i prefer randomness over regularity (Onew/Members, Hyoyeon/Onew)
i prefer randomness over regularity
Onew/Members, Hyoyeon/Onew, SHINee Band!fic
G; A little angst, romance, fluff. Some pre-debut.
Somethings happen unplanned, like falling in love. But maybe it's all just part of one big plan in the end.
A/N: Watch Flower Boys Generation with SNSD and SHINee for more explanation on Hyoyeon/Onew
"Lee Jinki, I think you're in love with your boys," Hyoyeon tells you one day.
It's when your eyelids feels like they're being dragged down by tiny little invisible hands, when your shoes squeak against the hardwood floor of the practice room one second later than everyone else's in a way that's wrong. It's times like that when you miss her the most.
Not when you're onstage staring at into a vast darkness because the stage lights are blinding, never when you're waiting patiently on the iving room couch to get into the bathroom for a shower, reruns on the television throwing harsh light into the darkness. Because she was never part of this, this odd balancing act made of too much smiling and dancing and well rehearsed interview answers that is your life. One day, you think you may tip over from the sheer incredulity of the way you spend your days, all pixie dust and smokescreens.
She once told you that you weren't such a bad dancer. Quite good, even, when you're not falling over yourself, you remember her saying as she pulled you up from the floor. Her hand was warm and a little damp, and so was yours that day because it was summer and SM turns off the air conditioning after 10. You didn't believe her, because you remember staying for another hour after that dancing to Chris Brown before running to the bus stop and spectacularly missing the last bus home. Then, you insisted on walking her home because it was dark, never mind that the two of you live in a relatively affluent and therefore, safe neighborhood. She hugged you, and her belly button ring pressed through her t-shirt and yours to touch the area right above your waistband for a second before she let go and shut the door behind her, blonde hair rumpled under the street lights.
You remember, because the next day the manager hyungs gave the five of you a song, saying nothing's final, it's just a project. And they pull you aside, saying you're to be leader because the singing teacher loved your voice and the dance instructor said you were quite good when you were careful and didn't make mistakes. Then you walked out and they knew already but they didn't mind at all because they said you were the best hyung ever and you felt your heart swell when you looked at them, so young and hopeful and looking at you.
A week after that, Taemin tripped during dance practice and dislocated his ankle. Ow, ow, ow, he said, and then it doesn't hurt that much. But his face wass tight with pain and his eyes were relieved when you insisted that he was going to the hospital. He cried afterwards on the way back in the van, face screwed up in the dark and ankle in a bandage. You walked him to the elevator of his apartment even when he said he didn't need it and hugged him when he sobbed, A week, hyung, a week. I can't sing, all I can do is dance and I can't do that now. You must have said something right though, because he stepped into the elevator with his eyes dry and you realized it was the second day in a row you had to say goodbye before you wanted to. It's alright though, because you'll see him the day after that and after that, and you promised yourself to keep the tears away from this child.
You were singing with Jonghyun late at night, when the building was empty and your voices echoed as loud as you want. Then your voices cracked at the same time and the two of you broke into laughter born a little bit out of the situation and a bit from sheer fatigue. Somehow, Jonghyun caught your eye and he wasn't laughing anymore, but staring at the poster of DBSK on the wall. You followed his gaze to those five faces and it was unspoken between the two of you, that you know there will be comparisons and hateful letters and doubters and rumors. You also knew that the way Jonghyun pulled at his earring meant he was scared, worried, and he said, Hyung, what if we- The word 'fail' hung unspoken in the air and you found your voice because you were unwilling to let it stay there and worm it's way into his heart. How could we not succeed, when you have me by your side? Jonghyun hit you hard and you decided the bruise is worth seeing him the next morning, bouncy and confident.
It wasn't one time with Minho, but the many times where you caught him with hunched shoulders, arms and legs crossed around himself, trying to fit himself into a space that's too small. You saw him looking down far too often, how he made his eyes smaller than they really were; noticed the way he said less and less with a voice that was growing deeper and deeper. You sat down on the floor beside him one day and he looked up and choked back a bark of laughter. I'm not used to you being serious, hyung. It looks odd. Then realization hit you like the anvil in Looney Tunes cartoons and you remembered that Minho was actually two years younger than you even if he's already got a good inch or two over you. And if you knew, then he probably did too and you'd rather not make yourself look more incapable by being awkward. But you pointed at the wall and said, See, Minho? Someday we're going to be like DBSK-sunbaes. Swallowed, said the right thing. Don't be afraid, Minho-ah. Just be yourself. No one wants anything more than that, just be yourself. He waited for a few long moments to meet your gaze, all smirks and sharp eyes. Stop bein.g serious, hyung. You demanded a piggyback ride and laughed when he froze at seeing your reflection. He studied his long limbs, unfolded and stretched out, then looked at you through the mirror and grinned. When you got off, he stood up straight and watched you go with eyes wide open and you knew he was no longer so afraid of himself.
Kibum stayed with you the the night before your debut performance to help you polish the dance after you forbade Taemin from staying up late. He watched you through narrowed eyes as you went through the routine, occasionally paused the music to nudge an arm here, slide over a foot there. Then, sometime between 11 and midnight, he joined you and the two of you lay on the floor afterwards, panting and dripping in sweat. Then, he said it. Leader, you're not so bad you know, when you stop being clumsy. You're actually a pretty good dancer. I'm glad, hyung. The words seemed oddly familiar and so was the smile he offered you, gentle and not biting. Your let out your breah in a sigh, because it was comfortable and you couldn't handle anything new and alien right now, not with the biggest day of your life the next day. And smile when he kisses you on the cheek before skipping into the bathroom. Jinki and Kibum, fighting!
You glared at them all around the breakfast table the next morning. We're going to take over the world together, okay? They all smiled and laugh and said, yes, hyung and you felt your heart twinge. Oh, and I love you all.
Her hair is shorter than you remember, darker too; it's glossy and brown in a salon-perfect way. There's eyeliner and eyeshadow smeared perfectly around her eyes and she doesn't tilt back her head quite as much to look you in the face. You look down to see her three inch heels, follow the line of her legs upwards (so much skinnier) to the impossible smoothness of tight stage costume fabric (she must not be wearing the belly ring).
Love. You never said that word to her, did you? Because it wasn't, you suppose, but it could be now. It could.
You look over at them sprawled out on the couch, tangled too-long, too-skinny limbs thrown this way and that. Jonghyun's singing in his sleep and Minho's snoring, Taemin's face screwed up in unconscious annoyance from the noise and Kibum is half falling off. You look back at her, she's standing there with her hand on her hip, back straight and head up. She's half-smiling at you in a way that makes you half-smile back, close-lipped and cautious.
"I think I am,"
But maybe, in a few years, or after forever, maybe-
Won't you wait for me?
Posted previously at shinee_replay.
Onew/Members, Hyoyeon/Onew, SHINee Band!fic
G; A little angst, romance, fluff. Some pre-debut.
Somethings happen unplanned, like falling in love. But maybe it's all just part of one big plan in the end.
A/N: Watch Flower Boys Generation with SNSD and SHINee for more explanation on Hyoyeon/Onew
"Lee Jinki, I think you're in love with your boys," Hyoyeon tells you one day.
It's when your eyelids feels like they're being dragged down by tiny little invisible hands, when your shoes squeak against the hardwood floor of the practice room one second later than everyone else's in a way that's wrong. It's times like that when you miss her the most.
Not when you're onstage staring at into a vast darkness because the stage lights are blinding, never when you're waiting patiently on the iving room couch to get into the bathroom for a shower, reruns on the television throwing harsh light into the darkness. Because she was never part of this, this odd balancing act made of too much smiling and dancing and well rehearsed interview answers that is your life. One day, you think you may tip over from the sheer incredulity of the way you spend your days, all pixie dust and smokescreens.
She once told you that you weren't such a bad dancer. Quite good, even, when you're not falling over yourself, you remember her saying as she pulled you up from the floor. Her hand was warm and a little damp, and so was yours that day because it was summer and SM turns off the air conditioning after 10. You didn't believe her, because you remember staying for another hour after that dancing to Chris Brown before running to the bus stop and spectacularly missing the last bus home. Then, you insisted on walking her home because it was dark, never mind that the two of you live in a relatively affluent and therefore, safe neighborhood. She hugged you, and her belly button ring pressed through her t-shirt and yours to touch the area right above your waistband for a second before she let go and shut the door behind her, blonde hair rumpled under the street lights.
You remember, because the next day the manager hyungs gave the five of you a song, saying nothing's final, it's just a project. And they pull you aside, saying you're to be leader because the singing teacher loved your voice and the dance instructor said you were quite good when you were careful and didn't make mistakes. Then you walked out and they knew already but they didn't mind at all because they said you were the best hyung ever and you felt your heart swell when you looked at them, so young and hopeful and looking at you.
A week after that, Taemin tripped during dance practice and dislocated his ankle. Ow, ow, ow, he said, and then it doesn't hurt that much. But his face wass tight with pain and his eyes were relieved when you insisted that he was going to the hospital. He cried afterwards on the way back in the van, face screwed up in the dark and ankle in a bandage. You walked him to the elevator of his apartment even when he said he didn't need it and hugged him when he sobbed, A week, hyung, a week. I can't sing, all I can do is dance and I can't do that now. You must have said something right though, because he stepped into the elevator with his eyes dry and you realized it was the second day in a row you had to say goodbye before you wanted to. It's alright though, because you'll see him the day after that and after that, and you promised yourself to keep the tears away from this child.
You were singing with Jonghyun late at night, when the building was empty and your voices echoed as loud as you want. Then your voices cracked at the same time and the two of you broke into laughter born a little bit out of the situation and a bit from sheer fatigue. Somehow, Jonghyun caught your eye and he wasn't laughing anymore, but staring at the poster of DBSK on the wall. You followed his gaze to those five faces and it was unspoken between the two of you, that you know there will be comparisons and hateful letters and doubters and rumors. You also knew that the way Jonghyun pulled at his earring meant he was scared, worried, and he said, Hyung, what if we- The word 'fail' hung unspoken in the air and you found your voice because you were unwilling to let it stay there and worm it's way into his heart. How could we not succeed, when you have me by your side? Jonghyun hit you hard and you decided the bruise is worth seeing him the next morning, bouncy and confident.
It wasn't one time with Minho, but the many times where you caught him with hunched shoulders, arms and legs crossed around himself, trying to fit himself into a space that's too small. You saw him looking down far too often, how he made his eyes smaller than they really were; noticed the way he said less and less with a voice that was growing deeper and deeper. You sat down on the floor beside him one day and he looked up and choked back a bark of laughter. I'm not used to you being serious, hyung. It looks odd. Then realization hit you like the anvil in Looney Tunes cartoons and you remembered that Minho was actually two years younger than you even if he's already got a good inch or two over you. And if you knew, then he probably did too and you'd rather not make yourself look more incapable by being awkward. But you pointed at the wall and said, See, Minho? Someday we're going to be like DBSK-sunbaes. Swallowed, said the right thing. Don't be afraid, Minho-ah. Just be yourself. No one wants anything more than that, just be yourself. He waited for a few long moments to meet your gaze, all smirks and sharp eyes. Stop bein.g serious, hyung. You demanded a piggyback ride and laughed when he froze at seeing your reflection. He studied his long limbs, unfolded and stretched out, then looked at you through the mirror and grinned. When you got off, he stood up straight and watched you go with eyes wide open and you knew he was no longer so afraid of himself.
Kibum stayed with you the the night before your debut performance to help you polish the dance after you forbade Taemin from staying up late. He watched you through narrowed eyes as you went through the routine, occasionally paused the music to nudge an arm here, slide over a foot there. Then, sometime between 11 and midnight, he joined you and the two of you lay on the floor afterwards, panting and dripping in sweat. Then, he said it. Leader, you're not so bad you know, when you stop being clumsy. You're actually a pretty good dancer. I'm glad, hyung. The words seemed oddly familiar and so was the smile he offered you, gentle and not biting. Your let out your breah in a sigh, because it was comfortable and you couldn't handle anything new and alien right now, not with the biggest day of your life the next day. And smile when he kisses you on the cheek before skipping into the bathroom. Jinki and Kibum, fighting!
You glared at them all around the breakfast table the next morning. We're going to take over the world together, okay? They all smiled and laugh and said, yes, hyung and you felt your heart twinge. Oh, and I love you all.
Her hair is shorter than you remember, darker too; it's glossy and brown in a salon-perfect way. There's eyeliner and eyeshadow smeared perfectly around her eyes and she doesn't tilt back her head quite as much to look you in the face. You look down to see her three inch heels, follow the line of her legs upwards (so much skinnier) to the impossible smoothness of tight stage costume fabric (she must not be wearing the belly ring).
Love. You never said that word to her, did you? Because it wasn't, you suppose, but it could be now. It could.
You look over at them sprawled out on the couch, tangled too-long, too-skinny limbs thrown this way and that. Jonghyun's singing in his sleep and Minho's snoring, Taemin's face screwed up in unconscious annoyance from the noise and Kibum is half falling off. You look back at her, she's standing there with her hand on her hip, back straight and head up. She's half-smiling at you in a way that makes you half-smile back, close-lipped and cautious.
"I think I am,"
But maybe, in a few years, or after forever, maybe-
Won't you wait for me?
Posted previously at shinee_replay.