you're the spot of paint on my jeans - jongkey - oneshot
Title: You're the Spot of Paint on My Jeans (I Can't Get Rid of You)
Author: mandarinorange
Band/Pairing: Jonghyun/Key (SHINee)
Rating: G.
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 571.
Summary: Really, it makes no sense that someone should be so awake and coherent enough to make up odd, off-the-wall metaphors.
A/N: It's over 500 words! :D That's like, a milestone for me.
The small part of Jonghyun that doesn’t like the stardom and camera flashes and always, always having something to do seems to grow just a little larger when they’re practically kidnapped and shoved into the van at some ungodly hour in the morning, eyes unfocused and thoughts foggy with interrupted sleep. He doesn’t groan or complain because real anger isn’t possible without an audience, or rather, with an audience that couldn’t really care less. To see if just maybe everyone else is as not-so-happy about their early morning schedule as he is, he takes a quick survey of the group.
Onew has already fallen asleep again with his head pointed at an awkward angle towards Taemin. Taemin is trying to simultaneously wake Onew and avoid the drool spilling from Onew's mouth and aimed at Taemin’s shoulder like a bomb ready to be dropped. Minho is staring out the window, and Jonghyun watches with something akin to fascination because he could swear Minho isn’t blinking, isn’t moving, and maybe he’s not even awake despite his wide eyes. Key is the only one with some semblance of alertness; he makes little doodles in the notebook that he always leaves in the van, guided by the dim, washed out, gray light from a sun-less morning sky. He’s the only one that looks back at Jonghyun, silently asking, What? with his eyes and the slight part of his lips as his marker comes to a stop. Jonghyun considers complaining to him, but he finds that can’t even bring himself together enough to gripe coherently.
He’s well on his way to being lulled back to sleep by the gentle rocking of the van when Key grabs his hand, tugging on his thumb. Before he can snatch it back and grumble, No, Key, I don’t want to hold hands because it’s stupid and too early for this, Key jabs him with the tip of the marker he had been using to draw little caricatures of their various stylists and the TV personalities they’ve met. Jonghyun makes a face at the fresh mark on his hand, and then makes a face at Key, whose eyes seem to shout, Look! and gesture toward his hand. To be honest, his expression is way too bright for it to still be before eight o’clock, but Jonghyun complies anyway.
He brings his hand closer to his face and peers at the dot only to realize it’s not quite a neat little felt-tip-shaped mark anymore. The stain has spread into all the little cracks that line and separate his skin into tiny divisions like microscopic city blocks, the crevices becoming flooded streets. Key seems to think it’s amazing; Jonghyun just thinks it’s annoying, pointless, and Key, go back to sleep, your stupid is showing. He swears Key can hear him because he smiles in a way that makes Jonghyun want to punch him in the face before leaning his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder, notebook in his lap.
(After the third day of trying unsuccessfully to wash it off and Key holding the hand that he’s apparently claimed as his own-nevermind the fact that he’s pretty much claimed Jonghyun as his own-Jonghyun gets it. Just like the ink, Key has this amazing and frustrating way of seeping into the places that Jonghyun didn’t even know he had. And, as Jonghyun was rapidly learning, Key isn’t quite that easy to get rid of.)
Author: mandarinorange
Band/Pairing: Jonghyun/Key (SHINee)
Rating: G.
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 571.
Summary: Really, it makes no sense that someone should be so awake and coherent enough to make up odd, off-the-wall metaphors.
A/N: It's over 500 words! :D That's like, a milestone for me.
The small part of Jonghyun that doesn’t like the stardom and camera flashes and always, always having something to do seems to grow just a little larger when they’re practically kidnapped and shoved into the van at some ungodly hour in the morning, eyes unfocused and thoughts foggy with interrupted sleep. He doesn’t groan or complain because real anger isn’t possible without an audience, or rather, with an audience that couldn’t really care less. To see if just maybe everyone else is as not-so-happy about their early morning schedule as he is, he takes a quick survey of the group.
Onew has already fallen asleep again with his head pointed at an awkward angle towards Taemin. Taemin is trying to simultaneously wake Onew and avoid the drool spilling from Onew's mouth and aimed at Taemin’s shoulder like a bomb ready to be dropped. Minho is staring out the window, and Jonghyun watches with something akin to fascination because he could swear Minho isn’t blinking, isn’t moving, and maybe he’s not even awake despite his wide eyes. Key is the only one with some semblance of alertness; he makes little doodles in the notebook that he always leaves in the van, guided by the dim, washed out, gray light from a sun-less morning sky. He’s the only one that looks back at Jonghyun, silently asking, What? with his eyes and the slight part of his lips as his marker comes to a stop. Jonghyun considers complaining to him, but he finds that can’t even bring himself together enough to gripe coherently.
He’s well on his way to being lulled back to sleep by the gentle rocking of the van when Key grabs his hand, tugging on his thumb. Before he can snatch it back and grumble, No, Key, I don’t want to hold hands because it’s stupid and too early for this, Key jabs him with the tip of the marker he had been using to draw little caricatures of their various stylists and the TV personalities they’ve met. Jonghyun makes a face at the fresh mark on his hand, and then makes a face at Key, whose eyes seem to shout, Look! and gesture toward his hand. To be honest, his expression is way too bright for it to still be before eight o’clock, but Jonghyun complies anyway.
He brings his hand closer to his face and peers at the dot only to realize it’s not quite a neat little felt-tip-shaped mark anymore. The stain has spread into all the little cracks that line and separate his skin into tiny divisions like microscopic city blocks, the crevices becoming flooded streets. Key seems to think it’s amazing; Jonghyun just thinks it’s annoying, pointless, and Key, go back to sleep, your stupid is showing. He swears Key can hear him because he smiles in a way that makes Jonghyun want to punch him in the face before leaning his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder, notebook in his lap.
(After the third day of trying unsuccessfully to wash it off and Key holding the hand that he’s apparently claimed as his own-nevermind the fact that he’s pretty much claimed Jonghyun as his own-Jonghyun gets it. Just like the ink, Key has this amazing and frustrating way of seeping into the places that Jonghyun didn’t even know he had. And, as Jonghyun was rapidly learning, Key isn’t quite that easy to get rid of.)