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dangermousieTitle: Plastic
Fandom: My Girl
Tech Stuff: 606 words, PG
Summary: Gong-Chan and Yu-Rin. Set sometime in ep 14.
A/N: I've had this forever and kept trying to expand it but it just wasn't working in the expanded format, so here is the short fic. Now all I need to do is get my Chun-Hyang fic into shape ;)
I
The first week is a blur for her.
She remembers getting on the plane, eyes puffy, her father puzzled and concerned.
She gulps down water, and then asks for something stronger and they bring it to her, in silly plastic cups.
When she falls asleep, she dreams of Gong-Chan and his promise to come with her next time she leaves Korea. He is holding her hand and it’s warm even in her dream, but even in the dream she knows it’s not real. She wakes up stiff, and clutching the sleeves of her coat, pulling them around her.
She is cold. She is cold on the plane, and she is cold when they disembark. She is cold in the Spartan hotel room they’ve rented for now.
She takes a shower to warm up and it’s a mistake. She realizes she doesn’t want to thaw.
So she cries there, where she can’t be seen, and when she emerges, she burrows into the bed.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
The first time it snows that year, she pulls out her mittens, she pulls out her scarf and her hat. Memories she tries to leave behind. It’s an ultimately futile endeavor, she knows. She might be crippled, but she has to go on.
She looks up at the snowflakes and experimentally attempts a smile. It comes out OK.
She begins to rebuild.
II.
The first time it snows that year, he is in Japan, and he’s been looking for her for days. He doesn’t find her, of course, but he hasn’t cured himself of the habit of looking around each corner, hoping he will see her, breath hitching a little at each false discovery.
No luck. At least this time he caught himself before he tapped a stranger on the shoulder.
The snow begins to fall but it makes no difference to the cold. The cold seeps through the edges of his trousers and under his scarf, and the wind makes his eyes sting a little as he walks past the woman who held her head the way Yu-Rin used to.
At least he hopes it’s the wind.
Maybe it’s his special talent, he thinks. Having the women in his life disappear without a word. They are getting better at it, too. This time there are no TV screens to show the lost one’s progress, nothing to clue him in about her continued existence in the world.
It’s not fair. He knows that. Not fair to Yu-Rin or to himself or even to his family who (he will believe it one day if he tries) meant it for the best.
Gong-Chan is tired of being fair. He is tired in general. Not much sleep (though when he sleeps it is heavy and he wakes up groggy, without remembering his dreams) and hurried meals, and the dull pain in his head that comes from worrying too much.
He is worried that soon she will fade, seep out of three dimensions into a flat photograph or two he has, and that the image will be all he will carry with him, be able to remember, to see. He is worried he will wake up in the morning to hope and be disappointed again. He is worried he will wake up one morning and not miss her at all.
So he walks into a small, brightly-lit store and buys a snow-globe and a bottle.
He’ll remember her birthday every time it snows and he isn’t sure whether it’s a curse or the best gift of all.
When the bottle is empty, he can hear the echo of her laughter in the plastic snowflakes.
Fandom: My Girl
Tech Stuff: 606 words, PG
Summary: Gong-Chan and Yu-Rin. Set sometime in ep 14.
A/N: I've had this forever and kept trying to expand it but it just wasn't working in the expanded format, so here is the short fic. Now all I need to do is get my Chun-Hyang fic into shape ;)
I
The first week is a blur for her.
She remembers getting on the plane, eyes puffy, her father puzzled and concerned.
She gulps down water, and then asks for something stronger and they bring it to her, in silly plastic cups.
When she falls asleep, she dreams of Gong-Chan and his promise to come with her next time she leaves Korea. He is holding her hand and it’s warm even in her dream, but even in the dream she knows it’s not real. She wakes up stiff, and clutching the sleeves of her coat, pulling them around her.
She is cold. She is cold on the plane, and she is cold when they disembark. She is cold in the Spartan hotel room they’ve rented for now.
She takes a shower to warm up and it’s a mistake. She realizes she doesn’t want to thaw.
So she cries there, where she can’t be seen, and when she emerges, she burrows into the bed.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
The first time it snows that year, she pulls out her mittens, she pulls out her scarf and her hat. Memories she tries to leave behind. It’s an ultimately futile endeavor, she knows. She might be crippled, but she has to go on.
She looks up at the snowflakes and experimentally attempts a smile. It comes out OK.
She begins to rebuild.
II.
The first time it snows that year, he is in Japan, and he’s been looking for her for days. He doesn’t find her, of course, but he hasn’t cured himself of the habit of looking around each corner, hoping he will see her, breath hitching a little at each false discovery.
No luck. At least this time he caught himself before he tapped a stranger on the shoulder.
The snow begins to fall but it makes no difference to the cold. The cold seeps through the edges of his trousers and under his scarf, and the wind makes his eyes sting a little as he walks past the woman who held her head the way Yu-Rin used to.
At least he hopes it’s the wind.
Maybe it’s his special talent, he thinks. Having the women in his life disappear without a word. They are getting better at it, too. This time there are no TV screens to show the lost one’s progress, nothing to clue him in about her continued existence in the world.
It’s not fair. He knows that. Not fair to Yu-Rin or to himself or even to his family who (he will believe it one day if he tries) meant it for the best.
Gong-Chan is tired of being fair. He is tired in general. Not much sleep (though when he sleeps it is heavy and he wakes up groggy, without remembering his dreams) and hurried meals, and the dull pain in his head that comes from worrying too much.
He is worried that soon she will fade, seep out of three dimensions into a flat photograph or two he has, and that the image will be all he will carry with him, be able to remember, to see. He is worried he will wake up in the morning to hope and be disappointed again. He is worried he will wake up one morning and not miss her at all.
So he walks into a small, brightly-lit store and buys a snow-globe and a bottle.
He’ll remember her birthday every time it snows and he isn’t sure whether it’s a curse or the best gift of all.
When the bottle is empty, he can hear the echo of her laughter in the plastic snowflakes.
