1. let's dance while we're waiting
naming fridays
jonghyun/jinki
pg
300w
He always comes on Fridays, half an hour before the headliners begin. Dressed in all black, slick jeans and glossy leather he shuffles through the crowd and makes it to the front of the stage, indifference painting his features. People around him sway to the music, lift their arms and shouts over the amp, their voices tearing, ripping, shattering like glass throughout the night, but he stands still, his clunky boots keeping him safe to the ground. He only ever moves when the encore begins, lighting his cigarette as everyone else raise their lighters in the dark, a collective wave of fireflies.
It's the same every Friday. And sometimes, but only sometimes, Jinki can feel their eyes catching.
It's Thursday afternoon and the club, turned restaturant by weekdays, is nearly empty when he walks in. Jinki barely recognises him without all that black black black he's accustomed to see him dressed in, but soon decides washed out jeans and sneakers fit Friday-guy just as well. Friday-guy however, doesn't seat himself at a table like the other guests and Jinki tries really hard not to stare as Friday-guy walks up to the bar. He tries to act all casual and bartender-y cool, but fails horribly as he trips on the kitchen hose beneath the bar and tumbles headfirst into the counter.
But it earns not only an embarassingly large bump in the forehead but the attention of Friday-guy and Jinki figures that's alright.
While tending his bruised forhead, he learns that Friday-guy's name is Jonghyun. It's easy, the way Jonghyun smiles an introduces himself after asking Jinki if he's alright. It's easy to talk to Jonghyun and it's easy to get to know him. It's easy to fall for Jonghyun, just as easy as the butterflies in Jinki's stomach flutter about.
blur me
jonghyun/jinki
r
121 w.
He looks down the windowsill, legs resting against the electric heater and imagines himself crashing helplessly towards the ground below.
It's not that bad, he tells himself.
It's just today, he'll be himself tomorrow.
Whatever this feeling is, weighing down his shoulder like lead, dripping thick like black tar from his fingertips, whatever this is,
it's just a passing.
He imagines Jonghyun standing next to him, not stopping him as he leans out over the egde.
He imagines all sounds turning into a static noise as he falls, colours becoming more vibrant as the edges around the world blurs together, messily, hurriedly.
He imagine himself a tragic pile of broken limbs and skull, blood soaking the asphalt.
It's just a passing.
romeo in blue
jinki/taemin
pg
99 w.
He's wearing blue contacts, icy fakeness staring back at you.
"So, how do I look?" He smiles expectedly and if you loved this boy a little less, you'd be honest and say he looks like a fucking alien. A good-looking alien, but an alien none the less. But you do love him, that much you've figured.
"You look good, blue suits you." Is your answer and the reward of being a shameless liar is his smile, cornered with pink tinted cheeks of blush and those eyes, filtered with thin plastic concaves, looking at you with endless amounts of adoration.