Two Quarters (and a Heart) Down
Two Quarters (and a Heart) Down
Block B: Jaehyo/Kyung
1220 words, rated PG-13
Summary: Maybe it is or maybe it isn't, but it's time to figure it out.
It’s dark when they march back to their section of the bleachers, third quarter of another losing game, melodies still lingering in the air. There are whispers, maybe louder talks, coming from the concession stands. Smells of cheap soda and hot dogs, pickles and nacho cheese, and sweat mingle together, and this is the stench of Friday.
Jaehyo takes his hat off; he feels his hair, a bit damp, move about in the still-warm October breeze. He leaves his jacket on, in fear of ruining his purple cape, and leans against the outer edge of bleachers. He twists the cap of his nearly empty water bottle and wonders if he can trick the booster club into giving him another free one.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Taeil says as he props beside him. His jacket is undone, and his hat is probably somewhere next to his trumpet, which is most likely being guarded by an underclassman.
Jaehyo loses grip of the bottle’s lid, and it falls somewhere under the bleachers. He isn't really that concerned, though. “Yep.”
“Are you ready?”
Jaehyo cocks his head to the side, watching Jiho throw water at Yukwon. “Nope, but honestly, does it matter?”
Jihoon steps in front of Yukwon, who is soaked by this point, and Jiho dumps the rest of the bottle’s content on his own face. Jaehyo notices Jiho staring in his direction and waves.
“I hear you have an admirer,” Jaehyo whispers.
Taeil shrugs and smiles. “It happens I guess.”
Minhyuk walks by, two bottles of colored liquids in his hands, and winks at Taeil. Taeil nods in response.
“Look, Jaehyo, I've got to go to the bathroom,” he says as he wipes his hands off on his purple bibbers. “I might be late. You know, what with bathroom lines and all.”
Jaehyo watches Taeil wander off in the darkness, a few paces behind Minhyuk. Great, he thinks, now who’s going to lead the fight song?
As drum major, it’s Jaehyo’s duty to keep up with the minutes remaining in the quarter, to wrangle everyone back where they belong for the fourth. It’s not his favorite thing to do, but he doesn't really have a choice.
Some people never really leave the stands, actually watching the game or the cheerleaders. Most everyone else returns promptly after going to the bathroom or concessions stands. But others, and there are a few, like to wander around aimlessly just to be assholes.
“Jihoon, have you seen Jiho?”
Jihoon shakes his head, both hands full of restaurant napkins. “Not since he soaked Kwon.”
Jaehyo rubs his temples as Jihoon climbs up to the top row of the stands. He catches a glimpse of Jihoon wiping Yukwon’s face with the napkins, ruffling his hair dry when he came out.
“They’re pretty cute, huh?”
Jaehyo shifts his gaze down and smiles. “Yeah, cute. Um, have you, maybe, seen Jiho?”
Kyung shifts his feet, weight bearing on his ankles and tilts his head up. “Do I look like Jiho’s keeper to you?”
Jaehyo sighs, his shoulders sag, and he just wants to climb in his bed for a few years. “I was just asking. The quarter’s almost over, and I can’t find him.”
Kyung grins, like he knows something Jaehyo doesn't. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of a decent show or tiredness or the little knots his stomach makes when Kyung smiles like that, but Jaehyo finds that he likes it more with the glow of the stadium lights.
“Where’s Taeil?” Kyung asks a little too smoothly.
“Bathroom. Why?”
Kyung doesn't even blink. “Jiho’s in the bathroom.”
Jaehyo squints his eyes, not really necessary but still. “How do you know? And what’s that got to do with Taeil?”
“You really don’t know, do you?” The question becomes a mere whisper, a bit of warm breath at the base of his neck. “Fuck, trust me on this, okay?”
Jaehyo has maybe always been a bit of a romantic at heart, but that doesn’t explain how the countdown to the fourth quarter seems to slow down or how the noises muddle together before wasting away into nothing. But it does explain this feeling, this need for a confession. His confession. Kyung looks at him expectantly.
"Um, I guess I need to get back to bleachers. I'm sure everyone is wondering where I am," he manages to whisper.
Kyung grabs his wrist, the only skin available to touch due to his jacket, but Jaehyo feels it tingle down every nerve in his body. "They're not."
Jaehyo only feels slightly offended; Kyung is moving slightly closer, pushing him under the bleachers and into the shadows. And maybe it's because it's dark or probably because he's wanted this since that first day, but Jaehyo leans in. His hands tangle in Kyung's hair, still a bit wet and curling around his ears, his lips so close to Kyung's.
That's when it happens, not to the crackles of fireworks or the bursting of trumpets but to the crash of a cymbal on the metal stands probably above them and far too close. But Jaehyo can feel Kyung move against him, with him. He doesn't want to stop; he wants the world to stop, just in this moment like suspended animation.
But a buzzer sounds and some men start shouting, and that's the end. The reality of it all is still there when he opens his eyes; Kyung is still there when he opens his eyes.
"So, tomorrow?" Kyung asks, a bit more breathless than usual but just as nonchalant.
Jaehyo pauses. For his breath or an explanation, he isn't sure. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll save you a seat on the bus. Remember bright and early,” Kyung says as he fiddles with the straps of his bibbers. Before he stumbles back into the light, he straightens Jaehyo’s jacket, pulling the cape over his shoulders and sliding his fingers over the sequins on his sash. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Kyung pulls Jaehyo down for one more kiss, this one shorter but steadier. And maybe because they are already late, Jaehyo kisses him back.
Jaehyo makes it to his place in front of the drumline about two minutes into the fourth quarter; Kyung walks up the bleachers to the humming of the fight song.
“Where the fuck have you been, mister?” Minhyuk asks with a wink, bumping knuckles with Jaehyo the second the song ends.
Jaehyo looks up at Kyung, who is all big eyes and big nose, sharp tongue but sharper wit. The boy doesn't know what he’s doing to him as he shakes around with Yukwon, his tenor saxophone rocking into his body with every movement.
“Wait, where have you been?” Jaehyo asks Minhyuk once he gets his attention back.
“Well, you see, there was this experiment. And the bathroom was really the best place for it.”
Jaehyo tilts his head. “What kind of experiment?” He wipes his hand, the one Minhyuk touched briefly, on Minhyuk’s pant legs. “Honestly, I’d rather not know.”
And as the minutes wind down (on the clock, on the field, in his mind), Jaehyo thinks that is how he wants to sum up this Friday.
(Saturday, however, is another story as he slides into a back seat with Kyung flush against his body and hand laced in his own.)
Written for the lovely youniqorn for BBSS 2012.
Prompt: marching band au
Block B: Jaehyo/Kyung
1220 words, rated PG-13
Summary: Maybe it is or maybe it isn't, but it's time to figure it out.
It’s dark when they march back to their section of the bleachers, third quarter of another losing game, melodies still lingering in the air. There are whispers, maybe louder talks, coming from the concession stands. Smells of cheap soda and hot dogs, pickles and nacho cheese, and sweat mingle together, and this is the stench of Friday.
Jaehyo takes his hat off; he feels his hair, a bit damp, move about in the still-warm October breeze. He leaves his jacket on, in fear of ruining his purple cape, and leans against the outer edge of bleachers. He twists the cap of his nearly empty water bottle and wonders if he can trick the booster club into giving him another free one.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Taeil says as he props beside him. His jacket is undone, and his hat is probably somewhere next to his trumpet, which is most likely being guarded by an underclassman.
Jaehyo loses grip of the bottle’s lid, and it falls somewhere under the bleachers. He isn't really that concerned, though. “Yep.”
“Are you ready?”
Jaehyo cocks his head to the side, watching Jiho throw water at Yukwon. “Nope, but honestly, does it matter?”
Jihoon steps in front of Yukwon, who is soaked by this point, and Jiho dumps the rest of the bottle’s content on his own face. Jaehyo notices Jiho staring in his direction and waves.
“I hear you have an admirer,” Jaehyo whispers.
Taeil shrugs and smiles. “It happens I guess.”
Minhyuk walks by, two bottles of colored liquids in his hands, and winks at Taeil. Taeil nods in response.
“Look, Jaehyo, I've got to go to the bathroom,” he says as he wipes his hands off on his purple bibbers. “I might be late. You know, what with bathroom lines and all.”
Jaehyo watches Taeil wander off in the darkness, a few paces behind Minhyuk. Great, he thinks, now who’s going to lead the fight song?
As drum major, it’s Jaehyo’s duty to keep up with the minutes remaining in the quarter, to wrangle everyone back where they belong for the fourth. It’s not his favorite thing to do, but he doesn't really have a choice.
Some people never really leave the stands, actually watching the game or the cheerleaders. Most everyone else returns promptly after going to the bathroom or concessions stands. But others, and there are a few, like to wander around aimlessly just to be assholes.
“Jihoon, have you seen Jiho?”
Jihoon shakes his head, both hands full of restaurant napkins. “Not since he soaked Kwon.”
Jaehyo rubs his temples as Jihoon climbs up to the top row of the stands. He catches a glimpse of Jihoon wiping Yukwon’s face with the napkins, ruffling his hair dry when he came out.
“They’re pretty cute, huh?”
Jaehyo shifts his gaze down and smiles. “Yeah, cute. Um, have you, maybe, seen Jiho?”
Kyung shifts his feet, weight bearing on his ankles and tilts his head up. “Do I look like Jiho’s keeper to you?”
Jaehyo sighs, his shoulders sag, and he just wants to climb in his bed for a few years. “I was just asking. The quarter’s almost over, and I can’t find him.”
Kyung grins, like he knows something Jaehyo doesn't. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of a decent show or tiredness or the little knots his stomach makes when Kyung smiles like that, but Jaehyo finds that he likes it more with the glow of the stadium lights.
“Where’s Taeil?” Kyung asks a little too smoothly.
“Bathroom. Why?”
Kyung doesn't even blink. “Jiho’s in the bathroom.”
Jaehyo squints his eyes, not really necessary but still. “How do you know? And what’s that got to do with Taeil?”
“You really don’t know, do you?” The question becomes a mere whisper, a bit of warm breath at the base of his neck. “Fuck, trust me on this, okay?”
Jaehyo has maybe always been a bit of a romantic at heart, but that doesn’t explain how the countdown to the fourth quarter seems to slow down or how the noises muddle together before wasting away into nothing. But it does explain this feeling, this need for a confession. His confession. Kyung looks at him expectantly.
"Um, I guess I need to get back to bleachers. I'm sure everyone is wondering where I am," he manages to whisper.
Kyung grabs his wrist, the only skin available to touch due to his jacket, but Jaehyo feels it tingle down every nerve in his body. "They're not."
Jaehyo only feels slightly offended; Kyung is moving slightly closer, pushing him under the bleachers and into the shadows. And maybe it's because it's dark or probably because he's wanted this since that first day, but Jaehyo leans in. His hands tangle in Kyung's hair, still a bit wet and curling around his ears, his lips so close to Kyung's.
That's when it happens, not to the crackles of fireworks or the bursting of trumpets but to the crash of a cymbal on the metal stands probably above them and far too close. But Jaehyo can feel Kyung move against him, with him. He doesn't want to stop; he wants the world to stop, just in this moment like suspended animation.
But a buzzer sounds and some men start shouting, and that's the end. The reality of it all is still there when he opens his eyes; Kyung is still there when he opens his eyes.
"So, tomorrow?" Kyung asks, a bit more breathless than usual but just as nonchalant.
Jaehyo pauses. For his breath or an explanation, he isn't sure. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll save you a seat on the bus. Remember bright and early,” Kyung says as he fiddles with the straps of his bibbers. Before he stumbles back into the light, he straightens Jaehyo’s jacket, pulling the cape over his shoulders and sliding his fingers over the sequins on his sash. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Kyung pulls Jaehyo down for one more kiss, this one shorter but steadier. And maybe because they are already late, Jaehyo kisses him back.
Jaehyo makes it to his place in front of the drumline about two minutes into the fourth quarter; Kyung walks up the bleachers to the humming of the fight song.
“Where the fuck have you been, mister?” Minhyuk asks with a wink, bumping knuckles with Jaehyo the second the song ends.
Jaehyo looks up at Kyung, who is all big eyes and big nose, sharp tongue but sharper wit. The boy doesn't know what he’s doing to him as he shakes around with Yukwon, his tenor saxophone rocking into his body with every movement.
“Wait, where have you been?” Jaehyo asks Minhyuk once he gets his attention back.
“Well, you see, there was this experiment. And the bathroom was really the best place for it.”
Jaehyo tilts his head. “What kind of experiment?” He wipes his hand, the one Minhyuk touched briefly, on Minhyuk’s pant legs. “Honestly, I’d rather not know.”
And as the minutes wind down (on the clock, on the field, in his mind), Jaehyo thinks that is how he wants to sum up this Friday.
(Saturday, however, is another story as he slides into a back seat with Kyung flush against his body and hand laced in his own.)
Written for the lovely youniqorn for BBSS 2012.
Prompt: marching band au