Baby my heart beats for you (if it could) (5/?)
Title: Baby my heart beats for you (if it could) (5/?)
Characters: SHINee (main)
Previous Chapters: (1) )(2) (3) http://clubotaku.livejournal.com/13454.html#cutid4
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humour, Horror
Pairing: slight OnewxKey
Summary: AU. Jinki is all alone in a zombie infested world, but now he has Blossom and Buttercup by his side.
A/N: I had an internal battle on whether to continue writing this chapter or write Mermaid!fic and mermaid!fic won. But after that, I finished this chapter, yay! On a unrelated note-I am NEVER driving in rush hour.
1.
Kibum leaves early the next day, way before Jinki’s body starts twitching as it usually does when he’s starting to wake up. He’d had the strangest dream the night before-he’d been attacked by a group of Xena, Warrior Princess lookalikes who’d thrown poisonous, hymn-singing squirrels at him (“Bring me my booooow, of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desireeeee”); chased by a large tofu turkey (this could possibly be the source of the liquid in his pants); stuck in a room full of hairspray and finally, lost his underpants in the middle of a zombie attack and been killed by Kibum for ruining his reputation. He wakes up with a jolt, sitting up straight in bed. The bed beside his is empty; Minho’s bed opposite also empty. Water is running next door-Minho is in the bathroom. Yawning, Jinki slips out of bed and does some early morning stretches in the sunlight. Years of this morning ritual have been drilled into him at school. Not to mention science has shown that if you do stretching in the morning, you’ll be more alert throughout the day and science, is Jinki’s God.
“Up, down, swing it all around,” he sings, waves his arms up, then down, before making circles.
“Twist, twist, up and down.” He twists from side to side, before swinging his arms up and down.
“Bend, bend, twist and ack!” Jinki’s eyes water as he hobbles back onto the bed, tries not to cry from the cramp he’s just inflicted on himself. Everytime, he thinks, this happens everytime; why don’t I learn?
When the pain finally subsides, he crawls off the bed and walks out to survey the apartment. It’s a reasonable size-enough for four to five people. The room they stay in was furnished with three beds (although Jinki suspects Kibum’s had been added in recently due to the lack of space in that room), the sitting room is quite wide and there are two toilets and one bathroom. There’s another room here, he notices, I didn’t see this one last night. It’s tucked away, next to the entrance, in the shadows. He tries to open the door-locked. Strange, thinks Jinki, none of the other rooms were locked. The shower is still running and there’s a loud thud.
“Minho! Is everything alright in there?” asks Jinki, hurrying to the bathroom. There’s a brief pause before Minho answers that yes, he’s fine, he just dropped Kibum’s shampoo. Jinki goes pale-“I had nothing to do with it, if he asks it was all you ok?”-and shuffles quickly away.
Upon further inspection he sees that nothing in this apartment is new, sparsely furnished as it is. Well Jinki, you didn’t expect them to buy new furniture in a time of crisis did you? He chides himself; I hope Kibum doesn’t notice though…He already said this apartment was midget-sized. The sofa is a little worn on one side and the numbers on the TV remote are slightly faded from use. Minho comes out, steam billowing behind him as he walks into the bedroom, towel hanging on his hips. He gives Jinki a weird look, as the older boy stares down at the TV remote with intensity.
“Hyung…The red button turns it on.”
Jinki blinks, jumps in surprise. Minho was one sneaky…Ferret. Ferret?
“I knew that!” He presses it and it turns on. Jinki spends the rest of the morning flicking through channels, trying to find a Korean one. Eventually he settles on a channel for the deaf, watching the lady make hand gestures. He finds some solace that the deaf are just as lost and frustrated as he is at the moment. They can’t hear and he can’t understand what he hears. It makes a whole lot of sense. Minho comes out, stares.
“I’ll make breakfast,” he says and takes eggs out of the fridge.
The door swings open and Kibum storms in, eyes shooting lasers into the floor. He kicks off his shoes, shoves them to the side (this maltreatment of his property is a clear sign to stay away).
“Hey Ki”
The bedroom door slams shut and Jinki’s face (and hand) falls. Minho looks thoughtful, reaches back into the fridge and grabs another carton of milk.
“I’m making waffles.”
2.
The streets of Singapore are even emptier than the day before. Jinki counts three cars since they’ve left the apartment-two of them black government cars. Minho says more and more people have been deported since yesterday-Changmin told him it’s a 24 hour operation. Kibum shows a barely disguised sneer at the Agent’s name, punches Jinki’s arm just because.
“This place is messed up.” Kibum says it matter-of-factly. Minho looks at him.
“Why?” asks Jinki. Apart from the lack of humanity (he’s getting used to this) and the long periods of silence, the island nation seems fine.
“There’s no dirt, no rubbish anywhere. Everything is so orderly-did you not see how many flats look the same? The same colour, the same size-there’s nothing to distinguish them from each other!”
Minho is unconcerned and continues walking. Jinki thinks for a moment-he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary coming in from the airport. Kibum puts his hands on his hips, sighing with exasperation.
“The trees all move in sync!” he cries.
“Agreed!” says Jinki, he had noticed that. He wonders whether the Singaporean government replaced all living trees with perfect robotic clones that had no fungal infection on each of their perfect, 10cm-diameter trunks and caterpillar free leaves.
They continue to walk in silence, following Minho who clearly knows where he’s going. Kibum settles for fingering the edge of his knife, tucked inside his leather jacket. When they’d first stepped outside, Jinki had been momentarily blinded by the rhinestones Kibum had painstaking glue-gunned on a year before, and walked straight into a wall. Kibum says nothing, keeping one hand close to his knife, while the other hangs by his side, swinging. Jinki is whistling some cheesy showtune; Minho is a silent form up ahead. He scowls, Minho is Changmin’s dongsaeng and Kibum hates Changmin. Plus, he thinks sullenly, the boy hardly speaks; what’s the use of having a mouth? A dirty joke pops into his head and he leers at Jinki, who jumps and shifts a few steps away. He hates Singapore with every fibre in his being. There’s something off about this place, it doesn’t feel alive. KL was sprawled over an indiscriminate area, a multitude of high rises towards the centre which shrunk into large bungalows in the suburbs to linked houses on the outskirts. The roads were confusing in some districts (Kibum had cursed the fool who decided to name different sections with numbers that did not follow any chronological order in where they were placed) and there was a lot more rubbish floating on the side of the roads.
Cars, abandoned in their owner’s haste were parked haphazardly on the road, or on pavements and grass. At night, a few signboards glowed neon, shabby and dying. The air was hot and humid, it covered the ground like some thick blanket, but it added ambience to the place. Kibum liked that heat-it clung to him like some petulant child, refusing to let go of his awesomeness. It made him perspire; made him feel alive despite the debatable quality of the air. It had character. The cars here, abandoned or not, were parked in the right places and no neon lights kept Kibum up at night. The air was even more humid with the same amount of pollution, but it didn’t cling to him. Rather, it leeched Kibum’s energy and patience. And the water, thinks Kibum, the water is all recycled toilet water. New water my bony ass. His mind drifts back to the brief time in the bank with Jinki, to them cycling along empty roads surrounded by empty buildings, their own reflection the only sign of life. And man-eating zombies! They tried to eat us and tear your pretty eyes, says a new part of Kibum’s brain. There’s something annoyingly familiar about this new part and he kicks Jinki out of reflex, brushes off the older boy’s yelp.
Minho’s pace slows down as they round a corner, leaving behind the business district and Orchard Road (the only saving grace in Kibum’s opinion). Orchard Road is great, but Kibum could easily have breezed through each and every worthy store within a day, useless store times aside.
“I think this place is ok,” says Jinki, in a hopeful attempt to break the silence. A quiet Kibum means an angry Kibum, which means a soon-to-be-injured Jinki.
“I don’t,” growls Kibum, flicking back his hair, “And I hate that stupid airport too.”
“It’s not that bad,” says Minho, finally speaking, “You get used to it.”
Kibum gives him the evil-eye, takes out his compact and powders his nose.
“Where are we going?” he asks, snapping his fingers. Nothing happens and Kibum looks at Jinki, raises one eyebrow. Jinki retrieves a bottle of water from his pack and hands it over.
“The sea,” says Minho, and says no more.
“Nothing is better, down where it’s wetter, under the sea,” sings Jinki, making crab-like gestures with his hands. Minho chuckles and Kibum stares aghast, as Jinki continues with the rest of the verse.
“Sing with me guys!” says Jinki, and Minho shakes his head, shy. Jinki looks hopefully a Kibum, a wide smile on his dopey face. Kibum lets out a huff.
“Fine, but I’m Ariel and you’re Sebastian.”
Jinki nods happily. Kibum looks at him from the corner of his eye and feels the need to add,
“And I’m only doing this because your singing sucks, Victoria, and you need a Mel C to show you how’s it’s done.”
Despite what he says, Jinki has the most honest voice Kibum’s ever heard and he wishes he could sing as well. But, he thinks smugly, my level of fierce is unattainable and if Bambi thinks he’s taking Ariel’s part from me, he’s going down like his mother in that meadow. And so he adds a body-wave into the song, proving his point as Jinki’s jaw drops and he garbles rather than sings. Kibum feels good. Minho joins in on their reprise of ‘Under the Sea’, beat-boxing in some congo drums.
3.
When they reach the sea, having sung through ‘The Little Mermaid’, ‘Lion King’, ‘Aladdin’ and ‘Mulan’, they’re all sweating buckets and Jinki is whining about becoming blind. Kibum and Minho both sport sunglasses and Jinki makes a mental note to buy a pair later…Or borrow Kibum’s. That is, if Kibum has any…Manlier sunglasses. Upon seeing the dark blue of the sea, the smelt of salt blowing over them, Jinki lets out a whoop and runs straight in.
“Don’t go in, we don’t know what’s in there!” yells Kibum, “I am not sterilizing you if you get any diseases!”
Jinki’s head pops up, unhappy. He spits out some water and paddles back to shore.
“He’s right,” says Minho, “Nobody swims in this part of the sea. I don’t even think there’s any edible fish in this part.”
Jinki paddles up onto the sand, feels his body and tries to spit out everything he’s just swallowed.
“There’s a tap over there.” Minho points the way and Jinki waddles over, shirt and trousers plastered to his body as he trips and tumbles over sand. Kibum lies under a tree, hands folded behind his head as he watches Jinki rinse off, mouth curling up to smirk or make some snarky comment.
Minho turns his gaze back to the sea, closing his eyes.
Two pairs of eyes stare back, two identical smiles full of innocence before he’s buried in sand.
Somewhere, Jinki yells about murderous hermit crabs and Kibum laughs.
Arms wrap around him from behind, patting his hands before making them clap.
“Minho-yah, you’re so cool.”
His heart rate quickens and he grins, shaking his back so the person behind shakes along with him.
“You’re still the coolest, hyung.”
There’s a loud thud-Kibum just threw an unripe coconut at Jinki.
“How high can you fly, dongsaeng?”
“Higher than any plane; faster than any bird, bullet or train.”
“You’re both show-offs!”
The swings creak and they fly, arms outstretched. Looking up, facing forward, the sky expands and the clouds whiten. Sunspots burst into their eyes and they’re crying out, yelling their happiness and youth to the skies.
“We’re making a sandcastle, want to join us?” asks Jinki.
“Later,” says Minho, “Enjoying the breeze.”
“Gone commando?” asks Kibum, beneath his breath.
“You’re a really good brother.”
A punch.
“You’re flattering me, continue! Tell me I’m pretty!” Eyes flutter dramatically and the boy spins around, airy.
“And witty and vain. Ok, maybe not vain.”
“Hyung, let’s go, I need to get to school!”
“Sure, sure, bye Minho-ah!”
Minho watches the car drive away, waving to the boy in the backseat. Perhaps for his birthday he should get him a new dance-mat. He looks at his watch, swears, he needs to get to school too.
“Yah, Earth to Minho, do you want to join us now?”
He cracks open an eye, Kibum and Jinki are watching him from the shade of a palm tree. They’ve built two towers and Jinki is scraping out a moat with coconut shells; Kibum decorating with leaves and sea-shells. Jinki waves, beckons him over with a husk.
“Join us Minho, join usssssss,” he hisses, laughing.
Minho takes one last, long look at the sea.
“Sure hyung, sure.”
A helicopter explodes in one horrific, heat-wave of light and sound that sends him tumbling. The pieces fall like comets to the ground and he finds himself running, falling debris all around and roaring in his eyes. His eyes are watery, partly from the dry heat and dust, partly from the gut-wrenching pain that started the moment it blew up. He reaches the cockpit, or what’s left of it, which would be nothing. Minho sobs and pounds the ground, grasping at tiny scraps of clothing.
They make a large sand-castle with three surrounding walls and eight watch-towers; shells decorating the sides and leaves adorning the main structure. When Jinki bounces up and down, happy that the moat is working and -“Look, look, I told you I’d calculated the frequency and volume of the waves properly guys, my drawbridge is a perfect parabola”-smiling like his face will burst, Minho feels like crying.
4.
When they arrive back at the apartment, Kibum runs for the door, claims the shower first. Jinki expects him to be in there at least half an hour, grins; Kibum was furious when he’d thrown sand at him. Minho had side-stepped out of the mess and watched from a safe place-a tree-whilst Kibum spewed profanities and chased Jinki up and down the beach, wielding a twig. Kibum had finally caught up with him, tackling him at the waist. Jinki landed without grace, eating sand in one, grainy mouthful. Kibum straddled him, shoving more sand vindictively onto his head before Jinki pushed him off. Kibum grabbed his arm, hanging like a limpet and they rolled, kicking and shoving. Kibum’s sunglasses had fallen off long ago and his hair stuck in every direction, red streaks like fire. He was panting, body slick with sweat that slid against Jinki’s own. Kibum’s arms were bare, his leather jacket beneath the tree along with Jinki’s shirt. Whilst Kibum’s body was lean and his arms betrayed their true strength, Jinki’s body was toned from years of swimming-his grandmother had seen to it he excelled at one sport, at least.
“Give up?” said Kibum, confident in their mutual exhaustion. The sun beat down, their shadows small in the noonday light. His eyes were shadowed as they stared down. Jinki bit his lip, a funny fluttering in his chest. Kibum had lain there, half sprawled on his chest, half off.
“Oooh baby, Aruba, Jamaica, oh I wanna take ya to Bermuda, Bahamas, come on pretty mama,”
Kibum had slapped him-but not hard.
“Jesus you’re full of cheese,” he muttered, “Or you’re suffering from serious sunstroke.”
Jinki gave a shit-eating grin and Kibum groaned, rolling fully off. He closed his eyes and placed on hand on his head, the other on his chest. Near his heart, beat, thought Jinki, I should stop with these jokes, gotta be moving on. He giggled softly to himself before turning to face Kibum.
“I think I’m suffering from sunstroke too.”
In the apartment, Minho turns the air-con on, takes a swig of water before turning on the TV. His phone rings and he moves into the bedroom, leaving Jinki alone. He turns on the TV, finds MTV and starts dancing along to ‘Geek in the Pink’ by Jason Mraz, which is how Minho finds him when he comes out.
“Hyung says your grandmother is ok,” says Minho, “Korea is still safe.”
Jinki turns down the volume and hops over to where Minho is.
“Does she know I’m ok?” he asks, anxious.
Minho nods. “Changmin-hyung explained the situation but at the moment, there aren’t enough planes to send us back so…We’re here for now.”
Jinki’s shoulders droop and he wrings his hands. Think positively! He says to himself; always look on the bright side of life! Da doo, da doo di doo di doo!
“And Kibum? Do his parents know?”
Minho pauses, unsure.
“I think hyung has contacted them and they know too. Can you tell him a car will be waiting downstairs in one hour? I’m going for a walk.”
Jinki agrees and Minho grabs his bag and disappears. Jinki feels guilty for not calling his grandmother, for not even thinking about her this whole time. He knows his parents are safe in the US, but his grandmother, the person who practically raised him from birth, is alone. It hits him, the guilt, and he sits on the sofa, silent. Everything up until this point has just been an adrenalin rush, from his ill-fated school trip, to meeting Kibum, fighting zombies, meeting Minho and coming to Singapore. Until now all he’s been worrying about is survival and food, about how he and Kibum (and now Minho) are going to make it out. He looks around-there’s a phone on the counter. He rushes over, grabs the receiver but then his mind goes blank-he can’t remember her number.
“What is it? What is it?” he chants, hoping to jump-start some memory of it. Speed-dial on phones was an evil thing. “I know I know, I know I know, I know I know,” he chants.
Kibum steps out of the shower, pink dressing gown every so fluffy.
“What’s wrong with you now?” he says, water dripping off him. His hair is wet, un-styled, natural; he’s make-up and guyliner free. Jinki rushes over to hug him, tears in his eyes - “I can’t remember my grandma’s number!”-and Kibum pats him awkwardly on the back.
“Idiot,” he says, “What kind of unfilial grandchild are you?”
The words have no bite and after a while, Kibum pushes Jinki off, leads him to the sofa and they sit, watching ‘Sweet Sixteen’ while Kibum gives a running commentary on how dumb, rich kids should be eaten by leopards, not hire them for their parties.
In a park about ten minutes away, Minho sits on the swings, dragging his feet on the tarmac. There are two juice boxes; one orange and one apple, on the two swings next to him whilst he holds a grape juice box. He sits there, staring into nothingness, lost in the past. The world is silent all around and he falls back into the memories, back into welcoming arms. It’s like this all never happened. When he awakens the sun is setting, Apollo’s chariot fading into the distance with a train of indigo and scarlet in his wake. His phone is ringing and its Changmin-hyung asking “Are you ok, why haven’t you answered my calls, you’re wallowing aren’t you?”
His juice lies spilt on the ground, carton crushed and the wind jostles the swings, metal in need of some oil as they squeak. The juice-boxes lie on the ground and he picks them up, places them back on their respective seats. He stares, seeing people who aren’t there. He waves with one hand, pretends they’re waving back. On the line, Changmin’s voice grows more impatient, worried.
“Hyung, I’m fine, I was just sleeping.”
5.
The next day Kibum comes back at lunch, black-faced and just as furious as he’d been after every interrogation.
“I swear, if they hand-cuff me one more time I’m going to claw their beady eyes out!” he snarls, beating the bowl angrily. Minho is amazed no eggs fall out.
“Um…I think that’s the point of the hand-cuffs,” says Jinki.
“I’ll hand-cuff you,” hisses Kibum, and turns away. Jinki whimpers and grips Minho’s sleeve for support.
“I think he gets more stressed than when we’re running from zombies,” he says, as quiet as possible. Kibum twitches and a fork embeds itself beside Jinki’s ear.
“Perhaps,” says Minho, unlocking Jinki’s hand from his sleeve.
Kibum serves some angry-faced pancakes-Minho’s looks eerily like Changmin’s face…Except with a long line of ketchup through the eyes-and freshly squeezed lime juice. Jinki sneaks in some sugar as does Minho; Kibum drinks it straight. Minho clears the plates and Jinki washes, passes the plates to Kibum who wipes them spotless and files them away.
Afterwards, Minho goes out for a short walk and Jinki takes a nap on the sofa.
“What the hell?”
Jinki opens his eyes to see Kibum walking into the once-locked room. He jumps off, landing on all fours before he joins Kibum inside the room. He looks at Kibum questioningly.
“Picked the lock with my hairpin,” says Kibum, “Easy stuff.” He smirks.
Inside, there are pictures stacked on a table; clothes and toys, electronic equipment (Jinki spots a Wii!) and books. Kibum looks through the neatly folded clothes, picks up a few pieces gingerly before putting them back down.
“There are female clothes here,” he says, tense.
Jinki counts two cell phones, both out of battery. There is a PS3, Wii and Dance Dance Revolution Mat-oh my GOD YES!-and numerous school textbooks and storybooks. I won’t fall behind at school now! Kibum picks up a picture, scans over the two figures.
“So there was a family here,” he says after a while, “Think it was Minho’s?”
Jinki pauses from where he’s stroking the DDR mat. This feels wrong, to intrude like this. He drops the mat, moves towards the door.
“Come on Kibum,” he pleads, “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be snooping around.”
Kibum ignores him, looking at the other framed pictures. Two young boys grin stupidly, blissfully oblivious to the shit about to hit the fan however many years later.
“What are you doing in there?” Minho’s voice is stormy.
They both turn around, Jinki jumps and starts apologizing. Kibum stares back, unashamed.
“Why was this room locked? And what’s all this stuff-are you some kind of hoarder? Is this even your place because the people in the picture sure as hell don’t look like you.”
Minho clenches his fists, breathes heavily, in and out, in and out. He looks like an angry possum.
“Get out of that room Kibum.”
Kibum’s eyes narrow and his skin tightens above his cheekbones.
“Why should I?”
This is not the time to be a brat, thinks Jinki, definitely not the time for this. Minho growls and strides in, grabs Kibum’s arms and they engage in a fierce fight-Minho trying to pull him out, Kibum digging his heels in. Jinki’s never seen Minho so angry, annoyed yes, angry no. The younger boy is furious, large eyes bulging and a vein in his neck throbs. Sadly for Kibum, his muscles are also bigger and so Minho wins, tugging Kibum out. He throws Kibum at Jinki and slams the door shut, locking it.
“Don’t go in there again,” he spits, and stalks into the bathroom. The sound of the door slamming makes Jinki jump and even Kibum flinches.
“PMS much,” says Kibum, though his voice is shaky. Jinki doesn’t say anything, still shocked from the venom in Minho’s voice.
“He’s hiding something.” Kibum keeps his eyes glued to the door. He stalks into the bedroom to get changed, leaving Jinki in the sitting room with three closed doors and a whole lot of anxiety.
Minho and Kibum say nothing to each other for the rest of the day and the tension in the apartment grows heavier, hanging over their heads until Jinki can’t stand it and suggest a trip to the playground.
“What are you, five?” asks Kibum, rolls his eyes but grabs his bag anyway.
Minho remains silent, but fetches his bag too. Jinki smiles, as much as one can in this situation.
“I spotted one twenty minutes away, it’s great, it’s got a slide and swings and monkeybars and a tunnel and everything!” he says excitedly, waving his arms. Minho gives a half-hearted smile and Kibum grunts. They still don’t look at each other. Minho is to his left and Kibum is to his right, both marching on like the Nazi’s about to invade Paris. Jinki frowns and tries to strike another conversation.
“You know, the clouds today look like jellyfish. Or bowls of jelly…Wait, no, brains! Oh, oh, I see gray matter! Can you spot it, can you? Minho, Kibum, look a placenta!”
Minho’s face scrunches up and Kibum gags, “What is wrong with you?!”
It’s worth the laughter though and the tension drops a little. As they come closer to the playground, the brightly painted structures calling to Jinki, they can hear someone singing. The person has a soulful voice; that reminds Jinki of an orchestra playing some grand concerto, full blast. He pictures himself flying above the mountains, a desert where wild horses run free, Narnia. Minho is impressed, his eyes widening as the person sings ‘A Goose’s dream’.
“The hell is that?” says Kibum, trying to hide his jealousy and failing. Jinki runs up to the playground, the others close behind.
Up on the slide, a blond haired boy sings, eyes closed and hands clutching his chest like he’s in pain. Feeling their gazes he opens his eyes and smiles cockily. His hair is gelled up, like a mohawk and the numerous rings he wears glint in the light.
“Like what you hear?”
Kibum scoffs.
“If by like you mean, wishing for the god-awful banshee to stop shrieking then yes, we do.”
The effect of his words is ruined by Jinki, who rushes forward with stars in his eyes.
“Sing, sing some more!” he cries, eyes looking up at the boy perched on the slide. “Oh, wait what’s your name?”
The boy uncrosses his legs and launches himself down the slide, landing on Jinki with an ‘oomf’. Kibum’s glare increases ten-fold.
“I’m Bling-Bling,” says the boy, picking himself up and offering a hand to Jinki, who takes it.
Kibum smiles, saccharine.
“That’s great; we’re Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup.” He sneers.
Jinki doesn’t know who Bubbles is but it sounds like a good name to him. Minho seems satisfied with Buttercup.
“What’s your real name?” asks Kibum, eyes scanning the boy from head to toe. He’s dressed in skinny jeans and a black t-shirt with headphones printed on them. Like Kibum, he sports equally loud sneakers-his ones bright green instead of pink. Like Kibum, his ears are pierced on both sides. The two eye each other with mutual dislike.
“Jonghyun,” he says, white teeth gleaming in the sun, “My name is Kim Jonghyun and I can sing two F’s above middle C.”
“Awesome!” says Jinki, jumping up and down.
“Gay,” mutters Kibum.
“Watch out…Never mind,” says Minho and offers some tissue to Jinki, whose eyes are screwed shut, bird poop running down his forehead.
“Shit,” says Jonghyun in reflex, and they all flinch.
A/N #2: And so Professor X realised that he'd forgotten to add, Chemical X to Bubbles mixture and so, the Powerpuff Duo were born! Saving the world from the forces of evil, Blossom! Buttercup! And their wacky side-kick Onew! Dan, da na na naaa na! Oh, and Jonghyun is Mojo jojo. XD Comments are love <3
EDIT: A/N#3: OMFG I just watched the Canadian episode of LGDT2 and agkfjgsdfgag MINHO IS A FREAKIN MACHINE. WTF, *sob* why must he live in Korea? Ok, spazzing over. Oh, and about my description of Singapore-I mean no offense singapore! I like Orchard Road too :D *is shot*