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dong-hyucks · 7 years

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Beautiful ; Seongwoo [pt!one]

Characters: Seongwoo / Reader / ft. Wanna One Genre: Non-Idol!AU, angst, slight fluff Word Count: 3.9k+ A/N: based on the ‘Beautiful’ MV and a thank you post for getting dong-hyucks to another milestone !! tysm everyone !! // terminology: wrecking ball; a type of punching bag (the one Daniel punches at the beginning of the MV) Admin: Jade

|| Masterlists | 1 | 2 | 3 ||

“I hope it reaches the sky, my prayer that spent all night in tears-- I hope it reaches your heart.” - Beautiful, Wanna One

Heavy pants passed Daniel’s lips, drowning out the screaming that tried to force itself to his ears. He couldn’t hear anything else, couldn’t see anything else, other than himself and the man who faced him. His face stung, the corner of his lip cracked and dripping with blood. He could barely even see out of his left eye. From the sidelines, you winced, biting your lip nervously. The sickening crack that sounded from the harsh punch Daniel took sounded deafening. You tensed as his body fell to the platform, his body thudding against the surface painfully.

“No,” the young boy yelled, running after something he couldn’t dream of catching. He could hear his brother yelling after him, begging their father to stop the vehicle, to no avail. Against the loud wind and the running engine, their small voices were drowned out.

You instinctively reached out, searching for a hand to grab in the tense moment. When you only came in contact with the uncomfortable bench that you sat upon, you flinched. Right. He’s not here. Your eyes trained on the rope that separated the audience from the battling boxers. You could see the boys creeping closer, urging to duck under the rope and help their friend. Alas, they couldn’t. Neither could you. You could only watch as Daniel took blow after blow, his body slowing down as the match progressed. His opponent had a bruised cheek and a split lip, but that was nothing compared to the injuries Daniel sustained.

‘Come back,’ he wanted to scream, his tiny hands clutching onto the soccer ball tightly. As the truck grew farther and farther away, he came to a stop. Hot tears ran down his cheeks, leaving a burning trail in their wake. His stomach churned, the coldness of the night crawling up his spine. “Mommy,” he finally wailed, taking a hesitant step further, “daddy!” When the only response was his own echo, the youth fell to his knees and wept. He could do nothing as the sky bled with colours of the night and with these colours, the horrifying coldness that came with it.

He was alone.

Daniel took tiny steps as he walked, the feeling of the woman’s palm against his back far too familiar yet too unknown for his liking. He’d look up numerous times, only to feel the disappointment wash over him. The woman was unfamiliar, a stranger. The woman was not his mother. “This way,” the unfamiliar woman told him, her voice gentle as she pushed him into the church with the touch of a feather. “The other children are in here.”

Other children. He could briefly remember the woman mentioning them when she had discovered him by the train tracks -- eight other boys who were just like him. Alone. The thought of relating to them didn’t bring ease to the child, but instead uneasiness. He didn’t want to be alone, nor did he want others to feel his pain. Entering the simple church, Daniel winced for the light that flowed into the room from the high windows was too bright for his eyes. He could hear boys -- children his own age -- idly talking to one another. However, when the large double-doors shut behind them, a hush fell over them. Looking down, he waved.

“Boys,” said the woman, “this is Daniel. Welcome him kindly.”

Daniel looked up for but a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, his eyes were set on eight boys, just like the woman had said. One of them bounded forward, the friendly curl of his lip widening as he drew near. The boy held a hand out like the woman had told him to do time after time before. “Nice to meet you,” he greeted politely, his speech practiced and refined after his long time in the organization. “I’m Jihoon!” Daniel looked down at his hand, small and chubby, before taking it.

The moment their hands touched, the rest of the boys came forward, crowding Daniel in a semi-circle. He didn’t know how to react -- he had lived his entire life with only his parents and his brother, having so many people near him was an oddity. He could feel his ears burn bright red as he slowly and unsurely greeted each of the boys -- the very boys who would be ‘his new family.’

Seongwoo sniffled, his back pressed against the walls of the truck bed. “We’re almost there,” the quiet, forlorn voice of his father had announced fifteen minutes prior when they had stopped for gas. The ride had been unusually quiet. Typically, the adults would converse in the truck while Seongwoo would have exhilarating conversations with his only sibling, both of them stretching their imaginations to create interesting stories and adventures. But now, Seongwoo was alone. He had no one to talk to, no one to play with. This time, the ride felt longer than any other he’d ever experienced in his eight years of living.

Soon, though not soon enough, the truck pulled to a stop in front of a small, rundown looking home. It wasn’t that different from his last house-- just smaller, Seongwoo noticed. “Is this our new home?” he asked in a strangely quiet voice as his mother came around to open the truck bed. She nodded, not uttering a word. “Your eyes are red, momma,” he noted, gently touching his mother’s cheek in concern. He knew, however, that he would look similar.

His mother choked, hefting Seongwoo into her arms, hiding her face from his view. She didn’t want him to see her like this -- broken -- nor did she want to see her son like that. Her world -- her very own children -- had been separated into two and she wasn’t sure if she could put it back together. An image of her second son flashed in her mind, bringing fresh tears to her eyes to replace the old.

Over Seongwoo’s shoulder, she made eye contact with her husband who looked grief-stricken. Then, a single tear fell, wetting the soft fabric of Seongwoo’s shirt. “Momma,” Seongwoo mumbled against her sweater, his voice broken as his eyelids drooped in exhaustion. Crying truly had taken his energy away from him. “When is Daniel coming back?”

For the first time in a very long time, she couldn’t find an answer to her son’s question.

“Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies,” the children sang as the skipped in circles, hands clasped together. A few giggled to themselves, excited for the ending of the rhyme and the fall that came with it. Seongwoo, divided from his classmates, watched from the otherwise empty bench across the playground. He looked on, loneliness hugging its cold and unforgiving arms around his frail frame and suffocating him under its grasp. “We all fall down!” His frown only deepened when the mass of children fell around each other laughing, his legs bending as he brought his knees to his chest.

“I don’t like that song either,” someone from behind announced. Seongwoo turned his head, his arms wrapping around his legs. Behind him, stood someone he could recognize from class - [Y/N] -- or, you, rather. You smiled at him, standing on your toes to see over the height of the metal bench. Your lips parted, revealing a set of slightly crooked teeth (not to mention your missing front tooth). “You’re Seongwon, right?”

“... Seongwoo.”

You nodded, your mouth falling open in realization. “Seongwoo,” you tried, repeating it in as many different ways that your younger self could think of. Seongwoo looked away, feeling the tips of his ears heat up. His small fingers grasped at a loose string of his sweater, fumbling with it while you bounded around the bench to stand in front of him. When his downcast eyes saw your ruffed-sneaker clad feet, he looked up at you curiously. “Okay, Seongwoo,” you began, effectively gaining his attention, “let’s be friends.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“What?”

You rolled your eyes as if you had stated something so blatantly obvious. “Let’s be friends,” you repeated, holding out your hand. Seongwoo only stared as you curled your fingers into a fist, only your pinky remaining in the air. “You’re interesting,” you said boldly, smiling once again. “So, I like you. Let’s promise to be friends, okay?”

Seongwoo looked down at your outstretched hand, his own itching to meet yours. He took one glance at your innocent expression before his arm raised and his pinky wrapped around yours. You beamed, raising your interlaced hands in euphoria. Seongwoo blinked, feeling the corners of his lips curl up in amusement.

“Okay.”

Only the sounds of utensils clinking against the small ceramic bowls could be heard in the otherwise silence of the room. Seongwoo ate slowly, relishing in the simple taste of his meal. His mother did the same, her hands shaking ever so slighty with every raise of her arm. They didn’t have much money to begin with -- at least, not after his father passed -- which in turn affected their living. But, Seongwoo looked up, offering a simple smile when he met his mother’s eyes, they were content.

“So,” his mother started after swallowing her mouthful of vegetables, “how’s school?” She looked at her son with a curious gaze, her arm staying still, her spoon hovering above her bowl. “You’re classmates with that boy -- Minhyun, was it? -- and [Y/N], correct?” Seongwoo nodded in confirmation. He thought of his classes and how he had begun to struggle to keep up with them, what with his work hours piling up to the point where he had been late on several occasions.

“School’s fine,” he said with a slow smile, wanting to frown at the small fib. “I’ve been studying a lot for our next exam.” Though the second half of his words were nothing but the truth, even his minute lie made him feel bad. After everything that had happened, from his brother’s disappearance to his father’s death, they had promised to rely on each other, to always tell the truth.

Seongwoo couldn’t go far into his memory before there was a thud at the front door. Both he and his mother looked up, staring cautiously at the entrance, only to sigh once their eyes laid upon your fumbling form. Seongwoo pushed himself up, walking over to you. With your back to him, you entered the home, your arms full and legs clumsily in motion. You let out a noise when you felt yourself falling back, having tripped over a pair of shoes. Clutching the box of papers to your chest, you screwed your eyes shut.

“Idiot, be careful,” a teasing voice said from behind.

You opened your eyes, the warm and familiar feeling of Seongwoo’s hands holding you upright suddenly hitting you. Stabilizing yourself, you stuck your tongue out at the male playfully, thanking him once he took the box from your hands. “Those are the papers you asked for,” you breathed, bending over to slip off your shoes. Following Seongwoo into their dining area, you greeted his mother as if she was your own, moving into her arms for a hug when she held them out. “Sorry it took so long,” you scratched the back of your neck, plopping yourself down next to Seongwoo, “my boss was printing out flyers for the shop.”

Seongwoo’s mom leaned forward to spare a glance at the papers. Her heart tensed and cracked upon seeing the top of the pile. It was almost mocking, to see her lost child staring up at her innocently. ‘Missing Person -- Cha Daniel…’ She would never be okay, never ready nor prepared to read his name. Seeing the loss in her eyes made you frown, your chest tightening in guilt. Glancing at Seongwoo in the corner of your eye, you could see the downcast look he expressed. It hurt you to see the very people you considered family like this. “Don’t worry,” you piped, forcing a tight smile, “we’ll find him. I’m sure of it.”

Seongwoo let out a breath, leaning toward you gratefully. When you felt his shoulder brush against yours, you merely leaned against his warmth, used to his close proximity. “Thank you,” he whispered once everyone began to feast once again. “You’re our lifeline, you know.” You pulled back, giving him a small smile before gesturing to his food.

“Ah, how rude of me,” his mother started, getting up slowly. “I’ll go get you a bowl, you must be hungry after work.”

You were quick to stop her, gently ushering her back down onto her seat. “It’s okay,” you reassured her, “I have to go back soon anyway. Donghan called in sick, so I’m filling in for him.” As you continued to converse with her, you didn’t notice the worried glance Seongwoo gave you. He noticed the bags that imprinted themselves under your eyes long ago and he knew you weren’t getting enough rest. When you smiled at him, Seongwoo’s eyes darted back down to his bowl.

Daniel watched as his friend threw punches at his coach, resting his chin atop the broom’s handle. When the man looked over in his direction, he was quick to look away, pretending as though he had been cleaning the entire time. When he knew it was safe, he only looked again. Jihoon had taught him how to punch before, but he’d never found a reason to use it. He punched at the air to amuse himself, a small contented smile resting upon his features. He glanced to the side, at the wrecking ball that hung from the ceiling. Punching it, Daniel let out a groan when it came back and hit his abdomen. Stopping the bag from swinging, he continued to clean, occasionally sneaking glances at Jihoon as he practiced.

However, hours into Jihoon’s practice, a group of men crowded around the ring, watching and encouraging Jihoon. Each holding onto some sort of cleaning supply, legitimate cleaning had been long forgotten. When they began to get rowdy -- too rowdy -- Jihoon’s coach and their boss looked over at them. Each of the boys tensed. “Get to work,” he reprimanded, jabbing a finger at them, “I don’t pay you to sit by and watch!”

Jihoon watched as his friends scrambled away, a smirk of amusement falling upon him. His shoulders shook with laughter as he looked away. Pulling off his gloves, he wiped away the beads of sweat that had accumulated atop his forehead, leaving his hair damp. As he turned back, slipping his hand into the large glove, he caught the chuckles his friends exchanged and his coach continued to yell.

Seongwoo sat down with a thud, using his arm to wipe away his sweat. He breathed out, tired from working for hours on end. He barely nodded toward his boss in acknowledgement before turning around and grabbing his work bag. Opening it, he pulled out his textbook. Police Exam Preparation. He turned the textbook on its side, its hard cover rough against his skin after years of use. A small breath of astonishment left his lips at just how thick the book was. “Preparation,” he mumbled to himself, opening the textbook and flipping to the eighth chapter. “This is big enough to fit everything from this entire term.”

“Ah, here you are, Seongwoo. I was looking for you.”

He looked up, smiling over at you as you walked closer. “[Y/N],” he greeted, happy to see his best friend. When you sat next to him, not minding the dust, Seongwoo swallowed thickly. You always sat near him, close enough for your legs to brush up against one another. Despite knowing you for years upon years, it was amazing -- the effect such simple actions had on him.

You handed him a small container, one he recognized quite well. “Must you keep moving your lunch spot?” you chided, taking a pair of chopsticks out from your bag, unwrapping them for him. “It’s weird asking your boss if he’s seen you,” you paused, glancing over Seongwoo’s shoulder with narrowed eyes, “he kind of creeps me out.”

Seongwoo laughed loudly, gently nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t let him hear you, you’re lucky he even lets you on site every day.” Pausing, Seongwoo opened the container. A blissful smell hit him, one he recognized quite well as pasta your [guardian] had made. “You know, you don’t have to come all the way here to just bring me food,” he sighed, though gratefulness ran through his heart. “Your house is a ways away from here.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against his shoulder comfortably. “I know that, you dork. But you decide to leave the house every day without food and you work at a construction site.” You poked his arm, “How’re you going to work on an empty stomach?” When Seongwoo chuckled, the movement moving your head slightly, you closed your eyes. “Besides, I’m always working a nightshift anyway. I have nothing to do during the day.”

“So, what? I’m merely a source for your own amusement?”

“Precisely.”

Seongwoo smiled at this, spinning the chopsticks between his fingers. “I’m hurt,” he sighed dramatically, feigning distress, “and here I thought I was your best friend.” When you didn’t respond, Seongwoo glanced at you.

“You are,” you finally mumbled against his shirt, “but, first and foremost, you’re my entertainment.” You chuckled when Seongwoo gasped, pulling away from you slightly. You looked over, raising a teasing brow at him. Leaning forward, you rested your chin on the palm of your hand. Seongwoo furrowed his brows at you, unexpectedly shoving a mouthful of pasta into your mouth. Seeing your rounded eyes and full cheeks brought tears to his own pair, as he laughed in amusement.

“Dork,” you grumbled after swallowing.

Chuckling, he tilted his head at you. “Love you,” he sung with an air of foolery.

You could only sigh, wiping the missed pasta sauce around your face away, before looking the male in the eye. “Love you too, Cha.”

As it neared nightfall, the sky darkening with every passing minute, Seongwoo could count down seconds to when he’d be let off. As he climbed up the stairs to place a few planks of wood down in a neat pile, he noticed his employer walking out from wherever he had once idled. “Go home, kid,” he said, his voice naturally loud and adenoidal. “You’ve earned your pay. Go on.”

Seongwoo thanked the older man and bid him adieu, throwing his bag over his shoulder with little to no care. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. 6:24PM. A small, seldom smile etched itself onto his face. Just enough time to visit the centre. He made a mere few steps away from the site before he heard a familiar voice.

“You shouldn’t look at your phone while you’re walking.” He looked up, spinning on his heel to see you. His pulse quickened, either from the surprise or just the sight of you, he hadn’t a clue. You were looking off at the bustling road, each passing car hitting the two of you with a wave of wind. You looked at him, “Especially near this traffic.”

Seongwoo smiled sheepishly, raising his arms in defence before shoving his phone into his back pocket. “Oops,” he shrugged, though he sounded anything but apologetic. “What’re you doing here?” He glanced down at your attire, your body clad in your regular clothing -- a simple black apron draped over you, “Don’t you have work?”

You nodded, taking the few steps to stand beside him. “Yeah, but not for another--” you paused, checking your watch. “-- half hour.” You glanced over your shoulder. “So, where are you headed? Your home’s that way.” The two of you began to walk, your pace leisurely and slow. A part of you hoped time went by slower whenever you were with him -- not like you’d ever say that out loud. You bit your lip. You knew for a fact that if you ever expressed your feelings, you’d go home brokenhearted.

“I was heading to the missing child centre.” He jerked his shoulder, gesturing toward his bag. “I brought the papers you printed. Just wanted to put them up before heading home.” You nodded slowly. Without warning, you stopped on the sidewalk, making him look back at you curiously. You pointed toward the bag, silently asking him for permission. When he nodded, you unzipped it and pulled out half of the papers he had haphazardly stuffed into his bag, some crumpled with folded corners.

You took out a roll of tape, earning a puzzled look from your friend. “My boss is too lazy to buy thumbtacks -- says ‘they’ll damage the wall.’” Looking over Seongwoo’s shoulder, you bounded over to a lamp post. He only watched as you ripped the tape with your teeth, stepping back to admire your work (even though you had only taped up a piece of paper.) He chuckled.

As the two of you made your way to the centre, every few minutes you’d stop to hang up a few of the papers. “This is it,” Seongwoo announced, stopping in front of the almost empty building. You looked up at the glowing sign, its bright lights blinding you slightly. Checking the time, you handed the rest of the papers in your arms to Seongwoo.

“I gotta’ go if I want to be relatively on time,” you told him, sparing a smile. “I’ll see you later, Cha,” waving goodbye, Seongwoo watched as your back got more and more out a view before you finally turned and disappeared. Taking a deep breath, he took a step into the centre. He’d never gone, surprisingly. Even after he had found out about the centre, he didn’t have the time to visit.

“Hello,” a man greeted from behind the front counter. His eyes darted down to the papers in Seongwoo’s hands, a look of pity washing over his eyes. “The boards are in that room.” Seongwoo’s eyes followed to where the man pointed, his taupe hues landing on a room with glass windows. Beyond the glass, he could see a plethora of missing papers, his chest tightening at the sight of them. Thanking the man, he walked over to the room. As he stared at the almost covered bulletin board, he searched for an empty spot. The last thing he wanted to do was lessen the chance of a discovered child by covering another. When he finally found one, he used a provided thumbtack and pressed it into the cork.

Taking a step back, he stared at the paper. Looking at his, at them all, he clenched his fists. So many children were missing. Too many. He closed his eyes, setting his jaw as he turned away. “Will we ever find you?” he asked, his voice disappearing into the darkness that surrounded him.

this was supposed to be one post bUt i can tell it’d be 10k+ aND i dont want to keep you guys waiting tOO lONG bUT DW I WILL TRY TO FINISH THIS ASAP

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