Elevator
Title: Elevator
Rating: PG
Pairings: 2min (wooooo~)
Summary: what even are summaries they're in an elevator ok
ALSO THIS IS DEDICATED IN PART TO KYUHYUNPHILIA, IS IT PSYCHICFEELING ON HERE? DON'T KILL ME IF I'M WRONG I'M SORRY OK I LOVE YOU
(a.) He runs into the building, a hastily stuffed file of papers in the crook of his arm that threaten to flutter into the wind behind him and yells for them to hold the elevator, sliding in before the doors jam shut.
The people inside look at him in bemusement, but he ignores them and tries to catch his breath, huffing hard as he shuffles the papers back into the file. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the boy next to him with a secret smile playing on full lips.
It's stuck in his head all day, the glimmer in black eyes and the sad of never discovering the secrets of his smiles.
(b.) It's the end of lunch hour, an empty elevator with headphones playing and eyes closed leaning against the mirrored wall. The elevator stops, a person shuffles inside but he nods his head in time to the beat, fingers tapping in the pockets of his slacks. He hears a murmur, opens his eyes abruptly only to find a wide smile this time.
'I’m sorry, what did you say?' he stumbles out when he's yanked down his headphones.
'I said, I love Nirvana too. Heart Shaped Box, right?'
All he can do is gape mindlessly at the boy in front of him with his head cocked slightly to his right.
The floor underneath them stops moving, stops with a sudden lurch to his stomach. The boy glances up.
'This is my floor.'
And with a twist of his lips, he turns on his heel and disappears.
(c.) He's given up, a week and two days passing by with eyes wide open yet no glimpse of honey blonde hair. Defeated, he steps on with downcast eyes, concentrated on tapping on his phone. He hears a hum of contentment, a little clearing of a throat, and turns slowly.
His fair hair is flush against the glass, a content smile spread over fairy pink lips.
'I thought I wouldn't see you again,' he breathes, and Minho's lost in the music woven in his voice.
The doors open and a crowd of people appear, in a rush and getting crushed, they cram in packed as sardines, yet separated on different sides.
(d.) He stands in the centre of the elevator, His eyes mindlessly tracking the light above the door, frowning when it stops at an undesignated floor. It opens with a ping, and in he steps, a halo of golden hair and a smirk that appears when his gaze flickers to Minho.
They stand shoulder to shoulder, his heart thumping every second because of the coconut vanilla that fills his nostrils.
It stops again, the boy letting a soft sigh only barely heard by careful ears. Minho inclines his head slightly as a goodbye, not expecting the boy to turn and swiftly press his lips to the corner of his jaw.
The barest of pressure, vanilla intensified with an exhale of breath that tickles his neck.
He's too slow yet again, an empty elevator with coconut lingering in the midst.
(e.) Minho learns the schedule, of sorts. How he's the latest possible but still early. It's fleeting, times never exactly right and sometimes only three times (maybe) out of the week.
There's fleeting gazes caught and flitting of the eyes, the smirks and quirks of bowed and curved lips, tired mornings when all Minho can do is stare sleepily, stupidly at the back the still stranger's head.
When they're alone, they stand shoulder to shoulder; facing each other; one against the back of the glass wall whilst the other stands with a secret smile and watches the light switch from floor to floor.
When they're alone, there's excitement and tension and the unresolved promise of love that's yet to come.
(f.) 'You kissed me, you know.' Minho states. They're facing each other this morning, leaning against opposite walls. The boy's legs are crossed at the ankles, nonchalant.
'I know.'
Minho can feel the smile spreading across his lips, and the boy's response is to laugh at him, laughter that peals out and echoes pleasantly in his mind.
(g.) It becomes a game almost, a game of 20 questions that seem to be never ending. One question per day, alternating between the questioner and the answerer.
Minho learns that his name is Taemin, he has a brother, two dogs, (which basically counts as three dogs, according to Taemin), he enjoys cinemas with popcorn and hushed silence. He learns that Taemin likes to rock the edges of his feet when they're waiting, the smile that plays on his lips are from memories that float into his head. He realises by time Taemin always wears the ring on his index finger, which he turns and turns for comfort, that the crease between his forehead comes often when he's thinking, worrying about the little somethings.
He thinks that maybe, he might possibly feel an infinite amount of love for this boy with soft skin and sharp bones.
(h.) It's Minho's turn to ask his question today, a question he's been putting off for each time for fear of what the answer may be, fear that it may not mean as much to Taemin as it did to him.
He arrives, 3 minutes to 9, to the elevator and slides through the doors. Taemin's already there, eyes laughing at him with a finger pressed to his lips. They're not alone today, a man with papers the size of the yellow pages occupying the left side. Minho waits impatiently for him to leave, hissing in frustration when Taemin has to leave before him.
His arm reaches out before he can stop, grabbing a thin wrist with a jutting wristbone and smooth, smooth skin.
'My question,' Minho whispers into his ear. He doesn't miss the shiver that curls through the boy, a little gasp of a sharp, quick breath.
'Why did you kiss me?'
(i) Nervous is all he feels. The butterflies in his stomach flutter too much to settle and sleep until the next morning. He's impatient for lunch, the offchance of seeing Taemin making the passing minutes seem longer than ever possible.
It's hard to keep his pace to a stroll, seem unhurried if he does see Taemin.
But he doesn't.
(j.) Maybe he shouldn't have asked that question. Maybe he imagined it, imagined what he wanted to happen and now Taemin thought he was utterly and quintessentially crazy. It's with a slow walk that he reaches the elevator, stepping on.
Alone, the smell of lemon cleaning detergent still fresh from the floor and sharp in his nose.
The doors begin to close, but a hand shoots through, a thin wrist pushing the doors back as Minho stops, startled.
'My answer,' Taemin begins, slightly breathless. 'To your question.' He hesitates, pushing hair back with one hand only for it to fall back into place.
'I like you,' he says quietly, eyes falling to the floor.
The butterflies rise up with their quiet flutter, threatening to overtake and engulf his heart. There's nothing to stop the wide smile that breaks up his face, the relieved laughter that bubbles out and the overload of cute when Taemin looks up, puzzled and forehead furrowed.
Minho beams at him pleasantly, glancing as the floor above the door lit up and slid open its doors.
'Meet me.'
Taemin pauses. 'What?'
'For lunch.' he clears his throat self consciously. 'A lunch date.'
He receives a fond look in return, Taemin stretching up to pat his head gently.
'It's a date, then.'
(k.) He walks to work more quickly than usual, a spring in his step and a grin that stretches so wide that it makes people on the streets give him very strange looks. There's nothing to worry about, not when he steps into the building and he sees Taemin play with a potted plant next to the elevator.
He stands next to him, emitting a fake cough and rocks back on his heels, making a show of pressing the 'up' button and checking his watch loose on his wrist. There's a little giggle beside him, quiet and under his breath.
Minho nods to Taemin politely, signalling him to go before him and stands in the centre, quickly closing the door shut before anyone else appears.
The elevator begins, the familiar swoop in his stomach that the first ascent made.
'So,' Minho begins, glancing over to Taemin, a smirk gracing full lips.
'Yesterday was a nice lunch.'
Taemin laughs, arms free as he leans against the wall. Minho takes the step necessary to close the distance, until Taemin has to look up from under his lashes, vanilla coconut being the only thing filling his mind.
He leans down, forward until he can count every one of Taemin's eyelashes, until he can feel his hot breath on his cheek.
'Since you kissed me,' he murmurs, 'I get to kiss you.'
And he closes the final distance, feels the smile Taemin has against his own lips. A chuckle comes from deep in his throat, and Taemin sighs, melting into his embrace and threading fingers through dark hair. They brush lips once, twice, thrice, tender and sweet.
A/N: OMFG THIS WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE AND NOW IT'S 1500 WORDS
anyway, I hope you enjoyed this even though it's stupid and about an elevator and I basically wrote it in like the space of 2 hours /crying
btw, if anyone actually reads my stuff I'm going to officially announce that Police Station is on a hiatus (if you haven't assumed so already), because schoolwork is so much this year I can't even. It doesn't help that I'm doing 4 subjects instead of the usualy 3 but ahh weeeeell right? And now I have to write an essay on Antony and Cleopatra.
ok, so now I'm rambling.
Thank you for reading~