Motion Sickness
Title: Motion Sickness
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-15
Length: Chapter Story
Pairing: JaeMin
Synopsis:
It's been over a year since the fatal car accident that left two dead and Changmin soulless. But what better way to find your drive to live than to simply take a drive with the one you lived to love?
A week had passed since their last attempt to bring him near the car, their red ambition that motivated the gang to conspire against the young man and his solitude.
They’d often knock hastily on his door and footsteps scampered away, like a stumbling stampede, all the way to the turn of the hall. He would shout a “what do you want?” that remained unanswered until another eager set of knocks occurred. And he lost his patience after the sixth ignored inquiry, a furious hand pulling the door open to reveal his seething form.
“What the hell are you guys do-“
A jingle and awkward floor topography jerked his attention down to his foot, where beneath him lay the car keys. He peered at them curiously, as though never having seen the ring of copper before, and looked to his right at the ascending row of heads that peeped from around the bend. He thought, back then, that Junsu’s grin and the victorious smirk on Yunho’s face had triggered his change of gears.
He snatched up the keys and flung them towards the group, watching their faces lose light when the keys skidded to a halt before them.
“I’m not driving that damn car, forget about it!”
The door slammed shut and he let a heavy heart collapse onto the bed.
.::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::.
The hours of morning had taken to shine their every minute through a gap between window shades, and on his bed, all shuffled positions received the same inescapable light. In defeat, he stretched himself over the span of the mattress, palms flat against the covers and his boots over the edge. He stared skywards, meeting the ceiling instead, but he preferred it that way, and let his mind wander in limited square feet because anything outside of that was unwanted by him.
He listened to the hum of the ceiling fan, watched the panels circle endlessly with blurring speed and for a while, his thoughts had collected themselves to focus on the motion, wondering if he could catch up and match their velocity.
The stick shift felt warm under the sprawl of his hand, the pressure of a pedal recognized below his foot. He could match that speed, he thought, and he motioned through the gear pattern with ease. Shift to second until third was needed; press down on the clutch and race across the dark street. The growing sound of his car, the acceleration cutting….
“Daydreaming again, kid?”
Changmin smirked and switched to fourth. “You know it, Jae.”
He could see his form from the edge of his eye but kept his focus on the street and oncoming traffic light, yellow nervously asking for him to stop.
“You winning the race?”
Red light; and it blared and burned.
He jolted in his skin and the screech of his car died behind the hum of his ceiling fan, his hand clutching the covers, his foot pressed down awkwardly against the bed.
Red light; and it dried his throat. “No….You know I lost.”
.:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::.
He left those four walls behind after the blond had retreated from his room, because Changmin found it hard to breathe with the car exhaustion filling up the place, his mind.
Loud and protesting, his stomach was momentarily silenced by his pressing hands and he wide eyed peered about the hall, in fear that someone would demand he eat or they’d spoon feed him lunch. The growling settled, though, and he quietly moved to the garage door, stood before it with a hand hovering over its knob.
Was it still there, his car? Did it know it mocked him with her glossy red paint, body sleek and remodeled after the crash that left her faceless. She purred an insult that came in a wisp from under the door and up to his thoughts. I’ve changed for the better; you remain at your worst….
He slipped into the garage and silently closed the door behind him, turning to her presence that captivated his every sense. She was beautiful, arrestingly beautiful, and she drew him in; Changmin cautiously approached her, his hand gliding over her form.
Was she still the machine that tore up the asphalt and defied the limits of 40, preferring the 80’s and 90’s?
He frowned as he stood before her hood and peered inside, hands resting in pockets at the sight of her wheel.
Was she still willing to serve under his command - and was he willing to command her after the year, after the crash and the deaths. Could he take form in the driver’s seat and not be crushed by the knowing that someone had died beside him as they had spun in circles, like his ceiling fan, and not be crushed by the weight of someone's body against him. Dead weight like painful thoughts.
Changmin peeled his eyes away from the Nissan and made his way out of the garage, taking a long glance over his shoulder at her before his departure.
He needed to get the keys.
Author's Note: If reading the last paragraph -- the one about the crash and deaths -- left you feeling like you just read sentences that went in circles. don't worry; that is the purpose. *smirk* It's just one big circle of commanding and being commanded, the memories that crush him, the dead body crushed against his own, the spinning in circles like a ceiling fan. Just wanted to clear that up if anyone was like wtf did you just write, May_Song, you idiot! Hope you enjoyed this big mess of a story!
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-15
Length: Chapter Story
Pairing: JaeMin
Synopsis:
It's been over a year since the fatal car accident that left two dead and Changmin soulless. But what better way to find your drive to live than to simply take a drive with the one you lived to love?
A week had passed since their last attempt to bring him near the car, their red ambition that motivated the gang to conspire against the young man and his solitude.
They’d often knock hastily on his door and footsteps scampered away, like a stumbling stampede, all the way to the turn of the hall. He would shout a “what do you want?” that remained unanswered until another eager set of knocks occurred. And he lost his patience after the sixth ignored inquiry, a furious hand pulling the door open to reveal his seething form.
“What the hell are you guys do-“
A jingle and awkward floor topography jerked his attention down to his foot, where beneath him lay the car keys. He peered at them curiously, as though never having seen the ring of copper before, and looked to his right at the ascending row of heads that peeped from around the bend. He thought, back then, that Junsu’s grin and the victorious smirk on Yunho’s face had triggered his change of gears.
He snatched up the keys and flung them towards the group, watching their faces lose light when the keys skidded to a halt before them.
“I’m not driving that damn car, forget about it!”
The door slammed shut and he let a heavy heart collapse onto the bed.
.::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::.
The hours of morning had taken to shine their every minute through a gap between window shades, and on his bed, all shuffled positions received the same inescapable light. In defeat, he stretched himself over the span of the mattress, palms flat against the covers and his boots over the edge. He stared skywards, meeting the ceiling instead, but he preferred it that way, and let his mind wander in limited square feet because anything outside of that was unwanted by him.
He listened to the hum of the ceiling fan, watched the panels circle endlessly with blurring speed and for a while, his thoughts had collected themselves to focus on the motion, wondering if he could catch up and match their velocity.
The stick shift felt warm under the sprawl of his hand, the pressure of a pedal recognized below his foot. He could match that speed, he thought, and he motioned through the gear pattern with ease. Shift to second until third was needed; press down on the clutch and race across the dark street. The growing sound of his car, the acceleration cutting….
“Daydreaming again, kid?”
Changmin smirked and switched to fourth. “You know it, Jae.”
He could see his form from the edge of his eye but kept his focus on the street and oncoming traffic light, yellow nervously asking for him to stop.
“You winning the race?”
Red light; and it blared and burned.
He jolted in his skin and the screech of his car died behind the hum of his ceiling fan, his hand clutching the covers, his foot pressed down awkwardly against the bed.
Red light; and it dried his throat. “No….You know I lost.”
.:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::.
He left those four walls behind after the blond had retreated from his room, because Changmin found it hard to breathe with the car exhaustion filling up the place, his mind.
Loud and protesting, his stomach was momentarily silenced by his pressing hands and he wide eyed peered about the hall, in fear that someone would demand he eat or they’d spoon feed him lunch. The growling settled, though, and he quietly moved to the garage door, stood before it with a hand hovering over its knob.
Was it still there, his car? Did it know it mocked him with her glossy red paint, body sleek and remodeled after the crash that left her faceless. She purred an insult that came in a wisp from under the door and up to his thoughts. I’ve changed for the better; you remain at your worst….
He slipped into the garage and silently closed the door behind him, turning to her presence that captivated his every sense. She was beautiful, arrestingly beautiful, and she drew him in; Changmin cautiously approached her, his hand gliding over her form.
Was she still the machine that tore up the asphalt and defied the limits of 40, preferring the 80’s and 90’s?
He frowned as he stood before her hood and peered inside, hands resting in pockets at the sight of her wheel.
Was she still willing to serve under his command - and was he willing to command her after the year, after the crash and the deaths. Could he take form in the driver’s seat and not be crushed by the knowing that someone had died beside him as they had spun in circles, like his ceiling fan, and not be crushed by the weight of someone's body against him. Dead weight like painful thoughts.
Changmin peeled his eyes away from the Nissan and made his way out of the garage, taking a long glance over his shoulder at her before his departure.
He needed to get the keys.
Author's Note: If reading the last paragraph -- the one about the crash and deaths -- left you feeling like you just read sentences that went in circles. don't worry; that is the purpose. *smirk* It's just one big circle of commanding and being commanded, the memories that crush him, the dead body crushed against his own, the spinning in circles like a ceiling fan. Just wanted to clear that up if anyone was like wtf did you just write, May_Song, you idiot! Hope you enjoyed this big mess of a story!