Parthenope, sing

parthenope_sing @ 2009-11-05T00:07:00

2009-11-05T05:34:49Z

Communicable Disease
SHINee - Jongtae
588 words; PG
Taemin gets a call from a convalescent Jonghyun.
Based on these two fancams.

Taemin gets a call during the ride back from a variety show recording.

The vibration and the chorus of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” jolt him awake, and he jerks his head up from its resting spot on Kibum’s shoulder, fumbling around for his phone. The number on the screen says that it isn’t someone on his contact list, but Taemin thinks he might know who it is anyway. He leans away from Kibum, who grumbles a little before sagging against Jinki instead, and flips his phone open.

“Hello?” he asks, and yawns, rubbing at his eyes.

“Taeminnie!” the voice on the other end says, except it sounds all muffled and nasal, so it comes out more like Daemmingnie!

“Jonghyun hyung,” Taemin says, suddenly a lot more awake. The others are, too. Minho twists his body around from the passenger seat to stare at him, Key lifts his head up from Jinki’s shoulder, and Jinki turns from gazing blankly out the window to blink at him.

“I saw the fancams, Taemin-ah, fans posted some up this morning and I saw them!” Then the sound of Jonghyun blowing his nose.

“The what? What fancams?” Taemin asks. Jonghyun is practically bubbling over with enthusiasm even though he still sounds congested, and it’s kind of distracting, because what Taemin really wants to ask is When are you going to get better and When are you coming back. They’d tried calling Jonghyun twice yesterday, but he’d been asleep practically the entire day.

“The, the, you know. The fancams! Of you guys. On Sketchbook!” Taemin gets the feeling that Jonghyun is waving his arms around, gesturing to someone who can’t even see him, and smiles a little.

“What did you think about—”

“The live band was so cool,” Jonghyun whines, “I wish I’d been there! They sounded really good and you guys sounded really good and oh my God, Taemin, you were amazing.”

A funny warmth starts at the tips of Taemin’s ears and spreads out across his cheeks, and he bites his lip. “You think so?” he asks.

“Of course! I knew you’d be able to do it,” Jonghyun crows. “All the extra practice sessions totally paid off.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Taemin says. He can feel a ridiculous, full-out grin spreading across his face now. Jinki beams back at him for absolutely no reason at all, and Kibum rolls his eyes. Minho’s already bored with the conversation, facing front again, probably dozing off.

“And, and, I’m totally going to ask the producers to give us a duet someday, it’ll be so cool,” Jonghyun babbles, “We’ll be like, I don’t know, Simon and Garfunkel—”

“How are you feeling?” Taemin cuts in, because Jonghyun can chatter all day if anyone lets him.

“Hm? Oh, I’m feeling tons better already. Don’t worry, Bling Bling Jonghyun will be back in action before you guys know it!”

“Oh. That’s good, um.” Taemin stares out the window and tries to figure out what to say. “We miss you, hyung.” Because having just the four of them on stage isn’t the same, because hearing only three voices say good night when he turns off the lights is strange.

There’s a pause, and Taemin tugs at a loose thread on his sleeve, plays with the hem of his shirt. Then, a soft laugh. “Of course,” Jonghyun says, and he still sounds all stuffed up, but his voice is so warm that Taemin wants him to be with them in the van right now, so badly, “I miss you too, Taemin-ah.”

parthenope_sing @ 2009-10-15T21:29:00

2009-10-16T02:08:19Z

The Best Laid Plans
SHINee - Onkey
1166 words; NC-17
It's not about a lack of control, because they know exactly what they're doing.

Jinki wants to say that it was something they couldn’t control, that it had just kind of happened, and they didn’t know how or why, but that would be a lie. They know exactly how it happened. They crossed each boundary together, took every step even with the knowledge that they were treading on dangerous territory, that the ground could fall out from beneath them at any moment.

That one night they watched a movie together a little after debut—Minho and Taemin had gone to bed early and Jonghyun had locked himself up in a room with his lyrics notebook and the keyboard—was the very first time. They watched Dawn of the Dead with shared covers pulled up to their chins—half the time over their eyes—and huddled closer and closer with each brutal, gory death, until their arms and thighs were pressed together. Jinki turned his face away from the television and toward Kibum when the chainsaw began ripping through the girl, and saw Kibum doing the same. One of Kibum’s legs was already practically on top of his. Kibum’s eyes gleamed from the reflection of the television even in the dark as he watched Jinki, his lips parted, like he wanted Jinki to, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch for Jinki to surge the rest of the way in to press their mouths together. Kibum made a little noise that was something like surprise, something like yes, God, finally, and then his fingers curled into Jinki’s shirt and pulled him closer. His mouth opened, his tongue warm and slick against Jinki’s own. In the background, another zombie’s head got blown off with a shotgun.

That was the start, but Jinki isn’t sure when it actually began—the furtive glances, the held breaths, the lingering of a hand. He can’t even remember a time anymore when he looked at Kibum and didn’t feel that embarrassing want that made his palms sweat and his ears burn. Like it had always been there, crawling under his skin and taking root before Jinki had even put a name to it.

They were always, always careful. Jinki beamed at everyone, paid attention to everyone. Made bad jokes, laughed at his own ridiculous mistakes. Kibum flirted outrageously with Jonghyun, fussed over Taemin, struggled to get a reaction out of Minho, ignored Jinki. Let Jonghyun or Minho help Jinki up if he fell. Pulled Jinki into an empty room during dance practice breaks, even though they were both dirty and sweaty and tired, and crushed their lips together, hands pushing up the back of Jinki’s shirt, sliding all over his slick skin. Bit down on the shell of Jinki’s ear, licked the sweat from his collarbone.

No one knew—not the fans, their stylists, their managers, their friends, not even the other members. Not even Jonghyun, who arguably understood Kibum better than anyone. They smiled at interviewers and said that they didn’t know what being in a relationship was like. It was only a half-lie, really.

“I—I think about you all the time,” Jinki confessed one time he was jerking Kibum off in a supply closet, “I did even before anything happened. All the time.” He wasn’t sure if Kibum heard him, because Kibum came a few seconds later, his eyes snapping open to stare up at the ceiling, wide and glassy, his legs trembling.

“I do too,” Kibum breathed a few days later, when they were scrambling to undo each other’s belts, trying to get something, anything before Jonghyun, Minho, and Taemin came home, “I did too. Fuck, hyung.” He slid his hand into Jinki’s jeans, palming his erection through his boxer shorts, and Jinki dropped his forehead to Kibum’s shoulder, panting.

It was easy to slip up, like the time Jinki made the mistake of glancing at Kibum’s reflection in the mirror during dance practice. Kibum’s eyes were dark and intense with concentration as he watched himself in the mirror. It was the exact same look he had on his face five days before when they were in a bathroom stall during a Starry Night recording, with his leg hooked around the back of Jinki’s thigh, their clothed hips rocking together. The memory sent Jinki stumbling into Minho, who caught him with a practiced arm, and he didn’t look at Kibum anymore during practice after that.

“I— T-tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” Jinki said, glancing up at Kibum. The younger boy’s head was tipped back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with shallow pants. Jinki parted his lips and slowly slid Kibum’s cock into his mouth, careful not to scrape it with his teeth. There was a choking noise somewhere above him.

“Shit. H-hyung. Hyung,” Kibum murmured, his voice shaking a little, and threaded his fingers through Jinki’s hair. Jinki figured he was doing something right, and continued.

Jinki asked Jungsu for condoms, because he trusted his sunbaenim, trusted that he wouldn’t tell, that he would understand. Jungsu went silent and studied him for several long minutes. Jinki didn’t dare meet his eyes, afraid that if he did, Jungsu would somehow know everything. Jungsu finally agreed, and handed Jinki a small box several days later. “Here, Jinki-yah,” he said quietly, his eyes serious, “Please be careful.” He didn’t ask who it was. Jinki kept the box under his bed, wadded up in an old T-shirt and stuffed into a container full of personal belongings that the other members never touched.

Kibum was the one who got the lube, though he wouldn’t tell Jinki how or from where. Jinki wondered if he’d bought it during one of his shopping trips, if he’d somehow ducked into a convenience store and purchased a bottle without anyone noticing who he was.

“Jonghyun is taking Taemin and Minho out shopping tomorrow,” Kibum said casually one time during dinner, almost two weeks after Jungsu had handed Jinki the box. “Just letting you know so you don’t freak out and wonder where they’ve gone.”

“Jonghyun hyung says he’ll buy me a new pair of sneakers,” Taemin added, and beamed when Jonghyun groaned about how he was already starting to regret his decision. Kibum locked eyes with Jinki for a split second, then moved to spoon more rice onto Taemin’s plate.

“Oh,” Jinki said, his throat suddenly dry, and swallowed. Realized he was already half-hard, and gripped the edge of his wooden chair. “Oh, okay.”

And right now, as Jinki sits on the edge of his bed, his feet planted flat against the wooden floor, and Kibum lowers himself slowly onto his cock, his short, hitched gasps coming in warm puffs of air against Jinki’s cheek, they know exactly what they’re doing. And they know they’re going to get caught one day, and everything will probably be fucked up forever, but until then—Kibum presses his hands against Jinki’s shoulder blades, lifts himself up a little, then sinks back down, letting out a soft whimper, and Jinki moans into Kibum’s neck—Jinki really doesn’t think they can stop.

*****

A/N: ........ Oh God, I still can't believe I wrote this. DDDDD: *crawls into a hole* I've never written porn before, and always planned on never writing porn, like, ever. Idek how this happened. Never again, oh God. It was so hard for me to write this. ;__;

Much thanks to noelliex for all the help and input! Ilu for putting up with me and my wailing. ♥

parthenope_sing @ 2009-09-22T01:42:00

2009-09-22T07:21:01Z

Walking a Mile in His High-Top Sneakers
SHINee - Onkey
3470 words; PG-13 for cursing, I think
Kibum's not used to being the chaser and not the chasee.
For phasera and noelliex. Thank you so much for all the help, and for putting up with my whining this whole time! I'm still not satisfied with a lot of this, but at least it's done for now...? :D/

For Kim Kibum, the day starts off like any other.

Jonghyun wakes him up at five past seven, using all sorts of mean, terrible threats like tickling or hitting him in the face with Jinki’s stuffed sheep or pushing him off the bunkbed—Kibum doesn’t know why Jonghyun is his best friend, he really doesn’t—and forcing him out of bed, bleary-eyed and pouting.

Kibum shuffles off to the bathroom and goes through all the motions of showering, brushing his teeth, and washing his face without really being aware of any of it. He’s a lot more awake by the time he finishes, so he heads back to the bedroom for his first task of the day: waking up their leader.

He makes a face as he approaches Jinki’s bed. Their leader is kind of a pain in the ass to wake up in the morning, because all he ever does is roll over and bury his face into his pillow and pull the blanket over his head and whine like a little girl. Kibum’s learned by now that death threats do nothing; Jinki just kinds of flails a little before curling up into a tight ball, and then it takes an extra five minutes to get him up. The best way is to pet his hair until he relaxes, then carefully ease the comforter out of his death grip and coax him out of bed with promises of yummy breakfast.

It’s embarrassing—he makes an exception for Taemin because Taemin is freaking adorable, but he’s not going to be a mom for anyone else—and Jonghyun would laugh himself sick if he ever saw, but whatever. Jonghyun isn’t around and Taemin and Minho aren’t awake to hear him, and it’s not like Jinki really remembers it that well by the time he’s fully awake, so it’s okay. It’s kind of become a ritual, that’s all.

“Jinki hyung,” he says, sitting down on Jinki’s bed. He tucks his legs in so he doesn’t disturb Minho, whose arm is dangling off his bed, fingertips grazing the floor. “Hyung, wake up.” He’s using his patented Wake-Jinki-Up Voice, honed after months and months of practice. It makes him sound all tender and sappy.

He knows the exact moment Jinki wakes up, because his body jerks a little and his nose scrunches up in a grimace for a split second. Kibum reaches out and is about to touch his hair when Jinki suddenly opens his eyes, his gaze groggily focusing on Kibum. He blinks once, twice.

Kibum blinks back, his hand awkwardly hovering next to Jinki’s head.

“A-ah, good morning,” Jinki mumbles, yawning, and Kibum quickly drops his hand. The older boy pushes himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms over his head, and the hem of his T-shirt rides up to flash a bit of stomach. He gets up from the bed, steadying himself with Jonghyun’s bed frame, and turns back to give Kibum a brief, sleepy smile. And just like that, he walks out of the bedroom.

Kibum is still sitting on the bed. He stares at Jinki’s retreating back, because seriously, what the hell?

*

Kibum is already in the kitchen making breakfast for Taemin and Minho—scrambled eggs and dumplings; “When are you going to learn to make something else?” Jonghyun complained one time, even though he inhaled the food anyway—by the time Jinki finishes in the bathroom and joins him.

Kibum rolls his eyes and counts to five in his head. Any second now, Jinki is going to try to make Kibum laugh with a lame joke or make pointless small talk when, God, it’s not even eight in the morning yet, and all Kibum really wants to do is zone out and finish cooking in peace. Or, even worse, Jinki’s going to come over and wrap his arms around Kibum’s waist and rest his chin on his shoulder in a stupid morning snuggle, startling Kibum into burning himself with the frying pan. Or maybe he’s going to pour himself a glass of water and spill it everywhere by tripping over speck of dust, and then scratch his head and grin sheepishly when Kibum has to clean it up.

None of these things happen. Instead, Kibum hears the soft clink of glassware, and turns his head to see Jinki quietly setting the table. He doesn’t even look at Kibum.

Well, okay. Kibum turns back toward the stove. He can deal with this.

The silence is nice for about five seconds before it starts to get all weird and uncomfortable. There’s an awkward, gaping void in conversation and the room is too quiet, and Kibum needs to say something, anything.

“I—” Kibum clears his throat. He isn’t used to this. “D-did you sleep well?” Maybe it’s the reason why Jinki’s been acting strange all morning.

Jinki looks up from laying the last pair of chopsticks down on the table. “Yeah, I slept fine,” he says, and smiles. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I’ll get Minho and Taemin.”

“O-okay,” Kibum replies, but Jinki is already leaving the kitchen.

*

It’s during one of their practice breaks, while Kibum is watching—well, not watching, he just happened to look up and notice—Jinki and Jonghyun teasing and poking at each other with wide grins on their faces, that he suddenly realizes he can’t remember the last time Jinki tried to hug him. Not just in a morning snuggle, but at all.

Though—Kibum eyes the way Jinki laughs and throws his arms around Jonghyun at something he says—he obviously doesn’t have a problem with skinship.

“Kibum hyung?”

Kibum blinks and turns his head toward the magnae, who is standing in the center of the room, slowly rotating his ankles.

“Hyung, let’s go over the steps one more time?” Taemin asks, barely even breathing hard, because he’s just a freak like that and never runs out of energy during dance practice.

“Yeah,” Kibum says, and gets to his feet, dusting his pants off.

It’s just a coincidence, maybe.

*

“Minho-yah,” Jinki begins slowly over dinner, his eyes wide and innocent, “Can I have some of your—?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Minho says, not bothering to look up from his bowl of rice.

Jinki sticks his lower lip out in a pout that Minho doesn’t see, but then his eyes light up and he turns to Jonghyun. “Jonghyunnie,” he says, his voice plaintive, “Can I—”

Jonghyun rolls his eyes and pushes his plate closer to Jinki. “Yeah, knock yourself out.”

Jinki beams and reaches all the way across the table to steal a couple of pieces of bulgogi off Jonghyun’s plate, nearly dipping a sleeve into his soup in the process. He drops one piece into the dish of kimchi at the center of the table, which he quickly picks up and pops in his mouth with a sheepish grin.

Aside from how typically stupid the whole scene is of Jinki, it just doesn’t make any sense, not when Kibum is sitting right next to him with half of his meat untouched.

*

Later that night, Kibum joins the other members in the living room to watch TV. There’s an open spot next to Minho on the couch, but he decides to perch on the armrest, next to Jinki.

Jinki doesn’t even notice. He’s staring intently at the TV screen, narrowing his eyes in concentration at whatever Nicole is saying.

“Ah!” he suddenly shouts, leaning forward and throwing one hand into the air like an overeager kid in class. He nearly smacks Kibum in the face in his enthusiasm. “I know the word, it’s ‘pelican’!”

Minho, sitting on Jinki’s other side, reaches forward and pulls him back against the couch. “I don’t think Nicole-sshi can hear you,” he says calmly.

Jinki laughs, his eyes scrunching up into tiny slits, and leans into Minho’s arms, away from Kibum.

Kibum stands up. “I’m going to bed early,” he says, and stalks out of the living room.

*

They’re doing another interview today; it’s pretty much identical to every single other one they’ve done since comeback. I heard Jonghyun wrote the lyrics to Juliette, tell us about the songs on your new mini-album, you guys are so young and cute. We are shining SHINee, please support us, thank you, the songs on this mini-album tell a whole love story, urban funk, contemporary band, so on and so forth.

Kibum tunes out, playing with his bracelets. His gaze slides past Minho, past Jonghyun, past Taemin and lands on Jinki, who is watching the interviewer with rapt attention.

“And which is your favorite song on the mini-album, Kibum-sshi?” the interviewer woman asks.

Kibum snaps back to attention. “My favorite song is Senorita. It has some Spanish rap in the beginning, which was fun to do.” He practically recites his answer, and smiles charmingly at the interviewer, making sure to flash some dimple. He thinks he sees Jinki looking at him when he’s answering, but by the time he turns his head to check, Jinki is watching the interviewer again.

He ends up sneaking glances at Jinki for the rest of the interview, thinking the other will eventually look over again, but he never does.

*

“And then Jessica noona said that Yoona-sshi and Sooyoung-sshi ate that entire package of snacks the fans gave them,” Jonghyun is babbling, gesturing animatedly with his arms.

Kibum nods, and his gaze turns to the other three members sitting at the kitchen table. He and Jonghyun are curled up on the couch, talking, and Jinki isn’t even trying to come over and butt in like usual with an irrelevant, dumb comment. No, he’s much, much too busy flashing that stupid, bright smile at Minho and Taemin.

Look at me, Kibum thinks, and narrows his eyes at Jinki, trying to send him the telepathic message. Except it totally doesn’t work, and Taemin must have said something absolutely fucking hilarious, because Jinki throws his head back and lets out a loud, delighted laugh.

“—bum? Kibum. Kibum!”

“What?” Kibum snaps, whipping his head back toward Jonghyun.

Jonghyun puffs his cheeks out at him, annoyed. “You spaced out on me!”

His whining makes the other three look over, and Kibum can see Jinki blinking at them.

“Sorry,” Kibum mutters.

*

It’s a little past 1 AM when their vocal coach finally decides to let them go for the night. They’re waiting in the SM Entertainment lobby for the van to pick them up and drive them back to the dorm.

Jonghyun and Taemin are standing off to the side, going over one last set of scales together. And Jinki and Minho— Kibum turns to look.

Minho is draped all over Jinki, arms are wrapped around Jinki’s torso, head propped on Jinki’s shoulder. His eyes are closed, and he’s probably already half-asleep. He looks like a too-tall, gangly, bug-eyed blanket.

And Jinki doesn’t even seem to care that Minho is all in his personal space. He just leans back against the taller boy, looking like he’s perfectly happy where he is, like there's no better place in the world to be than in the circle of Minho's stick-like arms.

Kibum looks away and sees the van pulling in outside. He yanks on Minho’s arm, maybe a little harder than he should have. “Yah. Wake up, sleepyhead, the van’s here.”

Minho jerks awake and scowls at him, and Kibum thinks he sees Jinki frowning, but he doesn’t care. Minho does too much skinship, anyway. Plus he’s weirdly competitive, and way too fond of hyungs for his own good. He probably deserved it.

*

“I’m going to go over there and kick you in the face if you don’t stop that,” Kibum seethes, and stabs the Enter key on his keyboard with a finger to punctuate his point.

Jonghyun snorts, but stops bouncing the rubber ball against the wall, thank God. He looks across the space between their beds at Kibum. “Hey.”

“What?” Kibum scrolls down the page, skimming the fans’ UFO comments for something interesting. When there is no response, he looks up at Jonghyun and raises an eyebrow.

“Are you and Jinki hyung, I don’t know.” Jonghyun hesitates. “Fighting, or something?”

Kibum blinks, feeling his hands go still. “What? Why would we— It’s not— No. No, we’re not.”

Jonghyun frowns and knits his eyebrows. “You’ve both been acting weird lately.”

“I’m not the one who’s being weird,” Kibum says, because he’s not.

“You are,” Jonghyun insists, “You’re acting weirder than he is.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Kibum says, and pulls out his iPod. He so does not feel like talking about this right now.

*

When Kibum wakes up the next day, Jinki’s bed is already empty and neatly made.

Kibum stares at it, something in his gut twisting.

Now he has an extra ten minutes in his schedule that he’s never had before, and he has no clue what to do with it. He settles for re-making Jinki’s bed and straightening the edges of his blankets and fluffing his pillows, when what he actually wants to do is throw the pillows against the wall, maybe kick Jinki in the shins.

Because Jinki shouldn’t mess with rituals, just like he shouldn’t act weird for whatever fucking reason without giving Kibum prior notice.

Kibum stubs his toe against the doorframe on his way out of the room and stumbles, hissing in pain.

Minho snorts and rolls over, pressing his face into his pillow, and goes limp again. Taemin doesn’t even stir, just stays peacefully asleep, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

*

“A-ah, Kibum, I got the juice you wanted.”

Kibum turns at the sound of Jinki’s voice, ready with a biting comment about how thirsty he was, and did Jinki get abducted on the way back from the vending machine, God, but the smile on Jinki’s face makes him freeze up.

It’s wrong, all wrong, because it’s an Onew smile, not a Jinki smile. It’s the smile Jinki falls back on when he’s too tired to be wholly genuine, the one he uses when he doesn’t want to worry the fans. He’s never, ever used that smile on Kibum before.

Kibum doesn’t even know why, but this is like the straw that breaks the camel’s back or something, because he suddenly completely loses control of his words. And the volume of his voice.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he says. Or maybe shrieks.

Everyone turns to stare at him, because he probably sounds like a crazy man, but Kibum really, really doesn’t give a fuck.

“I—What?” Jinki asks, still holding out the bottle of juice, his eyes huge.

“Fuck you,” Kibum says, and storms off to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

*

“K-Kibum?” Jinki asks fifteen minutes later, poking his head into the room.

By this point, Kibum’s already re-organized all his CDs and accessories, and deleted Tell Me and Kissing You and Gee and most of Kara’s songs from his main playlist.

“What?” he snarls. Jinki shrinks back with this fucking puppy face that makes Kibum feel like the biggest jackass in the world, so he tries again. “I mean, come in. I guess.” He snatches the magazine off his bed and flips through its pages without actually looking at any of the pictures.

Jinki shuffles into the room, shifting his weight from foot to foot before sitting slowly down on the edge of his bed, likes he’s not quite sure whether he has permission to sit on his own bed. He fiddles with his fingers, peeking up every few seconds when he thinks Kibum isn’t looking.

Kibum can feel his patience wear dangerously thin. “Can I help you?” he snaps, setting his magazine down.

Jinki jumps. “I, um, I just wanted to ask. I mean, uh— Are you mad at me?”

And then the patience snaps.

“Mad at you?” Kibum asks, holding a hand to his cheek in mock-surprise, “Why would I be mad at you? It’s not like you’ve been, oh, I don’t know, ignoring my existence for, like, all fucking week for no reason. There’s no way I could be mad at you.” He’s satisfied when the older boy immediately looks guilt-stricken.

Jinki fidgets for a little longer before he finally says, “I-I’m so sorry, Kibum.” Kibum is about to say something like, oh, oh, you’re sorry, that just makes everything better, doesn’t it, but Jinki continues, staring down at his hands. “I just. I always thought you found me kind of annoying.”

Kibum pauses, staring at the other boy’s slouched form. Wait, what?

“I. I guess I was just trying to give you some space, that’s all.” Jinki looks back up at Kibum and shrugs one shoulder slowly, helplessly.

The look on Jinki’s face is starting to make Kibum deflate rapidly. The older boy’s eyes are wide and earnest and sincere, and sad.

Kibum heaves a sigh, patting down his bangs, and tries to gather his thoughts. And also fights the weird urge to apologize, even though he hasn’t done anything wrong. He finally goes to sit on the bed next to Jinki, careful not to look at him. “You are annoying,” he says. He feels Jinki flinch a little, and reaches out to grab the older boy’s hand. “I mean like, really annoying. But I never said anything about wanting space.”

“Oh. I— I’m sorry.”

“You’re even more annoying when you’re trying to leave me alone,” Kibum tells him, and threads their fingers together.

“Okay.” Jinki sounds like he’s willing to agree with whatever Kibum says forever.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Kibum finishes.

“I won’t,” Jinki says. He has a weird little half-smile on his face, and his eyes flicker downward. Kibum follows his gaze and blinks at their joined hands. When had that happened?

“What?” Kibum asks, squeezing Jinki’s hand. Just because he’s decided to forgive the other boy doesn’t mean he’s going to forget about this whole thing right away.

Jinki shakes his head, still smiling. “No, it’s nothing. I— I just.” And then Jinki leans in and kisses him.

It feels like a million puzzle pieces falling into place, like something in Kibum’s vision changes a little and he can finally see the hidden image that pops out in those Magic Eye pictures, can finally see why he was so angry all week, that it was never annoyance, it was— Oh.

“Oh,” Kibum says, slowly opening his eyes—when had he closed them?—when Jinki pulls away.

“Um,” Jinki replies, his smile growing wider.

Kibum stares at him. “You’re really stupid, you know that?” he asks, curling his fingers into Jinki’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Jinki says, “I really am.”

“To be fair,” Kibum admits generously, “I might be a little stupid too.”

*

“God,” Jonghyun says, munching on an apple, “You guys were both being so stupid.”

“Whatever,” Kibum scoffs, “Like you actually knew about any of it.”

“I did!” Jonghyun protests, waving his apple in the air emphatically, “I so knew.” At Kibum’s raised eyebrow, he amends, “Okay, so maybe Minho had to tell me about it. I totally noticed that you were acting like a moody little bitch, though.”

Kibum scowls and throws a sofa cushion at his head. “I wasn’t being moody, don’t lie.” A terrible thought occurs to him. “Wait, don’t tell me Taemin knew about all of this.”

Jonghyun rolls his eyes. “If you’d been paying attention, which, I guess you weren’t, you’d know that Taemin’s been spending all his free time studying lately. I don’t think he really cares either way.”

“Oh,” Kibum says, puffing out his cheeks, “Okay, then.”

*

“Hyung. It’s time to wake up,” Kibum says, shaking Jinki’s shoulder. God, he sounds ridiculously sappy.

Right on cue, Jinki groans and rolls over, pulling the covers over his head. Kibum rolls his eyes and nudges the blanketed lump, a little harder this time.

After several seconds, Jinki pokes his head out from underneath the covers and blinks sleepily at him. “G-good morning, Kibum,” he says, yawning, and beams at him.

Kibum can feel a smile tugging at his lips, and tries to bite it back. It doesn’t work. “Time to get up, hyung.”

Jinki pouts and reaches a hand out, tugging at Kibum’s wrist.

Kibum frowns. “What?” Jinki tugs his wrist harder, and it takes several seconds for Kibum to figure out what the other boy wants. “Oh.”

Feelings his ears burn, he lifts a corner of the blanket and slides into the bed next to Jinki. Jinki drapes an arm around his waist and pulls him closer.

“Yah,” Kibum mumbles against Jinki’s T-shirt, “We’re supposed to be getting up.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Jinki answers sleepily, murmuring the words against Kibum’s hair.

So maybe their morning ritual still isn’t back to normal, but whatever. Kibum supposes that he’s okay with this too.

parthenope_sing @ 2009-09-16T12:29:00

2009-09-16T16:51:05Z

The Mechanics of a Kiss (or Two)
SHINee - Onkey
347 words; PG
Kibum tries something new.

They’re watching TV together, sitting closely enough for their arms and thighs to touch even though there’s plenty of room on the couch.

Kibum turns to face Jinki during a commercial break.

“Hmm?” Jinki tears his eyes away from the television to look at Kibum. “What, is there something on my face?” He pats his cheek, confused.

Kibum doesn’t answer, just continues studying him, gaze unwavering.

“Kibum?”

“Hyung,” Kibum says suddenly. “Hyung, I’m giving you a chance to move away, okay?”

Jinki thinks Since when did Kibum call me 'hyung'? followed by Wait, what?, and then Kibum is cupping a hand against his cheek, leaning in. He pauses a few inches away, their noses just barely touching. His eyes flicker down to Jinki’s mouth, then back up.

Jinki blinks.

Kibum tilts his head a fraction and leans the rest of the way in, pressing their lips together. Jinki makes a noise that is embarrassingly close to a squeak, and then Kibum’s tongue is sliding into his mouth, and oh. Jinki squeezes his eyes shut and lifts a hand to touch Kibum’s shoulder, and Kibum’s hand curls around the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Jinki says when Kibum finally pulls away. “Um.”

Kibum is watching him again, except now his eyes are wide and uncertain, and Jinki can’t remember ever seeing the younger boy look so timid before.

“I—” Jinki begins, and cuts himself off, because his mind is totally drawing a blank.

Kibum looks away, twisting his fingers together.

Jinki’s breath leaves him in a whoosh, and before he really knows what he’s doing, quickly leans forward. Their noses bump, and then their lips are brushing together again. Kibum is the one who makes a sound this time, but then his body relaxes and his fingers curl into Jinki’s shirt, pulling him closer. His mouth opens, soft and pliant and warm, and Jinki stops thinking altogether.

When they pull apart this time, Kibum is smiling.

“Um, I— W-was that better?” Jinki asks.

“A little,” Kibum admits, playing with the hem of Jinki’s T-shirt. “You’ll get better with practice.”

“Oh,” Jinki says. “Oh, okay.”

*****

A/N: So this actually has no plot whatsoever. It came about because I mentioned to phasera that I never write kiss scenes because they are awkward and I suck at them. And then of course, she demanded that I write one. I still suck at them, so I'm very, very sorry. Please direct all complaints toward phasera. :D/

parthenope_sing @ 2009-08-09T02:13:00

2009-08-09T06:20:14Z

The Solution to Insomnia
SHINee - Minkey
200 words; PG
Kibum is having a hard time falling asleep.
For shineeworld's Week 22 challenge, lies and how to tell them.

“Minho.” Kibum tries to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the others.

There is no response.

“Yah, Minho!” Kibum hisses again, and jabs the sleeping boy’s thigh as hard as he can.

Minho wakes up with a start, his long limbs jerking. “Mmhnnnn. Wha—?” Kibum can just barely make out his large, sleep-glazed eyes in the near darkness.

“Move over,” Kibum whispers. Minho looks disoriented but still complies, and Kibum quickly slides into the bed with him, pillowing his head on the taller boy’s arm. “It was cold,” he explains.

“Hn. Okay,” Minho mumbles, and slings his other arm around Kibum’s torso. It is heavy and warm, and Kibum wriggles around to make himself comfortable. When he’s finally settled in, he hears the soft murmur, “Maybe you should stop watching horror movies by yourself right before bedtime.”

Kibum closes his eyes and can still see the scene where the killer pops out of a closet behind the main character’s best friend and stabs her in the face. He shivers and burrows closer to Minho.

“It was cold,” he finally says defiantly, and feels more than hears the low chuckle reverberate in Minho’s chest in response.

parthenope_sing @ 2009-07-29T22:44:00

2009-07-30T03:01:33Z

Say It Once, Say It Twice
SHINee - Onkey
644 words; G
Because hearing it the first time wasn't enough.
Partially based on this.

Jinki is quiet the entire ride home after the interview. Jonghyun and Taemin try to talk to him once or twice, but he only responds with short, clipped answers, staring out the window like his thoughts are still lingering behind in the studio. By the time they arrive at the dorm, they all know to leave him alone, at least for a little while.

When Kibum pokes his head into their bedroom a few hours later, he finds Jinki lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He scrambles into a sitting position when he notices Kibum, pulling his earbuds out and shaking his bangs over his eyes.

“Hey, Kibum.” His voice is strained.

“What, still sulking?” Kibum asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Jinki turns his entire body away, until he practically has to talk over his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

Kibum carefully closes the door behind him, and crosses the room to sit at the foot of Jinki’s bed. “Look, it doesn’t matter what that woman, what that idiot”—Kibum spits out the word, suddenly vehemently angry—“reporter had to say—”

“Maybe it’s true, though,” Jinki interrupts, “Maybe I really am—”

“Shut up,” Kibum hisses, “Just shut up. You’re not a coward, and no one thinks you are. You can’t just let one question from some stupid person who doesn’t even know you get to you like that. It didn’t even make sense, I mean, what the hell does being a coward have to do with fainting from stress and exhaustion, and. And everyone else still thinks you’re amazing, the fans still love you, I love you—” Kibum hears Jinki’s sharp intake of breath and automatically snaps his mouth shut; it takes a split second longer for his brain to play catch up and realize exactly what he’d just said. He is acutely, painfully aware that this is only the second time he’s said those words to Jinki, ever.

Kibum can see the muscles in Jinki’s back—could trace them with his fingertips, if he wanted—and the way they are stiff with surprise, with confusion, Kibum doesn’t even know. The sudden silence in the room is heavy and awkward and oppressive; Kibum can feel it stretching taut between them, pulling tighter and tighter by the second, like a wire about to snap—

“I thought you were joking,” Jinki says quietly, turning slowly toward him.

Kibum blinks. “What?”

“That time, on the radio show. I thought you were joking around,” Jinki repeats, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “I thought you were just trying to cheer me up.”

“I was,” Kibum admits, watching the way Jinki’s shoulders slump, just a little. He tilts his head to the side. “But you also know that I can’t lie, right?”

Jinki looks up to meet his eyes, finally, his lips parted in a soft ‘o’ of surprise, like Kibum saying it twice still isn’t enough for Jinki to believe him.

Kibum scoots closer to him, reaching a hand out to push his floppy bangs away from his face. Jinki’s eyes are a little red; he must have cried some time after returning to the apartment. On impulse, Kibum leans in, pressing a kiss to his warm, flushed cheek. “Don’t make me say it again, okay?” he says softly.

When he pulls away, Jinki’s eyes are large and soft and brown, and warmer than Kibum’s seen them all day.

“Come watch TV with us,” Kibum says, standing and pulling Jinki to his feet with him. “Star Golden Bell is on, and it’s weird watching without you.”

Jinki doesn’t let go even after he is standing; instead, he curls his fingers more securely around Kibum’s. Kibum doesn’t even look back at him, just opens the bedroom door with his other hand and steps out into the hallway.

And, like always, Jinki follows.

*****

A/N: Unfortunately, after I finished this, I realized it that this is like... exactly the same as something else I've already written. >_> Originally meant for shineeworld's Week 19 challenge, but ended up being too long.

parthenope_sing @ 2009-07-24T11:47:00

2009-07-24T16:05:01Z

Leadership Skills
SHINee - bandfic, minor pairing hints everywhere
3982 words; PG for cursing, I suppose
Five things Onew could never be leader of.
For undamage, because I'm pretty sure I promised you five-things-Onew-could-never-be-leader-of fic ages ago, and you gave me one of the ideas to use. :3 Happy early birthday! ~~Oh my God, this is the second time I have finished and dedicated a fic to a person without realizing that it's right before their birthday. Good timing, I has it. XD~~

Five things Onew could never be leader of:

1. a super secret undercover covert spy operation

Jinki checks the time on his cellphone—he’d gotten off the phone with Kibum exactly ten minutes ago. (Kibum had briefly updated him on his status, then launched into a lengthy complaint about how his hair was a complete mess after the long flight and how ridiculously high airplanes flew and how the man sitting next to him wouldn’t stop snoring, none of which really had anything to do with The Mission, but Jinki had listened very patiently to him anyway.) This means that in about four minutes, Jinki will be getting a call from Minho confirming that he’s passed The Package on to Jonghyun. From then on it’s pretty much smooth sailing, since Jinki has no doubt that Jonghyun and Taemin can outmaneuver anyone giving chase.

Jinki grins triumphantly to himself—and probably to other people too, if the wary look the barista behind the counter gives him is any indication—as he stands very casually and stretches. He tosses his empty Styrofoam coffee cup at the trash can; it misses, of course, making him shuffle sheepishly after it, but even that isn’t enough to put a damper on his mood. Everyone is in position, everything is on schedule, and for once, everything is going according to plan—

He jumps and flails in surprise when his cellphone vibrates violently in his hand. He fumbles with the device for several seconds, nearly dropping it, and glances at the screen.

The caller ID flashes “Flaming Charisma”, Minho’s codename.

Jinki frowns. This is a bit earlier than he’d expected, but—he flips the phone open and holds it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hyung,” Minho says, his voice low and gravelly.

Jinki’s heart plummets right down into his stomach, because they’ve all become pretty fluent in Minho-speak by now, and what Minho is actually saying is, “Hyung, everything is not going according to plan. It’s probably your fault.”

“Yeeees?” Jinki stretches out the syllable warily.

“I’ve been here for the past ten minutes. Kibum”—Jinki wants to remind him to use their codenames, except now would probably be a bad time to interrupt, and none of them ever listen to him about actually using their codenames anyway—“isn't here.”

Oh yes, that is definitely his heart swimming somewhere around his stomach. “What. He isn’t there?”

“Yes, hyung,” Minho says very slowly, “That is what I said.”

Jinki is about to ask if he’s absolutely, completely a hundred percent sure, but then he remembers who he’s talking to. Minho doesn’t ever raise false alarm or make unnecessary phone calls. Well, crap.

He ducks into a nearby bathroom, quickly checking that the stalls are empty, and pushes up the sleeves of his white hoodie. He always writes important information on his forearms before every mission; using paper notes is kind of risky, considering how prone he is to losing things.

“I don’t know what could’ve gone wrong,” Jinki says, fighting a losing battle to keep the note of panic out of his voice, “I got off the phone with Kibum ten minutes ago, he’s arrived safely and everything…” He frantically scans the rows of words on his arms, searching for the necessary information. His brain is already going into overdrive picturing worst-case scenarios: Kibum being ambushed and tortured for information, The Package being stolen, furious clients, prison, death by firing squad—

“I’ve been in position here at Gate C for the past twenty minutes.”

Jinki squints at the words near his wrists. There it is, Key’s arrival at 2:15, at Gate—oh. Oh.

“Minho. So. Um. I think that. Well, uh, what happened is. It’s actually kind of funny, but um. KibumisatGateG,” he finishes in a rush.

There is a significant pause on the other end. “Are you serious, hyung.”

“I’m sorry!” Jinki wails, “I must’ve put my hoodie on before the ink fully dried and it got a tiny bit smeared so the ‘G’ looked more like a ‘C’ and then I told you the wrong thing and now you’re at Gate C and Kibum’s at Gate G and I’m really sorry.”

“Gate G is at the opposite end of the airport. I’m already ten minutes late.”

“I know,” Jinki says miserably, “I’m sorry.”

Minho sighs, a hiss of static against Jinki’s ear.

“I’ll head over right now.” He hangs up, and Jinki stares sadly at his phone.

Luckily, Minho is their most efficient and competent agent—plus he’s got freakishly long legs—so he reaches Gate G in no time, and everything turns out okay. Kibum is more whiny than usual, and Jonghyun has to run a few more red lights than he normally would, but all in all, it ends up being a pretty typical mission.

“Hey,” Jonghyun says later, throwing an arm around Jinki’s shoulders, “At least you didn’t send us to the wrong airport this time.”

“Shut up,” Jinki sulks.

2. the Sailor Scouts

“Sailor Moon!” Taemin says, landing gracefully next to Jinki. “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to contact you for the past fifteen minutes.” His eyes, still visible behind the blue visor, are wide and concerned

(Behind him, Minho, Jonghyun, and Key are fighting a large demon with scaly skin, long, razor-sharp claws, and a black horn protruding from its forehead. It turns its glowing eyes on Minho and launches a spiny projectile at him. Minho dodges the attack, throwing himself to the left and tucking his body into a forward roll.

“Burning Mandala!” Jonghyun yells, firing a quick succession of flaming rings at the monster, successfully drawing its attention away from the tall boy.)

Jinki winces. “Yeah, s-sorry about that,” he says, fiddling with his gloved fingers, “Um… The lid on my brooch kind of wouldn’t open, so I was trying to get it unstuck.” He peeks up at the younger boy, but Taemin is sweet and understanding and definitely is Jinki’s favorite dongseng, because he doesn’t laugh.

“How did you get it open?” Taemin asks instead, patting Jinki comfortingly on the shoulder.

(The demon swings a long arm out toward Kibum, claws slicing through the air. Kibum does a neat series of back handsprings, landing out of harm’s way.

“Sparkling Wide Pressure!” Minho hurls a ball of electricity at the monster. The attack hits its ribcage and it doubles over, shrieking in pain.)

“Well,” Jinki begins, “I was running around my house trying to find something that could pry it open. I found a metal spoon that was pretty sturdy, so I tried to use it like a lever, except I kind of used too much force, and the lid snapped off—”

“You broke your transformation brooch?” Taemin interrupts, sounding horrified.

(“Venus Love-Me Chain!” Kibum screams. His golden chain wraps tightly around the demon, binding its arms against its body.)

“No, no,” Jinki assures him, “Nothing broke, the lid just came off the hinge. It took a while to snap it back into place, though.” Someone clears his throat directly in his ear, and Jinki jumps about a mile into the air.

“Sorry, hyung,” Minho says, not looking particularly sorry at all. “Maybe you can tell us the details later, after you take care of this?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. Behind him, Kibum is struggling to keep the monster bound.

“Oh! Right, right.”

“I ran a scan on the monster earlier,” Taemin says, touching a button near his ear to retract his visor. “Aim for the horn, hyung, that’s the source of its power.”

Jinki takes a running start toward the monster—Minho and Taemin following closely behind—and whips out his scepter. “Kibum! Get out of the way!”

“Thanks for taking your sweet time!” Kibum calls, letting go of his chain. He leaps back and lands next to Jonghyun.

Jinki takes a deep breath and slowly swings his scepter out in front of him. “Moon Princess—”

(Kibum snickers and quickly slaps a gloved hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. ‘Princess’ gets to me everytime.”)

“—Halation!” Beams of pink light explode from the end of his scepter.

(Jonghyun raises an eyebrow. “Says the one named after the goddess of love and beauty?” he snipes, and ducks behind Minho to avoid Kibum’s well-aimed kick.)

The attack hits the demon directly in the forehead, and it shrieks one final time before exploding into a shower of glittering dust.

Jinki holds his pose for a brief second, just to be sure the monster is definitely vanquished, then relaxes. He turns to smile at the other Scouts.

“… So you broke your transformation brooch?” Minho asks.

“You did what?” Kibum says. “Oh my God, I don’t even want to know.”

3. a traveling party on the Oregon trail

“Oh God, it’s so fucking hot,” Kibum whines pitifully, “Hyung, make it stop.” He flails an arm at no one in particular, so Jinki can’t tell whether he’s talking to him or Jonghyun. Or if he’s maybe gone delirious with the heat and is now calling Minho and Taemin ‘hyung’ too.

Jonghyun sighs. “You were just complaining about how cold it was yesterday.”

“Because it was too cold yesterday. And it was too rainy the day before. And too sunny the day before that. God, I hate this weather, it’s been sucking since day one. And don’t even get me started about the bugs, I swear they’re going to eat me alive.” Kibum pauses for breath, and continues. “And this wagon. It’s so fucking rickety, I feel sick.”

Jonghyun sighs again, sitting down on the makeshift bed—really just a mound of hay with blankets piled on top—next to Kibum, and ruffles the younger boy’s hair. “You’ve been feeling sick ever since we left, Kibummie.”

“It’s not my fault I got heatstroke that one time. And then food poisoning. And the flu. And measles—”

“Who the hell gets measles anymore, anyway,” Jonghyun cuts in. “How did you not get the vaccine for that?”

“And a snake fucking bit me,” Kibum continues, as if he hadn’t heard a thing, “You should be glad I’m not dead. Besides, I meant sick like I’m-about-to-vomit-on-your-face sick.” Kibum pantomimes throwing up on Jonghyun, who shrieks and jumps away, tumbling into Jinki, who falls over.

“Are you sure you’re not faking?” Jonghyun asks, brushing invisible dust off his shirt and extending a hand toward Jinki.

“Like I could fake this shit,” Kibum snaps, “Stop being an asshole.”

“Well,” Jinki begins, grabbing Jonghyun’s offered hand and heaving himself upright, “I guess we can stop for a break now. It’s lunchtime, and it is pretty hot. We don’t want to the oxen to get overheated or anything.”

“Thank you,” Kibum says, raising his arms in victory, “God, I love you so much right now.” He flops back onto the bed, not noticing the way Jinki flushes.

They stop the wagon at the edge of a forest so there’s some shade, and Jinki and Jonghyun tether the oxen to let them graze. (Jonghyun double-checks all of Jinki’s knots now, ever since Jinki tied one ox too loosely and it nearly ran away.) Minho goes to check their supplies, and Taemin and Kibum busy themselves making sandwiches and boiling clean water for everyone.

They’re all already eating when Minho reappears from the back of the wagon.

“We have a problem,” he says.

“Hm?” Jonghyun asks, looking up, his cheeks puffed out and full of tuna salad.

“We have about seventy pounds of food left,” Minho answers, holding one hand out.

“That’s a lot, isn’t it?” Taemin questions, putting a sandwich in the tall boy’s open palm.

Minho shakes his head. “There’s five of us. That’s only enough for four or five days. It’s going to be at least another week before we reach the next stop.” He takes a large bite of his sandwich.

There is a brief silence as everyone chews thoughtfully.

“Maybe we can cut down on the meal portions a little,” Jonghyun suggests.

Kibum points at him accusingly. “Oh, no you don’t. How am I supposed to fully recover if I don’t even get the proper nutrients? Besides, Taemin is a growing boy, and Minho is probably still growing too, because he’s a freak of nature, and I bet even Jinki hyung is still growing. We all need proper meals. Just because you’re stuck at that height forever does not mean you get to hold everyone else back.”

Jonghyun gapes at him, then looks at Jinki. “Can’t we just ditch Kibum on the trail? He’s probably just going to get sick again and die anyway. It’d be one less mouth to feed.” He sounds like he’s only half-joking.

“Hyung,” Kibum whines, tugging on Jinki’s sleeve, “he’s being mean to me. I’m convalescent and weak and fragile”—he coughs delicately, as if to prove his point—“and Jjom is being mean to me.”

“Don’t be mean to Kibum, Jonghyun,” Jinki says, by reflex. Kibum shoots Jonghyun a Ha-Leader-loves-me-more-than-you look, tossing his hair to the side.

“Focus,” Minho says.

“Oh, food crisis. Right, right.” Jinki puffs out his cheeks. “Well, I mean, this is why we bought the rifle and bullets and stuff. Just in case we needed to hunt for food.”

“If we’re going to hunt, it’d probably be best to do it here, since we’re by a forest. We can probably find deer and rabbits,” Minho says.

“Does anyone volunteer?” Jinki asks, looking around.

Jonghyun and Kibum wrinkle their noses and grimace in identical expressions of disgust, and Taemin’s already large eyes go huge. And, well, no one says anything, but it’s kind of implicit that it’s probably best not to let Jinki near weapons. Jinki turns his expectant gaze on Minho.

Minho lets out a long-suffering sigh and stands. “I’ll do it.”

Jonghyun clasps his hands together and flutters his eyelashes. “Minho-goon, our hero. So nobly volunteering to slaughter innocent woodland creatures to save us from starvation.” Minho rolls his eyes and swipes at him half-heartedly before walking away, probably to get the rifle and box of bullets.

Kibum groans and drops his head onto Jinki’s shoulder. “Great. Now our wagon is going to smell like animal carcass, too. This is officially the worst. Road trip. Ever.”

Taemin rubs Kibum’s back. “I can go pick berries and mushrooms and stuff if you want, hyung,” he says hesitantly, “I’ve been reading this guide book that differentiates between edible and poisonous kinds.”

Jinki looks at him and tries not to wonder why the two youngest are the two most useful members of the party.

Jonghyun turns toward Jinki with a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Hey, so like…” he begins carefully, as if he’s about to say something he’s had on his mind for a while, “What is Oregon, anyway? Why are we even going there in the first place?”

“Is it anything like Disneyland?” Taemin wants to know.

4. the Babysitter’s Club

Jinki sits up straight in the director’s chair, clears his throat, and tries again, speaking a little louder. “I said, this meeting will now come to order!”

No one is listening to him this time, either.

Only Jonghyun’s bottom half is visible, his ass sticking up and out in the air as he fishes out snacks for everyone from under his bed—shrimp chips, rice crackers, Peppero sticks, green grape gummy candy. Minho, and Taemin are watching his excavation with intense interest. Kibum is writing in the club record book—it has a pink cover with purple flowers—and humming to himself.

“Our main order of business today is—”

“Hey, do you have any of the peach candy from last week?” Kibum asks, leaning over from his spot on Jonghyun’s bed to peer down at the pile of snacks on the floor.

“We have to go over—”

“Dun think so,” comes Jonghyun’s muffled voice from underneath the bed, “I think Taemin got the last one.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Taemin says automatically. Kibum just waves the apology off, which really isn’t fair, because if it had been anyone else, he would’ve thrown a fit.

Jinki gives up when Jonghyun finally pulls himself out from underneath the bed, triumphantly brandishing a box of Chocopies. “I want one,” he whines, stretching out both hands. Because if his authority is going to be ignored, he at least wants a consolation prize.

Jonghyun grins at him like he knows exactly what Jinki is thinking, and throws a wrapped Chocopie at his head.

Once everyone has picked out a snack and is happily munching away, Jinki decides to try for the third time.

“Meeting, guys,” he says, in between bites of chocolate and cake. Everyone makes varying noises of agreement, finally. “Minho?”

“Everyone’s paid their dues this week except Jonghyun hyung,” Minho says.

“But I feed you guys,” Jonghyun whines.

Minho stares at him. “Hyung, part of the dues go to paying you for snacks.”

“Whatever,” Jonghyun says dismissively, flopping back down onto his head and propping his feet on Kibum’s lap.

“Um, hello, recording meeting minutes here?” Kibum exclaims, pushing Jonghyun’s feet away.

“What meeting minutes? We don’t do meeting minutes.” Jonghyun makes a grab for the notebook and misses.

Kibum huffs. “Well, good secretaries take notes on everything that goes on in meetings in case people need to remember what went on, so I’m starting now!”

Jonghyun swipes at the notebook again and this time is successful. “‘Taemin is adorable in that pink shirt today, I told him it would look good on him’—” he reads out loud. “What the hell, Kibum, that has nothing to do with anything. ‘Jinki tries to start the meeting but no one is listening. Jjong is looking for snacks under the bed. His ass has gotten bigger, I think he’s gained some wei—’ Fuck you, I have not gotten fat!”

Jinki, who had been wondering how the meeting had gotten so off-track and how to get it back on-track, thinks this is a very good time to cut in. “You guys, please stop.” And then, “Um, and Kibum, please remove the part about me trying to start the meeting from the record.”

“Jonghyun hyung,” Minho says in what he probably thinks is a comforting manner, “Let’s play FIFA 09.”

“Okay,” Jonghyun says morosely, sliding off the bed.

“I play winner!” Taemin pipes in.

Jinki flails. “But. You guys! The meeting!”

“We’ll keep the phone next to us in case any clients call,” Minho says over his shoulder as he guides Jonghyun out the bedroom door, Taemin trailing after them.

5. a boyband

“—ung? Jinki hyung?” Minho’s voice breaks through Jinki’s lovely, lovely dream about getting a whole week off and going to an amusement park with the members and being able to eat all the junk food they want. “Hyung, it’s time to wake up.”

“Mmphgrrk?” Jinki says. He tries to pull himself up into a sitting position for about half a second, but his head feels so heavy and his pillow is so soft, so he flops back down.

Somewhere above him, Minho sighs. It’s quiet for a moment, and Jinki thinks maybe Minho decided to have mercy on him and leave him alone forever, but then he feels a pair of cool hands wrap around his ankles.

“No. No no no. Noooo!” Jinki claws at his sheets, but he can feel himself being slowly pulled off his bed. “Fine, fine, I’ll get up!”

At Jinki’s surrender, Minho carefully sets his feet down on the floor. Jinki slowly stands, Minho’s steady arm around his waist being the only thing that keeps him from crumpling to the floor. He stumbles his way toward the bathroom and nearly walks into a wall, but is steered away at the last second.

“Hyung,” Minho says, sounding amused, “The door is over here.”

Jinki blinks at him blearily. He hadn’t even realized Minho had followed him. “I knew that.”

Minho guides him into the bathroom, then shoves a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste into his hands. “Brush,” he says, and Jinki obeys robotically.

The minty toothpaste helps a little; so does splashing water on his face. By the time he’s done, Jinki is actually semi-aware of his surroundings.

“Do you still need me?” Minho asks, and Jinki waves him off. “You should get changed and go eat. We have to leave in fifteen minutes,” Minho says, and wanders off, probably to look for Jonghyun and Taemin.

In their bedroom, Jinki notices for the first time that there’s already a pair of jeans and a T-shirt draped over the chair for him. He’s not exactly sure who the shirt belongs to—not that it actually matters, since they all share clothes anyway. He knocks his hip into the corner of the dresser once while changing when he accidentally tries to shove his head through the arm hole of the shirt, but that’s the only mishap, so Jinki personally considers this an accomplishment.

By the time he makes it to the kitchen, any brief burst of energy Jinki had felt has already burned out, and he sinks into a seat, his head hitting the table with a thud.

“Come on, eat,” he hears Kibum’s voice say, and the clink of a plate being set in front of him. “Yah, get up.”

“Mmmghrrrn,” Jinki says.

“Seriously, hyung. Stop being an idiot.”

Something jabs him in the ribs, and Jinki turns his head to the side to see Kibum poking him repeatedly with the handle of his spatula. “Too tired to eat,” he mumbles.

“No no no, you are not allowed to skip breakfast. What if we come back home too late to eat dinner? You can’t just eat one meal for the whole day.” Kibum’s hands pull at Jinki’s shoulders until he is sitting upright. Jinki smells butter, and squints one eye open to see a piece of toast suspended a centimeter from his nose.

“Hmmm?”

“Tell anyone about this and I kill you,” Kibum says, still holding out the toast. “Now eat.”

Jinki obligingly takes a bite, chewing slowly. He lets Kibum feed him the rest of his breakfast—more toast, scrambled eggs, and orange juice—this way. Under normal circumstances, this would have been very embarrassing, but Jinki’s already expending all of his energy just eating, so he doesn’t really object. He’s finishing the last sip of his orange juice when the manager comes in with the other members, everyone dressed and ready to go. Kibum pulls him to his feet and into the hallway.

Taemin steadies Jinki while Jonghyun helps him slide his feet into his sneakers. “Hyung, what time did you go to bed?”

“Four, no… five?” Jinki squints, swaying a little. “Five. I think.”

Jonghyun sighs. “That means you got less than two hours of sleep. Hyung, reviewing the script is important, but not if you’re not actually going to be awake for filming.” He finishes lacing up Jinki’s right shoe and stands.

Jonghyun and Taemin walk on either side of him as they guide him to the van—Taemin keeps his hand on Jinki’s head so Jinki doesn’t bump into the roof climbing in—and settle him in the back seat between them.

“Hyung, you should take a quick nap now. It’ll take about twenty minutes to get there, so you have some time.” Taemin says.

“Mmmphggrmm,” Jinki agrees, his head already drooping against Jonghyun’s shoulder—it’s less bony than Taemin’s.

“God, Leader-sshi, you are so hopeless.” Kibum sounds annoyed, but Jinki thinks that’s his hand smoothing down his hair.

Someone is patting his knee, and another person is sliding his fingers between Jinki’s, lacing them together, and Jinki can’t tell who’s who, but that’s okay.

Jonghyun quietly hums Insomnia, comfortable and familiar against Jinki’s ear, and Jinki drifts back to sleep.

… But somehow it always seems to work out for him in the end anyway.

*****

A/N: Weirdly enough, after I decided which Sailor Scout each member was going to be, I realized that if you list the Sailor Scouts in order of appearance (Moon, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, Venus), it’s also the order of the SHINee lineup (Onew, Taemin, Bling, Minho, Key). I guess it was meant to be. :||||

Somewhere along the way, this became less of semi-plausible!AU scenarios and more of a trip down memory lane for me, so I deeply apologize for the crack. .__.

parthenope_sing @ 2009-05-21T18:51:00

2009-05-21T23:08:16Z

Keep Smiling
SHINee - gen, some Onkey
602 words; PG
Based on Onew's tooth incident.

You don't see the actual moment it happens, none of you do, since Jinki is the last one up the stairs. Instead, all you hear is the crash, and everyone lets out a collective silent sigh.

You don't even stop, you just keep walking until you reach the top of the stairwell with Manager hyung and Jonghyun. God, you're too tired for this shit; all you want to do is get back to the dorm and change out of these nasty clothes and take a shower and collapse into bed and never wake up.

"Come on, hyung," you hear Minho say. And really, this is the point where you should've known something was wrong, when you don't hear Jinki's stupid, sheepish laughter echo up the stairwell. Instead, you're too busy closing your eyes and imagining how nice a long, hot shower will feel.

"Hyung!" Taemin yelps, and your eyes snap open. Jinki is still sprawled out across the stairs, a hand tightly clamped over his mouth, and—fuck, is that blood?

"Jinki!" Manager hyung barks out, and then he's pushing past you to hurry down the stairs, Jonghyun not far behind.

All you can do is gape as everyone huddles around Jinki's figure so tightly that they completely block him from your field of vision. Manager hyung orders Jinki to open his mouth, and you hear this tiny whimper—Jinki's in pain—that sends a jolt down your spine.

And then they're all carefully helping him up the stairs, toward you. It's ridiculous, but your first urge is to reach out and touch Jinki, just to confirm that he's solid and real and okay. But Manager hyung and Minho have their arms around his waist, supporting him up the stairs, and Jonghyun is in front, talking to him—distracting him—and walking backwards up the steps with a hand on his shoulder, and Taemin is last, hands firmly planted on his back, and you can't do anything without getting in the way. Jinki's gaze locks with yours over Jonghyun's shoulder, and his eyes scrunch up like he's trying to smile reassuringly, except his mouth doesn't follow, and somehow that scares you more than anything, that Jinki of all people can't smile.

"Kibum, get the door," Manager hyung says. You scramble away and punch in the password to unlock the front door, trying to pretend your hands aren't shaking.

("Seriously, hyung? Who the hell breaks their teeth?" you scoff, smacking Jinki's arm. Then you reach behind his head to fluff his pillow, even though you did the exact same thing five minutes ago.

"Whatever he does, it's the Onew condition," Jonghyun sings softly, flipping a page in his magazine.

"Come on, drink your soup. I made it because I know you won't be able to eat solid food for a while," you say, pushing the bowl toward Jinki. You nod, satisfied, when he quietly obeys, and continue. "Okay, you know what, scratch that, my cousin actually chipped a tooth a few months ago. She's three years old. God, hyung, you are so hopeless. The Onew condition is going to last until the day you die."

Inexplicably, Jinki beams at you—his teeth look a little weird—and grabs your hand. "Kibum," he begins, "Fankyoo for—" He stops, looking surprised.

The room is completely silent for several seconds. Suddenly, Jonghyun snorts, and then you and Taemin start to laugh, and even Minho grins.

"Oh God, hyung," Jonghyun chortles, "You're going to be lisping all week, aren't you."

Jinki grins and doesn't let go of your hand, and you know everything is going to be fine.)

*****

A/N: Written for xiahtic's meme.

parthenope_sing @ 2009-01-22T04:43:00

2009-01-22T09:51:33Z

Dreamcatcher
SHINee - Onkey
931 words; PG, I think
Onew is trying to sleep when he hears a sound.

Nonononono, hyung, no, don’t drink that, don’t, Kibum tries to say, but it’s too late, Jinki’s already brought the bottle to his lips—

And oh God, oh God there’s blood everywhere and Jinki is coughing and vomiting and he’s in pain, he’s in so much fucking pain and Kibum can’t do anything—

And then Kibum is standing at the side of a road, watching as a van veers and loses control, watching as it flips over in slow, slow motion and lands with a sickening crash. He stumbles toward the wreckage, blindly, but he already knows what he’s going to find—

Jinki isn’t sure why he’s even awake at—he glances at the clock—3:04 AM. He sighs and rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow with a pout.

Trying his hardest to go back to sleep only seems to amplify every sound in the room. Minho’s long, slow breaths are barely audible over the heating system. Jonghyun is quietly sleep-singing again, this time to Wrongly Given Love. Taemin is snoring, just a little, and shuffling around in his blankets. Then—a soft whimper.

Jinki blinks and lifts his head, wondering if he’d heard right.

There it is again, this time a little louder, from Kibum’s bed.

Minho and Jonghyun are sprawled out on the ground amidst the broken glass and torn metal. Oh God, there’s blood—so much blood—running down Minho’s face, staining his back, and Jonghyun isn’t moving, Jonghyun isn’t fucking moving, why isn’t Jonghyun moving when he never stays still, Kibum wants to scream—

And then it’s Taemin, looking pale and weak and thin in a flimsy hospital gown, his left leg propped up and bound in a large cast. No, Kibum cries, no, not his leg, he loves dancing more than anything—

Jinki carefully stands on his bed to peer at the younger boy. Kibum is moving around now, clenching his comforter with tight fists.

“No,” Kibum whispers. He turns his head, the dim light from the lampposts outside catching across his face, and—Jinki frowns—he’s crying.

Jinki shakes his shoulder gently. “Kibum,” he whispers, trying not to wake the others, “Kibum!”

Kibum’s eyes snap open to the sight of someone leaning over him. It’s dark, but he can just barely make out the curve of Jinki’s cheek, his wide, worried eyes.

“I—” Kibum stammers, bewildered, because he’d seen Jinki just a second ago, coughing and vomiting and crying—

“Y-you were having a nightmare, I think,” Jinki whispers, biting his lip, “Are you okay?”

A nightmare. Just a nightmare. It’d felt real, oh God, so fucking real, but none of it was real. Kibum exhales shakily. Everyone is fine, Jinki is fine, he’s right there in front of him, safe and healthy and whole—

“K-Kibum?” Jinki asks, and Kibum realizes he has his hand pressed against the leader’s face.

“S-sorry,” he whispers, quickly pulling his hand away and burying it under the covers, “I’m f-fine, it’s fine, g-go back to sleep.”

Jinki doesn’t believe him. Kibum is still shuddering, his eyes wide and afraid. The younger boy seems so genuinely shaken up, his face wet with tears, that it scares Jinki too.

“Hey, scoot over,” Jinki says softly.

Kibum looks confused, but shifts to the left to make room, and Jinki quickly pulls himself up onto the bed. He wriggles under the covers and wraps an arm around the younger boy before Kibum has a chance to protest. He can feel Kibum tense against him.

“I-it’s okay,” Jinki murmurs, trying to sound soothing, and pats Kibum’s back, “Whatever happened, it was just a dream.” He wonders if he’s doing the right thing.

There’s no reaction, and for a second he thinks Kibum is going to be angry and shove him off the bed or something, but then the younger boy presses against him, curling trembling fingers into Jinki’s shirt.

“I-It felt so r-real, hyung,” Kibum says, his voice wavering with tears, “I-I could’ve sworn—” Kibum is getting his shirt wet, but Jinki can’t bring himself to care.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jinki repeats, and rubs circles into Kibum’s back until he quiets.

One of Kibum's hands finally releases its death grip on his shirt to rest, hesitantly, against his waist, and Jinki pulls the younger boy closer.

(When Jinki wakes up the next morning, he forgets where he is and nearly tumbles off the bed. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes, and realizes Kibum is gone. He also notices Taemin looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“You weren’t up there last night, hyung,” the magnae says.

Jinki shrugs.

When they shuffle their way to the kitchen, they are each greeted with a plate of steaming hot pancakes.

“What’s the occasion?” Jonghyun asks, shoving another forkful into his mouth, “Usually it’s just eggs and toast and cereal.”

“Don’t question your good fortune,” Kibum snaps. He pulls his apron off and takes his seat next to Taemin.

“It’s good, Kibum,” Minho says quietly, “Thank you.” Kibum beams at him.

Taemin leans in to squint at Jinki’s plate. “Are those—blueberries? Hyung! Why does Jinki hyung get blueberry pancakes and not us?” Jinki blinks and looks down at his plate, then at the others’.

Kibum smacks Taemin’s arm. “Yah, don’t be rude to your mother, I didn’t raise you to be like this! Jinki hyung is just a very good leader, that’s all, and he deserves something special once in a while.” He folds his arms across his chest, studiously avoiding Jinki’s eyes.

There is an awkward silence, and Jinki can feel his ears burning.

“Huh,” Jonghyun says, and resumes stuffing his face.)

***

A/N: I'm not sure if I made it clear, but Key was dreaming about the SHINee members going through the accidents their sunbaes had been in. More specifically: Onew = Yunho, Minho = Eeteuk, Jonghyun = Kyuhyun, and Taemin = Heechul.

parthenope_sing @ 2008-12-28T03:51:00

2008-12-28T09:05:17Z

Collaboration
Big Bang/Wonder Girls - Seungri/Sunmi (Rimi?)
676 words; PG for cursing
Seungri has a little crush. Except it's actually a crush of epic proportions.
Takes place right after the second joint Wonder Bang performance of Tell Me and Lies.

You manage to spot her after the performance amidst the swarm of coordinators, managers, and makeup artists backstage by her bright pink jacket. And she’s alone, mercifully. So this could be it, your one chance to talk to her alone for the next… God knows how long. Both Wonder Girls and Big Bang are always busy, it’s the holiday season, it’s award season, and while you’re seeing her in a few days for rehearsal, you would honestly rather… do something very drastic, even if you can’t exactly think of what at the moment, than to talk to her then and endure the endless teasing from your hyungs afterward. You can’t fuck this up.

“Sunmi-sshi!” She turns around, and you walk toward her. With long, confident strides, and head held up high. And sweaty palms. Fuck. You wipe them on your jeans.

“Ah, Seungri-sshi.” She bows when you approach, and you nod back, stiffly. There’s an awkward silence. She tilts her head, and her eyebrows furrow a little, because of course she’s waiting for you to say something. Except nothing witty or charming is coming to mind, and the only thing you can think of is that time you found the video clip of her dancing and singing with PD Mak. You remember thinking, quite clearly, that she was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen.

“Good performance, huh?” And you need to find a wall, right now, or something else that can beat your brain back into your skull.

It was a downright shitty performance, mostly because you and your hyungs forgot the steps to Tell Me—which was ridiculous in and of itself, because everyone and their mom knows how to dance to that song—and no one knew where to stand and everyone was shoving each other to get in line, and oh God now she’s going to think you have horribly sub par standards for performances even though you really don’t, because you’re sort of a perfectionist on stage, really, and—

“It was,” she agrees, and, with a small smile, “It was fun.” She pauses, but you’re too relieved that she doesn’t think you’re a complete idiot to give any reply. “I heard about your ankle. Are you feeling any better?”

And then it’s like a tiny nuclear bomb went off in your chest, because she heard about your injury, and she was worried about you, which of course she didn’t actually say, but it was implied. You want to come up with an appropriately cool response, like “It doesn’t hurt at all”, or “It takes more than a tiny sprain to get me down”, even if it still hurts like hell, except the only thing that comes out of your mouth is, “I-It’s getting a little better.”

This is ridiculous, absofuckinglutely ridiculous. You are Lee Seunghyun. Seungri of Big Bang. You don’t get nervous around girls, damn it. Jiyong hyung would never let you live it down if he ever heard about this.

“Oh, good!” she exclaims, “I’m so glad. I really hope you fully recover soon.” She smiles at you, and you can’t do anything but grin back like an idiot. There’s no reason in the world you should be feeling like this, unless maybe, just maybe, it’s l—

“Sunmi? Sunmi-yah, where are you? It’s time to go!” Damn it, Sunye noona.

Sunmi looks around. “Sorry, unni! I’m coming!” she calls, and turns back to you. “I’m sorry, Seungri-sshi, I think I have to go now.” She bows and waves a little, smiling. “It was really nice talking to you. I’ll see you at rehearsal in a few days. Bye!” And then she’s off, hurrying after her bandmates. You try very hard not to stare at her retreating figure.

Daesung comes out of nowhere and throws an arm across your shoulders. He follows the direction of your gaze and looks back at you, eyebrows raised, but doesn’t comment. “Hey, Magnae, let’s go home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say.

Maybe you’ll have the courage to actually have a real conversation with her one day.

parthenope_sing @ 2008-12-28T01:30:00

2008-12-28T06:45:52Z

Scrapbook
SuJu - Kichul, hinted Hyukhae
1871 words; PG
Fragments of Heechul and Kibum through the years.

Heechul is not at all impressed when they’re first introduced.

“Hyung, this is Kibummie. Kibum, this is my Heechul hyung,” Donghae says, with all his typical unwavering enthusiasm that Heechul can’t help but be fond of, the absolute certainty of but of course any friend of mine will be a friend of Heechul’s, arm draped familiarly around the stranger boy’s shoulders.

“Hey, hyung, what’s up?” the scrawny boy says with a wide grin that reveals his white teeth. He has a bad haircut and bones jutting out at sharp, almost painful-looking angles and a strange nose and there’s not so much wrong with him as it is that he’s just painfully plain. The only vaguely redeeming quality Heechul can see is the kid’s smile: it’s not bad—charming, some might call it—and in a year or two he can probably perfect it and knock everyone off their feet. But a year or two is a long time in coming, and Heechul isn’t just some people. He’s not so easily swayed by a pretty smile, not when he himself is the master of smoldering eyes and half-quirked lips. And the fact that this… this Kibum has the nerve to be so casual and intimate on their first meeting is more than a bit appalling. Heechul reviews the tally list in his head: the cons are greatly outnumbering the pros.

“Please don’t call me that,” Heechul says with a friendly smile and a honeyed voice, “because I don’t like you at all.”

*

When Kibum finally returns to Korea after spending all summer and fall in the states, Donghae naturally is the first SM trainee to welcome him back, bowling him over with a full-body tackle and delighted laugher. Kibum is laughing with him and trying to catch his breath and is so relieved to be home that he almost doesn’t notice the slim redhead standing against the doorway. Kibum is careful to be properly polite to the older boy, well remembering Heechul’s intense dislike for him.

“Welcome back, kid,” Heechul says, and walks away.

Later, at noraebang with a few other trainees celebrating Kibum’s return, their cheeks flushed from the heat and hours of singing (and a little bit of soju), Heechul tells them all that his nickname is Cinderella. He taps Donghae on the head imperiously and dubs him Pinocchio. A little heady from the high that naturally comes with hours of karaoke, Kibum feels brave—or foolish—enough to jokingly whine at Heechul for a nickname of his own. Heechul pauses, and Kibum is about to take back his words when the redhead slings an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ll be Snow White,” he tells him with that lazy, lopsided grin, face close to Kibum’s, like there had never been anything amiss between them.

Kibum blinks but smiles back in an automatic reaction, and figures that it’s best not to question the whims of Kim Heechul.

*

Their official debut performance is finally over; everyone all but collapses onto assorted desks or chairs or the hard floor backstage, the adrenaline that had coursed through their blood just minutes ago fading away and leaving them completely drained. The usual fare—Youngoon’s loud remarks, Shindong’s jokes, Shiwon’s evangelical speeches—have been replaced by eerie quiet.

Jungsu is sitting in a chair staring at his hands, blinking and making strange faces like he does when he’s about to cry. Heechul feels a twinge of sympathy and praises the Lord—or would have, if he believed in Him—for being born just nine days later, saving him from the burdens of leadership. Donghae and Hankyung are pale, and the new boy, Ryeowook—talented, Heechul has to admit, but not used to the spotlight at all—is visibly trembling. Jungsu stands with a deep breath and circles the dressing room, checking up on each member in turn.

“Are you okay?” a voice murmurs against his ear. Kibum settles down next to him on the floor, and rests a too warm and slightly sweaty hand over Heechul’s. Naturally, they’re the two with the most experience, but performing in front of a live audience to the pulse of the music and rhythm of the flashing lights, it’s so very different acting and modelling behind the barrier of the camera, the knowledge that if one makes a mistake, there’s always a do-over.

“Of course I’m okay,” Heechul scoffs, tossing sweaty bangs from his eyes, but turns his hand over until their palms touch.

*

“Go take a ten-minute break,” manager hyung snaps when a piece of equipment breaks and filming simply can’t continue. Kibum seizes the opportunity to stumble around to the back of the building, promptly falling asleep against the brick wall. Or would have, if a shadow hadn’t fallen across his vision behind his closed eyelids. Kibum opens his eyes.

“Hey, you,” Heechul says, and that’s all the warning he gives before pressing his lips to Kibum’s. Heechul has kissed him before—Heechul likes to kiss everyone—but it’s never been like this, tongue running along Kibum’s bottom lip before sliding into his mouth, long fingers clenching at the hem of Kibum’s shirt, the distinct tone of God damn it, kiss me back, you asshat lacing the taste of cinnamon. Kibum’s not gay, he’s never really found other men attractive, but this is Heechul, capable of bulldozing over anyone’s objections without breaking a nail. So Kibum kisses back, the fogginess of sleep lifting, tangling his fingers in Heechul’s red hair. He exhales softly when teeth scrape against his lip, and pushes his hand up the back of Heechul’s shirt in response.

“You guys, where ar—oh my God!” Heebon screeches, and promptly kicks Heechul off the younger boy. Heechul groans, his voice muffled by pavement; Kibum is too surprised to do much more than cling to the wall and blink. “Get a room next time, Kim Heechul, no one wants to see you shoving your tongue down some poor victim’s throat.” She winks at Kibum, and he returns her smile.

*

Hankyung’s nowhere to be found in their apartment, and it’s one of the very few gaps in a schedule packed with Super Junior shows and performances and interviews and filming for Rainbow Romance and the endless string of CFs they both are in and Heechul’s radio show with Heebon, and Heechul has never been one to let an opportunity go to waste.

He flashes Kibum one of his intense looks, smoldering eyes and all, and Kibum rolls his eyes—Heechul knows perfectly well it hasn’t worked on him on years—but laughs, leaning against the arm of the couch and draping an arm loosely around Heechul’s neck. The younger boy tastes like peppermint candy, and he sucks in a breath when Heechul runs a hand across his stomach. This thing between them—they’ve never talked about it, even if everyone knows, because Heechul doesn’t see the point and Kibum’s too damn passive.

“AAAAAAAGH!” comes an agonized shriek from the hallway, and before either Heechul or Kibum knows what’s happening, an enormous weight that feels suspiciously like a 60-kg young man flings itself across their laps. “I’m never going back,” the mop of brown hair pressed into Kibum’s lap continues tragically, voice muffled against denim. Heechul groans; Kibum shoots him a warning look.

“Hey, what’s wrong, hyung?” Kibum asks, pressing a hand to Donghae’s hair. Donghae looks up at them, briefly.

“Oh, oh, I interrupted you two! Sorry, continue, just ignore me,” he tells them, waving a hand dismissively, burying his head in Kibum’s lap again. Heechul sighs. Donghae isn’t attention-needy, per say, but he has, in “times of great distress”, a way of acting self-sacrificial and pretending to suffer in silent melodramatic agony while waiting for everyone to ask him exactly what was troubling him so.

“What’d you do now?” Heechul asks, shifting to support the weight of Donghae’s legs across his thighs, “We were busy until you came in.” Kibum jabs him hard in the side with a long finger. Donghae looks up at him with a wounded puppy expression.

“I didn’t do anything, hyung! I was... hanging out with Hyukjae like I always do and we were dancing and joking around and stuff and then all of a sudden he grabbed my hand and pulled me in andhekissedme!” The brunette ends in a half-wail. He scoots up off their laps and wedges himself between the two on the couch, burying his face into Kibum’s shoulder and clinging to Heechul’s arm. Kibum pats his head once in a passable gesture of support. “Everything happened so fast and I didn’t expect it so I kinda let it happen and then got scared and ran away and came here. What should I do? I can’t go back!”

They spend the next hour listening to Donghae rant because Heechul knows Kibum doesn’t have the heart to turn the other boy away. But they both know Donghae feels the same way about Hyukjae as the blonde does about him—what Hyukjae and Donghae have in common, aside from their love of dance, is their ability to be incredibly transparent and oblivious at the same time. Kibum catches Heechul’s eye over Donghae’s shoulder, a silent plea to the older boy for patience.

Heechul bites his lip and tries not to scream.

*

When they receive the news of Heechul’s accident, there’s no question that Kibum is the one to go with the manager to visit him in the hospital first. Jungsu has to stay behind to watch the others, especially Donghae, who looks completely broken, eyes screaming it’s all my fault, if only hyung hadn’t gone to see appa, body curled in a tight ball against Hyukjae’s chest. Kibum leaves the job of calling Yunho and Jaejoong and Jay and letting them know what happened to Youngoon, the job of cooking dinner for everyone to Hankyung, whose hands are shaking so badly that Shiwon goes to help him.

Heechul is sitting up on the bed when Kibum comes in; there are small scrapes and bruises all over his arms, his face is drawn, eyes dull and sunk. Kibum stands next to him and holds his hand, and there’s so many things he wants to say, to ask, but there’s a large lump in his throat, it hurts to swallow, and he can’t get anything out.

Seeing Kibum’s eyes on his cast, Heechul says, “Doctor says I can’t do anything for at least three months. Guess I can’t finish Rainbow Romance with you.” He laughs until a tear slides down his cheek, the doctors had warned Kibum about this. Kibum know he won’t let the others see him cry like this, not Heechul, eternally loud and independent and strong.

“But you’re alive,” Kibum says, and the numbness that had seized him the moment he had heard the news dissipates, his vision is blurry, and he blinks furiously. Heechul tilts Kibum’s head up and wipes his eyes with a thumb. It feels all too much like their situation has reversed, and Kibum can’t figure out why, when he isn’t the one lying on the hospital bed.

“Yeah, I am,” Heechul says, and pulls Kibum’s face down to press their lips together.

*****

A/N: Okay, old!fic, purely for archiving purposes. Written for the miracle_ss exchange TWO YEARS AGO. I think I never posted this here because I'd always intended on editing it, except now I don't remember what I wanted to add to it. Go me.

... Oh wait, I remember why I never posted this here before. IT MAKES NO SENSE. *headdesk*

parthenope_sing @ 2008-12-15T02:29:00

2008-12-15T08:20:07Z

Double the Trouble But Twice as Nice
SHINee - Onkeyhyun (yes, OT3)
5359 words; PG-13 for implied stuff
Jonghyun and Key wake up one morning as girls, and Onew suffers a lot of abuse.
For procreational, with love. ♥ Because it was your comment ~~and the epic conversation that followed~~ that started this. I'm sorry, bb, I wish I could've made this better (and put in more Jongkey), but it was hard. D:

Onew is jerked violently from his precious sleep by a girl screaming bloody murder very close by.

The first panicked thought that runs through his sleep-fogged brain is Oh dear God help a noona fan broke into our dorm, and he bolts upright and turns toward the source of the noise. And stares. Because—he rubs his eyes and looks again—there is a girl sitting on Jonghyun's bed, in Jonghyun's pajamas, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"What the hell is go—" A groggy but very female voice says from behind him.

Onew snaps his head around, and oh my God there is another girl on Key's bed with a palm slapped over her mouth. He whips his head back and forth, not knowing which one to stare at, because what, how—

"Kibum…?" The girl on Jonghyun's bed asks, staring intently at the girl on Key's bed.

"Jjong?" The girl on Key's bed asks, pulling her hand away from her face.

It clicks in Onew's head, though as soon as it does, he really, really wishes it hadn't.

"Uh-oh," Minho says. Taemin's eyes go wider than saucers.

"Oh my God," Onew says.

*

"What— I mean, when did— How—" Onew splutters, pacing back and forth, clutching his head with both hands.

"For the last time, we don't know, hyung. We didn't ask to get turned into girls," Key snaps. He—she?—puts an arm around Jonghyun, who buries his—or her, this is too confusing—face into Key's shoulder.

"I don't want boobs," Jonghyun whimpers. Key pats him on the head.

"I—I so did not sign up for this when I agreed to be leader," Onew groans. "I mean, what are we going to do, our fans are totally going to notice that you guys suddenly have long hair and shrank several inches and grew… girl parts."

Key rolls his eyes, probably at the euphemism, but shoots a sidelong glance at their magnae and opts not to correct him. Jonghyun whimpers again at the mention of girl parts.

Taemin, who has been staring at his hands, mouth pursed in thought, finally looks up at the others. "I think we should call manager hyung to let him know," he says, "And he can help us figure out what to do with our schedule and stuff."

There is a brief silence, and then Key throws his arms around the magnae. It looks a little odd now that the older, well, girl is suddenly so much shorter.

"My son is so smart, he always knows what to do," Key says, beaming at Taemin.

"Um, hyung—" Taemin says. He looks uncomfortable.

"Yes?" Key asks, still clinging.

"I-I can feel y— Um. Y-you're not wearing a bra," Taemin finishes very awkwardly, the tips of his ears going red.

Key lets go as if he's been burned.

*

"You guys," their manager begins, and stops. He rubs his temples slowly and eyes Jonghyun and Key, who are sitting side-by-side on the couch, arms crossed firmly over their—Onew tries not to think about it—chests. "I know you two do everything together, but this is kind of ridiculous," he finally says, very dryly.

Jonghyun puffs his cheeks out at him. "Hyung," he whines, "We didn't ask for this!"

"I should hope not," their manager replies, voice still dry, and sighs. "Look. Honestly, there's not much we can do right now. If we brought you guys to the hospital, it'd end up all over the news."

"But—" Onew cuts in, because more importantly than this getting out to the public, what if they're stuck like this forever, but the manager holds up a hand to stop him.

"I'll say you two are sick and cancel SHINee's schedule for the next week or so. You guys can't keep performing if two out of five are out of action. And I'll talk to upper management and see what they have to say. Knowing them, it'll take a few days just to set up a meeting, even if I tell them it's an emergency."

"But what are we going to do until then?" Jonghyun demands.

"Well, if you two managed to, you know," their manager waves a hand in a gesture that manages to convey turn into girls overnight and give me the biggest migraine ever; I swear to God you guys are going to make me die at an early age, "then maybe you'll go back to normal. You never know. Be patient for a couple of days, okay?"

"Okay," Jonghyun and Key chorus reluctantly. Minho pats Jonghyun on the knee and Taemin smiles encouragingly.

"But in the meantime, you two are going to need clothes that actually fit you. We can't risk people seeing you guys in your regular clothes and making the connection," the manager tells them, flipping open his cellphone. "I'll get someone to come over and help you guys."

*

"Oh," says Lina, putting a hand to her mouth.

"Well, this is new," says Dana, cocking her head to the side.

"No way," Stephanie says in awe, circling Jonghyun appraisingly. Jonghyun eyes her warily.

"No fair," Sunday says. Everyone looks at her. "Would you just look at Kibum's eyelashes," she continues.

Lina rushes over to inspect them herself. "They're so long," she gushes. "And oh my God, he has the nicest cheekbones."

Key is preening in a manner Onew feels is entirely inappropriate, given the situation.

"Jonghyun has the prettiest lips," Dana announces, throwing an arm across Jonghyun's shoulders.

"And amazing curves under all those baggy clothes," Stephanie adds.

Jonghyun looks like he's trying to fold into himself and die.

"That's it. We definitely need to take you guys shopping," Lina says decisively, patting Key's cheek.

Key beams up at her. "Whatever you say, unni," he says sweetly.

Sunday and Dana squeal, and Jonghyun looks betrayed.

*

Jonghyun staggers in through the door eight hours later, laden with what seems like hundreds of bags. He groans and sets them down on the floor.

"Um," Onew says intelligently.

Jonghyun looks like a girl. Not that he didn't before, but it was a bit easier to ignore when he was in his old clothes. Now he's wearing skinny jeans—even tighter than their performance outfits, if that's possible—and a white tank top looking like a really pretty girl, except he's Jonghyun, and that's really weird—

Minho elbows him gently in the side.

"You're staring," he says quietly. Onew feels his ears burn, because oh God he just sort of checked his bandmate out, and now there's going to be special level of hell reserved for him. Minho clears his throat and raises his voice so Jonghyun can hear, "You, uh, look nice, hyung."

"I know, right?" Jonghyun says miserably, twisting the fabric of his top between his fingers. "The noonas picked out a bunch of outfits for me. They're evil, I swear. They did our hair and put makeup on us and made us shave our legs. And and and, all these guys kept staring at us in the mall, and someone even asked for my number." He shudders.

The door slams open again before Onew really has a chance to reflect on the horrors of leg-shaving, and Key prances through with even more bags on his arms. He drops them next to Jonghyun's with a loud thud.

"Well?" he demands, twirling once, "How do I look?"

Onew gapes, horrified, because Key is in a tiny miniskirt—it can't be much longer than the length of Onew's hand—and high-heeled boots that reveal a lot of long, slim, bare leg and a thin, loose shirt that slides way way down to one side to expose a pale, creamy shoulder—and oh God Onew can't look anywhere without seeing something inappropriate. He hurriedly focuses his gaze on the patch of wall to the right of Key's ear.

"Um, I don't think you should be dressed like this, Kibum," he says, and is promptly ignored.

"Hyung, you look so nice!" Taemin exclaims, clapping his hands together.

"You look like a skank," Jonghyun says flatly.

"You're just jealous I have nicer legs than you," Key snaps.

"Kibum," Onew says again.

"Hey, you guys," Key says excitedly, "Watch watch, I get the funniest reactions from people."

And then, oh no, he's approaching Onew, who tries very hard to keep his gaze fixed on the wall. Key stops a foot away; Onew swallows and finally looks Key straight in the eye.

"Hi, oppa," Key breathes, fluttering his eyelashes.

Onew stumbles backward, trips, and falls on his ass.

Jonghyun and Key burst into laughter, Minho grins, and even Taemin—the traitor—hides a smile behind his hand.

*

Onew heads toward the bedroom in search of his mp3 player, and walks in on Jonghyun and Key. Who are shirtless. Very, very shirtless. He slaps a hand over his eyes, but the long stretches of smooth, bare skin, the curve of Jonghyun's hip, the swell of Key's breasts, they're all burned into his mind's eye forever.

"Oh my God, don't you guys lock the door?" he demands, his voice cracking badly.

"Sorry, hyung," Jonghyun says sheepishly, "We're just trying to help each other put on our bras. You wouldn't believe how annoying these things are—"

"Yes, but can you please stop being indecent now?" Onew asks, hands still firmly over eyes.

There is the sound of brief shuffling, and Onew jerks in surprise when someone pats his cheek lightly.

"Aww, our fearless leader is so innocent," Key says, and Onew realizes with a numbing horror that Key is standing right in front of him, "Look, Jonghyun-ah, he's blushing!"

"Just so you know, Kibum's still shirtless," Jonghyun says.

"I know," Onew whimpers.

*

"Well, apparently there's nothing to worry about," their manager says placidly, "This is nothing new. Management says you guys should be back to normal in two weeks or so, three at most. It'll stall your promotional activities for a little bit, but think of it as a nice vacation."

"Wait, wait, nothing new?" Onew is still trying to comprehend that part. "This has happened before?"

Their manager shrugs. "Apparently it's happened a few times among the members of Super Junior and Dong Bang Shin Ki. Obviously, they kept it a pretty well-guarded secret. No one really knows why it happens, but they always go back to normal after a while. They did say that they've never had more than one person turn female at a time, though, so you two are the first."

"Yay for us," Jonghyun says dully.

"Dong Bang Shin Ki and Super Junior sunbaenim? Seriously?" Key asks.

Onew's brain morbidly tries to picture Yunho in a skirt and fails.

*

Onew is having trouble adjusting to the fact that two of his bandmates have suddenly turned into very, very attractive girls. What makes it worse is that Jonghyun-and-Key-as-girls somehow still look like Jonghyun-and-Key-as-guys. Except smaller, and curvier. Their behavior doesn't make it any easier, either.

Key is aggressively flirtatious as a girl. She runs her tongue across her bottom lip and winks and blows kisses and flutters her eyelashes at the other members, just because she can. She does it the most to Onew, though, because Taemin just blinks and smiles and Minho is stoic, as usual. And also because Key apparently finds it hysterical that Onew blushes every time.

Jonghyun, on the other hand, has no idea what she's doing. She grabs Onew's hand and leans against him on the couch and props her chin on his shoulder—exactly the way he did as a guy—not realizing that doing such things now is highly inappropriate and exponentially more awkward.

Onew can't decide which is worse, honestly.

*

"Do you trust me?" Minho murmurs into Key's ear.

"I trust you," Key whispers, leaning back against Minho's body. Slowly, they raise their arms up and out, facing the imaginary wind.

"Our turn, our turn!" Jonghyun shrieks, grabbing Taemin's arm.

"What?" Key demands, her eyes snapping open, "The scene isn't even over yet!"

"Well, you make a terrible Rose," Jonghyun shoots back, "Besides, you guys already acted out the drowning scene."

Key looks like she's going to throw a fit; Minho puts a placating hand on her shoulder. Jonghyun quickly steers Taemin to one side of the living room and skips to the opposite end.

"Taemin-ah!" Jonghyun shouts, cupping her hands to her mouth, "Can you hear me?" Taemin waves his arms frantically over his head in response.

"Of course he can hear you, you're screaming like a banshee," Key says witheringly.

Jonghyun ignores the comment. "Taemin-ah! I'm really sorry, I can't help it," she sobs, "Taemin-ah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't help it. I thought I was different, but I'm just a helpless girl. Taemin-ah! I'm sorry…" She makes loud crying noises into her hands.

"You're not even letting Taemin-ah act! All he's doing is waving his arms around," Key complains, scowling.

"That's because he's on the other mountain," Jonghyun explains.

"There is no mountain," Key deadpans, and chucks a pillow at Jonghyun's head.

Jonghyun shrieks when it nails her on the forehead and frantically pats her hair down.

Onew wants to curl up into a ball and die. He thinks that the others are adapting to this girl thing way too easily.

*

"How do you two, you know," Onew flaps his arms around in a way that completely fails to get his point across, watching Jonghyun and Key cuddle on the couch and whisper to each other.

"Um, what?" Minho asks.

"You know. Act normal," Onew clarifies.

Minho blinks and shrugs. "It's still Jonghyun hyung and Kibum. And they'll be back to normal soon. There's no need to act any differently."

"Yeah, but," Onew says, still watching as Key says something that makes Jonghyun giggle into her shoulder, "You know. They're girls." He turns to face Minho, who is studying him carefully. "Uh, do I have something on my face?"

"Be careful, hyung," is all Minho says.

Onew isn't really sure what he means.

*

"Do you think we can still sing?" Key asks.

Jonghyun looks horrified that the thought never occurred to her any sooner, and clears her throat. "Everybody do like ibam youngwonhal deut—" she sings, a little hesitantly, and stops. Everyone stares.

"Finish the verse," Key says.

Jonghyun sings the rest of the first verse, with Key joining in halfway. There is a brief silence.

"Wow!" Taemin exclaims.

"We sound so kickass," says Key, awed.

"I could totally get into Sonyuh Shidae and take lead vocal from Taeyeon noona!" Jonghyun beams.

"I'm pretty sure Taeyeon noona would kick your ass if she heard that," Onew tells her.

"Hey, hey," Key says excitedly, scrambling to her feet and tugging Jonghyun up with her, "Let's do our songs!"

"Oppa neomoo meotjyeo, michyeo," they sing in unison, "Replay, replay, replay..." They dance along to the lyrics, with Key adding a lot more body waves to the choreography than strictly necessary.

Not that Onew is watching, or anything.

*

"Hey, come here," Key says while she and Jonghyun are sitting on the living room floor sorting the presents from fans—care packages have been flooding in ever since it got out that Jonghyun and Key were "sick"—and beckons with a hand.

At first, Onew thinks she's talking to him, but Key is looking at Jonghyun.

"Eh?" Jonghyun scoots over to sit next to Key.

Key reaches forward and puts a hand directly on Jonghyun's breast. Jonghyun blinks. Onew chokes on his water.

"Hm, I knew it," Key says, frowning, and oh my God she's patting it, "Your boobs are definitely bigger than mine. That's not fair at all."

And then after dinner, Taemin is on the computer showing everyone a funny fan entry on IPLE. Key leans forward against the table to get a better look at the monitor. Jonghyun slaps her ass, hard. Key shrieks, and everyone turns to stare at Jonghyun.

"What?" Jonghyun shrugs. "It was right there."

There are other things, too, like the way they hold hands and curl up on the couch together and sit on each other's laps all the time, even more than they did before.

Onew isn't sure if these kinds of things are normal girl things, or if they're just Jonghyun-and-Key things, the way everything else seems to be. He's not jealous, exactly, because he has absolutely no desire to be in a female body—it sounds incredibly uncomfortable—but, well, this is another thing Onew doesn't get to be a part of.

Another inside joke, another shared experience that Onew never gets to understand.

*

Onew is trying to solve a Sudoku puzzle at the kitchen table when he hears someone approach.

"Hyung, can you look at this melody and see if it sounds okay?" Jonghyun asks, leaning across the table toward him and holding out several music sheets.

"Sure," Onew says, jotting down one last number, and looks up—giving him a perfect view down Jonghyun's shirt. "I—Gah." He squeezes his eyes shut.

"What? Oh, shit. Sorry!" she exclaims.

When Onew dares to open his eyes, Jonghyun is standing straight again, blush visible even beneath her darker complexion.

"Uh, I didn't—" she begins.

"N-no, it's okay. Don't worry about it," he cuts in.

"Um. Okay, then."

"Right."

"I—I'll just go now," Jonghyun says, and hurries out the room, music sheets still clutched in hand.

*

Onew sits down on the couch next to Key and blinks, looking around. Something smells good. Sweet, kind of like vanilla. Why would it—

He stares at her. "Are you wearing perfume?" he asks.

"Yeah, just something I picked up at the mall," she says absently, clicking something on her laptop, "Do you like it?"

Onew leans in hesitantly for a closer sniff. It smells nice, really nice. Definitely vanilla, mixed with other things. Something spicy, maybe, and something fruity. Or even flowers, but he can't really tell. It's warm and rich and soft and sweet, and he kind of wants to just curl up in it and breathe it forever.

"Hyung?" Key asks, her voice sounding a little funny.

Onew blinks and realizes that his face is practically buried in her neck. His face gets hot and he quickly sits up, careful not to look at her.

"It smells okay," he says, clearing his throat.

*

"Hey, Jonghyun," Key says, passing the bean sprouts across the table and scooping more rice into Taemin's bowl, "Did you know that girls who've lived together for a long time start to have synchronized periods?"

Minho, reaching for the kimchi, stops with his arm extended in midair. Taemin swallows hard, looking paler than usual. Onew is at a loss for words.

"And apparently, whichever girl gets her period first is the ‘alpha' female of the group," Key finishes.

Taemin sinks down a little in his seat, and Minho visibly winces. Onew is frantically trying to think of a way to derail this conversation, but his Onew Condition is failing when he needs it most.

Jonghyun smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Well, then. I'm obviously going to get mine before you, since I'm the dominant one in our relationship."

Key scowls at her. "What? No way, I definitely am—"

"This is not appropriate dinner conversation, you guys!" Onew finally screeches, slamming his hands down on the kitchen table. Jonghyun and Key blink at him.

*

Of course when Jonghyun and Key actually do get their periods, they get them on the same exact day.

They are moody and irritable, and very liable to lash at anyone they perceive may have offended them in any way. That is, everybody in the world except Taemin. But no one else is ever at the dorm, and they seem to feel bad about being too mean to Minho, so Onew effectively gets the full brunt of their PMS-fueled rage.

It's been a hellish three days. Onew has taken to doing all the chores in the apartment, because Minho and Taemin have school and need to study, and Jonghyun and Key do nothing but lounge around on the couch and watch TV. Onew doesn't dare ask them to help out, not since the time Key threw a fit about how I always does the work around here and I'm tired and sore and in pain and all I want is a break for a few days, is that really too much to ask, you selfish pig and broke down into tears, and Jonghyun berated him for making Kibum cry, I can't believe you, what is wrong with you, you insensitive ass. In fact, Onew hasn't dared to initiate a conversation with them at all for the past three days, and generally tries to avoid them, if possible. It works most of the time.

"Hyung!" he hears Key call from the living room. Onew shuffles toward the pair stretched out on the couch, trying to ignore the cold dread settling in his stomach.

"We're both really craving chocolate," Jonghyun begins, her hand clasped tightly in Key's, "Can you go buy some for us." It doesn't sound like a question at all.

Against his own sense of self-preservation, Onew tries to protest. "B-but it's past eleven! You want chocolate now?"

"… Yes." Jonghyun and Key stare at him like he's an imbecile.

"But I was planning on going to bed soon, and you guys know we're not allowed out of the dorm alone after nine! What if manager hyung finds out? What if a fan recognizes me?"

"Well, then I guess you'll have to be fast about it," Key says. Her voice is sugary sweet, but her eyes promise all sorts of death and destruction if Onew doesn't obey.

Onew tries not to cry.

*

Onew stares at the shelves stocked with thousands of different kinds of chocolate and tries not to have a panic attack. He'd never even realized chocolate could vary so much. What is he supposed to buy? He has no idea what brands Jonghyun and Key like. Oh God oh God, they'll slaughter him if he gets the wrong kind.

He takes two bars at random off the shelf. One has raspberry filling, and the other is dark chocolate with coffee beans. He grabs a third, which contains almonds. He tries to remember if Jonghyun and Key like almonds. There are bars with numbers too, 60% and 70% and 85% and 99% in big bold type, though Onew really has no idea what they mean. He gets the feeling that it really shouldn't be this hard.

*

Onew holds his breath as he watches Jonghyun and Key rifle through the grocery bag.

After much debate, he decided to buy twenty bars of chocolate, just to cover all the bases, which cost all of his pocket money for the rest of the week. Then the cashier at the convenience store ended up recognizing him, and he escaped only after he autographed a napkin and took a million pictures with her on her phone. And then a group of stalker fans found him, and he had to run five blocks just to shake them off. And then he got lost, because he hadn't really been paying attention to where he'd been running, so he wandered around for half an hour asking for directions, and passed by some seriously sketchy-looking areas—Onew's pretty sure he got propositioned twice—before he finally managed to find his way back home. He's exhausted, his feet hurt, and he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep.

"White chocolate!" Jonghyun crows in triumph, holding up a bar of Lindt, "And chocolate with caramel filling!"

"Dark chocolate is mine," Key says, clutching a bar of Dove to her chest, "And oh, Toblerone!" She rescues a triangular bar from the fray.

Onew sinks into a chair with deep relief and tries not to fall asleep at the table then and there. He freezes when Jonghyun and Key rush over to throw their arms around his neck.

"Thank you, hyung! You're the best," Jonghyun says, beaming.

"Thank you, Jinki hyung," Key coos, and presses a kiss to his cheek.

And then they're both gone, hurrying into the living room with their newly acquired goods. Onew blinks and wonders what the hell just happened.

*

Onew knows something is wrong as soon as he walks into the members' shared room. Jonghyun is curled up in a tight ball on Minho's bed, face buried against her knees. She doesn't even look up when Onew crosses the room to sit hesitantly next to her. He knows better than to try and push her, so he waits until she's ready to talk.

After a few minutes, Jonghyun lifts her head and glances at him. "Sorry, hyung. I just—" she says, and breaks off. She furrows her eyebrows and scowls, exactly the way Jonghyun-as-a-boy did when he was trying really hard not to cry. "I-I'm just so tired of this. I mean, at first it was weird, and then it was kind of funny, but now. My stomach hurts, a-and I'm moody all the time, I can't help it, I swear. And, and, my body just doesn't feel right, you know? And I can't even tell Kibum any of this, because he's been having so much fun with it. I-I just want to be a guy again." She says it all in a rush, like she's been holding the words back for a long time.

She looks so miserable and sad that Onew just wants to hug her, but he's not quite sure how to do that without touching anything inappropriate, so he settles for an awkward pat on the arm. He instinctively tenses up when she flings her arms around his neck and cries, but forces himself to relax and slowly rubs her back.

"I-it's okay." Onew pulls away a little to peer into Jonghyun's face. "You heard manager hyung. He said you guys would be back to normal soon. It's only a few more days, right? You'll get through it."

Jonghyun nods, sniffling. "I'm sorry, hyung, I got your shirt all wet."

"It's fine," Onew says. Without really thinking about it, he slides his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping the tears away. Jonghyun's face is red from crying, and he suddenly realizes how close their faces are. She is watching him with wide eyes, her lips parted.

Onew swallows and looks away.

*

Onew lays out the bowls and chopsticks on the table while Key fries dumplings for lunch. When he's done, he leans against the wall and watches her, smiling. He finds it kind of cute, the way Key putters around the kitchen. She looks the same as before, really—the same red apron, the same spatula in hand. The only difference is the way her long hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. He watches as Key reaches for the soy sauce on an upper shelf and laughs at the consternation on the younger member's face when she realizes that she can't reach.

Key whips her head around and scowls at him. "Hyung!"

"Sorry, sorry." Onew walks over and reaches above her to grab the soy sauce.

She smiles up at him, and Onew realizes that while Key-as-a-boy was around his height, maybe even a centimeter or so taller, Key-as-a-girl has to tilt her head back just to look Onew in the eye. "Thanks, hyung," she says, taking the bottle. Key's hand is smaller than before, and softer, smoother. Onew kind of wants to run his thumb across her palm. And he wants to tuck the loose bits of hair that fell out of her ponytail behind her ear.

Onew's pretty sure he shouldn't be feeling this way.

*

Onew walks in on Jonghyun and Key shirtless again, except this time they definitely aren't helping each other put on their bras. If anything, they're helping each other take them off. His heart sinks.

"Oh, hyung!" Jonghyun exclaims breathlessly. She reaches for her shirt and pulls it on. Key just crosses her arms and watches him, expressionless.

Onew looks away quickly. "Sorry about that, um, I guess I should have known— I mean, I'll, yeah, sorry, I'll just go—"

"'You should've known'? What do you mean?" Jonghyun asks, sounding curious.

"Well, you know, you two are always—" Onew gestures uselessly, keeping his gaze rooted to the floor, "I mean, you've always been kind of been, you know, and lately you two are always. Um, I mean I guess I should've figured it out—"

"Hyung," Key says, "You're babbling."

Jonghyun laughs. "Are you jealous?" she asks, sounding incredulous.

"What? No, no, of course not. T-there's no reason for me to be jealous," Onew protests, but he can feel the blush creeping across his cheeks, over his entire face.

"Hyung," Jonghyun says, and oh, Onew doesn't know how she moved across the room that fast, but suddenly she's very much invading Onew's private space. She wraps her thin arms around Onew's neck and smiles prettily. "If you wanted to join us, all you had to do was ask."

A second pair of arms wraps around Onew's waist from behind, and a very warm, very soft body presses flush against his back.

"Yeah," Key murmurs, her breath warm against Onew's ear, "Oppa."

"Oppa," Jonghyun chimes in, standing on tiptoes to whisper the word centimeters from Onew's lips. A second pair of lips—Key's—presses an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw, hot and wet.

"Guh," Onew says.

*

Jonghyun suddenly sits upright in bed and narrows her eyes down at Onew. Onew blinks.

"Was this just because we had boobs and stuff?" she demands.

Onew blushes. "Um. No, no, that's not it. I think… I think I've always sort of, you know—" He waves his arms around helplessly.

"Oh," Jonghyun says, and looks satisfied.

"But why me? I mean, um, not that this wasn't really good and everything—"

"I think we've both always sort of, you know, too," Jonghyun grins.

"Oh," Onew says. He feels stupid, embarrassed, and ridiculously pleased all at once. "Oh, well that's okay, then."

"Are you two done? I need my beauty sleep," Key says, but Onew can feel her lips curve into a smile against his collarbone.

"Sorry, Key-goon," Jonghyun says, squeezing Key's hand against Onew's hip.

"Sorry, Kibum-ah," Onew repeats, tightening his arm around Key's waist.

Key burrows closer to his chest and sighs contentedly.

*

A few days later, Onew is jerked violently from his precious sleep by the sound of a boy shrieking. He groans when a human-sized weight suddenly lands on top of him.

"Hyung, this is important," Jonghyun shouts, grabbing Onew by the shoulders and shaking him hard, "I have a dick again!"

"I can hear that," Onew mumbles, his head flopping back and forth, eyes still closed.

Jonghyun suddenly stops shaking him, and Onew's eyes fly open when Jonghyun crushes their lips together. He struggles, but Jonghyun has a firm grip on him, and he slowly relaxes into the kiss.

"You guys!" Key shrieks—Onew dimly registers that he's back to normal too—and pulls Jonghyun off him, "Think of the children."

Onew turns his head, and sure enough, Minho and Taemin are sitting up in Taemin's bed. Minho has his hands firmly clamped over Taemin's eyes as he watches them, his nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Sorry," Jonghyun says, grinning and generally not looking very sorry at all, "I just wanted to check to make sure that this was still okay. Since we have dicks again and stuff." He looks down at Onew expectantly.

Onew clears his throat. "Yeah, it's okay," he says, sure that his face is pink.

Key is looking at him with a funny expression, and then is suddenly bending down and kissing him too. It's all getting very confusing, but it feels really nice, so Onew doesn't stop him.

"Kibum!" Jonghyun mocks in a high-pitched voice, "Think of the children!"

"Can you please just let us get out of here first?" Minho asks.

*****

A/N: Uh, I will come right out and say it. A big part of the motivation for this story was because I wanted Onew with two girls. *shot* Even better when the girls are actually Key and Jonghyun. Because the idea of Onew being a pimp was ridiculous and hysterical to me and I could not resist.

Cookies if you can tell what movies Key and Minho and Jonghyun and Taemin were acting out. :D Or maybe not. They're both pretty easy.

The bit with the "alpha female" with the menstrual cycles and all is true, I think. Or at least that's what my roommate tells me.

And if the perfume thing with Onew seems overexaggerated, it isn't, not really. Some of my guy friends react really strongly to my perfume sometimes. :||||

parthenope_sing @ 2008-11-12T02:30:00

2008-11-12T07:39:37Z

Fifteen, Not Five
SHINee - 2Min
448 words; G
Taemin has a favorite hyung.

Taemin has the best hyungs in the entire world, but if he had to choose, Minho hyung would be his favorite. (He would never ever say it though, because Kibum hyung would call him an ungrateful son and Jonghyun hyung would whine and Jinki hyung would pout, and then they would all laugh, but they’d be secretly offended, a little. And Taemin doesn’t want to hurt their feelings, not when they always take such good care of him.)

Minho is the best best hyung, not because he takes care of Taemin—although he does—but because he listens, really listens, to what Taemin has to say, and takes Taemin’s opinions seriously. He doesn’t treat Taemin like a five year-old, not the way the other hyungs sometimes do. But most of all, Taemin likes the way Minho distracts Kibum when Taemin starts to feel too smothered, the way Minho steers Jonghyun away when Taemin is too tired to deal with the coddling, the way Minho squeezes his hand and smiles encouragingly when the interviewers are a little too condescending. He likes how Minho just seems to understand him without words.

Minho is that intuitive with everyone, because he’s really just that observant, that kind, but Taemin likes to think that Minho knows him best. And he likes to think that he knows Minho best, too.

Taemin knows he’s too young, he knows he’s only fifteen and doesn’t really know anything about life, about love. But sometimes it feels like love, it really, really does.

"I heard your broadcast today," Taemin says, ducking his head and feeling a blush creep up his cheeks, "Thank you, hyung."

Minho blinks and his lips curve into that gentle smile Taemin loves so much. (Love, it has to be love, doesn’t it?)

"You know I meant it, right?" he asks, leaning in to put his hands on Taemin’s shoulders, his voice soft and warm and low.

And more than anything, Taemin wants to say, Yes, I know. Of course it’s you, hyung, always, only you. But that’d be too much, too weird, and Minho hyung might hate him forever. And he doesn’t think he could handle that. So instead Taemin beams and says,

"Of course! You’re my only Flaming Charisma hyung, after all!"

Minho’s face flickers with something that could be disappointment, or amusement, or affection, or could be anything, really, and he pulls away.

"Come on, Taemin-ah, let’s go to dinner," he says, grabbing Taemin’s hand.

Taemin nods and follows Minho’s lead as usual, shyly tightening his grip on Minho’s hand.

For a second, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, Minho feels the same way too, and the thought makes his heart pound.

****

A/N: Uh, very spur-of-the-moment. Because I didn't want to write my poem for class. Because I'm masochistic and dangerously low on sleep.

*dies* Idek. Might write one from Minho's perspective later if I'm bored enough. :|||

parthenope_sing @ 2008-11-06T23:47:00

2008-11-07T04:57:24Z

It's the Condition
SHINee - Onkey
200 words; G
Whatever he does, it's the Onew Condition~
Written for shineeworld , prompt #8: disaster. Because the prompt was clearly made for Onew.

When you first met him, he introduced himself and stuttered over his own name, as if he’d forgotten it for a second. Then he cracked a really lame joke about bread hitting walls. You stared at him, thinking he couldn’t possibly be serious, and there was a short pause until you realized he’d been waiting for you to laugh.

Then you’d found out that he was going to be in your group, that he was going to be the leader. You couldn’t believe he was two years older than you.

You watched him trip over his own feet, walk into doors, make stupid puns, space out during important conversations, and you were convinced he had to be faking it. There was no way anyone could act like that without it being completely intentional.

Except now you know he isn’t, because he still makes stupid faces when he thinks no one is looking. Because he’s a terrible liar, a terrible actor.

He’s probably the clumsiest, weirdest, lamest, most awkward person you know, but he’s so kind and earnest and well-meaning and, well, that smile—it’s hard to dislike him.

And, you hate to admit it, but you’re a little bit charmed.

*****

A/N: About the "bread hitting walls" bit, I'm referring to this pun:

What is the sound that bread makes when it hits the wall?
빵 (bbang)! (빵 is the Korean word for "bread".)

LAME, I KNOW.

parthenope_sing @ 2008-10-27T01:51:00

2008-10-27T06:00:06Z

Connect
SHINee - gen, maybe pre-Onkey
717 words; PG
Onew tries too hard to be the perfect leader.

Jinki tries, he really does, but the tears won’t stop coming.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he mutters, pressing his palms frantically against his eyes.

He wants to be a good leader so badly, but he still freezes up during interviews, still runs out of things to say, still trips over his own two feet, leaving the other members to cover up for him. He feels useless. How on Earth is he supposed to lead his four members when he can barely manage his own life as it is? He doesn’t know why SM decided to put a screw-up like him in charge.

Jinki sighs, turning his head to look at himself in the full-length mirror. He looks absolutely pathetic, crouched on the bathroom floor with red, swollen eyes.

"Hyung?" He hears a voice call faintly, and footsteps.

Damn. Well, it’s too late to hide his tears now. He hopes that it’s Minho, with his silent comfort, or Jonghyun, with his easy companionship, or Taemin, with his sweet smile and surprising maturity, anyone except—

The door opens, and Kibum’s head appears in the doorway.

—well, Kibum.

"Hyu—oh, not this again." Kibum steps into the bathroom and crosses his arms. "What is it now?"

Jinki looks away. It’s not that he and Kibum don’t get along, because they’re friends, they really are. But Jinki just never seemed to quite click with him, not the way he did at some point with Jonghyun and Taemin and Minho. And sometimes, Jinki can’t help but get the feeling that no matter how hard he tries, he never quite manages to impress the younger boy.

"N-nothing." His voice is still a little shaky. Jinki clears his throat and tries again. "It’s nothing. Sorry, let’s go." He stands up, and swipes the back of his hand against his eyes one last time.

"Your nose is all runny," Kibum says flatly. When Jinki doesn’t respond, he sighs, and goes into the nearest bathroom stall to pull out a long sheet of toilet paper. He wads it up and hands it to Jinki. "Here. Blow your nose. And wash your face." He watches as Jinki obeys, looking a little intimidated. He isn’t trying to be bossy, he really isn’t, but... Well, Kibum knows about how Jinki used to do this before, but he never had to deal with it himself. He doesn’t really know what to do.

"Sorry," Jinki mutters, patting his face dry with a paper towel. He turns to leave the bathroom.

"Wait. I mean, look," Kibum blurts out, reaching out to grab Jinki’s shoulder and spin him back around, "I don’t know why you get so upset about this. It’s okay to make little mistakes here and there."

"I know." Jinki is staring at the ground.

"No, you don’t. Hyung, no one expects you to be the perfect leader." Oh God, this is so awkward, because he and Jinki never talk like this, never talk about doubts and fears and serious things, but he needs to make Jinki understand. "I mean—okay. Well. So like, the thing is, even if you mess up sometimes—Jonghyun, Taemin, Minho, they still love you, and they’d be willing to follow you anywhere." Kibum fidgets and looks away. "And I would too," he finishes quietly.

All of a sudden, his cuticles are very fascinating, and Kibum stares at them intently. His nails are getting kind of long, and he should really cut them soon. He has a hangnail on his index finger. Oh God oh God, awkward. He can feel Jinki’s eyes studying his face.

A hand reaches out and clasps his own, and Kibum glances up. Jinki is smiling—not his usual sunny grin, but a slow, sweet smile that makes Kibum’s heart ache.

"Thank you. Kibum," he says.

"Yeah, yeah," Kibum replies, and adjusts his hand so that their fingers lace together. Jinki’s palm is warm against his own. "Let’s go back to practice, okay?"

(When Jinki and Kibum make their way back to the practice room, the other members are waiting for them. Taemin smiles, Jonghun stands and stretches, and Minho nods. And if they notice their leader’s red, puffy eyes, or the way Jinki’s and Kibum’s hands are still locked together—it’s difficult not to—then, well, they don’t say a word.)

*****

A/N: Inspired by two things:
- part of Onew's thank yous on their first album: "And also the rest of the members Jonghyun, Kibum, Minho, and Taemin. I love you all so much and thanks for following a leader like hyung who lacks a lot." (Cr. soompi)
- Apparently before debut, Onew used to cry a lot in the bathroom during practice because he thought he wasn't as good as the others, and that they were getting better and he wasn't improving at all. (Again, soompi.)

I don't know. Those things kind of broke my heart, and I had to fic it. In spite of my Onkey bias, I actually wasn't going to use Key as the one who finds Onew in the bathroom at first. I think it was originally going to be Jonghyun, but I decided to use the member who'd make for the most awkward interaction, and, well, that would be Key.

parthenope_sing @ 2008-10-13T23:52:00

2008-10-14T04:15:36Z

Courtship, and How to Suck at It
SHINee - Onkey
1790 words; PG?
In which Onew fails at subtlety, Key doesn't care, and Jonghyun hates his life so very, very much.

Tuesday, 7:08 AM

"So I was thinking," Onew says in what he seems to think is a very nonchalant manner, "Since we’re the, you know, mom and dad of the group, maybe we should spend more time together." He leans oh-so-casually against the kitchen countertop and looks expectantly at Key.

Taemin looks up from his cereal and blinks. Minho sips his orange juice and turns a page in his book.

Jonghyun stares, because oh my God this cannot actually be happening.

Key continues stirring the eggs over the stove. "I don’t think so," he replies absently, grabbing a shaker to add a dash of salt, "We’re all with each other twenty four-seven. How much more time could we really spend together?" He turns the stove off. "Hey, can you move for a sec, the eggs are done."

Onew visibly deflates, but scoots over to make room for Key. "What I mean is," he tries again, "Maybe we should spend more time alone together."

"Yeah yeah, sure," Key says, bustling past Onew. He sets the plate of eggs down at the kitchen table. "Eat up, you guys. Remember, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

Jonghyun very carefully scoots his chair back and starts to bang his head against the kitchen table.

"Um, hyung...?" Taemin asks, sounding hesitant.

"I’m fine," Jonghyun answers, nose squashed against the table, "It’s just that, I kind of realized what a turn for the tragic my life has taken."

"Stop being such a drama queen," says Key.

*

Wednesday, 2:25 PM

"Kibum! I got your drink," says Onew, beaming. He tosses a bottle of water at Key, who catches it.

"Hyung, where’s my drink?" Taemin asks.

Onew looks at him blankly.

"And mine," Jonghyun chimes in. "And Minho’s," he adds when it becomes obvious that Minho is not going to contribute.

There is a long pause.

"Yah! You forgot their drinks? What kind of leader are you?" Key chucks his bottle at Onew, who, lacking any sort of athletic ability whatsoever, fumbles and drops it. "Don’t come back until you have something for everyone!"

Onew, properly chastised, shuffles out the door.

"So cruel," Jonghyun comments.

Key rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer.

*

Thursday, 7:49 AM

"Soooo sleepyyyy," Key mumbles, climbing into the backseat of the van after Jonghyun. He loops an arm through Jonghyun’s, pillows his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder, and immediately falls asleep.

"Um, Kibum?" Onew asks, turning around in the seat in front of them.

"Mmmwhuh?" Key stirs, lifting his head to peer at the older boy.

Onew fidgets. "Uh, you left your mic on the countertop. I know how much you like having it, and I thought you might want it for recording today, so I brought it for you." He offers the aluminum foil microphone meekly.

"Hm? Oh. Thanks," Key snatches it from Onew’s hand and settles back down against Jonghyun.

Jonghyun glances at Onew’s kicked puppy expression.

It would almost be funny, actually, if it wasn’t so very, very sad.

*

Friday, 10:02 PM

"I’ve just finished watching Explorers of the Human Body," Onew announces.

Jonghyun glances up from his laptop. "Good… job?"

"All the respect in the world to our sunbaes, of course," continues Onew, ignoring Jonghyun, "But, but… Yehsung hyung kind of fails at life. And his voice isn’t that great, and, and—I don’t see what’s so awesome about him." He crosses his arms.

Jonghyun stares. "But you fail at life," he says.

"Your mom fails at life," Onew sulks.

*

Saturday, 5:38 PM

"You’re so beautiful… to me," Onew sings in English, eyes fixed on Key.

"Yes yes, we know you have a nice voice. Pipe down, I’m trying to watch TV," Key says.

Jonghyun tries not to cry.

*

Sunday, 3:11 PM

"I’m a puzzle," Onew says, wrapping his arm around Key’s shoulders.

Key stares at him blankly.

Jonghyun is watching them from across the room. He wishes that he isn’t, but it’s like watching a train wreck happen—in spite of the imminent disaster, it’s hard to tear his eyes away.

"And baby, you’re the only one who can unlock me," Onew finishes with a huge grin.

Key keeps staring, and Onew’s grin falters a little. The younger boy slides away from Onew and crosses the room to sit on the couch next to Jonghyun.

"The Onew sangtae is in full effect today," Key hisses to him in what is probably supposed to be a whisper, but his voice travels across the room and reaches the leader. Onew looks absolutely crestfallen.

Jonghyun thinks that if this goes on any longer, he is actually going to go insane.

*

"Oh my God, please please please do something about him. I think I’m actually going to go insane," Jonghyun says, flopping down on his bed.

"Stop whining, it’s not attractive," Key asks, straightening the edges of the blanket on Taemin’s bed. "And I actually have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Bullshit," Jonghyun tells him. "You’re not that stupid, despite all evidence to the contrary."

"Now that was just uncalled for," Key huffs, moving on to Minho’s bed, "I will have you know that I am an intelligent person with a deeply philosophical mind—"

"Look," Jonghyun cuts in, ignoring his friend, "I don’t know why you’ve been pretending that you don’t notice. If you just said something, it would put us all out of our misery. I mean, unless, unless—" A truly terrifying thought is starting to take shape in his mind, and it won’t go away. "Oh. Oh, ew."

"What is it now?"

"You like it. You like that he flirts with you!" Key’s head snaps up to stare at Jonghyun.

"What? No, of course not."

"You actually like that he follows you around," Jonghyun continues, undeterred, "and says weird pickup lines and falls all over himself trying to please you, and and—"

"And I already said I don’t, so would you please shut up about it?" Key asks, an edge to his voice, his fingers drumming against the bedpost. Jonghyun has never seen his friend look so tense before in his life, barring their debut, and that could only mean—

The horrifying entirety of the truth finally hits Jonghyun with the force of a concrete brick, and he points an accusatory finger at Key.

"Oh my God. You like him!"

"What? No. No. No!" Key exclaims, waving his arms in denial.

"You’re lying! You like him!"

"No. No, I don’t!" Key’s voice is taking on a tone of deep, deep panic, and Jonghyun swoops in for the kill.

"That’s why you act like a bitch to him half the time! To cover it up! You like Lee Jinki!"

"No!" Key wails, burying his face in his hands.

Jonghyun watches his best friend’s breakdown in awe.

"You having a thing for Dubu, of all people. Who would’ve thought?" he marvels, sitting down on the bed next to Key, who has curled up into a tight ball of pathetic teenage boy. He reaches over to grab Key’s hand and intertwines their fingers together. "Hey, don’t worry about it so much. There are worse people in the world to like than him, I guess."

"Like who?" Key’s voice comes out muffled against Minho’s comforter. Jonghyun pauses.

"Well, at least Jinki hyung is a nice guy," he amends.

Key whimpers.

Jonghyun grins and pokes his friend in the ribs. "So, what do you find attractive about hyung? Is it the emo bangs? Is it his natural grace and elegance? Is it the Donald Duck impressions? Is it the Onew sangtae?"

"I hate my life," Key says.

Onew, with flawless timing, chooses this moment to burst into the room. He steps on a stray sock, slips, stumbles, and grabs the doorknob just in time to pull himself upright with a sunny grin. Jonghyun and Key stare. "Hey, guys! Did someone call for me a few minutes ago?"

"No, no one said your name, hyung," Key answers automatically at the same time Jonghyun replies, "Yes, actually, we were just talking about you." Key turns to glare at Jonghyun.

Onew frowns. "Uh, wait, what? I don’t get it. Is something wrong?"

"No, everything’s fine," Key replies at the same time Jonghyun says, "Yes, there’s a small problem."

There is a long, awkward silence, in which Key tries to crush the bones of Jonghyun’s hand with his grip, and Jonghyun beams up at Onew.

"You guys? You’re weirding me out even more than usual. What’s going on?" Onew asks.

"Um," Key says. He shoots Jonghyun a Look, one that says oh dear God don’t you dare do this to me or so help me I will—

"Is that Minho I hear calling for me?" Jonghyun asks brightly, yanking his hand from Key’s grasp. "Gotta go, bye!" He hurries past Onew out the door.

"Minho never even talks!" Key shrieks after him.

Jonghyun snickers.

*

"I hate you so much," Key says later that night.

"Aww, you love me," Jonghyun coos, petting Key's cheek. There is a figure sneaking up behind Key in a terrible attempt at ninja-like stealth.

"Hyung, I can hear you," Key says.

Onew pouts, but slips his arms around Key’s waist anyway. "Hi, honey," he says with a truly nauseating grin, and pecks Key on the cheek. Key makes a face and wriggles out of Onew’s arms, but the tips of his ears are red.

Jonghyun rolls his eyes. "You two disgust me," he informs them, "I clearly need new friends."

*

(There is, of course, the inevitable Coming Out to the rest of the band, but it ends up being much more anti-climactic than anyone had expected.

"Oh, we knew it’d happen eventually," Taemin says, blinking.

"W-wait, you knew? Wha—when—how?" Key splutters, waving his arms around in dismay. Onew ducks to avoid being decapitated by the ruler in Key’s hand.

Taemin tilts his head to the side and purses his lips in thought. "Well, I guessed, but I wasn’t really sure, so I asked Minho hyung about it," he amends.

Key whirls to look at Minho, who shrugs.

"B-but that guy didn’t even know!" Key exclaims, pointing his ruler at Jonghyun.

Minho stares at him. "Yes," he says slowly, as if to a five-year old, "but Jonghyun hyung isn’t very smart."—"Hey!" Jonghyun yelps, and sulks when no one pays attention to him—"and you two weren’t exactly subtle."

Key looks mortified, and Jonghyun is afraid that there is going to be more arm flailing.

Onew obviously feels the same, because he very carefully plucks the ruler out of Key’s fist and puts a placating hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "Kibum-ah," he starts, "It’s okay, don’t be—"

Key flings himself at Taemin. "My son is so observant!" he wails, crushing the magnae’s head against his chest.

"Um," Minho says.)

*****

A/N: For some reason I feel like I've read somewhere that Key admires Yehsung a lot? Except I can't remember where I read this from.

parthenope_sing @ 2008-06-13T01:23:00

2008-06-13T05:33:35Z

A Trillion Miles
SuJu - Hyukhae
2557 words; PG, I guess
China and Korea are very far away from each other.

Donghae has been away at vocal and dance practice a lot lately to get ready for Super Junior M’s debut. When he is around, he either looks exhausted or has his nose buried in a Chinese-Korean dictionary, and Hyukjae feels bad bothering him.

Half of the dorm is suddenly speaking in broken Chinese, substituting gege for hyung in regular conversation, calling each other Shiyuan and Hangeng and Lixu and Guixian and Donghai. Donghae has taken to occasionally calling Hyukjae Yinhe, because, he explains, “Wo men yao practice for when we’re in Zhong Guo. Our fans need to understand wo men shuo de hua! Xie xie! Dui bu qi? Da jia hao. Wo ai ni! Wo ting bu dong. Jia you! Yi er san si wu liu qi ba jiu shi. Wo shi Donghai!”

Hyukjae doesn’t bother pointing out that people in Korea have a hard enough time understanding Donghae as it is, and that he sincerely doubts China will be much better.

*

Hyukjae is sprawled on Donghae’s bed thumbing through a magazine, only half-listening to Sungmin and Donghae chatter with each other. Donghae is packing, or, more accurately, haphazardly throwing random items—a slingshot, duct tape, and a pencil sharpener; Hyukjae decides not to ask—into his suitcase. Hyukjae isn’t really sure why he’s there in the first place—it had something to do with Donghae making puppy eyes and whining that he didn’t want to be all alone, as if Sungmin and Shindong didn’t count as company.

“No no, not the blue one, this one,” he hears Sungmin say, “Hey, isn’t that…?” He glances up just as Sungmin holds up something familiar.

“Is that my shirt?” Hyukjae asks.

“No? Yes?” Donghae looks only a little ashamed. “I thought I could bring this to, you know, let the fans know the Eunhae love is still there even if we’re separated by a trillion miles.” He makes a kissy face at Hyukjae, and bursts into laughter when Hyukjae feels the flush rising in his cheeks.

“You know, you guys are really gross sometimes,” Shindong comments. Donghae sticks his tongue out at him and grabs the shirt back from Sungmin, stuffing it into the suitcase anyway.

“Whatever,” Hyukjae says, pointedly not looking at the others, and goes back to his magazine.

*

“Remember to take care of yourself. You don’t want to get sick in a foreign country. And make sure to stick close to the others. Don’t wander around, because if you get lost you won’t be able to find your way back,” Eeteuk says.

Hyukjae fidgets a little, waiting for his turn. To his right, Heechul is hugging Kyuhyun and whispering something into his ear. To his left, Kangin is giving Ryeowook a one-armed hug.

“Yes, hyung,” Donghae answers quietly. Eeteuk’s face softens and he pulls Donghae in for a long hug. When he finally lets go, Donghae steps back and turns to Hyukjae.

“Hey,” Hyukjae says, and feels stupid.

“Um…” Donghae plays with the hem of his shirt.

There are a lot of things Hyukjae wants to say, things the others have already said, good luck and we’ll miss you and come back to us soon, silly, stupid things like don’t leave and you don’t have to go to China. But Donghae is watching him with those too wide, too bright eyes, and Hyukjae hates it when he looks like this.

“Yah, don’t get that look on your face. Make sure to get me a cool souvenir,” Donghae nods, and his eyes flicker down to Hyukjae’s hand. “I’ll be fine. You know the doctors said that the cast could come off soon, so don’t worry,” he clears his throat, “And… call me, when you have time. Okay?”

“Okay,” Donghae whispers, and folds himself into Hyukjae’s arms.

*

The next day, Hyukjae wakes up at 6 AM, shuffles into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash water on his face, and gets ready. The manager whisks him off with the others, and he’s busy with work all day. There’s filming a guest appearance for a TV game show, and then recording for Sukira at night. It’s just like any other day, but Hyukjae can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

It isn’t until he’s back at the dorm and in his own bed again for the night that he realizes what’s wrong. He’s gotten used to waking up to a mouth full of Donghae’s hair and Donghae’s arms wrapped tightly around him in his stupid morning hug and Donghae’s loud voice and Donghae’s face stretched into a goofy grin.

It was just weird being woken up by an alarm clock for once, that’s all.

*

It’s been three days, and Donghae still hasn’t called.

Of course, everyone’s probably really busy and tired and trying to get adjusted. But there’s time in three whole days between working and eating and sleeping and moving around to call home, right? There’s nothing wrong with making a quick phone call home just to say hi. Hankyung had even called the dorm right after their plane landed in China, even if it was just for a few seconds, to let the members back in Korea know that they had arrived safely. So if he had done that, then Donghae could’ve made time too. And Hyukjae had told Donghae to call if he had the time. If Donghae had asked Hyukjae to do the same, Hyukjae would have called as soon as possible. It just seems a little inconsiderate, that’s all.

“Yah, don’t call me if you’re just going to complain and pine after someone else. International calls are expensive, you know,” Junsu says, and yawns obnoxiously into the phone.

“I’m not pining,” Hyukjae snaps, falling back into the familiar rhythm of their banter. This is something he can deal with, not the listlessness that he hasn’t been able to shake from his limbs ever since half of the group suddenly relocated to China. “And like you’re one to talk about expensive international calls.”

“I make useful international calls. I make important conversation. I do not call people to whine and bitch about how my boyfriend is neglecting me for the pretty boys he may or may not have discovered over in China.”

“Donghae is not my boyfriend,” Hyukjae splutters, waving his arm around in an emphatic gesture that Junsu can’t see.

“So he is neglecting you for pretty Chinese boys. Interesting. Can’t say I blame him. Who could love an ugly face like yours, anyway? I’m not even sure your mother does.”

“My face isn’t ugly,” Hyukjae says.

“You know what, this is sad. I’m just owning you left and right tonight, and I’m half-asleep. So I’m going to hang up. Call me some other time when your brain is working. And don’t worry about it too much, I’m sure Donghae will call soon. G’night, Hyukjae,” Junsu says.

“You were not owning me,” Hyukjae retorts, but Junsu’s already hung up.

*

“Hi, Hyukjae!” comes Donghae’s voice through the phone, a little too cheerful for someone who hasn’t called in six days.

“Hi,” Hyukjae says, not bitterly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call until now! It’s been so busy here, the airport was really crowded and we were all so tired and we had to move into a hotel and then we had to practice and do interviews and stuff almost right away and we barely had time to eat and sleep. I mean I got to use the phone for the first time two days ago but you know I’d call my mom first! And today was the second time I got to use it so I thought hey wait, Hyukjae told me to call, so I should call, so here I am! Sorry!” Donghae finishes, sounding a bit out of breath. Hyukjae smiles.

“It’s okay.” And it is, because truthfully, Hyukjae can never stay angry at Donghae for long. “How have you guys been? Did you guys have time to go sightseeing at all?”

“Um, it’s been okay, manager said we could maybe go sightseeing next week, and uh, Zhoumi says he’ll take us around…” Donghae sounds distracted, and there’s suddenly lot of noise in the background.

“Uh… Hae? What’s going on?”

“No, nothing, um… Everything’s fi—Ryeowook? Wha—oh. Uh, Hyukjae, so Henry just set eggs on fire, you’d think someone who was so good at violin would be better with his hands, and yeah IthinkIgottagobye!” There is a click as the line goes dead.

Hyukjae stares at his phone.

*

Hyukjae and Sungmin are watching Super Junior M on TV doing some sort of interview. There’s a lot of goofing around and laughing and dancing for the fangirls. Not that different from what they do in Korea, really, except Hyukjae doesn’t understand a single word of what’s going on.

“They look good,” Sungmin comments, just as Donghae begins dancing to My Love on the television screen, and glances at Hyukjae.

Donghae does look good. His new hair and clothes look nice, and he’s moving smoothly, almost effortlessly, to the beat of the song. And he’s laughing and smiling like he’s having the time of his life in China.

“I guess,” Hyukjae says, and tears his eyes away from the TV screen.

*

“Hyukjae…” Hyukjae struggles to sit up, flailing his arm a little. When he fails, he rolls over to check the clock.

“Jesus, Donghae, it’s 3 am. Sleep is a good thing,” he groans.

“I’m sorry, Hyukjae…” Something in Donghae’s voice makes Hyukjae actually sit up this time.

“Donghae? What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry,” Donghae says again, his voice just a little too soft, “It’s just… I can’t sleep. I can’t get comfortable in the hotel bed. I miss being in my own bed, I even miss Donghee’s stupid snoring.” Hyukjae opens his mouth to say something, but Donghae rushes on. “I miss being in Korea, and I miss Korean food, and I miss talking in Korean, and I’m tired of not being able to understand anything. I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

“Donghae…” Hyukjae doesn’t know what to say.

“And I miss everyone, Hyukjae. I miss my family, and I miss my friends, and I miss Heechul hyung and Kibum-ah and Jungsu hyung and Youngoon hyung and Jongoon hyung and Donghee hyung and Sungmin hyung and—” Donghae’s voices hitches with what sounds like a soft sob, “and I miss you, Hyuk. I really, really miss you.”

Hyukjae clears his throat, because it’s suddenly kind of hard to swallow, and says, “I miss you too.”

*

“Hyung.” Kibum taps Hyukjae on the shoulder. “I set up something on the computer. I thought you might want to see it.”

When Hyukjae follows Kibum into his room, Shiwon is waving with a dimpled smile from the computer screen. Hyukjae glances at Kibum, who shrugs and smiles.

“Shiwon somehow got access to a webcam in Thailand, and he and Donghae wanted to say hi.” As if on cue, Donghae pops up behind Shiwon’s shoulder on the screen. He squints directly into the camera, as if staring hard enough would somehow reveal the people on the other end.

“Kibum-ah! Hyukjae! Hi!” He waves frantically, still squinting. Hyukjae quickly moves into view on the webcam, and sees Donghae’s face split into a wide grin. “Hyukjae! Hi!” He waves even harder. Hyukjae smiles and raises a hand. “Look! I’m wearing your shirt!” Donghae points at his chest, “It smells like you, you know. Bad, I mean.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Hey—” Hyukjae starts to protest, but Shiwon cuts in with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, hyung, but I think we actually have to go for filming now. We’ll talk to you guys later, okay?”

“Bye, Hyukjae! Bye, Kibummie! Don’t miss us too much! We’ll all be back sooooon,” Donghae shouts. He waves both hands so hard that it resembles flailing more than anything else, and that is the last thing Hyukjae sees before Shiwon reaches out and the screen goes black.

*

The sound of the front door being slammed open followed by Sungmin’s squeal marks Super Junior M’s return. The members troop into the dorm with what seems like thousands of bags, looking tired but triumphant. Hyukjae can see Donghae behind Ryeowook, looking around like a madman. His face lights up when he finally catches sight of Hyukjae on the sofa.

“HYUKJAE!” he shouts, making Ryeowook jump. He drops the suitcases in his hands and struggles frantically with the straps on his backpack.

Hyukjae sighs and stands up. He adjusts his weight and plants his feet firmly on the ground, preparing for the inevitable. Kangin is snickering somewhere to his left, that bastard.

Finally free of luggage, Donghae makes a beeline for him and throws himself at Hyukjae, latching his arms and legs around his body. The impact knocks the wind out of Hyukjae—God, he’d forgotten how heavy Donghae could feel— and he stumbles, but stays standing. He wraps his arms around the younger boy’s waist to support his weight. Donghae smiles widely at him and plants a kiss on his cheek with a loud smack.

“I want sundubujigae!” Donghae announces to the rest of the group, right into Hyukjae’s ear, but the others are too busy greeting each other with hugs and shouts and laughs and friendly smacks on the shoulder that send people stumbling (Kangin) and slaps across the back of the head (Heechul) to pay attention.

When his ears stops ringing, Hyukjae considers dropping the younger boy on his ass, except Donghae just grins at him and snuggles even closer, breathing a small sigh of contentment against his neck, and he can’t find the heart to complain at all. So he watches Sungmin alternate between pecking Kyuhyun on the cheek and cuddling Henry, watches Eeteuk hug a surprised Zhou Mi. He watches Yehsung inspect Ryeowook from head to toe—“Just making sure China didn’t do any damage, Ryeowookie,”—in an eerily familiar manner, watches Heechul demanding Beijing fried rice from Hankyung while dangling off Shiwon’s neck. Everyone is finally back, after what felt like years, and they’re together again, all of them. Donghae pulls back just enough to peer at his face.

“Are you crying?” Donghae asks. This, of course, would be the time everyone decides to look over.

“No. Don’t be stupid.” His voice wobbles a little. Damn.

“Awww, someone’s glad that his boyfriend’s back,” Heechul coos. Hyukjae ignores him.

“Did you gain weight eating all that greasy food in China or something?” he asks Donghae. His arms are starting to go numb.

“It’s too soon for you to be an asshole,” Donghae answers cheerfully, and lifts an arm to press his sleeve carefully against Hyukjae’s eyes.

*

Hyukjae wakes up because it’s starting to feel like an oven under the covers.

Donghae is asleep, pressed against his side and sprawled half on top of him. Each slow exhale sends warm air ghosting across Hyukjae’s cheek. His face is relaxed, his lips slightly parted. And he’s drooling, just a little.

Hyukjae doesn’t check the alarm clock, because Donghae’s presence and the sunlight streaming through the window probably mean that they should both already be up and about. He tightens his arm around the other boy. Donghae murmurs and burrows closer, but doesn’t wake up. Hyukjae smiles, closes his eyes, and goes back to sleep.

*****

A/N: Because it hurts that SJ-M keeps the OTP apart. Keep in mind that this didn’t take into account the fact that Hyukhae seem to have had a minimum amount of interaction since SJ-M came back to Korea. >_> Boys, you’re breaking my heart.

Donghae's Chinese in the beginning:
We need to practice for when we’re in China. Our fans need to understand what we're saying! Thank you! Sorry? Hi everybody. I love you! I don't understand. Good luck! One two three four five six seven eight nine ten. I'm Donghae!

So... Anyone still remember that I used to write?

parthenope_sing @ 2007-06-08T02:21:00

2007-06-08T07:21:39Z

Sand Through a Sieve
SuJu - Hyukhae; I'm pretty sure I was shooting for anything BUT this pairing, but it still turned out like this. >_>
1455 words; PG
He loses them, a little bit at a time.

Donghae blinks and looks around. Eunhyuk is dozing in the seat next to him, head bumping against the window each time the van goes over a pothole. Donghae pokes him into wakefulness, giggling when the other makes a feeble attempt to slap his hands away.

“What do you want?” Eunhyuk asks groggily.

“Hyukjae-yah, where are we going?” Eunhyuk gives him an incredulous look.

“We’re going home, stupid. You came to record Kiss the Radio today with Ryeowook and Donghee, remember? Stop being so spacey and get some sleep,” Eunhyuk orders, closing his eyes again.

Donghae can see Eeteuk in the passenger seat—he always sits there—and Shindong’s snoring is audible from the back. Ryeowook must be in the backseat too, then. They had all woken up early to record and had only gotten in a few bites of cereal because Sungmin wasn’t up to make them omelettes. Donghae had forgotten to brush his teeth in the rush and Eunhyuk had told him it was lucky no one would be able to smell his breath over the radio. Ryeowook had put on a pair of big round frames after recording and giggled when they’d christened him Harry Potter.

“Of course I remember,” Donghae huffs a bit belatedly. He frowns at Eunhyuk’s sleeping face, annoyed by the lack of response. He then yawns, pillowing his head on Eunhyuk’s shoulder, and closes his eyes.

*

Step, step, and—Donghae walks right into Eunhyuk. It sets him off-balance, but Eunhyuk grabs his arm and steadies him before he can fall. The chorus to U stops abruptly, replaced by the myriad of sighs around the room.

“What’s wrong, Donghae?” Eeteuk asks, “We’ve done this dance hundreds of times before, there’s no reason to mess up now.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, hyung. Let’s try again,” Donghae says. Eunhyuk’s hand is still tight around his arm, and Donghae shakes it off.

*

“Oweii awoeitnvp waweqiowtfh awetoigan?” the interviewer asks. Donghae tilts his head to the side.

“Um, I’m sorry. Excuse me?”

“Oweii awoeitnvp waweqiowtfh awetoigan?” the man repeats. Donghae’s eyebrows knit together.

“I’m very sorry,” he says politely, “But I don’t understand gibberish.” The other members all turn to stare at him—he can feel Eunhyuk’s eyes nearly burning a hole in the back of his head—and Donghae doesn’t know why.

*

The doctors in crisp white coats explain the results of the tests in a drone of strange medical terminology that Donghae doesn’t really understand. But he understands enough, because someone, maybe Ryeowook, is crying behind him, and Kangin is clenching his fists so hard that they’ve turned white.

Donghae is so, so tired of listening. Eunhyuk, on his right, reaches out and catches Donghae’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers together. Donghae glances over, but Eunhyuk continues to watch and listen to the doctors.

*

Donghae is tired of being treated like glass, of everyone tiptoeing around him as if he’d explode if they weren’t careful. Kangin insists on escorting him everywhere, even to the bathroom, stalking behind Donghae like a personal bodyguard. Shiwon is even more physical than usual, constantly touching Donghae’s hair or draping an arm around his shoulders or patting his shoulder, as if to confirm in the here and now, Donghae is still alive. Kyuhyun always scoots over to make room for Donghae on the couch, even though Donghae likes sprawling out on the floor for video games. Hankyung is careful to make Donghae’s favorite dishes as often as possible. Eeteuk sees him off to bed every night, and does everything just short of actually tucking Donghae into bed and kissing him good night. Heechul’s laughs are too high and too loud, and Donghae can’t remember the last time Yehsung or Shindong teased him.

“It’s because they love you,” Eunhyuk remarks, “And they don’t know what they can do.” Eunhyuk is the only one who acts as if nothing has changed.

*

Sometimes, Donghae finds, when he loses things, they come back. One day, he’s hardly able to rise from bed, and the next, he’s able to run and jump as much as he wants. But Seunghwan and Kibum the elder have made him stop dancing a long time ago, and Donghae isn’t even sure he knows the steps to Miracle anymore. He doesn’t know how much longer they can make excuses and lie before the media gets suspicious.

Donghae loses his grip on his spoon during dinner and it clatters onto the floor. There is a long, awkward silence as he bends to pick it up, straining to reach. The others know by now that he doesn’t like their help, but his arm suddenly feels like lead, and Donghae nearly screams from the effort. Eunhyuk leans down and picks up the utensil in a smooth motion, and proceeds to feed Donghae the rest of his dinner as though nothing has happened. He wipes away the single tear of frustration that slides down Donghae’s cheek. Eunhyuk’s thumb is soft and careful against Donghae’s skin. Donghae closes his eyes and tries to commit the feeling of his touch to memory.

*

They are in a strange place, a large, open grass field with identical slabs of gray stone lined up in rows. Some of the stones are decorated with flowers. Donghae and Eunhyuk are standing in front of one of the adorned ones; Eunhyuk adds the bouquet of white lilies he brought to the décor and closes his eyes. There are some words and numbers engraved on the stone, but Donghae can only make out “Lee” and “August 8, 2006”. He tugs on Eunhyuk’s sleeve—they’re both wearing button-down shirts and black pants and ties today, at Eunhyuk’s insistence.

“Hyukjae, why are we here?” Eunhyuk doesn’t respond, so he pulls harder. Eunhyuk finally opens his eyes and looks at him, and the expression on his face nearly makes Donghae cry.

“I’m sorry, Hae. Let’s go home.”

*

“Donghae, it’s just a doll,” Eunhyuk says, trying to tug Donghae’s baby away.

“Stop, stop! You might hurt her,” Donghae cries, pulling her safely back into his arms. He cradles her gently and runs a hand over her plastic face to check for injuries. “Her name is Sahyun, and she’s my daughter,” he tells Eunhyuk, “I was going to let you be her other dad, but I don’t think you can be if you’re going to be so mean to her.” He whisks her away to the kitchen to find some milk.

*

“I’m sorry, Donghae,” Seunghwan says, pacing back and forth, “But we can’t hide this from the fans anymore.” He ignores the shouts of protest from the other members and focuses his gaze on Donghae.

Donghae looks up at him and smiles serenely.

Moving out takes less time than expected, because the bags are packed and in the car before Donghae realizes it, and it is time for goodbyes. They, too, go by quickly, a flurry of hugs and tears, but Donghae is careful to remember each one—the way Sungmin clings and clings until he’s gently peeled off by Kangin, the way Heechul’s eyes are red and his voice is scratchy, even though Heechul never, ever cries, the way Kibum’s careful smile trembles.

Eunhyuk is last. Donghae is suddenly at a loss for words, so he reaches out, and Eunhyuk sweeps him into a fierce embrace. When their hold on each other loosens a little, Donghae pulls back just enough to look at his face.

I think I love you, Donghae wants to say, but everyone is watching, so he runs his hand through Eunhyuk’s brown hair.

“I liked it best when it was blonde,” Donghae says.

“We’ll always be Eunhae, you know that, right?” Eunhyuk answers, pushing Donghae’s bangs away from his eyes, and Donghae laughs until he cries.

*

Donghae sits up in his bed, cradling his baby with one arm and propping a big picture book open with his other. He reads out loud to Sahyun, making up words along the way if he can’t read some words on the page. The pictures are very pretty, big splashes of blue and green and red and yellow on the paper.

He looks up when a woman in white clothes, one of the pretty younger ones, opens the door.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she says with a smile, and leaves again. A blonde head peeks in through the door after her. His eyes are warm and brown, but look so sad. He slowly steps into the room, watching Donghae with those sad eyes.

“Donghae-yah…” he says. Donghae smiles at him.

“I’m sorry,” Donghae says politely, “but who are you?”

He wonders at the change of expression on the man’s face.

parthenope_sing @ 2007-05-01T01:59:00

2007-05-01T06:03:07Z

Waves
H.O.T - Tonhyuk
674 words; PG-13 for cussing
Woohyuk and Tony go to the beach.

"Isn't it such a gorgeous day today, Hyukah?" Tony calls, running along the beach with his arms spread out wide and head thrown back. Woohyuk rolls his eyes, settling down on the sand just beyond the reach of the tide. Tony knows perfectly well that Woohyuk hates the beach and sand between the toes and salt water in his eyes, and Tony can’t even swim, for Christ’s sake, but he had pouted and nagged until Woohyuk caved. Fuck, when Tony had urged him to skip class—for the third time this week, much to the horror of his mother—, Woohyuk had thought they would at least go somewhere decent.

"It's not too hot," Tony continues, ignoring Woohyuk's foul mood, water lapping around his knees, "And it's just the two of us on this huuuuge beach." He is shouting but the roar of the waves drown out his voice until it sounds nearly like a whisper. Woohyuk focuses instead on the book in his hands; if he fails the next English test, he'll probably flunk the course and he certainly can't afford that.

The next time Woohyuk looks up, Tony is gone.

*

Woohyuk drags him onto the dry sand and lays him down, sweeping the sopping wet hair away from his closed eyes. There's no sign of breathing, no pulse.

Woohyuk looks around frantically, but of course Tony would choose a fucking deserted beach with no lifeguard, and why the hell can’t he remember a single damn thing from health class. Okay, okay. Tony has water in his lungs, you need to do the Heimlich Maneuver to get that out. You can do that. Woohyuk pushes down on Tony's stomach rhythmatically, waiting until he had expelled most of the water before pressing his lips to Tony's—remember to tilt the head back—and breathing in. He alternates between pushing down on Tony's chest and breathing into his mouth, and shit, he can’t remember if it’s three or five thrusts with every breath but he guesses the best he can.

Fucklethimbeokaypleaseifthere'sanyhigherbeinguptherepleasefuckinglethimbeokay—

But Tony’s not moving at all and it’s taking far too long and Woohyuk is ready to do it all over again, because it’s not going to end like this, he won’t let it, and Tony's body suddenly jerks, and he starts to cough up water violently. Instinctively, Woohyuk helps him sit up and pats his back, waiting for the coughing fit to subside. His limbs feel numb.

I did it, I did it, he's alive, he's okay, ohmyfuckinggod he's not dead, he's alive.

"Fuck, don't ever be that stupid again," Woohyuk pants, and before either of them knows it, he crushes Tony's body against his own. Tony wheezes in surprise and pounds weakly at his back.

"I'm okay, Hyukah, let go! You can stop worrying." His voice isn’t anything more than a hoarse whisper, but the words are loud in Woohyuk’s ears, causing the torrents of relief that had overswept him to rapidly ebb away. Woohyuk lets go, and Tony drops back down onto the sand with a groan.

"Who the fuck said I was worrying," Woohyuk snaps.

*

They trudge back to the car with Woohyuk’s arm around Tony’s waist—Tony insists he’s fine, but his legs still wobble like jelly—, because God knows they've had enough excitement for the day. Tony collapses in the passenger seat, almost immediately dozing off. Woohyuk doesn't have the heart to yell at him for getting his precious car's seat wet and sandy. Instead, he tucks his jacket around Tony's thin shoulders and starts the car.

When they're nearly at the highway, Tony, only half-awake, murmurs, "I can't believe you stole my first kiss, you jerk."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep," Woohyuk orders. Tony is too tired to argue, so he settles deeper into the seat and clings to the fabric of Woohyuk's jacket.

It's only when Woohyuk is sure Tony is asleep, when Tony's breaths slow down and even out, that Woohyuk allows himself a small smile behind a hand.

parthenope_sing @ 2007-05-01T01:35:00

2007-05-01T06:00:08Z

Tredectet
SuJu - various pairings
3834 words; PG
They muddle through their trainee days, growing closer as they work toward their dream.
Dedicated to kelseypaige.

tredectet- n.
    1. music
       a. a composition for thirteen voices or thirteen instruments.
       b. a group of thirteen singers or thirteen instrumentalists.
    2. a group of thirteen

*

When Hyukjae receives the call saying that he made the audition, he remembers to answer with a calm and proper Thank you very much, because he was taught to always be polite. As soon as he hangs up, however, he throws open the windows and screams his elation, because God this is the chance he's been waiting for for so, so long.

His parents aren't home so naturally the first number he dials with shaking fingers is Junsu's, and he screams IMADEITIMADEITIMADEIT into the phone as soon as the other picks up and Junsu is shrieking IDIDTOOIDIDTOOIDIDTOO back and there are a few minutes of complete chaos. Suddenly, the line goes dead, and Hyukjae stares at the phone in disbelief.

Five minutes later, Junsu comes barrelling through the front door and tackles him in a fierce hug. It quickly turns into an impromptu wrestling match that evolves into a swordfight with rulers and cushions as shields. That doesn't seem like enough, either, so they hop onto the couch and yell and jump up and down like five-year-olds. Hyukjae's mother returns from the grocery store in the middle of their backflips across the living room and eyes the overturned furniture.

Later that night, once the excitement has died down a little—but only a little—Hyukjae and Junsu flop down on their sleeping bags in the living room and talk. Will training take long? and What do you think the other trainees will be like? and Oh my God, maybe we can meet H.O.T! Junsu suddenly turns quiet and serious and says Let’s make a promise to become famous together. Hyukjae rolls his eyes. That’s stupid—of course they’ll get famous together, they’re best friends—but he does the pinky swear with Junsu anyway.

*

It doesn’t seem so bad here. Of course, the endless cycle of practices is annoying—but Youngwoon’s only been here a few months, so he guesses he can’t complain—he never has enough to eat, and the adults get bitchy at the worst possible times. But the trainees are all right.

Hyukjae and Junsu are like two hyperactive Siamese twins who don’t shut up. Sungmin, the third triplet of that group, isn’t as loud and obnoxious, so Youngwoon can stand him a little better, but he’s so cutesy that Youngoon wants to punch him to remind him he’s not a girl. Heechul, who terrifies a lot of trainees, is just arrogant and a bit antisocial, and is really more bark than bite—sometimes, anyway. (He’d also heard the name Kim Jongwoon floating around; Youngwoon hopes they won’t end up in the same group and confuse the hell out of their fans.) Overall, they’re not that bad, and Youngwoon doesn’t mind calling them his friends.

Even so, Youngwoon will never tell them—they’ll think he’s gay or something—that he likes talking to Jungsu more than anything. Even more than kicking every trainee’s ass in arm wrestling. Youngwoon doesn’t know why, but something about Jungsu’s smile makes Youngwoon want to protect him, even though Jungsu’s 19 and Youngwoon’s only 17. He mentions this to the other boy once.

Yah, I’m your hyung, how are you going to protect me? Jungsu grins and ruffles Youngwoon’s hair carelessly, dimples in his cheeks and laugh lines around his eyes.
You’ll see, hyung, one day I’ll be strong enough to protect you.

*

Donghae is starting to get so very irritated because this butterfly won't stay still and he can't count the spots on its wings and if he doesn't finish soon he will have wasted his break for nothing. But it's such a beautiful day out and perhaps the butterfly just wants to enjoy the nice weather and taste the nectar from the pretty flowers. Surely he can't begrudge it that, because that's just what butterflies do. Sometimes he wants to be a butterfly and fly on gossamer wings but his mom would say that's silly so he stops that train of thought.

The big tree just outside the dancing studio reminds him of the one in his backyard back at home, so it's his favorite, and all the other trainees know not to touch it. It reminds him of his mom's kimchi bokumbap and making dumplings, and he misses his parents so very much, because it's been nearly a year since he's last seen them and there's hardly time to call between the singing and dancing and acting practices. Sometimes he clings to Yunho because he's the only link Donghae has to home even though he has lots of other friends here. Jaejoong is nice and Kibum is nice and Jay is funny with his English words and Heechul is nice even though he tries to be mean. And that one he just met—Hyukjae was his name—who's always with two other boys, he's nice too and he has a nice smile and Donghae hopes they can be friends.

The door flies open and the teacher sticks his head out, calling Break's over, and the other trainees start to head back in. Donghae sighs and stands, brushing the dirt from his jeans. He never finished counting the spots.

*

Korean is so very difficult. So many consonants sound similar and there are some that sound exactly the same and there are no tonal inflections at all, and Hangeng wonders if he’ll ever be able to speak fluently. He still mutters 谢谢 and not 감사합니다 when someone holds the door open for him and 对不起 instead of 죄송합니다 when he bumps against a shoulder on the street. The name 한경 sounds strange on his lips, and he wonders what was so wrong with his real name that the company felt they had to change it. But the 姐姐—누나, he reminds himself—teaching him has been so patient and kind, and really, she is his only friend here, so he studies and practices every night to please her.

Hangeng has been here a year but has only talked to a handful of trainees, because he’s naturally quiet and doesn’t have the vocabulary to speak his mind, anyway. He’s known mostly as the Chinese boy, and only a few actually know his name. Hangeng doesn’t mind; he prefers practicing dances and studying in his room, anyway.

Really, he doesn’t mind, because he’s very grateful for this amazing opportunity to see another country and learn its culture and language, to train to become a singer and work for his dream. Even if he sometimes gets lonely and longs to converse with someone in his native tongue, even if he sometimes stares at a picture of his family for hours with the knowledge that they are all thousands of miles away, he’s very, very grateful.

Hangeng watches the falling 비 outside his window, and wonders if at home, 雨 is falling as well.

*

He’s pressed up against the window and his legs are cramped and the man next to him is snoring and the girl behind him is wailing and all in all, Kibum is not finding this flight very enjoyable. In fact, he doesn’t want to be on the plane in the first place, he doesn’t want to go to L.A., and he wonders why he’s submitting himself to fourteen hours of torture, then.

You’re going whether you like it or not, his mom had said, It’s only for a few months. Besides, you can visit all your old friends in L.A. You can go back home, Kibummie. Kibum didn’t get the chance to remind his mother that he never had any friends in L.A. And that he’d never felt at home in the three years he’d lived there.

Kibum wishes he could stay in

Korea

, where he has a lot of friends who think his English is the coolest thing ever and never make fun of his accent because they can’t speak any better, anyway. He’d even prefer the grueling practices over this. (Kibum really wishes they’d stop making him go to vocal practice, because he hates his singing voice. He thinks he’d like to become an actor, or maybe even a model—after he gains some muscle—but definitely not a singer.)

Have fun, Donghae says with a bright smile, write me lots of letters, get me a souvenier, and come back home soon! Youngwoon’s goodbye is a short Take care, kid. And, of course, Heechul’s cold Maybe you’ll gain some sense there that was just a bit less hostile than usual.

Kibum sighs and stares out the window at the fluffy clouds beneath the plane. It hasn’t even been a day and he already misses home.

*

Sungmin knows they’re generally recognized as The Trio: he, Hyukjae, and Junsu. In fact, SM had even considered making them a three-member group for a while. But Junsu had been chosen to be in Dong Bang Shin Ki, and that had been that.

Hyukjae is genuinely happy for his friend, punching him in the shoulder with a laughing Don’t forget about us at the top. Junsu nods with watery eyes and a quivering smile. When Junsu leaves for vocal practice with his new bandmates, Hyukjae’s grin fades, and he collapses on the couch next to Sungmin, looking exhausted. He exhales and rests his head on Sungmin’s shoulder. Sungmin reaches out, holds his hand, and waits, but Hyukjae doesn’t cry.

That’s just how their friendship works. Sungmin calls Hyukjae his best friend, but he knows—everyone knows—Hyukjae and Junsu are best best friends. He’s not jealous; he knows he can’t compete with years and years of friendship. It would be silly and selfish to even try, and besides, Junsu is his friend too, and Sungmin is perfectly happy being their hyung.

Hyukjae smiles more easily nowadays, even though Dong Bang Shin Ki was a much bigger success than expected and Junsu rarely has free time now. Sungmin wants to say that it’s his doing, but knows it’s more the presence of an innocent, smiling brunette—Donghae. Sungmin doesn’t mind; he knows exactly what’s happening. He smiles and waits, because it will be a while before Hyukjae—dense boy that he is—recognizes it himself.

He’s not jealous, he’s not. But—

It makes Sungmin want to be the most important person to someone, because sometimes it’s tiring being second.

*

First, I’ll rise through the ranks in the government by appealing to the people and spreading propaganda. Once I’m made president of Korea, I’ll dispose of any government officials who oppose me and replace them with supporters, until the government is under my control. Then, of course, I’ll seize the markets until I run all the businesses. And all printing presses, of course, so newspapers can only sing praise to my name. The next step is to build a bigger army and navy and make bigger and better weapons. Eliminate any threats. I’ll kill all the smart scientists too, once they’re done making bombs for me, and bomb all the universities around the world so there aren’t any smart people left. Then kidnap their babies and raise them so they grow up smart and brainwashed and completely loyal to me. Then I can slowly conquer countries while they flounder about with no smart people to figure out a solution. Not Antarctica, though, because only penguins live there.

…and that’s how I’m going to take over the world, Jongwoon finishes, looking expectantly at Jaejoong. Jaejoong is silent for a few minutes. Some of the details are still fuzzy, of course, but I’ll make it up as I go along.

Where the hell did you get this from? Jaejoong finally manages to get out. Jongwoon beams.

1984. It’s a good book, you might like it. Jongwoon hands the book to the other boy.

I’ve read it. You know, that book was written to warn people of the dangers of totalitarianism.

Yeah, I know, but Big Brother sounds so cool, Jongwoon whines.

…God, hyung, you’re so fucking weird. Jaejoong stands and walks away.

Jongwoon rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. His dongseng really doesn’t get his sense of humor sometimes.

*

When Shiwon starts taking Chinese lessons to prepare for that movie, the first person he tells isn’t Donghae or Kibum or even Heechul. Instead, he dashes down the hallways until the spots the Chinese boy—Hankyung?—leaving the dance studio. The other boy looks up, startled by his approach.

你好, 我是始源, Shiwon pants—he practiced this all day—and extends a hand. They had never gotten a proper introduction, after all. He grins at the expression on the other boy’s face.

你好, 我的名字是韩庚, the other responds hesitantly, shaking Shiwon’s outstretched hand. Shiwon’s grin widens when he realizes that he understands. 你会说中文吗? Hangeng continues. Shiwon falters and scratches his head, because it’s only the second day and he hasn’t gotten past greetings and simple phrases, and frankly, he’s surprised he’s even made it this far.

After that day, there’s an unspoken agreement that Shiwon speaks Chinese and Hangeng speaks Korean, even before SM asks them to do so for practice. So when Shiwon barges into Hangeng’s room with a 你好, 韩庚! and Hangeng responds with a你好, Shiwon is surprised. He drops down on the bed next to the older boy and puts his head on Hangeng’s shoulder.

你还好吗? Shiwon notices that Hangeng is staring down at a worn photo in his hands.

今天是我爸爸的生日. A pause. 我想念我的家人. There’s a waver in his voice, and Shiwon pulls back to look at his face. Hangeng’s eyes are dry, but he looks so tired.

我们可以当你的家人, Shiwon tells him earnestly. Hangeng looks up at him and blinks in surprise, but smiles crookedly.

*

Sometimes, Donghee stares at himself in a mirror and wonders why he’s here. He knows he’s funny; after all, he was offered a contract after winning Best Comedian at the audition. He can dance and rap and beatbox. But he’s not thin, not like the other trainees are. He watches pop singers on TV and can’t imagine himself in a world of male idols with dashing good looks and stylish clothes and hair.

When Donghee first introduces himself to the other trainees, he can feel the skeptical gazes raking up and down his body and hear the unspoken whispers of Why does he look like that? and They’ll never let him debut that pass between them. Then Donghee dances, and the voices immediately stop. He performs a gag routine, and the whispers dissolve into laughter. And just like that, their doubts are gone.

But he can never quite forget those stares that day, so sometimes he dances a little harder, sings a little louder, as if to prove to himself more than anyone else that he belongs here.

These doubts never last for long, because someone like Sungmin or Hyukjae always leaps onto his back and declares We’re going out for lunch, Jungsu hyung is treating. Want to come?, and of course Donghee follows, never being one to turn down free food.

Screw the fans. If they don’t like him, he’ll find a way to hypnotize them into believing he’s their reason for breathing or something. He’s not skinny, but if he can make them laugh, well, that’s good too.

*

Ryeowook bites his lip and looks around again. It’s only his second day in the SM Entertainment building and this is already the fifth time he’s gotten lost. But surely he can’t take all the blame, because all the hallways and doors look the same and he isn’t even sure what floor he’s on anymore and oh, he just doesn’t know what to do. Several people have passed by but they all looked either important or busy and Ryeowook didn’t want to distract them by asking for directions. But if he doesn’t hurry, he’ll be late to the meeting, and he doesn’t want to leave a bad first impression on his new managers and bandmates.

The last word leaves a sour aftertaste on Ryeowook’s tongue. He’s never been very good at meeting new people, and the thought of meeting eleven other boys—all friends with each other but strangers to him—makes his stomach twist. He wonders what they’ll think of the new, timid boy, the last-minute replacement. Ryeowook agreed to join this group because it had always been his dream to be a singer, but now he starts to regret his decision. Maybe he should’ve—

A hand taps him on the shoulder. Ryeowook whirls around and is greeted by a friendly smile. The introductions fly by because Ryeowook is too busy watching those warm eyes, and before he knows it, he’s following the other boy down the hall.

Hey, are you lost?
I’m Jongwoon. What’s your name?
Ryeowook? You must be the new guy. It’s nice to meet you.
Well, I’m about to go to the meeting, want to follow me?
Ryeowook touches his warm cheeks, and thinks he might like it here.

*

Heechul raises an eyebrow at the eleven boys standing with him. When he first made that audition, no one had informed him that he would end up in a fucking twelve-member boyband. He's already had experience acting, modelling, MC-ing, and radio DJ-ing, so why the hell is he with a group of newbies.

He scans the faces around him; the manager had said all their names before, but they had flown in and out of Heechul's head. There's Donghae—he likes the boy, even if he sometimes spaces out on what Heechul says—; stranger; Youngwoon—the only one who dares talk back to Heechul—; stranger; oh, there's Shiwon. He’s a cute kid, but he likes to hug people too much, and he's been speaking a lot of Chinese lately, which is annoying. Stranger; he's seen this boy with Donghae several times; stranger; the Chinese boy—Shiwon had introduced them at some point but Heechul hadn’t been paying attention—; Kibum—Heechul doesn’t hate him anymore, at least—; Jungsu, their fearless leader. It could be worse, but some people are still missing, and speaking of which, where the hell are Yunho and Jay, anyway. Oh, that’s right, Yunho is busy being in Dong Bang Shin Ki with Jaejoong and getting swarmed by fangirls and Jay is busy being a rock star. Heechul scoffs and reminds himself to smack them later.

He follows the others to the recording room—can twelve people even fit?—and ponders it over. He doesn’t like it—twelve men living together, that was disaster just waiting to happen—, but he guesses he’ll get used to it.

*

Jungsu feels lightheaded, his heart is pounding, his palms are sweaty, and he thinks he might faint. He can feel the tension radiating off the others and wants to reassure them, but he’s not sure he could do it without breaking down himself. Because this is it, what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s been working toward for the past few years, what they’ve all been working toward. Their official debut. They’re already in place, waiting for the MC to finish speaking. They’ve practiced this dance a thousand times, they can do this.

And if you can’t? If you don’t make it? Everything will be your fault. You’re the leader; you’ll be blamed for letting eleven other potentials fail with you. Jungsu bites his lip and instinctively reaches a hand out for Youngwoon, but he’s on the other side of the formation. Not for the first time, he feels the expectations for him to lead such a large group crushing down on his shoulders. But there’s no time for doubts; the music is about to start, and God knows they deserve this. He owes it to the others, as their leader, not to screw up. He can do this, because on stage, he’s not the quiet, uncertain Jungsu, but the confident, outgoing Eeteuk. He’s special. You’re special, hyung, don’t forget that.

The MC ends with Super Junior, Twins!, and the music begins. The audience quiets down, waiting to judge this new group of twelve young men, the group he leads. Jungsu takes a deep breath and raises his head.

*

Thirteen is such an awkward number. It's unlucky and so much more difficult to manage than twelve and doesn't split any way evenly so it messes up their dance formation.

Kyuhyun knows he can sing, but he always steps the wrong way during dance practice; he's the awkward new boy, the youngest, the odd man out. He can't figure out why they added him to a group of charismatic, confident celebrities.

The others have already fallen into their routines. Kyuhyun is quiet, so he watches and listens and knows who fits where. Shiwon and Hankyung have private conversations in Chinese, but Hankyung cooks together with Sungmin and they exchange their recipes for fried rice and sweet pumpkin pie. Sungmin is sometimes coerced into watching dramas with Donghae and the two sit together with quivering bottom lips when the heroine dies. Donghae holds hands with Hyukjae under the table when they think no one is looking, Hyukjae plays video games with Jongwoon, and Jongwoon and Ryeowook practice harmonizing in their shared room. Ryeowook breaks out into giggles at Donghee's jokes, and Donghee shares his manga with Jungsu. Jungsu leaves Youngwoon in charge when he's not home, Youngwoon likes to verbally spar with Heechul. Heechul always waits for Kibum in the morning (even if it takes Kibum forever to wake up), and the two leave for filming together, and Kibum practices lines with Shiwon. Everyone is connected to each other in some way, but the threads are so tightly woven together that there doesn't seem to be room for another boy at all.

Kyuhyun hates to admit it, but he cried the first three nights (he muffles the sound with his blanket so as not to wake Donghae and Shiwon). On the fourth night, Sungmin quietly steps into his room—Donghae and Shiwon are missing—and holds his hand. It's okay to be scared, but you're not alone.

The next morning, Hankyung and Donghee ask him to go grocery shopping with them. When he returns, Hyukjae and Jongwoon fall to their knees and beg him to join their video game session because they recruited Kibum but are still in dire need a fourth player. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyuhyun sees Sungmin smiling.

Kyuhyun smiles back, and thinks it might be okay after all.

**********

A/N:

Youngoon's part:
About the ending, the name Kangin supposedly means strength.

Hangeng's part:
Chinese: 谢谢 = thank you, 对不起 = I'm sorry, 姐姐 = older sister/older girl, 雨 = rain
Korean: 감사합니다 = thank you, 죄송합니다 = I'm sorry, 누나 = older sister/older girl, 비 = rain

Kibum's part:
Heechul hated Kibum before Kibum left for the summer of 2003. Apparently, they became friends after he got back, around winter 2003.

Jongoon's part:
Everyone is ALWAYS making Yehsung evil. I felt that I just HAD to do this. XD

Shiwon's part:
你好, 我是始源.= Hello, I'm Shiwon.
你好, 我的名字是韩庚. = Hello, my name is Hangeng.
你会说中文吗? = Do you speak Chinese?
你还好吗? = What's wrong?
今天是我爸爸的生日. = Today is my father's birthday.
我想念我的家人. = I miss my family.
我们可以当你的家人. = We can be your family.
Thanks majorly to Quix for some of this!

Jungsu's part:
He can do this, because on stage, he’s not the quiet, uncertain Jungsu, but the confident, outgoing Eeteuk. He’s special. Eeteuk means "special" in Korean.

parthenope_sing @ 2007-05-01T01:30:00

2007-05-01T05:36:02Z

Se7en
Part 2: Envy
SuJu - one-sided Sungmin/Hankyung; Shihan
889 words; R, to be safe
Sungmin doesn't think it's fair.

He was probably the first to notice when the two become more than just close hyung and dongseng, Sungmin thinks, simply because he notices everything about Hankyung. There's something in his eyes, his step, and Sungmin knows, even when he tells himself not to be ridiculous.

Some of the others in the household picked up on it as well, but it only becomes common knowledge during breakfast, when the two are standing and Shiwon looks like he'll burst if he holds in their wonderful news any longer, and suddenly blurts out that they're now dating, and Hankyung reaches over to take his hand in a shy but easy gesture.

There is a short pause; then the whole room erupts. Kangin reacts with a loud "WHAT?" just as Shindong leaps to his feet and knocks over his chair with a loud clatter, and Donghae is clapping in glee for his friend until he joins Kibum in a rendition of "Simba and Hannie, sitting in a tree...". Heechul smugly extends a hand to Yehsung, who reluctantly slaps 50000 won into the open palm and shuffles off to sulk in a corner while Eunhyuk mumbles to his feet, "Just don't do weird stuff around me... Just don't do weird stuff around me..." and Eeteuk is just smiling and laughing, because he finds all of this oh-so-amusing. In the commotion, no one notices the silence of two members.

Sungmin clutches the seat of his chair, eyes glued to the couple and their clasped hands. It's so hard to breathe, there's something weighing down on his chest, and he thinks that if he eases his grip just a little bit, he'll fall into oblivion. When he finally tears his eyes away, he notices Ryeowook watching him pityingly. Then he feels sick to his stomach, because pity isn't what he wants. Murmuring a quick excuse, he runs off.

*

The pain sets in later, when he's in his darkened room contemplating, and thinking to himself, It's okay, it really is, I'm so happy for them. Suddenly he's screaming into his pillow and beating his mattress with fists and feet like a child until tears weaken his rage, and he's left with muffled sobs and shaking shoulders, because it's just not fair, not when he's wanted him for so long.

*

It's during one of their late movie nights--male bonding time, Eeteuk hyung calls it--later that week, after everyone has fallen asleep in the living room and someone has the sense to turn the TV off that Sungmin sees the two curled up together on the loveseat. Shiwon is leaning into Hankyung's chest, the older boy stroking his hair, and the two speak in low tones so as not to wake the others. Sungmin can just barely make out foreign syllables and melodic vowels, and something twists inside him at the ease with which they construct a private world, built by soft eyes and smiles and that special, shared language.

A few days later, Sungmin foolishly asks Shiwon to teach him to teach him Chinese. A few words, phrases, anything. Shiwon laughs lightly, asking why he wants to learn. Sungmin's cheeks flush with shame at his thoughts, and he hastily laughs off his request as a joke.

*

One night Sungmin wakes up with a parched throat, and trudges to the kitchen for a glass of water. The sound of his footsteps, muffled by slippers, is hypnotic, and he nearly falls asleep again walking.

He passes their room without noticing, but a moan stops him in his tracks. It is followed by harsh breathing and soft panting that leave Sungmin burning cold, all other senses forgotten. His body feels as though it were made of lead. There is a cry of "Hannie, Hannie..." inside, and a groan that unmistakably belongs to the Chinese boy.

Sungmin regains control of his legs; he all but flees to his room, water forgotten.

It's only back in the safety of his bed that he realizes how hard he's trembling: he has trouble pulling the covers to his chin, and he folds his hands together, but they won't still. Thirst is the last thing on his mind.

"Hannie, Hannie..." he whispers fervently into the bedsheets. He's wide awake now, and hot, salty tears make his pillow uncomfortably damp.

*

Sungmin wants to feel his arms around him, to be the recipient of that smile--because all of Hankyung's smiles are dazzling, but that special one he directs at Shiwon alone takes Sungmin's breath away--, to feel those lips on his. And he thinks he can. Sungmin understands the fragility of a bond between two people, no matter how strong their love. And oh, it wouldn't take much to sow seeds of mistrust and slowly bring about events to make the two snap. And then to do what he did best, to be cute and comforting until Hankyung was his. But Shiwon is his dongseng, his friend, and the two are so happy, and Sungmin would give anything to keep seeing that smile, even if it is for someone else, that he can never bring himself to try.

But he's still a selfish person. Because, in his dreams, he is always the one in Hankyung's arms, and Shiwon is the one who cries himself to sleep at night instead.

parthenope_sing @ 2007-05-01T01:23:00

2007-05-01T05:31:18Z

Se7en
Part 1: Pride
SuJu - Kichul
814 words; R
A series of one-shots, each one focusing one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Heechul has a talk with Kibum.

Heechul takes a long drag from his cigarette. It's too cold out, because the car windows and grass are frosted and he can't feel his ears and this is the only fucking thing other than work he'd be up so early for. He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. He's not the type to reminisce, but there are some things you don't forget.

"Can I talk to you, hyung?" Nervous, fluttery hands. Averted eyes.

"Come on, spit it out. I'm dead tired from filming." Hands playing with the zipper on the jacket, a yawn.

"I... I love you, hyung, more than just as a friend." The voice is trembling but the words are steady. The hands stop.

"... You've got to me kidding me."

"Hyung..."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Are you fucking insane? We're celebrities, Kibum. You can't just say something like this. It'd cause a scandal and we'd lose our fans. It could ruin our careers, what we've worked for all these years."

"... Is that what matters to you?" A broken whisper.

"Listen... you're a great kid. Tons of girls are willing to date you every day, there must be a good one out there." A careless wave. He's already leaving; he doesn't want to listen to this right now.

"Wait! Do you care about me... in that way, at all?" Desperate, pleading eyes. Heechul ignores the tears.

"It doesn't matter."

Heechul opens his eyes and sees the boy in front of him.

"Hey."

"Hey." Heechul's lips feel dry and his tongue is heavy, but he swallows once and tries anyway; God knows it's overdue enough.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know." Kibum's smile is soft.

"I was tired and grumpy, I didn't know how to react," Heechul says helplessly, as a way of explanation.

"I know." Heechul glances down and sees the bouquet he's gripping in his other hand.

"I brought you flowers. Your favorite."

"Calla lilies. Thank you."

As soon as Changmin spots Heechul, he launches himself at him and he's punching and kicking and slapping and clawing everywhere he can reach, and screaming "You bastard, you bastard! You don't deserve to live!" and no one's EVER seen him so angry before. Heechul is silent and doesn't do a thing to stop him, but strong and gentle hands are pulling the boy back, back, until he finally collapses, spent, against Jaejoong's chest, sobbing, and it's never been more obvious to the others than now that he's the baby of the group.

"I figured it was a crush. If I was abrupt, you'd move on to some cute girl, date for a couple of years, get married, have kids, the whole bit." The nicotine has loosened his tongue; it's easier to talk now. "I wanted you to find someone your parents would love to see you with. Someone who'd be good to you."

"You're good to me."

"... You know it could've never worked."

"Yes." His smile is sad now.

"We're celebrities. If word got out that we were gay-- I didn't want to be the one screwing your life over."

"I know."

"And you're my best friend. I didn't want to fuck that up."

"I know." Heechul closes his eyes.

"Then why did you have to go and be an idiot?"

Heechul slams open the door to Kibum's room and impatiently shakes the sleeping figure on the bed.

"Wake up. We have practice, you're going to hold everyone up." He shakes him again, but Kibum still doesn't wake. "Come on." Again, and again. It's only then that he notices how pale Kibum is, how cold he feels. He spots an empty bottle of pills on the nightstand.

"The guys miss you. It's not the same with only eleven in the house. Changmin's still going to therapy, and Donghae still cries himself to sleep at night, but they're going to be okay. I know you hate hurting people." He keeps his eyes shut, because he knows that when he opens them, the boy won't be there. "... But you did, anyway. Fucking brat." He stops and swallows again. His mouth is dry again, and the cigarette doesn't help, because he's not sentimental and he doesn't care about people but thinking that doesn't stop the burning in his throat and nose and the pricking at his eyes. And he wants to say it. "I love you. Did then, too. More than as a hyung loves a dongseng."

He hears a gentle "I know" and feels the faintest kiss of air on his forehead. Heechul's eyes shoot open, but, as expected, no one is there. He kneels and places the flowers on the ground, then runs his fingers over the words etched in the stone.

"In loving memory, Kim Kibum, August 21, 1987-January 29, 2006"

He stands, brushing the dirt from his knees, and leaves the cemetery.

parthenope_sing @ 2007-05-01T01:08:00

2007-05-01T05:17:51Z

Out of the Closet
SuJu - Kangteuk
544 words; PG
In which Kangin and Eeteuk come out to the other members.

Kangin reaches up to brush a lock of hair from Eeteuk's face, his body curling around the other's. Eeteuk purrs in content and sidles closer, smiling when Kangin slings a casual arm around his waist.

"Youngoonah?"

"Hm?" Kangin asks, playing with the ends of Eeteuk's hair.

"Let's tell the others about us." Kangin lifts his head from the pillow to look at Eeteuk.

"Are you sure? You didn't want to say anything for the longest time because you were the leader."

"I was afraid for a long time that they would reject us for being gay. But I'm sure now. They deserve to know, and I think they'll understand." Eeteuk's voice wavers a bit, but his eyes are steady. Kangin smiles and leans in to press a soft kiss to Eeteuk's lips.

"Okay, we'll tell them tomorrow."

*

They call a group meeting the next morning. The others whine and complain but get out of bed anyway, because if the leader and unofficial second-in-command are requiring that everyone be present, it must be important. They stagger into the living room, half-blind. Kangin and Eeteuk wait until they are comfortably situated around the room, squished onto the couches or perched on the windowsill or sprawled on the floor. Eeteuk grabs Kangin's hand and takes a deep breath.

"Well, we don't really know how to say this, but... Kangin and I are together. Together together. Like a couple."

There is a long pause. Eeteuk's eyes flits to each of the members' faces in worry, his grip tightening on Kangin's hand, but there is simply no reaction at all, nothing to determine how the others feel. The silence is finally broken when Sungmin speaks.

"So... What is it that you want to tell us?" A few heads nod in agreement and turn to look at them expectantly. Eeteuk and Kangin gape.

"Well, that was... really all we wanted to say..." Eeteuk trails off lamely. The others blink and the another silence ensues. Shindong groans.

"You woke us up half an hour early just to tell us that?" Shiwon yawns and leans all the way over until his head drops onto Hankyung's lap. Hankyung strokes his black hair, luring the younger boy back to sleep.

"Hyukah, Hyukah," Donghae whines sleepily, tugging on the sleeve of Hyukjae's shirt, "What did they say, what did they say?" Hyukjae rolls his eyes.

"Nothing important," he reassures the younger boy. He stands and stretches, then grabs Donghae's hand and pulls the other up with him. "We," Hyukjae announces, "are going back to bed." He marches off with the confused brunette in tow, their fingers intertwined. The others murmur in agreement and trickle out of the room one by one. Sungmin murmurs tiredly and clings to the back of Kyuhyun's T-shirt, burying his face into the back of his neck. Kyuhyun blushes fiercely and flails around in a half-hearted effort to shake the older boy off. Yehsung carries Ryeowook, who had fallen back asleep during the meeting, away piggyback style. Soon, the only ones left in the room aside from Kangin and Eeteuk are Kibum and Heechul, who are fast asleep on the couch, arms and legs entangled.

Kangin eyes Eeteuk warily.

"Well," he says finally, "at least that went better than expected."

parthenope_sing @ 2007-04-30T23:32:00

2007-05-01T05:04:27Z

One-Way Glass
SuJu - Hyukhae
2018 words; PG
A look at the course of a relationship through the eyes of others.

You pack down the sand into the bucket with your pink plastic shovel as tightly as you can and flip it over—careful, careful!—, and beam when a perfect sandcastle slides out. You want to show mommy, but she’s on the other side of the playground talking to another lady, and you know how boring grown-up talks can get. So you smush the sandcastle flat with your shovel and start a new one; maybe you can make this one even more perfect than the one before and draw doors and windows on it with a stick and decorate it with grass and pebbles.

There are two men sitting on the bench next to the sandbox and they’re talking boring grown-up talk too, but you think they’re handsome—not as handsome as daddy, of course—, so you don’t mind too much.

“Yeonhee and I are getting married, Donghae,” the one with yellow hair says. The one with the brown hair is quiet for a very long time, and he doesn’t look very happy. In fact, he doesn’t look much like anything at all; he just stares at his shoes and is very, very still. You wonder why, because you’re old enough—five and a half—to know that getting married means there will be a pretty wedding, and weddings are always happy.

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations, Hyukjae, I’m happy for you,” the brown-haired man, Donghae, finally says to the other with a small smile.

“I want you to be my best man.” Well, you’re not quite sure what that means, because daddy is the best man in the world and everyone knows it. There’s another super-long pause.

“Why me?” You think Donghae must not be very smart if it takes him so long to think of such short things to say.

“Don’t be stupid, Hae. I consider you my best friend.”

“O-of course.” Then Donghae stands up really fast and starts mumbling—you catch bits of “I have to go something blah something”, and Hyukjae stands too. Donghae starts to leave, but Hyukjae suddenly grabs him and hugs him very tightly. Donghae doesn’t hug back and kind of just hangs there like the rag doll you always have tea parties with, and the thought of a grown-up man hugging a dollie makes you giggle. The sound makes Donghae finally notice you, and he pushes the other man away.

“I’ll see you later, Hyuk,” he says, and walks away. Hyukjae stands there for a long time, watching him leave. He’s completely still, and you wonder if he’s turned into a statue. You want to poke him just to check, but mommy would say that’s a rude thing to do.

Well, Hyukjae is too quiet and Donghae is gone and it’s all so boring now, so you turn back to your sandcastle. Grown-ups talk about such strange things. But then again, grown-ups are very strange people.

*

Your daughter is coming home for dinner this weekend—you can hardly believe she’s already twenty-three, grown and beautiful and mature, not when you can still remember singing her lullabies and scolding her for getting her Sunday dress dirty when she played tag after Mass, not when you remember her kindergarten graduation just as well as her high school and college ones, and oh, where does the time go?

Laughter outside the window breaks you from your reverie, and you lift the pink curtain to see that sweet boy next door, Donghae, down below, sitting with his friend on the steps of his front porch. The other boy is named Hyukjae, you remember, and he’s a pure gentleman—he helped you with your heavy groceries once on his way to Donghae’s house. The two must be starting high school now; they are wearing their uniforms and the awkward look of teenage boys in the middle of their growth spurt, all gangly limbs and jutting elbows and knees. They’re talking and laughing, and you smile at the carefree grins on their faces.

Then, everything happens so quickly, perhaps because you hadn’t expected it at all, but one moment the two are sitting side-by-side, and the next their lips are pressed together with all the awkwardness of a first kiss.

You stagger back (the curtain falls down with a soft swish), pressing a hand to your faint heart—dear Lord, those two nice boys are homosexuals!—, and collapse into a chair. Donghae had always been such a polite boy, if a bit of a dreamer, and you had never suspected that he was… like this. Half of your mind tells you to call his mother right at this very minute and inform her of what you’ve seen. Instead, you snatch your rosary off the drawer and murmur a prayer for their souls.

*

You and Hyukjae have been best friends since elementary school, and you don’t like his newfound closeness with Donghae at all. The weekly movie dates at your house—a tradition strictly adhered to for the past four years—have been effectively interrupted by Hyukjae’s sheepish “Sorry, Su, I already promised to hang out with Hae” and Donghae’s cheerful but apologetic smile as the two waltz off, leaving you in the dust yet again. All in all, it makes you want to break something.

No, it’s not jealousy, of course not, but rather a sense of betrayal that your best friend could abandon you so easily for someone else. You are extremely loud in vocalizing your displeasure at the whole thing, letting everyone and their mother know just how affronted you are. It’s a bit unfair to Donghae, you suppose; it’s not really his fault, and he is nice, but it feels good to blame someone. You might have gone overboard, because Kim Heechul finally corners you one day in an empty hallway after school. He’s only a bit taller, really, and certainly skinnier and undeniably girly, and you two sort of share the same group of friends. You’re still terrified.

“Are you blind or just stupid?” he demands with all his usual charm, towering over you with flashing eyes. You’re neither, of course, and you find enough of your voice to tell him so, offended he’d think such a thing. He sighs and runs a hand through his long red hair, killer aura dissipating. “Just… open your eyes a bit, okay?”

That’s not much advice, and you don’t really remember asking for advice in the first place, but you still decide to give it a try. When Heechul tells you to do something, it’s usually a very good idea to obey. You watch Hyukjae and Donghae more closely, and there’s nothing different, not at first. Then you start to see the small smiles, the casual brush of hands, the way Hyukjae’s eyes linger a bit longer on Donghae than strictly necessary. You know for sure when you lean down to pick up a pen and see the palms of their hands touching underneath the table.

Oh. Oh. Well, it could be worse, you suppose. As long as Hyukjae doesn’t hit on you or anything, you don’t really mind.

*

Growing up meant growing apart. You all went your separate ways when college came around, and while you kept in touch, it became difficult to remember who went where and who was doing what. You were surprised when Shiwon called. “A little get-together,” he had explained, “so we can all catch up. Please come, Kibum.”

You’re glad you decided to show up; you had nearly forgotten how good it felt to laugh with them again, once the initial awkwardness and formalities and “how have you been”’s were bridged. Hyukjae is the only one missing—he had called an hour ago to say he’d be a bit late—, and it’s difficult not to notice how reserved and fidgety Donghae is.

A loud shout from across the restaurant announces his arrival, and you look up. His hair is blonde now, he’s a bit taller, and there’s a wide grin across his features. However, all of that is lost on you, because there’s a girl standing next to him, and their fingers are intertwined.

“Hey, everyone, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Yeonhee,” he says. She bows and smiles and says all of the correct things for a proper introduction. Shiwon nods and smiles warmly in greeting, Heechul plays with his hair, Yunho drums his fingers on the table. Junsu hugs Hyukjae exuberantly, Jungsu looks out the window, and Sungmin busies himself going through the messages on his phone. They’re all pointedly refusing to look at Donghae, and you realize that you know exactly what they’re doing because you won’t look at him either. You turn to glance at his face.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Donghae says with a brittle smile that sets your teeth on edge.

*

You drag him all the way across the hall to the couch, where you drop him with a scowl, not even bothering with his shoes. God, Donghae had better appreciate this in the morning; you do not enjoy being woken at four in the morning to rescue your inebriated childhood friend from a bar so dirty you could feel the STDs in the air. Not that you don’t know what all of this is about; you’ve already received an invitation.

“Heechul, Hyukjae’s getting married,” Donghae slurs, head lolling against the window. You keep your eyes on the road, hands firm on the steering wheel.

“It’ll be okay.”

“He asked me to be his best man,” Donghae replies with a wide grin. You don’t know how to respond. “He told me it was because I was his best friend,” he tells you, and laughs. It grows louder and louder and increasingly hysterical, until you’re not sure whether he’s laughing or crying.

You go to the kitchen to get a damp washcloth, and when you return, he’s writhing and groaning on the couch, streaks of dried tears still evident on his cheeks.

“Hyukjae, Hyukjae, I l— I lo—”

“Shush,” you cut him off quietly, brushing the hair back from his face and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Hyukjae always was a fool.

*

This wedding, it’s simply the most gorgeous affair you’ve ever seen. The flowers are lush and fragrant and the decorations are extravagant, but the most beautiful of all is the blushing bride, adorned with creamy silk and lace. And the groom is just so handsome, and you’re sure they’re the most beautiful couple you’ve ever seen. The bride fits perfectly against the groom’s side, and the scene must be directly out of a fairy tale. Of course, you don’t really know either of them, you’re a friend of a friend of a cousin on either the bride’s or groom’s side—you can’t remember—, invited by obligation, but that’s inconsequential.

You burst into tears when the two exchange their vows—you always cry at weddings—, it’s just so beautiful. Beside you, your husband sighs and adjusts his tie and passes you some tissues, and you jab him in the side with your finger, hissing that he could stand to be a little more romantic, and was he trying to look rude?

The guests erupt into cheers when the groom pushes back the veil and kisses his bride. The priest pronounces them man and wife, and the two turn to face the crowd as a married couple. A fresh flood of tears bursts forth and you dab your eyes ferociously.

As the newlyweds walk back down the aisle hand-in-hand, smiling and waving at the well-wishers, you catch a glimpse of the best man through your tears. Such a handsome young man, you think, and reportedly the groom’s single best friend. He would be such a good match for your niece; perhaps you can introduce them at the reception. He is wearing a wide, bright smile, brighter than anyone’s in the room, even though he looks a bit pale—perhaps he’s sick?—, and it warms your heart. It’s so touching to see a man’s happiness on his best friend’s wedding day.

*****

A/N: This was written as a short story for my Introduction to Fiction class last semester. My TA's reaction to this was pretty amusing. XD

parthenope_sing @ 2007-04-30T23:26:00

2007-05-01T03:30:57Z

Darling
H.O.T - Junta
1293 words; PG
It's their anniversary today.

Kangta slowly opens his eyes and is greeted by the sunlight streaming through the window, splaying carelessly over his face and the pale blue sheets. He smiles. He loves being woken up this way; it's second only to butterfly kisses on his face, a sing-song "Taya, it's time to get up" in his ear, Heejun's smiling face hovering over his own.

That thought makes him realize what day it is, and his eyes dart over to the calendar on the wall opposite the bed, where today's date is outlined with a red markered heart. Kangta's smile widens.

It's their fifth anniversary.

They first meet when Kangta--just Chilhyun at the time--is seventeen, in his final year of high school, still innocent and timid. He doesn't know quite what to make of the loud young man with fluffy back hair who suddenly plops down on the seat across from him at a coffee shop as he is reading his favorite book.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"I-I'm An Chilhyun..." he stammers, pushing the glasses up his nose to see this strange man a bit better, "Who are you?"

"I'm Moon Heejun. Nice to meet you, Chilhyun. You're really cute, do you want to go out sometime?" Chilhyun flushes deeply and is saved answering when a blonde man with large ears appears out of nowhere and smacks Heejun upside the head.

"I'm sorry about my friend, he's an idiot," the blonde informs Chilhyun, promptly before dragging Heejun out of the cafe by the ear.

Kangta hums "Hengbok" as he puts on his apron. Lovely weather always puts him in a good mood, and the knowledge of what day it is only enhances this. He nearly glows as he makes breakfast.

He cooks blueberry pancakes, of course, Heejun's favorite. He sets the table for two but only serves himself, and saves the leftover pancakes in the refrigerator. Kangta knows Heejun won't show up, not for breakfast.

They meet again a year later, when Kangta is a freshman at the university and searching for his next class.

There's no doubt who this man is, even if his hair is now flat and blonde. Kangta winces and wonders what the chances are that they could meet again. And have the other hit on him. Again. He doubts the other man remembers who he is. Kangta has grown taller, he exchanged his glasses for contacts, cut his hair, and changed his clothes. He's no longer the painfully shy, bookish boy he was only a year ago.

"Kangta," Kangta mumbles--he hasn't mumbled in months, what is he doing?--, staring down at his feet.

"Funny, I could've sworn your name was Chilhyun." Kangta looks up, startled, and blinks.

"I never forget a pretty face," Heejun says, and winks.

"So how have you been, Taya?" Tony asks, folding his hands together on the tabletop. Beside him, Woohyuk sips his coffee and is silent. The sunlight outside catches on their matching rings, and Kangta finds himself staring. He shakes his head and laughs.

"You just saw me two weeks ago, I'm fine."

The lunch passes by with lapses of companionable silence and idle conversation.

"Jaewon was supposed to come today, but he's really busy with final exams and all," Tony informs him between bites. Kangta begins to nod, then gasps and glances at his watch.

"Oh, no! I have to go. I'm sorry, Tony, Woohyuk. Here, I'll pay for my share--" Kangta fumbles for his wallet, but Tony waves an arm at him.

"Don't worry about, Hyukie and I've got it covered. Where are you in such a hurry to, anyway?"

"I have to go buy some groceries, then go home and make dinner." At Tony and Woohyuk's blank looks, Kangta explains, "It's Heejun's and my anniversary today." Tony and Woohyuk glance at each other.

"Taya--" Tony begins. Woohyuk lays a warning hand on Tony's arm and shakes his head slowly. Tony bites his lip but doesn't continue. Woohyuk turns to look at Kangta, eyes unreadable through his glasses.

"Have a good time, Taya," is all the older man says. Kangta nods and smiles.

He's lucky to have such caring friends, Kangta thinks on his way to the supermarket. They've been so supportive in the past, and really, he wouldn't be anywhere today without them.

Kangta screams and screams. He wants to tear all the posters off the wall and shatter the vases against the walls and floor, but he can't bear to do it, he can't, so all he can do is scream and cry.

"Taya, Taya!" Tony cries out. He wraps his arms tightly around the younger boy, who clings to his shirt and sobs. "It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay," he croons, rocking Kangta gently back and forth. Kangta feels another pair of arms embrace him from behind, and a third body at his side, and doesn't have to turn to know that it's Woohyuk and Jaewon.

"It's going to be okay."

Kangta weighs the apples each hand and carefully checks them for any blemishes before dropping them in the plastic bag. Heejun loves apple pie, he can serve it for dessert with vanilla ice cream and caramel.

His basket is already laden with the different things he's going to make tonight, dried pasta, raw chicken, fresh vegetables, herbs and spices. Kangta wonders idly if he should get a shopping cart instead. He glances outside.

Clouds are gathering in the sky; Kangta hopes it won't rain.

Kangta sings softly as he cooks, and jumps when a pair of arms snake around his waist.

"I love it when you cook, Hyunnie," Heejun whispers, and presses a soft kiss to Kangta's cheek. Kangta tilts his head to the side to catch Heejun's lips in a lingering kiss, and pulls away only when he needs to breathe.

"Now, shoo! You wouldn't want me to burn dinner, would you?"

Kangta sets the table carefully after a quick shower. He's wearing the shirt Heejun bought for him for Christmas, the black silk one. He arranges the bouquet on red roses on the table, and as a final touch, turns the lights off and lights the candles.

Satisfied, Kangta sits back and waits.

Heejun, dressed in a dashing suit, presents him with a bouquet of twelve red roses on their first anniversary, right in the middle of a professor's lecture of medicine in the 20th century. The girls "awww" and the boys sneer.

Kangta smiles through his tears, and pulls his lover in for a kiss.

Three hours have passed, and the second set of candles have melted into short stubs--the first set completely melted an hour ago, and Kangta had replaced them--, and his lovingly prepared food has gone cold. It's obvious that Heejun won't show up.

Really, Kangta should know better by now, but he can never stop himself from hoping, just as he did last year. That Heejun will burst in through the floor with a flurry of apologies and that bright, bright smile, sit down and eat everything on his plate even though it's ice-cold, and tell Kangta that it's the most delicious food he's ever eaten.

But, really, Kangta should know better. After all, his lover's been dead for two years.

"Can you believe it?" Heejun whispers, squeezing Kangta's hand, voice barely audible over the beeping of machines in the hospital room, "We made it to three years."

"Yeah, Junnie, we did," Kangta answers with a watery smile, gripping Heejun's cold, cold hand tightly between his own. "I love you." Heejun closes his eyes and smiles.

"I love you too, Hyunnie," he says, "Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary, darling," Kangta whispers, and blows out the candles.

Outside, the rain starts to fall.