Lost Boys [1/?]
Title: Lost Boys
Character: Changmin-centric, but everyone's going to appear in it.
Length: 1/?
Rating/Genre: G for this chapter, but I would say PG in general; it's AU haha.
Summary: Fearing for his life (because who knows what that kind of man hid underneath his clothes, aside from purloined mittens?), Changmin quickly shrugs off the strap that chains the camera to him and places it onto Jaejoong’s waiting (and clean too, surprisingly, but red from the cold) hands.
A/N: I don't know WHAT I ate for me to come up with this. Help me, haha.
---
One
Changmin meets Jaejoong first, one cold December afternoon. It's his first day as a runaway, a renegade child in the streets of Seoul, and he is stuck between the North and the South of the Han in a blustery train station, when the lithe pale man catches his eye, a splash of scarlet (where did he get that coat?, Changmin wonders) in a sea of gray and ebony.
He sees Jaejoong as he slinks up and down one of the small stalls that sells mittens, and watches as the older man pockets a pair with speed and dexterity his eyes barely manage to catch. One minute it’s there (black, thick, probably wool of some sort, costs 10,000 won) then Jaejoong’s hand passes over it and it’s gone.
Changmin stares at him with wide eyes, his own hands keeping a firm grip on the camera that’s slung around his neck. Perhaps Jaejoong senses him, because he looks up, sees him standing there, then gives a small smirk. Changmin backs up almost in fear (perhaps ignoring his father's requests for him to take taekwondo lessons as a child was a bad idea) as the older man approaches him with the grace and poise of a confident feline. Despite the cold, Jaejoong only has on one coat (scarlet, let’s not forget) over a thin shirt and jeans, as well as muddy boots and a worn-looking beanie that keeps in place jagged tufts of jet-black hair. When a bitter wind passes with a howl through the cavernous tunnel of a station, Jaejoong barely winces, and it’s there that Changmin starts getting worried.
“I-I saw nothing,” he stutters because no other words are able to come out. “I swear.” He raises his hands up in surrender.
His backpack drops with a loud thump onto the tiled floor, spilling packed sweets and several necessities (banana milk, a roll of kimbap) Changmin had deemed worthy enough to waste bag space on (he was, after all, running away). He hopes it's enough of a distraction, to grant him enough time to think (or perhaps flee) of an escape route, but the man before him pays no heed to the mess at their feet.
“That’s good,” Jaejoong says, his voice as low as a whisper, a small smile still strung across his face. He has the face of an angel, but his tone holds a dangerous lilt. Changmin gulps unconsciously as he watches Jaejoong’s dark eyes travel up and down in careful scrutiny of him, his outfit, his presence. Thin hands come up and outline the sides of Changmin's face with long, slender fingers, his touch cold and feather-light, before they vanish as they're shoved into the depths of the owners' jeans pockets. He doesn’t seem to care for the hundreds of people bustling around and between them, all possible witnesses to whatever unpleasantries may occur, because he slinks closer before pointing to the camera Changmin still is clutching onto. “That’s a pretty little thing. Mind if I see it?”
Fearing for his life (because who knows what that kind of man hid underneath his clothes, aside from purloined mittens?), Changmin quickly shrugs off the strap that chains the camera to him and places it onto Jaejoong’s waiting (and clean too, surprisingly, but red from the cold) hands. The older man turns it over, shakes it, and peers into it before slinging the strap around his own neck.
"I think that at your age, you should know it isn't wise to talk to strangers?" The older man's tone is meant to be sweet, but something about it makes the hairs on the back of Changmin's neck stand on end.
"I..." he opens and closes his mouth, wishing for some witty retort to come out, but all logic has deserted him, the fear in his mind enveloping his entire being and leaving no room for any other emotion. Dumbly he holds out his hand to receive back his camera.
"Tsk tsk. I suppose it was taught to you that sharing is caring? Is always better? Is proper? Courteous?" Jaejoong tuts as he shakes his head. A glint is in his eye. "I expected better breeding from a..." A sneaky grin is thrown in his direction. "well-brought up young man such as yourself."
Uncomfortable under his gaze, Changmin backs up, his back suddenly hitting a wall with his second step. What has given him away?
"Warm coat, possibly brand new. Probably a sweater underneath. Cashmere scarf. Leather gloves. Cologne, Ralph Lauren? Or is it Burberry? I was never good at distinguishing scents. Not to mention this camera. Shall I go on?" Changmin feels himself go pale but says nothing. A small laugh comes from the older man's general direction, straight white teeth glistening under the fluorescent lights. "So what's the problem? Strict father? Can't take over the family's chaebol? Isn't it a bit juvenile to run away?"
Blood rushes to Changmin's cheeks and his fingers curl into fists. "It's...none of your business."
Jaejoong shrugs, unaffected.
“Anyway, since you've been rude enough to leave out your name--oh there it is--it was very nice to meet you…Shim Changmin,” his eyes grow small as he reads the embossments on the metal bottom of the camera. With his eyes still gleaming, he holds up his hand and gives a small wave. “I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong. Thanks for the camera. Hope you have a grand time with your little adventure. Have a pleasant day!”
And Changmin watches in horror as Jaejoong backs up, his grin still prominent, turns, and melts into the crowd, the mess of scarlet and ebony disappearing into nothingness, as though he was never there at all.
TBC?
A/N:
Jae's a bully, but I think we all know that. XD
The plot will develop. I can go both ways here with regard to the characters (but of course I won't tell just yet what they are). But rest assured so far, no one is supernatural. I'm sorry for this fic, it just randomly popped up in my head. XD Yeah, you can kill me now.
Character: Changmin-centric, but everyone's going to appear in it.
Length: 1/?
Rating/Genre: G for this chapter, but I would say PG in general; it's AU haha.
Summary: Fearing for his life (because who knows what that kind of man hid underneath his clothes, aside from purloined mittens?), Changmin quickly shrugs off the strap that chains the camera to him and places it onto Jaejoong’s waiting (and clean too, surprisingly, but red from the cold) hands.
A/N: I don't know WHAT I ate for me to come up with this. Help me, haha.
---
One
Changmin meets Jaejoong first, one cold December afternoon. It's his first day as a runaway, a renegade child in the streets of Seoul, and he is stuck between the North and the South of the Han in a blustery train station, when the lithe pale man catches his eye, a splash of scarlet (where did he get that coat?, Changmin wonders) in a sea of gray and ebony.
He sees Jaejoong as he slinks up and down one of the small stalls that sells mittens, and watches as the older man pockets a pair with speed and dexterity his eyes barely manage to catch. One minute it’s there (black, thick, probably wool of some sort, costs 10,000 won) then Jaejoong’s hand passes over it and it’s gone.
Changmin stares at him with wide eyes, his own hands keeping a firm grip on the camera that’s slung around his neck. Perhaps Jaejoong senses him, because he looks up, sees him standing there, then gives a small smirk. Changmin backs up almost in fear (perhaps ignoring his father's requests for him to take taekwondo lessons as a child was a bad idea) as the older man approaches him with the grace and poise of a confident feline. Despite the cold, Jaejoong only has on one coat (scarlet, let’s not forget) over a thin shirt and jeans, as well as muddy boots and a worn-looking beanie that keeps in place jagged tufts of jet-black hair. When a bitter wind passes with a howl through the cavernous tunnel of a station, Jaejoong barely winces, and it’s there that Changmin starts getting worried.
“I-I saw nothing,” he stutters because no other words are able to come out. “I swear.” He raises his hands up in surrender.
His backpack drops with a loud thump onto the tiled floor, spilling packed sweets and several necessities (banana milk, a roll of kimbap) Changmin had deemed worthy enough to waste bag space on (he was, after all, running away). He hopes it's enough of a distraction, to grant him enough time to think (or perhaps flee) of an escape route, but the man before him pays no heed to the mess at their feet.
“That’s good,” Jaejoong says, his voice as low as a whisper, a small smile still strung across his face. He has the face of an angel, but his tone holds a dangerous lilt. Changmin gulps unconsciously as he watches Jaejoong’s dark eyes travel up and down in careful scrutiny of him, his outfit, his presence. Thin hands come up and outline the sides of Changmin's face with long, slender fingers, his touch cold and feather-light, before they vanish as they're shoved into the depths of the owners' jeans pockets. He doesn’t seem to care for the hundreds of people bustling around and between them, all possible witnesses to whatever unpleasantries may occur, because he slinks closer before pointing to the camera Changmin still is clutching onto. “That’s a pretty little thing. Mind if I see it?”
Fearing for his life (because who knows what that kind of man hid underneath his clothes, aside from purloined mittens?), Changmin quickly shrugs off the strap that chains the camera to him and places it onto Jaejoong’s waiting (and clean too, surprisingly, but red from the cold) hands. The older man turns it over, shakes it, and peers into it before slinging the strap around his own neck.
"I think that at your age, you should know it isn't wise to talk to strangers?" The older man's tone is meant to be sweet, but something about it makes the hairs on the back of Changmin's neck stand on end.
"I..." he opens and closes his mouth, wishing for some witty retort to come out, but all logic has deserted him, the fear in his mind enveloping his entire being and leaving no room for any other emotion. Dumbly he holds out his hand to receive back his camera.
"Tsk tsk. I suppose it was taught to you that sharing is caring? Is always better? Is proper? Courteous?" Jaejoong tuts as he shakes his head. A glint is in his eye. "I expected better breeding from a..." A sneaky grin is thrown in his direction. "well-brought up young man such as yourself."
Uncomfortable under his gaze, Changmin backs up, his back suddenly hitting a wall with his second step. What has given him away?
"Warm coat, possibly brand new. Probably a sweater underneath. Cashmere scarf. Leather gloves. Cologne, Ralph Lauren? Or is it Burberry? I was never good at distinguishing scents. Not to mention this camera. Shall I go on?" Changmin feels himself go pale but says nothing. A small laugh comes from the older man's general direction, straight white teeth glistening under the fluorescent lights. "So what's the problem? Strict father? Can't take over the family's chaebol? Isn't it a bit juvenile to run away?"
Blood rushes to Changmin's cheeks and his fingers curl into fists. "It's...none of your business."
Jaejoong shrugs, unaffected.
“Anyway, since you've been rude enough to leave out your name--oh there it is--it was very nice to meet you…Shim Changmin,” his eyes grow small as he reads the embossments on the metal bottom of the camera. With his eyes still gleaming, he holds up his hand and gives a small wave. “I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong. Thanks for the camera. Hope you have a grand time with your little adventure. Have a pleasant day!”
And Changmin watches in horror as Jaejoong backs up, his grin still prominent, turns, and melts into the crowd, the mess of scarlet and ebony disappearing into nothingness, as though he was never there at all.
TBC?
A/N:
Jae's a bully, but I think we all know that. XD
The plot will develop. I can go both ways here with regard to the characters (but of course I won't tell just yet what they are). But rest assured so far, no one is supernatural. I'm sorry for this fic, it just randomly popped up in my head. XD Yeah, you can kill me now.