Teaser: Porn Star, chapter 8.
I haven't posted a teaser on this journal in ages and since I'm finally being productive again, I thought I might remedy that now.
This is just a part of chapter 8 that I'm working on. I'm about 3,000 words into it so far, so over halfway through, and hopefully I'll be finished within a few days.
He gets to Jaejoong's place about an hour later. It's barely past 8 a.m. and the security guard eyes him warily when Changmin lets himself into the building, obviously trying to figure out if he's seen him before.
He takes the elevator to Jaejoong's floor and finds his apartment easily enough. The key slides into the lock without the least bit of resistance and Changmin feels a rush of excitement as he pushes the door open and steps inside.
He's not sure what he expected to see. The last time he was there Jaejoong's apartment had been nearly spotless. While he certainly wouldn't begrudge Jaejoong a bit of messiness, he's not prepared for the pairs of boots right inside the door that he promptly trips over not two steps into the apartment. He grips the door handle and barely saves himself from face-planting right into the hardwood flooring.
Changmin nudges the boots aside with one foot, closing the door behind him before he takes his own shoes off. He leaves his bag by the door and makes his way to the living room, pausing in the hallway to take it all in.
The coffee table is littered with Chinese take-out boxes and a few different glasses that reek of alcohol. There's a distinct lack of tissues, or blankets, or cold medicine, or anything at all really that would signify someone with a nasty cold currently resides here.
He begins picking up the take-out boxes, stacking two together before it dawns on him that this is way more than one person could eat. His mind, perhaps working a bit slow due to the early hour, finally surges to life, warning bells ringing in the back of his head. He sets the boxes down and backtracks into the hallway. Just as he recalled but paid little attention to, there's two pairs of boots dumped by the front door.
A strange feeling begins growing in his stomach, something akin to anxiety, or possibly fear. He turns down the hall to Jaejoong's bedroom. The door is mostly closed but not latched, and Changmin grips the door handle a bit too tightly as he pushes it open.
The curtains are closed and the room is almost pitch black. It takes Changmin's eyes a moment to adjust, but the light from the hall illuminates enough that he doesn't really care to see any more. His hand flexes on the door handle as he fights with various urges, not sure if he wants to scream or hit something or just cry.
He can almost hear his mother's voice as he stares. Be practical, Changmin, be practical.
This is just a part of chapter 8 that I'm working on. I'm about 3,000 words into it so far, so over halfway through, and hopefully I'll be finished within a few days.
He gets to Jaejoong's place about an hour later. It's barely past 8 a.m. and the security guard eyes him warily when Changmin lets himself into the building, obviously trying to figure out if he's seen him before.
He takes the elevator to Jaejoong's floor and finds his apartment easily enough. The key slides into the lock without the least bit of resistance and Changmin feels a rush of excitement as he pushes the door open and steps inside.
He's not sure what he expected to see. The last time he was there Jaejoong's apartment had been nearly spotless. While he certainly wouldn't begrudge Jaejoong a bit of messiness, he's not prepared for the pairs of boots right inside the door that he promptly trips over not two steps into the apartment. He grips the door handle and barely saves himself from face-planting right into the hardwood flooring.
Changmin nudges the boots aside with one foot, closing the door behind him before he takes his own shoes off. He leaves his bag by the door and makes his way to the living room, pausing in the hallway to take it all in.
The coffee table is littered with Chinese take-out boxes and a few different glasses that reek of alcohol. There's a distinct lack of tissues, or blankets, or cold medicine, or anything at all really that would signify someone with a nasty cold currently resides here.
He begins picking up the take-out boxes, stacking two together before it dawns on him that this is way more than one person could eat. His mind, perhaps working a bit slow due to the early hour, finally surges to life, warning bells ringing in the back of his head. He sets the boxes down and backtracks into the hallway. Just as he recalled but paid little attention to, there's two pairs of boots dumped by the front door.
A strange feeling begins growing in his stomach, something akin to anxiety, or possibly fear. He turns down the hall to Jaejoong's bedroom. The door is mostly closed but not latched, and Changmin grips the door handle a bit too tightly as he pushes it open.
The curtains are closed and the room is almost pitch black. It takes Changmin's eyes a moment to adjust, but the light from the hall illuminates enough that he doesn't really care to see any more. His hand flexes on the door handle as he fights with various urges, not sure if he wants to scream or hit something or just cry.
He can almost hear his mother's voice as he stares. Be practical, Changmin, be practical.