SHINee Secret Santa

SSS 2014: The day of revelation is upon us!

replaymods — Sat, 03 Jan 2015 11:53:54 GMT

We apologize for the delay but finally the day of revelation is upon us!

2014 SHINee Secret Santa

December 24th:
This and Everything Else by airedis; for static_abyss
The Blingee Network by mrowmraw; for carefiction
In the eyelid of the beholder (your double eyelids are so deep that) by halcydonia; for st_ashleigh
The Wedding Planner by st_ashleigh; for halcydonia
Les yeux de bouillon by linnhe; for mrowmraw

December 25th:
If Only Magic Didn’t Exist by rayofshinee; for the community
So Wrong Yet So Right by nyx06; for greasetastic_x
The P&R Five by static_abyss; for the community
Lovesick Melodies by greasetastic_x; for rayofshinee
Dolls by rayofshinee; for linnhe

December 26th:
Hand in hand against the world by hyeongsoap; for nyx06
Don’t kill and judge by hyeongsoap; for lucentic
Ludus by carefiction; for the community
Bushmaster by mrowmraw; for chahyuk
Can’t Keep Your Mind Off (Me) by lucentic; for airedis
It Was Never Broken by chahyuk; for hyeongsoap

The shinee_replay mod team would like to again thank everyone for making this year's SHINee Secret Santa possible!

We hope to see you again for the next SHINee Secret Santa.

SSS 2014: For hyeongsoap

replaymods — Sat, 27 Dec 2014 00:14:14 GMT

For: hyeongsoap
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: It Was Never Broken
Pairing: Key/Taemin
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Authors’ Notes: to the mods and reader, i apologise this came late, this was a prompt i’m not really used to, so i finished later than expected :/ please, also, ignore the small capitals, i got the story together on my phone.

"taemin, get out of the lab and get some dinner! you've starved yourself too much!"

"no, mother! it's already 3 am and i'm not yet done!" he shouted in reply to his mother in the kitchen.

taemin had a box the size of a rubrik's cube in his hands and a book before him. towers of books are stacked on his desk, and broken mannequins with wires poking out here and there sprawled across his floor. it smelled too much of metal in the room; one could easily mistake the scent for blood. the cold air nipped at his hands. he pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his fingers, placing the little box down for a breif moment to raise the temperature of the heater. taemin hurriedly flipped the pages of the book - 'the great power of the mind, volume 5' - before attempting to break the box into smaller parts.

he rummaged the counter next to his desk, the screws and springs and wires messily laid out on the surface, albeit the computers and devices arranged nicely against the wall at the back. his hands were working fast to put the pieces back together.

time, really, that was all he needed. his days were always in a blur, and they came and went in a flash. little things in his life were neglected; how many sweets he ate that day, how many pens he lost, what time he went to sleep. when taemin had coffee in the morning, what brand it was, he didn't know. the whole day had him wondering what the bitter taste in his mouth was. but it was soon pushed to the back of his mind; he couldn’t stop to wait for anything. the knowledge of running out of time haunted him, and he did everything in a rush.

it really was a complicated cycle.

-

there was something missing and he knew it. he immersed himself in his world of books, and the science discussion forum on the computer. a faint knock he heard, but he came to ignore it as the sound stopped a few moments later. it was the loud creak of his heavy, old metal door opening that disrupted his deep thoughts.

irritated, he ruffled the mess of black locks on his head and sighed, "i thought i reminded you to knock on the door before entering -- "

"-- i did."

taemin observed his mother's face. the creases around her eyes as she tiredly smiled at him seemed more defined than usual. he wondered if she was getting older; he was sure the last time he saw her, she was a beautiful, young lady, kind and caring at heart and taemin loved her.

she had her hair pulled back into a pretty braid, and a bowl of porridge was in her hands. she put the books aside and placed the food on his desk.

"taemin, have some food. you're getting skinnier, dear," his mother said, smoothing down his hair.

he had forgotten the last time he had his hair washed. sure, he took a bath everyday but he hadn't time to scrub his hair clean. he ran his fingers through his hair; it was decent enough. he forced a smile and thanked his mother, gently ushering her out of the room with a good night.

his mother kissed him goodbye on the forehead at the door, and she whispered, "get to bed before ten, okay? it's not good for your health if you sleep too late."

he knitted his brows as he shut the door. it read 3:02 am on his digital clock, the distinct red colour of the digits flashing brightly and clearly.

late? it was already late, or really early. taemin looked out of the row of small windows that was installed high on the wall, and the sun was only starting to set.

he got the clock and took out the batteries.

it had been broken all along.

(he slept at 10:41. taemin had left a window on his computer open, displaying the time. the bowl of porridge was left cold on his desk, and taemin decided he wasn't hungry.)

-

taemin thought that maybe something went wrong when he saw kibum crossing the street.

the blonde hair under the black beanie was unmistakably kibum's. taemin's heart sort of stopped for a second, when kibum turned around to look. their eyes met, and his heart started racing, his lips going dry. he wanted so bad to run up to him and pull him into a hug, tell him that he missed him. but of course he wouldn’t; taemin ran full speed to the cafe he was meeting jonghyun and minho, instead.

he knew something was wrong.

(taemin awoke, groggy and tired. he staggered out into the living room and got himself a glass of milk.

"good morning, sweetie! minho gave me a call last night, saying to meet him at the cafe at the mall in the afternoon."

his mother was preparing eggs and sausages and it hit him that he hadn't had breakfast in a long while. he decided to eat today. taemin absentmindedly nodded and replied that he wanted extra sausages. taemin didn't notice the large grin on his mother's face as he swallowed the last bit of food.

he really just needed to get a new alarm clock.)

"i saw kibum on the street!"

taemin ran into the cafe, heart accelerating and adrenaline pumping through his blood. he wasn't sure whether it was fear or happiness. jonghyun and minho had frowns on their faces, and disapproving looks. taemin's eyes were wide and sure, they were almost convinced that he was telling the truth. jonghyun sighed.

"hey, are you sure? isn't he already dead --"

jonghyun smacked a hand over minho's mouth and gestured taemin to his seat.

"okay... go on."

but sometimes they both knew better than to doubt taemin's words.

taemin was seated on the other end of the small table. he breifly ordered a drink when a waitress came over. the waitress left, and his mind started rewinding. he wished he could relay exactly what he felt when he saw that blonde down the street, wearing a polka-dotted dress shirt under the denim jacket, and all. he couldn't speak for a moment as he recalled the cold, mysterious orbs of kibum's eyes.

"he... he was crossing the road, a-and he saw me! but he walked off and i didn't know what to do so i ran over here but i never came out of my home for, like, almost a month, and i almost got lost because - that's really stupid, how could i have gotten lost - but kibum was looking at me and for a moment i thought he regconised me," taemin stopped, he stopped as the waitress came with his red velvet latte.

taemin searched their eyes hopefully, for trust, although he expected disappointment. but he saw none, only... amusement?

minho let out an obnoxious laughter, exclaiming, "dude, at least you made it here! if i weren't out for a month, i'm pretty sure i would forget my own name!"

jonghyun, on the other hand, was quietly sipping on his frappe.

"i'm serious! you've got to believe me!" taemin, frustrated, stuffed a toast into his own mouth.

jonghyun frowned at minho and replied, "no, he actually does. so, how'd he get out of your lab? i'm pretty sure you didn't finish him yet."

"but i - no, i-i didn't."

taemin was suddenly lost and confused, hands that was holding the cup of latte went slippery.

"i didn't."

he was never the one to go out much, but jonghyun and minho were friends he couldn't refuse. he was actually glad they called him out that day, or he wouldn't have kibum seated opposite him at his desk, staring intently at him. he didn't believe his sight for a moment. he didn't make him - because he still had kibum in the lab, under the old curtains he covered his robots with - why was another kim kibum here?

"no, it's not 'kibum', per se. it is just. key. my name is key, not kibum," eyes wide with annoyance and with furrowed brows he spoke.

taemin was clearly at a loss; but he couldn't be here, well and alive.

back at the cafe, jonghyun and minho thought that the best way to solve this problem was to look for him, talk to him, and bring him back home. and taemin didn't have to go far either. they found him seated right outside the cafe, sipping a cafe latte whilst reading a book. taemin's heart had start its wild beating again, and his palms seemed to go sweaty very easily at the sight of kibum.

very nervously and anxiously, he stepped forward. he didn't introduce himself before kibum did. his heart clenched; he was exactly like him, the way he talked.

"are you going to hit on me? because if you were, you need to gain that weight back on - you're too skinny! how are you going to carry my shopping bags when we go shopping together as a couple?" he said, placing his book on the table. "i'm key, just so you know."

after receiving a painful slap in the face when taemin shocked kibum by suddenly grabbing his fingers for a handshake, minho got to convince the stubborn boy to follow them back to taemin's lab, with a promise of a new pair of sneakers.

and here they were. taemin didn't know the first thing he had to do. fiddling with his fingers, taemin's eyes darted across the room he was so familiar with. he stared at the computer, the papers on his desk, the books - anything and everything, but those eyes, the dark pupils. kibum - key, was sitting on the stool on the other side of his desk, elbow placed on the table with his chin resting on it. he was undoubtedly checking taemin out.

"the memory chip," kibum spoke, voice low and laced with caution, just as taemin was about to speak himself.

taemin's diverting gaze snapped back at key. the last thing taemin expected was for key to speak about his project. how did he find out?

"that thing you're trying to build. you need to install kim kibum's memories inside it, for if you do not, the robot will never be finished," key said, voice careful, but his fingers casually playing with his papers on the desk.

"but, wait!" taemin exclaimed as key stood up, making his way towards the door. "how? where is this chip?"

and he's gone by the time taemin ran after him. but nevertheless, he found a rather suspicious note stuck on the stool key was sitting on. taemin quickly tore it off.

"it wouldn't be my problem if you don't finish him, would it? you need to look closer, sweetie. i wouldn't be suprised if you found it under your chair, or something."

taemin made a move to search under his chair. he frowned and flipped the note over. he squinted at the words.

"i bet you looked for it under your chair. but that's not what i meant. you need to try harder, it's nearer to you than you think. in fact, you've just found it."

(taemin found an arm, old and broken, in an isolated corner of the large storeroom. he pulled the wires and strings together, attaching them at the ends. taemin stole a glance at the robot, and its obvious lack of a limb. he completed the arm, oiling the finishing touches and finally attaching the arm back onto kibum. the electricity pulsed through the veins, at an inhumanly temperature; quite different from what taemin had always longed for.

but it was alright, for now.)

-

"what?!"

jonghyun exclaimed, "i knew it, i just knew it!"

"shut up, jonghyun! kibum is not evil!"

"well, not anymore, since his evil is in... this kibum," minho reasoned.

taemin slouched back into the chair he was sitting in, "i can't believe this. i just cannot believe it."

"you'd have to. i did explain it to you, didn't i?" key spoke. "and it's not kibum, it's key!"

taemin's eyes widened, as a thought struck him. "do you have the memory chip?"

"maybe," jonghyun snickered. "probably too evil to tell that."

his thoughts were messily placed together, unorganised, and taemin didn't know where to start thinking. the memory chip, the robot, key -- who was kibum's evil clone; he was more than confused. taemin turned to key, who quickly stood up, muttering an excuse along the lines of having more important things to do.

key paused as he picked up his latte, and he turned to taemin, "you didn't know robots have expiry dates, did you?"

"expiry date? no one told me," taemin replied.

"that was because it never did had a date. until now, that is."

the trinkling of the bells sounded. key had left. the cafe was left deserted, save for three young men at the table at the far corner of the quiet cafe.

taemin was determined, somehow, to fix this situation, "we need to figure this out."

taemin practically survives in his fairly big lab alone, complete with a toilet, a fridge, a kettle for cup noodles, a shelf filled with science tools, a study area, an experiment table and a bed. for a few months now the bed was untouched, sheets nice and clean thanks to taemin who now was acustomed to bunking on his desk chair.

jonghyun and minho sat on his stools, staring im awe at their surroundings.

"i took key here, because he refuses to reveal where the chip is. really. i had no choice -- "

minho perked up at taemin's words. then he saw a boy strapped to a chair at the corner of the room, glaring at them with a cloth stuck into his mouth.

"so you think kidnapping him is figuring things out," he deadpanned.

"your mother... does she know?"

"how could she not! this smarty pants over here dragged me into this house from down the street and literally no one could hear me calling! his stupid mother -- "

"my mom is not stupid!"

jonghyun gagged him with the cloth key spat out earlier, leaving an angry key on the chair, "we really need to figure this out."

"how about a dna test? you know, to see if this guy is real?" taemin suggested.

"but i am -- ow!"

a masking tape was ripped from his leg

("well, that was uneccessary. it is kibum," taemin sighed tiredly, having stayed up the whole night; he was holding up a tape filled with leg hair.

"don't you get it?! we're the same because i was a part of kim kibum! i swear, you are a bunch of thickheads!"

"i still can't believe it.")

for one, taemin didn't know how jonghyun and minho got involved. was it because minho owed key a pair of sneakers? or was it because jonghyun was the nosey one? but taemin was very sure, that key wasn't the boy he used to know. key was exactly like kibum, but he's pretty sure kibum was much more... nicer. he did get mild sweatly palms from time to time, though, from seeing this kibum lookalike.

the next few days went pass in a blur, just like any day. but that one day, taemin remembered that he ate 7 lemon suckers in the morning, and that he drank an cookie latte from starbucks in the afternoon. he also noticed that he always went out at 3:14 pm to meet minho and jonghyun.

the three friends were back at the same cafe, and taemin had hastily entered holding a book.

"'the great power of the mind, volume 4'? are you a nerd or what?" minho snorted.

"i have no time for that, minho. and if you haven't realised, i'm a scientist and i'm trying to do some research so knock that into your thick skull, boy."

taemin placed the book onto the table as minho mumbled something along the lines of 'so rude'. though, he did note the scrunched up face taemin had, and was convinced that taemin was a hundred percent serious.

he swiftly flipped to page 246 -- the page number, he remembered, pointing an accusing finger at the book, "now, look. it says that 'robots can never be broken again after memories are restored and rendered. extreme situations are excluded.' key must be planning to destroy the kibum that i was trying to build! that means i'll need to finish kibum before he does destroy it!"

"and his memories?" jonghyun said, making random patterns in the air, bored.

"we'll get it back. i'm sure of it."

-

(no one really thought that they would get to this point; key holding a small switch, threatening to blow up himself together with a kibum that he brought along.

"well, aren't you going to say anything?!")

key had dragged along a very much alive kim kibum into the house after his insistent doorbell ringing and into taemin's lab, loudly slamming the door behind him as taemin's mother worriedly asked if he was alright on the other side. taemin shot up from his chair, dropping his fountain pen. panic clouded his mind as he gripped onto his desk anxiously.

"look, let's just get this over with. give up his memories and i'll tell you everything," he said. "i finished him, and you can have him if you let me have his memories. "

taemin stood still and rooted to his spot, head turning to where he kept kibum and true enough, he wasn’t there. taemin found it hard to believe, and he stared long and hard at the two identical boys before him. one had blonde hair tucked under the same beanie he had always worn, an arm locked around kibum's neck and the other hand clutching a tiny switch -- the other, had a mess of jet black hair on his head, bangs falling over his forehead, looking exactly like how taemin last saw him, wearing the same sweater he wore three winters ago.

"well i could make him again if i wanted to, couldn’t i?" taemin challenged, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

"no! you don’t understand, i need them to live! if the authorities notice that i’m a fake, they would take me apart! and you can’t make him again, you know they’ll get you for it."

"who are he and who and what the hell are we doing here?!" kibum called, seemingly annoyed.

and it seemed kibum didn't know who anyone was. taemin was almost convinced that key was having him on all the while, seeing how the duplicate -- who taemin assumed was (his) kibum, had his hands scratching at the arm that bounded him, eyes having no hint of fear, which instead was filled with anger, creases on his forehead were of confusion and agitation. desperate, he was, to find out what was happening; poor kibum was lost and very confused.

but apparently, as clueless as he was, kibum still had the evil in him. he ultimately gave up on pulling key's arm away from him, instead he reached over his head, only to grab key's beanie and pull it over his face. it had key shout out in distress and really, no one knew what happened but kibum had key knocked to the floor in seconds.

taemin had figured out by then, that key was really a robot too, when he saw the glass eyes rolling to the back of his head.

taemin watched as kibum flopped onto taemin’s chair, "now tell me everything."

-

taemin found himself looking at the new desk clock more often. he counted the number of sweets he ate that day – three packets of jellybeans a day, and found himself drinking latte macchiato more frequently. he also discovered the joy of hanging with jonghyun and minho at the café, really, the self-proclaimed scientist got bored of the metallic scent of his lab too soon.

but never would he imagine bumping into the same boy he met at the same café three years ago, drinking the same café latte; the same sweater he wore instantly got him. he excitedly grabbed a chair at the table, sitting opposite the stunned boy.

"hello, I hope this seat isn’t taken," taemin tried really hard to smile as brightly as he could.

the boy grinned back, "oh, no, it isn’t. i’m kim kibum, by the way, in case you wanted to hit on me."

taemin figured, he was much better off not cooped up in his lab, face buried inside biology books, and hands busied with wires and metal parts. taemin had a whole life ahead of him, jonghyun and minho, and the boy he just met at the café. he would get kibum’s memories back and start his life from square one.

he thought, maybe going shopping for cardigans and sneakers with kibum was more worth the while than finding out how to make things levitate.

SSS 2014: For airedis

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 22:44:13 GMT

For: airedis
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Can’t Keep Your Mind Off (Me)
Pairing: Onew/Minho
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: -
Authors’ Notes: lots of pointless fluff ahead, merry christmas!!!

It begins with a phone call, one that causes Minho to drop his phone with a loud “clack” on the ground when it rings in the middle of The Conjuring.

“What,” he almost hisses into phone without checking to see who was calling. “You scared th-”

“Minho,” warbles a voice over the light static, and it almost freezes his heart right over. He’s instantly sorry for being so rude over the phone, but why was Jinki sounding like he was about to cry?

“Hyung? Where are you? Are you-?”

“Just open the door,” Jinki pleads back, and Minho is up in a flash, a tangle of feet and sports magazines strewn all over the floor from the earlier afternoon, stumbling to the door.

“What’s wrong?” He demands, immediately taking the elder by the shoulders and looking him over. “Did you get hurt or something?”

“It isn’t me,” says Jinki, in a wobbly voice so uncharacteristic of him that Minho has to blink a couple of times to make sure he’s holding onto his boyfriend, and not some other crazy bastard who’s decided that it was a good idea to knock on the door of a stranger. On his free day.

But it’s Jinki alright. Minho’s frown deepens, one hand going behind the other’s neck to rub at his nape. “Then-”

By way of answering, Jinki looks up at him, wide eyed, shoving a box that Minho hasn’t noticed was between them into his arms.

“I found it in the car park,” says Jinki worriedly, wringing his hands together as his gaze alternates between the doctor and Minho, the latter standing behind him, so when he does that glancing about thing it makes him look like a lost animal himself. “Is it okay?”

It is a kitten, a tiny ball of fur that looks like it could fit into Minho’s palm and still have some space to wriggle around. It is a jet black one, with a white patch of fur just behind its right ear that kind of looks like a star. Minho watches with slight fascination as the kitten whimpers.

“Not really,” sighs the doctor, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear and probing around the kitten with soft, careful hands. “Little one looks like it’s been through a rough time, see the slightly swollen hind leg? She’s got fleas too, and barely old enough to open her eyes. It’s not looking good for her.”

“Her,” repeats Jinki dumbly. “Well, what happens now?”

“I suppose we could put her down, take her out of her misery,” ponders the doctor, stroking the still-shivering kitten. “It’s going to be really hard to find someone to adopt a malnutritioned, abandoned kitten, let alone leave her be to survive after being separated from her mother.”

“Put? Down? You mean kill her?”

The doctor winces, visibly. “I wouldn’t call it that. But technically.”

Minho is watching the little body take ragged breath after ragged breath so intently that he doesn’t notice the insistent pulling of his sleeve until Jinki calls his name. And then he makes the mistake of looking down, over his shoulder.

Stupid fucking Jinki is looking at him, with That Look. The one where he presses his lips together and frowns a little and stares so sincerely into Minho’s eyes that it kind of hurts to look a-

“Please can we take care of her?”

“Hyung-”

“Please? She’s so tiny and alone and god the amount of feelings that washed over me when i found her sprawled on the road in the car park earlier-” Stupid fucking Jinki is still looking at him, and Minho can feel the weight of the doctor’s dubious look darting between the two of them, as if trying to figure them out.

“Minho are you-”

He holds up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other, determinedly not looking at Jinki.

“How do we care for her?”

“You do realise that you’re a paediatrician, not a veterinarian.”

“Yes, but the bottom line is that I’m dealing with the sick. Wouldn’t it be about the same?” Jinki has the kitten lying on Minho’s forearm, brow furrowing every time she lets out a pathetic little mewl as he cleans her crusted eyes with chamomile tea.

“Kittens and children aren’t quite the same thing, hyung. And what about us? You work crazy hours at the hospital when they need you to. I’m going to be over at Thailand for a friendly tournament next month. My seasons are- well, seasonal. How’re we going to manage her?”

He’s not prepared for when Jinki looks up long enough to curve a hand beneath his jaw and pull him in for a quick kiss. The kitten whines a little louder at the sudden tremor of his arm. “We’re going to work it out. It’s just like adopting a kid, isn’t it?”

Minho slaps him over the head for that one, even if the tips of his ears flush a little at the comment of domesticity. “I’m twenty-two.”

They work out a schedule between the two of them. She evolves into Ace, affectionately dubbed by Jinki when he shoves a loudly grousing Minho out of the door for his trainings at the nearby university.

“Stop whining, Ace Choi. You decided to stay up at Jonghyun’s to watch soccer.”

“Don’t forget to feed her!”

Jinki usually doesn’t have to get to work before noon during the weekdays, so he’s assigned to caring for Ace in the mornings, cleaning her eyes out and coaxing her to open her mouth wide enough with his little finger so he can give her the tit of the eye dropper for milk. The easy stuff, he does, before laying her tentatively into the basket overflowing with warm blankets by the refrigerator so that he can get ready for his shift. Minho’s currently off season, and with most of his friends working annoyingly regular hours he has to take the liberty of spending most of his time at home, with Ace.

“It’s just for a little while, once your seasons near I’ll put in a request for more regular, shorter hours, hmm?”

Minho had rolled his eyes at that one, pushing out his stomach for emphasis to unseat the kitten currently lying on top of it a little. It earns him a pinch on the forearm, and he resists the urge to push the elder’s shock of a mahogany bedhead off his chest. “At least somebody else is getting your attention.”

“Choi Minho are you jealous- you are, aren’t you?”

That had dissolved into a tickle fight then, but stopped soon after when Jinki’s arm flails, and it lands on top of Ace’s tail, which sends her yowling and scrambling to roll of Minho’s stomach.

“OhmygodbabyIamsosorry-”

“Baby?” Minho gasps, but any bit of annoyance he has within him, pseudo or otherwise, melts away when he sees Jinki crouched over the little thing, gathering her in his arms and scratching her head, whispering all sorts of frantic nonsense until she stops whining and falls asleep, her slow and steady breaths a hypnotic sight against Jinki’s bare chest.

It’s only when the elder pads out of the room to put Ace in her basket and comes back to crawl between his legs does Minho understand the change of mood.

“Oh.”

“I said I was sorry,” Jinki says, smiling, eyes crinkling with the light of mischief that Minho is two hundred percent sure would never be admitted at a gathering with their mutual friends. “I do try to take care of my aces, you know.”

“Well you don’t seem-” whatever that’s meant to come out of Minho’s mouth is garbled, completely forgotten, when Jinki crosses his ankles in the air and takes him into his mouth, hot and wet and full.

Despite all the earlier death threats and exasperated, childish sighs he elicits whenever Jinki pays more attention to Ace than to him, the taller man does indeed grow to love Ace. Okay- maybe love’s pushing it a tad too far, but he certainly is warming up to the kitten, now wobbling only slightly on all fours and adopting the most annoying, pathetic looking expression that can only have come from Jinki. Something, to Minho’s great and frustrating dismay, that he finds increasingly hard to ignore.

“You could’ve said no right from the beginning and none of this would’ve occurred,” shrugs Jonghyun, trying in vain to swipe away with his tongue his developing coffee foam mustache. Minho notes that he’s dyed his hair yet again, a steel-coloured sort of blue, an uncharacteristic change no doubt wheedled upon him by his new artist boyfriend. He mimes at punch at the shorter man, but holds in his comment of it looks good on you.

“What, you really could have. Jinki-hyung’s a smart one though, getting our high school playboy-extraordinaire so neatly wrapped around his little finger.” Jonghyun pauses. “Or fingers. In the literal sens- ow!”

Minho casually pulls his hand back, running it through his own hair and glaring daggers at his friend and everyone else in the coffee shop who has got enough time on their hands to turn around and spare them a few seconds of judgement for the minor commotion. “Shut up.”

Jonghyun holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Take your pills, old man. Back in high school you’d never have hit me for publicly discussing your sex life.”

Minho doesn’t deign to reply, simply taking another sip of his caramel latte. Fuck what the coach harps on about healthy living, the sugar addict in him is entitled to a couple of treats now and then. “I believe this is not why you asked me out.”

“True. If i wanted entertainment I’d have called for a group gathering and interrogated Jinki about all the nasty that you guys get down to because it’s more interesting to watch him squirm.”

“If you want to have a blow-by-blow recount again about the time we had sex in your truck-”

“Fine, Christ. Is the lack of basketball twisting your panties a little too tightly around your dick or something.”

Minho rolls his eyes, but good-naturedly. “I’ve got other bigger problems than your inane questions.”

This, makes Jonghyun’s eyes light up with interest. “That kitten you two adopted, isn’t it? You still wanting to squash her with your fat ass? I can never understand you, Choi, if Taemin were here he’d have you in a chokehold by now, Ape is so cute.”

Minho gags a little at Jonghyun’s overly saccharine imitation of his partner, but roots around his jean pocket for his phone anyway. “Ace. Jinki’ll have you in a chokehold.”

“Well, let’s see it. She walking now?”

“Running, actually. At least that’s what Jinki insists, I call it blind stumbling because she knocks into so many things and whines so loudly that I can’t just ignore her and continue watching match reruns.” Minho holds out his phone. “Here.”

It’s a grainy photo of Ace, staring up at him- or rather, Jinki, because the elder’s the one who took the photo and sent it to him- tiny paws scrabbling on his calves, sharp teeth glinting dully in the morning sunlight.

“She’s cute,” Jonghyun breathes, scrolling through Minho’s small, but growing kitten photo collection. The taller frowns, because he’s sure he hasn’t taken so many pictures of the little devil. “Look at you Choi, warming up so well to her.” This picture is one of Minho frowning, the expression only discernible because of the grit of his teeth; the rest of his face is covered by a clingy Ace. It is not one of Minho’s proudest moments.

“She’s tolerable. But I’d have to put my foot down once she starts getting big enough to clamber on tables and shit.”

“You know what they say,” Jonghyun waggles his eyebrows, “the first step is always the pet. Once a partner decides that you’re pussy-whipped enough to handle children, that’s when he’s going to pop the question.”

“WHAT.” Minho is so not pussy-whipped. He tells Jinki off when Ace spends too much time in their bed and ignores the kitten when he can during an important game and-

-and feeds it bits of his breakfast when food is sacred to his existence and lets it ride on his shoulder when he’s in a good mood and doesn’t complain now when she slips into the bathroom and twines around his ankles when he goes to pee.

Fuck.

“I think Jinki’s picked those vibes up by now,” interjects Jonghyun very unnecessarily.

“I’M TWENTY-TWO.”

“That’s not the point-”

“NEITHER AM I PUSSY-WHIPPED. I-” Minho is cut off his hissy tirade when his phone buzzes. It’s Jinki.

“‘Lo?”

“Um,” Jinki stutters into the line, “I think I left Ace by accident at the vet’s and went to work?”

Minho makes the most disgusting growl in the base of his throat and jabs furiously at the screen to end the call. Rude, he knows, but he’ll text back to apologize. After he leaves the son of a bitch behind.

“Need to leave to pick up your little girl?” says Jonghyun, beyond amused.

“It’s a fucking kitten and yes because the idiot’s gone and left it at the vet by accident for the second time this week.”

Jonghyun stands up and stretches, yawning unattractively in the crowded space before reaching over to pat Minho on the back. “I think I should be a prophet about these things. And come on, I’ll give you a ride before detouring to surprise Taemin after school.”

“And you call me pussy-whipped,” Minho sneers, shrugging into his coat.

“Hey, at least I’m not shy about it!”

“OH MY GOD.”

“You had to do it again, didn’t you, you stupid mutt,” Minho mutters, grimacing as he scoops up the hissing and wide-eyed ball of fur, who wastes no time sinking her claws into his forearms in an attempt to get away from both of her owners.

“Kitten, Minho, and oh my god I am so sorry,” babbles Jinki incessantly as he wrings his hands and trails behind Minho, and squeaks when Minho dumps the kitten unceremoniously on the makeshift pile of towels Jinki has put together for when she sneaks in to sleep with them, and starts rubbing her dry.

“I was talking about you,” sighs Minho, the towelling gentler now that Ace has calmed down somewhat. The kitten fixes its large eyes on Jinki, sitting a little ways to the side, knees hunched up and pressed to his chest as he watches Minho work on her. Coupled with Minho’s comment, Jinki wilts visibly.

“It’s not my fault that she has a habit of jumping into sinks and taking a nap in them when it’s hot!”

Later, leaning against Jinki’s chest with his legs outstretched, Minho apologises, head turned and pressed into the dip where neck meets shoulder, a kiss placed softly on the exposed clavicle. In response, Jinki rests his chin on the messy head of dark auburn, and the other knows that he’s forgiven.

“Thank you,” Jinki murmurs into his hair, carefully dabbing iodine at a particularly bad nick where Ace’s claws had sunk into the younger’s skin, a raw, ragged line cutting through his bicep and elbow.

“For calling you a stupid mutt? I didn’t know you were into that kind of kinky stuff.”

Jinki digs him under the rib. “No, idiot. For- you know.” He gestures lamely, and Minho takes the opportunity to grab the free hand and bring the elder’s wrist to his nose, inhaling the faint scent of honey. He knows he’s going to miss this, when he goes. “This whole Ace thing. I know I said a lot of things I promised to do with Ace before we got her, but after this whole month of owning her I just feel a little out of place. You’re so much better at taking care of her than I am.” He starts wrapping the gauze around Minho’s arm, despite the mumbled protests of how he’s big of a boy enough to handle a small cut. “Humour me. The last thing I want for you is to get an infection right now, considering all the amount of sweating you’ll do later on in the day.”

“Is this you panicking right now.”

“No, I- okay, sort of.”

“Babe.” Minho twists himself around, and the bed creaks a little with him maneuvering just so he can face Jinki and entrap his waist with his legs. Jinki adjusts his own to make room for him. “What’s up? I go out of the country all the time, and this trip isn’t even as long as that heinous winter stint in Canada.”

“I know. But. Ace.” The rest comes out in a mumbled rush. “This is so stupid- I know I’m supposed to be the older one and not make you worry about silly things, but I don’t know how I’m going to handle Ace. I mean, look at the amount of accidents I’ve caused her since she started living with us.”

“Oi. You’re clumsy and forgetful, but not stupid. It’s just two and a half weeks, okay? If shit gets tough you can always call Heechul hyung. Lord knows how he deals with his own devil of a cat.”

Jinki just sighs, and Minho frowns because it is uncharacteristic for him to be worrying so much. He takes the opportunity to take hold of his boyfriend by the shoulders, leaning forward until Jinki’s back hits the headboard, and then kisses him once, quick and gentle in the corner of his mouth.

It elicits a small laugh. “Tease.”

“That’s not supposed to be the point you dumbass. The point is,” Minho punctuates with a proper peck on the lips this time, “That you are not useless, and you will survive with Ace. You’re a big boy, aren’t you? What’s Ace. A tiny ass kitten.”

“With a lot of destructive power when left in my hands,” says Jinki weakly, shuddering a little when Minho laves at a spot behind his ear, and his cold fingers find their way up his stomach, inch by inch.

“So? You’re Lee Jinki, multitasking doctor extraordinaire. You deal with me and my dirt and my laziness and my incessant need to fuck your perfect ass when you come home from work and still make it back smiling the next day. What’s a kitten to you?”

“Another-” Jinki stutters, arching his neck to give Minho a little more access. The other smiles knowingly into his skin, teeth scraping gently across collarbones. He loves when Jinki falls apart so easily beneath him, making soft, approving noises that he’s all too happy to scrape out of his throat in louder, rawer forms when Jinki gives up trying to hold back. “life form?”

“Relax,” Minho hums, holding him by the waist to flip them over. His own head bumps against the headboard now, and Jinki’s eyes are a little dazed, too bright against the dull light in their room as he straddles the other man. “You can text me for help, and in the middle of begging for me to come home and fuck you again I’ll remind you of things you should be looking at with Ace.”

“This is really- really warped-”

“If you would like for me to shut up,” Minho supplies helpfully, playfully thrusting up against the tent in Jinki’s boxers. Conversation then morphs into another form.

Jinki has the last overnight shift of the week to make, but he still finds enough energy to drag himself to the airport, head lolling on Minho’s shoulder in the taxi and they speed their way there.

“You really didn’t have to come, big baby. It’s not like this is our first time away from one another.” Jinki reddens in embarrassment as Minho bends down to cup his face and proceed to suck the life out of his mouth in front of his whooping teammates, gasping a little for air when he can finally muster the will to shove his clinging boyfriend away from him.

“Go away.”

“And never come back? You’d be missing me, darling.”

“You never know when to shut up, do you.” Jinki indulges in one last hug, fingers fisting the worn fabric of Minho’s ugly hoodie before letting go. Minho on the other hand breathes in the smell of antiseptic, and the faint scent of home.

“Be good. Call me every day. And don’t forget to pick up Ace from Jonghyun’s before you go home!”

Jinki doesn’t reply, only shoves him a little harder so that he can go on and catch up with his teammates. He watches the figure trail further and further, eyes burning into the lines of his broad back, until he can’t see him anymore.

Well. Two weeks. He would see what he could do about that.

The first four days go by remarkably well, even by Jinki’s standards. Sure, he’s forgotten to pick up Ace from Taemin’s apartment today, and almost collapsed on her tail after a hard day’s work, but at least he hasn’t wet her in the sink again. He tells Minho this triumphantly over skype, eyes a little bleary from the lack of sleep. Minho rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but continues listening as he tears bits of chicken into strips and wolfs them down.

Jinki makes a face. “It’s 2AM and you’re eating? Doesn’t your coach put your team on a strict diet or something.”

Minho only grins wider. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

“You’re going to get really fat.”

“Not with the amount of slaving on the court and on the beach we’ve been doing.” To prove his point, Minho lifts up his shirt, obnoxiously holding onto its hem with his teeth as he leans back on his seat a little to let Jinki have a little show.

Predictably, his boyfriend goes pink. “Stop teasing me. I hope somebody walks in on you.”

“I hope somebody walks in on us having webcam sex.”

“Is that all you think about you horny piece of shit.”

Minho shrugs, stuffing the last of his chicken into his mouth and letting out a loud, long burp. “You try doing hours of heaving, ugly sweating and having not enough energy to wank yourself off in the shower or before you go to bed before making fun of me for wanting a piece of your ass.”

“Oh my god good night.”

Thailand is hot. Really hot. Minho doesn’t even have enough strength to curse under his breath for want of a water bottle by the time they finish their afternoon runs on the beach, and his hands tremble a little with the effort of catching a sports drink can thrown at him.

He’s tipping the last few drops into his throat, lying splayed out on the beach with sand dusted all over his calves and wanting to take a picture for Jinki when he notices the number of missed calls on his phone. He frowns; it is 4:50PM and normally Jinki would be running his shifts.

He calls anyway, not expecting his boyfriend to pick up. But the other does, a snappish “Where were you this whole time?” sounding over the line that has the basketballer frowning in confusion.

“My afternoon runs, I told you. What’s wrong?”

“Fuck I just- I’m sorry this is stupid.”

“Stop hemming and hawing like you always do and tell me what’s wrong. I’m not mad at you.”

“I almost let the washing machine run while she was in it, Minho. I don’t know how it happened- she likes sleeping in the oddest places but I’m too forgetful to check before I do anything and I don’t have the faintest idea what to do right now because Ace is mad and trembling in a corner and refuses to come to me.”

“Okay, but at least she isn’t hurt.” In spite of his screaming thighs, Minho excuses himself from his teammates, waving a hand to get them to move along first and walking toward a small thicket of trees to continue the conversation in private. “Is she?”

Another sigh. “No she isn’t, but she just doesn’t want to be near me right now.”

“That’s good. I mean the part where she’s not hurt, not the one where she doesn’t want to be near you. But keep you cool, Jinki. Think of Ace as one of those kids at work who’s had a shock in a near-accident. Your job’s to calm her down, okay?”

“How,” Jinki sighs into the phone again, and Minho can hear the bed squeaking as the other turns over. “I don’t have the faintest idea what to bribe her with, Minho, you’re the one who knows all sorts of snacks she likes to filch from us.”

“Chicken. You can cook early dinner and give her some of that. Ace likes carrot too, for some reason, but don’t give her too much of that. You okay?” He can almost visualise Jinki nodding on the other side, only to blush a little and make a noise of assent into the phone because of the way he replies two beats later than natural. “See, not so hard.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Minho-yah.”

“Anything for the big baby. And by the way, why aren’t you at work?”

“I was going to, until this morning happened. I couldn’t coax Ace to get into the basket to take her over to Sun-young’s today, so I just cancelled.”

“What a good dad,” Minho teases. The wind is cool on his face, making him feel less dirty than he actually is.

“Shut up. You know way more about Ace than I do.”

“You wanted to keep the little shit, not me.”

And then, “I miss you.” It comes impulsively over the line, soft and hesitant, as if Jinki was afraid of the reaction he might receive. It’s stupid, Minho knows, but it spreads a kind of warm in his torso the way the sun shining overhead can’t quite do.

“Idiot. It’s just another ten days.”

“I know.” Another pause, and Minho listens to the faint breathing of his boyfriend. A shout of laughter comes from far away on his end, and it’s really kind of nice. “You should go. I’ll tell you how it went with Ace.”

“Yeah, okay.” Minho is about to hang up, but before he can stop himself, what lets slip is a quick “Imissyoutoo” before he lets the line go dead.

It evidently goes well with Ace, for the day after Minho receives an annoyingly excessive amount of pictures of Ace on KakaoTalk. He minds them a tiny bit less when they’re interjected with smiley, grinning faces of Jinki in various sloppy attires.

“Have you been letting yourself go loose just because I’m not around? I’m ashamed of you, hyung. Here I am trying to get a hotter body for you, and there you laze around with a tummy that gets softer by the minute.”

“Rude.” Minho whistles in anticipation as he watches Jinki wriggle out of his sweatshirt and flex, sticking his tongue out at him. “I’ve been at the gym after work, okay. Making friends with Jonghyun can either be a great lifestyle change, or one of danger for me. I think my eardrums are about to combust from all the talking he does about Taemin.”

“That bastard still head over heels for the kid?”

“Apparently.” Jinki’s voice is muffled as he shrugs on his sweatshirt again, ignoring the disappointed clucks of his boyfriend’s tongue over the shitty speakers. “Don’t laugh though, I think it’s cute. Apparently they’re going on a road trip once Taemin graduates this year.”

“Is somebody jealous?” He winks playfully at Jinki, watching how the other rubs at his neck. He always loves this side of the elder, the side where he allows himself to be so easily manipulated by him. Their relationship compared to Jonghyun’s and Taemin’s are world’s apart when it comes to expressions of love, but somehow Minho can’t bring himself to do more than they already have, comfortable as they are with each other.

Apparently Jinki understands that steady kind grasp they have on one another, because all he provides to give as a response is to pull his quilts tighter around himself. “Nope.”

“We can go on holiday once this season’s played out for me. And then you can use the days of fucking paid leave that you never fail to neglect to go fuck yourself crazy with me in foreign places.”

“I want to visit pretty libraries and museums though.”

“Boring. But I could consider if you give me enough incentives to tag along.”

“Um. Maybe my pretty cock?” This one raises an eyebrow out of Minho, and he settles back on the bed, shifting his laptop a little further out on his lap to watch Jinki palm himself over his pants.

“This is a nice surprise.”

“I”m glad you like my initiative. But I’d like some response too, y’know.”

“We aren’t on holiday yet.” But Minho obliges, hand snaking past the waistband of his boxers and wrapping his fingers around his own length. He’s almost embarrassed at the how quickly he gets hard, watching his boyfriend’s fringe flop over his eyes as he shifts his legs wider apart and tugs his pants lower, lower-

Jinki lets out a little squeak, and Minho sits up a little straighter, watching as the laptop falls on its side as the elder’s legs scoot backward.

“What-”

“Oh my god Ace-”

MInho can’t believe what he’s seeing, as a bushy tail swishes past the screen, and the kitten, cool as a cucumber, clambers on top of a stuttering, confused Jinki to curl up on his chest. And the damn thing promptly shuts her eyes. “What the fuck?”

“Um,” is all Jinki can manage, looking distressed and embarrassed as hell as he tucks himself back into his pants, which Minho can imagine being extremely uncomfortable considering the tent he’s pitching in there. “I forgot to shut the door?”

“Am I seriously being cockblocked by a fucking cat?”

“You wanna go off and, y’know? I can, get to it later.”

“Push that piece of shit right off you and dump her in her basket.”

“I can’t!”

“You wanted to incentivise this whole thing for me!” But even as the words leave his mouth, Minho can feel his mood souring, the heat previously pooling in his stomach rapidly dissipating.

“I know, so I’m sorry! I’ll call you back tomorrow or something?”

Minho doesn’t hold back his yell of frustration before he signs off Skype. “What sort of fucking Satan am I being kind to on a regular basis.”

Kyuhyun-hyung finds the apology texts later when they’re horsing around in the suite bedroom of their coach’s, and he howls with laughter as Minho grits his teeth and lunges forward, determined to get his phone back.

“Jinki-hyung’s really sweet, but god Minho are you tied down to the life.”

“Shut up you little>-”

“Minho,” wails Jinki very uncharacteristically, and the other suppresses a huge groan, burrowing his face deeper into the inadequate pillows.

“If it’s about Ace again I’m going to skin her alive when I come home-”

“She’s puking!”

“You’re the doctor! I’m just a fucking athlete!”

“I deal with children!”

Minho gives up in the end and calls Heechul, keeping the phone a good distance away from his ear. It takes all about ten minutes to get solutions from Heechul, irate as hell from being woken up from sleep, and Minho is still wincing as he texts Jinki.

To: Jinki hyung

From: Minho

im goin to send her away when i come back just you wait”

“Hey baby,” Minho half-yells into the phone, the alcohol buzz burning greedily through his system. Behind him is a backdrop of noise and carefree laughter. “Say hi to the crew!”

“Um, Minho-”

“What?”

“Could you please go somewhere quiet so you can hear me?”

“What- why?” The beat is really, really good.

“Just- please?”

“What- okay, okay. Hang on-” He weaves his way through the mix of dancing bodies, shaking his head and sending flashy smiles at people who try to rope him into their circle or pass him a drink to head out to the balcony. It’s still a little inappropriate with a couple eating each other’s faces next to him. but he figures the markedly quieter atmosphere will do.

“Hey.”

“Are- you at a party?”

“Yes,” Minho says again, smiling, and looking up at the sky. A star winks at him in the distance. “Yes. It’s really fucking cool and I wish you could be here, too.”

“Minho..”

“Yeah?”

Jinki gulps audibly into the phone. “She’s missing.”

It doesn’t register with Minho, not at first. “Who? What?”

“Ace.” And then, “I am so sorry I was being a lousy person again I forgot to take her home!” This makes Minho sit up and listen, partly because his boyfriend sounded like he was about to cry over the phone, but another (surprised) part of him dredging up pictures of the tiny ball of fur in his head.

“Woah, calm down, okay? You said you forgot to take her home. So where is she? Isn’t someone holding on to her right now?”

“It’s not like that, Minho I- I took her out today for awhile in the park near our place, and I was reading while watching her out of the corner of my eye as she lazed around some flowers. And then- it rained and in my panic I just got up and left and it took me a whole shower to remember I forgot to take her with me!”

Minho wants to comment on how nobody actually takes cats out for walks like they do for dogs, but he holds his tongue and focuses on the situation. “Have you gone back to the park to look for her?”

“Of course, and I even brought treats and a warm blanket and started calling out to her like crazy but I couldn’t get a response. Minho, what do I do? It’s cold and it’s so dark out there and Minho Ace hates water.”

It’s a little hard to focus after that, with the fading scar on his arm tingling and his head filling with the countless images of Ace and Jinki and him together, even though half the time his face was grumpy as fuck in them. “Hyung, it’s okay. Ace is a smart girl, she’ll take care of herself. She’s going to find somewhere warm to spend the night and when you find her she’s going to hiss at you for being stupid but otherwise come home with you just fine. Okay?”

“Okay- okay it really isn’t okay Minho I’m really sorry but I’m panicking a little right now.”

“More like a lot,” he breathes gently into the phone, grip tightening. All he wants to do right now is fly the fuck home and take care of the idiots he’s decided to live with. “Don’t forget to breathe, okay? She’s going to make it back just fine.”

“That’s what Jonghyun and Taemin told me, too. They backed out of their date halfway to come look for Ace with me, the sweethearts.”

“Thank them for me,” Minho says automatically, but strangely he does feel a sort of indebtment to the two of them. “Are they with you right now?”

“Sort of? Jonghyun’s still out, and Taemin’s making me dinner. Not that I feel like eating at this point of time.”

“Lee Jinki you had better eat before I kick your fucking ass.”

“I will, I will.” Jinki chuckles, just a small one, sounding still not-quite-Jinki, so that Minho’s heart squeezes.

“Update me, okay?” which, in Minho-speak, translates to call me whenever to hold your hand you idiot. Which translates to-

“I love you, too. Go have fun and stop worrying about me.” The line goes dead, but Minho still stands out in the balcony, not really thinking or hearing or seeing anything, even when the rest of the boys come out back to drag him into the party again.

To: Jinki hyung

From: Minho

call me if anyth changes

To: Minho

From: Jinki

yeah :)

To: Minho

From: Jinki

still missing :( going to put up posters today

To: Jinki hyung

From: Minho

no work today?

To: Minho

From: Jinki

nope. need ace back before you come home to skin my non-eating ass

To which Minho responds to with a fiery phone call to Jinki, and Jonghyun, and Taemin and their neighbour whatshername, to make sure the goddamn idiot takes care of himself.

“You really take care of him, don’t you,” marvels Sun-young, and Minho hears the rhythmic clickety-clack of keyboard under fingertips come to a halt.

“Oh shut up all of you.” He doesn’t let Jinki’s coworker get another word in before he hangs up and sprints to their hotel’s indoor sports court to change up before practice.

“I got a phone call,” Jinki says, wringing his hands in his lap. Minho studies the screen meticulously; the elder looks wan, but sounds much happier than he has been since he left Ace.

“And?”

“Someone’s got her. Apparently they found her mewling away under a bush, and scratched them up quite a bit when they tried to retrieve her. Their daughter wanted to keep the cat, but then they saw my ad.”

“See,” Minho says, conversation much easier than he remembers it being on a regular basis. “Why’re you still sitting here, then?”

“I can only get her tomorrow evening, because they’ve kindly sent her to the vet for a check up, poor thing.”

“Don’t forget her this time.”

“Like hell I would never.” Jinki is smiling, grin wide and free on his cheeks again, and in spite of his dead tiredness Minho finds himself smiling, too. “Minho?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“What the hell for.”

“For putting up with me not listening to you when you said Ace was a bad idea.”

“So you think she’s a bad idea now?”

“God, no but you know what I mean.”

Minho knows, alright. “Just go to sleep and collect her tomorrow.”

His phone buzzes, the night before the farewell dinner at the hotel lounge. He’s aching all over and in need of more than just hotel takeout, but the picture Jinki sends to him, of Ace looking larger than he remembers her to be and grumpy as heck sitting on the kitchen table makes him feel a little fuller.

The keys jangle loudly in the lock, but not loud enough to wake anyone up. Minho curses as his head bumps against the shelf by the door, a little unused to the foreignness of domesticity. He feels a little too large for a small apartment like theirs, hands and shoulders laden with bags and bags of dirty clothing and a small amount of souvenirs. He’s even too grimy for how clean Jinki keeps everything.

“He didn’t even wait up for me,” mumbles Minho distractedly, deciding to just deal with the complaints tomorrow and leaves his stuff out in the middle of the hallway. He is so, so tired.

The door creaks open as he pops his head in, and in the darkness he picks up a faint sighing, and the squeak of mattresses. He makes out the slight outline of a mound breathing steadily under a mountain of blankets, and inches his way toward it.

It’s a sight that makes his manly, usually unemotional heart go soft, really. Jinki’s hair is a mess, all over his face and sticking up in all directions imaginable, one arm stretched out over his face. Minho peels back the blankets, just a little bit, and it reveals a small mound of fur settled on the elder’s chest, one that curls its tail tighter around itself from the sudden cold.

He’s about to leave them alone, getting up from the bed, but something clings to his wrist.

“Look who’s home.”

“You didn’t even wait up for me, idiot.”

“I’m awake now,” Jinki smiles, eyes a gentle glint against the street lights falling gently through the gap in the curtains. He tugs at Minho’s wrist, a little more insistent this time, and Minho obliges, leaning in despite all the grime on his skin.

Not that Jinki minds. Not at the moment, anyway. “Welcome back, ace.”

SSS 2014: For chahyuk

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 22:40:36 GMT

For: chahyuk
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Bushmaster
Pairing: Taemin/Onew
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hunting, aphrodisiac

Taemin's boots ground dried mud and ferns into mulch as he tramped through the forest, his Bushmaster mountain rifle strapped to his back, over his orange hi vis vest. He ducked under the branch of a tree fern, a sort of foliage limbo, then looked behind him to see Jinki swiping it away from his face. The curling leaves scratched and rustled against his gentle fingers and the surrounding greenery. Taemin put a finger to his lips, and Jinki froze. His eyes darted from side to side, like he was the one being hunted.

Be quiet, Taemin mouthed, and Jinki pouted.

They continued on through thick trunks towering into the heavens and spindly branches swaying at human height. A little sunlight fell in dim patches through the foliage. With so much of his face in shadow and his hair sporadically glinting, Jinki looked wiser and more mysterious than ever. Taemin wanted to bring a smile of pride to those hopeful lips, to impress him with something big, like a wild boar. He imagined taking one down on his own, but his mind conjured the likely image of himself getting gored by a tusk. A deer would do.

But an hour of trekking served up no venison, only the chirrup of small birds above, and not even a wood pidgeon. Jinki's smile turned weary, and Taemin could see words pricking at his lips. But he wouldn't speak and risk ruining Taemin's hunt.

So Taemin broke the silence for him. "Sorry, there are usually so many deer around here."

"It's fine." Jinki smiled with his eyes. "I like tramping. Look up there." He pointed up a trunk wider than the car waiting for them. "This kauri tree must be hundreds of years old."

"They can live that long?" Taemin's bottom lip protruded as he surveyed the expanse of bark.

"Up to two thousand years."

"Cool!" Taemin walked up to the trunk and tapped on it with knuckles sheathed in fingerless gloves. "Must be crazy stuff inside by now."

Jinki laughed and nudged Taemin's shoulder. "I'm sure it's just lots and lots of rings and gum."

Taemin shrugged bashfully and wriggled against Jinki's arm. His back pack jingled. Taemin had forgotten he was carrying it.

"Are you tired?" Taemin asked. Jinki shook his head and opened his mouth, then brightened when Taemin said, "We can stop and snack, if you want."

"Okay! I've got walnuts and cranberries and almonds and," Jinki tapped a drumroll on Taemin's arm, "chips"

Taemin wrapped his arms around Jinki's shoulders. "You're seriously the best."

"You know what's even better?" Jinki said as he rubbed Taemin's arm. "Listen."

Taemin rested his head on Jinki's shoulder and listened to the birds chirruping and leaves rustling about their heads. Mostly, he could hear Jinki's slow and even breathing, raising his chest and shoulders slightly, but a trickle flowed in beneath it. The sound soothed his nerves and made deer hunting seem far less important.

"A stream! Let's go!"

Taemin charged off in the direction of the sound, with Jinki scrambling behind him.

"I trust you know where you're going." Jinki laughed, then patted Taemin's butt in appreciation when clear water flowing over dark grey rocks could be seen through the trees.

They hurried to the bank of the stream, and Taemin shouldered off his rifle while Jinki set down his backpack and rummaged inside. He pulled out a blanket and lay it over a flat rock, the gestured for Taemin to sit. As Taemin did so, Jinki dumped the snacks in front of him and sat down, and they both dove for the two packets of chips.

As they munched, they watched the stream shine with flecks of light. A streak of white wound down, faster than the flow of water. Taemin dropped his packet and crawled closer to take a look.

With his head handing over the water, and hands gripping the edge of the rock, he spotted another long, wiggling line of white.

"Eels!" He turned back to Jinki.

"Albino ones?" Jinki pondered with a chip at his lips.

"I guess so." Taemin crawled back to his pack and grabbed his hunting knife from the front pocket.

He took off his tramping boots and thick socks, rolled up his trousers, then unsheathed the knife and jumped into the stream. Clear water glided over his feet and threw twisting shadows on them.

"Is the water nice?" Jinki asked, watching him with wide eyes and an 'o' shaped mouth.

"Bit cold. Not too bad," Taemin said.

He walked quietly into the middle of the stream as Jinki said, "Maybe we can have a swim."

"Eel first." Taemin scanned the water.

A flash of white upstream, and Taemin lunged. The eel nearly slipped through his grasp, but he sliced through it amid Jinki's whoops and cheers. It dangled from his fist as he held it up and Jinki clapped.

While Taemin filleted the eel, Jinki gathered wood for a fire. He made the cutest face Taemin had ever seen, half-pout, half pursed lips, as he rubbed two twigs together to start the fire. After a moment of no luck, he got a magnifying glass out of the backpack. A spark winked, then fizzled out.

"I'm not usually so crap at this," he muttered, not looking at Taemin.

Taemin left the eel in strips on the rock and took the twigs from Jinki to have a go, but he had even worse luck, just endless friction with no heat.

A gust blew through them, chilling Taemin's bare feet and whipping their hair back from their faces. He scrambled back to put his shoes on. Jinki rubbed his arms through his green sweater. Though the wind passed, the cold stayed and settled over their skin and everything they touched.

"Maybe we should go back and leave the eel," Jinki said apologetically. "You were really cool when you caught it."

Taemin flushed hot against the cold air. He didn't even care about eating the damn thing.

They packed up their blanket and snacks, and headed back the way they came. Jinki checked the position of the sun every few minutes to keep them on track. For a sun that was still so high in the sky, golden between the tallest branches, it wasn't emitting much light.

The wind returned to howl and rattle through the branches, sending leaves flurrying around the pair. A white dot floated down from the sky, followed by hundreds more, all wheeling and diving and giving Taemin and Jinki tiny, cold slaps.

Jinki shook Taemin's shoulder. "Why is it snowing here? It never snows here?"

Taemin wrinkled his brow and shrugged. "Maybe it's freak snow."

"It must've blown in from somewhere else. It can't last long."

Taemin shook his head, and they continued on, but so did the snow. It coated the ground, making it slippery. The wind pushed at them from all sides, restricting movement of their freezing limbs. The sky turned grey, no sun to guide them.

"Taemin," Jinki put his hands on Taemin's shoulders and brought him back-to-chest. "We'll just get lost and frozen. We need to huddle together and wait it out."

Taemin nodded with what he hoped was a stoic expression.

They settled by the trunk of a thick kauri tree, hoping it would shield them from at least one wind direction. Jinki wrapped the blanket around them and tucked it so their feet and heads were covered.

He hesitated with a few centimetres of cold air between them, then said, "Our heat will conserve better if we're - we're..."

Taemin's eyes widened and his stomach fluttered. "Naked."

"Yeah." Jinki sounded rueful, but not opposed to the idea.

Taemin reached forward to lift up Jinki's sweater and help him wriggle out of it in the confined space. By the time they were both down to their underwear and boots, the blanket was askew, and Jinki had to wrap it around them again. This time, he wrapped it much tighter. Their chests, foreheads and noses were pressed together, and they seemed to breathe the same air. They wriggled closer and wrapped their arms around each other. Taemin slotted one leg in between Jinki's. It did make him feel warmer from the inside, though the outside air was beginning to sting.

"Good thing it's cold, huh?" Jinki quipped. "Or this could get embarrassing."

Taemin paused. "Are you coming on to me?"

Jinki giggled, and Taemin decided the cold was getting to him and nothing he said should be trusted.

"Well. I'm just saying, you feel really nice...pressed against me, although I fear sensation is slowly leaving me."

"Jinki!" Taemin slapped his ass, making him buck forward and into Taemin's crotch. His cock throbbed, part appreciation, part complaint.

Jinki hummed and tilted his head so their lips were so close. "Friction might help keep us warm."

His hand rubbed down Taemin's back and rested on his hip. It could almost make Taemin forget about the sharp rock digging into his other hip. Was Jinki turned on by danger? Because Taemin figured he could cater to that.

He slipped his hands inside Jinki's briefs and whispered, "My fingers won't fall off if I keep them warm in here." He gave Jinki's ass a squeeze. The skin was soft, slightly downy, and every brush of his fingertips made Jinki sigh.

Jinki sniggered, pressing his lips into Taemin's neck. The rapid breaths tickled Taemin until he wriggled. His own laughter burst into the confined space, and that was it - they became a pile of giggles and light, tickling touches and shifting, pressing skin. Somewhere in between the giggles, someone snuck a kiss in. Their lips fused, too dry and chapped, but warm and wet inside. Their tongues tickled behind teeth and rubbed against each other.

The sound of birds (or was it flutes?) made them part finally. The howl of the wind was gone, and the leaves above rustled calmly. Jinki unfolded the blanket and poked his head out, then opened it and sat up. The forest was dry, warm and green. Had the snow melted as it fell?

It wasn't so warm that they wanted to sit around in their underwear, although Taemin's eyes kept falling to the bulge in Jinki's briefs. They dressed quickly and waved the blanket around a few times to dislodge bark, dirt and ferns that were stuck in the threads.

Taemin found his rifle nearby, in a bush with stubby green leaves. He picked it up, then grimaced and shook it. Twigs rained from every crevice.

"What the fuck? My rifle's all jammed up." He held it out to Jinki, who picked some twigs out of the barrel.

"That's...weird. I'll help you clean it tonight, hmm?"

Taemin nodded. That sounded like the perfect evening. Perhaps they could sit in front of a fire and curl up together as they moved the cleaning rod in and out of the barrel.

He bit his lip as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and gazed at Jinki with heavy eyelids. "I'd love that."

Jinki blushed and hunched as he adjusted the straps of his backpack. Taemin reached forward and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Jinki rubbed his thumb across Taemin's forefinger and beamed at him. They set off, and it felt so right, walking side by side, hand in hand, bumping shoulders and giggling. When branches blocked their path, Taemin stepped forward and pushed them aside for Jinki.

"Taemin," Jinki murmured, stepping around a patch of fern and squeezing Taemin's hand for balance, "we can still have meat for dinner. I'll take you to my favourite restaurant, okay?"

"A date?" Taemin's grin was so wide it hurt.

"Yeah."

Jinki closed the distance between them with a kiss. His teeth grazed Taemin's lips, sending tingles into his chest. Taemin grabbed Jinki's hips and ground up against him, opening his mouth for Jinki's tongue. He sucked on his tongue and lips, massaged him through his thick, heavy clothes as Jinki clung to his shoulders, nails caught in his vest as he explored his mouth.

Jinki stumbled backwards, letting his backpack fall to the ground, and Taemin shoved him up against a thick trunk. They rubbed noses and stared into each other's eyes, until Taemin flushed and looked to the side.

His stomach ached with shock, and he jumped back.

"That - that tree..." He pointed behind Jinki.

Jinki turned, still breathing heavily. His unfocused gaze suddenly sharpened, and he backed away from the tree.

"I'm sure it's just a really similar tree," he said weakly.

"No, it's the same. We've gone in a circle." Taemin made a fist so tight his nails cut into his palm.

"But I've been checking the sun. We're going in a straight line." Jinki looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was just visible between those tall branches.

"Then I guess the sun lied," Taemin said with more vitriol than he should have.

He ran forward and kicked the tree. It didn't even rustle. Only those birds that sounded like flutes responded, while the shock reverberated up to his knee.

The flutes stopped with a rush of wind that shook every leaf and every hair on their heads. The sound of laughter rose up like bubbles of gas in a hot spring. Taemin and Jinki found each other and clung tight.

Three human figures floated down from the tall boughs of the kauri tree, but they were too small to be human. Only the size of Jinki and Taemin's hands. Red hair flowed out behind their tiny heads. Their garments were made of flax and decorated with bright flowers that looked like bottle brushes. Flutes hung from their waists.

Jinki stumbled backwards, making Taemin lose his balance. One arm wheeled for balance while the other clung to Jinki, and he righted himself.

"You stole from us," the middle one bellowed with a louder voice than should have come from such a tiny body. It was abrasive and commanding.

"We didn't mean to!" Jinki called out. "We'll give it back!"

"It is rotting on the bank of our stream. What will you do? Create a new eel? No matter how hard you rut against each other, you can't create life."

The fairy to the left gasped, his eyes widening to twice their already large size, while the fairy on the right snickered.

"Rude." Taemin tilted his nose up at them. "Let us out of here and I won't kill all your precious eels."

The fairies laughed. The middle one spun around five times before he was calm enough to speak.

"You think we'll let you near our stream again?"

"Please." Jinki pressed a calming hand to Taemin's arm. "We didn't mean to. We'll never bother you again."

The fairies turned to each other and whispered in a huddle. When they faced the pair again, the large-eyed one spoke.

"It's more fun if you stay."

"Can I see the canopy?" Taemin asked, hoping to see a way out from above. "Please?"

The stared at him for a moment, then their apparent leader broke into a wide grin, showing all his teeth.

"Of course." He swooped down and grabbed Taemin by his collar.

Jinki cried, "Wait!" but Taemin was already shooting up into the canopy, gripping his collar to stop it from choking him. Leaves buffeted him and sent him swaying in the fairy's grip.

Suddenly, the scratch and scrape were gone, and he was hanging above the tallest trees. The tallest of many, many trees. The canopy almost looked like an undulating stretch of shrubbery with no end. The sun sat a quarter of the way to the green horizon.

"See?" the fairy said. "The only way out is death. But maybe I'll take pity on you."

He gasped, the strain left Taemin's collar, and he was plummeting back through the boughs. A branch smacked him in the arm, and he went spinning, air hurtling past his skin, until, again, his collar started to choke him and he was hanging two metres above the ground.

Slowly, he was lowered, and Jinki ran to him. His arms shook as they wrapped around Taemin's shoulders. Taemin winced and pushed him off, rubbing the shoulder that had been hit.

"You're hurt?" Jinki immediately unzipped Taemin's jacket and pulled his top up to see the wound. There was no bruise, and the skin was its normal, heathy golden hue.

As Jinki pressed at it, Taemin dutifully made sounds of pain when it hurt. He watched the fairies argue in rough, quiet voices. One of them was hovering around the other two, pressing placating palms towards them, while they spat words in each other's faces. When they noticed him watching, they fell silent. The leader clicked his fingers in an upward motion, and they returned to the canopy.

"One of them saved you," Jinki whispered, then bent down to rummage in the backpack. He came back up with a roll of bandage.

"I don't need that," Taemin waved it away.

Jinki leant in close. "If we make it look worse than it is, they might feel sympatheic."

"I don't think that's gonna work on the one that chucked me," Taemin said.

"You never know." Jinki set to work wrapping the bandage over Taemin's injured shoulder and under the opposite armpit. His shaking hands steadied as he worked.

At no sign of the fairies, they settled beneath the tree and chewed a couple of walnuts. They shared lazy kisses and dozed against each other, listening to the rustle of leaves and the now unnerving sound of flutes.

Jinki stirred against Taemin, and they sat up, rubbing their eyes. One of the fairies was hovering before them. He had perfect bone structure. They tried to scoot backwards, but the tree trunk was in the way.

"It's okay!" the fairy soothed. "I'm here with food."

He gestured behind him. A woven flax mat sat on the ground, covered in kumara, carrots, courgettes and chunks of steaming red meat. Jinki leapt for it, but Taemin held him back.

"Is this poisoned?" he asked the fairy.

"No." The fairy shook his head. "I feel bad. Kibum could have killed you. I thought we were just going to tease you a bit." When Taemin still hung back with Jinki's sweater in his fist, the fairy said, "Here, I'll eat some to prove it."

He took a small piece each of the vegetables and meat, and chewed them happily as he bounced in the air. Jinki giggled and looked at Taemin with wide eyes. Taemin blushed at how cute he was, and let him go.

As soon as a piece of meat touched Taemin's lips, his jaw ached and his stomach grumbled, as though his hunger had been hiding. The fairy watched as they polished off the entire platter without a word. It left them full, but not bloated.

"Thank you," Jinki said to the fairy, who was perched on a fern.

"That's okay. If you give us a gift, I might convince Kibum and Minho to let you free."

"What kind of things do you like?" Jinki asked.

"No human contraptions. As Kibum always says, the only thing they're good for is giving us a good laugh, because you humans can't do the simplest things without them."

"Sorry for not being evil magical dorks," Taemin grumbled.

Jinki rubbed Taemin's uninjured shoulder. "I'm sure we've got something you'd like."

"Okay, I'll go talk to them and bring them back down. Don't disappoint me!"

With that, the fairy was gone, and Jinki and Taemin were alone, now galvanised by the food they'd eaten. Taemin snuggled up to Jinki, an insistent throb making his body flush and Jinki's skin look too delicious. He bit his earlobe, making him shiver and cry out.

"Ah! Taemin." It was half an admonishion and half a whine for more.

"What?" Taemin batted his eyelashes and grinned wickedly.

He didn't wait for Jinki to answer before mouthing at his neck. He licked and grazed the skin that he sucked into his mouth. Jinki quaked and gasped, rubbing against Taemin and pushing him to lie gently on the ground. He pushed Taemin's top up to expose his nipples, scratching and rubbing his stomach and chest as he went.

"Fuck," Taemin groaned.

He tried to sit up, but Jinki kept him pressed down.

"Don't hurt yourself," he murmured.

"My shoulder feels fine." Taemin rolled and flexed them, arching his back in demonstration.

Jinki hummed in appreciation. "I wonder why."

Taemin shrugged. "You wanna think about that right now?"

"It seems...less pressing than..."

Jinki trailed off as Taemin's fingers hooked in his belt loops and pulled down so their dicks rubbed through their pants. They both moaned, and Jinki spread his legs to both straddle and keep Taemin's hips pinned. He sat up and rummaged in his backpack, then held up a condom and bottle of lube with a proud grin.

Taemin laughed and swiped them from him. "How are these bush necessities?"

Jinki wiggled his eyebrows and ground down. Taemin gasped, arched his back and sat up to clutch Jinki's face and bring him in for a sloppy kiss. They scrambled for each other's flies, ripping them open and slipping hands under briefs. Taemin bit Jinki's lip at the feeling of his hard length and his soft hand gently holding his own cock. It felt deliriously not enough.

He pushed Jinki back and rolled him over, trusting that he'd fight him if he objected. Instead, Jinki got up on elbows and knees, laid his head on his arms and tilted his ass up. Taemin rolled his pants and briefs down enough to expose the round flesh, kissing it as he went. He rolled the condom on, then slicked his fingers with lube one handed, massaging Jinki's ass with his other hand.

Softly, he pressed two fingers to Jinki's entrance, letting him feel what was coming before pushing them in. Jinki keened and pushed back, sucking him in with minimal resistance, so Taemin gave him a quick, rough prep. He lubed up his cock while Jinki whined and twitched.

His vision whited out for a moment as he pushed inside, reveling in the tight sensation. Jinki's moans and cries echoed around them and reverberated through his body. Taemin clung to his toned hips and thighs, pulling him back onto his cock until he filled him completely. Jinki's hands were in his hair, his face in the dirt and his shoulder blades jutting up and inwards. The curve of his back was perfect. Taemin raked his nails down it as he waited for Jinki to adjust.

As soon as Jinki started rocking against him, Taemin pulled out and slammed back in. Jinki let out a hoarse, lewd moan. They began a rough, fast pace, thrusting against each other amid the slick sound of lube.

Jinki's hand moved down to touch himself, and Taemin let him, too out of his mind to concentrate on anything but the snap of his hips. Jinki knew how to please himself, judging by his moans, getting deeper and deeper, matching the pressure building in Taemin's groin. He thrust faster, harder, throwing himself into completion. As he filled the condom, Jinki gave one last shudder, skin heating under Taemin's hands, and came over the soil.

They flopped onto their sides, automatically spooning, until the clenches of Jinki's internal muscles became too much for Taemin's hypersensitive nerves. He slid out and pulled the condom off, tying its end.

"Do you think this could replace the eel?" he said as it dangled from his fingertips.

"Gross!" Jinki laughed and swatted him, then dug inside the backpack for their plastic bag of rubbish.

Taemin obediently put it back inside, then flopped back down on the dirt and twigs, which now dug into his back. Or maybe they had before, but his senses had been preoccupied.

Jinki tucked them both back into their pants and redid their flies, then wrapped his arms around Taemin's waist. Just as their breathing began to slow, the flutes started. They sat bolt upright, then pressed their palms to their spinning heads.

"Did you think of a present?" The nice fairy giggled as he landed before them.

"Of course they didn't." Big eyes joined him, followed by that nasty leader.

"Not after you filled their dinner with aphrodisiacs."

They all burst into laughter, clutching stomachs. The leader threw his head back and clawed at nice fairy's arm.

Taemin felt his face burn with shame, but said with just a hint of venom, "Thank you so much. I've always wanted to fuck Jinki in a forest."

Jinki linked arms with him and nuzzled into his shoulder. "We made you a present."

The leader stopped laughing and wrinkled his nose. "We don't want that."

"Then, what do you want?" Jinki asked.

"I want that," the leader pointed to Jinki's backpack.

"The whole thing?" Jinki shook the bag.

"Oh. I just meant the bauble." The leader pointed to the bunny keychain, then added quickly, "But now I want the whole thing."

"Okay, just let me get my-"

"The whole thing!" the leader bellowed, and Jinki handed it over tentatively.

As soon as he snatched it off him, the other two started blowing on their flutes. The sound intensified, pressed and pierced at Jinki and Taemin's ears. They covered them with their hands and closed their eyes, stooping under the pressure.

As it lifted, they opened their eyes upon the oh so welcome sight of the car park. To one side, the forest entrance stood, with a little wooden sign post. To the other, Jinki's green ute. They ran for it, and pressed their noses against the windows. The keys were dangling from the ignition.

"Oh, thank God!" Jinki turned and pressed his back against the car, gazing up at the heavens.

Taemin tried the door, found it wouldn't open, so stalked around the car, trying every handle. All were locked.

"The little fuckers," he muttered, patting down his pockets, but of course he had nothing to jam down the window. "Step back," he said, and Jinki jumped to stand behind him.

He unslung his rifle and bashed the butt against one of the rear windows. The back seat sprayed with shards of glass. He reached inside, unlocked the door, then climbed into the front passenger seat.

Opening the driver's door, he motioned graciously for Jinki to enter.

"Um. Thank you?" Jinki got in and stared at Taemin with wide eyes. "There goes my dream of round two in the back seat."

Taemin laughed hard. "Just get us outta here."

SSS 2014: For The Community

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 22:26:34 GMT

For: The Community
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Ludus
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin, slight side!Onew/Key
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: mentions/use of drugs and alcohol
Authors’ Notes: Happy holidays from your Santa~

Jonghyun doesn’t understand the strange twist of fate that led him to this little scrap.

The scrap being Taemin. That’s unclear sometimes, because people tend to categorize his own body as being a little scrap. He doesn’t appreciate that bullshit.

It happened in a strange sort of way, though; the kid just sort of wandered into his room the night of the first big party on campus, a freshman that got a little too ambitious with the tequila. Of course, he was awake that fateful night (okay, morning) at one, when the guy happened into the room that was actually two down from his own. And of course, Jonghyun’s roommate (curse you, Jinki) just so happened to be out at that very same party at that moment. Which left Jonghyun and Taemin, one severely intoxicated and the other severely sleep-deprived, to deal with themselves. Taemin blinked at him in utter confusion, rambled something about him not being his roommate, hit on him a bit, then proceeded to throw up violently in the junior’s sink.

It was honestly a good thing Jonghyun was the RA on duty that night, too. It was a good thing he’d been trained for those sorts of debacles. He wasn’t trained, though, for the large glassy eyes and drunken lips that revealed slurred sober thoughts that coincidentally reflected his own. He’d expected Taemin to conk out after that episode, but he just wanted to talk. The morning after, they went to breakfast, Taemin apologized less than he should have (but that’s Taemin, really), and somehow morphed into best friends.

Yes, that’s how he met Lee Taemin. That’s how he incorporated the beanpole of a teenager into the squad. And anyone who knows Taemin, anyone who’s even briefly met the kid knows that the story is completely accurate and true to his personality.

Yes, that’s him. Lee Taemin – captain of the USS I Don’t Give a Shit, the boy who skates by on the fact that he’s so cute and, when he’s putting on his daily façade, naturally charismatic. Of course, real Taemin is different, but real Taemin doesn’t let a lot of people in that way.

Public Taemin has no sense of responsibility, lets people smoke bowls out the window of his room, watches ghost-hunting reality shows until five in the morning and doesn’t read any of the books for his English class. Public Taemin is the one drinking and smoking and putting off life while real Taemin takes the brunt of that stress and responds with insulin shots and bad jokes.

Jonghyun doesn’t know why their paths crossed, really.

And even more pertinent: Jonghyun doesn’t know why he’s so enamored.

---

“Have you ever liked someone so much that it makes you hate them?”

Jonghyun snorts. Yes, yes he has. Taemin takes another swig of his chocolate milk and sets the empty cup down on his tray, begins drying it out with a napkin so that he can undoubtedly shove it in his jacket and smuggle it out of the cafeteria. He’s building a set of twenty-two for beer pong, and this would be number seventeen.

“I have,” Jonghyun responds, and watches his young friend’s eyes trail across a few tables to a girl with red hair who’s bundled appropriately for the colder December weather. Her head turns and Jonghyun can tell she’s cute, but not inherently Taemin’s type. She must be his fixation of the week. Taemin goes through these cycles where he picks girls or guys he finds attractive and preoccupies himself with them until the next one comes along. But for the time being, he’s completely in love. “Who’s she?”

He’s not actually in love. Jonghyun just thinks he’s being facetious. Because, while a lot of people really do like Taemin, the freshman has a habit of picking those who don’t.

Taemin bats his eyelashes at the back of her head and picks up his fork yet again to pillage the lump of Salisbury steak he’s gotten. Jonghyun’s still picking through his apple pie. “She’s in my bio lab. I think she’s into it.”

Meaning, not at all. What an asshole. “Is she, now?”

“She makes insane amounts of eye contact. I’m pretty sure it’s just with me. That’s like, the key body language signal of attraction.”

“Body language isn’t scientific law, Mr. Science Major.”

Taemin snorts. He doesn’t appreciate Jonghyun’s snark. “Whatever. I just wanted to call attention to my new Thing.”

He’s trying to stifle the little voice deep down with a pillow – the one that’s telling him to slap Taemin in the face with reality or kiss his face. Jonghyun’s doing his best to asphyxiate the little demon, he really is. “All right, man. Now shut up and eat your mushrooms or something.”

shut up shut up shut up

“You disgust me,” he says, giving an indignant pout.

Maybe Jonghyun should asphyxiate Taemin.

Maybe Jonghyun will be Taemin’s Thing one day.

---

Jonghyun first wakes up to the rustling of the sheets on his bed.

His first thought is, impossible, because Jinki’s out for the night studying and wouldn’t climb into bed with him. Also, he locks the door when Jinki’s out. Which means that no one should be climbing into bed with him. At all.

His second thought is ohhhhh fuck.

He shoots up to a sitting position like a bullet and ends up smacking foreheads with a lanky brunet. Specifically, the one that makes his life hell. Taemin. “What the fuck, man?”

That should be his line. “No, you-“ Jonghyun doesn’t have the time to think of a comeback, especially when he realizes he’s mostly naked. He doesn’t like to sleep in very many layers, but Taemin doesn’t seem to care. He just groans or moans in pain, gives a little huff, and wiggles his way into Jonghyun’s twin XL. Jonghyun lies back down and nurses the pulsing knot forming on his forehead. “What?”

He shouldn’t be taking note of the way Taemin’s basically his little spoon right now. Which is also kind of awkward because Taemin’s a good three inches taller than him and slightly maybe more broad since he hasn’t had the time to work out recently. What if he gets a boner? This is a bad situation. “I’ve been sexiled.”

“Wait, what?”

“Jongin finally got in his TA’s pants. Some guy with weirdly large eyes, the one he’s always talking about. Anyway, I walk in from my stint at the library actually writing a paper for once and my roommate’s fucking this dude and told me to leave so I came here. I’m tired. Let’s sleep.”

Oh. Well.

Jonghyun’s a bit flattered Taemin chose here. It technically is the only place that Taemin could probably go (well, he could go to Minho and Kibum’s but that one could be a little awkward), but he’s still uselessly happy. This is dumb. Feelings are dumb. He hates the fluttery feeling he gets whenever he thinks about Taemin’s dumb fairy face.

This brings up the question of reciprocity, though. But that’s one Jonghyun should mull over when Taemin’s ass isn’t precariously near his junk. And speaking of, Taemin’s readjusting his position and he probably didn’t mean to but he totally just grinded on Jonghyun.

Whoop, there it is.

---

If there’s one important thing to note about the couches in the student center, it’s that the middle cushion is the best. All the couches in the area are kind of L-shaped, and the middle cushion gives you enough space to burrow into the crook of the L and sit criss-cross. It’s probably the most comfortable and spacious seat ever.

Which is why Jonghyun and Taemin are constantly fighting over it. To the death.

Jonghyun wheels around the corner first, fast-walking as quickly as his legs can take him, backpack at the ready to slingshot off and onto the couch to claim the desired spot. Taemin jets around him, though, pushing him a bit to throw off his balance and buy some time. The weasel beelines for the middle seat and pounces, jumps on the cushion so fast and so hard it makes the two people on the adjacent couch jolt in surprise.

“Haha, fuck you.” Typical.

Taemin sticks out his tongue in a playful manner, wiggling down into his spot. Jonghyun wrinkles up his nose and throws his stuff down to Taemin’s right. “You’re a sore loser,” Taemin comments, and Jonghyun doesn’t grace him with a response. He should probably care more about his upcoming sociology test than Taemin’s petty taunts.

He should care more about his homework than the other boy’s physical features. “Before you sit down, can you get me a chocolate milk from the café pleeeaaase?” Jonghyun just stares at him, long and hard, and Taemin bats his lashes. He’s too damn cute.

“Seriously?”

It’s not like it’s a far walk (it’s literally inside the student center), or that it takes too much out of his wallet (it’s ninety-nine cents). It’s more a factor of frustration than anything else. “Yes, please,” Taemin sends back, and starts digging out books.

Sometimes he wonders if Taemin’s simply exploiting him for his money and experience and kickass advice. Jonghyun does it, though; he grabs himself a large cappuccino and gets Taemin his milk and orders a large cheesy bread for them to split. Taemin has dance after this; he needs sustenance. Afterwards, Jonghyun pulls out his book and pretends like the other isn’t there, much to Taemin’s dismay. Whatever – the freshman has stuff he should be doing, too.

Halfway into the chapter he’s supposed to be reading, Jonghyun notices that Taemin sits up a bit straighter, goes kind of pale, calls to attention. It’s noticeable to the point that it makes Jonghyun look in the direction that he’s staring in, and when he does, he sees…

A handful of hipsters, a blonde, and Jinki. Jonghyun’s roommate is jamming out on his headphones reading a text or something when he looks up and sees them, waves and walks on. He’s probably going to the tech center; Jonghyun smiles and waves back, but Taemin blinks and keeps staring. At Jinki. “Where was he going?” The boy asked him, and Jonghyun just shrugged.

“Probably going to work on a project or study or visit Kibum. Why? What’s up with you?”

Taemin doesn’t take his eyes off the spot where the other junior disappeared. “Promise you won’t tell anyone? Not even Minho.”

Okay, this is weird. “I- uh, when do I ever? I’m like the best secret keeper since…”

The dark-haired freshman doesn’t let him continue, instead interrupts him in the middle of the trail he’s leaving with his silence. “Just promise.”

“I promise.”

“I think I may be in love with Jinki. This time for real, real.”

Oh, oh no.

He shouldn’t be feeling this insane amount of anger well up in his chest. Holy fuck. Jonghyun remembers the question Taemin asked him the other day; “have you ever liked someone so much that it makes you hate them?”

And the answer is yes but still partially no, because god damn it, he really likes Taemin, but really hates the way he can’t go a day without seeing his face. Jonghyun hates the way he’s no longer used to being alone, hates the way Taemin makes him feel dizzy. He hates the feelings he has and he hates himself right now for feeling so betrayed when Taemin really doesn’t owe him anything.

He’s jealous of Jinki and Jinki literally has done nothing. He hates being jealous of Jinki. He hates that he feels sick to his stomach, pained in his chest.

He hates himself for feeling these things, to be honest. Hates that the fact that Taemin’s picked someone he’s actually friends with, someone he’s actually close to as his Thing. It just makes it more real. It makes it that much easier for Taemin to actually fall for Jinki and hell, even though the elder’s had his eyes set on Kibum for some time, what’s stopping him from looking at that obnoxiously attractive face and caving?

He’s starting to hate Taemin for making him feel this way, for decidedly not returning the sentiment and initiating anything between them.

But then he realizes that’s horse shit and bites back his pride, smiles along with the stupid meme Taemin’s using to divert the topic that he’s missed half of because of this damned introspection.

---

Apparently, Taemin started liking Jinki the day he spent the night in Jonghyun’s bed. Jinki came back around three in the morning, a good hour-ish after Taemin came in. Jonghyun had fallen back asleep, miraculously, but Taemin woke up when Jinki clicked the door shut. He’d (mostly) shut his eyes quickly, though, to make it seem like he was out, and Jinki had come over, picked up a blanket that had fallen off and whispered good night. His sweetness or whatever-the-fuck was what drew him in, and Taemin spent the rest of the night thinking about how considerate and giving he was, as well as how handsome, and the fact that he knew he was handsome, etc.

“It was honestly fated,” he explained. Jonghyun had wanted to puke. The funny thing is that Taemin would have never said he liked Jinki before that night. They were pretty good friends then, too. He can’t identify what it was in Taemin’s mind that made the switch for him. Taemin can’t really, either.

It almost feels unfair. It wasn’t at all how Jonghyun fell for Taemin. And if he could pull that with Jinki, then why couldn’t Taemin flip that switch for Jonghyun the next time he buys him something or lets him in his bed? That’s kind. That’s generous.

God damn it, they’ve even kissed before. Screw Sexy Jenga.

But Jonghyun fell for Taemin in a rush; he’d seen the freshman wandering about during orientation week and thought he was cute almost immediately, but the first time they met that night when Taemin was drunk, Jonghyun hadn’t known how to deal with himself. Taemin looked gorgeous with his glassy eyes and mussed hair that fell right into those eyes and when he bit his lip it sent shivers down his spine. He was hooked on his looks and then when Taemin clung to him it pushed him over the edge. He liked him. End of story. Instant attraction.

And Jonghyun had thought Taemin was into him, too – what with the “you’re… you’re not m’ roommate. But you’re cute. Like a button. Mini-human. I like your chest, can I sleep on it?” But, apparently not. Also, let the record show that Jonghyun is a normal sized human being.

But the way he’s been talking about Jinki the past few days has been driving Jonghyun insane. The way he’s been spending more time in Jonghyun’s room has been messing with him, too, because Jonghyun knows it’s all for the elder junior and Taemin really is just using him as Jinki’s roommate. And the worst part of this? Jonghyun keeps waiting for him to point someone new out to him in the cafeteria, because Taemin never stays on mark for two long. But weeks have gone by and he’s still at it, still watching for Jinki in the periphery of his vision and tweeting things he know Jinki will like just to get a conversation started.

And it’s awful.

“Will you please, please, please help me out with this?”

Never mind. This may actually be the worst part of this debacle – the fact that Taemin is coming to him for all his advising needs. “Taemin—“

He groans, shuts Jonghyun’s door and jumps up on his bed. From Jonghyun’s position at his desk he also groans, slips closed his composition book. Taemin can’t see him writing about sad things right now. “Jonghyun, I know Jinki and I are already friends and stuff, but that doesn’t help me at all. I really mostly only talk to you, anyway, so yeah. I need help.”

“What about the group text?” Jonghyun asks, grabbing a water bottle from the box on his floor. “You seem to talk to him fine in the group text.”

Taemin sends him a glare. “It’s not the same.”

At a certain point, he has to cave. Jonghyun’s a weak guy when it comes to Taemin and giving him what he wants (even if what Taemin wants is to be dating his roommate). “Okay, dude, fine. What do you need to know?”

Taemin grins and Jonghyun’s stomach grows heavier with dread. It might not even happen, to be honest. That’s a horrible thought but it’s the only life raft he has in this pit of jealousy. But Jinki has been doing circles around Kibum the same way Jonghyun’s been crushing on Taem and that would probably impede Taemin’s attempts. Jinki’s nice, though. What if he tried it out just for the sake of their friendship? No, Jinki’s nice. He’d probably explain why they couldn’t be together and then talk about how it’s not Taemin, it’s him, and he wouldn’t want to put Taemin through a relationship in which one member was more invested than the other.

Yeah. Okay. “Just… you know Jinki incredibly well, yeah? How should I approach him about this? Should I outright confess? How, keeping him in mind, should I go about that? I really just don’t want to ruin our friendship or fuck up the squad.”

“I feel like this is a test,” Jonghyun wrinkles up his nose, tries to start thinking about what Taemin’s asked of him. He hates being the one who has to do this. “Okay, well, Jinki’s a pretty simple guy. He’s charming and playful but he’s also really serious about like doing his work and he’s really protective of the people he cares about. With Jinki, you’re going to have to be the one sharing your feelings and prompting him to share him, because he keeps everything bottled up.

“That being said, he’s kind. You could literally approach him any way and him be accepting of your feelings; he’s fond of you as a friend. I guess you should probably tell him what you feel if you feel strongly for him. Just, I don’t know, be like ‘hey okay so I respect and value our friendship, which is why I wanted to talk to you about—“

“What are you guys talking about?” Jinki enters the room with a small smile, dimples flaring, his scruffy brown hair showing the signs of a recent tousle. Jonghyun won’t call attention to that, now. Taemin goes blank, much like Jonghyun feels when he’s handed tests.

He should probably make this situation seem less dubious. “Not much, man. Just describing the latest season of Parks and Rec. to Taemin. He has yet to watch it.”

Jinki’s eyebrows rise almost dramatically. He loves that show. They watch it together. “What? You’re serious—“

“Nice Sperry’s.”

Jonghyun looks to Taemin with a confused expression. Taemin’s eyes are fixated on Jinki’s feet as if he knows he has truly fucked up. Jinki just kind of laughs. “I… thanks, man.”

---

“Will you help me bake a weed cake?”

Jonghyun stops dead in his tracks. He was en route to the laundry room when a head pokes out of a door and springs the question on him. Ah yes, it’s Taemin’s door. Because Taemin lives there. It’s Taemin’s room. Oops. “Wait, what? Say that again?”

Okay, so maybe Jonghyun’s been trying to avoid Taemin a little bit to avoid the Jinki coaching sessions. He hasn’t actually been very successful to be quite honest. He’s weak. He caves after the phone sends him a reminder buzz. “A weed cake. With like, cannabis oil. I got some from my roommate’s friends with benefits dude.”

“Dude.” Well, if Jonghyun was going to do something like this with anyone, he’d want it to be the chem. major. “I don’t… can’t people like, smell it? Where would we bake it?”

“Our floor’s kitchen. You can monitor your laundry while we bake it, I have all the ingredients~”

“Is this wise? I’m an RA.”

“Which means we won’t be getting in trouble. Come on, we can put m&m’s in the batter.”

Fuck. Fuck, that’s a good offer. “Okay, I’m game.”

The grin lighting Taemin’s face is blinding, pure sunshine. It makes Jonghyun smile, too, thrum with excitement because, okay, yeah. This will actually be kind of fun maybe if they don’t get in trouble. And the fact that Jonghyun is the floor RA is actually kind of protecting them. Oh man. “I’ll buy the candy. Oh man this is going to be the greatest thing in the world, you don’t even know.”

No talk of Jinki yet. That’s good. Jonghyun laughs and propels himself down the hallway after his turbulent friend, goes a little past him to the laundry room and gets his stuff going. He leaves his thing of detergent and basket by his machine and pokes his head back in where Taemin’s setting out all the ingredients. There’s money set out by the vending machine. “Plop that shit in and push D6. We need two bags.”

Jonghyun obliges, has to shake the old machine just a bit in order for it to actually give him the m&m’s. Taemin’s greasing down a decent-sized circular cake mold and there’s a container of pungent oil set out with the few eggs he probably borrowed from the community fridge. Jonghyun probably shouldn’t trust Taemin with cooking, to be honest. “What next, captain?”

“Can you… find a bowl? I don’t know how this stuff works.” Yes, he definitely shouldn’t be trusted. Taemin starts poking around in the smaller drawers for what is probably a whisk or spoon or something. He pulls out a thing of measuring cups. “Do you think these are sanitary?”

“You should wash them to be safe.”

The younger nods, finding this reasonable. No one really knows where the community supplies have been. Jonghyun hands over a reasonable-looking mixing bowl to be cleaned. “Wanna put on some tunes? Also, I hope you weren’t doing anything important. And if you were, I’m sorry if I pulled you away. Though I know you would have rather been here with my cute butt.”

Taemin winks and kicks back a leg to add to the dramatic flare he’s projecting. Jonghyun snorts. “Definitely. But nah, wasn’t doing anything, really, just fucking around with Delores.” His guitar. That’s his guitar. “I should be starting to study for things or work on my final projects and papers. It’s crazy how fast this semester has gone by.”

“I don’t feel like doing anything, though, that’s my issue.”

Jonghyun starts them up with his indie playlist. Taemin rips open the pack of m&m’s only to take one for himself, then laughs and actually gets to baking. Jonghyun’s relieved when the eggs he breaks aren’t like, rotten. “Okay, measure out the amount of oil that the box says, and I’ll get the water. Also, do you have ‘Bohemian Rhapsody?’”

Jonghyun takes the oil and wrinkles up his nose at it, but starts pouring, anyway. “Yeah. If you get a hold of my phone, just search it.”

“Oh hell yes. We’re singing this loudly.” Taemin looks like he’s the happiest person in the world right now. He pours in water and all the candy scrappily then races over and inputs the password, starts scrolling. Jonghyun pours in the oil, too, and starts mixing. They’re probably doing this wrong. The colors of the candy shells are starting to run. “Is this the real life?”

Taemin is the one who’s always prompting these dramatic duets. Usually it’s when one of them is down about something and it’s something motivational or Kanye West. And then he starts dancing around like a dead fish (even though he’s actually an amazing dancer). “Or is this just fantasy?”

Taemin’s on scholarship, actually, for participation in dance ensemble. Their school’s fairly renown for their arts programs, to be honest – their whole group is a part of the art program, too. Jinki and Kibum are on theater scholarship, Jonghyun’s on music scholarship and majoring in it, and Minho’s majoring in film. But Taemin, he’s probably the most highly qualified dead fish in their school.

They laugh through “Bohemian Rhapsody” because Taemin tries his hand at breakdancing at inopportune times. But then again, they’re usually laughing. Anyway, by the time they have the weird-looking cake batter spooned into the pan, the song’s over and Jonghyun’s laundry is dinging. All that’s left is the baking.

They slide to the floor and set a timer. This is nice.

“Do you think Jinki’d want a piece? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him high. This stuff will be killer.”

Okay, it was nice. “Maybe.”

Jonghyun can’t help but count down the days until Taemin’s fixation with Jinki is over and done with.

---

“Let’s get fucked, boys. It’s the last party before finals week. Taemin, you’re about to experience hell. Let loose.”

At their university, the biggest clusterfuck parties (not even the best or the most fun, just the most sloppy, drunken, etc.) happen at the beginning and the end of the semesters.

And, here they are, all five members of the squad gathered in Minho and Kibum’s room to carry on that tradition on a lively Saturday night. They can hear people walking by in the halls of the dorm and there’s music playing on the first floor, which, in their dorm for the “party guys” is the hotspot of activity. On these nights, the first floor RA is basically paid to not give a fuck, and everyone just kind of crams in the rooms and dances on furniture and forgets about their problems.

Minho and Kibum live on the second floor, so there’s only a floor between them and not caring. But there’s a whole lot of illegal substances (well, only kind of, seeing as Jonghyun and Jinki are both twenty-one) to go, still.

Kibum and Jinki are pouring shots in solo cups, the scent of Kibum’s dreaded cranberry vodka permeating the room. It’s honestly disgusting without a chaser, but the more you have, the less you care. Kibum’s a lightweight but he’s already down four shots and Jinki’s nursing eight. Jonghyun’s working up the courage that he doesn’t exactly have yet – he doesn’t really like drinking that much as he’s also a lightweight (much more than Kibum, as he doesn’t have the same resistance built up). But he’s promised them all that tonight he’ll be taking part, especially since he’s not on duty tonight.

Kibum and Jinki entwine their arms and giggle all the way through a lovers’ shot, all the while Taemin and Minho are splitting their second bowl out the window. It’s a good thing Taemin’s not watching – the two are being really flirtatious, to be honest, and just thinking about the freshman being slapped with reality is making him want to drink more and more. He can see the effects in both of them, though – Minho’s eyes are hazy and he’s moving like each second for him is lasting an eternity. Taemin looks a bit different, a bit more giggly, because he’s taken a few shots with it. Cross-faded Taemin is precarious and slightly dangerous Taemin. He once tried to hop from Jonghyun’s window to the fire escape.

Okay, yeah. He really needs something to quell his anxiety. “Guys, give me something to down. I just want to get it over with.”

He shouldn’t trust the catlike smirk on Kibum’s face. But the bottle starts draining into a new cup and it’s rising above the single shot mark. He needs one night, just one, where he doesn’t have to care so much. Minho leans out the window a bit in order to empty the ashes and then closes it at the same time Kibum stops pouring. “That’s probably like, five. I’ll give you ten bucks if you can chug the whole thing.”

He’ll probably puke. This piques Taemin’s interest, though, and the two leggy brunets make their way over. “Seriously?”

“Do it.”

It’s ten. If he pukes, he’ll demand twenty. “Okay,” he puts the cup to his lips and lets the liquid rush down and burn him. His body shudders and his tongue rejects it, but he keeps going as per the cheers from his guys. “Fuck, that’s disgusting. Fuck, sprite. Taemin, hand me a sprite.”

“That’ll hit you fast. Shall we start our night?” Jinki leans back against Kibum’s bedframe with a Cheshire grin. Taemin’s cheeks flush.

They head down then without much talk about it, rooms all unlocked and IDs in their pockets. Jonghyun doesn’t feel much yet but they’re right, it won’t take very long at all. And in the meantime, Taemin’s hopeless puppy expression and the stifling claustrophobia of the rooms will probably have him a nervous, dismal wreck.

Okay, when sweat is precipitating from the walls and ceiling, that’s when you know you should stop.

When did Taemin get on that table?

Who the heck is dancing on him oh no—

It’s hitting him.

He doesn’t know how long they’re in the room, but by the time it goes from “Thrift Shop” to “Anaconda,” Jonghyun’s making a break for it. He can tell the guys are following, because someone grabs his sleeve but doesn’t tug him bag, merely follows. “Air,” he explains. “I need air.”

They’re all swaying, no one’s walking in straight lines tonight. They make it to the small pavilion across from the dorm, and Minho immediately slumps into a chair and looks like he’s being weighted down. Jonghyun picks standing, and Kibum picks Jinki’s lap, which picks the other chair. Taemin doesn’t look like he likes this. “We should do something else now.” Minho doesn’t respond and they all fall into silence save for the small amount of music trailing from Taemin’s phone, because when he’s intoxicated he doesn’t like quiet.

“We all need air or something.”

“I think we went a bit overboard,” Jinki laughs, and it’s like his voice is emitting multiple conflicting frequencies.

Kibum smiles at him. “Maybe you did.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Taemin tries to toss his own two cents in as he does a lot, but he’s left hanging when no one responds. His ears are red. Jonghyun wants to kiss him.

Taemin wants to kiss Jinki.

Jinki wants to kiss Kibum, which is evident when they close the distance between themselves, crush their mouths together. Minho chokes in mock disgust and Kibum bites down pretty hard on Jinki’s lip, causing the elder to moan a bit.

Yeah, now it’s all gone to shit.

Jonghyun feels like he’s weaving in and out of his own body. Taemin’s there, giggling, because his being cross-faded isn’t helping the fact that something horrible is happening for the boy. And Jonghyun feels awful, really, because Taemin had wanted to try and get with Jinki here, but here the other junior is, lips locked with a certain raven-haired sophomore.

Taemin looks like he can’t process what’s going on, but Jonghyun knows he’s not that far gone, and it makes his heart hurt. Taemin just laughs. Minho looks at him in confusion. Jonghyun feels like the outside wind is going to push him over. “Let’s go do something,” Taemin’s words are lazy and tinted with defeat. “Jonghyun, let’s go dance.”

Yes, he’s upset. Jonghyun feels those five shots so vibrantly again, and it makes him upset, because he’d rather Taemin not be upset about someone at all. If Taemin liked him, he wouldn’t be upset about anything ever because Jonghyun wouldn’t let that happen. Wait, dancing? “Where?” The dorm’s bottom floor is going hard but Jonghyun can’t deal with that again, doesn’t want to dance on top of a table with people he can’t—

Taemin grabs his hand before he or Minho can object, pulls him away before Jinki or Kibum can notice. “I have a key to the arts building. Let’s go dance.”

He’s speaking surprisingly clearly and Jonghyun just kind of has to follow, because he doesn’t know what else he’d do. But he feels almost miserable right now. Taemin’s miserable, too. He wants to make him happy but he can’t, he’s not Jinki. “Is that allowed?”

“Dance scholarship students are given keys so they can practice, and some students choreograph for ensemble, so…” Taemin must have sobered up a bit at the sight of Jinki and Kibum. If anything, that made Jonghyun’s head even fuzzier. “It’s allowed. I’m ‘practicing,’ but honestly I come in here a lot to blow off… blow um, what’s the…”

“Steam.” This makes sense. Taemin disappears when they get into arguments or when he gets upset, only to reappear later with three times the sweat on his body. “That’s cool.”

Taemin huffs, quickens his pace. It’s freezing, and it’s only now starting to seep into Jonghyun’s mind that his fingers are numb. “I need to kick something. This is so stupid. Why am I even upset?”

That’s how Jonghyun feels.

“They’ve probably been talking for a while… I’m a fucking idiot.”

They get inside the building and Taemin doesn’t bother with the lights until they’re back at the practice room. Then he blares them, bee-lines for the stereo. He hooks up his phone before Jonghyun can even take a deep breath, pushes play on what Jonghyun knows will be his slightly angsty, in-your-face playlist. Jonghyun can feel the music hit him in the chest and he just watches as Taemin starts to pace in front of the large mirrors, looking small and thin in his loose thermal. Jonghyun sees himself and he, too, looks small. He’s pitiful, really.

Cherub, he’s playing Cherub. Jonghyun can see him pulsing with the beats, muscles flexing taut against his skin as he moves jerkily yet fluidly. “I love this place, really. Even just laying on the floor and blasting music helps. And no one can complain because it’s a fucking dance studio.”

Beat, beat. Jonghyun doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Come join me.”

Beat. Jonghyun doesn’t know how to respond. He shrugs off hit own jacket and dumps his baseball cap, starts moving the hips he really doesn’t have. “God, this night sucks. I hate being this angry at nothing.”

Beat, beat, beat. “What’s wrong? Oh my god Jong—“

This is the floor. His fingers are numb and he’s suddenly overcome with the fact that he hurts, and everything is still painfully slow-paced and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, this is so stupid, why is he so miserable?

“Jonghyun, no, please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I love you, it’s okay, please.”

This is so pointless.

---

After the festivities of the previous night, the “squad” saw some changes. Large ones. The primary being – Jinki and Kibum officially labeled their relationship, leaving no room for Taemin’s crush. Taemin had been pretty wounded by that the morning after. Jonghyun halted that text conversation before it could get to him.

The other change was that of Jonghyun’s take on just about everything. And that came about with the help of Minho.

“I need to get over him.”

Minho looks at him with those big, mushy eyes and Jonghyun is taken back to the time wherein Minho was his best bud, before he started telling his secrets to Changmin and before Jonghyun turned to Taemin. Minho’s a surprisingly great moral council. “I agree. I mean, even if he were to reciprocate your feelings, do you actually think Taemin would be right for—“

“Yes.” A beat. God damn it, Jonghyun. “Okay, that’s beside the point. The point is that, despite our insane compatibility, he just doesn’t seem to be attracted to me in a romantic sense. Maybe a little sexual, because he’s hit on me before and I’m pretty sure he’s watched me change clothes a few times, but still. The point is that I’m never really going to be Taemin’s person, so I need to get over him.”

Minho shakes his head, props his elbows up on the cafeteria table and shoves his tray to the side. “I don’t think that’s exactly it. Don’t sound so dejected – you may not be what he idealized Jinki to be, but that doesn’t mean you’re not his person. You’re literally each others’ everything.”

That hurt. That shouldn’t have hurt. “I need to get over him.”

“I think you should tell him how you feel.”

Before Jonghyun can send Minho an incredulous look that lets him know that that’s exactly the opposite of what I’m saying, asshole, Minho silences him with a cleared throat and an obvious glance toward the entrance of the dining area. When Jonghyun cranes his head around to look he notices a hampered Taemin making his way through with his own tray, noting them almost immediately.

“What’s up, guys?”

Minho smiles a bit and Jonghyun can’t speak, can’t even tell him it’s nothing because it isn’t and he still feels like puking at the thought of talking about his feelings to the younger.

---

Jonghyun let finals be his excuse for not being available to Taemin this time.

He’s just been… way too down. He’s gone from angry to sad to apathetic, picked on himself and spent too many nights wrought with insomnia. To be honest, he’s counting down the days until break when he can effectively actually distance himself.

Jonghyun feels way too guilty.

Minho thinks he should confess but Jonghyun doesn’t want to say jack shit, doesn’t want to open his mouth and watch the dregs of their recently-neglected friendship go down the drain.

Taemin thinks he should pick up his phone or answer his door. He’s making that clear by the mass amounts of bored texts he’s sending.

Public Taemin is pestering him and probably wants to eat all of his oreos.

Private Taemin is slipping a great amount of urgency into his messages. Private Taemin is worried about him.

“Have you ever liked someone so much that it makes you hate them?”

He should text back.

“I think I may be in love with Jinki. This time for real, real.”

He should study. For real.

”Jonghyun, no, please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I love you.”

This is dumb. This is so dumb. Jonghyun closes his book swiftly, plugs in his phone, silences it. He’s going to bed. He has to be up at seven-thirty for his eight-thirty final, after all.

This stupid feeling stuff isn’t worth it.

---

The first time Jonghyun met Taemin, he’d been sloppy and twittering and tender, apologetic, hesitant. That was how Private Taemin manifested that night as he wandered into unknown territory and was searching for a friend.

“What the hell, dude?”

Right now, though, he’s the exact opposite. It’s eight in the morning and Private Taemin’s storming down the center aisle of the cafeteria to Jonghyun’s secluded position in the middle of the back left table. Shouldn’t he… “Shouldn’t you be at dance ensemble right n—“

Taemin yanks the chair across from Jonghyun out and sits down with a very loud smack. He doesn’t even have any food. Just anger. Jonghyun doesn’t like this. He also doesn’t like the fact that it’s thirty minutes before his advanced music theory final and Taemin looks like he wants to talk.

Jonghyun doesn’t want to talk to Taemin.

Jonghyun should face his problems, honestly.

“Shouldn’t you be fucking talking to me? Jesus Christ, Jonghyun, what did I do? Why the hell have you been blowing me off?”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. “Taemin, it’s not you—“

“Bull shit it’s not me. Please, Jonghyun. I’ve been freaking out for days because you literally have completely ignored me, and only me. I even asked Jinki what was wrong and he said you’d been acting weird, yeah, but you’ve at least talked to him. And I was with Minho the other day and saw you guys had a text convo going even though you’d ignored my last five, and…“ The few people in the cafeteria are looking at them. Taemin’s raised his voice to a very audible level and it’s transmitting to anyone who’s willing to get their daily dose of friend drama. Taemin trails off and looks down to where he’s clenching his fists and Jonghyun doesn’t know what to say, just watches as some of the straight-up anger fades from his eyes and he slips more into that hesitancy from day one.

This right here?

If Taemin liked him, he wouldn’t be upset about anything ever because Jonghyun wouldn’t let that happen.

This isn’t what Jonghyun wanted. In some strange way, he sort of thought that not talking to Taemin wouldn’t actually bother him much, would benefit him in some way. And now that he thinks about that logic he realizes that it’s flawed, stupid. “I’m so sorry, oh my god.” Now he feels like an even bigger piece of shit than before. “Seriously this was all me please don’t think I’m mad at you or you did something wrong, because you didn’t, honestly. I’m sorry.”

“Then what is it, Jonghyun? Please just give me something. I honestly feel like shit right now and I won’t be able to focus on anything until you give me an answer.”

“It’s because I like you.”

Silence. There’s a definite lull in the conversation when Taemin looks at him like he’s growing a second (actually, maybe eighth) head. Jonghyun figures he hasn’t even actually realized what’s been said yet, because there’s a noticeable shift in his expression from deeply confused to… “What?”

Jonghyun is definitely going to fail this next final. He’s literally about to throw up. “I’ve, uh,” may as well tell him. He already said most of it. “Well, I’ve kind of had a thing for you for a really long time, since we first met, and it’s been really easy to just kind of ignore it all and just be your friend but ever since you started liking Jinki, it’s been so hard to just…”

“Say it.”

“Be around you. I’ve been feeling really miserable and I shouldn’t because you don’t owe me those feelings but I just have really liked you and it’s painful and I’m being dumb, I’m so sorry.”

At this point in all the romance movies, the person confessing would stay seated and maybe cry a bit, and the unrequited love would hold them and tell them how they’re valuable and deserve more than them.

Jonghyun, in contrast, books it. He stands up and leaves his tray and all, rushes out the cafeteria with Taemin sputtering behind. They younger grabs his tray and follows, puts it on the rack and makes it out the door by the time Jonghyun has hit the stairs. “Jonghyun!” Yeah, he hears Taemin. But he’s got to go take a test and fail it and die, that’s probably a bit more important than watching his best friend pity him.

He’s made it out the door of the student center and has entered into a bit of a jog. Taemin’s still calling after him, and he’s pretty sure they just passed a very concerned Minho who’s taking his actual morning jog.

“Jonghyun, fucking stop!”

He’s shaking. Jonghyun’s freaking quivering in his boots, terrified because he just did the unthinkable. He ignored his best friend, made him miserable, then proceeded to dump his crush on the freshman right before his morning final. Not to mention he didn’t sleep. Or eat any of the food he was supposed to. He’s basically fucked. “I have to go, Taemin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything.”

Jonghyun makes a mistake when he turns back to face Taemin, because it slows him down just enough for Taemin to catch up to him and grab his arm. Jonghyun swallows hard and Taemin looks (down) at him with those dumb cute eyes. ”Please don’t apologize. I’m… I should really be the one saying sorry. I should have figured it out and I shouldn’t have told you all about Jinki—“

“But I’m glad you did. I’m happy that you come to me and you shouldn’t be apologizing because you have no obligation to guard my feelings and I honestly just shoved my guts in your face and I’m sorry.”

“Let’s both stop apologizing.”

Taemin seems serious about that one. It’s probably a good idea, too. Jonghyun just nods, and then almost apologizes. “Okay.”

There’s a pause before Taemin’s words catch up to his quick sprint out the door. “And don’t tell me I have no obligation to honor your feelings, oh my god. What the heck, dude? You’re my person. I’m going to watch out for you the same way you’re always doing nice things for me and, you know what?”

“I’m your person?”

“You shouldn’t be sorry that you told me you liked me because I fucking like you, too, you big buttface. God, I hate you sometimes. But not really. I just didn’t think you liked me so I tried to be friends with you and let’s be, real, I’d pick you over Jinki and day. Okay, fuck this.”

There’s another pause and then Taemin’s grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him and literally he just called him a buttface? What??? Why is he— oh.

Holy shit.

SSS 2014: For lucentic

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 22:11:04 GMT

For: lucentic
From: Your Santa

Title: Don’t kill and judge
Pairing: Minho/Kibum
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Cannibalism; fem!Jonghyun, fem!Taemin (not really a warning)
Authors’ Notes: Hello lovely lucentic! Thank you so so so so much for your lovely prompts, it was really a pleasure to get so many wonderful prompts and admittedly also a little difficult to pick up one. In the end I decided to go with Tokyo Ghoul!AU but as it turns out, the characters have a mind on their own so I am so sorry if this turns out to be something you didn’t sign up for. I am curious to hear your opinion about it. I had fun and thank you again for the prompts. I also wish your days are sweet/calm/loud/awesome/sunny/rainy, however you need them to be.

Tick tock tick tock.

Kibum taps with his heel against the floor, tick tock tick tock. He is standing under the broken street lamp, counting off the seconds until his prey turns around the corner, walking right into his embrace. Well, not literally but close enough.

The sound of human blood, running through veins is like a hypnosis, turning his mind into a mantra of more more more.

He hears the hurried steps and sees her--she is a petite blonde--mastering ridiculously high heels and a really sadistic part of Kibum almost wants to see how quickly she can run in them.
He is too starved to let the sadistic part take completely over him though. Come here, quickly, come on.

He might live off human flesh but on good days he remembers the quickest death is the most merciful and he can give that to his victims. Well, to some of them anyways.

She is merely few steps away when he finally reveals himself with a horrible grin.

"No," she whispers before she takes a breath to scream and before her skull cracks against the concrete wall.

***

"Another victim found this morning: Kim Junghee. 24 years old, a psychology student. Living alone but not single. Killed yesterday approximately between 10-11PM close to her apartment."

Minho frowns at the facts, scribbled on a post-it note. Jinki must have written it the last moment, in a hurry, before sending him a report from the week before.

Another violated life, a person, a breathing, living, smiling person summed up in three sentences on a green post-it note.

The frown deepens and Minho sighs. He really really needs a good coffee to face the day. The break, however, is at ten and right now is only 8AM so he is left with nothing but the mountain of work, documents and files waiting to be sorted out.

He somehow survives and at 10:01 he is catching the elevator, with one arm in a jacket and another stopping the door from closing. His brains feel like fried and god, he will run across the city for a good cup of coffee.

The truth is, he only has to run (well, walk) for 15 minutes to get to his favourite coffee shop. The owner must have signed the contract with the devil or maybe he is the devil itself, for the coffee they sell is otherworldly, divine and it wakes Minho up. Which tells a lot.

He is not a regular there, not yet anyway, but he frequents enough that at least one of the baristas know his usual drink and even his name (and profession).

So when the barista--wearing the name tag Kibum--sees Minho walk into the bar, he smiles and greets,

"Good morning, detective. As usual?"

Minho nods thankfully and sits down. He likes Kibum, Kibum usually gives him extra treats, like a praline or two cookies instead of one. He also knows that Minho likes his coffee with a hint of sugar and not completely bitter.

But still, when he brings Minho a croissant, Minho looks up and says, "It looks delicious but...I didn't order it."

Key waves with his hand and shrugs, "You just seemed upset, that's all."

"Really?”

"A little."

"Won't you get in trouble for always giving me extra sweets? I mean I am grateful and all but I don't--"

"Ah, nonsense, nonsense," Kibum repeats and grins, "we can't have sad detectives protecting the humanity."

Minho nods bashfully and thanks. Somewhere in between he finds himself telling Kibum about the Kim Junghee and Kibum listens to him sympathetically. And alright, Jinki might skin him alive for talking about the case (and before that Minho will strangle himself) but he didn't tell any names or places or anything. Just his frustrating thoughts about the young lives ending so suddenly, so quickly, so unjustly.

Kibum listens to him carefully though, and he never interrupts or says Minho is silly for feeling like that. Minho is not sure if they pass for friends (yet) but he is thankful for every single moment Kibum lends him an ear.

Nevertheless, these times never last long and they usually end something like this,

"But, hey, detective. Aren't you supposed to be returning back to work?"

"Ah! Shit shit shit shit yes. Thank you, I have to run, but thank you and don't walk by yourself at night and avoid badly illuminated streets!"

"Yes yes. See you around, now run."

And Minho runs, literally runs back to his paperwork and suffocating office.

***

“I thought stupid cops only existed in movies.”

Kibum turns around and huffs at the sight of Taeyeon leaning against the counter. She is not looking at him though, she is too busy with stabbing a croissant.

“You should stop doing that,” Kibum says flatly.

“What? It is disgusting.”

“Yeah, but the humans like it and they pay money for it.”

“They also linger longer if you give them these and that’s really not fair,” Taeyeon whines, “I can smell them into my room. Your cop right there looks especially delicious.”

“He’s not on sale,” Kibum states. He also snatches the destroyed croissant away from her and tosses it in the trash can.

“Have you marked him or what,” Taeyeon asks mockingly.

Kibum rolls his eyes, not bothered enough to start one of their little fights.

He doesn’t exactly like Taeyeon but he does tolerate her. On most of the days anyway. It is just unlucky that they are too alike and you cannot have two ghouls standing under the one spotlight.

“He is our link,” he adds.

Taeyeon turns around the chair and takes her coat. Before she leaves, she smiles charmingly,

“Well I am just saying he is probably more delicious than the shit you feed him with.”

Kibum waves her off dismissively and returns back to the counter, cleaning the mess she made out of a poor croissant.

***

Minho leans back in his seat and hums tiredly. The pile on his table is almost covering the computer screen. The good thing is that he is finally done with sorting the cases, all nice and organized and the last thing he needs to do is to take them to Jinki.

He is the last one in the department, all other tables clean and empty, all his coworkers happily at home or dead drunk, visiting a noraebang somewhere in the neighbourhood. He lets himself sit behind a table a little longer, savouring the calm of the room.

He stands up then, putting on a coat (and immediately regretting it) and taking the paperwork to Jinki’s office.

He is thinking of a simple dinner tonight. Shin ramyeon and beer and a football match until he falls asleep in front of the TV. It sounds like an awesome plan and despite how lame it sounds he is so looking forward to spend a calm evening all by himself. He and his flat and nothing to disturb his rare moment of peace.

His peace, however, starts fading away the moment he sees Jinki walking out of his office, his determined stare, fixed on Minho and when he opens his mouth Minho seriously thinks of running away.

“Minho! You’re still here? Good.”

“I was just on my way to give you the papers.”

Jinki waves with his hand impatiently and grabs Minho by his elbow.

“This is great, good, thank you. But now forget the papers, you need to come with me. Lee Taemin has disappeared.”

“Lee Taemin? Kim Junghee’s boyfriend?”

Jinki nods as he steps into the elevator, “Yes, yes now grab what you need, we need to hurry.”

“H-hurry? I am only an intern sir, I really don’t see how much of a--”

Minho stops midway. He is taller than Jinki but right now he feels so small and so so so fucked. Jinki is generally a wonderful person to work with, he takes a great care of his interns and everyone around. The Jinki that is staring at Minho right now, however, is nowhere near nice, or sweet.

“When you signed up for a job, did you have a special reason to work for us?” Jinki asks slowly.

Minho closes his eyes and gulps. Of course he had a goddamn reason. He still has one.
“To protect as many innocent lives as possible.”

“And do you still stand by these words?” Jinki says. But he also smirks, he fucking smirks and of course they both know Minho’s answer when he looks up and whispers, “I do.”

***

Alright. Kibum might be a sadist. But only a little.

It is a lie, of course. He is a big sadist. Especially when people piss him off. And right now he is extremely pissed off.

He is also having fun, it is a little twisted logic but well. Tonight is fun.

He kicks the stairway and chuckles soundlessly when he hears a silent curse coming from below. He watches the figure--Taemin, is it?--go still and press against the wall. Kibum sees him of course but there is no harm in playing cat and mouse. No harm for Kibum anyway.

Kibum reaches for the flowerpot on a windowsill and throws it down. He watches as the ceramics hits the concrete and breaks, breaks into thousand tiny pieces, one, two, three, like Taemin skull will in a few minutes.

He grins when Taemin flinches and then--

“I am not scared of you, you fucker.” Taemin yells.

Kibum might object to that, he feels, smells the blood running through Taemin’s veins. It is crazy, the adrenaline, the fear, oh so sweet, so so so good.

He steps up the game, walks down the stairs, slowly, taking his time as his hand is tapping against the fence. Tick tock tick tock.

“She wasn’t either. Your girl.” Kibum says. A hint of hidden admiration in his voice. He’s mostly bursting of expectations, to see what he can do to Taemin before he breaks him and he is not doing a single thing to conceal his excitement.

Taemin grimaces, a realisation slapping him mercilessly. “You don’t care, do you?”

“Nope.” He replies with a grin.

Taemin lungs forward and Kibum waits for him with open arms. The last thing he sees is disgust and panic and then the pretty eyes die out with a crack.

***

“I don’t understand,” whines Minho distressed. He grips at his hair and blinks the tears away.
“If you are told to stay at home, then you ought to stay at home, isn’t that so?”

Kibum puts the coffee in front of him and sits down. He gently wraps his hands around Minho’s wrist and forces him to stop gripping at his hair.

“Hey, hey. You did everything you could.” Kibum says.

It means to soothe him, Minho knows that but his mind is a turmoil and he feels sick and not even croissant can help to calm him down. He inhales sharply and whispers,

“I couldn’t protect him. The least I could--”

“Now listen,” Kibum interrupts him. It is a first, he usually only listens and nods sympathetically and sometimes he offers his opinion but he never interrupts Minho in the middle of speaking.

“Being a cop doesn’t mean you need to protect every single human being around you. You are just a human too and you know, sometimes humans do stupid things even when the are told not to. So yes it really sucks and the man died but it was his decision to ignore your warnings and play a hero."

Kibum is right, god, Minho knows this is all the truth because they did warn Taemin to be careful and especially not go out and do something stupid. They even recommended him a recovery group for those whose beloved were killed by ghouls. But it is not enough, it is never enough, it will never be enough.

Minho groans and bites his lip in frustration. He feels the bitter metallic taste on his tongue but ignores as he says,

"But--"

Kibum lets go of Minho's hands as if they were on fire. He closes his eyes and abruptly walks back to the counter.

"I think you should go, Minho."

It is the first time Kibum calls him by his name and it feels like daggers.

Kibum adds a softer, " you will really be late for your job if you don't run." He turns his back to Minho and busies himself with washing the dish.

***

Kibum slides on the floor behind a counter and cackles. Gladly, the cafe is mostly empty--save for Taeyeon and her few ghoul girlfriends at the table next to a window. He looks up when he hears Taeyeon approaching and he expects her to mock him.

He has to look away when he sees her concerned look. She sits down next to him and pushes a cup of coffee right under his nose.

"You behaved well," is what she says.

Kibum takes the coffee--mostly because he doesn't want to worry her more than he already had.

"Maybe it'd be for the better if you and your girls just took care of him," he hears himself say.

Taeyeon grins and her face beams, "You really mean it?"

Kibum stays silent. He plays with the cup until he accidentally spills some of the coffee on his wrist and hisses.

Taeyeon sighs and pats his shoulder, "Nah, seeing you struggle is way more fun." She is back to her usual self and Kibum is grateful for that. Asshole Taeyeon is what he can deal with.

Concerned Taeyeon not so much.

***

It actually makes sense, Minho supposes. The ghouls are always one step quicker than they are and they never leave a single trace on the crime scene. So on second thought, Jinki's words make an awful lot of sense.

What makes no sense is Jinki dragging him into the toilet (in a single stall, on top of everything), locking behind them and repeatedly flushing the toilet as he is telling him all this in a hushed voice,

"They must have infiltrated one of their own into our division. No, wait, listen, it makes sense. They never strike twice afterwards so we cannot lure them into a trap. They never leave any traces so they are pretty damn good. And there must be one or two, maximum three. They are getting ahead of us, we need to step up the game."

He says that quickly and then he unlocks the door and steps out. Minho hears him greet someone and great, now he will have to wait for everyone to leave--

"Oh fuck! Sorry, I didn't know you were--did you and boss just? No--"

Minho groans and hurries out of the bathroom. What is he supposed to say to a bewildered co-worker who saw Jinki coming out of the same stall he was in? No, no. We were not fucking, we were talking about the possible espionage of the department

He checks the clock and it is 10:12 and yes he needs a damn coffee.

***

"Quick, leave it to me and get your perky ass out of here," Taeyeon barks at Kibum as they see Minho across the street, waiting for the light to turn green.

Kibum is saying something but Taeyeon promptly ignores him as she hauls him into the corridor and shuts the door private behind him. She turns around the moment the bell chimes and Minho enters. She flashes him a dazzling smile and a sickly sweet Good morning.

Minho replies but his eyes search for something and Taeyeon's grin widens dangerously.

"Looking for someone?"

"Er, sorry not really," Minho replies, "One takeaway coffee please. No sugar."

Taeyeon mutters something about stupid cop under her breath as she turns around. Her smile and enthusiasm is almost all gone, but at the same time she knows Kibum will be grateful for her protecting his ass. The weak bastard owes her free meals for the next week, she will make sure it happens.

"Actually yes, I am searching for someone. Sorry but do you know where Kibum is? He worked here before you--"

"He quit." Taeyeon snaps irritably. Not only stupid but also blind.

"Quit? Is he alright? I am so sorry to bother you but I--"

"Look," Taeyeon huffs as she puts a coffee in front of Minho, "he quit. That's it. Probably got bored of this boring ass job and started living life. Now, if you excuse me, this will be 10,000 won."

Minho is left speechless. He stares at her until she rolls her eyes. Then, he apologizes again, thanks for the coffee and leaves.

As his figure disappears in the crowd, Kibum bursts out of his hiding place. He opens his mouth to speak but Taeyeon stops him with her hand and says, "I am informing you you owe me free meals for a week, starting tonight."

Kibum sits on the table and nods, "I do." And then: "But you fucking suck at shooing him away."

"Well, mister-know-it-all, I told you to just bring someone and make out with them so that the cop will see you shoving your tongue down someone else's throat but you said you got a better plan so."

"I do! And thank you for everything but you made it sound like you have paid for my murder and have you seen his frown? He will be back, Taeyeon."

"The moment he steps into this cafe again he becomes my dinner and ceases to be your problem and this is the end of discussion. Say thank you and start thinking of my dinner tonight."

Kibum laughs at her and kisses her cheek. He also shudders because Taeyeon is only 20% joking about it.

***

Minho flicks through the TV channels restlessly. He cannot focus on anything, he was a mess at work (Jinki actually forced him to take a day off) and he is a nervous bundle, close to exploding. He looks at the table and the sight of growing pile of cases makes him physically sick. He counts to ten, takes a coat and a wallet and calls the number he didn't call since the new year's party (two months ago).

"Minho? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Jonghyun. It's me."

"Wow. Did you get fired?"

Minho laughs, he actually laughs and god yes, he missed Jonghyun. "No but my boss forced me to take a day off," he admits.

He hears Jonghyun's breathy chuckle and then: "I knew it was too good to be true."

Minho pretends Jonghyun is 100% joking and says, "You free this evening?"

There is a silence that is little too long to be comfortable and then Jonghyun's tiny voice hits Minho's guts "So... does that mean we're good or is it only you being so desperate for the company you called me, the only other desperate loser?"

"No, no. God no. We are good, Jonghyun. Only after hearing your voice I realised I was giving you a codd shoulder for a little longer than you deserved it."

He hears Jonghyun exhale and then another chuckle, "So, any places you wanna go to?"

"Anywhere is good if you and soju are there."

***

Taeyeon laughs as someone tries to grope her and Kibum rolls his eyes because the dude doesn't know Taeyeon laughing doesn't mean she's having fun. It means she will be the only one having fun as she will bathe in his blood, screams, pleas and agony.

He grabs her arm though, they have to move forward. This place was under attack just two days before and only a fool would hunt here for the next few weeks.

Luckily, the city is a big place and there is a lot of full, blasting areas with a lot of moving, bursting flesh.

They go for a near drinking house and wait at the side entrance that is conveniently next to the toilet.

"Wait here, I will just check the menu," Taeyeon grins as she disappears into the drinking house.

She moves swiftly around the tables. Nobody pays her any attention, except the hot midget who accidentally mistakes her for the waitress. He apologizes soon enough, all flustered and embarrassed and Taeyeon sends him one of her gorgeous smiles. She turns away then and goes back to report to Kibum.

***

"The next time, don't go to the toilet and leave me alone before we order," Jonghyun whines, the third time in ten minutes.

"Alright, I get it. You mistook a gorgeous chick for a waitress. You fucked up. It happens. Unlike Lee Taemin you are still alive though," Minho grumbles.

"Lee Taemin?"

"Forget it," Minho waves with his hand, and then adds, "the latest victim."

"Man that's fucked up. Imagine if I were killed for mistaking someone for a waitress."

Instead of correcting Jonghyun that Lee Taemin didn't die for that, Minho nudges him to pour him another glass of soju and downs it in one go.

He just wants to forget all Lee Taemins and Kim Junghees for one night. "Instead of me talking about the ghoul attacks, why don't you tell me what you are up to these days?"

***

"The idiot thought I was a waitress, can you believe that?"

Kibum has a well, technically you are one at the tip of his tongue but he is not sure Taeyeon would appreciate his comment. Besides, something is off, the gut feeling is telling him that something is terribly off except he can't put a name on it. And Taeyeon is too fixated to get the guy who insulted her but also apologized soon after and he was also kinda cute, he must taste sweet, as she explained to Kibum.

"So now we wait."

"Now we wait," agrees Taeyeon cheerily.

***

Jonghyun is half leaning onto Minho and on the table and he is dozing off but still managing to apologize for every single thing he fucked up since elementary. "I really didn't want to pee in your bed, I was just too afraid of monsters in the closet," he slurs.

Minho assures him that he is not angry anymore. He is also a little envious because he really wishes he were the drunkest of the two but instead he is dragging Jonghyun out of the drinking house and trying to call taxi with the free hand.

"Alright, call the taxi I just need to pee," Jonghyun says and he starts fumbling with the zipper, so Minho has to stop calling taxi and prevent Jonghyun from embarrassing himself. A group of women pass them and they snort and send them judging glances. Minho can't even blame them.

"Hey, Jonghyun hey. You can't pee here. There is a bathroom inside. Do you think you can go and find it?"

Jonghyun sends him a dead glare and for a second he looks decently sober. Then he grins goofily, smooches Minho and chimes, "anything for my best friend."

He doesn't stumble or fall as he walks back and Minho smiles in relief. Not that drunk after all. He dials the taxi number and waits for the call to be picked up.

***

Taeyeon is painting Kibum's nails (don't ask, waiting in silence is for losers) as the door open with a thud and the blond head peeks out. They both straighten up as Jonghyun notices them and asks, "Do you mind if I," he waves with his hand--as if that meant anything--and adds "the bathrooms are all fully occupied."

Taeyeon smiles cheerily and Kibum huffs in growing excitement as they both say, "We don't mind."

She puts the nail polish on the concrete and glares at Kibum, "Don't move your hands for another minute, I hate it when you fuck with my work."

Then she stands up and calls, "Hey, you over there. You done?"

***

Minho smiles apologetically at the frowning taxi driver. Jonghyun should be back by now and unless he fell asleep on the toilet, he has no reason to leave Minho waiting. So when another minute passes (11 in total) he apologizes to the driver and leaves the car.

He asks a waiter but only gets a shrug and look in the toilet and mind the side door next to it and when he makes sure Jonghyun is not asleep in any corner of the bathroom, he clutches at the gun (he can't help it, he really can't) and throws himself at the door.

***

"Fuck," curses Kibum.

***

"JONGHYUN!" screams Minho as he shoots blindly.

***

He was never the one to believe in heaven, except the phase he and Jonghyun went through in the elementary school that only lasted for two months anyway (November and December), so that they got gifts and then they stopped when they realised the money they got for the chuseok was way better than dried fruits and a stick for st. Nicholaus day.

He is not entirely sure if he is dead anyway or maybe it is just a hangover but he is somewhere warm and neat and it smells of coffee.

Coffee.

Coffee. Soju. Jonghyun. Kibum. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.

Minho opens his eyes and reaches blindly for a gun only to be held against the bed and as he sees Kibum's eyes it feels like a deja vu. He wants to scream again, and as he opens his mouth to scream again, another hand appears and someone stuffs a cloth in his mouth.

"Bloody cop shut the fuck up," Taeyeon grumbles.

"Calm down," says Kibum coldly and Minho closes his eyes in pain. Maybe the memory won't return to him then and maybe Jonghyun will still be alive and--

"Fucking stop squirming, I didn't fucking eat your midget friend. He is all good and nicely knocked out on the sofa over there," Taeyeon snaps again.

"Can you try to be a little nicer?" Kibum asks, irritated.

"Can you try to be a little nicer?" Taeyeon mimicks, "I don't know, he fucking wanted to shoot me and you deprived me of my dinner so I think I will continue being a bitch and I swear to god Kibum if your fucking cop doesn't agree to our terms I will eat them both right here right now and watch you cry as I eat both of their co--",

"Alright. We got it. Thanks. He will listen," Kibum turns to Minho and looks at him with big, pleading eyes, "you will listen right?" Minho closes his eyes and nods. "Good. So if you can give us a little space--"

"Be right behind the door." Taeyeon says as she leaves.

***

Kibum sits back on Minho's knees and slowly removes the cloth out of his mouth.

"Why," Minho croaks. He feels angry, betrayed, cheated, but mostly tired.

"Oh god, what a doofus," Kibum covers his eyes, "you could have send me to hell, spit at my face, try to run away and all you do is ask why."

"You spared me and Jonghyun. Why." Minho elaborates.

"There is a thing we need you to do," Kibum says slowly. "and for you to do it efficiently we need a hostage."

"How do I know you won't just kill us both?"

"You really don't. But if you do what I ask you to do, then we can both benefit from it." Kibum says.

Minho stares at him for the longest moment and then he looks on the couch for the first time since he's awake. Jonghyun is really there, drooling and snoring and Minho feels his chest tighten. Jonghyun could have died. Jonghyun could still die and it is all his fucking fault.

"We won't kill him," Kibum whispers, "we almost did but then you bursted out and saved him. Hey, detective, you saved someone, " Kibum grins.

Minho chokes and he feels tears running down his face. He sees Kibum inhale sharply and close his eyes and then Kibum’s long, fingers are wiping the tears away and then--Kibum is licking his own fingers.

"Sorry about that," he adds later, all smug and not sorry at all.

The situation is all kinds of bizarre and twisted and a part of Minho still wishes to wake up at some point.

All that happens is Kibum standing up and speaking with his business voice. "Here is what we're gonna do. I will tell you who is the traitor in your division and give you some papers and you forget we know each other and then I and Tae disappear off to lala land."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about," Minho asks, confused, "I thought it was me who, who, who--"

"No dumbass, you are not the traitor. Congratulations, by the way. But you were helpful in confirming the informations, or as it turns in the Lee Taemin's case, you, well technically you didn't tell us any names and places but you saved us from a raid and yeah. In short, our spy is shit. So this is what happens. I give you the name and few files and you make sure your boss gets it and we pack our things and you never see us again. Ta-dah!"

"You will run away?"

Kibum shrugs and explains, "Taeyeon wants some palms and beaches and mosquitos and jungle. She is wild, alright."

"I'm listening, you dickhead," comes from the outside.

"So you will run away and kill--"

Kibum frowns and looks at him emptily, "You kill animals and you eat them and I kill humans and I eat them. We all try to survive but you could probably survive without animal meat. Alas, I cannot without human flesh. Think of it the next time you order fried chicken."

Taeyeon grumbles from the hall. She opens the door and huffs, "Take the fucking offer or say no, so that I can feast on you and your friend. It is a fair deal, take it or leave it."

"Alright, alright, of course I will take it," Minho says, a half smile spreading on his lips. Kibum beams at him and catches himself the second before he tries to hug Minho.

Taeyeon snorts and adds, "Stupid loser."

***

"What is wrong with Minho? Is he sick?" Jinki asks, confused.

He is standing at the doorway to Minho's apartment, a bag of booze in one hand and a takeaway chicken in another. He came to Minho to celebrate discovery of a spy who kept selling their informations to various organisations. As it turns out, ghouls were only a part of the bigger picture. The spy collaborated with bigger fish, including local mafia, chinese triads, and even CIA.

The files Kibum provided were legit enough to break the spy and make him admit it all. It came as a surprise to them, but well. A success is a success. Although Minho never officially handed Jinki the files (he, how unoriginally, threw them in his post), Jinki insisted in celebrating together, and here he is, standing in Minho's apartment staring at apologetic Jonghyun and staring after Minho who ran to the toilet the moment Jinki mentioned fried chicken.

"He is a vegan, that's why," Jonghyun shrugs.

"Oh, sorry, I am sorry, how come I didn't know that. Wait, let me fetch something for him then--"

"It is alright, I am sure he's got something in a fridge, don't worry."

"No, but really, how thoughtless of me. I wish I asked before I just rang the bell and--"

"Oh, cop, don't worry," Taeyeon chimes from the living room. "Minho is not alone in it. You and Jonghyun should enjoy your chicken and we will find something that matches our tastes."

She grins and extends his hand as Jonghyun sighs and says, "Jinki, meet Minho's vegan friends, Taeyeon and Kibum."

SSS 2014: For nyx06

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 22:04:19 GMT

For: nyx06
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Hand in hand against the world
Pairing: Onew/Jonghyun
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Not really a warning but one of the characters is Minjung--fem! Minho. Because she rocks. That’s why.
Authors’ Notes: Dear nyx06! I am almost completely sure this is not what you had in mind when you asked for Jinki being a bartender and Jonghyun a singer. That being said, I am curious about your feelings after reading the story. To you and everyone else too: I hope you can find many reasons to smile in the upcoming days, weeks, months.

There is this place Jinki goes to. It is a routine, day after day after day. At 15:30 he opens the dark framed door and walks down the stairs.

Actually, this place is nothing magical--no secret passages or magic involved. It is, in fact, a bar he works at. An afternoon/evening schedule and he’s always behind the counter, washing the perfectly clean glass, polishing the immaculate counter, cleaning the dust that is not there at all.

Every single day he meets exactly three people--an old man, the old man’s brother and the angry lady. The first two come around eight, always ordering makolli, never staying longer than one hour. They are mostly silent, pouring each other booze and occasionally discussing actual issues.

Not that there is much worth mentioning. The world they live in is perfect. Perfectly clean, perfectly safe, perfectly calm, perfectly dead.

After the riot era, when Earth bleeded and the Sun wept and there was nothing but the burning bones and dying hope, those who survived decided to start anew, tabula rasa they called their vision. They built the new world from the ashes and wounds, created a gorgeous temple, as an apology to the Earth and to the Universe, for killing the gods, enslaving hope, disgracing the Sun.

This is Jinki's world. Calm, new, silent, apologetic. The news are filled with good deeds and new discoveries. The streets as clean as the new apartment he moved in merely two weeks ago, the people as scarce as the stars in the morning.

His days look something like this: he wakes up, takes a walk down the street and hopes he might meet someone who will be as desperate for a simple talk as Jinki is (sometimes there is, most days not). Then, he visits The Daily Goods department, get his share of warm meal and returns home.

He counts the seconds and the bricks. He counts few humans he spots and then he walks back to his apartment, rolls down the blinders and sits next to the bed. He pulls out a single box and holds her like it is the most precious thing in the world. It kind of is, inside of it there is a single book and a bunch of cassettes and a cassette player.

Jinki has no idea how these things managed to withstand the raids but once he found them lying across the street--at that time he was more than a little desperate for anything to happen--he took the box to his apartment, completely aware of the illegal nature of his actions and hid it under the bed.

*

He only dared to open it three days after discovering it, in the depths of the night, his curtains tightly shut, door locked thrice.

What he found was an old travelling catalogue, pictures of the places named with the names he never heard of it before. The sea, the mountains, the vast greenery and majestic desert.
He spent hours watching the pictures, imagining the Sun kissing his skin, the sea tickling his toes, the cool breeze ruffling his hair. All he knew was the temple zone, his home, the place built for providing safety and peace to the scattered humanity. He heard of stories, of the zero zone, the deleted zone, the lost zone. Only stories, brief mentions that were more of a bitter reminder of human's savage nature.

Nobody told him anything definite. People preferred forgetting to remembering and so nobody never wondered about all these places. They were more of a myth, a silent shudder of the times that have already passed.

But Jinki was like a sponge, he didn't stop there. He--by a stupidly lucky coincidence--managed to play the CC, the songs in the language he didn't recognize, but the voice, the harmony of soft sorrow and deep regrets all compressed in a tiny box. The first time he cried, the second time he clutched the pillow and hummed to it and the third time he sang along with the lyrics.

He was not dumb though. He did not understand the sad words (he only felt, deep, deep in his soul they bruised a part of him), but someone could have and they could tell him out. So Jinki kept his little (ridiculously illegal) secret to himself and went on with his life. Woke up, took a walk, ate a government-provided meal and in the night watched the government-banned catalogue and hummed to the sadness he never experienced.

*

The job advertisement took Jinki by surprise.

He didn't need a job to survive, nobody really did (except the volunteer hours, these were obligatory to everyone), so once he finished with the university, he decided to keep away from everything (too clean, too calm, too dead).

It was a simple note, tucked behind the knob of a door across the street. Maybe it was a sentimentality that decided for him--across the street, close to a place he found his beloved box--but he took up the offered challenge, opened the door to a empty place and immediately got the job.

*

The two old men usually get up after they empty their bottle of makolli. They thank Jinki for the service and leave. Jinki cleans after them in exactly three minutes.

He’s alone for an hour or so afterwards, and waits for his second client, the angry lady, to come.

Today is like any other day, empty bar and silent streets. Clean counter and silent buzzing of the fridge.

That is, until he hears the noise, accompanied by quickly approaching steps. Jinki is expecting the angry lady to stumble in as she always does, frowning at Jinki and brightening up at the sight of her usual drink--three full bottles of soju--already set on the counter.

Except this time, nobody enters. Jinki sighs and puts the glass in the sink. It is not that he has anything better to do than to check on the angry lady.

*

Truth be told, the angry lady has a name. She introduced herself the first time she bursted through the door, like a hurricane, with fierce look and frowned lips. That was two weeks after Jinki took up the job, two weeks after the start, two full weeks of completely empty place and two weeks of Jinki going slowly but surely mad. He cleaned and polished every single corner and table (total out of 4 tables the place had) and learned the names and prices of everything on the menu.

The first day she came around was completely identical to the one before, so when it actually happened, Jinki thought of calling emergency. Of course, she stumbled into the bar the exact moment Jinki had a phone in his hand.

She pointed her perfect finger at him (nails long and bright red) and grimaced,

“Fuck you and fuck the government. If you plan to sell me out, tell them that it was Minjung.”

Jinki, however, didn’t plan to sell her out. He was surprised but mostly happy to see a living, breathing human being after two weeks of talking to nonexistent spiders and flies. So instead of dialing, he put a bottle of soju on the table and poured a glass for Minjung.

She grumbled in approval, forcefully threw her silver bag on the counter and took a shot, drinking it up at once. She then smiled, perfect teeth and bright eyes and all and nodded.

“I like this place.”

*
This time, however, Jinki doesn’t find her when he checks up on her. He finds a man, curled up in fetal position, platinum blond hair splattered on the first stair, the end of the hair red and Jinki panics.

He thinks of calling emergency because this is one. There is someone wounded and god, does he, does he even breathe? Jinki turns around to walk back but he stumbles and barely catches himself on the doorknob. A bruised wrist is wrapped around his ankle and he hears the desperate whisper,

“Don’t call them.”

Jinki stares. And stares and his mind is spinning because of course he needs to call them. There is someone bleeding and--and then it hits him.

Maybe this person here, with striking blond hair is one of those delinquents that are whispered to still exist. It is more of a urban legend, really. Except Minjung Jinki hasn’t met anyone saying anything against government, much less act against it. The fact that humans are on the brink of extinction may contribute to the lack of violence and crime, but mostly it is just the system--once you appear to be potentially harmful to the environment, you are taken to the government facilities until you get better (they never return).

So Jinki stands up, because his heart is beating and his hands shaking and he--

“Please...please.”

Jinki closes his eyes and collects himself. He stares down and he has to look away when he sees beautiful, desperate eyes staring at him. Jinki slides down on the floor resolutely. Fuck, his mind is already two steps ahead of him, deciding on his own and Jinki wonders who is the desperate one here.

“You need to tell me your name.” Jinki says firmly. If the guy really is dangerous, he won’t tell the name.

“Jonghyun.”

Jinki nods and this is his cue. He moves closer, asks, “Can you move?” and when he gets a slow nod for the answer, he wraps an arm around Jonghyun’s waist and lifts him up.

Jinki hears someone enter and he looks up, all variations of justice warriors coming after this Jonghyun guy, taking them both, locking them up.

Gladly, it is only Minjung who curses and then whistles. She takes three long strides, standing next to them in no time, helping Jinki taking Jonghyun into the bar, both laying him down on the only bench in the corner.

Jinki improvises, taking the ice and wrapping it in a cloth, taking another one and cleaning Jonghyun’s bloodied face (and neck and bruises on the hand). Jonghyun is awake, looking a little lost but mostly grateful and there is more--Jinki can’t look him in the eye, there is so many living, breathing emotions in Jonghyun’s look and they are all so beautiful.

Minjung cleans the floor and the stairs and then walking behind the counter, taking her bottle of soju. Jinki makes a mental note to put it on the house today.

“He’s going to live. Nothing is split open, the bleeding also stopped. He’s perfectly fine.”

Jinki nods and looks at Jonghyun again.

Minjung walks up to them and looks again, a slow smirk on her face and then she flashes one of her dangerous grins,

“Now spill the beans boy. Are you with Kibum and Taemin?”

Jinki looks at her and then at Jonghyun and he frowns. Kibum and Taemin are the other two clients, the old brothers who come before Minjung does, sitting on the table, discussing the world’s affairs. Well mostly it is the older of the two speaking and raising his voice every now and then, smacking the other and nagging him to listen.

Jonghyun looks up, all bright eyes and hope. He nods a little and makes Minjung grunt in approval.

“Good. This is the correct answer. Were you followed?”

“I think not.”

Jinki clears his throat then, because he feels left out and despite having most of the pieces put together, he still needs someone to tell him what he got himself into.

“Whoa, wait. What?"

Minjung turns to him and squints. She walks up to him and looks down. She’s scary like that, wearing heels to her ridiculous height makes her like a goddess and Jinki knows better than to seek conflict with women in heels.

“Your cute little bar is headquarters where revolution is being born.” Minjung grins. She looks like she’s proud to say this--she probably is. Jinki gulps because all these words would be enough to get them all arrested but instead of threatening her he nods. He understands.

“Kibum said not to drag you into this but since somebody couldn’t stay in one piece--she glares at Jonghyun--you can as well know what’s happening.”

She takes her--dangerously empty--bottle of soju then and walks to the counter.

“I’m calling Kibum.” is the last thing she says before pouring the last of the booze.

Jinki turns back to Jonghyun then, reluctantly touching his shoulder to get his attention and when Jonghyun looks up Jinki feels like bursting.

“I’m sorry.” Jonghyun says.

Jinki shakes with his head and replies, “You should rest now. I’ll bring you a clean shirt and a blanket.”

He turns on his heels, walking quickly behind a counter, accidentally hitting the corner (he hears Minjung snort) and when he finds a shirt (it is way too big for Jinki to fit in, much less Jonghyun) and a blanket he walks back and puts it on the table in front of Jonghyun. He tells him where the bathroom is and just when he’s about to join Minjung he feels fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Thank you...what’s your name?”

“Jinki.”

Jonghyun smiles and nods, “Thank you, Jinki.”

Jonghyun voice is gentle whispers and nocturlabe lullaby, tiny petals and bright sunlight. A child’s giggle and birds chirping. He is a duet of lovers’ singing a song together and delightful Sunday afternoons, spent with families. Jonghyun’s voice is everything Jinki never experienced or saw, only imagined when listened to his beloved cassette.

Before his mind could daydream further, Jinki excuses himself and joins Minjung. He has so many questions for her he doesn’t know where to begin. He doesn’t get to ask anything, he hears the footsteps and then the old man and his brother enter, except this time, they don’t walk like they are having troubles moving nor do they grumble.

They are lean and tall and the one who is Kibum, takes off his fake beard (but not moustache) and a hat and he nods to Jonghyun and walks up to Jinki. He bows and says, his voice strong and wonderful,

“I am afraid we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. I am Kibum. That one over there is Taemin. Thank you for taking care of us.”

Kibum doesn’t say sorry for dragging you into this mess, nor does he say thank you for not bailing us out, he simply says thank you for taking care of us and Jinki doesn’t even question him. This is the most strange day of his life and he is a little giddy and excited because something is happening, here, to him, he’s the part of something else than cleaning the dust and he’s sure as hell not gonna spoil it.

There is so many questions at the tip of Jinki’s tongue but he waits and lets them talk among themselves and he goes back to cleaning glasses. He’s polishing the middle section when Kibum clears his throat and says,

“Jinki, right? You…do you live nearby?”

Jinki doesn’t say anything. He could nod, because yes, he lives nearby (literally across the street to be exact).

“See the thing is, at this moment I and Taemin cannot really walk around freely. Minjung cannot really either. So you will take care of Jonghyun, won’t you?”

Jinki smiles, confused. He wants to laugh but he stops before that and goes with a polite smile with a hint of I-didn’t-fucking-sign-up-for-this-but-hell-yes-I-am-in.

“In exchange you tell me everything.” he says then. He’s glad how firm he sounds.

Kibum drinks his soju and smiles dangerously, teeth showing. “Of course.”

*
Jonghyun appears to be silent for most of the days. He only sleeps or lies on the couch where his improvised bed is. Sometimes he browses Jinki’s catalogue--Jinki had to show it to him--lip caught between his teeth, eyebrows scrunched. Even when Jinki leaves for job--he can’t leave that out--Jonghyun stays in his tiny apartment and Jinki finds him the way he leaves him or curled up and asleep.

Jinki still goes to the bar, serving Kibum and Taemin and later Minjung and on the outside nothing appears to be changed. The only thing different is all of them asking for Jonghyun’s well being and also if there is any suspicious movements around. There is none, but then again they are the suspicious movement. So it is whether Jinki or the government being blind.

He doesn’t care, really. His priorities are simple. Wake up, bring the breakfast for two, drink tea and watch (subtly) Jonghyun washing the dish and then watching the catalogue (and sometimes,
Jinki lives for the sometimes, they listen to the cassette both lost in their own thoughts). In the afternoon it is all about cooking the lunch and then leaving for the job. The bar routine stays the same and by the time he comes come, he only cares about brushing teeth under three minutes and falling into bed.

Honestly, not much has changed. Jonghyun doesn’t take any significant space in his routine or maybe he just fills up the place Jinki had been saving for someone for so long he had forgotten it existed.

On good days, Jonghyun talks.

He talks about the sun and the grass, the real wild grass that grows big and dangerous and it is like those tiny bushes in the park nearby. Jonghyun tells the tales of raw winters and savage nights. His voice is calm and low but it feels like it is caught, captivated, kept in a cage and it really waits for Jinki to release it and make him soar again.

On some nights, Jinki wakes up to Jonghyun’s cries and when he checks up on him, Jonghyun is all sniffles and sorrys and Jinki wants to hug him but he is not sure if Jonghyun wants that too so he brings him a cup of mint tea instead, leaving it by the bedside and going back to the bed. Instead of sleeping he listens to any signs of Jonghyun crying but they usually disappear (or Jonghyun controls them so that Jinki can pretend everything is okay.)

It is awkward because Jinki doesn’t know what Jonghyun is. Or who. Or where he’s from or what made him to be so scared of everything. He wants to know, god, he wants to know everything but nobody would tell him and the one time he made Minjung talk she only mentioned that Jonghyun has been to the deleted zone and he watched the Earth weep as the human smothered it.

Jinki only assumes from this and the nights he makes mint tea but he is quite sure Jonghyun is favored by the gods. The official records tell no survivors from the deleted zone--only the number of enemies killed, for the sake of humanity. The deleted zone is one of the zones absolutely nobody talks about and if anyone mentions it, there are uncomfortable smiles and alarming looks, expecting for someone to jump at people and take them away. So in short, Jinki doesn’t know any details about it.

Once, he builds up courage to ask Kibum about it but he only waves with the hand and narrows his eyes, grunting,

“Stop saying nonsense.”

So Jinki waits. He waits for Jonghyun to get used to his company and for the day when he will be able to regard Jinki as a friend and not as a potential threat.

*
That day comes a month after and it is actually Taemin’s idea.

“Did you know Jonghyun can sing?”

Kibum beams up, proudly and he straightens up and smiles.

“He’s wonderful.”

Jinki nods and resumes cleaning the cupboard.

“You two should sing together sometimes,” Taemin adds.

The cloth falls on the floor with a plop and Jinki is thankful he wasn’t cleaning anything breakable.

“B-b-but I don’t--”

“Nonsense. You’re lying. We’ve been visiting this place for half a year now. Will you tell me you’re not only blind but also deaf? Do you not realise you can’t shut up when you clean the glasses, always humming same songs over and over again and they are all forbidden.”

Kibum stresses the last sentence and Jinki gulps. This is it. This is it but he still tries weakly,

“They are not forbidden.”

“Well for your record singing about shedding enemy's blood and marching triumphantly is forbidden. People might not understand the words but they will feel the drums beating and the drums are never accompanying the lullabies. So in short, you are a delinquent, Jinki.”

Kibum grins and his smile just keeps growing and growing and Jinki has to sit down and for the first time in a while he pours soju and drinks it down.

“All of the songs I sang are like that?”

“All of them.”

“But why?”

"Why what?"

"Why are they considered harmful? Why are they forbidden?"

Kibum scoffs.

Taemin explains for him, “To keep people immaculate, fresh and clean and just like how they want them. The population is small and to keep it that way and willing to follow with smiles on their faces they need to eliminate any other influence. It is quite easy. People stopped listening and caring for the past long ago. It hurts too much and it is too scary so why dwell on it when they have promised beautiful future all bright and clear.”

“All bright and clear.” Jinki repeats slowly.

He thinks of Jonghyun and he grimaces. There is no bright and clear future ahead for Jonghyun. That is something Jinki is 100% sure about.

Jinki is also quite positive Jonghyun, Kibum, Taemin and Minjung aren’t the only delinquents or revolutionaries or whatever they call themselves. Well, he supposes that now he is unofficially a part of their little group too.

He never got passionate about the life he lived before anyway. He followed everything he was told, yes. From entering the high school and then university and completing them both. There were times--high school times--that he was an aspiring student but that was a short period of time that turned into adolescent identity crisis and ended with master degree he never had any benefits from.

And now, now he feels like he’s standing at the crossroad and the wind is strong and it smells of the sea he only read about in the catalogue. He’s standing at the crossroad and on the left Kibum is grinning at him and Minjung is dragging a cigarette. Taemin is leaning on Kibum and Jonghyun, Jonghyun is next to him. Staring at him with his questioning, hesitant look and Jinki realises that he wants to know what tomorrow looks like by their side.

“So what do you think?” Kibum brings him back from daydreaming and Jinki jumps up. He probably looks a little dumb because Kibum groans, “You didn’t listen at all, did you?”

Jinki scratches the back of his neck, smiling in apology.

“Seriously, dude.” Kibum nudges Taemin to pour him another cup of makolli and the he looks up and repeats,

“We were discussing about you recruiting Jonghyun here. You will need help soon.”

Jinki laughs but Kibum’s face is serious and it looks like he is losing patience with him. Taemin distracts him by putting his own cup in front of Kibum, nudging him to pour some booze for Taemin too.

“How many people do you think come to this place?”

Kibum puts the bottle down forcefully and stands up. He looks at Jinki and snaps, “You really are blind.”

He takes a bag from the floor then and pulls out a red long haired wig and a hat. He puts it on Taemin and Jinki has to hold the sink for support.

Taemin puts on glasses for a good measure and a lot of things make sense now. Like the fact nobody ever visited the place or the fact there was no authorities around, checking on him. Taemin--or the person that looks right now--is Jinki’s boss. Well, at least, he is the one who gave him the keys on the day he signed up for the job and also the one who told him how to take care of the place and that he shouldn’t worry if nobody ever shows up. It is just unpopular place, Taemin had said, with a female voice and bright smile (wearing red lipstick, red heels, red red red).

And now Jinki realises that this little bar is headquarters to people who hate the government and the system. And apparently Jinki became a part of it the moment he stepped in.

“Why me.” he croaks.

“You signed up for the job,” Taemin shrugs.

“But how did you know...I mean, you couldn’t know. I could’ve I could’ve…”

“You couldn’t because if you were a scum we would take care of you immediately.” Kibum says indifferently and stands up.

“But our time is up. You are a good person and Jonghyun is in good hands so I trust you will make him come here and make him help you with anything you need.” He smiles then, all edges and illegal ideas, “This place needs some live music.”

*
Jinki has a knot in his stomach when he returns home that day. He fumbles with keys before he opens the flat and he looks over his shoulder too many times. Now, everything looks dangerous and suspicious and he feels like it is written all over his face. Traitor, it says. Threat. Of course, he wants to argue, because unlike Kibum (and he doesn’t know about Minjung and Taemin) he wouldn’t just kill someone. He would run, yes and he would like some things to be changed (like what is harm in liking things from the past?) but he doesn’t want to set the fire to the government, or cause any harm, create chaos.

People has seen enough calamities and now it is high time to remain at peace. That is something Jinki supports. Too many blood has been shed and too many victims who have died in vain already.

He thinks of Jonghyun then. And he closes his eyes. Because no matter how much Jinki wants to lie in the peaceful world, there is no place for Jonghyun in it and Jinki will not let anyone or anything harm Jonghyun.

*

Jinki lends (gives) Jonghyun his own old prom suit. The size should fit Jonghyun (it almost does). They stand in the kitchen, suit jacket neatly waiting on the table for Jinki to button up Jonghyun's shirt. He tries not to think about Jonghyun's nervous glances and fidgety fingers and who does Jinki fool anyway? They both know Jonghyun is completely capable of dressing himself up. Neither points it out.

Jinki clears his throat when he's done and hands him the jacket.

"Is it really okay with you if ... I mean, you are okay with going out right?"

Jonghyun rolls his eyes but smiles the moment after. He leans close to Jinki and pecks him and oh, this is new. Unexpected but not unwelcomed.

"It is definitely okay."

Jonghyun half whispers in Jinki's ear and Jinki curses his mind for hanging onto the possibility of the hidden meaning behind Jonghyun's words.

"Thank you, Jinki. For taking such a wonderful care of me," Jonghyun adds and walks to the entry door.

You're welcome stays at the tip of his tongue as he stares at the back of Jonghyun's head.

*

Surprisingly (or not), Jonghyun doesn't really need Jinki's assistance. He fits into the routine easily, mastering the piano Kibum and Taemin smuggled from god knows where. Jonghyun plays it like he breathes the songs--and Jinki supposes he kind of does. They have a hint of sweet, hesitant melancholy in it, a story hidden behind a veil.

His songs are sweet and calm and Jinki catches himself cleaning the same glass over and over again. He is captivated by the magic Jonghyun's fingers create and Minjung laughs at him for that.

"Stupid fool," she says. What she really means is hidden beneath her fond look as she orders another bottle. Stupid fools, she means, falling in love in the unfavourable times.

The idyll lasts for about a week.

It is the proof that they live. They live and appreciate and respect and love. They love in the caught up looks across the room, in Jonghyun's tiny smile that slowly turns into a wide grin (but only for Jinki, for him and him only).

They live and love and hold their hands at 3am when Jonghyun sits in Jinki's lap, crying into his neck, whispering confessions and fears and shares horrors from his own past (I watched them close their eyes and smile through choked sobs, they stood their ground until the last one fell, the children too and I watched and --) and Jinki hugs him and holds him until they are both too exhausted to stay awake.

They live and love and their cheeks are flushed red when Jonghyun back-hugs Jinki's half dressed form. They laugh and pretend they are eternal even if neither believes in the life after death. They hum the songs and close their eyes and face the world, hand in hand they dive into the sweet image of a better world, where they can both exist together. Freely, hand in hand, Jonghyun and Jinki. Just the two of them and no higher causes to fight for.

And Minjung laughs at them. Fools, she says. Fools they are, for daring to dream in a world that only offers them bright, numb cleanness. In a world where people believe in safety during the day and in the night they cross the line and go to forbidden places and make sure no people like Jonghyun, Kibum, Taemin and Minjung (and now Jinki) exist.

Fools, she laughs, holding onto Kibum's equally swaying form and they both laugh and
Taemin shakes his head at them, only mildly annoyed.

Fools, she murmurs under her breath when she sees Jonghyun and Jinki sitting hip to hip and playing the piano. She smiles when he sees Jonghyun kissing Jinki's cheek and Kibum coos from somewhere until Taemin smacks his head and laughs.

Fools, she thinks. They all try to live in the world that tries to spit them out.

Fools,she yells when the world finally spits them out. Fools, run! She yells through her bloodied teeth as she clutches at her ripped sides.

Fool, stays on her lips, unspoken, when she sees Kibum turning around and then his desperate grip clutching at her sides, her fading form.

Fools, at least let them escape.

*

The light summer breeze sneaks through broken windows into Jinki's apartment. It plays with the dusty curtains and flicks through the random sheets on the table. It lingers in the kitchen and then it jumps. There it is, the catalogue.

It is a little yellow, a little torn, a tiny coffee stain here and there, and then a sketch of two people, sitting on the beach, the water tickling their toes, their hands and dreams intertwined.

Let us run away, just the two of us.

~When and where?

Anytime, anywhere. Just the two of us, hand in hand against the world.

SSS 2014: For linnhe

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 03:53:26 GMT

For: linnhe
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Dolls
Pairing: Key/Taemin (brothers), Taemin/Jonghyun
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: [none]
Authors’ Notes: ahh i hope you like it! i’m not sure how much sense this makes, but hopefully it’s not too confusing.

Every year, as it gets closer and closer to Halloween, Kibum finds that Taemin’s doll collection gets scarier and scarier.

Imagine this: piles of dolls all staring at you, eyes open and unblinking, smiles carved or threaded onto their faces. Their eyes are always on you, no matter where you are, despite the fact that they are (supposedly) inanimate (Kibum doesn’t fully believe that - not when it’s Taemin’s dolls we’re talking about).

It goes without saying that Kibum hates going into Taemin’s room. Especially during the season of horror movies and stories, half of which include either sentient dolls or murderous clowns or ghosts, and maybe a ouija board or two. Kibum shudders at the thought and pushes the images from his mind.

Mentally bracing himself with deep breaths, Kibum knocks on Taemin’s door, hand sliding to the knob when Taemin invites him in. “Hey, Taemin, mom has a friend that has a few old dolls she want to get rid of or something. She wants to know if you want to go check them out.”

He waits for Taemin turns to look at him from his desk and watches his eyes light up. “What kind of dolls?”

Shrugging, Kibum starts backing out of the room. “I don’t know. You can ask, if you want.”

“Alright.” Taemin grins. “Thanks, hyung.”

“Sure.” Kibum’s just about to close the door when he hears his name again.

“There’s a festival after school tomorrow; I’ll be home late.”

Kibum nods. “Don’t get back too late. Text or call if you need anything. And text me where it is, too. I can pick you up when it’s over. Tell me if you go anywhere else. Got it?”

“I got it,” Taemin assures him. “Thanks!”

Kibum grins in reply, closing the door after watching Taemin turn back to his homework. There are very few things he wouldn’t do for Taemin; as much as they get on each other’s nerves, the brothers have a good relationship with each other, despite their varying interests. As the older brother, chauffeur duty also falls to Kibum, but the elder doesn’t mind too much - most of the time they’re going the same way anyways, and Taemin doesn’t often ask for a ride when Kibum doesn’t offer first.

That being said, Kibum still has a big problem with Taemin’s doll obsession. (It’s what horror movies are made out of, godammit.)

Which is also why Kibum always has his doubts on whatever doll stuff is going on that Taemin is interested in; he makes a mental note to ask around about whatever’s going on after school tomorrow. Jinki will probably know, and if not then Jonghyun and Minho always have their connections. Kibum doesn’t worry too much.

Until the next day, when of course Jinki tells him to watch out for Taemin because something’s going to go wrong, and he doesn’t know what just that something will. (“The Lim brothers will be there,” he says, “and the Lim brothers are never good news.”)

Kibum is two years older than Taemin, which means that they don’t have any classes together, and Kibum’s only chance to see Taemin is in the hallways in the off chance they pass each other in between classes. It doesn’t happen. He asks around, talking to Taemin’s friends, but of course they don’t have any more classes with him for the rest of the day. Kibum even leaves his last class of the day early, only to find that Taemin’s also left early, and that he went with a friend. It’s supposedly an excused absence as a “field trip.”

Bowing his head in goodbye, Kibum sighs as the bell rings and lets himself get caught in the crowd. They bring him out the doors, to the student parking lot where he needs to be. The fair isn’t too far away, at the district library, and Kibum can make it in twenty minutes or so, if there’s no traffic.

He makes it in thirty.

---

Of course Taemin heard that the Lim brothers were going to be at the doll festival. They’re collectors like he is, and Lim to boot. They’re just - a bit creepy and intense. He’s not surprised to see them there, together as always and looking over each display with the air of crows being able to choose between carcasses. Taemin’s relieved to see Jonghyun there, a friend always makes for a good distraction.

Taemin goes up to him before the other sees him. “Hyung, why are you here?”

Jonghyun jumps a little, turning to Taemin with a smile. “Kibum was worried about you. I get off early so I thought I’d come by to see if I could find you before he gets here. And Jinki’s sister wants this one doll and I said I’d look for it for him while I’m here.”

“Oh. Thanks, hyung.”

“Not at all, Taemin.” Jonghyun grins. “Find anything you like?”

Taemin shrugs. “Not yet. I’m going to keep looking. Do you need help finding your doll, hyung?” He knows that Jonghyun doesn’t regularly visit doll exhibitions or anything of the type.

“I’ll look around by myself, so you can have time, too. I’ll ask if I need help though,” Jonghyun smiles with one side of his mouth, leaving Taemin with a wave.

Taemin waves back, turning around to continue on his search. Maybe he’ll bump into another doll enthusiast who will have some suggestions, too.

(If there’s anything he can say about that, it’s that he does bump into another doll enthusiast. Two, actually. It’s just not in the way he’d hoped.)

--

Kibum curses at the after school traffic as he steps out of his car, slamming the door in his frustration. Honestly, he doesn’t know who the Lim brothers are, only that Jinki has warned him and that there’s an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He and Taemin might not have the best relationship, but theirs is still better than a lot of other siblings’ and Kibum would move heaven and earth for his little brother.

Not that he’d say it out loud. Unless Taemin was dying, which reminds him.

How is he supposed to find Taemin among the hundreds of people at this festival? If only Taemin would actually pick up his phone every once in a while, Kibum could call, but there’s something about always getting sent to voicemail that makes you less inclined to call someone.

He calls anyway. No one picks up. Kibum continues weaving through the crowd. With so many people here, nothing bad can really happen, right?

“Taemin!”

“Kibum?” A voice next to Kibum startles him.

“Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun smiles. “Are you looking for Taemin? I saw him, but we didn’t stay together.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Is something wrong?” Jonghyun is now concerned. He points to the direction Taemin had gone before. “He went that way. I’ll help you look for him.”

“Thanks,” Kibum says, already taking off towards that direction. “Call me if you find him!”

--

Jonghyun finds Taemin first, sitting against a wall, eyes closed. There are no visible injuries, but Jonghyun doesn’t believe for a second that Taemin just decided to take a nap in a secluded hallway. He rushes to the doll collector’s side, shaking him to wake him up.

Taemin groans and shifts, snuggling tighter into a ball and hugging his arms to himself.

Panicking, Jonghyun calls Kibum while trying to wake the younger brother.

Kibum picks up on the second ring, breathless and breathing hard. “Did you find him?”

“We’re in the West wing, outside the bathrooms,” Jonghyun tells him, looking around to make sure. “Where are you?”

“Close. Wait for me.” Kibum hangs up without saying bye and Jonghyun slips his phone back into his pocket.

He tries to pick up Taemin while waiting for Kibum to arrive, giving up on waking him up. Moments after the phone call ends, Kibum comes skidding around the corner.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, God.” Kibum drops to his knees beside his brother, grabbing the unconscious boy by his shoulders and shaking him. “Taemin! Wake up! Oh, God, Jjong, call an ambulance! Should I drive him to the hospital? What’s wrong?”

Nodding, Jonghyun takes out his phone again and dials, starting to pace impatiently up and down the hallway. “Hello? My friend is unconscious, we don’t know what happened.”

Kibum ignores Jonghyun’s conversation after he hears him starting to talk, turning his attention back to Taemin. His eyes scan his brother’s face anxiously, looking for something, but he doesn’t know what. Taemin’s face is still the same as it has been every other day Kibum has seen him, though he isn’t smiling and his eyes aren’t open. Kibum is scared.

“They’re on their way,” Jonghyun says softly, bending down to sit next to them. “Five minutes or so.”

Kibum lets out a breath, letting his head fall against the wall and closing his eyes. “Thanks, Jjong.”

“Anytime,” Jonghyun looks upon the two brothers with fondness. “Taemin’s going to be okay, Kibum.”

“I don’t even know,” Kibum’s breath comes out ragged. “I didn’t- I had this horrible feeling, and then- Taemin- what’s wrong? What’s wrong? He’s not waking up, and he’s not responding, and, God, Jonghyun, what if he doesn’t wake up?”

“He’s going to wake up,” Jonghyun asserts, voice firm. “He has to.” He hides the break of his voice well.

The two try to stay as close to Taemin as possible. Kibum rides in the ambulance and Jonghyun drives as close as possible behind them. The both ride in tense silence, fear making the time go by slower. It takes forever to get to the hospital.

It takes even longer waiting for Taemin’s diagnosis, outside the Urgent Care Unit. Kibum sits on the bench, burying his head in his hands, while Jonghyun paces the hallway. It takes forever for the doctor to come out, one that heads straight for them.

“Are you here for Taemin?”

“I’m his brother,” Kibum replies immediately, standing up. “What happened? How is he?”

The doctor shrugs. “We actually didn’t find a reason for him to be unconscious, and there were no injuries other than a hurt arm - one that would not have cause so much pain as for him to pass out. Taemin seems to be fine now, but we recommend an overnight stay just in case. You may go to his room to wait for him now, if you’d like. B212.”

“Thank you.” Kibum bows and looks to Jonghyun. The other smiles, titling his head toward the elevators, and Kibum nods, closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

“I told you he’d be fine, right?” Jonghyun’s voice is thick; he takes a deep breath. “Let’s go visit.”

Kibum leads the way, he’s the one to press the button for the second floor and the first to step off of the elevator. He and Jonghyun glance from side to side, looking for the room numbers, until they finally get to Taemin’s.

“Taemin?” Kibum slides the door open, stepping in quietly. “Are you okay?” He sees his younger brother sitting up on the bed, watching the TV that hangs on the wall across from him.

“Hyung?” Taemin lights up. “I’m fine. Why are you here?”

Kibum frowns, not sure of what to say. “You fainted, so we brought you here. What happened?”

Biting his lips, Taemin shrugs. “I met the Lim brothers on the way to the bathroom. They were coming out. I don’t remember anything else. Except now my arm is broken?” Taemin waves his arm in all its casted glory as proof.

“Does it hurt?” Kibum asks, managing a smile.

“Yes,” Taemin makes a face. “But it’s okay.”

Letting out a deep breath, Kibum smiles again, brightly. “I’ll go call mom. Jonghyun will keep you company, right?” He looks to Jonghyun, who nods, then Kibum leaves the room, taking out his phone.

Once he’s gone, Jonghyun takes a seat by the bed. “Hey. You’re good?”

Taemin nods. “I’m fine, hyung. Sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re okay,” Jonghyun replies, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think they’re keeping you overnight, though. Do you want me to bring you something to eat or do?”

Taemin nods repeatedly. “Hospitals are boring. Oh, but you don’t have to. I’ll ask Kibum-hyung.”

“We can go together,” Jonghyun compromises, giving Taemin a reassuring pat on the head. “Unless you want one of us to keep you company?”

Taemin thinks for a second. “I don’t care,” he replies at last. “If you want to stay you can. And I don’t really need anything.”

“If you’re sure,” Jonghyun says.

Taemin nods, and the room is quiet except for the TV, which both of them turn to eventually.

They’re both relieved and regretful when Kibum comes back, more than a few minutes later.

“Sorry,” he says. “I had to go down to the reception area. Mom says she’ll be here in half an hour. Do you want anything?”

Jonghyun and Kibum both look at Taemin expectantly, but Taemin stays silent, shrugging.

“I’ll ask for ice cream,” Kibum says at last, going back out to call again.

Jonghyun chuckles a bit, looking to Taemin. “You really don’t want anything?”

Taemin shakes his head, helpless. “I’m fine.”

“Have you never gotten hurt before?” Jonghyun asks. “You have to milk it. Sympathy gifts.”

Taemin’s lips twitch. “I’m not used to it,” he admits.

“Remember when I hurt my throat?” Jonghyun muses. “My music teacher let me eat ice cream in class.”

Taemin laughs. “Maybe I won’t have to dance tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jonghyun agrees, grinning.

“Stop being a bad influence,” Kibum sighs, coming back inside.

“Like you’d be any better if it were anyone other than Taemin,” Jonghyun points out.

Kibum sticks his tongue out at Jonghyun. “Like you’d want to influence anyone other than Taemin.”

Taemin rolls his eyes. “Hyungs.”

“What?” Jonghyun and Kibum turn to Taemin at the same time, making the younger blink.

“That was… kind of cool, but more creepy. Anyway- wait, are you dating?” Taemin reels back with the revelation.

“Where did you get that from?” Kibum deadpans.

“Why would I want to date him?” Jonghyun asks.

“Why wouldn’t you want to date me?” Kibum raises an eyebrow.

“That’s why.” Taemin sighs.

“Did you not tell him?” Kibum asks Jonghyun, ignoring Taemin. “You should soon, you know.”

“Shut up,” Jonghyun replies.

“Tell who what? Tell me? What?” Now Taemin is confused, although it is admittedly all his fault.

“Nothing,” they chorus again.

“What were you going to ask before?”

“I forgot.”

“Oh, Tae. I’m going to leave when visiting hours are over because I have homework, and I’m going to go to school unless you don’t wake up tomorrow, so I probably won’t be home when you’re discharged,” Kibum says. “Jonghyun?”

“I’ll leave with you,” he replies after a moment’s hesitation. “Let me text my parents first. When are visiting hours over?”

“Seven?” Kibum offers. “It’s a good time for dinner.”

Jonghyun nods and leaves the room, having to go down to the lobby for reception.

When he leaves, Kibum turns to talk to Taemin again. “Taemin. You don’t remember what happened at all?”

Taemin shakes his head. “It’s all blank, except for the Lim brothers, but they aren’t enough to make me pass out.”

“The doctor says that they don’t even know why that happened. You’re not suffering from exhaustion, or anything else that would make you suddenly faint. There’s no trauma to anywhere other than your arm, and that’s not enough to make you faint either.”

“Is something wrong with me?” Taemin’s eyes are wide, he’s suddenly scared.

Kibum regrets bringing this up to Taemin, seeing him like this. He gets up to sit in the edge of the bed, petting Taemin’s head to calm him. “I’m sure you’re fine. After all, you’re awake now, right?”

“Ye- yeah. I guess.” Taemin’s voice is shaky, and he leans into Kibum.

“You’ll be fine,” Kibum assures him. “That’s why you’re at the hospital. They’ll make sure nothing happens, you know?”

“I know.” Letting out a breath, Taemin leans into Kibum.

“Tell you what,” Kibum says, making his voice cheerful. “When you get out, we can go watch a movie. Get ice cream. Go to the bookstore and read manga. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Taemin straightens so he can grin at his brother. “But what if I’m possessed now? We should go watch a horror movie.”

“Why?” Kibum shakes his head. “I’d rather watch a drama.”

“But dramas are for girls and middle aged aunts,” Taemin protests.

“Taemin,” Kibum berates him. “Don’t say that. Plenty of men watch dramas, and there’s nothing exclusively feminine about it.”

“Sure.” Taemin rolls his eyes, ignoring his brother’s mini-lecture. “Can’t we just go get ice cream?”

“When you’re released. Maybe the day after tomorrow.”

“I-”

“Hey, my parents said to stay as long as I want. Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Jonghyun shakes his head, much to Kibum’s amusement.

“They actually asked you that?”

“They were suggesting it. I don’t know what’s worse.” Jonghyun’s face makes Taemin chuckle a bit, too. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Want to go get ice cream with us once Taemin gets out?” Kibum offers, staring intently at him.

Jonghyun hesitates, giving Kibum a look before saying yes, he loves ice cream.

“Great, I’ll text you details tomorrow.” Kbum nods in approval. “We have an hour and a half until we have to leave. Taemin, are you sure you don’t want anything? I can go get you something right now.”

Taemin nods. “I’m sure, thanks.”

“If you’re sure,” Kibum shrugs, glancing down at his phone. “Mom’s here anyways.”

--

“Hey,” Jonghyun meets up with the brothers at the ice cream parlor they regularly go to, two days after Taemin’s release. “How are you, Taemin?”

“I’m good,” Taemin answers.

“He’s been getting dizzy spells, but the doctor says he should be fine if he doesn’t exert himself,” Kibum corrects.

Jonghyun sits beside Taemin. “Does that mean he hasn’t been dancing?”

Taemin huffs and slouches down a bit.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jonghyun laughs.

Kibum gets up, looking to Jonghyun. “I’m going to go use the restroom. Tell him.”

Jonghyun’s eyes widen slightly, showing his surprise.

Once Kibum is out of sight, Taemin asks, “Is this the same thing as from the hospital?”

Nodding once, Jonghyun sighs and moves to sit across from Taemin. “Sorry, but I figured I should tell you while looking at you.”

“Are you sick?” Taemin sits up straighter.

“No, that’s not it.” Jonghyun pauses. “Uh. I like you.”

“I like you too, hyung.” It’s not meant to sound like a question, but Taemin is really confused. Jonghyun doesn’t say anything until Taemin realizes what he meant. “Oh. That ‘like’? Oh.”

Then, “I think I like you too? Maybe?”

Jonghyun scoffs. “Maybe?”

“Well.” Taemin corrects. “Maybe yeah. I like you too. It feels weird saying that. I’m not going to say it again.”

“It’s okay.” Jonghyun feels like laughing. “I heard you perfectly well the first time.”

“Does this count as a date?”

“Does it? Kibum’s the one who made us come.”

“You should take me out to dinner.”

“Wherever you want.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

--

(p.s. When Kibum gets back, he’s only half surprised to see an empty table waiting for him and a text from Taemin telling him to go home and tell mom to eat dinner without him. A few moments after, Kibum gets a text from Jonghyun, too. “Thanks.”)

SSS 2014: For rayofshinee

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 03:49:48 GMT

For: rayofshinee
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Lovesick Melodies
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Authors’ Notes: Somewhere along the lines of writing this, I realized that I didn’t know how to write fluff and put fluff and cliché hand in hand. I had to write this fic over four times so I am hoping that you like it! Also I apologize for any grammatical issues I re-edited it last minute.

Jonghyun's eyes flicked from his laptop screen to look at the younger, tapping his blunt nails along the rim of the empty mug. "What is it Tae? You're going to stare a hole right through me."

"It's cold outside..." He trailed off, nodding towards the open door that let in new faces and a gust of frigid air. The weather outside took a turn for the worst, the wind whistling angrily and the clouds hanging low. Taemin was awfully ill prepared for this sort of weather, clad in just a simple sweater that did not do much to keep him warm.

"Dude, I told you to take a jacket." Jonghyun nagged, snuggling closer into his fluffy scarf with the next jingle of the bell on the door. Whereas Taemin was underprepared, Jonghyun was the opposite with three layers of clothing. His closet was occupied with a large stock of comfy sweaters — a majority of which are ugly and Christmas themed— to brace the harsh weather. "It's so warm on this side of the table." He laughed taking extra time to rub it in.

"And I told you not to be an asshole about this sort of stuff, but you didn’t listen to me either," the younger smiled, shooting Jonghyun the best sympathy arousing look he could muster. "Just give me your jacket."

"Are you sure babe? I wouldn't want you to overheat or anything." He teased.

"Well, I'd rather not have frostbitten nipples either." They both favored the summer, but Jonghyun was smarter at facing the cold. Before they dated, He periodically carried an extra sweater with him, although it became a habitual thing after realizing how forgetful his boyfriend actually was.

"You should consider being more prepared, Tae. It could save lives or nipples." Jonghyun liked to bother him about it more than the younger liked, along with Taemin's tendency to forget the important things in his life. For instance, their three month anniversary, Jonghyun didn't speak to Taemin afterwards for two days. It went hand in hand in his boyfriend’s opinion. He forgot to check the weather this morning thus resulting in him forgetting his jacket. Jonghyun knew that he didn’t need to act like an asshole about it every time, but there was something about Taemin getting red in the face because of his teasing that made him laugh.

"Jong, please." The younger whined, Jonghyun couldn't resist his plea.

"Fine, I'll give you a jacket," the younger lit up at the words. "But, you'll have to buy me another hot cocoa to go."

"Deal!" He bounced off his chair, ready to bolt towards the line.

"And, give me a kiss before going on the line." The older added with a cheeky smirk.

The younger hummed in contemplation, "hmm maybe later."

"Asshole." A year ago, the word would be laced with venom. If someone had told him then that they would be so utterly in love, a string of profanities would have streamed from his mouth. Simply mentioning the name Taemin would elicit a groan and a matching eye roll. All thanks to an annual competition in the drama club, Jonghyun was the happiest guy in the world.

~*~

"Jinki, I don't think you understand." He followed closely behind the president of the drama club, Jinki, as he packed up his stuff with the closure of the meeting. They grew close over Jonghyun's last three years in the club, and just maybe if he begged, he'd be able to get out of working with him. "I can't work with Taemin."

"It's not like I want to work with you either." Taemin's voice grated at his eardrums.

"You'd be the luckiest guy on the planet to work with me." He spat. He was the reigning champ of the competition. Having him as a partner easily put whomever was graced to be his partner into a position of success.

"Yeah right," Taemin scoffed. "As lucky as the spider I had to kill this morning."

"Listen, I'd love to help you both but I'm not going to break years of tradition for you." Jinki spoke in the sternest voice he could muster. Every year a singer was paired with a dancer with the intention of making a song and an accompanying dance, for the ability to assist in choosing the end of the year musical. Last year, Jonghyun learned just how important winning is —picking the right musical meant him getting a lead role, getting a lead role meant being noticed on stage.

"No seriously, you don't understand we'll end up murdering each other." Taemin urged.

"I don't need to hear him bitching all day." Jonghyun remarked.

"Oh really?" The youngest released a throaty chuckle. "Who's the one bitching now, you bleached blonde asshole?"

"Look you two, if you give a crap about your position in the drama club, you'll work it out."

"But—" Jinki interrupted the protests before they began. "I don't want to hear it alright? You guys were friends once and you can be friends again." Angry Jinki rarely reared its ugly head, and when it did it left all in silence. "Now if you don't mind, I've got actual issues to attend to." Tension hung in the air after Jinki had left them, tension that could chill even the warmest summer day.

The older of the two broke the silence, taking the higher route. "I'll have the song done by the end of the week, I'll send the file to you and then you can start on the dance." Okay maybe not that much higher, but it was definitely something.

"Shouldn't I help you with the song? It's called the Pair Project for a reason." He spoke with a contemptuous air, that's what the older abhorred the most about the other.

"We won't be a pair much longer if you keep talking like that." He threatened.

"I don't get any say whatsoever?"

"Do you like slow, sensual songs or fast upbeat ones? Love songs or no?"

"Fast ones are cooler to dance to but slow ones are fine too. I can dance to anything. I don't have a preference."

"Great," he smiled, "you contributed absolutely nothing. See you on the weekend!"

"Why can't you get it? How hard is it to slide, spin, body roll, and go on the floor?" Taemin huffed. They'd been at this for the past two hours and Jonghyun had not gotten past the first verse.

"If I had known that you were more like a drill Sergeant than a teacher, I would have quit while I was ahead." He mumbled.

"Believe me it is not too late to quit."

"I'm sorry that I'm not a fucking dance prodigy, alright?" He was trying his hardest; he definitely didn't want to lose his reigning title. Working with Taemin just made it increasingly difficult to focus, maybe from some underlying desire to spite the dancer. "Can't you just make it easier?"

"Don't tell me what to do with my dance, if I can't tell you what to do with your song."

"But it's a good song isn't it? I can't say as much for your dance." A simple sensual song didn't need such a flashy dance.

It was a better song than the dancer would like to admit, but the singer was insulting his abilities. "Are you trying to say that my dance sucks? Excuse me for making a dance that matched the song."

"Wow fuck you Taemin. Companies would pay me thousands for a song like this."

"Well if you don't want to learn my dance then fine!" He grabbed his gym bag, heading towards the door. "I'm done here."

"Fine! I don't need you anyways!" He called after him.

"Jinki, aren't you listening to me?" He ranted into the phone. Another week wasted because of their pride. "He fucking bailed on me."

"I'm hearing you, I just get the feeling you're not telling me the whole story." Jinki couldn't pick sides even if he wanted to. They were both being extraordinarily stupid. He himself felt stupid for naively believing they would sort out their differences because of one weak scolding.

"The only side of the story that matters is mine, Jinks."

"I doubt he'd just walk out on you without being provoked by you."

"When have I ever provoked him?"

"You called him twinkle toes and a Twilight wannabe."

"Some people actually take that as a compliment y'know."

"You insulted his boyfriend last year."

"He was an ass shat and deserved it. Why do you think Taemin broke up with him soon after?"

"Well I'm not denying that, you could have just approached it better." Maybe, just maybe, cursing him out right in the middle of practice was not the most proper thing to do, but neither was catcalling the dancers. Jinki was lucky he didn't throw a fist, his self-restraint was impeccable. "I don't even know why you hate each other; you have so much in common. You're both rock headed, dumb, and passionate."

"Ugh, don't even relate me to that guy. He could jump to conclusions faster than I could jump off the nearest cliff."

"I thought you guys were such great friends in high school. What made you guys hate each other's guts?"

"At this point I'm not even sure but Taemin started it." Thinking about the whole situation left a bitter taste in his mouth. Everything was fine until a fist collided with his jaw. His jaw may have come out unscathed but their friendship came out frayed.

"Well you'll never get closure if you don't talk about it."

"Why do you always say that, Jinki?" It wasn't only Jinki, it was also his sister, his mom, and everyone else who knew what they were like before college. Each and every one of them could not help but mention how unfortunate it was that they were no longer friends. Well how did they think he felt? Hours of late night chats, sneaking out, and shared secrets vanished in mere seconds without reason. No one was more confused about the whole situation than Jonghyun. "It isn't going to happen."

The younger could hear him sigh over the phone. “Squash it for the competition. Think about it, if you hit it big you'll have to work with plenty of people that you hate. Picture this as practice."

"I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything. Taemin is dense when he thinks he's right."

"Yeah, just like you." Jinki commented snickering to himself. "Call him; I’ll send you his number. Or better yet text him, less interaction that way. Just work it out."

"Yeah whatever."

"I believe in you!"

The next day they met after Jonghyun sent Taemin a simple insincere "I'm sorry" and a practice spot. They mutually decided they would put aside whatever issues they had under the rug for the time being. Their drive to win out weighed their hate for each other. Taemin redesigned the choreography to make it easier for the singer to learn. They worked as a well-oiled machine, Jonghyun leading with his smooth vocals and Taemin grooving to the beat. They were a match made in music heaven.

Their differences seemingly disappeared on chill days in the practice room. They had almost perfected their act, much to Jinki's surprise. Sometimes they would spend time dancing and singing crazily to random jams on Taemin's phone, other times they would pack up early and just stay there doing homework. It was times like these where he missed the friendship they had. He reminisced about it more often than he would rather admit. More than anything Jonghyun noticed the stark contrast between sixteen year old Taemin and the Taemin now.

The lanky naive kid that followed the older around the halls of their high school wasn't around anymore. This Taemin was filled with curt remarks and profanities that were difficult to go up against, and most did not. From Jonghyun's knowledge, the younger did not have many close friends besides Kibum — who in Jonghyun's opinion was even worse with his words than Taemin, although he was a nice guy. The Taemin he once knew was easy to read, and Jonghyun read every page when they were friends. Now he could not even decipher the words that left Taemin's mouth, or maybe he never truly understood Taemin to begin with. After three years of no contact, Jonghyun was unsure as to why he expected Taemin to remain the same.

But it was times like these where he remembered how much he loathed Taemin, with the competition a week away, Taemin nit-picked at the most minute mistakes. Forgetting to put his arm in an eighty-five degree angle after snapping or pointing his toe after a certain glide wasn't imperative to the success of the dance. Maybe Taemin just wanted to add a cherry on top of the asshole sundae he served Jonghyun every time they were forced to interact.

"Jonghyun I swear if you forget to fucking point your toe one more time, I swear I'm gonna walk right out of here."

"You know what fine, leave then! I don’t need you anyways!" He shouted, throwing up his hands in surrender. He was tired of trying to be cordial with someone who didn't want to reciprocate the jesters. "I'm tired of you acting like such an ass when I never did anything to you!"

"So you want to act like that shit never happened?! It's been haunting my life for three fucking years and you just want to act like it never happened?"

"What the hell are you even talking about? All I remember is one day kissed me and the next you were socking me right in the face and walking straight out of my life."

"I trusted you and you ruined everything!" Taemin enunciated each word with a punch to Jonghyun's chest. The more tears bunched around the corner of his eyes, the weaker his resolve became.

"Taemin, I truly have no clue what you're talking about."

"You outed me to your girlfriend and she threatened to tell the whole school."

"She did what?!" Why hadn't he ever heard of this before? If there was one thing about Jonghyun's high school career that he regretted besides leaving his broken friendship unresolved, it was dating that girl. He didn't even remember her name because that was a scene in his life that he wanted to delete. She was such a blatant asshole to everyone, he was unsure as to how he did not notice it while they were dating.

Taemin took a moment to study the elder's face before bursting into a fit of laughter. "That is just like her. What a fucking bitch."

"Would you care to inform me on whatever insane revelation you just came to?"

"I spent the last three years hating your guts for no reason."

"Tell me something I don't know." Taemin divulged some elaborate story about how it was Jonghyun's mission in life to get rid of him. Jonghyun wasn't surprised, it sounded like something she would do. Three years wasted due to a genuinely evil and manipulative person.

"Well I say that we bury all of this under a rug and become friends again."

"Yeah I like the sound of that."

"Wait so you're telling that you had a major crush on me in high school?" Jonghyun brought up the story again as they wrapped up for the night.

"Jonghyun, I kissed you. Please don't tell me that you're that dense?"

"I thought that you were just discovering yourself or something. How was I supposed to know?"

"You're kidding right?"

"Fine, I was a dumbass."

"I've got to admit I've missed your dumbass-ness."

"Well then you're in luck," he slung his arm over the younger's shoulder. "A fresh shipment of idiot has arrived with a lifetime supply."

"You're such a dumbo." Jonghyun saw his cheeks tint pink before he shyly squirmed from Jonghyun's grasp.

"Jonghyun, I'll give you five more minutes and you're on whether you want to be or not." Jonghyun nodded and glanced at the door for the third time in the last five minutes. Jinki was running late and there was no way he could start without him being there and dragging Taemin along.

He made his way onstage the moment he got a peek of a fluff of black hair at the door. This was one of the best crowds that there have been at this open mic night. The perfect audience for his perfect plan for a perfect boy. He spotted the boy in the crowd, farther away from the more heavily populated areas but near the center so that he had a great view of the stage, before clearing his throat. Setting Jinki up on a date with his cousin was such a good deal.

"For those of you whom are new, I’m Kim Jonghyun. Tonight I'll be singing a song that I began writing when I had lost a friend in high school and did not finish until that friend recently came back into my life. He's here tonight but I won't point him out right now because he gets embarrassed easily. Uh please enjoy the song."

Look at us in our memories for a moment
You and me, the two of us inside good memories
We're laughing, we're crying
We've shared so many moments together

What kind of memories are you left with?
Was I really that indifferent towards you?
I want to ask you, I want to know
Am I really the only one left with good memories?

This song contained his heart and soul and he had to convey all of what he felt back then and what he still feels now to Taemin. His confusion, his hurt. If what Taemin felt in the past was even a quarter of what he felt, he couldn't imagine the pain Taemin went through. This song was an apology, not for what he was proven not to have done, but for the things he did do. He did let Taemin walk out of his life without trying to hang on to any line that was thrown at him and he regretted that decision for three years.

"I'm sorry." He sang the last note opening his eyes to a booming crowd and an unreadable face from Taemin. "Uh, before I end for the night I want to ask that special person to go out with me. I might be four years late but it's better late than never. Thank you everyone." He exited the stage, his heart beating a mile a minute. He was high off of the adrenaline from the performance and giddy from the nervousness any person would feel after confessing.

Walking towards Taemin felt like one of those teenage rom coms everyone dreamed about. The chattering crowd turned into a distant roar and the only person whom he could see was Taemin and his angelic aura.

"What the hell Jonghyun? I didn't sign up for this." He laughed, flicking the tears from his eyes away. "I can't believe that you wrote that for me."

"Yeah, well I had three years to finish it."

"That was fucking beautiful; I could choreograph a modern dance to it."

"So you liked it then?"

"Are you kidding?! I love it!"

"So uh," Jonghyun couldn't seem to find to courage to ask the question again. The younger seemed to intentionally avoid the question, and Jonghyun wouldn't bring it up if all the younger wanted to talk about was the song itself.

"You know when I was seventeen; I used to dream about dating you." He reminisced. "Seventeen year old me would be dying right now."

"And twenty year old you?" Jonghyun inquired hopefully.

"Twenty year old me is just better at concealing my excitement." He smiles. "You know I quite like the sound of boyfriend, don't you?"

~*~

It's been six months since and Jonghyun could not be happier. Taemin was the light of his life although he wasn't always sweet. Like now when he's complaining.

"Why is it so fucking cold? This is gross." Taemin shrunk lower into the scarf his boyfriend lent him as the brutal chill hit his face. "I hate the winter."

The elder intertwined their fingers before smiling. "I love the winter because I can do this as much as I want. And cuddling, I love cuddling. And you but I don't think that I even need to mention that."

"Hand holding isn't winter exclusive. Neither is your love for me." The bumped shoulders as they walked towards the crosswalk. "The only good thing about it is that I get to see you in big sweaters, and scarves, and beanies. I love that."

"You have a thing for me in winter wear?" He side eyed his boyfriend. Taemin had never mentioned it before.

"Don't look at me like that alright? You just look so huggable."

"Well you can hug me anytime to fulfill your urges." He said as they came to a stop in front of the now red crosswalk. "Hey, do you want to hear a joke?"

"Go ahead cornball."

"Are you from South Korea? Because I think that you might be my Seoul mate."

"That was such a terrible joke, I'm getting second hand embarrassment." Taemin ran across the street as the crosswalk turned green.

"Hey wait up!" Jonghyun called scurrying after his boyfriend. "You owe me a kiss!"

SSS 2014: For the community

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 03:47:02 GMT

For: The Community
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: The P&R Five
Pairing: Minho/Jinki
Rating: PG
Warnings:none
Authors’ Notes: Happy Holidays to everyone! I hope you all have the most amazing holidays. Thanks also to the mods for all their amazing work.

P&R Five: The New Generation of Millennials
Excerpt from the Seoul Times

Online, in order of most to least powerful within the Parks and Recreation branch of their local government, the five people working there are listed as follows: Lee Jinki, head of both Parks and Recreation and Health; Kim Kibum, Deputy Director of the Parks and Rec Department; Kim Jonghyun, Office Manager of the Parks and Rec Department, Lee Taemin, Office Assistant; Lee Minho, Volunteer.

Little is known about whom these people are and what exactly is the function of a Parks and Recreation department in a town with less than three parks. Many taxpayers are saying that local government should cut out the Parks department entirely, specifically pointing out the money wasted in a marriage ceremony for penguins last weekend. Some taxpayers went as far as calling the penguin wedding "a waste of money." Though the five men sitting in a circle around the recorder are eager to convince taxpayers to give them one last chance.

In order from left to right, they are Jinki, Taemin, Jonghyun, Minho, and Kibum. From the way they sit, it's obvious that Minho and Kibum are close friends. Between Jonghyun and Minho, there is constant bickering, though both make a point to say that it's friendly. Of the five men, Jinki is the quietest, though the longer he spends with the other four, the more he opens up. Taemin, at twenty-one, is the youngest of the five and treated as such.

There is no doubt that these young men are attractive, but more than that, they represent a new generation of competent and flourishing millennials. All in their early to late-twenties, these young men have managed to hold the Parks Department up for the last three years after the retirement of long time director, Lee Sooman. Their hope, they say, is to keep the department open, and if you ask this reporter, these five charismatic young men prove to all naysayers that it is possible to born into a new millennium, and still be better than the older generation that distrusts them.

***

"Why?" Minho asks, when he walks into the office on the Monday after the interview.

"Hey, Minho," Kibum says looking up from his desk.

"Why did you marry the penguins, and why did no one tell me that's what the interview was about?"

Kibum shrugs. He glances past Minho and out his office door. From here, he can make out the table that sits in the middle of the department room, four empty chairs around it. If Kibum turns his head to the left, he could see directly into the civilian waiting room, empty at eight in the morning on a Monday. There are a few blue plastic chairs lining the walls, a coffee table with outdated magazines that Taemin keeps forgetting to replace. The carpet is dark gray there, much as it is for the entire Parks and Recreation Department.

In between the waiting room and Kibum's office is Taemin's desk. There is a stack of papers that Jinki, their boss, needs filed, some old notes that Kibum threw at Taemin's head last week, and a cup of pens. Taemin, however is not at his desk, which means there's no one for Kibum to call in to distract Minho.

"Why the penguins?" Minho asks.

Kibum shrugs again. "Jinki asked me to do it."

Minho stares, obvious disbelief on his face.

"Fine," Kibum says, exasperated. "I thought it was cute, all right?"

Minho turns around, walks out of Kibum's office, and doesn't come back for the rest of the day.

***

Lee Jinki and the P&R Five: Putting the MEN in Government
Excerpt from People's Magazine

Q: Would you please tell us who works at the Parks Department and what they do?
LEE JINKI: Sure. There's Kibum, Deputy Director of the Parks Department. He's in charge of organizing events and overseeing the work the department does. Taemin is the Office Assistant. Jonghyun does office management. And Minho. (long pause) He's a volunteer.

***

Minho wants to make something clear. He is not a volunteer. He mostly just hangs around because it makes Jonghyun angry, and because he thinks the head of Parks and Recreation and Health is hot.

Lee Jinki.

Minho thinks Lee Jinki is hot.

Kibum is the only person Minho will admit it to, though everyone in the office knows. Minho likes to think that everyone is just good at deduction because he doesn’t like to think he was being obvious.

"You were," Kibum says when Minho asks him.

"So obvious," Taemin nods.

"It was sad," Jonghyun says.

"Shut up, Jonghyun," Minho answers.

"You don't even work here," Kibum says, ignoring the way Jonghyun is now glaring at Minho. "You just happened to be here on the day Jinki asked us to find volunteers and it took you half a second to say yes."

"You're my friend," Minho says.

Which is not a lie. But Minho knows that the reason he volunteered was because he'd seen Lee Jinki and it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It gave Minho an excuse to cut back on the amount of time he spent at his company headquarters, and it also made him look good. Not that Jinki ever really noticed, since he seemed to run away whenever Minho came into a room.

"Did you know you were in People?" Jonghyun asks.

Minho looks over to see Jonghyun putting down a magazine on the table in front of him. Minho skims it over, catches the only place where Jinki mentioned him.

"Why the long pause?" he asks.

"He hates you," Jonghyun says.

Minho flips him the finger and even Kibum glares at him.

***

From Riches to Rags: How Lee Minho Gave Up Millions to Work in Government
Printed in Forbes Jan 2015

In today's world, it's much harder starting a business from the ground up than it was when our parents tried the same thing. However, some talented people still manage to flourish in a world where everything has already been invented and reinvented four times over. Lee Minho is one such person.

In his early twenties, Lee Minho started the sports line Hyung, aimed it at the younger male population and succeeded in creating one of South Korea's most flourishing businesses. Minho's sports line blends nostalgia and new edgy designs, which appeal to all, and make Mr. Lee one of the youngest multi-millionaires in the world.

One would think that having that kind of success so early in life would open up more doors to success for Mr. Lee. He is at a point in his success where it would make sense to expand his line to more countries and cash in on what seems to be the best idea Mr. Lee has had in his life.

However, late last year, Mr. Lee made the announcement that he was stepping down as CEO of Hyungs, handing the position over to long-time friend and co-founder, Choi Siwon. One would think Mr. Lee would only hand over his company for a bigger opportunity, though that does not seem to be the case. It seems that Mr. Lee has chosen to step down as CEO of his own company so that he can work in the Parks and Recreation Department of a tiny out-of-sight town.

This year, Mr. Lee seems to be the perfect example of what not to do if one wishes to succeed in today's economy.

***

Jinki has a vague idea of what Minho does in the Parks Department. But Jinki did not know that Minho was a multi-millionaire, which is why, once he finds out, he corners Kibum during lunch.

"Why did Minho leave his job to work with us?" Jinki asks. "Did you tell him?"

Kibum, who Jinki has known for a long time, rolls his eyes. "I didn't tell him anything. This isn't middle school and we aren't thirteen year old children. Also, Minho wouldn't leave his company just because he found out you liked him."

Which Jinki thinks is fair.

"Minho left because he hates working in business, and because volunteering here is less boring," Kibum says. "And he's an idiot."

"Who's an idiot?" Jonghyun says, from behind Jinki. "Who are we talking about?"

"Minho," Jinki says, not sure if Jonghyun being here is a good thing or not.

"Minho's a bastard," Jonghyun says, furrowing his nose. "Every time he laughs, an angel dies."

"You're just mad because Jinki likes Minho more than you," Kibum says.

"I don't," Jinki says.

"He doesn't," Jonghyun says at the same time.

Kibum shakes his head sadly in Jinki's direction. Jinki doesn’t know what that means, but he's too busy making sure Minho doesn't walk in on them to really say anything.

"You should ask him out," Kibum says. "He's not going to say no."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jinki says, glancing at Jonghyun.

Kibum rolls his eyes so hard that Jinki thinks he should say something. "Everyone knows you like Minho," Kibum says.

"I didn't know," Jonghyun says, looking at Jinki as though he's never seen him before. "I thought it was just Minho who liked Jinki. Why Minho? You could do so much better."

But Jinki can only focus on one part of that sentence. "Minho likes me?" he asks.

"Oh my god," Kibum says. "I'm leaving before I stab myself with my fork."

"Wait," Jinki says, ignoring the horrified look on Jonghyun's face.

But Kibum doesn't even pause as he heads for the side door.

-

"Jinki likes you," is the first thing that Jonghyun tells Minho.

Minho is sitting at Kibum's desk, sorting through the newspaper articles about the department that Kibum likes to collect. Kibum says it's because newspaper pictures are the only time he ever looks good on film. Minho knows it's because Kibum secretly cares about his job and the Parks Department.

Minho is busy when Jonghyun comes in, which is why it takes him a moment to process what Jonghyun said. When he does, all he can do is gape at Jonghyun.

"Why you?" Jonghyun says, sadly. "Why would anyone willingly hurt themselves like that?"

"Fuck you," Minho says, choosing to focus on the insult instead of what Jonghyun said. "I'm a fucking catch."

"Yeah," Jonghyun rolls his eyes. "If you like big eyed frogs."

"You're just mad because Jinki likes me," Minho says, the words coming out fast in his excitement.

"This is so gross," Jonghyun says. "And sad."

"You told me, though," Minho points out. "So that means you care."

"I don't give a shit," Jonghyun says. "I'm just tired of watching you drool over Jinki."

"You love me," Minho says, grinning at Jonghyun.

"I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"I hate you so much."

"Love you too," Minho says, his smile so wide it's starting to hurt the sides of his face.

Jonghyun just shakes his head and walks out the door. Minho catches the small smile on Jonghyun's face, anyway.

-

Jinki is making coffee when Minho bursts into his office. Jinki is not expecting the way Minho slams the door open, which is why half of Jinki's coffee ends up on his clothes.

"Sorry," Minho says, grabbing a handful of napkins from next to the coffee maker.

He's trying to clean up Jinki's shirt with the napkins. Jinki would tell him it's all right, but Minho's other hand is warm on Jinki's bicep.

"It's okay," Jinki says, when Minho's stops patting Jinki's shirt and sort of just has his hand resting on Jinki's stomach.

Minho straightens up and takes his hands away from Jinki. He doesn't move back though, just sort of hovers there in Jinki's space.

"I was going to ask you out for coffee, but we should probably pass on that," Minho says, frowning as he motions to Jinki's shirt. "Dinner's probably safer."

It takes Jinki a while to understand what Minho is saying. When he does, he's excited, heart pounding and hands shaking, for the second it takes him to remember government policy.

"I can't," Jinki says.

"Oh," Minho says, taking a step back and rolling his shoulders. "That's fine."

"You're not allowed to date your superiors," Jinki says, still half-expecting Minho to say he was joking.

"I don't work for you," Minho says stepping forward again, a small, pleased smile on his face.

"Forbes says that's why you quit," Jinki says, even as he takes his own step closer to Minho.

"Forbes lied," Minho tells him. "I'm not actually coming to work for you."

"Oh?" Jinki asks. "Then why did you quit?"

Minho shrugs, and he's close enough now that Jinki can pick out each of his individual eyelashes. "I wanted to do something else," he says, breath warm in the space between them.

"Oh," Jinki says again.

"Yeah," Minho answers.

He glances up at Jinki's eyes for a moment, makes sure that Jinki is looking at him before he looks down deliberately at Jinki's lips. Jinki inhales the too warm air between them, his own eyes flicking down to Minho's mouth.

"Like what?" Jinki asks, his voice little more than a whisper.

Minho doesn't answer. He just kisses Jinki, instead.

***

Why Lee Minho REALLY left Hyungs
Excerpt from People's Magazine

Ex-CEO of Hyungs, Lee Minho, was spotted getting cozy, with a mystery man, late last Saturday night. It became clear, through the course of the evening, that Mr. Lee's date was none other than Head of Parks and Recreation, Lee Jinki. The two looked cozy as they shared a meal before heading out to Mr. Lee's car.

***

"Does no one in this town have anything else to do besides be overly invested in their government?" Taemin asks.

"No," Kibum says. "It's a small town."

"And what does Minho dating Jinki have to do with Minho making Siwon COE of the company?" Taemin asks.

"Nothing," Jonghyun says. "Because now, all that happens is that Siwon has to do all the work and Minho gets paid to do nothing. Also, Jinki's too good for Minho."

But then Jonghyun looks over to where Jinki and Minho are sitting out in the courtyard, Jinki with his head thrown back as he laughs at something Minho said. And the more Jonghyun looks at them, at the way Jinki leans into Minho and the way Minho always has his arm around Jinki, the more Jonghyun is sure that they're good for each other. Even though, if anyone were to ask him, Jonghyun would never admit it out loud.

SSS 2014: For greasetastic_x

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 03:43:00 GMT

For: greasetastic_x
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: So Wrong Yet So Right
Pairing: Taemin/Key
Rating: Pg-13/R
Warnings: Mainly for Language
Authors’ Notes: Merry Christmas!!

“You need to get laid.”

With that Kim Kibum’s first luxurious sip of his caffeinated beverage was ruined as it went spraying across the starched white table cloth. He reached for his napkin and patted up the mess, all the while coughing and scowling at his longtime friend, Nam Woohyun. Who looked back at him unperturbed by the mess, the looks he attracted, nor Kibum’s annoyance.

“You’re scaring the interns and if I have to listen to another complaint from Krystal, going on about how you’re micromanaging and disrupting her workplace, I’m going to file a conduct report on your ass.”

He could too, which would cause Kibum a massive headache. Woohyun was the Head of Human Resources after all and Kibum didn’t get to his position as Director of Design for SHINe magazine by playing nice. He’s had more than one report made against him, outrageous allegations in his opinion, which took a while for the resulting gossip to die down to where they at least have the decency to wait until he actually leaves the room to talk about him.

“Lower your voice.” Kibum hissed, leaning forward and beckoning him to do the same. “I wouldn’t have to say anything to her if she actually turned her work in on time! I have nervous clients breathing down my neck, hounding the hell out of me for the conceptual designs. Which, if you did not know, is her responsibility! On top of that, the photographers are having some sort of fit, fucking Jonghyun-”

“That’s everyday work bullshit that you’ve dealt with and fought your way up from for the last ten years.” Woohyun interrupted, unsympathetic. “You can handle them and Jonghyun’s demands. That’s no excuse to harass them. Don’t roll your eyes! When you mess with them it means they’ll come and harass my people. It’s unnecessary.”

“Listen-”

“No. Your department has the lowest scores in Work Satisfaction this quarter! You’re too tense and you practically live at the office, when was the last time you had a vacation?”

“I can’t take a vacation now,” Kibum sighed, not surprised at the score. He had found the girl who carried the cloth samples crying in the back of the fabric storage unit one evening, dismayed that there was only navy blue instead of dark blue. He signaled for another cup.

They sat in silence and he spoke only after the waiter came and replaced his cup of coffee. “The Summer/Spring lines are about to be introduced and we’re gearing up for that. Anyway, I thought you said I needed to get laid?”

“Get laid or a vacation, preferably both at the same time. It might do you some good.”

“Vacations are out of the question and I’m not even seeing anyone right now.”

“One night stand?”

“Too cheesy.”

“I can set you up on a blind date.”

“Are you serious?” Kibum sneered at him. “I’ve seen who you associate with -outside of myself of course- and no.”

“Myung-”

“We promised we would never speak of him.”

Myungsoo was part of the Blind Date That Would Never be Mentioned Again category and the fact that Woohyun even tried left Kibum feeling affronted.

Woohyun only gave him a look, “I know what you like now, that won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Just no, no thank you.”

“Well, have you tried online dating?”

“That’s for socially awkward losers who can’t make connections with real life people. Do I look like a loser to you?”

“Well…”

“Shut up.”

“A date is a date, who cares where you get it from. There are a lot of people, professionals mind you, who date through there. It’s hard to meet people on the street now a days. It doesn’t have as bad of a reputation as you think.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you scared or something?”

“What? No, I just don’t want anyone I know, or work with, to know that I’m on there. If I do it that is.” He clarified.

Seeing that Kibum was wavering Woohyun told a little lie. “How do you think I met Howon?”

“I thought you met him during karaoke night at Infinity Bar?”

“Well yes, in person. I had asked him to meet me there. We were texting for a while before that though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kibum asked him suspiciously. Before Woohyun could speak he answered for him. “It’s embarrassing, I know.”

“That’s not it, okay well maybe a little, but you see how we are. It’s great and I’m glad I did it. I want it to happen for you too.”

Kibum had no words at that, they were great together. In fact he had never seen his friend happier. But still, online dating? The thought of going through that left a bad taste in his mouth.

“We all need someone to cuddle with.” Woohyun reminded him. “From what I remember you did like to cuddle.”

“I still do.”

“Then stop acting like a stuck up bitch and give it a try.”

“I’d rather try to meet someone in person.” Was Kibum’s weak defense.

“One look at your uptight face will have the poor bastard crossing the street out of fear for his safety. This way it’ll give you a fighting chance.”

“I resent that asshole.” He paused then asked. “The scores were that low?”

“Jinki’s concerned. It was the lowest our company has seen in a while.”

“Fuck.” When Jinki was concerned about team anything you would be able to put money on his suggestion to make it right.

“He thinking about doing an MT” They said at the same time. Kibum could only sigh in aggravation. He’d rather finish this actual project then go on a time wasting MT.

“He wants to have one for all the departments of course, he doesn’t want to single anyone out.”

Leave it to Jinki to at least be semi-kind in making him feel like a shitty manager. “His suggestion makes sense, I’m offended that you’re saying that I need some action.”

“Well you do. I’m talking to you as a friend. And as someone who wants to see my friend happy, I figure you’d need a more personal touch to relax.”

“Your wink is totally disgusting.”

~*~
It was late in the work day when Kibum sighed deeply and leaned back tiredly against his specially made swivel chair. Krystal had finally submitted her Proposal Board and he was going over it. Well, trying to anyway. He had all this work to complete but his thoughts kept wandering back to the conversation he had had with Woohyun earlier that week.

Online dating wasn’t too much of a ridiculous idea, he decided. There were plenty of people, attractive successful ones who did it. They were also able to meet their Mr/Mrs Right along the way. So why wouldn’t it work for him? Was he actually afraid? No, that didn’t feel right. It was more a feeling of mortification that his lack of a personal life was being attributed to his ‘bad attitude’. Still, it wasn’t like he should close himself off to possible love, right?

But it was so embarrassing!!

Kibum sighed again, “Dammit.”

He tossed the proposal onto his desk and reached for his phone. Punching the memorized extension he waited, cursing himself all the while. Kibum contemplated hanging up when the line clicked.

“Kibu-”

“Damn you!” He didn’t allow him to finish.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll do it. I’ll try it out.”

“Try what out… oh. Oh! Yes excellent!” Woohyun’s laughter filled the line and Kibum could only roll his eyes.

“Happy now?”

“Of course.”

“Whatever, I was just calling to let you know.”

“Awesome, I knew you’d see reason. That’s why I already set up an account for you.”

“You did what?!”

“I’ll give you the App to download. Don’t worry, I’ve already created your profile. It’s very flattering, if I do say so myself.”

Kibum was speechless.

“It’s the perfect site for you. Plenty of Seoul is a reputable site and it has a nice variety.”

Kibum didn’t know what to say so he could only repeat him. “Reputable?”

“Yeah, there are a bunch of sites that aren’t right for you. The ones for hook ups, the ones for the super religious and the ones for the super freaks.”

“Super frea-” If Woohyun was there in person he would have glared at him.

“Like I said, don’t worry. I have you covered. At this point, I know what you like.”

“The hell you do!”

There was a knock on Kibum’s door and his secretary cautiously poked her head in. “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but Mr. Kim is here to see you.”

He stared at her in disbelief until she began fidgeting, uncomfortable. “Send him in.” He instructed finally. “Just send me all the log in information via text. I’ll decide for myself if you’re right.” He said to Woohyun and disconnected the line.

“This is a bad time?” Kim Jonghyun smirked as he sauntered into his office, giving Kibum’s secretary a smile as he passed by.

“Yes actually, I’m looking over Krystal’s proposal. What do you want?” He watched as Jonghyun crossed the space and perched himself on the edge of his desk.

“Aww, Bum, No need for the hostility. That’s what I came in to check on actually.”

Kibum lent back in his chair with the full intention of ignoring him when his cell phone vibrated loudly. Unfortunately it was on his desk, closer to Jonghyun, who wasted no time in checking the message.

“Give me back my phone!”

“Plenty of Seoul?” He smiled widely. “I had no idea you were so lonely. I could’ve thrown you a bone ya’know.”

Kibum felt his face heating up in rage. He reached for his phone again and successfully yanked it out of his hands.

“Get out.”

“C’mon! I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that I’m not surprised.”

“Out!”

As soon as he saw Kibum round his desk, Jonghyun fled, laughter trailing behind him. This was not happening. By the end of the day everyone would know that he was online dating. Next time he saw him it wouldn’t be pretty.

~*~

It was nearing midnight when Kibum was ready to check his profile. He was able to leave the office today without anyone glancing at him sideways, thank God, but that didn’t mean he would be safe from any looks when he returned the next day. Even though he lived alone Kibum had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder as he typed in the web address. It was a simple site, with a neutral non-offensive header, proclaiming to be the site to cure loneliness.

Entering in his user name and password his profile page came up and he had to admit that his picture was a flattering one. It explained that he was looking for a relationship and the qualities he wanted in a partner. Which were pretty spot on. He hated to admit it but Woohyun had him down pact. He saw that his inbox was quite full and felt flattered at the attention. He spent the next couple of hours going through the men who had contacted him and the initial pleased feelings gave way to aggravation.

All these guys were strange! The ones that were on couldn’t even get through an initial greeting without demanding another picture. While quite a few were determined to send a picture of their dicks. Which would have been nice and all if they weren’t virtually strangers and over fifty. Kibum almost called it night when a message popped up.

ChoiS123: Hi Handsome.

Kibum went to his profile and found that he was very very handsome. He was four years older than him and from the multitude of pictures he had uploaded seem to be very fit.

BumKey923: Hello.

ChoiS123: My name is Choi Siwon. What’s yours?

BumKey923: Kim Kibum. You’re on here pretty late…

Kibum almost slapped himself for that comment, he was on late too! He hoped that he wouldn’t think that he thought he was odd or something. Which would make him look like a hypocrite.

ChoiS123: Haha yeah, I just got off of work and decided to check my account. Yourself?

BumKey923: I recently set up my account and I was just getting the hang of things. I’ve never done this before.

BumKey923: Online dating that is.

ChoiS123: I can see why. ;)

Maybe it was because it was so late but that winky face felt especially charming and Kibum was smiling as he typed in his reply. Eventually he was able to learn that Siwon sold Real Estate in the Gangnam area and that he had a younger sister. Also that, as suspected, he came from money.

ChoiS123: I feel very comfortable talking to you.

BumKey923: Me too.

ChoiS123: Maybe we should get together sometime?

Kibum pushed back from his desk and yelled out in delight, startling Commes Des and Garcon, his two small poodles who were dozing at his feet. He sat back down and quickly responded that he would love to and he was free during lunch next week.

“Daddy has a date.” He cooed, as he bent to pet his babies.

~*~

They decided to meet on Wednesday of the following week. Kibum had been able to finish up early so he had time to freshen up before he headed down to the coffee shop they had decided on. He stepped out of his office adjusting his burgundy pea coat lapel, and slicking down his hair, surprising his secretary.

“A-are you headed somewhere sir?”

“Yes, I’m off for some coffee.”

“Oh, I-I thought you had already meet with Mr. Nam, earlier this week?” She asked as she flipped through her calendar. Kibum had a standing ‘coffee date’ with Woohyun every Monday. Something that he hasn’t ever deviated from in the last two years since he became the Director of Design.

“I had, but this is something different.”

“Different? Prospective client?”

She’s so damn nosy. “No, it’s something personal. Hold my messages for me.”

“Yes sir.”

Kibum turned the corner before she could ask him anymore questions. He was in front of the elevator, checking himself out in the reflection when behind him he saw a flash of color. He turned and promptly bowed to his boss, Lee Jinki.

“I didn’t expect to see you on this floor.”

“Just had a meeting with a client.” He sighed, loosening his tie.

“Kyungsoo’s guy?”

“Yes, and he wasn’t as bad as they made him out to be.”

“That’s good.” Why was the elevator taking so long?! Kibum felt awkward trying to make small talk and kept avoiding Jinki’s eyes. Especially since the report had been printed out recently for all the managers to review and the follow up meeting had been painful for everyone.

“I heard you had a date today?” Jinki asked, smiling kindly.

Kibum started, ‘How the hell did he know?’

“Woohyun…” Jinki trailed off after noticing his expression. “I think it’s great.” He tried.

“Thanks.” Homicidal thoughts filled him for his friend. The elevator couldn’t get there fast enough.

~*~

Kibum wished that the date had been an excellent one. He wished that he had been swept off his feet by this seemingly prince-like man and that they were planning their future together. However, it wasn’t anything near the case. In fact, he had arrived early and waited for him. And waited. And then waited some more. And when he arrived, he looked nothing like the picture on his profile. Well everything was different except for the eyebrows.

Apparently he had gained a lot of weight due to work related stress and the pictures he had up were six years old. Kibum tried to look on the bright side but he didn’t think he did a great job of moving past that aspect. He didn’t like to think that he was a shallow person, but dammit, that gut.

Following him, Kibum has been on three more dates. The second guy, let’s just say that he was an odd one with a strong interest in insects. Intense too. He gave him the let’s just be friend, but not really, talk but that didn’t think work out to well. He still got random texts from this man. All unanswered of course, inquiring about his day. Kibum felt that he might need to get a restraining order on him if it continued on. The third man was, well he liked this one. A lot actually. He was an editor for a small online publication, mainly taking about South Korean politics.

He was smart, attractive, fashionable and very sexy. However, something about him came off as too interested in his social connections. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Kibum knew a lot of people and he had no issues in making connections happen for others. It just a bad taste in his mouth when the person he was interested in was more interested in who he knew. At least that was how he had come off. It didn’t sit well with him so he let that cool off. And to help with that he met with another man, who was a creative designer for the Etude make up brand.

He was more in the middle age category but he was attractive in the, nerdy guy who became successful, type of way. He was kind and sort of awkward. Apparently he hadn’t been on a date in two years. He also had that social climber feel to him but not to the extent of the one before him. Maybe this was a symptoms of working in this field he concluded after coming home from the Spring/Summer celebration party with more than a handful of business cards.

The kiss they shared at his door left much to be desired and it was safe to say that Kibum didn’t invite him in.

~*~

Woohyun came over one evening a couple of weeks later to ask him how everything was going. It was after dinner and he still hadn’t broached the subject. Every time he had tried Kibum would get shorter and shorter with his words. He sat on the couch with Commes Des in his lap and gratefully accepted his friends offer for a drink.

“So,” He trailed off after accepting the glass of red wine. “You’re still single.”

Kibum gave him an unreadable look. “I am and I think I’m done with this whole online dating thing. It’s just, not for me.”

“You’ve been on four dates.”

“Just because I’ve been on four dates doesn’t mean I’ve only spoken to four guys. Because that’s not true. In fact I’ve spoken with plenty of guys. More than you know and I’m tired of it all. It’s the same thing over and over again. There hasn’t been anyone who’s the right fit.”

“Maybe you can use it for the hook ups then?”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

Woohyun paused. “Oh… Oh really?”

“It’d be a waste not to take advantage of it. After countless dick pics you get curious.”

“Well, lucky you.”

“I’m not exactly proud of it but damn am I not complaining.” Kibum smiled at him shamelessly over the rim of his glass. Woohyun smiled back then shook his head when he started laughing.

“Wow, I don’t know why I’m shocked.”

“I never thought you to be the prudish sort.”

“I’m not, but why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want it to somehow get spread around the office.” Kibum shrugged.

Woohyun looked hurt. He set his glass down and held Commes Des closer. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not on purpose, but somehow, someone would find out. Maybe Jinki?”

“That was- he asked if I had spoken with you and it just came out! I already apologized to you over that.”

“Still, some things you just need to keep to yourself.” Kibum replied, taking a slow sip of his drink.

“Anyway” Woohyun said, dismissing the digression. “I think you should go on at least one more date. I mean to really see if you could find the one.”

Kibum was shaking his head before he even finished. “Somehow I’m kind of over this ‘the one’ nonsense. I can be totally happy on my own. Relationships bring drama. Hell, I had to put a restraining order on a guy! That shit is too much for me! I don’t want to wake up hog tied in some basement because someone got too attached. Fuck that.”

“Okay, that guy was weird. But he’s the one in a million- no, tens of millions- that is full blown crazy. Let me take a look and find someone for you.”

“You?”

“Of course!” He stood up and went to Kibum’s desk. He opened up his lap top and typed in the password he knew hadn’t changed since he had been there last.

“That’s an invasion of privacy, you know. I’ll call the cops then get you fired at work.”

“Who’d believe you?”

Kibum snorted and went to stand behind him. After Woohyun typed the web address, he elbowed him aside and signed in. He went back to his spot on his couch encouraging Garcon to hop up beside him as he let his friend go through his profile and prospects. Woohyun was quiet, clicking through the profiles and Kibum spent that time showing the dog some love.

It was after his third refill that Woohyun let out a small sound of delight.

“Find someone good?”

“I think I found someone perfect for you.” Interest piqued Kibum went to him and leaned over his shoulder peering at the profile he had up.

“A woman?” He gave Woohyun an amused look. “Well that certainly is different then what I’ve been going after. However the equipment is all wrong I’m sorry to say. She is gorgeous though.”

Woohyun rolled his eyes. “It’s a man. An androgynous looking one for sure but a man nevertheless. I thought you’d appreciate that type.”

“I do, for work, but to date? How old is he? He looks absurdly young.”

“21.”

“Too young. Waaay too young. That’s seven years younger than me! I’m not ready to be a sugar-daddy.”

“He’s a successful entrepreneur. His name is Lee Taemin and he created a tracking device for lost phones, keys and wallets/purses. Mr. Magic Hands. He was all over the papers a couple of years ago.”

“I sort of remember that.” Kibum said, a full cheeked smiling face came to mind. “He looks different.”

“Well he’s older now and he’s looking for some love.”

“Please stop winking.”

“I- well you- sent him a message and he just responded back!” Woohyun stood up and encouraged him to sit down. “Talk to him! He seems fun.”

“He’s a child. No way.”

“What would you lose by talking to him?”

“I told you I’m done with this online dating shit. Just leave it.”

“Talk to him! This is the last guy. If you want to live the rest of your life as a cat lady, fine. But at least try this guy. For me.”
Kibum and Woohyun had a mini stare off but eventually Kibum sighed and turned his attention to the conversation. He was reluctant to admit it but he was funny and cute. The age difference was something that he didn’t think he could get over but he did enjoy talking to him. With Woohyun’s encouragement they exchanged phone numbers, so they could text back and forth.

“Are you going to ask him out?”

“It’s too soon.”

“Too soon? He’s a catch! Young and has his own money! What are you waiting for?”

“Later.”

“But-”

“Later.” Kibum stressed, leaning back and stretching out. “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Let me take it slow this time.”

“But he could get snatched up.”

“At this point, do I look like I really give a shit?”

“Fine, if you’re still talking to him after a couple of weeks then I’m asking him out for you.”

“The hell you are.”

“I’ll strike when you least expect it.” Woohyun declared, downing the last of his drink.” It’s late and finding love for your pathetic self leaves me exhausted. You’re welcome.”

“Gee thanks. What would I ever do without you?” He deadpanned.

~*~

The next few weeks went by faster than Kibum realized. He kept an ongoing conversation with the guy, Lee Taemin, and found that he was refreshingly direct. Though he did sometimes come off a bit naive he enjoyed speaking with him. He was curious enough to wonder if they would have a physical connection so he finally accepted one of Taemin’s offers to meet him after work on Friday. It was at a new club/lounge called EXO Planet. Apparently a friend of his had recently opened it.

When asked, many of his employees had rave reviews for it. They said that it was a modern place and that the atmosphere was hip yet classy. Kibum went home and got ready for his date feeling surprisingly nervous. After changing his outfit -more than three times- he finally settled on super fitted trousers, which perfectly accentuated his ass, and a thin crew necked sweater that hugged his chest in the most perfect way. He’d been trying some fencing recently and he found that his upper body had started to develop some muscle to his delight. He swiped his coat, checked to make sure he had his wallet and blew a kiss to Commes Des and Garcon. He was out the door with time to spare.

He arrived early but it took him a while to get through the line. The cover charge was on the higher end of what he was accustomed to but considering the size of the crowd he was not surprised. Speaking of the crowd, this was a much younger one then he had anticipated. Like college students, everywhere. There was a loud and borderline rowdy birthday crowd in one corner and the bar had a thick throng of people vying for the attention of the bartenders.

He found an empty high top and pulled out his phone, texting Taemin letting him know that he was there. Glancing around the dimly lit area he appreciated the dark wood and the polished chrome. The long low leather couches towards the back of the room added a nice touch of sophistication. It had a good sexy atmosphere with the low lighting, it felt like anything could happen.

He was approached by a thin young man and he ordered a drink distractedly checking his phone to see if he received a response. The man blinked at him a couple of times and then disappeared with a smile. Taemin had yet to respond to him and he was beginning to feel disheartened. Maybe something had happened, he wouldn’t stand him up… would he? When his drink was set in front of him. He looked up ready to pay the man but saw that he was taking a seat across from him.

Kibum felt his brows gather together, did servers sit at the tables here? “I’m sorry but I’m waiting for someone…” He trailed off when he got a better look at him.

God he was beautiful. And hot, really fucking hot. And his date. This was Taemin.

“Oh…” Kibum felt hot around the collar,”Wow, well this is awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Taemin laughed. “I guess I can see how I’d be confused with a server.”

They were wearing black shirts and Taemin’s was a button down but Kibum would take it if it helped him save face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite recognize you.” Thank you, thank you, thank you he looked even better in person! “Your hair is shorter.”

Taemin ran a hand through the shiny strands, in that nonchalant way that the hot boys in high school used to do, and shrugged. “I got it cut recently. You dyed yours. I almost didn’t recognize you. But your pretty lips gave you away.”

That was so cheesy, why the hell was it working?!

Kibum felt himself flushing, well that answered the physical attraction question he had. He laughed feeling himself relax under the bizarrely endearing compliments he kept receiving.

“Would you like to take this to a more private place?” Taemin asked, eventually. “We’d be able to talk more. They’re about to start playing music.”

Kibum agreed and found himself walking down a row with curtain covered booths. The occupants were mere shadows, their conversations were muffled in this quiet area. Taemin gestured to an open booth and slid in after him closing the curtains behind him.

“This is much better. We can order more drinks by pressing this remote. It’ll call a server.” He explained putting the small remote within reach.

“You know a lot about this place.” Kibum observed.

“I’m an investor here. I helped Jongin, that’s the owner, with the design even though I’m shit at it.”

“You did a great job.”

It was Taemin’s turn to flush and he blinked a little more then usual at the praise as he shifted closer to him. Kibum wished he could say that afterward they had a very long and meaningful conversation. That they didn’t end up making out like teenagers for what felt like hours. That they drank a responsible amount and that they weren’t all over each other on the dance floor, because damn Taemin could dance. But that would be a lie and he wasn’t one to lie to himself.

They stumbled out of the club laughing over how they couldn’t seem to walk a straight line. While Kibum, the more sober of the two, tried to flag down a taxi Taemin buried his smiling face into his neck holding onto his coat.

“You smell amazing.” He slurred, full lips brushing against Kibum’s adams apple. “I could eat you all up.” He nipped gently. Kibum felt his knees weaken just a little.

“I don’t think your friend would appreciate that in front of his club.”

“Mmm, Don’t care.”

Before Kibum could respond a cab pulled up and he detached Taemin long enough to push him in. He followed after him and gave their addresses. They were both silent on the ride, Taemin’s head was on Kibum’s shoulder as he yawned widely. Looking positively adorable. Since Kibum’s apartment was closer he was dropped off first and he quietly said goodnight, giving Taemin’s hand a squeeze. He had made it to the lobby when he felt a cool hand slip into his.

“At least let me walk you to your door.” He insisted. Kibum rolled his eyes at his stubborn expression but pulled him into the elevator.

“And the cab?”

“I told him to keep the meter running.”

When they arrived all that Kibum was able to get out was that he had had a great time before he was walked back into the door and thoroughly kissed. Taemin’s lips were so soft against his and he didn’t think they’d ever stop until he heard the elevator ding. That was when they pulled apart, abashed.

“I’ll call you.”

“Mmhmm” Kibum leaned in and gave him a soft peck. Taemin was reluctant to pull away. He waved as he made his way back down the hallway.

~*~

“Tell me EVERYTHING!!!1!1” Was the message on Kibum’s phone that Monday morning. Well the last message anyway. There were plenty of, ‘Where are you’s?’ And one ‘Am I going to have to call the cops?’ but he for the most part ignored the other messages and just replied.

“See you at lunch.”

He arrived at their usual spot and was being seated when Woohyun swept in, hair lightly dusted with snow. “I can’t believe started snowing!” He exclaimed ruffling his hair. He let the server take his trench coat and tossed his gloves on the white table cloth. He gave Kibum impatient looks as he perused the menu and ordered his drink and pastry.

Kibum wouldn’t engage him in what he wanted to talk about until after the waiter left. It had Woohyun huffing in annoyance but eventually they were left alone and he jumped at the chance.

“Well?! Where the hell were you this weekend? I thought something had happened to you!”

“I was with Taemin.”

“Your boy toy?”

“He’s not my boy toy. But yes, him.”

“I thought you went out on Friday?”

“We did but he came and picked me up on Saturday to spend more time with me.” Kibum took a small sip of his drink watching Woohyun’s expression carefully.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you let that happen. You must have hit it off?”

“In a way I didn’t expect. Friday night was…” He trailed off, expression far away with a slight smile. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Anyway, Friday was very nice. So when he came back Saturday morning and said he wanted to take me to an amusement park. I couldn’t exactly say no.”

“An amusement park.”

“Yes, an amusement park.” Kibum sighed. “He’s a damn adrenaline junkie. I should have known. He wanted to ride all, and I mean ALL, the rollercoasters.”

Woohyun was laughing at his friend’s miserable expression. “You hate that shit!”

“I know, I told him so, eventually. But aside from the terror it wasn’t too bad.” He allowed.

“I’m glad you had a decent time. But I called on Sunday and I got no response from you.”

“I went to his place Saturday night. He offered to make me dinner.”

“Oh that’s nic-”

“No, it wasn’t. He can’t cook. At. All. He almost burned the house down trying to make a chicken pasta. We ended up ordering take out and watching movies. I ended up staying over. And no, nothing happened I was too exhausted.”

“And Sunday?”

“We went horseback riding.”

“Oh wow! Taemin has horses?”

“No his friend does, a Choi Minho. It wasn’t as glamorous as it seems. The barns smell to the high heavens and those horses have an attitude problem. Mine was evil. It had to be.”

“When I tried to dismount, it moved and I fell and bruised my tail bone.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, it hurts like a bitch to sit down.”

“It’s like one disaster after the other.”

“It kind of was. But you know what,” Kibum paused, fingers tracing the rim of his teacup. “I’d do it again.” He flushed after the quiet confession and Woohyun could only smiled at his friend.

“When are you seeing him again?”

“This coming weekend. We decided to go skiing.”

“Maybe you need to check your medical coverage to make sure you’re fully insured.”

Kibum could only laugh, “I just might do that.”

SSS 2014: For the community

replaymods — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 03:37:34 GMT

For: the community
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: If Only Magic Didn’t Exist
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: major character death
Authors’ Notes: so i have no idea where this came from there are some parts in here that might be like confusing or something and i’m sorry [my brain is fried and i tried to make this both as angsty and as fluffy as possible, but i think most of this is somewhere in between? idrk tbh]

Everyday, when the sun set, Jonghyun would always sneak away from HQ to the roof of a nearby library. It was supposed to be something romantic, something nostalgic, watching the sunset together. It’s not quite as romantic when those nights are interrupted with calls for help and quick escapes to avoid discovery. It’s not easy being a superhero or a supervillain, much less date each other, but those nights on the roof are the few times Jonghyun and Taemin can actually be together, so it’s something that Jonghyun looks forward to.

“I don’t think I can come next week,” Taemin says, leaning back on his arms with legs spread out before him in a V. He looks up at the sky, away from Jonghyun.

“Oh.” Jonghyun’s in the same position, but he glances at Taemin even when he knows not to ask. It’s an unspoken rule between them, but you can’t rat out information that you don’t have -- even if just implying something could reveal their relationship. “Then next month? The sixth?”

“Sure.”

Jonghyun keeps staring. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re too quiet.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve missed you.” Jonghyun sighs.

--[flashback: five years ago]--

The boarding school Jonghyun’s parents forced him to looked more like a resort than an educational center. The walls were so clean they almost shined under the light of the sun, the walls rising high above Jonghyun. This was a school for kids with superpowers, funded by the government, maybe it made sense to have a fancy place for such special children. Jonghyun’s parents sent him there for his last two years of high school, once he showed the slightest sign of having powers like they did. He looked forward to it.

“Kim Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun’s head snaps down to meet the owner of the voice. “That would be me.”

“I know.” The kid stares at him blankly. He wears his clothes like they are fashion accessories, with nothing to accentuate them. Jonghyun has read the rulebook, he knows that excessive jewelry is not allowed (excessive meaning more than one of the same kind), but this kid wear the school regulated uniform as stylishly as possible. “Call me Key. Personal preference, don’t ask, as there’s not much to tell. Come with me.”

Key turns and starts walking away, stopping only to glance back at Jonghyun at the doors to the building. “We’re going to the library for your ID and info packet. All it has is your schedule and some boring background of the school. Classes depend mostly on individual power or power grouping but we have a few core classes that everybody has to take. You’ll be assigned a new schedule once you specialize, after you test for it, so for now you just have some informational classes. I’ll try to show you around to each class or fit in a tour of the campus some time today, but there will always be someone to help you if you need it. Just look for someone with a blue tie, like mine. Any questions?”

The first one that comes to Jonghyun’s mind is, “What’s your power?”

“Air,” Key replies instantly. “Look at my eyes, see the silver? Did your parents not teach you this?” He turns around and starts walking backward to show Jonghyun. “Water users have blue specks. Earth is green, fire is red. Undetermined power can be either a mix of them, if you haven’t specialized yet, or none of them, if your powers haven’t shown up yet.”

“Oh.” Jonghyun nods.

Key turns back around, stopping almost immediately after. “The library,” he introduces the double doors, though there’s a sign above them pointing it out as well. “It’s open as long as the school is open, sometimes a bit later it the librarians are here. Mostly used for leisure reading or studying.”

It almost seems quieter in the library than in the hallway. Jonghyun subconsciously lightens his step, though the plush carpet seems to muffle any sound well enough.

“New student,” Key tells the librarian sitting at behind the desk. “Kim Jonghyun.”

She nods, typing something into the computer. Then she looks at Jonghyun, gesturing a camera pointed at a blank space of wall behind the counter. “Back against the wall and look into the camera. We need a picture to keep on file.”

Jonghyun complies, wondering if he should smile. The librarian takes the picture before he can decide. She nods at him and he moves back to stand beside Key.

There’s a silence that nobody breaks until the librarian hands Jonghyun a folder of paper and a pin with his name on it. “Everything you need should be in here. I’m sure Key has briefed you on everything else.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun replies, taking the packet and bowing as Key leads them out.

“You have Powers now, right?” Key asks, gesturing to the folder.

Jonghyun flips it open, finding the schedule right on top. Beneath it is a map of the school Jonghyun glances at only briefly. “Fifth block? The Specifics of Superpowers?”

“Yeah. ‘Powers’ for short. We have lunch after this. You can eat anywhere you want, but I’ll come by just in case you don’t make any friends.”

Jonghyun doesn’t know whether to be thankful or offended, so he settles on saying “thanks” very sarcastically.

To Key’s credit, when they meet again an hour or so later, Jonghyun is just as friendless as he was when he arrived, unless you count Kibum as a friend.

To his surprise, Key smiles a bit, half in sympathy, half in amusement. “You can sit with me and my friends.”

“Are you all Student Council nerds?” Jonghyun teases.

“No, it’s only me and Jinki,” Key replies. “You’ll meet them soon.” He leads Jonghyun first to the cafeteria to get food, then they walk out to the courtyard.

“Hyung!”

Key brightens at the voice. Jonghyun decides that this must be one of Key’s friends and look over to see a boy younger than them, probably a freshman, maybe younger, waving at them from a table of five seats. It isn’t until they get closer that Jonghyun notices what’s odd about him.

“His eyes,” Jonghyun whispers. “They’re golden.”

Key glances over at him. “Taemin? Yeah. He has a special power.”

--[timeskip: back to present]--

“You should come away with me,” Taemin proposes. “Get away from the system. It’s broken and corrupt and you’re being trapped and manipulated, Jjong.”

Jonghyun’s eyes widen in surprise, and he’s speechless as Taemin continues.

“What good is it to fight ‘bad guys’ when we aren’t even bad, Jonghyun? It’s the media, it’s the city’s heroes who are trying to make us look like villains. They’re just using you, Jonghyun. You have to trust me. Come with me,” Taemin presses, clutching Jonghyun’s arms and staring at him urgently with wide, distressed eyes.

“Taemin.” Jonghyun almost chokes on the name. “What happened? What did they do to you?”

Abruptly, Taemin breaks away, backing up. “They didn’t do anything to me. They told me the truth. They proved it to me. Jonghyun, you need to get out of that place.” He turns around and says one final thing before hurrying away. “I don’t think we should meet anymore.”

Jonghyun stays on the roof longer than he should, thinking and not thinking, until he thinks he’s going to explode, until Kibum comes looking for him.

--[flashback: three years ago]--

When Jonghyun passes his final test of power, the first thing Taemin says to him is, “Took you long enough.”

Jonghyun flashes him a grin and throws an arm around his neck. “Love you too.” There’s a light sheen of sweat on Jonghyun’s neck and forehead, and Taemin covers his head with a towel, slipping out of his grasp.

“Get on my level,” Taemin retorts. “Passed this as a freshman.”

“Well that’s cause you’re,” Jonghyun pauses for dramatic effect, “special.”

Taemin fakes a sigh at him, long used to the name. “Where’s Key-hyung?”

Jonghyun looks at the door of the testing room. “I don’t know. He said he’d be here. Minho and Jinki-hyung, too.”

“Should we go look for them?” Taemin isn’t worried too much. Their friends can take care of themselves, even if missing Jonghyun’s test is kind of a big thing.

“Wait, Taemin.” Jonghyun takes a deep breath, though the heavy breathing from after the test had evened out minutes ago. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” Taemin blinks, normally Jonghyun doesn’t ask for permission like this.

“I, uh, I thought I should wait to tell you, but I figure now is as good of a time as ever, and I’m still kind of on the high of passing, but I like you. As in, like like you.” It comes out faster than Jonghyun intended, probably making him seem lame, and he cringes.

Taemin stops moving, just staring at Jonghyun. Finally, he says, “Really? You like me? Key didn’t put you up to this, did he? If he did, I’m going to kill him.”

“Wait,” Jonghyun looks at Taemin, hoping. “Why would you think Key made me do this?”

“Cause, like, last week, I told him that I liked you, and he gave me this Cheshire grin and continued with our conversation like I hadn’t just told him my biggest secret for the past two years,” Taemin rambles, looking away from Jonghyun’s face.

“You like me back?” Jonghyun can’t help grinning. “I swear Key never told me anything.”

“Really?” Taemin glances up, quickly. “That’s a relief.”

“‘That’s a relief’”? Jonghyun echoes. He laughs and envelopes Taemin in a hug. “I’d kiss you, but too soon?”

“Maybe a bit,” Taemin agrees. Jonghyun can hear the smile in his voice.

--[flashback: two years ago, at graduation]--

“Jonghyun!” Key pulls him to the side, dragging him out of the line leading up to the stage. “So in a few minutes, or maybe more than a few minutes, you’re going to hear my real name which is Kim Kibum and I was just thinking about it and I figured I should tell you because how much would it suck to hear your best friend’s real name for the first time at your graduation ceremony?”

Jonghyun’s eyes widen. “Kim Kibum? As in, the Kim Kibum?”

“No, but that’s kinda why I just went by Key.” Key cringes. “Not that I have anything against that Kim Kibum, but everyone would always look at me weirdly. I blame him for never showing his face in public. There’s no way I could be him, for many many reasons. You can call me Kibum if you want. As long as it’s clear.”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun chuckles. “I guess. But I’ve been calling you Key for the past three years.”

Key shrugs. “Just whatever makes you comfortable, okay?” He gives Jonghyun a smile and pushes him back towards his place in line just as their principle takes the mic.

Jonghyun’s always been a pretty sentimental person, closely treasuring precious moments with his friends, so he can’t help the smile that lingers on his face after he takes his place again.

When he’s on the stage, receiving his diploma, his eyes search for Taemin in the crowd. He’s easy to find, a huge grin on his face watching Jonghyun, Kibum, and Minho graduate, and Jinki sits next to him, clapping loudly wearing a similar grin. Giving them a wave, he looks eagerly for his family.

They’re all wearing proud smiles and clapping, and Jonghyun thinks that his eyes might be tearing up.

He walks off the stage with the past three years running in a slideshow through his head, and he just might be actually crying when he reaches his seat to watch the rest of the ceremony.

--[timeskip: present]--

This would be the longest time Jonghyun has ever gone without seeing Taemin. Five months, and counting. Kibum is the only one who really knows what’s going on when Jonghyun retreats into his shell of emptiness, doing nothing but staring off into space. It’s starting to get less frequent around the fifth month, but maybe Jonghyun’s just getting better at hiding it.

“Jjong,” Kibum hands him a paper. “They want us on this job. We pretty much know where and when this pair is going to stop tonight so be ready.”

“Thanks, Kibum.” Jonghyun started called Key by his real name after Taemin left them, siding with everything that they had all fought against, once upon a time. In all honesty, Jonghyun should have stopped their relationship then and there, but they were young and in love and at least the latter part had been proven these last two years.

Things would never be the same. And that was that.

Jonghyun and Kibum stay at HQ all day, not bothering to go home just to come back later, especially when they have everything they need at easy access.

“How long has it been since we’ve last been on a job together?” Kibum asks a few minute before they’re supposed to head out. His eyes are glued to the clock, but his attention is fully on Jonghyun.

“I don’t know.” Jonghyun hasn’t really thought about it. It surprises him, a bit. “A couple of months? It’s mostly been solo work for us, not to mention the decrease in crime for the past few months. It never crossed my mind.”

“I guess we just spend too much time together,” Kibum laughs.

Jonghyun nods in agreement.

“You wanna leave now? We should be there early.”

“It’s a shady bar, I don’t even want to go.”

Said shady bar is in an equally shady neighborhood, and while Jonghyun has confidence in their powers, he’d never felt at home in places like this. Luckily, it shouldn’t take long at all, just round up two small bad guys and go. There wasn’t even any powers on file for either target, Jonghyun alone could have taken this job.

“Want a drink?” Kibum suggests teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows at Jonghyun. “I’ll buy.”

Jonghyun rolls his eyes. “Let the record show that you’re the one suggesting this.”

“Look busy, Jjong. Don’t actually drink. Not on the job. But fit in.”

Jonghyun nods. “Just get me anything.”

“Anything but drunk, am I right?” Kibum laughs as he turns to the bartender.

Jonghyun keeps his eyes on the door, unusually tense. He feels off somehow, but he tries ignoring it by focusing on his job. He and Kibum share some meaningless chatter, both of their attentions fixed on the door.

“Do those guys look like our guys to you?” Kibum asks Jonghyun, gesturing to a quiet pair at one of the booths near the wall.

Jonghyun sees them and thinks, and he’s about to reply when someone passes their table and Jonghyun’s eyes catch a small movement. “Did they just get slipped something? It’s definitely them.”

“Time to tail them?” Kibum suggests. Jonghyun nods and slides off the bar chair, keeping his eyes on the targets as they also get up and walk out.

Jonghyun follows them into the frigid night air, a couple degrees colder than when he had first entered the club, and snuggles into his coat as he walks briskly behind the two men. For the first block or two, he lets himself be visible to them and watches as they walk along like normal people, then he slips into the shadows, pretending to have turned a corner.

From there, he can see their carefulness in not being followed, constantly looking behind them and taking back alleys and four turns in the same direction. It’s a maze of trails, all mixed together, and Jonghyun’s only hope of escape is following the pair to their final destination.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been wandering around, when he starts doubting. What if this was the wrong pair, who were just going around in circles because they’ve been lost this whole time? What if they were the ones giving someone else something, not the ones receiving it?

But his doubts are dispelled when they finally stop at a building, entering through the side.

Jonghyun follows a beat after.

There’s no security, so Jonghyun figures the place isn’t a permanent hideout, just a temporary location for the exchange, and he decides to lay low until he can find out the purpose of the whole plan. He can’t help but wonder what the grand scheme of everything is, but those thoughts are quickly pushed away. He can’t afford to be distracted now.

Soon after he enters the building, someone else does too. A lone figure, approaching the only other people in the building, aside from Jonghyun himself.

The man is someone familiar, Jonghyun almost can’t believe it.

He listens to their exchange, all the while his head going at full speed trying to comprehend everything and put it together. Eventually, when Taemin has slipped them some cash and received a small pouch in return, Jonghyun steps out.

“National Superheroes Association, put your hands up and don’t move.” Jonghyun has his hands raised to quickly access his powers, if they don’t cooperate. But he knows that even he can’t beat Taemin without help, and a lot of it.

The two underlings, Jonghyun supposes, not really connected to Taemin’s association, just pawns in a plan, cower a bit. Jonghyun makes a sphere of water to demonstrate his abilities, and then they’re as good as gone. He shifts his attention to Taemin.

“Taemin, I’m sorry, but I’m on the job and I can’t let you go,” Jonghyun says. He keeps his voice steady despite his conflicting emotions. “Please go gently, I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Taemin stops, straightens, his back to Jonghyun, and then he speaks and his words stop Jonghyun in his tracks. “I’m sorry, but who are you?” When Taemin turns around, Jonghyun’s ball of water dissipates and he stares in horror at Taemin’s solid golden eyes.

“Taemin.” Jonghyun’s voice trembles, even though he wills it not to.

“That’s me,” Taemin looks more confused than scared. “But how do I know you?”

All Jonghyun can say is, “Taemin. What did they do to you?”

“I’m sorry, but you said you were from the NSA, right? I can’t be caught, you understand. I’m going to have to subdue you. Please don’t fight, that’d only make it worse for you.”

This is definitely not going like it was supposed to, Jonghyun can’t help but think. This was supposed to be an easy job. He should’ve gotten the targets assigned to him before they had reached this point. Now, it was too late.

“Taemin. You aren’t yourself. Please wake up. I don’t want to fight you.” Jonghyun’s on the verge of begging. But he knows that if Taemin doesn’t listen to this, then he has no choice but to fight.

He regrets every moment of it, using any and all the water available to him but his own. It means killing what few plants are in the room, taking water from pipes, from the ground, from the atmosphere. He even tries for Taemin’s own body fluids, as a last resort. But every attempt gets deflected, and it ends with Jonghyun on the floor and Taemin standing unscathed.

He’s gotten stronger, is what Jonghyun thinks when he sees the stream of light aiming right for his heart.

By the time Taemin comes to his senses, it’s too late. His eyes turn back to their normal brown-black, with flecks of gold, but he watches in horror as Jonghyun tries to move, but is hit in the chest with a power only he has.

“Jonghyun! Jonghyun?” Taemin runs to his side, kneeling down beside him, hands fitting over his head and torso. “Oh my god, Jonghyun. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Taemin?” Jonghyun’s coughing blood, Taemin shushes him. “I…”

“Don’t talk.” Taemin doesn’t know what to do. all of a sudden he’s a frightened thirteen year old again, finding out for the first time what he can do, and it’s something too dangerous and powerful for him to control. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” Jonghyun whispers. “Love you.”

Taemin can feel the life slipping out of Jonghyun, little by little, and cradles his head in his arms. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry. I can’t even save you. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m sorry.” His voice breaks on the last word, tears slipping out and falling on Jonghyun’s lifeless body.

In another world, another lifetime, maybe Taemin could have saved Jonghyun. He could have never been tempted by the promise of control, of freedom, of things that seemed like heaven but ended up being lies. He never would have left Jonghyun. He would have been a superhero instead of supervillain and Jonghyun wouldn’t have died at his hand.

In another world, another lifetime, maybe Taemin wouldn’t have fallen in love with Jonghyun. Maybe they would have lived happily, as normal humans, as friends. They both would have fallen in love with someone else, wouldn’t have to hide their relationship. In another world, it could be perfect. Jonghyun would not have died because of Taemin.

Kibum arrives at the scene a moment too late. Taemin doesn’t look up at him, doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Jonghyun.” Kibum’s voice is a whisper and a yell. “Taemin, what happened?” He stumbles a bit, seeing the bloodied and lifeless form of his best friend, in the arms of the person who used to be another one of his best friends.

All Taemin can do is sob quietly, breaths racking his body. Kibum hasn’t processed the shock of it, blocking everything out to call an ambulance.

But they get to the building to find Kibum on the floor beside Taemin, tears dripping down his face without his knowledge.

Kim Jonghyun is pronounced dead on the spot, cause of death: magic.

SSS 2014: For mrowmraw

replaymods — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:31:00 GMT

For: mrowmraw
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Les yeux de bouillon
Pairing: Key/Taemin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angry sex
Authors’ Notes: ♥ ♥ Merry Christmas!

Kibum was standing in his darkened, spotless restaurant kitchen, a sense of pride filling him. Mind you, he hadn’t been the one to clean it, but it still felt like his achievement; after all, restaurant kitchens were like a ship, doomed to go down without its captain. And that’s what Kibum was to this particular ship; its captain, the chef, the one all looked up to. Within these set of walls, he might as well have been the master of the universe.

The fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead, ever so slowly, seemingly having trouble waking up for the day. Kibum turned and watched his sous-chef walk in, her stern face framed by her waist-length hair. She’d tie it up once food preparations began, in a neat little knot, but right now she was still in civilian mode.

“Hi chef,” she said in a hoarse voice, bowing half-heartedly. Kibum could see the pain it was causing her, and he smiled indulgently – it had been a late evening the night before, with one last glass of wine followed by one more, and the hangover was written all over her face. Kibum had also woken up hungover, but a strip of painkillers had taken care of that, and by now he was so fresh-faced, he might as well have turned up from a week-long cleanse.

“Good morning, Minjung. Could you check on the fond before you suit up?” Today was fond day, the term Kibum liked using for the stock that served as the basis of most of the soups and sauces the restaurant prepared, and which had to be left to boil for at least sixteen hours. It had been set up by a commis, an aid who belonged to the lowest rank in the kitchen, but the finishing touches could only be made by either Minjung or the saucier, the kitchen’s third-in-command.

“Sure,” Minjung croaked, walking over to a pot she could easily have fit into, and getting out a ladle the size of a baby’s head. She lifted out one of the bones which had been left to simmer, inspecting it before tearing off a small piece of meat that still clung to it, and popping it into her mouth.

“Good?” Kibum smiled, and Minjung grinned.

“No, it’s terrible.”

“Oh,” Kibum responded, suddenly feeling a little out of depth.

“Which should mean it’s done…” Minjung murmured after a few seconds, her attention already back on the broth. Kibum sighed a quiet sigh of relief: she thought he’d been joking.

He watched her grab one of the tasting spoons from the designated bucket to try some of the liquid. There was another bucket right next to it, an empty one, where the used tasting spoons went, and she flicked hers into it, the first one of the day, and hummed in satisfaction. “Shit, it’s perfect. Today is going to be a good day. I’ll have Junghee sieve this when she shows up.” The taste of broth cooked to perfection seemed to have given her a morale booster, because she began setting up her station in a much perkier mood.

Right, Kibum thought, all of the meat’s flavour has gone into the broth. Psh, I knew that.

“Did you see today’s Wine & Dine? Their new restaurant critic wrote a preliminary snippet on us. He said he’d be visiting later this week.”

“What? No! Did you bring a copy?” Kibum asked, instantly reduced to a ball of nerves. He’d only recently taken over this kitchen – after being recommended by the previous head chef, who also happened to be his uncle – and this review was to be his first.

“Hm-m, it’s in my bag. I dog-eared the page.”

Kibum retrieved the magazine anxiously, opening it up and reading while standing perfectly still.

Les Yeux du Bouillon (previously rated ✪✪✪✪½) – LEE T.

This renowned beacon of French culinary tradition recently acquired a new chef, and so the reviewer must confess he is dying to find out what vision this newcomer has in store for Les Yeux du Bouillon. A secret visit will be made this coming week; expect a salient review in our next issue!

Minjung gave him a fright when her voice came from right behind his ear, but he managed to compose himself before she noticed. “Kind of sensationalist, huh? And he wrote the name wrong.”

“Did he?” Kibum said, trying to keep his tone light.

Minjung nodded: “Yeah, we don’t capitalize anything but the first word. You’ve never noticed? It’s to uphold the French way.” She shrugged, turning away while tying her hair up in a bun. “That guy kind of sounds like an amateur to me.”

Psh, yeah, what an amateur, Kibum thought, but he could tell Minjung was being overly casual and nitpicking the small things to hide her nervousness; it was easy to pick up on, because he felt precisely the same way.

--

By the time the end of the week rolled around, Kibum was a nervous wreck. Every evening following that day, he had obsessively scanned the dining room, and poured over the reservation book, trying to figure out which reservation might belong to the critic. Would he have made a reservation under Lee, or picked a different name on purpose? Or would he have anticipated that the restaurant would anticipate a different name and made the reservation under Lee after all? But Lee was a popular surname, which unfortunately meant there were three different reservations under Lee that week.

Every time a Lee table was about to arrive, Kibum could be found hovering near the kitchen doors, chewing his thumb anxiously.

“Chef, don’t worry about it,” Eunsook said in an encouraging tone, patting his shoulder, “we’ll just make sure every dish leaving the kitchen is perfect. Like we always do.”

Eunsook was the dessert cook, and one of the shining stars of the restaurant’s good reputation; her chocolate truffles, soufflés and cakes had been dazzling guests for years and years, ever since she started out under his uncle a decade ago. Kibum gave her a fond look.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Chef!” said another voice, a little shrill. It was Junghee, the saucier, standing on the tips of her toes to look through one of the porthole-style windows in the kitchen doors – Kibum really liked those windows, because they increased his sense that he was commanding a ship – while fixing a strand of her hair that had fallen into her face. “The Lee table is here.”

Junghee was the only other kitchen member that had been openly showing her nerves all week, and Kibum was thankful for it, because it made him feel less alone (and less daft).

He stared through the other window with wide eyes, the nail of his thumb trapped firmly between his teeth; the last two Lee reservations had turned out to be parties consisting of exclusively women, which meant the critic couldn’t be amongst them, since he had revealed himself to be a male. Maybe that had been just a distraction tactic, though, Kibum thought suddenly, maybe it’s a woman after all.

“What if it was a woman after all?” he said aloud, grabbing Junghee’s shoulders and squeezing them. “What if she’s already been? What if she hated the food?”

“Chef, calm down,” Junghee squeaked, but it took the calm interference of Eunsook to save her from his clutches.

“No, it’s a guy, I found his picture online.” The dessert cook was holding up her phone next to her face, which displayed an image of an unreasonably attractive man, and Kibum took the device from her with trembling fingers. Junghee had gone back to her station, not up for another round of human stress ball.

“He’s here,” Kibum said faintly, becoming somewhat pale around the nose. “I just saw him come in, he’s in the Lee party.” He looked back out the window, studying the guy. “That bastard made a reservation under his own name…. the audacity,” he whispered dramatically.

“Don’t worry,” Eunsook said soothingly, leading him deeper into the kitchen, “just relax. We know who he is now, that’s good, right? We’ll give him the best service imaginable, and we’ll get a great rating. Like we always do. Okay? So breathe.”

“Alright,” Kibum said, and he took a deep breath, and felt a little better.

--

The Lee table had showed up towards the end of service, which meant they were still there when the final dishes were being brought out. This should have been the moment where they paid and left, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly, ordering a steady flow of the house wine while they chattered and laughed, the volume of their laughter increasing as the volume of wine they’d consumed increased. Kibum couldn’t be sure, but if he had to guess, he’d say the critic had come with his parents and either a sibling or a friend – he wanted to say friend, because the second guy seemed to treat the older couple with an amount of respect more fitting of non-relative. Then again, Kibum had always been exceedingly stiff around his own family, with the exception of his grandparents, so what did he know. He watched both young men laughing and exchanging jokes, while the parents looked on with smiles, and wondered if he would’ve enjoyed having a brother.

Slowly, the kitchen went through its final stages for the evening; the open flames underneath the ovens were being shut down, along with the gas stoves, pots and pans were being left in suds so the cleaning crew would have an easier time of it the following morning, and left-over ingredients, such as half pieces of truffles, were being carefully packaged and stored away in the walk-in fridge, so they might serve again tomorrow. Kibum took note of all of it, and thanked staff members as they said their goodbyes for the evening, but the presence of the critic was a continuous nag at the back of his mind. It felt like he was flaunting his presence in Kibum’s face.

They seem to be enjoying themselves, at least. That’s good, right? That’s a good sign.

By the time the Lee table rose to their feet, Kibum and Minjung were the only ones left in the restaurant. They’d told the bartender to go home, and Minjung had been the one to bring out the final bottle of wine to the table, still dressed in her chef gear, at which point the elderly man had apologized, saying closing time had crept up on them and they’d take the bottle home instead. He came up to the registry, smiling at Kibum as he paid.

“I hope everything was satisfactory?” Kibum asked politely, just barely managing to keep his tone light and pleasant, instead of betraying how desperate he felt for a hint.

“Oh, it was marvellous! My wife and I adore this place, we come here frequently. Please give the chef my compliments,” the man said, his words only slightly slurred.

“That’s me now, actually,” Kibum said, a small spark of pride filling his chest.

“What, it’s you?” The man seemed surprised only for a moment, going back to smiling and nodding. “Oh, yes, yes, I see it now. My son, Taemin, has been saying a new head chef had been appointed. Well, congratulations. You’ve upheld the style of the place perfectly.”

At that moment the critic appeared, patting the man on the shoulder. “Dad, enough about the tenderness of the potatoes. Although I must say, chef, your pommes maximes were cut and cooked to perfection.”

“Thank you,” Kibum said, a heavy sense of relief going through his system. They loved it. Everything is going to be okay.

Taemin and his father returned to their little group, and the four said their polite goodbyes to Minjung before exiting the restaurant. Minjung gave him a tired smile.

“They seemed happy.”

“They did, didn’t they? Jesus fuck, I feel so relieved.”

Minjung laughed, coming over and giving him an encouraging pat on the arm. “That first review is nerve-wrecking, I know. We’ve all been there. Listen, chef, go home; I’ll lock up. Go to bed early tonight. Get some rest.”

Under different circumstances, Kibum would have refused sternly – the captain should be the last to leave the ship. But Minjung was capable, and his feet and legs hurt from standing on them all day, and he’d been sleeping awfully all week, no matter how many sleeping pills he’d thrown back. If there was ever a time where he could use a little coddling, it was now.

“Alright, yeah. Yeah. I mean, we’ve done all we could, right? At this point, whatever will come, will come.”

“Exactly. Night, chef.”

He went back into the kitchen, ridding himself of his white chef coat and the black trousers everyone wore, and getting back into his own button down shirt and jeans, humming while he did up the buttons. He picked up his long winter coat on the way out, using the restaurant’s back exit, and shrugged it on as he stepped into the chilly night air.

He liked the set of alleys stretching out behind the restaurant, mainly because they were relatively free of stores and their tacky Christmas decorations, and the even tackier couples that were inevitably attracted to them, which meant he could walk home without distractions. He didn’t like Seoul much around this time of year, it felt like the whole city became an unrecognizable Westernized–

He loses track of his thoughts when he suddenly notices two figures ahead. This in itself wasn’t that odd, but the fact that they were passionately entangled made it odd; this neighbourhood wasn’t exactly overflowing with romance, not even the seedy, love hotel kind, so why would a guy bring his girl here.

The couple broke apart, their heavy breaths visible in the winter air, and Kibum stood quietly, hoping this would mean the end to their rendezvous and he could pass them by unnoticed once they’d said their goodbyes.

His wish seemed to be coming through, because after one final kiss the taller figure turned and started walking towards him, the girl going into the other direction. The tucked his face into the collar of his coat and picked up his pace again, carefully avoiding the guy’s eyes to save them both from further embarrassment. As he kept walking, he realized he was catching up to the girl, who seemed to be having trouble keeping herself upright, occasionally leaning against the walls of the alley.

Oh no, Kibum thought, immediately losing himself in the most dramatic possible explanation; what if she’s been drugged by her so-called lover? What if this is all a set-up, and he’s doubled back and is lying in wait to take advantage of her? I mean, probably not, but you never know. Should I check on her? Would that be weird? Yes, that would be weird, that would definitely be weird. I should just mind my own business. And watch less bad dramas.

But when he caught up with her, he couldn’t help but throw her a subtle glance, trying to make sure she was going to make it home in one piece.

“Y-you,” the girl said, sounding almost disgusted. Kibum blinked, shocked to be spoken to with such familiarity by a stranger.

Only it wasn’t a stranger. Or a girl. It was the critic.

“Taemin,” Kibum blurted, surprised to be face to face with the person he’d been spending his every waking thought on for the last six days, and who he’d spent the majority of the evening staring at. But that charming, pleasant-to-look-at person was gone now, replaced by an angry young man.

“How do you know my name? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Kibum blinked again. “Excuse me?”

“Did you follow us here?” the critic demanded to know, his voice dripping with venom. “Did you think that would be a funny thing to do?”

“What?! No, of course not! I’m just on my way home, I live around the corner.”

Taemin was swaying from side to side at this point, having to exert visible effort to get his words to come out. “Don’t act all innocent, you two-bit chef. Do you get off on this? Man, I know what you’re up to, you’re trying to out me, and ruin me, so I can’t write the truth about you. Well it’s not going to work, you can’t silence me. I don’t give a shit. And neither does Jongin.”

It clicked for Kibum, and he opened his mouth, briefly stunned, trying to find the words. He’s not angry, he’s scared to death. He’s freaking gay.

“No, I… wait, did you just insult me?”

“You know it,” Taemin slurred proudly, his menacing tone only slightly undermined by the fact that he was holding himself upright with the help of a window sill. “Don’t think for a second that me having had the displeasure of meeting the chef behind the dishes will change anything about my review, because it won’t.” He put a fist to his chest, squinting. “Because I have integrity, man. Something you could use a little more of.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Kibum sneered, finally starting to become angry. Who did this guy think he was? Kibum ran his own restaurant, what the hell did Taemin do? Write evil things for an evil publication, that’s what.

“I’m saying you’re a fraud,” Taemin spat. “Pommes maximes? Please. There were no pommes maximes in our dishes. Which you would’ve known, if you had any actual knowledge of French cuisine.”

Kibum paled.

“Yeah, that’s right. I know about you.” He was smug now, drunk-smug, which was the ugliest kind of smug in the chef’s opinion.

It took him a couple of seconds to find his voice. “Whatever you were told, it’s not true.”

“Hey man, no one told me anything. It’s called research, which I do, because I’m a journalist. I checked, and guess what, no culinary school has you listed as a graduate. And to think I just wanted to know so I could put ‘graduated from ___’ in my article, otherwise I would never have known. How has your staff not figured it out yet? Are they blinded by you traipsing around looking pretty, or honour-bound by their loyalty to your uncle?”

“Stop it,” Kibum said, frowning. This guy was now properly hurting his feelings. It sucked. “I trained underneath my uncle. I’ve received training.”

“Man, stop lying, you’ve been working at your parents’ fish shop since you dropped out of high school; and now the golden geese has paid off, and you’ve nestled in its egg.” Taemin shook his head slowly. “You should be ashamed of yourself, you know that right? You’re a sham, and a disgrace to your uncle’s restaurant’s good name.”

Kibum reached out, grabbing Taemin’s face and squeezing it harshly.

“Please, stop. Stop saying rude, hurtful things. You don’t know me, you don’t know why I’ve done the things I’ve done. But I would never out you, okay? And you can write the truth about me, if you want, but I’d really prefer you’d let me quit my job first. My staff are good people, and they are good at what they do, really really good, and I don’t want to ruin their livelihood.”

Taemin slowly opened his mouth, but then closed it again, finally at a loss for words. Or maybe the alcohol was starting to catch up with him; he looked even worse off than he did at the beginning of their conversation. Absolutely sloshed, in fact. Kibum released him. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going home, and enjoy my last night as chef.”

Taemin promptly sank down to the ground when he was released, because he hadn’t been holding himself up anymore. “You have integrity… who fucking knew… who knew,” he mumbled. Then he leaned against the nearest wall and closed his eyes.

“Are you kidding me,” Kibum whined loudly, and nearly stomped his foot in frustration. He leaned down and tugged at Taemin’s arm. “Get your rude ass home yourself! Don’t go to sleep! You’re going to freeze to death, and I’m not having that on my conscience.”

Taemin giggled, but didn’t open his eyes, slurring quietly: “No, it’s fine, it’s fine. This is nice.”

Kibum straightened out, pressing his fingers into his temples. “I swear, if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to have a fit. I’m not carrying you home. This isn’t a drama. It’s not happening.”

“That’s cool,” Taemin mumbled, and started shivering. Kibum groaned long and hard, cursing the entire evening.

--

In the end, he only had to carry Taemin down two alleys, until they’d reached a street wide enough for a cab to pick them up. By that point Taemin had passed out, forcing Kibum to take him back to his place, because he couldn’t just leave the guy in a motel somewhere, what if he threw up and choked on his vomit or something. That stuff really happened. Actually, nearly everything in dramas really happens, he said to himself, just usually not all on the same night.

The cabbie was nice enough to help him haul Taemin into the lift, and Kibum dragged him by his feet the rest of the way, carefully not to get his unwanted guest caught behind anything.

It’s not like I’m getting him dirty, I keep this hallway spotless. Besides, he won’t remember in the morning, and I’ve already carried him down two alleys, that’s enough carrying for one day. Ugh, who am I kidding, this poor sod. Look at him, being dragged like a dead fish. A handsome, dead fish.

Taemin groaned, and Kibum hushed him.

“Be quiet, you’re going to wake up my neighbours.”

Taemin opened one eye, commenting weakly. “What’s happening?”

Kibum placed his feet down to the floor, turning to open the lock to his front door. “I’m saving your life. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Oh,” Taemin said.

“Think you can get to the couch on your own?” But by the time Kibum had turned around, Taemin was out cold again. “Goddamnit. Will this night never end? I hate you,” he whispered furiously. Then he frowned, staring at Taemin’s oddly angelic sleeping face. “That’s not true, I don’t hate you. I shouldn’t have said that. Ugh, whatever, let’s get you inside.”

He got him as far as right next to the couch, but getting him on it seemed hopeless – Kibum really was exhausted from a week of worrying, and Taemin was all heavy, useless limbs.

“Jesus, fuck it, you’ll be fine on the floor.” He rolled him on his side, propping him up with pillows before putting a blanket over him. The end result looked cosy enough, and Kibum felt proud of himself. “Don’t die, alright? You have to promise me.”

Taemin made no reply, except for soft snoring.

--

He opened his eyes, confused. It still had to be the middle of the night, because all his windows were dark. What had woken him up?

Suddenly he felt it – something was making his mattress dip. He reached for his night light, flicking it on, greeted by Taemin hovering over him.

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing.”

“I was lonely on the couch.”

“Ugh, you reek of alcohol,” Kibum complained, turning his head to the side.

“Why did you quit high school?”

“What? Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”

“You said I could write the truth about you. So I wanna know the truth. Why did you quit? In a country where ninety-eight percent of literally all students finish high school, what made you fall into the two percent?”

Kibum pinched Taemin’s cheek harshly. His unwanted guest yelped in dismay, covering his cheek and glaring at him. He was slowly turning red.

“Shut up, you don’t know anything,” Kibum commented lazily.

“Did you just pinch me? Are you fucking twelve?!”

“No, I’m just keeping my inner child alive. It’s a defence mechanism, my therapist says, but he encourages it. He says it’s better than the pills.”

“Very funny, drug addict. Just tell me the truth.”

“The truth is boring. I was bullied.”

“You’re right, that is boring. Kids get bullied.”

“Yeah, but it was relentless.” Kibum sighed. “The head bully in my class found out I was gay. The whole thing was a complete disaster.”

Taemin blinked, staring at him. “Finally, you’re quiet,” Kibum murmured, half-jokingly. “You want to hear the rest, huh?” Kibum had never told anyone this stuff, and he was surprised over how good it felt to let it all out.

“The thing is, I’m like you, but I’m not like you. I didn’t grow up in the big city; I attended a small, countryside high school. People don’t like different here, but people really don’t like different there. There was nothing for me, no Homo Hill, no likeminded souls. And I felt sad, and trapped, and I made the mistake of telling someone. So yeah, my big secret got out, and every bully from every year came after me. It got so bad, I couldn’t attend classes anymore – not because I didn’t want to, but they’d get to me, and ruin my clothes before I could even get there. You can’t attend class without the uniform.”

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“The part that made me feel the most alone was that I got no sympathy from teachers or other students. I mean, they certainly didn’t encourage it, but there was always this unspoken thought, like, you asked for it. This is what happens to people like you. So, I did the cowardly thing, I gave up. I just plain old gave up. I changed to a vocational school first, but one of the guys there was a nephew of one of the guys that bullied me, and the whole thing started over, so I quit, and started working for my parents, and that was the end of that. Until my uncle decided it was time to retire, and took pity on me. Or maybe he just hated the thought of leaving the whole thing to someone outside of the family.”

Taemin was quiet for a while, to the point where Kibum was getting exceptionally uncomfortable, but finally, he spoke. “That’s… that’s a really sad story,” he mumbled.

“Man, I guess. But I got over it, it’s in the past. I’ve had a boyfriend, had some time to heal. It’s all good now. Life just– hm!”

Taemin had smashed their mouths together, cutting off Kibum’s sentence. Kibum pushed him off after a few seconds, breathing in. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m kissing you,” Taemin pointed out, lowering his head again. Kibum placed a hand against his chest, holding him up.

“Yes, I noticed that, that part was clear to me.” He slowly removed his hand, feeling weird about touching the other – his chest felt warm. “But what makes you think–”

Taemin saw his chance, lowering his head again for another kiss, this time pushing his tongue past his lips. It was beyond strange to be doing this with a stranger, and yet Kibum found himself moaning, flushing over his own sounds; he shouldn’t be moaning, this was entirely inappropriate. But Taemin was sliding his hands down his body, and it felt really good, and he really should’ve worn underwear to bed, because his loose pyjamas were doing nothing to hide the rising interest down below.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend…? Jong… Jong-something.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, I just fuck him. Now shut up, I want to make you feel good, anyone with a story that sad deserves to feel good.”

Kibum laughed helplessly, relieved when Taemin moved off him. “That’s some really poor reasoning.” His relief dissipated when he realized why Taemin had moved off him, a warm mouth encircling the tip of his dick through his pyjamas. “Ah! Jesus! Why are you in such a rush?”

“Duh. Because I’m horny,” Taemin responded, sticking out his tongue to lick the taut fabric. “I think you are too. I mean, unless you’ve got a ladle tucked away in here.”

Kibum grabbed at Taemin then, yanking him up higher by the back of his hair. “No, please, no restaurant jokes. I think we’ve established you’ve lost the right to rag on me being in the restaurant business.”

Taemin grinned at him, seemingly unbothered by the fist in his hair, or Kibum’s remark. “Fraud.”

Kibum tugged harder, and Taemin’s eyes went lidded. “You’re the one getting off on all this, aren’t you. You like ruining people, you like making them mad? Because that’s sick.”

“No,” Taemin murmured, more subdued now, “it’s not like that.”

“Then what? Why are you taunting me like this?”

“I’m not going to write about you, okay? I’ve made up my mind.”

Kibum let go of him at those words, lowering his hand, although his expression remained apprehensive. Taemin continued: “I had you pegged as this shitty imposter, but I was wrong about you, I see that now, okay? So let me make it up to you. Or not. We can stop if you want to.”

Kibum thought about it, he seriously considered it: kicking Taemin out of his bed and out of his apartment. It would one hundred percent be what that little twerp had coming. But he didn’t, because really, he didn’t want to. Taemin was attractive, and he was willing, so why not.

“… No. Keep going.”

Taemin lowered his head, lifting his pyjama top so he could press a series of kisses to his stomach, talking against his skin. “For the record: I’m just doing this because you’re hot, and you’re here, that’s it. We’re not falling in love.”

Kibum flicked his ear. “I’m not an idiot, even if you seem to think so.”

“Hmm, do that again,” Taemin murmured, trailing his kisses down to the edge of Kibum’s pyjama pants.

“What, the flicking?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re into that?”

“Hmm-m,” Taemin hummed, looking up at him.

“What else?” Kibum asked, curious now.

“Hmm… pinching? When you pinched me earlier, that was hot. I don’t know. This is embarrassing to talk about. Just act rough with me.”

Kibum petted the back of Taemin’s head, encouraging him to go back to what he was doing earlier. “Sure, I can do that. But you have to tell me stop if you want to stop, yeah? Or like signal it.”

“Yes, I will.”

“You have to promise.”

Taemin laughed. “I promise.”

“Okay, good. I had a bad experience with my ex-boyfriend once, that’s why. He asked for it, but he never told me to stop, and I made him cry. I’d really rather avoid a repeat of that.”

Taemin was rolling his eyes now, grinning. “I said I’d say stop! Frick, spare me the life story.”

Kibum reached out and pinched his cheek, pushing his thumb into his mouth and pulling at Taemin like he was an actual fish on a hook. “You should start watching your mouth, you brat. Why are you so terrible all the time?”

“My mouth has always been this way,” Taemin responded, the word muffled and difficult to understand because of the thumb in it.

“Put it to good use for once, I’m tired of listening to you,” Kibum commented in a bored tone, pulling him down by his lip. Taemin didn’t resist him, opening his mouth further and pulling down Kibum’s pyjama pants, licking him once he was exposed. Kibum groaned appreciatively and laid his head back on his pillow, reaching out to pet the back of Taemin’s hair. After a while Taemin stopped to look at him, and Kibum groaned in dissatisfaction, grabbing his hair again and yanking him down.

“Keep going.”

Taemin moaned in response, sucking Kibum into his mouth now, his hands going down his thighs, rubbing them gently. It felt good, and Kibum was enjoying himself quietly, occasionally bucking his hips when Taemin sucked on him in a particularly good way. Overall it was turning out to be a pretty lacklustre blowjob, though, and Kibum suspected Taemin was doing it intentionally.

“Are you being boring on purpose?”

Taemin smiled around his length. “Uhuh.” Kibum reached out and flicked his cheek, finding himself slipping into using the authoritarian voice he used in the kitchen when calling out orders and telling his staff to get on with it.

“Take off your clothes and get on your back. I’m going to get some proper use out of you one way or another.”

The more Taemin was pinched and flicked, the meeker he seemed to become, and he obeyed silently, getting undressed and lying down on his back. Kibum took out lube and condoms from his nightstand, wetting his fingers before pushing one into Taemin. He didn’t rush it right away, wanting to understand the pace Taemin liked it at, but Taemin encouraged him with a couple of choice words.

“Harder, do it harder… harder! You can’t be useless everywhere.”

Kibum shoved his finger into him, laughing when Taemin let out the loudest moan so far. “I can’t believe what an asshole you are. You were about to ruin my life, and for what? What difference would it have made?”

“You’re pointless,” Taemin groaned, spreading his legs further, “I’ve known seagulls with more purpose in life.”

“You’re nothing but a pretty face with a big mouth,” Kibum retorted, now fucking Taemin on his hand steadily. Taemin was squirming underneath him, looking like he wanted to insult him back, but was too out of breath to do it, his lips permanently parted as he gasped for breath.

“Ah… ah–!”

“Yes, open up for me,” Kibum said encouragingly, bringing up his other hand to pinch at Taemin’s nipple, who moaned in response. “The less you talk, the prettier you become.”

“More fingers, I’m about to fall asleep here,” Taemin gritted out in response, arching his back.

Kibum obeyed the request, spreading more lube onto his fingers before pushing in another one, and another one a few minutes later. Taemin’s eyes were rolling back into his skull into his point, a breathy whine falling from his lips each time Kibum shoved in.

“You’re a waste of… a waste of… ah-h…”

Kibum leaned over him, smiling at Taemin’s failing attempts to communicate. “Admit I’m better than you,” he said quietly into his ear, nibbling at the lobe, “at least I’m trying to make something of myself. You’re nothing but a parasite, surviving on making people feel like trash.”

Taemin grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing him harshly, his feet sliding down to Kibum’s ass and trapping him close, encouraging him to push in.

“Wait, condom, condom,” Kibum reminded him warningly, pulling his fingers out of Taemin and grabbing for one of the little squares, cursing when his slippery fingers made it hard to tear it open. Taemin was practically writhing, opening and closing his legs repeatedly, pushing his hips into the air.

“Hurry. Please hurry.”

Kibum smiled, wiping his fingers and the condom on the sheets to try and increase his grip. “What, no running commentary about how I’m useless at everything?”

“I don’t want to play that game anymore, just fuck me.”

“Hmm, and I’m going to, just give me a second… got it!” He unwrapped and rolled the condom down over his erection triumphantly, pushing Taemin down onto the sheets and lying down on top of him. He kissed the tip of his nose. “Say it.”

“What?” Taemin whined, upset over the continued pause. “Say what? Are you serious right now? I’m about to pass out here.”

“You already did that, don’t be a one trick pony. Say I’m better than you.”

“No! You’re a little worse than me, even, at least I don’t lie for a living.”

“Then no sex for you.”

“Oh my god,” Taemin groaned in desperation, clawing at his face with his hands, “I’m might actually murder you if you don’t shove that thing into me right this inst– ah!” His threats were cut short by Kibum pushing into him, and he let his head fall back, groaning shamelessly, letting out a loud ‘yesss’.

Kibum was smiling from ear to ear. “You should’ve seen your face just now. It was worth paying for, I’m telling you.”

“You feel so good,” Taemin murmured blissfully, his fingers digging into Kibum’s shoulder.

“You’re doing the game wrong,” Kibum scolded him gently, leaning in to kiss at his throat and pick up a slow pace.

“Harder,” Taemin begged, prodding him in the ribs.

“Yes, alright already,” Kibum hissed, because the poke had hurt, picking up the pace, “has anyone ever told you your patience needs work.”

“Your whole life needs work, so… ah, chef, deeper too.”

Kibum placed his hand over Taemin’s mouth, smiling incredulously. “You seriously don’t know when to quit, do you? That’s okay, I guess I don’t either.” He leaned up on his hands, and started fucking into Taemin as harsh as he could, not sparing him at all. It was exhausting and he wished he’d gotten some more sleep before attempting this, but Taemin was just about falling apart underneath him, moaning loud enough that Kibum was convinced every adjoining neighbour could hear him, and it was the most fun he’d had in months.

As soon as they’d both found their release Kibum let himself fall to the mattress, his heart beating in his throat as he tried to catch his breath, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“That was… that was…”

“Mediocre?” Taemin said, his voice light as air, “yeah, I agree.” He reached down to remove the condom, flicking it onto the floor without even tying a knot into it.

Kibum groaned at the wet splat it made. “If they gave out douchebag awards, you’d win the lot.”

“I know,” Taemin responded happily, curling up against Kibum’s side. “Now shut up, I want to sleep.”

--

After the weekend – which had mainly consisted of a lot of Taemin, in every room of his apartment – he went back to work with a heavy hart. The gleaming chrome in the kitchen no longer brought him the joy it did a week ago, and neither did the lights as the slowly flickered to life. Not even the porthole windows could cheer him up.

Junghee had come in early – usually he and Minjung were the first to arrive – and she seemed to pick up on his mood right away. “Chef? Are you okay? The review hasn’t been published yet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Kibum exhaled heavily, quietly saying goodbye to Junghee’s cute face. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then what? Are you worried the stock won’t be good? I know I shouldn’t have experimented with the recipe for such a large quantity, but I thought, a couple more bay leaves isn’t going to make the difference, in fact, I really think it’s going to bring out the flavours of the meat even more.”

“You know, don’t you? You all do, right?” Kibum said, giving her a sad look. “You know I don’t know anything about running a kitchen this size. I know which one the bay leaves are by now, but only because I’ve been here for three months.”

Junghee studied him for a couple of seconds, and then sighed. “Yes, we know. We’ve known all along.”

Kibum made a face.

“And at first we were all really annoyed, and we gossiped about you, and talked about how Minjung should have inherited the kitchen.”

“She should have. She will.”

“No, listen. It’s true you don’t fully understand the dishes yet, and you sure as hell can’t cook them, but we don’t care. We’ve changed our minds about you.”

He squinted. “… what? Why would you do that?”

Junghee shrugged, picking at her nails. “A kitchen like this can’t be run by someone who doesn’t know how, it would simply implode. You know that, don’t you? But look, three months have passed, and we’re flourishing. You’ve got the knack, you just do. So embrace it. You’ll figure out the dishes along the way, cooking isn’t rocket science. And at the end of the day, you’ll have learned from the best. How many people can say that, huh?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kibum protested. “Minjung should have my job. I’m nothing but a fraud. The critic knows it, other people are going to find out too.”

“Too late,” Minjung said, once again scaring him by speaking up right behind him – she really should stop doing that. “I’ve had some time to think about it, and I don’t want your job anymore. I’ve realized I like mine more. So if you’re leaving us, you’re screwing us, because we’ll be out of someone to lead this kitchen.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry about what that two-bit critic writes about us, we’ll stand by you. You might be a bit of a phony and a liar, but you’re definitely our chef.”

Kibum didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he did a little of both. “It’s funny. He called me two-bit, too.”

Junghee came up behind him, giving him a firm slap on the shoulder – she had to reach up to do it, but it still hurt.

“No more crying, chef! You’ve got a kitchen to run, and about a hundred recipes to learn.” She grabbed his elbow, dragging him towards the huge pot of simmering broth while Minjung watched them with a fond smile. “First off, the fond! The heart of any French cuisine, and a tricky mistress. Here, taste it; you can’t make something if you don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like, remember that. That’s a common beginner’s mistake, by the way, not tasting the food while preparing it. Always taste the food! Always!” She held up one of the small tasting spoons in front of his face. “Go ahead.”

Kibum laughed through his tears, and tasted. For the first time ever, he could fully and genuinely enjoy his time in his kitchen, without fear of being found out, and it was the happiest he’d ever been.

SSS 2014: For halcydonia

replaymods — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:27:25 GMT

For: halcydonia
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: The Wedding Planner
Pairing: Onew/Key
Rating: PG
Authors’ Notes: The fic has no relation to the film I named it after! And any and all knowledge of wedding planning in this story comes entirely from my guilty pleasure of watching Don’t Tell The Bride, Say Yes To The Dress, and I Found The Gown. I apologise in advance. I had so many ways for this story to go, but I hope this one is okay! Merry Christmas!

Kibum looked around the large reception room, his lip tugged up into a small smirk.

He was good.

He was a wedding planner, and he was good.

So good, in fact, that despite only having been in the wedding business for a little over three years, he had managed to get enough expensive and lavish occasions under his belt that he had built up a sparkling reputation of being able to work magic, perform miracles and take someone’s dream day out of their head, smooth out the details, and bring it into reality.
Kibum looked at his watch, five minutes until guests started to arrive at the reception venue which meant that it was time to start making his final checks to ensure that nothing was out of place or incorrect.

He went from table to table checking the names against the seating chart, ensured that every centrepiece floral display had no gaps or wilting petals, and double-checked the gift bag favours left on every guests’ chair, to make sure nothing and no one had been forgotten.

Kibum liked to think that when his clients employed him, he was promising them perfection. He was promising them style, class, an all-around wonderful experience. He was promising them rare access to his famous little black schedule book, which was the holy grail for any wedding. It contained practically everything Kibum could ever need to plan a wedding; contact details for the most popular venues, the phone numbers of the best chefs in the city, up and coming fashion designers who made exquisite wedding gowns, and so much more.

Some of the people in his little black book also owed him favours, which meant that Kibum could sometimes make the impossible happen and get a dress altered at the last minute if a bride’s weight had changed too much, order a completely different colour scheme for the floral displays, or make sure they got to ride in the horse and carriage they had dreamt of all their lives as they made their way to the church.

A noise outside the room brought Kibum back to the moment in hand, and after a few minor alterations and last second nit-picking, he was satisfied; the reception room looked perfect. But Kibum’s moment of appreciation of all the months of hard work that went in to making this moment come to fruition was short lived as his assistant, Jinki, barrelled into the room. Kibum’s eyebrows creased at the sight of the other man; Jinki was supposed to be overseeing the kitchen and getting drinks ready to be served to guests, so seeing him now could only mean bad things.

Jinki stopped a few steps away from Kibum, he looked a little guilty and panicked, and Kibum raised a slender eyebrow when his assistant remained silent. ‘Yes?’ he bit out, already feeling the beginnings of a headache pressing behind his eyes; he should have known the day was going too well for it to last.

‘I’m so sorry, Kibum, but I slipped!’

A few seconds of silence passed between them as Kibum waited for Jinki to carry on. When it didn’t happen, he snapped at the other man again. ‘And?’

‘…a whole tray of glasses for the toast are broken…’

‘Didn’t I specifically tell you not to touch anything even remotely breakable?’ Kibum all but snapped at him. Jinki smiled back a little sheepishly, hand rubbing at the back of his neck ‘Well, yes, but I was just trying to help!’

Kibum clenched his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down a little. As much as he wanted to strangle his assistant at that moment in time, that wasn’t going to help solve the issue of finding replacement glasses in the next thirty minutes before the speeches were due to start.

He opened his eyes to see Jinki wringing his hands. Kibum sighed in frustration. ‘Go and see if Donghae is still here, he should have spares if he hasn’t left yet. Go!’ Jinki wasted no time.

While Jinki wasn’t useless by a long shot, he had his moments of infuriating clumsiness that seemed to be able to ruin anything nearby. Sometimes Kibum really wondered why he hadn’t fired Jinki in all the time they had worked together considering that this was not a one off incident in the life of Jinki. As the older man hightailed out the door and back to the job at hand, Kibum’s eyes slid down his back, his gaze falling to Jinki’s tight slacks that were doing wonderful things for his ass and full thighs.

Oh.

Suddenly, all his annoyance at Jinki was gone.

Kibum stood at the edge of the reception room, gaze wandering around the room, taking in the dozens of guests sat at finely decorated tables. A feeling of joy and celebration was palpable in the air as the guests talked softly between themselves in the ambient light of the spacious room. He allowed himself a brief second of feeling proud of himself; he had done this. This moment had been 14 months in the making and this was his favourite part; those months of client indecision, stress and frustration melted away and left a gorgeously decorated reception, world class cuisine and Kibum’s signature overall perfection. His attention to detail and painstaking perfectionist tendencies were what kept him in business. In the wedding world, reputation was absolutely everything, and Kibum worked tirelessly to make sure he earned the big money he charged.

He had made this event happen, and while he knew he was talented, it still sometimes gave him pause to see all of his hard work come together.

No thanks to Jinki.

Kibum snorted at the thought of the clumsy man who had managed to track down the spare champagne flutes at the very last moment, leaving Kibum unable to truly hold on to any final vestiges of annoyance. His gaze shifted across the room to where said man was talking to one of the waiters, and a warm feeling settled in Kibum chest at the bright smile that had broken out across his face. He supposed that was one of the reasons he could never really bring himself to send Jinki packing despite the numerous broken objects, order sheets that got lost or even the occasional misplaced guest. Whatever problems he caused, Kibum could count on him to set it right and then some. Jinki would never stop until he met Kibum’s extremely high expectations, and whether he said it or not, Kibum truly appreciated his hard work. Kibum wasn’t clueless; he knew he couldn’t be easy to work for, but perfection was the result of nothing less than hard work and he would never apologise for that.

He was brought back to the present when he realised someone was speaking to him.

‘Sorry, are you the wedding planner? Kim Kibum?’

‘Yes, can I help?’ he asked, his practiced professional yet charming smile blossomed on his face as he turned his attention to the woman in front of him. She was a beautiful woman, and the small smile on her face only softened her features further as she introduced herself.

‘Hello, my name is Kim Saeun, I’m a friend of the bride’s.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ he replied politely, ‘I hope you’re enjoying the reception.’

‘Oh yes, it’s absolutely wonderful!’ she murmured, glancing around the room appraisingly causing Kibum to feel quite smug, ‘I was talking to Yuri and she told me that this was all your work, and I knew that I had to talk to you.’

‘Oh?’ Kibum questioned, with a slight tilt of his head.

‘I’ve recently gotten engaged, and I was hoping to be able to hire you to plan my wedding too.’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘This wedding has been so beautiful…’

Kibum’s smile widened at her compliments, ‘You’re very kind, Miss Kim, and I’d love to plan your wedding for you.’ He reached into the front pocket of his blazer to retrieve a business card to hand to her. ‘Here are my contact details if you’d like to set up an appointment for a consultation.’ She accepted the card with a bright smile.

‘Is Monday afternoon too soon?’ she questioned, ‘I’d like to get started as soon as possible, if you have time?’

‘Actually Monday afternoon should be fine.’ Kibum was a little surprised by her eagerness, and due to his busy schedule normally he’d have to book appointments at least a week or two in advance, but luckily he had a few free hours on Monday. He’d been planning on visiting a new bridal boutique that had opened in his neighbourhood to scope it out for ideas and prices, but he supposed that could wait for another day.

‘’I’ll be available between 2 and half 4, if that’s any good? The consultation should take no more than an hour, depending on how much detail you want to go into.’ He pulled out his pocket diary to make a note of the appointment.

‘Well, then my fiancé and I will be with you at 3, if that’s alright?’ she let out a slightly relieved exhale when he smiled and nodded his assent. ‘Wonderful! I’ll see you on Monday then, Mr Kim.’

He watched her return to her table as he tucked his diary back into his pocket. ’Well, that worked out well…’ he muttered to himself, but he jumped slightly at the touch of a hand to his lower back. He let out a breath when Jinki spoke into his ear, ‘What was all that, Kibum?’

But Kibum’s breath hitched as Jinki seemed to shuffle further towards him and he was far too aware of just how close the other man was standing to answer with any more than ‘…she wanted to book an appointment.’ But Jinki just hummed in understanding and handed Kibum a flute of champagne with a crooked smile before he changed topic slightly.

‘Congratulations, Kibum.’ Jinki said as he looked around the room. ‘You’ve done an amazing job.’

Kibum cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Jinki to settle his sights anywhere else. He tried to convince himself that the warmth that settled in his chest and crept up his cheeks was most definitely not from Jinki’s soft words but from the alcohol he hadn’t even touched.

Monday afternoon saw Kibum and Jinki sat down with their newest clients, Saeun and her fiancé, Lee Sungmin. After exchanging a few pleasantries, they got down to business with Kibum asking the basic questions of where they’d like to get married, a ballpark figure of the number of people they wanted to invite and if they had a date for the wedding in mind.

‘Good!’ Kibum shot a quick smile at the couple seated on the other side of the table, ‘You’re thinking the Park Hyatt Hotel with 150 or so guests. How about a date for the wedding?’

Saeun glanced over at Sungmin somewhat nervously before replying, ‘We were thinking March.’

‘So that will be March the year after next.’ Kibum watched as Jinki jotted it down.

‘Oh,’ Saeun started, causing Kibum to look back at her curiously. ‘No…we mean March. This coming March.’

Jinki dropped his pen in shock while Kibum blinked at her, silent for a few long seconds. ‘As in three months away.’ It wasn’t really a question.

‘Yes, that’s right!’ She replied brightly, not seeming to notice the blank look being sent her way as Jinki scrambled to pick his pen back up.

‘Twelve weeks from now.’ Kibum needed to make sure. He hoped he was hearing things. ‘You want to plan a wedding for twelve weeks’ time.’

‘Is that a problem?’ Sungmin finally spoke up, eyebrows drawn in corncern.

‘…the Hyatt Park Hotel with 150 guests, this March.’ Kibum spoke slowly, trying to convey the outlandishness of what they were asking, but when he was greeted with matching expectant gazes from his clients he found himself at a loss. He was half tempted to laugh them out the door, but luckily Jinki jumped in at that point before Kibum could show his unprofessional side and began to calmly explain to the couple the difficulties they were going to face with wanting the kind of wedding they had described in only three short months.

‘The thing is, the kind of wedding your friend had two days ago can take up to two years planning to come to fruition, but generally we work to a timeframe of twelve to eighteen months depending on the size or venue of desire.’ His voice was gentle as he spoke, but he was looking pointedly at them. ‘If you’re looking to buy a designer wedding dress, that alone takes six to eight months to be made, not even taking fittings into account. Even if that’s not an issue, booking a popular venue this close to the date will be difficult at best, not even thinking about reserving rooms for out of town relatives and friends…’ Jinki trailed off a little apologetically, looking to Kibum.

Kibum sighed and finally found his voice. ‘Guests, menus, flowers, decorations, travel arrangements.’ He counted them on his fingers. ‘Wedding themes, colour palettes. These things take time to agree upon, to book and to test out.’

By the time the couple had left Kibum’s office half an hour later, they’d come to some precarious decisions and conclusions. They had assured him that money was no object when he warned that some things would have to be rush ordered which would put their price up considerably, and despite agreeing to plan their wedding, he had made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to make any guarantees about being able to book their preferred venue. They had gladly agreed, assured that he would do everything he could to live up to his immaculate reputation. This was definitely the time to call in some favours.

Kibum’s level of perfection took a minimum of twelve months to achieve, but somehow they wanted him to fit it all in in three months with his signature level of effortlessness and finesse.

Piece of cake.

The very next day, Kibum was sat in his office, staring into space, already regretting taking this wedding on.

How on earth was he supposed to condense his preferred minimum of eighteen months wedding planning package into three months? It was time for a serious game plan if he ever hoped to pull this off.

If Kim Kibum couldn’t do it, no one could.

He pulled out his trusty little black book with his contacts in and started thumbing through it purposefully. He’d just have to pull some serious strings in order to fast track a designer wedding dress, find a way to book the venue this late in the game, and then the small task of getting everything else involved in a wedding prepared on time. Kibum felt the familiar clench of stress settling in the set of his shoulders as he considered who to call first.

In the midst of stressing out, he hadn’t noticed Jinki enter the room until he pushed up behind Kibum, resting his hands on Kibum’s shoulders before they trailed down his back.

‘Stop stressing out.’ Jinki murmured to him, as Kibum already felt a little better from the gentle touches of the older man’s hands ‘We can do this.’

Kibum just exhaled at the press of Jinki’s warm, plush lips to the side of his neck that rendered Kibum warm and all but boneless.

Yeah. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

So far, things weren’t going as badly as he had feared, but that didn’t mean they were going great by any stretch of the imagination. It had been a week since the meeting with his clients and progress was not coming at the rate he was comfortable with.

When he had finished stressing out that first day, his first port of call was to make a cursory call to the Park Hyatt Hotel on the off chance they were actually free in late March, the answer was a polite but definite no, which Kibum had predicted. He left his details with them to be put on the waiting list if they became available. Kibum didn’t have high hopes of that happening. Meanwhile, Jinki had been calling round as many alternative places as he could to see where was available to hold a wedding and reception and was making a list of possible venues to send to the couple for them to look over.

‘They’re probably going to hate all those places.’ Kibum said wryly. Jinki just nodded and shrugged, humming his agreement.

The other major concern on Kibum’s mind was Saeun’s wedding dress. She had sent him pictures and details of the styles, fabrics and fits she liked, but Kibum recognised most of them as being high-end designer which would almost certainly not be available for a rush order. But this was where things were going marginally better as Kibum had put Saeun in contact with his friend Nicole who was an up and coming fashion designer who would be able to custom make her a dress in time for March. Now Kibum and Jinki could only hope that Saeun would find her dream dress from Nicole’s collection, which would mean one out of a thousand things could be checked off the list.

Finding caterers willing to work with you without a confirmed headcount or venue was surprisingly difficult. But as the days were turning into weeks since they started planning this wedding, this was something that needed to be sorted soon in order for the couple to be able to try the dishes that the caterer was offering.

This would have been much simpler if Saeun and Sungmin had been willing to compromise and choose from the list of available venues so Kibum could get to work with somewhere concrete in mind. But they had insisted on waiting a little longer to see whether the Park Hyatt would miraculously become free. While Kibum couldn’t blame them for wanting to hold out for their dream venue, their stubbornness was making his and Jinki’s jobs unnecessarily difficult. Time was seriously running out, and with only seven weeks left until their preferred date to get married and practically nothing had been finalised. That made Kibum very uncomfortable.

Kibum sighed into his coffee, he was taking a well-deserved break from desperately trying to find any venue that was remotely like their first choice. He looked around the otherwise empty office; Jinki was out running errands for one of the other weddings they had on their books at the moment and Kibum couldn’t stop himself from thinking how quiet it was without him pottering around their office.

The quietness was broken when his phone started ringing. Kibum’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the caller ID: Park Hyatt Hotel. He clutched his phone and answered the call. ‘Hello?’

Jinki stumbled back into their office half an hour later only to have Kibum all but jump on him.

‘The Park Hyatt called!’ Kibum grinned sharply at him, giving Jinki a second to arrive at the conclusion before carrying on, ‘They had a cancellation on the 28th of March…we’ve booked Sungmin and Saeun’s wedding!’

Jinki couldn’t help the relieved and happy laugh that ripped out of him. Thank God! ‘We can finally start getting things done!’ he crowed.

The wide grin fell into a soft smile as he took in how Kibum looked so pleased in that moment, and Jinki just had to kiss him. He leant forwards and slipped a hand around the nape of Kibum’s neck before pressing their lips together. Kibum gasped at the unexpectedness of it before melting into Jinki. After a few seconds they parted, and Kibum chuckled at Jinki’s dopey smile.

‘I should probably all Saeun…’ Kibum mumbled, but made no move to leave Jinki’s arms, instead he clutched the fabric of Jinki’s sweater in his hands and tugged him closer.

Jinki rewarded him with another soft kiss.

Kibum sat at the bar of a five star restaurant, tapping his fingers against the dark wood of the counter as he waited for Sungmin and Saeun to arrive. They were here to try the menu this restaurant was offering to cater for their wedding, but the couple were already five minutes late. He was too busy staring out the window for a glimpse of his clients that he was startled by a familiar voice.

‘Oh hey, Kibum. You been stood up?’ He rolled his eyes before turning around on his stool to face the sniggering barman. ‘Shut up, Minho.’ He muttered without much heat behind it. ‘I’m waiting for my clients.’

‘I didn’t know you were a prostitute these days, Kibum.’ The barman teased, a taunting smirk on his face.

‘Very funny, you dick.’ He bit back, cursing having known Minho for most of his life. Even though Minho could be a nightmare most of the time, he had helped Kibum out massively by getting him in touch with the manager of the restaurant who was surprisingly responsive to Kibum’s casual flirting and had agreed to ask his head chef to cater for Saeun and Sungmin’s wedding. He supposed that even someone as annoying as Minho had to have their purposes.

The door to the restaurant opened and Kibum was saved from having to deal with Minho any longer as his clients walked in. He hopped off his stool and muttered his farewell to his friend, ‘Bye, loser.’

‘Kibum, I’m so sorry we’re late! The traffic was a nightmare.’ Sungmin said, arm around his fiancee’s waist. Kibum waved off their apologies and led them through to the back room to try their menu options.

Thankfully after an hour, the couple had decided on contemporary versions of classic Korean dishes, and Kibum was thrilled to be able to tick another thing off the to-do list.

There were only four weeks left until the wedding, and Kibum was just returning to the office after meeting Saeun at the florists to preview her bouquet, centrepieces and floral display choices. After a few adjustments and an indepth discussion on the merits and downsides to choosing white-white roses over off-white roses, the bride-to-be was satisfied with her selections and the full order was placed.

Kibum had returned already with a skip in his step at the progress being made, that he didn’t expect Jinki to be grinning at him from his desk when he entered the room. Kibum shot his a quizzical look, ‘What’s made you so happy?’ he asked his assistant.

‘Nicole called.’ He replied. ‘She said the mock-up of Saeun‘s dress is finished and ready for her to go and see. She said to call her back, and that she’s free in the morning the day after tomorrow if Saeun’s free for a fitting before she makes the final thing!’

Kibum huffed in disbelief. ‘So, the venue is booked, the flowers are sorted, invitations have been sent, catering is being taken care of and now the dress looks like it’ll be done in time.’ He shook his head and grinned with joy. ‘Jinki, despite all odds, I think we’re actually making this happen!’

Jinki stood up and moved around his desk and closer to Kibum, mirroring his bright smile. ‘I guess next we need to check on the rings and the wedding cake…but first,’ he cut himself off as he tugged his assistant closer by hooking a finger in his shirt, ‘I think we deserve a little break.’

Jinki would have agreed out loud, but his mouth was busy.

Finally, the final weeks leading up to the wedding passed and the 28th of March had rolled around. Kibum felt like he had more than risen to the challenge of organising a wedding on this scale in just three months. Of course, it hadn’t been easy, and the couple hadn’t been able to have everything from their wish list purely due to time constraints, but despite that, they seemed over the moon with the way everything had turned out. They had come to see the reception room a few hours before the wedding and Saeun had hugged him in gratitude as she looked at the beautifully decorated room, exactly how she had imagined it in muted golds and deep purples.

And now, with a few minutes before the guests would start arriving, he allowed himself to stop for a minute and bask in a job well done. Just as his thoughts were wondering to Jinki, a loud crash came from somewhere outside the room along with someone who sounded suspiciously like his assistant making flustered and repeated apologies.

Kibum closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. He supposed that some things never changed.

SSS 2014: For st_ashleigh

replaymods — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:24:08 GMT

For: st_ashleigh
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: in the eyelid of the beholder (your double eyelids are so deep that)
Pairing: onew/minho
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: anatopisms (?) (it pains me to write minho choi.)
Authors’ Notes: happy holidays! i hope you enjoy this mess of fluff and nonsense.

Black Friday is Minho's busiest day of the year. From 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., he has to fend off finicky housewives with their coupons and catty faces, stick himself with the backs of security pins, and fold, fold, fold endless sweaters, pants, and socks in menswear until his arms ache and his eyes are itchy from all the wool. Most years, Minho is grateful that he had decided to take the job at Bloomingdales instead of Macy's, where the workers have to get to the store at 3 a.m. to open at 4.

This year, however, Minho's running late. He's overslept, a little hung over from a drink to many during Thanksgiving dinner, and has had to run halfway across the city because the subway was packed, juggling a cup of fortifying coffee in his hand. It's edging past nine, an hour after opening, and perhaps the busiest time of the day when people fight over the last Michael Kors handbag in the bin.

The store, to Minho's chagrin, is in chaos. He ducks a flying patent leather shoe and makes his way to the staff room, where he can mentally prepare himself for a few minutes before the war begins. Taking a sip of coffee, Minho breathes.

And then shrieks in pain as his coffee is overturned onto his face by someone bumping into his arm, the lid coming off and spilling boiling liquid into his eyes and onto his skin and his new, white dress shirt.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry," Minho hears a man chant frantically under his breath, drowned out by Minho’s own spluttering and cursing. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. Can I help you with anything?"

Minho's eyes are closed and stinging, and his wet shirt is cooling rapidly and sticking to his skin. He pinches the bridge of his nose as the other employee kind of flails at his chest uselessly.

"Go," Minho barks, "just go!" He doesn't rub his eyes open until he hears the door click shut, and only then does he survey the damage done. The shirt's completely ruined, and even buttoning up his jacket won't cover the spreading stain. No permanent damage to his retinas, at least. Minho looks around the empty room, and spots a stack of Bloomingdales staff t-shirts sitting on top of one of the cabinets, the ones that are the color of paper bags and printed with "big brown t-shirt", like it's supposed to be funny. They’re tacky, but functional, and not sopping wet. Minho strips without shame, washing briefly in the sink, pulls on the tee and drapes his suit jacket over it.

What a way to start the day, Minho thinks. It's nine-thirty, and the clueless businessmen are going to show up about now to pick out some boring collared shirts for work and ask, "Does this tie make it look like I'm trying too hard?" Minho steels himself another second more, and ventures out into the battle.

--

Minho almost regrets that he had never gotten a good look at the coffee culprit's face, especially after Kibum nearly laughs down the entire cosmetics department at Minho's t-shirt and angry eyes, and Kyuhyun and Changmin follow him with sniggers for the rest of the day. Jonghyun from formalwear stops by at the end of the afternoon shift with Starbucks, which everyone else digs into with gusto while Minho glares balefully from the side.

"Who spit into your Americano?" Jonghyun quips, looking Minho up and down, and when he recognizes the shirt he sniggers, too.

"Someone poured coffee all over me this morning," Minho gripes, "and I've been running my ass around all day only to have people like you snigger at me because I'm wearing a freaking t-shirt."

"You look very spirited, Minho-yah. We all know how much you like your pressed shirts and suits and patent leather shoes." Jonghyun pauses and muses to himself, "Someone poured coffee all over you, I heard that same story from J — ahhhhhhhhh."

"Ahhhh," Minho repeats suspiciously. "Do you know who did this to me?"

"Nope! Sorry Minho-yah, but there's a Kibum to bother and an Armani line to tag before the end of my shift, so I've gotta split!"

"Wait, Jonghyun!"

Jonghyun closes the elevator door behind him as soon as Minho makes a grab for his collar, and he rams himself into the wall, coffee spilling out of his cup and down his front. There goes his jacket, too.

--

Minho spends the weekend at the dry cleaner's, but otherwise for the most part he forgets about the incident. Kibum had taken pity on him and, after a minute of perusing through the final sale items that weren't torn apart in the melee, picked up a deep red, Ralph Lauren shirt, which he threw at Minho along with a couple of bills. After ringing it up, Minho delightedly changed out of his t-shirt and soiled jacket to prepare for the night shift.

Monday rolls along with preparations for the new holiday season, a little late for a department store even though it's only late November. The holiday months make up by far Minho's least favorite time of the year, because Christmas means customers' asking about different sizes and brands for gifts, means Minho going back into the storage room that's creepy as hell when he doesn't drag someone with him, means folding, folding, folding.

Minho swears he's going to quit every year around Christmas time, that he'll put his accounting degree to good use and get a job so he doesn’t have to avoid his parents’ Christmas dinner conversation, but then there are the sales, and he thinks he should stick it out for another year, because accountants have to be well-dressed, after all.

Today, at least, he's stringing flashing lights around menswear and propping up the sparkling reindeer. Kibum's helping, because cosmetics is dead since all of the regular middle-aged women are staying indoors after Black Friday shopping sprees. Taemin from customer service is there too, sneezing every so often.

"Customer service is right next to all of the fur coats," he complains with a sniffle. "Did you know that you can develop allergies to fur just by being around it more?"

"Does that mean that I can't bring Comme Des and Garçons to your Christmas party?" Kibum pouts as he drags a string of lights around Minho's counter.

"I don't understand why you think that every year I can hold a party in my closet-sized apartment but this time you have another thing coming — "

"Hold up guys," Minho interrupts as Kibum's about to protest. He ducks behind his counter, and pulls out a curious package out from behind an extra bin of security pins and receipt tape. It's small but heavy, with a note taped to the front.

"If I were a stop light, I'd turn red every time you passed by, just so I could stare at you a bit longer," he reads aloud, his voice trailing lower and lower with every word. There's a moment of embarrassed, pregnant silence, and then Taemin bursts out guffawing, almost choking on another sneeze. Kibum, on the other hand, peers brightly over Minho's shoulder, eyes sparkling, and snatches the package from Minho's hands, ripping off the gift wrap.

"Etude House's 'Bite Me' perfume." He nods admiringly, and seems a bit sad to hand it back to Minho. "Good choice, I have to say. It's our highest selling fragrance this season. All of the young girls really like it."

"Doesn’t that mean it’s a women’s fragrance?" Minho asks hastily, glancing around him to make sure Kyuhyun and Changmin don't catch him with girl's perfume. "It can't be for me then! You should keep it.”

"It was behind your counter. And I don’t think there’s a woman working in the menswear department," Kibum points out.

“Minho-yah has a secret admirer?” Taemin emerges out of a wad of tissues and blinks curiously at the other two.

“No,” Minho hisses vehemently.

Kibum rolls his eyes and takes a whiff of the perfume after Minho shoves it back into his hands. "Citrus and musk!" he sighs headily. "Thanks Minho-yah, I'm going to smell wonderful this season."

--

The next gift comes the following day when Minho, Kibum, and Taemin are setting up the Christmas tree next to the mannequin display. An employee tiptoes by, seemingly embarrassed, and asks for a Minho Choi.

“Jinki!” Kibum yelps frantically and almost crashes the other man into the Christmas tree. In a more level voice, he continues, “Guys, this is Jinki Lee, the new guy from formalwear.”

“Jonghyun’s slave then.” Minho nods, remembering a conversation about a new hire from a few weeks ago. “I’m surprised he didn’t make you get the coffee on Friday.”

Jinki’s kind of unassuming, if a bit plain. A nice eyesmile and an awesome head of hair, but an abysmal sense of good tailoring if the baggy dress pants are anything to go by. Just the kind of person Jonghyun would like to run around doing errands for a couple months before calling him his best friend.

“Jonghyun’s… encouraging,” Jinki replies vaguely, and then clears his throat as though suddenly remembering why he’s there. "Err… I found this near the undergarments section, when I came down looking for belts," he says, almost apologetically, handing Minho a thin package wrapped in the same gift wrap as the one from the day before. Just as Minho’s about to thank him, though, Jinki’s whole body jolts as though electrocuted, and with a half-uttered farewell to Kibum and something about cufflinks, he sprints away.

“He may be weirder than Kibum is,” Taemin announces with a sniffle once Jinki’s out of sight. Taking advantage of Minho’s momentary shell shock, he steals the note taped on the front of the gift in Minho's hands.

"Your double eyelids are so deep that I could make a nest and fall asleep to the beauty of your eyes," he reads, and Minho wants to combust on the spot Taemin's voice is so loud. A few customers glance their way, some laughing brightly and others sniggering behind their hands, and all Minho can do is give them a sheepish little smile, cheeks flaming. Kibum snatches the gift and unceremoniously unwraps it again.

"The newest Lady Gaga CD! Wow, whoever gave you this is the best!" he crows, and hugs it to the chest reverently.

"You keep it!" Minho snaps and runs his hands through his hair. "What the hell is this? I don't listen to Lady Gaga. I don't wear girls' perfume. Maybe, all of these gifts are supposed to be for Kibum — "

Pointing to his eye, Kibum deadpans, "Although my eyes are perfect as they are, I don't have double eyelids."

"And I don't think they could be referring to Kyuhyun or Changmin's weak-ass eyes either," Taemin adds unhelpfully.

Minho buries his head in his hands, fingers curling. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"Admit it, you have a secret admirer, Minho-yah," Kibum says slyly, startling Minho by wrapping his arms around Minho's middle from behind. "Maybe our little Minnie will actually get laid this Christmas!"

"And maybe someone will mess up Bummie's made-up face — "

Kibum squawks and shields the CD close to his chest as he curls in on himself to fend off Minho's tackle and noogie-ing. As embarrassed as he is, and as much as the customers stare and whisper at Kibum's war cries and Taemin's raucous laughter, Minho thinks back to the pearly blue gift wrap, the clumsily knotted bow, the hastily scrawled message on a piece of Bloomingdales stationary, and he wonders who would have such a fascination with him, Minho Choi who folds clothes for a job and lives at the dry cleaner's in his spare time.

--

The gifts come every day now, with the same blue gift wrap, the same silly bow, and different cheesy pick-up lines scrawled across Bloomingdale’s stationary. By now, Minho’s accepted that yes, these gifts are for him and yes, he does have a secret admirer. That doesn’t stop his cheeks from heating up and the reflex to cover his face with his hands, though. Somehow Kibum’s always there, sometimes dragging along Taemin and Jonghyun and even Jinki, once, to read the messages aloud.

The gifts themselves are kind of odd, though. They don’t quite… fit, with what Minho thinks he portrays as a (haughty, vain) sophisticated man. There’s a scarf, for example, one of the softest things Minho’s ever worn, but also printed with lurid leopard spots.

“It’s gorgeous,” Kibum coos, while Taemin tries to shy away from the fabric. Minho gifts it to Kibum just like the perfume and the CD, and that’s the fate of a majority of the little packages that Minho receives: ending up in Kibum’s hands.

On one hand, Minho feels kind of guilty accepting the gifts, because goodness knows how much his admirer has spent on him so far. But more than anything, he hopes that whoever it is will reveal themselves before Christmas. With the gifts and the wrapping and the silly, silly messages that the person writes to him, Minho has hope that maybe this Christmas, he won’t have to feel so alone.

--

Minho doesn’t like to get drunk very often — he saves those rare moments for holidays, or days when he’s reminded that he doesn’t actually have a real job that can pay for his rent and his groceries and his Jimmy Choo loafers — because there’s a certain amount of control that Minho constantly feels he needs to have over his life, his appearance, his persona. And drunk Minho is sloppy Minho, is maudlin Minho, not perfectly the poised Minho he tries to be.

It’s one of the latter kind of days, when Minho comes home from work to a voice mail from his mother — Minho dear, why aren’t you returning our phone calls, why haven’t you gotten a job, there’s a nice girl who lives next door I would like to introduce you to — when he would drag Kibum out to a bar just to forget, for a little while. Normally Kibum’s very sympathetic for half an hour, refilling Minho’s drinks and picking up the tab before roundly slapping him across the face. It’s enough to rouse Minho from his wallowing and go home, hung over yet oddly refreshed.

What Minho doesn’t expect, though, is that this time Kibum brings Jinki.

Jinki, who’s dressed in a loose white shirt and jeans, even plainer than he looks at work, and almost uncomfortable in his skin by the way he’s shuffling his feet. Minho stares.

“We’re going out clubbing tonight,” Kibum announces. “Taemin and Jonghyun have responsible things to do, so Jinki here is going to listen to your life problems while I make everyone on the dance floor want to get in my pants.” Kibum pats Jinki on the back, and the other smiles feebly at Minho. “He’s a really sympathetic person.”

Minho’s skeptical when they get to the club with all of its flashing lights and booming music, because Jinki startles whenever a scantily-clad dancer even comes close to touching him. Minho rolls his eyes, and with a wave to Kibum he drags Jinki off to the bar.

“Two shots of pineapple tequila, please,” he tells the bartender.

“Tequila?” Jinki jitters nervously as someone gets close enough to brush his back. He’s jammed close to Minho on a stool since the bar is pretty much full. “We have work tomorrow…”

For all of the nagging that Jinki does over the next half an hour about work and responsibility, he can hold his liquor surprisingly well. When Minho’s draped across the bar and humming ballads under his breath, Jinki’s only buzzed.

“I never want to drink with you again,” Minho groans as his head pounds in time to the bass blaring from the speakers. “I’ll die if I do.”

Jinki’s ears flush a pretty red, and he tries to prod Minho to keep him conscious.

“Yah,” Jinki half-shouts over the music, “Kibum told me you have problems and that’s why he brought me here. Tell me your problems.”

Minho groans at the mental efforts he must undergo to answer the question. He rolls on his stool to face the dance floor, where Kibum is tearing it up in the center. He’s in a groove, so when people try to cajole him, pull him out of the clearing he shrugs them off and dances, and people stare mesmerized.

“I wish I could be more like Kibum,” Minho says loudly, gesturing toward the dance floor with his glass. “Doesn’t care whose eyes are on him. Works in women’s cosmetics. Doesn’t care what people think.” He takes a sloppy gulp of alcohol. “Look at me. Got my accounting degree. Don’t want to use it. Can’t go home for Christmas because I don’t want to hear my mother ask me why I don’t have a job or a girl yet. My heart, it hurts.” It comes out more coherent than Minho expects, what with the way he can’t seem to feel his tongue in his mouth.

Jinki’s voice is softer this time, sympathetic, and yeah he’s damn good at this. “Why don’t you leave, then? Find something else for you to do?”

Minho gives a dry laugh. “I’m comfortable working at the store. I’m always around my friends. I get nice discounts. I like… the displays. Color coding, mixing patterns. It makes sense. Finances don’t make sense. People’s wants don’t make sense. You know, someone’s been giving me gifts? Leaving them around my counter. What could they want with me, Minho Choi, who folds clothes for a living and spends his free time at the dry cleaners?”

Minho thinks that he’s finally lost control of his voice during that last part, because Jinki only sighs, so heavily that Minho can feel the vibrations through his body, and that gets his stomach roiling.

“Let’s get you home, Minho-ah,” Jinki says gently, and leaves momentarily to push through the crowd. In a second Kibum is there by Minho’s side, holding him up as he lolls forward.

“Had a bit too much to drink, you idiot?” Kibum soothes as he hauls Minho toward the subway station nearby, Jinki puttering behind them. The evening air whips Minho’s face, refreshing, and rouses him enough to put one foot in front of the other.

The subway ride is quick, but still leaves Minho breathless and throbbing on the inside, like he’s been punched.

“Why aren’t you in pain,” he grumbles toward Jinki, and all he gets is comforting fingers carding through his hair. It’s nice, and Minho feels warm.

“Hey, Jinki,” Kibum says when they finally get up to Minho’s apartment. “You can go home now. I’ll take care of him.” Minho hears a noise of consent, and reaches out an arm, flailing.

“Jinki, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” he says fervently, and he doesn’t really know why he does. Just hears Jinki take the elevator back down to the lobby, ding ding ding.

The response only comes later, after Minho blacks out for a few minutes and wakes up in his bed.

“Why are you so stupid, Minho-yah,” Kibum mutters as he strips off Minho’s socks, and it’s kind of funny because Minho was thinking the same thing.

--

Minho’s made several bad decisions in his life. Getting an accounting degree is one of them. Purchasing an ugly polka-dotted Michael Kors jacket on a whim because it was on sale is another. The worst of them all, though, is drinking with Jinki.

“Holy shit pain,” is his first utterance of the next morning as he clutches his head. A bottle’s tossed in the direction of his head, and he hears the jangling of pills.

“We need to be at work in half an hour. Shower, brush your teeth, get dressed,” Kibum rattles off. Minho cracks an eyelid open, and sees that Kibum is dressed in a collared shirt and dress pants from Minho’s closet, sleeves and cuffs rolled up to look stylishly loose.

Minho swallows a few pills and gets ready in a daze and huge headache, choosing a Tom Ford sweater and Ralph Lauren blazer to layer over it.

“You know,” Kibum says casually in the subway as Minho dozes into his coffee. His tone is light, but his expression is alarmingly serious, eyes sharp and hard. “You really freaked out Jinki yesterday. I think you may need to apologize. Get him a gift, maybe, or take him out. Even I had a hard time restraining myself from strangling you. Who taught you to drink in such a sloppy way?”

Minho’s nose is almost in his coffee. “Okay,” he mutters, like a petulant child.

Minho does feel bad. He saves his worst side, his insecure side, for Kibum to see only because they’ve known each other since they were children, when Kibum had pointed at Minho on the first day of day care and announced, “I like you! Let’s be friends.” He shouldn’t expect Jinki to so readily accept his hysteria like Kibum does.

So that’s how Minho finds himself taking the escalator up to the second floor during his lunch break. He runs into Jonghyun returning cocktail dresses to their proper racks, humming ballads to himself.

“’Morning Minho!” Jonghyun greets with a nod. “Looking for something?”

“Someone,” Minho says. “Jinki Lee, the new hire?”

“Ah, Jinki!” Jonghyun’s eyes sparkle. “He’s been great these past few weeks, really attentive and hardworking. Right now he’s doing inventory, so you can find him in the back. Does menswear need to steal him from me for a while?”

“No, I just need to talk to him,” Minho corrects. He makes his way towards the back room when Jonghyun gives another nod and returns to his work.

Jinki is kneeling in a pile of shoeboxes in storage, and jumps when he hears Minho tiptoe towards him. But the expression of surprise turns instantly into one of delight when he spots Minho, smile bright and eyes squinted up into little half moons.

“Minho! It’s good to see you. How are you feeling?” he says, waving with a shoe in his hand.

“Headache’s not too bad. I’ll live,” Minho says lightly, but shuffles his feet anxiously. “Hey, Jinki, I’m really sorry about last night. I normally don’t get that drunk, but Kibum said I was pretty bad.”

Jinki waves the apology off. “I’m glad you got some stuff off your chest. Let me know if you ever want to go out again, for drinks or a talk or something.”

Something in Minho’s stomach warms like a balm. He clears his throat of emotion; Jinki’s really nice, he thinks.

“Actually, I wanted to take you out,” he says. “As a sort of expression of gratitude, you know. Are you free tonight to grab something to eat?”

Jinki peers up at Minho curiously, as though he wonders why Minho needs to offer gratitude in the first place, and blinks the confusion away.

“Tonight Jonghyun’s having me label a line of winter evening gowns.” Minho’s heart drops to his stomach. “But I can try to take off tomorrow night?”

“Oh!” Minho grins, relieved. “I get off at five tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

“Six is the earliest I can get off, I think,” Jinki says sadly.

“Six it is then. Meet me by cosmetics?”

Jinki brightens, and his smile takes up his whole face. “It’s a date!”

--

Minho fidgets with the hem of his sleeve as he waits for Jinki the next day, after they exchanged numbers and texted each other places and times. Kibum’s about to go crazy.

“Would you stop moving around so much?” he hisses after he says a pleasant farewell to a customer. “I was trying to apply shadow to that girl’s eye and all I could see was you fidgeting in my peripheral vision. Why are you so nervous?”

“I made a bad first impression though,” Minho frets. “Jinki must think I’m insane.”

Kibum looks like he’s about to say something, but then holds it back with a sigh.

“You are two of a kind,” he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. He glances over Minho’s shoulder. “There he is right now. Don’t do anything weird so I can get your miserable self to stay out of my department while I’m working.”

Minho spins around and spots Jinki shuffling towards them. He’s exchanged his blazer in favor of a baggy maroon hoody, his eyes drooping slightly.

“Hey,” Jinki says cheerfully, but his voice is tired.

“Yah, Jinki,” Kibum calls. “Bring this idiot back home in one piece. I’ll check in on him later tonight to make sure.”

“We’re just going to grab something to eat,” Minho says with an eye roll. Kibum waves them off with an eye roll of his own, and turns to help another customer.

Minho shoots glances at Jinki as they’re walking down the street, sees how he keeps nodding his head every couple of steps. They had decided to go to some Italian place a couple blocks away, something mildly expensive so Minho would feel like he’s actually treating Jinki. Instead, thinking hard, Minho stops in front of a diner and points toward the entrance.

“This place has great coffee,” is all that he says, and Jinki’s expression brightens exponentially.

They squeeze themselves into a booth towards the back of the diner, and immediately ask for coffees and stacks of pancakes. They grin at each other in surprise as the waiter walks away.

“So, any new secret admirer gifts today?” Jinki teases. He looks revived with a warm cup of coffee in his hands. Minho’s cheeks warm; he hadn’t remembered telling Jinki about that the other night.

“Some strange mineral powder for my face,” he mumbles, though he knows Jinki can hear. “I don’t really get it. Does my skin look bad? I wash my face in the morning and the evening, but I don’t use makeup. Should I?”

Jinki has a strange expression on his face. “You don’t like that kind of stuff?”

Minho shakes his head. “Makeup and stuff like that isn’t really my thing, believe it or not.”

“What are you into then? Besides good clothes, I mean,” Jinki asks with good humor, and leans forward with a small smile, as though he’s truly interested. And, from Minho’s first impressions of Jinki, he probably is.

“You know.” Minho waves his hand casually. “Sports. I wanted to be a soccer player when I was really young. Otherwise… Photography? Travel? Eating is a big one.”

“I like eating too,” Jinki says with a grin, and as if on cue the waiter comes to bring their pancakes. Jinki had gotten his with little chocolate chips, Minho with strawberries. Minho cuts a piece off of his. It melts in his mouth, delicious.

“So,” he says around a bite of fruit, “what is it that you like, Jinki?”

Jinki, who seemed pensive when they had started eating, flinches at Minho’s question. He nibbles at the end of his fork, playing with a sugar packet in his hand.

“I like movies,” he says after a pause. “I’m kind of a fail at anything that requires physical work and coordination, so sports aren’t for me. I was good in school, but I dropped out of college to be a singer instead. That didn’t work out, so here I am, working at the Bloomingdale’s formalwear department.”

“A singer?”

Jinki smiles and nods. “They called me Onew at the company I was going to sign to. But I got a vocal chord injury before I could debut, so that was the end of that.”

There’s nothing bitter in Jinki’s voice, just calm acceptance. Minho’s kind of impressed; he knows what the pain of not being able to fulfill your dreams is like.

“I’m not upset about it,” Jinki continues. “I live a good life. I have an apartment, I have food. Work is fun, because I get to watch people dress up and be surprised at how much the clothes can change the way they look. That happiness is enough.”

And that, that strikes Minho somewhere in his chest. That clothes can change perception and first impressions. That they can make you feel beautiful, smart, and strong. Minho looks like an accountant, even though he’s just a lowly department store worker.

“So, singing huh?” Minho says with a cough. “You must be really good, if you were going to be signed. Jonghyun sings too, did you know? And Kibum and Taemin, sometimes.”

“Do you?”

Minho laughs. “No, my vocal register is too low to sing most songs.”

“I’d like to hear it, though. Your speaking voice is nice.” Jinki winks above his mug.

“Hmm,” Minho muses. “It’s Friday, right? I think the five of us take off tomorrow, and I can probably convince the others to go out. How about we go to a noraebang? That way I’ll have the time to learn more about what kinds of movies you like.”

They’re both finished with their food by now, and Jinki twirls his spoon in his coffee cup. “I have no plans for tomorrow,” he says. “I’m game.”

Minho has bills to pay at home, and his bedroom needs tidying. But he hasn’t gone out in a long while, and supposes that he can afford a break, just this once.

“I’ll make some phone calls,” he promises as he flags down the waiter, and Jinki beams.

--

Jinki can sing, Minho learns the next day. Can sing as well as Jonghyun can, as they belt out the high notes in “Don’t Stop Believin’” and “Genie” with ease.

Minho also learns that Jinki’s a happy, happy bastard who doesn’t care that Jonghyun makes him go across the city to grab scarves from the warehouse, or into the snow to get Starbucks, or into storage to search for something that may or may not be in inventory. That happiness is kind of infectious, because Jinki makes these ridiculous jokes (like when Taemin considers holistic approaches to curing his allergies, Jinki says with a completely straight face, “Don’t trust people who do acupuncture, they’re back stabbers.”) and he smiles all the time. It’s why Minho can’t seem to say no when Jinki invites him to his apartment to watch a film he thinks Minho would like, doesn’t say no when Jinki takes him to a great samgyupsal restaurant that he wants to show him, only to find out it’s Minho’s favorite as well. They spend every evening of a whole week together, before Minho can blink an eye. There’s an untended to pile of laundry in his hamper.

And all through the work week, there are still the gifts. They get a little more creative, a little more… fitting, Minho supposes he can say. There’s a leather-bound journal, a comprehensive handbook on the best tourist sites in Tokyo, and even, once, a soccer jersey, his own name printed across the back. Minho wears the jersey to a game against Lu Han and Minseok and the others, and doesn’t want to admit how much he puffs up with pride when they say how good it looks on him. Kibum is disappointed when Minho doesn’t relinquish these gifts, but seems to be rewarded enough by seeing Minho’s ears flame with color when they read out embarrassing and slightly creepy lines like, “Do you live in a corn field? Cause I’m stalking you.”

During the day, Minho feels an overwhelming sense of charm and care coming from the gifts and their giver, and carefully tucks the packages in his bag before he leaves for home. He keeps the notes, the pick up lines, in a watch box next to his bed, and when he’s feeling particularly lonely he’ll read them just so he can laugh.

But then there are his outings with Jinki and the others, where he smiles and laughs and forgets, for a little bit, because of Jinki’s smile, or his odd ability to crack nuts with his bare hands, which they discover when Jonghyun brings over chestnuts in holiday spirit. Jinki texts him every morning and evening, now, with emojis and exclamation points and interesting anecdotes about his day, like, “this girl tried on a dress today, and she told me that she hadn’t felt so beautiful in the longest time.”

Minho’s confused, because he’s not sure what makes him happier; the little blue packages that are left around his counter with their clumsy messages and thoughtful gifts, or Jinki Lee, with his awful jokes and bright, bright smile.

--

It happens when Minho’s checking the sizes of dress pants for a customer near the Brooks Brothers display.

He spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, and there’s only one thing Minho knows it can be. He briefly excuses himself and shoves a pair of pants into a passing Kyuhyun’s arms, and rounds the corner of a display roaring.

“STOP! YOU!”

The culprit is wearing a hoody and loose pants, face covered by a scarf, but he’s definitely holding a package wrapped in bright blue paper and a clumsily tied bow. Once he hears Minho’s voice, he stops dead, then bolts towards the stairs. Aha. Minho can take stairs four at a time no problem. No one can overtake him on the stairs.

As the culprit darts past shoes, though, his hood comes off, and Minho stops.

The loose dress pants.

The tacky hoody.

The awesome head of hair.

“Jinki,” he says to himself in disbelief, skittering to a stop, and stares for a few moments when the door swings shut to the stairwell.

Minho walks back to his abandoned customer in a daze, but only finds Kyuhyun holding the bright blue gift.

“That guy dropped this,” he says, handing out the gift with a surprisingly gentle smile. “I don’t think you’d want to lose it.”

Minho handles the package with numb fingers, and, like always, rips off the note first.

“If you were a flower, I’d watch you every minute of every hour of every day and keep you close to me because you'd be the most beautiful thing I’d have,” it reads, and Minho wants to laugh.

“You probably want to go look for him,” Kyuhyun says. “He must really like you, if he’s been giving you all of these gifts for the past few weeks.”

Things make sense now. Jinki’s jitteriness, his blushing. The careful prodding with questions of what Minho likes and what he doesn’t. On one hand, Minho’s surprised and angered at his own density because how could he not have known? On the other, there’s a certain fondness welling up in his chest. It was Jinki of all people, whom Minho’s gone out with almost every day this week, who texted him smiley faces when he woke up this morning, who smiles like sunshine.

It’s a date, Jinki had said that first time.

“Thanks, hyung,” Minho says after looking up, feeling wetness at the corners of his eyes.

“Good luck, Minho-yah,” Kyuhyun says, and gives Minho a two-finger salute before going off to do his work.

When Kyuhyun’s out of sight, Minho peels off the folds of the packaging to reveal a small, black box. He lifts the lid. Nestled inside is a pair of cufflinks, white-gold ovals that are striped with red. Simple, but almost heartbreakingly beautiful for it.

Minho takes the escalator up to formalwear, still clutching the cufflinks in his hand, feeling his heart thud giddily in his chest. He finds Jinki crouched behind his counter, head in his hands. He sounds, unbelievably, like he’s crying. Minho sighs.

“Yah.” He prods at Jinki’s thigh with his shoe. “You.” Jinki looks up, and his face is all red and blotchy, tears dribbling down his cheeks. Minho, despite himself, finds it oddly endearing. But then he remembers what he came up here to do, and waves the cufflinks box in Jinki’s face.

“What were you thinking, spending so much money on me?” he half-shouts to startle Jinki, and when he succeeds in getting a small jump he continues in a lower, exasperated voice. “I can’t believe you’ve gotten me a gift every day since Black Friday. Weird things, too! Girls’ perfume, and Lady Gaga CDs!”

“K-Kibum said that’s the kind of stuff you like. Some things I figured out myself, eventually, but Kibum…” Jinki sniffles feebly, and seems almost taken aback. Minho stares.

“Kibum was in on this?”

“Y-Yeah, he told me what I should get you in the beginning…”

“I’m going to murder him with that leopard-print scarf,” Minho mutters under his breath, and then bends down so he’s eye-level with Jinki.

“You,” he points at Jinki, “don’t need to get me gifts to court me. You could have just asked to go out on a date!”

Jinki rubs the back of his neck, and laughs weakly. “Well, I thought that after the coffee thing…”

For the second time Minho stares, remembering back to that awful Black Friday. “You were the one who poured coffee all over me?” Jonghyun’s gotta die too.

“Oh,” Jinki fumbles hastily.” “Um, yeah, I guess you didn’t know. Heh. Guilty. I’ve liked you ever since then. Even though you, you know, shouted at me.” Minho wants to retort that he burned his corneas on that coffee, but then Jinki’s eyes squeeze up into tiny crescents of mirth. Minho spots little paper cuts on the tips of the fingers that are covering Jinki’s face, and he forgets to be irritated instantaneously. He sighs again.

“Promise me to never listen to Kibum about my love life again,” Minho says solemnly, “and maybe we can try this whole courting thing out. You know, normally, without the secret gifts and stuff.”

Jinki brightens immediately, and flashes Minho a megawatt smile. “Promise!”

Minho grins back, and lends a hand to help Jinki to his feet. When Jinki’s standing in front of him, face to face, he hesitates, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. “I’m vain,” he says. “I care too much about my clothes. I’ll probably never get a legitimate job and die from inhaling too much perfume. Were the times we went out really that fun? Were the gifts worth it?”

Jinki frowns, and his eyes are calling Minho an idiot. “You make me laugh. You’re honest. A little neurotic, maybe, but when we went out we had a good time. What’s a paycheck or two for a person who I really like?”

“Don’t forget that I’m incredibly handsome,” Minho adds on some sort of odd reflex, and Jinki laughs.

“That’s why I was interested in the first place.” And the wink that Jinki gives him, that seals it for Minho. It’s a warm feeling, Jinki’s hands clasping his own.

“Promise me you’ll let me get you a new wardrobe, too,” Minho adds on an afterthought, and Jinki doesn’t even hesitate to smile wider and answer back:

“Promise.”

--

epilogue i

Christmas Eve falls on a Wednesday this year, and that means so does Kibum’s party. Minho dresses Jinki up in a fitted red sweater over a white collared shirt for the occasion, and he looks simply divine.

“Are you sure you want to go to the party, like, ‘together?’” Jinki asks, gnawing at his bottom lip as they stand outside of Kibum’s apartment (since Taemin’s is, decidedly, far too small). “I mean I don’t mind if we just go as friends…”

“No,” Minho assures firmly. “We’re going to grandly announce our relationship in front of everybody. I’d enjoy seeing Kibum’s eyes fall out of his face.”

Jinki grins and takes Minho’s hand, their dry palms sliding together pleasantly in the cold of the corridor. “I have a surprise for you once we get inside.”

The door swings open, revealing Kibum in a horrendous sweater printed with deer, clutching a mug of eggnog in his hand. There’s Christmas music humming low in the background, and the apartment is glittering with decorations. A tasteful evening party, it seems, rather than some of the more raucous gatherings Kibum’s thrown in the past.

Minho and Jinki are ushered in and offered glasses of eggnog, which they take and sip as they mingle with the crowd. Jinki’s fingers just brush Minho’s palm, and Minho doesn’t miss the way Kibum glances knowingly in their direction.

“I see you found out who your secret admirer is,” Kibum stage whispers to him as Jinki’s pulled to the side by Sunyoung, who pinches his cheeks and coos at how handsome he is in red.

“I’m going to strangle you with your scarf,” Minho replies cheerfully.

“Tee hee hee,” Kibum cackles, and dashes off with a wink as Minho attempts to grab for his collar. As Minho fumes to himself in exasperation for a moment, he doesn’t notice Jinki sidle up beside him, rubbing at his cheeks.

“I’m never going to follow your fashion advice again,” he complains.

“But red suits your complexion so well – ” Minho stops indignantly when Jinki begins to grin.

“Just kidding. Your sweater smells like your cologne. It’s nice.”

Minho preens a little, but concedes to lace his fingers with Jinki’s. “The cut makes your shoulders look wider, too,” he mutters to himself.

Throughout the evening they get stopped by incredulous stares – you two are finally together? – and Minho kind of feels at a loss, like he’s the last one in on a punch line. He’s tempted to stick out his tongue when Jonghyun and Taemin wink in his direction.

“So, what’s that surprise you promised me?” Minho leans down and whispers in Jinki’s ear after Kibum’s Christmas CD cycles again. Jinki, who had been munching on roasted nuts, peers up at Minho with wide eyes, like he’d been deep in thought. Minho has an inexplicable urge to squish his cheeks.

“Oh, the surprise!” Jinki exclaims. “I can’t believe I almost forgot.” He releases Minho’s hand and pushes his way through the chatting crowd, and Minho can see him go up to Jonghyun and tap him on the shoulder. Jonghyun turns away from the girl he was talking to and immediately nods, pulling something out of his jacket and pushing it into Jinki’s hands.

“What is that…?”

Jinki strides up to Minho, with an expression of apprehension and almost embarrassment. When he gets closer to Minho, close enough that Minho can feel the warmth radiating form Jinki’s body. Jinki takes a breath, and lifts what looks like a headband with a sprig of mistletoe dangling from a hanger, setting it on his head.

The mistletoe only reaches Minho’s chin.

“Oh,” Jinki says, paling and flailing at Minho’s chest. “Well. That… wasn’t expected.”

Minho’s torn between laughing until his chest aches, and kissing Jinki breathless. He tries to settle for an in between.

“How can you be so silly,” he chuckles, and reaches up to cup Jinki’s cheek.

“How can you be so tall! And, um, I mean, you said you wanted to make Kibum’s eyes fall out of his face, and we haven’t really kissed yet, but, um — !”

Minho brushes the mistletoe aside and leans down to press his lips to Jinki’s, chaste and tender. They’re a little chapped, but Jinki smells of eggnog and spices, sweet. Minho smiles and puffs out little gusts of laughter when they part.

“Um, oh, I — ” Jinki stammers, and his ears are as red as his sweater. There’s someone whooping in the crowd, probably Jonghyun, maybe Kibum. Minho ignores it and collects Jinki in a hug, awkward at first, but so warm when Jinki wraps his arms around Minho’s middle. Jinki relaxes, and Minho can feel cool breath on his neck.

“Merry Christmas, Minho,” Jinki sighs, and Minho just holds him tighter in his arms.

--

epilogue ii

This year, Minho is one of the unfortunate souls who have to work all the shifts just before the New Year, because Kyuhyun and Changmin, who are grossly domestic when they’re not tormenting Minho at work, are off on a trip to Jeju Island. Minho keeps getting pictures of crabs that are twice the size of Kyuhyun’s face, and Changmin throwing his arms against the wind in a Titanic pose, and really he doesn’t think he’s been more jealous of two people in his entire life.

Bloomingdale’s is almost a dead zone the last hour of Minho’s shift before he’s off for New Year’s, and he can feel the last of his energy evaporating along with the customers who shuffle out of the store. Jinki and Jonghyun are off the hook because Sunyoung agreed to handle their shifts, and Kibum somehow managed to wheedle Nicole into taking care of his. Taemin’s out sick after inhaling particularly hard next to the fur coats, so Minho’s pretty much all alone when he locks up the store and takes the subway home, dozing in between stops.

By the time that Minho throws his apartment door open, all he wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for an eternity. He doesn’t even react to gentle fingers carding through his hair as he buries his face into his pillow.

“I knew you were working the past few days, so I had Kibum let me in. I just wanted to check up on you, make sure you’re okay,” Jinki says softly, and his hand pauses on Minho’s forehead. “You’re burning up, Minho.”

Minho feels like garbage, actually. His mouth is like cotton and his head is heavy and aching, and now that he thinks about it, his vision may have been blurring during those last few hours of work.

He supposes he dozes for a bit, because when he rouses Jinki seems to be padding back into the bedroom from the kitchen, a bowl in his hands.

“There, there,” he soothes when Minho whines as Jinki tries to prop him up on his pillows. Minho feels a spoon and broth being pressed to his lips, and he sips, feeling fortified as his stomach is warmed.

Minho wakes in the morning with no fever, refreshed and surprisingly light. Jinki had made sure to press cool cloths to his forehead, fed him broth and made him drink some water in between dozing. Minho glances at the other side of the bed, and smiles. Jinki, who sleeps with a wonky smile on his face. Jinki, who has a terrible wardrobe but looks good in one of Minho’s nightshirts. Jinki, whose limbs are splayed across the blankets so that his fingertips brush against Minho’s side. Minho leans down to brush the bangs from Jinki’s face, peck him softly on the cheek.

“Happy New Year, Jinki,” he whispers, and Minho, he feels warm.

SSS 2014: For carefiction

replaymods — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:18:18 GMT

For: carefiction
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: The Blingee Network
Pairing: Taemin/Jonghyun
Rating: NC-17
Authors’ Notes: This is based off the beginning of The Social Network.

Taemin clacked away at the keyboard, trying to ignore the square torso hovering over his back, though it blocked the fluorescent light overhead. He hunched and typed faster, hoping to get this stupid project over and done with. He didn’t sign up for computer science so he could make some dumb snake game that already existed on every phone.

“Taemin!” Kibum’s finger nearly jabbed the computer screen. “Comment in your code or we'll lose marks. And - oh my God! Can’t you close a bracket for once in your life?” He started pacing, a tap tap tap behind Taemin that rattled his nerves, while muttering, “Why me? I’m never gonna get an A, now.”

Taemin swivelled around in the desk chair to glare at Kibum. A few other students in the packed Harvard computer room were glaring, too. Kibum just made a more ostentatious display of anguish, pulling at his hair.

“Stop stressing!” Taemin said. “You can fix my mistakes. You pick up everything.”

“Excuse me?” Kibum stopped and placed his hand on his chest. “I’m your partner, not your proofreader.”

“Come on; I suck at this stuff.”

Kibum’s face softened. “No, you don’t. I’ve seen you do it right.” His nostrils flared and eyebrows scrunched. “And you know what that means? You’re lazy!” He sat heavily in the chair next to Taemin.

“Am not.” Taemin jutted his chin out. “I stayed up ‘till 3am coding, last night.”

“Oh yeah? An how much of that time was spent whingeing on your LiveJournal?”

“I don’t whinge!”

Kibum rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Finish the code. It’s the last one I’m gonna check for you.”

“I don’t need your help.” Taemin stood up and hovered over Kibum, fists clenched. “Bye.”

Taemin shoved his chair out of the way, and it wheeled across the room with a little spin. He stalked out the door without looking back, ignoring Kibum’s, “God damn it, wait!”

By the time he got out into the cool night air, the force of his footsteps had waned to a trudge. He pulled his hoodie over his head to shield most of his hair from the wind, though it still flopped in front of his eyes.

As he passed by one of the frat houses, he didn’t care to know which one, he turned away from the bright squares of light the windows made against the darkness outside. Whoops and cheers filtered through the blinds. He wrinkled his nose. Gathering of idiots. Who the fuck wanted to be in a fraternity, anyway. Probably idiots like Kibum.

He made his way back to his high-rise apartment, anger seething out his nostrils in white puffs. It rumbled in his head, flinging words back and forth. As soon as he got in his room, he flung himself into his comfortable, worn desk chair that did not spin, and opened his laptop. His LiveJournal account was already open, and he started jabbing at the familiar, flat keys.

Kim Kibum, who dos he thinkhe is? Rich prissy shitead think he’s better than me. You wont even mak it through one year of college.

He stared at the sentences, in all their misspelt glory, and considered fixing his mistakes. Instead, he pressed post, just to spite Kibum. Because he definitely read Taemin’s journal. What a psycho.

He typed as much in his next post. Before he’d calmed down, his entire recent entries page was full of ramblings about Kibum, and, well, that looked a bit demented, didn’t it? So he posted a Blingee of himself with a gold chain swinging from his neck, just to show he wasn’t bothered.

Just as he clicked post and shut his laptop, the door to his apartment swung open and Jonghyun rushed in.

He breathed hard a couple of times, then said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Taemin gestured for him to sit on his couch, brow scrunched in confusion.

Jonghyun blinked at him, sitting slowly. “Your blog.”

“Um...why are you reading my blog at 4am?” Taemin flopped down next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. Skinship was okay with some people. Mostly just Jonghyun.

“I can’t sleep.” Jonghyun shrugged and stared at his knees. They were clad in his best black pressed trousers, matching his blazer. He didn’t even have his arms in the sleeves. What a tryhard. Taemin was annoyed to think he looked cool.

“Don’t you have an economics assessment due?”

“That’s not for two weeks, jeez.”

“Oh, right.” Taemin frowned. He almost had it right. “Then let’s watch movies until we fall asleep.”

“That’ll just keep me up longer,” Jonghyun whined, but got up to fetch the remote off the middle of the floor. He turned back, still half-crouching, and asked, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, whatevs.” Taemin shrugged.

While the movie played, Jonghyun leant further and further into Taemin’s side, chin hooked over his shoulder. Heat radiated off him and through Taemin’s hoodie, flushing his cheeks. How could he bear wearing that blazer all the time?

Taemin got up and fetched his laptop as an excuse for shouldering him off, and stared from computer to TV screen while his heartbeat slowed down and his cheeks cooled.

He ended up on Blingee, who knew why, but clicking through all the glittery stickers was calming. Jonghyun leant on him again, but thankfully kept supporting his own body weight, and watched him pick out a pile of gleaming poop to stick on Kibum’s head.

“Where’d you get that picture?” Jonghyun asked.

“His student profile.” Taemin grinned.

“Taemin!” Jonghyun thwacked him on the arm. “Don’t hack!”

“It’s for a good cause.” Taemin gestured to the picture.

Flies buzzed around the poop on Kibum’s head, and his eyes had been replaced with buttons.

“What’re you gonna do with it?”

“Hmmm.” Taemin tapped his chin. “Ooh!” He logged into his site hosting account and set up a new url, kimkibumshithead.com. Twelve dollars was a small price to pay for revenge.

“Taemin, what the fuck?” Jonghuyn got up off the couch as though Taemin’s presence disturbed him, but only walked over to the fridge to pour himself some juice. He wiggled the carton, and Taemin shook his head. “You’ll get in so much trouble if anyone finds out.”

“I’ll be fine,” Taemin scoffed as he pressed send on the campus-wide email containing only the link to his newest and best website.

***

A letter of warning from the Academic Dean came a week later. The letterhead it was printed on had gone translucent in blobs across the bottom. Taemin imagined they were from Kibum's tears, though the Dean probably just spilt some water while she was signing it.

It sat on his desk, one corner tucked under his laptop so it wouldn't blow away when he opened his window.

The real consequence of his actions came through a phone call.

"Hi, is this Lee Taemin?" A deep voice came down the receiver.

"Yeah." Taemin held his cellphone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled the ring on his can of soup. It broke off, and he swore.

"Uh... Are you okay?"

"Minor cooking disaster." Taemin set the can down on the kitchen counter, next to the the patch of bubbling laminate from when he'd left a boiling pot there.

"Oh, okay. I'll make it quick."

"It's fine." Taemin went back to the living room and sprawled out on the couch.

"Ok, so, I'm Choi Minho - I'm at Harvard with you. You made that picture of Kibum, right? The one with the poop and the flies."

"Yeah, what about it?" Taemin sat up straight, preparing for a barrage of accusations and remonstrations.

But Minho started chortling. The sound pranced down the phone and into Taemin's ear. "Can you make me one? Please? My friend and I are rowers. I can send you a picture of us in our canoe, and then...could you like make it move and stuff?"

Taemin paused. He didn't even know this guy, and Blingee wasn't that hard to use. He was about to tell him to make it himself, when Minho said,

"I'll pay you twenty bucks."

"Seriously?"

"Is it not enough? It must take you ages to make those pictures."

"No, no." Taemin jumped up and pumped his fist. "Twenty is fine. I'll call you when I'm done, okay?"

"Thank you so much!"

Taemin hung up and danced back to his can of soup. He found a knife and stabbed a few holes into the top, then tipped it upside down over a bowl. The thick mixture of vegetable and beans slowly glugged out of the jagged openings.

He was still grinning when Jonghyun came over, panting because the elevator had broken.

"What?" Jonghyun returned the grin. He sat next to Taemin on the couch and ran a hand over his perfectly smooth hair, inadvertently messing up a few strands.

"You guess what." Taemin bounced up and down in his seat, shifting his weight from thigh to thigh.

Jonghyun's grin faltered as he considered Taemin for a moment. "You found love?"

Taemin's laugh burst through his nose like a pig through a barn gate, and he covered it with his hand. "No! I'm getting twenty easy dollars."

"Oh." Jonghyun deflated. "If you need money, you can ask me."

"But get this. Some guy saw my picture of Kibum and wants me to make one of him and his rowing buddy."

"He's...paying you for that?"

"Yup!"

"Who is this loser?"

"Choi Minho. He goes here, but I've never heard of him."

Jonghyun's eyelids fluttered like a frightened bird. "Jesus Christ, Taemin, you live under a rock."

"What? Who is he?" Taemin pouted.

"He's going to the Olympics this year. Him and Lee Jinki."

"Oh." Taemin nodded slowly. "That must be the other guy in the picture."

"But this is great. They're in Alpha Kappa fraternity. Maybe you can get a foot in the door."

"Ugh, frat boys!" Taemin whacked the back of his head against the back of the couch and stared up at the ivory coloured patches of discolouration on his ceiling.

***

Taemin sat in the entry hall of Alpha Kappa fraternity, fiddling with the sleeves of his black hoodie. The staircase that wound upwards in front of him was bigger than any he'd ever seen. The burgundy leather of the couch he was sitting on seemed to resist his weight. He could hear chattering echoing through the wooden halls, but he was alone.

He flipped his phone open. No messages. So he played that stupid snake game while he waited. A door latch clicking and a flood of warm sound made him crash into his own tail. He looked up, slightly bewildered, as though he'd been dreaming.

Two young men with shiny, bouncy hair and grins almost wider than their faces walked in and closed the door. Their polo shirts were clean and unwrinkled, and showed off their large arm muscles.

Taemin blushed and stood up at the same time the tallest strode forward and extended his hand to shake. Forehead collided with hand, and Taemin sat back down, shoulders up to his ears.

"Hey, I'm Minho, and this is Jinki," he said as he sat next to Taemin on the couch.

Jinki squatted in front of them, as though he was sitting on an invisible chair. Taemin laughed, unsure whether he was showing off how strong he was or just being a dork. His arched eyebrow and awkward smile made Taemin think the latter.

"Did you want some food? We can't let you into the cafeteria, but we brought you this." Minho held out half a baguette overflowing with waves of shaved chicken and vegetables.

Taemin glanced at the doors they'd come through, as tall as the walls, and frowned. Turning back to Minho, he smiled sweetly and said, "Thanks!"

He set it aside and reached down to pull his laptop out of its bag. As it powered up, Jinki said,

"Thanks for coming over and showing us. We don't know how to make the pictures move when you open them."

Taemin shrugged. "You just open them in a browser."

"Ohhh," they said in unison, nodding at each other.

Taemin kept the teasing comment he wanted to make out of his mouth and clicked through his folders to the file. When it opened in all it's glittery glory, Minho and Jinki leaned over him and gasped.

There they were, photoshopped onto a rowboat (they were paying him the big bucks, so he'd put in a bit of extra effort) the oars were paddling in windmill shapes, while the sea sparkled with as many blinking stars as he could stand to look at. Fish and dolphins were jumping out of the water in the background, and their boat was spouting a leak.

Minho and Jinki turned to each other with matching gaping mouths. "Awesome!" They high fived over Taemin's head.

***

Taemin had expected Jonghyun to be pleased. The Olympic frat boys were impressed, and their friends were all throwing money at him to make more Blingees.

Instead, he was hanging off the edge of Taemin's couch and whining, "How many are you going to do tonight? Don't you wanna hang out?"

"I'll just do ten more," Taemin said as he affixed a bow to the top of a chemistry major's head.

"Ten?" Jonghyun all but wailed, throwing his head back. "Can one of those be for me?"

Taemin stopped and turned around in his non-spinny chair. "I thought you said they were dumb."

"They are, but I still want one." Jonghyun shrugged and buried his chin in his arms.

"Okay, that'll be twenty dollars," Taemin said, extending his palm.

"What about mates' rates?" Jonghyun batted his eyelashes.

"I'm too busy to give out freebies!" Taemin gestured to the mess of papers spread out over his desk, each with another Blingee request.

Taemin's cellphone rang, and he chucked it at Jonghyun. "Please can you answer that? Thanks." He went back to work, browsing for more bows, but kept an ear on the conversation.

"Hello, Taemin's phone. Uh, hey. Are you serious? You're gonna pay? For another one? Okay, no poop, but I'm not making any promises." Jonghyun reached over Taemin for a pen and scrap of paper. "Poodles. With crowns. And a crown on your head. What the- yes, I'm writing it down! Yeah okay. Bye."

He set the phone and paper down on Taemin's desk. "Kibum's made an order."

A grin threatened to spread over Taemin's face. He fought it valiantly, mouth twisting and turning, but it claimed him.

Jonghyun huffed. "Yeah, yeah, you win. Look, playing secretary is boring. I'm gonna go."

"I'll call you." Taemin waved at his back.

"You never call me."

"That's because you're," the door shut before Taemin could finish, "always here."

***

Three days later, true to his word, Taemin called Jonghyun. The dial tone pulsed stubbornly in his ear.

So he sent him six texts:

Hey

Come over

I’ve done most of the blingees

We can watch that vampire movie you like

I’ll make you a blingee

I knew you didn’t want one

He rolled around on his bed and tapped at his PlayStation controller, while his arms couldn't quite prop him up. Everything felt heavy. Including his face. He fell asleep with a slack jaw and an open cavern of a mouth, and woke up with breath like he'd been swallowing socks all night.

His cellphone blinked with three messages, but they were all asking for Blingees. One even had the nerve to ask for a free one.

Maybe that was why Jonghyun wasn't talking to him.

He watched movies that Jonghyun would have watched, where people cried in the rain and confessed their undying love. By the third movie, he was crying into his pillow, and it definitely wasn't because of the movie. He couldn't relate to the characters at all. Their personalities were as blank as his phone screen.

He blew his nose, sniffled, and trudged into the bathroom for a shower. All the passages in his face ached. Probably from pumping all those tears to his eyes. But why was he sad? He hadn't counted up all the twenties he'd been given in the past week, but the wad was too thick for his wallet.

He dressed in his cleanest sweater, blow dried his hair, and checked his phone before leaving his apartment and shuffling down the hall to the elevator. The sign saying 'BROKEN' was still taped to it. Now, it was crooked. So he galloped down the stairs, arms out to balance himself. Each red granite step loomed before him, and each wobbling ankle threatened death. He reached floor two with a thwack of his soles, and skipped down the hall to Jonghyun's apartment. The smell of Thai green curry wafted from his neighbour's door, and Taemin's stomach grumbled.

He rapped his knuckles against Jonghyun's door, and bounced on the balls of his feet a few times.

A boy with vertical brown hair and a mono brow opened the door, and quirked that brow at Taemin. "Hello?"

"Hey, I'm Jonghyun's friend. Is he here?"

The boy shrugged. "I think he's in his room. I'll go check."

He shuffled off into the house, while Taemin put his hands in his pockets and swayed as he waited. He wanted to jump up and down a few times, and he didn't know why. Maybe to expend some of the buzzing energy that was tingling his skin.

The boy came back and said, "He's still in bed. I don't think-"

"That's okay!" Taemin bounded into the apartment, through the living room and down the hall, looking this way and that. One door was open onto a room that contained no human life, but probably some bacteria. The opposite door was slightly ajar, like a car window rolled down to give the dog some air. Taemin pushed at it with a finger, and it swung open into gloom shrouded by blue curtains.

"Jonghyun?" His voice was a soft press against the darkness and blankets that were wrapped around either a human or a giant caterpillar that had taken up residence in the bed.

A hand peeking out of the top of the blankets signified that it was a human, after all. It pulled the fabric down to reveal black hair suck up at all angles by grease. Jonghyun's head emerged, puffy around the eyes and red in the cheeks. He winced in the scant light.

"Taemin?"

"Hey! Get up. Let's go outside. I wanna climb a tree. I think you should climb a tree."

"No, I'm tired." Jonghyun pulled the blankets up around his chin.

"Since when? Come on!"

Taemin strode into the room and took Jonghyun's hand, pulling him upright. Jonghyun whined but let him. The blankets fell to his lap. The smell of suffocated sweat wafted out. Jonghyun's bare torso was flushed and covered in a light sheen. His sleeping shorts had ridden up to look more like briefs with many tiny creases.

Taemin blushed and looked at the floor, but kept tugging on Jonghyun's floppy wrist. "You stink. Go have a shower and I'll...get you some food out of a can."

"No." Jonghyun shook his head and screwed up his face. "Go away."

Go away? Go away? Since when did Jonghyun say that to him?

Taemin huffed and let go of Jonghyun's wrist. Jonghyun swayed for a moment, before flopping back onto the mattress. He lay there, probably spending a lot of effort to stay so still.

"Well...see you, I guess."

Taemin walked back out, leaving the door open. That boy needed some air.

When he got back to his apartment, Taemin paced for a few minutes, picking up his remote, his PlayStation controller, a box of scrabble, and, God forbid, a logic text book. He set them all down after considering them for a moment, then trudged off to bed early.

In the middle of the night, he woke up with pain in his stomach like he'd been doing sit-ups in his sleep. The muscles wouldn't let go of their tension, even when he did the breathing technique his dad taught him when he was little. He turned over and grabbed his phone from amongst the wrappers on his bedside table. No message from Jonghyun. Not that he was expecting one. He grit his teeth against the ache in his eyes.

"Jonghyun, I..." The words fell into the air. "I... Ugh!"

He pulled his hair and slapped his cheek. The sting sent an invigorating buzz through his body.

"Jonghyun, I love you!" he blurted as fast as he could. It felt like shouting into a cavern.

He sat up and flung his blankets off himself. He was only in his briefs, and the air was cool, but he jumped out of bed and into the living room without so much as a sheet to cover himself. He sat at his desk, spread his textbooks away from him, and opened his laptop. As it booted up, he picked at the skin around his thumb. It didn't feel like much, because it was mostly scar tissue.

He opened Blingee and uploaded the picture of Jonghyun and himself from Jonghyun's last birthday. Right away, he stuck sparkly hearts over the faces of Jonghyun's friends in the background, who had dared to ruin their picture. He gave himself a gothic cross necklace and Jonghyun a gold chain, then made a speech bubble coming out of his mouth. His hands hovered over the keyboard, not daring to land on the letters. He scrunched his eyes closes and touch typed.

When he opened them, the speech bubble read,

U kove upu

Oops. He corrected them, stared at it for ten minutes, then pressed save. Before he got stuck staring at it again, he attached it to an email to Jonghyun and wrote,

There, I made you a Blingee. Will you hang out, now?

He pressed send, slammed his laptop closed, and ran into his room.

He only had time to pace his room ten times before his front door clicked open and banged against the wall. He peeked around his bedroom door. Jonghyun was standing in the doorway in only his sleeping shorts and a loosely slung dressing gown. His hand was braced against the doorknob and he gulped in deep breaths.

"Really?" His voice cracked.

Taemin nodded and edged into his doorway. Jonghyun scurried across the living room and cupped his face in his hands. Arms hanging slack at his sides, Taemin gasped and just stared. He didn't even reciprocate the kiss Jonghyun planted on his lips, or the next, or the next; there were so many, so rapid and dry.

Taemin ducked his head out of Jonghyun's grip and aim, found control enough of his arms to take his hands, and leant down to press his lips firmly against his. Jonghyun's soft lips opened and his sigh breezed over Taemin's face, and then their lips fastened together with harsh sucks.

Jonghyun's hands slipped out of Taemin's and gripped his hips, fingers sliding over the waistband of his briefs. His touch was firm as his hands roamed. Taemin gripped his robe and yanked him closer. Jonghyun groaned as their skin met, and scratched down Taemin's back, making him arch and shiver. The dressing gown fell around their ankles in a puddle of towelling. Now only rumpled sleeping shorts and briefs were between their grinding bodies.

Taemin wondered if they were moving too fast, even as he sucked at Jonghyun's neck and grazed his teeth over the skin. It was like jumping off a precipice with adrenaline and cabin fever energising every inch of him. Maybe the bottom of the cliff would be soft bedding, or maybe it would be rocks.

But the falling felt so natural and right, hand moving from shoulder to ass and squeezing, slipping fingers under the hem of Jonghyun's shorts and trailing down and between his legs to tickle the skin just beside his balls. Jonghyun gasped, spread his legs, veered backwards. He stilled when Taemin gripped his hip to keep him in place, but bit his earlobe, scratched his chest and whined in protest.

Taemin snickered and withdrew. He widened his eyes and ducked his head, playing with the waistband of his briefs. With a bat of his eyelashes, he said, "What? Don't you want me to touch you?"

Jonghyun pouted and grabbed him around the waist. "Don't be a tease."

Taemin's retort withered in his throat and came out as a high, fluttering moan, for Jonghyun was backing him against the wall, peeling his briefs off and kissing down his chest, stomach, nipping at his hips. He stared up at Taemin with those enormous round eyes and licked the head of his cock. Taemin's mouth worked silently, then his teeth clicked together and he bucked his hips. The head of his cock collided with Jonghyun's open mouth. He gripped it in the tight circle of his hand and pressed his other against Taemin's hip.

Taemin closed his eyes and pressed his head and shoulders back against the wall, hips rocking forwards as his cock was first licked, then engulfed by Jonghyun's pretty pink lips. He bit his own lips, a muffled moan breaking through, and threaded his hand through Jonghyun's hair. It was stiff and greasy, but he didn't care, and just gripped it hard as he guided Jonghyun's head forward. Jonghyun just took it, relaxing his throat and moaning around Taemin's length. The slick slapping sounds below signified that he didn't mind at all.

Jonghyun swallowed around him and and hollowed out his cheeks, then slid the tight circle of his lips back up Taemin's cock. Taemin's legs shook and he pressed his free hand to the wall, clawing at the paint as Jonghyun engulfed him once more.

He was definitely practiced, had been with others, perhaps while loving Taemin. Taemin growled and pulled Jonghyun almost all the way off his cock, then shoved him back down, as far as his throat would allow. Jonghyun moaned and started bobbing his head in earnest, quick friction of wet lips, tongue and throat melting Taemin's consciousness in a hot rush of pleasure.

Taemin's skin prickled, his face heated and his groin throbbed as he came down Jonghyun's throat. His fist at Jonghyun's scalp kept his mouth around him as he swallowed with a moan. He loved this part - the part that felt like too much, like Jonghyun was touching his nerves in his suddenly gentle mouth. Taemin whimpered, shook his head, held on to the delicious, wet pleasure as it scattered, until he twitched away and pulled Jonghyun's head back.

They gazed at each other, Jonghyun's eyes wide and Taemin's heavy lidded. He licked his lips at the sight of his cum drooling from the corner of Jonghyun's mouth. Drips of Jonghyn's cum fell to the carpet between his legs, but most covered his hand.

Taemin wrinkled his nose, and Jonghyun blushed, getting up on creaking knees. He kissed Taemin, then left to retrieve a cloth from the bathroom. As he dabbed the carpet, Taemin leant against the wall, sure he could fall asleep standing up.

Instead, Jonghyun led him to his bed and pulled him onto the messy grey sheets. The top sheet fluttered over him, then Jonghyun nuzzled into his side, warm, sticky and smooth.

"That was fair payment for the Blingee," Taemin said, turning to face Jonghyun and tap him on the nose.

"Taemin!" Jonghyun thwacked his butt. "I love you!"

Taemin's cheeks burned, and he leant forward to kiss Jonghyun before he said something else and made him cry. When he pulled back, Jonghyun was blinking at him expectantly, hope hovering at his parted lips.

"Sorry I made you sad." Taemin said. "I'm just slow, I guess."

"I should've confessed." Jonghyun shrugged. "Sorry I got jealous of the Blingees."

"I'll take you on a date with the money I earned." Taemin flicked at Jonghyun's nipple, making him snort and wriggle.

"How much money did you make, anyway?"

"Two thousand dollars."

"Shit! I'm ordering wagyu beef!"

SSS 2014: For static_abyss

replaymods — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:14:07 GMT

For: static_abyss
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: This and Everything Else
Pairing: Onew/Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Authors’ Notes: I'm not sure this is at all what you were expecting but I enjoyed writing it a lot and I hope you'll enjoy reading it! ~~I was so nervous after seeing who my recipient was, I really love your writing~~

Minho blinks. He stares at the shelf in front of him, the cartoonish face of a brightly colored rabbit smiling maniacally at him a dozen times over, a muddled look of confusion growing on his face. There is a clink to his right and he stares down the aisle to see Jonghyun restocking a shelf.

Minho clears his throat.

"What day is it?"

Jonghyun spares him a glance before he slides another box into place. "Monday."

"No, I mean, what day of the month is it?"

"The 24th."

Minho lets out a huff. "Of what month?"

"This month." He can hear the bluntness in Jonghyun's voice and it's irritating him a bit today for some reason.

"No, I - I'm going to look for Jinki."

Minho turns on his heel and searches for Jinki in all the places he likes to hide out to rest.

Jinki's nowhere to be found.

-

It was all Jinki's idea. Cart races around the store had sounded like a good idea at the time - brilliant even - but then Jonghyun had crashed his cart into the tortilla stand and Jinki had knocked over a fake dessert display and Minho had somehow managed to rip a hole in the knee of his pants. Not to mention, they still had to clean up the mess they'd made.

Minho isn't entirely sure that they were authorized to have cart races in the store after hours. In fact, he is entirely sure they weren't allowed and he also isn't sure it was even after hours. He's never managed to find a clock anywhere in the supermarket and his watch battery has apparently long since died. Nevertheless, no one is around but the three of them and they have quite an area to clean up.

About the time Jinki steps into a puddle of yogurt and slips, spattering an array of sweet smelling goop all over clothes, Jonghyun unanimously decides that it is time for a break.

He drops down next to Jinki who is futilely trying to wipe a yogurt-covered hand off on his yogurt-covered pants. Seeing as how Jonghyun seems unmindful of the mess they are sitting in, Minho gives a half-hearted shrug and sits down on Jinki's other side. (It is less dirty there but that's beside the point.)

"We should invent a robot," Jonghyun says, leaning back on his hands.

"A robot?" Minho asks.

"Yeah. One that could clean up messes."

"I think there's already -" Jinki starts.

"Or we could not make messes?" Minho suggests.

Jonghyun fixes him with a look that says that that is out of the question.

"There's not that much to clean up," Jinki says, patting Jonghyun's hand. The appendage is now coated with pink yogurt but neither boy seems to notice.

Jonghyun is not having that answer though and flops backwards with a groan, demonstrating just what he thinks of the
mess.

Minho stares at the blueberry mess now pooled around Jonghyun's bright blond hair with a little smile. It looks nice.

Jinki looks at Minho and catches his eye with a grin. Before Minho knows what is happening, Jinki has lifted his hand and is pressing Minho's nose lightly with a finger. Minho looks at Jinki until he catches sight of the blob of pink gathered at the tip of his nose. He can hear Jinki and Jonghyun laughing as his eyes cross.

With a grin of his own, Minho scoops his fingers through the yogurt and drags them across Jinki's cheeks. Jinki's face is bright as he laughs loudly, mouth wide open and head thrown back. Minho is struck momentarily with something powerful and fierce, tugging at something inside his chest as he watches Jinki laugh, but it is knocked out of place to somewhere in the back of his mind as Jonghyun flops over Minho's back in a gooey hug.

He can feel some of the yogurt from Jonghyun's hair dripping down the side of his face and he nudges at the older boy, not really trying to get him off. With Minho held safely in place, Jinki lays back against Minho's legs, messy hair fanned out over Minho's thighs. Jinki stares up at the two of them with a steady grin and Jonghyun's chin hooks over Minho's shoulder as he grins back down at Jinki.

Minho can feel the pressure of Jinki's head and the heat of Jonghyun's chest. The three of them are connected there, in that moment, both physically and from something else that Minho can feel but doesn't have the words to describe. A wide grin brakes out on his own face as he leans back against Jonghyun and cards a sticky hand through Jinki's hair.

The tugging comes back, distantly.

-

Minho turns around and is met with a boy with long brown hair. It falls around his face in gentle waves and Minho's sure he's never seen this boy because he's sure he would remember meeting an angel.

The boy sticks his hand out and with a large smile that makes his eyes turn into little crescents, he says, "hi, I'm Jinki. Today must be your first day right?"

And Minho nods even though he feels like maybe he's been here before once but he's definitely never seen this boy so it must be his first day.

Jinki shows him around the store and tells him how to do all the things Minho's sure he somehow already knows how to do. It's at the end of the makeshift tour that they meet another boy who enthusiastically introduces himself as Jonghyun and drags Minho over to his register to teach him how to use it. Minho doesn't tell Jonghyun that he's used a register before and that everything Jonghyun's saying is white noise because he already knows this stuff because Jonghyun's eyes light up when he's excited and it's honestly kind of really beautiful.

When they're done, Jonghyun brings out Minho's new apron and puts the strap of it over Minho's head. Minho's a little embarrassed so he tries to tie it but he's nervous for some reason and his fingers are fumbling and he can't tie the knot properly. Jinki steps behind him smoothly, taking the straps out of Minho's clammy fingers and helps him tie it as Jonghyun straightens the twisted strap around his neck.

Something about the foreign scene feels familiar and Minho tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Jonghyun pats him on the shoulder and Jinki gives him as they make their way to their own registers.

-

When Minho walks into the staff room there's a boy sitting against the wall with a phone in his hands. This strikes Minho as odd for a number of reasons, but the only one that he can focus on is that he's pretty sure he doesn't know this boy. (Later, he'll think of the phone and for some reason it seems glaringly out of place but for the life of him he can't fathom why.)

The door closes behind Minho softly and the boy looks up at the sound. He's got sharp eyes and Minho takes a step back.

"Who are you?"

Minho hesitates, a little taken aback. "Minho. Who are you?"

The boy doesn't answer, instead briefly looking Minho up and down before he turns back to his phone. A light tapping noise fills the awkward silence in the room and instead of trying to get answers, Minho turns on his heel and walks back out the door. Jonghyun assigns him to restock the milk and Minho nearly forgets about the mysterious boy in the staff room completely until he hears a shout of "Kibum" from across the aisle.

He looks over to where Jonghyun and Jinki are standing, arms looped around each other's shoulders and waving excitedly at someone Minho can't see. For a flurrying second, Minho wonders if it's not the boy, but someone else instead - until the boy that Minho met steps into view with a soft wave and an even softer smile.

"When did you get here?" Minho hears Jinki ask, leaning his head against Jonghyun's shoulder.

Kibum shrugs, "just now."

Except he didn't get there just now because Minho remembers meeting him in the staff room...some time ago, and that had to have been a while ago, right? At least he thought it was a while ago; certainly more than a small bit of time had to have passed.

The voices of the three become louder as they approach and Minho shakes himself out of his head.

"Hey, Minho," Jonghyun says with a grin. "This is our friend, Kibum."

"Nice to meet you," Minho mutters. He's still confused.

"We've met," Kibum says.

Jonghyun and Jinki turn to look at him, surprised, but Kibum only gives a vague grin, like he's got a secret all to himself.

Time passes slowly, as it is wont to do, and Minho is entangled in his usual routine. He's not sure how there's always so much work to do in a store that never seems to have any customers, but somehow he always finds something to do. He catches only glimpses of Kibum here and there around the store - at Jonghyun's register, in the storeroom with Jinki, lounging in a fold out chair in the beach display near the back entrance - but mostly it's just another day.

And then, ten minutes before closing time, Kibum announces that he's going to leave. Minho looks up from his book with faint surprise, it's almost as if he forgot that Kibum was there, or that he was even going to leave at all. But then he remembers that it's usually just the three of them - him, Jinki, and Jonghyun - and feels like it was probably about time anyway. Kibum was interesting to have around, but he wasn't really meant to be here.

Jonghyun bids Kibum a long and elaborate goodbye that consists of no less than three hugs, all of which Kibum accepts with a laugh and, by the last one, a little shove. Jinki just gives him a short hug and wishes him a safe trip home and Kibum seems to fix Jinki with a secretive look that Minho's not sure anyone but him catches. His own goodbye with Kibum is a little lackluster in comparison, just a simple "goodbye, it was nice to meet you" and a handshake.

And then Kibum leaves. Minho watches him go, walking out the door until he's swallowed up by the fog. He thinks he can still hear Kibum's shoes hitting the asphalt but he's sure it's just his head playing tricks on him.

-

When Minho sees Jonghyun he thinks the older boy looks younger than he last remembers. His shoulders are slimmer and he's got a little more fat in his cheeks. Minho cocks his head and looks for Jinki and it's the same thing - he looks younger than...yesterday? Jinki walks up to Jonghyun's register and Minho can hear them talking. Their voices are a little higher, a little more carefree, and Minho stares down at himself. He looks the same. Or at least he thinks he does.

When Jinki calls out to Minho, asks him a question, Minho's voice is a slightly different when he replies. He jerks a little, slightly startled, but when Jonghyun asks him what's wrong, Minho's not really sure how to answer.

Jinki seems clumsier than he usually is, head in the clouds as he trips over discarded hand baskets and Minho stares at his rounded cheeks in amazement. When Jinki's eyes turn on him, Minho's cheeks color for reasons he doesn't understand and he grips the broom handle more tightly in his hands, head down as he sweeps furiously.

-

Jinki's hands are soft. Jonghyun's hands are calloused. Minho can feel the stark difference as they touch his face, grip at his arms, tug his hands down to slip their fingers in between his. It's almost overwhelming, this push and pull from them, because Jonghyun is hard where Jinki is soft and Jinki is daring where Jonghyun is cautious. A hand grips at the back of his neck and Minho can tell that it's Jonghyun's because of the way that the fingertips glide up the skin and tangle in his hair. But there's a gentle, sure hand cradling his jaw and Minho doesn't have to open his eyes to know that it's Jinki, holding him like a lifeline. Minho can feel their stares, can feel their hands, can feel their breath crashing in steady, warm waves against the sides of his face.

They're huddled in a dark corner in the storeroom and Minho's not entirely sure why they're hiding because he thinks he hasn't seen anyone in days but Jonghyun has tugged him all the way to the back and Jinki surreptitiously flicks off the light. It is cold, so cold back there, and with the fog rolling in from outside, sneaking in underneath the automatic doors and waiting heavy and thick outside the glass, it doesn't take long for Minho to start shivering.

Jonghyun had waited all of twenty seconds before burying himself in Minho's side, wiggling his hands into the pocket of Minho's hoodie. It is before opening and none of them have changed yet and Minho really thinks they should probably leave and get ready for work but Jinki lays - heavy, warm, safe - against him and Minho inhales deeply and relaxes.

They don't break the silence in the cold, empty room, lost in their own thoughts and breathing quietly, until Minho's breath hitches sharply as Jonghyun's cold nose edges against his neck. Minho sits stock still, eyes clenched shut against the darkness as Jonghyun's nose trails over his warm skin, pressing in lightly until he settles right behind the skin of Minho's ear. His nose is warmer now, and Minho fights the urge to shiver for no apparent reason.

They stay like that for some time, the three of them nestled closely together, and Minho feels Jinki sneak a hand into his pocket, hand wrapping around one of Jonghyun's. He can feel the weight of their hands against his stomach, a light, consistent pressure to remind him that they were real. And then Jinki's nose is buried against Minho's neck, an exact mirror of Jonghyun on the other side of his neck but Minho can feel just the slightest brush of lips against his skin. He feels a shock of electricity surge through his veins that leaves his fingertips tingling and he realizes his hands are just resting, dull and awkward at his sides.

Minho brings his hands up, letting them hover awkwardly above the ground as he tries to figure out what to do with them. His pocket is taken up with both Jonghyun's and Jinki's hands and he can't exactly just pull their hands away. He settles for resting his hands in the dip between his stomach and Jinki and Jonghyun's clasped hands. It feels intimate, somehow, and Minho represses a shudder he can feel making its way up his spine. His toes curl in his shoes anyway.

As if he could feel the movement that Minho tried so hard to hide, Jinki's lips press that much more insistently against his skin. Minho's Adam's apple bobs erratically as he swallows and then it's Jonghyun's lips over that very spot. He doesn't mean to do it, doesn't mean to fall into them, but Minho's head tips back and he can feel their warm breath against his skin.

They move - slowly, surely, carefully - and Minho knows who is who even though there's no way he should know such a thing without learning it first. But Jinki's hand is warm on his thigh and Jonghyun's is heavy in the center of his chest and he can feel their other hands sneaking in between the gap of the wall and his back to come together, knotted carefully at the base of his spine. He feels cocooned between them and hears rasping breathing filling the room. He can't bring himself to move, to cup at their cheeks or pull them to him, but he's clutching their hands tight to him and his head is tipped back against their lips.

They nestle into his shoulders, the top of Jonghyun's head bumping his jaw, Jinki's cheek soft against his. Minho's heart does a slow crawl back down, steadying into some semblance of normal as Jinki and Jonghyun's hearts pound in sync against his arms. He can't open his eyes, feeling his lids weighed down, heavy and sticky like honey. But he can feel. He can feel the weight of the two of them against him, their hair scratching lightly at his cheeks, their breath hitting warm and misty against his skin, and he feels loved.

-

One day a boy shows up. He's thin and a little sickly looking, with a dark mask covering the lower half of his face. Minho can see the dark circles from several rows away and he watches the boy drag his feet as he makes his way to the other side of the store. As the boy sluggishly zig zags through the lanes, Minho tries not to stare. Instead, he needlessly rearranges the dividers at his register and listens to Jinki hum two registers over.

It's another several long minutes before the boy shuffles out of the lanes, slender arms laden with a small stack of items. When he approaches the registers, the boy looks up and pauses as if realizing for the first time that he wasn't the only one in the store. His tired eyes dart to his left before he resumes his shuffling over towards Jonghyun's register. When he parts his arms and his items clatter on the conveyor belt, Jonghyun's head darts up quickly. Hadn't anyone in the store besides Minho noticed the boy when he first came in?

"Taemin!" Jonghyun cries excitedly.

Minho tries to surreptitiously lean around his own register to see the boy. He's partially blocked by Jonghyun, but Minho can see his eyes crinkle above his mask in happiness. The boy, Taemin, raises his arm weakly and gives Jonghyun a short wave.

"You haven't been by in forever," Jonghyun admonishes lightly as he begins ringing Taemin's things up. On the belt, there is a small assortment of brightly colored pop rock packets, a loaf of bread, two bars of soap, and a can of iced coffee. Minho stares in confusion at the items, wondering why any of these are important enough for Taemin to leave the house for when he so clearly is sick, before Taemin catches his eye. Minho ducks away in embarrassment and turns towards Jinki with a flaming face but the other boy has fallen asleep at his register with a book in his lap.

He can hear Jonghyun and Taemin making quiet conversation behind him and he rolls his neck. They don't get a lot of customers, it's normal to be curious right? Especially since Jonghyun knew the guy, and Minho had never heard Jinki or Jonghyun talk about anyone they knew outside of work...or about anyone else at all, really.

"So you got a new guy here?" Comes Taemin's scratchy voice.

Minho's back becomes rigid before he forces himself to relax. He tries to make himself look casual before he realizes he has no idea how to do that.

It doesn't matter though because Jonghyun continues, "yup. Another member of the family."

There's still a steady beep of the items being scanned and Minho really doesn't remember Taemin having that many things in his skinny little arms. He turns around to check but Jonghyun's just putting the loaf of bread into the bag. He hands it to Taemin and, instead of grabbing the weak, paper handles, Taemin cradles the bag against his chest. It makes him look even more slight - a thin, long sleeved shirt enveloping his frame, stick thin legs on display in his tight jeans. Taemin catches his eye again and Minho takes in the messy dark hair flopping over his pale face and into his eyes. Taemin's face shifts under his mask and his eyes crinkle just slightly once more before he's turning towards the door and shuffling out with a quiet, scratchy, "see you".

-

"Your turn to collect the carts, Minho," Jinki calls as he leaned over the conveyor belt at his register.

"Got it," Minho calls back. He's been here for...well he's been here for some time and he is pretty sure this is the first time he's ever been told he's supposed to collect the carts. Despite that, he knows where the cart retriever is. He shrugs and collects the retriever, making his way outside as Jonghyun waves merrily at him from where he's setting up a display of wine bottles.

It's foggy outside and it seems like it should be cold but Minho can hardly feel the air against his bare arms. The parking lot is deserted, as it always is, and it was almost eerie how quiet it is. Minho walks slowly, collecting the carts scattered around the large parking lot. No one ever comes to visit - why are there so many carts? He lets out a quiet sigh as he eyes the carts several feet out.

A wheel screeches noisily as he rolls the nestle of carts farther and farther out. The parking lot seems like it goes on for miles and Minho is acutely aware that he can't see anything besides the asphalt stretching deep into the fog. He can see a small cluster of carts out a long way away and, shrugging, decides it probably isn't his job. The wheel continues squeaking until Minho deposits the carts in the holder in front of the store.

As he turns around, the automatic doors open and Minho feels a blast of warm air rush toward him. He can suddenly feel goose bumps raise on his arms from the chilly air outside. Rubbing his arm, he hurries inside, hardly giving pause to the cookie display that had been wine bottles before he'd left. Jinki isn't at his register anymore so Minho takes his spot reluctantly. The store is so large, he isn't really up for a goose chase at the moment.

-

Minho wakes with a start to the touch of soft hands and a gentle shake. He blinks, dazed, up at Jinki. The lights seem brighter than normal and he has to squint because his eyes are too tired and his head is too muddled to take in all the sensory overload. He can smell cinnamon and pine and mint and it almost makes him feel like he's suffocating so he buries his face in Jinki's apron instead and takes in the familiar, comforting smell of hand lotion and fabric softener. Jinki lays a hand on top of his head and Minho can feel himself relaxing even further as Jinki's fingers dance lightly over his hair. He's about ready to take a deep breath and drift asleep once more when Jinki speaks up.

"Jonghyun's been looking for you."

Minho makes a small, questioning noise, still not entirely awake or cognizant.

"He has something he wants to show you."

So Minho lets Jinki haul him up and drag him over to some corner of the store. Minho's leaning on Jinki and Jinki's shorter than him but since he's the only one of them that's awake, his stride is longer and Minho's stumbling, feet tripping over each other in his hazy haste to keep up.

He doesn't even have his eyes open anymore, blindly trusting Jinki to lead them, when Jinki brings him to a slow stop and places a hand on Minho's arm. Minho shakes his head weakly to wake up, makes himself dizzy, and stops. His head is still spinning when he opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is white, lots and lots of white.

It seems to go on for miles but then his vision clears a little and he sees that, it's not miles, it's just piles of fake snow. There's snow falling from the ceiling, in mounds on ground, covering everything that he can see. And there's Jonghyun in the middle of all of it, white snow dusting his brown hair and Minho pretends he can even see flakes of it tangled in Jonghyun's eye lashes. He thinks that would be very pretty.

Jonghyun's smiling nervously, and it's nervous even though Jonghyun's putting on a confident act and Minho's not sure how he can tell, but he can. He stares at Jonghyun and then glances at Jinki, and Jinki smiles quietly and pats his arm again. It feels like permission and Minho turns back to Jonghyun and a smiles breaks out across his face. When he steps forward, fake snow crunching under his feet, Jonghyun's smile finally relaxes and slips into something genuine.

He stops in front of Jonghyun and looks around him once more.

"This is beautiful, Jonghyun," he says quietly, afraid to break whatever it was that Jonghyun had created here in his own little world.

"Glad you like it," Jonghyun replies sheepishly. And then Minho can hear snow crunching behind him as Jinki walks towards them and stands beside him in front of Jonghyun.

Everything is so quiet, an easy silence permeating the store and seeping into this little space, carefully tucked away from everything else. Minho's staring at the snow, watching the way it sits on Jonghyun's hair when Jinki wraps an arm around his waist and tuck him against his side. Minho's lips twitch and a laugh is about to escape him when Jonghyun steps forward and pulls them both to him. His arms are looped around both their shoulders and his face is buried in the space between theirs.

Minho feels warm. Jonghyun's breath is hitting his neck, and his cheek is warm against Minho's. Jinki is pressed up against his side, arm heavy and secure around Minho. Minho's arms reach out and he wraps them around each of the boys, buries his fingers in the fabric of their shirts and breathes deeply. He can smell them, each of them distinct and harmonious and it makes his bones quiver. He's scared and excited and safe.

Jinki is breathing next to him, steady and light and Jonghyun's heart is beating against his arm. It's quiet.

Minho closes his eyes and feels like he's in a dream he never wants to wake from.

SSS 2014: The Day of Revelation is Upon Us

replaymods — Mon, 05 May 2014 05:11:13 GMT

We apologize for the lengthy delay but finally the day of revelation is upon us!

(Please note that we are still unfortunately missing one fic, but we will post it as soon as possible.)

2014 SHINee Secret Santa - White Day Edition

March 14th:
two is enough by shanwens; for reddaylight
Dessert Battles by leetaemint; for evilmaknae0927

March 15th:
Zero by heteroshinee; for st_ashleigh
Maybe Next Year, Maybe Next Year... by the_resolver; for leetaemint

March 17th:
The Rain that Hammered like Bouncing Foxes by st_ashleigh; for the_resolver
Before the Dawn by bambi_lu; for siaht

March 20th:
what if things were different by sluthyun; for ibreatheparadox
All good things (Come to An End) by justangel; for shanwens

March 21st:
the burden of memory by preorder; for lucentic
Trial and Error. by heteroshinee; for justangel
Can’t Stop Loving You by evilmaknae0927; for heteroshinee

May 4th (late):
Just keep moving forward by onyu; for preorder
The Prince’s Canvas by meridianslair; for bambi_lu

The shinee_replay mod team would like to again thank everyone for making this year's SHINee Secret Santa - White Day Edition possible!
We hope to see you again for the next SHINee Secret Santa.

SSS 2014: For bambi_lu

replaymods — Mon, 05 May 2014 04:35:16 GMT

For: bambi_lu
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: The Prince’s Canvas
Pairing: Minho/Taemin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Authors’ Notes: Not historically accurate, but I hope you enjoy it!

The first time they had met was not Minho’s first time playing with consorts. He was bored and looking for something new to try out when the caretaker had suggested something he had not thought of. The man introduced him to the most beautiful male he had ever laid eyes on. The boy had smooth, pale skin with a slightly curved nose and eyes that could drown you. His hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with a few strands that were too short falling onto his face. The beauty the boy had was effortless and so natural that it almost seemed impossible.

“Does he please you, Your Highness?” the caretaker asked.

Minho nodded, still only staring at the boy. “What is your name?”

The boy glanced over at his caretaker, staying silent.

“Forgive him, Your Highness. I told him not to speak to you unless I permitted it. His name is Taemin, one of the only male consorts we have in the palace. He was bought by one of the council men who fancied him, but has since been forgotten about,” the caretaker spoke.

“Such a shame,” Minho commented, “for such a beauty to be put to waste.”

The caretaker did what seemed like a hand signal for Taemin. Moving his legs underneath him, the boy placed his hands out on the ground in front of him while his forehead touched the ground. After a brief moment he moved back into a sitting position. “I promise to serve you well, Your Highness.”

“I trust that you will,” he said, standing up. “I will expect you in my room before sun down tomorrow. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Taemin said. Satisfied, Minho took his leave.

-

It had been a long day, filled with meetings and reading informational books that did not catch his attention. The only thing that got him through the day was the thought of seeing Taemin tonight. Minho caught himself thinking about what it would feel like to be in another man, was the boy’s skin as soft as it looked, would he actually like it? It was hard to keep his eagerness to explore this new temptation a secret when it was all he could think about.

When Minho finally made it back to his room, the sun was already beginning to set. This meant there wasn’t much more time before he could finally put his mind at rest. He had one of his servants make him tea while he began to paint. It was a hobby of his that he had enjoyed since he was younger, and Minho could say with confidence that his paintings could be considered fine work. Painting was also one of the only things that could keep his mind off of Taemin, his thoughts concentrated only on the brush.

After some time, the servant brought Minho’s tea and set it on a table away from painting. “I have brought you your tea, Your Highness,” he informed, “You also have a visitor.”

Minho finished the stroke he was on and placed the brush aside. “Send him in then, and make sure to bring my meal in once we are finished,” he said before grabbing his tea and sipping it.

The servant bowed and took his leave. A few moments later, Taemin walked through the door gracefully. Minho watched the boy closely as he approached him, admiring his glowing beauty. Taemin seemed even more attractive than he had remembered, and he could barely hold himself together. He bowed before sitting down in front of the prince, looking down at the paper in front of him.

“You are very talented, Your Highness,” Taemin said.

“Many years of practice,” he replied.

They sat in silence, studying each other. Even through Taemin’s looks, Minho could tell that even though he was just a consort the boy was intelligent. His eyes twinkled with knowledge and wisdom that even he did not possess. Taemin sat with confidence and even though he spoke respectfully enough, there was something more about him. Minho thought he could see a slight rebel in Taemin as he was still young and full of energy.

“Your Highness,” Taemin finally said, “You seem tired. Will you let me help you?”

Minho nodded in response.

Taemin stood up and moved closer to Minho. Kneeling down he began to undo the prince’s hanbok, removing the topcoat and undershirt. The boy pulled out a bottle of oil from a pouch he was wearing and began to lather the oil into his hands. He sat behind Minho and began to massage the man’s tight shoulders. Taemin began with a light pressure at first, slowly adding more pressure until he heard the prince moan.

“Does that feel good?” Taemin asked. Minho could tell he was smiling with his smug tone of voice.

“Yes, you are doing very well.”

The boy moved his hands down Minho’s biceps. “Well maybe we should move onto something a little more fun…”

The prince could feel his body fill with lust as he turned around and pushed Taemin onto the floor. The consort gasped as Minho began to roughly undo Taemin’s hankbok. Minho was desperate to know what Taemin looked like underneath and he was not going to let another moment go to waste. It was not until the boy was completely naked that he stopped and took a moment to take in the other’s body. The only way Minho could describe it was perfect. Tiny hairs littered the boy’s legs and arms, his stomach and waist as small as a woman’s, and thighs that he couldn’t wait to explore.

Minho leaned over Taemin and kissed both of his nipples. Taemin grabbed Minho’s hair and lead his face up to line up with his own before kissing him. The prince had not kissed any of his consorts before, but he found himself enjoying the kiss. Taemin was experienced and it showed as he overwhelmed Minho with both his mouth and his hands as he began to palm crotch through the prince’s pants. He could not help but succumb to Taemin and moan into the kiss, already feeling his cock hardening.

Taemin pulled away and smiled as Minho panted and kept his eyes shut, basking in pleasure. “Let me take care of you, Your Highness.”

The boy threw his weight and forced the prince onto his back instead. He slipped Minho’s pants all the way off and put them aside along with all of their other clothes. Out of instinct, Taemin wrapped his mouth around Minho’s erection and began to suck.

“Fuck,” Minho groaned, he lifted himself up onto his elbows and watched as Taemin bobbed his head. Wondering what he looked like with his hair down, Minho pulled the tie in Taemin’s hair and let it fall down around the boy’s face. Taemin stopped and lifted his head up, pushing his hair back out of his face.

Minho could tell that Taemin was also aroused, his cock was half hard and eyes begging for more. There was so much that he wanted to do, but he could only last so long. “I want you to prepare yourself,” the prince ordered.

Taemin quickly grabbed the bottle of oil again and poured some onto his fingers. He opened his legs so that Minho could see all of him. He started with two fingers, pushing them in and out as he stretched his hole out. The boy bit his lip when he started to stroke his own hardness while continuing to finger himself. The prince grabbed his own cock at the sight, he never thought he would be so turned on by just watching someone pleasuring themselves.

They were both in a haze of pleasure watching one another before Taemin finally moaned out, his entire body twitching with need, “I want you in me, Minho.”

Pulling himself into reality, Minho jumped up so quickly it startled the boy. Taemin pulled out his fingers as Minho picked him up by the waist and threw him over his shoulder. The prince threw him onto the bed forcefully, and growled into the younger’s ear, “You will not call me by my name, I am your prince and I will teach you respect.”

The boy smiled. “Just shut up and fuck me with your royal prick, Minho,” he said in defiance.

Taemin gasped as Minho parted his legs and shoved himself inside of the boy. As the prince moved in and out of Taemin he found himself thinking about how beautiful the boy was again and it was driving him mad. With every thrust the boy made little noises as he desperately clawed at Minho’s back. Taemin’s eyes were closed until Minho readjusted himself and he gasped.

“Move a little bit more,” Taemin panted.

Minho complied to the younger’s command and moved his hips a bit more. He gave a deep thrust to test Taemin’s reactions, and when Taemin gave out a louder moan he knew he had done what the boy wanted.

“There, there, please,” the boy begged.

The prince smirked kissed Taemin’s neck as he began pounding into the younger once more. Taemin’s nails were digging into Minho’s back as the boy moaned his name over and over again like it was the only thing he could remember. Minho could feel himself close to the edge cursing at himself for not being able to last longer. His stomach tightened as the heat and pleasure became too much. The prince’s sperm coated the inside of Taemin making the boy whine.

Before Minho could properly think, he was already stroking Taemin’s cock. He had never stroked another man’s cock before, but the prince wanted to see the boy cum by his own hands. Taemin looked right into Minho’s eyes, his breath hitching as he got closer to the edge. “Minho,” he gasped, his seed spurting all over his stomach.

Minho smiled as he pulled out of the boy. He could not even begin to describe how satisfied he was in that moment. The prince pulled out and rested himself next to Taemin as they both calmed down a bit. Without even realizing it both of them began to close their eyes peacefully.

As they drifted off to sleep together, several servants entered the room setting up the prince’s meal. Taemin jolted awake, realizing there were other people in the room and pulled himself off of Minho. Before he could roll off the bed, Minho groaned, “Where do you think you are going?”

“I thought I was expected to leave, Your Highness.”

The prince rolled his eyes, the boy was already back to formalities. “No, you are going to stay and eat with me,” Minho said. Minho got off the bed and tossed Taemin his clothes and grabbing his own to dress himself.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Taemin said. He lifted himself off of the bed and began putting on his own clothes as well.

Both sat on the floor in front of the table as the servants who set up the dinner left once more. The prince began to eat and drink his tea as Taemin only watched. Minho noticed this and frowned.

“Why are you not eating?”

“I am not sure how I am supposed to eat in front of you, Crown Prince,” Taemin said nervously.

“I do not care about that, eat how you normally do.”

Taemin nodded and silently filled his bowl with the foods on the table. The prince watched as the boy was able to eat quickly. He wondered if Taemin was allowed to eat this much as a consort.

“So tell me your story,” Minho said, pausing from his food for a moment.

The boy swallowed his food and slightly tilted his head. “My story?” he asked.

“Yes, your story,” the prince said, “My story was that I was born at the right place and the right time. Now I am the Prince of Korea and one day I will be King.”

“You were very lucky, Your Highness,” Taemin said.

“Indeed I was, but now I want to know about you.”

“Well,” the boy began, “I was born into a loving family. My father was actually one of the scholars here, but he passed away a few years ago. One of the council members had seen me and taken a liking to me when he would come for dinner or I was allowed in the palace. When my father passed away he took his chance and offered us money so that he could buy me. We, of course, needed money so my mom agreed after a lot of thought. I do not hate her for it, and I really do not hate this new life I have been given. Like my caretaker said, I have since been forgotten by the council member. I serve the entire palace and the highest bidder outside of these walls, gathering money for him. That is my story so far, anyway.”

Minho sat there sucking up every piece of information as the boy spoke. “That is a very cruel turn in your fate.”

“As I said I do not mind. While it is not what I thought I would be doing with my life, I have seen a lot of things.”

Trying to remember what scholars there had been in the palace within the past few years, a name popped into his mind. “Was your father Lee Soo Man?”

“Yes, he was,” Taemin replied.

“He was a smart man,” Minho praised.

“My father made me study day and night. What good does that do now though?” the boy laughed.

“I am sure one day other opportunities will come to you.”

Taemin smiled. “Perhaps.”

They both stayed quiet the rest of the meal, and Minho decided not to talk further about the topic. Once they had finished eating, Taemin bowed and quickly took his leave. Minho had decided that after tonight, he would definitely be seeing the boy again.

-

“Do you paint every night?”

Minho smiled. “I have to do something with my time other than play with my consorts.”

“You are very funny, Your Highness, but is that not why you requested for me to be here?”

The prince looked up to see Taemin taking a seat on the edge of the bed, beginning to take off his robes. “Maybe I just wanted to speak to you.”

Taemin leaned back and laughed, now completely naked. “You are definitely a fool, Your Highness. I fear that if you pay more attention to your paintings, you will find yourself alone one day.”

“As long as I have money to put in your pockets, I will never be alone,” Minho said, continuing to paint.

The boy sighed. “Unless you bore me to death.”

“For someone of your status you seem to not use proper etiquette, Taemin,” Minho chided.

“Because I do not have much else to lose,” Taemin replied, looking up at the ceiling, “Or maybe I trust that you will not do anything to me.”

Minho set aside the painting to dry and stood up. Walking to the bed he disrobed himself and stood in front of Taemin. “And how can you be sure that I would not do anything to you?”

Taemin stayed silent. He lifted his hand and dragged it across the prince’s upper body, Minho’s nipples hardening at his touch. The boy leaned forward and kissed Minho’s neck as the man ran his hands through his hair. Taemin’s hand wandered further down Minho’s body until he reached the man’s cock. The younger looked into the prince’s eyes as he began to stroke, Minho hardening in his hand.

“You are beautiful,” the prince whispered, using his own hand to jerk off the younger the same way.

The boy moaned, “Minho.”

Minho knew he was going down a destructive path.

-

He loved the way that Taemin moaned, the way he felt around his cock, but most of all loved the way Taemin spoke out of place. Even those closest to Minho did not dare speak the way Taemin did and it made him feel like he was an actual human being. Since that first night, Minho craved Taemin and he made sure he got what he wanted, which was how he found himself requesting Taemin for the fourth time just that week. He cannot seem to remember how much he had seen the boy the weeks before.

When Taemin walked into the room, he bowed. “It is great to see your face again, Your Highness. While I enjoy servicing you, I do have other people to see.”

“Please, come sit down, Taemin,” Minho said as he busied himself with his paperwork for once. The boy sat in front of the prince and watched as Minho signed papers. “I know you being formal is just an act. I want you to start calling me Minho when it is just us two instead of just in bed. I have also decided to make you my personal consort, meaning I do not want you to take on any other customers. Do you hear me?”

“Is that all you wanted to speak about, Minho? I thought you called me here for a different reason,” Taemin said smirking.

Minho set down his brush back down into the ink and smiled. “I have an illness that only you can cure.”

“Then let me cure you.”

-

Taemin moaned as the prince kissed down his stomach, worshipping the boy’s perfect body. The younger boy found himself in this position many times, underneath Minho and letting the man kiss and explore every crevice of his body. It seemed to be much too intimate for a prince to be with his consort, but there was no way he could tell his prince it was all too wrong. Taemin could not deny that he craved the prince’s attention constantly and being with him like this was perfect.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” The prince asked, pausing his actions and looking into the younger’s eyes.

“Only every time you see me,” Taemin laughed breathily.

“That is because it is the truth,” Minho said seriously.

Taemin placed his hand on Minho’s cheek and lifted his head to give a quick kiss. Pulling back, Taemin said, “You are beautiful too, Minho.”

-

Taemin was resting his head on Minho’s chest with the prince’s arms around him. He was not use to the people he had sex with being so close to him afterwards, but with Minho he did not seem to mind and encouraged always being close. Minho was the Crown Prince after all, and he was there to please him.

“Taemin,” Minho said.

The boy mumbled sleepily, “Yes?”

“I am leaving for a while soon…”

“Where to?” Taemin asked.

“Everywhere and nowhere,” he said, “It is a trip to several cities and maybe the surrounding countries just to make some personal connections. My father said I would be a useless king without connections across Korea, China, and Japan.”

Taemin hummed. “I do not think you would be useless. I hear people all over the city say they cannot wait until you are kind and how much they admire you.”

“You are lying,” Minho chuckled.

“Maybe,” Taemin laughed, “But I do know that you are liked amongst the younger people.”

“At least that is good to know,” the prince paused, “I will miss you.”

Taemin was slightly taken back by Minho’s words. While the prince was always affectionate towards him, sometimes it felt like it was just a dream. His throat tightened. “I will miss you, too.”

-

Months away from the comfort of the palace and Taemin felt more like an eternity. They had been travelling back to the palace for several days and they were so close, but time felt like it was dragging on. The time he had away from the palace also made Minho think about his feelings about Taemin. He craved not only for the boy’s body, but he also wished he could just speak to Taemin and show him all of the landscapes he had seen painted out. The prince imagined coming home to see Taemin already waiting at the palace gates for him. Minho would take Taemin’s hand and kiss the boy in front of everyone, and tell him how he never wanted to be separated again.

The prince’s day dream was cut short when one of the guards came up next to him on his horse. “Your Highness, there is an inn in the next village not too far from here. We are going to stop there for the evening and head back out at sunrise tomorrow. We should be home by midday tomorrow if-“

“No,” Minho said sternly, “We will keep going and arrive in the morning.”

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but the men are weary and it would be best if we stopped.”

Minho glared at the guard.

“Very well then, Your Highness,” he said before disappearing to the front of the line.

Minho knew the men would be angry with him, but it would be worth it in the end. He would come home to see Taemin’s beautiful smile and make up for the time that he was away. All he had to do was last just a few more hours.

-

Unfortunately, things did not work out as planned for Minho. As soon as they entered the palace, the king had requested Minho to meet with him. While everyone else was able to go see their loved ones and rest, he was stuck discussing all the matters of his trip in detail to his father. After the prince had nearly fallen asleep several times during their conversation, the king finally dismissed him and told him to rest and finish speaking another time.

The prince could not help but drag his feet as he walked to his room, the desire to sleep much greater now than it was the previous day. Sliding the door open to his room, he spotted Taemin on the floor reading a book. The boy looked up and jumped to his feet.

“Minho!” he said excitedly, “I heard you were back, but since you were not in your room yet I decided to wait in here for you. I hope you do not mind.”

Minho shook his head as he walked towards Taemin. The prince wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist and pulled him close. He put his face on Taemin’s shoulder as he hugged him back.

“I do not mind. It has been a long journey and I was hoping to see you when I got back.” Minho moved away from Taemin’s neck. “Do you mind if we speak later? I really do need to rest.”

“Of course,” Taemin said before kissing the prince’s lips.

-

“What is one of the first things you would do when you become king?” Taemin asked, looking up from the scroll he was reading.

Minho took a sip of his tea and thought about it for a moment. “Make you a royal consort.”

“Why is that the first thing you would do?” Taemin laughed. “Do you not have more important things to do?”

“I would say my father is closer to his royal consorts than my mother, and he can even be seen in public with them. You are the closest to me now and I would like to keep it that way.”

Taemin hummed and looked back down at his scroll.

“That and because… I love you,” the prince said almost in a whisper. “So it is only natural that I would want you to be closer.”

The boy blushed and looked back up at Minho. “I love you too, Minho.”

-

Minho brushed Taemin’s hair out of his face. In the mornings the prince liked to admire the boy’s face and watch as his chest rise and fall before getting up out of bed. The most breathtaking mornings were when the golden light fell on Taemin’s angelic face as he slept. It was also when he never wanted to wake the stubborn boy up, but it was about time for both of them to get up.

“Taemin,” he said, “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

The boy’s face twitched, but made no other movement to show that he was awake.

Minho sat up in the bed and stretched, letting out a yawn. “Taemin,” he repeated again, but a little louder this time.

Taemin shifted and his face scrunched up. “I do not need to eat, just let me sleep here all day,” the boy whined.

The prince sighed. “Alright, I will let you sleep here for now, but you do have to get up sometime.”

“Maybe later,” Taemin mumbled.

Taemin moved onto his stomach and shoved his head under the pillow, his smooth back the only thing Minho could see. The boy was already falling back asleep and he could not help but chuckle. Looking down at him though, Minho had a strange urge to paint a picture on the younger’s back. Taking a finger he drew imaginary lines on the smooth surface.

“You should let me paint on you tonight,” Minho said.

“Whatever the prince wants,” Taemin said sleepily from under his pillow.

-

“It feels weird,” Taemin said as Minho’s brush moved closer to his bottom.

Taemin was lying on his stomach completely naked as Minho painted on his back. He had no memory of agreeing to this, but Minho claimed he did while he was half asleep. There was no use in arguing with the prince, so he let the man do what he wished.

“You complain too much, princess.”

“You are helping me clean this off later,” the boy growled.

Minho gave the picture a few finishing touches before smacking Taemin’s butt. “There, all done.”

Taemin slowly moved into a standing position, trying to not mess up the drying paint on his back and walked towards the mirror. He looked over his shoulder into the mirror to see a beautiful sunset over a valley on his back. “It looks amazing, Minho.”

“It is one of the many sunsets I watched while I was in Japan.”

“I wish I could have been there.”

“Maybe I will be able to take you one day,” Minho said, taking a step back to look at his art piece. “My personal canvas.”

“I am now your canvas among other things.” Taemin smirked.

Minho grabbed Taemin’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I want you to stay with me forever.”

Taemin smiled. “Only if you help me wash this off before bed.”

SSS 2014: For preorder (2/2)

replaymods — Mon, 05 May 2014 04:31:20 GMT

Debut stage isn't as daunting as it seems. Nobody slipped or screwed up or went flat, they all remembered their lines, and Kibum's rehearsed English greeting came out better than expected. He'd stolen Minho's The Little Prince book earlier and read the whole time they were in the van, and despite Minho tucking his chin on his shoulder he'd managed to focus and figure out the meaning of some difficult words using only context clues. Essential means important, something you hold dear. Invisible is something that escapes vision or someone's attention. To tame means to offer a piece of yourself in return for a piece of someone else. Minho's drool pooling on his shoulders means it was a good call to get out of stage clothes before heading back to the company for another dance practice.

"Hey." Kibum nudges Minho once the van comes to a halt. "Get up, sleepyhead."

Minho stirs, blinks a few times before looking up at him. His lips are plump and pink and inviting. Kibum transfers his weight to his right arm, pushing Minho to the other side, and Minho pulls away with an easy smile.

They haven't talked nor broached the subject of last night's kiss on their way to the recording or midway through takes, in the van or even in between schedules. Minho's retreated to smiles and nudges; Kibum, to his headphone slung over his shoulder, music loud enough for Jinki who's in the front row to hear. "We won't wait for you forever," Jinki calls out to them, and Minho finally gets back to his feet and descends the van, extends a hand in Kibum's direction to help him get down.

Kibum's mind goes back to the accident, the mistake of spraying water all over Jinki and Joonmyun and Taemin and the floor, all over Minho. He recalls the easy tug at the hem of the shirt, the bright blue of Minho's top, Minho's breathing heavy against his chest. The soft feel of Minho's lips on his, the clashing on tongues, the light, tentative nip on the lower lip before Minho let go with a loud exhale.

He holds onto the arm rest, instead, on his way down.

Minho doesn't prod but stays within a three-foot perimeter when the choreography permits, and Kibum's generous with pats on the back as he has always been. Nothing has changed. Nothing needs to change — they've made an agreement — but at the back of his mind, as he catches Minho looking from across the room, there's a small voice saying, whispering, we could be more.

Kibum shakes his head, rounds up everyone for one last run of the routine. Ten minutes 'til nine in the evening. Ten minutes 'til he dives head first into an old habit and indulges in street food with Minho again. A whole eternity of uncertainty stretched between them.

Kibum doesn't know how the company gets wind of information sometimes, but he can't complain when he's being handed a brief on how to conduct good radio shows and when he's sitting beside Super Junior's Ryeowook, rubbing elbows with one of the idols he's looked up to for the longest time. It isn't even the main event yet — Ryeowook's just taking him through the basics of radio hosting, voice modulation and making sure to use a register one note lower than his usual voice to make sure he sounds good on air — but already he can feel a tingling sensation making its way to his toes, setting off explosions at the tips of his fingers.

He almost drops the script when Ryeowook hands it over. "Hey, relax," Ryeowook says, rubbing circles on the back of his hand. Beyond the sound booth, Jinki and Minho hold two thumbs up and mouth, Don't screw up!

Jinki's leadership style isn't exactly the type that would make you follow blindly or the one that's so impressive that it gets discussed in their hostings, but it works. He keeps them on a tight-enough leash so that they won't do anything that will bring them harm, but loose enough that they don't think of sneaking out way past midnight. Jinki's the I'll-reward-you-with-pizza-if-you-follow-my-rules type of leader, the type who'd say Don't give me the bullshit, Kim Kibum, so tell me where you and Minho went after practice with a grin that reaches his eyes. Jinki's both a friend and a leader, and it kind of helps when Kibum's in the mood to be more of a kid and less of an adult, more of a boy wondering why he's standing onstage or behind a condenser microphone in a recording booth and less of an idol winning over hearts with a practiced smile.

I'm fucking nervous, he mouths right back. To Jinki in particular, he says, I don't want to be here! Save me!

Kibum knows that laugh — it begins with Jinki giggling, then cackling, then eventually he'd laugh out loud with his mouth wide open, totally unbecoming of an idol who has just debuted, but at least Minho's there to share the embarrassment when Minho loses it completely, laughing in accord as he slaps Jinki's arm hard.

You'll be fine, Minho assures, then adds later, Trust me. A small smile punctuates his statement. Jinki's just begun to regain his composure.

You sure? Kibum asks. He clutches the script close to his chest.

Minho winks at him and replies, Of course.

Minho's vote of confidence does very little to address the butterflies in his stomach, but Kibum's voice shakes less than expected at the beginning of the program, and he's able to fill the gaps between silences with well-timed laughter and the occasional comment complementing Ryeowook's own. At the end of the program, Ryeowook gives him a tight hug, whispers in his ear, "You're a natural," and nods thoughtfully at him. "How would you want to be a… semi-regular guest?"

"But hyung—" Kibum shakes his head. "Sunbaenim, can you actually do that? I mean—"

"I'll have to consult the staff, but yeah, I'm sure they saw your potential, as well." The smile on Ryeowook's lips widens. "So, what do you think?"

He thinks about the rush of excitement as he talks into the microphone, the sense of belonging as he indulges in questions from fans, as he raps and sings and basically does all these idol things on air. He thinks about Jinki's enthusiastic arm-waving, the two thumbs up Jinki gives him, the soft smile on Minho's lips and Minho's words — You'll be fine; trust me. — ringing brightly in his ears.

"Sounds fun," he replies, confesses. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning. "It would be an honor, sunbaenim."

Ryeowook gives him a pat on the back. Kibum gives up the fight, lets a smile surface on his lips.

Three months into Replay promotions, they're finally given mobile phones by the company. The first text he receives is from Jinki, one containing all of their contact numbers. Joonmyun goes for the standard nomenclature for his address book, and Jinki adds a bit of flair, adding symbols to the start of the name for those he'll be contacting regularly. Taemin uses pet names that can be as simple as Leejin-hyungie~☆ and as questionable as Minonono-hyungie~☆★☆

"So is the number of stars after our names symbolic of how much you like us?" Minho asks. Taemin shrugs, flashes a v-sign at them, and promptly goes to the bedroom.

The first ever message he sends is to Jonghyun.

hey it's kibum. sorry, been really busy these days. what's up? It's a fairly safe message, but the lack of smileys makes it sound stiff, maybe even forced. He adds a smiley at the end, deletes it, types it again, and plays a scenario in his head, one where Jonghyun stares at the text he receives for the longest time before replying twenty minutes after, ey bud, what's poppin.

Kibum hits send, lays his phone flat on the table, and goes off to the kitchen to make himself coffee.

When he returns, there are two missed calls and three messages, all from Jonghyun — hey i was just about to text you!! is the first; the second, how are you? haven't heard from you in forever. how's idol life huuuh? kekeke And then, finally, you free for coffee sometime?

i don't know, he begins to type, but he's rudely interrupted by Jonghyun's name flashing on his screen and a strong, upward tug on the corners of his lips.

"Hey."

It doesn't take much to get back on track with his friendship with Jonghyun. Jonghyun was never truly gone; he was just somewhere else, doing other things, immersed in a life not entirely different from the one Kibum lives at the moment. Daily texts allow for regular, sometimes sporadic updates on each other's lives; calls give him a sneak peek on what Jonghyun's working on — a track for the girl group debuting the following year.

"It should give off a mysterious vibe, something that isn't too dark but isn't too pop, either. You know what I mean?"

"You're getting there." Kibum props his phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he crouches in front of the fridge, searching for his tub of yogurt. "Something's missing, though? It lack an… oomph."

"What do you mean it lacks 'oomph'? It has a lot of 'oomph'."

"You asked for my opinion, right?" Kibum moves some food containers to the side and moves on to searching the topmost shelf when he doesn't find the tub. "I'm just saying, it could be better. Something's missing."

"Were you looking for your yogurt?"

"Jong— What?"

The tub dangles precariously in front of him and he looks up, narrowing his eyes when he sees Minho's smile, too wide at the corners, looking down at him. "I'll get back to you on that 'oomph'," he says into the receiver and slowly puts his phone down, Jonghyun's voice still blaring through the speakers of his phone.

"Was that Jonghyun-hyung?"

"Is that my yogurt?"

Minho giggles. "I was trying to detoxify myself. Y'know, getting rid of all the stress."

Kibum raises an eyebrow. He's not backing down from this fight.

He takes a few steps forward, a small smile hanging loosely from the corners of his lips. Minho's grin grows bigger — he's doing that gummy smile again, the type that just pulls you in and keeps you hooked, keeps you staring and smiling and sends you laughing minutes after. Kibum bites the inside of his cheek as a precaution and inches forward, closer, until Minho's less than a foot away. There's a challenge written in the way Minho raises an eyebrow, in the way he drums his fingers on the counter and says, "Well, what are you gonna do now?" Minho's urging him to come closer, to push the limits and push him against the kitchen counter, and Kibum isn't the type of person to back down.

"Give it back," Kibum says. He points an accusing finger at Minho as he repeats, this time more slowly, "Give it back, Choi Minho, or you'll regret the day you stole my yogurt."

Minho dangles the tub in front of Kibum one more time before withdrawing his hand and resting the tub on the counter. "Well, then, take it back from me."

Kibum reaches forward, snaking his hand past Minho's defenses and aiming straight for the tub, but nothing ever goes his way — Minho blocks his attack and catches Kibum's hand, wraps his fingers around the balled fist. Minho pulls him to his chest and wraps his arms around Kibum. Minho laughs in his ear like the sound of defeat isn't deafening enough, and Kibum tries to fight back, tries to grab the tub and make a run for it while Minho's distracted, but the warm press of their bodies and Minho's giggles tickling his scalp make him swallow every inch of resolve.

"Give it back, Choi," he tries again. Minho's laughter still rings in his ears.

Kibum first cries onstage when they receive the Newcomer of the Year award.

It doesn't register at once, the sound of SHINee being called onstage to receive the award, the group being deemed as the best new artist of 2008. Jinki's gaping so hard at their name on the screen and Taemin's so close to losing it, and Joonmyun's been crying since the nominations were announced. Minho's eyes are shining in the bright stage lights, and Kibum's taking deep breaths, looking at the fans cheering for them, chanting SHINee! SHINee! SHINee! all with tears in their eyes.

Minho passes the microphone to him and he checks Jinki, gives him a good luck before turning to the crowd with a big smile and saying, "Annyeonghaseyo! We are SHINee!"

Joonmyun and Jinki are a mess of tears but they raise their fists, anyway, body moving on its own accord in response to Kibum's chant. Taemin's laughing now, but there are still beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. Minho isn't touching anyone, hands kept to himself, and Kibum reaches for his hand, mouthing at him, Hey. it's okay to cry.

"Not gonna cry," Minho mumbles. As soon as he's done with his speech, he bursts into tears.

It isn't so much the sight of the award being handed to them that makes him tear up but the sight of four idols slipping out of their personas and back into their normal selves, stripped of all the glamour of make-up and studio lights. He brushes away a tear, and then another, and Minho turns to him with a wide grin and tears streaming down his cheeks, takes him in his arms until Kibum's face is in his chest.

"Gonna soil your suit," Kibum says, muffled. He can feel Minho's laughter against his cheek.

Minho buries his nose in Kibum's hair. "Don't care."

The news of a new concept for SHINee reaches Kibum earlier than it does Jinki. "I'm not saying it's confirmed, but there's a 70% chance that it's true," Jonghyun reiterates. There's a hint of a warning in the undertone of his voice, and Kibum tries not to read too much into it. "But you know, just… brace yourself for what is to come."

"You're freaking me out."

"I'm preparing you for the onslaught of suspenders." A suppressed shriek, then something falling in the background. Months later and Jonghyun's still clumsy, still has no sense of balance when he's offstage. "Oops, you didn't hear that from me!"

Kibum knows when Jonghyun's hiding something. He hasn't spent two years just staring at the space between Jonghyun's eyes and not wondering if Jonghyun has ever contemplated on getting glasses with a lighter frame, or let his eyes travel south and land on Jonghyun's lips, the upward curl of the corners, the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his Adam's Apple bobs up and down when he talks too loudly or sings too much.

"Just one important question — will they be dyeing my hair green."

Jonghyun cackles. "Not green."

Kibum closes his eyes. 'Shit."

Not green is Jonghyun's way of saying that yes, they're dyeing your hair, but it won't be that bad. It means the start of a new era, of Kibum being forced to get out of his safe zone and being thrust into a world where his hair could possibly get damaged and can never be restored to its former glory. He isn't afraid of change; he just doesn't like the concept of it. There are things that he sticks to, practices he's grown accustomed to that he still observes years into being a young adult, and he believes that pitch black hair is as good as donning bling to amp up an otherwise drab outfit.

"Blond? Pink?"

Jonghyun makes a noncommittal sound and Kibum threatens to drop the call. Jonghyun only laughs in reply and says, "Be patient. I know it's different, but I'm sure you'll like it."

And then, there it is — a harbor, Jonghyun slipping back into his 2007 self, concern and the promise of hope in the undertone of Jonghyun's voice. "I'll skin you alive if I don't," Kibum replies, and Jonghyun erupts into a peal of laughter, the once shrill sound Kibum has come to despise especially at two in the morning wrapping around him like a quilt. He closes his eyes, imagines his hair in bright yellow or pink or red, or maybe even brown, and drags Minho into the mess, as if Minho wearing his hair green can ever make things better.

Kibum snorts, cackles. Green-haired Minho's snarling in his brain, complaining about his hair color being too bright. Other-Kibum reaches out to ruffle green-haired Minho's new do. The feeling of the soft, bright strands between his fingers is strangely comforting.

One of the blessings of being a new group is that the management won't ask you to do crazy things just yet. Play a bit on the safe side, give the fans what they want. SHINee World wants men in crisp white polos and colored pants, and that's what they'll get.

"Dibs on green," Jinki announces, and Taemin automatically hits him on the arm. Jinki grins, canines peeking, and Joonmyun just shrugs as he says, "I'll take yellow, then." Taemin goes for the safest pick — black, because it also makes him look at least three years less of a guilty pleasure, and Minho quickly claims blue, even adding that it's always been his favorite color.

"And not just blue," Joonmyun comments, raising a hand. "Cerulean blue. You know Minho, he can be very particular—"

"Blue is SHINee's color," Minho reasons out.

Jinki chuckles. "You mean, Pearlescent Sky Blue."

Kibum loses it completely, slapping Jinki hard on his thighs.

The pressure of being SM's next big thing is much more bearable with all the support from the fans, but sometimes it takes Taemin's soft snores to calm Kibum down or Joonmyun periodically checking up on them and making sure they take their vitamins to make Kibum believe that everything, despite the packed schedule and the very little amount of rest they get, is still worth it. Then there's Jinki sitting him down at the end of the week to ask him if he's okay, how he's holding up, How's Jonghyun? I mean, you're probably the one he talks to the most amount the members, Are you still happy with this job?

A small voice at the back of Kibum brains answers with complete honesty, "I'm still having fun, and that's what's important." What he says, instead, is, "I'm good. Could be better, but hey — not everyone gets to debut."

Jinki enunciates again, this time putting more stress on the last word, "Are you still happy?"

He thinks about thousands of fans screaming his name, fans holding up fansigns with KEY written in bright, bold letters. He thinks about four other members traveling alongside him from one schedule to another, thinks about Taemin preparing him peanut butter sandwich on the off chance that he feels like it, thinks about Joonmyun dragging him out for samgyupsal after a long recording session or vocal practice. He thinks about Jinki's gentle smile and the large hand on the small of his back, steadying him after a long day at work. He thinks about Minho drooling on his shoulder after spending more than an hour in the van.

Kibum nods slowly and looks up at Jinki, meeting him in the eye. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Preparations for comeback mostly involve longer hours in the practice rooms and sore throats at the end of the week. Taemin's wearing a mask, and Kibum has taken it upon himself to design it with something as close as possible to Taemin's personality — a Jigglypuff with even bigger eyes and a pronounced pout. Taemin had only ever asked Why didn't you draw Pikachu, instead? and Joonmyun chimed even before Kibum could answer, "Because you don't have an electrifying personality?"

"I'll draw a Ditto on your mask, hyung," Taemin retorts. "And you'll regret it."

Joonmyun grins. "At least I can be anyone I want to be."

They're transitioning from noona-bait to adults stepping out of their shell. Fitting, Kibum thinks as he snaps the suspenders to his belt. Loose bands holding them back from stripping onstage, crossing over at the back to keep them in check. Nothing good ever comes out of rushing things — Jinki has taught him this, constantly reminds him about this. So Kibum says, "I want to be a Charizard."

"Dragonite's cousin who'll never be a dragon," Minho comments from behind him. Instinctively, Kibum nudges Minho with his elbow hard enough to earn a yelp. Minho's laughter gets choked by the sound of pain. "But we all know Charizard is the best. A show of hands for those who believe otherwise."

Jinki raises his hand all too quickly. "Sorry, I'll always be a Bulbasaur fan."

It's these little differences that make SHINee an interesting group, a good dose of different without being too weird, a balance between normal and dynamic. A contemporary group, that's what they've always been called, and Kibum cannot agree more — no one has ever belted out the Pokemon theme on stage during a ment for a mini concert, or acted out Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (four, in their case, though Minho can easily pass as three dwarves in one). It's taken him a couple of months to ease into this sort of change — a new face in the form of Joonmyun, Jonghyun's warmth not pressed to his side, a newfound fondness for hotteok, the admission of fear and the feeling of inadequacy — but standing here, in front of four other people who share the same belief that this works makes the concept of change easier to digest.

"Bulbasaur never got a cover," Kibum teases. Jinki turns to him with a big grin.

"Green version had Venusaur in it."

A smile lights the corners of Kibum's lips. He doesn't fight it, just shakes his head and laughs at his defeat.

Jonghyun texts one time — mte me in d ruftop 5misn

The timing is good. Dance practice has just finished and Jinki has decided that it's best to retreat to the comforts of their dorm instead of going out for dinner. Minho shoots Kibum a look that says, Tteokbokki?, and Kibum scrunches his nose, flashes his phone at Minho before excusing himself. His stomach grumbles, loud and clear, and he makes a mental note to send Minho a text as soon as he reaches the rooftop. Jonghyun's almost always late, anyway.

gonna take u up on that offer but can we pls have samgyupsal too, Kibum texts, then slips his phone back in his pocket as soon as the message gets sent. He turns the knob and smiles automatically at the sight of a familiar silhouette hunched against the ledge of the rooftop.

"Aren't you freezing out there?" Kibum asks, steps slow, measured. He shivers when the cold wind blows. Jonghyun's unperturbed. "Hey, did you freeze or something? It's not funny, Jonghyu—"

The lights in the rooftop are bright enough to illuminate Jonghyun's key features — sharp eyes, thick eyebrows, a peculiar curl at the curve of the lip. There are dark circles under Jonghyun's eyes and his eyes are red, and Jonghyun's nose is red, and his lips are tugged down.

"All my compositions for the girl group got scrapped," Jonghyun finally says. His shoulders give away, and Kibum walks closer, squeezes Jonghyun's arm lightly. "They said the songs weren't good enough. That I'm not good enough. And it really would have been fine, y'know, if they didn't put it that way. I know there's always something to be improved, but—"

Kibum takes a deep breath, brushes Jonghyun's tears away with his thumbs. A sharp pain in his chest, then the wind blows and it's all gone. "Take a deep breath. Then kick them in the balls. Then shove a better composition in their faces."

Jonghyun musters a chuckle. "You just agreed that my compositions were trash. Why do I even keep you around?"

Kibum laughs a little, ruffles Jonghyun's hair despite knowing that Jonghyun hates it. "Because—"

Because this is convenient. Having Kibum around is convenient, in the same way that having Jonghyun around when times get tough is convenient. They've trained together for two years, been friends for three, and when dancing alongside each other and keeping each other posted through daily texts becomes a habit, it's hard to suddenly shift gears and slip into a fit of change all too abruptly. Jonghyun is the warm quilt Kibum can wrap around himself when change consumes him, when he feels that he's losing himself to fame and fortune and to his lack of resolve when it comes to keeping a safe distance from Minho. Jonghyun is the road all-too-frequently traveled.

"Because we're friends," Kibum finishes. "And friends stick together no matter what."

Jonghyun takes a deep breath.

It only takes a second for Jonghyun to reach up and trace the length of Kibum's face, and another for Kibum to shiver at the contact, Jonghyun's cold fingers running a sharp line through his features. "And friends don't do this," Jonghyun whispers, then pulls Kibum down, meeting him halfway when he leans forward and presses their lips together.

Kibum has rehearsed this scene in his head at least a hundred times — he'd imagined explosions at the back of his eyelids and fanfare in the background, imagined Jonghyun curling a hand at the back of his neck, but none of those. Jonghyun holds him from an uncomfortable, awkward angle, but the warm press of his mouth is comforting, soothing. Home, Kibum thinks, but his mind goes back to that moment of surrender with Minho — clashing of teeth and tongue, their chests heavy, breathing ragged. A violent breath of change that Kibum has come to inhale and fill his lungs with.

He pulls away slowly, fingers cold on Jonghyun's collarbones. "Friends… don't do that," he repeats, and Jonghyun nods, lets his hands fall to his sides, stares at him for a good five seconds before getting back to his feet.

"I think the muse is back," Jonghyun says. There's a small smile at the corner of his lips.

Kibum returns the smile. He doesn't fake the knowing look in his eyes; there's no need to fake anything with Jonghyun. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he feels a stronger tug at the corners of his lips.

"Glad to know."

Suspenders era turns out to be one of the best eras they've gone through.

Promotions for Love Should Go On weren't as bad as they'd initially thought despite the baggy pants, but promotions for Love Like Oxygen earn them a mutizen on their comeback. Jinki's more composed now, but his voice still cracks when he holds the award close to his chest. Joonmyun's having a hard time keeping it together but, somehow, Taemin bawling behind him makes the whole trying-not-to-cry act easier. Minho's eyes are watery, and a sneaky tear drop cascades down Kibum's cheek when he smiles at the end of Jinki's speech.

"Getting there," Minho whispers in Kibum's ear. "Just a little more. Want to deliver a speech?"

He elbows Minho in his side. "Is that a challenge?"

Fearlessness is a concept Kibum has long wrapped himself with, so he extends his hand in Jinki's direction, asking for the microphone. Jinki widens his eyes at him, furrows his eyebrows, before finally yielding, surrendering the mic to Kibum. "We wouldn't be here if not for you, SHINee World," Kibum begins, and despite the strong resolve to keep his tears at bay, he takes a punch straight to the gut when the cheers grow louder, when he hears a collective, well-timed Saranghae! from the fans.

He pulls the microphone down, determined to finish his speech, but the chants of Don't cry, don't cry, Key! only aggravate the situation, poke at his tear ducts as a tear falls down his cheeks — then another, and another. Minho pulls him into a one-armed hug and there it is — a wave of emotions, of relief and happiness and fulfillment all rolled into one, an acceptance of weakness and defeat.

"We love you, SHINee World!" Minho says into the microphone, and bursts into tears. Kibum chuckles, laughs, the sound muffled in Minho's chest.

It's a string of victories from there — Kibum finally earning a radio show of his own, Taemin landing a role in a drama, Jinki getting a screenplay stint, Joonmyun being given a chance to record a song with SNSD's Taeyeon. Minho accepts offers for guestings in various variety shows — "Whose idea was it to even cast you there, anyway?" Kibum said when news got out. "You don't even have an interesting personality." — and lands a few cameo roles in dramas, as well. Love Like Oxygen manages to get three mutizens. Now, they're being primed for the recording of their repackage album.

"Please don't tell me we're wearing gold pants instead of the colored pants."

Joonmyun frowns. "I like gold."

It's another transition period, though, from crisp white polos to street fashion in preparation for the dark concept they'll be doing for 2010. They get to pick their own clothes this time, and Kibum quickly comes to Joonmyun's aid while Joonmyun goes through the articles of clothing, frowning when he can't find a nice, comfortable polo, or a warm sweatshirt. Taemin laughs at them because old people find it so hard to change; Jinki looks at Taemin sternly but smiles at him, anyway. It's always a weird, unsettling mix, but it gets the job done.

Minho tosses a printed shirt in Joonmyun's direction, a pair of leather pants, then points at the high-cut boots nearby. "Street fashion enough for you?" He asks, facing Kibum. "Do I have the fashion expert's approval?"

Joonmyun holds the top and the pants close to him, squinting as Kibum eyes him from head to toe. "Not bad, Choi. Not bad."

They finish picking last, long after they've convinced Joonmyun that prints aren't entirely bad and do, in fact, suit his body type and style. Taemin's already excused himself thirty minutes ago to do some catching up with some of the trainees, saying, "It's a weekend; we can rest, right?" Jinki doesn't question what they're still up to despite the already neatly folded clothes beside them, only reminds them to not stay out too late because they won't be getting this much sleep in the next few months.

They flash two thumbs up at Jinki simultaneously and end up in a mess of laughter before Jinki waves them off and closes the door behind them.

There's nothing but the clothes racks surrounding them, nothing but mirrors on all sides of the room and bright lights and the sound of a pop song from the practice room nearby. Minho's got his feet propped under his legs. They've long evacuated the floors and settled on the couch, instead; crouching low the whole afternoon and walking around merit a nice, long rest on a comfortable couch, after all.

"We should have this in every practice room," Minho says. He throws his head back into the cushion, smiling then he feels his body sinking into the contact. "But then I might end up lounging on the couch half the time. Jinki-hyung will kick my ass."

"So he can have the couch to himself, yes." Kibum shifts in his position so that he's facing Minho. He keeps his hands on his knees. Behind him is the stack of clothes he intends to go through for one last time before finalizing his outfits for the comeback. "Taemin can fall asleep on the floor; he doesn't need the couch."

Minho chuckles. "I don't mind sharing."

"Well, I do."

Minho opens his eyes, turns to his side so that they're facing each other. His eyebrows are furrowed; his lips, quirked in a manner Kibum hasn't seen before. "You mind?" Minho asks, voice heavy with confusion. It's a foreign sound — Kibum's used to confident Choi Minho, not are you sure, do you know what you're saying, you have to give the answer, Kibum kind of Choi Minho, not this.

Kibum nods, smiles. He inches closer until his knees bump into Minho's thigh, close enough that he can take in the scent of Minho's new aftershave, or the new brand of body mist that Jinki recommended to him just a few days ago. New knowledge on Minho, bits of information to be stored for future use.

He reaches up, rests a hand on Minho's shoulder. He tries another smile, but he ends up with a toothy grin. "I'm clingy and possessive."

A smile lights the corners of Minho's lips. "Really? Prove it."

Something familiar — Minho posing a challenge, Minho's eyes boring into his, Minho with his gummy smile and the crinkles in the corner of his eyes and his hair sticking to his cheeks. Something different — Kibum sliding his hand to the back of Minho's neck, curling his fingers on the base, Kibum leaning in until their noses bump. "Don't say things you'll regret, Choi Minho," he whispers, and Minho only lets loose a sound of amusement, one hand coming to rest on Kibum's knee.

"I said, prove it."

Kibum takes a deep breath.

He tilts his head to the left and presses close, until he's met with Minho's lips, soft and supple. This hasn't changed, the way their teeth collide at first, the way Minho licks at the seams of his lips before probing, asking for access. He can feel the upward tug on the corners of Minho's lips, can feel Minho's pulse when Minho's hand moves to his arm to pull him closer. He opens up and Minho kisses deeper, licking the back of his teeth, the cavern of his mouth, hands scrambling for purchase on Kibum's shirt. Minho gasps when Kibum sucks on his tongue and returns the favor soon after, ending by kissing the corners of Kibum's mouth, nipping lightly on Kibum's bottom lip.

"I get it," Minho says after a while. A brush of lips on lips, some laughter, then, "I get it now."

Kibum places a light kiss to Minho's bottom lip. "So do I."

Jonghyun composes one of the tracks for the repackage album.

"So, a rap-off," Jonghyun says, looking at Kibum, then Minho, then Kibum again. He leans closer and hands the lyrics sheet to them. He drums his fingers on the table as Kibum deliberately goes through each and every line, slips a comment in between, and turns to Minho from time to time to ask, "Am I the only one who thinks this can actually be improved?"

"Maybe…" It's getting harder for Minho to keep it together with the unamused look in Jonghyun's features. "I think it's—"

"Perfect," Kibum supplies. To Jonghyun, he says, "It's wonderful."

Jonghyun leans back in his chair. There's a familiar smile on his lips, one Kibum has come to develop a fondness for over the years, but nothing quite beats Minho's toothy grins, gummy smiles, round eyes looking at him like he's the most amusing person in the world. Kibum gets it now, the secret to success — receptivity to change, embracing change and changing it, spicing it up with your own style. Taking the mundane and the normal and turning it into something amazing with a few tricks. Stepping into the danger zone without protective gear, stepping onstage fashioning only his heart on his sleeve.

"So, when are we recording?" Jonghyun asks. His eyes are glimmering in excitement.

Kibum looks at Minho. He doesn't fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips when Minho bares his teeth, his sixteen-year-old smile.

"Now."

SSS 2014: For preorder (1/2)

replaymods — Mon, 05 May 2014 04:26:51 GMT

For: preorder
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Just keep moving forward
Pairing: Minho/Key, Jonghyun/Key
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A
Author's Notes: Huge thanks to N for helping me figure out one of the pivotal points of the fic. And as always, to C and F, thank you for the word wars and all the hand-holding. ♥

It isn't much of a secret that Jonghyun strains his vocal chords. Most singers do, at one point or another, even if they try as carefully as possible not to push too hard, but when you've been training with SM for the longest time and you still haven't caught a break, it's difficult not to. There are long nights spent in practice rooms, running through a dance routine that will never be performed in front of people or trying to reach notes he can only dream of. There's Taemin trying to overcome his own voice and Jinki trying hard to cover the cracks in his voice with easy breathing. There's Minho saying sorry to the group for screwing up the routine, apologizing in behalf of his long libs. There's Jonghyun singing a particular part of a song again and again until his voice cracks.

Then Kibum grabs him by the wrist, looks at him in the eye and says, "Stop. You're going to break my eardrums." Later, with their backs against the cool mirror, Kibum says, "It's not in your key. Don't push it."

What does come as a shock, though, is that Jonghyun strains his vocal chords too hard that it fucks up the rest of his system and that he loses his chance to debut.

"I should have fucking listened," Jonghyun says now, legs pulled close to his chest. His voice is muffled but months of practicing alongside each other, breathing heavy and ragged, has taught Kibum this language. "Actually, I did; it was just too late. Now I've lost the chance to go up on stage and fucking sing my heart out and—"

Kibum places a hand on Jonghyun shoulder and rubs tentatively, pausing when Jonghyun freezes, but resuming when Jonghyun props his chin on his arms, eyes fixed on his shoes. "It's not yet the end," Kibum mumbles. He gives Jonghyun's arm a light squeeze.

It might as well be. Jonghyun has been singing since he was five, has been dreaming of being a singer and performing in front of everyone since he was eight. These staple stories only add to the amount of time and effort Jonghyun puts into each run of a song, each note, each sound that slips from his lips when they're asked to sing something. Jonghyun has been singing all his life. Singing is all Jonghyun has known, and now that it's been taken away from him, he knows nothing, not even himself.

"Sure it is," Jonghyun mumbles. He brushes Kibum off as he shrugs his shoulders lightly. Kibum does him a favor and lets his hand fall to his side. "What else would a person like me do?"

"Study? Work odd jobs? Get a part-time job in a music store or something? I don't know, man." And it's true — he doesn't know Jonghyun well enough to map out his life yet. Two years isn't enough to completely expose all of their secrets to each other in between vocal and dance practice and trying to catch a breath in the roofdeck. There's no secret trick to managing work, social life, and someone else's life at the moment. "You play the piano, right? Why don't you try composing?"

Jonghyun laughs a little. Five seconds until Jonghyun gives him a toothy grin, three until it registers to Jonghyun that he's going to laugh and it won't be a sight to behold. "I need to compose myself first."

Jonghyun erupts into a peal of laughter. His muscles relax and he stretches his legs and he throws his head back, beads of tears in the corners of his eyes as he chokes on his own laughter, and Kibum laughs in accord, slapping Jonghyun hard on the arm.

The news officially hits the four corners of the company when Heechul gets wind of it and immediately envelops Jonghyun in a bone-crushing hug.

"It's not the end of the world," Heechul says, voice unusually soft and sweet and maybe even a bit weird; Kibum hasn't heard him like this before, and even if he has he might have been too tired to even register a concern in Heechul's voice. "There's life outside of SM, you know what I'm saying? Hey, I know a few people who can get you into retail. Wanna give that a shot?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I don't want to go into the marketing side of things." Jonghyun laughs a little, trying to hide the awkward smile hanging from the corners of his lips as he weasels out of Heechul's one-armed hug. "I still want something music-related."

"SM-related," Heechul and Kibum chime at the same time. Taemin's having a hard time keeping it together.

"Composing sounds good," Jonghyun says, then turns to Kibum with wide eyes and a smile that says, yes, I actually thought about what you said. "I won't have to sing that much anymore but I'll be able to put my… skills to use?"

Heechul nods, contemplative. There's a small smile at the corner of his lips. "And who gave you the idea that you should even give that a shot?"

Jonghyun cocks his head to the left without even looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out instinctively to land on Kibum's wrist. Just a few more inches and he'd be shy of touching something else, but Jonghyun's good with rough estimates and distances — the distance from the dance practice room to the nearest comfort room, the distance between Jinki and Minho and how their being imbalanced in the formation gravely affects the rest of their performance. Kibum's shoulders from his, the distance they have to keep between themselves so that their bags don't bump against each other. Only on certain occasions does Jonghyun ever get his measurements wrong; approximating time is not part of his expertise.

Kibum raises his hand and Jonghyun yelps a little at the jerking motion. It's good to know that some things never change. Heechul turns to him with a toothy grin and says, "You're my new favorite." After a while, "Oops, gotta go!"

"So which composition do you think should I send as an audition?" Jonghyun asks later, on their way back from their break. He uses double quotes to add emphasis, but Kibum only shrugs and moves closer. Their shoulders bump from time to time. Kibum thinks about miscalculations and the uncertainty in Jonghyun's voice, the relief in Jonghyun's eyes when he hears Heechul say, Hey, there's still hope.

"The one you used to sing while we packed up after dance practice," Kibum answers after a while. Jonghyun slows down in his steps, eyebrows furrowed when he turns to Kibum. "Y'know, the one about waking up from a dream and recovering from a break up."

"A.K.A. most of the songs I've composed."

Kibum laughs a little, bumps his shoulder into Jonghyun's. Jonghyun cackles, losing it completely, Jonghyun's song, scratchy and so undeniably pre-debut, rings brightly in Kibum's ears.

The management finds a replacement for Jonghyun — another one of Jonghyun's friends, the one who goes by the name of Kim Joonmyun. His voice isn't anything like Jonghyun's, but he works hard and he has trained long enough, and there's the thirst to prove himself in the way he belts out notes, in the way he tries really, really hard to perfect each and every one of his lines, in the way he goes through the dance routine long after practice is over. It's sort of refreshing, this brand of enthusiasm, and it results to longer practices, shorter break times, bigger smiles at the end of the day. Joonmyun has that sort of effect on people — he pushes them hard, pushes himself harder to see if he can ever be any better.

"The new kid's good," Kibum mumbles. They're out in the rooftop. Jonghyun pleaded thirty minutes ago to meet there and alleviate the fatigue of being holed up the whole day in the music room, but practice ended just ten minutes ago; now, Jonghyun's sneezing. The cold almost always gets to him too fast. "Fine, he's not new and he's not a kid, but he's new new and he's really determined—"

"— Driven."

"Yeah, that, and you just know he's passionate about singing. He's good at making friends, too, but he's not a complete pushover." Jonghyun cackles, but gestures for him to go on. "He managed to convince Minho to treat everyone to takoyaki and tteokbokki. I mean, Minho of all people."

Jonghyun blows a puff of air, then shifts in his position so that they're facing each other. There's a hint of amusement in the way Jonghyun's eyes crinkle at the corners, in the way one side of Jonghyun's lips tugs up, lips protruding a little like he's about to say something but can't quite find the right words. "Minho, of all people," Jonghyun repeats, then nods slowly, thoughtfully, before continuing, "I'd say I have a great successor."

Kibum rolls his eyes. "Don't say that. He's nothing like you."

"But he is?" Jonghyun scratches the back of his head. The upward tug has turned into something more neutral; Jonghyun's lips have a life of their own and sometimes, only sometimes, Kibum wonders how it would be to suck out all of that. If he ever thinks of finishing kissing Jonghyun, he doesn't; instead, he swallows it all, musters a cackle. "He's a good friend of mine. I really won't mind if you suddenly upped and left me and—"

He moves two inches to his right and places his face towel between them. "Jonghyun," he says, an eyebrow raised, lips thinning into a straight line. "Jonghyun-hyung, please stop pulling my leg."

Jonghyun tugs lightly at his wrist, almost helplessly. He manages to say through a mouthful of laughter, "Well I'm pulling your arm now."

Kibum shakes his head, like it can make things better, ease Jonghyun's mind and ease him back into the swing of things. Jonghyun's coughing now, pounding his chest hard, His cheeks are flushed and there are beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. Jonghyun always laughs like it's his last day on Earth.

"They accepted my application, by the way," Jonghyun mentions once he's caught his breath again. "Said I was promising and that I should thank my piano-playing skills because I write crappy lyrics. I told them I write from the heart and they fucking laughed at me." Jonghyun pauses. He sounds more amused than affronted. He's weird, but Kibum has always liked his friends that way. "And then they said, I like him. Kid has more backbone than any of the younger composers. That injury's a blessing in disguise."

"So what now?" Kibum asks. There's a slow-forming smile on Jonghyun's lips. He takes a deep breath.

Jonghyun flashes a v-sign at him, grins wide enough for Kibum to see his canines. They're blinding. "You're looking at the future Yoo Youngjin, mister."

A couple of weeks in, Joonmyun has made a room in their schedules faster than he can nail dance steps properly. "He's that kind of guy," Jinki says, shrugging, then leans back against the mirror. He winces as he makes contact with the cold surface, and Kibum just chuckles. "The kind that's hard to hate. It bothers me sometimes."

"I get that a lot," Joonmyun says, announcing his presence. Kibum chortles and aims for a high-five; Joonmyun's hand finds a fit in his. "It comes with years of practice."

"You've only been here for a year," Minho comments. Taemin elbows him in his side.

"Just like all of you." Joonmyun slips back into his standard smile. "We're not that different."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," comes a familiar voice. Kibum looks over his shoulder with practiced ease and sinks his cheek into the protruding bone when Jonghyun flashes a toothy grin at him. To Joonmyun, Jonghyun says, "They actually love you."

A light bump of the fist and Kibum feels his stomach lurch. It must be all the kimchi he's had for lunch.

Practice unfolds as usual, only Jonghyun's watching from the far end of the room, eyes focused on the expanse of mirrors in front of him. This isn't the first time Jonghyun has done this, or any of them, for that matter, but somehow it feels different with Jonghyun not knowing the choreography, Jonghyun's vocals not soaring above the backing track, with Jonghyun's feet propped under his legs and his bangs falling over his eyes.

Kibum looks at the crack in the center where two mirrors meet. It's Taemin's dance break. Three quick breaths to recalibrate himself, eight counts until Joonmyun belts out beside him and Jinki's voice comes in, five seconds until Minho messes up the choreo again and accidentally steps on Kibum's foot when he makes a wrong turn.

Minho doesn't stop dancing. He meets Kibum's eyes briefly as if saying, you can't just stand there, Kim. Kibum picks up midway through the choreography and slides to the left, filling the gap between Taemin and Minho.

Jonghyun's gaze on him lingers.

They weren't kidding when they said the months leading up to debuting are nothing but complete torture. Joonmyun's hugging his legs close to his chest, and Jinki's slumped in a corner, breathing heavy and ragged. Taemin's sprawled on the floor, lying flat on his back, and Minho pops a pill in his mouth — possibly a paracetamol; he hasn't been feeling well these days. Kibum's the only one standing, hands on his hips, but he falls right into place with the beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks, his hair sticking to his face.

Minho throws a hand towel at him and Kibum catches it even before it can hit his face. He turns to Minho with a small smile and mumbles, "Thanks."

Jonghyun hasn't been around that much — he's seen Jonghyun only twice this week after practice, and that isn't even because Jonghyun leaves the building much earlier than they do. Some nights, Jonghyun spends sleeping on the floor of the music room; some, in a recording booth, trying to find his voice again, that sweet spot where he can hit the right notes the way he wants to. They don't get the leisure of using cellphones until months after debut, so Kibum relies heavily on timing — equal amounts of looking around, searching for clues, and intuition. And then there's Minho rubbing elbows with Super Junior and Jonghyun working on a track for them — it makes Kibum's life so much easier.

Minho pats the empty space beside him, and Kibum quickly turns to the source of the sound, cocking his head when he meets Minho in the eye. 'Sit," Minho says, loud enough for him to hear but soft enough that it doesn't stir Jinki from the slumber he's just drifted into.

"I'm not a dog," Kibum says in thoughtless retaliation but plops down, anyway. Their elbows bump. Kibum winces at the jolt of electricity coursing through his arm.

"Jonghyun-hyung's off early today. The track he worked on for Super Junior has finally been polished so he's essentially free today. And tomorrow. And all other days of the week, for that matter."

Kibum looks at Minho, doesn't fight the smile making its way to his lips, and leans against Minho's shoulder. Their arms are sticky with sweat and the lethargy hours of dance practice brings, but there's a promise of good things to come in the upward curve of Minho's lips, in the way he pats Kibum's hair and quickly lets his hand fall to his side before Kibum can even swat Minho's hand away.

"Wanna come?" Kibum asks. Casualty number two is Joonmyun who's now leaning against Jinki. Taemin's not too far off.

Minho chuckles lightly, does that thing again where he runs his fingers through Kibum's hair, but lets his touch linger. His fingers are cold. "Sure."

Minho slides beside Kibum right after practice. Jinki and Joonmyun excuse themselves for two more hours of vocal practice, and Taemin says he'll be staying behind to do a few more runs of the routine to see if there's anything that can be further improved.

"He should be here any second," Minho says once they've reached the roofdeck. The wind's blowing stronger than the usual, mussing up Minho's hair. Kibum reaches out, combs his fingers through the tuft, and Minho grins all too easily as he says, "I should get a haircut soon."

"Ask the management first if you can," Kibum chimes. His gaze shifts from the doorknob to his wristwatch and back again, then up at Minho when Minho doesn't make a sound. "Wow, we actually get to say that now. I mean, we're actually debuting. Can you believe that?"

Minho leans against the ledge and throws his head back. His eyes are closed and he's whistling, and Kibum gets impatient, annoyed when he's at the receiving end of these things. "A belated realization," Minho replies a a few minutes after. "Still in a state of shock, huh?"

"You don't get to ask me another question just because you answered mine, Choi."

"And you don't get to order me around." Minho sits up straight, pats the empty space beside him. "You've been extra weird since Jonghyun-hyung left."

Left isn't exactly the best word to use in that sentence. Jonghyun never left — he's still here in the building, somewhere, in one of the rooms neither of them have probably ever been to. Jonghyun still walks down the same halls and breathes the same air and is still under the same company. He's anywhere in the confines of the building but beside Kibum and Minho and every other member of their group — SHINee's what they'll be called — and somehow the building, the world Kibum has moved around in for the past year, seems so big for a person so small like him.

"As if I can get any weirder." Kibum scoffs. "I'm just tired."

"You can't be tired when you half-ass the choreography."

Kibum shoots Minho a look and snarls, "I never half-ass anything."

Minho chuckles — laughs, like the sight of a snarling, growling Kibum is the most amusing thing since Jinki finally delivered a good joke. "Which is why," Minho begins, then moves closer, an inch or two, until their shoulders bump. The contact sends jolts of electricity down Kibum's arm. "— you're extra weird. Or an extra dose of something. It's okay to be sad, Kibum. I get sad. Taemin and Jinki-hyung get sad. Heck, even the perfect Joonmyun probably gets sad, too."

Kibum rolls his eyes. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Minho grins at him, too bright for nine in the evening. "And you finally admitted it."

Kibum stops, stares, and his jaw drops a few centimeters, and he hits Minho once twice thrice on the arm until laughter begins to bubble on Minho's lips and Minho holds his arms up in defense. He yields, anyway, not bothering to counter Kibum's attacks, and Kibum notes the flush painting Minho's cheeks, the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes, the melody of his laughter and the way it makes Kibum's stomach lurch.

Jonghyun makes a brief appearance in the rooftop before rushing back to the music room, mumbling something about, Oh, wait, inspiration. The muse is finally here! She's back, Kibummie! She's back! Kibum tries to understand — the rush, the thrill, the sheer importance of the return of a writing muse, the way a grin lights the corners of Jonghyun's lips when he starts humming a melody under his breath and gives Kibum a brief yet tight hug. "Well, that was quick," Minho supplies, and Kibum accidentally-on-purpose steps on Minho's foot on the way down.

"Wanna grab something to eat?" Minho asks. Kibum slows down almost instantly. "I'm kinda hungry."

Kibum feels for his stomach, hears it grumble in response, and Minho chuckles.

The trip to the nearest tteokbokki stall doesn't take long, but the cold wind almost makes it impossible to speed up their pace. Kibum's knees are shaking by the time they get to the stand, and he says too enthusiastically, "Tteokbokki!", like a battle cry just before the start of a war.

"You're paying?" Minho asks. He's grinning. Kibum hates that gum-baring smile.

"Only if you don't order another."

Minho shrugs, orders two servings of hotteok, and grins at Kibum as he bites off a piece of his tteokbokki.

Late night snacks with Minho becomes a daily practice. Sometimes, Taemin would join and order more than he can eat and make Kibum and Minho pay for the mess he's made. Sometimes, Joonmyun and Jinki would be with them and they'd be capping the night in a samgyupsal place, eating more tteokbokki than meat. Sometimes, they won't even order anything, just tread the streets of Gangnam and look at the people passing by, teenagers laughing their hearts out or young professionals looking crisp in their suits and tailored skirts. Minho will give him the luxury of silence and he'll give Minho the occasional glance in return.

"Y'know, if we headed home an hour ago, we'd be sleeping by now," Kibum says one time, halfway through their walking tour of Gangnam. He darts his tongue out a little to lick his lips, seethes when the cold wind blows at them. Beside him, Minho shivers. "And we won't have to deal with this thing. Where the hell are we going, Minho?"

"Here."

Minho gestures at the establishment to their left, a fancy-looking restaurant serving many different kinds of tteokbokki. "We'll have to share just one plate, though," Minho whispers.

Kibum looks at him, just looks at him with all the disbelief, shock, something akin to amazement that he can muster, lips slightly parted in a tiny 'o'. "It's fucking expensive here," he whispers, but Minho ushers him inside, anyway, and he has to clasp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything, like what he'll say will ruin it. "Why are you doing this," he adds after a while, when they're already seated inside. Minho hasn't looked up from the menu since they've arrived.

"Ya, Minho, why are you—"

Minho peeks from his bangs. "Because you're sad," he reasons out, then looks back at the menu after a while. "And I can't work with with sad people like you so I'm trying to make you happy."

"By buying my happiness? Wow, thanks."

"By feeding you your favorite post-practice food." Minho resurfaces, waving at the waitress and saying, "Two orders of this, please."

Kibum looks at Minho, then the menu, then the waitress, and blurts out, "And one kimchi jjigae, please." From the corner of his eye, he can see Minho's eyes go wide and the look of disbelief in his face. A smile comes all too easy to him when Minho begins to chuckle. "And water, lots of water. Thank you."

Countdown to debut: 2 months.

Taemin's more jittery than the usual, but give him a mug of hot chocolate and rub circles on his back and he'll be as good as new. Joonmyun's been driving himself harder than the usual, going for more runs of the routine after practice, but on weekends he leaves on the dot, as soon as practice is over. Jinki's the sanest of them all, but occasionally he'll screw things up and slip and he'll spend the next few minutes in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, breaths measured as he repeats to himself like a mantra, "It's okay. People make mistakes. You're going to be fine."

Kibum sits down beside Minho and stretches out his legs, then nudges Minho with his elbow. "How are you holding up?"

"Fucking nervous," Minho mumbles. His eyes are closed and his fists are balled and his breathing's still heavy from the last run they've done, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Weird, Kibum's mind registers, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Minho, anyway, waiting for the moment of surrender and Minho opening his eyes. "Like, really fucking nervous. I-can't-eat kind of nervous. Tteokbokki's-gonna-make-me-shit-in-my-pants kind of nervous."

"Please don't shit on my favorite food," Kibum says. He reaches out, rubs small circles on the back of Minho's hand until Minho stirs and looks at him. "Tteokbokki. Dude, you're so out of it."

Minho cocks his head, looks at him in the eye, then at his hand clamped on Minho's own, then back up until their eyes meet. Kibum retracts his hand slowly, keeps a straight face. He adds annoyance to the mix — a light upward tug of the eyebrow, a downward tug of the lips, a small puff of air as he rolls his eyes and tucks his hands under his legs and shakes his head. "It's official — you're crazy."

A few slow nods and Minho's back, eyes glimmering with — determination? A renewed sense of purpose? Some magic word for 'debut'? He pushes himself up from the floor and extends a hand in Kibum's direction once he's back on his feet. "Come on, you're going through the choreo with me again. You're dragging your foot to the next beat right after the chorus. You're pulling us down."

"Well, sorry for my long legs."

Jinki steps back inside the practice room just in time. "Can we not talk about long legs, please? That's a sensitive topic."

Minho snorts, face contorting into something kind of unattractive. His bangs fall to his eyes. Kibum takes the extended hand and doesn't reach for Minho's hair, doesn't brush off the stray strands so he can see Minho's big eyes and the crinkles at the corners. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.

He reaches for music player at the same time that Minho does. Minho's smile is unsettling, and so is the lurching sensation in his stomach.

Kibum marks off the days leading to debut — a check mark for days when practice ends early, an 'x' for when the end at twelve midnight. Yellow circles are for those when he stays long after practice is over, doing extra runs of their dance or practicing his lines, eyes fixed on his reflection on the mirror. He's been trying to come up with different facial expressions recently — those that are easier to be drawn to, something softer than the classic raise of the eyebrow or the sidetracked grin.

And then there are days marked with a pink triangle — the nights he spends eating way too much tteokbokki with Minho in a stall, faces going hot ten minutes into their eating binge.

"I don't get the fuss about hotteok," Kibum confesses one time. He bites the tip of the tteok tentatively, testing the temperature before removing it from the stick with his teeth. "I mean, it's good and all, but it's just a pancake. It's normal."

Minho draws his hotteok closer to his side of the plate and frowns visibly. "Tteokbokki's normal by Korean standards. Why don't you try putting your favorite tteok inside the pancakes to make it different, huh?"

"Wow. Are you actually getting defensive over food?"

Minho pokes one slice of tteok with a stick, lips quirking into a grin. "Look, Kibum, we need to talk."

It all happens in a flash — Minho drawing his fingers along the length of Kibum's jaw, Minho taking the piece of hotteok's he's sliced earlier and popping it inside Kibum's mouth then adding tteokbokki to the mix, Minho gently snapping Kibum's jaw shut and tapping his index finger on Kibum's nose lightly while saying, "Eat."

Kibum's stuck somewhere, his teeth digging into the soft tteok, tongue grazing the hotteok lightly, and he automatically cringes, snarls through a mouthful of food, and chews until the mix is soft enough for swallowing. He catches Minho's gaze drop to his lips, the column on his neck when he swallows. He can feel his heartbeat definitely on the base of his throat — it's quick, heavy beats pounding against his skin, ringing in his ears.

"So?" Minho asks, eyes locked back on Kibum's own. Kibum gulps hard.

"It wasn't too bad."

Minho lets out a small, triumphant sound, raising fist in celebration. Never mind that the lady who's serving them tteokbokki's looking at them silly and laughing at them, or that Minho has some red sauce on his white shirt, or the fact that hotteok actually tastes good — Kibum's heart is still racing in his chest at an abnormally fast pace.

He sinks his teeth into a slice of tteok and watches as Minho wheezes, feels around for a glass of water.

He likes it.

A week until debut. A crazy week of preparations and last-minute polishes, of impromptu vocal lessons in the halls and rooftops and on the way home. Minho's been trying free verse rapping recently, rapping whatever comes to mind, and Kibum takes it upon himself to pick out the flaws in Minho's lyrics, to spot the holes, to improve on whatever Minho can give, to take it, and make something golden out of it. "You're having too much fun with this," Minho says after a while, as Kibum punctuates his thought process with nodding and a small smile. "I'm serious, you're loving this whole Minho's-at-my-mercy thing."

"I plan to conquer the world someday," Kibum replies, grinning as Minho rolls his eyes at him. "Well, what are you waiting for. Do that thing again, that—"

Minho shrugs but parts his lips, anyway, poised to rap. Kibum closes his eyes. The beginning is marked by Minho exhaling loudly; the end, Minho's hand warm around his wrist. The joint piece is about trying hard until there's nothing else in sight but the road to the top and Minho nails the performance, stressing on the right parts, drawing out the syllables of the keywords, all without missing a beat.

"You like it," Minho says soon after. It's not a question — there is no uncertainty beneath Minho's ragged breathing. Kibum begins to wonder when he's begun to be so predictable, easy. "Gonna bet my life on that, Kibum. Come on, tell me you liked it."

Kibum gets back to his feet and locks his arms behind his back. "Well, it was good. Better than the previous version."

"Oh, come on!"

Kibum supplies a straight answer over a shared serving of tteokbokki and hotteok, when he slips a piece of tteok between Minho's lips. Minho doesn't ask why, doesn't do anything but stare at him for at least ten seconds, and Kibum keeps his eyes fixed on the red sauce draped all over the tteok, on the steaming hot pancakes in front of them, on Minho's fingers drumming on the flat surface in front of them, merely centimeters from Kibum's own.

And then, there's the night of the debut.

They finish at half past seven in the evening, and Taemin does a pirouette, accidentally slams his leg into Jinki's ass. Jinki goes off-balance, and Joonmyun makes the mistake of trying to salvage whatever is left of Jinki's equilibrium. Soon, the three are a heap of limbs on the floor, and Joonmyun's laughing into the crook of Jinki's neck, and there's a deep flush tainting Jinki's cheeks.

Kibum looks twice, thinks twice about approaching the crime scene, until Minho walks past him and offers a hand to the fallen trio. In a split second, Jinki yanks at Minho's wrist, pulls him down, and Minho's laughing his heart out, the rich tone bouncing off the corners of the room.

Kibum joins the war by shooting water at the other members. Minho, halfway through getting back on his feet, slips and tugs at the hem of Kibum's shirt way too hard.

The next Kibum sees is an expanse of blue and his fingers splayed all over Minho's chest. He looks up, tentatively, and he's met with Minho's eyes, wide and inquiring. What are you looking at, Kibum wants to say, but there's something lodged in his throat, keeping all the air from reaching his lungs, making him ball his fists and relax them and clench them again.

"We're gonna leave you two there if you're planning to cuddle on the floor," Joonmyun says.

Kibum turns to look in Joonmyun's direction — since when have they gotten back on their feet? He pushes himself off of Minho, dusts himself off, reaches for the nearest water bottle to take a sip or a gulp or to drink the content all the way down.

"I'll run through the thing after the chorus with Kibum for a while," Minho says. To Jinki, he grins and adds, "We'll be done in thirty minutes max, I promise."

Minho never breaks promises. "Yeah," Kibum affirms. "I just need to make sure Minho doesn't fuck up tomorrow."

Taemin cackles and quickly clasps a hand over his mouth.

"I'll make this quick," Minho says as soon as the door locks.

He turns to Kibum, a small yet nice pirouette, and grabs Kibum by the wrist. Kibum takes a deep breath. This isn't part of the choreo, Kibum thinks — if they're at the chorus, they're supposed to be popping their knees up, pushing themselves back as they bring their hands together over their knees. They should be dragging the tip of their right foot as they turn to the left, then back to the right, index finger pointing up. They should just be beside each other, not this close, too close that he can smell the scent of sweat in Minho's hair, that he can trace the pimples lined along Minho's jaw if he wanted to.

"Nothing will change after this," Minho whispers. Kibum nods, swallowing hard. He worries his lower lip.

Minho leans in until their lips meet. It's an awkward, uncomfortable angle, and Kibum tries to find a better fit, cocking his head to the left. Minho curls a hand on his nape and Kibum's breath hitches, and he half-seethes, half-gasps, half-submits himself into the touch and half-holds himself back as he balls his fists in his side. Minho licks at the seams of his lips, testing the waters, and Kibum parts them almost automatically, sucking Minho's tongue before granting him full access. This isn't juvenile, nor is it terribly unrehearsed, but it is something, the word for which escaping Kibum's lips entirely, gets swallowed by Minho as Minho licks the cavern of his mouth, then sucks on his bottom lip, then sucks all the air out of him.

There's a string of saliva connecting them when they pull away. Kibum's breathing is heavy, ragged. His chest feels heavy; his lips, unbearably light.

"Let's go," Minho says after a while. Kibum nods, takes off without another word, but catches the sight of Minho touching his own lips, fingers dancing on the bottom lip, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corners.

SSS 2014: Reveals Delay

ikui — Mon, 24 Mar 2014 18:24:50 GMT

Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances and the last-minute withdrawal of authors, there are still a few fics that are unfinished. It is unlikely that they will be finished before early April and the moderators ask for your patience as we will have to delay reveals as a result. We ask that secret santas please continue to not reveal your identities.

We apologize for the delay and will do our best to get the last couple requests filled as soon as possible. Until then, please continue to browse and comment on the fics already posted!

SSS 2014: For heteroshinee

replaymods — Fri, 21 Mar 2014 15:01:13 GMT

For: heteroshinee
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Can’t Stop Loving You
Pairing: Minho/Key
Rating: PG
Warnings: none!
Authors’ Notes: Hi there wonderful recipient! I hope this was what you wanted but at the same time there’s too much fluff not enough Disneyland (I haven’t been so it was sort of hard but I loved writing it so bless this prompt and your soul) Have a nice day!

When you love, you don’t count –my French teacher at the end of class one day
Minho leaned back on his chair, ruffling his brown bangs. He had been staring at the computer screen for a few hours, crunching out new statistics for the company’s sales and even gave a presentation in front of the managing board earlier in the morning. He closes his eyes for a minute, his eyes burning from the lack of moisture, and his lips curled up when he sees his beautiful Kibum’s face smiling back. Minho sits up and reaches for the top drawer. He brings out a small black box and opens it to show a simple white gold band. The ring shines in the setting sun, and Minho’s heart swells at the thought of proposing to Kibum. He’s been meaning to ask for a while, but in between work and sleeping (sometimes eating), he never had the time to think of an elaborate plan to properly ask. He hears soft footsteps clicking on the wooden floorboards and automatically puts the ring away and stands up, wiping the wrinkles on his light blue dress shirt, when his boss, Lee Jinki, enters the room.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to stay here, Minho-ssi? You have done a lot lately,” Jinki gently asks Minho. He sees the faint dark circles under Minho’s eyes and internally frowns. A handsome face wearing down; such a shame.

Minho shakes his head and tries to smile the best he can, but fails, “No, Jinki-ssi, it’s fine. I better finish everything today, since I’ve been so behind lately.”

Jinki sighs, responding, “Minho, I have two things to say. One, just call me hyung. It makes everything a lot easier for the both of us.” Minho nods, waiting for Jinki to continue. “The second thing is that it’s almost 6 in the evening and I would like everyone to actually get rest for a change. It’s been a successful day and for all your hard work, I would like to present you with these Disneyland tickets. One is never too old for Disneyland after all,” Jinki chuckles. Minho sees two tickets in his boss’ hand.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are there two though Jinki-ss- I mean hyung?” Minho asks as politely as he could.

Jinki is taken aback at the comment and raises an eyebrow, “I think you mentioned one day that your friend Kibum-ssi loves Disneyland and that you felt bad for not spending time with him, so I decided that as your boss, this was one of the things I could do for you since I held you back so long.”

Minho rushes over to Jinki and hugs him tightly. Jinki laughs and hugs him back with kind intent, and breaks away from the hug. He gives the tickets to Minho and pats him on the shoulder before walking out, wishing him a nice evening.

When Minho doesn’t see Jinki’s silhouette, he pumps his fist in the air and jumps in happiness with the tickets at hand. He takes the ring box out of the drawer and slips it into his jacket’s pocket.

He can’t wait to surprise Kibummie.

Love is an odd emotion; it brings out the best and the worst within humans. It elicits a variety of emotions from happiness to anger to sadness. Some people don’t know how to show their love to their significant; some don’t have the time for their partners, even though they mean well. It’s difficult for Minho to show his love to Kibum ever since he received his promotion at work, but he loves loves loves Kibum with all his being and nothing could get in his way from taking Kibum to the happiest place on Earth to make him the happiest person in his universe.

Minho drives slightly above the speed limit to make it home to dinner on time. He looks at his watch and cringes. The platinum framed watch read 7:49. Dinner started at 7:30. He goes up the stairs to their apartment and opens the door to an irritated Kibum. The shock of pink hair looked red in the muted light, the bleached blond part looked golden as a wheat field. Kibum’s eyebrows were scrunched together in anger, his arms locked.
“Where have you been Minho?” Kibum asks with a straight face.

“I’ve been at work, Kibummie,” Minho answers, taking off his shoes without taking his eyes off of Kibum’s.
“Don’t you dare ‘Kibummie’ me right now, Choi Minho. It never takes you this long to get back from work, even though you have been late before, so what’s the excuse this time? Hanging out with your friends that you somehow managed to find without me?”

Minho hangs his coat on the coat rack by the door and walks over to stand in front of Kibum. Kibum gulps, never breaking his gaze from Minho’s as he towered him. Minho leans down and whispers in Kibum’s ear, “I got you the best present. Want to guess?”

Kibum’s breath stays constant as he whispers back, “Is it a vacation at Hawaii?”

Minho steps away from him and reaches in his back pocket. Curious, Kibum looks over and squeals in delight seeing the Disneyland tickets. He wraps his arms around Minho’s neck and laughs with tears staining Minho’s shirt. Minho twirls Kibum in the middle of their living room, laughing with his boyfriend.

Kibum unlatches himself from Minho’s arms and wipes his tears away. Minho kisses Kibum’s cheek, tasting the salty trails of water.

“Am I forgiven?” Minho asks coyly.

Kibum chuckles and looks down before responding, “You were always forgiven. Now eat your dinner, butthole, it’s already cold.”

Kibum’s always been impressive. He moved in with his parents to the suburbs when he was 7 years old, small, skinny, with awkward long hair but a strong attitude and a vibrant personality that no one could not resist. He was the life of the party, the mood maker in any situation, the diffuser of uncomfortable scenarios, the sassiest person alive. He defended the lonely children on the playgrounds from the bullies and always taking them under his wing.

Minho was tall for his age, awkward, lanky with big eyes, and even though he loved sports with every fiber of his being, he could not get the other kids to play with him because he was simply too intimidating and too unwanted. He sat on the gray concrete bench as he watched his other classmates having the time of their lives and his sad, large eyes drooped with each passing day watching the scene. He sat in in the same area and quietly ate his fruit and milk while he watched the children play soccer a few feet away. Before he got up to throw his trash away, the soccer ball hits Minho on the head, toppling him over on the asphalt. The gravel digs into his skin, some parts of skin scraped. He hears a rush of footsteps, not letting the tears fall from his eyes, and caught a boy’s voice apologizing over and over again.

“Oh I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh, you’re hurt Minho!”

Minho tries to get up, but his arms and legs felt so heavy and he thought I wouldn’t mind being on the ground for a little longer.

He feels the teacher’s arms hook beneath his knees and around his shoulders. He faintly hears Kibum running along with the teacher, the word sorry still ringing in his head.

Minho holds Kibum’s hand in the bus to Disneyland. They talk about work (“I’m getting that promotion finally!” “You don’t say. It’s not like I haven’t heard it the past hour or so.”), friends (“Did you know Taemin’s going out with Naeun?” “Took him a while.” “Tell me about it, Minho.”), new domestic plans (“I was thinking that we repaint the kitchen. Something like a pastel blue.” “Why blue??> Why can’t we do a deep red?” “I don’t want the kitchen to look like someone died for the sake of the walls.”), and ride plans (“Let’s go on the teacups first!” “Minho, last time I remember, you threw up on the teacup ride.” “I was 11, Kibum.” “No, you were 18, stop changing the truth.”)

When Minho is with Kibum, or just in his general presence, he feels a burden leaving his shoulders, one pebble at a time. When Kibum held his hand tightly and dragged him to the teacups despite Minho’s motion sickness, Minho felt as if his problems and worries whisked away along with the centrifugal force. After several turns on the ride (and five minutes of waiting to make sure Minho could properly walk without falling over), Kibum waited in line for Splash Mountain (Minho was happy that he decided to wear shorts and a v-neck that day) and the two looked forward to the cold water rushing under and over them. When they buckle in their seats, Minho looks at Kibum, who looks absolutely happy to be here at the happiest place on earth and smiling his bright, white smile and Minho can’t help but to mimic Kibum’s beautiful smile.

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. –C.S Lewis

Minho and Kibum were inseparable after the soccer ball incident. They hung out after school every day to eat snacks at Minho’s house and then go to Kibum’s house to do homework (coincidentally, Kibum lived two houses down from Minho, so both families were well acquainted), and then the Kims and the Chois would eat dinner at a restaurant, if not eat at one of each other’s homes. They pattern continued until both went off to college together. Every day on the walk home, the two always talked about their day (“Today was so lame. I barely got to finish that worksheet that Mr. Lee gave us.” “Really, because I finished that worksheet in 10 minutes.” “We all can’t be Kim Kibum.” “Of course not.”) and food (“Was that rice even edible today?” “How am I supposed to know when I’m starving?” “You’re so hungry that you don’t even care about quality.”). One day, Kibum was water skiing and flew off his skis and hit the concrete instead of water. His ankles, thankfully, were only sprained with various discolored bruises and scrapes on his arms. When Minho saw him in front of the school with bandages around his skinny arms, Minho took Kibum’s books from his arms and slowly walked Kibum home.

(“What happened? You never had an accident like this before.”

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t fuss over it.”

“But I care Kibummie. I’ll be here for you always!”)

A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you ― Elbert Hubbard

The sun slowly set down, signaling the end of the glorious day. Kibum carried the souvenirs, mainly t shirts, key chains, headbands, and bags. Minho snaked his arm around Kibum’s shoulders and they walked toward the King Arthur Carousel.

“Wow, I haven’t been on this thing in years,” Kibum exclaimed as he sat down on the horse.

“It has been a while hasn’t it?” Minho chuckled as he sat down on the white horse next to his boyfriend of 5 and friend of 20 years. “Remember Jonghyun made fun of you when you said that the carousel was your favorite part of Disneyland?”

“Don’t remind me of that butthole,” Kibum rolled his eyes. “Ugh, who does he think he is,” he muttered as he waited for the worker to start the ride, “He wouldn’t know quality if it hit him on the face.” Minho promptly laughed, his giggle twinkling through the air and around Kibum and Kibum never realized in their 20 years of friendship and 3 years of dating and civil partnership that Minho is absolutely gorgeous and childlike when he laughs: his big, chocolate eyes crinkle in crescent shapes, his body shakes with laughter, his voice cracks a little when he giggles, and it’s so beautiful and full of life and happiness that Kibum wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

“Why isn’t the carousel moving?” Kibum asked impatiently.

Minho fidgets a little, the sun setting down in the horizon, prompting the lights to turn on, fairy light decorating the edges of the rides and buildings. Kibum notices the movements and looks at his boyfriend of 5 years and friend of 20 suspiciously. Minho meets Kibum’s eyes and groans. He shuffles in front of Kibum’s horse and drops down to one knee. Kibum covers his mouth, his eyes wide with anticipation and anxiety.

“Kim Kibum, my best friend since I was a child. I remember that day that we sort of first met. You kicked a soccer ball at me- I know it was unintentional! Don’t freak out!” Minho said laughing when Kibum looked like he was going to apologize just like that day long ago. “I remember those times after school when you would chastise me for not appreciating the good things in life that I took for granted and I saw a new perspective in life because of you, and I want to tell you that I appreciate that a lot.” At this point the carousel moves slow enough for Minho to stay on his knees. “I want to say-to say that you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You persevered through life and kicked everyone’s butt to prove to them that you’re not a pretty boy, that you’re so much better than that, and you could achieve anything.” Kibum’s eyes scrunch together and Minho sees his body shake with silent sobs, Kibum’s blond hair curling up around his ears. “You stood by me through all these years and I want to say thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me, and I want to tell you that I want to be by your side for 10, 20, a thousand years, so I can repay you for everything. I can only do that if you accept me in your life- not for a while, but for eternity, through thick and thin, through sickness and health, through destitution and wealth. Kim Kibum, will you marry this lovesick man?” Minho brings out the band from his pocket and holds it in between his fingers.

Kibum gets off his horse silently, trails of tears streaking his cheeks. He hugs Minho tightly and whispers in his ear, “Yes, you idiot, yes, yes, a million times yes. As many times as I apologized that day way back, I say yes instead.”

If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you. ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

SSS 2014: For justangel

replaymods — Fri, 21 Mar 2014 14:56:19 GMT

For: justangel
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Trial and Error.
Pairing: Onew/Key.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: None.

It had always been there, this tension bubbling under the surface like molten lava, but it had never risen. Kibum had waited, calmly and patiently because he knew that Jinki would hate it if he pushed, he would hate it if it came to head in any way other than how he wanted it to. So Kibum let him have control, even though he could see that whatever it was was eating Jinki from the inside out, eating their relationship from the inside out, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it except wait for Jinki to tell him.

To Jinki, the whole thing was simpler, his cautiousness stemmed from righteous root, and he knew that there was something to be wary of, something to be afraid of in their relationship. Because before him (though the thought never occurred to Jinki that it may just be before) Kibum was a serial monogamist. He swore off deep relationships, kept a steady stream of man after man, woman after woman like a chain smoker’s addiction. He just needed this quick fix, then as soon as the cigarette was finished he’d stub it out, the clack of his heels echoing as he walked away from another man’s bed. It had been so easy, like a conveyor belt, because Kibum was so pretty, so ethereal and majestic, all angles and arches, beautiful in ways that Jinki’s befuddled mind couldn’t comprehend. There was always another man queued up to have him, and Kibum would let them, a fresh cigarette hanging from his jaw loosely as he mumbled ‘just keep ‘em coming’ to the man behind the bar, for his fourth of fifth drink, tenth or eleventh, he could never tell.

They were all rocker boys in tight jeans and leather jackets, hair coiffed and shabbily stylish, and Jinki worked in an accountant’s office. He wore whatever he could find that was clean, it rarely matched but he didn’t care, it would end up with ink stains by the end of the year anyway. Kibum would buy him nice shirts and clothes and Jinki loved them, he really did, but he lacked the coordination of Kibum so they just ended up stuffed in the back of his closet, though Kibum didn’t particularly care.

When Jinki first met Kibum he was in a longterm relationship and Kibum was still smoking, the smell clinging to his clothes. Kibum had been working in a book shop down near Jinki’s office, and Jinki had made it a habit of his to buy a book for every paycheque he got. This month it was The Fight Club, and Jinki had taken it to the till, expecting to see Minho or Jonghyun, or maybe even Taemin (though he worked less and less as university ate away at his time) but there was a new guy on the counter, and his badge said ‘Key’. There was a little rainbow sticker tacked onto the end, just under the line ‘happy to help you,’ and Jinki had almost certainly fallen in love at first sight, barely listening as Kibum babbled on about the differences between the book and the film, the strengths and weaknesses of each. All he could see was pretty eyes and pretty lips, a pretty nose and the prettiest teardrop scar he’d ever seen.

That night he’d gone home to a cold bed, his partner still at work or out with friends, he didn’t know and he didn’t really care because all he could think about was the guy in the bookshop, with the candyfloss pink hair and translucent skin. A week later Joon cheated on him. It had been a late night, balancing sheets and styrofoam cups of burnt coffee (Starbucks could never get it right), and he’d walked home, weary and too late to take the last bus. It really couldn’t have happened on a worse day.

They got together totally by chance, none of their friends really believed them when they announced it, and slowly but surely Jinki started to piece himself back together, and so did Kibum. He gave up smoking, and the musk of the smoke gave way to citrusy smells that Jinki would miss at work. He’d miss them so much that he’d end up taking a nap when he got home, on Kibum’s side of their double bed. They thought that just being together had fixed everything, though they knew that it hadn’t, they were both human beings, they were flawed and scarred from past relationships and it was getting to the extent that it was impacting on theirs, though both of them were too scared to confront it head on.

It ate them up, Kibum worrying over Jinki frantically, Jinki withdrawing sometimes for an hour or so, sometimes for weeks. Weeks when he’d avoid the gaze of Kibum, avoid his touch and his lips and he’d just keep himself to himself, and it was those weeks that Kibum struggled with the most, because he didn’t know what to do. There was always that fear that he’d done something to hurt Jinki, but his mind would come up blank, and he didn’t know whether that was because there wasn’t anything, or because he was that shit a boyfriend as to forget.

The house was cold when Kibum got in that day two years after their getting together, and he immediately went to put the heating on, standing by the radiator as it slowly vibrated into use. All of the lights were off so he frowned, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he took his coat off, hanging it on the hook in their hallway. He peered into the kitchen, and it was empty, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the monotonous tick-tock of the wallclock.

“Jinki,” he called, popping his head into their bedroom. It was spotless. There was a shuffle from the living room and he headed that way in the darkness of the flat. Pushing the door open he saw Jinki in the corner, still sat in the dark with his laptop on his lap, and a duvet wrapped around him as he stared blankly at the screen.

“Jinki?” he asked, closing the door behind him. It was colder in this room and he felt shivers run down his spine immediately. Jinki looked up, somewhat dazed, as Kibum turned on the light, bending over to flick the radiator on and letting out a little hum of approval when it whirred into action. “What are you doing?” He asked, and Jinki just shook his head a little, closing his laptop as Kibum made his way over.

“Come onnnn,” Kibum almost whined, setting Jinki’s laptop on the coffee table so he could crawl under the duvet with him. Jinki stilled, and sighed. “What’s up?” he asked as he crawled onto Jinki’s lap, suddenly serious, and Jinki just looked away, confrontation being the last thing he wanted, his hands by his side despite Kibum being on his lap. “Hey,” Kibum tapped at his jaw then tugged it to face him. He was frowning and Jinki sighed, “come on, tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you this upset.”

“Kibum, just leave it, it’s nothing,” he replied as Kibum drew lazy circles into his pyjama t-shirt.

“You’ve been upset for a while though,” Kibum sighed, shifting on Jinki’s lap as he felt him tense, “did I do something?” Jinki just sighed, averting his eyes again as Kibum visibly deflated. “I did, didn’t I?” He sounded small and Jinki felt guilt swell within him, because he knew this was his issue, that it was his problem that he couldn’t trust Kibum, but there was always that niggling feeling in the back of his head that just wanted to blame everyone but himself.

“You didn’t do anything, you just … just get off of me,” Jinki asserted, pushing Kibum off of his lap. Kibum frowned and glanced down at his sock clad feet, wondering what he’d done wrong as Jinki stood and left the room, and all he could hear was the tick-tock of the kitchen clock.

Jinki sighed on the other side of the wall, hands reaching up to press into his temples, a headache blossoming beneath his touch. He padded towards their bedroom, Kibum still silent in the living room, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The room was cold and the sheets were crisp, and it looked like no one had slept there for weeks. His fingers fiddled with the embroidery of their duvet, Kibum’s choice, duck egg blue and white in colour.

He didn’t change before he slipped under the covers on Kibum’s side, and he was instantly bathed in the scent of oranges and limes. He laid there for a while, he didn’t know how long, counting the stripes on the yellowing wallpaper of their bedroom (Kibum had wanted to change it for months but Jinki couldn’t help but be somewhat fond of it). The door clicked open, but it was clear that Kibum was trying to make as little noise as possible as he padded in, Jinki evening his breath because the last thing he wanted was a confrontation. He didn’t want to talk to Kibum about anything because Kibum didn’t know how to talk about anything. He heard the rustle of clothing and then the bed dipped, and Kibum shuffled in, and a hand tapped Jinki’s shoulder tentatively before he sighed, deciding against it and rolling over to face away and count the stripes on the yellowing wallpaper over the other side of the room. Kibum fell asleep quickly, but his sleep was disturbed, and Jinki (although he’d tried to stop himself) rolled back over to watch as his brows creased into a frown and he stirred fitfully.

He knew he could trust Kibum, that he should trust Kibum, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and the longer they were together the more he felt that tug away. The deeper he fell the more he tried to pull back because he knew in his heart of hearts that if Kibum strayed from him now he’d never be able to get over it. With Joon it had been difficult, they’d been together for a while and it had been what Jinki presumed to be love at the time, but looking back it clearly wasn’t. WIth Kibum it was, he was 100% in love with Kibum, there would be nowhere to run if Kibum were to break his heart and that chilled Jinki to the bone.

He knew pulling away wasn’t going to help but it seemed like the only plausible thing to do. Kibum only knew how to worship in the bedroom, he couldn’t map his words into sentences and verses that made Jinki’s blood race - he only knew command of the touch of his lips and his tongue, of the scrape of his nails and the strokes of his fingers. Jinki presumed that was one of their issues, that they wouldn’t communicate, couldn’t communicate, because Kibum only knew of relationships based on the physical and Jinki was too scared to shatter whatever that they had. Whenever they had issues Jinki would avoid them, and Kibum would try to fix them with kisses and sex, like he didn’t know how to actually discuss a problem, because he didn’t, all of his past relationships hadn’t been like this one, and that scared Jinki. It scared him because he was new to Kibum, like a test run or a bit of a gamble, and he hated to think that it might all come crashing down around him at any moment.

Everyday when they woke up Kibum would try his hardest to get Jinki to talk, in the only way he really knew possible, the only way he thought worked. Little kisses to Jinki’s neck, arms around his waist, touching and caressing like they told Jinki what he really wanted to hear. They didn’t, and he’d pull away, reaching into the cupboard to grab cereal, ignoring Kibum’s offers to make breakfast because he just couldn’t handle how to deal with the situation.

He didn’t realise it, it seemed to move so quickly, but soon he started to smell the heavy musk of cigarette smoke on Kibum’s clothes. It crept back slowly until the whole house seemed to have a smoky tinge, and it was only then that Jinki realised.

“Are you cheating on me?” he asked, very suddenly over a previously silent plate of pasta. His had gone cold already and Kibum was preoccupied with pushing the little bow shapes around his plate, making patterns in the sauce. Kibum seeme to choke, before going silent.

“Is this why you’ve …”

“Why I’ve what?” Jinki stayed stern, or else he’d just cry.

“No! Of course I’m not!” He slammed his fork down and it clattered on the plate, rocking it so a little of the sauce puddled out onto the table. Jinki stared at it for a moment. “Why … why do you think that?”

“You’re smoking again.”

“I -” Kibum choked, “so what if I am, how does that say anything about how faithful I am?!”

“You always used to smoke,” Jinki shrugged and something clicked in Kibum’s head. He calmed, shifting to take one of Jinki’s hands into his own. Jinki stiffened but let him.

“Jinki that was before.” Jinki stiffened further and pulled his hand away from Kibum’s grasp. “It’s different now,” Kibum continued, “you’re different, you know that. I-”

“How am I meant to know that, Kibum?” Jinki’s voice was small and he had stood up, taking his plate to the sink to wash it, the only sound the running water of the tap, so cold that it was numbing Jinki’s fingers.

“You know I love you, right?” Kibum’s voice was equally as small, and Jinki heard it quiver. A wave of guilt crashed over him and he frowned, putting the plate down and turning the tap off, then finally glancing up to Kibum. He was stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, his hands braced on the marbled surface, and he was shaking, or trying his hardest to stop himself from doing so. His eyes were watery and Jinki watched silently as a single tear spilled over, and he gulped as Kibum quickly brushed it away, averting his gaze out of embarrassment. It was silent for a while until Kibum spoke again. “What’s happened to us, Jinki? Do you ...” he took a shuddering breath before continuing, “do you want to break up with me?”

There was a clang as Jinki dropped his knife.

“Of course I don’t! Why do you - baby, why do you think that?” Jinki was over the other side of the counter in no time, his arms wrapped around Kibum’s waist as he sobbed into Jinki’s shoulder. Kibum smelt of oranges and limes (and albeit smoke too) and Jinki realised how much he’d missed the scent, how much he’d missed holding Kibum in his arms. They stood like that until Kibum’s sobs subsided, his face still buried in Jinki’s shoulder, Jinki’s arms wrapped around him tightly. Kibum shifted to brush the tears away and Jinki loosened his grip.

“Don’t,” Kibum asked, his hands playing with the fabric of Jinki’s shirt (one that Kibum had bought him - Jinki had found himself wearing clothes Kibum had bought him more and more, the further they went into their mutual silence). “I just … I need you to hold me … just a little longer, I just-”

“Okay,” Jinki smiled and pulled Kibum closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“You haven’t hugged me in months,” Kibum whispered, “this feels like a dream, I -” he choked up and Jinki stiffened.

“I haven’t?” Kibum just nodded in response and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed again.

“You keep pulling away from me, it’s like … it’s like you don’t want to be with me anymore, you won’t trust me and I don’t know how to fix it …” He pulled out of Jinki’s grip and suddenly Jinki felt a lot colder as Kibum went to find a tissue to clear the tears from his face.

“I do trust you,” Jinki whispered as he came back, and Kibum stilled, “I trust you but it’s hard because I don’t want to.”

“What?” Kibum’s voice was distant and sad.

“I just … you saw what Joon did to me, I can’t …”

“I’m not Joon, Jinki,” Kibum asserted, walking back over. He threaded his fingers into Jinki’s hands and hand them tightly, “I’m Kibum.”

“I know you are, I just-”

“You need to let it go,” Kibum whispered, pulling one of Jinki’s hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles. Jinki smiled. “Tell me what I can do to help, I’ll do anything.”

Jinki sighed, stilling again because even though half of the issues were out in the open there were still more festering, and even though he knew it was best in the long run to bring them up now, he didn’t want to hurt Kibum.

“I just …”

“Tell me, Jinki…” Kibum sighed, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, “we both need to work at this, you need to tell me what I’m doing wrong, I- … I promise I won’t get mad, I just want to know how I upset you…”

“You didn’t upset me,” Jinki sighed, “it’s just how you are.”

“What?” Kibum had stilled again and Jinki realised that how he’d worded it probably hadn’t been the best way of doing so.

“Not like that, it’s just … you’re very touchy feely and I get that that’s how you show affection, but …”

“You need me to say it,” Kibum finished, and Jinki nodded minutely. “Okay. I can do that.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Jinki scoffed, throwing a light punch at Kibum’s shoulder.

“Well it is,” Kibum shrugged, “anything’s easy if I get to keep you.” There was adoration in his eyes and Jinki briefly wondered how he’d doubted him.

“You fucking sap,” Jinki scoffed, totally ruining the moment, and Kibum’s mouth fell open in shock.

“I hate you,” he pouted, and Jinki just laughed, “I was trying to be romantic and you fucking ruined it, you jerkwad,” he threw his arms up and tried to walk off, but Jinki tugged him back by the belt loops of his jeans, and he grunted annoyedly as he was tugged back into Jinki’s arms, the older pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back to pepper smaller kisses down his jaw, Kibum squirming, still under the pretense of trying to look angry (it wasn’t working).

“You don’t hate me though, do you?” Jinki asked.

“Why are you so suddenly cocky?” Kibum scoffed, “you were bawling your eyes out a minute ago.”

“No, that was you.”

“Asshole.”

“Admit it, you don’t hate me.” At first he said it jokingly but when they caught eyes they both stilled.

“Nah, I don’t think I do,” Kibum smiled slowly as Jinki leant forward, their noses bumping together gently.

“Yeah?” Jinki breathed out, and his breath washed warm air over Kibum’s lips. Kibum just hummed in response, a tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as Jinki’s eyes followed it unabashedly.

“I love you,” Kibum murmured, “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.” Jinki just pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know it’ll be difficult but I’m willing to work on this.”

“Me too,” Jinki squeezed Kibum a little tighter and Kibum let out a quiet grunt of disapproval, “to both … so long as you quit smoking.”

Kibum rolled his eyes.

“I was just stressed, I only had a couple of-”

“No.” Jinki looked stern, like a schoolteacher, and Kibum almost scoffed, but he nodded because he knew that Jinki was right.

They both knew it would take time, and patience, but they were willing to work on it, because they meant the world to each other despite their differences. Jinki grinned, tugging Kibum with him to their bedroom, which in all honesty had been fairly neglected in the past couple of months, and Kibum followed, chuckling, their fingers entwined together like they were meant to be.

SSS 2014: For lucentric

replaymods — Fri, 21 Mar 2014 14:53:12 GMT

For: lucentic
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: the burden of memory
Pairing: Minho/Kibum
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Authors’ Notes: Thank you for the beautiful prompts! I sort of mix and matched the feel of a few of them. I hope this is at least somewhat close to what you were looking for! Summary text from Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead.

Like most relationships, it is never all bad, no matter how it seems at its worst. In the immediate, messy aftermath, though, Minho can only feel how heavy the burden of memory can be.

It is the night they decide with more or less mutual consent that it would be for the better for them to stop it all, being together, this, as Kibum called it, gesturing between the two of them. Surprisingly, it is not a decision made during a low point, of which there had been many. In fact, they had been doing quite well—but, Minho supposes, the fuse on the time bomb of their relationship had been running short.

Perhaps it would’ve been less devastating had the timing been more fortuitous. It is an agreement made with stifling finality during a ten-minute dance practice break, both of them standing under SM’s searing hallway lights next to the snack machine where anyone could walk out and witness it. Minho excuses himself to go home first upon returning to practice, citing an upset stomach from dinner. Jonghyun, most familiar with the iron constitution of Minho’s stomach, sends him off with a strange look. Neither Taemin, walking Jinki through a particularly difficult sequence, nor Jinki, patiently waiting for Taemin to turn his attention elsewhere so he can go back to muddling the steps, notices. Kibum, always poor at taking responsibility, busies himself with rolling the cuff of his sweatpants up, resolutely not looking. Minho plays hooky so rarely that Gyungshik-hyung lets him go after a quick scrutiny.

Minho spends the car ride home in silence, remembering to feign illness only when Gyungshik-hyung asks how he’s doing. It’s pretty lackluster, but Gyungshik-hyung must be in a generous mood tonight. A good thing, too. As Kibum never fails to remind him, Minho’s never been a particularly good actor, and even less so under duress. They make it home just after midnight. Before Minho is sent off, he is asked to make three distinct promises to: (1) go to sleep immediately (2) call the doctor if he feels worse and (3) just get better before they have to go to Japan next week, please. Seven days is a more than adequate mourning period. Minho promises. The hard brace of a timeline gives him some comfort.

The first thing Minho sees when he steps through the door is the living room couch. Usually a fairly innocuous couch but in the light of recent trauma, just the sight of it triggers in Minho the memory of a kiss; his and Kibum’s first. He had been playing FIFA. Kibum had been checking his phone and complaining about Minho’s FIFA. Words were exchanged, a challenge was possibly issued, the phrase oh yeah? Prove it was likely uttered. In any case, the details are unimportant now.

Standing in their apartment doorway, one shoe toed off, Minho looks at their living room couch and can’t stop remembering the feeling of split second indecision when Kibum had laughed against his mouth before turning serious, or the way Kibum scratched a hand through the hair at the nape of Minho’s neck, as if proximity and years of friendship translated somehow into a familiarity with all the little things Minho likes. His throat tightens for one inconvenient moment, feeling with it the tug of nostalgia that accompanies knowing something important is finally over.

But the human survival instinct is strong. The moment passes. Minho kicks off the other shoe, taking a grim satisfaction in the way it knocks into the neat line of Kibum’s shoes.

He showers, quick and hot. He brushes his teeth. He goes to bed. He tries to forget.

-

Minho wakes up three times in the night, each time fingers reaching to his right for an arm that is no longer there. The second time he wakes up, he almost hits his bed in frustration. This is what he has dreamed:

No matter the occasion for which he’s dressing, Kibum always finds the time in the morning to run through at least two outfit changes, never satisfied until he’s made himself over at least once before the day’s begun. After years of doing the same, he’s got it down to a science—the entire process never takes more than nine minutes, never less than five.

Minho’s favorite part always came right after outfit change number two, right before outfit change number too many: Kibum tumbling out of his room harried, half-dressed, and holding a different shirt in either hand, one barely distinguishable from the other.

Which do you like better?

Minho squints at him from the kitchen counter, where he is just barely awake and nursing a cup of hot water. Usually, Kibum is shirtless. At most, he might have a wifebeater on. The flush of his face is just reaching the pale of his shoulders, spreading to his skinny chest. There is a vulnerability shuttering in and out of his face as he asks, twisting the vain pout of his mouth. In the early morning haze, it makes Minho feel like he is looking at every Kibum he has ever known, all boiled down to his lowest common denominator.

That one, Minho answers, purposefully vaguely. Sometimes, just to be difficult, he says, the one you like better.

The annoyance in Kibum’s face is quickly chased away by affection. You’re no help, he declares, pulling on a shirt as he turns away. It’s true. Minho is no help; he has no eye for this kind of thing, a fact Kibum knows well. Still, he always asks.

Minho pulls his comforter up over his face, allowing himself the moment. A muscle twitches in his hand, a physical reminder of absence. Kibum, fresh-faced and scowling. Kibum at his least made up, and willing to share it with Minho.

He counts backwards from fifty in his head. Before he drifts off to sleep, Minho decides: some things can be saved. This, he wants to remember.

-

In the morning, Minho assures Gyungshik-hyung over breakfast that he’s better, that he’ll be alright, especially in time for Japan. The bite of his double-edged assurance leads Kibum to wince imperceptibly around the lip of his cup, a motion so minute Minho wouldn’t have noticed had he not been looking.

Kibum’s discomfort is new. Minho’s seen him uncomfortable before, but rarely at his expense. He almost commits it to memory before he remembers that is the opposite of what he is trying to do. For a moment, he is sad again. But then it is time for filming at MBC and Gyungshik-hyung herds him out with a sudden quickness, the sharpness of his excellent manager reflexes not quite understanding the full situation but choosing, as always, flight over fight.

At the breakfast table, Kibum eats on, head bent over his bowl. His only schedule of the day is a vocal lesson at ten, but he’d come out of his room at eight, fully dressed. Minho had felt it like a finger against a new bruise, wondered briefly if Kibum could’ve possibly known the nature of his dreams last night, if he was being deliberately cruel and taunting him—stop.

Minho is bitter, but he doesn’t want to ruin the good things for himself, too. He has six days, and he is determined to do the best he can with them.

-

Not that Minho’s had much practice, but—as difficult as it is dealing with a break up from afar, a break up with one’s bandmate, with one’s roommate, requires a herculean effort of self-control. Minho ends up finding that he deals with disappointment not nearly as well as he would’ve hoped.

Kibum intercepts him in the bathroom on his way out one morning. Unwilling to touch him, Minho steps back when Kibum steps towards him, watching with a pounding heart as Kibum locks the door firmly behind himself and crosses his arms.

“I hate this,” he starts without preamble, the words spitting out of his tense throat. “This is why this was a bad idea to start with.” Kibum got dressed with little fuss again this morning, Minho notes. “We just shouldn’t have even—”

Kibum ducks his head, voice faltering. He is talking about the relationship, the storm of the half-year they had together (was it really only six months? In Minho’s memory, it had become giant, completely unmanageable). Or he is talking about the awkward three days they’ve had, both of them trying their best to be normal but detached, each dealing with the aftermath in their own ways. To this end, Kibum has been spending a lot of time out, not coming home until it’s late and no one is awake, risking lectures from management. Minho, on the other hand, has been spending a lot of time in public, shared spaces like the living room and the kitchen, his constant presence daring a confrontation. It’s not nice—not to Kibum, and not to himself either.

Minho reaches for the lock behind Kibum, turning it back. Kibum steps out of the way, flattening himself against the wall to avoid physical contact with Minho. Conscious or unconscious, the ease of the movement makes Minho clench his left hand around the doorknob. “It happened,” he says lightly. He doesn’t trust himself to look back. “Whether you like it or not. I’m dealing with it. You should, too.”

This isn’t exactly true, and they both know it.

“Fine,” Kibum says, already halfway to angry. His proximity, the mint of his breath, and the quicksilver turn of his mood are more qualities Minho will have to unlearn. He hadn’t realized how much of Kibum he’d committed to memory, so worried he had once been of forgetting.

-

The night before they fly to Tokyo for Japanese promotions, Minho is in his room packing, having, of course, left it to the last minute. In the living room, he can hear Jonghyun and Taemin watching the latest episode of One Piece, claiming as always that it’s language practice. The obnoxious pitch of their giggling combined with generic anime sound effects provides a familiar backtrack to Minho’s haphazard folding. It is so familiar it blends into the collective memory of every last night before a Japanese promotion.

Minho doesn’t even think about it until he spots the shirt tucked between his bed and the wall. He reaches across his bed to tug at it, not recognizing the pattern of the fabric. It’s not until he holds it out in front of him that he realizes it’s one from the rotation of Kibum’s favorite sleep shirts, all of them loose-necked and well-worn.

The reaction it inspires in him is instant and unforgiving—an unbidden image of Kibum in the morning, cheek creased with sleep. Minho is not a morning person, never has been, and rarely woke up earlier than Kibum, but on the days he did, there was something about the twitch of Kibum’s nose as he slept that always seemed to soften the hard edge of the early morning sunlight. No wonder mornings have seemed more difficult lately.

He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. By chance, the fabric of Kibum’s shirt meets his nose. This is it. It is the last night of his self-imposed mourning. He was able to look Kibum in the face earlier today, even had a whole conversation with him at dinner—stilted, yes, but still something. Kibum had looked surprised, then defensive, before finally relaxing into the default snark he uses with people he doesn’t know very well. It had annoyed Minho at first, before he remembered: he is young, and they are in a less-than-ideal situation. In a different world, he might even call it unfair. As it is, he has little room to complain.

Kibum’s shirt is soft in his traitorous left hand and against his equally traitorous left cheek, both of which take to the feel of it against his skin with an eagerness Minho has been trying to forget. Against his better judgment, he breathes in.

This, he finds, he still remembers.