for mywookness
Title: White Noise
For: mywookness
Pairing:Taeil/Minhyuk
Rating:R
Word Count: 1,708
Summary: Taeil watches Minhyuk's death, and then something extraordinary happens; he comes back. But every time he watches him return to life, it's only to see him die again.
Or in which Minhyuk dies almost every week but it's okay, Taeil knows he'll always survive (even if a small part of him dies alongside it).
Notes/Warnings: I was stuck on what to write for awhile but then my muse struck at last minute and this is the result. It comes from your request for "Taeil/B-Bomb" and "Angst". This is rather dark, people. Several of the sections are not for the faint-hearted, but this is a love story in its basis. I hope you enjoy.
1. Minhyuk suits the colour red, but he's not angry.
Minhyuk has been pounding Jiho with mud tainted snowballs for a good half hour, hardly giving the other boy a chance to recover between each one. When Jiho finally composes himself, he lets fly a constant string of verbal abuse that only makes Minhyuk laugh tumultuously through the collar of his jacket, gloved hands gathering together another mound of frozen ammunition.
Kyung's sitting next to Taeil on a dilapidated park bench, sliding his booted feet back and forth in the pliant sludge, reciting under his breath what he's going to say to girl of the week when she arrives. His voice is soft and steady, an endless chant that mingles gracelessly with the defeated noises Jiho makes as another snowball collides with the back of his head.
Kyung continues to mumble, checking his watch now and then, mapping everything out as another cry of frustration echoes from Jiho's position. Not long after, Taeil finds himself being dragged off the bench, callous fingers digging painfully into his arm, hard enough to bruise. Jiho screams wildly and Minhyuk swears bitterly; the loud thwack that sounds a moment later makes Taeil cringe.
Minhyuk freezes, his grip on Taeil's arm loosens and his body folds. Dropping to the ground as if a thousand ton weight is strapped to his body, he chokes on something, maybe his own blood, and with his face buried flat against the snow, Minhyuk expires again.
Five minutes later, he lays in his own puddle of slushied blood, the sleeves of his jacket splayed like long ribbons of blood by his sides. Taeil drops down haggardly beside his friend, fingers gripping the material of his own pants, cooling liquid passing through the light cream of his pant legs; he's too tired to act alarmed, Minhyuk's death is almost like routine now, this being the seventh time he's passed away in front of Taeil's eyes.
Taeil knows by now, that each time Minhyuk dies he loses a little piece of himself to oblivion and, despite what people say, he's not quite the same person he used to be when he reawakens. Only Taeil seems to recognize the subtle changes in his personality; Taeil's the only one who actually appears to care. But Minhyuk realizes this unfortunate truth also, he tells Taeil in secret that he feels himself slipping away sometimes. Taeil imagines that one day Minhyuk will wake up with no memory of their friendship whatsoever, and that scares him more than anything else in the world.
When Minhyuk's eyes flicker open, Taeil isn't at all surprised. The other boy slowly runs his hand over the back of his own head, gazes at pale fingers covered in clotted icicle blood and shudders. Taeil believes Minhyuk might be about to say something profound by the way his lips twitch, but his eyes go suddenly glassy as though he's forgotten, as though he's confused. The individual snowflakes clinging to Minhyuk's inky eyelashes shiver collectively and Taeil remains silent.
When Jiho squelches up to them - deep boot indents in the snow - he mumbles an unconvincing "oops," into the harsh morning air, and Taeil feels the cold burn of ice on his lips. He watches the life trickle sluggishly back into Minhyuk's eyes, wondering what part of him has been lost to the void this time; the toes of Jiho's black boots kick a large, blood splattered rock out of view.
2. Minhyuk's destitute, but he's not stupid.
When he turned sixteen, Taeil wondered what it would be like to bleed, not from just a paper cut or a grazed knee, but from something more substantial: Minhyuk took a pair of silver scissors from Taeil's desk drawer and dragged the serrated edge across Taeil's forearm. Taeil bled all over his bedroom floor, tendrils of crimson seeping through the open wound and onto his clothes, smudging across the hand he placed over the broken flesh. He thought he was going to die and Minhyuk's eyes sparkled with astonishment, looking as though he disbelieved what he'd just done. Ribbons of colour blurred Taeil's vision and he clutched Minhyuk's t-shirt desperately with his blood stained hand, unable to make a sound, positively paralyzed with fear. Minhyuk placed his own hand over the wound, pressed his lips violently against Taeil's, and for a moment anguish was replaced with wide-eyed, breathless bewilderment.
Two years later Taeil still has the scar. Minhyuk likes to run his fingertips over it when they're alone, delighting in the tense shiver the touch sends through Taeil's body. On days when Minhyuk doesn't seem himself, Taeil rolls up his sleeves, shucks his t-shirt, watches for the recognition in his friends eyes too emerge at the sight of the blemish. Minhyuk smiles, leans forward and trails his tongue along the sensitive skin as if to commit the shape of it to memory.
Minhyuk has never apologized for what he did, and Taeil still keeps the scissors in his desk drawer as a reminder, discoloured blood preserved inside the tiny silver hinges.
3. Minhyuk's watching the television, but it's not plugged in.
Taeil is shoved backwards through the cornflower blue toilet door, hitting the opposite wall with a dull thud that reverberates sharply through his ribcage. Verbal retaliation is cut short by Minhyuk's cold hand being slapped across his chapped lips. He instinctively glances around for anything that could prove fatal to Minhyuk's health - plastic toilet seat, dented bathroom sink, dripping taps, peeling paint - while outside, Jiho is screaming disjointed obscenities about snowballs and stones and the state of Minhyuk's house. Both boys shuffle further against the stained, mismatched-patch-painted far wall. Minhyuk pushes the door shut quietly with his foot, his hood slipping down, the tips of his dark hair supporting tiny specks of snow that shake as he stifles a giggle against Taeil's shoulder.
Minhyuk has a new set of nothing to lose every few days - broken down home and shackle bound family, school tests and pointless collaborative assignments about Asian rice growing - and the risk of being caught with his tongue in Taeil's mouth is his current favourite game. With the taste of polar fleece on his lips, Minhyuk licks Taeil's neck defiantly, as if Death were a person who could be swayed by irrational rebellion and tiny promises of love. Taeil lets him of course, carries the marks he's given as keepsakes, guarantees that Minhyuk still remembers who he is.
Taeil's elbow knocks the flush button on the cistern, the sound of running water building up and cascading into the toilet bowl follows. Minhyuk flips the toilet lid down and pushes Taeil on top of it, straddling his lap and laughing deep in his throat as their bodies vibrate with the swirling water pressure beneath.
Eventually, the screech of Jiho's voice subsides and Taeil is left shaking, leaning his head against the bathroom wall, purple and red abrasions littering his alabaster skin. Minhyuk licks his lips and stands, something unrecognizable dancing in his eyes, then saunters proudly outside with Taeil close behind, lost in a type of giddy trance. The afternoon wind is bitterly cold despite the glowing sunshine and Minhyuk's face looks unusually pale. Taeil stops short, and just like a slow motion replay, he watches Minhyuk slip on a fresh patch of glimmering ice . He turns away, but still hears the blunt crack of Minhyuk's skull hitting the concrete paving. He notices a small green pipe jutting out from between the layered brick wall, droplets of water falling from it's jagged opening, and wonders how he didn't see it before. Jiho appears in front of them soon after, and his face doesn't even falter when he sees the blood pooling at Taeil's feet, he just laughs aloud and says triumphantly, "I found you!"
4. Minhyuk cries, but only when he's happy.
Four days after Taeil turned nineteen, Minhyuk cornered him in the shop's supply cupboard. Surrounded by blocks of spare scissors and boxes of various sharp edged objects, Taeil panicked. Minhyuk pushed a stack of crates in front of the cream-coloured door and unconsciously, Taeil reached for his scarred left arm.
Flush against a metal shelving unit, Taeil could feel the rounded tips of screws digging into his back, the artificial light in the center of the room creating an unnatural halo around Minhyuk's frame. Minhyuk closed the distance between their bodies, hands gliding beneath the heavy fabric of Taeil's jacket, tickling the tender skin underneath. Their breath mingled as they jerkily reached for one an other, lips brushing sporadically and hearts fluttering nervously against their chests.
Minhyuk pushed his hand skillfully inside Taeil's trousers, teasing the sensitive skin he found with his fingers, teeth tugging on the lobe of the other boys ear as he mumbled endearments against his skin. Taeil gasped several incoherent sounds into the air as the flimsy shelves around them groaned and broke free, sending twenty shimmering pairs of plastic handled scissors and a jar of golden glitter into the stale air.
Taeil stood in deafening silence, too scared to move as the cuffs of his trousers turned from light grey to brownish red, too scared to breathe as the life drained completely from Minhyuk's tear burdened eyes. Specks of gold dust glittered in their hair and made the blood leaking from Minhyuk's wounds sparkle ruby red; it matched the colour of his lips as he smiled against Taeil's neck, filaments of happiness warming his punctured skin as his breath slowed and ultimately, shuddered to a stop.
Taeil remembers it all with crystal clarity, recollecting each of the tiny details that Minhyuk seems to have forgotten over time; piecing them together he replays them in his mind as he sits beside Minhyuk's hospital bed, or as he kneels beside Minhyuk's ruptured figure on the ground. Occasionally he murmurs specifics aloud, silently hoping that they'll be absorbed by Minhyuk's subconscious. Once in a while when Minhyuk wakes, Taeil is still mumbling, memories sliding off his tongue like silken threads and Minhyuk smiles as if he remembers; sometimes Taeil smiles back and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they'll be okay in the end.
For: mywookness
Pairing:Taeil/Minhyuk
Rating:R
Word Count: 1,708
Summary: Taeil watches Minhyuk's death, and then something extraordinary happens; he comes back. But every time he watches him return to life, it's only to see him die again.
Or in which Minhyuk dies almost every week but it's okay, Taeil knows he'll always survive (even if a small part of him dies alongside it).
Notes/Warnings: I was stuck on what to write for awhile but then my muse struck at last minute and this is the result. It comes from your request for "Taeil/B-Bomb" and "Angst". This is rather dark, people. Several of the sections are not for the faint-hearted, but this is a love story in its basis. I hope you enjoy.
1. Minhyuk suits the colour red, but he's not angry.
Minhyuk has been pounding Jiho with mud tainted snowballs for a good half hour, hardly giving the other boy a chance to recover between each one. When Jiho finally composes himself, he lets fly a constant string of verbal abuse that only makes Minhyuk laugh tumultuously through the collar of his jacket, gloved hands gathering together another mound of frozen ammunition.
Kyung's sitting next to Taeil on a dilapidated park bench, sliding his booted feet back and forth in the pliant sludge, reciting under his breath what he's going to say to girl of the week when she arrives. His voice is soft and steady, an endless chant that mingles gracelessly with the defeated noises Jiho makes as another snowball collides with the back of his head.
Kyung continues to mumble, checking his watch now and then, mapping everything out as another cry of frustration echoes from Jiho's position. Not long after, Taeil finds himself being dragged off the bench, callous fingers digging painfully into his arm, hard enough to bruise. Jiho screams wildly and Minhyuk swears bitterly; the loud thwack that sounds a moment later makes Taeil cringe.
Minhyuk freezes, his grip on Taeil's arm loosens and his body folds. Dropping to the ground as if a thousand ton weight is strapped to his body, he chokes on something, maybe his own blood, and with his face buried flat against the snow, Minhyuk expires again.
Five minutes later, he lays in his own puddle of slushied blood, the sleeves of his jacket splayed like long ribbons of blood by his sides. Taeil drops down haggardly beside his friend, fingers gripping the material of his own pants, cooling liquid passing through the light cream of his pant legs; he's too tired to act alarmed, Minhyuk's death is almost like routine now, this being the seventh time he's passed away in front of Taeil's eyes.
Taeil knows by now, that each time Minhyuk dies he loses a little piece of himself to oblivion and, despite what people say, he's not quite the same person he used to be when he reawakens. Only Taeil seems to recognize the subtle changes in his personality; Taeil's the only one who actually appears to care. But Minhyuk realizes this unfortunate truth also, he tells Taeil in secret that he feels himself slipping away sometimes. Taeil imagines that one day Minhyuk will wake up with no memory of their friendship whatsoever, and that scares him more than anything else in the world.
When Minhyuk's eyes flicker open, Taeil isn't at all surprised. The other boy slowly runs his hand over the back of his own head, gazes at pale fingers covered in clotted icicle blood and shudders. Taeil believes Minhyuk might be about to say something profound by the way his lips twitch, but his eyes go suddenly glassy as though he's forgotten, as though he's confused. The individual snowflakes clinging to Minhyuk's inky eyelashes shiver collectively and Taeil remains silent.
When Jiho squelches up to them - deep boot indents in the snow - he mumbles an unconvincing "oops," into the harsh morning air, and Taeil feels the cold burn of ice on his lips. He watches the life trickle sluggishly back into Minhyuk's eyes, wondering what part of him has been lost to the void this time; the toes of Jiho's black boots kick a large, blood splattered rock out of view.
2. Minhyuk's destitute, but he's not stupid.
When he turned sixteen, Taeil wondered what it would be like to bleed, not from just a paper cut or a grazed knee, but from something more substantial: Minhyuk took a pair of silver scissors from Taeil's desk drawer and dragged the serrated edge across Taeil's forearm. Taeil bled all over his bedroom floor, tendrils of crimson seeping through the open wound and onto his clothes, smudging across the hand he placed over the broken flesh. He thought he was going to die and Minhyuk's eyes sparkled with astonishment, looking as though he disbelieved what he'd just done. Ribbons of colour blurred Taeil's vision and he clutched Minhyuk's t-shirt desperately with his blood stained hand, unable to make a sound, positively paralyzed with fear. Minhyuk placed his own hand over the wound, pressed his lips violently against Taeil's, and for a moment anguish was replaced with wide-eyed, breathless bewilderment.
Two years later Taeil still has the scar. Minhyuk likes to run his fingertips over it when they're alone, delighting in the tense shiver the touch sends through Taeil's body. On days when Minhyuk doesn't seem himself, Taeil rolls up his sleeves, shucks his t-shirt, watches for the recognition in his friends eyes too emerge at the sight of the blemish. Minhyuk smiles, leans forward and trails his tongue along the sensitive skin as if to commit the shape of it to memory.
Minhyuk has never apologized for what he did, and Taeil still keeps the scissors in his desk drawer as a reminder, discoloured blood preserved inside the tiny silver hinges.
3. Minhyuk's watching the television, but it's not plugged in.
Taeil is shoved backwards through the cornflower blue toilet door, hitting the opposite wall with a dull thud that reverberates sharply through his ribcage. Verbal retaliation is cut short by Minhyuk's cold hand being slapped across his chapped lips. He instinctively glances around for anything that could prove fatal to Minhyuk's health - plastic toilet seat, dented bathroom sink, dripping taps, peeling paint - while outside, Jiho is screaming disjointed obscenities about snowballs and stones and the state of Minhyuk's house. Both boys shuffle further against the stained, mismatched-patch-painted far wall. Minhyuk pushes the door shut quietly with his foot, his hood slipping down, the tips of his dark hair supporting tiny specks of snow that shake as he stifles a giggle against Taeil's shoulder.
Minhyuk has a new set of nothing to lose every few days - broken down home and shackle bound family, school tests and pointless collaborative assignments about Asian rice growing - and the risk of being caught with his tongue in Taeil's mouth is his current favourite game. With the taste of polar fleece on his lips, Minhyuk licks Taeil's neck defiantly, as if Death were a person who could be swayed by irrational rebellion and tiny promises of love. Taeil lets him of course, carries the marks he's given as keepsakes, guarantees that Minhyuk still remembers who he is.
Taeil's elbow knocks the flush button on the cistern, the sound of running water building up and cascading into the toilet bowl follows. Minhyuk flips the toilet lid down and pushes Taeil on top of it, straddling his lap and laughing deep in his throat as their bodies vibrate with the swirling water pressure beneath.
Eventually, the screech of Jiho's voice subsides and Taeil is left shaking, leaning his head against the bathroom wall, purple and red abrasions littering his alabaster skin. Minhyuk licks his lips and stands, something unrecognizable dancing in his eyes, then saunters proudly outside with Taeil close behind, lost in a type of giddy trance. The afternoon wind is bitterly cold despite the glowing sunshine and Minhyuk's face looks unusually pale. Taeil stops short, and just like a slow motion replay, he watches Minhyuk slip on a fresh patch of glimmering ice . He turns away, but still hears the blunt crack of Minhyuk's skull hitting the concrete paving. He notices a small green pipe jutting out from between the layered brick wall, droplets of water falling from it's jagged opening, and wonders how he didn't see it before. Jiho appears in front of them soon after, and his face doesn't even falter when he sees the blood pooling at Taeil's feet, he just laughs aloud and says triumphantly, "I found you!"
4. Minhyuk cries, but only when he's happy.
Four days after Taeil turned nineteen, Minhyuk cornered him in the shop's supply cupboard. Surrounded by blocks of spare scissors and boxes of various sharp edged objects, Taeil panicked. Minhyuk pushed a stack of crates in front of the cream-coloured door and unconsciously, Taeil reached for his scarred left arm.
Flush against a metal shelving unit, Taeil could feel the rounded tips of screws digging into his back, the artificial light in the center of the room creating an unnatural halo around Minhyuk's frame. Minhyuk closed the distance between their bodies, hands gliding beneath the heavy fabric of Taeil's jacket, tickling the tender skin underneath. Their breath mingled as they jerkily reached for one an other, lips brushing sporadically and hearts fluttering nervously against their chests.
Minhyuk pushed his hand skillfully inside Taeil's trousers, teasing the sensitive skin he found with his fingers, teeth tugging on the lobe of the other boys ear as he mumbled endearments against his skin. Taeil gasped several incoherent sounds into the air as the flimsy shelves around them groaned and broke free, sending twenty shimmering pairs of plastic handled scissors and a jar of golden glitter into the stale air.
Taeil stood in deafening silence, too scared to move as the cuffs of his trousers turned from light grey to brownish red, too scared to breathe as the life drained completely from Minhyuk's tear burdened eyes. Specks of gold dust glittered in their hair and made the blood leaking from Minhyuk's wounds sparkle ruby red; it matched the colour of his lips as he smiled against Taeil's neck, filaments of happiness warming his punctured skin as his breath slowed and ultimately, shuddered to a stop.
Taeil remembers it all with crystal clarity, recollecting each of the tiny details that Minhyuk seems to have forgotten over time; piecing them together he replays them in his mind as he sits beside Minhyuk's hospital bed, or as he kneels beside Minhyuk's ruptured figure on the ground. Occasionally he murmurs specifics aloud, silently hoping that they'll be absorbed by Minhyuk's subconscious. Once in a while when Minhyuk wakes, Taeil is still mumbling, memories sliding off his tongue like silken threads and Minhyuk smiles as if he remembers; sometimes Taeil smiles back and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they'll be okay in the end.