not always looking for conversation, and to her delight it extends to discretion as well.

 

“I don’t know,” Jiho says, a lie that sounds like it could be true.

 

Perhaps Jiho could have gotten away with it were it not for the oblivious second stylist, who seats the new girl at the empty mirror directly adjacent to her. It wasn’t the only available spot, but Jiho would lose her scapegoat if she admitted it was the most convenient.

 

“You really have not changed,” Yoobin murmurs, setting her handbag down on the floor.

 

“If you knew that...” She trails off, thinking it was a little rude for that to be the first thing she says to - however you’d describe Yoobin in relationship to her - someone after a long time apart. The magazine is still in her hands, but it’s become increasingly difficult to focus on the words.

 

“It slipped out,” Yoobin says. “I’m sorry. I was in shock.”

 

“I’m shocked too,” Jiho returns. “Why you’d come here is beyond me.” Jiho has been really comfortable with this hole-in-the-wall shop and it’s a little disappointing that Yoobin has found a way to intrude. It would really be a shame if she had to find somewhere new to not know anyone.

 

“It’s not for work,” Yoobin explains hastily. “I just want a haircut. Minkyung said the workers are all nice.”

 

Come to think of it, Jiho remembers seeing someone here that looked like Yoobin’s old friend Minkyung a few months ago. They gave each other funny looks like they were recalling something stuck on the tips of their tongues, not quite clicking. But Jiho would have had no way of being sure without asking. And she did not want to be sure.

 

“They are,” Jiho says, conscious of the hands trimming dead ends off her shoulders, but simultaneously, still, honest as if she lacks the capability not to be.

 

“I don’t choose the shops for drama filming, so I probably won’t be back soon,” Yoobin adds. “I have - something coming up soon.” She hesitates. “A Monday-Tuesday drama. It’s nothing big.”

 

“I know,” Jiho says.

 

“You do?” Yoobin is so surprised Jiho almost wants to take offense, but it’s justified after all the effort she’s made to act like she doesn’t care at all.

 

“Yes,” she answers.

 

Yoobin is quiet for a long time after that, typing something frantically on her phone, rifling through the magazines on the aisle rack, staring into the mirror. Not that Jiho was paying attention - she just has good peripheral vision.

 

When Jiho’s hair is styled and dried again she goes to the register without another word. Yoobin’s shoulder length hair is being straightened still.

 

Jiho thanks the receptionist again and turns to look back. Yoobin is looking at her. Her eyes have always been a little inscrutable.

 

Jiho smiles, and the bells on the door ring for her departure.

 

 

-

 

a/n: this prompt and this line from a related pitchfork article - “There Is No Love in Fluorescent Light may be the most Starry album title possible, with its unsubtle implication that love is the only real thing in a sea of encroaching artificiality, an idea made sonic in music where the rawest sentimentality is clad in the archest theater.” - reminded me a lot of the concept behind my first binho fic, which is called “after the spotlight fades”. this isn’t in that universe but i really love this theme for them. i also used mitski’s francis forever as inspiration for this - per the title, yoobin has stayed in the entertainment (acting) industry despite a lack of mainstream success & the implication being that she couldn’t handle a life where neither of them had any presence in the other’s life anymore, since jiho decided to leave the public sphere.