vixx: drive
Title: drive
Pairing: Ken/Ravi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 824w
Warnings: mentions of homophobia and violence between family members
Summary: wonsik thinks that eighteen couldn't feel farther away.
a/n: based off the prompt "kenvi + car radio." written in laps-lock bc it was for ask.fm but i accidentally went over word limit ;--; anyway,
the radio was low; the backroad was empty. jaehwan was driving, brow furrowed, and wonsik could tell he was tired, and from the way he keeps shifting, hungry. wonsik can feel his own stomach rumbling, wishes the radio was a little louder to cover it up. he ran out of the house without eating; his mom had been making something good, too….
wonsik has his feet curled up on the seat, his long legs somehow fitting. "are you hungry," he asks before jaehwan can ask him. he's trying to keep it together the best he can.
"a little. what about you?"
"ah, same. if you drive us back in," wonsik says, tugging at a rip in his jeans, "i'll buy us something." he's got almost ten dollars in his back pocket. he can at least get jaehwan something.
jaehwan's fingers are tapping against the wheel. he's got something else besides food on the mind. he keeps biting at his lip. wonsik knows he wants to ask about what happened. why wonsik called him, and why when jaehwan picked him up he wasn't home, and why wonsik isn't wearing socks, why he's wearing eyeliner, why he's hungry, why isn't he home?
jaehwan goes about tender issues like these tip-toeing and gentle. his bubbly voice always quieter and eyes imploring. his hair is soft tonight, flopping long on his forehead and the tips of his ears just poking beneath the waves. he's wearing his glasses and pajama pants.
he had no intention of leaving his own house, probably, but came quick, not bothering to change. probably. wonsik is looking over at him in the darkness, alternating between that and the view out the window. the woods is dark tonight without the moon. this road they take is long and will eventually bring them back into civilization, but they usually drive as long as it takes for one to spill it all. it's usually wonsik who needs it most.
and he never really gets to the heart of things, but jaehwan knows what wonsik's home-life is like. knows enough.
wonsik just wanted to try it. he was going to wash it off, but his dad came home and opened the bathroom door wonsik thought he locked. the eyeliner was his mom's, took it right off her dresser. what followed was an explosion. wonsik's head still rings from the heavy palm against the back of his head, ears still ringing from the yelling. heart hurting from the insults towards him. toward--
"are you okay?" jaehwan asks.
--jaehwan, the boy who wears eyeliner to school and carries the cutest pencils in his backpack. his sweaters that cover his fingertips that are far too big for him. has fruit-flavored chapstick that wonsik's tasted a few times.
his family didn't know explicitly about jaehwan; he doesn't come over, and if he picks up wonsik he's always waiting in the car. "you don't want to meet them," wonsik told him once, when jaehwan tried to get out to say hi. he wants to keep them away from jaehwan, doesn't want them to touch him.
"i can't wait for eighteen," wonsik says. no license, no car, but he’s still moving out. he’ll make it work. he’ll be gone and away, and he’ll be out of their influence. he won’t have to put up with it anymore, and he can like what he likes and he won’t have to hear another awful word from them.
jaehwan peels a hand off wonsik’s knee and holds it in his own to lace their fingers together. his hands are dry in the cold, autumn air, but they spark a warmth in him. he’s grateful. “just hold on a little longer,” jaehwan tells him. he’s trying to be encouraging; he doesn’t know what else to say.
wonsik is hanging on the best he can -- he tightens his grip on jaehwan’s hand, both resting between the seats, by the gear shift -- but he feels like he’s slipping. he’s so tired. “thanks, jaehwan.” he’ll have to wash the eyeliner off before he goes home. “do you think i can come over for a second? i just need to….”
“yeah. yeah, of course.” jaehwan takes his eyes off the road for a quick glimpse at the boy riding shot-gun. he smiles at wonsik. “i think it looks nice on you.” he squeezes wonsik’s hand.
wonsik washes off the eyeliner in jaehwan’s bathroom. his parents hadn’t said anything but hello when jaehwan shuffled him through the door, and wonsik wonders what that would be like to have. jaehwan rubs a wet cotton ball over his eyes to get the rest of it off, laughing at the faces wonsik makes through it all.
jaehwan doesn’t return wonsik home until his stomach is full, back pocket still full of ten dollars, and his breath smelling like fruit-flavored chapstick.
Pairing: Ken/Ravi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 824w
Warnings: mentions of homophobia and violence between family members
Summary: wonsik thinks that eighteen couldn't feel farther away.
a/n: based off the prompt "kenvi + car radio." written in laps-lock bc it was for ask.fm but i accidentally went over word limit ;--; anyway,
the radio was low; the backroad was empty. jaehwan was driving, brow furrowed, and wonsik could tell he was tired, and from the way he keeps shifting, hungry. wonsik can feel his own stomach rumbling, wishes the radio was a little louder to cover it up. he ran out of the house without eating; his mom had been making something good, too….
wonsik has his feet curled up on the seat, his long legs somehow fitting. "are you hungry," he asks before jaehwan can ask him. he's trying to keep it together the best he can.
"a little. what about you?"
"ah, same. if you drive us back in," wonsik says, tugging at a rip in his jeans, "i'll buy us something." he's got almost ten dollars in his back pocket. he can at least get jaehwan something.
jaehwan's fingers are tapping against the wheel. he's got something else besides food on the mind. he keeps biting at his lip. wonsik knows he wants to ask about what happened. why wonsik called him, and why when jaehwan picked him up he wasn't home, and why wonsik isn't wearing socks, why he's wearing eyeliner, why he's hungry, why isn't he home?
jaehwan goes about tender issues like these tip-toeing and gentle. his bubbly voice always quieter and eyes imploring. his hair is soft tonight, flopping long on his forehead and the tips of his ears just poking beneath the waves. he's wearing his glasses and pajama pants.
he had no intention of leaving his own house, probably, but came quick, not bothering to change. probably. wonsik is looking over at him in the darkness, alternating between that and the view out the window. the woods is dark tonight without the moon. this road they take is long and will eventually bring them back into civilization, but they usually drive as long as it takes for one to spill it all. it's usually wonsik who needs it most.
and he never really gets to the heart of things, but jaehwan knows what wonsik's home-life is like. knows enough.
wonsik just wanted to try it. he was going to wash it off, but his dad came home and opened the bathroom door wonsik thought he locked. the eyeliner was his mom's, took it right off her dresser. what followed was an explosion. wonsik's head still rings from the heavy palm against the back of his head, ears still ringing from the yelling. heart hurting from the insults towards him. toward--
"are you okay?" jaehwan asks.
--jaehwan, the boy who wears eyeliner to school and carries the cutest pencils in his backpack. his sweaters that cover his fingertips that are far too big for him. has fruit-flavored chapstick that wonsik's tasted a few times.
his family didn't know explicitly about jaehwan; he doesn't come over, and if he picks up wonsik he's always waiting in the car. "you don't want to meet them," wonsik told him once, when jaehwan tried to get out to say hi. he wants to keep them away from jaehwan, doesn't want them to touch him.
"i can't wait for eighteen," wonsik says. no license, no car, but he’s still moving out. he’ll make it work. he’ll be gone and away, and he’ll be out of their influence. he won’t have to put up with it anymore, and he can like what he likes and he won’t have to hear another awful word from them.
jaehwan peels a hand off wonsik’s knee and holds it in his own to lace their fingers together. his hands are dry in the cold, autumn air, but they spark a warmth in him. he’s grateful. “just hold on a little longer,” jaehwan tells him. he’s trying to be encouraging; he doesn’t know what else to say.
wonsik is hanging on the best he can -- he tightens his grip on jaehwan’s hand, both resting between the seats, by the gear shift -- but he feels like he’s slipping. he’s so tired. “thanks, jaehwan.” he’ll have to wash the eyeliner off before he goes home. “do you think i can come over for a second? i just need to….”
“yeah. yeah, of course.” jaehwan takes his eyes off the road for a quick glimpse at the boy riding shot-gun. he smiles at wonsik. “i think it looks nice on you.” he squeezes wonsik’s hand.
wonsik washes off the eyeliner in jaehwan’s bathroom. his parents hadn’t said anything but hello when jaehwan shuffled him through the door, and wonsik wonders what that would be like to have. jaehwan rubs a wet cotton ball over his eyes to get the rest of it off, laughing at the faces wonsik makes through it all.
jaehwan doesn’t return wonsik home until his stomach is full, back pocket still full of ten dollars, and his breath smelling like fruit-flavored chapstick.