Fic Challenge - 021; Park Benches [1/100]

Title: Park Benches
Characters: Yesung/Kyuhyun
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.101
Summary: Yesung is overworked and Kyuhyun just doesn't know what's important anymore.
A/N: I have no idea where this came from. Yet it's here. (:

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It’s brown, it’s old and he thinks that maybe this might just be the best place for him to spend his evening. So he sits down, settles onto the unmoving hardness of the seat and rests his back against the battered and half-ass painted wooden back support. There is a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it’s not going past tugging, because he’s making sure to keep his expression in check. After all, he is not here to smile at the pleasantries of life, he is here to hide away from the million things he has to do and the million people to remind him of those things.

It is then that his eyes catch sight of a few youngsters playing soccer on the small grass field this inner city park holds. They’re completely into it, sidestepping each other and using all kinds of high-level soccer tricks. He watches them for a while, completely getting lost into their game, even though there is not a chance he will be joining them that day - or ever.


It’s white, with partly peeled off paint and an incredibly large amount of long dried-up bird poop all over it, but he figures it can still serve as a good spot to kill the afternoon time. So he sinks onto the cold surface that is slightly bumpy and rests his back against the iron bar that has meanwhile taken the place of the back rest. His brains are still working hard as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s doing in a park when he can just as well spend the four hours of break on something better than staring at a bunch of people he doesn’t know, because lord knows that even though there’s no schedules, it could never hurt to practice either his singing or his dancing a little more.

Right at the moment he wants to get back up, the sun breaks through the rather cloudy sky and as the rays of light touch his skin, he can already feel the warmth they’re emitting. He settles back against the cold iron and closes his eyes, letting himself be revived by the wonderful feeling of the late-summer sun on his face. A slight smile pulls up the corners of his mouth and he sighs deeply, realising it is not often that he gets to live such a moment of complete peace.


It’s green -obviously freshly repainted- with long, small planks and he wonders if whoever has repaired the old brown thing will try having a go at the other ones too. As he sits down, like he has been doing for the past few weeks, on the same day every time, his eyes land on the same group of soccer-playing boys as he has been watching for the past few weeks. Their soccer games are always the same, but today it is slightly different, with the freshly fallen leaves that rustle and die under their feet and the one little guy that is missing. He figures the boy had homework to do, or maybe caught a cold and stayed at home, so he doesn’t think much of it.

As the autumn breeze makes the leaves fly past him as well, he focuses his gaze on the beauty of the dying nature, takes in all those different colours and smiles slightly, realising how much of the regular things in life he actually misses, locked up in a recording studio or sleeping in a car or a plane on the road to yet another concert. He thinks -silently to himself, so that no one can blame him for such thoughts- that it’s nice to be able to come here every week and enjoy the scenery.


It’s white, a very flashy kind of white, completely covered in snow, and when he reaches out a hand to touch the smooth surface, he retracts it quickly even before having touched the cold, icy substance. There is a shiver running through his arm already, even though it has only been exposed to the cold outside air for under a minute. Slightly disappointed that today is not a day where he can sit down and just let go of everything to enjoy nature’s finest like he has done for the past weeks, he walks by the snow-covered seat. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of his fake-fur coated jacket and he looks around interestedly.

Despite what he had expected, there are actually quite a lot of people still walking in the park. As he strolls through, he notices two kids making a snowman and he smiles. There is little he prefers to do in the evening, but he feels that just maybe he would love to leave his computer for a day and come make a snowman in the late hours, when everyone is long asleep.


It’s brown, it’s new and he thinks that maybe this might just be the same spot as he had come to the first time, but it certainly isn’t the same bench. He sits down anyway, settles onto the unmoving hardness of the seat and rests his back against the shiny new back support. There is a smile on his lips, pulling up the corners of his mouth into a happy expression, because it doesn’t really matter who sees it and who doesn’t. After all, there is nothing more beautiful than the pleasantries of life, so what else could he possibly want from life? For once, he does not worry about the million things he still has to do and the million people who always remind him of those things. All that matters is the fact that the team he’s rooting for just scored another goal.


It’s brown, covered in a completely new layer of paint and not a sign of bird poop anywhere, but he still knows it’s the same bench he has been sitting on for the past months. So he sinks down onto the lukewarm, smooth surface and rests his back against the spotless back rest. His brain is slowly munching over the impressions of a group of young guys playing soccer and he does not ponder anymore about the reason for his coming to the park every single time, because it has become a habit, something he does because he likes to. As he closes his eyes to enjoy the early-spring sun on his face, he leaves behind the stress that is work and for a minute is able to let go of the famous idol-identity that has been pasted on him for eternity. He figures that life is quite good like this.