8 Works by daisier
Listing Works
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Summary
Pojagi (보자기): A form of Korean textile art consisting of patchwork cloths made from scraps of fabric such as cotton, silk, ramie, and hemp.
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Summary
“Can you tell me — how it started?”
Minho hummed. “Well,” he said, “we met in a bar.”
Basic field operative training covers hiding, deflection, and lying, in that specific order. It doesn’t exactly cover how to lie to pretty men in bars who send you expensive drinks.
Series
- Part 2 of long way home
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Summary
Minho was silent for a few beats. Over the radio, a man was crooning about his lost love.
“You don’t want more out of a marriage?”
It was Jisung’s turn to laugh. “What more is there to ask for?”
“Attraction,” Minho’s voice sounded odd, almost reluctant. “Intimacy. You really find him…satisfactory?”
What did Minho know about him, or love, for that matter, anyway? And what right did he have to ask if Seungmin was satisfactory? It wouldn’t be his marriage. It was already hardly his family.
God damn Minho, Jisung thought, for being so cagey. Mysterious.
Unfortunately, if there was one thing he couldn’t resist, it was a mystery.
Series
- Part 1 of long way home
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Summary
No one could say that he didn’t try. He had tried and failed, he had let go of the sun, and that was all there was to it. He could’ve clung on with bloody hands until it ended in smoke and flames, but he hadn’t.
No, Jisung thinks, he hadn’t. But he burns in other ways.
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Summary
<image>
<image>
<image>Sorry for the spam! Feel free to delete the photos.
No worries, I’ve seen worse.
Fun photos! You (I assume) look good.
Always nice to know who I’m working with :)Holy shit, Minho thinks.
Remembers the photo of Jisung from his company’s website.
Grins.
Or: Minho accidentally texts the guy he hired to do his taxes. It goes a lot better than both of them expect.
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Summary
“What has one voice, four legs in the morning, two in midday, and three in the evening?”
The bartender is already smiling. “Wrong day.”
Minho shrugs and drops into his seat.
“The answer is man.” The bartender slides his drink over. “What’s next? Want to know how I feel about my mom?”
Minho hides his smile behind the glass. “Just saying hello.”
The alcohol burns, all the way down. He doesn’t come very often, tries to curtail his indulgence. Even now, it hurts to remember.
His name is Jisung. Minho had loved him, once. Then he had eaten him.
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Jisung stutters his way through the asking. I like the chase. I want you to catch me when I run away. I need to know that no one can ruin this, you and me, not even myself. He barely gets the words out, and then tries to turn to hide afterwards, but of course Minho doesn’t let him.
His voice is smooth when he says, “of course I can hunt you down, honey, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?” His eyes tell a different story. Already, his pupils are dilating.
Jisung nods jerkily in response.
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Summary
When Minho went to buy groceries, he saw Jisung’s face on the cover of a magazine at checkout. Hands shaking, he picked it up. It was their newest issue. Jisung’s face was smooth, flawless. He looked perfect. He looked like a stranger. Minho was filled with the sudden urge to cry. He didn’t.
If Minho had to describe Jisung in one page, nothing in the magazine would’ve made the cut. Jisung was a force of nature. He was the storm and the sun after rain. He was stubborn and wonderful and kind. Minho loved him still and knew at that moment that he always would — in silence, in loneliness, through phone and TV screens.
My superstar, he thought, and tried to smile even as it felt like his heart was breaking all over again. Mine, and everyone else’s.