the lonesome era
whee old WIP i gave up on, now it is here
the lonesome era
jonghyun/key, pg, aroound 700 words i think
---
Kibum recognises Jonghyun first. It's the alcohol, or the distance, or the time. Probably the time.
"Ah--" Jonghyun's mouth opens. His fingers grapple at the air as if the syllables of Kibum's name will collect in the soles of his palms. "Ah, um-- I know you! Kibum! Kim Kibum!"
"Good joob, Jonghyun," he whistles, but Jonghyun's too excited to catch patronisation. He turns to the barman, who brushes his hands against his jeans. Pontius Pilate, he thinks. Which would make Jonghyun Jesus, but that's just stupid. He shakes his head. "I'll take him from here."
A cab pulls over. Kibum opens the door and eases Jonghyun in, and once he has him against the seat he climbs in in tandem and closes the door, droning an address at the cab driver.
"How do you know where I live?" Jonghyun asks. Before Kibum can reply-- and it's just as well, he wouldn't have been able to think of an answer-- "Do you have everyone else's address as well? Taemin? Jinki? Minho?"
"It's none of your business. They don't want to hear from you."
Jonghyun's grimace is an act, but Kibum knows he's hurt him. He isn't sure of whether to feel satisfied or guilty. "Aw, mean."
"Deal with it."
They lapse into silence. So far everything from when Kibum had spotted him at the bar has been less painful than he had expected. The base of skyscrapers blur past the windows, refocusing at the red of the stop lights. The cab driver has tuned into a trot station.
It's barely a minute before Jonghyun speaks again. "What happened to us, anyway?" he asks. "I don't remember."
The question sounds like he's asking something else, but Kibum knows it's not that. Jonghyun's lying. Right now Jonghyun is drunk, and Kibum's a convenient vessel to relive teenaged glory. Out of all of them Jonghyun had been the one who had the hardest time adapting.
"The group broke up," Kibum replies, matter-of-fact. "After five years. You did vocal training for a while and then you got fired."
"Five years, huh?" Underneath the stench of soju Kibum picks up Jonghyun's scent. "We didn't manage to break the record. But we were close, right? That's all that matters."
"Yeah, that's all that matters."
When they lapse into silence again Jonghyun brings his arms around Kibum's waist and squeezes. "Oh, and Kibum!" he exclaims, squeezing once more for good measure. The alcohol gives his voice a childish tilt, and from this angle he looks so much younger than he is. His eyelashes are as long as Kibum remembers. "You put on weight, right? Like I told you to. Ahh, fatty Kibum, always worrying about being fat."
"It wasn't for you." The song that comes on next on the radio is one Minho had practised a long time ago-- during all his waking hours, for weeks, enough to drive them all crazy, all for a show appearance half an hour long.
"Right, right." Even on nine bottles Jonghyun can spot the brunt in his tone. He withdraws his hands and falls back against the upholstery. He's thumbing his wedding ring; Kibum had attended like the rest of them, and his commemoration present had been a blender ("Jeez, Kibum, is this supposed to be symbolic or something?" Jinki had asked, turning the gift box over in his hands). "Sorry."
When the silence comes the third time they've reached Souho Street. In two blocks is Jonghyun's apartment. His arms are still slung around Kibum's chest; it isn't fair that Jonghyun's this warm.
"Do you still work as a choreograher?" Jonghyun asks.
"I didn't have the talent for it." Kibum looks away from Jonghyun out to the window. The city lights are duller than usual. "Being a dancer is different from making up a dance, and teaching, and I wasn't good at either. Same with Taemin, but he quit before me."
"That's a shame. You were good," Jonghyun says, head on his shoulder, giggling into the fabric of his jacket. "Taeminnie too." He uses their old pet names liberally, as if it's been six months instead of six years. Kibum calls him 'Jonghyun'. Double syllables takes more effort, but it's easier on his heart.
the lonesome era
jonghyun/key, pg, aroound 700 words i think
---
Kibum recognises Jonghyun first. It's the alcohol, or the distance, or the time. Probably the time.
"Ah--" Jonghyun's mouth opens. His fingers grapple at the air as if the syllables of Kibum's name will collect in the soles of his palms. "Ah, um-- I know you! Kibum! Kim Kibum!"
"Good joob, Jonghyun," he whistles, but Jonghyun's too excited to catch patronisation. He turns to the barman, who brushes his hands against his jeans. Pontius Pilate, he thinks. Which would make Jonghyun Jesus, but that's just stupid. He shakes his head. "I'll take him from here."
A cab pulls over. Kibum opens the door and eases Jonghyun in, and once he has him against the seat he climbs in in tandem and closes the door, droning an address at the cab driver.
"How do you know where I live?" Jonghyun asks. Before Kibum can reply-- and it's just as well, he wouldn't have been able to think of an answer-- "Do you have everyone else's address as well? Taemin? Jinki? Minho?"
"It's none of your business. They don't want to hear from you."
Jonghyun's grimace is an act, but Kibum knows he's hurt him. He isn't sure of whether to feel satisfied or guilty. "Aw, mean."
"Deal with it."
They lapse into silence. So far everything from when Kibum had spotted him at the bar has been less painful than he had expected. The base of skyscrapers blur past the windows, refocusing at the red of the stop lights. The cab driver has tuned into a trot station.
It's barely a minute before Jonghyun speaks again. "What happened to us, anyway?" he asks. "I don't remember."
The question sounds like he's asking something else, but Kibum knows it's not that. Jonghyun's lying. Right now Jonghyun is drunk, and Kibum's a convenient vessel to relive teenaged glory. Out of all of them Jonghyun had been the one who had the hardest time adapting.
"The group broke up," Kibum replies, matter-of-fact. "After five years. You did vocal training for a while and then you got fired."
"Five years, huh?" Underneath the stench of soju Kibum picks up Jonghyun's scent. "We didn't manage to break the record. But we were close, right? That's all that matters."
"Yeah, that's all that matters."
When they lapse into silence again Jonghyun brings his arms around Kibum's waist and squeezes. "Oh, and Kibum!" he exclaims, squeezing once more for good measure. The alcohol gives his voice a childish tilt, and from this angle he looks so much younger than he is. His eyelashes are as long as Kibum remembers. "You put on weight, right? Like I told you to. Ahh, fatty Kibum, always worrying about being fat."
"It wasn't for you." The song that comes on next on the radio is one Minho had practised a long time ago-- during all his waking hours, for weeks, enough to drive them all crazy, all for a show appearance half an hour long.
"Right, right." Even on nine bottles Jonghyun can spot the brunt in his tone. He withdraws his hands and falls back against the upholstery. He's thumbing his wedding ring; Kibum had attended like the rest of them, and his commemoration present had been a blender ("Jeez, Kibum, is this supposed to be symbolic or something?" Jinki had asked, turning the gift box over in his hands). "Sorry."
When the silence comes the third time they've reached Souho Street. In two blocks is Jonghyun's apartment. His arms are still slung around Kibum's chest; it isn't fair that Jonghyun's this warm.
"Do you still work as a choreograher?" Jonghyun asks.
"I didn't have the talent for it." Kibum looks away from Jonghyun out to the window. The city lights are duller than usual. "Being a dancer is different from making up a dance, and teaching, and I wasn't good at either. Same with Taemin, but he quit before me."
"That's a shame. You were good," Jonghyun says, head on his shoulder, giggling into the fabric of his jacket. "Taeminnie too." He uses their old pet names liberally, as if it's been six months instead of six years. Kibum calls him 'Jonghyun'. Double syllables takes more effort, but it's easier on his heart.