euphemism

[FANFIC] In Fire, In Ice

shadow_paint — Sun, 02 Feb 2014 06:07:07 GMT

Title: In Fire, In Ice
Type: Ficmix, One Shot
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2968

After a separation from Nichkhun, Wooyoung’s life takes a turn he didn’t expect.

Author's note: This was done in a ficmix challenge, and I was lucky enough to get dreamoscope as my remixee, so this was inspired by one of her really short drabbles. :D

Fandom: 2PM
Title: In Fire, In Ice
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Length: 2968
Summary: After a separation from Nichkhun, Wooyoung’s life takes a turn he didn’t expect.
Warnings: N/A
Notes: This is not-so-subtly inspired by a recent MV put out by the boys.

Remixee author: dreamoscope
Title of work you remixed: as ice
Link to work you remixed: http://amidstwords.livejournal.com/4636.html

“Hyung, don’t go!” With a lunge forward, Wooyoung seized Nichkhun’s hand upwards, clutching it tightly. Nichkhun turned back, looking forlornly into Wooyoung’s frantic pleading eyes, before he pulled him into a tight embrace.

The feeling of being engulfed into Nichkhun’s arms, the familiar smell on Nichhun’s neck, and the all too pressing realization that this could possibly be the last hug they would share in a long time urged the tears forth as Wooyoung broke down, clinging desperately on. His body shook with his sobs, as he clenched the back of Nichkhun’s jacket. “Don’t go, please...” he managed to breathe.

“I’m doing it for us, Wooyoung,” Nichkhun said, in that soft yet firm voice that spoke sincere determination. Wooyoung clutched Nichkhun tighter to himself, as if he wanted to relish every little thing about being together with him, before it was gone. Nichkhun reciprocated the hug, rubbing Wooyoung’s back. “I want to spend my life with you, but I want to give you a good life too. If I stay in this dingy little town, neither of us would get anywhere.”

“But I don’t want you to go...” Wooyoung choked, his voice breaking with his emotions.

“I’ll be back, all right?” Nichkhun broke the hug so he could look into Wooyoung’s tear-streaked face. He smiled gently, though mixed with sadness, as he kissed Wooyoung’s forehead. “I’ll be back because I love you so much, don’t forget that.”

The railway guards blew their whistle, signaling the last call for passengers to board the train. There was a sudden wave of heat from the waiting train at the platform, before it transited into the chilly breeze that cut into the back of Wooyoung’s neck. Nichkhun looked a little reluctantly at the clock on the train station wall, before he turned back and brushed his finger on Wooyoung’s cheek. “I’ll miss you,” he said sorrowfully, before he leaned in and kissed Wooyoung for one last time.

And then he was gone.

-------

5 years later.

Wooyoung walked into the room, where his father sat. The blasting music from the party outside softened significantly as he closed the door. He was dressed smartly in a simple black blazer and jeans, with his hair styled up in a classy up-do. Gone was the smiling carefree face, the casual messy hair of the teenager. Five years had done a lot to change the simple and happy country kid, into an emerging adult of the real world where ideals became silly and the hard realities of life, like money, mattered.

“It’s almost time, Wooyoung,” his father stated solemnly. Wooyoung’s face showed no change in its placid, stony expression. He stepped up to his father and stretched out his hand. His father placed a small box on his palm, an expensive looking box made of rich maroon velvet. Without a word, Wooyoung closed his hand around the box and made to leave. His father touched his shoulder affectedly. “Wooyoung, I...”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Wooyoung cut in, unable to keep the icy bitterness out of his voice. Time would heal all wounds, but not yet. After all, it wasn’t entirely his father’s fault. Circumstances had simply not been in their favour.

“Thank you,” his father finally croaked, in a voice of hesitant regret but also tinged with relief. There was really nothing else to be said, nothing else to be done. There was no other viable choice in the matter. Wooyoung had reconciled himself with this fact long ago.

Wooyoung slowly opened the box, feeling it swing open against his will on its hinges. Inside, resting snugly in the slit of a black silk cushion, was a luminous silver ring, intricately carved with small but elaborate designs. The band was made of top-quality silver and almost seemed to glow from within. As if frozen on top of it was a small but well-cut diamond that sparkled blindingly when it caught the light.

Wooyoung snapped the box close, his face unchanged.

“She’ll like it.”

-------

The cold night wind stung his cheeks as he walked out of the building, but Wooyoung was far too used to it to care. There was a small little garden adjoined to the building, though there was nothing much to admire in it in the middle of autumn. The trees were bare, and the abundance of summer was now only to be seen as dead or dying leaves on the ground. It was, however, the only reprieve that Wooyoung could have to himself right now for all of five minutes. It was the only time he had left before he had to plunge back into the party, and down a path from which escape was impossible.

The dry leaves made delicious crunching noises under his feet as he walked along the dry gravel pathway in the garden, aimlessly enjoying the solitude and the silence. He breathed in deeply, feeling the chill of the night air seep into his lungs and enjoying the sharpness of it. It reminded him how it really felt like to breathe again. Wooyoung bowed his head and closed his eyes. He could not deny that he was petrified of what lay ahead of him, but then that decision had not been his to make. Such thoughts as these were commonplace for him over the past year leading up to the present event. Following these thoughts came another train of feelings, stinging bitterness of the deepest kind. Emerging from the recesses of his mind, his internal thoughts continuously rioted against the raw hurt of broken contact and the aching hollowness of promises made. Time had certainly not healed this wound.

“Wooyoung,” came a sudden voice that made him jump out of his skin as he spun around on his heels.

Calling him from his bitter thoughts had been the cause of his bitterness in the first place. It was as if he had walked into a dream, one of many similar dreams that he had had for the past five years. One where he stood along a leafy corridor of trees, the night breeze rustling the golden leaves of the fallen foliage around them as he laid eyes once again on Nichkhun’s all too familiar smiling face.

For once in the whole night, Wooyoung’s face distorted into some type of emotion – he frowned in shocked confusion.

“Hyung…?” he whispered, not daring to believe his eyes.

“I told you I’d be back,” Nichkhun continued to smile at him. He was now dressed in a simple black jacket, his hair was longer now but otherwise he looked almost exactly the same as the way Wooyoung remembered him.

There was some silence as Wooyoung struggled to reconcile himself with the situation. He had rehearsed this conversation millions of times before in his waking fantasies, but as he should have expected, words failed him now. He wanted to throw himself into Nichkhun’s arms, he wanted to throw everything into the wind and pick up from where they had left off. What started as a pinprick of desire was now ballooning into a desperate urge to throw himself into Nichkhun’s arms. The temptation to go down this path was almost more than Wooyoung could bear, but he could not simply forget about the situation his family was in right now, nor the bitterness he had cultivated towards Nichkhun over the years. Time had passed, after all, and things were very different now.

“I think you’re back too late,” Wooyoung finally stated in the icy tone that was not unfamiliar to him now, when he had to pretend to feel things he didn’t. It was like he was hearing himself say these things from afar as he watched Nichkhun’s smile fade.

“Why?” Nichkhun asked simply, but the tone of his voice spoke volumes more.

Wooyoung looked away, unable to bring himself to meet the other’s eyes. How was he to answer this question? To relay all that had happened within his family since Nichkhun’s abrupt departure? The pressing circumstances under which the responsibility lay, perhaps unfairly, on him to deliver an escape for all his loved ones? What was the point of telling him all these, when he knew Nichkhun wouldn’t understand? He’d try and convince Wooyoung there must be another way out, and Wooyoung wasn’t sure he was up to resisting this tempting persuasion at that moment. He needed to get away from this, while he still retained some form of his rationality and before he sunk in too deeply into regrets.

“Because I moved on,” Wooyoung hissed through his teeth. The words felt like acid on his tongue as he spoke them. Nichkhun looked visibly taken aback, his eyes searching Wooyoung’s for hints of deception. But Wooyoung had gotten used to lying.

With a movement, Wooyoung made to walk past Nichkhun. He tried to give him as wide a berth as he could, as he wasn’t sure what being too close to him now would do to his senses. Already, Wooyoung could feel his resolution crumbling, and he needed to get out of his presence before he did something that could never be undone.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Nichkhun said, as he grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist. His touch felt as warm as fire branding his mark on Wooyoung’s skin.

“Is it because of me?” he said, choosing his words carefully and slowly, as they disappeared from his lips like wisps in the autumn air.

At this triggering question, a berserk urge raged through Wooyoung, to do several mindless things to Nichkhun. He wanted to slap him, punch him, kick him, but also to hug him, touch him and kiss him. He wanted to throw the past five years back into Nichkhun’s face and ask him for an explanation. But he did none of those. Rather, he only spared him a cold, withering glance, as he dropped his words sharp as icicles. “You’re not the only man in the universe.”

With a violent fling of his arm, Wooyoung ripped himself away from Nichkhun and walked away, careful to play his part to the end. He shook his head as if in disbelief at these wild assumptions, though in truth Nichkhun had hit closer to the target than he should know. Nichkhun made no effort to stop him, staring silently at his backview as Wooyoung made his way back into the building, wiping the tear that had irrepressibly streaked down his cheek.

But you’re the only one that has ever mattered, hyung.

-------

The crowd had fallen into a tense and nervous hush. You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. Wooyoung could feel the heat from the stage lights beating on his cold skin as he stood next to her. She was presently looking at him in expectant surprise, as if she already knew what was going to happen. He couldn’t see him, but Wooyoung could feel his father’s presence in the shadows, looking on as if directing a movie.

“Will you marry me?” Wooyoung finally asked in a gentle but expressionless tone, as he slipped the box out of his pocket and opened it for the world to see. The ice-blue shine of the diamond sparkled as it reflected the stage light. There was a soft and suppressed sigh of admiration from the audience. The girl gasped and briefly contemplated the ring, before she nodded eagerly, joy spreading throughout her features as she looked up at Wooyoung.

The room burst into an explosive ruckus of cheers. The band hit up jolly wedding-type music, threatening to be drowned out by the roar of the audience’s applause. Wooyoung took the ring from the box and slipped it gently onto her finger as she blushed and held his hand. The applause continued as the hosts of the party began enthusiastically pronouncing them man and wife already. Wooyoung managed a small smile at his new fiancee before he looked into the audience. It was all dark and noisy silhouettes to him except for when the occasional neon light flashed across the bobbing black sea of people.

Another flash, and Wooyoung caught a glimpse of that face. He stared in that direction, captivated and wondering if his tired eyes and mind weren’t just playing tricks on him. Yet another red flash, and Nichkhun’s face swam briefly into view for a split second before he disappeared back into the darkness. It was enough for Wooyoung to see that gravity of expression, and to feel the intense regretful sorrow that showed so plainly on his face. Wooyoung’s own emotions stirred unsolicited, and he closed his eyes to steady himself.

“Are you all right?” asked the girl, genuinely concerned. Wooyoung blinked his eyes open.

“I’m... fine. Just the stage lights,” Wooyoung lied again, waving his hand dismissively. His eyes continued to dart around the dark audience, searching but not sure what he wanted to find. So what if Nichkhun was there? So what if Nichkhun had seen him propose to another girl? So what if he saw Nichkhun’s face again? It didn’t alter one bit the hard reality of the ring he had just placed on the girl’s finger.

The lights flashed again, and Nichkhun was gone.

-------

“Congratulations!” came another cheerful greeting as the guests streamed out of the party venue. Wooyoung and his new fiancee stood outside the doors, politely bidding farewell to everyone as they walked out. The party had been, after all, organized by the girl’s family.

The girl received everyone’s congratulations with obvious happiness and gratitude, but Wooyoung could only try to suppress his exhaustion and unconcern. He was tired of all of this, but there was nothing he could do but to chug on. With every person that came out of the venue, he hoped to see only one person’s face, only to be left disappointed at every turn. He couldn’t help wondering where Nichkhun had gone to, but every such question would not fail to end with a disappointing realization that that might truly have been the last time he would see him. What he had said at their encounter in the garden would have made it very clear to Nichkhun that it was completely over, but did nothing to soothe Wooyoung’s agitated spirits.

“Here’re some more of the presents that guests have left behind for you before they left!” announced the helpers as they dumped a pile of boxes and paper bags onto a nearby table. The sincerity of the party-goer’s congratulations was evident by the generosity of their engagement gifts.

“I really love the ring, Wooyoung,” the girl said once again, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him before she admired her ring again. She was clearly in love with him, though he couldn’t say he reciprocated.

“I’m glad you do,” he replied softly. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but couldn’t find it in him at the moment to exert any more false emotions. She grinned up at him, oblivious to his placidity.

“I’ll go see if my dad has something we can put all our gifts into to bring home!” the girl offered enthusiastically, bounding off to find her parent.

Willing himself to be distracted from the turmoil in his mind, Wooyoung wandered towards the pile of gifts and began sieving through them, opening gifts of watches, of cufflinks and of other such luxury items.

Finally, he picked up a simple-looking plain box at the bottom of the pile. There was nothing special about it, but it was precisely because it looked so ordinary amongst the lavish goods that surrounded it that had drawn Wooyoung’s attention. He opened the box, and was greeted by a sight of a short hand-written note on normal, plain paper.

Congratulations, Wooyoung.

If she is so fortunate as to be the one that will make you happy, then she deserves you much more than I do.

I sincerely wish you the happiest in life.

He stared at the note, thunder-struck. It was not signed off, but Wooyoung didn’t need it to be. The handwriting, though he hadn’t seen it in years, was still fresh in his mind. He took the note out of the box, only to see lying underneath it not one, but two plain silver rings at the bottom of the shallow box. There was nothing really spectacular about them at all, they certainly couldn’t hold a candle to the one he had just gifted to the girl – if not for an elegant engraving on the inner band of the rings, of his initials entwined with another’s.

A warmth that he had forgotten to feel spread through his body as he stared at the rings. Wooyoung could feel the hotness of his tears welling in his eyes as he ran a finger along the smooth silver band, a burning ache heating up his chest.
It was only at that moment that the two futures that lay ahead of him flashed alarmingly across his eyes, and the consequences of each path became clearer than he had ever realized before. It didn’t take him long to know which future he wanted, though he knew he had always lacked the courage to choose it. It was like he had screeched to a stop just before plunging into a cliff he could never have climbed back out of again.

He made his decision.

He closed the box and slipped it into his pocket, feeling his blood warming up his body as he ran out of the exit.

The End

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

"How can I be happy without you?"

[FANFIC] Beautiful Images

shadow_paint — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 09:21:27 GMT

Title: Beautiful Images
Type: One Shot
Pairing: Junho/Chansung, Nichkhun/Junho
Words: 1800+

Somewhat based on a MV I watched very long ago, and now Nichkhun's love for photography reminded me of it. :)

Junho squeezed Chansung’s hand as they walked out of the building. Chansung shook his head and managed a small smile, though the tears in his eyes showed that he was not yet okay. They had just said their last farewells to his best friend since college, the friend he had shared a dormitory with, and grown up together with. It was a tragic event when accidents claimed the life of the young, and Junho wished he could forget that day.

He had met Chansung at a friend’s party shortly after graduation, and with him was his best friend, Nichkhun. They had been from the same college but being from different faculties, their paths had not crossed until now. Junho and Chansung struck it off immediately, spending most of the party getting to know each other better. They settled a time and day for their first date before the party was over, and then a date after that, and a date after that. Their relationship had progressed steadily and unfolded beautifully, like one out of a romance novel.

Chansung had shared the same dorm with Nichkhun in college, and after they graduated, they rented a flat together. This being the case, Junho was always bumping into Nichkhun when he went over to find Chansung, and he had become something of a middleman between him and Chansung, whenever they fought or whenever they planned surprises for each other. Nichkhun was always there when they were having home dates. They didn’t find his presence intrusive, and he didn’t seem to feel awkward, so it was all for the better.

“Why don’t you get a girlfriend, Nichkhun?” asked Chansung one day when they were all watching a romantic movie together, his arm around Junho’s shoulder on the couch while Nichkhun set on an arm chair a distance off.

“Unless you’re not into girls,” teased Junho, playing with Chansung’s fingers.

Nichkhun had only laughed as a reply, but hadn’t said anything else. Junho asked Chansung privately later, if Nichkhun had ever dated in the time that he had known him, but Chansung had replied in the negative. It seemed like Nichkhun hadn’t shown any interest in any one in all the time Chansung had known him, whether in guys or girls, and though they were best friends and knew almost everything about each other, Chansung didn’t probe where Nichkhun was not willing to speak out on.

A rare long weekend presented itself, and like every other couple, Junho set to work planning a short trip with Chansung. Privately, Chansung had asked him if it was OK for Nichkhun to come along. Junho had been slightly unwilling, but he understood why Chansung felt the need to bring him along – he knew Nichkhun would otherwise spend his long weekend doing nothing but staying at home, being the unsocial person that he was. When they had asked Nichkhun, he had initially protested against the idea of impinging on their couple time together, but with some persuasion, he finally relented.

Those short few days in the countryside had been beautiful. Nichkhun had apparently discovered a passion for photography and videography, and had volunteered to help Junho and Chansung capture their moments in that beautiful landscape. When they lost themselves in each other in the romantic sunset, Nichkhun was always there to take a picture of them to capture the moment. Junho began to feel pleased that they had brought him along, after all. When they asked why he suddenly discovered this enjoyment of photography, he had answered: “I like capturing beautiful images forever.”

It was also at the end of the few short days in the countryside that tragedy struck. Junho and Chansung were playing around on the beach, running along it and hugging each other on the sand. Nichkhun had, as usual, been filming all of this. He backed up along the sand dunes in order to get a wider shot of their silhouettes against the sea, and had walked backwards onto a road that was rarely used. He had been so absorbed in capturing the scene before him that he did not hear the truck rattling around the turn of the road. The driver, blinded and drowsy from the afternoon sun, had not noticed the figure in front of him even as he swerved.

Junho and Chansung were alerted by the screech of the tires, and the horrifying crash. Chansung was the first one to run with all the speed he could muster towards the scene. When Junho got there, it was a scene he probably would never forget for the rest of his life. It was evident from the weird twist of some limbs that some bones had been broken, and a deep gash along Nichkhun’s side was splurting out blood at an alarming rate. He was still conscious when Junho and Chansung arrived, but quickly slipped. The obscurity of their location meant an ambulance took a significant amount of time to arrive. He never regained his consciousness.

Junho brought Chansung back to his place after the funeral was over, where he crawled into bed. The shock of the accident and of so suddenly losing his friend was slowly seeping in, and Junho’s heart broke for his boyfriend as he grieved so silently, but so passionately. He had offered to help Chansung pack some clothes from his flat, a flat that he did not want to return to with everything about Nichkhun still lingering thickly in the air.

When Junho entered the flat, a package lay on the floor. It had been sent from the forensics department of the province where the accident had happened. He opened it in curiosity, and found a tape within, labelled with the date and the location where they had been holidaying in, in Nichkhun’s handwriting. Junho remembered the broken video camera that had lain next to Nichkhun, which he had been filming with before the truck hit him.

The only VCR player in the house was in Nichkhun’s room, and driven by his curiosity, that was where Junho was drawn to go. He opened the room gingerly and looked around. He had looked into but never stepped into Nichkhun’s room before. It still looked exactly the same, everything in its neat and proper place, the bed made up as if still expecting its owner to come back. A rush of sadness came over Junho for the first time. Though Nichkhun had always been there for both Chansung and him, for the past few years that they had been dating, he had never truly got to know him. He had never felt the need to ask Nichkhun more about himself, and only knew just as much as Chansung had told him. From the way Chansung was grieving over his death, Nichkhun must’ve been a worthy friend to have had.

Junho walked towards the VCR player and was about to place the tape into it, when something at the corner of his eye drew his attention. A familiar-looking brochure was sticking out of the drawer in the study desk. Forgetting himself, Junho went towards the desk and pulled out the drawer. Bound neatly with a canvas string was a stack of flyers, the bottom of which Junho was all too familiar with - the first school concert he had performed at when he was in his first year. Had Nichkhun been there? The second flyer was another student-organized performance, and as Junho leafed through the stack, he realised with a sting of shock that they were all flyers of performances or concerts that he had performed at, whether singing or dancing.

His curiosity was now burning with desperate urgency. He had never seen or knew about Nichkhun before meeting him and Chansung at that party after graduating from college – but had it been the same for Nichkhun? A small leather bound scrapbook was the only other thing left in the drawer. Junho snatched it up hastily and opened it. In the first few pages, there were mostly cuttings from the school newsletters, of when Junho had won such and such awards, or had been listed on the Honour Roll. Even if there had been so much of a mention of his name without any picture, it had been cut and pasted meticulously in that book. As the timeline of the book went on, the cuttings transited into actual photographs of Junho. Photographs that they had taken as a group together, which Nichkhun seemed to have duplicated a copy of and cut only Junho out. Many of them seemed to be candid pictures, of Junho pouting, Junho yelling out in horror, Junho turning around in surprise, but mostly, it was Junho smiling and grinning at the camera, showing off that splendid eyesmile he was so proud of.

Even though nothing was written or drawn on the scrapbook, Junho felt his heart torn as he leafed through the pages. The meticulousness of which each photo and cutting had been cut out and pasted on its pages showed how much care he had taken in compiling it. Nichkhun had never stepped over his boundaries, never taken any secret photos of Junho behind his back. It wrenched Junho’s heart to now realise how painful it must have been for Nichkhun, who had, despite being unsocial, attended that party in the hope of finally meeting Junho at last, but was instead relegated to the side as Junho forgot about his presence and flirted with his best friend instead.

With trembling fingers, Junho now inserted the tape into the VCR player and waited as it rewinded back towards the beginning. Evening was beginning now and as the light in the room faded, the images of the television screen cast a blueish hue on the whole room. At every scene, it was Junho and Chansung playing around in the different places they had visited, whether it was the sunflower field, or the meadows in the park, or on the swings in the playground. But in each scene the camera every so often zoomed in on Junho and focused on him only, capturing when the sunlight was caught in his brown hair, or when he laughed and smiled with such genuine happiness. Junho’s heart grew heavier and heavier as he watched, a lump growing in his throat. How could he have known…?

The tape finally rolled near to its end, as he heard the crashing of the waves, and Nichkhun shouting to the two of them on how to pose at the beach. The shot of the camera became wider as wider, as the wind howled in the camera’s microphone. Junho gripped the sheets on the bed, readying himself for what he knew must come next. But despite bracing himself, he was never quite prepared for the shrill screech, the sickening crash and the view of the camera being suddenly splattered with blood. He covered his mouth and burst into tears, but his eyes could not be ripped from the television screen. Nichkhun had dragged himself in front of the camera, despite not being able to move one broken arm, and had wiped the lens a little clearer of the blood. His face was scratched up, and a stream of blood was flowing down from his temple.

He smiled weakly at the camera. “Junho… I love you. I always have.”

The tape ended.

“I like capturing beautiful images forever.”

[fanfic] In The Darkness

shadow_paint — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 15:27:05 GMT

Title: In The Darkness
Type: One Shot
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 4000+

Wooyoung wakes up to a world of darkness. He can’t see anyone, but there’s only one person whose presence he can feel.

Wooyoung woke up feeling like a thousand daggers was pierced into his skull. The pain was so infiltrating that he seemed to have lost the ability to move at all. It even physically hurt to think, and to remember.

He had been on his way to another meeting with the publishers. He had serious issues with the latest draft that they had edited, and wanted to iron it out. As someone who had spent his lifetime writing, and now used his skills as a living, Wooyoung was an extremely particular author, and sometimes regarded as an unpleasant one to work with. He had sold his life to books and writing, preferring to immerse himself in the worlds and dreams that he wove masterfully, rather than paying attention to the one he lived in.

A call from his publishers informing him about the impossibility of his changing the edits, an agitated argument and a slip of judgement later, the last thing Wooyoung remember seeing was the glaring headlights of another car. Now, here he was, lying on a hospital bed, it seemed. Though he couldn’t even open his eyes, Wooyoung could smell the sharp stench of disinfectant, could hear the steady beeping of a machine that was probably connected to his arm.

It took him a few days before the pain in his head subsided enough such that he was able to twitch his finger. The hospital staff noticed, and guided him along. The next thing he did was to try opening his eyes.

Was he still dreaming?

The world remained a pitch-black darkness in front of him, even though his brain told him that his eyelids were open. It took him only a few seconds before an unprecedented panick rose like a balloon in him. He mustered enough strength to move his head to and fro, and to weakly flail his arms. The nurses restrained him but gently. They closed his eyelids, and tied a blindfold made of gauze around his eyes. Somehow, with his eyelids closed, seeing the same darkness didn’t strike so much fear into his soul, though it merely took a backseat and lingered.

It took him yet another few more days before he could eat by mouth, and then more time before he could talk.

“My eyes…” he croaked hoarsely. He heard the doctor sigh.

“Your accident left a trauma on your brain, Mr Jang. It disrupted your ocular nerves, leading to your current blindness.”

Blindness. How casually the doctor threw the word around, when it meant the inevitable destruction of the only world Wooyoung had ever known. He sat on the bed motionless, trying to school the emotions that was threatening to burst through.

“Can it… be cured…?” Wooyoung choked out.

“The ocular nerves was disrupted but not severed. It’s too delicate an area for corrective surgery. It’s very hard to say whether or not your blindness is permanent or temporary, and I dare not make any promises.”

Wooyoung felt the tears soak the bandage wrapped around his eyes as he hunched over. The doctor, feeling a little awkward after delivering this news, retreated out of the room, leaving Wooyoung alone to this untimely revelation. Without sight, he wouldn’t be able to read anymore, much less write. There was Braille, of course, but would it be the same as what he had always been used to? What was he going to do as a living now? The doctor had almost as good as announced a death sentence.

His publishers came to visit him, and were alarmed at the news of this possibly permanent loss of vision. Though they didn’t say it, and though he could not see them, Wooyoung could tell that they were already deciding what to do with him, now that he would become as good as deadwood on their roster of authors. It didn’t matter about his fame, or how much he had sold with the novels he had written – it didn’t matter if he couldn’t produce anymore.

Besides his publishers, Wooyoung had no other visitors. His family didn’t live here anymore, and he had always been too much of a recluse to have many friends. It didn’t matter though. Wooyoung didn’t need anyone to see him in this condition right now. He felt a sudden disinterest in everything, in eating, in exercising, in recovering, in life. It didn’t matter anymore what happened to him in this hospital, if he was going to remain blind. The black darkness that now made up his whole world was consuming him.

No more books, no more reading, ran Wooyoung’s thoughts as he lay on the bed one night. I’d still have all these fantasies in my head, but I’ll never be able to share them with people. No more writing, no more typing. He contemplated how easy it was for everything he had to crumble so quickly into nothingness. Sometimes, he even contemplated ending the life that now held no more meaning for him, but something always drew him back. He was afraid, and he was angry at his own cowardice. He had used to think that he was on the pinnacle of things, producing bestseller after bestseller, respected for his creativity and his art, but now he suddenly wondered if he was really all that he had thought himself to be.

He didn’t know whether he had fallen asleep or not as such depressing thoughts ran through his head – sleeping or wakefulness meant little to him anymore, when all he saw in either state was the same aggravating nothingness. A heat started within him, growing rapidly into something almost like a scorching fire underneath his skin. His head became lighter and lighter, and he tried to throw off his blanket. Wooyoung couldn’t stop shivering, though he felt hot all over. He felt the beads of sweat trickle down his forehead. Wooyoung vaguely held out a hand to press the bell for a nurse, but only succeeded in knocking over an empty water jug on his bedside table. He collapsed, defeated and feverish on his bed, wondering if he might die like this without anyone realising till the morning.

There was a sudden warmth on his face – a different kind of warmth. It took away the devilish heat inside of him, and offered some kind of relief. Between his half-awake state and his feverish brain, Wooyoung was barely master enough of his senses to be entirely aware of what was going on. He felt the warmth move to his forehead, as if feeling for his temperature, and then it seemed to stroke his hair. He wanted the warmth to stay – it seemed to take away some of his temperature.

“Help is coming,” he heard a voice say, but it felt like he was hearing it from a distance. He couldn’t tell who the voice was. He wasn’t even sure if his brain was making it up. “You’ll be all right soon.” The disembodied voice and the warmth faded away, and Wooyoung sunk back into his pillows again, but calmer this time. He faded in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night, such that everything else seemed as much like a dream as this encounter.

When the morning came, his fever broke and Wooyoung woke up, feeling the need to change his clothes, which were soaked through with his sweat from the previous night. The now-warm cooling pad on his forehead, and the taste of remnant medicines on his tongue was the only evidence that help had been called for him last night, though he could barely remember or distinguish it from his dreams. As he changed, he wondered how the nurses had known to come. Had he not failed to press the nurse bell button? Or had he actually did, but remembered wrongly? But it doesn’t matter, anyway.

That night, Wooyoung continued to drift in and out of sleep, now less disturbed by his feverish dreams. But this time, he had the same dream again. He felt once again that warmth on his face, now a pleasant sensation when he wasn’t having a fever, and heard that voice from last night. It wasn’t much clearer than before, and Wooyoung could barely make out most of what the voice said, but it soothed him. He wondered if this was a product of his brain, as a defence mechanism to compensate for the fever of last night. The dream lasted longer than it had the previous night, but when the warmth and the voice faded away as it did, Wooyoung felt the reluctance of abruptly ending a good dream.

The dream seemed to be a recurring one. Night after night, he felt the same warmth on his face, on his hair, and heard the same muffled voice. Every night, it made him feel more soothed than before, and less agitated about his present condition. The darkness seemed less delibitating. Was it his brain’s way of dealing with the mental trauma? Though Wooyoung had no complaints about the recurrent nature of the dream, he began to have suspicions. Some nights, he felt himself floating nearer the brink of consciousness, where dreams usually fade into wakeful reality, but even then the warmth and voice had not faded.

Perhaps, Wooyoung thought, there was no harm in staying up the whole night. At the worst, it merely meant that he forewent the happy dream one time. He thought about it the whole day, and was glad it gave him something to think about other than the feeling of emptiness he felt when he opened his eyes and saw nothing. When night came, he grew more and more excited, wondering if perhaps his suspicions would be right, and if his dream wasn’t really a dream. But what if nothing happened? He would have to swallow his disappointment then.

Wooyoung lay on his pillows as he always did, and closed his eyes underneath the gauze blindfold as he always did. In other words, he pretended to be sleeping. The ticking of the clock in his hospital room sounded louder than it had ever been. Every footfall outside his room renewed his anxiety. He tossed and turned in his dark room. At the very least, he thought, he had no trouble warding off sleep in the state of excitement he was in. Depressive thoughts lay underneath the surface, but he thought merely of this experiment he had embarked on, and it quelled them.

Almost half the night passed and nothing happened. The ticking of the clock had subsided into a monotonous background sound. He had grown immune to hearing footfalls outside his door. Wooyoung began to feel the soreness of disappointment. Perhaps it had really all been his dreams after all. He couldn’t tell what time it was, but it felt like an eternity that he had lay there waiting. Sleep was beginning to claim him now, as he felt himself losing slip of his consciousness. It’s all a dream, Wooyoung, he told himself, you were just too imaginative thinking it might have been real.

The door clicked softly open. From a dull dormant state, Wooyoung’s every senses sharpened as he strained himself to hear more. Had he imagined the click again now? There was a pause that seemed to stretch for too long a time, before another click of the door shutting. Wooyoung could barely keep still now – someone was definitely in his room. It most definitely wasn’t a nurse, because they let themselves in hurriedly, did what they had to do and left just as swiftly. The way the door had opened, however, seemed as if the person had the leisure to try to be as soft as possible, in order not to disturb Wooyoung’s sleep.

Wooyoung lay still, trying to maintain his breathing, hoping that it wouldn’t give him away. He heard footsteps approaching his bed, but they were so slow and soft that he barely made them out even in a completely quiet room. Who was this mysterious person? There was another silence, but Wooyoung felt the presence nearer to him now, as if the person was bending over to see if he was sleeping. It took every ounce of effort to maintain as comfortable and expressionless a face that Wooyoung could muster.

And then, Wooyoung felt it again. That warmth that had soothed him during his fever, that he had felt every night since then, but now the sensation was sharpened by wakefulness. He now felt the soft finger tips that brushed his skin along with it, transferring the warmth of the palm onto his cheek. The touch was light, as if the person didn’t want to wake him up, but it was just as soothing as it had always been. Another hand touched his hair softly.

“How’ve you been?” came the voice in a delicate whisper. Wooyoung almost lost his countenance then. The voice was the same as that in his dream, except that it was even more gentle than he remembered, now that he could hear it clearly.

“Have you been recovering well?” the person asked. “Your temperature doesn’t seem to be going up anymore, so I guess you’ve been eating your medicines.”

Wooyoung allowed the person to continue talking in his soft whisper, feeling that same soothing effect that it had on him as always. The anxiety he had felt earlier had all but disappeared, and though he was awake, he lay completely silent and restful on the bed, listening to the person’s voice. He felt like he could not get enough of it.

After what seemed like a long time, the person suddenly announced that he had to go. Wooyoung almost fidgeted in alarm, reluctant to let this presence leave. As the person touched his face for one last time, Wooyoung made a quick grab for the person’s wrist and pressed the person’s hand against his face.

“Don’t go,” Wooyoung said. Even as he said so, he felt the coldness of the person’s wrist, and the tremors that ran through it. The person tried desperately to pull away, but Wooyoung’s hand was almost fully functional by now and he had enough strength to resist the person’s struggles. After a few minutes, the person’s struggles ceased and he rested his palm on Wooyoung’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“You were awake?” he asked. Wooyoung could hear the shame in his voice, as he nodded slowly. “I’m very sorry to disturb you.”

“Don’t be,” Wooyoung smiled, relaxing his grip on the person’s wrist. “I appreciate your concern, and it really gives me a lot of comfort, even though I’m always asleep when you’re here.”

“Why were you awake today then?” asked the person. Wooyoung let go of his wrist, though the person did not withdraw his hand from Wooyoung’s cheek.

“I wanted to know if you were real and not just a dream.”

The person stayed silent at this.

“Would you come again tomorrow night?” Wooyoung asked hopefully. The person withdrew his hand from Wooyoung.

After a while, he replied, “If you want.”

“What’s your name?”

The person didn’t answer. There was an absolute silence in the room, and the next thing Wooyoung heard was a hurried goodbye, before the door clicked open and shut.

Wooyoung had worried that he might have scared the person off, but keeping to his word, the person appeared again the night after. And the night after that, and then after that. Instead of sleeping, Wooyoung would stay up until the person came, and they’d talk. Wooyoung never realised how nice it was to have someone to talk to. He had remained reclusive and alone for so long, and had been so satisfied with his lifestyle he had never thought of experiencing a different kind.

“Why did you think about ending your life?” asked the person one day, after Wooyoung had confided that he had felt depressed and almost suicidal after he found out he was now blind.

“I’m a writer, and a pretty successful one too. My passion in life is reading and books, and I sustain myself with writing. Without my vision, now I can’t do any of that. What else can I do?”

“I know you’re a writer. Everyone knows who you are, once they hear your name. But it feels like what you love is not writing, but in sharing your imagination in all its glory with people.”

Wooyoung was silent, struck by this suggestion.

“Even if you can’t write, why don’t you do something else that achieves that same effect?” The person continued. “What about dictating and asking someone to write it down for you? Better yet, what about story-telling? You’d still be doing the same thing, just not writing it down in a book form.”

Again, Wooyoung was silent. He had never thought about things that way. He had felt upset about losing his writing skills because now all the stories he could make up in his mind would now go to waste. He had never had the clarity of mind to think about what alternative ways he could go about still practising his art, without the use of his vision.

Before the person left that night, Wooyoung tried again. “We’ve been talking for so many nights now. Could you at least tell me your name?”

The person did not answer. After a long while, he only said, “It doesn’t matter,” before he left the room.

The next morning, Wooyoung woke up irritated by the sunlight streaming into his room. He asked the nurse why hadn’t the curtains been closed the night before, when after a stunned silence, the nurse replied that his curtains had never been closed since it shouldn’t have made a difference to him - if he was blind.

The doctor came in briskly and began to unwrap the gauze blindfold from his eyes. Wooyoung could barely keep himself trembling from excitement. When he opened his eyes, it was like looking at things through a blackened smoke screen. He could barely see anything, but most importantly, he could see. Though all he could make out were vague and blur silhouettes, but at least now, his world wasn’t just a single piece of darkness anymore.

He couldn’t wait to tell the person about it. He sat eagerly in his bed for half the night, but the person did not come. He waited until dawn broke, and still, the person did not come. Feeling more surprised than disappointed, Wooyoung explained it away to himself. Maybe the person had gotten caught up in something over the night, and had not been able to get away. He had never missed a night’s chat with Wooyoung before. That night, surely, the person would come again.

But he didn’t. Even when Wooyoung fell asleep waiting, there was no comforting dream, no warmth or soothing voice that he could feel or hear. He began to grow frustrated and angry, even though his vision was making slow but significant improvements. Why did the person stay away? More importantly, why had he refused to tell Wooyoung anything about himself such that it made it difficult for Wooyoung to track him now that he was gone?

The doctor expressed high hopes that he would be able to recover his full vision soon, and then to be discharged. His vision had come back so much that he was now able to dress himself, bathe himself and eat by himself. The blackened smoke screen in front of his eyes seem to clear bit by bit every day, till now he could see and make out actual colours. He was happy for his recovery progress, but he could not enjoy it fully. Wooyoung asked the nurses again and again, if there was any male staff that was attached to his room, or was seen going in and out, but they always answered in the negative.

With some delight, the doctor finally announced to him a discharge date, by which they hope that he would be able to make a full recovery at home. It was like an ultimatum – Wooyoung had to find the person again before he was discharged, or he might lose him forever. He asked and asked, not even just the nurses but even the doctors now. He went out of his room by himself, trying to see if he could spot his mysterious visitor by himself, or ask the other staff if they had seen any such person. None had any significant impression, but the hospital was always full of staff walking to and fro and entering hospital rooms, it was hard to be sure.

The date drew closer and closer to that of his discharge. Wooyoung’s anxiety peaked, as he desperately went as much around the hospital as he was allowed, trying to find the person. “Where are you?” he whispered desperately as he went around the hospital. He still allowed himself to hope that the person might one night come in to his room again, but he never did. Sometimes, he’d dream of the warmth and the voice again, whereupon he’d forcefully wake himself up to catch hold of the person – but it had always turned out to be truly just a dream in the end.

There was one last examination that he had to go through before he could leave – his eye exam. In the doctor’s clinic, he administered an eye drop to each of Wooyoung’s eyes, explaining that its purpose was to enlarge his retina to facilitate examination. The eye drops needed time to work, and during the time of its effect, Wooyoung’s recovering eyes would be extremely sensitive to any form of light. The doctor tied the gauze blindfold around his eyes once more, and left Wooyoung alone inside the clinic room with the lights turned off.

Wooyoung sat on the chair, feeling upset and resigned. He had to admit that he had been crying himself to sleep for the past few nights, realizing how fruitless was his search for the person. He had simply disappeared, and Wooyoung was never to see him again, not even to tell him how he felt. He did not understand why the person insisted on being so mysterious, and why he had begun to avoid Wooyoung from the moment he began to regain his vision back.

The door slid open. Wooyoung assumed it was the doctor, but then as the footsteps grew closer, his heart almost stopped. He couldn’t see anything now, but his temporary period of blindness had taught him how to differentiate the person’s footsteps from every other. Before he could say anything, he felt the person’s hands carressing his face in that familiar manner that he had always been. Wooyoung raised his hand to rip off the gauze covering his eyes, but the person forcefully pressed the gauze down.

“Don’t. Your eyes will hurt,” the person said gently. Wooyoung dropped his hand from his eyes, and raised it to touch the person’s face instead.

It was the first time he had actually felt the person’s face. He cupped the person’s face with both of his hands, wanting to engrave every contour on his face into his memory. He wanted to build a mental picture of the person, even if he could not see him. He felt the smallness of his face, the soft hair on his forehead, the big eyes, the straight nose and then, his full lips. The person silently allowed him, although Wooyoung could feel some hotness underneath the person’s eyes and some moisture on his long eyelashes, as if he was on the brink of tears.

“Please don’t leave,” Wooyoung asked, though he could hear the sheer desperation in his voice, mingled with the exasperation of having spent the past couple of weeks searching for the person right in front of him now. “Please… I’ve been looking so hard for you.”

“I’m sorry,” the person said. Wooyoung could hear the slight quiver in his voice. “I have to leave you soon.”

“No!” Wooyoung protested, wrapped his arms around the person’s neck and pulling him into a hug. He could smell the person’s fragrance – like a mixture of rain and leaves. “I won’t let you leave. I’ve been looking for you longer than I even realized. Don’t go.”

The person slowly wrapped his arms around Wooyoung and allowed himself to hug him tightly for a while. In the strength of his embrace, Wooyoung could feel just how much the person himself didn’t want to leave, but yet he let go and pulled away from Wooyoung after a while.

“After you regain your vision,” the person whispered into Wooyoung’s ears. “you will go back to the world that you’re used to. You will go back to the world you belong to. But I cannot follow you there.”

“If you can’t follow me there, then I won’t go back into that world. I don’t need to be an author,” Wooyoung pleaded desperately, his arms still clinging onto the back of the person’s neck. The person chuckled softly but almost bitterly.

“Your being an author isn’t why I can’t follow you. We belong to different worlds, you and I. Even if you quit your job, it’s not going to change that.”

Wooyoung stayed silent, but after a while, he shook his head, feeling the tears soaking that gauze once again. He felt the most urgent desperation he had ever felt, but was at a loss of what to do to convince the person to stay.

“Goodbye, Wooyoung,” the person said softly. Wooyoung raised his face and began to shake his head. The person grabbed both sides of his cheeks with the familiar warmth of his palms, and pressed his warm lips onto Wooyoung’s. It didn’t take him long to register what was going on, as Wooyoung curled his arms around the back of the person’s neck and reciprocated the kiss. It was a slow kiss, both of them wanting to prolong this stolent moment while they could. Even through the kiss, Wooyoung could feel the hot tears from the person’s cheek staining his own.

The person was the one who pulled away first, probably realizing that the doctor might return soon. He gave Wooyoung’s cheek one last stroke, letting his fingers linger reluctantly on his face. “Goodbye,” he whispered painfully. “I love you.”

With a rustle, the person stood up and his warmth disappeared from Wooyoung. Now released, Wooyoung quickly pulled off the gauze from his eyes, and was only in time to see a bright, white light from the door, and a blurry tall silhouette outlined against it. Even through the excruciating light entering his eyes, Wooyoung thought he saw a glimpse of the side profile of the person’s face…

-------

Wooyoung looked out of the window at the falling snow. The pleasant whiteness of the scenery cheered him up, even though he felt a familiar mild stinging of his eyes whenever he looked at something too bright. At least he could see at all, he told himself.

“Grandpa, can you teach us how to sing Hark! The Herald Angels Sing for Christmas?” asked one of his grandchildren, a sprightly girl of five. The other, a smaller boy of three, nodded eagerly.

Wooyoung smiled down at both of them and sat down on an arm chair near the fire. “Have you ever seen an angel before?”

His grandchildren shook their heads. “Have you, grandpa?”

Wooyoung sipped his tea and stared into the crackling fire. “I thought I did, many many years ago. Maybe I was mistaken.”

“Tell us, tell us!” his grandchildren clamoured excitedly. Wooyoung beamed at them.

“Then sit over here and be still, it’s time for me to tell stories again,” he said as he set down his cup of tea and began.

[fanfic] Then & Now

shadow_paint — Sun, 09 Sep 2012 15:05:49 GMT

Title: Then & Now
Type: One Shot
Rating: G
Genre: Angst (I guess?)
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2000+

Sometimes, history repeats itself, but not always in the same way.

2009.

There was a burst of golden shimmer and high-pitched cheers exploded in the stadium as the thousands of fangirls waved their lightsticks frantically. The six of them struck the ending pose as they had rehearsed, dozens and dozens of times. Taecyeon flexed his biceps, with that angry expression he liked to call beastly. Junho did a sleek body roll before ending in a calculated pose with his hands outstretched. Junsu, never one for much theatrics, chose to stand coolly with a hand on his belt, and the other hand on his jacket. Chansung had done a whole somersault before he ended in a crouched position with his hand in salute to the audience. Nichkhun put on his most beastly frown, his head turned sideways so the audience could admire his side profile.

And Wooyoung? While the others had thought up their pose almost immediately, he had deliberated over it for ages. He couldn’t possibly do a split in the middle of the stage – that wasn’t ‘beastly’ in the least. There was no ‘beastly’ pose in the world that could show off flexibility. And without his flexibility – what else did he have that the others didn’t? In the end, he had settled for a simple Michael Jackson-inspired pose, his body slightly bent, his head bowed and his hand atop of his crown. The flashes from the fan cameras were almost blinding – but Wooyoung had a feeling it wasn’t for him.

“I’m so tired!” announced Junho unceremoniously as they finally got back to the dorm. They had gotten up so early to prepare for the concert, and had gotten back so late that they were soon going to spend an entire 24 hours awake now. The others were all silent and lethargic from the day’s activities, but Wooyoung’s silence was not entirely due to his exhaustion. He wordlessly took up his duffel bag and walked back to his room.

“Did you see the fangirls’ letters to me?” Junho kept chattering on about something or other when they were alone in their room. Even with the exhaustion, Junho was still running nonstop on that adrenaline of having successfully concluded their first concert. Despite himself, Wooyoung felt a stinging irritation, and wasn’t sure if he might not snap at Junho eventually.

Luckily for himself, Wooyoung had a frequent habit of sleeping in the living room, so it wasn’t to Junho’s surprise when he grabbed his bolster and pillow and left the bedroom. Outside, Chansung was already lying face-down like a dead body in the middle of the living room floor, his snoring reverberating around the walls. His snores were usually bearable, but the exhaustion of the whole day probably amplified the volume to intolerable levels. Wooyoung found himself turning on his heels and heading back towards the bedrooms – but not to his own.

“Hyung…” Wooyoung knocked on the door. “Hyung, are you asleep?”

“No, come in,” came the gentle voice he was so used to. Wooyoung opened the door, shoving his fat pillows and bolsters through the narrow doorway. Nichkhun was sitting up in bed with what Wooyoung called his grandfather glasses, reading some English book or other and looking every bit like an old man.

“Hyung, can I sleep in Chansung’s bed tonight?” asked Wooyoung, though he really only asked out of politeness. It wasn’t as if Nichkhun could say no.

As he was arranging his own bed necessities onto Chansung’s bed, Nichkhun piped up. “Wooyoung ah, are you OK today?”

“Huh?” Wooyoung spun around, looking at Nichkhun a little sheepishly. Had it been obvious that he wasn’t feeling completely like his usual self? None of the other guys had mentioned it though. But, Wooyoung reminded himself, it was Nichkhun after all. And Nichkhun functioned differently from most guys he knew.

“It’s just that you seemed a little – sad? – when we came back to the dorm. Ever since the concert ended, actually,” Nichkhun explained, putting away his book and shifting himself to the edge of his bed.

Wooyoung sat down heavily on the edge of Chansung’s bed and stared a little forlornly at the ground. He knew he could tell Nichkhun. It wouldn’t be the first time they had such random heart to heart talks in the middle of the night. “I just…” Wooyoung halted. It seemed a little silly, having such thoughts when they had just concluded their first concert, a milestone in their career. What would Nichkhun think of him and his untimely and almost unnatural low self-confidence? Would that make him an even greater liability to the group than he already was? The thought sprang hot tears to his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but it instead only resulted in them dropping and creating spots of wetness on his pants. He bent his head lower in the hopes that Nichkhun wouldn’t have noticed – though since they were facing each other across the small room, this seemed a little futile. Wooyoung swallowed and continued. “I just feel like I don’t contribute much to the group.”

There. He said it. Externalizing it instigated a wave of relief and yet also of pain and shame over Wooyoung. On one hand, it felt nice that he had finally acknowledged it, and it was no longer a nameless pestering thought at the back of his head. On the other, he was struck by a deep fear, anticipating what Nichkhun would say. Though Wooyoung did feel like he had no outstanding colour in the group, and was willing to acknowledge it, it would be an entirely different – and very painful – matter to have another person agree with that, much less when it was someone he respected like Nichkhun.

There was silence. Wooyoung stared at the floor of the room, feeling his embarrassment rise exponentially with every silent passing second. Suddenly, there sounded the creaking of the bed-springs as Nichkhun got up from his bed and sat down next to Wooyoung. Before Wooyoung could react to this shift, Nichkhun had folded him tightly into his arms, his hand cupping the base of Wooyoung’s head in a gesture that made him feel somehow safe and – loved?

“Nobody thinks that,” Nichkhun said, his tone firm though he barely raised his volume. Wooyoung closed his eyes, feeling the tears create their first tracks down his cheeks. But now he wasn’t crying because of his insecurities, but the overwhelming warmth from the hug, from the way Nichkhun’s hand was rubbing comfortingly up and down his back, from the soft reaffirming voice in his ear. Nichkhun continued, “Nobody thinks that, all right? Don’t ever have such stupid baseless thoughts again. Everything’s going to be all right, and you’re going to be fine.”

Simple words so commonly spoken that they sounded almost cliché, but yet when said at the right time by the right person, nevertheless had great power. Wooyoung felt a fresh stream of tears well up, as his hands wrapped themselves around Nichkhun’s back.

2012.

There was a burst of golden shimmer and an explosion of the now all-too-familiar shrieks of fangirls. Wooyoung struck the ending pose that had been specially tailored for him, which he had rehearsed so many times by himself in the middle of the stage as the music came to a dramatic end. He was panting, and he could feel his entire face drenched in perspiration, but yet he couldn’t help grinning to the audience as he took a bow. The end of his performance marked the end of the first fanmeeting he was having, by himself, in his hometown.

“Thank you, and I’ll see you guys next time!” Wooyoung grinned and waved to the screaming fans. The flashes from their cameras were almost blinding, and there was no one else that it could be for but for himself. Wooyoung bowed again, waved and walked backstage. It still felt strange to be performing all by himself now, but slowly, with each performance that he had to go through, he was getting used to it. His confidence level was slowly going up. He felt less scared of having the limelight all to himself, and understanding what it meant to be a solo artist.

Gulping down a few more mouthfuls of water, Wooyoung patted his face with a tissue as he walked into the dressing room. Assistants flocked up to him immediately, some removing the microphone from his belt, some helping him to remove his make-up. It had been almost 4 years. Wooyoung was so used to it that he simply stood on the spot with his limbs outstretched while letting them have their way with him.

“OK, this schedule is the last for today,” said his manager, frowning at a notebook with all their schedules pencilled in. “Tomorrow, you’ll have a –“ A familiar ringtone started playing and the manager whipped out the handphone from his pocket. “Hello? Yes. Yes. … What?” With that, the manager quickly stepped out of the bustling noisy dressing room, leaving Wooyoung puzzled though not entirely curious. It was probably some last minute schedule changes, or a cancellation of something or other. Wooyoung would deal with it when he found out about it.

By the time his manager was done, the dressing room had almost all but emptied. His bags were packed, his make-up had been removed and he had changed back to his ordinary clothes. The rest of the staff were just tying up loose ends with the event organizer and the people who ran the venue, and all he was doing was really just waiting for his manager and the van back to the hotel now. Wooyoung looked up from his chair as his manager walked in, ashen-faced and looked like he had added a few more wrinkles since the last time he had talked to Wooyoung.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asked with some alarm. He had never seen his manager look like that before.

“It’s…” The manager started hesitantly, but then he cursed and sat down heavily on one of the empty chairs. “Something’s happened with Nichkhun.”

--

“How is he?” Wooyoung asked Taecyeon the moment he got back to the dorm. Everyone else had already left for Japan by now. Taecyeon shook his head solemnly.

“He’s locked himself in his room since that night. He only comes out when he has to go back to the police station. We’ve all tried to make him eat something, but he’s never responded. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but frankly, I’m really worried. I’ve never seen him like this before,” Taecyeon spilled the story to Wooyoung, whose heart sank with every sentence.

That night, as Wooyoung walked through the second level of their dormitory to get back to his room, he passed by the locked door of Nichkhun’s. He stopped hestitatingly in front of it, his hand itching to knock on the door. Would Nichkhun respond? He had been so busy with his solo activities, they hadn’t had their usual heart to heart talk in ages - would he still be a candidate for Nichkhun to open up to? A wave of guilt washed over Wooyoung as he thought about this. Nichkhun had always been giving the greatest support for his solo debut, and though he appreciated it, he had never verbalized it much, or taken a bit of time out to catch up with his hyung. Would the door open now? After deliberating on this decision for almost half a minute, Wooyoung shook his head violently, deciding that Nichkhun probably still needed some more time to himself, and went back to his own room.

The comments on the Internet was more than brutal. Wooyoung felt himself bristling all over as he read some of them, scrolling through the articles. He thought he would be used to it by now, but it was a whole different matter when the hate comments were directed at someone else rather than yourself. Wooyoung made a grunt of derision as he closed the window, wishing he had never bothered opening it.

There was a knock on his door. “Come in,” Wooyoung said, swiveling around on his chair, anticipating Taecyeon to come and talk to him about the possible changes in the next day’s schedules. Instead, he saw the pale, terrified face of Nichkhun peeking in from the dark corridor, his eyes darting around as if he was too afraid to make eye contact with Wooyoung. He was paler than Wooyoung had ever seen him before, but in addition to that was another feature that Wooyoung had never seen in Nichkhun – red, puffy eyes.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung breathed hurriedly as he sprang up from his chair to open the door for Nichkhun.

Without a word, as if he couldn’t bear to even speak to Wooyoung, Nichkhun let himself into the room, and let Wooyoung close the door behind him. His movements were slow and lethargic, almost as if he was weary of everything around him and of life itself. Wooyoung felt a pain in his chest at this Nichkhun that he had never known before. With a wordless indication, Nichkhun asked whether he might sleep in Wooyoung’s bed tonight, and Wooyoung similarly nodded silently.

Nichkhun padded into the room, gently drew down the blankets to Wooyoung’s large bed and climbed in, taking as little space on the bed as he could. It felt like he thought his presence and visit an inconvenience. Wooyoung frowned, again feeling pained. He had never seen Nichkhun like this before, and had never thought that he would take such a setback so personally. Shutting down his laptop and turning off the lights, Wooyoung climbed into his bed and physically shifted Nichkhun closer to himself, if only to let him know that he would never be an inconvenience or unwelcome in his room.

As Nichkhun turned around to face him, it was with some alarm that Wooyoung felt some wetness underneath his fingers that had just lightly brushed across Nichkhun’s cheeks. Wooyoung stopped for a while, his alarm growing. He realised this was probably only the third time he had witnessed his tears since he first knew him all those years ago. He cautiously wiped Nichkhun’s cheek, before he drew Nichkhun into a tight embrace on the bed. The tears dropped onto his shoulder now, but even then, Nichkhun didn’t give into open sobbing. His grief was silent.

“I’m sorry,” Nichkhun whispered in a barely audible voice, as if all the life had been drained out of him. Wooyoung only hugged him tighter. “I’ve been a disappointment to you all. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Wooyoung whispered back harshly. His hand stroked the back of Nichkhun’s head, wanting desperately to give as much comfort to his friend as he could. “Stop saying such things, all right? You’re going to be fine, and everything will turn out all right in the end.”

Nichkhun bowed his head deeper into Wooyoung’s shoulder, and Wooyoung could feel the growing coldness of his tears. His heart ached, not only because he cared for Nichkhun, but also from the overwhelming helplessness that he felt. There was absolutely nothing that either of them could do to reverse the situation, or to salvage it. There was nothing to do but to let time take its course.

Wooyoung pulled Nichkhun away, feeling the older boy quivering in his hands. It was new to Wooyoung to see him so completely broken down, and it was a painful sight. He leaned closer and kissed Nichkhun’s forehead gently, swallowing his own tears away. He had to be strong, because Nichkhun needed it right now. Because Nichkhun had always been strong for everyone, and now it was Wooyoung’s turn.

“We’ll wait for you,” Wooyoung whispered firmly, his hands holding onto Nichkhun’s head and his thumbs stroking his cheek. “We’ll wait for you until you’re ready. And after that, you’re going to be even better than you were before.”

Wooyoung pulled him back into his embrace and held him firmly as Nichkhun broke down.

fic masterlist

shadow_paint — Thu, 09 Aug 2012 13:43:11 GMT

the masterlist of all my fics!

Nichkhun/Wooyoung

[1] Verdure Asphyxiation
Genre: Angst, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2,600
Summary: Nichkhun cannot suppress his jealousy at Woosu.

[2] So Close
Genre: Romance, Songfic
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 1,800
Summary: To their disgust, Nichkhun and Wooyoung have to film a slow-dancing scene for a parody, but it doesn’t turn out as bad as they had expected.

[3] The Red Thread Part 1 and Part 2
Genre: Angst, Romance, Action, AU
Rating: NC-17 for violence
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 5,000
Summary: The police and the mafia – a dream for one and a destiny for the other.

[4] Underneath The Paper
Type: Drabble, Real Life
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Rating: G
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 980
Summary: What happened before the filming of the Paper Kiss Game?

[5] Undisclosed Desires
Type: Drabble, Real Life, Songfic
Genre: Romance (?)
Rating: G
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 800
Summary: Only beside Wooyoung do the angel and devil collide.

[6] Lovetype
Type: Drabble, Real Life
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 900
Summary: Wooyoung has trouble typing English and Nichkhun offers his help.

[7] Nightbody
Type: AU, one shot
Genre: Romance/Angst/Fluff (?)
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 8000
Summary: It’s not easy falling in love with someone you barely know anything about.

[8] Unspeakable
Type: AU, one-shot
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung/Taecyeon
Words: 5000
Summary: It's not easy to tell someone you love them.

[9] Unspeakable 1.5
Type: AU, one-shot, sequel
Rating: R
Genre: Smut/Fluff
Pairing: Taecyeon/Nichkhun and slight Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2000
Summary: If the storeroom door had been trickier to unlock than it was.

[10] Just So
Type: Drabble, Real Life
Rating: G
Genre: I’m not really sure
Pairing: Whoever you want it to be (but I’m obviously gearing this for Nichkhun/Wooyoung hehe)
Words: 500
Summary: It wasn’t that complicated, really.

[11] Is It So Much To Ask?
Type: One-Shot, AU
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 4,000
Summary: Every relationship has its cracks, and nothing lasts forever.

[12] Then & Now
Type: One Shot
Rating: G
Genre: Angst (I guess?)
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2000+
Summary: Sometimes, history repeats itself, but not always in the same way.

[13] In The Darkness
Type: One Shot
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 4000+
Summary: Wooyoung wakes up to a world of darkness. He can’t see anyone, but there’s only one person whose presence he can feel.

[14] Beautiful Images
Type: One Shot
Pairing: Junho/Chansung, Nichkhun/Junho
Words: 1800+
Summary: Somewhat based on a MV I watched very long ago, and now Nichkhun's love for photography reminded me of it. :)

[15] In Fire, In Ice
Type: Ficmix, One Shot
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2968
Summary: After a separation from Nichkhun, Wooyoung’s life takes a turn he didn’t expect.
Author's note: This was done in a ficmix challenge, and I was lucky enough to get dreamoscope as my remixee, so this was inspired by one of her really short drabbles. :D

[fanfic] Is It So Much To Ask?

shadow_paint — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 17:36:14 GMT

Title: Is It So Much To Ask?
Type: One-Shot, AU
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 4,000+

Every relationship has its cracks, and nothing lasts forever.

A/N: Randomly found this random poem I wrote when I was in secondary school and got inspired for this. For your info, the poem was in Chinese so it's not anything you see here, haha. Haven't written angst in forever anyway. Hope you enjoy it. ^^

It was almost midnight. The candle was almost burnt out now, as Wooyoung blinked the tears out of his eyes.

He stood up and extinguished the candle, turning on the lights in the room. The steaks had long turned cold and hard, and he began to scrape them into the dustbin slowly, all the time swallowing furiously against his tears.

--

Wooyoung was chattering on and on about the new job he had got, but Nichkhun was oddly silent. He was fixated on the pages of a magazine, some health promotional magazine that had been left on the doorstep, and didn’t seem to be hearing whatever Wooyoung was saying. When Wooyoung ended his tirade with a question, only to hear nothing but silence in reply, he frowned. It wasn’t the first time Nichkhun had seemed to be ignoring him.

“Nichkhun? Did you hear anything I just said?”

“I’m sorry?” Nichkhun looked up for the first time, his face a complete blank. Wooyoung didn’t need any further reply.

“Were you listening to me?”

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s nothing. I’m tired,” Nichkhun smiled dismissively at him and went back to reading the magazine. Wooyoung frowned, feeling a growing displeasure at Nichkhun’s distance.

“It’s my birthday in a month and a half,” reminded Wooyoung sulkily. Nichkhun didn’t look up from his magazine.

“Mm… What do you want for your birthday?” he asked lazily.

“Can we have dinner here at home? A candlelight dinner, for the two of us. I’ll cook.”

Nichkhun didn’t answer again. He seemed to be reading another article in the magazine with the same concentration as before. Wooyoung angrily poked him, before he started with a jolt. “Dinner? Here? Oh, yeah, sure. You know I’m bad at picking out presents anyway.”

Wooyoung leapt off the couch in bristling frustration, slamming the bedroom door as he went in.

Nichkhun didn’t seem to notice.

--

It was almost 2 a.m. when Nichkhun let himself into the house. The living room was dark, the table and candles had all been kept away. Wooyoung was still sitting up awake on the couch.

“Are you back finally?” seethed Wooyoung coldly.

“Yes, why are you still awake?” said Nichkhun, in a flat tone of nonchalance. He slipped off the shoes on his feet before he walked into the living room, switching on the lights. Wooyoung’s red-rimmed eyes were now evident. “Have you been crying?”

“You don’t remember, do you?” asked Wooyoung. Already, his voice was quivering as the tears rushed upwards once more.

Nichkhun looked a little blankly around the room, before the sight of the lighters and the spare candles seemed to spark the memory within him. He raised a hand to his forehead and looked mortified. “Oh my god, Wooyoung, I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

“Just… forget it,” Wooyoung shook his head as he went back into the sanctuary of his room.

The pillow was once again soaked with his tears. He had been crying at night more than usual over the past month. It was like watching the relationship he had worked so hard for – that he thought they had worked so hard for – crumbled right in front of his eyes. The loss of interest on Nichkhun’s part was only too evident. Everything else seemed more important to Nichkhun than Wooyoung right now, and Wooyoung didn’t want to admit it. He wanted to turn away from all of this, and rewind back to the happier times. He wanted to shield his eyes from the increasingly obvious fact that Nichkhun’s emotions seemed to have moved on without him.

He wanted to obliviate himself to the blinding premonition that the end was looming ahead.

************

I just want to touch your face again.
I just want to see your eyes again.
I just want to hear you say “I love you” again.

Is it so much to ask?

************

It was time now. The silence of the entire apartment seemed to mock him as Wooyoung blinked the tears out of his eyes.

He rolled his luggage out of his room and looked around for one last time. This small little apartment, where he had met and fell in love with him. Where he had constantly spent the night over when they were falling in love, and where he had finally decided to move in at last when they decided to go steady. And Nichkhun wasn’t even here to say goodbye.

--

“Wooyoung, we need to talk,” Nichkhun sat down on the couch a little tentatively. Every hair on Wooyoung’s neck bristled at his tone. Something in him already knew what was coming up next.

“I think I need to go collect the clothes from the laundry,” was all of Wooyoung’s lame attempt at escape. Nichkhun pulled on his hand gently, as softly as he had ever done and he had ever been. A bitter sting pulled at Wooyoung’s heart – he didn’t want Nichkhun to let go.

“Please?” Nichkhun looked up at him, his eyes serious – but also hardened. There was none of its usual sparkle there. Wooyoung felt like it could almost kill him, but he finally agreed to sit down and hear Nichkhun out.

It turned out that he was right. It had been what he had been expecting all along.

“But why?” Wooyoung asked, unable to stop the tears streaming down his face, feeling like a fool but at the same time, willing to look like a fool if it would even incite the smallest feeling of regret and indecision in Nichkhun.

“It’s not you…” Nichkhun sighed. There was a small distance between them on the couch that Wooyoung greatly resented. “It’s just…

“There’s someone else.”

If his mind hadn’t reflexively numbed itself completely just at that moment as a defence mechanism, Wooyoung wasn’t sure what he might have done. All his emotions seemed to flare up in a split second but before he could appreciate its effects, they had already quickly burnt itself into ashes. He stared at Nichkhun blankly. He felt calm – but something felt wrong. Very wrong.

“Who is it?” asked Wooyoung.

“Not anyone you know,” Nichkhun couldn’t bear to look him in the eye anymore, his expression was shame-faced. Wooyoung was surprised to find that he found this expression ugly. For the first time in his life, he found an ugly side to Nichkhun. It wasn’t even because he was cheating on him, but because he didn’t have the guts to look him in the eye and admit it.

“Congratulations then. I wish you happiness.”

With that, Wooyoung got off the couch and slowly made his way back into his room.

It was only in the sudden loneliness of his room, the sudden feeling of being complete and utterly alone in the world that he slowly crumbled, and broke down. He had been so used to being a part of Nichkhun’s life, so used to feeling as one of a pair, that he felt like it would rip him in two to leave. He desperately wanted to beg Nichkhun to take him back, he wanted to know what he had failed to do, what standards he had not lived up to that Nichkhun had fallen in love with someone else even when they had been living together. It took every ounce of whatever dignity he could scrape to stop himself from marching right back to Nichkhun and kneeling, groveling, begging.

But nothing could be done. Once truly lost, love is lost forever, Wooyoung knew that. Begging in itself could drive Nichkhun further away than he already was. The overwhelming helplessness mingled with desperation and loss threatened to drive Wooyoung crazy. He could do nothing but watch the last flickers of the relationship that once was.

--

There was a letter on the table. For a split second, Wooyoung harboured insane, thoughtless hopes, but it was quickly quashed upon an inspection of the letter. It contained nothing but instructions on where to leave the key, etc. from Nichkhun. It was even in formal language – was he that anxious to get rid of every trace of intimacy with Wooyoung in his life?

Crushing the letter up, Wooyoung threw it into the dustbin and rolled the luggage out of the door. He was going to get over this, and be the stronger person. He was going to be a better person than Nichkhun thought he was, so that maybe, just maybe, Nichkhun would grow to regret him. His heart was shattered, but slowly, eventually, things will go back to normal. He would learn to live without Nichkhun.

And maybe down the road, just a desperately hopeless maybe, their fates will once again intertwine.

************

I just want to touch your face again.
I just want to see your eyes again.
I just want to hear you say “I love you” again.

Is it so much to ask?

************

It was almost 2 years later. The guy he had hooked up with in the bar was now snoring steadily beside him. Wooyoung blinked the tears out of his eyes as he turned away from him.

It had been a hectic couple of years. Wooyoung had, at least, gotten a permanent job that afforded him decent income. Financially, he was stable. Emotionally, after being in denial for so long, he now had to admit that he was truly a wreck after what had happened those couple of years back. Though he had met some guys that had shown interest, he had never been able to have a relationship lasting more than a month or two. There would always be that one defect in his partner that he couldn’t get over. What he wouldn’t admit to himself, was that these defects were merely them lacking a certain something when compared to Nichkhun.

--

“I’ll love you forever and always, Wooyoung,” Nichkhun mumbled through a smile as he wrapped his arms around Wooyoung, drawing him closer to him.

“Cheesy,” snorted Wooyoung, but he reciprocated the hug, feeling the warmth of Nichkhun’s bare skin on his. Nichkhun pressed a kiss on his forehead and lazily ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes to sleep. Wooyoung snuggled into a cosy corner of Nichkhun’s neck and prepared himself to sleep as well, feeling some genuine comfort in the rhythmic heaving of Nichkhun’s chest and the familiar musk on his skin that Wooyoung loved.

He hugged Nichkhun tighter. “I love you,” he whispered, not sure if Nichkhun was already asleep. A barely audible chuckling from above his head told him that he wasn’t, but Nichkhun drew him closer still, on the bed.

This, Wooyoung thought, was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. This was the warmth and the love he could only have dreamt of having for all these years. After so many years of failed romances, he had long begun to think that romance was merely the stuff of fantasy, but this – this was really it. It was like seeing a fairytale come true in front of his eyes, and Wooyoung was genuinely grateful to Nichkhun for showing him that.

He had always been a commitment phobe, and had always wondered how was he ever to have a long-term relationship in his life. Strangely, it was surprisingly easy with Nichkhun. While commitment had actually been a stressful issue in his previous relationships, with ths one, Wooyoung – simply wanted it to continue. He wanted to continue being by Nichkhun’s side, for as long as he possibly could, until at some point, one of them wanted it to end.

But surely, Wooyoung almost chuckled to himself, that would never happen.

--

The guy he had hooked up with from the bar had been a terrible kisser. He was near slobbering all over him, and furthermore, he wasn’t very good in bed. Wooyoung had no idea why he bothered hooking up with people from bars because they usually turned out like that. Still, he had given up relationships for the present, and had to get his needs satisfied somewhere.

Thoughts of Nichkhun had always been constantly drifting into his head for the entire year now. Wooyoung supposed that was why none of his relationships since then had lasted very long. It was always a never-ending list of comparisons, how this guy was not as thoughtful or meticulous as Nichkhun, how that guy wasn’t as gentle or did things just so as Nichkhun did.

Wooyoung let his thoughts drift towards the last time he had spoken with Nichkhun. “There’s someone else,” he had said. Wooyoung would never forget that line, nor the expression of guilt and shame that had been the one and only ugliness that Wooyoung could remember Nichkhun with.

Who was this ‘someone else’? Was Nichkhun truly happy with him or her? Had it merely been an error in judgement, if Wooyoung could flatter himself so? Was Nichkhun lying in bed next to that ‘someone else’ now, thinking the same thoughts about Wooyoung? Or was he whispering the same cheesy words to him or her, as he had done to Wooyoung? Had that ‘someone else’ been given a taste of the true bliss that Wooyoung had thought he had possessed?

Jealousy reared its ugly head, and Wooyoung was ashamed of it. Two years on, and he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t over him. The possibility of re-establishing contact was both humiliating but yet, tempting. Perhaps he would mull about it over the next few days.

Wooyoung got out of bed, suddenly disgusted at the idea of sharing the bed with a stranger. He would sleep on the couch tonight.

************

I just want to touch your face again.
I just want to see your eyes again.
I just want to hear you say “I love you” again.

Is it so much to ask?

************

It was almost sunset. The birds were chirping in the trees around him as Wooyoung blinked the tears out of his eyes. But this time, the tears would not stop.

--

The old apartment had naturally been rented out to someone else, but Wooyoung thought he might try his luck at the real estate agent.

No, the real estate agent did not have a satisfatory answer for him. Nichkhun had ended the lease of the apartment, and had directed all mail to him to a little village in the countryside. Otherwise, he had not indicated any interest in renting another apartment in the city. It was with some curiosity that Wooyoung took this mail address from the real estate agent. As far as he knew, Nichkhun did not have any relatives in the country. He wasn’t even born in this country.

Still, some address was better than none, and once Wooyoung had set his mind on doing something, he swore he would go through it to the end. Taking a day off from work, Wooyoung packed a day bag and set off towards this insignificant little village in the corner of the country.

It was with some difficulty that he managed to locate the village at all, and with even more difficult that Wooyoung managed to find the small dingy little house that the address belonged to. Everyone spoke in such a different dialect here from what he was used to. The address was to this house that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the beginning of the previous century, but only had modern conveniences fitted in.

An old lady peeked out of the door when he had knocked, and she looked genuinely surprised to see him. She seemed relatively well-educated, and her accent didn’t seem as strong as the others in the village.

She came out to greet him warmly, and invited him into the house for tea. She kept looking at him as if in awe.

“Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Nichkhun?” asked Wooyoung finaly, plucking up the courage after his first gulp of tea. The old lady nodded understandingly, as if she had expected this, but instead of answering, she stood up and began rustling inside a cupboard. She finally pulled out a tin box and handed it to Wooyoung, as well as another address.

--

Through his tears, Wooyoung looked at that familiar, smiling picture of Nichkhun on the columbarium wall. His name was engraved on the cold marble stone. The sole flower next to the niche had only just been placed there by Wooyoung.

The tears would not stop. The pain would not abate, not matter how much he yelled, no matter how much he kicked the benches nearby, nor punched the wall with his bare fists. His heart, he knew, would never be whole again, if that was even possible. Wooyoung felt like he was dying inside himself. It felt like his very inner being was shrivelling up into a shell of his former self, even as he wept in front of the niche. Flashbacks of the last times he had seen Nichkhun came to mind, only to drive on the tears even harder still.

“He was very sick when he came here,” the old woman had said. “I was one of the nurses at the village hospital here. I asked him why he didn’t seek treatment for his illness in the city hospital, where they had better facilities. He said he knew he didn’t have much time left, and wanted to spend the rest of his days in peace, by himself, instead of the crowded and inhumane environment of the city hospitals.”

The tin box was open beside him. A photoalbum was on the top of a pile of what looked like random nonsense. Inside the photoalbum, were pictures that had been taken with their digital camera, ranging from unglamourous pictures of Wooyoung sleeping, to some of them spending a day out at a theme park together, or the first meal that they had cooked together and made a mess out of. There were pictures of the card that Nichkhun had painstakingly made despite not being gifted at arts and crafts for Wooyoung’s birthday, the first time they had celebrated together. There were pictures of the dinner they had had, and the mess they made in the kitchen cleaning up afterwards. The entire photo album was full of their memories together, for the entire duration of their relationship.

“The disease he had was very severe. It caused a lot of painful boils and inflammatory skin disfiguration. He was in constant severe pain all the time, and refused to take any painkillers because he didn’t want to spend his last days insensitive to the world. Instead, he would take out this photo album, and even when he had attacks, it’d make him smile. I’d ask him who it was in the pictures with him, and he said it was the person he loved most in the world. I asked him why didn’t he want to spend his last days with this person, and he said he didn’t want him to see him that way. He said seeing another person suffering was sometimes more agonizing than being the one suffering itself, and he didn’t want that for this person. I asked him if the person knew he had this disease, but he never answered me.”

Below the photoalbum had been random memorabilia. There were the movie tickets of the first movie that they had watched together. Then there was the small stuffed toy that he had won for Wooyoung when they visited a carnival together. There was the namecard of the restaurant where they had celebrated their first year anniversary. There was the lyrics page of that CD of Wooyoung’s favourite band, that Nichkhun had bought him as a Christmas gift once. There was even the pair of white-gold couple rings that they had bought for each other.

“I asked him if I could do anything to help him convey a message to the person in the pictures. He shook his head, but only asked me to hold on to this tin box after he was gone, and if, God willing, the person somehow found his way to pick it up, that I was to give it to him. If not, then I was to burn the tin box whenever I felt deemed it right to. One of his messages to you was that he truly felt sorry for missing your last birthday, and that it was really because he had been to the hospital for his final diagnosis at the time, and hoped you would at least forgive him that, if nothing else. He said that you would probably be very angry if and when you ever found out about this, but hoped you would be able to forgive him.”

There was a box of matches next to the tinbox. Through his tears, Wooyoung took up the matches and looked at them.

“Finally, his last message to you was: burn everything in it. He said that the fact that you had actually found the tin box would be good enough for him, and after that, he’d like you to move on with your life, and find someone else that would give you as much happiness as you deserved, since that could no longer be him. He didn’t want his memory to be a burden to you, and prevent you from finding happiness.”

Wooyoung picked up the white-gold rings in the box. The tears had stopped, but his eyes were raw. They still shone brilliantly, even after all those years. It was almost like a silver that shone from within, and was even more luminescent in its plain and untainted design. Nichkhun had chosen them well, and Wooyoung still remembered the times when he wore the ring so proudly on his finger, and when he had left it behind him.

--

“Happy anniversary!” Nichkhun mumbled as he shyly slipped a ring box into Wooyoung’s pocket from behind.

Surprised, Wooyoung had taken out the ring box. The way his expression lit up had evidently pleased Nichkhun to the point of grinning from ear to ear. The white-gold ring was exactly what he had imagined.

--

“Were you listening to me?”

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s nothing. I’m tired,” Nichkhun smiled dismissively at him and went back to reading the article in the health magazine listing down the tell-tale symptoms that he thought he had been experiencing over the past few weeks. Growing listlessness, amongst others. He should see the doctor soon.

--

It was almost 2 a.m. when Nichkhun let himself into the house. This was the only day he could make it to go for his last check-up at the hospital after work, and he was drained from all the tests they had to do on him. The results didn’t look promising, but there was no point in dwelling on it until something was confirmed.

“Are you back finally?” came Wooyoung’s cold voice in the dark.

--

“But why?” Wooyoung asked, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face.

Nichkhun felt his chest burning violently. His arms ached to wrap themselves around Wooyoung, to comfort him and stop the tears he hated to see, and to tell him that he still loved him as much as he always had, and that this wasn’t what he wanted at all.

But no, he couldn’t. The doctors had already announced their verdict to him a few days ago, and he had had time to mull over it and make a decision. He knew Wooyoung well enough to know that he would stick to him no matter what he said, and he knew how much it would pain him to see what Nichkhun was still mentally preparing himself to go through. He didn’t want that for Wooyoung. He wanted him to be happy, and to remain happy without such a painful drawn-out memory in his life. No, Nichkhun wanted a peaceful ending for himself, and a happy one for Wooyoung, and this was the only way to achieve it. His mind was made up.

“It’s not you… There’s someone else.”

--

Nichkhun came home to see his little formal letter of instructions crushed and thrown into the dustbin. He opened the door of Wooyoung’s room, only to see it neatly packed, and the cupboards empty. The ring that Wooyoung used to wear was left on the bedside table.

Nichkhun knelt down on the floor of the empty room and broke down for the first time. He let himself cry as hard as he needed to, his tears staining the blue bedsheets of Wooyoung’s bed, his fingers clutching desperately onto the covers, wishing with every inch of his being to be able to see Wooyoung again. It was so easy. Wooyoung was still only just a phone call away. One phone call, an apology and an explanation, and Wooyoung would be back by his side for the rest of his days, at least. But could he be that selfish? The doctors had not sugar-coated anything when they had told him what to expect in the later stages of his disease – did he really want Wooyoung to go through that agony?

Nichkhun had already decided.

It was truly the last time he would ever see Wooyoung again in this lifetime, and there was nothing else for it.

--

The nurse walked into the hospital room in the morning, only to see the patient lying motionless on the bed. He had passed on in the wee hours of the night, in his sleep. The nurse felt a tinge of sadness that she didn’t usually feel when her patients didn’t make it, but she brushed it aside. She moved over to the bed to cover the blanket over the patient’s face, and was about to replace the cover of the tin box on the bedside table when she stopped.

Lying near his cold fingers, were a couple of white-gold rings.

--

Wooyoung put on both rings on his finger and closed his hand, feeling the band tighten around his finger as he squeezed it shut. The pair of rings caught the warm yellow rays of the sunset and seemed to twinkle back at him, as if gently egging him on.

He took up a match, struck it and dropped it into the tin box.

************

I just want to touch your face again.
I just want to see your eyes again.
I just want to hear you say “I love you” again.

Is it so much to ask?

[fanfic] Just So

shadow_paint — Sat, 02 Jun 2012 12:19:27 GMT

Title: Just So
Type: Drabble, Real Life
Rating: G
Genre: I’m not really sure
Pairing: Whoever you want it to be (but I’m obviously gearing this for Nichkhun/Wooyoung hehe)
Words: 500+

It wasn’t that complicated, really.

A/N: This fic just came out of nowhere, really. I was bored, opened Words and it suddenly came out. A little sudden and not exactly thought out but I hope you enjoy it. ^^

They were just friends.

When they had late-night supper conversations in the dorm kitchens, it meant that they had good chemistry. When they talked about everything under the sun from their families to their futures, it meant that they were open with each other. When he looked out for him more than the other members, it meant that he was a concerned older brother. When he hugged him and consoled him when he was sad, it meant that their friendship was real. When he would text him encouraging messages to cheer him on while he was working alone, it meant that he still kept him in his thoughts even when they weren’t working together. When his heart began to pound a little harder than usual when he saw his face, it meant… well – it didn’t mean anything.

It was just fanservice.

When they were playing games with each other at the back of the broadcasting studio, oblivious to everything else, it was just fanservice. When they were expertly manipulating a piece of paper between their lips, it was just fanservice. When they hugged or touched each other while filming a show for no good reason, it was just fanservice. When they were always paired with each other for interviews and filming, it was just fanservice. When they accidentally talked about visiting each other’s hometown in two separate interviews, it was just fanservice. When he picked him as the member he would date if he had to, it was just fanservice. When he talked so ardently about falling in love with him in front of the fans, it was definitely fanservice.

It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything when he made that late-night visit to his room. It didn’t mean anything because it started off as an innocent chat about his troubles. It didn’t mean anything because he was opening himself up to him, and he had been emotionally vulnerable. It didn’t mean anything when he felt like just his hug could ease his pain. It didn’t mean anything that they had wound up kissing against the wall a few minutes later. It didn’t mean anything that he even wondered why they had waited so long to start. It didn’t mean anything that their clothes were off before he knew it, and it certainly didn’t mean anything when they were doing things with each other they knew they probably shouldn’t. It didn’t mean anything when he realised he had never felt like this before, no matter who he had been with. It didn’t mean anything at all that he felt like this is a place he felt like he should’ve come back to a long time ago. It didn’t mean anything when he whispered words in his ear, words that he had always thought cheesy but never realised how much warmth it could spread throughout his body.

It didn’t mean anything because he didn’t say those words back. It didn’t mean anything because there was no way there will be a second time. It didn’t mean anything because they couldn’t continue this, because it would have to end when people found out, sooner or later. And why not end it sooner than later?

It didn’t mean anything because he was going to tell him so in the morning.

Because it was just fanservice. Because they were just friends.

[fanfic] Unspeakable v1.5

shadow_paint — Sat, 19 May 2012 19:56:17 GMT

Title: Unspeakable 1.5
Type: AU, one-shot, sequel
Rating: R
Genre: Smut/Fluff
Pairing: Taecyeon/Nichkhun and slight Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2000+

If the storeroom door had been trickier to unlock than it was.

A/N: This is a sort-of sequel slash alternate ending to Unspeakable. It may or may not make sense if you haven’t already read that first fic. Because so many people were telling me about the TaecKhun scene in that fic so I decided to write a smut scene for it. It’s interesting how my first smut scene on my LJ is TaecKhun and not Khunyoung HAHA. Anyway, there’s a little bit of Khunyoung in this eventually, so fellow KY shippers, I have not abandoned this ship. <3 I just temporarily couldn’t resist the potential hotness that is TaecKhun.

Nichkhun was pinned down in the middle of the dance studio by Taecyeon’s body weight. With just one hand, Taecyeon immobilised both of Nichkhun’s hands, and his other was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, one by one.

“And do you think doing this will make me return the feelings?” hissed Nichkhun as he struggled further under Taecyeon, his blood running cold.

“Isn’t that how you forced Wooyoung the first time?” came Taecyeon’s words like silken poison, striking hard and deep into Nichkhun. He stopped struggling as his brains absorbed the impact of this statement. He had never thought of it as forcing Wooyoung but – had he? He stared up at the ceiling in stunned silence, as a self-satisfied smile creeped over Taecyeon’s face, and he chuckled. “I’m right, aren’t I? I could tell just by watching the two of you. You acted on your own impulses, slept with him without knowing, or even caring about whether he loved you back. If you think I'm despicable, just remember I’m just doing what you did to Wooyoung. You slept with him first, and then you tried to make him love you. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

With each sentence, Taecyeon’s words drove themselves deeper and deeper like a twisting knife into Nichkhun’s consciousness. Maybe Taecyeon was right. Just because Nichkhun hadn’t been so overt with his intentions didn’t mean he was any better than Taecyeon. He had assumed too much with Wooyoung. The thoughts preoccupied him so much that he didn’t even notice when Taecyeon had undid the front of his shirt and was presently running his palm over his abs, his chest and his collarbone. “Wooyoung may not know what he’s missing, but I do. If it didn’t work for you and Wooyoung, maybe it’d work for me,” Taecyeon whispered, raising his eyes to look straight into Nichkhun’s. There was a hard determination there, a perseverence to get what he wanted. Nichkhun knew then he stood no fighting chance. “Just sleep with me tonight, and later, I’ll make you love me too.”

Was it really as easy as he said? Could he give up so easily on Wooyoung like that, and jump to another? But Wooyoung… the thought of him paralyzed Nichkhun. It was as if Taecyeon had weaved a spell on him, hypnotizing him to convince himself that all of Wooyoung’s apparent reciprocation of his feelings was nothing but his own imagination. Maybe Nichkhun had always been thinking too much all this while. Maybe Wooyoung never loved him after all. These paralyzing thoughts immobilised Nichkhun as he stared stonily up at the ceiling. He didn’t even notice when Taecyeon pressed his mouth against his, forcefully pushing his lips apart with his tongue. He barely felt it when Taecyeon’s fingers began to undo the belt on his pants. His brain was only replaying the words that Taecyeon had driven irretrievably into his mind.

Nichkhun closed his eyes and swallowed a lump in his throat. He felt like he had lost every ounce of fight in him, like he was ready to give up and surrender to all that was going on now. What was the point of fighting when he had nothing to go back to, no Wooyoung to win over at the end of the day? “I’ll make you love me,” he heard Taecyeon whisper, his hot breath tingling over his ear before he moved down towards his neck. Nichkhun squeezed his eyes shut, realizing that his eyelashes were moist with tears, as Taecyeon sucked deeper on the skin of his neck. His hand, meanwhile, had roughly pushed the rim of his pants down and were now stroking his member over his boxers.

Taecyeon’s teeth and tongue worked in perfect, hateful synergy to quickly create that blend of pain and pleasure that Nichkhun hated himself for getting aroused at. He hadn’t realized, but Taecyeon’s hand had already progressed past his boxers, and was gripping a firm hold on his slowly hardening member. Nichkhun exhaled raggedly, slowly feeling his resistance slipping away between this perceived loss of Wooyoung and the overwhelming sensations that Taecyeon was giving him. Meanwhile, Taecyeon had moved downwards, his tongue slowly exploring the contour of his collarbone, before drawing a line downwards towards his chest. All this time, his hand continually pumped Nichkhun’s shaft at a steady pace, waiting patiently for the erection to come.

As if he wanted to hasten the process, Taecyeon slipped himself downwards and engulfed Nichkhun’s member into his mouth. Nichkhun couldn’t help but arch his back forwards, his face contorted into an expression of unexpected ecstacy. The warm wetness of Taecyeon’s mouth expertly working his way in a rhythmic fashion on Nichkhun was hatefully driving him crazy. Nichkhun wasn’t even surprised to hear himself whimper slightly, as he could barely control his hips from thrusting ever so slightly.

When he was certain that he had brought Nichkhun close enough, Taecyeon ceased his oral torture and surfaced only to rip Nichkhun’s pants and underwear off him entirely, such that he was only dressed in an unbuttoned, disarrayed white shirt and nothing else. Unceremoniously, Taecyeon easily flipped Nichkhun onto his stomach and began to undo his own pants. A swift pull of his pants down revealed an already erect member which Nichkhun caught a glimpse of when he peeked backwards. He had never bottomed before and wasn’t sure if he was going to like it, but he had long realized that he wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter.

With one hand, Taecyeon grabbed Nichkhun’s hips and brought it upwards into position. He barely lubricated the hole with his own spit, before he plunged himself in. Unable to suppress a cry of pain, Nichkhun pushed his face onto the floor, squeezing his eyes shut. From behind him, he could feel Taecyeon bend over forwards such that he closed the distance between his front and Nichkhun’s back, but without stopping his thrusts. He grabbed hold of Nichkhun’s hands and pinned them down, finishing the picture of affectionate but complete dominance.

It took some time for the pain to ebb away and be replaced by the constant jolts of increasing pleasure. Meanwhile, Taecyeon had pulled down parts of Nichkhun’s shirt, to expose one side of his shoulder. There was something about the hectic disarrangement of Nichkhun’s shirt that aroused and pleased him – like it reaffirmed that Nichkhun was well and truly his. He bent down and began to suck deeply on the contours of Nichkhun’s shoulderblade, all the while keeping his pace steady and rhythmic. “Taecyeon…” Nichkhun found himself whimpering after a while, much to his surprise and slight disgust. The soft sound of his whispers only aroused Taecyeon all the more, as his thrusting got proportionately harder and faster.

Neither of them were clear just how long the fucking went on for, but Nichkhun felt like he had been to heaven and hell and back. As expected of someone with such a large build, Taecyeon had a stamina that was a force not to be reckoned with. More than once, Nichkhun wondered if he might pass out just from this session alone. Both of them were sweating hard, and Nichkhun had thrown caution and shame to the winds as his moans escalated exponentially in volume. It was ages before Taecyeon’s thrusts began to speed up tellingly. Nichkhun was almost in tatters by then, as he arched his back and swallowed in anticipation.

Both of them came almost at the same time. Taecyeon groaned his loudest yet as he spilt his seed into Nichkhun, while the other came onto the floor. Nichkhun felt like his entire body was burning up all over, with every muscle tense. With a few more ending thrusts, Taecyeon finally withdrew from Nichkhun.

“Hyung…” came the soft voice of Wooyoung. After all this time, he had finally managed to unlock the storeroom door of the dance studio, and had come out only to see them both reach their climax. Nichkhun looked up in alarm, every inch of his shame flooding back to him at once. He could only stare at Wooyoung in regret and apology, not even knowing what to say or feel anymore. Had he heard him moan Taecyeon’s name in ecstacy? Had he witnessed him being fucked by another man?

Taecyeon, meanwhile, embraced Nichkhun from the back while staring at Wooyoung, His arms circled around Nichkhun’s shoulder and waist, in a gesture to show possessiveness. With a smirking glance at Wooyoung, he began to lick a torturingly slow line up Nichkhun’s neck, to which Nichkhun couldn’t help but close his eyes in arousal at. Wooyoung could only stare on in absolute hurt and disbelief. Taecyeon roughly pushed Nichkhun’s face towards him and kissed him again, deeply and meaningfully, evidently doing this only to irk Wooyoung.

“You had your chance, Wooyoung,” Taecyeon smiled menacingly at him as he broke the kiss. Nichkhun looked away and down at the floor, not wanting to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. “You had your chance, but you never took it. Why should I wait for you to make up your mind when you left him wide in the open? Just remember – I told him I loved him before you did.”

“No! No!” Wooyoung shrieked hysterically, shaking his head violently and covering his ears. Taecyeon was laughing now, his hands still freely caressing Nichkhun’s chest, as Wooyoung continued screaming.

“No!” Wooyoung sat up in his bed with a jolt, and stared frantically around the dormitory, as if wondering where he was and what was going on. After ascertaining that he was now in his dormitory, he whipped his body around to check – and still lying beside him was the sleepy-eyed Nichkhun, who had been awaken by the sudden shock but was unable to open his eyes properly to look at him.

“What’s wrong, Wooyoung?” Nichkhun asked in a sleepy voice, his hand circling Wooyoung’s arm.

Panting in relief, Wooyoung launched himself into Nichkhun’s arms and held him as tightly as he could. Nichkhun choked a little.

“You’re suffocating me, Wooyoung,” he coughed, though his arms encircled Wooyoung’s body as well. Wooyoung relaxed a little, but was still reluctant to let him go. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I… I had a nightmare,” he whispered fearfully. “Of you and Taecyeon.”

Nichkhun ran his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, while his other hand patted him comfortingly on the back. “It’s just a nightmare. It’s all over now. I’m here with you now and that’s all that matters, right?” Nichkhun said encouragingly. With his face buried in Nichkhun’s neck, Wooyoung nodded.

“I love you, I’m sorry I never said it earlier because I was so embarrassed, but I love you,” it all came out in a rush of urgent, desperate words, as if Wooyoung wanted to forever stave the situation that had appeared in his dream. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I’ll keep on saying that forever if that’ll keep you with me.”

“You don’t have to keep on saying that for me to stay with you, Wooyoung,” smiled Nichkhun. “I’ll be by your side always.”

Wooyoung nodded, sniffing a little, before he kissed Nichkhun softly, but with all the relief and love that he felt. Nichkhun ran his hands up and down Wooyoung’s back as he let Wooyoung lead the kiss for the first time.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve kissed me by your own accord,” Nichkhun smiled, his eyes half-lidded from sleep, as they broke the kiss.

“I’m not going to take anymore chances with you,” Wooyoung said, a frown still etched upon his face. Clearly, he was still shaken up from his dream. He hugged Nichkhun tightly and buried his face sulkily into his neck, like a child clinging onto his parent.

With an amused half-smile, Nichkhun patted his head and settled into a comfortable position to sleep while hugging Wooyoung. “I’ll love you always, silly boy,” he whispered before he closed his eyes again.

[fanfic] Unspeakable

shadow_paint — Fri, 18 May 2012 16:05:28 GMT

Title: Unspeakable
Type: AU, one-shot
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung/Taecyeon
Words: 5000+

It's not easy to tell someone you love them.

A/N: Inspired by a scene in an anime I'm watching right now! Turned out to be somewhat long after all. Enjoy! Did this out of the blue so I hope you like it! ^^

“I love you, Wooyoung.”

“I told you to stop saying that."

“Why do you keep running away from me?”

*******

There was a commotion in the lobby and the students were crowding around the noticeboard. It was the first day of school and the dormitory postings were just pinned up. Wooyoung squeezed through the crowd and stood beside another taller student as he scanned the paper for his name.

Jang Wooyoung (Form 2) – Nichkhun Horvejkul (Form 4)

What a strange name, thought Wooyoung. He wondered what kind of person he was.

“Are you new here?” asked the taller boy next to him. Wooyoung turned, slightly startled at the sudden intrusion, but he nodded. The boy was tanned, much taller than himself and had messy black hair.

“I’m in Form 2, but I just transferred here. I’ve never been in a boys’ boarding school before.”

“Welcome, then! I guess I’ll be your classmate. My name is Taecyeon,” the boy smiled and offered a hand. Wooyoung took it eagerly, glad to make a friend in an unfamiliar environment. “I see that you’re sharing a dormitory with Nichkhun sunbae.”

“H-How did you know?” asked Wooyoung, slightly surprised.

“You’re wearing a name badge, silly.”

“Oh!” Wooyoung exclaimed, before blushing to the roots of his hair.

“There’s some time left for you to move in to your new rooms before classes start. Good luck with Nichkhun!”

“Good luck? W-Why?”

“W-ell,” Taecyeon hummed, as if debating whether to continue. Wooyoung stared at him wide-eyed with anticipation, almost a little afraid at what he might hear. “Nichkhun sunbae’s quite the legendary figure in the school, especially now that he’s in his senior year. He represents the school for science competitions and always wins every time. He’s been topping his level for every exam since Form 1. His family is wealthy and he can speak at least three languages fluently.”

“Okay…? That doesn’t sound too bad!”

“But he has almost no friends whatsoever. He doesn’t talk much to anyone, and there’s just something about him that scares everyone off. Usually we don’t switch roommates throughout our 4 years of school, but every semester without fail, his roommate would ask for a transfer. Nobody really knows whether he’s just arrogant or shy or plain unsociable, but whatever it is, he’s like the pinnacle that nobody wants to go near.”

Wooyoung stared at Taecyeon with a crest-fallen expression. Great. Just great.

*******

Wooyoung sat on the chair nervously. He had already unpacked his things, but there was still another hour or so before class started. Sooner or later, he’d have to meet this legendary but scary senior that Taecyeon had told him about, and he frankly was not looking forward to it. There was the sound of shoes clicking along the passageway outside. Wooyoung gulped as the door handle turned and it slowly opened. Wooyoung sprang up from his chair.

“Hello! My name is Jang Wooyoung!” he yelped a little too eagerly as a fair-skinned boy walked in, his school blazer slung casually over his shoulders like a model. He was tall, had a rather slender frame, and a better looking face than Wooyoung had expected. Truthfully, he had imagined him to look like an arrogant nerd, but Nichkhun was far from it. His eyes were cold, granted, but it didn’t seem to stem from any inherent perception of self-superiority. His round eyes that could’ve made him look more friendly were presently staring at Wooyoung in some surprised displeasure. Wordlessly, he let himself into the dorm and closed the door.

“I… I’m from Form 2, I just transferred here today! I’m sorry I unpacked my things first, I didn’t know which bed you wanted but if I’m fine with changing if you want!” Wooyoung continued, though he felt his enthusiasm being slowly replaced by that paralyzing intimidation that Taecyeon had warned him about. Nichkhun didn’t answer him, but only walked towards the empty bed, set his bag on it and began to unpack.

Wooyoung scratched his head perplexedly. He stared at Nichkhun, who was robotically folding his clothes into neat piles, pretending that Wooyoung wasn’t there.

“Please… please don’t ignore me,” Wooyoung couldn’t help saying now that he was at the end of his tether. He stared intently at the ground, unwilling to make eye contact. Nichkhun froze mid-action, and turned around. Wooyoung continued in a flustered way, “If you don’t like something I’m doing, just let me know and I’ll stop doing it. I just hope that our lives won’t be so miserable at least for this semester while we’re sharing the same room.”

There was a long pause. Wooyoung felt his face heating up. He wondered if he had crossed the line in being so straightforward.

“I don’t like people touching or rearranging my books. Also, I’m always in a bad mood in the morning,” Nichkhun finally spoke up for the first time. Wooyoung’s face lit up merely for the fact that he had managed to solicit a reply from Nichkhun and he looked up at him with an expression of undisguised delight, nodding fervently.

“I hope we will get along well for the rest of this semester!” Wooyoung said cheerfully, grinning and tilting his head. Something in Nichkhun’s eyes wavered a little, before he nodded slightly and returned to unpacking.

*******

“So how has it been?” asked Taecyeon, smiling cheekily at Wooyoung one day during lunch. School was almost a two weeks in by now, and Wooyoung hummed a song as he scooped more mashed potato into his mouth.

“How has what been?”

“Living with Nichkhun sunbae.”

“Mm, it was difficult at first,” Wooyoung began chewing on a carrot. “But he seemed to loosen up after a while. I just have to remember to always be out of his way in the morning, because he’s really in his foulest mood then. Other than that, he’s all right. We even talk about non-school-related things sometimes.”

Taecyeon stared at him with some surprised confusion. “You… had a conversation with Nichkhun sunbae?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t much, but at least I found out a little bit about his family, and why he’s always so antisocial.”

Taecyeon’s eyes widened. He nodded slowly as he chewed on his rice thoughtfully. “That is an unheard of situation, Wooyoung.”

“Really? Well, I’m glad that he’s OK with me as a roommate then. I’m really too lazy to transfer anywhere after the semester.”

Taecyeon nodded, but his thoughts were clearly still dwelling on the same subject.

*******

Wooyoung threw his pencil on his workbook in frustration as he slumped back in his chair. Nichkhun looked up from his book in surprise.

“Hyung, how do you even like Maths?” Wooyoung asked. He was always the one initiating conversations, it seemed. At first it was difficult getting a reply out of Nichkhun, but by now, he seemed to be used to it.

“It’s formulaic and brainless,” muttered Nichkhun as he looked back to his book. Wooyoung had realised that Nichkhun wasn’t the sort of person that rattled on and on without getting any point across., but rather chose the fewest but most precise words to convey his meaning.

“Brainless? Really, hyung?! Calculus is going to drive me up the wall soon,” Wooyoung whined as he took up his pencil once more. Behind him, he could hear Nichkhun closing his book and silently walking towards the study desk. He looked down at the workbook from behind Wooyoung, one hand supporting himself on the edge of the desk. Wooyoung had never been so close to him before and found himself feeling a little unsettled inside.

“What’s the problem now?”

“Uhm. Question 2.”

Nichkhun read the question, took up the pencil and began to explain to Wooyoung where he had gone wrong in his working. Between Nichkhun’s steady voice, his close proximity and the smell of his freshly-laundered clothes, Wooyoung barely listened to anything he was saying.

“Do you get it?” asked Nichkhun. Wooyoung snapped back to his senses.

“Huh? Uhhh…”

“Have you been listening?”

“Not really…” Wooyoung mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little guilty. Nichkhun smacked him gently on the head before he proceeded to re-explain the question. This time, Wooyoung forced himself to pay attention even though Nichkhun’s smell kept threatening to overwhelm him everytime. When Nichkhun was done, Wooyoung exclaimed in revelation.

“I get it now, thanks, hyung!” he said as he eagerly scrawled down the working. Ruffling Wooyoung’s hair, Nichkhun walked back to his bed and resumed his book. After Wooyoung was done solving the question, he turned around to face Nichkhun and said, “Hyung, you know, I think people misunderstand you a lot.”

“Does it matter?” Nichkhun didn’t look up from his book.

“No, I guess. But it’s such a shame that people think you’re so cold when you can be really nice when you want to be!”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? I don’t want to be nice to necessarily everyone and just anyone.” Nichkhun raised his eyes to look at Wooyoung. Wooyoung looked at him, but didn’t know how to interprete this statement.

“Still!” Wooyoung pouted in defiance. Nichkhun couldn’t help but smile in amusement. It was the first time Wooyoung saw him amused at anything. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you smile, hyung. You really should smile more often, frowning gives you wrinkles.”

“I don’t care about wrinkles.”

“Well, smiling makes you look about ten times better than you usually do then!” Wooyoung threw his hands up in exasperation as he went back to his workbook. He didn’t manage to see just how wide Nichkhun’s smile became after that.

*******

“Welcome ba -” Wooyoung was about to greet as the door opened but he was instead surprised to see Nichkhun enter the room soaking wet. “Hyung! Did you get caught in the rain?”

Leaping to his feet, Wooyoung drew out one of his own towels from the cupboard. He threw it around Nichkhun’s head, pulling it down as he toweled his hair like a mother would, though Nichkhun was taller than him. Nichkhun didn’t resist. After his hair was sufficiently dry, Wooyoung began to unbutton Nichkhun’s shirt, only to have Nichkhun pull his shirt away from Wooyoung’s grip.

“What are you doing?!” he tried to shriek, but his voice was hoarse from his walk in the rain.

“Helping you change your shirt? We’re all boys here, what’s there to be shy about?” Wooyoung protested. It was an interesting observation to him that he didn’t feel weirder doing this, mothering Nichkhun like this. It felt comfortable and natural, somehow, even though Nichkhun was two years his senior and had, just three weeks ago, been the most intimidating person Wooyoung had ever met. Nichkhun seemed to blush, but Wooyoung couldn’t tell for sure with all the hair motted across his face.

The tips of Wooyoung’s fingers brushed against Nichkhun’s damp skin as he unbuttoned his shirt, button by button, trailing his way down his chest towards his navel. When the shirt was unbuttoned, he peeled the wet layer off Nichkhun, dumping the wet garment into the laundry basket. In a matter-of-fact way, his fingers reached for Nichkhun’s belt and had already half-undone them when suddenly, Nichkhun’s hand grabbed his.

“Wooyoung, you don’t want to go there,” Nichkhun’s voice was soft and oddly strained.

“What?” Wooyoung raised his head, oblivious to the awkwardity of the situation, He found himself staring into Nichkhun’s eyes, molten with emotions, as a slight frown appeared on his face.

With his spare hand, Nichkhun grabbed the tip of Wooyoung’s chin and tilted it upwards. This wasn’t what Wooyoung was expecting, as he felt his breath catch in surprise. He didn’t – or couldn’t – resist. “Hyung…?” he whispered, though he felt frozen in this position, like he didn’t want to leave. Even when Nichkhun’s face came nearer. Even when Nichkhun’s damp hair tickled his cheeks. Even when he could feel Nichkhun’s warm breath moistening his lips.

Nichkhun kissed him, and Wooyoung felt like his world stopped spinning.

It was the first time Wooyoung felt like he had completely lost control of himself. He had never known that it was possible to become intoxicated by a person until now. While Nichkhun’s lips were still caressing his, his tongue sliding over his, his thin slender fingers slipping underneath his shirt to explore every inch of his back, his hands tracing the contours of his chest and his waist – as long as all this was happening, Wooyoung was completely and irrevocably drunk. He could think of nothing else but wanting more. His fingers ran through Nichkhun’s hair, pressing his face against him as Nichkhun licked an excruciatingly slow line down the middle of his chest, below the navel, and lower, and lower.

Later, Wooyoung was twisting the fabric of the bedsheets, tilting his head upwards as he gasped for breath. He cringed in pain at some points, but his expression would then abruptly changed to that of pleasure. There was a thin layer of sweat on both their bodies as they moved in urgent rhythm, desperate to bring each other to the climax. From time to time, Wooyoung couldn’t help whispering Nichkhun’s name, somehow enjoying the sweetness of it in his mouth during this moment of coupling.

With a throw of his head backwards and a choked cry, Wooyoung felt himself hitting the peak almost at the same time as Nichkhun. The euphoria was like nothing Wooyoung had ever experienced before, and he felt himself being washed away by it like a tidal wave that he has no defence against. He was suspended on the most ecstatic tenterhooks for a few moments, but then the feeling began to ebb. Wooyoung exhaled and closed his eyes.

He felt the bed sink down as Nichkhun fell beside Wooyoung, exhausted. But then, Nichkhun suddenly turned to draw him into a hug, nuzzling his nose in the nape of Wooyoung’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered sleepily, his usual stoic voice filled with emotion even then, with his eyes closed. But Wooyoung’s eyes snapped open, as if he had just been brought back down to hard reality.

*******

Life changed drastically after that.

Nichkhun continued being his usual reticent self, but it seemed that now he had realized and was openly acknowledging his feelings for Wooyoung. He’d wait for Wooyoung outside his last class, go for dinner with him before they went back to their dormitories together. Wooyoung had joined dance classes with Taecyeon in school, and when it ended too late, Nichkhun would come all the way down to the school dance studio and walk him back to the hostel. Though he never did any of this in an ostentatious manner, his motives were only too evident to Wooyoung and everyone else around them.

“You didn’t have to come,” Wooyoung said, looking at the sniggering boys behind him in some embarrassment. Taecyeon smiled in an amused way as he waved them goodbye.

“Why not?” Nichkhun asked, as he automatically lifted Wooyoung’s dance bag out of his hand and carried it for him.

“People will… talk…” Wooyoung bit his lips.

“So let them talk,” Nichkhun said in his soft, calm manner. “You know I love you.”

“Shhh!” Wooyoung put his fingers to his lips, flustered. “We’re still in public! Stop saying that.”

Nichkhun gave him a sideways smile but they continued the rest of their walk back in silence.

The semester was almost over by now, and it had been more than a month since they had first slept together. That wasn’t the last time it happened – in fact, no matter how many times Wooyoung told himself he needed to stop, he’d find himself unable to resist Nichkhun before the week was over. He never once felt like he could control himself, and never lost that feeling of complete intoxication when Nichkhun was near, much to his despair and confusion. But when he wasn’t with Nichkhun, all the feelings of confusion and embarrassment came back to him. While Wooyoung was unable to reconcile himself with the idea of being attracted to another guy, Nichkhun had seemed to willingly surrender himself to his emotions. Time and time again, Nichkhun had told him that he loved him. He knew he meant it - Nichkhun was so reticent that Wooyoung knew he never said anything unless it was truly necessary - but still, Wooyoung never quite knew what to say in reply, and often felt embarrassed more than anything.

“So it seems like Nichkhun sunbae is really interested in you,” Taecyeon remarked casually over lunch one day.

“What?! N-No… we’re just friends,” Wooyoung started stabbing his food with his fork in some nervousness. “He’s just… a very good… sunbae to me.”

“He actually bothers talking to you, he bothers to come pick you up after class and after dance… In all my two years in this school, Nichkhun has never even come close to doing that for anyone,” Taecyeon went on, his eyes twinkling at Wooyoung in amusement.

“I… well…” Words failed Wooyoung at that moment as he blushed furiously. Taecyeon laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t worry, it’s just the whole school talking about it.”

“What?!”

“I told you Nichkhun sunbae was a legendary figure. Why wouldn’t people notice when he starts to pay attention to someone when he hasn’t done that before?”

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung muttered as he slumped his head onto the lunch table, squeezing his eyes shut. Could things get any worse?

“Hey, if all the stuff with Nichkhun makes you feel uncomfortable, I could walk you back to the dorms after class today so he doesn’t have to come,” Taecyeon offered. Wooyoung looked up in delight.

“Thank you!” Wooyoung breathed in gratitude. He didn’t know why he felt so uncomfortable with having such a public ‘scandal’ with Nichkhun. Taecyeon smiled back at him.

*******

The door opened just as Wooyoung and Taecyeon reached it. Nichkhun was standing on the other side of the doorframe and he stared at the two of them as they walked up together. They had just been laughing about something, and Taecyeon had his arm on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Good evening, sunbae,” Taecyeon greeted formally, his eyes twinkling with meaning. Instantly, Wooyoung felt something amiss in the atmosphere between them, as Nichkhun stared at him with narrowed eyes. He made no answer.

“Uh, thanks for walking me back, Taec! See you tomorrow!” Wooyoung hurriedly said as he pushed Nichkhun into the room, waved goodbye to Taecyeon and closed the door.

“Stay away from him,” Nichkhun warned as soon as the door was shut.

“What? Why?” Wooyoung frowned as he began to take off his blazer.

“Can’t you see he’s trying to move in on you?” Nichkhun yelled in exasperation.

“What?!” Wooyoung exclaimed, turning around to face Nichkhun. His expression was dark with anger. “Don’t be ridiculous, Taecyeon’s been my friend since the first day of school.”

“So you can’t see it? How are you going to protect yourself if you go on being so naïve like that?”

“Why are you stifling my high school freshman experience?! When did I even belong to you anyway? You don’t own my life,” seethed Wooyoung, his voice quivering in fury. Nichkhun stared at him. “Stop telling me who I can and cannot hang out with, especially when we’re not officially anything in the first place.”

As soon as he said it, Wooyoung felt a tinge of regret. Nichkhun’s mouth parted in surprise and something fell in his face, but he didn’t reply. The rest of the night was spent in cold silence.

*******

In the following days, they talked minimally. Nichkhun didn’t avoid Wooyoung nor did he deliberately ignore him, but it was like he had decided to retreat. He no longer picked Wooyoung up after class, nor did he come down to the dance studio anymore. Wooyoung had imagined that he would feel liberated when this happened – hadn’t he wanted this all along? – but he felt nothing but guilt. There was something about the emptiness of the corridor outside the classroom and outside the dance studio, after his activities, that pricked him and his conscience. He knew he should apologize for what he had said to Nichkhun in a pique of anger, but he wasn’t sure how. What would he say? That he loved Nichkhun too? Did he love Nichkhun? He simply couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“How come Nichkhun sunbae hasn’t been coming all of this week? Is he sick?” asked Taecyeon after dance practice one day, in the empty dance studio as they were doing some cool-down stretches. Wooyoung’s face suddenly hardened as he looked away from Taecyeon.

“No, he’s fine,” Wooyoung didn’t know how to go on. Taecyeon didn’t seem like he wanted to probe into the issue further either.

“Since Nichkhun sunbae isn’t here, I’ll walk you back to your dorm as usual then?” Taecyeon offered. Wooyoung smiled back and nodded gratefully, though he still felt a little uneasy after being reminded of Nichkhun’s continued reticence. Now that Nichkhun had all but gone back to treating him as he would to any other junior in the school, Wooyoung hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed being the special someone that Nichkhun paid attention to. He hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing Nichkhun say he loved him almost everyday, even though Wooyoung never once replied.

Taecyeon stood up. “Let me go and refill my water bottle first before I walk you back.”

By the time Taecyeon got back to the dance studio, Wooyoung seemed to have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on the wooden floor of the studio. Taecyeon looked down at Wooyoung sleeping soundly, his chest heaving up and down steadily. There was an air of innocence about him most of the time, but it was only when he was sleeping that it really showed. Taecyeon crouched down and his fingers brushed across Wooyoung’s cheek and over his lips. A small smile played across his lips.

Ring, ring! Wooyoung’s cell phone began to ring inside his bag, but it didn’t seem to wake him from his exhaustion. Taecyeon retrieved the phone and flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?” came Nichkhun’s voice over the phone, tinged with a tone of alarm.

“This is Taecyeon.”

“Where is Wooyoung?”

“Don’t worry so much about him, he’s sleeping soundly next to me right now.”

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. “Excuse me?” Nichkhun’s voice turned deadly soft.

“We’re in the dance studio. Are you going to come? But then, maybe it’s better if you don’t…” With that, Taecyeon hung up, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

*******

Nichkhun burst open the doors of the dance studio, only to see Taecyeon sitting on the floor drinking water.

“Where is he?” Nichkhun demanded. Taecyeon smiled and stood up.

“He’s still sleeping,” Taecyeon said simply as he walked towards Nichkhun. He was two years younger, but he was visibly taller than the other, and was of a bigger build.

“Where – is he?” Nichkhun hissed as he narrowed his eyes. Taecyeon didn’t answer his question but only continued talking.

“You know, one of best friends in my first semester was your roommate at the time. Everytime he’d come and tell me stories about how scary you were, and how you could strike fear into his heart without even doing or saying anything,” Taecyeon began to pace slow circles around Nichkhun like a predator. Nichkhun stood frozen but all his senses were on high alert.

“It got so bad sometimes that he’d come crying to me. Imagine that, a well-built teenage boy crying because he couldn’t handle your coldness. It got so bad, he didn’t just transfer out of the dormitories, he transferred school all together. I lost the first friend I had in this school and because of that, I started to hate you. I hated you and your arrogance. I hated that you could effortlessly win all those academic competitions. I hated that you were so legendary without even trying.”

“Even if you hate me, that has nothing to do with Wooyoung,” Nichkhun interrupted.

“You don’t quite understand me, do you? I said I hated you. I didn’t say I hate you now,” Taecyeon stopped in his tracks in front of Nichkhun. There was a poignant pause as Nichkhun tried desperately to read Taecyeon’s possible next move, but he couldn’t find any answers between the hard brown eyes and the half-smirk on his face.

“You can say that my hate turned into an obsession, which turned into admiration. And after Wooyoung came along, it turned into something even stronger than that,” Taecyeon’s voice lowered into a whisper. He edged closer to Nichkhun. “It turned into jealousy. Of the bitterest kind. Soon, I had to admit to myself that I fell in love with you.”

Nichkhun raised his arms to push him away, but as if anticipating such a move, Taecyeon grabbed his arms and slid a leg behind Nichkhun’s, pulling him and using Nichkhun’s own momentum to trip him onto the floor. He was now pinning Nichkhun onto the floor with his body weight, his hand immobilising both of Nichkhun’s with an incredible strength.

“And do you think doing this will make me return the feelings?” Nichkhun hissed as he struggled under Taecyeon’s weight.

“Well, isn’t that how you forced Wooyoung the first time?” These words struck hard and deep into Nichkhun. He stopped struggling, as a self-satisfied smile creeped on Taecyeon’s face. At the sight of Nichkhun being visibly stunned by this statement, Taecyeon chuckled. “I’m right, aren’t I? I could tell just by watching the two of you. You acted on your own impulses, slept with him without knowing, or even caring about whether he loved you back. If you think I'm despicable, just remember I’m just doing what you did to Wooyoung. You slept with him first, and then you tried to make him love you. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

Nichkhun didn’t answer. Taecyeon’s words were hatefully replaying over and over in his head. He couldn’t deny it; he had started being attracted to Wooyoung from the first day he met him, and he had as good as made Wooyoung sleep with him that night when he got caught in the rain. Without any further resistance from Nichkhun, Taecyeon continued, “I know you love him. But does he love you? How do you know? He’s never said it back to you, has he?”

This time, Nichkhun knew he was right. Wooyoung had never said it back to him, and though Nichkhun had always thought he was just shy about it – but had he assumed too much? Nichkhun didn’t notice when Taecyeon’s hand slipped under his shirt and began to explore his torso, across his abs and over his chest. “Wooyoung may not know what he’s missing, but I do. If it didn’t work for you and Wooyoung, maybe it’d work for me,” Taecyeon lowered his face once more towards Nichkhun. “Just sleep with me tonight, and later, I’ll make you love me too.”

Nichkhun didn’t move. He didn’t even feel it when Taecyeon kissed him, pushing his lips apart with his velvet tongue, or when his fingers began to deftly undo the buttons on his shirt, before sliding down underneath the rim of his pants. His brain was now only replaying what Taecyeon had just said.

Isn’t that how you forced Wooyoung the first time?

You slept with him first, and then you tried to make him love you.

I’m just doing what you did to Wooyoung.

You love him but…

Does he love you?

Nichkhun closed his eyes and swallowed a lump in his throat, realising that he didn’t know the answer to this question. “I’ll make you love me,” whispered Taecyeon hotly into his ear before he moved down towards his neck.

*******

“Stop it!” came a cry from the corner of the dance studio. The storeroom door had finally been unlocked and forced open and Wooyoung stood in the doorway. Both Taecyeon and Nichkhun looked up. It was evident from the tear stains down his cheek that he had been crying. Before either of them could make any moves, Wooyoung stormed over to them and shoved Taecyeon off while pulling Nichkhun to his feet.

“I love him, OK!?” Wooyoung yelled at Taecyeon, his voice echoing around the dance studio. His hand clutched tightly around Nichkhun’s wrist. “I love him, I just haven’t gotten round to telling him that yet, so stop assuming that I don’t! Were you using me all along just to get closer to him? I thought I could’ve trusted you, Taec!” With a sound of disgust, Wooyoung grabbed his dance bag and pulled Nichkhun towards the doors of the dance studio.

With one last glance of the most vehement disgust at Taecyeon, Wooyoung shouted, “Don’t even fucking try to move in on him ever again because he’s mine!” He slammed the door shut.

Wooyoung broke into a desperate run, pulling Nichkhun along, as if he wanted to put as much distance between them and Taecyeon as possible. He didn’t stop running until they were both safely inside their dormitory again. Wooyoung closed the door, panting heavily as he threw his dance bag onto the floor furiously.

“You damned idiot!” he shouted at Nichkhun, suddenly beginning to cry all over again. “You keep telling me to protect myself, and look at the great job you’re doing to protect yourself! If I hadn’t managed to escape that storeroom in time, what do you think would’ve happened to you?!”

Wooyoung fell into a convulsion of crying and panting. Nichkhun could only engulf him tightly into his arms, feeling his smaller body shaking with his sobs as he rubbed his back comfortingly. He had thought he had been happy enough with Wooyoung in his life, but he now felt a bliss that he had never experienced before, despite that momentary period of hopeless doubt in the dance studio. He sniffed Wooyoung’s neck adoringly and ran his fingers through his hair. Wooyoung cried even harder.

It took close to 15 minutes for Wooyoung to calm down sufficiently. He wiped his tears on the shirt on Nichkhun’s shoulder like a little boy. Nichkhun couldn’t help but chuckle. Noticing suddenly that Nichkhun’s shirt was half unbuttoned, Wooyoung attempted to button it up for him with a vehemence as if he resented that it had been unbuttoned by a person that wasn’t him. Nichkhun held onto his hand. “Thank you,” he said simply. Wooyoung looked up at him with confusion in his swollen eyes.

“What for?”

“For whatever you said just now.”

Blushing, Wooyoung looked back down and continued to button Nichkhun’s shirt as he talked. “I did mean it though. I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I’m already boiling mad that Taecyeon got to kiss you too, so you better brush your teeth ten times over before letting me kiss you again.”

Nichkhun snorted and grinned at him. Wooyoung had never seen him look so emotional and – happy before. “What about the other part?”

“What… what other part?” Wooyoung gulped audibly.

“The part before you asserted that I’m your exclusive possession in front of Taecyeon.”

"Uhm…” Wooyoung hummed and bit his lips. Nichkhun waited for a while, but it didn’t seem like Wooyoung could traverse the barrier today. He smiled understandingly as he pulled him into another hug.

“It’s OK if you just don’t like saying it. I can live with knowing it.”

“I love you,” Wooyoung mumbled on Nichkhun’s shoulder, before blushing even deeper. It was as cheesy as he had thought it would be, but there was also another more uplifting feeling of liberation that he had not expected. Nichkhun froze for a few seconds before he pulled Wooyoung away, and beamed down at him with an expression of purest bliss, his eyes curved up into an eye-smile that Wooyoung had never known he had. This new, happy Nichkhun was unexpectedly ten times more attractive than the one he had fallen in love with, and Wooyoung felt like he wanted to keep him that way.

“I love you too,” Nichkhun whispered as he stroked Wooyoung’s cheek with his thumb. As he bent down, Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered close but all of a sudden, he pushed Nichkhun away.

“Ya! I told you you need to brush your teeth first before you kiss me, I’m not going to indirectly kiss Taecyeon!”

Nichkhun laughed. “So if I rinse my mouth ten times with mouthwash, will you finally let me kiss you?”

Wooyoung paused before saying a little shyly, “I’ll let you kiss me and do other things.”

It took Nichkhun a few split seconds to digest this hint, before he bolted away to get his toothbrush.

[fanfic] Nightbody

shadow_paint — Fri, 04 May 2012 15:01:11 GMT

Title: Nightbody
Type: AU, one shot
Genre: Romance/Angst/Fluff (?)
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 8000+

It’s not easy falling in love with someone you barely know anything about.

A/N: I’m finally done with this rather long fic. I can’t be bothered to make it chaptered so here it is all in one shot. Inspired by a movie that most of you would probably know. There’s also a short cameo in here by another member of 2pm that I’ll let you guys guess (it’s not that difficult) since I didn’t name him. Lol! Semi-unbeta’ed cos I got lazy.

It was only Wooyoung’s first day at work, but he seemed to take to waitering like a duck takes to water. The small cafeteria situated just off the main road had surprisingly more customers than he had expected, but most of them seemed to be regulars that were on familiar terms with the boss and the older staff. Most of them complimented him on his smart movements around the cramped little cafeteria, while balancing plates and trays, and his knack for not mixing up orders. The boss seemed satisfied with his performance for now.

It was only when he walked in, late at night when they were almost about to start cleaning up the cafeteria, that Wooyoung began to mess up. There was nothing really special about the way he dressed, a cheap woollen jacket and jeans, a pair of oversized black-framed glasses that did nothing to diminish the brightness of the large doe eyes underneath. As he walked in, the boss broke into a huge smile and greeted him like an old friend. They exchanged greetings, and the boss personally ushered him to an empty table by the corner. There was a magnetic charisma about him that all the staff seemed familiar with. Wooyoung gulped and walked towards him to take his order. His legs felt a little weaker than usual, but it must’ve been all the standing and walking around the entire day.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” smiled the customer. Wooyoung nodded. All day he had been breaking into conversation familiarly with customers he had never seen before in his life, but his ready wit seemed to have been completely lost at this moment. Surely it must be due to the long hours of his shift, he thought.

“That’s right, Wooyoungie here just started today. Already quite a help during the peak dinner period, I have to say!” The boss came over to introduce them. “Wooyoung, this is one of my oldest regulars, Nichkhun. He stays just one street down the road.” They bowed to each other in greeting, though Wooyoung could barely bring himself to look directly at Nichkhun. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Clearly, Wooyoung had not been paying much attention when Nichkhun ordered his meal, as he made his first ever mistake of the day, relaying the wrong order to the kitchen. Bowing profusely in apology to the boss, Nichkhun and the chef, Wooyoung flushed deep red as he hurriedly went about rectifying his mistake. “You must be tired after such a long shift, Wooyoung,” said the boss, scratching his head. Wooyoung only looked down in embarrassment, flushing deep red at the thought that he just had to make his first mistake in front of Nichkhun.

When the right order was finally done, Wooyoung served it to Nichkhun and apologized once more for the wait. “I demand compensation,” said Nichkhun as he sat back and crossed his arms.

Wooyoung hesitated a little, unsure how to react. “I’ll gladly pay for your meal, Nichkhun-sshi.”

“That’s not enough. You can compensate me by sitting here and chatting with me while I eat.”

Wooyoung looked up in surprise, evidently taken aback. There was the ghost of a smile on Nichkhun’s face, and his eyes twinkled brighter than ever. The boss chuckled near the cashier and dismissively waved at Wooyoung to give him his permission. After all, there were no other customers left in the cafeteria and there was technically nothing left for Wooyoung to do.

Awkwardly, Wooyoung slid into the opposite seat of the booth, his hands still clasped on his knees and his head bowed in embarrassment. Nichkhun took up his chopsticks and spoon, beginning to dig into his meal. “So, tell me more about yourself.” Wooyoung blinked, but Nichkhun had already started eating and was looking at him expectantly. Clearing his throat, Wooyoung began talking about how he came from another region, and how he was presently in the capital for his studies, and now it was a long holidays for the school so he had taken up a temporary job to earn some money. Nichkhun silently listened, occasionally inserting some questions to prompt him to continue further. Wooyoung grew more and more relaxed as he talked on, unintentionally opening himself up to a complete stranger.

There was something engaging in the way Nichkhun spoke. Even though he volunteered little information about himself, but he could carry on an interesting conversation without speaking very much. His display of complete attentiveness was also pleasing to any listener, and he certainly wasn’t bad to look at either. They departed in good humour, and Wooyoung couldn’t find the guts to ask him when he would return again.

The next day, Nichkhun didn’t appear. He didn’t appear again either the day after, or the day after that. The boss didn’t seem surprised at Nichkhun’s continued absence, so it was perhaps normal for Nichkhun to only make an appearance at irregular intervals. Still, everyday he wretchedly waited, in the hopes that every last customer was to be him, but only to close the shop in disappointment. Wooyoung thought he was going crazy. He didn’t know, or didn’t want to think about, why he felt an inquenchable longing to see Nichkhun again.

It was almost one week later, when the store was just about to close and the last customer had already left. Wooyoung had almost just about given up hope, his face crestfallen as he mopped the floor of the cafeteria. The bell of the door rang, and Wooyoung looked up lacklusterly to inform the newcomer that they were already closed for the day, when he finally laid eyes once again upon Nichkhun. “Nichkhun-sshi?” he asked, feeling as if a balloon was rising inside of him. It took every ounce of his effort to suppress the grin creeping up on his face.

“Oh, are you guys closed already?” grinned Nichkhun as he walked in, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“Nichkhun!” the boss bellowed in greeting as he walked out of the kitchen. “Been a while since you last came. We’re closed but if you really want, I could get the chef to cook your usual for you as a take-away.”

“I’d appreciate that a lot, thanks!” called out Nichkhun gratefully. The boss waved and went back into the kitchen, leaving Wooyoung alone with Nichkhun in the cafeteria.

Wooyoung’s grip on the mop handle significantly tightened as he stood stonily in the middle of the cafeteria. Hadn’t he been waiting for this for the whole week? Now that Nichkhun was finally in front of him, all the conversational topics he had rehearsed in his head seemed to fly straight out of the window. He looked down at the floor awkwardly and absent-mindedly scratched the wooden handle of the mop.

When he looked up once more, Nichkhun seemed to have walked up towards him in his distracted state of mind without him noticing and was presently staring down at him at a closer proximity than Wooyoung was prepared for. He felt an odd skipping of his heart. “How have you been?” he asked, with that small and lingering smile on his face. Wooyoung felt his mouth run dry, as he found himself fixated at staring into his face. What was it about this stranger that seemed to captivate him so much? He stuttered out some incomprehensible nonsense before the boss walked out of the kitchen and Nichkhun, as if caught in the act, put a bit more distance between himself and Wooyoung. It almost felt as if Wooyoung had been released from a spell.

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Nichkhun-sshi, but the stove has broken down! We’ve managed to prepare the noodles and meat for you, but the soup…” the boss explained, looking into the plastic bag in some perplexion.

“Don’t worry about it, I could eat it without the soup,” said Nichkhun good-humouredly, already fishing out his wallet.

“What!” the boss shrieked, horrified. Although the cafeteria was a small one, but Wooyoung knew that the boss paid great attention to the taste of even his simplest dishes and was perfectionistic in that way. “That is absolutely out of the question. Where would the flavour come from? You have a pot at home, right?”

“Well, y-es…” began Nichkhun uncertainly, not sure where the boss was going with this.

“Fantastic. I’ll give Wooyoung the ingredients and he can help you cook the soup. He’s been helping out in the kitchen sometimes this week and that’s the only part of the dish I’d trust him enough to make, honestly. It won’t take more than 10 minutes of your time and then you can enjoy the meal as it’s meant to be enjoyed.”

“Eh?!” Wooyoung blurted out, staring wide-eyed at the boss in disbelief.

“Come on, Wooyoung,” grumbled the boss impatiently, mistaking Wooyoung's reaction to be one of unwillingness. “It’s almost time for you to knock off anyway, and it’s not like Nichkhun’s house is far away. I’ll pay you a little overtime if you want.”

“That’s not my main concern,” mumbled Wooyoung under his breath, but the boss didn’t hear him as he bustled back into the kitchen to get the ingredients. Wooyoung looked at Nichkhun, who glanced at him almost apologetically. There was another strange flutter arising from the pit of Wooyoung’s stomach, and to hide the rising heat on his face, he quickly dodged to the back room to change.

Carrying the plastic bag full of noodles and ingredients, Wooyoung trudged alongside Nichkhun down the road which was now empty besides the occasional passing car. There was a poignant silence between them.

“Are you afraid of me?” asked Nichkhun suddenly, in a soft voice, his eyes focused on the road ahead. Wooyoung turned abruptly, staring at him in alarm.

“N-No?! Where did you get that idea?” Wooyoung protested eagerly.

“You just seem a little uncomfortable sometimes, when I’m around. But I’m glad to hear that, anyway,” Nichkhun smiled at him. Wooyoung felt a little weak inside.

Nichkhun’s house turned out to be only a 10 minutes walk away from the cafeteria. It was in a rather small and dingy apartment building, in a quiet neighbourhood. His rooms were small, with the kitchen combined with the living room and linked to a small bedroom. There was little furniture, but despite the bareness of the place, it was still as tastefully decorated as was possible, and kept tidy. There was a simplicity in the décor that Wooyoung felt comfortable with almost immediately.

“Sorry it’s a little small,” said Nichkhun. “I’ll go get the pot ready then.” As he walked towards the kitchen cabinets, Wooyoung noticed that he didn’t close the front door fully, as if he was afraid that Wooyoung might feel uncomfortable being alone with him. Walking towards the door, Wooyoung gently shut it.

As Wooyoung cooked the soup, Nichkhun got out his utensils and plates, offering to share the meal with Wooyoung but he declined, stating that he had already had his dinner at the cafeteria earlier. When the soup was ready, Wooyoung carefully poured it into the bowl of noodles and meat, mixed it and put it on a placemat on the dining table.

“I’ll help you clean the pot,” offered Wooyoung. He wondered if he just wanted an excuse to stay a little longer.

“It’s OK, I’ll wash it up later along with my bowl.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung shuffled his feet awkwardly. “In that case, I should probably not disturb you then. Enjoy your meal.”

He turned to leave, but Nichkhun grabbed his wrist. Wooyoung turned back around, surprised, and not to mention a little flustered at the feel of Nichkhun’s hand on his wrist. “If you don’t mind, could you stay?” asked Nichkhun a little hesitantly. “I’d… like someone to talk to while I eat.”

With gratifying smile, Wooyoung nodded. Once again, their conversation largely consisted of Wooyoung talking about himself and his history, prompted mainly by Nichkhun. Every time Wooyoung attempted to turn the tables on him, Nichkhun never failed to have a natural and almost imperceptible way of dodging the questions and turning the conversation back towards Wooyoung again. The only real information he managed to get out of Nichkhun about himself was merely that he was a year older than Wooyoung, and was not studying at the moment.

*******

After that, it became a new habit of Nichkhun’s to call up the cafeteria once in a few days and ask for a delivery after hours, a task which Wooyoung would gladly take on now that he knew the way to Nichkhun’s house. Sometimes Nichkhun would pop by the cafeteria instead, after which Wooyoung would insist on walking him back to his apartment and sitting around to chat more. Despite becoming fast friends for the past month and a half, it soon became frustrating to Wooyoung that he still knew close to nothing about Nichkhun, while he had just about poured out his entire life history to him already. He had once teased him about it, but Nichkhun’s expression had turned so crestfallen so abruptly that Wooyoung quickly changed the subject.

It also soon became obvious to Wooyoung that his initial attraction towards Nichkhun had not been a mere infatuation. The more he spent time with him, the more he grew to understand his own feelings towards him. There was something broken about Nichkhun, which Wooyoung did not know the origin to, but the quiet and unpossessed way in which he tried to pick up the pieces in his life and make the best out of what he had was both admirable and intensely attractive to Wooyoung. It was probably this natural optimism that made his presence so magnetic, even to the staff of the cafeteria who seemed to dote on him the most amongst the regular customers.

It was one night that everything changed. There was the usual call by Nichkhun to the cafeteria, asking for his usual set to be delivered once again. Nowadays, it had gotten to become such a ritual that at the first sound of the phone ringing near the cafeteria’s closing hours, the chef would already begin preparing Nichkhun’s usual set and Wooyoung would drop his tasks gleefully to change and get ready to knock off. Carrying the plastic delivery bag, Wooyoung trudged in the direction of Nichkhun’s apartment, smiling to himself as he thought of the weird stories of customers he would tell Nichkhun today.

When Nichkhun opened the door, Wooyoung was taken slightly aback to see that he was wearing a large face mask, and only his eyes were visible above it, shining with delight at the sight of Wooyoung. “Are you sick, hyung?” asked Wooyoung in concern as he stepped into the apartment.

“Yes,” said Nichkhun. His voice, though muffled, sounded perfectly fine to Wooyoung and nothing like a person down with a cold. He took the plastic bag from Wooyoung and set it on the coffee table in front of the sofa before he sat down and looked as if he was about to begin eating. Wooyoung stood, waiting for him to take off the mask. As though it finally struck Nichkhun that he had to take off the mask in order to eat, he put down his chopsticks in a hurry and packed up the food again and stood up. “I think I’ll just eat this later! Or are you hungry?”

“Hyung,” Wooyoung said, in a tone that brooked no opposition as he stepped up closer to Nichkhun, who stood as if frozen, looking down at Wooyoung. He thought he read something like panick in his eyes. Gently, Wooyoung raised a hand and brushed it across Nichkhun’s ear, before he unfastened the elastic band of the mask and let it fall off Nichkhun’s face.

Wooyoung gasped softly as his eyes widened in alarm. There was an angry swelling purple bruise across Nichkhun’s cheekbone, and another red one at the corner of Nichkhun’s mouth. Nichkhun averted his eyes away from Wooyoung as if in shame. Wooyoung’s fingers brushed softly across the bruises. “Who did this, hyung?” he asked, unable to stop a quivering anger in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” Nichkhun jerked his face away from Wooyoung’s touch and replaced the face mask. He sat back down on the sofa, not saying another word. Silently, Wooyoung got a liniment from the first aid box and sat down beside Nichkhun. Ignoring Nichkhun’s protests, he ripped off the face mask and began to apply the medication lightly onto his bruises. Nichkhun eventually gave up protesting since Wooyoung didn’t seem to have any intention of heeding it, and instead sat silently allowing Wooyoung to tend to his injuries, occasionally cringing whenever Wooyoung touched a particularly sore spot.

When the bruises were done being tended to, Wooyoung grabbed Nichkhun’s shoulders and made him look at him properly. “Hyung, tell me what happened.”

“I… don’t ask me, please,” sighed Nichkhun, a surprising amount of exasperation in his voice, as his eyes avoided Wooyoung’s.

“Please,” Wooyoung insisted firmly. “Tell me who you are.”

Nichkhun forced himself out of Wooyoung’s grip and buried his face in his hands. It was only after a long pause that he raised his head again, a set expression on his face as if he had finally made a decision. There was a firmness in his eyes, but yet Wooyoung thought he saw a bit of fear mingled within those emotions.

“The truth is: I’m a social escort. Or, as I hate to call myself, a male prostitute. I sleep with men for money. These bruises you see are a result of a particularly violent client today, and I couldn’t cover them up.

“I’m not proud of what I do, but I do it to make a living. There, you know the truth now. Feel free to be disgusted all you want, I’m used to it. I won’t blame you if you don’t want to see me ever again.” It all came out in a rush of words, as if Nichkhun wanted to get it over and done with before he once again buried his face in his hands, too ashamed to look at Wooyoung. Wooyoung, meanwhile, took a few minutes of silence to digest this information, feeling as if he was being suspended in an unreal state of mind.

A social escort? A male prostitute? Of all the secrets that he had suspected Nichkhun might be hiding, these were the last that would have crossed his mind. His mind was feeding him with conditioned responses, telling him how disgusting it was, and perhaps Nichkhun had lower morals than he had previously thought. But yet, another side of him felt a great pity and an even deeper affection for Nichkhun. What had driven him into this desperate corner? And just because he was in such a job, did it necessarily mean that he was a bad person because of it? At the end of his reverie, Wooyoung was even surprised at himself that disgust was not remotely a prominent part of his reaction to this closely guarded secret of Nichkhun’s.

“Hyung,” he prodded Nichkhun hesitatingly. As Nichkhun slowly raised his face from his hands, Wooyoung gave him a small smile. “Do you have such a low opinion of me to think that I’d turn away from you just because of this? I’m a year younger than you, but I’m not exactly a kid, you know. Even if you treat me like one all the time.”

Nichkhun looked at him doubtfully for a while, before a hesitating smile broke slowly aross his face, as if he didn’t dare to believe what Wooyoung had just said. “Thank you,” he said simply, but Wooyoung was almost surprised at how moved he sounded, though he did little to show or express it. He could read it all in his eyes.

*******

If at first Wooyoung had not been sure how to react to this discovery, he would eventually learn to greatly appreciate the fact that he had finally found out about this, over the next few weeks. What barrier there had been between them seemed finally to be dissolved with the revelation. Nichkhun began, with some embarrassment at first, to talk more about himself, and about his history. Wooyoung learnt that he had been orphaned as an infant. A relative had been forced to take him in, but then had chased him out once the social workers stopped visiting. He had been living in the streets since then, getting by by begging for food and money. Generally people were willing to feed and clothe him when he was a helpless child but as he grew up, they became less and less willing to donate, seeing that he was now a well-abled teenager. So, he had to start finding other means to earn money. Never having had an education, there were not many jobs that he was eligible for, so he had finally resorted to the relatively well-paying route of selling his body. He had never been able to have many friends because few people wanted to associate with someone like him. He had never even told the staff at the cafeteria about what he does for a living.

The more Nichkhun opened up to Wooyoung, the more Wooyoung was surprised to realise that far from being disgusted, he seemed to fall more and more in love with him. Everytime Nichkhun talked about his history, it was only painfully obvious that he constantly felt ashamed of his past and his present, and of himself in general. It was only that innate hopefulness he had that kept him going, and not allow him to completely crumble into a mess of self-depreciation. Wooyoung realised how vulnerable Nichkhun really was, and yet how strong he also stood in his situation in life at the same time. Wooyoung couldn’t even begin to imagine how he himself might have lived if the tables had been turned and if it had been him in Nichkhun’s situation. Nichkhun had tried to evade the topic of his own history for as long as he could, though he had known it would not remain hidden forever, because he had thought that the moment of Wooyoung’s discovery would also spell the end to the friendship that he cherished so much.

“Hyung, I…” started Wooyoung excitedly, holding up the paper bag of food as Nichkhun opened the door. The grin on his face faded as he spotted a fresh new bruise on Nichkhun’s cheek. After that night a few weeks ago, Nichkhun’s bruises had healed and gone away, and hadn’t returned until now. He also looked slightly pale and subdued. With a grim expression on his face now, Wooyoung asked, “What happened now?”

“Same old thing,” waved Nichkhun dismissively, giving Wooyoung a wan smile as he ushered him into the apartment, taking the bag of food off his hands. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Can’t you do something about it? Can’t you say no?” asked Wooyoung exasperatedly, feeling his blood run cold and boil at the same time at the thought of Nichkhun being subjected to such unnecessary violence which he couldn’t even defend himself against.

Nichkhun only smiled palely at Wooyoung, unwrapping the food box. Even without speaking, Wooyoung could read in his smile the helplessness, the shame and yet also the gratitude that Wooyoung was cared to intervene in the first place. Sometimes, Nichkhun’s low opinion of himself irritated Wooyoung. He didn’t see why Nichkhun should believe it was above his station in life to have someone actually caring for him. After the food was eaten, Wooyoung sat Nichkhun down on the sofa and began once again to apply the medication on his bruises for him. This time, Nichkhun didn’t struggle and merely sat silently, allowing Wooyoung’s fingers to lightly rub against the reddish spot on his cheek.

“I think you’ll become an expert in healing bruises eventually,” joked Nichkhun as Wooyoung capped the liniment bottle.

“Hyung, I think we need to talk,” said Wooyoung solemnly. He had been starting to grow tired of hiding, and this fresh injury only strengthened his resolution. As if sensing what was coming up, Nichkhun’s expression grew flustered as he shifted slightly away from Wooyoung.

“About?” he asked, though his voice sounded unsteady.

“Us.”

Nichkhun fell silent. His eyes burned into the ground before him, with an unreadable expression on his face. Whatever he was feeling, it was clear that he wanted to avoid eye contact with Wooyoung at all cost. Gently, Wooyoung placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“Please don’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“It can’t… It won’t work. Wooyoung, you know that –“

“I love you.”

Nichkhun turned to stare at Wooyoung, with a stricken expression on his face. Wooyoung maintained the eye contact determinedly, daring Nichkhun to doubt the authenticity of his statement. There was something that looked like a flicker of bliss in Nichkhun’s eyes but it was quickly drowned out by what looked like an immense sorrow. With a sigh, Nichkhun turned away and resumed staring at the floor.

“I’m a social escort, Wooyoung. I’m paid to sell my body. Even if you think you love me now, there’s no way you would be able to stand being with me for long, with what I do. It’s not wise to fall in love with me, Wooyoung. Don’t… Don’t get yourself into this mess of my life. Don’t start what you can’t continue.”

“I am only interested in knowing one thing, hyung – do you love me?”

Nichkhun looked back at Wooyoung, his mouth slightly agape at the directness and firmness of his question. There were a few moments of silence, as if Nichkhun couldn’t make up his mind what to say, or whether he should even tell the truth.

Finally, with an air of resignation, Nichkhun whispered, “From the moment I met you.”

It was all the encouragement Wooyoung needed to shift his body brazenly forward. His arms wrapped around Nichkhun’s neck and drew him closer to himself. It felt surreal and right, like something that should’ve been done long ago. It was only when their lips were a mere short distance apart that Nichkhun stopped himself. “You really might regret this,” he shortly whispered, looking into Wooyoung’s half-lidded eyes.

“Try me,” whispered Wooyoung back before he pushed himself forward and caught Nichkhun’s lips with his own.

At the first moment of contact, it was as if all the emotions threatened to burst forth all at once. Their kiss was painfully desperate, as if each finally realized how darkly intense their feelings have become, being suppressed over the months and months of contact, and both urgently yearned for the release of their passions. Wooyoung ‘s hands clasped Nichkhun’s face as he recklessly pressed his body against Nichkhun’s. The other’s hands traversed under his shirt and up his back, as his tongue hungrily explored his mouth. Wooyoung’s hands quickly unbuttoned Nichkhun’s shirt as his tongue began to swirl in circles over his neck. His skin was uncommonly milky-white, and smelt like a leafy sort of soap. Nichkhun ran a hand through Wooyoung’s hair and pressed his face deeper into his neck, letting out a soft pleasured whimper.

*******

Wooyoung lay next to Nichkhun on the small bed. Having had a tiring day to say the least, after the climax was over, Nichkhun had quickly fallen into a sound sleep next to him. Wooyoung stared at Nichkhun’s side profile. The moonlight shone in through the window and gave Nichkhun’s pale skin almost a blue-ish pearlescence. He was sleeping on his side, and the healing bruise was hidden within the pillow. With his arm draped around Nichkhun, his fingers began to lightly trace the contours of his face.

There was something tragically beautiful about him at this point, and Wooyoung found that he loved him more than ever. He now felt a growing protectiveness over him and his vulnerability, wanting to be the one to finally shield him from the all the trials he had been facing throughout his life. He shifted his body closer to Nichkhun and wrapped an arm around him, his fingers absent-mindedly running gently through his hair.

The next morning, Nichkhun was the first to wake up, and almost seemed alarmed to find himself wrapped tightly in the arms of another person. Whether or not his clients stayed the night, he had always woken up alone and was so used to the feeling, he had expected the same to happen again this morning. This time, not only was he snugly fitted into Wooyoung’s arms, Wooyoung had also fallen asleep with his fingers entangled in Nichkhun’s hair. It was a blissful feeling completely new to Nichkhun, and one which he almost could not believe he would have ever felt in his life. He snuggled closer to Wooyoung, unable to help a smile creeping over his face.

The small movements roused Wooyoung and he shifted a little. “Are you awake?” he mumbled sleepily. Nichkhun nodded, but lifted a hand to stroke Wooyoung’s hair.

“Go back to sleep if you’re tired. I can make us some breakfast.”

“Mmm,” Wooyoung rubbed his eyes sleepily. “But my breakfast is already here.” With that he rolled Nichkhun over onto his back and pinned him down on to the bed with his body weight, beginning to slurp all over his mouth and neck. Nichkhun laughed and tried to push him off, but Wooyoung only grinned sleepily down at him. He leaned down and kissed Nichkhun seriously. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Nichkhun replied, smiling lazily back up at him, his arm draped around Wooyoung’s neck. With a crash, Wooyoung collapsed into Nichkhun’s neck and began sloppily, half-jokingly nibbling a trail of small kisses down his collarbone.

“Ayy, what’re you doing?” laughed Nichkhun again. “It’s ticklish.”

“Why? Don’t you want me to have a good breakfast?” Wooyoung teased. “I already know what I want to have.” He began to slide himself down Nichkhun’s body, and down under the sheets.

That day was hazy with the glow of first love, and of cheesy lines and further exploration of each other’s bodies. Wooyoung had called in sick for work, and Nichkhun had happily no clients that day. Since Nichkhun had neither a TV nor a laptop, there was nothing much else they could do but talk, chat, eat, kiss and have sex over and over. Having had more experience in these things, Nichkhun had more knowledge to impart to a first-timer like Wooyoung, but when it came to initiative, Wooyoung was almost always the one taking it.

That night as they lay once again bare in each other’s arms, Nichkhun gave Wooyoung a quick peck on the nose. “I’ve never really… been with someone as gentle as you,” he confessed.

Wooyoung smiled and shifted closer to him on the bed. “The difference is in that I actually love you,” he said simply. “Very much, if I might add.” Nichkhun swallowed a lump in his throat. He rested his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Sometimes it just sounds too good to be true,” he said softly, his eyes staring sadly behind Wooyoung. At this, Wooyoung tightened his arms around Nichkhun, as he continued, “I don’t feel like I’m good enough.”

“Shut up. What you feel is what you are. And what you are - is beautiful.”

Nichkhun lowered his eyes at this statement and held onto Wooyoung a little tighter. “Thank you.”

*******

Weeks turned into months, and the weather got colder. Wooyoung’s school holidays were over, and he had to quit the cafeteria to go back to university. Though the passion between Nichkhun and himself never cooled, but it was not entirely devoid of problems. Every time Nichkhun messaged him to tell him not to come, or when he had to leave his house because a client was due soon, there would always be that stab of jealousy. It was mild at first, when Wooyoung could still convince himself that to endure anything was worth it for Nichkhun, but as time went by, the feeling embedded deeper and began to hurt more.

It was now only a few days to Wooyoung’s birthday, and Nichkhun was teasing him about what he wanted as a birthday present, or what he wanted to do on his birthday. They were in the middle of a playful tickle fight when Nichkhun caught sight of the wall clock and his grin faded. “You have to go, someone’s coming soon.”

Wooyoung’s expression fell. He silently lowered his eyes to the floor and picked up his bag. There was a swelling of something like anger and indignation in him – it had started off merely as a prick of discomfort, but now, Wooyoung was used to feeling almost slightly murderous everytime this happened. “I’ll message you later then,” Wooyoung mumbled in a rather sulky way. Nichkhun nodded, and opened the door for him.

As Wooyoung walked down the apartment building, he passed by a swarthy middle-aged man in a coat that seemed to be headed towards Nichkhun’s apartment. For a moment, he felt an irrepressible urge to attack him, but containing himself at the last moment, he turned away and headed out of the building. Wooyoung stood on the street opposite the building for a while, in the chilly autumn night air, staring up at the lit window that was Nichkhun’s. It wasn’t long, before the lights were turned out.

There was another cold sharp pain in his chest as he turned and began walking in the direction back to his own dormitories. He knew he was at the end of his tether. He didn’t want to give Nichkhun up, but every time this happened, he could feel his very sanity slipping from the uprush of rage and jealousy. It didn’t help when his overactive brain supplied him with mental images of Nichkhun and his clients, locked in some invariably intimate position. Strange men enjoying Nichkhun’s body, when it ought to have been exclusively his. Inane and paranoid thoughts ran through his head, such as wondering if Nichkhun enjoyed being with them as much as he did with Wooyoung. Would Nichkhun compare Wooyoung with them? Did he put Wooyoung at the back of his mind every time he had to be with another person? Wooyoung clenched his fist and kicked a wall, yelling out his suppressed anger.

“Never fall in love with a person who sells himself. It’ll always end up bad,” Wooyoung remembered a line from a movie he had once watched. “First, there is desire. Then, there is passion. Then, suspicion. Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal. Where love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there is no love. And jealousy, will drive you mad.”

Wooyoung squeezed his eyes shut, letting the hot tears trickle down his cheeks.

*******

The next day, a day before his birthday, Wooyoung thought he might pay Nichkhun a visit before he headed off to school in the late morning. He did wonder if perhaps Nichkhun might be busy at the time, but it was usually unlikely that he would see anyone at the time. When he reached the door of Nichkhun’s apartment, he was surprised to find it slightly ajar. There was something strange about it. He stood outside the door for a few moments and lightly pushed it further.

There was a crash and Nichkhun skidded onto the ground in front of him, as if he had just been struck by a force. He did not appear to notice Wooyoung standing outside the door. A tall stranger walked into view. Wooyoung had never seen him before. He had a well-built and bulky body, and a rather handsome, though terrifying, face with well-defined cheekbones. Wooyoung saw a familiar bruise was already quickly forming at the corner of Nichkhun’s mouth, as he scrambled to his feet. The stranger grabbed a bunch of Nichkhun’s collar and used some incredible strength to lift him up to his feet, with Nichkhun dangling helplessly from his grip. Wooyoung’s eyes widened and he felt his blood turn cold. There was something resigned and helpless in Nichkhun’s eyes, as if he was used to this treatment. The stranger, meanwhile, looked at Nichkhun with something like utmost contempt and disgust.

“Prostitutes like you disgust me,” he hissed harshly, still holding Nichkhun up by his collar.

“I believe you’ve told me that more than once,” came the soft but sarcastic reply. Wooyoung could see a flash of indignation in Nichkhun’s eyes.

“And you deserve to be told over and over again.”

“So arrest me already, why don’t you? You’ve had the chance for months now, why don’t you just do it?”

“Why should I? Low-lifes like you exist so I could have my fun, isn’t it?”

“I wonder why you bother associating with us low-lifes for fun if you despise us that much.”

“I’ve already arrested most of your kind and put them in jail for illegal sexual soliciting, but you… there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s just your face,” The stranger raised a hand and mockingly stroked Nichkhun’s cheek. It took every ounce of effort for Wooyoung to not burst into the door and tackle the stranger to the ground. Nichkhun jerked his head away from his touch.

As if angered by this, the stranger slammed Nichkhun backwards into the wall with such force that he appeared to visibly have the wind knocked out of him. Thus helpless, the stranger began to violently assault his lips. Nichkhun didn’t resist – or rather, he looked like he had long given up resisting. The stranger unceremoniously pushed Nichkhun’s face to the side as he sucked painfully and deeply on the skin of Nichkhun’s neck, his hand ripping open Nichkhun’s shirt in one violent stroke before he explored his torso agonizingly slowly, his thumb pressing and rubbing his nipples in a way that would most certainly hurt. As the stranger’s hand travelled downwards underneath the rim of Nichkhun’s pants, Wooyoung muffled a cry of the most painful frustration he had ever felt and hastily escaped the building, unwilling to witness more of this humiliation.

Later that evening, Wooyoung made his way back to Nichkhun’s apartment with a heavy heart. He had escaped to a nearby park, where he cried for two hours straight before lifelessly making his way to school, though he had been unable to concentrate properly on any of his lessons. He felt truly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. When Nichkhun opened the door for him, the new bruise at the corner of his mouth only served to jog Wooyoung’s memories of what he had witnessed earlier that day.

“You forgot your sweater from yesterday,” said Nichkhun, producing it from the cupboard. Wooyoung must’ve left it when he had been in a hurry to get out of the house the night before. Wooyoung stonily accepted the sweater and stuffed it into his bag. Nichkhun gripped hold of Wooyoung’s shoulders, his brows furrowed in concern as he asked, “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“Quit your job, please,” Wooyoung stated firmly as he looked up at Nichkhun. There was a chilly change of expression on Nichkhun’s face, as it hardened. He let go of Wooyoung’s shoulders and turned away. “Do you know how painful it is for me to have to see you be with other men?”

Nichkhun glanced at him with an expression of hurt disbelief that Wooyoung did not know how to read, in the mess of emotions that he was in at the moment. “Why are you saying this suddenly?”

“I saw you today. With someone,” Wooyoung was forced to admit. A redness tinged Nichkhun’s cheeks.

“I should’ve told you to stay away, but he comes at the most unpredictable times.”

“How do you stand it? Why do you stand it? Can’t you just quit?” blurted out Wooyoung, his voice raising in volume.

“Quit my job? And survive on what? Love and air? You’re only a student with no income, even your education is being paid for by your parents. Are your parents going to support me too? Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know what I do for a living, before you fell in love with me. I told you it wasn’t wise.”

“Indeed,” Wooyoung snapped, his skin bristling with anger. It was the last straw. “Perhaps you had been right. Perhaps I have been foolish and naïve to think that everything would be all right in the end.”

Nichkhun turned to stare at him, more infuriation in his eyes than Wooyoung had ever witnessed before. “I take it that you’re regretting falling in love with me, as I had said you would.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I should’ve listened to you all those months back, and not been so stubborn. I must’ve been out of my mind to believe I could fall in love with someone who so willingly places his dignity at the doorstep for the sake of money!”

With that, Wooyoung snatched up his bag and stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut. His mind was in a complete mess as he brisk walked away from the building. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and such a destructive relationship as possible. He couldn’t find it in himself to admit that he loved Nichkhun any less than he did when they first started out, but it was more because he couldn’t see himself putting up with this continual cycle of jealousy for an indefinite period of time. Having to live in the shadows as a boyfriend and having to put up with watching Nichkhun continue the life he was leading now, possibly for an entire lifetime, was more than what Wooyoung could bear. He swore he would go insane sooner or later, so perhaps it was best to end the relationship sooner before they were both in too deep.

*******

It was a subdued birthday that Wooyoung celebrated the next day. In fact, he barely celebrated it at all. He had to lie to his parents when they called to congratulate him on the phone that he wasn’t feeling very well, to make up for his lack of enthusiasm. His classmates had wanted to treat him to dinner, but he had declined with the same excuse. All day, he could think of Nichkhun, but everytime he felt like he ought to go back and apologize, he thought the better of it. He kept replaying that look of disbelief that Nichkhun had shot him before – perhaps he ought not to have said that. As painful as it must’ve been for Wooyoung to endure seeing Nichkhun be with other men, it must’ve been infinitely more painful and humiliating besides, for Nichkhun to be with men he probably didn’t even feel attracted to. Still, however, Wooyoung kept to his resolution that it would be best to end the relationship since he could foresee no real future in it.

*******

With a final thrust and a loud groan, the client reached his climax inside of him. Nichkhun squeezed his eyes shut and panted. The client withdrew a mildly leaking dick and slumped down on top of his body. Nichkhun was obliged to clean it up a little before the client rolled himself to the other end of the bed and proceeded to take a nap on the other side of the bed. The money was already laid out on the bedside desk. When he was certain that the client had fallen asleep, Nichkhun turned away from him and stonily stared out of the window at the rising moon. He pulled the blanket up to cover his bare torso, suppressing that feeling of humiliation that he never failed to experience every single time. His mind was far away from this little apartment now, unwilling to immerse himself in the humiliating reality as he began wondering what Wooyoung was doing at the moment. It didn’t matter, though. Nichkhun knew he wasn’t coming back. They never did.

He blinked, and the tears streamed down his face. There was a dull aching in his chest. “Happy birthday,” he whispered under his breath.

*******

Wooyoung was sitting on a bench in an empty park, staring up at the rising moon. Perhaps he should’ve accepted his friends’ invitations, and gone out to have dinner with them. It was a rather sad way to celebrate his birthday like this. Maybe he could forget his troubles if he had done so, but he simply did not feel in the mood. He closed his eyes, wondering how long it might take him to get over Nichkhun. Perhaps never, came the answer in mind.

The sky was getting more and more overcast by the minute. Wooyoung should be heading back to his dorm now. He didn’t want to get caught in the rain. He stood up from the bench and stuck his hand into the pocket of his sweater to retrieve his bus card. An unfamiliar texture greeted his touch and he pulled out what looked like a mini envelope.

Do not open this before your birthday! It read, in Nichkhun’s handwriting.

Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, but thinking the better of it, he shoved the envelope back into his sweater and continued towards the bus stop. As he waited for the bus, he debated whether he ought to open the envelope or not. Would it be wise? Finally, when he got a seat on the bus back to his dormitories, he threw caution to the winds and slipped the envelope out of the sweater again. He wondered vaguely when Nichkhun had placed it there, before realising that it had been the sweater he had accidentally left at his house just two days ago. It had seemed so long since then.

No peeking, Wooyoung! It read on the other side, where he was to open the envelope. Wooyoung carefully tore the envelope open and slipped out the letter within.

To my dearest Wooyoung,
Happy birthday! You’re one year older now, but you’re still always younger than me and I’ll always treat you like a kid. =] No complaints, right?
You refused to tell me what you want for a present, and I’m really bad at picking gifts for people so I decided to write you a letter instead. You probably know this already, but I just wanted to let you know how important you are to me. I know, you’re going to say I’m being cheesy again, but that’s why you love me, right?
I love you, Wooyoung. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me, in my life. Every day, I still can’t figure out what I’ve done in life to deserve someone like you, who could love me so whole-heartedly as you do, despite knowing all the ugly facts of my life. Before I met you, I had lived life on a day to day basis, not really knowing who I was and just going along with the flow. I tried my best to keep myself happy, even though I never really did feel that way. I think I despised myself for what I do, but yet I didn’t have much of a choice either. I only really found out the meaning of happiness after you came into my life, and I’m so thankful to you for that.
I want to work hard for us, Wooyoung. I don’t know if you’d find this creepy (I hope you don’t), but lately I’ve been envisioning our future together. I want to earn and save enough money, so that we could buy a small cosy little apartment together. We’d argue over the decorations, and in the end you’d give in to me anyway because you know my aesthetic taste is better than yours. I want to earn enough money so I could take classes and learn a new skill, so that I can find a job that wouldn’t hurt either of us. Most of all, I want to earn enough money so that I could buy you a beautiful ring that you wouldn’t be ashamed to wear out. A ring that you could wear forever knowing that you are mine, and I would be yours, and only yours.
In our house, we could keep pets (no chickens, I’m sorry, I can’t stand the squawking), we could even adopt children if we felt the need to. It’ll be a place where we could come home after a day of work, and we could massage each other’s shoulders when we feel tired. It’ll be a place where we would fight and argue, and then we would kiss and make up. It’ll be a place where we would grow old together, and become weird old men who still constantly perved over each other, and our neighbours would gossip and ostracize us. But it wouldn’t matter because we would have each other anyway.
I guess until you tell me what you actually want for your birthday, that’s all the birthday present I can give you right now: what I envision our future to be like together. I love you from the bottom of my heart, Wooyoung, and I don’t think that’ll ever change.
Happy birthday, baby.
With all the love in the world,
Nichkhun

Wooyoung had not even realized that the tears were streaming freely down his face as he completed the letter. Thankfully, the bus was devoid of passengers at this time, and no one seemed to notice. The rain was growing torrential now outside of the bus window. He folded up the letter, replaced it in the envelope and pressed the bell.

*******

Nichkhun sipped some tea as he stared out of the window. He could barely see out with the heavy rain that had started so suddenly. He hoped Wooyoung had an umbrella. He wondered if he was out celebrating with his friends right now. The dull aching in his chest had never subsided.

There was an urgent rapping at his door. Nichkhun looked at the clock – there were no more clients due for the night. He placed the tea down on the table and hurriedly opened the door.

Looking as if he had just swam there, Wooyoung stood on the other side of the doorway, dripping a constant stream of rainwater on Nichkhun’s doormat. He looked like he had been crying.

“My god, Wooyoung, what happened?” ejaculated Nichkhun as he ushered Wooyoung into the house despite the puddles that he formed everywhere. He rushed into the washroom and grabbed spare clothes and a thick, fluffy towel, which he wrapped around Wooyoung hurriedly.

“Hyung -” Wooyoung began.

“Change out of your clothes first before you talk, you’re going to catch a cold at this rate,” ordered Nichkhun firmly. Sulkily, Wooyoung pulled off his wet clothes and handed them to Nichkhun before he toweled himself dry and put on the dry change of clothes.

Once Wooyoung was sufficiently dry, he finally opened the fist that he had been keeping clenched. “I found this in my pocket,” he said. Though he had been soaked to the skin, he had crumpled the envelope and the letter so tightly within his fist that it was barely wet at all despite the run in the rain. Nichkhun looked at the crumpled ball of paper that Wooyoung placed on the table and remembered its contents. He bristled a little and looked uncertainly at Wooyoung. “I wanted to make sure you understand the issues I have with what you wrote.”

Nichkhun looked away and braced himself. “Firstly,” Wooyoung began. “I do not agree that your aesthetic tastes are better than mine, and you should at least let me decorate the kitchen because I’d be the one cooking there most of the time.” Nichkhun glanced at Wooyoung in disbelief. “Secondly, I insist on keeping at least one chicken, just to try it out. I’ll make sure I train it not to squawk too loudly. Thirdly, I want a silver ring and not an old-fashioned gold one. I’ll buy the same one for you too.

“And finally, I’ll tell you what I want for my birthday,” Wooyoung drew closer to Nichkhun, holding his wrist and snaking an arm around the back of his neck to pull him gently downwards. Hesitantly, as if still not daring to believe it, Nichkhun lowered his head closer towards Wooyoung’s lips. “I want all of this future that you wrote in your letter. I want you. I want us. I want you to be mine and only mine. I especially want to become that weird old man that you talked about.”

“You just asked for five birthday presents at one go, Wooyoung,” Nichkhun broke into an bright smile, brushing his nose against Wooyoung’s, his hand casually wrapped around his waist.

“I’m sorry, you’ve taught me to be greedy,” quipped Wooyoung, his arms still circled around Nichkhun’s neck. He sighed. “Can’t promise that I’ll never get jealous again, but I can’t live without you. And I’m sorry for all the things I said last night. No matter how angry, jealous and upset I get, I have never and will never regret falling in love with you.”

“I believed you weren’t going to come back again.”

“I thought I wouldn’t either, but I realised I would’ve eventually. I’m in far too deep by now. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t have any complaints about that.”

“Good, I would hate to have to hear you complaining for a lifetime,” Wooyoung smiled before he pressed his lips against Nichkhun’s.

[fanfic] Lovetype

shadow_paint — Thu, 03 May 2012 18:10:17 GMT

Title: Lovetype
Type: Drabble, Real Life
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 900+

Wooyoung has trouble typing English and Nichkhun offers his help.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t been active for so long! I’ve been having exams. ;A; This is just a short drabble that I came up with after a Twitter conversation haha sorry if it’s a little rusty and off. Studying drains one of creative juices. Anyway, I’m working on at least 2-3 other fics at the moment since I’m free as a bird by now :D So please look forward to that! This is just a little something to remind everyone I’m still alive and writing!

Nichkhun stretched back from his computer and rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was simply exhausting going through so many emails. He had a bad habit of wanting to organize his schedule himself, and of being at least personally involved in the arrangement of all the projects that he was involved in. In a sense, it gave him a greater sense of purpose and control over his present busy life as a celebrity, but it also meant that he had far less time and space to relax than the other members. That was saying something, considering none of them had much time to themselves in the first place anyway.

“You seem tired, hyung,” Wooyoung remarked absently as he continued poking the new phone he had been silently playing with for the past hour on Nichkhun’s bed.

“I am,” heaved Nichkhun as he kneaded his own sore shoulder muscles. “Do you ever think I bite more cake than I could chew?”

“If you can fit it in your mouth, you can chew it,” answered Wooyoung simply without really thinking too much into the question. Nichkhun froze in bewilderment and looked at Wooyoung’s figure, hunched over the new gadget, his eyes wide with fascination. Nichkhun wondered if Wooyoung even fully understood his question but the child-like simplicity of his answers offered a refreshing and encouraging point of view to Nichkhun. It was what had first drew Nichkhun to Wooyoung irresistably – that innocent directness but oddly coupled with a mature sense of direction and drive in life.

“What’re you doing?” asked Nichkhun as he hopped onto the bed beside Wooyoung.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung looked up at him, perplexion in his eyes as he held up the phone. “Teach me how to type in English?”

Nichkhun shifted closer and took the phone from Wooyoung, proceeding to change the language settings. He opened up a new message and handed the phone back to Wooyoung, who stared at the touchscreen keypad, now filled with English letters instead of the usual Hangeul in great bewilderment. Unable to suppress an amused smile at Wooyoung’s clueless face, Nichkhun urged, “Try it now.”

Furrowing his brows, Wooyoung bit his lip as he cautiously began to press on the screen. He typed agonizingly slowly, from what Nichkhun could see peering at the screen upside down. “Hyung, is this correct?” Wooyoung asked as he held up the phone. It had taken him five whole minutes to write: ‘Hello this is Uyong.’

“Your name isn’t spelt like that, Wooyoung,” Nichkhun sighed in great amusement.

“Ah, hyung!” pouted Wooyoung in frustration. “Why do the words keep disappearing and putting in other words? What am I supposed to do?”

Heaving another huge sigh but with a smile on his face, Nichkhun shifted himself on the bed such that he was sitting behind Wooyoung, before he embraced him from the back. He held onto Wooyoung’s hands with both of his, and gently began to guide his fingers into typing, his chin hanging over Wooyoung’s shoulder and the comfortable warmth of Wooyoung’s back on his chest. Wooyoung seemed visibly struck at this intimate position; this was surely a new level of skinship that Wooyoung had never experienced before. He found himself concentrating more on the heat of Nichkhun’s hands on his, his steady breath on his shoulder and the nearness of his face, rather than whatever he was typing on his phone.

It didn’t seem to take long – in fact Wooyoung felt a slight pang of disappointment that it hadn’t taken longer – till Nichkhun said in a soft tone, “Babo-ya,” that Wooyoung finally deigned to return his attention to the phone screen. It now had a proper sentence written on it. “W-o-o….” Wooyoung began attempting to read it, letter by letter.

“Wooyoung, That’s how your name is spelt in English,” Nichkhun explained. He pointed word by word on the screen and read it out slowly. “Wooyoung. Is. A. Cute. Boy.”

“Ay, hyung!” Wooyoung laughed as he finally understood what Nichkhun had typed, though he did not dare to turn his head too much. Nichkhun’s face was almost uncomfortably close, though Wooyoung did not find it unpleasant. “What a cheesy line!”

“If you think that’s cheesy, here’s another,” Nichkhun chuckled as he deleted the message and began guiding Wooyoung’s fingers to type another one.

“I…” Wooyoung began to name the letters as Nichkhun typed it. “L… o….v…” Wooyoung stopped reading out the message as Nichkhun completed it. He didn’t need any translation for this one.

Wooyoung stared at the blinking cursor at the end of the message. Nichkhun’s hands were stagnant but still gently gripping onto his own. His thumb began to rub circles on the back of Wooyoung’s hand adoringly, but as if thinking better of it, he stopped abruptly. Wooyoung swallowed the surge of emotions that was already tingling his very skin.

With his finger pointing at every word, Nichkhun read out, “I love you.”

This time, Wooyoung turned his head fully to the side, his face a mere hair’s breadth away from Nichkhun’s. It felt strangely comfortable to be so upclose to Nichkhun, somehow. There didn’t seem to be any barriers or discomfort to overcome, as he might have thought. No reply was needed, anyway, between the embarrassed half-smile, and the sudden brightness of Wooyoung’s eyes. Nichkhun let go of Wooyoung’s hands and wrapped his arms around his waist tightly.

“I love you too,” Wooyoung thought he would say, just in case, before he closed that small distance needed between their lips.

[fanfic] Undisclosed Desires

shadow_paint — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 11:32:19 GMT

Title: Undisclosed Desires
Type: Drabble, Real Life, Songfic
Genre: Romance (?)
Rating: G
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 800+

Only beside Wooyoung do the angel and devil collide.

A/N: Inspired by Muse’s song Undisclosed Desires. Unbeta’ed!

One bottle, two bottles, three bottles, four. The stench of alcohol was already filling the room, threatening to even intoxicate the still-sober Wooyoung. The boys were already red-faced and their eyes were half-lidded with ebriety. There was only one boy that Wooyoung had his eye on.

Nichkhun was taking another swig of the vodka in his cup, laughing loudly as he slammed his empty cup onto the table. The boys cheered but Wooyoung kept silent. The boys always found some amusement in seeing this unexpected side of Nichkhun, this ‘devil’ side that nobody knew about, that was not portrayed before the camera. But not Wooyoung.

It had always been Wooyoung that had run to Nichkhun for comfort, for advice and for shelter. It had always been like that since their trainee days, up to after their debut. But then that night happened, when it had been Nichkhun to knock on his door, to curl up beside him under the sheets, and it had been Nichkhun’s tears that had wet Wooyoung’s shoulder instead of the other way round.

It was a shock. Nichkhun had always been the pillar of silent strength in the group. Angelic on TV, disciplined and sensible in real life, Nichkhun had always been the one to keep the group going no matter how much hate they got. Because of this, Nichkhun had always been Wooyoung’s role model. He had thought Nichkhun to be perfect.

But then that night had happened. “I’m tired… I’m so tired…” sobbed Nichkhun as Wooyoung felt his tears on his shoulder. It was the first time Wooyoung had realized Nichkhun was really as vulnerable as the rest of them. He had never realized nor even thought about how exhausting it must be to create a perfect image all the time on TV, and to be the one that people ran to for advice, with no one to return the favour.

I know you suffered
But I don't want you to hide
It's cold and loveless
I won't let you be denied

After that, Nichkhun seemed to change just a little. He drank more. He laughed more. He seemed determined to shed that angel face that everyone thought he was. He clubbed more. He flirted more. He slept around more. The angel had apparently become the devil, as everyone thought. But every night after he came home from a night of alcohol and sex, he always went to Wooyoung’s room, and curled up under the sheets with him, to fall asleep in his arms.

You trick your lovers that you're wicked and divine
You may be a sinner
But your innocence is mine

“Am I a bad person, Wooyoung?” he whispered one night, in the wee hours of the morning. “Am I a bad person because I’m not what everyone thinks I am?”

“No,” Wooyoung sighed as he curled his arms around Nichkhun. He felt Nichkhun shift a little closer to him on the bed. “Everyone has their angelic and devilish sides, you’re just a little torn between the two.”

There was a short silence. “I’m sorry for always imposing on you whenever I feel like an emotional basketcase,” Nichkhun whispered guiltily. Wooyoung felt a surge of emotion as he looked down at him.

“I feel like I’m the only one that can see both sides of you and I’m really happy for that,” Wooyoung smiled. Nichkhun looked up at him in some doubtful gratitude. Even in the darkness, Wooyoung could see the turn of the light in his eyes.

It became tiring and futile to fight it any longer. He leaned closer to Nichkhun and hesitatingly pressed his lips against his. Nichkhun didn’t resist as his moist eyelashes fluttered close. He had seen Nichkhun do this with girls before, but this kiss felt more real than any of that. It was slow, like they wanted time to freeze so they could bathe in this stolen moment forever. It was chaste, as if they were communicating raw emotions they could never appropriately relate to each other verbally, in that kiss.

But then, the kiss grew urgent as Nichkhun grabbed the back of Wooyoung’s neck and broke away from his lips to violently savour the skin of his neck. Wooyoung arched his back against Nichkhun and allowed himself to be swept away by the devil he had unleashed.

Please me
Show me how it's done
Tease me
You are the one

Eventually, they fell asleep, entangled in each other’s arms. Dawn broke, and it was another day once more. The cycle was about to repeat itself.

Everyday, it was always going to be the angel on screen, and the devil off camera. But it was only next to Wooyoung, that the two would collide.

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWTuKd2lTo4

[fanfic] Underneath The Paper

shadow_paint — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 17:20:29 GMT

Title: Underneath the Paper
Type: Drabble, Real Life
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Rating: G
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 980+

What happened before the filming of the Paper Kiss Game?

A/N: My first sort-of attempt at fluff so I just wrote a drabble instead. Enjoy! ^^

“OK, you’re done, get out,” snapped the stylist noona as she finished Wooyoung’s make-up. He opened his eyes and blinked a little cluelessly, before he scrambled out of the seat to make way for Seulong. There were no empty chairs in the cramped and crowded dressing room, and it was barely possible for him to move about without knocking something over in the first place. Feeling completely in the way, he impatiently made his way to the door and let himself into the studio.

The studio was more spacious and less busy, though the staff weren’t done with preparations either. The set had a false curtain backdrop, some chairs and a parquet floor. It was going to be their Idol Army Christmas special and Wooyoung already had an inkling what sort of game they were in for. It was completely for fanservice, of course, but Wooyoung couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. Firstly, he hadn’t really had his first kiss yet (he didn’t want to count the one in high school) and secondly, it was with guys. The thought made his skin crawl and furthermore, he didn’t even know who he’d be paired with.

Since he had nothing to do anyway, Wooyoung wandered around the curtain backdrop to look for where they usually stored the props before filming began. To his surprise, Nichkhun was standing there, staring at the props on the table. Wooyoung hadn’t realised that Nichkhun was already done with his hair and make-up so fast. Nichkhun looked up as Wooyoung rounded the corner, a worried expression on his face. Wooyoung smiled and walked over towards him.

“What’re you doing here, hyung?”

“What kind of game is this, Wooyoung?” asked Nichkhun, his tone confused, holding up that thin piece of frosted paper. It was a little smaller than Wooyoung had expected.

“Erm,” Wooyoung mumbled as he took the piece of paper from Nichkhun. He had forgotten that Nichkhun, being a foreigner, was probably new to the idea of the paper kiss game. He put the frosted paper up to his lips. “Basically you suck on it and transfer it to another person. Like this.” He pouted his lips like a goldfish and sucked on the frosted paper, which stayed adhered to his mouth.

Nichkhun looked at him bewilderedly, as if unable to comprehend the fun in this game. “So… I get it from you like this?” Wooyoung widened his eyes as he felt himself being pulled closer to Nichkhun. This was certainly not what he had intended to happen. Before he knew it, he could feel Nichkhun’s warm moist breath in his mouth as their lips brushed over the thin piece of paper. It felt oddly soft. There was a brief suction of cool air and then Nichkhun pulled away, the paper now stuck on his lips instead of Wooyoung’s. Nichkhun detached the paper from his mouth, looking pleased with himself for succeeding in the game.

Wooyoung swallowed, unable to stop the heat rushing to his cheeks. He felt ashamed for even being embarrassed about this, like a blushing schoolgirl. It certainly hadn’t felt as repulsive as he had expected. In fact, Wooyoung was a little terrified to realise that it hadn't been repulsive at all.

Eyeing the frosted paper with some interest, Nichkhun put it to his own mouth and inhaled. He smiled a lopsided goldfish-smile at Wooyoung and innocently pointed enthusiastically to himself, indicating that it was Wooyoung’s turn to receive the paper. How does he not find this weird? Wooyoung wondered, looking at him incredulously. There was a moment of reluctance, but Nichkhun’s arm weaved behind his shoulder and pulled him in once again as he leaned down to transfer the paper to Wooyoung.

Now that he wasn’t so much caught by surprise anymore, Wooyoung found himself grabbing hold of the back of Nichkhun’s neck and his eyes fluttered close as their lips brushed once more over that thin film. Both their lips seemed then to freeze in motion. Neither of them were inhaling, but were rather pressing the paper a little harder than necessary between their lips. The position was held for a few seconds too long, before Wooyoung finally clamped down on the paper with his mouth, mildly sucking on Nichkhun’s bottom lip in the process. Whether he had done this deliberately or not, Wooyoung almost didn’t want to know.

When he opened his eyes and removed the paper from his mouth, Nichkhun was looking at him in some surprise and embarrassment. Wooyoung found that he couldn’t really look at him straight in the eyes. The air was different between them now.

“Yeah, so that’s how it’s played,” Wooyoung said softly, clearing his throat. Nichkhun didn’t answer, and only looked down at the ground a little awkwardly. Wooyoung found himself being amused at how much he looked like a little boy in this state, before he caught himself going further down this train of thought and turned even redder than before. “I’ll… I’ll go check if the rest are ready…” He coughed as he turned to leave.

“Wooyoung,” said Nichkhun suddenly, grabbing Wooyoung’s wrist. Wooyoung turned around, surprised. He felt a mild heat rising all over. Nichkhun looked a little perplexed. “Should we… I mean… can we be paired up later during the game? I mean… since we’ve practised and all… it should be easier for us to win… right?” Nichkhun looked at him a little uncertainly, his eyes wide and glimmering with hopefulness. Wooyoung didn’t know how he was supposed to say no. He found himself reflexively beaming before he quickly coughed and quelled this into a neutral expression

“Yeah, sure,” he replied with an air of affected nonchalance. “I’ll just… I’ll just go tell the PDs then.” Nichkhun grinned with undisguised delight.

Wooyoung smiled bashfully to himself as he walked back towards the dressing rooms. He couldn’t wait for filming to start.

[fanfic] The Red Thread (2/2)

shadow_paint — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 17:45:20 GMT

Title: The Red Thread (2/2)

Genre: Angst, Romance, Action

Rating: NC-17 for violence

Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung

Words: 6,000+

The police and the mafia – a dream for one and a destiny for the other.

A/N: OHMYGOD I finally finished this. It was like something I had to finish or else it’d impede the normal functioning of my life. This turned out to be really, really long so I split them into 4 parts, two in each chapter. I don’t know who’s going to go through all 11,000 words of this, but kudos to you if you’ve made it through. This fic was inspired by an anime X, and some other movie influences like The Infernal Affairs. Semi-unbeta’ed. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! :D

Part 1. Part 2.

Part 3 - Choler

“Sir,” bowed the two men on both sides of the black wooden door. Nichkhun came to a stop. They were in a glossy white corridor, made ethereally bright by flourescent white ceiling lights. He eyed the two doorguards with some derision as they took a longer them than usual to swing open the door for him, keeping their heads bowed. Nichkhun silently walked past them into a darkened room within.

The room was spacious but mostly empty. In the middle of the room was a sole mahogany desk with some papers on it, and a gun. Behind the desk sat a vague silhouette shrouded in the shadows of the room. The lights in the room were mostly dimmed, except for a single spotlight that shone down in front of the desk Nichkhun walked slowly and steadily up the room. The dead silence in the room seemed to magnify the volume of his heels clicking as he walked. He finally stepped into the spotlight, remaining a respectful distance away from the desk, before he bowed. There was a small pinpoint flash of orange cinders as the man sucked on his cigarette. Nichkhun heard the barely audible crackling of ashes and a puff of blue smoke that chaotically dissipated in the air.

Nichkhun straightened his posture and remained still as a statue where he stood, the expression on his face never changing from the stoic one he kept on most of the time. He showed no signs of nerves, or fear, or even restlessness at the still silence of the room. He merely stood unmovingly, like an android awaiting instructions.

“I heard about what happened at the Central Bank,” came the man’s voice in a raspy high-pitched voice, with a feverish, staccato tone. It contrasted jarringly with the relaxed sinister posture that the man appeared to be in. If he hadn’t long proven that he had some of the coldest and best strategic minds in the mafia, one might’ve speculated he was perhaps not mentally sound. Most, if not all, who first spoke to him would remember their skin crawling at the first sound of his voice. Nichkhun, however, had no more reaction at this present moment.

“I have already made prior arrangements to get our funds from them within the next couple of days, sir,” Nichkhun replied monotonously. The man seemed to nod in satisfaction.

“And the police officer?”

Nichkhun fell silent. For an instant, his eyes flashed with some agitation, before the stoic mask fell back down again. He was silent.

“Detective Inspector Jang Wooyoung, isn’t it? You’ve had quite a history with him.”

Again, Nichkhun didn’t answer, but his posture noticeably stiffened. The man behind the desk chuckled, blowing another puff of cigarette smoke out. There was a longer period of silence this time. Nichkhun never moved.

“He’s been a thorn in our flesh for far too long, wouldn’t you agree?” Even through the shadows, Nichkhun could sense the wide, sinister grin on the man’s face as he said this.

“Yes,” he agreed monotonously.

“It’s time you help us to remove this thorn once and for all, then,” came the order. The man’s breath turned shallow and rapid, in a disturbing cross between a soft maniacal giggle and hyperventilation. The mirthless laugh was even more haunting than his jarring voice. Nichkhun blinked, before he slowly nodded.

“But remember,” came the man’s voice again, this time noticeably more excited. “Kill him, or we will kill you and then hunt him down. And you of all people should know how we play with our food before we eat it.”

“Rest assured, sir, I will not fail.”

The man broke into another fit of nervous giggle as Nichkhun bowed to take his leave.

*******

The funeral was only over just a few days ago. Wooyoung sat listlessly at his desk, staring into space. Inspector Kim’s family had been entirely devastated at his premature death in the frontline and though they placed no blame on any other officer, Wooyoung felt that the guilt lay squarely on his shoulders. He ought not to have followed Nichkhun’s instructions. He ought to have called headquarters first. He ought to have taken better care of his colleagues. But all these regrets were only the sidelines of what was truly preoccupying his mind for all this time.

“Inspector? He will see you now,” came the timid voice of a junior police officer. Wooyoung snapped out of his reverie and nodded solemnly before he made his way to the office.

He knocked on the door, awaited the acknowledgement before he let himself in and saluted the commissioner, standing at attention in front of his desk. The commissioner sighed and leaned back in his chair. Wooyoung swallowed as he stared straight ahead of him. He assumed he was going to get some form of reprimand or punishment for having lost his second-in-charge on the job, but he welcomed it. Maybe he might even be fired.

“Inspector Kim’s death is not your fault,” started the commissioner. Wooyoung flinched in surprise, and almost felt disappointed. “According to your testimony, he was shot down by #7381.”

“That is correct, sir,” Wooyoung responded, his steady voice masking the inner pang he felt at this mention of Nichkhun.

“The mafia has gotten away with too much in the past. We have lacked foresight to see into their plans and stem the tide earlier. It has culminated in the recent happenings – a mafia member shooting dead a police officer in broad daylight. It only shows how much regard they have for the presence of the police force in Seoul. This must be rectified, and I see potential in you, Wooyoung, to help us do that.”

Wooyoung didn’t answer. He didn’t see what potential the commissioner saw in him. Hadn’t he been in charge of the case and had failed? Not only had he failed, he had even indirectly incurred a fatality within the police force. He felt bewildered and almost surreal, as if he was being forced to play out a scene he wanted no part in, against his will.

“I know you feel that you’ve made an irreparable mistake in this recent case with the Central Bank, Wooyoung. You will not be demoted or removed, however. I have convinced the higher authorities that you are of great potential aide to the police force, and you will now prove yourself to us by hunting down #7381.”

Wooyoung pursed his lips, his eyes flashing dangerously. He felt the ridiculousness of this situation, as if he was in a dream, as if he was being unconsciously puppeteered by some force of sadism. He made no answer. His eyes wavered.

“Will you take on the mission?” prompted the commissioner severely.

After a second’s hestiation, Wooyoung saluted and answered, “Yes, sir.”

*******

A couple of weeks had since passed since Wooyoung had been given the mission. It was nothing less than bitter irony that he spent most of his day tracking down Nichkhun, but only with the purpose of arresting him or worse. He studied the movements of the mafia, but they were entirely elusive and had much association with the darker underground syndicates of the city that helped to cover their tracks perfectly. Following their footsteps was like trying to trace the path of an eel through murky water. But still, Wooyoung kept at it.

Others saw his determination as being motivated to clear his own good name for the Central Bank incident, but this was far from the truth. He wanted justice, but not for himself. He wanted to know what had turned Nichkhun into such a person, and to help him if he could. One did not change personalities so drastically in ten years without a good reason and Wooyoung wanted to find out what it was.

Finally, the day arrived. There was some definite tip-off that the mafia was to move a substantial shipment of illegal drugs from a warehouse in a remote part of the city, towards the port to be exported to other countries, and #7381 was in charge of this ‘project’. It was the best chance for the police to swoop in on this gathering, and arrest at least this faction of mafia members. They also believed apprehending #7381 and putting him under interrogation might yield some valuable information about the greater mafia overlords. What sort of interrogation technique they intended to use, Wooyoung did not know and did not want to know. Despite this, however, they had already issued the order to Wooyoung: fire at will.

As Wooyoung sat in the car chugging towards the warehouse, he constantly felt for the gun in the holster underneath his blazer. This time, if he should be placed in the situation, he wasn’t going to miss his mark. He stared into the darkness, replaying the rooftop scene over and over in his mind. The twisted grin, the acid mockery from the voice that he had been so familiar with and had loved so well at one point. The coldness of his face and his eyes as he squeezed the trigger. He wondered if Nichkhun even remembered the times they had spent together all those years ago. Or had they not meant anything to him since then? Why had he joined the mafia? For money? For protection? For power?

The car arrived at the destination and the police officers filed out, hiding underneath the bushes and the shadows of night. In front of them was the open door of a large warehouse. Inside the warehouse, they could see an immense amount of crates, stacked on top of one another. A forklift was in the process of moving some of these crates onto several cargo vans. The entire process was being directed by some men in black suits. The police officers waited for some minutes. When the first cargo van moved off, Wooyoung gave the signal.

The police sneaked in by the side door and quietly subdued 2 or 3 men within a few minutes. Wooyoung crouched beside a tall metal shelf, taking in the scene before him. Most of the mafia men were not yet aware of the police presence in the building and still getting ready the crates for transport. He hand-signalled his colleagues to split up and try to avoid exposing their position as far as possible.

Bang! There was a ear-splitting gunshot and a high-pitched whistle as a bullet ricocheted off metal. It had only missed Wooyoung’s head by less than a meter. He flinched, his entire body tense with shock as he instictively drew out his gun, his eyes searching for his assailant. The gunshot had already roused the mafia men in the warehouse, all of whom began whipping out weapons and looking around in high alert. Wooyoung gave a signal for his colleagues to go all-out as he continued to look around for the gunsman.

It was then that he caught sight of him once more. The gun was, by then, lowered, but it was still smoking. Nichkhun – staring straight at him from a distance away. When had he noticed Wooyoung’s entrance into the warehouse? Had he actually intended to shoot Wooyoung there and then? Wooyoung might have felt more emotions about this if the adrenaline hadn’t already taken over his body. Instead of continuing his assault, Nichkhun spun on his heels and walked into a smaller containing area of the warehouse. Crouching as he ran, Wooyoung chased after him.

As soon as he entered the containing area, Wooyoung heard a whirring noise as the metal shutters began to close down upon the entrance. He was trapped. The containing area was spacious in itself, though not as large as the main warehouse. It, too, contained stacks and stacks of crates, but it had a large clear space in the middle. There was a deathly silence in this place and no sign of Nichkhun. His pulse accelerated as he quickly took cover behind a crate, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find a trace of Nichkhun, but there was none.

“Wooyoung,” came the echoes of Nichkhun’s voice around the hollow room. Wooyoung looked all around him, trying to find its origin. The echoes made it difficult for Wooyoung to pinpoint any one direction from which the voice might be from. “You’re here to arrest me, aren’t you?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer. He merely clutched his gun tighter and continued to pace silently behind the crates.

“What’s wrong?” said Nichkhun. Wooyoung could hear the grin of malice as he said this. “It’s just the two of us in this room. So come and arrest me.”

Again, Wooyoung kept silent, but only gritted his teeth. He never hated Nichkhun so much as he did now.

“I still remember you called me Nichkhun-sshi the last time we met, I find that very unfriendly. Don’t you think it’s much better to stick to hyung, like old times?”

Wooyoung’s hands were shivering with wrath now. In his moment of blind fury, he lost the split second to react when a black shadow flashed round the corner of a crate and swiped ferociously at him. Wooyoung was flung off-balance by the force of the strike and in this instant, Nichkhun grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against a blunt protrusion on the wall. Wooyoung felt the sickening crunch of a rib cracking and could barely breathe from the sharp pain burning through his body like electricity. There was a deep cut across his cheek from the knife that Nichkhun had been holding, which was now trickling blood down his chin, his jaw and his neck. Wooyoung was temporarily immobile, as every single movement brought a fresh wave of pain from his cracked rib.

Nichkhun pressed his body against Wooyoung’s to hold him against the wall, as he looked down at him, pressing the edge of his blade dangerously against the exposed skin. He bent his face downwards and lightly licked the blood off his neck. Biting his lips, Wooyoung mustered his energy to shove Nichkhun roughly backwards and raised his gun weakly, but Nichkhun had already scampered behind a crate. The adrenaline had subsided the pain into a dull manageable throb on his back now, as Wooyoung pushed himself off the wall and staggered forwards, wiping the sweat off his brow. The cut on his cheek had already stopped bleeding, but Wooyoung could still feel the light brush of Nichkhun’s tongue on his neck, as he cringed in disgust.

Wooyoung crouched down behind a crate, his movements slightly awkward and stunted by his attempting not to shift the cracked rib anymore than he needed to. All around him was still the same dead silence as before. It was in that moment of emotion that he had allowed Nichkhun the chance to strike, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. Forcibly calming himself, Wooyoung listened closely to the still air of the room, his breathing slowed down. For almost a whole minute, there was a disturbing, complete silence and Wooyoung felt a knotting in his stomach.

Finally, a barely audible faint rustle rounding the corner of the crate.

Wooyoung did a side roll and was only just in time to dodge the glint of the blade once more. This time, he grabbed hold of Nichkhun’s arm and swung him ferociously into the center clearing. Not having anticipated Wooyoung’s sudden rebound attack, Nichkhun was too surprised to stop this sudden momentum and was thrown unceremoniously into the center of the clearing. At the same moment, both of them stood up from where they were and whipped out their guns at each other, panting.

Nichkhun’s gun pointed towards Wooyoung’s head, while Wooyoung’s was aimed at his heart.

Nichkhun laughed, though his eyes remained solemn. “So we’ve come down to this,” he nodded. “But you can’t do it, can you?”

Wooyoung cocked his gun in reply, the click resounding through the room. His eyes were brimming with tears as he glared at Nichkhun, who grinned and prepared his own gun.

“Really? You’re going to kill your hyung?” Nichkhun tilted his head sarcastically, the grin never leaving his face.

“My hyung has been dead for ten years,” Wooyoung replied callously. Nichkhun’s grin faded slightly. “You’re not my hyung.”

The grin turned into an ugly scowl of malice now, as if the stoic mask had only just been dropped. Wooyoung was almost shocked at how sinister Nichkhun was capable of looking, but it only strengthened his resolution. “You’re lying,” Nichkhun growled unconvincingly, and his finger began to squeeze the trigger. Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

Bam! The gunshot echoed like thunder around the room.

Part 4 - Melancholia

Present day.

Wooyoung couldn’t breathe. His eyes were round with shock as he stared wordlessly at Nichkhun’s pale face. So many unanswered questions were surfacing in his mind, threatening to drown him out. From them stemmed an even larger hasty regret. Nichkhun only smiled back at him.

It was a genuine smile. Nichkhun’s gun lay on the floor, where he had deliberately dropped it at the very last moment. Wooyoung’s hand was still trembling, the smoking gun in his hand hot from the blast. It was a chest wound – a fatal wound. Nichkhun staggered backwards, but his legs buckled. Wooyoung dropped his gun and rushed towards him, catching hold of his limp body as he fell to the ground.

“Hyung!” Wooyoung shouted, tears stinging his eyes as he sat on the dusty concrete, clutching onto Nichkhun. The blood was already forming a growing pool on the floor. Nichkhun reached into his pocket and weakly drew out unused bullets. Wooyoung stared at it and then looked at Nichkhun’s gun on the floor, his breathing shallow as his mind fought to comprehend what was going on.

“I’m sorry,” Nichkhun whispered hoarsely. His eyes were already half-lidded as he raised a hand, quivering with the exertion, and his fingers lightly stroked Wooyoung’s cheeks. The tears were streaming freely down Wooyoung’s face now but he could only stare, almost catatonic, at Nichkhun.

“Hyung, no…” Wooyoung could only repeatedly mutter to himself, blinking the tears fiercely out of his eyes but Nichkhun was already slipping away. He smiled up at him, the blood trickling out of his mouth as his hand clutched Wooyoung’s hand tightly, for one last time. And then his grip loosened.

*******

10 years ago.

“How was your physical training lesson today?” asked Nichkhun as they entered Wooyoung’s room.

“It sucked so bad. I really have no stamina, hyung, I need to train up on that,” complained Wooyoung as he flung his schoolbag under his desk. Nichkhun laughed as he embraced Wooyoung from behind.

“I think I can help with that,” Nichkhun whispered into his ear. Wooyoung turned red from embarrassment.

“Hyung, I’m all sweaty and stinky, are you sure you want to hug me like that?”

“Stinky, really?” Nichkhun leaned down and began to sniff Wooyoung’s neck, the tip of his nose brushing lightly against his skin. Despite himself, Wooyoung closed his eyes, tilted his neck more and groaned softly as he felt a familiar heated stirring in his core. Nichkhun smiled to himself at having incited such a quick reaction in Wooyoung. He raised his head and nibbled lightly on Wooyoung’s earlobes before he whispered, “You smell fine to me.”

“Oh, stop it!” protested Wooyoung, snapping his eyes open as redness tinged his cheeks. Nichkhun laughed and released Wooyoung from his hug.

“You sure you don’t want me to help you clean up in the shower?” asked Nichkhun with a wicked smile on his face. Wooyoung made an impatient noise without turning around as he headed off to the shower.

Nichkhun curled up on Wooyoung’s sofa, ready to take a nap, before a familiar ring tone began to sound.

He flipped open Wooyoung’s cell phone, only to see a private number. Without thinking twice, he answered the call, grinning and expecting it to be one of their mutual school friends. “Hello?” he answered brightly. As the call progressed, his grin faded.

*******

Nichkhun walked slowly down the stairs of Wooyoung’s house and went into the kitchen, where Wooyoung’s mother was seated at the dining table mending some clothes.

“Mrs Jang,” he greeted solemnly. She looked up at him in surprise.

“What’s with you today, Nichkhun? Failed a test? Where’s Wooyoung?”

“He’s asleep,” Nichkhun said dismissively before he took a seat at the dining table with her. He didn’t say a word as he stared downwards.

“What’s wrong?” asked Wooyoung’s mom, putting down her sewing.

“How did Wooyoung’s father die?” asked Nichkhun directly, looking up at her. Her expression froze over as she looked away from him.

“In an accident,” she said affectedly. Nichkhun shook his head.

“When Wooyoung was in the shower just now, he got a call which I picked up for him.”

Wooyoung’s mom turned to look at him in horror, her face draining of colour within those few seconds. Nichkhun continued staring at her. Tears stung her eyes as she buried her face in her hands.

“He was in the mafia, wasn’t he?” continued Nichkhun, though it pained him to see such a usually self-composed woman break down in that way.

It was some time before Wooyoung’s mother composed herself enough to look back up at Nichkhun with bloodshot eyes, glazed over in memories. She nodded slowly. “You’re right. He wasn’t just in the mafia. He was one of their overlords. He murdered, he stole, he extorted, he committed every crime I could think of. But then… When people finally fall in love and want to settle down, there’re a lot of things they are willing to sacrifice. We married, and he left the mafia.

“But the mafia isn’t a job that you can just quit whenever you want. When you’re in it, you’re in it for life. He was seen as a defector and a traitor, so we had to elope. We settled down in a tiny village, and managed to live a few years of happiness, but… the mafia found us. I don’t know what happened, but he came back home one day… and he was covered in his blood.” At this point, Wooyoung’s mom broke down and began to sob convulsively into her hands. Nichkhun could only stare down at the table in sorrow as she composed herself.

“Before he died, he made Wooyoung promise that he’d never leave me. At that time, Wooyoung was only less than 3 years old. I doubt he remembers this. But the thing about the mafia is that, not only do you have to join it for life, but it was their law of brotherhood that your eldest son after you must also be part of the mafia. Neither his dad nor I wanted such a future for Wooyoung, so I quickly moved out of that village and escaped to this inconspicuous one.

“I lived in constant fear for the next few years, afraid that one day they would come for Wooyoung. But there was still no sign of them after he had turned 7, so I thought and hoped that they had forgotten all about him. But… now…” Again, Wooyoung’s mom crumbled into a series of sobs. Nichkhun closed his eyes, replaying the phone call in his mind. There was only one solution out of this mess.

“They’ve almost caught up with him, Mrs Jang. You need to leave immediately. Take him as far away from here as possible. Go to the other end of the country,” Nichkhun instructed, placing an encouraging hand on Wooyoung’s mom’s shoulder. His words seemed to bring her back down to the harsh reality that they were facing as she quelled her sobs and nodded urgently.

“I’ll… come by later after you’ve broken the news to him,” he announced before he let himself out of the house. The sky was overcast and thunders sounded in the distance as he made his way back to the orphanage.

*******

Nichkhun stared as the moving van got smaller and smaller in the distance. There was a dull pain in his chest as he wondered if he’d ever see Wooyoung again. But it was for the best – it was better than Wooyoung have to endure a whole life in the mafia. As he turned around, a large force struck him on his cheek and he fell to the ground.

“Where did he go?” demanded a gruff voice. Nichkhun looked up, only to find several bulky men in black suits gathering around him. He rubbed the sore spot on his cheek and stared up at the man with a clear defiant expression. The man struck him again before he gave a signal to the others, who rounded in on him.

When they finally stopped, Nichkhun was lying on the dusty floor in a quivering, bloody heap. His face was so distorted with swellings and cuts that he couldn’t feel the blood dripping into his swollen eye. The leader of the gang bent down and grabbed hold of his left wrist before he wordlessly dislocated it with a snap. Nichkhun screamed in pain as tears sprang to his eyes. The man placed his foot over the dislocated wrist and began to place pressure on it as Nichkhun writhed in agony.

“Tell me where he is,” the man whispered sinisterly.

Nichkhun stopped writhing. He glared up at the man though he could barely see him through his swollen eyes. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

The man clenched his teeth and dug his feet down on Nichkhun’s dislocated wrist and twisted it even more. The pain was too much for Nichkhun to bear before he lost consciousness mid-scream. The man spat down on Nichkhun’s body and signalled to the others. “Take him.”

*******

Present day.

Everything was over. Wooyoung sat in the empty police office. It was almost past midnight now and everyone had gone home. The mission was a sound success, but nobody dared to congratulate or to talk to him about it. He had been walking around lifelessly for the past week, but everyone assumed he was merely exhausted from the mission, and from all the paperwork. The superiors had suggested that he take a break, but he had refused, wanting to see the case all the way through. The mafia in Seoul had all but collapsed by now, and the police had been having a busy time cracking down all the dens and secret headquarters. The mafia overlord had already earned a death sentence.

But it all meant nothing much to Wooyoung. He stared at the cassette tape in front of him. It had only just been discovered amongst Nichkhun’s possessions, addressed to him. The forensics department had only given it to him today, and he had waited until he was alone before he dared to play it.

With quivering hands, he inserted the cassette into a player and pressed play.

“Hello?” came Nichkhun’s unsure voice over the speakers. Wooyoung already couldn’t help the tears that were stinging his eyes. Once again, his body felt like it might explode from the pain, as he wished so hard against logic that Nichkhun would be alive once more.

“If you’re hearing this, Wooyoung…. You pulled the trigger, didn’t you?” Nichkhun laughed bitterly. But he sounded different now. There was no more mockery or hardness in his voice. Wooyoung sobbed even more; it was almost exactly the same voice as he had remembered from a decade back. “That’s good, that’s good. I guess if you’re hearing this, I should be buried six feet underground by now. Thank God.

“I’m so sorry, Wooyoung. I owe you a lot of explanations. You must probably hate me by this point, and I honestly don’t blame you. I can only hope and pray that my plan has succeeded, and that the police database successfully got the information about the mafia that I have transferred.

“There’re a lot of things you don’t know, Wooyoung. I thought your mother might have told you about it, but then you told me that she passed away before you even reached Busan. I knew then that you didn’t know. So let me tell you.”

Wooyoung listened in the greatest astonishment as Nichkhun began to narrate the story of how he had picked up that call, and how he had found out from Wooyoung’s mom about the true story behind his father’s death. Wooyoung was numb from shock as he heard about his own presumed destiny of joining the mafia, and how Nichkhun had intercepted; how Nichkhun had been the one to suggest and encourage his mother to bring him away to Busan, and then how the mafia had abducted him.

“The thing about the mafia is that when they want to kill someone, they don’t just shoot them dead on the spot. That’d be too much of a luxury for anyone that’s offended them. They send them instead to a secret prison camp. This was where I was sent to after that day. Even now, I don’t want to refresh my memories of that place. But let me just say that every day I wished I was dead. I wished I could just die in my sleep, because they wouldn’t let you commit suicide. They gave you enough food and water to keep you going, just so they could break your spirit all over again the next day. If you refused to eat, they would force-feed you in the worst way imaginable.

“When I was there, I met this boy. He was older than me, but he had been there for so much longer. When I met him, he was barely alive. He told me that he was the son of a defector, and that he refused to join the mafia so they threw him in there for almost a few years. He reminded me of you, and I was horrified. It was like seeing what would have happened to you if you hadn’t escaped in time. But it also strengthened me. If the pain I was going through would keep you out of that place, I’d do it. I faced each day more bravely, because the thought of you kept me going.

“The mafia leaders found out that we had become friends and one day, for their entertainment, the mafia leaders summoned us. They placed a gun in front of us, and said one of us had to kill the other, or both of us would be placed under even more severe torture. I looked at the boy, and he looked at me, and it didn’t take me long to see that message in his eyes. Without hesitation, I grabbed the gun and shot him in the head at point-blank range. I still remember the smile on his face as he fell to the ground, relieved to be released from a life that was worse than death.

“The mafia leaders believed that I was as cruel and heartless as they were. They had never seen anyone betray a friend so fast before, and they liked it. What they didn’t know was, I never betrayed him. He had often told me that the thing he wished most in the world was to die, and that was what I helped him do, in the quickest, most painless way possible. Eventually, the mafia leaders groomed me to join the mafia as well. I had no choice in the matter. They often reminded me that I was only taking your place in the mafia, and that I was your substitute. I didn’t mind.

“Being part of the mafia, I had to prove myself able to take innocent lives. I did it by constantly reminding myself that as unfortunate as it was to die, it was a blessing for these people not to have gone through fates worse than death. Furthermore, I constantly told myself I was doing this to protect the one life that I valued most in the world – which was you. It was perhaps selfish of me. I don’t deny that, after a while, I got desensitized to killing people, but I never enjoyed it. My time in the mafia was nothing but a lifetime of agony for me.

“After I had risen in the ranks of the mafia, the overlord began to forget all about you for which I was glad. I hoped they never remembered you again. I was willing to spend the rest of my life in the mafia if you could be kept away from it. But then you came back and of all things, you were put in charge of my case in the police force. I hoped I could somehow persuade you to leave Seoul. I told you to go back to Busan, but you’ve always been that pig-headed, Wooyoung. I hoped that at least the mafia overlord wouldn’t hear of your being back within his jurisidction, but even there, I was wrong.

“They asked me to kill you, Wooyoung, as I had expected them to. I guess they found some twisted amusement in seeing me, as your substitute in the mafia, take your life. They said I had to kill you, or they would kill you themselves. I knew what that meant – they were going to hunt you down and send you to the prison camp. I would never, never have let that happen.

“I deliberately let slip the tip-off about the warehouse. And now, I’ve programmed my cellphone to send the police database all the required information within a few moments of my death. I could never kill you, Wooyoung, so it only remains for you to kill me instead. The stage is all set, and all you need to do is pull the trigger. I assume you have already. Don’t feel sad or guilty about this. You’re releasing me from a life I have long lost all interest in, except for you. This is the perfect ending for a wretched person. If you’re still alive now, then I’m very happy to have succeeded.

“Time is running out, and I need to set the plan in motion soon. So now, it only remains for me to sign off here. The only regret I’d have now is not to be able to talk to you and have another proper conversation with you.” Here, Nichkhun’s voice began to quiver. “Sometimes I’d think – what an irony life is, that you’re living out my dream and I’m living out your destiny. You once asked me whether I believed in destiny, Wooyoung, and I scoffed at you. Now – I don’t even really know. Seeing you again was already a blessing to me. I never thought I’d even get to do that.

“So with that, I’ll just tell you again, as I told you ten years ago: I love you, Wooyoung. I love you. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way anymore, I don’t care if you’ve moved on in your life without me. I don’t even care if you feel disgusted at this. I love you and that has never, and will never change. I love you forever and always, as I told you last time. I haven’t forgotten that. Thank you for having been in my life, and having made me into a stronger person. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for not being able to be with you for the rest of your life. I’m sorry for all the things you had to endure because of me.

“When you play this tape, I’d be dead, but please don’t forget me, Wooyoung. I’m not even asking you to love me back, just – don’t forget me. Consider that as my last selfish request, Wooyoung. Please don’t… I love you… I love you so much…” Nichkhun choked back a sob, and then the tape ended.

Wooyoung stared at as the tape stopped rolling. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. His tears had already run dry. He lifted his shivering left hand to stroke the tape, as his right hand withdrew a blade from his desk.

“Hyung, I never stopped loving you…” he whimpered, his eyes blankly staring at the tape. “I love you too… Don’t worry… I’ll never forget you… I’ll never forget you…”

The knife fell to the ground in a clatter. Ruby red drops stained the white marble tiles of the police department.

*******

The cool spring breeze blew aross the meadow, rustling the grass. The sun was almost setting now, but the two little boys were not done yet.

“Hyung!” cried Wooyoung, panting and grinning as he pulled on the boots that had come off. “Wait for me!”

“Hurry!” beckoned Nichkhun impatiently, but bouncing up and down excitedly. “The frogs in the stream will almost all be gone by now!”

Wooyoung bit his tongue as he finally fastened his boots. He ran to catch up with Nichkhun, their laughter tinkling like windchimes in the spring air.

[fanfic] The Red Thread (1/2)

shadow_paint — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 17:42:38 GMT

Title: The Red Thread (1/2)

Genre: Angst, Romance, Action, AU

Rating: NC-17 for violence

Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung

Words: 5,000+

The police and the mafia – a dream for one and a destiny for the other.

A/N: OHMYGOD I finally finished this. It was like something I had to finish or else it’d impede the normal functioning of my life. This turned out to be really, really long so I split them into 4 parts inside the fic itself, two in each chapter. Not actually a chaptered fic, but like an overly-long one shot. I don’t know who’s going to go through all 11,000 words of this, but kudos to you if you’ve made it through. This fic was inspired by an anime X, and some other movie influences like The Infernal Affairs. Semi-unbeta’ed. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! :D

Part 1. Part 2.

Part 1 - Phlegmatic

A small village in the West of Korea.

Nichkhun: 10 years old

Wooyoung: 9 years old

The brook babbled as the two boys splashed along the river, trying to find fish to catch. It was a cool spring day with a pale blue sky. Some birds chirped and flew by, but it was barely heard over the roaring laughter of the two boys as they slipped and fell on the slippery rocks of the small stream.

“Keep up, Wooyoung! The fishes are escaping!” shrieked Nichkhun excitedly.

“Ah, hyung!” whined the younger boy as he lagged behind a little, carrying a fishing rod and a basket. His feet hurt from the day they had spent out. In his excitement to catch the fish, Nichkhun lunged and fell face first into the shallow stream, emerging from the water, dripping wet. Wooyoung laughed so hard he himself fell backwards, landing on his bottom on the cold wet rocks. “Hyung, it’s your fault, now I’ve wet my pants! What will my mom say now!”

“What about me!? I’ve wet all my clothes! Matron will kill me,” complained Nichkhun as he examined the wet clothes sticking to his body. The orphanage matron was rather rigid when it came to keeping a dignified appearance, and Nichkhun looked anything but.

“Let’s stop fishing and go dry our clothes!” suggested Wooyoung, eager to get out of the stream. Nichkhun reluctantly nodded as they both splashed out of the stream.

The two boys lay side by side on the grass, topless with their hands cushioning their heads. Their shirts were spread out beside them, drying from the gentle breeze. They wordlessly stared up at the clouds overhead.

“Hyung, what do you want to be when you grow up?” asked Wooyoung inquisitively. Nichkhun pursed his mouth as he thought seriously about this question.

“I want to be a policeman! I want to shoot and fight off the baddies. Did you know that I got a high score on the shooting game machine that day? All the boys were totally jealous!” Nichkhun grinned to himself before he shifted his head to look at Wooyoung. He was staring blankly up at the sky. “So… what about you, Wooyoung?”

“I don’t know, hyung,” he answered simply. “Nothing really seems to appeal to me at all.”

There was a pause.

“Do you believe in fate, hyung? Destiny and all that?”

“What? Of course not, where on earth do you hear about such things?”

“I don’t know, I heard about it on the TV show my mom was watching and I was wondering whether it really exists. Do you really think that our lives are already written out like a book, and we’re just living it?”

“Pish posh and nonsense, Wooyoung. We control our own lives. Don’t worry about what you’re going to be when you grow up,” laughed Nichkhun as he turned his head back to the sky and directed his attention to a cloud that looked particularly like a dinosaur. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out one day.”

*******

Nichkhun: 16 years old

Wooyoung: 15 years old

Both of them were panting hard as the climax began to die down. Wooyoung swallowed before he fell on top of Nichkhun, kissing him hungrily again and pressing himself firmly against the other boy’s body. Nichkhun wrapped his arms around Wooyoung and ran his fingers through his hair. Wooyoung sloppily sucked on Nichkhun’s lips as he felt the strength draining out of him. It wasn’t exactly Wooyoung’s first time with him, but Nichkhun had a knack for always bringing him to an utmost high, which meant his crash after the euphoria took over fast. Their school uniforms were in disarray, since neither of them had bothered to fully tear their clothes off each other before succumbing to their passions after school.

Wooyoung broke away from the kiss and looked at Nichkhun underneath him with half-lidded eyes, glazed over with the after-effects of lust and sex. He smiled weakly even then, feeling that familiar skipping of his heartbeat as he looked at Nichkhun’s face. He didn’t know if he had ever loved anyone as much as he did now. Unable to help himself, he leaned himself down and kissed him once again, this time slowly licking and sucking every inch of Nichkhun’s lips, feeling them curve into a smile.

“You’re getting better at this,” commented Nichkhun in amusement as Wooyoung flopped onto the bed beside him, exhausted.

“I learn from the best,” mumbled Wooyoung, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Nichkhun’s chest. He vaguely remembered feeling Nichkhun turning to hug him before he drifted off to sleep.

*******

Nichkhun: 18 years old

Wooyoung: 17 years old

There was an urgent rapping at the door. Wooyoung dragged his feet to open it, his eyes swollen from crying.

As soon as the door was open, the roar of the torrential rain outside seemed to magnify in volume. Nichkhun was standing on his porch, looking as if he had just swam there, drenched as he was in rainwater. It seemed like he hadn’t bothered carrying an umbrella. Seeing that it was Nichkhun, Wooyoung hurriedly opened the door and flung himself at the older boy, bursting into hysterical tears. Nichkhun embraced him and stroked his back comfortingly. His eyes were cast down in sorrow.

Nichkhun quickly tore Wooyoung off, worried that he might get wet and catch a cold. He smiled weakly at Wooyoung, but there was no happiness in his eyes. His hand stroked Wooyoung’s cheek as he rubbed away the tear stains. “Stop crying, or else your eyes are going to swell shut,” he soothed. This only incited Wooyoung into bursting into another fresh wave of tears as he launched himself into Nichkhun’s embrace again, hugging him as tightly as possible.

“I don’t want to go, hyung, I don’t want to leave you,” he sobbed barely audibly into Nichkhun’s chest.

“When do you leave?” Nichkhun asked, wrapping Wooyoung once again into a tight embrace.

“My mom says tomorrow but I’m not going with her. I don’t want to. I’ll move in with you, I’ll rent a place, I don’t care, I’m not going to leave this place if you’re not coming with me,” Wooyoung blurted out in near hysterics. Nichkhun pulled him away once again.

“You can’t leave your mom, Wooyoung. Remember what your dad made you promise him before he died?” Nichkhun reminded. Wooyoung fell silent. It had been so long ago, when he was barely out of infanthood. He didn’t even remember how or why his dad had died now, but he did clearly remember making this promise. Nichkhun brushed Wooyoung’s fringe out of his face.

“You can’t leave her,” he smiled sadly. “But I’ll stay the night if you wish.”

As soon as Nichkhun stepped out of the shower in a fresh set of dry clothes, Wooyoung hugged him tightly, his eyes continually brimming with tears. Uprooting and ripping himself away from Nichkhun was as good as ripping his life into two, and he almost felt like he’d die if forced to do it. “I don’t want to leave you,” he could only whisper helplessly, even though they both knew that it was inevitable. Nothing else could be done.

Nichkhun cupped Wooyoung’s face and made him look into his eyes. “You know I love you, right?” he asked steadily, even though his heart already felt like it was breaking. Wooyoung nodded slowly, though he was not any much comforted by this. If anything, he only felt more pained by the statement. “Forever and always, Wooyoung, don’t forget that.” Nichkhun leaned in and kissed his forehead, his thumb stroking circles on his cheek.

“I love you too, hyung,” whispered Wooyoung in a quivering voice, unable to mask his emotions as well as Nichkhun did. “Forever and always.” His arms pulled Nichkhun’s head downwards, placing a deep kiss onto his lips. The scarcity of the time they had left together quickly made the kiss urgent as Nichkhun pushed Wooyoung backwards onto the bed and began to assault his neck. He squeezed his eyes as he sniffed in his particular musk, wishing to forever remember it. He didn’t even know if or when he would ever sniff it again.

Their coupling was bittersweet at best, with the inevitability of separation hanging above them. Even as they lay in bed in each other’s embrace, neither of them could sleep. Neither of them wanted to sleep. Time was precious now that there was so little left of it. There was nothing more they could do besides enjoy the last they could of each other, before time was up.

In the morning, the moving van came. Nichkhun helped with the boxes and luggages. With a final kiss and a heart-wrenching farewell, Wooyoung and his mother were gone.

Part 2 - Supine

10 years later.

The lights in the meeting room dimmed as the men and women settled down in their seats. At the front of the large seminar room, an elderly man in uniform was setting up the presentation on the screen and adjusting the microphone. A projector whirred into life and a bright light displayed an image of the current desktop on the computer, on a screen behind the man.

“Let’s start,” he declared authoritatively. The rustling of whispers in the meeting room quietened down into dead silence.

“Before we start our monthly briefing proper, I’d firstly like to give a big welcome to the newest addition to our ranks – Detective Inspector Jang Wooyoung,” said the elderly man. There was some warm applause around the meeting room as a young man seated near the front stood up and bowed towards his colleagues. He didn’t seem to have many friends.

“For those of you who haven’t met him yet, Inspector Jang has just transferred here from the Busan Police Corps only three weeks ago and already he has played a crucial role in helping his colleagues solve a kidnapping case, a murder case and fitted in the final piece of the puzzle in a major crackdown of a drug syndicate, one of the biggest cases on our hands this month. We hope to see more of such stellar and outstanding work from you, Inspector Jang.” Again, there was renewed applause around the room, but the young man merely bowed once more without showing much change in expression.

“Now, let’s move on to our briefing,” continued the elderly man, clicking on the slides. He began to elaborate on new kidnapping cases, as well as an unsolved murder case from almost half a year ago. Wooyoung didn’t pay much attention throughout all these. Though he wouldn’t proclaim to know the solutions to all these cases, but the most likely accurate thread of investigation to take was so glaringly obvious to him that he wondered why they were still unsolved in the first place. After many more of these tedious cases, the elderly man finally began talking about something that caught Wooyoung’s interest.

“There has been further activity by Codename #7381, and time is not on our side, boys. For the benefit of Inspector Jang as well as some of our newer colleagues who may not be familiar with the workings of this department, I will now briefly review the known criminal history of #7381. It might do the rest of you some good to keep in mind how dangerous this man is, too.”

Another click of the slides. Appearing on screen now was some fuzzy security camera still photographs. Wooyoung squinted, but he could only barely make out a silhouette in the backseat of a car, and from the small dot of light in the middle of darkness, this person appeared to be smoking.

“#7381 first came to our attention only 3 months ago. He was found to be directly responsible for the shooting of a man outside a bank, as we can see from this security camera video,” The elderly man clicked the remote and the photograph skipped into life. A car whizzed by in the foreground of the video, but the one in which the silhouette sat was parked by the curb. There were several passers-by walking along blissfully oblivious to what was evidently about to happen around them. A heavy-looking man in a suit appeared in the foreground of the video. Smoothly, with not even the slightest second of hesitation and almost like a choreographed step, a hand stretched out of the open car window, holding a pistol. Bang! Bang! came the muffled sound of gunshots through the security camera. Wooyoung didn’t even flinch as he saw the man in the suit fall to the ground with bullet wounds through his chest and abdomen. There was generalized screaming and panick as the passers-by rushed for safety. The gun was withdrawn as quickly as it came, the car screeched to life and zoomed off out of the vision of the security camera. When the video stopped playing, Wooyoung leaned back and steepled his fingers. This criminal seemed interesting. There had been none of the trembling hands that he saw all too often even in the most experienced of criminals who were too scared to take a life.

The elderly man continued, “Later, we found out that the deceased was a money launderer that was associated with the Korean mafia, but had later on embezzled some funds. We assume that his assassination was then ordered. We had at first thought that #7381 was merely a henchman of the mafia, sent to do its dirty work, but later evidence has told us that #7381 is in fact a highly-ranked member of the mafia. We have since found out that #7381 can, in fact, be linked to almost 50 different cases that we have had on our hands for the past half a year, much less if we attempted to dig out his activities in the past.” Wooyoung wanted to question why they hadn’t realized these 50 cases were linked before they discovered the existence of this person, but he had to remind himself that he was new and wasn’t in the position to ask too many questions yet.

“Thus, we believe that by arresting him, we can not only put a halt to all his criminal activities which, no doubt, contribute a fair deal to the activities of the mafia as a whole, and also get information and insight from the inner circles,” announced the elderly man. Wooyoung pursed his lips. The mafia was elusive. They usually left their dirty work to be done by their many, many subsidiary branches. They were so elusive, it was very easy to forget that more than half of the criminal syndicates in the nation was under them. It was easy to forget that they existed in the first place; that is, until the rare instance when the police was awarded a brief glimpse into the unimaginably extensive criminal network that was held and controlled by the mafia, and the silent, ruthless way its leaders held sway over their thousands and thousands of minions.

“We have not yet been able to establish a clear pictorial description of #7381 yet, but here’s the clearest image we have of him so far based on security cameras,” said the elderly man, before he flipped the slides. A large black and white picture appeared, though it was only but a mass of mosaic blocks. With an interval of a few seconds, it loaded again, the mosaic blocks getting smaller and smaller each time, clarifying the picture with every round. Wooyoung sat up in his seat. With the final load of the picture, Wooyoung widened his eyes at the face on screen. It was still a little blurry, and not to mention, he was wearing large black shades, but Wooyoung wouldn’t have mistaken that face, that jawline, and that pale skin anywhere. It was Nichkhun.

“From what little observations we’ve gathered of #7381, he seems to be a young man only in his late 20’s, which is unusual for someone so high-ranking in the mafia but also garners him the least suspicion amongst police officers. He is often seen wearing black, which also helps him to blend in amongst the crowd of people in the metropolis. He almost always doesn’t do his own dirty work, preferring to let his minion do the violent extorting for him, but from what some of our detainees from the mafia have testified about him, it seems that #7381 is a personage to be feared in the mafia.

“Recently, we have received a tip-off about some tentative plans #7381 might have in extorting more money from the government. We’re not exactly sure how he might go about doing it, but it is said that the central institution involved in this plan is the Central Bank. We will be keeping a close eye on the transactions and dealings of the Central Bank, and hopefully we will be able to crack down on #7381 and his gang. Detective Inspector Choi has transferred to another department since the irresolution of the previous case with #7381 when he escaped from underneath our noses, so we shall need…”

“I’ll take it,” Wooyoung raised his hand without expression, still staring at the picture on screen. Nichkhun looked like he hadn’t aged a day since 10 years ago. Had he been the one that had shot the man in the security camera video? Wooyoung felt like he was in a dream, but his eyes steadied as he looked at the elderly man. “I’ll take the case.”

*******

“Sir,” greeted the man in a suit solemnly as the car door opened. He bowed deeply before he stepped into the car and it drove off.

Thin, blue smoke from the cigarette curled upwards into the air, forming wispy patterns before they dispersed into nothingness. The man in the car exhaled another puff of blue smoke in the shape of a ring. He was dressed in an all-black suit, his legs crossed as he drummed his fingers in a slow, random fashion on the armrest. In the closed darkness of the car with tinted windows, it sounded quietly sinister. The passenger gulped as silently as he could.

“What news do you have for me today?” asked Nichkhun, sucking in another puff of his cigarette.

Bowing again, the passenger withdrew a manila folder from his thin briefcase and presented it respectfully towards Nichkhun, who took it from him. The folder was opened, and Nichkhun stared at the information in front of him wordlessly. No expression was etched on his face.

“We have a new police officer on our case, sir,” began the passenger, who looked like he was attempting to suppress the discomfort he felt at being in the presence of Nichkhun. “He’s just transferred from Busan Police Corps, and from what I hear, he is gaining quite a reputation in the Seoul Police Department even though he’s only been there for a month. He’s helped them crack a few cases already and so, they’ve put him in charge of our case last week. His name is…”

“Jang Wooyoung,” completed Nichkhun as he continued staring at the profile picture on the file. It was a sneakily taken shot of Wooyoung when he was exiting the police department, but he didn’t look any different from a decade ago. The detailed personal information that his henchmen had gathered about Wooyoung were nothing new to Nichkhun, except maybe for the dates of his admission into the Busan Police Academy and so on. He admittedly also did a double take when he read that both of Wooyoung’s parents were dead, and that now he had no other family and was not married. Nichkhun closed the folder and slipped it into the seat pocket in front of him. He merely said stoically, “Interesting.”

“It is well to be on our guard, sir, we have no idea how strongly this new police officer might come down on us,” encouraged the passenger. Nichkhun turned to him, his eyes hardened.

“You would do well to remember your position,” he stated calmly, the ghost of a frown on his eyebrows.

“Most definitely, sir,” the passenger could only hurriedly agree, as he fell into an uneasy silence. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, as he counted the minutes before he would be allowed to alight from the car and away from Nichkhun’s suffocating presence. More than one henchmen that had disobeyed the rules of the mafia had breathed their last in the very seat the passenger was sitting in at the moment. Nichkhun had long been known for killing whoever he must with no forewarning, without even the slightest change in expression. It was only one of the reasons why he possessed such a fearsome reputation in the mafia.

“We must give our new policeman a proper welcome party,” a sneer curled his lips as he uttered these words. “There will be a slight change of plans…”

*******

Wooyoung’s footsteps echoed around the stairwell as he carefully prodded his way up the Central Bank back-staircase. What, or rather, who would he found at the rooftop? He already knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet him.

The mission was to be a top secret. They had received tips that #7381 and his men were to have a meeting with an official of the Central Bank. Wooyoung and his team’s mission was to stop and intercept any transaction of funds between the mafia and the government. Even the Central Bank officers were not informed about the involvement of the police for their own protection. Wooyoung and his team were dressed in plain clothes today, and all their actions were to be done in absolute secrecy to prevent the scene from spiralling downwards into a hostage situation.

At first, the mission had gone on smoothly. They had observed the mafia’s entrance into the building without being detected themselves. Some of Wooyoung’s men were to be disguised as regular office workers, and they had kept each other updated on where #7381 and his men were. It was only when #7381 and his men walked past the reception area towards the office of the Central Bank director that things had gone awry.

When the door was burst open by Wooyoung and his team, they only found an unpleasantly agitated director seated at his desk, apparently busy with some paperwork. There was no one else in the room. It was the first time Wooyoung had felt a sense of defeat in years, and he resented it. Even more so that he knew who was behind it. Everything had been executed perfectly, there could have been no loophole that they did not check. What had gone wrong, and where were the mafia now? Had Wooyoung and his men moved in too early?

“Wooyoung-sshi,” came an all too familiar voice over his communication earpiece. Wooyoung stiffened, his heart racing as he pressed the earpiece into his ear. He did not reply. From the blank looks of his colleagues, they did not appear to be hearing this message. “If you please, come by yourself to the rooftop. If you bring anyone else, it is at their own peril.”

There was a click and the usual static came back once more. Wooyoung looked around him at his oblivious colleagues. He sighed, “Stay here, I need to attend to something. If I don’t come back within the next 15 minutes, call reinforcements first before you come find me at the rooftop.” His colleagues looked alarmed at this sudden urgent declaration but knew better than to ask why at this crucial point in time. They only nodded solemnly at him as he slipped his gun into his holster, slipped on a blazer to cover it and walked away.

He was already at the door of the rooftop. It was taking a greater effort than usual to stop his hand from shaking as he grabbed hold of the doorknob and twisted it. The rooftop was bathed in the bright glaring sunlight, reflected by the light-coloured concrete floor. Wooyoung squinted as he stepped out of the dark stairwell into the light. He walked slowly across the rooftop, every muscle tense and every sense he had on a high alert. So far, he couldn’t see anyone but that only made him all the more on edge.

It was only after he rounded a corner that Wooyoung saw him; a lone figure looking over the parapet of the rooftop at the skyline of Seoul. He was dressed in an all-black suit as always. Wooyoung found his heart to be pounding even faster and harder than it was already doing at this point. He almost couldn’t believe that he was laying eyes once again on Nichkhun after all these years, but yet, as he bitterly reminded himself, under such circumstances. He had thought they would never meet again, but yet here they were, meeting on two different sides of the law.

“Wooyoung,” said Nichkhun, as Wooyoung walked closer towards him. He turned around and took off his shades at the same time. Wooyoung felt a clenching of his heart that he couldn’t suppress as he looked upon the face that hadn’t seemed to change despite the passage of ten years. He felt an upsurge of memories, but it was quickly quenched by the jarring difference of expression on Nichkhun’s face. It was the same, but – different? Nichkhun had used to be cheerful, light-hearted and optimistic, the one in front of him now was none of that. His expression was frigid, cold and hard. The warm brown eyes had turned into hard, cruel ones. If Nichkhun experienced any similar reminiscence at the sight of Wooyoung, he showed absolutely no signs of it. His face remained expressionless and as cold as before. Wooyoung swallowed back some involuntary tears.

“Nichkhun-sshi,” said Wooyoung, trying to sound as firm and unemotional as he could. Nichkhun smiled, but it was an empty, mocking smile.

“I thought it used to be ‘hyung’,” Nichkhun said, his words oozing with sarcasm. His present self only seemed to be a cruel mockery of all the memories that were surfacing constantly in Wooyoung’s mind. Wooyoung bristled inwardly but did not reply. “I can see that you’ve done well these past ten years. Detective Inspector now, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But what about you, Nichkhun-sshi?” questioned Wooyoung, frowning at Nichkhun. He added in a softer undertone. “I’d never have expected you to join the mafia.”

Nichkhun laughed boisterously. “There’ve always been a lot of things you didn’t know about me, Wooyoung.”Again, Wooyoung felt a clenching in his chest. He felt like the memories and the history that he had treasured and held so dear for the past ten years were slowly falling apart.

“How did your mother die?” asked Nichkhun suddenly. Wooyoung looked up, surprised that he even knew this.

“When we were en route towards Busan ten years ago. She caught an illness and got sick very fast,” Wooyoung briefly explained, hoping for just an instant that it might bring back the old Nichkhun. But he only nodded slowly, letting out a short bitter laugh. Was he mocking her death? Wooyoung was completely bewildered, not even sure if he should’ve felt offended. He was still in a state of disbelief at this new side of Nichkhun that Wooyoung had never thought he was capable of.

Nichkhun began to close the distance between himself and Wooyoung. Despite himself, Wooyoung flinched, fighting the urge to back away. When had they come to this? For the past 10 years, he had imagined so many different scenarios for this moment, when he would once again meet Nichkhun. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d actually want to run away from him, and that he would look upon him as he did now – with utmost disgust.

“Since we’ve been such good friends and go a long time back, let me give you a piece of advice,” continued Nichkhun as he stood in front of Wooyoung, a small mocking smile playing on his lips all the time. “Go back to Busan. Seoul is too big for you, kid.” Wooyoung tightened his jaws and in a pique of anger, withdrew his gun from his holster and pointed it at Nichkhun’s face. Instead of cowering, or backing away, Nichkhun stood his ground and grinned.

“Do it,” he said simply. Wooyoung stared at him, panting in anxiety, his hand shaking. The buzz of adrenaline rang in his ears, the decision running to and fro in his head. Shoot him – and the case would be over. He wasn’t even resisting anyway. Did he welcome death, or did he simply think Wooyoung wouldn’t have the guts to do it? The thought only incited Wooyoung to cock his gun and take a better aim. Nichkhun’s grin grew wider. There was something twisted about the expression in his eyes now, as if he truly relished this moment, where Wooyoung was forced to make a decision. Wooyoung’s eyes darted here and there in panick, before he gritted his teeth, and squeezed the trigger.

Bam! Nichkhun staggered backwards from the force of the shot. Wooyoung couldn’t even see the blood that was presently dripping down the front of Nichkhun’s black blazer, from the wound in his left shoulder. A non-fatal wound. Nichkhun involuntarily winced for a brief instant before the emotion was over and his face remained back to its placid state. Wooyoung lowered his smoking gun. “Enough,” he announced, a certain note of exasperation in his tone. He was tired of these mind games. Nichkhun chortled as he shook his head.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Just a little lower, Wooyoung,” his encouragement was laced with mockery, as he placed his hand over his heart, smiling warpedly at Wooyoung. “Just a little lower, and you’d have found your mark. You could’ve gotten rid of me forever.”

“Not today,” hissed Wooyoung through his teeth. Nichkhun opened his mouth to retort, but then his eyes flicked upwards to fix on an object behind Wooyoung. Wooyoung turned around.

A familiar young face was obliviously walking around the corner into their sight. It was Inspector Kim, his second-in-charge, a precocious young man who was not long graduated from the Police Academy. Wooyoung’s eyes widened at the sight of him – hadn’t he specifically ordered them to stay behind? Admittedly when he had given the order, he was half-hearted about it, not sure what to expect. Now, having witnessed the full metamorphosis of Nichkhun, he knew the peril that Nichkhun had warned him of was very real. Wooyoung turned back to Nichkhun, only to stare straight into the empty browness of his eyes.

No words were exchanged between them. Nichkhun’s hand reached into his blazer and withdrew a black pistol. Wooyoung was horror-struck as he watched Nichkhun extend his arm. “Stop,” he whispered urgently, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Nichkhun’s eyes were still trained on Wooyoung, though his pistol was aiming in another direction all together.

Nichkhun scoffed. “You didn’t keep to your word, Wooyoung,” he stated.

Bang! There was no forestalling of the moment, no hesitation whatsoever. It had been as smooth, as cold, as devoid of any emotion as in the security camera video that Wooyoung had watched. The resounding gunshot echoed like thunder in Wooyoung’s ears before he could even reply. Wooyoung spun around only to see the inspector fall backwards as if in slow motion, the floor behind him a mess of blood splatters. Nichkhun’s aim was true; a single wound in the chest. A fatal wound. The inspector was dead before he hit the ground.

Wooyoung felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him as he stared, horror-struck, at the lifeless body of the inspector, who had only just transferred to their department not more than two months ago. His life had been so bright, so promising. And here, at the whim of another, it had been snuffed out just – like that. When Wooyoung turned back, his eyes brimmed with the disappointment, the wrath and the absolute disgust he held for Nichkhun now, even hoping now that he would notice this now and wake up. Hoping that he would turn back even just a little bit into the Nichkhun he once knew. But Nichkhun’s expression only hardened further, as if to prevent any semblance of emotion from penetrating his shell.

The gun was kept away as casually as it had just been a pen that Nichkhun had taken out. There was no indication either from his expression or his actions that he had just been responsible for the end of a life that was now lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the rooftop. “You live to fight another day, Wooyoung,” shrugged Nichkhun as if the entire scene had been a mere conte. He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled away.

Wooyoung stood where he was, still as a statue, for a few minutes even after Nichkhun had exited the rooftop. His world as he knew it seemed to be crumbling down around him at that moment. Since his mother’s death, Nichkhun’s memory, and the hope that he was still alive and well had been the only thing he had been holding onto for the past 10 years. Now… everything was devastated.

[fanfic] So Close

shadow_paint — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 18:08:08 GMT

Title: So Close
Genre: Romance, Songfic
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 1,800+

To their disgust, Nichkhun and Wooyoung have to film a slow-dancing scene for a parody, but it doesn’t turn out as bad as they had expected.

A/N: My first time doing a songfic! I can only wish Nichkhun and Wooyoung would do a scene like this for a 2PM parody. And yes, omg, my first PG fic ever D:! Unbeta’ed.

They were filming a parody.

They listened attentively to the director as he explained exactly what he wanted to go on in this scene. “This is the ballroom dance scene between the prince and the pauper. In the movie we’re parodying, it was full of romance and tension, because it was the first time when the main leads realised they loved each other, but they can’t. So I want that kind of emotion to come from the two of you.”

Wooyoung looked at Nichkhun in aghast and burst into awkward laughter. “Ah, I’m going crazy,” he whined to the director, who didn’t pay attention. Nichkhun scratched his head in embarrassment as the stylist came by to make sure his prince’s costume was in place.

“On the bright side, I’ve been through worse with Channie,” commented Nichkhun.

“But I haven’t! I still remember how terrible filming that sort-of kiss scene with Junho was for the other parody we did,” complained Wooyoung, making a disgusted face as he shivered at the traumatic memory.

“OK, OK, we’ll try to do this in as little takes as possible, all right? Then we don’t have to go through the same torture over and over again,” reassured Nichkhun, who was himself feeling uneasy about the scene. Wooyoung nodded vigorously. He liked Nichkhun and all as a brother, but… this was surely pushing it. Still, he couldn’t deny that they all knew the fans liked it. That’s why they even did it in the first place. Wooyoung sighed in resignation. At least it was with Nichkhun, who looked sufficiently like a girl. Maybe it would be less awkward than with Junho.

The crew members were just finished waxing the parquet floor on which the scene was to be shot. There was no other furniture or props on the set. All the other 2PM members had been chased out of the studio as Wooyoung and Nichkhun had protested that their presence (and loud sniggers) would disrupt the scene. As the crew got ready the finishing touches, Nichkhun and Wooyoung once again rehearsed the slow dance steps that the choreographer had just taught them the day before.

“No, no, hyung, you hold my hand like this and let me twirl,” corrected Wooyoung. He had always been the fastest when it came to learning dance steps. Nichkhun laughed and did as he said. The atmosphere between them was more playful and brotherly than anything, and Nichkhun didn’t know how he was going to act all romantic when the cameras started rolling. Wooyoung was a guy. He was his precious dongsaeng, but still a guy nonetheless. Although both of them had acted before, but asking them to pour in emotions in a scene between two boys seemed to be a tall order.

“Positions, please!” called the director. Nichkhun let go of Wooyoung’s hand as they walked trepidatingly towards the center of the parquet floor set. Neither of them could quell that familiar feeling of nerves. How many times was it going to take before they finally could nail down this awkward, difficult scene?

They took their places opposite each other. The lights began to dim.

“Fighting, hyung,” whispered Wooyoung nervously. Nichkhun whispered back the same as the lights turned off completely, leaving them in pitch-black darkness.

“Action!”

A spotlight switched on in the middle of the set, bathing Nichkhun and Wooyoung in a bright white light. All around them was darkness. The light was so bright that they couldn’t even make out the silhouettes of the camera crew and staff. The soft introduction tune of the ballad began to play on the overhead speakers. Nichkhun bowed and extended a hand to Wooyoung, who took it and stepped up closer to Nichkhun. Their chests almost touched. With one hand holding onto Wooyoung’s, and another hand slipped around his waist, they began to move slowly across the floor, their eye contact never breaking.

You’re in my arms,
And all the world is gone.
The music playing on for only two.

Nichkhun had prepared himself for that wave of repulsion at dancing so close with another guy, but to his surprise, it never came. He found himself wondering, had Wooyoung always been this slim? His waist was surprisingly slender. He looked down at Wooyoung. Being so close, he seemed to see this familiar face in a different light. There was something endearing about the simplicity and innocence of Wooyoung. Nichkhun had always known that, of course, but there was an added charisma about him today. Or maybe it was just because he was staring at him from such a near proximity. Nichkhun’s hand had been a little tentative at first, but he now instinctively pulled Wooyoung in more firmly. What the heck, it’s just for the filming, right? He found himself relishing the warmth of Wooyoung’s body through his clothes.

So close together.
And when I’m with you,
So close to feeling alive.

Since Nichkhun was slightly taller than himself, Wooyoung found that he had to tilt his head slightly upwards to look into his eyes. He had always appreciated Nichkhun’s eyes, but he had never really looked at them so upclose before. His eyelashes were so long, it was almost like a girl’s. Wooyoung studied Nichkhun’s features closely. He had once been struck by Nichkhun’s good looks, but that was when he had first met him. After having been friends for so long, he had long gotten used to Nichkhun and his “perfect” face. But now, however, Wooyoung found himself struck all over again. He found himself envying Nichkhun’s future life partner. Wooyoung swallowed, feeling embarrassed at the mild hotness of his cheeks. He hoped the make-up was thick enough to hide his blush. As Nichkhun unexpectedly pulled his body in, Wooyoung thought he smelt the clean fragrance of soap on Nichkhun’s neck, and unconsciously leaned in a little closer.

A life goes by,
Romantic dreams must die.
So I bid mine goodbye and never knew.
So close was waiting, waiting here with you.

Their footwork was perfectly synchronized with each other as they twirled slowly across the parquet. Nichkhun’s breath was even but he felt restless inside. When they had first debuted, Wooyoung had been a cute boy with puffy cheeks. That was when Nichkhun had first formed his habit of ruffling his hair all the time. Now, however, after countless concerts and tours, Wooyoung’s face had visibly slimmed. When had Wooyoung become so good-looking though? Had Nichkhun been so busy with his own activities that he hadn’t noticed when Wooyoung had grown up? A tinge of regret formed in his mind, for not having been a good enough hyung. He suddenly realized how much he missed Wooyoung, even though he was dancing with him at that present moment. He sighed as his hand tightened and moved upwards a little along Wooyoung’s back.

And now, forever, I know,
All that I want is to hold you
So close.

Nichkhun’s eyes were mesmerizing. Not only because they were uncommonly round and big for a man, but also because Nichkhun had an unconscious ability to convey so much emotions and intensity through his eyes. Wooyoung found he couldn’t look away. Then there was the increasing tightness with which Nichkhun held Wooyoung to him. He felt his pulse accelerate a little, and his mouth ran dry. Shouldn’t he ought to feel more grossed out by now? This was certainly completely different from the scene he had filmed last time with Junho. Contrary to feeling repulsed and traumatized, Wooyoung actually felt – comfortable. Maybe it was because he was more used to skinship with Nichkhun than with Junho. Maybe. Their faces were mere inches away from each other now. Wooyoung found that his breathing was becoming a bit more difficult than it used to be.

The music picked up the pace. Wooyoung stepped away from Nichkhun and twirled, his hand still in his, like how they had rehearsed so well together. He laughed in amusement despite himself, and heard Nichkhun’s familiar chortle from beside him. He finally spun back into Nichkhun’s arms, the momentum of his spin bringing them closer to each other now than ever. Nichkhun was still grinning down at Wooyoung from the previous scene. Wooyoung felt his breath catch as he stared up at Nichkhun’s bright smile. Nichkhun’s grin faded away eventually, as he noticed the look in Wooyoung’s eyes. His hand pressed tighter on the middle of Wooyoung’s back.

So close to reaching that famous happy ending,
Almost believing that this one’s not pretend.
Now you’re beside me, and look how far we’ve come.
So far, we are so close.

“Hyung,” breathed Wooyoung despite himself. Nichkhun didn’t answer. He didn’t even look surprised, nor curious about this sudden interjection. It was as if the both of them had known what the other was thinking all along. He only blinked at Wooyoung. Something had changed in Nichkhun’s eyes. Before, it had been a swirling pool of molten emotions, but now it settled down into a firm intensity, as if something had been fixed and decided. He looked levelly at Wooyoung, his gaze sometimes flickering down to his lips. Nichkhun noticed that they were a succulent red against his fair skin, and he seemed to have a natural pout. Why hadn’t he noticed this before?

How could I face the faceless days,
If I should lose you now?
We’re so close to reaching that famous happy ending.

After the earlier climax, the music toned down as it came to its finishing bars. The pace of the dance slowed down to a halt as they stood in the middle of the dance floor, with nothing around them but darkness. The world could’ve stopped for all they knew or cared. Nichkhun’s hand moved up to cup the back of Wooyoung’s head as he lowered his face towards him. It felt necessary, natural somehow. Wooyoung’s hand slipped around Nichkhun’s waist as his eyelids fluttered close, his entire body tense in anticipation. He could already feel Nichkhun’s breath on his lips.

Let’s go on dreaming
For we know we are
So close.

“Cut!” yelled the director. Their lips were a mere hair’s breadth away from each other. The lights came on, as they opened their eyes and put some distance between each other. “Well done, that was one-take success! And that impromptu near-kiss at the end? Perfect! Why didn’t we think of that sooner? Your fans would go crazy for that. You guys are such naturals at acting, you should consider going into it.”

Though the director’s praises came on incessantly, Nichkhun and Wooyoung only stared stonily at him, feeling like they had been recalled reluctantly from a dream.

“That was… that was a good take,” Nichkhun said rather awkwardly.

“Yes,” agreed Wooyoung quietly. Nichkhun coughed and then excused himself, walking hurriedly away from Wooyoung.

I never felt like I was acting though, they thought to themselves.

So close, so close.
And still, so far.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJ6JC7Edfi4

[fanfic] Verdure Asphyxiation

shadow_paint — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 18:43:43 GMT

Title: Verdure Asphyxiation
Genre: Angst, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 2,600+

Nichkhun cannot suppress his jealousy at Woosu.

A/N: First fic on this livejournal ever! This fic was half-inspired by one of the Real 2PM Mr Pizza behind the scenes video (the one with too many Woosu moments) and also uhm Moulin Rouge. Haha. Enjoy, and please if you have any opinions/comments/critique, do let me know! ^^ Oh, this is un-beta'ed, sorry. It's almost 3am in the morning.

Present.

“Cut!” shouted the director, and the volume from the stereos stopped abruptly. The illusion of filming a CF was shattered as everyone on set stopped jumping around like madmen and the make-up artistes rushed in to refresh their make-ups.

Nichkhun let go of the mic stand that he had been pretending he was singing into and allowed the stylist noonas to come in and do what they will with him. With a hand patting more foundation on his face, and another hand spraying something into his hair, he was forced to keep still, but his attention was caught by a scene playing in his peripheral vision.

Another smaller camera this time, belonging to one of the JYP staff, was rolling. Even when they were supposed to take a break from the actual filming of the CF, it was never really over. The laughs, the jokes, the smiles still had to carry on even behind the scenes, as long as there was a Real 2PM camera around. They didn’t have to act hyper for the most part, but it was nevertheless tiring to have a camera trained on them at almost every second of the day. That was, however, not what Nichkhun was thinking about at the moment. Fooling around in front of the camera – was Wooyoung and Junsu.

They were on the other side of the set, and he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Junsu had his arm around Wooyoung’s shoulder, and they were making heart-ish gestures into the camera. Despite himself, Nichkhun bristled inside, and felt a sudden surge in body temperature. He fidgeted a little, itching to go over and do – something about this, but the stylist noonas had him held captive at the moment. He could only stand stationary on the spot, his eyebrows unconsciously knitting themselves into a furrow, and unable to stop a slight frown from creeping onto this face.

He watched in silent fury as Junsu pretended he was getting something out of a box, then called Wooyoung over only to reveal it was a heart, and eyed them as they made a cutesy heart together witht heir hands. He looked in disgust as Wooyoung called Junsu over to a secret spot underneath the staircase to look at some of the props on set, while the Real 2PM camera followed them. The tinkling of laughter from the other end of the set only made his shoulder slump in frustrated resignation.

Finally, the stylist noonas were done with their endless meddling, releasing him to leech on to their next victim, Taecyeon. Nichkhun escaped hurriedly into the backstage area, which was quieter than the set, to soothe his thoughts. The noise of prop-shifting and people yelling instructions to one another diminished considerably as he stepped into the cooler backstage area. Most of the staff members were helping out on set, and most of the 2PM members were too busy goofing around in the resting lounge, making for the perfect spot for Nichkhun to be alone with his own thoughts.

It wasn’t really that he hated Junsu. He loved Junsu as a hyung, as much as he ever did. But he was lying if he said he didn’t feel just a tiny bit agitated when he sees Junsu seemingly making advances on Wooyoung like that. In fact, Nichkhun knew he was probably thinking too much into this. All these hugging, heart-ish gestures were common and normal amongst them. Heck, even Nichkhun himself did it with his other members, so why not Junsu with Wooyoung? Maybe it was because Junsu and Wooyoung had been so ultra-close recently that he was getting sick of it. Maybe it was because they were just too cheesy about it, that it got on his nerves. Or maybe, Nichkhun admitted with a sigh, he was just jealous, plain and simple.

He leaned against the cool tiled walls of the corridor, staring into space as he let his thoughts wander to all that had happened half a year ago. But a nearby rustle and footsteps outside the corridor snapped Nichkhun quickly back to his senses as he stood up a little straighter, preparing some believable excuse as to why he was back here in the middle of nowhere. A silouhette appeared outside the frosted glass of the door-frame and Nichkhun tried to assume a casual, resting pose against the wall of the corridor.

In walked Wooyoung.

Nichkhun felt his mouth run dry as they made eye contact. Wooyoung stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of Nichkhun, and almost looked as if he might possibly turn back around and leave the backstage area, but he seemed to change his mind at the last moment. He entered the corridor and quietly closed the door behind him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked quietly.

“I…” Nichkhun scratched his head. All that he had just seen and felt came rushing back to him. He slumped against the wall again, his head bowed low. He didn’t know what to say to Wooyoung. Not when they both knew why Wooyoung had to do it.

Wooyoung stepped a little closer to Nichkhun, his hands cupping Nichkhun’s face and stroking his cheeks. Nichkhun looked up a little, and Wooyoung almost had to take a step back at the level of emotion in those brown eyes. He had almost forgotten how intense Nichkhun’s look could get in times like these, and how rapidly it made his heart flutter.

“I saw you with Junsu,” Nichkhun said softly and simply, his hand slipping up to gently hold onto Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung already knew Nichkhun’s answer, of course, even before he had said it. He had already read the emotion clearly in Nichkhun’s troubled eyes.

Wooyoung slowly pressed his body against Nichkhun and moved his face closer to his, his hands holding onto both sides of Nichkhun’s neck. Both their heads were slightly bowed, as Wooyoung brushed his lips against Nichkhun’s cheek, sending several shivers down his spine. Unspoken urges stirred within the both of them. With his lips now pressed against Nichkhun’s ear, Wooyoung slowly whispered, his voice evidently laced with pain, “You promised you wouldn’t be jealous.”

Despite the tense sensuality of the moment, there was an inexplicable air of bittersweet misery thick between the two. Nichkhun bowed his head lower in miserable defeat as he heard the whispered words, his hand clenching tighter around Wooyoung’s waist, pressing him against himself more. He nodded a little.

“It’s for us,” Wooyoung continued, his thumbs now stroking circles on Nichkhun’s neck. “You know I’m doing it for us.” Nichkhun choked on a sob, swallowing furiously as Wooyoung pressed a kiss against his ear.

6 months ago.

The climax was coming. Tongue and teeth met with the most sensitive of skins in a rhythmic pattern, igniting the firework of sexual euphoria into both of their minds. Wooyoung arched his back on the bed, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he moaned unrestrainedly once he hit his peak. For a few moments, the world was only the explosions of bliss and Nichkhun, where he even forgot to breathe. Finally, he slumped back down onto the bed, spent. Nichkhun climbed back up the bed and absently held Wooyoung’s face with one hand, bending down to give him a deep kiss with a tongue that tasted markedly different from before. Wooyoung was too tired to care.

The kiss seemed to go on for ages, before Wooyoung chuckled and pushed Nichkhun away. “Hyung, I’m tired!” Nichkhun laughed as he slumped backwards onto the bed. He sat up briefly to grab hold of the long-forgotten blanket and pulled it over the both of them, taking care to ensure that Wooyoung was suffiicently tucked in. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze your naked ass now, would we?” he chortled. Woo sniggered as he wrapped his arms around Nichkhun’s exposed torso like a bolster, snuggling his head onto his shoulder.

“Be my bolster always, all right?” Wooyoung said softly, his eyes already closed. He felt Nichkhun’s arms wrap around him and hold him closer to himself.

“Only if you’d be my pillow forever,” he replied. They smiled to themselves, ready to fall asleep.

There was a brief knock on the door and before either of them could respond, it swung open. Nichkhun and Wooyoung sat up in shock, accidentally throwing the top half of the blanket off of them in their fluster. A unexpected face appeared in the doorway, and on it was etched an expression of complete shock, which was quickly replaced by a shivering wrath. It was one of the senior executives of their company.

Ten minutes later found Nichkhun and Wooyoung, now somewhat dressed in T-shirt and shorts, standing in front of the armchair on which Mr Park was sitting, a large frown on his face. The two boys were ashen-faced and had their heads bowed low, fidgeting a little restlessly about their fates of having been caught in the act, by someone of a relatively high status in the company, no less. It turned out that he had wanted to have an impromptu discussion with the 2PM members in their dorms, but had not expected that only two of them would be found in it – on the same bed.

“Please don’t cut us from the company, Mr Park,” spoke Nichkhun first, though he was really only thinking of Wooyoung. He didn’t know how he would ever forgive himself if this tryst got Wooyoung’s reputation stained and forever put a block ahead of the entertainment career he had craved since he was a child. Nichkhun was only voicing what Wooyoung was too afraid to say.

“And why should you not be?” barked Mr Park as he exhaled once again in utter infuriation. “If this ever reaches the tabloids, you can expect to kiss your careers goodbye. Not only do you bring dishonour on yourselves, you will also bring our company down with you!”

Mr Park’s voice only grew louder with every sentence, only making both Nichkhun and Wooyoung’s blood run colder. It had been so long since they had last felt this terrified at having been caught at a mistake.

“Don’t think I don’t know what fanservice is,” continued Mr Park. “Yes, of course it’ll make your fangirls happy, but if this becomes an actual scandal, do you really think the general public will welcome the news as happily as your fangirls? Open your eyes wider, boys, and have a proper look at the society we live in. Do you think you can live through with this? Nichkhun, this isn’t America and having lived here for so many years now, you should know this. Wooyoung, you’ve lived here your whole life, you should be even more familiar with the consequences of having a scandal like this stain your career in the entertainment industry.”

Nichkhun and Wooyoung kept silent. In a startling and unsettling way, they knew Mr Park was right. There was a very long and poignant pause.

“I will not cut you both from the company, however. Goodness knows, we’ve had enough trouble with cutting people from the group before,” Mr Park finally declared, seeming to have calmed down considerably from the beginning and the gears of strategy turning already in his mind. Even though this declaration should have come as a relief for both of them, both their thoughts could only be fixated on the truths that Mr Park had explained in his anger just a few moments before. The impossibility of carrying on with each other even if they were both retained in the company, and consequently the inevitability of their separation. It was all coming down on them too fast.

Mr Park stood up from the armchair and gave them both a demeaning look. “But no more fanservice,” he continued stating. Both of them lifted their heads to look at him. “No more of this Khunyoung nonsense in front of the cameras. Do whatever you want with the other members, but not with each other. I’ll be telling your manager to keep a close eye on the both of you. If I ever see you two at it again, I will cut one or both of you from the company, mark my words.”

With that, Mr Park snatched up his blazer and stormed his way towards the door of the dorm. He opened the door and, throwing a final dirty look back at the both of them, left his final parting words, “Khunyoung must die.”

Nichkhun and Wooyoung hesitatingly looked at each other as the slam of the door faded away. The final last words resonated hauntingly in the crumbling recesses of both their minds.

Khunyoung must die.

Present.

“I won’t be jealous,” choked Nichkhun, feeling the tears well up in his eyes as he pulled Wooyoung into a tighter hug. “I promise I won’t be jealous.” He heard Wooyoung nod and sniff as he placed slow, deep kisses onto Nichkhun’s neck, careful not to leave any marks. Nichkhun pulled Wooyoung away as he looked into the pained expression of the younger boy’s face; the face that he loved so much before, and loved even more now.

“I won’t give up, Wooyoung,” he stated firmly, his hands clenching onto Wooyoung’s shoulders. “I won’t ever, ever give up on you.”

“Neither would I, hyung,” came Wooyoung’s soft, almost timid reply as he smiled a small crooked smile. His hands came up to wrap themselves around Nichkhun’s neck. “You’re still my bolster always, right?”

“Only if you’d forever be my pillow,” Nichkhun grinned through his tears. He pulled Wooyoung closer and pressed his lips against his. The kiss was alternately slow and intense, echoing perfectly the unfulfilled desires and the frustrated passion between the two. Nichkhun sucked deeply on Wooyoung’s bottom lip, while their tongues intertwined and slipped against each other. For a moment, all their worries and restrictions were lost, as both grew dizzy from the passion that they had kept suppressed for so long an interval. Nichkhun’s hands began to explore tug impatiently at Wooyoung’s shirt, underneath his blazer, while Wooyoung ran his hands carelessly through Nichkhun’s styled hair. Their kiss grew more and more intense as Wooyoung pulled and bit on Nichkhun’s lips. In return, Nichkhun pushed Wooyoung’s head upwards as he dived into the nape of his neck. He groaned in desire as he pressed Wooyoung ‘s body harder against the wall.

“Take 5, Take 5!” came the director’s voice through the loudspeaker outside.

The illusion was shattered. The kiss was broken as the two of them were forced back to reality. There was an aching dissatisfaction about it, but there was simply nothing else neither of them could do. “I’ll go first, I think I appear first in the scene,” said Wooyoung softly as he finished tucking in his shirt and began to move towards the door.

“Wooyoung,” called Nichkhun as he grabbed onto Wooyoung’s wrist. The boy turned around.

“I love you, please remember that,” Nichkhun said, almost desperately.

“I love you too, hyung,” Wooyoung smiled sadly, the sorrow brimming in his eyes. He detached his hand away from Nichkhun’s and opened the door.

He looked silently at Wooyoung’s retreating backview walking towards the cameras, the other 2PM members, and to Junsu. He could only stand silently at the backstage doorway, and could only feel himself crumbling, succumbing to the same emotions all over again.

“I promised I won’t be jealous, Wooyoung. But you know I can’t do it.”

about me

shadow_paint — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 13:19:20 GMT

Hello!

This is my first time trying to use Livejournal to write fanfics and honestly, I'm really new to fanfic-writing in itself. Expect to find mostly Khunyoung fics here, since I rarely write about anything else. :) Do leave a comment if you like or if you didn't like what I wrote! I love to read them.

I'm a somewhat new Hottest, only started following 2PM last year in about July. I was really lucky because shortly after I started stanning them they announced they were coming to my country for the Hands Up Asia Tour concert, which I attended. At first I had been a little embarrassed about being a 2PM stan but after the concert, I went completely full-out, baby.

Will update this space further next time when I'm not so sleepy. Have a good day!