Thirst ; Yoochun/Changmin
I wrote a companion piece to Drought, and I've decided to make this a trilogy, which means there's one more instalment to come.
I wrote Drought from Changmin's point of view, while this is told using Yoochun's voice, and I hope that the differences in their personalities come through.
Title: Thirst (Part II)
Rating: R
Fandom: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Pairing(s): Yoochun/Changmin
Word count: 1500
Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me. This is also nothing but pure fiction.
Summary: You know, I know it's wrong for me to say this, but I'd do crazy and terrible things for you.
Thirst
Something is cooking in the kitchen - there is a crisp, sweet fragrance stealing through the corridors on tiptoes, assaulting me playfully from behind. I follow the scent dreamily, a somnambulist in a maze, expecting to find delicious food, but instead, I find you.
You are bent over the stove, inspecting the contents of a pot with a ladle. You lift the ladle to your lips for a taste.
I stand by the refrigerator, captured by the sight of you performing simple domestic chores in the kitchen in my house, and I suddenly realise that what this house lacks is you.
Sometimes I don't understand you. To me, you are a mystery, insoluble, inexplicable and enigmatic. It's why I fell for you.
At the start, I could not help but think we were too different. I resigned myself to the fact that we were destined to lead our own parallel lives that would never converge. I was right and wrong.
We never did converge, instead, we became entwined.
I wrote a song about you, seven months after our first meeting, and right when we were at that stage of our relationship where it was all about the romance, head-over-heels, walking on air, racing hearts. The song is a secret - you have no idea about its existence and I will never let you hear it. I wrote and recorded the song, intending it to be a reminder, just in case I ever forgot how much I loved you.
Now, I plug in my earphones, and for the first time in months, I close my eyes and listen to the song about how much I loved you.
By the end of the four-minute track, I realise that after all this time, impossible as it may seem, I have come to love you even more.
I will never tell you this, but once in a little while, I catch myself wondering if you are too good for me, thinking that maybe I don't deserve you. And if that is the truth, then one day, I am going to lose you.
When you move in with me, spring is just breaking, an appropriate season for new beginnings. You fill in the empty spaces of my apartment with your scent and presence. It takes us a day and a half to unpack all the boxes of your belongings, and by the time that is done, the apartment has transformed into a completely different place.
There are your clothes in the closet, your shoes outside the door, your shampoo in the bathroom, your books on the shelves and your pillow next to mine. During meals, we set the table for two, and there is a partner to do the dishes with, taking turns to wash and dry. There's the novelty of unlocking the door and saying I'm home, and having you smile and say welcome back. I know you enjoy ringing the doorbell even when you haven't forgotten the keys, just because you know I will be there to answer the door.
You complain about my apartment - about how one of the doors don't shut properly and some of the floorboards creak - but it is impossible for me to take offence when you are laughing like this is the happiest you have been in a long time.
I know how you feel - it even makes me smile just standing in front of the sink and catching sight of your toothbrush leaning against mine, the bristles touching intimately, an indirect kiss.
I am such a fool for you.
You know, I never knew how much I was missing until I met you, and now I will never be happy any other way. This is what love does to you.
This appears to be a month of rain and bad weather. You are curled next to me, nestled into the blankets. A flash of lightning illuminates the room for a brief moment, and we both hold our breaths, expecting the clap of thunder we know will follow.
You roll over, struggling out of the layers of blanket and stretching to reach your watch on the table. I watch the muscles on your back tense and shift, and my mouth goes dry.
I lean over and lick the bare skin on your back.
What are you doing? You say, twisting around to glare at me. Pervert, you say, but ironically, you are the one who kisses me first.
We make love to the muted sound of the storm raging outside - the two of us in this room, in our little self-contained world.
Our schedules don't always match - on some days, when I wake, you are already gone; on other days, when I get home, you are already fast asleep. Of course, there are the lazy days where we get the spend hours just enjoying each other's presence, but otherwise we take to leaving notes for each other - there's lunch in the fridge; YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP, LOSER; we've run out of milk; Sorry, I dropped your toothbrush in the toilet (and then on the back of the note: just kidding, I love you).
Every time it rains, I think of you.
It reminds me of that time during my birthday where everything went wrong for me and it poured miserably for the entire day. I turned up for our date soaking wet because my umbrella chose the right day to collapse and stop functioning. You had taken one look at me and then calmly set your umbrella on the ground.
"You're mad," I'd said, blinking the rain out of my eyes. "Now you are going to get wet too."
We both just stood there, two crazy people becoming dripping wet.
"Today is the worst day ever," I declared, but then you made up for it all, taking my face between your hands and kissing me in the pouring rain.
The two of us save each other in such unlikely ways.
I have to tell you a secret - I've always complained about you being so tall and grumbled over having to look up at you, but really, I brag to all my friends that my boyfriend is so much taller than they are and shamelessly tell them that there's no one in the world who can even be half as beautiful as you are.
Together, we are the most insatiable couple I know. Within a week for you moving in, we managed to christen every available surface in the house with our love-making.
I will never forget that one time on the kitchen counter when you accidentally slammed your head on the underside of the cupboards and started to cry. I'm sorry I laughed, but if you were in my position, you would have laughed harder.
I will also never forget that time you held me pressed against the door and we fucked with almost all our clothes still on.
And that time on the piano bench, losing ourselves in each other so slowly the rest of the world had no choice but to wait.
I tell you all the time that you are beautiful, and sometimes you roll your eyes like you think it's a joke, but it's not. You are beautiful, and it drives me mad.
You know, I know it's wrong for me to say this, but I'd do crazy and terrible things for you.
It's wrong but I'd torture kittens if it made you happy, just because that gorgeous smile and dancing eyes of yours make me weak.
On Valentine's Day, my ex-girlfriend calls. "I hear you're in love," she says.
I tell her yes.
There's a pregnant pause, and then she says, "I hear it's a younger man."
I tell her yes, that too.
She launches into an angry tirade, and I listen patiently because I understand how she must feel about this. She calls you a lot of ugly names, she calls me a lot of ugly names, and begs for the two of us to be sent to hell.
Eventually, I hear her starting to cry.
"What has he got that I don't?" she asks tearfully.
"Everything," I say honestly, and she hangs up on me.
When I narrate what happened to you later during our date, I feel bad knowing I broke her heart, but then you smile - all that's needed for whatever guilt I'm feeling to disappear.
We walk side by side, close enough for our fingers to brush. The clouds are dyed a blushing pink by the setting sun. Maybe people are watching, but I recklessly grab your hand and thread our fingers tightly together.
You look at me, at our linked hands, and then meet my gaze. A beat, and then you quickly turn your face away, but I still manage to catch sight of the secret smile that startles across your face.
In case you are wondering, I don't plan on ever letting you go.
<< part i
>> (to be continued)
MASTERLIST OF FICS HERE
I wrote Drought from Changmin's point of view, while this is told using Yoochun's voice, and I hope that the differences in their personalities come through.
Title: Thirst (Part II)
Rating: R
Fandom: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Pairing(s): Yoochun/Changmin
Word count: 1500
Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me. This is also nothing but pure fiction.
Summary: You know, I know it's wrong for me to say this, but I'd do crazy and terrible things for you.
Thirst
Something is cooking in the kitchen - there is a crisp, sweet fragrance stealing through the corridors on tiptoes, assaulting me playfully from behind. I follow the scent dreamily, a somnambulist in a maze, expecting to find delicious food, but instead, I find you.
You are bent over the stove, inspecting the contents of a pot with a ladle. You lift the ladle to your lips for a taste.
I stand by the refrigerator, captured by the sight of you performing simple domestic chores in the kitchen in my house, and I suddenly realise that what this house lacks is you.
Sometimes I don't understand you. To me, you are a mystery, insoluble, inexplicable and enigmatic. It's why I fell for you.
At the start, I could not help but think we were too different. I resigned myself to the fact that we were destined to lead our own parallel lives that would never converge. I was right and wrong.
We never did converge, instead, we became entwined.
I wrote a song about you, seven months after our first meeting, and right when we were at that stage of our relationship where it was all about the romance, head-over-heels, walking on air, racing hearts. The song is a secret - you have no idea about its existence and I will never let you hear it. I wrote and recorded the song, intending it to be a reminder, just in case I ever forgot how much I loved you.
Now, I plug in my earphones, and for the first time in months, I close my eyes and listen to the song about how much I loved you.
By the end of the four-minute track, I realise that after all this time, impossible as it may seem, I have come to love you even more.
I will never tell you this, but once in a little while, I catch myself wondering if you are too good for me, thinking that maybe I don't deserve you. And if that is the truth, then one day, I am going to lose you.
When you move in with me, spring is just breaking, an appropriate season for new beginnings. You fill in the empty spaces of my apartment with your scent and presence. It takes us a day and a half to unpack all the boxes of your belongings, and by the time that is done, the apartment has transformed into a completely different place.
There are your clothes in the closet, your shoes outside the door, your shampoo in the bathroom, your books on the shelves and your pillow next to mine. During meals, we set the table for two, and there is a partner to do the dishes with, taking turns to wash and dry. There's the novelty of unlocking the door and saying I'm home, and having you smile and say welcome back. I know you enjoy ringing the doorbell even when you haven't forgotten the keys, just because you know I will be there to answer the door.
You complain about my apartment - about how one of the doors don't shut properly and some of the floorboards creak - but it is impossible for me to take offence when you are laughing like this is the happiest you have been in a long time.
I know how you feel - it even makes me smile just standing in front of the sink and catching sight of your toothbrush leaning against mine, the bristles touching intimately, an indirect kiss.
I am such a fool for you.
You know, I never knew how much I was missing until I met you, and now I will never be happy any other way. This is what love does to you.
This appears to be a month of rain and bad weather. You are curled next to me, nestled into the blankets. A flash of lightning illuminates the room for a brief moment, and we both hold our breaths, expecting the clap of thunder we know will follow.
You roll over, struggling out of the layers of blanket and stretching to reach your watch on the table. I watch the muscles on your back tense and shift, and my mouth goes dry.
I lean over and lick the bare skin on your back.
What are you doing? You say, twisting around to glare at me. Pervert, you say, but ironically, you are the one who kisses me first.
We make love to the muted sound of the storm raging outside - the two of us in this room, in our little self-contained world.
Our schedules don't always match - on some days, when I wake, you are already gone; on other days, when I get home, you are already fast asleep. Of course, there are the lazy days where we get the spend hours just enjoying each other's presence, but otherwise we take to leaving notes for each other - there's lunch in the fridge; YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP, LOSER; we've run out of milk; Sorry, I dropped your toothbrush in the toilet (and then on the back of the note: just kidding, I love you).
Every time it rains, I think of you.
It reminds me of that time during my birthday where everything went wrong for me and it poured miserably for the entire day. I turned up for our date soaking wet because my umbrella chose the right day to collapse and stop functioning. You had taken one look at me and then calmly set your umbrella on the ground.
"You're mad," I'd said, blinking the rain out of my eyes. "Now you are going to get wet too."
We both just stood there, two crazy people becoming dripping wet.
"Today is the worst day ever," I declared, but then you made up for it all, taking my face between your hands and kissing me in the pouring rain.
The two of us save each other in such unlikely ways.
I have to tell you a secret - I've always complained about you being so tall and grumbled over having to look up at you, but really, I brag to all my friends that my boyfriend is so much taller than they are and shamelessly tell them that there's no one in the world who can even be half as beautiful as you are.
Together, we are the most insatiable couple I know. Within a week for you moving in, we managed to christen every available surface in the house with our love-making.
I will never forget that one time on the kitchen counter when you accidentally slammed your head on the underside of the cupboards and started to cry. I'm sorry I laughed, but if you were in my position, you would have laughed harder.
I will also never forget that time you held me pressed against the door and we fucked with almost all our clothes still on.
And that time on the piano bench, losing ourselves in each other so slowly the rest of the world had no choice but to wait.
I tell you all the time that you are beautiful, and sometimes you roll your eyes like you think it's a joke, but it's not. You are beautiful, and it drives me mad.
You know, I know it's wrong for me to say this, but I'd do crazy and terrible things for you.
It's wrong but I'd torture kittens if it made you happy, just because that gorgeous smile and dancing eyes of yours make me weak.
On Valentine's Day, my ex-girlfriend calls. "I hear you're in love," she says.
I tell her yes.
There's a pregnant pause, and then she says, "I hear it's a younger man."
I tell her yes, that too.
She launches into an angry tirade, and I listen patiently because I understand how she must feel about this. She calls you a lot of ugly names, she calls me a lot of ugly names, and begs for the two of us to be sent to hell.
Eventually, I hear her starting to cry.
"What has he got that I don't?" she asks tearfully.
"Everything," I say honestly, and she hangs up on me.
When I narrate what happened to you later during our date, I feel bad knowing I broke her heart, but then you smile - all that's needed for whatever guilt I'm feeling to disappear.
We walk side by side, close enough for our fingers to brush. The clouds are dyed a blushing pink by the setting sun. Maybe people are watching, but I recklessly grab your hand and thread our fingers tightly together.
You look at me, at our linked hands, and then meet my gaze. A beat, and then you quickly turn your face away, but I still manage to catch sight of the secret smile that startles across your face.
In case you are wondering, I don't plan on ever letting you go.
<< part i
>> (to be continued)
MASTERLIST OF FICS HERE