Intuitive Aptitude ; Wooyoung/Junho
This started out as angst (do not ask me why I’m always writing angst, there must be something in my genes that makes it so), but then it somehow managed to acquire a mind of its own and turned out completely different from what I expected.
Title: Intuitive Aptitude
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing(s): Wooyoung/Junho
Word count: 1603 words
Disclaimer: This is only fiction.
Summary: People will always notice Nichkhun first, that's just the way the world works.
Intuitive Aptitude
: the ability to analyze and understand the workings of complex systems.
The world works in a certain way - that’s a fact that Junho knows and understands. He knows that the world works the way it does, and that no amount of defiance on his part can change anything.
He can’t change the way day dissolves into night, can’t change the passing of time, the seconds flying by like a flock of panic-stricken birds, can’t change the fact that he can never alter what’s already been done.
He can’t change the fact that anywhere, at any time, everyone will always notice Nichkhun first. That’s just the way the world works, and Junho understands that.
“We’re finally here - Junsu, pass me that - hey, budge over, will you?” Anxious to get out of the car, Chansung pokes Junho, startling him out of his nap. Junho is half-dragged and half-shoved out of the door, and by the time his mind begins to function normally, he’s already sitting in front of a mirror, waiting for a stylist to attend to him.
On his right side, Nichkhun is staring intently at the mirror in front of him, but not the way one does when wondering is my nose too big or thinking I’m so gorgeous. Junho supposes it is more like Nichkhun is trying to make sense of the person he sees in the mirror, as though he’s trying to solve the puzzle that was his own reflection.
The stylist fusses over Nichkhun, chattering on about how she’s a huge fan, gushing over his wonderful complexion, oozing adoration and admiration. Nichkhun smiles and nods, but he doesn’t look away from the mirror, seemingly deep in thought.
Junho resists the urge to tell Nichkhun to stop it, that it’s disconcerting, that there’s no need for Nichkhun to think so hard, because Junho already has the answer.
It is just how the world works.
Nichkhun is beautiful, Nichkhun is charming, Nichkhun is charismatic, and he is surrounded by more love than anyone else. It isn’t a problem that begs pondering, Junho thinks as the stylist finally moves onto him, offering him an apologetic smile for making him wait. What is there to question? Junho is Junho, and Nichkhun is Nichkhun, and there is no such thing as we are all equal.
A tiny, nasty part of Junho wants to turn to Nichkhun in mock-sympathy, and say, “I’m sorry, it’s just too bad, you’ll always be the one who’s noticed first, you’ll always be the popular one.” Junho shakes the thought from his mind, and instead, reaches over to offer Nichkhun a mint.
Here’s some honesty - Junho wants to be showered with attention until he drowns, wants so much love to be crammed down his throat until he chokes. It’s funny how the truth always sounds so ugly.
“Are you okay?”
Junho jumps a little in shock, his heart rattling in his ribcage. He looks up to see Chansung hovering over him, looking simultaneously amused and concerned in that irritating way that only Chansung can.
“You’ve been staring at the floor like it just committed some unforgivable sin for the last five minutes,” Chansung informs him.
“It’s nothing,” Junho says, and suddenly realizes that Chansung hasn’t gotten changed yet. “Why aren’t you changed?” He checks the time - they’re on time, but only barely - if Chansung doesn’t get ready in five minutes, they’ll be behind time.
“Well, I can’t very well barge into the dressing room to change when Wooyoung and Nichkhun are inside, groping each other and kissing like there’s no tomorrow, can I?” Chansung says, rolling his eyes. “Taec says to give them another minute before I remind them that other people need to use the room too. Really, if they - ”
Junho doesn’t hear the rest.
The world splinters around Junho and the singular image forming in his mind, vile and vulgar and vivid - Nichkhun’s mouth on Wooyoung’s, their fingers woven into each other’s hair, their bodies pressed together, layers of clothing being shed, and -
- that deafening earth-shattering whimper that slips from Wooyoung’s lips.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Wooyoung says the moment Junho sits down next to him that night.
“What, so you can read minds now?” Junho says, trying to force a smile to his face.
Wooyoung doesn’t laugh. “Just so you know, I know what I’m doing, I haven’t lost my mind, I know the possible consequences and the risks, and I want to do this.”
It’s cruel: the way Wooyoung doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing to Junho’s heart. It’s cruel: the way Junho doesn’t have the fucking guts to say what he wants to say. It’s cruel: the way the world works.
“You deserve better,” Junho says.
Wooyoung looks at him sharply, an odd look in his eyes, and Junho forgets to breathe - no, oh God, please no, how did he catch me? And then the look is gone, disappearing behind a veil of forced humor. “Of course I do,” Wooyoung says, and there it is - that smile that Junho hates; the vacant one that reeks of artificiality and makes Junho’s fists and heart clench painfully.
Wooyoung must know Junho better than Junho thinks, because the smile slips off his face quickly. He is silent for a long while, and then his hand comes to rest on top of Junho’s curled fists. “Trust me,” he says.
I do, Junho thinks, but he knows that’s a lie. “I trust you,” Junho replies woodenly. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing.”
“You know,” Wooyoung says, his smile stretching wider. “What would I do without you?”
“Get into all kinds of trouble, probably,” Junho answers, and then clenches his jaw shut to keep the truth from escaping. You wouldn’t even notice, not when Nichkhun is the sun and you the sunflower that can never turn away. That’s just how the world works.
Junho accepts how everyone notices Nichkhun first, how Nichkhun is the magnet to which people just can’t help but gravitate towards. Junho can take of all of that in his stride, he can forgive all of that, but not this.
Not Nichkhun’s fingers curved possessively over Wooyoung’s hips, not the way his hand lingers on Wooyoung’s arm, not the way they sit with their knees touching, not the way they speak with their heads bent close, everything in their body language screaming intimacy.
He tells himself, this is the way the world works, this is the way things are, you cannot change anything, but his body won’t listen. His fingers itch to wander beyond the unspoken boundaries of where he is allowed touch (a friendly pat on the shoulder, a brief hug, a swat on the arm, a playful nudge), he’s permanently thirsty for the taste of Wooyoung’s skin, and his heart struggles inside the confines of his chest, aching for even just one second of defiance, even if it ends up a car crash, shipwreck, natural disaster, heartbreak.
His resistance cracks. It’s inevitable. As days pass, he watches helplessly as the walls he painstakingly built crumble into dust, his heart a sunflower straining towards the only Sun it recognizes.
Junho kisses Wooyoung after they tumble off stage, exhilarated and drunk on the sound of the audience’s applause and cheers. Adrenaline is racing through their bodies, making them suddenly bold and daring and reckless. He holds Wooyoung close, closer, tight, tighter, so desperate to keep him right here that he doesn’t realize his grip is so tight that it probably hurts - he will only realize this belatedly when he sees the string of bruises left on Wooyoung’s arms.
“It took you long enough,” Wooyoung says, pulling away, and then bringing their mouths together again as though he could not bear to be further apart.
Junho has always understood the complex workings of the world, but it is only now that it hits him like a bolt of lightning or an arrow through the heart, that it really doesn’t matter that some people are noticed first while others are noticed last. What’s important is that the person who matters most is turning towards you and looking at you like he never wants to look away ever again, even if he’s a little late, even if he’s a little slow, even if he gets distracted along the way, it’s entirely worth it.
“You should have said something, you know,” Wooyoung says, when Junho, overwhelmed and dizzy, collapses onto a chair. “Maybe you possess superior levels of understanding, but I don’t. How was I supposed to know that you deserve better is some kind of code for I’m madly in love with you or something along those lines? You’re lucky I’m not a complete idiot, and finally got it. You’re also lucky I know you well enough to figure out what was needed for you to finally do something.”
Wooyoung pauses briefly to check if Junho is still conscious. “Are you listening to me?” he demands. He’s variety show Wooyoung now, all witty remarks and cheeky smirks, but Junho sees the faint flush on his cheeks and knows that despite appearances, like Junho, he’s singing inside.
Junho makes a strangled, non-committal noise - he can’t help that he’s not good at adjusting to sudden shocks. Wooyoung pats him encouragingly on the back. “Some people can’t cope with my awesomeness - I understand, take your time,” he says kindly.
Person who matters most or not, Junho is merciless as he shoves Wooyoung violently onto the ground. When Wooyoung howls and pretends to weep, Junho decides the next appropriate step he should take is to shut him up with a kiss.
MASTERLIST OF FICS HERE
Title: Intuitive Aptitude
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing(s): Wooyoung/Junho
Word count: 1603 words
Disclaimer: This is only fiction.
Summary: People will always notice Nichkhun first, that's just the way the world works.
Intuitive Aptitude
: the ability to analyze and understand the workings of complex systems.
The world works in a certain way - that’s a fact that Junho knows and understands. He knows that the world works the way it does, and that no amount of defiance on his part can change anything.
He can’t change the way day dissolves into night, can’t change the passing of time, the seconds flying by like a flock of panic-stricken birds, can’t change the fact that he can never alter what’s already been done.
He can’t change the fact that anywhere, at any time, everyone will always notice Nichkhun first. That’s just the way the world works, and Junho understands that.
“We’re finally here - Junsu, pass me that - hey, budge over, will you?” Anxious to get out of the car, Chansung pokes Junho, startling him out of his nap. Junho is half-dragged and half-shoved out of the door, and by the time his mind begins to function normally, he’s already sitting in front of a mirror, waiting for a stylist to attend to him.
On his right side, Nichkhun is staring intently at the mirror in front of him, but not the way one does when wondering is my nose too big or thinking I’m so gorgeous. Junho supposes it is more like Nichkhun is trying to make sense of the person he sees in the mirror, as though he’s trying to solve the puzzle that was his own reflection.
The stylist fusses over Nichkhun, chattering on about how she’s a huge fan, gushing over his wonderful complexion, oozing adoration and admiration. Nichkhun smiles and nods, but he doesn’t look away from the mirror, seemingly deep in thought.
Junho resists the urge to tell Nichkhun to stop it, that it’s disconcerting, that there’s no need for Nichkhun to think so hard, because Junho already has the answer.
It is just how the world works.
Nichkhun is beautiful, Nichkhun is charming, Nichkhun is charismatic, and he is surrounded by more love than anyone else. It isn’t a problem that begs pondering, Junho thinks as the stylist finally moves onto him, offering him an apologetic smile for making him wait. What is there to question? Junho is Junho, and Nichkhun is Nichkhun, and there is no such thing as we are all equal.
A tiny, nasty part of Junho wants to turn to Nichkhun in mock-sympathy, and say, “I’m sorry, it’s just too bad, you’ll always be the one who’s noticed first, you’ll always be the popular one.” Junho shakes the thought from his mind, and instead, reaches over to offer Nichkhun a mint.
Here’s some honesty - Junho wants to be showered with attention until he drowns, wants so much love to be crammed down his throat until he chokes. It’s funny how the truth always sounds so ugly.
“Are you okay?”
Junho jumps a little in shock, his heart rattling in his ribcage. He looks up to see Chansung hovering over him, looking simultaneously amused and concerned in that irritating way that only Chansung can.
“You’ve been staring at the floor like it just committed some unforgivable sin for the last five minutes,” Chansung informs him.
“It’s nothing,” Junho says, and suddenly realizes that Chansung hasn’t gotten changed yet. “Why aren’t you changed?” He checks the time - they’re on time, but only barely - if Chansung doesn’t get ready in five minutes, they’ll be behind time.
“Well, I can’t very well barge into the dressing room to change when Wooyoung and Nichkhun are inside, groping each other and kissing like there’s no tomorrow, can I?” Chansung says, rolling his eyes. “Taec says to give them another minute before I remind them that other people need to use the room too. Really, if they - ”
Junho doesn’t hear the rest.
The world splinters around Junho and the singular image forming in his mind, vile and vulgar and vivid - Nichkhun’s mouth on Wooyoung’s, their fingers woven into each other’s hair, their bodies pressed together, layers of clothing being shed, and -
- that deafening earth-shattering whimper that slips from Wooyoung’s lips.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Wooyoung says the moment Junho sits down next to him that night.
“What, so you can read minds now?” Junho says, trying to force a smile to his face.
Wooyoung doesn’t laugh. “Just so you know, I know what I’m doing, I haven’t lost my mind, I know the possible consequences and the risks, and I want to do this.”
It’s cruel: the way Wooyoung doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing to Junho’s heart. It’s cruel: the way Junho doesn’t have the fucking guts to say what he wants to say. It’s cruel: the way the world works.
“You deserve better,” Junho says.
Wooyoung looks at him sharply, an odd look in his eyes, and Junho forgets to breathe - no, oh God, please no, how did he catch me? And then the look is gone, disappearing behind a veil of forced humor. “Of course I do,” Wooyoung says, and there it is - that smile that Junho hates; the vacant one that reeks of artificiality and makes Junho’s fists and heart clench painfully.
Wooyoung must know Junho better than Junho thinks, because the smile slips off his face quickly. He is silent for a long while, and then his hand comes to rest on top of Junho’s curled fists. “Trust me,” he says.
I do, Junho thinks, but he knows that’s a lie. “I trust you,” Junho replies woodenly. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing.”
“You know,” Wooyoung says, his smile stretching wider. “What would I do without you?”
“Get into all kinds of trouble, probably,” Junho answers, and then clenches his jaw shut to keep the truth from escaping. You wouldn’t even notice, not when Nichkhun is the sun and you the sunflower that can never turn away. That’s just how the world works.
Junho accepts how everyone notices Nichkhun first, how Nichkhun is the magnet to which people just can’t help but gravitate towards. Junho can take of all of that in his stride, he can forgive all of that, but not this.
Not Nichkhun’s fingers curved possessively over Wooyoung’s hips, not the way his hand lingers on Wooyoung’s arm, not the way they sit with their knees touching, not the way they speak with their heads bent close, everything in their body language screaming intimacy.
He tells himself, this is the way the world works, this is the way things are, you cannot change anything, but his body won’t listen. His fingers itch to wander beyond the unspoken boundaries of where he is allowed touch (a friendly pat on the shoulder, a brief hug, a swat on the arm, a playful nudge), he’s permanently thirsty for the taste of Wooyoung’s skin, and his heart struggles inside the confines of his chest, aching for even just one second of defiance, even if it ends up a car crash, shipwreck, natural disaster, heartbreak.
His resistance cracks. It’s inevitable. As days pass, he watches helplessly as the walls he painstakingly built crumble into dust, his heart a sunflower straining towards the only Sun it recognizes.
Junho kisses Wooyoung after they tumble off stage, exhilarated and drunk on the sound of the audience’s applause and cheers. Adrenaline is racing through their bodies, making them suddenly bold and daring and reckless. He holds Wooyoung close, closer, tight, tighter, so desperate to keep him right here that he doesn’t realize his grip is so tight that it probably hurts - he will only realize this belatedly when he sees the string of bruises left on Wooyoung’s arms.
“It took you long enough,” Wooyoung says, pulling away, and then bringing their mouths together again as though he could not bear to be further apart.
Junho has always understood the complex workings of the world, but it is only now that it hits him like a bolt of lightning or an arrow through the heart, that it really doesn’t matter that some people are noticed first while others are noticed last. What’s important is that the person who matters most is turning towards you and looking at you like he never wants to look away ever again, even if he’s a little late, even if he’s a little slow, even if he gets distracted along the way, it’s entirely worth it.
“You should have said something, you know,” Wooyoung says, when Junho, overwhelmed and dizzy, collapses onto a chair. “Maybe you possess superior levels of understanding, but I don’t. How was I supposed to know that you deserve better is some kind of code for I’m madly in love with you or something along those lines? You’re lucky I’m not a complete idiot, and finally got it. You’re also lucky I know you well enough to figure out what was needed for you to finally do something.”
Wooyoung pauses briefly to check if Junho is still conscious. “Are you listening to me?” he demands. He’s variety show Wooyoung now, all witty remarks and cheeky smirks, but Junho sees the faint flush on his cheeks and knows that despite appearances, like Junho, he’s singing inside.
Junho makes a strangled, non-committal noise - he can’t help that he’s not good at adjusting to sudden shocks. Wooyoung pats him encouragingly on the back. “Some people can’t cope with my awesomeness - I understand, take your time,” he says kindly.
Person who matters most or not, Junho is merciless as he shoves Wooyoung violently onto the ground. When Wooyoung howls and pretends to weep, Junho decides the next appropriate step he should take is to shut him up with a kiss.
MASTERLIST OF FICS HERE