idek
Title: He was Wednesday to Me
Author:jesusluvsjaeho
Pairing:Yoochun/Changmin (DBSK)
Rating: PG
Summary:He came in every Wednesday for cigarettes and junk food
Song(s) used for inspiration: Shot in the Back of the Head - Moby
The streets smoked in the hot evening air. Rain evaporated as quickly as his footsteps fell against the pavement. He hunched bony shoulders in a drenched, oversized t-shirt and kept his gaze firmly on the sidewalk under his feet. His through burned for a drink, for a cigarette. A crumpled ten dollar bill in his front right jeans pocket offered the potential for some groceries or some nicotine.
In the humming ugly lights of an all-night convenience store, he grabbed Twinkies, a Yoohoo, and a pack of cigarettes. Sugar and chocolate and nicotine, the diet of starving artists everywhere, he thought as he slid the worn bill across the counter. The clerk didn't meet his eyes and looked as beat down as Yoochun felt. Big city dreams dim to small time survival, he thought, more fatalistically than sadly.
Changmin watched the too-skinny guy walk out the automatic doors. Every Wednesday, he came in with baggy clothes and shaggy hair for cigarettes and junk food. Every Wednesday, Changmin geared himself up to talk to him, to actually look into his eyes and speak. Every single fucking Wednesday, he chickened out and couldn't get his gaze past those prominent and sexy collarbones.
Next Wednesday, he promised himself. Next Wednesday I will have the balls to introduce myself and maybe offer to buy him a hamburger or a milkshake or a house with a white picket fence. Sighing, he began restocking the Marlboro Reds.
And the next Wednesday and the next and the one after that, he didn't show for his cigarettes or junk food.
Author:jesusluvsjaeho
Pairing:Yoochun/Changmin (DBSK)
Rating: PG
Summary:He came in every Wednesday for cigarettes and junk food
Song(s) used for inspiration: Shot in the Back of the Head - Moby
The streets smoked in the hot evening air. Rain evaporated as quickly as his footsteps fell against the pavement. He hunched bony shoulders in a drenched, oversized t-shirt and kept his gaze firmly on the sidewalk under his feet. His through burned for a drink, for a cigarette. A crumpled ten dollar bill in his front right jeans pocket offered the potential for some groceries or some nicotine.
In the humming ugly lights of an all-night convenience store, he grabbed Twinkies, a Yoohoo, and a pack of cigarettes. Sugar and chocolate and nicotine, the diet of starving artists everywhere, he thought as he slid the worn bill across the counter. The clerk didn't meet his eyes and looked as beat down as Yoochun felt. Big city dreams dim to small time survival, he thought, more fatalistically than sadly.
Changmin watched the too-skinny guy walk out the automatic doors. Every Wednesday, he came in with baggy clothes and shaggy hair for cigarettes and junk food. Every Wednesday, Changmin geared himself up to talk to him, to actually look into his eyes and speak. Every single fucking Wednesday, he chickened out and couldn't get his gaze past those prominent and sexy collarbones.
Next Wednesday, he promised himself. Next Wednesday I will have the balls to introduce myself and maybe offer to buy him a hamburger or a milkshake or a house with a white picket fence. Sighing, he began restocking the Marlboro Reds.
And the next Wednesday and the next and the one after that, he didn't show for his cigarettes or junk food.