On Black and White Sidewalks
Title: On Black and White Sidewalks
Rating: G
Length: 259 words / Drabble
Pairing: Yoomin
Summary: Imagine, if you can, falling in love.
A/N: Told from Yoochun's P.O.V - How he fell in love with Changmin. (I don't believe in love at first sight, but I just got bored and wrote this so, hey, who knows?)
On Black and White Sidewalks - [Yoochun's P.O.V]
It's where the street begins.
Or where the sidewalk ends.
Sort of like where the clouds break off and it's only blue above your head.
As color drains from the town, you begin to see black and white.
As you sit outside of a Paris Coffee Shop, an umbrella is over your head and water is bouncing from it's waterproof material into a puddle around your feet.
Imagine, if you can, falling in love.
Everything slows and stops almost completely; in front of you is a man. He's tall, business-like, tan.
His eyes are slightly slanted, he's got a picturesque aura about him and he draws you in.
If you tried to stand, it wouldn't work.
He's made you weak in the knees and it's a horrible feeling.
His beauty is strikingly similar to that of an old Asian painting, his skin is irresistible, like a dark stone and can only be compared to the smoothness of statues; Roman gods and Greek rulers.
His hair is short around his perfectly angled face, as if manufactured as a doll only to be considered priceless because there are no flaws in his make-up.
Your hands go numb as your eyes follow his body. His leg movements are swift, but he strides impeccably to get to his destination.
It's brief, his glancing at you, but your eyes meet and time halts.
“Changmin.” His lips are round, he is immaculate.
So imagine, if you can, falling in love.
Because this was what it was.
Rating: G
Length: 259 words / Drabble
Pairing: Yoomin
Summary: Imagine, if you can, falling in love.
A/N: Told from Yoochun's P.O.V - How he fell in love with Changmin. (I don't believe in love at first sight, but I just got bored and wrote this so, hey, who knows?)
On Black and White Sidewalks - [Yoochun's P.O.V]
It's where the street begins.
Or where the sidewalk ends.
Sort of like where the clouds break off and it's only blue above your head.
As color drains from the town, you begin to see black and white.
As you sit outside of a Paris Coffee Shop, an umbrella is over your head and water is bouncing from it's waterproof material into a puddle around your feet.
Imagine, if you can, falling in love.
Everything slows and stops almost completely; in front of you is a man. He's tall, business-like, tan.
His eyes are slightly slanted, he's got a picturesque aura about him and he draws you in.
If you tried to stand, it wouldn't work.
He's made you weak in the knees and it's a horrible feeling.
His beauty is strikingly similar to that of an old Asian painting, his skin is irresistible, like a dark stone and can only be compared to the smoothness of statues; Roman gods and Greek rulers.
His hair is short around his perfectly angled face, as if manufactured as a doll only to be considered priceless because there are no flaws in his make-up.
Your hands go numb as your eyes follow his body. His leg movements are swift, but he strides impeccably to get to his destination.
It's brief, his glancing at you, but your eyes meet and time halts.
“Changmin.” His lips are round, he is immaculate.
So imagine, if you can, falling in love.
Because this was what it was.