Entry #1
Title: Childhood Tales
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kangin/Leeteuk
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2439
Color/Words: Red {lust, hostage}
Summary: In Youngwoon's eyes, girls are gorgeous bitches and guys make awesome punching bags. And somewhere along the lines comes everlasting friends.
-
His mother used to tell him stories when he was young. One day you're going to meet a girl with dazzling eyes and silky hair, pink lips and a voice as sweet as a rose. His mother's eyes would go misty and starry, and Youngwoon would shake her in a bid to get her to continue. She'll sing and she'll understand you. When you grow up, Youngwoon-ah, don't forget to introduce her to me.
Youngwoon has come across many girls like this, bright eyed and cheerful with voices like bells tinkling in the air. But just as he predicts, they don't stay - they flit around like butterflies caught in the wind, settling on a flower for a period of time to enjoy the nectar and then moving on. The first time it happened, Youngwoon simply shrugged his shoulders and told himself to take it as it is and leave it as it is left.
He doesn't really bother getting to know Jungsu when they're trainees. Any of us might be kicked out anyway, what's the use of befriending new people? He has his own circle of friends, hangs out with louder, more obnoxious people. They play pranks and laugh raucously and talk boisterously about other trainees just because they can. Park Jungsu is the older one; the one with a strange haircut and a skinny build, with only a few friends by his side, the quiet one. They don't really talk about him.
When Youngwoon learns about sharing a room with Jungsu, he isn't entirely too pleased. He doesn't put up a huge fight about it though; Youngwoon moves his things into the room and silently dumps his clothes into a drawer. He leaves without saying goodbye, choosing instead to mentally excuse himself. They don't talk, anyway, so there's nothing to be worried about.
Inevitably, Youngwoon and Jungsu grow closer. They have to. It starts in a civilised manner, "Hi, I'm Jungsu and I can't really sing so I have no idea why they accepted me." "Youngwoon. I... sing, I guess. I heard you compose music?" "Uh, yeah. Who told you?", until one night, Youngwoon walks into the room to have his feet trip over a cord of sorts and fall face first to the floor. An expletive bursts from his lips, fading into the air when Jungsu yelps and distracts Youngwoon with his ridiculous exclamations.
"I'm fine, really, hyung" Youngwoon bites out and gently nudges Jungsu out of the way so that he can stand. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped mothering me so I can hold on to the remaining shreds of my pride."
Jungsu pauses, then straightens up. "Sorry about that," he says bashfully, pushing his hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear. Youngwoon feels his eyes following the movements, notices the absurdly large clip holding Jungsu’s bangs up. Is that a clothes peg? "I was just trying to get this set up." Jungsu gestures to a keyboard that looks like it’ll fall if so much as a breeze touches it.
"Need any help?"
"Umm," Jungsu scuttles behind the keyboard and bends down, backside waving tantalisingly in the air, "I don't think so." He stands up to flash Youngwoon a smile and the keyboard promptly crashes to its side.
Youngwoon spreads his lips and laughs out loud, unashamed. Jungsu looks distraught for a moment, brows knitting together, then sighs and bends down to heave the keyboard back upright. "You stink," he comments. A way of revenge, Youngwoon supposes.
"Yeah, I went out, what do you think?" He hangs off his bed and watches Jungsu flounder around for a moment. "Here, let me help."
Jungsu stands, evidently ill at ease, beside him, trying not to peer over Youngwoon's shoulder to watch, but peeking anyway. "You should stop smoking," Jungsu says, breath blowing softly against his ear.
"Hyung." Youngwoon stands up and brushes himself down. "Do you want me to help or not?"
"Well you should." He has his hands on his hips and is glaring unapologetically at Youngwoon. "Stop. Smoking, I mean."
Shrugging, Youngwoon shoves the keyboard against the wall. "I'm done." Without another word, he grabs a towel and a pair of gym shorts, making his way to the bathroom without a glance back to apologise for his lackadaisical attempt at fixing up Jungsu's keyboard. Youngwoon can hear the pregnant silence in the room, knows Jungsu wants to say something.
He closes the door behind him.
-
"Youngwoon-ah," his mother had said, arms curling around his shoulders from behind, jiggling him on her lap. The TV blared in the background, nothing but a buzz made familiar by the voice of the news reporter. "Once upon a time, there was a prince and a princess..."
Fairytales had never been Youngwoon's thing. Sure, he sat there quietly and listened with what he hoped looked like rapture as his teacher told his class tales of castles and swords and princes and princesses, of kisses and beauty and happiness. There was always the doubt that nagged at the back of his mind though, why were Cinderella's step-sisters so mean to her? Her mother? How could it be that nobody else's feet were the same size as Cinderella's?
He'd jumped at the idea of working for SM Entertainment. Hot girls training with him, what more could he ask for? Youngwoon made good friends, practised and trained when called for, chased after cute girls, dated a few, and broke up with them. The quiet skepticism had always been there though, the faint voice that whispered this won't last.
Having grown accustomed to Jungsu's presence and friendship, Youngwoon couldn't deny the relief that washed through him when they made the announcement of who was going to debut with whom, who they were going to be spending the next tentative years of their lives with. The trust between both boys had come naturally - collapsing in bed and whining about life without a second thought, going to each other for emotional support, other small things that added up to a bigger picture.
When Super Junior debuted, Youngwoon had wanted everything to last. Gone were the thoughts of hooking up with pretty girls, Youngwoon only wanted to treasure the time he had with the members, the time he had to make it big.
Occasionally, Youngwoon used Jungsu as his punching bag, screaming at him in rage and frustration when the stress mounted up to incredible levels. Jungsu did the same, not as often as Youngwoon, but they had a silent agreement to throw everything and anything at each other, good or bad. Sometimes Youngwoon made Jungsu cry, other times he didn't, and in either of these cases, he always felt bad about it. He repented by giving Jungsu a rough hug the next day, forced, but it was okay.
"Don't you think it's weird?" Jungsu asks one night, words muffled by his pillow. "I mean, the both of us... fan service, I don't really know how it works."
Youngwoon pictures Jungsu's cheeks flushing in the dark. "I guess it's like how you'd treat your girlfriend," he says, pursing his lips, "hand-holding, hugs, standing next to each other all the time?"
"That's it?" Jungsu's voice is deceptively devoid of emotion.
"I hope so."
-
Youngwoon has always wanted to meet that girl with dazzling eyes and silky hair, pink lips and a voice as sweet as a rose, like his mother had described. It's why he's spent the majority of his lifetime ogling these mysterious beings, some gorgeous and some not. Some of them come unexpected, childhood friends who bloomed into women with enchanting smiles and eyes that sparkle with laughter and silver tongues. Others are the result of Youngwoon's constant attention, his showers of gifts and sweet, sweet words.
He's always wanted a serious girlfriend. Someone he would be willing to spend the rest of his lifetime with, albeit with a few complaints, but always more love.
Now that Youngwoon does have a girlfriend, one whose name was changed to Leeteuk, he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Jungsu isn't so much of a girlfriend as he is an obligatory one, only his because the management wants it, and so do the fans. At night, after he's done thinking about the peculiarity of it all, Youngwoon surprises himself by concluding that he really doesn't mind spending his life with Jungsu until he dies.
It's a different kind of love, he tells himself when Jungsu glances up at him through dark lashes and even darker eyes, rolling his hips against Youngwoon's, a smirk that really isn't a smirk staining his lips. The fans are screaming their hearts out, punctuating the heavy air with exclamation marks, until Youngwoon doesn't know if he should stop before he gets carried away. He doesn't know how his hand had made its way beneath Jungsu's shirt, near the small of his back, and Jungsu doesn't stay around to let him find out. He bounces away with a light laugh and even lighter eyes, leaving Youngwoon flustered and alone in his perturbing thoughts.
They kiss, of course. Purely for fan service, Youngwoon knows, just a brush of lips that doesn't mean anything. A relationship brought into existence simply because of their inclination to gravitate toward each other and the popularity it brings to Super Junior.
Even so, Youngwoon can't quite forget the way Jungsu's lips shape against his own, surprisingly soft. He stores it up at the back of his mind and ensures that no one discovers the slight obsession he has over the kisses they share, makes sure no one knows of the anticipation he feels in the pit of his stomach when he sees one of Jungsu's kisses coming.
It's not like kissing Jungsu is an act that can destroy mankind. Slowly and unknowingly, Youngwoon finds himself coming to terms with the fact that they have to kiss, period. He accepts it without pausing to think it through - it's a way of life. Well, it's the way of Super Junior's life, anyway.
-
Years pass and Youngwoon is getting increasingly comfortable with Jungsu. They no longer share the same room, they don't even live in the same dorm, but every time he's around Jungsu, his arm automatically reaches out to wind around Jungsu's shoulders or waist, sometimes even to take his hand. His inexplicable urge to protect Jungsu, touch him to make sure he's there, drives the fans crazy, and Youngwoon finds it equally as amusing as it is instinctual.
"We're getting old," Jungsu comments one day, critically, as he heaves a sigh and slumps onto the table.
"What are you talking about, just because you're the leader doesn't give you the authority to accuse us of being old." Youngwoon lets his empty soju bottle slide out of his hand and onto the flat surface of the table in front of him. "Oldie."
Jungsu groans and stretches his arms across the table to work some kinks out in his shoulders, shirt lifting up to reveal the bare skin of his back. "How many bottles have you had, Youngwoon? Don't drink too much."
"Light-weight," Youngwoon snorts. "I don't know actually." He makes a drunken attempt to count the number of soju bottles on the table, but his vision is getting all sorts of hazy and it's actually kind of hard to see Jungsu, what with his head having split into two right before his very eyes.
"One day we're going to end, and where will that lead us?" Jungsu ponders, fingers drumming the table. Pretty fingers. "When we grow old and have families and children and wives..."
Youngwoon makes a noise of disbelief. "We already are a family, hyung."
"No, I mean getting married and having our own families, having children and getting a proper job. This isn't a proper job, it's just for entertainment and that isn't going to last us..."
Youngwoon doesn't bother staying around to listen to Jungsu's abstruse theories. "I'm going to bed," he announces, getting up and wobbling towards the general direction of Jungsu's room. He ignores Jungsu's indignant shout of Youngwoon you don't live here, that's my room! and collapses into Jungsu's bed.
Somewhere between consciousness and dreamland, Youngwoon hears Jungsu grumbling on about ungrateful dongsaengs and leaving all the work for him to do, feels the bed dipping as Jungsu shoves him to the side so that he has space to curl up next to him.
-
Comfort, however innocent it seems, is as dangerous as lust. It keeps you bound and makes it hard for you to take the step out of your little world of complacency, makes you reluctant to leave and venture out. It, like lust, keeps you hostage, blinds you with the tempting idea of just staying and not moving on.
Determining whether or not to appear as a surprise at the fan meeting was the hardest decision Youngwoon had to make. He's plenty content where he is, at home with his family, watching the TV when Super Junior appears on the screen, swelling up with pride after each and every one of their performances.
Their expressions when he shows up onstage for the last time in the next two years are pricelessly precious. But Youngwoon only has eyes for Jungsu, his eyes his face his mouth his obvious intake of breath as he takes a halting step towards them, lips curving into a hesitant smile.
He doesn't know what to expect, what to think, so he does what is second nature, reflexively taking Jungsu's hand and talking into the microphone, speaking the words that first come to mind. Jungsu is trying not to cry, he's keeping it in, and Youngwoon wants nothing more than to scoop him up into a hug, press his nose into his hair and tell him it's going to be okay (even if it isn't). Jungsu always has been notorious for being a cry baby, but that's what makes him him, and Youngwoon isn't sure what he'd do if Jungsu doesn't cry.
It's like being reunited again, fire burning just as strong just as bright, dancing licking heating Youngwoon's insides with the familiar warmth that whispers love.
-
His mother used to tell him stories when he was young. One day you're going to meet a friend with kind eyes and a friendly face, truthful lips and a harsh voice that cuts as deep as a knife. His mother's eyes would shine at him, and she would continue eagerly, he'll know when you're lying and when you're not, and he's going to last longer than any girl will.
-
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kangin/Leeteuk
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2439
Color/Words: Red {lust, hostage}
Summary: In Youngwoon's eyes, girls are gorgeous bitches and guys make awesome punching bags. And somewhere along the lines comes everlasting friends.
-
His mother used to tell him stories when he was young. One day you're going to meet a girl with dazzling eyes and silky hair, pink lips and a voice as sweet as a rose. His mother's eyes would go misty and starry, and Youngwoon would shake her in a bid to get her to continue. She'll sing and she'll understand you. When you grow up, Youngwoon-ah, don't forget to introduce her to me.
Youngwoon has come across many girls like this, bright eyed and cheerful with voices like bells tinkling in the air. But just as he predicts, they don't stay - they flit around like butterflies caught in the wind, settling on a flower for a period of time to enjoy the nectar and then moving on. The first time it happened, Youngwoon simply shrugged his shoulders and told himself to take it as it is and leave it as it is left.
He doesn't really bother getting to know Jungsu when they're trainees. Any of us might be kicked out anyway, what's the use of befriending new people? He has his own circle of friends, hangs out with louder, more obnoxious people. They play pranks and laugh raucously and talk boisterously about other trainees just because they can. Park Jungsu is the older one; the one with a strange haircut and a skinny build, with only a few friends by his side, the quiet one. They don't really talk about him.
When Youngwoon learns about sharing a room with Jungsu, he isn't entirely too pleased. He doesn't put up a huge fight about it though; Youngwoon moves his things into the room and silently dumps his clothes into a drawer. He leaves without saying goodbye, choosing instead to mentally excuse himself. They don't talk, anyway, so there's nothing to be worried about.
Inevitably, Youngwoon and Jungsu grow closer. They have to. It starts in a civilised manner, "Hi, I'm Jungsu and I can't really sing so I have no idea why they accepted me." "Youngwoon. I... sing, I guess. I heard you compose music?" "Uh, yeah. Who told you?", until one night, Youngwoon walks into the room to have his feet trip over a cord of sorts and fall face first to the floor. An expletive bursts from his lips, fading into the air when Jungsu yelps and distracts Youngwoon with his ridiculous exclamations.
"I'm fine, really, hyung" Youngwoon bites out and gently nudges Jungsu out of the way so that he can stand. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped mothering me so I can hold on to the remaining shreds of my pride."
Jungsu pauses, then straightens up. "Sorry about that," he says bashfully, pushing his hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear. Youngwoon feels his eyes following the movements, notices the absurdly large clip holding Jungsu’s bangs up. Is that a clothes peg? "I was just trying to get this set up." Jungsu gestures to a keyboard that looks like it’ll fall if so much as a breeze touches it.
"Need any help?"
"Umm," Jungsu scuttles behind the keyboard and bends down, backside waving tantalisingly in the air, "I don't think so." He stands up to flash Youngwoon a smile and the keyboard promptly crashes to its side.
Youngwoon spreads his lips and laughs out loud, unashamed. Jungsu looks distraught for a moment, brows knitting together, then sighs and bends down to heave the keyboard back upright. "You stink," he comments. A way of revenge, Youngwoon supposes.
"Yeah, I went out, what do you think?" He hangs off his bed and watches Jungsu flounder around for a moment. "Here, let me help."
Jungsu stands, evidently ill at ease, beside him, trying not to peer over Youngwoon's shoulder to watch, but peeking anyway. "You should stop smoking," Jungsu says, breath blowing softly against his ear.
"Hyung." Youngwoon stands up and brushes himself down. "Do you want me to help or not?"
"Well you should." He has his hands on his hips and is glaring unapologetically at Youngwoon. "Stop. Smoking, I mean."
Shrugging, Youngwoon shoves the keyboard against the wall. "I'm done." Without another word, he grabs a towel and a pair of gym shorts, making his way to the bathroom without a glance back to apologise for his lackadaisical attempt at fixing up Jungsu's keyboard. Youngwoon can hear the pregnant silence in the room, knows Jungsu wants to say something.
He closes the door behind him.
-
"Youngwoon-ah," his mother had said, arms curling around his shoulders from behind, jiggling him on her lap. The TV blared in the background, nothing but a buzz made familiar by the voice of the news reporter. "Once upon a time, there was a prince and a princess..."
Fairytales had never been Youngwoon's thing. Sure, he sat there quietly and listened with what he hoped looked like rapture as his teacher told his class tales of castles and swords and princes and princesses, of kisses and beauty and happiness. There was always the doubt that nagged at the back of his mind though, why were Cinderella's step-sisters so mean to her? Her mother? How could it be that nobody else's feet were the same size as Cinderella's?
He'd jumped at the idea of working for SM Entertainment. Hot girls training with him, what more could he ask for? Youngwoon made good friends, practised and trained when called for, chased after cute girls, dated a few, and broke up with them. The quiet skepticism had always been there though, the faint voice that whispered this won't last.
Having grown accustomed to Jungsu's presence and friendship, Youngwoon couldn't deny the relief that washed through him when they made the announcement of who was going to debut with whom, who they were going to be spending the next tentative years of their lives with. The trust between both boys had come naturally - collapsing in bed and whining about life without a second thought, going to each other for emotional support, other small things that added up to a bigger picture.
When Super Junior debuted, Youngwoon had wanted everything to last. Gone were the thoughts of hooking up with pretty girls, Youngwoon only wanted to treasure the time he had with the members, the time he had to make it big.
Occasionally, Youngwoon used Jungsu as his punching bag, screaming at him in rage and frustration when the stress mounted up to incredible levels. Jungsu did the same, not as often as Youngwoon, but they had a silent agreement to throw everything and anything at each other, good or bad. Sometimes Youngwoon made Jungsu cry, other times he didn't, and in either of these cases, he always felt bad about it. He repented by giving Jungsu a rough hug the next day, forced, but it was okay.
"Don't you think it's weird?" Jungsu asks one night, words muffled by his pillow. "I mean, the both of us... fan service, I don't really know how it works."
Youngwoon pictures Jungsu's cheeks flushing in the dark. "I guess it's like how you'd treat your girlfriend," he says, pursing his lips, "hand-holding, hugs, standing next to each other all the time?"
"That's it?" Jungsu's voice is deceptively devoid of emotion.
"I hope so."
-
Youngwoon has always wanted to meet that girl with dazzling eyes and silky hair, pink lips and a voice as sweet as a rose, like his mother had described. It's why he's spent the majority of his lifetime ogling these mysterious beings, some gorgeous and some not. Some of them come unexpected, childhood friends who bloomed into women with enchanting smiles and eyes that sparkle with laughter and silver tongues. Others are the result of Youngwoon's constant attention, his showers of gifts and sweet, sweet words.
He's always wanted a serious girlfriend. Someone he would be willing to spend the rest of his lifetime with, albeit with a few complaints, but always more love.
Now that Youngwoon does have a girlfriend, one whose name was changed to Leeteuk, he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Jungsu isn't so much of a girlfriend as he is an obligatory one, only his because the management wants it, and so do the fans. At night, after he's done thinking about the peculiarity of it all, Youngwoon surprises himself by concluding that he really doesn't mind spending his life with Jungsu until he dies.
It's a different kind of love, he tells himself when Jungsu glances up at him through dark lashes and even darker eyes, rolling his hips against Youngwoon's, a smirk that really isn't a smirk staining his lips. The fans are screaming their hearts out, punctuating the heavy air with exclamation marks, until Youngwoon doesn't know if he should stop before he gets carried away. He doesn't know how his hand had made its way beneath Jungsu's shirt, near the small of his back, and Jungsu doesn't stay around to let him find out. He bounces away with a light laugh and even lighter eyes, leaving Youngwoon flustered and alone in his perturbing thoughts.
They kiss, of course. Purely for fan service, Youngwoon knows, just a brush of lips that doesn't mean anything. A relationship brought into existence simply because of their inclination to gravitate toward each other and the popularity it brings to Super Junior.
Even so, Youngwoon can't quite forget the way Jungsu's lips shape against his own, surprisingly soft. He stores it up at the back of his mind and ensures that no one discovers the slight obsession he has over the kisses they share, makes sure no one knows of the anticipation he feels in the pit of his stomach when he sees one of Jungsu's kisses coming.
It's not like kissing Jungsu is an act that can destroy mankind. Slowly and unknowingly, Youngwoon finds himself coming to terms with the fact that they have to kiss, period. He accepts it without pausing to think it through - it's a way of life. Well, it's the way of Super Junior's life, anyway.
-
Years pass and Youngwoon is getting increasingly comfortable with Jungsu. They no longer share the same room, they don't even live in the same dorm, but every time he's around Jungsu, his arm automatically reaches out to wind around Jungsu's shoulders or waist, sometimes even to take his hand. His inexplicable urge to protect Jungsu, touch him to make sure he's there, drives the fans crazy, and Youngwoon finds it equally as amusing as it is instinctual.
"We're getting old," Jungsu comments one day, critically, as he heaves a sigh and slumps onto the table.
"What are you talking about, just because you're the leader doesn't give you the authority to accuse us of being old." Youngwoon lets his empty soju bottle slide out of his hand and onto the flat surface of the table in front of him. "Oldie."
Jungsu groans and stretches his arms across the table to work some kinks out in his shoulders, shirt lifting up to reveal the bare skin of his back. "How many bottles have you had, Youngwoon? Don't drink too much."
"Light-weight," Youngwoon snorts. "I don't know actually." He makes a drunken attempt to count the number of soju bottles on the table, but his vision is getting all sorts of hazy and it's actually kind of hard to see Jungsu, what with his head having split into two right before his very eyes.
"One day we're going to end, and where will that lead us?" Jungsu ponders, fingers drumming the table. Pretty fingers. "When we grow old and have families and children and wives..."
Youngwoon makes a noise of disbelief. "We already are a family, hyung."
"No, I mean getting married and having our own families, having children and getting a proper job. This isn't a proper job, it's just for entertainment and that isn't going to last us..."
Youngwoon doesn't bother staying around to listen to Jungsu's abstruse theories. "I'm going to bed," he announces, getting up and wobbling towards the general direction of Jungsu's room. He ignores Jungsu's indignant shout of Youngwoon you don't live here, that's my room! and collapses into Jungsu's bed.
Somewhere between consciousness and dreamland, Youngwoon hears Jungsu grumbling on about ungrateful dongsaengs and leaving all the work for him to do, feels the bed dipping as Jungsu shoves him to the side so that he has space to curl up next to him.
-
Comfort, however innocent it seems, is as dangerous as lust. It keeps you bound and makes it hard for you to take the step out of your little world of complacency, makes you reluctant to leave and venture out. It, like lust, keeps you hostage, blinds you with the tempting idea of just staying and not moving on.
Determining whether or not to appear as a surprise at the fan meeting was the hardest decision Youngwoon had to make. He's plenty content where he is, at home with his family, watching the TV when Super Junior appears on the screen, swelling up with pride after each and every one of their performances.
Their expressions when he shows up onstage for the last time in the next two years are pricelessly precious. But Youngwoon only has eyes for Jungsu, his eyes his face his mouth his obvious intake of breath as he takes a halting step towards them, lips curving into a hesitant smile.
He doesn't know what to expect, what to think, so he does what is second nature, reflexively taking Jungsu's hand and talking into the microphone, speaking the words that first come to mind. Jungsu is trying not to cry, he's keeping it in, and Youngwoon wants nothing more than to scoop him up into a hug, press his nose into his hair and tell him it's going to be okay (even if it isn't). Jungsu always has been notorious for being a cry baby, but that's what makes him him, and Youngwoon isn't sure what he'd do if Jungsu doesn't cry.
It's like being reunited again, fire burning just as strong just as bright, dancing licking heating Youngwoon's insides with the familiar warmth that whispers love.
-
His mother used to tell him stories when he was young. One day you're going to meet a friend with kind eyes and a friendly face, truthful lips and a harsh voice that cuts as deep as a knife. His mother's eyes would shine at him, and she would continue eagerly, he'll know when you're lying and when you're not, and he's going to last longer than any girl will.
-