passing on the stairs (ch 1)
Passing on the Stairs
minho♡key
ch 1⟶pg13; Minho is okay with never getting to know the boy with the retro shades and dress shoes as long as he gets those nice moments while going down the stairs.
passing on the stairs; minho.
He stood unblinking in front of the shattering waves, sea foam bubbling at his feet and mist enveloping his figure. As he flitted towards the endless dark blue paradise, his eyes closed and lips parted to welcome the salty kiss, the ocean’s inviting seduction luring him in. When he opened his eyes again it had retreated, leaving a tan based oasis of sea shells that were like diamonds and rubies and pearls. He swayed back and forth, guided by a comforting wind and a distant voice that spoke of warnings and salvation, but he stayed as his eyes suddenly began to sting and water. Looking up to the twenty-story uprising that towered over him, he fleetingly remembered his grandparents and the cottage they had by a similar ocean before hearing a chuckle from afar. It was enticing and he turned back to identify the owner but not before being slammed down onto the bed of glass-like shells and dragged violently into the depths of the blue abyss...
Someday, one day/ Next to the problems that you have thrown away/ You were left behind and I was left behind/ Don't observe other people's pains with joy/ It will become a boomerang/ One flow, One flow- (3:07-3:30)
Minho jolted up, breathing heavily as if he were drowning in-
“Another dream.” He inhaled deeply, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Reaching over to the 3-drawer chest at the bed’s side, he shut off the alarm playing from his phone, the heavy rock beats not really helping the migraine pounding at his forehead. He kicked himself inwardly looking at the time: ten minutes until his next photo gig. In other words, he was late again. He rolled off the bed rushing out of his lofted bedroom, flew down the stairs and halted in midair, glancing between the kitchen and the bathroom. Skipping breakfast & lunch for another week in a row isn’t exactly what you’d call “healthy”, but prioritizing the need to be crispy clean and stylishly presentable was what kept his clients so...
“Two-minute shower it is,” he settled with pursed lips, bee-lining to the shower somewhat guiltily.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
Some five minutes later (give or take) Minho stumbled out of his bachelor’s flat with his black pant’s unzipped, belt unbuckled, and abdomen fully exposed as he wrestled with his loose white thrift tank above his head. It was a good thing he memorized the stairs or else he’d be falling unceremoniously over one the new neighbors right now. Cold knuckles brushed his naked waist, the contact purely accidental but enough to make Minho stop in his tracks. A light laugh came from behind and he immediately turned around, shoving his shirt down, this scenario bringing about the sickest déjà vu all too suddenly. The other boy had already reached the top of the stairs, donning an arched brow and wry grin as he once-overed Minho. Medium long brown wavy hair with aviator shades and white Converse, meet lighter brown short hair with retro shades, a school uniform and black Dockers.
“Hi.” Minho swallowed, feeling like waves and tripping like he was Yoda’s kid brother from another equally alien looking mother. They looked at each other, not really seeing each other because they were veiled by their tinted accessories. It was quiet, except for the heavy steps coming from behind him.
“Don’t just stand there, go help your mother load the rest of the boxes in! Your beyond late for school!” A man in a business suit bumped into Minho and huffed up the stairs, glaring at his son with narrowed eyes of disgust as he walked by towards to their new apartment. Minho would’ve felt offended if he wasn’t so distracted by the boy chewing on his lower lip.
“Hi.” The boy replied belatedly, continuing to chew as he pushed his shades up his nose. “Your zi-...you’ve got red on your shirt.”
Minho looked down so fast he almost heard a crack. They were bloodstains, he noticed with a small frown as he lifted his shirt and saw some scars. Those definitely weren’t there last night.
“Ya! Kibum, hurry and get your books, you’re already extremely late for your first day of school!” A petite woman was shouting from an equally little car in the structure’s parking lot.
“Be right down! Uhm.” the boy named Kibum fidgeted bit, nodding his head to the direction of his new home.
“Oh.” Minho nodded with unspoken understanding, lifting his right hand and waving it slightly. Kibum chuckled again, subtly shaking his head as he stalked off to his door. Minho looked at his lifted hand, smelling it and shrugged. He was about to walk down the rest of the stairs when he realized how very empty handed he was...
“Crap! My equipment!”
...and how he should probably change his shirt.
Another 5 minutes.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
Minho was a 19 year old photographer, both by hobby and part-time profession. He was in his first year of college for liberal arts, still unsure of what he wanted to do. Of course, being athletically talented all of his life, he was offered scholarships for more than one sport in his university’s intercollegiate teams. However, he figured he’d had his fair share of victory what with all the championships he won for any and every sport offered in his high school.
It was during his second year of high school when he’d woken up earlier than his usual 6am training to take pictures of the school soccer field to show his dad. It was just when he was entering the school gates when he saw an average looking girl under the biggest tree on campus at sunrise, maple leaves falling and dancing majestically around her as she hummed a soft tune while doing some last-minute math homework. The scene was beautiful, and he took out his digi-cam to take a shot. And that was it; he asked his dad for an SLR (Nikon D90 was his life) and since then he’s made it his mission to capture as much candid beauty as possible. His talent in that aspect grew, and soon he was asked to photograph for weddings, concerts, miscellaneous job and, like today, school yearbooks.
It was his first school gig and he could be considered lucky since it’s the first long term “job” he’s had. Most of his school expenses were provided by his dad, but he depended on the extra cash for his editing programs and equipment. Speaking of, he really should keep it in his car to expedite his lag so he can avoid awkward confrontations with 16-year old Editors-in-Chief & their 40 something year old Journalism teacher.
The girl narrowed her eyes at him as her teacher scripted from her mind out loud.
“You’re late, Mr. Choi.” the older woman muttered impassively.
“You look great Ms. Kang. A year’s passed but you still look the same as how I left you”, Minho chewed on the inside of his lower lip coolly, holding back a laugh because he knew he should be a lot more courteous but he couldn’t help to pick on his old photography mentor.
The older lady sighed, shaking her head with a smile.
“Nice shirt.”-he had changed into a black loose tank and a dark blue blazer, hair in a messy ponytail- “Come inside, the seniors are getting so anxious, I can already feel their inner critics starting to sabotage the poses they’ve been practicing since this morning. So much for student in their natural environment, eh?”
She gave an amused chuckle as her student looked at her with an appalled expression, hoping that her well-respected teacher would at least reprimand the boy for disregarding time. Minho smiled with pursed lips at the two as he made his way into the classroom, strapped camera on hand ready for some action.
When he walked inside he saw, just like the instructor had described, the entire class in uproar . Some of the jocks were huddled at the back flexing their biceps and out-rawrface-ing each other in attempts to be epic and manly. Some of the girls were adding what would seem like their 5th layer of make-up while the others were hugging each other, making cute poses to a mirror and holding it up in front of them as if it were a camera. The rest were either sleeping, reading, rushing to finish late assignments before graduation and... then there was one, Minho noticed, who had his hands in his hoody pockets, eyes slightly squinting and head barely tilting while focusing very intently at the ceiling as if it were telling him secrets. Minho found himself being drawn to him, fingers twitching around the camera. He had the perfect shot and barely managed to push the button before his mentor tugged at his arm, smiling, blinking endlessly as she faced the class and clapped loudly three times to get their attention.
“Alright class," the teacher began, "I’m sure you’re all more than excited for today’s activities but there are a couple of things I need to mention before we begin. First, an old student of mine is going to be regular company for the remainder of the semester as photographer. He’ll be taking pictures for the yearbook a couple of times a week, so don’t let him distract you.”
“Please, think of me as an indoor tree, or a disguised mercenary gathering photos to use in the future when your tortured underclassmen decide to seek vengeance once you’ve graduated.” He paused a little short of breathe after that mouth full with a friendly smile, shrugging as he finished, “You know, whichever makes you feel more comfortable.”
It was supposed to be taken as a joke, as bad as it was, but the class sat with a deadly silence. Wow, Minho mused to himself, these kids really were the typical abusive upperclassmen weren’t they. Minho looked to his teacher to save him from the dismal atmosphere, but she too seemed perturbed by his dark humor. She cleared her throat and continued, doing her best to take the attention away from her former student’s daunting fiasco.
“Right. Right, so. Remember, this is a photo shoot to record memories of your high school experience, meaning natural shots of what you would be doing on a typical school day. Only minimal posing will be allowed. And for crissake, Miss Jung, this is for the yearbook not a Maxim spread! Put that sweater back on this instant!” Cat calls were heard as the young girl the instructor addressed rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, putting her cashmere sweater over her tight fitting white tube tank. Minho chuckled nervously; he was just glad the attention was taken from his shoulders.
“Secondly,” the teacher began again sternly, “we have a new student with us today. He may be late into this semester, but he’s all but caught up and just needs to take the exit exams along with the rest of you next year. Mr. Kim, please stand and introduce yourself.” She ended with a baked-cookies smile aimed at the boy she called on.
Minho’s eyes widened just a bit as he caught a full front view of the student (without the colorful glasses) who stood with perfect posture facing the back wall and staring at it like it was his audience. It was him, the boy he swore he saw in his dreams, his next door neighbor, his-
“Name’s Kim Kibum. I hope this year will pass by quickly enough, I don’t really feel like getting to know any of you. So uhm nice to meet you and all that.” He sat down, forcing out a yawn through flared nostrils as he suddenly occupied himself with fingering the emeralds on the silver peacock ring on his index finger.
“Y-yes, very well.” Ms. Kang looked perplexed, not having expected the level of curt asshole in her two student’s comments. “Oh screw it. Minho, you can start anytime. Third period will be starting soon so I suggest you make the most of the next 15 mins or else.” She unkindly narrowed her eyes at Jessica (Minho overheard her name from all the earlier teasing).
She stomped out of the room, leaving Minho alone with the class who was staring at him as if he himself were to give them a lesson. Minho was still looking at the teen but shook his head and looked back at the class. He sighed, not really knowing what to do nor wanting to make an effort to better the atmosphere, so he did what he was payed to do: he lifted his camera up and took a shot. Most of the faces were looking at the lens looking bored and dead, others eyes wandering to each other or at their desk. It was so solemn and full of angst, he made a mental note to gray scale it when it came down to editing.
He took a couple more shots in the same position and soon the class started letting their hair down one by one, sheepishly beginning to “be natural” as they had rehearsed earlier.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
It was during last period when Minho finally decided it was time for a break. For the rest of the afternoon after meeting the seniors, he had wandered the school during the students’ breaks and in between classes, taking pictures whenever he felt it was needed. He was approached by many young girls trying to get him to talk or give them a more private shooting, but he managed to slip away with a practiced smile and low unintelligible grunts when they weren’t satisfied with the former.
He wanted to go home. It was only the first day with the teens and he was already getting tired of all the hormones and the coming-of-age of the whole thing (he was beyond over it with his own experience), but he still had to photograph all the after school groups. Sighing, he wandered some more until he registered how much he desperately needed a nap and some food, in that order or at the same time if he could manage.
He walked down a flight of stairs, immediately noticing the lithe boy from earlier. He was looking at the paintings climbing up the wall when both their heads turned to each other like magnets. They made the slightest of eye contact, only to blink their vision back to the direction each was headed. Minho stopped in his tracks much like that morning. It was quiet except for the chattering from outside and the echoing steps disappearing as the source walked beyond the halls.
Minho would’ve looked back, wanted to, but, really, there wasn’t anything to talk about. Small talk was out of the question as Minho found it distasteful; it was just so awkward and lame and he was over the big smiles and even bigger laughs, too fabricated. And it wasn’t like he could tell the teen about how he thinks he saw him in his dream without sounding like a prophetic freak. Being all “hey diddle ho, new neighbor!” wasn’t an option either. So he kept walking, reaching his destination in the nurse’s office at the bottom of the stairs and quieting his fatigue on one of the vacant beds leaving his blazer at it’s foot.
Spread eagle, he finally let today’s events get some mulling over. His dreams were becoming more vivid, as they’ve been haunting them for almost a week - he should see a therapist or dream interpreter but he won't. The neighbors...he’d probably have to stop by to give them a piece of cake or something. His mother always said to be nice whenever there was someone new moving in and it brought good luck. And then the boy named Kim Kibum. He was cute in a mousy sort of way and had spunk much like himself.
At every job, there was always something or someone he’d look forward to seeing that would distract him enough to make his work more bearable. For example, at weddings, it was the way the bride smiled with excitement and fear and the way her expensive choice of cake would melt in his mouth. At concerts, it was the lead vocalist’s charismatic and arrogant performance and the way the lines of the singer’s not-so-expensive cocaine were vacuumed up his nostrils and made him feel like forever’s bride. For this job...it was Kim Kibum and his enigma with an air of aristocracy despite being in a public school and living in a high-middle-class apartment. He hardly, as in 0.03%, knew him, but he figured he didn’t need to as long as he caught a glimpse of him and kept having those nice encounters, passing on the stairs, so he could breathe in his existence and exhale the possibilities.
He briefly wondered what taste would compliment Kibum as he fell asleep to the sound of his own munching on a granola bar that he’d taken from one of the nicer and less desperate girls.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
He was inside the cottage this time, laying spread eagle on the kitchen floor as all the glass in the house shattered into millions of tiny little specks, floating without the gravity of time to bring them down. To him, they were crystal star dust floating in mid air on an adventure to capture the sun’s light so they could each have a color. There were also shards that were just too heavy to keep flying and so they made their home on top of him. Some of them were kind enough to settle on top of his skin, while others were too deeply hurt by their new found solitude and decided to dig themselves in him instead. It was delayed, the water that was now flooding the cottage, but it made it’s apology known by rushing in much quicker and more violently than any normal flooding. His body rose with the water towards the ceiling that, in that moment, took a human form and stretched it’s arms to embrace him. The semblance was uncanny and he felt a sting of warning, but the lithe figure smiled cattily as he pressed his body to the other, flesh and glass connecting them.
“Shh don’t wake him. He looks so peaceful and dreamy.”
“But coach said we need to get him and the camera out, our game is gonna start in like 20 minutes.”
“Just a little bit longer. Go on, Krys! I’ll wake him in five, promise.”
“Fine, but don’t rape him in his sleep, Jess.”
Minho was awake and heard the last bits of the conversation but decided it was best not to move. There was burgundy red on his sheets of old blood, and he looked down: his arms were crossed so that he was hugging himself with his nails digging into his stomach.
Oh, so that’s where the scars came from.
“Who knew Ms. Kwang had connections to such good looking guys. I bet you’re a model too aren’t you. Man would I love to...” She trailed off as she heard someone coming.
“I’ll be right back.” She whispered seductively to his hair. She left the room just as someone else came in.
He opened his eyes again just a bit, looking down unfocused as he tried to listen. The new somebody was making rustling sounds as if they were moving sheets or... or removing clothes. The bed next to him squeaked as it was inhabited, the nearby curtain being pulled and sealing any further action or noise.
Minho breathed deeply, knowing he should leave to his last part of today’s work but being filled with a curiosity that dragged him off the bed and to the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have to look to feel the eyes that were following his shadow from behind the curtain.
It was a foolish attempt, but he had a feeling he knew who it was and he had a feeling if he took off his shirt just as he did now, that person would know who he was. He faced sideways for the other’s better viewing, rubbing antiseptic ointment onto his scarred tummy as he heard the high-pitched raking from the curtain hooks riding on the rod. He looked towards him: a wry grin on the verge of laughter, in a patient’s gown.
Bingo.
| next
Minho's pad would look something like this (cr: tumblr)
author's note
hi hi! this is bulkoki@lj(previously vyplum), starting off as lurker and currently trying to be frequent commenter XD lol and now, i'm here with my own very first fanfic ever! :D:D also! am kinda nervous with this story. i love minkey but they be so haaaaard >_> au & ooc ftw! i hope you enjoy it regardless :)
❧this is dedicated to mrs_min_ai@lj, fellow minkey shipper, for being an almost beta/advisory with my wip fics and also giving me that extra push to write minkey! i love how this all started on formspring lol & sorry i didn’t wait to show you the completed version ._. anywho, thanks so much for your encouragement bb, you’re amazing ;3; i hope you like~
❧also dedicated to hipslip@lj for her amazingly ass-kicking and inspiring writing. this be the minimini-surprise-ish i spoke of! lol & i CONFESSIONTIMEOMGHEREIGO i be the anon from tumblr :D i don’t know how, but you know all those anon questions from yr other tumblr? yeah, all me O_O gosh, told you i was a creeper. hey, it’s my job as the love affair, remember? lol anyway, here it is! thanks for encouraging me to stay true to my own style & ideas bb ♥ i hope this tickles your fancy, even if by just a little :)
footprints for the lurkers/silent readers/etc, something to encourage you to comment :) if you would like, please include one of the following in the subject line (with or without a comment, either is perfectly fine :))
(cr) All comments, short or long, for old fics or new, and concrit are always loved and appreciated ♥
minho♡key
ch 1⟶pg13; Minho is okay with never getting to know the boy with the retro shades and dress shoes as long as he gets those nice moments while going down the stairs.
passing on the stairs; minho.
He stood unblinking in front of the shattering waves, sea foam bubbling at his feet and mist enveloping his figure. As he flitted towards the endless dark blue paradise, his eyes closed and lips parted to welcome the salty kiss, the ocean’s inviting seduction luring him in. When he opened his eyes again it had retreated, leaving a tan based oasis of sea shells that were like diamonds and rubies and pearls. He swayed back and forth, guided by a comforting wind and a distant voice that spoke of warnings and salvation, but he stayed as his eyes suddenly began to sting and water. Looking up to the twenty-story uprising that towered over him, he fleetingly remembered his grandparents and the cottage they had by a similar ocean before hearing a chuckle from afar. It was enticing and he turned back to identify the owner but not before being slammed down onto the bed of glass-like shells and dragged violently into the depths of the blue abyss...
Someday, one day/ Next to the problems that you have thrown away/ You were left behind and I was left behind/ Don't observe other people's pains with joy/ It will become a boomerang/ One flow, One flow- (3:07-3:30)
Minho jolted up, breathing heavily as if he were drowning in-
“Another dream.” He inhaled deeply, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Reaching over to the 3-drawer chest at the bed’s side, he shut off the alarm playing from his phone, the heavy rock beats not really helping the migraine pounding at his forehead. He kicked himself inwardly looking at the time: ten minutes until his next photo gig. In other words, he was late again. He rolled off the bed rushing out of his lofted bedroom, flew down the stairs and halted in midair, glancing between the kitchen and the bathroom. Skipping breakfast & lunch for another week in a row isn’t exactly what you’d call “healthy”, but prioritizing the need to be crispy clean and stylishly presentable was what kept his clients so...
“Two-minute shower it is,” he settled with pursed lips, bee-lining to the shower somewhat guiltily.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
Some five minutes later (give or take) Minho stumbled out of his bachelor’s flat with his black pant’s unzipped, belt unbuckled, and abdomen fully exposed as he wrestled with his loose white thrift tank above his head. It was a good thing he memorized the stairs or else he’d be falling unceremoniously over one the new neighbors right now. Cold knuckles brushed his naked waist, the contact purely accidental but enough to make Minho stop in his tracks. A light laugh came from behind and he immediately turned around, shoving his shirt down, this scenario bringing about the sickest déjà vu all too suddenly. The other boy had already reached the top of the stairs, donning an arched brow and wry grin as he once-overed Minho. Medium long brown wavy hair with aviator shades and white Converse, meet lighter brown short hair with retro shades, a school uniform and black Dockers.
“Hi.” Minho swallowed, feeling like waves and tripping like he was Yoda’s kid brother from another equally alien looking mother. They looked at each other, not really seeing each other because they were veiled by their tinted accessories. It was quiet, except for the heavy steps coming from behind him.
“Don’t just stand there, go help your mother load the rest of the boxes in! Your beyond late for school!” A man in a business suit bumped into Minho and huffed up the stairs, glaring at his son with narrowed eyes of disgust as he walked by towards to their new apartment. Minho would’ve felt offended if he wasn’t so distracted by the boy chewing on his lower lip.
“Hi.” The boy replied belatedly, continuing to chew as he pushed his shades up his nose. “Your zi-...you’ve got red on your shirt.”
Minho looked down so fast he almost heard a crack. They were bloodstains, he noticed with a small frown as he lifted his shirt and saw some scars. Those definitely weren’t there last night.
“Ya! Kibum, hurry and get your books, you’re already extremely late for your first day of school!” A petite woman was shouting from an equally little car in the structure’s parking lot.
“Be right down! Uhm.” the boy named Kibum fidgeted bit, nodding his head to the direction of his new home.
“Oh.” Minho nodded with unspoken understanding, lifting his right hand and waving it slightly. Kibum chuckled again, subtly shaking his head as he stalked off to his door. Minho looked at his lifted hand, smelling it and shrugged. He was about to walk down the rest of the stairs when he realized how very empty handed he was...
“Crap! My equipment!”
...and how he should probably change his shirt.
Another 5 minutes.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
Minho was a 19 year old photographer, both by hobby and part-time profession. He was in his first year of college for liberal arts, still unsure of what he wanted to do. Of course, being athletically talented all of his life, he was offered scholarships for more than one sport in his university’s intercollegiate teams. However, he figured he’d had his fair share of victory what with all the championships he won for any and every sport offered in his high school.
It was during his second year of high school when he’d woken up earlier than his usual 6am training to take pictures of the school soccer field to show his dad. It was just when he was entering the school gates when he saw an average looking girl under the biggest tree on campus at sunrise, maple leaves falling and dancing majestically around her as she hummed a soft tune while doing some last-minute math homework. The scene was beautiful, and he took out his digi-cam to take a shot. And that was it; he asked his dad for an SLR (Nikon D90 was his life) and since then he’s made it his mission to capture as much candid beauty as possible. His talent in that aspect grew, and soon he was asked to photograph for weddings, concerts, miscellaneous job and, like today, school yearbooks.
It was his first school gig and he could be considered lucky since it’s the first long term “job” he’s had. Most of his school expenses were provided by his dad, but he depended on the extra cash for his editing programs and equipment. Speaking of, he really should keep it in his car to expedite his lag so he can avoid awkward confrontations with 16-year old Editors-in-Chief & their 40 something year old Journalism teacher.
The girl narrowed her eyes at him as her teacher scripted from her mind out loud.
“You’re late, Mr. Choi.” the older woman muttered impassively.
“You look great Ms. Kang. A year’s passed but you still look the same as how I left you”, Minho chewed on the inside of his lower lip coolly, holding back a laugh because he knew he should be a lot more courteous but he couldn’t help to pick on his old photography mentor.
The older lady sighed, shaking her head with a smile.
“Nice shirt.”-he had changed into a black loose tank and a dark blue blazer, hair in a messy ponytail- “Come inside, the seniors are getting so anxious, I can already feel their inner critics starting to sabotage the poses they’ve been practicing since this morning. So much for student in their natural environment, eh?”
She gave an amused chuckle as her student looked at her with an appalled expression, hoping that her well-respected teacher would at least reprimand the boy for disregarding time. Minho smiled with pursed lips at the two as he made his way into the classroom, strapped camera on hand ready for some action.
When he walked inside he saw, just like the instructor had described, the entire class in uproar . Some of the jocks were huddled at the back flexing their biceps and out-rawrface-ing each other in attempts to be epic and manly. Some of the girls were adding what would seem like their 5th layer of make-up while the others were hugging each other, making cute poses to a mirror and holding it up in front of them as if it were a camera. The rest were either sleeping, reading, rushing to finish late assignments before graduation and... then there was one, Minho noticed, who had his hands in his hoody pockets, eyes slightly squinting and head barely tilting while focusing very intently at the ceiling as if it were telling him secrets. Minho found himself being drawn to him, fingers twitching around the camera. He had the perfect shot and barely managed to push the button before his mentor tugged at his arm, smiling, blinking endlessly as she faced the class and clapped loudly three times to get their attention.
“Alright class," the teacher began, "I’m sure you’re all more than excited for today’s activities but there are a couple of things I need to mention before we begin. First, an old student of mine is going to be regular company for the remainder of the semester as photographer. He’ll be taking pictures for the yearbook a couple of times a week, so don’t let him distract you.”
“Please, think of me as an indoor tree, or a disguised mercenary gathering photos to use in the future when your tortured underclassmen decide to seek vengeance once you’ve graduated.” He paused a little short of breathe after that mouth full with a friendly smile, shrugging as he finished, “You know, whichever makes you feel more comfortable.”
It was supposed to be taken as a joke, as bad as it was, but the class sat with a deadly silence. Wow, Minho mused to himself, these kids really were the typical abusive upperclassmen weren’t they. Minho looked to his teacher to save him from the dismal atmosphere, but she too seemed perturbed by his dark humor. She cleared her throat and continued, doing her best to take the attention away from her former student’s daunting fiasco.
“Right. Right, so. Remember, this is a photo shoot to record memories of your high school experience, meaning natural shots of what you would be doing on a typical school day. Only minimal posing will be allowed. And for crissake, Miss Jung, this is for the yearbook not a Maxim spread! Put that sweater back on this instant!” Cat calls were heard as the young girl the instructor addressed rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, putting her cashmere sweater over her tight fitting white tube tank. Minho chuckled nervously; he was just glad the attention was taken from his shoulders.
“Secondly,” the teacher began again sternly, “we have a new student with us today. He may be late into this semester, but he’s all but caught up and just needs to take the exit exams along with the rest of you next year. Mr. Kim, please stand and introduce yourself.” She ended with a baked-cookies smile aimed at the boy she called on.
Minho’s eyes widened just a bit as he caught a full front view of the student (without the colorful glasses) who stood with perfect posture facing the back wall and staring at it like it was his audience. It was him, the boy he swore he saw in his dreams, his next door neighbor, his-
“Name’s Kim Kibum. I hope this year will pass by quickly enough, I don’t really feel like getting to know any of you. So uhm nice to meet you and all that.” He sat down, forcing out a yawn through flared nostrils as he suddenly occupied himself with fingering the emeralds on the silver peacock ring on his index finger.
“Y-yes, very well.” Ms. Kang looked perplexed, not having expected the level of curt asshole in her two student’s comments. “Oh screw it. Minho, you can start anytime. Third period will be starting soon so I suggest you make the most of the next 15 mins or else.” She unkindly narrowed her eyes at Jessica (Minho overheard her name from all the earlier teasing).
She stomped out of the room, leaving Minho alone with the class who was staring at him as if he himself were to give them a lesson. Minho was still looking at the teen but shook his head and looked back at the class. He sighed, not really knowing what to do nor wanting to make an effort to better the atmosphere, so he did what he was payed to do: he lifted his camera up and took a shot. Most of the faces were looking at the lens looking bored and dead, others eyes wandering to each other or at their desk. It was so solemn and full of angst, he made a mental note to gray scale it when it came down to editing.
He took a couple more shots in the same position and soon the class started letting their hair down one by one, sheepishly beginning to “be natural” as they had rehearsed earlier.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
It was during last period when Minho finally decided it was time for a break. For the rest of the afternoon after meeting the seniors, he had wandered the school during the students’ breaks and in between classes, taking pictures whenever he felt it was needed. He was approached by many young girls trying to get him to talk or give them a more private shooting, but he managed to slip away with a practiced smile and low unintelligible grunts when they weren’t satisfied with the former.
He wanted to go home. It was only the first day with the teens and he was already getting tired of all the hormones and the coming-of-age of the whole thing (he was beyond over it with his own experience), but he still had to photograph all the after school groups. Sighing, he wandered some more until he registered how much he desperately needed a nap and some food, in that order or at the same time if he could manage.
He walked down a flight of stairs, immediately noticing the lithe boy from earlier. He was looking at the paintings climbing up the wall when both their heads turned to each other like magnets. They made the slightest of eye contact, only to blink their vision back to the direction each was headed. Minho stopped in his tracks much like that morning. It was quiet except for the chattering from outside and the echoing steps disappearing as the source walked beyond the halls.
Minho would’ve looked back, wanted to, but, really, there wasn’t anything to talk about. Small talk was out of the question as Minho found it distasteful; it was just so awkward and lame and he was over the big smiles and even bigger laughs, too fabricated. And it wasn’t like he could tell the teen about how he thinks he saw him in his dream without sounding like a prophetic freak. Being all “hey diddle ho, new neighbor!” wasn’t an option either. So he kept walking, reaching his destination in the nurse’s office at the bottom of the stairs and quieting his fatigue on one of the vacant beds leaving his blazer at it’s foot.
Spread eagle, he finally let today’s events get some mulling over. His dreams were becoming more vivid, as they’ve been haunting them for almost a week - he should see a therapist or dream interpreter but he won't. The neighbors...he’d probably have to stop by to give them a piece of cake or something. His mother always said to be nice whenever there was someone new moving in and it brought good luck. And then the boy named Kim Kibum. He was cute in a mousy sort of way and had spunk much like himself.
At every job, there was always something or someone he’d look forward to seeing that would distract him enough to make his work more bearable. For example, at weddings, it was the way the bride smiled with excitement and fear and the way her expensive choice of cake would melt in his mouth. At concerts, it was the lead vocalist’s charismatic and arrogant performance and the way the lines of the singer’s not-so-expensive cocaine were vacuumed up his nostrils and made him feel like forever’s bride. For this job...it was Kim Kibum and his enigma with an air of aristocracy despite being in a public school and living in a high-middle-class apartment. He hardly, as in 0.03%, knew him, but he figured he didn’t need to as long as he caught a glimpse of him and kept having those nice encounters, passing on the stairs, so he could breathe in his existence and exhale the possibilities.
He briefly wondered what taste would compliment Kibum as he fell asleep to the sound of his own munching on a granola bar that he’d taken from one of the nicer and less desperate girls.
__̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡.__
He was inside the cottage this time, laying spread eagle on the kitchen floor as all the glass in the house shattered into millions of tiny little specks, floating without the gravity of time to bring them down. To him, they were crystal star dust floating in mid air on an adventure to capture the sun’s light so they could each have a color. There were also shards that were just too heavy to keep flying and so they made their home on top of him. Some of them were kind enough to settle on top of his skin, while others were too deeply hurt by their new found solitude and decided to dig themselves in him instead. It was delayed, the water that was now flooding the cottage, but it made it’s apology known by rushing in much quicker and more violently than any normal flooding. His body rose with the water towards the ceiling that, in that moment, took a human form and stretched it’s arms to embrace him. The semblance was uncanny and he felt a sting of warning, but the lithe figure smiled cattily as he pressed his body to the other, flesh and glass connecting them.
“Shh don’t wake him. He looks so peaceful and dreamy.”
“But coach said we need to get him and the camera out, our game is gonna start in like 20 minutes.”
“Just a little bit longer. Go on, Krys! I’ll wake him in five, promise.”
“Fine, but don’t rape him in his sleep, Jess.”
Minho was awake and heard the last bits of the conversation but decided it was best not to move. There was burgundy red on his sheets of old blood, and he looked down: his arms were crossed so that he was hugging himself with his nails digging into his stomach.
Oh, so that’s where the scars came from.
“Who knew Ms. Kwang had connections to such good looking guys. I bet you’re a model too aren’t you. Man would I love to...” She trailed off as she heard someone coming.
“I’ll be right back.” She whispered seductively to his hair. She left the room just as someone else came in.
He opened his eyes again just a bit, looking down unfocused as he tried to listen. The new somebody was making rustling sounds as if they were moving sheets or... or removing clothes. The bed next to him squeaked as it was inhabited, the nearby curtain being pulled and sealing any further action or noise.
Minho breathed deeply, knowing he should leave to his last part of today’s work but being filled with a curiosity that dragged him off the bed and to the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have to look to feel the eyes that were following his shadow from behind the curtain.
It was a foolish attempt, but he had a feeling he knew who it was and he had a feeling if he took off his shirt just as he did now, that person would know who he was. He faced sideways for the other’s better viewing, rubbing antiseptic ointment onto his scarred tummy as he heard the high-pitched raking from the curtain hooks riding on the rod. He looked towards him: a wry grin on the verge of laughter, in a patient’s gown.
Bingo.
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Minho's pad would look something like this (cr: tumblr)
author's note
hi hi! this is bulkoki@lj(previously vyplum), starting off as lurker and currently trying to be frequent commenter XD lol and now, i'm here with my own very first fanfic ever! :D:D also! am kinda nervous with this story. i love minkey but they be so haaaaard >_> au & ooc ftw! i hope you enjoy it regardless :)
❧this is dedicated to mrs_min_ai@lj, fellow minkey shipper, for being an almost beta/advisory with my wip fics and also giving me that extra push to write minkey! i love how this all started on formspring lol & sorry i didn’t wait to show you the completed version ._. anywho, thanks so much for your encouragement bb, you’re amazing ;3; i hope you like~
❧also dedicated to hipslip@lj for her amazingly ass-kicking and inspiring writing. this be the minimini-surprise-ish i spoke of! lol & i CONFESSIONTIMEOMGHEREIGO i be the anon from tumblr :D i don’t know how, but you know all those anon questions from yr other tumblr? yeah, all me O_O gosh, told you i was a creeper. hey, it’s my job as the love affair, remember? lol anyway, here it is! thanks for encouraging me to stay true to my own style & ideas bb ♥ i hope this tickles your fancy, even if by just a little :)
footprints for the lurkers/silent readers/etc, something to encourage you to comment :) if you would like, please include one of the following in the subject line (with or without a comment, either is perfectly fine :))
- ✿✿✿: i really enjoyed it! :D
- ✌✌✌: it was ok :)
- ☁☁☁ : meh, not my cup of tea
(cr) All comments, short or long, for old fics or new, and concrit are always loved and appreciated ♥