(no subject)
gifting to: sadnlonleyme
Title: The Silent Treatment
Rating: G
Pairing: Joomi (Joon/Mir)
Genre: Imaginary angst, fluff?
Summary: Joon asks himself how long he can last without his brother. He finds out, not very long at all.
It’s when they’re alone that Mir finally has the chance to ask, “Why are you ignoring me today?”, and actually make it heard. This time, Joon can’t turn away like he’s busy, can’t blame the deafening clamor, and can’t pretend he’s asleep. And he certainly can’t run away.
They’re waiting for the other members who are out grabbing food, in a nearby and wide patch of grass. It’s getting darker by the second, but dim light from the street vendors not far away stretch to where they lay. Mir sits up, quietly waiting for Joon’s reaction. He studies his face for just a lingering moment, and resolves to clicking at his phone, gripping it tighter every time he learns the minute has not changed. He frowns, the fact that Joon hasn’t denied anything digging into his skin. They haven’t known each other for too long yet - but Mir thought they were closer than this. The laughs, the jokes, the teasing. Now he wonders if he was just being foolish.
Joon still says nothing, and simply goes on staring into the blackening sky. One arm lay pressed against his forehead; his other fingers twiddle with blades of grass, snipping them between his nails. In a low mutter, he makes himself clear. “I don’t really know.” This answer isn’t one Mir would have liked to hear - though he’s not sure what answer would have been appropriate. He tries to laugh along with the steady rhythm at which Joon plucks another blade, like it was all a joke from the beginning, but he refrains from it. He sits still, afraid that just moving would somehow shake out a tear. Mir pushes out a quick “okay,” but the sound was more broken than he had hoped.
Joon rips out a fistful of grass.
“I’m sorry!” The force of his voice startles Mir, but he gasps and tries to prevent any intelligible scream he might make. He rocked back only slightly, and his darting eyes pause just long enough to focus on his more flustered band member. Joon rolled up and turned, leaning towards the youngest, but with hesitance. His palms grip at the greens, and he lets his head hang between his arms. Both eyes are wandering over the space below him, but his vision’s too much a blur. Joon shakes his hanging head, and clicks his tongue angrily before letting a whimper fall out. “I’m sorry,”
Mir’s eyes crinkle in a mix of pity and confusion; here he finds himself wanting to hold his hyung and tell him it will be alright, but wasn’t it him who was wronged? Seeing Joon in shambles after that one question was not quite what he had expected. But watching him made his heart sink, and if it was hard by himself, it shouldn’t be more painful together. “Joonie-hyung.” His voice breaks again, but this time he’s not sure why.
The other refuses to look up, and the remaining members rejoin them. The answer is pushed farther away.
On the next day the other members don’t mention how different it feels. The usual loudness from the playmates is gone, but they shrug it off since Mir’s found solace gaming with Byunghee and Joon’s more often found on Cheondoong’s bed, reading manhwa.
Two days after, they’re pulling through, and they’re both convinced they’re fine. Cheondoong is observing even more, and lends a helpful word to their leader. Byunghee chats to Joon and Mir separately, and judging by how they’re speaking all the same to him, it’s not him they’re mad at. He guessed as much even before he ventured, not recalling having done anything more terrible than his usual teasing.
It’s on the third day Joon runs out of manhwa, and decides he doesn’t want to reread any of them.
When Joon stumbles out of Cheondoong’s bedroom he notices the members aren’t in their usual places - they’re nowhere in sight. It’s then he notices a long slip of paper, flat but slightly torn, balancing on the kitchen counter’s table. Upon reading Seungho’s scrawl he finds that the others went out for more groceries. He assumes they left him after he wouldn’t budge from his sleep. A groan dragged out from another corner of the flat, alarming Joon. He’s not alone...
Within minutes feet are padding their way at a languid pace, but nonetheless towards the kitchen. Joon peeks over his shoulder, hoping it’s not the maknae, but also regretting that sort of attitude. In turn, Mir staggers past to the refrigerator without a glance to him, and Joon doesn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed.
The fridge’s ribs rattle empty when Mir peers in, and quiver when he lets the door fall shut with a soft sigh. He mumbles to himself something about having bought food just days ago. Joon just watches him wordlessly. The five boys feed themselves, and sometimes even their manager - but he usually saves them the trouble by eating out himself. On the generous occasion he’d bring them all with him. It’s no surprise they’re running in and out of the market so regularly.
Mir swings open the cabinet door with half his all, still drowsy with sleep. Out he slides a cup and he waddles to the sink Joon’s standing by. He shows no sign of the closed distance bothering him, but he’s clearly keeping on the far side. Joon notes this and considers feeling hurt, but he stops himself. It’d be unnecessary. He folds his arms over his chest and opens his mouth to say something, but realizes he has nothing to say a bit late. What began as a jumbled stutter strung out into a meek “how are you.”
The handle squeaks, and rushing water fills the silence, even after the faucet's switched off. Mir sits his elbows on the counter, his feet pushing behind him: he brings the cup to his lips like he heard nothing, and Joon’s discomfort is only slightly evident. He tries not to let it show any more, and as the clock ticks, something makes him wonder if this is Mir’s tactic of revenge.
It would make sense he found it only just now - This was Joon’s only attempt to speak with him since that outburst. But he’s doing his best to keep his face stern, and fixes his gaze on a kitchen drawer’s knob. He notices just how tight he’d been clenching his wrist when a word, rough with the morning, disrupts his concentration.
“Bored.” His playmate is bored.
Joon rejoices in his heart, letting his grin show. Mir catches the flash of teeth in the side of his eye, and can’t help but give half a smile back. It isn’t too long a wait before they are attached at the hip again, Joon’s arm slung right over Mir’s back. Mir is first to laugh, followed by Joon, and they’re only slightly surprised when Mir’s water spills onto the counter, but it’s hardly an interruption.
In half an hour they’re curled on the couch, watching a variety show they know they’ll be on someday. The other members return with bags bundled in their arms - Seungho with the most, and Cheondoong with the least - to spot the two back to their normal. They all question what happened when they were away, but they don’t ask, because they know it was something good.
“Doongie,” Joon starts, catching the boy’s attention. “You need to buy more manhwa.” Joon wears his only smile, and he swears he heard Byunghee snort from the kitchen. Mir titters, but doesn’t turn his head from the program. The Park gives a small laugh paired with a shrugging gesture, and Joon takes that as ‘Yeah, I do need to.’ Seungho strides by and chuckles, mussing both Joon and Mir’s hair as he passes.
The crowded flat is bustling, and it never stops being loud. Joon is reminded of a family; this family is all brothers. He can’t ignore them. He can’t be rid of them. And he certainly can’t last a day without any of them.
Title: The Silent Treatment
Rating: G
Pairing: Joomi (Joon/Mir)
Genre: Imaginary angst, fluff?
Summary: Joon asks himself how long he can last without his brother. He finds out, not very long at all.
It’s when they’re alone that Mir finally has the chance to ask, “Why are you ignoring me today?”, and actually make it heard. This time, Joon can’t turn away like he’s busy, can’t blame the deafening clamor, and can’t pretend he’s asleep. And he certainly can’t run away.
They’re waiting for the other members who are out grabbing food, in a nearby and wide patch of grass. It’s getting darker by the second, but dim light from the street vendors not far away stretch to where they lay. Mir sits up, quietly waiting for Joon’s reaction. He studies his face for just a lingering moment, and resolves to clicking at his phone, gripping it tighter every time he learns the minute has not changed. He frowns, the fact that Joon hasn’t denied anything digging into his skin. They haven’t known each other for too long yet - but Mir thought they were closer than this. The laughs, the jokes, the teasing. Now he wonders if he was just being foolish.
Joon still says nothing, and simply goes on staring into the blackening sky. One arm lay pressed against his forehead; his other fingers twiddle with blades of grass, snipping them between his nails. In a low mutter, he makes himself clear. “I don’t really know.” This answer isn’t one Mir would have liked to hear - though he’s not sure what answer would have been appropriate. He tries to laugh along with the steady rhythm at which Joon plucks another blade, like it was all a joke from the beginning, but he refrains from it. He sits still, afraid that just moving would somehow shake out a tear. Mir pushes out a quick “okay,” but the sound was more broken than he had hoped.
Joon rips out a fistful of grass.
“I’m sorry!” The force of his voice startles Mir, but he gasps and tries to prevent any intelligible scream he might make. He rocked back only slightly, and his darting eyes pause just long enough to focus on his more flustered band member. Joon rolled up and turned, leaning towards the youngest, but with hesitance. His palms grip at the greens, and he lets his head hang between his arms. Both eyes are wandering over the space below him, but his vision’s too much a blur. Joon shakes his hanging head, and clicks his tongue angrily before letting a whimper fall out. “I’m sorry,”
Mir’s eyes crinkle in a mix of pity and confusion; here he finds himself wanting to hold his hyung and tell him it will be alright, but wasn’t it him who was wronged? Seeing Joon in shambles after that one question was not quite what he had expected. But watching him made his heart sink, and if it was hard by himself, it shouldn’t be more painful together. “Joonie-hyung.” His voice breaks again, but this time he’s not sure why.
The other refuses to look up, and the remaining members rejoin them. The answer is pushed farther away.
On the next day the other members don’t mention how different it feels. The usual loudness from the playmates is gone, but they shrug it off since Mir’s found solace gaming with Byunghee and Joon’s more often found on Cheondoong’s bed, reading manhwa.
Two days after, they’re pulling through, and they’re both convinced they’re fine. Cheondoong is observing even more, and lends a helpful word to their leader. Byunghee chats to Joon and Mir separately, and judging by how they’re speaking all the same to him, it’s not him they’re mad at. He guessed as much even before he ventured, not recalling having done anything more terrible than his usual teasing.
It’s on the third day Joon runs out of manhwa, and decides he doesn’t want to reread any of them.
When Joon stumbles out of Cheondoong’s bedroom he notices the members aren’t in their usual places - they’re nowhere in sight. It’s then he notices a long slip of paper, flat but slightly torn, balancing on the kitchen counter’s table. Upon reading Seungho’s scrawl he finds that the others went out for more groceries. He assumes they left him after he wouldn’t budge from his sleep. A groan dragged out from another corner of the flat, alarming Joon. He’s not alone...
Within minutes feet are padding their way at a languid pace, but nonetheless towards the kitchen. Joon peeks over his shoulder, hoping it’s not the maknae, but also regretting that sort of attitude. In turn, Mir staggers past to the refrigerator without a glance to him, and Joon doesn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed.
The fridge’s ribs rattle empty when Mir peers in, and quiver when he lets the door fall shut with a soft sigh. He mumbles to himself something about having bought food just days ago. Joon just watches him wordlessly. The five boys feed themselves, and sometimes even their manager - but he usually saves them the trouble by eating out himself. On the generous occasion he’d bring them all with him. It’s no surprise they’re running in and out of the market so regularly.
Mir swings open the cabinet door with half his all, still drowsy with sleep. Out he slides a cup and he waddles to the sink Joon’s standing by. He shows no sign of the closed distance bothering him, but he’s clearly keeping on the far side. Joon notes this and considers feeling hurt, but he stops himself. It’d be unnecessary. He folds his arms over his chest and opens his mouth to say something, but realizes he has nothing to say a bit late. What began as a jumbled stutter strung out into a meek “how are you.”
The handle squeaks, and rushing water fills the silence, even after the faucet's switched off. Mir sits his elbows on the counter, his feet pushing behind him: he brings the cup to his lips like he heard nothing, and Joon’s discomfort is only slightly evident. He tries not to let it show any more, and as the clock ticks, something makes him wonder if this is Mir’s tactic of revenge.
It would make sense he found it only just now - This was Joon’s only attempt to speak with him since that outburst. But he’s doing his best to keep his face stern, and fixes his gaze on a kitchen drawer’s knob. He notices just how tight he’d been clenching his wrist when a word, rough with the morning, disrupts his concentration.
“Bored.” His playmate is bored.
Joon rejoices in his heart, letting his grin show. Mir catches the flash of teeth in the side of his eye, and can’t help but give half a smile back. It isn’t too long a wait before they are attached at the hip again, Joon’s arm slung right over Mir’s back. Mir is first to laugh, followed by Joon, and they’re only slightly surprised when Mir’s water spills onto the counter, but it’s hardly an interruption.
In half an hour they’re curled on the couch, watching a variety show they know they’ll be on someday. The other members return with bags bundled in their arms - Seungho with the most, and Cheondoong with the least - to spot the two back to their normal. They all question what happened when they were away, but they don’t ask, because they know it was something good.
“Doongie,” Joon starts, catching the boy’s attention. “You need to buy more manhwa.” Joon wears his only smile, and he swears he heard Byunghee snort from the kitchen. Mir titters, but doesn’t turn his head from the program. The Park gives a small laugh paired with a shrugging gesture, and Joon takes that as ‘Yeah, I do need to.’ Seungho strides by and chuckles, mussing both Joon and Mir’s hair as he passes.
The crowded flat is bustling, and it never stops being loud. Joon is reminded of a family; this family is all brothers. He can’t ignore them. He can’t be rid of them. And he certainly can’t last a day without any of them.