Paper Heart; PG-13; Myungsoo/Sungyeol
paper heart
myungsoo/sungyeol; pg-13; ~800w
sometimes myungsoo looks at sungyeol and feels bad.
a/n: lolwhut. i can’t believe i haven’t written shinee in 4832587894 months and suddenly this infinite fic comes out of nowhere. i just. IDEK SOB I NEED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM. first infinite fic, hopefully not the last because-surprisingly-i really enjoy writing them \o/ special thanks to my lovely vocaris for the title ♥
of course it’s the three of them.
“can you,” sungyeol glares at the other two, “stop being disgusting. at least until i finish my drink, because i really need to puke right now.”
sungjong looks hurt, but myungsoo doesn’t miss the playfulness in his eyes. “how could you,” he mockingly presses a hand to his heart, pouts as if he means it. “we are the three babies here, we have to stick together, hyung.”
sungyeol gags. myungsoo laughs, takes his drink and finishes it, leaves the ice at the bottom.
“sung-,” he tries to breathe, but he knows better rather than that, “he-l, listen to me-“
“don’t want to,” he can hear himself groans, pressing further. deeper.
sungyeol’s laugh is breathless. “myungsoo,” he moans. it’s one of the rare moments when he’s not loud, so myungsoo savors it as long as he could, traces each curves across his chest. bones. “he can hear us.”
his hurt look. myungsoo kisses the purple mark he made, blows a raspberry. sungyeol pinches his waist. “let him.”
“you’re such a jerk,” sungyeol sounds pissed, but he doesn’t push him away. myungsoo grins, tries to catch his lips. “god, you’re-“
sungjong slurps his drink loudly. “i want to go and play too.”
“it’s another schedule,” sungyeol replies without really looking at him, busy restyling his hair. the mirror myungsoo holds in front is him is crooked, and he kicks him for the third time. myungsoo rolls his eyes. sungjong sighs.
“whatever,” he says, looking at the window. it’s rainy outside, and his breath makes a puff on the glass. it’s cute, myungsoo thinks, but not say. “it’s better than vocal lessons anyway. i’m sick of the practice room.”
sungyeol finally turns, and myungsoo throws the mirror to the front seat. “yeah, well,” he says, “unlike you, i want to actually sing on stage. i’m sick of being called the useless visual.”
“you’re not useless,” myungsoo reminds him. sungyeol stares at him like he is crazy.
“i’m so bored,” sungjong whines, and myungsoo breaks their eye-contact to entertain the youngest.
sungyeol cracks another note, and though he laughs at the trainer’s glare, he knows that he must feel frustrated. he does too. “you’re really useless, hyung,” sungjong calls jokingly from his place besides myungsoo, and sungyeol throws a water bottle at him.
you’re not useless, myungsoo tastes against his tongue. he wants to say it, but sungyeol is yelling at sungjong, who hums loudly to drown his protests. you’re not, “useless,” myungsoo says, and sungyeol narrows his eyes before he turns to the trainer. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn back, and myungsoo wants to touch him.
he doesn’t look surprised when he sees him against the door, for that he must give him an applause. maybe he can’t see him, what’s with his bad eyes and foggy mirror after a long shower. “yes?”
myungsoo shrugs. “your glasses,” he puts it besides the sink, “it was on the television.”
“oh,” he blinks. nothing else, an ‘oh’.
“you’re welcome,” he says.
sungyeol frowns. “i’m not planning to thank you.”
“hm,” myungsoo replies, and the other just rolls his eyes. whatever, maybe he thinks in his head. weird person, maybe. he’s weird too though, so he has no right to say that. myungsoo watches silently as sungyeol bends over the sink, carelessly brushing his teeth while his other hand moves to dry his hair. the neck of his t-shirt is wet, sticking to his collar bones, his spine, shoulder blades.
myungsoo waits as he gurgles, waits until he spits. when he looks like he’s done, “i want to touch you.”
you’re strange, he can see sungyeol’s eyes say it. “i just took a bath.”
“so i can’t?”
he looks at him from the mirror. “where’s sungjong?”
“asleep,” myungsoo answers, though he has no idea where sungjong is right then.
sungyeol inhales. “gosh, you are,” he is frustrated. myungsoo knows; he is, too. “i don’t even know, you’re a fucking bullshit.”
he’s about to say sorry when sungyeol leans in, eyes half-closed. absent-mindedly, he pushes the door close. sweet, just like any other sin.
“ugh, can you like, control it or something,” sungyeol mumbles, “i got some on my t-shirt.”
“your t-shirt is wet anyway,” myungsoo replies, licks another purple mark. sungyeol punches his chest.
sometimes he feels bad. maybe it’s sungjong’s niceness rubbing on him, but sometimes myungsoo turns around to see sungyeol at the back of the car, trying to pull the collar of his outfit higher, and there’s a pinch of guilt at the pit of his stomach. sometimes sungjong talks to him before the other realizes he’s looking, sometimes sungyeol’s eyes meet him and he will stare, quiet. (another moment he’s not loud, though myungsoo is not proud of it.)
most of the time, he’s too busy smiling at sungjong to realize he’s breaking a heart.
myungsoo/sungyeol; pg-13; ~800w
sometimes myungsoo looks at sungyeol and feels bad.
a/n: lolwhut. i can’t believe i haven’t written shinee in 4832587894 months and suddenly this infinite fic comes out of nowhere. i just. IDEK SOB I NEED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM. first infinite fic, hopefully not the last because-surprisingly-i really enjoy writing them \o/ special thanks to my lovely vocaris for the title ♥
of course it’s the three of them.
“can you,” sungyeol glares at the other two, “stop being disgusting. at least until i finish my drink, because i really need to puke right now.”
sungjong looks hurt, but myungsoo doesn’t miss the playfulness in his eyes. “how could you,” he mockingly presses a hand to his heart, pouts as if he means it. “we are the three babies here, we have to stick together, hyung.”
sungyeol gags. myungsoo laughs, takes his drink and finishes it, leaves the ice at the bottom.
“sung-,” he tries to breathe, but he knows better rather than that, “he-l, listen to me-“
“don’t want to,” he can hear himself groans, pressing further. deeper.
sungyeol’s laugh is breathless. “myungsoo,” he moans. it’s one of the rare moments when he’s not loud, so myungsoo savors it as long as he could, traces each curves across his chest. bones. “he can hear us.”
his hurt look. myungsoo kisses the purple mark he made, blows a raspberry. sungyeol pinches his waist. “let him.”
“you’re such a jerk,” sungyeol sounds pissed, but he doesn’t push him away. myungsoo grins, tries to catch his lips. “god, you’re-“
sungjong slurps his drink loudly. “i want to go and play too.”
“it’s another schedule,” sungyeol replies without really looking at him, busy restyling his hair. the mirror myungsoo holds in front is him is crooked, and he kicks him for the third time. myungsoo rolls his eyes. sungjong sighs.
“whatever,” he says, looking at the window. it’s rainy outside, and his breath makes a puff on the glass. it’s cute, myungsoo thinks, but not say. “it’s better than vocal lessons anyway. i’m sick of the practice room.”
sungyeol finally turns, and myungsoo throws the mirror to the front seat. “yeah, well,” he says, “unlike you, i want to actually sing on stage. i’m sick of being called the useless visual.”
“you’re not useless,” myungsoo reminds him. sungyeol stares at him like he is crazy.
“i’m so bored,” sungjong whines, and myungsoo breaks their eye-contact to entertain the youngest.
sungyeol cracks another note, and though he laughs at the trainer’s glare, he knows that he must feel frustrated. he does too. “you’re really useless, hyung,” sungjong calls jokingly from his place besides myungsoo, and sungyeol throws a water bottle at him.
you’re not useless, myungsoo tastes against his tongue. he wants to say it, but sungyeol is yelling at sungjong, who hums loudly to drown his protests. you’re not, “useless,” myungsoo says, and sungyeol narrows his eyes before he turns to the trainer. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn back, and myungsoo wants to touch him.
he doesn’t look surprised when he sees him against the door, for that he must give him an applause. maybe he can’t see him, what’s with his bad eyes and foggy mirror after a long shower. “yes?”
myungsoo shrugs. “your glasses,” he puts it besides the sink, “it was on the television.”
“oh,” he blinks. nothing else, an ‘oh’.
“you’re welcome,” he says.
sungyeol frowns. “i’m not planning to thank you.”
“hm,” myungsoo replies, and the other just rolls his eyes. whatever, maybe he thinks in his head. weird person, maybe. he’s weird too though, so he has no right to say that. myungsoo watches silently as sungyeol bends over the sink, carelessly brushing his teeth while his other hand moves to dry his hair. the neck of his t-shirt is wet, sticking to his collar bones, his spine, shoulder blades.
myungsoo waits as he gurgles, waits until he spits. when he looks like he’s done, “i want to touch you.”
you’re strange, he can see sungyeol’s eyes say it. “i just took a bath.”
“so i can’t?”
he looks at him from the mirror. “where’s sungjong?”
“asleep,” myungsoo answers, though he has no idea where sungjong is right then.
sungyeol inhales. “gosh, you are,” he is frustrated. myungsoo knows; he is, too. “i don’t even know, you’re a fucking bullshit.”
he’s about to say sorry when sungyeol leans in, eyes half-closed. absent-mindedly, he pushes the door close. sweet, just like any other sin.
“ugh, can you like, control it or something,” sungyeol mumbles, “i got some on my t-shirt.”
“your t-shirt is wet anyway,” myungsoo replies, licks another purple mark. sungyeol punches his chest.
sometimes he feels bad. maybe it’s sungjong’s niceness rubbing on him, but sometimes myungsoo turns around to see sungyeol at the back of the car, trying to pull the collar of his outfit higher, and there’s a pinch of guilt at the pit of his stomach. sometimes sungjong talks to him before the other realizes he’s looking, sometimes sungyeol’s eyes meet him and he will stare, quiet. (another moment he’s not loud, though myungsoo is not proud of it.)
most of the time, he’s too busy smiling at sungjong to realize he’s breaking a heart.