Play Me Like A Guitar (Strum The Life Back Into Me)
Title: Play Me Like A Guitar (Strum The Life Back Into Me)
Pairing: Lay/Kai
Rating: G
Summary: The sky is a curtain that conceals the stars. Yixing is the sky, and Jongin is the stars.
A/N: i had this image about the sky and the stars stuck in my head and i needed to get it out.
“Play it again,” Jongin asks Yixing, his eyes on the dark sky above. Too inner-city to see stars, yet so high up on the roof of their building they should be touchable, tangible, real. They're not. Stars don't exist here.
Yixing says nothing but the smile on his lips plays on his features like the way his fingers play on the neck of the guitar. Slow, easy, graceful and without a care. The melody is the same tune Yixing always plays, his muscle-memory carrying him through the bar changes and treble clefs. Jongin enjoys it just the same; he enjoys it as he did when he first heard it years ago, and he'll continue to enjoy it as long as Yixing will play it.
The melodies dance on the air and mingle with the sounds of the city below. A city that doesn't sleep, a city with no curfew; Jongin thinks that Yixing's kindness never sleeps, and his passion has no curfew.
Yixing is sitting with his legs crossed indian style, the drum of the guitar big but perfect in his lap. He's rocking idly from side to side with the flow of the music, hooded eyes watching the positioning of his fingers. Even with practiced ease, Yixing finds ways to get better. Jongin sits next to him with one leg out and one leg bent, propped up on his hands as he leans back and gazes at the starless sky. His limbs are achy from practicing with Yixing - Jongin normally dances with his all, but something about the presence of this profoundly inspirational man makes him go even harder. The feeling of his body tingling afterwords is well worth the exhaustion, and only happens whenever he and Yixing share space like that.
As Yixing's calloused fingers pluck and preen on the strings of the guitar, thumb occasionally tapping against the hollow, Jongin speaks. “There's no such thing as stars.”
The elder doesn't stop playing, but he lifts his gaze from his instrument up to the heavens, seemingly contemplating Jongin's words as the tempo of his music slows a bit, but does not stop. “I suppose not.”
Jongin lets out a soft hum, his chest and stomach collapsing with the exhalation of air. He feels like he should be disappointed that stars don't exist, disappointed that he doesn't have the luxury of even imagining them twinkling back at him. He feels like he should think about how miniscule and tiny his existence is underneath the vast, inky black sky - the sky that is definitely real, is definitely there. He doesn't feel those things at all, though.
Reaching up a hand, he stretches his arm up towards the sky. His fingers wiggle slowly and he wonders what the sky feels like. Would it fold gently like velvet? Would it slip away like satin? Would it give under the pressure of touch or would it be solid under strain? His fingers slow in their wiggling and Yixing's fingers don't stop. He wonders idly if it's possible that the sky is a curtain and real stars are hiding behind it, waiting to be discovered. It's not impossible. But Jongin's fingers can't grasp the fabric of the sky and pull it aside to see.
Yixing's playing finally fades into silence and Jongin hears the sound of the guitar hollowly connecting with the ground. Another hand reaches up towards Jongin's, stretching out for the sky as well, and Jongin wonders if Yixing ever has the same thoughts. Did Yixing even care to find out if stars are real? If they exist?
But Yixing's fingers gently slide over Jongin's and his skin is warm, the pads of his fingers rough against the inside of Jongin's wrist. Jongin doesn't look away from the sky as Yixing holds both their palms facing up towards the blackness, as if waiting for something to fall into their hands. Yixing's other hand is slowly sliding around the small of Jongin's back before gripping onto his hip gently, as if anchoring Jongin so that he doesn't float away into the unknown above them.
“The stars...” When Yixing whispers, the fabric of the sky ripples gently. Jongin flutters his lashes a bit when a few distant, faded sparkles flutter behind the curtain, but Jongin doesn't want to blink for fear of missing the opportunity to see what he is seeking. “Are in your eyes.”
Jongin decides that Yixing is the blanket of the vast sky. He does not fold, he does not slip away, he does not resist. He protects.
Yixing knows that Jongin is the star.
Jongin exists.
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Pairing: Lay/Kai
Rating: G
Summary: The sky is a curtain that conceals the stars. Yixing is the sky, and Jongin is the stars.
A/N: i had this image about the sky and the stars stuck in my head and i needed to get it out.
“Play it again,” Jongin asks Yixing, his eyes on the dark sky above. Too inner-city to see stars, yet so high up on the roof of their building they should be touchable, tangible, real. They're not. Stars don't exist here.
Yixing says nothing but the smile on his lips plays on his features like the way his fingers play on the neck of the guitar. Slow, easy, graceful and without a care. The melody is the same tune Yixing always plays, his muscle-memory carrying him through the bar changes and treble clefs. Jongin enjoys it just the same; he enjoys it as he did when he first heard it years ago, and he'll continue to enjoy it as long as Yixing will play it.
The melodies dance on the air and mingle with the sounds of the city below. A city that doesn't sleep, a city with no curfew; Jongin thinks that Yixing's kindness never sleeps, and his passion has no curfew.
Yixing is sitting with his legs crossed indian style, the drum of the guitar big but perfect in his lap. He's rocking idly from side to side with the flow of the music, hooded eyes watching the positioning of his fingers. Even with practiced ease, Yixing finds ways to get better. Jongin sits next to him with one leg out and one leg bent, propped up on his hands as he leans back and gazes at the starless sky. His limbs are achy from practicing with Yixing - Jongin normally dances with his all, but something about the presence of this profoundly inspirational man makes him go even harder. The feeling of his body tingling afterwords is well worth the exhaustion, and only happens whenever he and Yixing share space like that.
As Yixing's calloused fingers pluck and preen on the strings of the guitar, thumb occasionally tapping against the hollow, Jongin speaks. “There's no such thing as stars.”
The elder doesn't stop playing, but he lifts his gaze from his instrument up to the heavens, seemingly contemplating Jongin's words as the tempo of his music slows a bit, but does not stop. “I suppose not.”
Jongin lets out a soft hum, his chest and stomach collapsing with the exhalation of air. He feels like he should be disappointed that stars don't exist, disappointed that he doesn't have the luxury of even imagining them twinkling back at him. He feels like he should think about how miniscule and tiny his existence is underneath the vast, inky black sky - the sky that is definitely real, is definitely there. He doesn't feel those things at all, though.
Reaching up a hand, he stretches his arm up towards the sky. His fingers wiggle slowly and he wonders what the sky feels like. Would it fold gently like velvet? Would it slip away like satin? Would it give under the pressure of touch or would it be solid under strain? His fingers slow in their wiggling and Yixing's fingers don't stop. He wonders idly if it's possible that the sky is a curtain and real stars are hiding behind it, waiting to be discovered. It's not impossible. But Jongin's fingers can't grasp the fabric of the sky and pull it aside to see.
Yixing's playing finally fades into silence and Jongin hears the sound of the guitar hollowly connecting with the ground. Another hand reaches up towards Jongin's, stretching out for the sky as well, and Jongin wonders if Yixing ever has the same thoughts. Did Yixing even care to find out if stars are real? If they exist?
But Yixing's fingers gently slide over Jongin's and his skin is warm, the pads of his fingers rough against the inside of Jongin's wrist. Jongin doesn't look away from the sky as Yixing holds both their palms facing up towards the blackness, as if waiting for something to fall into their hands. Yixing's other hand is slowly sliding around the small of Jongin's back before gripping onto his hip gently, as if anchoring Jongin so that he doesn't float away into the unknown above them.
“The stars...” When Yixing whispers, the fabric of the sky ripples gently. Jongin flutters his lashes a bit when a few distant, faded sparkles flutter behind the curtain, but Jongin doesn't want to blink for fear of missing the opportunity to see what he is seeking. “Are in your eyes.”
Jongin decides that Yixing is the blanket of the vast sky. He does not fold, he does not slip away, he does not resist. He protects.
Yixing knows that Jongin is the star.
Jongin exists.
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