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mooseung · 2 months ago

Text

୨୧ button eyes

han hyeongjun (junhan)

�� after moving back into his childhood home, han hyeongjun awakens in the middle of the night and is led to a world far different from his own.

𖧷 happy october :p

𖧷 jun is freaked out most of the time, sorry bud. things get spooky … not rlly idk

𖧷 started writing this when i had coraline brainworms i just wanted to write my own twist on it. i <3 mixing my interests together sorry if it’s not interesting i had fun tho xd

in the midst of foggy memories he faintly remembers. he was 3 years old when his parents moved him into the middle corridors of the infamous pink palace. yet hyeongjun has great memories here, even if many of them are of his mother and father rotting away at their computers, leaving him to twiddle his ten fingers and stare at peeling wallpaper. it wasn't until he reached the age of 10 where he was ripped away from the scene he grew comfortable of. the boy was forced to abandon the rustic home, carrying over to a suburban city and settling into a house colored grey. then he lived a mundane life, absent of any significant times.

now he's 22 and staring back at the pink palace that towered over him like a scientist and its specimen. a moving truck beside him hustles out muscled men, each heaving boxes and equipment into the corridors he once resided in during the golden ages of his childhood. the perfume of humid air grants him the whiff of nostalgia that he's been craving for years.

everything is the same. the wallpaper's faded blue still rots and peels off at the corners, and the floorboards still rhythmically creak following his patters. each and every room upholds their signature item that he's legally agreed to not remove, including a sprung out piano in the study room and the dried paintings in another.

hyeongjun attempts to relive each core memory. he begins in the kitchen, putting together a meal of slob, one that's unable to satisfy him the way his mother's meals would. instead this mirrors his father, who would whip up meals that would send jun hungry for the night.

as he's searching for a drawer to keep his utensils in, there's one filled with keys, and he encounters confusion. there's no clue as to what each one unlocks. the concoction of silver and gold blinds him, but when he rummages around to gain familiarity, a peculiar black key blurs out the rest as the peak of unfamiliarity.

it's black, smooth, and made completely out of plastic. the curvy handle snuggly fits the palm of his hand; it mimics a button with 4 rectangular holes poked out.

the encounter shifts the mood to one that's uncomfortable; the key's complete defiance of uniformity claws at him for interest, but hyeongjun quickly looks away. he decides: any unfamiliarity this house gives him goes against the reason he’s come for. and so he doesn't spare the topic another minute, placing the object back in its home and steering away to a different task.

when hours pass, he begins to unpack in one of the many study rooms of this place. his eyes scan over the contract-bounded painting that illustrates a blonde boy, teary-eyed over fallen ice cream. it's sad, and it's boring.

"one boring, blue boy."

hyeongjun recalls the tasks his father had given him when he was just 7. to avoid the pestering presence of his son, the man sent him on a quest to find every blue object in their house. this painting was the first to be jotted down.

as a boy, he thought that was something fun. a thoughtful game to keep hyeongjun's young curiosity fed. but 15 years later, it falters just a bit. a hint of realization blasts out the scene for him, and the boy in the painting stares at him in pity.

when he's done assembling a coffee table, hyeongjun sits up and looks around the room for its placement. an unfamiliar accent in the walls finds his eyes first.

it's a short door outlining the lifts in the wallpaper, and it's easily noticeable. his body unknowingly gravitates towards it, tracing the ripped outline and immediately tugging it. the door is locked.

senses of unfamiliarity sprinkle the scene, so again his interest dims. hyeongjun sighs and gets up off his knees to tend to his table again. but minutes pass, and when he's done decorating the study table the door continues twinkling for attention. his mind feels numb, not processing the movement of his body being draggeg past dirty dishes and knocked over boxes, just until his hands acquire that black button key once more. it was a quick motion, and he finally gathers his clear mind once he's eyeing the door with a shimmering key, bound to answer something.

he shakes his head, breathing carefully as he inserts the key like an easy puzzle; it's a perfect fit. there's a satisfying click to perk up his two ears, and his stomach drops. when it naturally swings towards his direction his imaginative mind draws out a variety of anticipations. he expects anything.

he expects anything but nothing, and that's what he gets: a load of red bricks.

"agh." his groan echoes as he slams the wall back into place. he can't find it in himself to waste any more of his efforts with this side plot, so he leaves the key on top of his newly furnished table. now his worries offer the task of tending to his bruised mind. he readies for his favorite night-time activity: sleep.

he's changed successfully, and he’s now tucking himself into crimson sheets as he scans the familiar room. it's so comfortable, and he's at ease now that he can reside right where he wants to be. stuffed bunnies occupy each cubicle in the storage compartments across him. the nightstand holds a collection of childhood photos of the people he cherished the most, though many he had lost contact with. a lone chair sits at his left side, similar to how it was years ago when his mother would sit and guard him from the monsters hindering beneath the bed. it all gives him a warm embrace, and his eyes delicately fall with a smile softly pursed on his lips. he falls asleep, gently.

tap tap tap, squeak squeak.

they're the only sounds filling the room. hyeongjun can't pinpoint the location of these rodents. he lays down on his side, eyes jumping from box to box to catch something. then he lunges to peek underneath his bed. that’s where he successfully finds the perpetrators.

squeak squeak. tap tap tap.

the mice jump when noticing the large, soulful eyeballs peering above them. the feeling is fright at first, but it becomes excitement fairly quickly. the squad scrambles and reunites at the crack of his bedroom door, then they stare right at the boy. their movement conveys, "follow me."

it's fortunate to them that he catches on. tucking in his bare feet into a warm pair of slippers, he approaches the party who race away from his grasp. he's subconsciously eager to follow them.

hyeongjun finds himself back inside the drawing room, the boring blue boy waving at his reappearance. but the room is dark, and his inability to flicker on the lights leads him to wander the room in the dark. he's relying on the inkling that the mice have led him here, as well as the tiny patters scattering close by. one of them squeaks, prompting a symphony of others as they call him over.

the mice stand in front of the small door, sparing time for hyeongjun’s eyes to adjust to the pitch black room. his eyeballs greatly expand the moment they adjust and witness the band of critters slip through cracked wallpaper, squeezing into the door full of bricks. it's a magic trick that astonishes jun.

he's frantic to follow, and his heart skips with a fallen jaw at the colorful tunnel that greets him the moment the small door flies open. there's a faint feeling of unfamiliarity again; however, this time around he feels like a piece of metal against a magnet. rather than extracting himself from this horrifying foreign piece, his body remains glued to it. his eyes scan over every inch of the tunnel until they're led down another exit, from that point on impossible to make out just where exactly he'll be led to if he were to venture on.

fear creeps up on him, but it's hard to distinguish in the whirlwind of curiosity he's in. he’s not used to adventure, but rather comfort. weirdly, unfamiliarity feels faint too. so he begins to crawl.

the texture encapsulating him spreads a childish familiarity to his head, comfortable like nostalgia always provided. twinkling melodies surround him as he crawls with a shake, eyes studying the navy blue atmosphere beyond the material trapping him. he's certain that there's no end to the slate though, and setting loose into it may send him spiraling into an abyss of starry and eerie nothingness. he decides to continue down the tunnel, meeting a similar door to where he's entered. when he's finally through, everything feels similar. he's back at the drawing room.

burdened, he shakes his head as he lets off a slew of curse. this room is beginning to frustrate him, tugging at him like a pest. all it has is a stupid door and a line of snowglobes to accompany the sad, sad painting of a boy smiling at his ice cream-

that's a difference. easy to miss, but clogs his mouth at his keen notice.

he pulls himself up at the notice, hands fixing themselves into one another as his fingers intertwine anxiously. his first step barely sweeps past his leg, and he almost sends himself spiraling back down until he saves his footing with frantic attempts to balance. the feeling of fear has made itself evident now when he's already two steps in.

his heart thumps, trying its best to send him back down the tunnel he wandered through. but delicious aroma swirls fill his nose and distracts these attempts. it smells delicious, and more importantly, it smells familiar.

he follows the sound of sweet, melodic humming coming from the kitchen.

his feet come to a halt when he sees the figure. his hands disconnect, covering his mouth as his heart skyrockets in speed. his legs begin to wobble like an ancient building destined to collapse at the earth's strongest shock.

"mom?"

she spins around, a youthful smirk decorates her radiant skin as her songful hums come to a halt. her hair is jet black, movement is swift, high spirited. it's all different to how he knew the older women, yet one difference made itself the most evident.

those eyes of hers, once brown and soulful, were replaced with big black buttons. she has button eyes.

"you're just in time for dinner hyeongjun!"

"you..." jun almost chokes on his words, shock striking his words out of order like a bolt of lightning. "…you're not my mother..."

the figure's head tilts, "of course i'm not. i'm your other mother."

hyeongjun doesn't know if he should step back, but as long as a knife isn’t put against his throat he decides to stay. he stands still with his eyes scanning the setting. the kitchen is decorated to his childhood memory; photos of the family pinned up on nearby walls, a fridge with accents of alphabetical spellings he recalls playing with often. everything practically mirrors the world he once knew, everything but those damn button eyes.

he investigates, "i don't have have an other mother."

"of course you do! everyone has an other mother." she turns around, staring at the contents in her pan. "dinner is ready, so you should hurry and eat! there's a show the neighbors invited you to~"

hyeongjun sits down hesitantly. his nose catches scent of every food he could think of, a menu that mirrors the way his mother’s on special occasions such as birthdays and holidays. except this one is odd; the woman was not his mother. his knees anxiously bounce in place at the realization that he's hearing her voice, reliving a special memory after a long time. why does the world feel too vivid to dismiss as a dream? nonetheless jun sits with his wobbly knees, heart starting to creep up into his throat like he's bound to throw it up before his meal.

"i-i'm not um...hungry."

it's a lie. the image beholding him was one he's been craving for years: mother's cooking for special events in the family of 3. where she'd cook all his favorite meals with a bright smile cradling her gentle face. moving into the house, he hoped his brain could flicker these images to bring back those waves of happiness from the past. but this wasn't it. his mind feels like it's running laps in attempt to escape, yet it's unwillingly satisfied at the damned feelings of familiarity and nostalgia.

"okay~" she turns around, "then you should get going! you don’t wanna keep your friend waiting..."

an unnerving grin from the other mother accompanies jun to the door, where he meets a familiar childhood friend. the familiar brown locks of his is symbolically shiny enough for jun to recognize the boy even aged. his body fits into worn-down adolescent rocker clothes, rips brimming his jeans and some american band headlining his dark shirt. he's almost identical to his younger self, all except just a bit taller.

and that there are black buttons taking hold of his eyes.

"jiseok...?"

hyeongjun knows who he is, but he still speaks cautiously not knowing who exactly he is.

“haven’t you missed him, dear?” her high pitch voice tings at hyeongjun’s ears. “in this world, he’s just as you remembered him.”

hyeongjun’s head tilts, and his friend’s head mirrors. there’s a smile, but everything is hallow. everything is scary, everything is unfamiliar. his heart sinks when he’s finally realized what’s happening. a pinch is needed to pull him out this dream he dismissed so quickly, but when his other mother grabs his skin and pulls him outside the house, he’s only dragged deeper into this nightmare.

where the hell is he?

an artificial full moon decorates the sky, freckling stars scatter around. the trees are still, not a breeze trickles by. hyeongjun tries to blink away the daunting emotion of fear, but it occurs to him that he’s the only being here whose eyes could do so. his heart attempts to jump out of his body.

“the downstairs neighbors are waiting! go ahead now~”

jiseok begins to walk, but hyeongjun remains as still as his neighboring trees. he’s watching the other mother go stale, button eyes clean enough to reflect his horrified gaze. her smile is crooked, fake, and one that his real mother would never show. her fingers overlap one another politely, and as she goes idle they tap on her knuckles to a tempo. it’s an unnerving scene, one that doesn’t seem to have an end. that’s when jiseok’s cold hand takes junhan’s sweaty palms, dragging him down the stairs and onto the porch of their downstairs neighbors.

jun recalls it all. everything from the food, the friends, the shows. everything being illustrated reflects the old memories that he’s grown to miss. but here, everything is corrupted. the sky doesn’t seem real, the air feels denser, his friend’s hand is freezing like it belongs to a corpse. the pit in his stomach digs itself deeper like a twisting knife. he’s lost, confused, and scared. how can you take action when all these emotions paralyze you instead? when there’s no knowing if something sinister awaits your rebellious move, or even worse, waiting for you if you comply.

he grows closer to the decision that he needs to run, find that little door in the wall and never look back. but that’s when the neighbor’s door swings open, and two familiar piano players emerge with big, black button eyes.

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdinary heroes imagines #well idk if it’s imagines i guess more like fanfic.?.? idk #xdh fanfic #junhan #xdh junhan #han hyeongjun #wait this is fun i should write more often

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