FACECLAIM
SUMMARY:
X-Men and Korean pop music used to be Rowan’s most fanatic obsessions. Most of his free time in his pre-teen years involved writing, fantasizing, and writing some more among a roleplaying group on Tumblr, spinning stories of K-pop stars in fantastical alternate universes. Fifteen years later, he still feels nostalgic for the culture he once immersed himself in and the friends he both left behind and was abandoned by. More importantly, he misses the closest friend he had ever had there, even though they had ghosted him over a decade ago. Encouraged by his therapist, Rowan writes a fully-fleshed novel to give the story he roleplayed with his past friend the rehashing and closure he’ll never get... only to accidentally submit the draft to an agent instead of the manuscript he meant to send.
With his self-indulgent book now a worldwide bestseller, he is now forced to confront the forces threatening to publicly expose the very thing Rowan based his novel on, as well as the truth behind the very past he longed to return to.
CHAPTER ONE
$2.75 was spent to glower in a plush chair in front of a therapist, and that was just the cost of the commute to the clinic. Another $2.75 to get back to work. And who knew how much the co-pay was going to cost? He couldn’t even be bothered to look at his spanking new insurance card—even though his spanking new employer went through all the trouble to get him insurance before he even started his first day.
He let himself get lost in a flurry of anxious thoughts, impulses, and hypotheticals instead of listening to the first question his therapist asked him.
Worse, it was a brand new therapist he was dealing with here.
He glanced up at her again, taking in the ‘fresh grad’ look she obliviously adopted for herself. He might have been her very first patient—something to be dumped on a new hire because the veteran counselors didn’t want to take on a new patient with such heavy baggage. He wondered if she was anxiously anticipating for this the previous night, He wondered if she was given a manila file several inches thick full of records the Cambridge medical network had in his name.
He took notice of the hybrid clipboard slash notebook resting in her lap; it was clearly something bought from TJ Maxx, halved again in price because no one ever bought them. What was her name? Andrea? Aubrey? Aubergine? It was an A-name. He wasn’t a fan of A-names. It made it obvious that the person who picked it just grabbed the first name they liked in some baby names website—lazy writing.
He dropped his gaze.
This was all a pain. Like every other therapist he was introduced to, he now had to explain every single thing wrong about him again because his previous therapist failed to help.
“Rowan?”
He let his eyes trail up again towards A-name Therapist calling out his name.
“I know it must be irritating… switching to a new therapist and all,” she said with a sheepish smile, her fingers fidgeting against the clipboard slash notebook (what else are you supposed to call it?). “But it’s just our first session. Nothing heavy needs to be handled here.”
He said nothing.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk much. This can just be a session of silence, and we can talk when you’re ready next week.” She quit her fidgeting, now reaching for one of her drawers. “Sorry, I should have offered sooner. Do you prefer something to fidget with while we do this? Do you usually use something clicky? I have some fidget cubes here with a ton of different stimuli, or maybe the slug one works—”
“I don’t want to be silent the whole time,” Rowan interrupted.
She paused, pulling her hand back.
“That’s not why I’m here,” he snapped. “I’m here because I got locked up against my will, and I’m trying not to fuck up again so I don’t get sent back there.”
She furrowed her brows. “I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”
“Well,” Rowan muttered, “that’s more than what those cops said to me when they took me there. That’s better than ‘it’s for your own good.’”
She nodded solemnly. “I get what you mean. Welfare checks are meant to help the people being checked on. But unfortunately, it’s pretty flawed here.”
Flawed was an understatement. Rowan could still feel their hands on him, the way they dragged him to the back of the police car out of his apartment, how their grubby nails dug into his biceps. He could still feel his roommates’ eyes on his retreating back, their unintelligible whispering among each other, how relieved they seemed to be free of them.
“Do you need a jacket or something, Rowan?”
He noticed now that he was violently shivering in his seat, hugging himself. He just shook his head.
“Okay. I have a few spare cardigans kept here if you want. I usually go two sizes up with my sweaters so they should fit you if you need one.”
He shook his head again.
“It might do well for you to talk about it. That is, if you want. We can just keep it simple and talk about yourself in a more basic setting.” She nodded, mostly to herself. “It’s usually easier to voice the things you know are completely basic facts. You know, facts you say to introduce yourself at a new job or class… or something.”
He adjusted his current posture, now having one leg propped up to hug his arms around. “…Like what?”
“Your name. Your age. Your current profession. Maybe like, three random fun facts about yourself.”
“I hate the whole ‘fun facts’ thing.”
She laughed; it was light, like her heart was taking a leap with her throat. “So do I,” she said. “They don’t have to be about yourself. Maybe you can share three random facts you know.”
He hummed a neutral tone in acknowledgement. “Okay,” he said, “my name is Rowan Ha. I’m twenty-five years old. I only just started, but I’m an administrative assistant for one of the Chemistry labs at MIT.”
“MIT?” Her brows shot up. “That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, but it’s just an assistant job. It’s not like I’m working directly in the lab. I’m just the one telling the ones who do which door to go through.”
“Still, I imagine it’s a lovely campus to work in.”
It’s huge. So huge that Rowan had a mini panic attack his first day on the job trying to navigate his way to the lab even though he interviewed there four times. “It’s okay,” he simply stated.
“Anyways, go on,” she coaxed.
“Um.” He scratched the back of his right ear. “Okay. I actually don’t know what else to say. I’m drawing a blank on facts.”
“Do you do anything fun on your free time?”
“Fun?” He frowned. “I guess I write.”
He hadn’t written in exactly two hundred and sixty three days.
“Really? What do you write about?”
He fidgeted in his chair. “I’d like to say I write novels, but I never complete them. I also write fanfiction, I guess.”
“Fanfiction? Oh, I actually like to read some from time to time!” She beamed, as though thrilled to find something in common with him. Maybe her textbook told her to find a common link, no matter how small. “What kind of fandoms do you write for?”
If this was an online conversation, he would have loved to go on and on about his stuff, about the fantastical stories he loved to weave. But now he felt like he was being put on the spot, and he couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “I write about Korean boy bands.”
“Korean… boy bands?” She blinked once, twice. “You mean, K-Pop?”
He nodded.
“I’ve never heard of fanfiction being written about them,” she admitted. “What kind of stories do you write about with them?”
“I don’t really write them as idols,” he said. “I write them in alternate universes.”
“AUs… with K-Pop singers.”
He nodded again, still rubbing against the back of his ear, straightening his back. “Like, what if this boy band was a group of vampires instead? What if one was an android and the other a human? Things like that.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, as though she was trying to compute one neutral thing to say. “Do you post them online?”
“I used to, but I deleted all of it.” He frowned to himself. It was the truth, at least. He hadn’t posted any of his writing in over ten years.
“I see. Well, I’d like to hear more about what you’ve been writing about next week… if you’d like to return.” She turned her head towards the clock. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’ll have to put a close to this soon.”
“I’d like to return,” he echoed.
“Oh… great!” She gave another one of her sheepish smiles.
He was probably going to see those a lot.
She wheeled her expensive-looking chair over to her desk, tapping a few keys to wake up her computer. “Same time next week then?” she asked. “Or would work be in the way?”
He nodded, then frowned, then shook his head, then frowned again. “Same time next week,” he clarified, for his own sake. “My boss cleared this time block indefinitely so I can come here.”
“Great.” A few mouse clicks. “I’d love to go over and brainstorm some proactive things for us to try together so I can help you in any way that’s needed.”
“Okay.” With that, he was already leaving her office, catching a glimpse of the name plate by her door.
Adeline Andrews.
Those were two A’s. Jesus Christ. Thank goodness he would never meet her parents. He’d never let them live this down.
Rowan couldn’t believe it took this long for him to finally get paid enough to afford a studio apartment: a studio apartment in Cambridge, no less.
He was so used to paying cheap rent to share a several-bedroom apartment with a ton of roommates, to nearly fainting from hunger because he had to wait for his roommate to be done with the kitchen because he didn’t want to bother navigating around them in order to cook, to sleeping in a closet-sized room that didn’t even fit everything he owned.
Now, everything he kept in storage he could now have in his apartment. It was a small blessing amongst the countless other small blessings he had been given lately, but this one, he couldn’t feel bad about receiving.
He turned the key to his door and pushed it open, throwing his bag and shoes in a random direction of the room before launching himself against his mattress. He let out a sigh of contentment, of relief. His bed was his sole safe space. Napping never let him down. Watching Korean variety shows and dramas under the covers never let him down.
When he was in his apartment, he didn’t have to face any possible social repercussions. He was all alone, just how he liked it. He could decorate his apartment however he wanted, just how he liked it. The Korean boy band posters spanning between 2010-2012 adorning the walls from top to bottom were indicative of that. It was a perfect little haven, and it only cost him a little more than half of one biweekly paycheck.
He loved the place.
He stripped down to his underwear, absentminded running his fingers along the ridged scars along his chest before slipping into a triblend shirt with nothing on it and cotton shorts. Comfortable textures upon comfortable textures. His button-up shirt and slacks remained on the floor, kicked to the side with the rest of the work clothes worn this week.
Cooking sounded like a pain right now, especially with the therapy session still weighing on his mind. He stepped over to turn on the gas stove, listening to it click click click until the blue fire lit up, and placed a gold-colored aluminum pot full of water to boil.
Korean instant noodles never let Rowan down either, and he was more than willing not to look at the sodium levels. It was a twice, maybe three times a week kind of meal, so who was it harming really?
He settled into the gaming chair in front of his desk, set the pot of cooked ramyun down on the wooden surface, and began chowing down with one hand on the chopsticks and the other on the power button of his PC tower. It greeted him back with the familiar LED lights, flashing a gradient of blue and purple as it whirred to life.
It was then that he could completely relax, his body loosening up as he slurped up the noodles in record time and picked up the pot to chug down the remaining broth. He exhaled, satisfied by his dinner for the night. Bonchon delivery sounded good to order in a few hours.
Already, he was clicking his way through his computer’s folders, opening one to reveal a plethora of old MP4 files and clicking on a single file to open it. The monitor opened a new window to display an old episode of Star Golden Bell, one that had SHINee appearing in it, even the long-passed Kim Jonghyun—rest his soul…
English subtitles accompanied the video, so all Rowan needed to do was fold his legs up against his chest, slip his headphones back on, and let the familiar sounds of vintage Korean variety show effects fill his ears.
Rowan could have considered himself ‘not like other girls,’ mainly because he wasn’t a girl at all. He refused to listen to the newer Korean pop music that seemed to be all over social media these days. He had listened to a song released this year once, just out of curiosity, and it was enough for him to retreat back into the comforts of the older eras. Super Junior, SHINee, Girl’s Generation… hell, even the groups who made their debut in that generation were better than what was being put out today.
In this very moment, watching a show that had been cancelled years ago, Rowan could retreat back into his safer years. It was like 2013 again, where life was simpler for him, where responsibilities were lesser and the internet wasn’t as insistent on selling you something at every turn.
Speaking of 2013…
Biting at his lower lip, he faltered over his keyboard before navigating to Tumblr.
He scrolled through his dashboard for a bit, frowning at all the newer groups the blogs he followed now worshipped, clicking on the Unfollow button at least once every other blog he came across. He had enough of this after ten minutes, finally dragging his mouse cursor over the website’s search bar and typing in a certain username.
fpxkangmin
He could feel his breath hitch in his throat at the sight of his old roleplay username. Pressing the Enter key led him right to the blog he used to run, flashing how long ago his most recent post was made.
POSTED 12 YEARS AGO
Had it been that long already?
A twinge of recognition flashed across his face as he scrolled further down, finding his goodbye post after several photos of the idol he roleplayed as.
I’m dropping Kangmin as a character and will be leaving Future Past entirely. I’m so sorry to the people I had plots with, but I’ll be closing all ongoing threads. Future Past was such a great community while I was part of it, but due to personal reasons, I’ll be leaving for good. Is there a chance I’ll be back? Who knows.
Friends who still have me added, you can still reach me on MSN. My personal Tumblr is still the same as well so feel free to follow me there.
Thank you, Future Past. For letting me have fun with writing again, and finding a family I never knew I was looking for.
Personal reasons.
Well, thinking about it now, losing his best friend was a major personal reason.