Title: I want you to stay forever
Characters: Kibum/Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 791
Summary: Forever is a rather abstract measure for time
A/N: So, well, finally I wrote something again. This thing actually marks my 101st finished Suju fic (collab and non-collab) and with that Memories actually becomes my 100th finished SJ fic (I never really counted). It's been a nice year and a half-ish so far in this fandom (or well, writing in this fandom since honestly, this fandom needs some work) and I'm glad to have got to know the boys and their music. I'm going to leave it at this and roll of to go do something completely non-SJ-related because I have no reason not to. I hope you enjoy this.
- - - - -
It’s about time for the biggest stage of their career as of yet. Kibum is huddled in between the other members, not exactly sure what he’s doing there, not exactly feeling like he belongs just yet, but it’s alright, he figures, because he doesn’t think any of them feels that way. They’re all nervous for sure, some are a little pale around the nose, others lean more towards a greenish colour and then there’s Jungs- Leeteuk who’s probably worst off of them all but shows nothing of those feelings on the outside.
The leader of the group, supposed to lead them through all these things without fail, supposed to make sure they’ll make it to the top. He’s not particularly sure that’s how it’ll work out. The job definitely sounds easier than it is. Getting the most spotlight and speaking time, sure, but also working the hardest, trying the best, caring the most,.. Leeteuk will be carrying all their burdens together all by himself and he doesn’t think this frail kid can take that.
They’re all kids, really, even though some are in their twenties already. They’re young and pretty much inexperienced except for some training of which the time span varies from person to person. This stage is like the beginning of everything, but somehow it feels more like it’s the end of something he’s not quite sure he wants to say goodbye to yet. But the pressure is there and so is the painful reality that this is really it. They’re going to be big things after this. Or at least that’s what they hope the outcome will be, that’s what they’ve been told.
“This is our moment,” Leeteuk says, glancing around the group shortly. “We’ve been training hard for this, it’s been long days and short nights, but we’re ready for this.” He smiles then and it brings some of the youthfulness back to his face where before there was only worry and exhaustion. They smile back at him, it feels almost automatically to Kibum, as if he’s no longer the one controlling his own expression. When there’s a need to smile you do so, no questions asked, just the brightest one you possibly can without looking fake.
“We’re here to show that Super Junior can remain together,” Leeteuk continues after a moment of silence, his words coming out faster since the time left before they have to get up on stage is ticking away. “We’re here to show that we are not a group that should be rotated to remain popular or up-to-date. We’re here to show them that we are. And that simple fact cannot just be taken away from us. So let’s give them our very best and keep doing so in the future.”
Leeteuk reaches out a hand and everyone does the same until they have one big pile of hands in the middle of their group. Twelve people huddled together, the same determination in all their hearts. Or almost all, perhaps, as Kibum almost hesitantly chimes in with the rest as they exclaim what appears to have become their battle cry. They stick as closely for a bit longer and Leeteuk takes use of the opportunity to say something more.
“I want Super Junior to last,” he says in a calm tone, as if completely sure of not only himself but them as well and the rest of the world just the same, really. “I want us to last in the hearts and minds of those that listen to us or watch us. Let’s do our very best to become the big thing we all dreamed of being at one point.” His expression grows more serious at the end and he eyes them all one by one. “But mostly,” he says then. “I want us to keep being ourselves. Let’s not change because of the industry. In the end I want you to be able to say that you’re still you no matter what happened in between. I want you to stay forever. Let’s help each other by being there forever.”
Kibum can’t help but smile bitterly upon hearing the words. As the group dissembles into several individuals and some duos making their way over to the side of the stage, he tells himself that the things he has just heard are real and that he’ll be able to last forever. He convinces himself of this and sends a determined nod to Leeteuk when the elder glances at him. Super Junior will become the next big thing. They will last forever.
But when he takes his first steps onto the stage and puts on the brightest smile he can manage just for their fans, he wonders how long exactly this forever will last.
Showing posts with label leeteuk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leeteuk. Show all posts
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
[FIC] What's in a name: Leeteuk
Title: What's in a name: Leeteuk
Characters: Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 529
Summary: Life was always the same.
A/N: I wrote the first drabble (which was Leeteuk's) on the 8th of May and since then have gradually written the others as well. It is one drabble a member. There are no plotlines, this is basically my positive fangirl view on what goes on in their minds I guess, and I just really enjoyed writing these out, although it sometimes was a major battle.
- - - - -
Life was always the same.
Every time he came back from practice, he would go out to train his body and find all kinds of stuff to do until the next point on the schedule came up. In the evening he would host Sukira and get back to practicing. Then, in the early hours of the day, he would drop down on the bed like a half dead person, but sleep would not take him until after he conversed with fans on the internet for another hour.
Even after that, it often did happen that he still would not find sleep. When worries, doubts and useless thoughts took over his mind, he would often be staring at his ceiling for hours longer after closing down his computer and putting aside his phone. It even happened that he didn’t sleep at all in certain nights. The day after such nights, he would be like a zombie throughout every practice, but still he would try to give it his very best. Because he couldn’t give any less than that. No matter what the cost.
There were times when the bags under his eyes were so prominent that even make-up couldn’t hide them. Other times when the fog clouding his minds was so thick he couldn’t even remember what he had done or said less than a minute ago. But the most worrying times were those when he just wanted to give up and leave the world behind. He hated those moments. They made him weak, they made him vulnerable, they made him want to cry even though he couldn’t.
Endless days and nights of work would wear him down completely, but there was one thing that kept him going; the knowledge that others depended on him. When he didn’t do what he was supposed to do, the other members would fail as well. He had a responsibility towards his friends, his dongsaengs. He was the one who was supposed to keep them all going, showing them what great things they could reach when they all stuck together. He had to be the tough one, the one that never showed any sign of wanting to give up. So he took a deep breath and kept going.
Unlike he would have done in his younger years, he never gave up. He never lay down his head and stopped fighting. Taking care of the twelve others for so long had given him a new vision on life. It had made him stronger, made him realise that giving up wasn’t always the best thing to do. Sometimes one had to fight to reach one’s goal, to get people to follow you. He had learned that when the two Chinese members had joined the family. Together, they had stood strong against the crowd and had overcome most of the negative responses.
Knowing there were people beside him, that’s what made him go on. Knowing that, if he should ever fail, there would be at least fourteen pairs of shoulders to cry on, fourteen pairs of arms to hug him, fourteen backs to carry him, fourteen voices to comfort him.. And that’s what made him keep going.
Characters: Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 529
Summary: Life was always the same.
A/N: I wrote the first drabble (which was Leeteuk's) on the 8th of May and since then have gradually written the others as well. It is one drabble a member. There are no plotlines, this is basically my positive fangirl view on what goes on in their minds I guess, and I just really enjoyed writing these out, although it sometimes was a major battle.
- - - - -
Life was always the same.
Every time he came back from practice, he would go out to train his body and find all kinds of stuff to do until the next point on the schedule came up. In the evening he would host Sukira and get back to practicing. Then, in the early hours of the day, he would drop down on the bed like a half dead person, but sleep would not take him until after he conversed with fans on the internet for another hour.
Even after that, it often did happen that he still would not find sleep. When worries, doubts and useless thoughts took over his mind, he would often be staring at his ceiling for hours longer after closing down his computer and putting aside his phone. It even happened that he didn’t sleep at all in certain nights. The day after such nights, he would be like a zombie throughout every practice, but still he would try to give it his very best. Because he couldn’t give any less than that. No matter what the cost.
There were times when the bags under his eyes were so prominent that even make-up couldn’t hide them. Other times when the fog clouding his minds was so thick he couldn’t even remember what he had done or said less than a minute ago. But the most worrying times were those when he just wanted to give up and leave the world behind. He hated those moments. They made him weak, they made him vulnerable, they made him want to cry even though he couldn’t.
Endless days and nights of work would wear him down completely, but there was one thing that kept him going; the knowledge that others depended on him. When he didn’t do what he was supposed to do, the other members would fail as well. He had a responsibility towards his friends, his dongsaengs. He was the one who was supposed to keep them all going, showing them what great things they could reach when they all stuck together. He had to be the tough one, the one that never showed any sign of wanting to give up. So he took a deep breath and kept going.
Unlike he would have done in his younger years, he never gave up. He never lay down his head and stopped fighting. Taking care of the twelve others for so long had given him a new vision on life. It had made him stronger, made him realise that giving up wasn’t always the best thing to do. Sometimes one had to fight to reach one’s goal, to get people to follow you. He had learned that when the two Chinese members had joined the family. Together, they had stood strong against the crowd and had overcome most of the negative responses.
Knowing there were people beside him, that’s what made him go on. Knowing that, if he should ever fail, there would be at least fourteen pairs of shoulders to cry on, fourteen pairs of arms to hug him, fourteen backs to carry him, fourteen voices to comfort him.. And that’s what made him keep going.
[FIC] Turning back from walking away
Title: Turning back from walking away
Characters: Hyukjae, Donghae
Rating: G
Wordcount: 3.011
Summary: There's no point to living without the other, but is he really gone?
A/N: Written over today and yesterday (and possibly another day before that). Mostly today however. This shot is a creation of my mind that needed to be written. Sequel to Holding on to letting go but I guess readable as a stand alone as well. Pieces of my heart were torn out and put into this, so love it or I will be sad.
- - - - -
To him, life has become much alike to walking over broken glass barefooted. Every step he takes is even more painful than the previous, days blending together in a constant repetition of the same memories, his mind attuned to the stabs of pain they sent throughout his whole body. It’s like he almost welcomes the pain, knowing he deserves it, thinking it better than the emptiness that would otherwise consume him.
The windows of his apartment are small, tiny ruptures in the walls that feel like they’re closing in on him. Small openings for him to look through at the outside world, to see how life is so much brighter for those who are not him. For those who haven’t failed like him.
It’s little tiny monsters clawing at his heart, reminding him over and over again how stupid he’s been. He draws the name in his heart on a condensed window and watches it fade away again, but the feelings never change and when he looks up, the sky is still just as dreary and a single water drop splats apart on his arm, like a tear would if he still had any left to cry.
He’s gone numb over the years, no more tears to cry, no more pieces of his heart left big enough to break. There’s only a constant realisation that he’s alone and perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that it’s all of his own doing, making the feeling only harder to bear. Trying to live without Donghae is a little like trying to extinct a fire with his bare hands; it hurts big time and he realises that there’s a much better way to do it.
But Donghae is together with Kyuhyun. Or Siwon. Or maybe the other tall guy he saw him together with earlier that month, holding hands as they walked through the park. It’s as if all those people are laughing in his face for being stupid enough to have ever let go of that hand, to have ever let the younger walk away from him, stray too far. But they’re wrong, he tells them in his mind with bitter satisfaction. Donghae’s never walked away from him; he was the one leaving himself.
“What’s Neunggok like?” he remembers Donghae asking one day, the curiosity shining in his eyes. He had been tired that day, his students in dance class having been the most annoying they ever were and traffic on his way home sucking so badly he had almost wanted to leave the damn car somewhere along the way and walk the rest of the way home. It hadn’t been the best of days for him, so he had merely looked at the other in surprise for a moment before waving off the question.
“It’s like any other city.” he had replied then, and Donghae had pouted at him ever so sweetly, poking at his side to get him to say more than that. He remembers pushing away the soft hands and frowning at the insistence the other had nagged at him with. “It’s just a city, Donghae, what would it be like?” he had said then, annoyance seeping into his voice.
His answer had silenced Donghae, the younger looking up at him with something akin to hurt in his eyes before he had turned back to the television, continuing to watch the program that had been their evening entertainment. In reality it was merely something to fight off the silence that had settled between them once again, as talking would only lead them to yet another fight.
He realises now that those were the moments he should have acted differently, responded differently, if he had wanted to keep the other from pushing him away. He realises now that the reason he no longer has anyone to cuddle up to at night or to listen to his nagging had partly been Donghae, but mostly been himself and how he had always expected the other to be there no matter what.
“It’s alright.” a familiar voice whispers to him and he feels his heart settle as his muscles relax. It is alright, he realises, the other’s arms wrapped loosely around him, his face buried in the nape of the other’s neck, surrounded by the smell that used to always be present around him.
He’s not sure how they ended up like this; one moment he hadn’t spoken to the other in ages, the next he was at his doorstep, hoping to find him home. Which he was; all tired eyes and questioning expressions as he saw the other standing at his door at three in the morning.
“What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?” he had mumbled but Hyukjae had merely thrown himself in the other’s arms, the first tears already finding their way over his cheeks. They held onto each other for dear life, Donghae sobering up soon enough and holding him close as he himself just cried weeks and months of unshed tears. For love, loss and memories.
After several tries at getting him to explain what was wrong, Donghae had given in to his reluctance to answer, growing silent and merely being there. Even after so many years, after so many misunderstandings and things going wrong, Donghae had held him as if nothing had ever changed between them, and it was more than he could have hoped for.
So now here he is, clinging to the younger still, even though his tears have long stopped flowing. He can feel Donghae shifting next to him and a sudden wave of fear washes over him. What if they’ll go back to being strangers the moment he lets go? What if being close like this is merely because Donghae had not known what else to do being overwhelmed by him like that.
The mere thought of going back to the emptiness makes a second wave of tears find their way over his cheeks and he can feel the other’s grip tightening once again, the hand on his back taking up its comforting patting again as well. He can almost imagine the worried look on the younger’s face but is too afraid to look up and see that it’s only that; imagination.
“Hyukjae, tell me what’s wrong..” Donghae finally speaks after another good five minutes of continuous sobbing. “I’ve never seen you like this, what the hell happened? How did you get reduced to this?” He wants the worry he thinks he hears in the other’s voice to be real, but he doesn’t know how that could be possible when all he’s ever done is disappoint the other an endless amount of times, time and again.
When the tears don’t seem to stop, Donghae lets go of him and he barely keeps himself from squeaking in fear, not wanting to have to walk away once again. He fists his hands in the younger boy’s shirt, pressing his face against the fabric again, refusing to face the other in the state he’s currently in.
“Hyukjae, look at me.” Donghae says softly, cupping his face with the soft, warm hands he knows so well and lifting it up, away from the questionable safety of the T-shirt. Their eyes meet then, the first time that day - night? - and he finds worry and care in the other boy’s eyes, only making him want to cry even more. Donghae wipes over his cheeks with his thumbs, cleaning away the fresh tears, and sends him a small, encouraging smile.
“I’m here, Hyukjae.” the younger says then and all he can do is close his eyes with a nod, burying himself in the other’s embrace once more.
He wakes up in a completely dark room, rolling over to cuddle up against the other, but there’s no one there. No one has been there for years now. Long, agonizing years in which he was able to remind himself over and over again how stupid he had been. For the umpteenth time that month he finds himself wondering if that one night had been a dream and for the umpteenth time he grabs at his phone, checking to see if the familiar phone number is really back in his contact list.
“You’re killing yourself, Hyukjae.” Donghae had said to him when the tears had finally subsided, the two of them sitting next to each other on the living room couch. And damn the fact that that was still the same couch as when they lived in that apartment together. “You keep things pent up inside until you break, but you never actually break and it becomes so hard for you to bear that you grow gloomier every day. You have always been like this, even when we were still together.”
Donghae had given him one of those looks that said ‘I know what you’re made of, don’t try to deny it,’ and so he hadn’t. But now, lying in bed in the dark room that will only grow darker unless he turns on a light, he thinks that maybe he should’ve denied it. Because if he never really broke, then why the hell had he been crying like a baby in the other’s arms? What did Donghae really think he was doing there, forgetting any kind of pride as he cried his heart out?
With a snarl, he throws the phone away from him, hearing it drop on the floor mere moments later but refusing to feel bad about it. He’s close to going crazy, really, and for a moment he wonders if maybe Donghae is right after all. If maybe he is killing himself, tearing himself down piece by piece, thread by thread. But if he is, he’s doing it all because of the other and he doesn’t regret a single thing.
“You have to get out more.” Jungsoo tells him one day, throwing the discarded clothes in the laundry basket on his way to the kitchen. Hyukjae can’t even find it in himself anymore to tell the other to leave it, instead remaining curled up on the couch, a pillow squished in between his legs and body. Minutes later Jungsoo stuffs a plate of food in his face, but he merely turns away from it, the smell alone making him want to throw up.
“Starving yourself isn’t going to make him come to save you, Hyukjae.” the elder speaks after a moment, putting down the plate on the living room table and crossing his arms in front of his chest then. “You need to go out there and show him that you want him to come back, that you’re worth coming back to.” He can’t help huffing at those words, but the next moment his whole body starts shaking violently because of his own sobbing.
He curses this feeling, the way he shifts from good to bad to even worse in a matter of seconds. He hates the way Jungsoo has to catch him before he falls, pull him back up, put him back on his feet. He despises himself, despises what he has become, but has no energy left to change it. So he simply cries against Jungsoo’s shoulder for several moments before manning up again and going back to staring blankly ahead.
Zhou Mi is a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world. Introduced to him by Jungsoo he shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it still surprises him how the tall man manages to brighten even his days. The redhead drags him out of the house against his will if necessary, bringing him out to see the world and all the wondrous things it has to offer. He follows albeit reluctantly, but the more he goes out the more he enjoys it and soon he’s almost waiting for the other to show up at his door and take him out.
Zhou Mi is stupid jokes and awkward laughter, he’s occasional random hugs and the most awkward stick on legs Hyukjae’s ever seen. Zhou Mi makes him smile more than anyone else and he doesn’t even put an effort into it. Hyukjae finds himself blooming because of him, recreating his life as he goes, one step at a time, starting with a new job and new dreams. Zhou Mi is life and oxygen and Hyukjae breathes him in without restraints.
One day he thinks it’s a good idea to do something in return for all Zhou Mi’s kindness, so he pecks the other on the lips. A long awkward silence, several minutes of staring and a frown later he realises that maybe that wasn’t the brightest idea he’s ever had. Zhou Mi stares at him like he’s just landed on earth in a pink UFO and he feels extremely uncomfortable under that gaze, shifting in his seat and shyly looking away.
“What was that for?” the redhead asks after a while and he shrugs, not having a clue either. At least not anymore, the look on Zhou Mi’s face having erased every explanation he had for what he just did. They stare at each other a few moments longer in awkward silence before Zhou Mi continues the sentence Hyukjae’s action had interrupted. When he leaves later that afternoon, he smiles and waves like he always does, sunshine smile plastered on his face.
He doesn’t visit again.
Life goes back to the dull nothing it used to be. He lies in bed more often than not and doesn’t even open the door for Jungsoo anymore. After several persistent weeks of coming by every day and being left at the door, Jungsoo gives up on him too. He’s okay with that. It’s not as if there’s much of him left to care for anyway. The fact that he’s jobless doesn’t bother him as much, the few drops of water and the bits of electricity he uses are not a lot to pay for anyway. He lives off of his savings, but then again it’s not really to be called living. He decides he doesn’t care anymore.
It’s about seven months after his sister was diagnosed with aids, seven months after the night he spent crying in Donghae’s arms, when someone comes by again. He ignores the doorbell as he has been doing for five consecutive weeks now, but whoever’s at the door is persistent, ringing and ringing until he sees no other way to escape the shrill sound than to get up and walk over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open with quite a bit of effort.
“What do you want?” he bites at the person standing behind it, freezing in his movements when his eyes lock with the other man. For a while he just stands there, staring like that, the other person looking back calmly, before he shakes his head and repeats his question. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I heard you the first time,” Kyuhyun replies coldly, glancing past him into his apartment. “I think the proper words to start a conversation with are ‘Would you like to come in?’ perhaps followed by ‘Excuse me for the mess.’ You don’t really have any manners, do you?”
“Why would I apologise for a non-existing mess?” he retorts, opening the door wider as he realises he isn’t going to get rid of the pest anyway. “Come in then, if you’re going to be a stuck up idiot you can at least do it inside.” Kyuhyun eyes him a moment longer and he swears he can see surprise in the younger one’s eyes, but then the kid walks past him, not even looking back as he speaks up again.
“You do indeed smell better than I had imagined, and I can still see the floor. That’s a nice surprise. Now if you could only show to the outside world that you haven’t died yet, that would be awesome.” he rambles in a flat tone. Hyukjae closes the door and walks over to his couch, not even bothering to see what Kyuhyun’s up to as he flops down on the soft cushions, closing his eyes the moment his head touches the armrest.
“What are you doing here, Kyuhyun-ssi?” he asks in a low voice, not up for the pleasantries and the evasive talk. In fact, he’s not up for anything coming from the younger. He still clearly remembers how it was Kyuhyun prancing around holding Donghae’s hands in the months after their break-up. And even after so many years passed, he still doesn’t want to forget about that.
“I’m here to fix Donghae.” is all the younger replies, but it’s enough to make Hyukjae look up, a frown edged into his forehead.
“Why are you here for that? Donghae’s not around here. You should go to his place.” he replies softly, even the other’s name making him feel weak inside. Or maybe it’s the lack of food and sleep. He’s not exactly sure why, but Kyuhyun smirks and crosses his arms in front of his chest. They eye each other for a while, until Kyuhyun sighs and shakes his head.
“Donghae’s heart is here.” he says then, completely shaking Hyukjae’s world, making every fibre in his body glow and resound at those words. “And you’re not really taking care of it.”
He’s pretty sure the world’s playing tricks on him, but if they amount to him finding himself locked in Donghae’s embrace he’s more than willing to play along. The heartbeat under his hand feels real, though, and he’s convinced he’s not imagining the way Donghae’s breath tickles his neck as the other exhales. He closes his eyes to savour the moment even more, before sighing deeply.
“I’m sorry.” he breathes then and Donghae nods against his shoulder. It’s nothing at all, but it’s everything as well and he feels like he could cry right then and there if Donghae wasn’t already doing that more than enough for the both of them.
Characters: Hyukjae, Donghae
Rating: G
Wordcount: 3.011
Summary: There's no point to living without the other, but is he really gone?
A/N: Written over today and yesterday (and possibly another day before that). Mostly today however. This shot is a creation of my mind that needed to be written. Sequel to Holding on to letting go but I guess readable as a stand alone as well. Pieces of my heart were torn out and put into this, so love it or I will be sad.
- - - - -
To him, life has become much alike to walking over broken glass barefooted. Every step he takes is even more painful than the previous, days blending together in a constant repetition of the same memories, his mind attuned to the stabs of pain they sent throughout his whole body. It’s like he almost welcomes the pain, knowing he deserves it, thinking it better than the emptiness that would otherwise consume him.
The windows of his apartment are small, tiny ruptures in the walls that feel like they’re closing in on him. Small openings for him to look through at the outside world, to see how life is so much brighter for those who are not him. For those who haven’t failed like him.
It’s little tiny monsters clawing at his heart, reminding him over and over again how stupid he’s been. He draws the name in his heart on a condensed window and watches it fade away again, but the feelings never change and when he looks up, the sky is still just as dreary and a single water drop splats apart on his arm, like a tear would if he still had any left to cry.
He’s gone numb over the years, no more tears to cry, no more pieces of his heart left big enough to break. There’s only a constant realisation that he’s alone and perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that it’s all of his own doing, making the feeling only harder to bear. Trying to live without Donghae is a little like trying to extinct a fire with his bare hands; it hurts big time and he realises that there’s a much better way to do it.
But Donghae is together with Kyuhyun. Or Siwon. Or maybe the other tall guy he saw him together with earlier that month, holding hands as they walked through the park. It’s as if all those people are laughing in his face for being stupid enough to have ever let go of that hand, to have ever let the younger walk away from him, stray too far. But they’re wrong, he tells them in his mind with bitter satisfaction. Donghae’s never walked away from him; he was the one leaving himself.
“What’s Neunggok like?” he remembers Donghae asking one day, the curiosity shining in his eyes. He had been tired that day, his students in dance class having been the most annoying they ever were and traffic on his way home sucking so badly he had almost wanted to leave the damn car somewhere along the way and walk the rest of the way home. It hadn’t been the best of days for him, so he had merely looked at the other in surprise for a moment before waving off the question.
“It’s like any other city.” he had replied then, and Donghae had pouted at him ever so sweetly, poking at his side to get him to say more than that. He remembers pushing away the soft hands and frowning at the insistence the other had nagged at him with. “It’s just a city, Donghae, what would it be like?” he had said then, annoyance seeping into his voice.
His answer had silenced Donghae, the younger looking up at him with something akin to hurt in his eyes before he had turned back to the television, continuing to watch the program that had been their evening entertainment. In reality it was merely something to fight off the silence that had settled between them once again, as talking would only lead them to yet another fight.
He realises now that those were the moments he should have acted differently, responded differently, if he had wanted to keep the other from pushing him away. He realises now that the reason he no longer has anyone to cuddle up to at night or to listen to his nagging had partly been Donghae, but mostly been himself and how he had always expected the other to be there no matter what.
“It’s alright.” a familiar voice whispers to him and he feels his heart settle as his muscles relax. It is alright, he realises, the other’s arms wrapped loosely around him, his face buried in the nape of the other’s neck, surrounded by the smell that used to always be present around him.
He’s not sure how they ended up like this; one moment he hadn’t spoken to the other in ages, the next he was at his doorstep, hoping to find him home. Which he was; all tired eyes and questioning expressions as he saw the other standing at his door at three in the morning.
“What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?” he had mumbled but Hyukjae had merely thrown himself in the other’s arms, the first tears already finding their way over his cheeks. They held onto each other for dear life, Donghae sobering up soon enough and holding him close as he himself just cried weeks and months of unshed tears. For love, loss and memories.
After several tries at getting him to explain what was wrong, Donghae had given in to his reluctance to answer, growing silent and merely being there. Even after so many years, after so many misunderstandings and things going wrong, Donghae had held him as if nothing had ever changed between them, and it was more than he could have hoped for.
So now here he is, clinging to the younger still, even though his tears have long stopped flowing. He can feel Donghae shifting next to him and a sudden wave of fear washes over him. What if they’ll go back to being strangers the moment he lets go? What if being close like this is merely because Donghae had not known what else to do being overwhelmed by him like that.
The mere thought of going back to the emptiness makes a second wave of tears find their way over his cheeks and he can feel the other’s grip tightening once again, the hand on his back taking up its comforting patting again as well. He can almost imagine the worried look on the younger’s face but is too afraid to look up and see that it’s only that; imagination.
“Hyukjae, tell me what’s wrong..” Donghae finally speaks after another good five minutes of continuous sobbing. “I’ve never seen you like this, what the hell happened? How did you get reduced to this?” He wants the worry he thinks he hears in the other’s voice to be real, but he doesn’t know how that could be possible when all he’s ever done is disappoint the other an endless amount of times, time and again.
When the tears don’t seem to stop, Donghae lets go of him and he barely keeps himself from squeaking in fear, not wanting to have to walk away once again. He fists his hands in the younger boy’s shirt, pressing his face against the fabric again, refusing to face the other in the state he’s currently in.
“Hyukjae, look at me.” Donghae says softly, cupping his face with the soft, warm hands he knows so well and lifting it up, away from the questionable safety of the T-shirt. Their eyes meet then, the first time that day - night? - and he finds worry and care in the other boy’s eyes, only making him want to cry even more. Donghae wipes over his cheeks with his thumbs, cleaning away the fresh tears, and sends him a small, encouraging smile.
“I’m here, Hyukjae.” the younger says then and all he can do is close his eyes with a nod, burying himself in the other’s embrace once more.
He wakes up in a completely dark room, rolling over to cuddle up against the other, but there’s no one there. No one has been there for years now. Long, agonizing years in which he was able to remind himself over and over again how stupid he had been. For the umpteenth time that month he finds himself wondering if that one night had been a dream and for the umpteenth time he grabs at his phone, checking to see if the familiar phone number is really back in his contact list.
“You’re killing yourself, Hyukjae.” Donghae had said to him when the tears had finally subsided, the two of them sitting next to each other on the living room couch. And damn the fact that that was still the same couch as when they lived in that apartment together. “You keep things pent up inside until you break, but you never actually break and it becomes so hard for you to bear that you grow gloomier every day. You have always been like this, even when we were still together.”
Donghae had given him one of those looks that said ‘I know what you’re made of, don’t try to deny it,’ and so he hadn’t. But now, lying in bed in the dark room that will only grow darker unless he turns on a light, he thinks that maybe he should’ve denied it. Because if he never really broke, then why the hell had he been crying like a baby in the other’s arms? What did Donghae really think he was doing there, forgetting any kind of pride as he cried his heart out?
With a snarl, he throws the phone away from him, hearing it drop on the floor mere moments later but refusing to feel bad about it. He’s close to going crazy, really, and for a moment he wonders if maybe Donghae is right after all. If maybe he is killing himself, tearing himself down piece by piece, thread by thread. But if he is, he’s doing it all because of the other and he doesn’t regret a single thing.
“You have to get out more.” Jungsoo tells him one day, throwing the discarded clothes in the laundry basket on his way to the kitchen. Hyukjae can’t even find it in himself anymore to tell the other to leave it, instead remaining curled up on the couch, a pillow squished in between his legs and body. Minutes later Jungsoo stuffs a plate of food in his face, but he merely turns away from it, the smell alone making him want to throw up.
“Starving yourself isn’t going to make him come to save you, Hyukjae.” the elder speaks after a moment, putting down the plate on the living room table and crossing his arms in front of his chest then. “You need to go out there and show him that you want him to come back, that you’re worth coming back to.” He can’t help huffing at those words, but the next moment his whole body starts shaking violently because of his own sobbing.
He curses this feeling, the way he shifts from good to bad to even worse in a matter of seconds. He hates the way Jungsoo has to catch him before he falls, pull him back up, put him back on his feet. He despises himself, despises what he has become, but has no energy left to change it. So he simply cries against Jungsoo’s shoulder for several moments before manning up again and going back to staring blankly ahead.
Zhou Mi is a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world. Introduced to him by Jungsoo he shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it still surprises him how the tall man manages to brighten even his days. The redhead drags him out of the house against his will if necessary, bringing him out to see the world and all the wondrous things it has to offer. He follows albeit reluctantly, but the more he goes out the more he enjoys it and soon he’s almost waiting for the other to show up at his door and take him out.
Zhou Mi is stupid jokes and awkward laughter, he’s occasional random hugs and the most awkward stick on legs Hyukjae’s ever seen. Zhou Mi makes him smile more than anyone else and he doesn’t even put an effort into it. Hyukjae finds himself blooming because of him, recreating his life as he goes, one step at a time, starting with a new job and new dreams. Zhou Mi is life and oxygen and Hyukjae breathes him in without restraints.
One day he thinks it’s a good idea to do something in return for all Zhou Mi’s kindness, so he pecks the other on the lips. A long awkward silence, several minutes of staring and a frown later he realises that maybe that wasn’t the brightest idea he’s ever had. Zhou Mi stares at him like he’s just landed on earth in a pink UFO and he feels extremely uncomfortable under that gaze, shifting in his seat and shyly looking away.
“What was that for?” the redhead asks after a while and he shrugs, not having a clue either. At least not anymore, the look on Zhou Mi’s face having erased every explanation he had for what he just did. They stare at each other a few moments longer in awkward silence before Zhou Mi continues the sentence Hyukjae’s action had interrupted. When he leaves later that afternoon, he smiles and waves like he always does, sunshine smile plastered on his face.
He doesn’t visit again.
Life goes back to the dull nothing it used to be. He lies in bed more often than not and doesn’t even open the door for Jungsoo anymore. After several persistent weeks of coming by every day and being left at the door, Jungsoo gives up on him too. He’s okay with that. It’s not as if there’s much of him left to care for anyway. The fact that he’s jobless doesn’t bother him as much, the few drops of water and the bits of electricity he uses are not a lot to pay for anyway. He lives off of his savings, but then again it’s not really to be called living. He decides he doesn’t care anymore.
It’s about seven months after his sister was diagnosed with aids, seven months after the night he spent crying in Donghae’s arms, when someone comes by again. He ignores the doorbell as he has been doing for five consecutive weeks now, but whoever’s at the door is persistent, ringing and ringing until he sees no other way to escape the shrill sound than to get up and walk over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open with quite a bit of effort.
“What do you want?” he bites at the person standing behind it, freezing in his movements when his eyes lock with the other man. For a while he just stands there, staring like that, the other person looking back calmly, before he shakes his head and repeats his question. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I heard you the first time,” Kyuhyun replies coldly, glancing past him into his apartment. “I think the proper words to start a conversation with are ‘Would you like to come in?’ perhaps followed by ‘Excuse me for the mess.’ You don’t really have any manners, do you?”
“Why would I apologise for a non-existing mess?” he retorts, opening the door wider as he realises he isn’t going to get rid of the pest anyway. “Come in then, if you’re going to be a stuck up idiot you can at least do it inside.” Kyuhyun eyes him a moment longer and he swears he can see surprise in the younger one’s eyes, but then the kid walks past him, not even looking back as he speaks up again.
“You do indeed smell better than I had imagined, and I can still see the floor. That’s a nice surprise. Now if you could only show to the outside world that you haven’t died yet, that would be awesome.” he rambles in a flat tone. Hyukjae closes the door and walks over to his couch, not even bothering to see what Kyuhyun’s up to as he flops down on the soft cushions, closing his eyes the moment his head touches the armrest.
“What are you doing here, Kyuhyun-ssi?” he asks in a low voice, not up for the pleasantries and the evasive talk. In fact, he’s not up for anything coming from the younger. He still clearly remembers how it was Kyuhyun prancing around holding Donghae’s hands in the months after their break-up. And even after so many years passed, he still doesn’t want to forget about that.
“I’m here to fix Donghae.” is all the younger replies, but it’s enough to make Hyukjae look up, a frown edged into his forehead.
“Why are you here for that? Donghae’s not around here. You should go to his place.” he replies softly, even the other’s name making him feel weak inside. Or maybe it’s the lack of food and sleep. He’s not exactly sure why, but Kyuhyun smirks and crosses his arms in front of his chest. They eye each other for a while, until Kyuhyun sighs and shakes his head.
“Donghae’s heart is here.” he says then, completely shaking Hyukjae’s world, making every fibre in his body glow and resound at those words. “And you’re not really taking care of it.”
He’s pretty sure the world’s playing tricks on him, but if they amount to him finding himself locked in Donghae’s embrace he’s more than willing to play along. The heartbeat under his hand feels real, though, and he’s convinced he’s not imagining the way Donghae’s breath tickles his neck as the other exhales. He closes his eyes to savour the moment even more, before sighing deeply.
“I’m sorry.” he breathes then and Donghae nods against his shoulder. It’s nothing at all, but it’s everything as well and he feels like he could cry right then and there if Donghae wasn’t already doing that more than enough for the both of them.
Monday, 29 August 2011
[FIC] Bedtime Story
Title: Bedtime Story
Characters: Heechul, Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.802
Summary: A sleepless night calls for a bedtime story.
A/N: The first Super Junior shot I ever wrote and I keep thinking that this is probably the most accurate I have ever described Heechul or Jungsoo alike.
- - - - -
Mhm..
Three days, two nights and I still didn’t do what I was planning on doing.
It must be the laziness kicking in again.
I tell myself so often to take up the practicing again, but I never do.
I also still have to get a haircut, before the hair grows to my butt..
With a deep sigh he closed the Cyworld entry without having posted it. There was nothing useful coming out of him lately. He barely managed to keep his Cyworld updates as happy and uncaring as they used to be. Life had become so strange. Days had become long and boring and he had begun suffering from the absence of his friends. The only one affected by it more than he was, was probably his leader. Leeteuk carried the responsibility for twelve other members and now had to miss three instead of just one like he did. Luckily hosting Sukira with Eunhyuk seemed to be a little help and support and Yesug was often found at Leeteuk’s side as well. The problem was that those two lived in the other dorm and Leeteuk was alone in the evenings. Another sigh left him as he got up from his chair, thereby picking up Heebum so that the gray cat wouldn’t fall on the ground.
“Ah, Heebum-ah..” he mumbled while walking to the kitchen. “There is amazingly little to do in the evenings without him. No one wants to share a drink with me or play a game now and then. And who will be making funny comments about me now?” The cat looked up at him with two uninterested, sleepy eyes. Of course there came no response from the animal, but he didn’t care and just continued talking as he opened the fridge. “I hope this thing gets resolved quickly, because I want him to come back. We can’t even talk on the phone that often now that he’s in China.”
“Are you talking to yourself again?” an all too familiar voice asked. He turned his head and smiled. “Oh, your cat is the victim this time? That poor animal can do nothing but listen to your constant nagging. Seriously, give the pitiable thing a break once.”
“Oh, Teukie, I always love it when you compliment me like that on a cosy evening.” he replied, turning back to the fridge to look for something edible. All he found were some outdated eggs, so he closed the fridge again. “What are you doing up anyway?” he then continued, leaning against the closed fridge while looking at his friend.
“Couldn’t sleep.” was the only answer.
“You should try reading. Sleepiness guaranteed in no time.”
“Believe me, being tired is not the problem. Falling asleep is.” Leeteuk mumbled as he slowly walked towards the sink and poured himself a glass of water. His moves were slow and his face showed great signs of tiredness. There was a certain feeling about him that made Heechul want to walk up to his friend and hug him, yet the fact that he was holding a cat stopped him from doing that. Besides, he hardly ever hugged his friend, so it would only be awkward if he did it now. However, he could not leave Leeteuk to be like that.
“Teukie..” he therefore said softly. Leeteuk put down the empty glass and looked back with a questioning expression. “Want to watch some TV together?” Wonderful. Just superb. With that offer he would of course make his friend feel SO much better. His tiredness would disappear immediately and he would smile like the seven year old kid again that he secretly still was deep down inside! Not.
“Oh.. Yah.. Sure.. Why not?” Leeteuk mumbled a reply. He shuffled out of the kitchen to go sit on the couch in front of the TV. Heechul watched his friend go, but didn’t follow at first. With a little sigh he looked down at the cat again.
“Heebum-ah. Why does he have to make me feel guilty looking like that? Aish. Nothing to do about it. You’ll have to move on your own a bit.” he said to his cat, putting the animal on the ground, before walking towards the TV as well. When he sat down in the couch next to Leeteuk, there was an awkward silence. He sighed before talking again. “What are we going to watch?”
“I don’t know. What’s on?”
“I don’t know.” Great conversational skills. Really wonderful. Another sigh left him as he turned his head to look at Leeteuk. “You worry too much, Teukie. I can see it in your face. You’re starting to get wrinkles.”
“What!?” Leeteuk jumped up and moved towards the TV to check his own face in the reflection of the still black screen. Heechul couldn’t help smiling because of the gullibility of his friend. He got up as well and slowly walked towards his friend to put a hand on Leeteuk’s shoulder.
“As I said, you worry too much.” he said, smiling a little, but feeling sad inside. Leeteuk looked up at him. He suddenly looked very old and very, very tired. There was nothing left of the hyperactive image he showed when outside of the dorm. “Things will be alright. Kangin will soon be showed on air again and Kibum will return when we release our fourth album.” Heechul felt like he had to say something to cheer up his friend and leader. The reaction, on the other hand, was unexpected.
“Ah, but you didn’t mention Hangeng, did you? I worry most because of him. When he wins the lawsuit, he probably won’t return to us. That is something I fear most. I hope he wins, because the situation was really terrible, but what will we do? What will the fans do? How will it affect our group? The M-group will have lost their leader and then what? Where will it leave us, Heechul? What of the group when we have to go do our army duty? Will we still be able to be Super Junior after such a long time, or will we all break up and never sing together again?”
Heechul let it all come over him, not knowing how to respond to the outburst of his friend’s true doubts and worries. He stood there with that slightly arrogant smile still on his face, staring at Leeteuk in surprise. Thoughts of Hangeng popped up in his mind and the feeling of being lonely suddenly took hold of him. He felt his energy being drained away, yet refused to give in to depression. He had been fighting it off for a while now, he could keep on going a while longer. Life was not made to run around with a sad face. There should be no regrets. When Leeteuk seemed to want to say more, he suddenly regained control over his body and quickly took a step closer to his friend, putting a finger on his lips.
“Teukie, didn’t you hear me? You worry too much. Life is not made for worries. As my only hyung, you cannot say such things to me. Come sit with me and we’ll watch some TV.” he said, taking Leeteuk’s hand and dragging him back to the couch. He had to make a little detour to avoid the playing Heebum and Baengsin, but in the end he was able to fall down on the sofa, pulling his friend down with him. Even though he didn’t protest, Leeteuk didn’t seem to really agree either, he simply moved along without caring.
Heechul knew his friend was still thinking over all the things he had just blurted out. Without even touching the remote control, he reached out a hand and softly brushed his fingers over Leeteuk’s hair. The 9 days older guy turned to look at him. He smiled and repeated his action, slowly caressing the other one’s hair with the tips of his fingers. It probably was the most affectionate he had ever been towards his friend in the past months. Oh how he wished he had been closer to this friend so that he wouldn’t feel so awkward now.
“Shall I tell you a story?” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off his own fingers as to not have to look at the desperate expression of his friend. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “I’ll tell you a story. It’s about two brothers who went out to find a treasure..” Leeteuk slowly moved into a more comfortable position. Afraid to lose his attention, Heechul kept stroking his hair with the tips of his fingers as he invented the story while talking.
When he had just reached the point where the two brothers found a treasure map and went to look for a treasure, Leeteuk suddenly moved again, pulling his legs up on the couch and resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. When he also hugged Heechul’s arm, the latter looked down a little surprised. Upon seeing Leeteuk’s closed eyes and his more relaxed expression, however, he continued the story without making any comment. As to finish the whole picture, the lazy Heebum, who finally had enough of playing with Baengsin, jumped on the couch as well and made himself comfortable on the little left space in front of Leeteuk on the edge of the couch.
Thinking the whole situation a little weird, but not wanting to make his friend fall back into depression, Heechul simply kept on talking. As he went from finding a treasure to spending all the money and going home as poor as they had left home, he gradually felt how more and more weight was put on his shoulder. That meant Leeteuk was falling asleep and didn’t think about not discomforting his friend too much. Heechul couldn’t help smiling a little when he thought about Leeteuk’s never changing care for others. He drove it too far sometimes.
About half an hour after starting the story, Heechul suddenly stopped talking and looked down on the sleeping young man. He finally stopped stroking the dark blonde hair as well, but didn’t move away. His eyes turned from the sleeping young man to the sleeping gray cat and wandered around the room until they found the sleeping kitten as well. He made an upset sound as he looked from the kitten at the cat and back.
“Aish. Great. No one even stays up to listen to my wonderful storytelling abilities.” he huffed, running a hand through his long hair. It was really becoming long. He should get a haircut. With that thought a smile broke through on his face again and he resumed stroking Leeteuk’s hair, mumbling some more words. “Ah well, I had no idea how to end the thing anyway. At least now I don’t have to.”
Characters: Heechul, Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.802
Summary: A sleepless night calls for a bedtime story.
A/N: The first Super Junior shot I ever wrote and I keep thinking that this is probably the most accurate I have ever described Heechul or Jungsoo alike.
- - - - -
Mhm..
Three days, two nights and I still didn’t do what I was planning on doing.
It must be the laziness kicking in again.
I tell myself so often to take up the practicing again, but I never do.
I also still have to get a haircut, before the hair grows to my butt..
With a deep sigh he closed the Cyworld entry without having posted it. There was nothing useful coming out of him lately. He barely managed to keep his Cyworld updates as happy and uncaring as they used to be. Life had become so strange. Days had become long and boring and he had begun suffering from the absence of his friends. The only one affected by it more than he was, was probably his leader. Leeteuk carried the responsibility for twelve other members and now had to miss three instead of just one like he did. Luckily hosting Sukira with Eunhyuk seemed to be a little help and support and Yesug was often found at Leeteuk’s side as well. The problem was that those two lived in the other dorm and Leeteuk was alone in the evenings. Another sigh left him as he got up from his chair, thereby picking up Heebum so that the gray cat wouldn’t fall on the ground.
“Ah, Heebum-ah..” he mumbled while walking to the kitchen. “There is amazingly little to do in the evenings without him. No one wants to share a drink with me or play a game now and then. And who will be making funny comments about me now?” The cat looked up at him with two uninterested, sleepy eyes. Of course there came no response from the animal, but he didn’t care and just continued talking as he opened the fridge. “I hope this thing gets resolved quickly, because I want him to come back. We can’t even talk on the phone that often now that he’s in China.”
“Are you talking to yourself again?” an all too familiar voice asked. He turned his head and smiled. “Oh, your cat is the victim this time? That poor animal can do nothing but listen to your constant nagging. Seriously, give the pitiable thing a break once.”
“Oh, Teukie, I always love it when you compliment me like that on a cosy evening.” he replied, turning back to the fridge to look for something edible. All he found were some outdated eggs, so he closed the fridge again. “What are you doing up anyway?” he then continued, leaning against the closed fridge while looking at his friend.
“Couldn’t sleep.” was the only answer.
“You should try reading. Sleepiness guaranteed in no time.”
“Believe me, being tired is not the problem. Falling asleep is.” Leeteuk mumbled as he slowly walked towards the sink and poured himself a glass of water. His moves were slow and his face showed great signs of tiredness. There was a certain feeling about him that made Heechul want to walk up to his friend and hug him, yet the fact that he was holding a cat stopped him from doing that. Besides, he hardly ever hugged his friend, so it would only be awkward if he did it now. However, he could not leave Leeteuk to be like that.
“Teukie..” he therefore said softly. Leeteuk put down the empty glass and looked back with a questioning expression. “Want to watch some TV together?” Wonderful. Just superb. With that offer he would of course make his friend feel SO much better. His tiredness would disappear immediately and he would smile like the seven year old kid again that he secretly still was deep down inside! Not.
“Oh.. Yah.. Sure.. Why not?” Leeteuk mumbled a reply. He shuffled out of the kitchen to go sit on the couch in front of the TV. Heechul watched his friend go, but didn’t follow at first. With a little sigh he looked down at the cat again.
“Heebum-ah. Why does he have to make me feel guilty looking like that? Aish. Nothing to do about it. You’ll have to move on your own a bit.” he said to his cat, putting the animal on the ground, before walking towards the TV as well. When he sat down in the couch next to Leeteuk, there was an awkward silence. He sighed before talking again. “What are we going to watch?”
“I don’t know. What’s on?”
“I don’t know.” Great conversational skills. Really wonderful. Another sigh left him as he turned his head to look at Leeteuk. “You worry too much, Teukie. I can see it in your face. You’re starting to get wrinkles.”
“What!?” Leeteuk jumped up and moved towards the TV to check his own face in the reflection of the still black screen. Heechul couldn’t help smiling because of the gullibility of his friend. He got up as well and slowly walked towards his friend to put a hand on Leeteuk’s shoulder.
“As I said, you worry too much.” he said, smiling a little, but feeling sad inside. Leeteuk looked up at him. He suddenly looked very old and very, very tired. There was nothing left of the hyperactive image he showed when outside of the dorm. “Things will be alright. Kangin will soon be showed on air again and Kibum will return when we release our fourth album.” Heechul felt like he had to say something to cheer up his friend and leader. The reaction, on the other hand, was unexpected.
“Ah, but you didn’t mention Hangeng, did you? I worry most because of him. When he wins the lawsuit, he probably won’t return to us. That is something I fear most. I hope he wins, because the situation was really terrible, but what will we do? What will the fans do? How will it affect our group? The M-group will have lost their leader and then what? Where will it leave us, Heechul? What of the group when we have to go do our army duty? Will we still be able to be Super Junior after such a long time, or will we all break up and never sing together again?”
Heechul let it all come over him, not knowing how to respond to the outburst of his friend’s true doubts and worries. He stood there with that slightly arrogant smile still on his face, staring at Leeteuk in surprise. Thoughts of Hangeng popped up in his mind and the feeling of being lonely suddenly took hold of him. He felt his energy being drained away, yet refused to give in to depression. He had been fighting it off for a while now, he could keep on going a while longer. Life was not made to run around with a sad face. There should be no regrets. When Leeteuk seemed to want to say more, he suddenly regained control over his body and quickly took a step closer to his friend, putting a finger on his lips.
“Teukie, didn’t you hear me? You worry too much. Life is not made for worries. As my only hyung, you cannot say such things to me. Come sit with me and we’ll watch some TV.” he said, taking Leeteuk’s hand and dragging him back to the couch. He had to make a little detour to avoid the playing Heebum and Baengsin, but in the end he was able to fall down on the sofa, pulling his friend down with him. Even though he didn’t protest, Leeteuk didn’t seem to really agree either, he simply moved along without caring.
Heechul knew his friend was still thinking over all the things he had just blurted out. Without even touching the remote control, he reached out a hand and softly brushed his fingers over Leeteuk’s hair. The 9 days older guy turned to look at him. He smiled and repeated his action, slowly caressing the other one’s hair with the tips of his fingers. It probably was the most affectionate he had ever been towards his friend in the past months. Oh how he wished he had been closer to this friend so that he wouldn’t feel so awkward now.
“Shall I tell you a story?” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off his own fingers as to not have to look at the desperate expression of his friend. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “I’ll tell you a story. It’s about two brothers who went out to find a treasure..” Leeteuk slowly moved into a more comfortable position. Afraid to lose his attention, Heechul kept stroking his hair with the tips of his fingers as he invented the story while talking.
When he had just reached the point where the two brothers found a treasure map and went to look for a treasure, Leeteuk suddenly moved again, pulling his legs up on the couch and resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. When he also hugged Heechul’s arm, the latter looked down a little surprised. Upon seeing Leeteuk’s closed eyes and his more relaxed expression, however, he continued the story without making any comment. As to finish the whole picture, the lazy Heebum, who finally had enough of playing with Baengsin, jumped on the couch as well and made himself comfortable on the little left space in front of Leeteuk on the edge of the couch.
Thinking the whole situation a little weird, but not wanting to make his friend fall back into depression, Heechul simply kept on talking. As he went from finding a treasure to spending all the money and going home as poor as they had left home, he gradually felt how more and more weight was put on his shoulder. That meant Leeteuk was falling asleep and didn’t think about not discomforting his friend too much. Heechul couldn’t help smiling a little when he thought about Leeteuk’s never changing care for others. He drove it too far sometimes.
About half an hour after starting the story, Heechul suddenly stopped talking and looked down on the sleeping young man. He finally stopped stroking the dark blonde hair as well, but didn’t move away. His eyes turned from the sleeping young man to the sleeping gray cat and wandered around the room until they found the sleeping kitten as well. He made an upset sound as he looked from the kitten at the cat and back.
“Aish. Great. No one even stays up to listen to my wonderful storytelling abilities.” he huffed, running a hand through his long hair. It was really becoming long. He should get a haircut. With that thought a smile broke through on his face again and he resumed stroking Leeteuk’s hair, mumbling some more words. “Ah well, I had no idea how to end the thing anyway. At least now I don’t have to.”
Fic Challenge - 059; Calendar [18/100]
Title: Calendar
Characters: Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.256
Summary: He lives his life by the names and dates that are written on his Calendar.
A/N: Well.. I really have no explanation for this. Perhaps it has a deep meaning, perhaps it does not. Perhaps it is a sad story, perhaps it is not. All in all, this story talks about friendship and depending on your friends to get through the day. This story talks about wrongs, rights, colour codes and obnoxious glitter. This story talks about the insanity that is my mind.
- - - - -
He doesn’t count with months, like normal people do. He counts with names, dates, drawings. He counts the days until the next name, the next event, the next big thing. There’s empty slots that he fills up with memories or future plans, but in the end it still all comes down to those names.
The year starts with Sungmin, scribbled over the line in hasty stripes and circles, a distant memory of the only time he ever let Hyukjae write something for him. It’s tiny, nothing more than a scribble, and he remembers all too well the first few months when he had to repeatedly ask the lanky younger what he had written there again. But Sungmin is pretty much the only one at the start of the year, so it didn’t take too long to know it was him.
Next up comes Kangin. A bunch of roughly drawn lines that are too big for the little square of the seventeenth. There’s not much to say about this date, because everything will be said on the day itself. Kangin is like that; straightforward. He vaguely remembered a very enthusiastic trainee grabbing a pen and drawling his name all over square seventeen of the first month, just because ‘He thought it’d look pretty there. And also a little because hyung had to buy him something good.’
A big paragraph is the next one; a long week of names, words and numbers. Kyuhyun reminding him that Valentine is not his birthday - far from it even - and Heechul taking up half the month just to write Hankyung on the ninth on one of his drunken evenings. Siwon’s name is scribbled somewhere next to it, a pencil arrow to the tenth of the month, another pencil arrow pointing out of the paper. The kid’s two birthdays have always been confusing. Half of his friends claim it should be in February, the other half claim it should not be. He merely wishes Siwon a happy birthday on both dates to keep everyone happy.
It’s empty for a while then, a whole month even, but luckily it’s not silent. Usually Kyuhyun nags at him that his computer is getting old, even though he just got a new one on his birthday, and Kangin mutters annoyed lines that mostly come down to ‘Hyung, you need to live, get out more often. You’re so boring!’ Not that he pays much attention to it, but it does keep him from thinking of other things too much.
April’s a busy month again. Well it shouldn’t be, but Heechul’s one of those people who thinks Siwon’s birthday is better in April, so once again half the month is taken by the diva’s huge writing – he even suspects the use of glitter pens for the name – and the second part of the arrow that left the month February before. But Sungmin was there first, having jotted down Hyukjae’s name on the fourth as a thank you for his celebratory loner position at the start of the year. A while later Zhou Mi came and someone wrote the few Korean signs beneath Siwon’s glittery name, a modest little arrow signing it should be on the nineteenth, which was totally covered in glitter.
He’s more fond of May than of March, because at least May has nice weather, mother’s day sometimes, and a select few drops of happy to keep his world going round. May also brings new TV programs, time to think over new career travels and a distinct sense of belonging. May gives hope and smiles, Ryeowook’s compositions and Yesung’s singing in the shower. May grows flowers, brings up young animals and nurtures love. May is beautiful.
And then comes June, which is Ryeowook’s month. Literally, as every single member of the band has taken their time to draw something around Ryeowook’s name. There’s animals, music instruments, a series of things that may or may not connect to the boy, but everyone agrees it’s a pretty work of art. They’re proud of themselves for what they have made together. He’s proud of them too, for more reasons than just the Calendar art.
July is noisy, as much as text can be noisy. Heechul didn’t stick to a little glitter, no, the whole page is glitter. For as far as it’s not pink. His own name lies forgotten somewhere under the upper left leg of the H in Heechul’s name, but he’s fine with that. Heechul’s birthday is the highlight of the year, usually. Because Heechul doesn’t let his birthday pass just like that. Heechul wants gifts and fun and alcohol. Heechul demands for people to have fun, not just on his birthday, but the whole month long, and somehow he doesn’t find it hard to agree to fun.
He realises every year again how the second eldest has pretty much monopolised his calendar when August comes. As if Hankyung, Siwon and Heechul aren’t written obnoxiously enough already, it seems as if the diva has made it his life goal to make sure Kibum’s birthday would never be forgotten. Big, small and rectangular arrows in every colour of the rainbow – from red to violet – are pointing at the modestly written name to make sure it gets noticed. Yesung’s name almost disappears in the group of arrows, but luckily Kibum was kind enough to write his hyung’s name in black marker, so it could never be hidden. Not that he would forget either birthday; they’re both too precious to him for that anyway.
Shindong comes in September, finally a name that he wrote on his calendar himself. The always down-to-earth boy with a sense of humour that could make him smile and even laugh at any moment. He wrote the name there because he ruefully had to admit that sometimes he did forget that date, if only because it just was an unexpected one. But now he doesn’t anymore. He knows perfectly well when it’s the happy kid’s birthday and he makes sure to have something ready; a gift, a greeting, anything. Shindong takes everything with a smile. Shindong makes him smile.
The little one comes in October, the shaky, maknae-written Korean that spells out something that probably should be Henry but now really says ‘Heogli.’ He never had the heart to change it, because the youngest had looked so proud when he wrote it - his first Korean word. A few days later it all ends with Donghae, two signs that signal the end of his year and the start of the toughest period. But Donghae’s birthday is emotional, because the kid always cries at first and then Hyukjae and Kibum make him laugh again. Maybe Shindong is in it too for a small part. Maybe Donghae just has mood swings.
He’s a little scared of what comes after Donghae. Scared of the three empty papers that are completely blank. Sure, he’s got other calendars filled with names; family, friends, distant acquaintances, but to him the last three months of the year are blank. They are hard times, cold winters, sleepless nights. He hates them and yet needs them, for he isn’t able to smile every single year like Shindong can.
But at least he knows that when December comes to an end, there will be hasty scribbles waiting for him when he turns the page. He always turns the page, and makes it a new beginning. Another year of names and dates. Another year of smiles and fun and obnoxious glitter. Another year lived by his calendar.
Characters: Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.256
Summary: He lives his life by the names and dates that are written on his Calendar.
A/N: Well.. I really have no explanation for this. Perhaps it has a deep meaning, perhaps it does not. Perhaps it is a sad story, perhaps it is not. All in all, this story talks about friendship and depending on your friends to get through the day. This story talks about wrongs, rights, colour codes and obnoxious glitter. This story talks about the insanity that is my mind.
- - - - -
He doesn’t count with months, like normal people do. He counts with names, dates, drawings. He counts the days until the next name, the next event, the next big thing. There’s empty slots that he fills up with memories or future plans, but in the end it still all comes down to those names.
The year starts with Sungmin, scribbled over the line in hasty stripes and circles, a distant memory of the only time he ever let Hyukjae write something for him. It’s tiny, nothing more than a scribble, and he remembers all too well the first few months when he had to repeatedly ask the lanky younger what he had written there again. But Sungmin is pretty much the only one at the start of the year, so it didn’t take too long to know it was him.
Next up comes Kangin. A bunch of roughly drawn lines that are too big for the little square of the seventeenth. There’s not much to say about this date, because everything will be said on the day itself. Kangin is like that; straightforward. He vaguely remembered a very enthusiastic trainee grabbing a pen and drawling his name all over square seventeen of the first month, just because ‘He thought it’d look pretty there. And also a little because hyung had to buy him something good.’
A big paragraph is the next one; a long week of names, words and numbers. Kyuhyun reminding him that Valentine is not his birthday - far from it even - and Heechul taking up half the month just to write Hankyung on the ninth on one of his drunken evenings. Siwon’s name is scribbled somewhere next to it, a pencil arrow to the tenth of the month, another pencil arrow pointing out of the paper. The kid’s two birthdays have always been confusing. Half of his friends claim it should be in February, the other half claim it should not be. He merely wishes Siwon a happy birthday on both dates to keep everyone happy.
It’s empty for a while then, a whole month even, but luckily it’s not silent. Usually Kyuhyun nags at him that his computer is getting old, even though he just got a new one on his birthday, and Kangin mutters annoyed lines that mostly come down to ‘Hyung, you need to live, get out more often. You’re so boring!’ Not that he pays much attention to it, but it does keep him from thinking of other things too much.
April’s a busy month again. Well it shouldn’t be, but Heechul’s one of those people who thinks Siwon’s birthday is better in April, so once again half the month is taken by the diva’s huge writing – he even suspects the use of glitter pens for the name – and the second part of the arrow that left the month February before. But Sungmin was there first, having jotted down Hyukjae’s name on the fourth as a thank you for his celebratory loner position at the start of the year. A while later Zhou Mi came and someone wrote the few Korean signs beneath Siwon’s glittery name, a modest little arrow signing it should be on the nineteenth, which was totally covered in glitter.
He’s more fond of May than of March, because at least May has nice weather, mother’s day sometimes, and a select few drops of happy to keep his world going round. May also brings new TV programs, time to think over new career travels and a distinct sense of belonging. May gives hope and smiles, Ryeowook’s compositions and Yesung’s singing in the shower. May grows flowers, brings up young animals and nurtures love. May is beautiful.
And then comes June, which is Ryeowook’s month. Literally, as every single member of the band has taken their time to draw something around Ryeowook’s name. There’s animals, music instruments, a series of things that may or may not connect to the boy, but everyone agrees it’s a pretty work of art. They’re proud of themselves for what they have made together. He’s proud of them too, for more reasons than just the Calendar art.
July is noisy, as much as text can be noisy. Heechul didn’t stick to a little glitter, no, the whole page is glitter. For as far as it’s not pink. His own name lies forgotten somewhere under the upper left leg of the H in Heechul’s name, but he’s fine with that. Heechul’s birthday is the highlight of the year, usually. Because Heechul doesn’t let his birthday pass just like that. Heechul wants gifts and fun and alcohol. Heechul demands for people to have fun, not just on his birthday, but the whole month long, and somehow he doesn’t find it hard to agree to fun.
He realises every year again how the second eldest has pretty much monopolised his calendar when August comes. As if Hankyung, Siwon and Heechul aren’t written obnoxiously enough already, it seems as if the diva has made it his life goal to make sure Kibum’s birthday would never be forgotten. Big, small and rectangular arrows in every colour of the rainbow – from red to violet – are pointing at the modestly written name to make sure it gets noticed. Yesung’s name almost disappears in the group of arrows, but luckily Kibum was kind enough to write his hyung’s name in black marker, so it could never be hidden. Not that he would forget either birthday; they’re both too precious to him for that anyway.
Shindong comes in September, finally a name that he wrote on his calendar himself. The always down-to-earth boy with a sense of humour that could make him smile and even laugh at any moment. He wrote the name there because he ruefully had to admit that sometimes he did forget that date, if only because it just was an unexpected one. But now he doesn’t anymore. He knows perfectly well when it’s the happy kid’s birthday and he makes sure to have something ready; a gift, a greeting, anything. Shindong takes everything with a smile. Shindong makes him smile.
The little one comes in October, the shaky, maknae-written Korean that spells out something that probably should be Henry but now really says ‘Heogli.’ He never had the heart to change it, because the youngest had looked so proud when he wrote it - his first Korean word. A few days later it all ends with Donghae, two signs that signal the end of his year and the start of the toughest period. But Donghae’s birthday is emotional, because the kid always cries at first and then Hyukjae and Kibum make him laugh again. Maybe Shindong is in it too for a small part. Maybe Donghae just has mood swings.
He’s a little scared of what comes after Donghae. Scared of the three empty papers that are completely blank. Sure, he’s got other calendars filled with names; family, friends, distant acquaintances, but to him the last three months of the year are blank. They are hard times, cold winters, sleepless nights. He hates them and yet needs them, for he isn’t able to smile every single year like Shindong can.
But at least he knows that when December comes to an end, there will be hasty scribbles waiting for him when he turns the page. He always turns the page, and makes it a new beginning. Another year of names and dates. Another year of smiles and fun and obnoxious glitter. Another year lived by his calendar.
[FIC] Playground
Title: Playground
Characters: Heechul, Leeteuk
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 707
Summary: If life were a playground, things might have been different.
A/N: Ahh.. The last one.. This one has a flashback/retelling of the past in there. It should be noticeable, but just saying it again so you don't get confused. ^.^ I like this one. <3 It seems I enjoy writing Leechul/Heeteuk. ^.^
- - - - -
“If you and I had met on the playground.” Leeteuk had said, making Heechul look up in surprise at the interruption of the silence. “I would have been the shy kid and you would have been the bully stealing my lunch money, right?” The image had made Heechul laugh, before nodding a bit in agreement. There had been more silence and Heechul had gone back to texting until the other had broken the silence again. “Then why do you listen to me now?” Heechul had looked up again and, seeing the utter loss in his friend’s eyes, had frowned.
“What kind of question is that?” he had asked with a little laugh, putting down his phone to concentrate on the conversation. “Why did you come up with something silly as that? I listen to you because you are my leader and you know best what’s right and wrong. I listen to you because I trust you and believe that you are worthy to be listened to. I listen to you because at a certain point in time I decided and promised to do so, so now I do.”
And now here he is, arms wrapped around Leeteuk’s body, head resting against the elder’s and the realisation that life isn’t always fair. Leeteuk’s even breathing reveals the fact that he is asleep and Heechul guesses that’s probably the first time in weeks that the elder is getting some undisturbed rest. He sighs and starts to gently rub his friend’s back in a mindless way of keeping his hands occupied. He smiles when Leeteuk scoots closer in his sleep and chuckles when he feels the arms around his waist tighten their grip. Then he remembers that his hyung wasn’t so calm earlier and his smile fades away.
“How did we become like this, Hee?” Leeteuk had whispered, as his eyes had darted away from the other to stare at the walls, the ceiling, the ground, merely anything but his friend. Heechul had sighed, gotten up and gone to sit on the couch next to Leeteuk. He had wrapped his arms around Leeteuk’s body, and had pulled the elder towards himself, muzzling his cheek against Leeteuk’s. He had enjoyed the cosy closeness for a while, feeling more like he was holding his good old friend Jungsoo than his band leader Leeteuk.
“We did not become like anything, Jung.” he had therefore replied, using a nickname that was long forgotten in the trail of stage names, heavy concerts and busy schedules. “We were always like this, we just changed environments.” There had been silence following his words. Leeteuk’s chest had risen and fallen with his soft breathing, but after a while the breaths had come more slowly and more forced, and when a soft drop of moisture wet his cheek, Heechul had realised that the other was crying.
There had been no hesitation in him, no ‘Should I?’s and ‘Oh God..’s, only a set feeling to hold and cradle and comfort. He had smiled softly because of that, yet at the same time had stroked Leeteuk’s back in a calming gesture. He had pressed a soft kiss on Leeteuk’s hair, had wiped the tears away, had pulled a tissue out of the box on the living room table not far from them and had cleaned his friend’s face. Throughout all that he had kept on mumbling cheesy nonsense to the elder, trying to calm him down like that.
In the end the tears had stopped running and Leeteuk had grabbed another tissue himself to blow his nose. Before Heechul had been able to put some distance in between them, however, Leeteuk had simply wrapped his arms around Heechul’s waist again and had rested his head against the other one’s chest, looking more like a little kid than a famous leader of a thirteen people band, and Heechul had smiled and held and above all loved until the other one had finally fallen asleep, more relaxed than he had looked in months.
“If you and I had met on the playground.” Heechul murmurs, running his finger through the blonde hair of his only hyung. “You would have been the shy, generous kid and I would have been the bully secretly looking up to you.”
Characters: Heechul, Leeteuk
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 707
Summary: If life were a playground, things might have been different.
A/N: Ahh.. The last one.. This one has a flashback/retelling of the past in there. It should be noticeable, but just saying it again so you don't get confused. ^.^ I like this one. <3 It seems I enjoy writing Leechul/Heeteuk. ^.^
- - - - -
“If you and I had met on the playground.” Leeteuk had said, making Heechul look up in surprise at the interruption of the silence. “I would have been the shy kid and you would have been the bully stealing my lunch money, right?” The image had made Heechul laugh, before nodding a bit in agreement. There had been more silence and Heechul had gone back to texting until the other had broken the silence again. “Then why do you listen to me now?” Heechul had looked up again and, seeing the utter loss in his friend’s eyes, had frowned.
“What kind of question is that?” he had asked with a little laugh, putting down his phone to concentrate on the conversation. “Why did you come up with something silly as that? I listen to you because you are my leader and you know best what’s right and wrong. I listen to you because I trust you and believe that you are worthy to be listened to. I listen to you because at a certain point in time I decided and promised to do so, so now I do.”
And now here he is, arms wrapped around Leeteuk’s body, head resting against the elder’s and the realisation that life isn’t always fair. Leeteuk’s even breathing reveals the fact that he is asleep and Heechul guesses that’s probably the first time in weeks that the elder is getting some undisturbed rest. He sighs and starts to gently rub his friend’s back in a mindless way of keeping his hands occupied. He smiles when Leeteuk scoots closer in his sleep and chuckles when he feels the arms around his waist tighten their grip. Then he remembers that his hyung wasn’t so calm earlier and his smile fades away.
“How did we become like this, Hee?” Leeteuk had whispered, as his eyes had darted away from the other to stare at the walls, the ceiling, the ground, merely anything but his friend. Heechul had sighed, gotten up and gone to sit on the couch next to Leeteuk. He had wrapped his arms around Leeteuk’s body, and had pulled the elder towards himself, muzzling his cheek against Leeteuk’s. He had enjoyed the cosy closeness for a while, feeling more like he was holding his good old friend Jungsoo than his band leader Leeteuk.
“We did not become like anything, Jung.” he had therefore replied, using a nickname that was long forgotten in the trail of stage names, heavy concerts and busy schedules. “We were always like this, we just changed environments.” There had been silence following his words. Leeteuk’s chest had risen and fallen with his soft breathing, but after a while the breaths had come more slowly and more forced, and when a soft drop of moisture wet his cheek, Heechul had realised that the other was crying.
There had been no hesitation in him, no ‘Should I?’s and ‘Oh God..’s, only a set feeling to hold and cradle and comfort. He had smiled softly because of that, yet at the same time had stroked Leeteuk’s back in a calming gesture. He had pressed a soft kiss on Leeteuk’s hair, had wiped the tears away, had pulled a tissue out of the box on the living room table not far from them and had cleaned his friend’s face. Throughout all that he had kept on mumbling cheesy nonsense to the elder, trying to calm him down like that.
In the end the tears had stopped running and Leeteuk had grabbed another tissue himself to blow his nose. Before Heechul had been able to put some distance in between them, however, Leeteuk had simply wrapped his arms around Heechul’s waist again and had rested his head against the other one’s chest, looking more like a little kid than a famous leader of a thirteen people band, and Heechul had smiled and held and above all loved until the other one had finally fallen asleep, more relaxed than he had looked in months.
“If you and I had met on the playground.” Heechul murmurs, running his finger through the blonde hair of his only hyung. “You would have been the shy, generous kid and I would have been the bully secretly looking up to you.”
[FIC] Bubblegum
Title: Bubblegum
Characters: Yesung, Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 465
Summary: The way his hyung seems more tired every day bothers him.
A/N: Written for the one who gave me this challenge; my dear Meimei.
- - - - -
There was a lot he could have done, but he didn’t. There was a lot he could have said, but he hadn’t. There was a lot he could have given, but he didn’t. Instead he had been the calm observer, watching without meddling in. He spent lots of his time thinking about how everything had gone, but he never tried to fix it or change it. Yet it had come to a point where he couldn’t keep silent anymore.
The leader had been suffering because of all the problems in the band, Kibum taking a break to do more acting, then Youngwoon having the accident and now finally Hangeng bringing up the lawsuit. Throughout that all, Jungsoo had fought to keep the rest of the band together, and it hadn’t been easy, considering the fact that Heechul had basically isolated himself from the others. With all those worries and troubles, Jungsoo had lost a lot of sleep and Jongwoon couldn’t take it anymore. He was going to make the elder guy sleep, even if he had to push him down on the bed and hold him there by force.
Now Jongwoon wasn’t shy or anti-social, no, he normally didn’t have a single problem with others, but when it came to the leader, he always felt a little uncomfortable. There was so much friendliness and openness radiating from Jungsoo that he often didn’t know how to respond to it, and it was even harder to try and force the leader to do something, when he had never forced anyone to do anything. At times Jongwoon would just ignore the weird feeling and hug his friend, but there were other times when he couldn’t.
That day was one of those times.
“Yesung-ah.. Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Jungsoo asked when he opened the door and took one step inside. Jongwoon could only stare, taking in the scene of his leader sitting on the bed with a laptop in front of him on which he was probably researching something for Teukigayo. It was rather late to still be doing that, but Jongwoon knew that Jungsoo had had no time during the days.
“Do you need anything?” Jungsoo asked again when there came no response, but still there were no words coming out of Jongwoon. He put his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to say, but suddenly felt something, and before he knew it, his mouth had already spoken the words.
“Want some bubblegum, hyung?” He held up the package, earning a weird look from Jungsoo.
“No, thank you, it’s late.” the eldest then said. “Are you sure you’re alright, Yesung-ah?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfectly fine..” he mumbled in reply and with those words, he hurried back out of the room.
Better luck next time.
Characters: Yesung, Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 465
Summary: The way his hyung seems more tired every day bothers him.
A/N: Written for the one who gave me this challenge; my dear Meimei.
- - - - -
There was a lot he could have done, but he didn’t. There was a lot he could have said, but he hadn’t. There was a lot he could have given, but he didn’t. Instead he had been the calm observer, watching without meddling in. He spent lots of his time thinking about how everything had gone, but he never tried to fix it or change it. Yet it had come to a point where he couldn’t keep silent anymore.
The leader had been suffering because of all the problems in the band, Kibum taking a break to do more acting, then Youngwoon having the accident and now finally Hangeng bringing up the lawsuit. Throughout that all, Jungsoo had fought to keep the rest of the band together, and it hadn’t been easy, considering the fact that Heechul had basically isolated himself from the others. With all those worries and troubles, Jungsoo had lost a lot of sleep and Jongwoon couldn’t take it anymore. He was going to make the elder guy sleep, even if he had to push him down on the bed and hold him there by force.
Now Jongwoon wasn’t shy or anti-social, no, he normally didn’t have a single problem with others, but when it came to the leader, he always felt a little uncomfortable. There was so much friendliness and openness radiating from Jungsoo that he often didn’t know how to respond to it, and it was even harder to try and force the leader to do something, when he had never forced anyone to do anything. At times Jongwoon would just ignore the weird feeling and hug his friend, but there were other times when he couldn’t.
That day was one of those times.
“Yesung-ah.. Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Jungsoo asked when he opened the door and took one step inside. Jongwoon could only stare, taking in the scene of his leader sitting on the bed with a laptop in front of him on which he was probably researching something for Teukigayo. It was rather late to still be doing that, but Jongwoon knew that Jungsoo had had no time during the days.
“Do you need anything?” Jungsoo asked again when there came no response, but still there were no words coming out of Jongwoon. He put his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to say, but suddenly felt something, and before he knew it, his mouth had already spoken the words.
“Want some bubblegum, hyung?” He held up the package, earning a weird look from Jungsoo.
“No, thank you, it’s late.” the eldest then said. “Are you sure you’re alright, Yesung-ah?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfectly fine..” he mumbled in reply and with those words, he hurried back out of the room.
Better luck next time.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
[FIC] Falling Slowly
Title: Falling Slowly
Characters: Sungmin, Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.373
Summary: Sungmin doesn't know Leeteuk, but he tries anyway.
A/N: I had Sungmin's version of Falling Slowly stuck in my head for like a WHOLE WEEK. So I had no other choice but to make a little one-shot for it. Yet when I started to write, the storyline went in a whole other direction, but because for me this story is still connected to hours of listening Sungmin sing Falling Slowly. xD If this fic therefore seems to have no connection at all with the title or the song, that's normal. I just had to keep it connected to one another to make it work out for myself. ^^ Enjoy reading and please do comment. ^^
- - - - -
I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that
Words fall through me, always fool me, and I can't react
And games that never amount to more than they're meant will play themselves out
Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice, you've made it now
Falling slowly, sing your melody, I'll sing along
They say we look like best friends, act like best friends, sound like best friends. But what we are in real might just as well be the exact opposite of best friends. Strangers sounds like a nice way to sum it all up. I have worked together with him for quite a lot of years now, but he’s still like a stranger to me. With everything he does, he gives his own reasons to it. Every step he takes has been well thought-out and reconsidered at least five times before he does it. He smiles when it is appropriate to smile, talks when it is needed to talk and stays unnoticed when he doesn’t want to steal the spotlight. Every move he makes is carefully planned into his way of living and everything he does completely makes sense. Why he does things is crystal clear to me. I know his personality like I know my back pocket and I can tell what he will do before he does it. Yet what goes on inside his mind will probably forever remain a mystery to me.
He sometimes comes up to me, telling me that he has something to say to me. I then listen how he talks for ages. He seems to never stop talking once he started. One word after the other comes out of his mouth. Put together they form stories about things that happened to him in his day, but they never reveal anything. He tells his stories like they’re a news reportage, never adding any bit of personal feeling in them.
What he feels, he keeps to himself, unwilling to let others know about it. It leaves me speechless. There are so many things happening to him, yet he never talks to anyone about it. It makes me wonder if he doesn’t need us or if he simply doesn’t want to bother us with what goes on in his head. I worry for him, yet find myself without words whenever I want to ask him about it. It feels like there is something inside me that tells me not to ask him, because I won’t like the answer. So I remain curious, I keep doubting and wondering, but I never get an answer to my wordless questions.
Yet lately it has become a problem. He is depressed. It’s obvious. He doesn’t talk to anyone about it, but his whole being and everything he does simply screams out ‘depression.’ I don’t know what to make of it. I wonder if I should go up to him this time and ask him about it, or if I should just leave it. One way or another he always solves his own problems. Only this time it seems to take much longer than it should do. He has been like this for a few weeks already.
Being depressed over little things, watching romantic movies and crying along with them. He’s really not in the right state of mind to be releasing a fourth album, that’s for sure. Just like now. He has finished watching one of those movies again and he must be wasting his tenth box of tissues this week. I glance at him over the top of my book. He looks really pitiful, like I could break him with the smallest movement ever. Yet I still doubt if I should go up to him or not. In the end, there are enough others around he might be closer to. As I quickly glance around the room, I let out a little sigh. Or not..
In the end, I make my decision and get up, putting the book down on the couch where I just sat. I calmly walk up to him, pulling the tissue out of his hand and leaning towards him. He gives me a surprised look, his face not two centimetres away from mine. I shake my head as I brush the box of tissues aside and sit down next to him.
“Ok, so now you’re going to tell me what’s wrong with you or you’re going to stop acting like a depressed person.” My words seem to surprise him even more than my actions did, and he only stares at me, without responding. “Hyung, I don’t have all day. My book is really interesting, so please do start speaking quickly.”
He closes his mouth, swallows and then just continues staring. I sigh. Alright, so he doesn’t feel like talking. Fine. At least no one can say I didn’t try now. I start to get up again, but he suddenly grabs my hand and pulls me back, making me lose my balance. As I land back on the couch, I find myself lying more on him than on the couch itself. With a little chuckle, I decide this position is fine as well, so I look up at him from his lap.
“I’ll stop acting like a depressed person.” he says, looking down on me with one of those weird stares of his. “But please stay with me for a little while.” I smile up at him.
“Whatever you say, hyung.”
I lie there in silence for a bit, just looking at the ceiling, while he keeps observing me. In the end, curiosity wins over patience and I lock eyes with him again. It seems to surprise him, as he quickly glances away. Another smile pulls up the corners of my mouth.
“Ah, hyung.. What are you being all ashamed about? You never used to be like this.” I happily poke his chin with my finger, only to follow his jaw line up to his cheek afterwards. A little smile breaks through on his face as he turns his head to catch my finger with his lips. I pull it away just in time to avoid that contact and playfully push his nose, chuckling a little again. “You’re too slow, hyung. Are you getting old?” He chuckles as well.
“Or maybe you’re too fast, Minnie. Have you been practicing?” he replies. I get up a little to be able to give him a so called ‘angry’ look. He only laughs, making me smile again as well. “How are you lying here anyway? You look like you’re my girlfriend.”
“Ah, but you pulled me down like this!” I protest. Yet I immediately change my strategy and wrap my arms around his middle. As I look up at him with the cutest look I can manage, I add with a very high-pitched voice: “Would you mind it that much, Leeteuk oppa?”
He stares at me in surprise for a few seconds, before trying to pull free from my grip. Since that doesn’t work, he pushes me on to the ground, but I simply pull him along with me, not wanting to let him get away that easily.
As we fall down on the carpet and roll over once, I still don’t let go of his middle. We end up being stopped by the small table and just remain lying there for a moment in silence. Then I can suddenly hear him laughing softly. His laugh makes me chuckle as well and soon we’re both laughing together. I snuggle closer to him and press my cheek against his chest. After a moment, I can feel his arms around me as well, making me smile.
“I think I would, Minnie, because it would not be nice for the other members that my girlfriend is prettier than any of theirs.” he replies jokingly to my earlier question. I can still hear the smile in his words, but it is what he says itself that makes me chuckle this time. With a satisfied feeling, I take note of my successful attempt of cheering up my hyung. Just in time, for we were running out of tissues.
Characters: Sungmin, Leeteuk
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.373
Summary: Sungmin doesn't know Leeteuk, but he tries anyway.
A/N: I had Sungmin's version of Falling Slowly stuck in my head for like a WHOLE WEEK. So I had no other choice but to make a little one-shot for it. Yet when I started to write, the storyline went in a whole other direction, but because for me this story is still connected to hours of listening Sungmin sing Falling Slowly. xD If this fic therefore seems to have no connection at all with the title or the song, that's normal. I just had to keep it connected to one another to make it work out for myself. ^^ Enjoy reading and please do comment. ^^
- - - - -
I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that
Words fall through me, always fool me, and I can't react
And games that never amount to more than they're meant will play themselves out
Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice, you've made it now
Falling slowly, sing your melody, I'll sing along
They say we look like best friends, act like best friends, sound like best friends. But what we are in real might just as well be the exact opposite of best friends. Strangers sounds like a nice way to sum it all up. I have worked together with him for quite a lot of years now, but he’s still like a stranger to me. With everything he does, he gives his own reasons to it. Every step he takes has been well thought-out and reconsidered at least five times before he does it. He smiles when it is appropriate to smile, talks when it is needed to talk and stays unnoticed when he doesn’t want to steal the spotlight. Every move he makes is carefully planned into his way of living and everything he does completely makes sense. Why he does things is crystal clear to me. I know his personality like I know my back pocket and I can tell what he will do before he does it. Yet what goes on inside his mind will probably forever remain a mystery to me.
He sometimes comes up to me, telling me that he has something to say to me. I then listen how he talks for ages. He seems to never stop talking once he started. One word after the other comes out of his mouth. Put together they form stories about things that happened to him in his day, but they never reveal anything. He tells his stories like they’re a news reportage, never adding any bit of personal feeling in them.
What he feels, he keeps to himself, unwilling to let others know about it. It leaves me speechless. There are so many things happening to him, yet he never talks to anyone about it. It makes me wonder if he doesn’t need us or if he simply doesn’t want to bother us with what goes on in his head. I worry for him, yet find myself without words whenever I want to ask him about it. It feels like there is something inside me that tells me not to ask him, because I won’t like the answer. So I remain curious, I keep doubting and wondering, but I never get an answer to my wordless questions.
Yet lately it has become a problem. He is depressed. It’s obvious. He doesn’t talk to anyone about it, but his whole being and everything he does simply screams out ‘depression.’ I don’t know what to make of it. I wonder if I should go up to him this time and ask him about it, or if I should just leave it. One way or another he always solves his own problems. Only this time it seems to take much longer than it should do. He has been like this for a few weeks already.
Being depressed over little things, watching romantic movies and crying along with them. He’s really not in the right state of mind to be releasing a fourth album, that’s for sure. Just like now. He has finished watching one of those movies again and he must be wasting his tenth box of tissues this week. I glance at him over the top of my book. He looks really pitiful, like I could break him with the smallest movement ever. Yet I still doubt if I should go up to him or not. In the end, there are enough others around he might be closer to. As I quickly glance around the room, I let out a little sigh. Or not..
In the end, I make my decision and get up, putting the book down on the couch where I just sat. I calmly walk up to him, pulling the tissue out of his hand and leaning towards him. He gives me a surprised look, his face not two centimetres away from mine. I shake my head as I brush the box of tissues aside and sit down next to him.
“Ok, so now you’re going to tell me what’s wrong with you or you’re going to stop acting like a depressed person.” My words seem to surprise him even more than my actions did, and he only stares at me, without responding. “Hyung, I don’t have all day. My book is really interesting, so please do start speaking quickly.”
He closes his mouth, swallows and then just continues staring. I sigh. Alright, so he doesn’t feel like talking. Fine. At least no one can say I didn’t try now. I start to get up again, but he suddenly grabs my hand and pulls me back, making me lose my balance. As I land back on the couch, I find myself lying more on him than on the couch itself. With a little chuckle, I decide this position is fine as well, so I look up at him from his lap.
“I’ll stop acting like a depressed person.” he says, looking down on me with one of those weird stares of his. “But please stay with me for a little while.” I smile up at him.
“Whatever you say, hyung.”
I lie there in silence for a bit, just looking at the ceiling, while he keeps observing me. In the end, curiosity wins over patience and I lock eyes with him again. It seems to surprise him, as he quickly glances away. Another smile pulls up the corners of my mouth.
“Ah, hyung.. What are you being all ashamed about? You never used to be like this.” I happily poke his chin with my finger, only to follow his jaw line up to his cheek afterwards. A little smile breaks through on his face as he turns his head to catch my finger with his lips. I pull it away just in time to avoid that contact and playfully push his nose, chuckling a little again. “You’re too slow, hyung. Are you getting old?” He chuckles as well.
“Or maybe you’re too fast, Minnie. Have you been practicing?” he replies. I get up a little to be able to give him a so called ‘angry’ look. He only laughs, making me smile again as well. “How are you lying here anyway? You look like you’re my girlfriend.”
“Ah, but you pulled me down like this!” I protest. Yet I immediately change my strategy and wrap my arms around his middle. As I look up at him with the cutest look I can manage, I add with a very high-pitched voice: “Would you mind it that much, Leeteuk oppa?”
He stares at me in surprise for a few seconds, before trying to pull free from my grip. Since that doesn’t work, he pushes me on to the ground, but I simply pull him along with me, not wanting to let him get away that easily.
As we fall down on the carpet and roll over once, I still don’t let go of his middle. We end up being stopped by the small table and just remain lying there for a moment in silence. Then I can suddenly hear him laughing softly. His laugh makes me chuckle as well and soon we’re both laughing together. I snuggle closer to him and press my cheek against his chest. After a moment, I can feel his arms around me as well, making me smile.
“I think I would, Minnie, because it would not be nice for the other members that my girlfriend is prettier than any of theirs.” he replies jokingly to my earlier question. I can still hear the smile in his words, but it is what he says itself that makes me chuckle this time. With a satisfied feeling, I take note of my successful attempt of cheering up my hyung. Just in time, for we were running out of tissues.
[FIC] Impossible
Title: Impossible
Characters: Leeteuk, OC
Rating: G
Wordcount: 725
Summary: He's all she ever loved
A/N: I've had this plotline in my head for quite a while, but only now got around to actually writing it out. Once again I had a bit of trouble with the genre (I'm really not good at these things.. xD) and I was doubting between a one-shot and a drabble as well, but I've written this in one go and did not betaread it at all. Once again this is a figment of my mind put into words, although the 'she' person in this story does not at all relate to me. I hope you like this piece of text and take the time to comment. ^^
- - - - -
She let out a deep sigh as she looked at him. His face was so fragile, yet his expression so strong. His jaw line so soft, standing in a huge contrast to the determined way he carried himself. His chin stuck out a little bit, but was not at all pointy and the form only defined his face even more, giving it its own shape and outline. His mouth had a cute oval-like form when his expression was at ease, but the moment he started smiling, everything seemed to light up as he revealed his flashing white teeth.
The things that intrigued her most, however, were his eyes. Two ultimately beautiful pools of darkness that she had never been able to read. There would always be a sparkle in them, even when he was tired or exhausted. His face would fall, but those eyes would keep sparkling. Every time she looked at them, she would try to find out what lay behind those eyes, inside of his head, but she never succeeded. He was readable like an open book, but only at times when he allowed it, like the times he cried of sadness or laughed with joy.
His tears hurt her, they always did. She could feel so much pain radiating from him whenever he showed his sadness. She could see his face turn into a mask of pain and hurt, but only when he allowed her to see it. He was always so careful to keep those feelings inside until they became too much for him and he had no choice but to let them out. At times when she caught him in such a situation, she would feel her own heart crying with him and she would like nothing more than to hold him, support him and help him.
But just like his tears made her hurt, so did his laughter cure her wounds. Whenever his bright smile appeared on his face or his high-pitched laughter sounded in her ears, she would feel the smile creep up on her own face as well. His jokes and gags would have her tear up from laughing or struggling to catch her breath while holding her hurting stomach. She would be flailing her arms aimlessly in an in vain will for air. And when the first hysteria passed by, she would always keep smiling for at least three more hours after.
That was how much she loved him. That was how much he influenced her. At a single falter of his smile she would be ready to comfort him, support him, take all of his pain and throw it in a deep hole. At every upward twitch of the corners of his mouth, she was ready to smile with him, to be happy because of his happiness and to cherish the moments that made him happy. All because she loved him that much.
She loved him like she had never loved anyone before. It was proven by the strange sensation in her stomach whenever his eyes would look right into hers and his smile would brighten his whole expression, by the feeling of happiness when he told her he loved her, by the way her heart leaped whenever she saw him. It was an obvious fact that she loved him, that she would do anything for him. She would gladly take all his hurt on her so that he would forever be happy.
Because where else on the world would she find someone else who was as caring as him? Where would she find someone who had the same golden heart, the same angelic voice, the same unconditional love? He was one in a billion and there were only seven billion people in the world. But he was still the purest of them all. He was like an angel sent down from heaven to make the world a little bit of a better place..
A smile broke through on her face when once again he said he loved her. Then the video ended and she was left with nothing but illusions and emptiness. He would never be hers. He would never know her. Her love would never be noticed. She would never hold him, support him or comfort him. She would never be more than a fan to him. And it was slowly killing her.
Characters: Leeteuk, OC
Rating: G
Wordcount: 725
Summary: He's all she ever loved
A/N: I've had this plotline in my head for quite a while, but only now got around to actually writing it out. Once again I had a bit of trouble with the genre (I'm really not good at these things.. xD) and I was doubting between a one-shot and a drabble as well, but I've written this in one go and did not betaread it at all. Once again this is a figment of my mind put into words, although the 'she' person in this story does not at all relate to me. I hope you like this piece of text and take the time to comment. ^^
- - - - -
She let out a deep sigh as she looked at him. His face was so fragile, yet his expression so strong. His jaw line so soft, standing in a huge contrast to the determined way he carried himself. His chin stuck out a little bit, but was not at all pointy and the form only defined his face even more, giving it its own shape and outline. His mouth had a cute oval-like form when his expression was at ease, but the moment he started smiling, everything seemed to light up as he revealed his flashing white teeth.
The things that intrigued her most, however, were his eyes. Two ultimately beautiful pools of darkness that she had never been able to read. There would always be a sparkle in them, even when he was tired or exhausted. His face would fall, but those eyes would keep sparkling. Every time she looked at them, she would try to find out what lay behind those eyes, inside of his head, but she never succeeded. He was readable like an open book, but only at times when he allowed it, like the times he cried of sadness or laughed with joy.
His tears hurt her, they always did. She could feel so much pain radiating from him whenever he showed his sadness. She could see his face turn into a mask of pain and hurt, but only when he allowed her to see it. He was always so careful to keep those feelings inside until they became too much for him and he had no choice but to let them out. At times when she caught him in such a situation, she would feel her own heart crying with him and she would like nothing more than to hold him, support him and help him.
But just like his tears made her hurt, so did his laughter cure her wounds. Whenever his bright smile appeared on his face or his high-pitched laughter sounded in her ears, she would feel the smile creep up on her own face as well. His jokes and gags would have her tear up from laughing or struggling to catch her breath while holding her hurting stomach. She would be flailing her arms aimlessly in an in vain will for air. And when the first hysteria passed by, she would always keep smiling for at least three more hours after.
That was how much she loved him. That was how much he influenced her. At a single falter of his smile she would be ready to comfort him, support him, take all of his pain and throw it in a deep hole. At every upward twitch of the corners of his mouth, she was ready to smile with him, to be happy because of his happiness and to cherish the moments that made him happy. All because she loved him that much.
She loved him like she had never loved anyone before. It was proven by the strange sensation in her stomach whenever his eyes would look right into hers and his smile would brighten his whole expression, by the feeling of happiness when he told her he loved her, by the way her heart leaped whenever she saw him. It was an obvious fact that she loved him, that she would do anything for him. She would gladly take all his hurt on her so that he would forever be happy.
Because where else on the world would she find someone else who was as caring as him? Where would she find someone who had the same golden heart, the same angelic voice, the same unconditional love? He was one in a billion and there were only seven billion people in the world. But he was still the purest of them all. He was like an angel sent down from heaven to make the world a little bit of a better place..
A smile broke through on her face when once again he said he loved her. Then the video ended and she was left with nothing but illusions and emptiness. He would never be hers. He would never know her. Her love would never be noticed. She would never hold him, support him or comfort him. She would never be more than a fan to him. And it was slowly killing her.
Fic Challenge - 001; Freefall [9/100]
Title: Freefall
Characters: Leeteuk/Kangin
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2.876
Summary: It doesn’t take a genius to see that Jungsoo’s falling, but it’s Youngwoon who he grabs on to and from then on it’s no longer a question of getting grip, but more of letting go...or not.
A/N: So I was reading some LJ stories again and I came across the ending of the most amazing angsty fanfic I've ever read (SM Boarding School by tewki, for those who want to know.) and then that Summary line popped up in my mind and I just.. wrote all this. x] Took me one evening and today to finish and I think I'm pretty much in love with it. People often think too much into things, so I can say that the rating is not just because I don't describe anything but also because nothing happens. (<-- That's for all you pervs out there.) Having said that; enjoy?
- - - - -
“She’s gone.” he says, and from the corner of his eye, he can see the other turn to look at him. “She left me. For good. Said she can’t take the pressure, the sneakiness. I told her from the start that it would be like that and she said it was fine. Now suddenly she quit on me.” His voice is rough, filled with annoyance, anger, disrespect. He huffs at the unreal feeling it all has and slams his hand on his pillow.
The next moment he’s crying, his disbelief taking the upper hand as he grasps the reality of what happened only hours before. Was it even hours? Maybe only thirty minutes at most. “Why?” he questions, kind of wanting the other to answer and kind of knowing he won’t. “Wasn’t I good enough for her? Did she meet someone new? Someone who treats her better than I do? I always paid when we went out, I always bought her those ridiculously fluffy fabric animals she asked for all the time, I even bought her that way too expensive coat she was dying to have. And now she drops me like this?”
It’s not exactly clear to him when his ramble gets interrupted because his sobs get too much, but there’s an arm around his shoulders and a hand ruffling his hair in a comforting way, so he crawls against the broad chest that is next to him and soaks the dark gray T-shirt with his tears until it feels like he’s got none left – which is about the moment when he falls asleep.
~*~
“I still don’t get it.” he randomly comments one day, some few weeks after the particular break-up. Youngwoon looks up from the sports page of the English paper he’s been staring at for a while to find out who won the tennis game played the previous day. He’s obviously not following what Jungsoo’s talking about.
“Don’t get what?” he asks mere moments later, his eyes darting back to the paper.
“Why she left me.”
Youngwoon sighs and gets up from the chair, walking out of the room. Jungsoo thinks he might have had enough of his nagging – any normal person would have, right? – or maybe he just wants to read the paper in silence. Perhaps he’s tired of seeing Jungsoo’s face day after day whenever he looks up. He’s about to blame himself for chasing Youngwoon out of a room that belongs to the younger as well, when the door opens again and his roommate walks back in, stuffing a beer in his hand.
“You think too much.” Youngwoon tells him as he takes a seat next to him on the bed, and he finds himself thinking that’s probably true. “Now drink up and get a grip. You sound like a girl whining about it all the time.” He figures that’s probably some good advice, not even realising the insult in the other’s words until he’s way passed his fifth beer, giggling over the smallest of things, and by the time he finds the will to complain about the insult, the inside of his stomach is already halfway out of his throat, making its way into the toilet.
It’s Youngwoon who cleans his face afterwards with a wet towel, telling him he looks horrible and grinning widely at that because he’s probably past his ninth beer as well. For a moment he wants to make a sarcastic comment, but there’s a cool towel on his forehead and a hand on his lower back, warming up that select space, and apparently his body decides to pass out right there and then.
~*~
He wakes up one day with a headache that rivals the one he had after four days of filming in the bright sunlight with hardly any sleep during the nights. He struggles out of bed, crawls towards the bathroom and empties the alcohol from his stomach. When he gets up, sloppily balancing himself with use of the window sill, the room turns around him, but he just giggles. There’s a smile on his face still as he brushes his teeth to get rid of the awful taste and when he enters the kitchen, he’s pretty sure no one notices he got drunk the night before – once again.
He manages to keep standing upright on his legs for the rest of the day, working through the schedules without anyone ever noticing how horrible he feels – maybe a stylist noona or one of the make-up team wonders if he’s tired because he looks rather pale but he probably doesn’t hear them anyway – but on the way to the car after Sukira, he collapses in the middle of the parking lot, Hyukjae’s hands under his arms the only things keeping him from hitting the ground.
When they reach the dorms, he’s already fallen asleep several times, but Hyukjae keeps poking him awake, afraid he’s got some terrible disease and will die if he closes his eyes. He only barely registers the arms pulling him out of the van, but then there’s a different pair of arms and a smell that he knows too well, so he clings to that strong neck and rests his head against the broad chest, falling asleep before they’re two meters away from the car.
~*~
“Why do you do it?” Youngwoon asks him one day, causing him to look up from the papers he’s been working with. He knows exactly what the other is talking about, but decides to pretend he doesn’t have a single clue.
“Do what?” he therefore asks, pulling his eyebrows together just enough to look like he’s wondering about the question, but not too much so he doesn’t seem annoyed. Youngwoon doesn’t take the act, though, and he scoffs and frowns disapprovingly.
“Drinking yourself knock out night after night.” he then says. “It’s been two months, you’d think you got over it by now, you know. You keep saying she’s just a girl, that it wasn’t anything special, yet here you are, drinking like a lovesick, broken-hearted fool.”
He figures he should be offended, but there’s something about the way Youngwoon looks at him, the way he’s not lecturing but merely stating, that makes him accept the insult as it is. So he shrugs, opens his mouth to say something, yet instead brings the bottle of beer to his mouth and empties the last bit. “Why do YOU do it?” he then shoots back when Youngwoon empties his own beer as well. There is no reply to that, only a new bottle thrown at him, which he catches surprisingly easily seeing that it’s the fifth one that evening.
After his sixth bottle he decides he’s not in it for the sissy beers, so he takes out his stash of soju and opens one of those. Youngwoon eyes it in silence, not opposing to it, but his expression shows he’s not really approving either. Yet the guy takes the bottle from Jungsoo when he offers it and in the end probably downs half or even more than half of the three bottles his stash still consisted of before that evening. By the time it’s 3 AM, they’re both laughing over nothing, sitting next to each other on his bed, the last bit of sanity disappearing from their brains.
He wakes up close to naked the next morning, the taste of Youngwoon still in his mouth and this time he runs for the toilet and empties his stomach for a whole different reason than just an overload of alcohol.
~*~
So he’s straight and three hundred percent sure of that, but he ended up half naked with his roommate and did.. whatever they did. Probably not much considering the amount of alcohol in his blood. With a bit of luck he passed out halfway into the first kiss or something. Youngwoon doesn’t remember a thing either, except for the terribly awkward waking up part. They decide to pretend it never happened, because that’s the best for everyone. At least they think so.
~*~
It takes five weeks before they risk drinking together again. Youngwoon stays far away on his own bed to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself, but it’s not like that precaution makes much of a difference, because four beers and a bottle of soju later, his roommate is next to him again, patting his back while he’s rather embarrassingly wailing like a baby. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, just that it relieves him and he’s glad that Youngwoon’s there to comfort him.
He falls asleep that night with his head on Youngwoon’s chest, one arm around the younger’s middle, the other arm squished in between them. There’s something touching his butt, but he’s not sure if it’s the wall or Youngwoon’s hand and quite frankly, he’s too tired to care. When he breathes in, his senses are filled with the smell of his bed, Youngwoon and alcohol, and the first sincere smile he shows in months lingers on his lips as he sinks into oblivion.
~*~
Time passes. Days, weeks, months, schedules. All he knows is falling. Falling so deep he’s not sure whether he’ll ever be able to get back out of the hole again. There’s Youngwoon who makes life a little easier to bear, with the strong arms that hold him and the broad chest he can cry against, but he’s not sure if Youngwoon’s helping him up or if he is pulling the other down. He’s drowning. In work, in life, in alcohol, but most of all in his own mind. There’s no more room for common sense, no more room for thinking over what’s right and what’s wrong.
And so he wakes up one night with the distinct memory of kissing Youngwoon who is still lying next to him, and though he’s not sure why, he does it again, waking the other from his comatose sleep with the butterfly kisses pressed all over his face, neck and shoulders. There’s hands involved too, somewhere on that broad chest and those strong arms, and maybe there’s sweat too, or maybe he’s crying, he’s not too sure which one it is. They are pressed so tightly together that his ribs hurt from the pressure Youngwoon’s putting on them, but he doesn’t say it.
They pass out in the middle of it all, his lips against Youngwoon’s jaw, the other’s fingers in his hair. When they wake up again, Youngwoon doesn’t remember a thing anymore, and he himself is off to puke the terrible taste out even before he’s fully awake.
~*~
“Life is great!” he lies to the camera with a laugh so fake he’s sure even strangers would notice. When he looks at his members, they’re all nodding and Youngwoon has a hand on Hangeng’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear that makes the Chinese man laugh. Jungsoo doesn’t know what the other is thinking, but when Youngwoon looks up with a big grin on his face, he wonders for a moment that maybe he’s got things all messed up and life is actually not so bad if he would only choose to see it. Then he turns his head back to the camera and the moment is gone.
~*~
“I love you.” Youngwoon tells him one day, some six months after the break-up, and he feels his breath hitch, flashbacks of the kissing and the touching taking over his mind. He’s already imagining Youngwoon doing everything on purpose, but then the younger continues. “You’re my closest hyung and I really love you, but you have to stop this. It’s not healthy. You’re killing yourself and you and I both know that’s true so don’t deny it. Why do you still do it? Are you still heartbroken about that girl? Because really, it wasn’t that huge of a relationship. You need to get a grip, Teuk.” he lectures, before saying the words that really matter. “Stop drinking.”
He thinks it’s mostly because of the suddenness of it all, or maybe it is because he always thought Youngwoon understood. Whatever the reason, he snaps, breaks, lashes out. He says every bad thing he can come up with, and Youngwoon just sits there and takes it. By the end of it, he’s crying, but he’s still hissing insults and then he hits where it cuts deep.
“What right do you have to talk anyway? You’re the one who pushed that bottle in my hand in the first place. You’re the one who’s drinking just so much that at one point you’re too drunk to remember how you almost rape me.” he bites, falling silent after that because he’s already regretting the words as they’re still leaving his mouth. Youngwoon stiffens, face turning emotionless and the next thing he knows, there’s a hand gripping his collar tightly and he’s got trouble breathing right.
“That’s not true.” Youngwoon hisses in his face, more desperate than angry. “Tell me that’s not true.”
He shies away from the touch, stares at the other with wide eyes, too shocked by the fact that Youngwoon is responding so heavily to reply. The other immediately lets go of him again, however, and moves back, face ashen, eyes flashing over his face, trying to find proof of the words he just said. He still can’t speak, can’t move, sits frozen on his bed, staring, and then Youngwoon goes, bolting out of the room and throwing the door closed behind him.
~*~
“Jung! Jungsoo wake up!” a voice pries him out of his passed out state. He refuses to wake up, doesn’t want to get up for schedules, doesn’t want to get up for anything. The memory of Youngwoon’s pale face is still vivid and he doesn’t really want to remember it. He’s sad he wasn’t drunk yet when that happened, because otherwise he might have forgotten by now. “Jung, you have to get up. Kangin’s been in an accident.”
He shoots up so fast everything’s spinning around him. Trying to keep balance, he grabs the wrist of whoever it is waking him up, but before he can ask what happened and if Youngwoon’s alright, he spots the younger sitting on the edge of his bed, back turned to him, and he remembers what it is to breathe. He allows himself a moment to recover from the sudden movement and then gives the young man next to him a decent look. It’s Heechul standing there, brows furrowed, expression not amused. He lets go of the other’s wrist and looks at Youngwoon again.
“He came back half an hour ago, said he ran his car into a parked taxi. He’s obviously drunk and he’s not listening to any of us. We need you to talk to him, Jungsoo, maybe he’ll listen to you, since you’re rooming together.” Heechul says, turning away and leaving after that, closing the door and all, obviously believing that Jungsoo will handle everything. It is then that he realises none of the members realise he’s the one who’s been messing up over the past six months and Youngwoon’s been the one picking up the pieces.
He stares at Youngwoon’s back from where he’s sitting, letting the memories of past months rush through him. For a while he just stares, but then he blinks and takes a new breath of air, only now realising he’s been holding his breath. Youngwoon looks tired, even from the back, even when his face isn’t visible. More than that, even, he looks exhausted. Devastated. It’s a sight he can’t bear to see and his heart clenches when he thinks of what he’s made the other go through.
“We should stop this.” he says, softly, but still understandable. “You were right.” And he was just too scared to admit it, but that wasn’t something he preferred saying out loud. “I’ve been a fool and you’ve tried so hard to help even though I didn’t want you to.” He balls his hands to fists in his blanket, clenching his teeth together as he scolds himself in his mind. “Let’s stop this.” he then concludes again, much more resolute than it had sounded before.
~*~
He’s been falling, tumbling down at an insane speed, desperately trying to grab on to something to stop himself from falling deeper, but finding nothing. Then at one point, Youngwoon took hold of his hand and he was sure he had found something to keep him up, until it turned out Youngwoon was merely falling together with him. He felt cheated at some point maybe, perhaps a little disappointed, but now he has decided to just go with it and see where he’ll end up.
He’s straight and three hundred percent sure of that. The same goes for Youngwoon. Yet they’re not shy of a hug every now and then, or even crawling in bed with the other because the night is cold and lonely. Neither has touched a drop of alcohol since the accident and even though it sometimes gets hard keeping up the good intentions, they manage. Youngwoon’s thinking of taking up his army duties, Jungsoo’s thinking of taking up his life.
All in all, life is not too bad, now that they choose to see it.
Characters: Leeteuk/Kangin
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2.876
Summary: It doesn’t take a genius to see that Jungsoo’s falling, but it’s Youngwoon who he grabs on to and from then on it’s no longer a question of getting grip, but more of letting go...or not.
A/N: So I was reading some LJ stories again and I came across the ending of the most amazing angsty fanfic I've ever read (SM Boarding School by tewki, for those who want to know.) and then that Summary line popped up in my mind and I just.. wrote all this. x] Took me one evening and today to finish and I think I'm pretty much in love with it. People often think too much into things, so I can say that the rating is not just because I don't describe anything but also because nothing happens. (<-- That's for all you pervs out there.) Having said that; enjoy?
- - - - -
“She’s gone.” he says, and from the corner of his eye, he can see the other turn to look at him. “She left me. For good. Said she can’t take the pressure, the sneakiness. I told her from the start that it would be like that and she said it was fine. Now suddenly she quit on me.” His voice is rough, filled with annoyance, anger, disrespect. He huffs at the unreal feeling it all has and slams his hand on his pillow.
The next moment he’s crying, his disbelief taking the upper hand as he grasps the reality of what happened only hours before. Was it even hours? Maybe only thirty minutes at most. “Why?” he questions, kind of wanting the other to answer and kind of knowing he won’t. “Wasn’t I good enough for her? Did she meet someone new? Someone who treats her better than I do? I always paid when we went out, I always bought her those ridiculously fluffy fabric animals she asked for all the time, I even bought her that way too expensive coat she was dying to have. And now she drops me like this?”
It’s not exactly clear to him when his ramble gets interrupted because his sobs get too much, but there’s an arm around his shoulders and a hand ruffling his hair in a comforting way, so he crawls against the broad chest that is next to him and soaks the dark gray T-shirt with his tears until it feels like he’s got none left – which is about the moment when he falls asleep.
~*~
“I still don’t get it.” he randomly comments one day, some few weeks after the particular break-up. Youngwoon looks up from the sports page of the English paper he’s been staring at for a while to find out who won the tennis game played the previous day. He’s obviously not following what Jungsoo’s talking about.
“Don’t get what?” he asks mere moments later, his eyes darting back to the paper.
“Why she left me.”
Youngwoon sighs and gets up from the chair, walking out of the room. Jungsoo thinks he might have had enough of his nagging – any normal person would have, right? – or maybe he just wants to read the paper in silence. Perhaps he’s tired of seeing Jungsoo’s face day after day whenever he looks up. He’s about to blame himself for chasing Youngwoon out of a room that belongs to the younger as well, when the door opens again and his roommate walks back in, stuffing a beer in his hand.
“You think too much.” Youngwoon tells him as he takes a seat next to him on the bed, and he finds himself thinking that’s probably true. “Now drink up and get a grip. You sound like a girl whining about it all the time.” He figures that’s probably some good advice, not even realising the insult in the other’s words until he’s way passed his fifth beer, giggling over the smallest of things, and by the time he finds the will to complain about the insult, the inside of his stomach is already halfway out of his throat, making its way into the toilet.
It’s Youngwoon who cleans his face afterwards with a wet towel, telling him he looks horrible and grinning widely at that because he’s probably past his ninth beer as well. For a moment he wants to make a sarcastic comment, but there’s a cool towel on his forehead and a hand on his lower back, warming up that select space, and apparently his body decides to pass out right there and then.
~*~
He wakes up one day with a headache that rivals the one he had after four days of filming in the bright sunlight with hardly any sleep during the nights. He struggles out of bed, crawls towards the bathroom and empties the alcohol from his stomach. When he gets up, sloppily balancing himself with use of the window sill, the room turns around him, but he just giggles. There’s a smile on his face still as he brushes his teeth to get rid of the awful taste and when he enters the kitchen, he’s pretty sure no one notices he got drunk the night before – once again.
He manages to keep standing upright on his legs for the rest of the day, working through the schedules without anyone ever noticing how horrible he feels – maybe a stylist noona or one of the make-up team wonders if he’s tired because he looks rather pale but he probably doesn’t hear them anyway – but on the way to the car after Sukira, he collapses in the middle of the parking lot, Hyukjae’s hands under his arms the only things keeping him from hitting the ground.
When they reach the dorms, he’s already fallen asleep several times, but Hyukjae keeps poking him awake, afraid he’s got some terrible disease and will die if he closes his eyes. He only barely registers the arms pulling him out of the van, but then there’s a different pair of arms and a smell that he knows too well, so he clings to that strong neck and rests his head against the broad chest, falling asleep before they’re two meters away from the car.
~*~
“Why do you do it?” Youngwoon asks him one day, causing him to look up from the papers he’s been working with. He knows exactly what the other is talking about, but decides to pretend he doesn’t have a single clue.
“Do what?” he therefore asks, pulling his eyebrows together just enough to look like he’s wondering about the question, but not too much so he doesn’t seem annoyed. Youngwoon doesn’t take the act, though, and he scoffs and frowns disapprovingly.
“Drinking yourself knock out night after night.” he then says. “It’s been two months, you’d think you got over it by now, you know. You keep saying she’s just a girl, that it wasn’t anything special, yet here you are, drinking like a lovesick, broken-hearted fool.”
He figures he should be offended, but there’s something about the way Youngwoon looks at him, the way he’s not lecturing but merely stating, that makes him accept the insult as it is. So he shrugs, opens his mouth to say something, yet instead brings the bottle of beer to his mouth and empties the last bit. “Why do YOU do it?” he then shoots back when Youngwoon empties his own beer as well. There is no reply to that, only a new bottle thrown at him, which he catches surprisingly easily seeing that it’s the fifth one that evening.
After his sixth bottle he decides he’s not in it for the sissy beers, so he takes out his stash of soju and opens one of those. Youngwoon eyes it in silence, not opposing to it, but his expression shows he’s not really approving either. Yet the guy takes the bottle from Jungsoo when he offers it and in the end probably downs half or even more than half of the three bottles his stash still consisted of before that evening. By the time it’s 3 AM, they’re both laughing over nothing, sitting next to each other on his bed, the last bit of sanity disappearing from their brains.
He wakes up close to naked the next morning, the taste of Youngwoon still in his mouth and this time he runs for the toilet and empties his stomach for a whole different reason than just an overload of alcohol.
~*~
So he’s straight and three hundred percent sure of that, but he ended up half naked with his roommate and did.. whatever they did. Probably not much considering the amount of alcohol in his blood. With a bit of luck he passed out halfway into the first kiss or something. Youngwoon doesn’t remember a thing either, except for the terribly awkward waking up part. They decide to pretend it never happened, because that’s the best for everyone. At least they think so.
~*~
It takes five weeks before they risk drinking together again. Youngwoon stays far away on his own bed to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself, but it’s not like that precaution makes much of a difference, because four beers and a bottle of soju later, his roommate is next to him again, patting his back while he’s rather embarrassingly wailing like a baby. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, just that it relieves him and he’s glad that Youngwoon’s there to comfort him.
He falls asleep that night with his head on Youngwoon’s chest, one arm around the younger’s middle, the other arm squished in between them. There’s something touching his butt, but he’s not sure if it’s the wall or Youngwoon’s hand and quite frankly, he’s too tired to care. When he breathes in, his senses are filled with the smell of his bed, Youngwoon and alcohol, and the first sincere smile he shows in months lingers on his lips as he sinks into oblivion.
~*~
Time passes. Days, weeks, months, schedules. All he knows is falling. Falling so deep he’s not sure whether he’ll ever be able to get back out of the hole again. There’s Youngwoon who makes life a little easier to bear, with the strong arms that hold him and the broad chest he can cry against, but he’s not sure if Youngwoon’s helping him up or if he is pulling the other down. He’s drowning. In work, in life, in alcohol, but most of all in his own mind. There’s no more room for common sense, no more room for thinking over what’s right and what’s wrong.
And so he wakes up one night with the distinct memory of kissing Youngwoon who is still lying next to him, and though he’s not sure why, he does it again, waking the other from his comatose sleep with the butterfly kisses pressed all over his face, neck and shoulders. There’s hands involved too, somewhere on that broad chest and those strong arms, and maybe there’s sweat too, or maybe he’s crying, he’s not too sure which one it is. They are pressed so tightly together that his ribs hurt from the pressure Youngwoon’s putting on them, but he doesn’t say it.
They pass out in the middle of it all, his lips against Youngwoon’s jaw, the other’s fingers in his hair. When they wake up again, Youngwoon doesn’t remember a thing anymore, and he himself is off to puke the terrible taste out even before he’s fully awake.
~*~
“Life is great!” he lies to the camera with a laugh so fake he’s sure even strangers would notice. When he looks at his members, they’re all nodding and Youngwoon has a hand on Hangeng’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear that makes the Chinese man laugh. Jungsoo doesn’t know what the other is thinking, but when Youngwoon looks up with a big grin on his face, he wonders for a moment that maybe he’s got things all messed up and life is actually not so bad if he would only choose to see it. Then he turns his head back to the camera and the moment is gone.
~*~
“I love you.” Youngwoon tells him one day, some six months after the break-up, and he feels his breath hitch, flashbacks of the kissing and the touching taking over his mind. He’s already imagining Youngwoon doing everything on purpose, but then the younger continues. “You’re my closest hyung and I really love you, but you have to stop this. It’s not healthy. You’re killing yourself and you and I both know that’s true so don’t deny it. Why do you still do it? Are you still heartbroken about that girl? Because really, it wasn’t that huge of a relationship. You need to get a grip, Teuk.” he lectures, before saying the words that really matter. “Stop drinking.”
He thinks it’s mostly because of the suddenness of it all, or maybe it is because he always thought Youngwoon understood. Whatever the reason, he snaps, breaks, lashes out. He says every bad thing he can come up with, and Youngwoon just sits there and takes it. By the end of it, he’s crying, but he’s still hissing insults and then he hits where it cuts deep.
“What right do you have to talk anyway? You’re the one who pushed that bottle in my hand in the first place. You’re the one who’s drinking just so much that at one point you’re too drunk to remember how you almost rape me.” he bites, falling silent after that because he’s already regretting the words as they’re still leaving his mouth. Youngwoon stiffens, face turning emotionless and the next thing he knows, there’s a hand gripping his collar tightly and he’s got trouble breathing right.
“That’s not true.” Youngwoon hisses in his face, more desperate than angry. “Tell me that’s not true.”
He shies away from the touch, stares at the other with wide eyes, too shocked by the fact that Youngwoon is responding so heavily to reply. The other immediately lets go of him again, however, and moves back, face ashen, eyes flashing over his face, trying to find proof of the words he just said. He still can’t speak, can’t move, sits frozen on his bed, staring, and then Youngwoon goes, bolting out of the room and throwing the door closed behind him.
~*~
“Jung! Jungsoo wake up!” a voice pries him out of his passed out state. He refuses to wake up, doesn’t want to get up for schedules, doesn’t want to get up for anything. The memory of Youngwoon’s pale face is still vivid and he doesn’t really want to remember it. He’s sad he wasn’t drunk yet when that happened, because otherwise he might have forgotten by now. “Jung, you have to get up. Kangin’s been in an accident.”
He shoots up so fast everything’s spinning around him. Trying to keep balance, he grabs the wrist of whoever it is waking him up, but before he can ask what happened and if Youngwoon’s alright, he spots the younger sitting on the edge of his bed, back turned to him, and he remembers what it is to breathe. He allows himself a moment to recover from the sudden movement and then gives the young man next to him a decent look. It’s Heechul standing there, brows furrowed, expression not amused. He lets go of the other’s wrist and looks at Youngwoon again.
“He came back half an hour ago, said he ran his car into a parked taxi. He’s obviously drunk and he’s not listening to any of us. We need you to talk to him, Jungsoo, maybe he’ll listen to you, since you’re rooming together.” Heechul says, turning away and leaving after that, closing the door and all, obviously believing that Jungsoo will handle everything. It is then that he realises none of the members realise he’s the one who’s been messing up over the past six months and Youngwoon’s been the one picking up the pieces.
He stares at Youngwoon’s back from where he’s sitting, letting the memories of past months rush through him. For a while he just stares, but then he blinks and takes a new breath of air, only now realising he’s been holding his breath. Youngwoon looks tired, even from the back, even when his face isn’t visible. More than that, even, he looks exhausted. Devastated. It’s a sight he can’t bear to see and his heart clenches when he thinks of what he’s made the other go through.
“We should stop this.” he says, softly, but still understandable. “You were right.” And he was just too scared to admit it, but that wasn’t something he preferred saying out loud. “I’ve been a fool and you’ve tried so hard to help even though I didn’t want you to.” He balls his hands to fists in his blanket, clenching his teeth together as he scolds himself in his mind. “Let’s stop this.” he then concludes again, much more resolute than it had sounded before.
~*~
He’s been falling, tumbling down at an insane speed, desperately trying to grab on to something to stop himself from falling deeper, but finding nothing. Then at one point, Youngwoon took hold of his hand and he was sure he had found something to keep him up, until it turned out Youngwoon was merely falling together with him. He felt cheated at some point maybe, perhaps a little disappointed, but now he has decided to just go with it and see where he’ll end up.
He’s straight and three hundred percent sure of that. The same goes for Youngwoon. Yet they’re not shy of a hug every now and then, or even crawling in bed with the other because the night is cold and lonely. Neither has touched a drop of alcohol since the accident and even though it sometimes gets hard keeping up the good intentions, they manage. Youngwoon’s thinking of taking up his army duties, Jungsoo’s thinking of taking up his life.
All in all, life is not too bad, now that they choose to see it.
Fic Challenge - 079; The Same Old Thing [6/100]
Title: The Same Old Thing
Characters: Leeteuk/Yesung
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1.053
Summary: Where Yesung's trying to make his hyung quit.
A/N: So I posted this on SJW first before posting it here and everyone seemed to think the main role fit Heechul incredibly well, but I'm sad to say that I didn't write it with him in mind. (: Here's the real deal.. Teuk's probably completely OOC and everything's hugely messed up (why would they need phone calls?) but still.. Enjoy.
- - - - -
It was another one of those weekday evenings where he had just returned from schedules, tired as hell, but unable to sleep like everyone else oh so wisely did. He leaned against the kitchen cupboard, one hand on the sink, one hand plucking the cigarette from between his lips so he could nonchalantly exhale the intoxicating smoke. His right shoulder was pulled up a little, thereby keeping the phone securely against his ear, making him able to listen to the one on the other side speaking to him - or more nagging at him at that moment.
“You should really quit, hyung.” it sounded in the form of a sigh, making him smirk, because the other always said that. “It’s not good for you and you know it. Everyone knows it. Remember how good you could sing before and how much of a mess your voice is now.” He snorted, inhaling another breath of smoke and holding it in his mouth for a moment before exhaling it towards the window. “Well, you won’t listen anyway, I know that. It’s time for me to go sleep. You should do the same.” the voice continued, the last words making him freeze in his movements.
“Talk to me a little longer.” he uttered, the first time he spoke again in a long time. It was always like that; he would call up the other, they would exchange the general greetings and then he would settle back into a silence while the other talked non-stop about his day and everything that had happened to him. After a while the other would run out of things to say and tell him to go sleep, but he’d always ask for more stories, more talking, more time to listen to the other’s rough voice and blocking everything else out of his mind.
“I can’t today.” the other sighed, effectively making him stand up straight and pay full attention to the conversation again.
“What do you mean you can’t?” he demanded to know, narrowing his eyes even though the other couldn’t see him. The cigarette between his lips suddenly didn’t appeal to him anymore and he took it from between his lips to put it out in the ashtray. With his other hand he took hold of the phone and he paced towards the other side of the kitchen to get a glass and fill it with water. As he put it to his lips, there was finally a sound again on the other side and he could hear the other shuffle underneath his blankets.
“You know I need my sleep. I’ve been lacking too much sleep already lately, I feel like my head might explode any moment now.” the answer came and he imagined the other frowning and softly rubbing his forehead in a vain hope that the touch might clear the headache. He gulped down the glass of water in one go, putting it down and walking out of the kitchen, back to his own room. “I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay? What time are you free?” the other tried when the silence lasted, which was never a good sign.
“I’m not free tomorrow.” he almost immediately retorted, voice slightly annoyed. “I’ve got schedules all day and I need to get up early the day after, so I need to sleep early.” His hand moved up out of an automatism to pluck the cigarette from between his lips, but he stopped the movement halfway and dropped it again when he realised there was nothing to remove. An annoyed frown appeared on his face and he soon found the package of cigarettes in the pocket of his sweater. He stuck the phone between his shoulder and ear again to be able to pluck one out and light it up.
“The day after tomorrow then.” the other muttered to him meanwhile, obviously not pleased with the news that had just been passed on. “You should really quit, you know. The cigarettes are not making your mood any better either and the last thing I need is having the others call me as well to complain about your foul moods and to tell me to do something about it. Despite what you might like to think, I am not your slave, so please deal with their complains yourself.”
“Will do, your highness.” he snapped, annoyed at the never ending nagging of the other. “Anything else? Maybe I should donate to the poor and start a biological food industry?” He grumbled some curses, before taking the phone in his free hand once again and biting a “No thanks, I’ll pass. Goodnight. I hope you get haunted by nightmares.” into it. He ended the call, throwing the phone across the room and onto his bed in a fit of anger. When the smoke of the second inhale left his mouth again, he already felt guilty for cutting short the conversation like that, because everything had become very silent once more.
He walked up to the window, opening it and staring outside into the night. The lights of the city were almost blinding and the amount of noise coming from the busy streets was incredible, yet it somehow didn’t make his surroundings any less silent, as if someone had muted the whole world around him just to annoy the hell out of him. He stayed in the opened window until he finished his cigarette, after which he flicked the thing outside without any second thoughts. Right at that moment his phone beeped and he closed the window again before walking up to the bed to fetch the phone and read the text.
‘That’s the third time this week. I’d say I should just stop calling, but we both know I won’t anyway, so just take care. I love you.’
He snorted at the amount of cheesy nonsense that filled the text, but as he flopped down on his bed - still fully clothed and not bothering to get underneath the covers - a smile spread on his face anyway. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with thoughts about long past times when he didn’t need cigarettes or daily phone calls to have a smile on his face, a time where not every day was the same as the previous one and things seemed happier.
Characters: Leeteuk/Yesung
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1.053
Summary: Where Yesung's trying to make his hyung quit.
A/N: So I posted this on SJW first before posting it here and everyone seemed to think the main role fit Heechul incredibly well, but I'm sad to say that I didn't write it with him in mind. (: Here's the real deal.. Teuk's probably completely OOC and everything's hugely messed up (why would they need phone calls?) but still.. Enjoy.
- - - - -
It was another one of those weekday evenings where he had just returned from schedules, tired as hell, but unable to sleep like everyone else oh so wisely did. He leaned against the kitchen cupboard, one hand on the sink, one hand plucking the cigarette from between his lips so he could nonchalantly exhale the intoxicating smoke. His right shoulder was pulled up a little, thereby keeping the phone securely against his ear, making him able to listen to the one on the other side speaking to him - or more nagging at him at that moment.
“You should really quit, hyung.” it sounded in the form of a sigh, making him smirk, because the other always said that. “It’s not good for you and you know it. Everyone knows it. Remember how good you could sing before and how much of a mess your voice is now.” He snorted, inhaling another breath of smoke and holding it in his mouth for a moment before exhaling it towards the window. “Well, you won’t listen anyway, I know that. It’s time for me to go sleep. You should do the same.” the voice continued, the last words making him freeze in his movements.
“Talk to me a little longer.” he uttered, the first time he spoke again in a long time. It was always like that; he would call up the other, they would exchange the general greetings and then he would settle back into a silence while the other talked non-stop about his day and everything that had happened to him. After a while the other would run out of things to say and tell him to go sleep, but he’d always ask for more stories, more talking, more time to listen to the other’s rough voice and blocking everything else out of his mind.
“I can’t today.” the other sighed, effectively making him stand up straight and pay full attention to the conversation again.
“What do you mean you can’t?” he demanded to know, narrowing his eyes even though the other couldn’t see him. The cigarette between his lips suddenly didn’t appeal to him anymore and he took it from between his lips to put it out in the ashtray. With his other hand he took hold of the phone and he paced towards the other side of the kitchen to get a glass and fill it with water. As he put it to his lips, there was finally a sound again on the other side and he could hear the other shuffle underneath his blankets.
“You know I need my sleep. I’ve been lacking too much sleep already lately, I feel like my head might explode any moment now.” the answer came and he imagined the other frowning and softly rubbing his forehead in a vain hope that the touch might clear the headache. He gulped down the glass of water in one go, putting it down and walking out of the kitchen, back to his own room. “I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay? What time are you free?” the other tried when the silence lasted, which was never a good sign.
“I’m not free tomorrow.” he almost immediately retorted, voice slightly annoyed. “I’ve got schedules all day and I need to get up early the day after, so I need to sleep early.” His hand moved up out of an automatism to pluck the cigarette from between his lips, but he stopped the movement halfway and dropped it again when he realised there was nothing to remove. An annoyed frown appeared on his face and he soon found the package of cigarettes in the pocket of his sweater. He stuck the phone between his shoulder and ear again to be able to pluck one out and light it up.
“The day after tomorrow then.” the other muttered to him meanwhile, obviously not pleased with the news that had just been passed on. “You should really quit, you know. The cigarettes are not making your mood any better either and the last thing I need is having the others call me as well to complain about your foul moods and to tell me to do something about it. Despite what you might like to think, I am not your slave, so please deal with their complains yourself.”
“Will do, your highness.” he snapped, annoyed at the never ending nagging of the other. “Anything else? Maybe I should donate to the poor and start a biological food industry?” He grumbled some curses, before taking the phone in his free hand once again and biting a “No thanks, I’ll pass. Goodnight. I hope you get haunted by nightmares.” into it. He ended the call, throwing the phone across the room and onto his bed in a fit of anger. When the smoke of the second inhale left his mouth again, he already felt guilty for cutting short the conversation like that, because everything had become very silent once more.
He walked up to the window, opening it and staring outside into the night. The lights of the city were almost blinding and the amount of noise coming from the busy streets was incredible, yet it somehow didn’t make his surroundings any less silent, as if someone had muted the whole world around him just to annoy the hell out of him. He stayed in the opened window until he finished his cigarette, after which he flicked the thing outside without any second thoughts. Right at that moment his phone beeped and he closed the window again before walking up to the bed to fetch the phone and read the text.
‘That’s the third time this week. I’d say I should just stop calling, but we both know I won’t anyway, so just take care. I love you.’
He snorted at the amount of cheesy nonsense that filled the text, but as he flopped down on his bed - still fully clothed and not bothering to get underneath the covers - a smile spread on his face anyway. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with thoughts about long past times when he didn’t need cigarettes or daily phone calls to have a smile on his face, a time where not every day was the same as the previous one and things seemed happier.
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