i don't want you (but i need you).
i don't want you (but i need you).
Kris/Suho - pg - angst - 2204 words
a/n: fill for this prompt at exopromptmeme.
edited: 9/27/2013
He doesn’t know why he’s there, why he’s still waiting for something to happen. He leans against the brick wall and slams his fist against it.
The sting hurts and his knuckles feel raw, but the frustration feels worse.
Joonmyun remembers his first day. He thinks it’s a memory that’s imprinted onto his mind forever, like a scar burning in his train of thoughts.
He’s a foreigner and he’s clearly new and his mandarin is too stiff and awkward. He expects the muffled laughter and eyes that seem to mock him with their confidence and he wants to run away and cry the moment he steps into the packed cafeteria.
There’s no dramatic silence or sudden spotlight, but the feeling of being out of place is stronger when there are more people around. He takes his bag of food to the men’s bathroom and cries as silently as possible.
He wipes his eyes and steps out, throwing his food away. He doesn’t like it; the feeling of wasting things, the feeling of being a waste.
He takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom, rushing to his next classroom as soon as possible.
The bullying starts on his second week.
Joonmyun isn’t the type to get into trouble. He’s gotten used to fading into the background, and the background is the only place where he feels like he belongs.
He doesn’t feel like he belongs when he’s slammed against the lockers by a large hand and a ruthless smirk. The smaller boy gapes at him, staring with the widest eyes that he could manage.
Joonmyun doesn’t say anything; he knows it’s better if he’s quiet and lets them hurt him. It’s better to just accept that there is nothing more than misery wherever he is. He breathes deeply and bites his lip, hoping that he won’t get punched in the face or something like that.
The large hand drops him and walks away, pulling his pack of wolves with him.
There’s a bruise on the spot where the handle of the lockers hit him. He presses a cold compress against it and slowly falls asleep.
Yifan looks at his hand and he can still feel the heat thrumming through it. He doesn’t understand why, and he buries his head in them, trying not to scream in frustration.
“Ge,” Zitao whispers to Yifan at the end of the hallway, “There’s a teacher nearby. What do we do?”
Yifan scoffs, placing his hands in his pocket and casually blowing his hair away. “Watch and learn.”
He walks in the nearly empty hallway, not caring about the teacher’s narrowed eyes and everything he yells out at the delinquent. Zitao follows suit, and the adult left staring at him gives up and walks away.
Yifan smiles at the younger. “Good job.”
He walks along the corridor, looking through the transparent plastic showing the inside of the classrooms. He sees some people he knows, and nods at those who acknowledge him.
The tall male doesn’t expect to catch his eyes in the midst of his silent observation, and the automatic widening of the stranger’s eyes makes Yifan’s lips curl into a smirk.
He walks on, trying to slow down the beating of his heart and quell the urge to slam something against a wall.
The thing he slams against a wall is a person; a pretty, delicate person whose eyes widen at the sight of his face and whose face shows a passive smile almost all the time.
Yifan doesn’t like him. He doesn’t like how he acts as if he’s starting to belong. This kid does not belong here. He will never belong, and Yifan makes it his personal mission to keep on reminding him of that.
He feels a permanent tingling sensation in his hands, and it slowly spreads to his entire body when he starts thinking of that new boy. He curls into a ball and berates himself for feeling something that shouldn’t be there.
The new boy’s name is Kim Joonmyun. He’s a year younger than the general age of the graduating batch, but he made it to the age range so he’s graduating with them.
Kim Joonmyun’s first period is chemistry and he’s afraid of bubbling and splashing and hot things so he generally sucks at it.
Kim Joonmyun’s favorite period is trigonometry because he’s good at everything math.
Kim Joonmyun sits at the restroom during lunch because he has nowhere to sit and he’d rather be away from everyone than feel even more like he’s the loner of the school.
Kim Joonmyun is bullied by Wu Yifan.
Kim Joonmyun is wanted needed by Wu Yifan.
He burns the paper and almost considers setting himself on fire before dropping the matches and walking away.
Their eyes meet often in the hallways. Yifan smirks when the smaller boy’s eyes widen and he starts biting his lip. His hands curl into fists when the tingling starts, and he walks away faster just to get it over with.
At the corner of his eye, he sees Joonmyun approach Kim Jongdae, another Korean transferee who’s still in his sophomore year. He sees a smile, a gentle push on someone’s shoulder, and then he walks away.
Seeing Joonmyun’s genuine smile was a slap in the face, mostly because he’d never be the reason why he would see Joonmyun that way.
Jongdae is Joonmyun’s only friend. He’s heartbroken that the younger is two years below him, but they spend their free periods and lunch breaks often together and that’s enough for him.
They speak in hushed tones and in fast Korean, as if every word was their little secret and they were each other’s closest confidant.
Jongdae notices the bruises on his arms and on his back, but he keeps a tight smile and pretends he doesn’t know.
There’s an arm pressing him firmly against the wall. Joonmyun breathes slowly and closes his eyes, hoping that Yifan would go away as soon as possible. He just wanted to go to his next class peacefully.
Yifan is close to him, and he can feel the taller male’s breath fanning out on his cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, and he knows that they’re teary and he looks like the weakest person on earth, but he stares up defiantly.
Yifan’s fist is in the air, and he wants to do it, to finally hurt Joonmyun the way he thinks is right. But he feels something in him, and he drops his fist and Joonmyun altogether.
He can hear the slumping down, the silent sobbing, and the regret flooding in his mind.
Jongdae smiles at him, notes the red eyes and the wrinkled clothes, and smiles again.
Joonmyun has a free period after gym class. He takes that time to shower longer instead of rushing around like the others. He turns off the spray of water and dries himself, hastily putting on a pair of pants and wrapping the towel around his bare chest.
He walks to the locker that he borrowed, and he almost jumps at the sight of someone else in the locker rooms.
Yifan has his towel wrapped around his hips, moving around the items in his locker. Joonmyun tries not to get his attention, but he remembers that his clothes are in the locker right across from Yifan’s. He takes a deep breath and casually walks towards it.
When he opens his locker, he can clearly hear Yifan stop. He can hear the slow footsteps moving towards him. He grabs his shirt and shuts the locker close.
He expects that he’ll be flipped around, but he doesn’t expect the hand on his waist and the hand on the side of his neck and the soft lips pressing against him, moving closer and closer with each second that passes.
The hands tighten against his skin, and he can almost feel the bruises that’ll form on his hip. His eyes are wide open as Yifan kisses him as if they were on fire. His lips move fast and his mouth is warm, and Joonmyun is afraid because he doesn’t know if this is Yifan’s new way of torturing him.
He wants to respond in some way, to pull him closer or to push him and run away as fast as possible, but the hand on his hip keeps him from moving and the other one on his neck only makes the kiss deeper.
When he closes his eyes, that’s when Yifan decides to pull away. The taller male observes his faint blush, his kiss-swollen lips, and his uneven breathing. I did this, he thinks to himself, and he doesn’t know if he should be proud or disgusted.
He slams his fist against the metal locker beside Joonmyun’s head. The younger male stares at him, eyes wide open already. Yifan’s other hand is still on his hip and the squeezes at the pale skin there, wanting to leave some sort of mark.
“I-I…” Yifan takes a deep breath before starting again.
"I’m straight.” He sounds like he’s reassuring himself instead of convincing Joonmyun. “I'm straight, god damn it, but why can't I stop thinking about kissing you? why can't I stop myself from wanting to ravage you, to fuck you senseless? I hurt you because it's the only way I can stop myself from becoming...” he looks at Joonmyun straight in the eyes. “this.
“I'm not gay, Joonmyun, and I don't want to be, but you're making it so hard for me."
He kisses joonmyun again because it might as well be the last time he could before the younger male decides to push him away and slap him across the face. He would deserve that. He would deserve every kind of misery possible for what he’s done.
This time, the younger male’s eyes close automatically. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push Yifan away either, and the taller male takes that as a sign that he can keep going.
The hand on Joonmyun’s neck slowly moves up, threading his fingers in the brown locks and pushing their heads closer. His other hand slides to the small of Joonmyun’s back, pressing their bare chests together.
He pulls away slightly, pressing their noses against each other. He steps backward, taking his clothes, and walks away.
Yifan doesn’t bother him anymore after that, but Joonmyun finds himself looking for the large hand and the confident smirk all day.
Joonmyun doesn’t know why he’s there at the back of the main building, why he’s still waiting for something to happen. He leans against the brick wall and slams his fist against it.
The sting hurts and his knuckles feel raw, but the frustration feels worse.
He finds Yifan there a few days after, in the exact same position as he was, staring up at the sky with the most confused expression on his face.
Yifan notices him at the corner of his eye and he slumps down. He’s not prepared to deal with Joonmyun yet, not until he’s done dealing with himself.
The younger male walks slowly towards him, dropping his backpack at the side. He stands in front of Yifan, watching him stare at the ground and play with the hem of his shirt.
“I’m just so confused. I don’t understand myself anymore; I don’t understand why,” Yifan whispers.
Joonmyun stares at his feet and mutters a quiet, “I can help you feel good,” in stilted Mandarin and he hears Yifan chuckle a little.
“You make everything wrong feel so… right,” Yifan lets out a humorless laugh, “and that sounds so damn cheesy but it’s everything that I’m feeling right now. wrong and right.”
Joonmyun is still staring at his feet and kicking up the dirt. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say it. He’s confused because Yifan’s confused and if Yifan wasn’t confused then maybe he wouldn’t too.
He’s never had a choice, never had the option to decide for himself. Moving to China? His father got promoted and he was sent here. Going to this school? It was the best they could afford with the money they got from the promotion.
He was helpless and confused, and so was Yifan.
Joonmyun kneels down in front of him, moving Yifan’s hands away from his face. He breathes in and out, steeling himself for what he’s going to do.
Kim Joonmyun has rarely ever had a choice in what he did. From who he was since he was born, to who he will be in the future; he’s never had the final decision.
But he makes the choice to press his lips against Yifan, despite the fear in his mind and the fear in Yifan’s.
There’s hesitation in his movements, hesitation stemming from the small abuses he’s received from Yifan in the past and from the expectations that he’s placed upon himself since forever ago. He knows that he’s not sure in what he’s doing, and that there will always be a part of him that tells him to do things that he’ll regret, but he convinces himself that this will not be another misguided regret of his.
Yifan holds his face, staring deep into his eyes. He nods slightly, an understanding between them.
They kiss again and there’s firmness in it; another understanding between them.
op pls reveal yourself so i can apologize for how embarrassing this fill is
Kris/Suho - pg - angst - 2204 words
a/n: fill for this prompt at exopromptmeme.
edited: 9/27/2013
He doesn’t know why he’s there, why he’s still waiting for something to happen. He leans against the brick wall and slams his fist against it.
The sting hurts and his knuckles feel raw, but the frustration feels worse.
Joonmyun remembers his first day. He thinks it’s a memory that’s imprinted onto his mind forever, like a scar burning in his train of thoughts.
He’s a foreigner and he’s clearly new and his mandarin is too stiff and awkward. He expects the muffled laughter and eyes that seem to mock him with their confidence and he wants to run away and cry the moment he steps into the packed cafeteria.
There’s no dramatic silence or sudden spotlight, but the feeling of being out of place is stronger when there are more people around. He takes his bag of food to the men’s bathroom and cries as silently as possible.
He wipes his eyes and steps out, throwing his food away. He doesn’t like it; the feeling of wasting things, the feeling of being a waste.
He takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom, rushing to his next classroom as soon as possible.
The bullying starts on his second week.
Joonmyun isn’t the type to get into trouble. He’s gotten used to fading into the background, and the background is the only place where he feels like he belongs.
He doesn’t feel like he belongs when he’s slammed against the lockers by a large hand and a ruthless smirk. The smaller boy gapes at him, staring with the widest eyes that he could manage.
Joonmyun doesn’t say anything; he knows it’s better if he’s quiet and lets them hurt him. It’s better to just accept that there is nothing more than misery wherever he is. He breathes deeply and bites his lip, hoping that he won’t get punched in the face or something like that.
The large hand drops him and walks away, pulling his pack of wolves with him.
There’s a bruise on the spot where the handle of the lockers hit him. He presses a cold compress against it and slowly falls asleep.
Yifan looks at his hand and he can still feel the heat thrumming through it. He doesn’t understand why, and he buries his head in them, trying not to scream in frustration.
“Ge,” Zitao whispers to Yifan at the end of the hallway, “There’s a teacher nearby. What do we do?”
Yifan scoffs, placing his hands in his pocket and casually blowing his hair away. “Watch and learn.”
He walks in the nearly empty hallway, not caring about the teacher’s narrowed eyes and everything he yells out at the delinquent. Zitao follows suit, and the adult left staring at him gives up and walks away.
Yifan smiles at the younger. “Good job.”
He walks along the corridor, looking through the transparent plastic showing the inside of the classrooms. He sees some people he knows, and nods at those who acknowledge him.
The tall male doesn’t expect to catch his eyes in the midst of his silent observation, and the automatic widening of the stranger’s eyes makes Yifan’s lips curl into a smirk.
He walks on, trying to slow down the beating of his heart and quell the urge to slam something against a wall.
The thing he slams against a wall is a person; a pretty, delicate person whose eyes widen at the sight of his face and whose face shows a passive smile almost all the time.
Yifan doesn’t like him. He doesn’t like how he acts as if he’s starting to belong. This kid does not belong here. He will never belong, and Yifan makes it his personal mission to keep on reminding him of that.
He feels a permanent tingling sensation in his hands, and it slowly spreads to his entire body when he starts thinking of that new boy. He curls into a ball and berates himself for feeling something that shouldn’t be there.
The new boy’s name is Kim Joonmyun. He’s a year younger than the general age of the graduating batch, but he made it to the age range so he’s graduating with them.
Kim Joonmyun’s first period is chemistry and he’s afraid of bubbling and splashing and hot things so he generally sucks at it.
Kim Joonmyun’s favorite period is trigonometry because he’s good at everything math.
Kim Joonmyun sits at the restroom during lunch because he has nowhere to sit and he’d rather be away from everyone than feel even more like he’s the loner of the school.
Kim Joonmyun is bullied by Wu Yifan.
Kim Joonmyun is wanted needed by Wu Yifan.
He burns the paper and almost considers setting himself on fire before dropping the matches and walking away.
Their eyes meet often in the hallways. Yifan smirks when the smaller boy’s eyes widen and he starts biting his lip. His hands curl into fists when the tingling starts, and he walks away faster just to get it over with.
At the corner of his eye, he sees Joonmyun approach Kim Jongdae, another Korean transferee who’s still in his sophomore year. He sees a smile, a gentle push on someone’s shoulder, and then he walks away.
Seeing Joonmyun’s genuine smile was a slap in the face, mostly because he’d never be the reason why he would see Joonmyun that way.
Jongdae is Joonmyun’s only friend. He’s heartbroken that the younger is two years below him, but they spend their free periods and lunch breaks often together and that’s enough for him.
They speak in hushed tones and in fast Korean, as if every word was their little secret and they were each other’s closest confidant.
Jongdae notices the bruises on his arms and on his back, but he keeps a tight smile and pretends he doesn’t know.
There’s an arm pressing him firmly against the wall. Joonmyun breathes slowly and closes his eyes, hoping that Yifan would go away as soon as possible. He just wanted to go to his next class peacefully.
Yifan is close to him, and he can feel the taller male’s breath fanning out on his cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, and he knows that they’re teary and he looks like the weakest person on earth, but he stares up defiantly.
Yifan’s fist is in the air, and he wants to do it, to finally hurt Joonmyun the way he thinks is right. But he feels something in him, and he drops his fist and Joonmyun altogether.
He can hear the slumping down, the silent sobbing, and the regret flooding in his mind.
Jongdae smiles at him, notes the red eyes and the wrinkled clothes, and smiles again.
Joonmyun has a free period after gym class. He takes that time to shower longer instead of rushing around like the others. He turns off the spray of water and dries himself, hastily putting on a pair of pants and wrapping the towel around his bare chest.
He walks to the locker that he borrowed, and he almost jumps at the sight of someone else in the locker rooms.
Yifan has his towel wrapped around his hips, moving around the items in his locker. Joonmyun tries not to get his attention, but he remembers that his clothes are in the locker right across from Yifan’s. He takes a deep breath and casually walks towards it.
When he opens his locker, he can clearly hear Yifan stop. He can hear the slow footsteps moving towards him. He grabs his shirt and shuts the locker close.
He expects that he’ll be flipped around, but he doesn’t expect the hand on his waist and the hand on the side of his neck and the soft lips pressing against him, moving closer and closer with each second that passes.
The hands tighten against his skin, and he can almost feel the bruises that’ll form on his hip. His eyes are wide open as Yifan kisses him as if they were on fire. His lips move fast and his mouth is warm, and Joonmyun is afraid because he doesn’t know if this is Yifan’s new way of torturing him.
He wants to respond in some way, to pull him closer or to push him and run away as fast as possible, but the hand on his hip keeps him from moving and the other one on his neck only makes the kiss deeper.
When he closes his eyes, that’s when Yifan decides to pull away. The taller male observes his faint blush, his kiss-swollen lips, and his uneven breathing. I did this, he thinks to himself, and he doesn’t know if he should be proud or disgusted.
He slams his fist against the metal locker beside Joonmyun’s head. The younger male stares at him, eyes wide open already. Yifan’s other hand is still on his hip and the squeezes at the pale skin there, wanting to leave some sort of mark.
“I-I…” Yifan takes a deep breath before starting again.
"I’m straight.” He sounds like he’s reassuring himself instead of convincing Joonmyun. “I'm straight, god damn it, but why can't I stop thinking about kissing you? why can't I stop myself from wanting to ravage you, to fuck you senseless? I hurt you because it's the only way I can stop myself from becoming...” he looks at Joonmyun straight in the eyes. “this.
“I'm not gay, Joonmyun, and I don't want to be, but you're making it so hard for me."
He kisses joonmyun again because it might as well be the last time he could before the younger male decides to push him away and slap him across the face. He would deserve that. He would deserve every kind of misery possible for what he’s done.
This time, the younger male’s eyes close automatically. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push Yifan away either, and the taller male takes that as a sign that he can keep going.
The hand on Joonmyun’s neck slowly moves up, threading his fingers in the brown locks and pushing their heads closer. His other hand slides to the small of Joonmyun’s back, pressing their bare chests together.
He pulls away slightly, pressing their noses against each other. He steps backward, taking his clothes, and walks away.
Yifan doesn’t bother him anymore after that, but Joonmyun finds himself looking for the large hand and the confident smirk all day.
Joonmyun doesn’t know why he’s there at the back of the main building, why he’s still waiting for something to happen. He leans against the brick wall and slams his fist against it.
The sting hurts and his knuckles feel raw, but the frustration feels worse.
He finds Yifan there a few days after, in the exact same position as he was, staring up at the sky with the most confused expression on his face.
Yifan notices him at the corner of his eye and he slumps down. He’s not prepared to deal with Joonmyun yet, not until he’s done dealing with himself.
The younger male walks slowly towards him, dropping his backpack at the side. He stands in front of Yifan, watching him stare at the ground and play with the hem of his shirt.
“I’m just so confused. I don’t understand myself anymore; I don’t understand why,” Yifan whispers.
Joonmyun stares at his feet and mutters a quiet, “I can help you feel good,” in stilted Mandarin and he hears Yifan chuckle a little.
“You make everything wrong feel so… right,” Yifan lets out a humorless laugh, “and that sounds so damn cheesy but it’s everything that I’m feeling right now. wrong and right.”
Joonmyun is still staring at his feet and kicking up the dirt. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say it. He’s confused because Yifan’s confused and if Yifan wasn’t confused then maybe he wouldn’t too.
He’s never had a choice, never had the option to decide for himself. Moving to China? His father got promoted and he was sent here. Going to this school? It was the best they could afford with the money they got from the promotion.
He was helpless and confused, and so was Yifan.
Joonmyun kneels down in front of him, moving Yifan’s hands away from his face. He breathes in and out, steeling himself for what he’s going to do.
Kim Joonmyun has rarely ever had a choice in what he did. From who he was since he was born, to who he will be in the future; he’s never had the final decision.
But he makes the choice to press his lips against Yifan, despite the fear in his mind and the fear in Yifan’s.
There’s hesitation in his movements, hesitation stemming from the small abuses he’s received from Yifan in the past and from the expectations that he’s placed upon himself since forever ago. He knows that he’s not sure in what he’s doing, and that there will always be a part of him that tells him to do things that he’ll regret, but he convinces himself that this will not be another misguided regret of his.
Yifan holds his face, staring deep into his eyes. He nods slightly, an understanding between them.
They kiss again and there’s firmness in it; another understanding between them.
op pls reveal yourself so i can apologize for how embarrassing this fill is