Unspoken
Title: Unspoken
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: CNU/Sandeul
Rating: G
Word Count: 1062
Summary: Sandeul shares his light.
[This is a series of drabbles for this drabble challenge, culminating into one fic.]
::Summer, 349 words::
--
It was the summer before fourth grade, under the hot, hot sun.
He was crazy and playful and loud and fantastically, irresistibly bright. His smile and skin glowed as he raised his hands up and did cartwheels in the grass until he was too tired and dizzy to do any more.
“I’m new to the neighborhood,” he said, when he finally realized someone had been watching, and stuck out his hand. “My name is Lee Junghwan.”
It practically bounced off Dongwoo’s tongue as he repeated it, and saying his own name in comparison was like drinking flat soda.
“Want to play with us?”
It’s really nice to meet you.
The other kids, though, said his name like it was salt in their mouths. They looked the boy up and down, taking in his dirty jeans and skinny arms and goofy grin. But they still put him on Dongwoo’s team, and the game commenced, with their makeshift goals and slightly flat black-and-white ball.
But apparently Junghwan wasn’t cut out for the sport. He tripped over his feet even more often than he tripped over the ball, and kept finding himself turning in circles, wondering in which direction he ought to run.
After a while he got too tired and sat down in the middle of their tiny field to play with the ladybugs climbing up the blades of grass.
Soon a shadow appeared over his tiny green world. He looked up and saw them standing over him, silhouetted with the sun shining right above them.
Get out of here!
His mouth made an “o”, but he was smiling as he got up to leave, though not before he caught Dongwoo’s eye.
You can come if you want.
But Dongwoo just shook his head, looking down at his shoes, and from the corner of his eye he could see Junghwan shrug and move back to the other side of the park.
And even as they continued, he kept looking over at Junghwan’s cartwheels, wondering how bad it would be if he were to depart from the game and do them, too.
::Wind, 333 words::
--
It was their final middle school autumn, a Friday.
They hadn’t said much on the way home that day. The cold seeped through their coats and the brisk wind whipped relentlessly at their uncovered ears and faces. Dongwoo kept stealing glances at him, although their eyes didn’t meet.
Are you really okay?
Junghwan was keeping his head down, staying uncharacteristically quiet, simply looking down at the pavement, kicking at the leaves and smashing them with a crunch beneath his feet.
Years had gone by. They had gotten too busy for bike rides and skinned knees, too old for sleeping beneath half finished forts made late at night. Now Dongwoo sat at class council meetings, and Junghwan sat at empty tables during lunch. Girls left presents and notes on Dongwoo’s desk, while things went missing from Junghwan’s locker.
His desk in the courtyard. His notebooks in puddles. Silence as he walked by, whispers when he passed.
What a loser.
But Junghwan wasn’t a loser, could never be a loser. He could be a clown or a little kid or an angel. But apparently he was only Dongwoo’s clown, Dongwoo’s kid, Dongwoo’s angel. No one else’s.
So they still shared pitchers of lemonade on the porch, still played video games until the sun rose. Junghwan got hurt and Dongwoo patched him up. Junghwan could make jokes and Dongwoo could find laughter underneath the stress and pain. They couldn’t help but smile at each other even on their darkest days.
“Do you want to come over for dinner or something?” Junghwan finally spoke up, and Dongwoo almost sighed in relief.
“Yeah, of course.”
And a switch flipped in Junghwan. He went off with a story about dinner the night before, and then about steamed vegetables, and then about whether carrots or broccoli was better, then whether pineapples or watermelons were better, and on and on and on and Dongwoo cracked up.
Because Junghwan still had his shine, his beautiful, perfect shine that lit up Dongwoo’s universe.
::Formal, 380 words::
--
It was the night of the juniors’ formal dance, a week before Christmas break began.
Neither of them was attending, for one was hiding and the other was seeking, though it wasn’t a game they were playing.
Dongwoo finally found him at the park, trying to do cartwheels in the snow.
He was only wearing a thin jacket and his gloveless hands were like ice when Dongwoo grabbed them to bring him back up.
Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was the overcast sky and the dark of the evening, but Junghwan looked dull, gray. Dim. He didn’t look at Dongwoo, even when he was gripped by the wrists and shaken.
Junghwan didn’t want to attend the dance, no matter how many times Dongwoo asked him. He didn’t feel right in crowded places, he didn’t know how to dance, and after all…
Could he really be thinking about going?
Ugh. I hope not.
… he didn’t expect it to be very fun for him, anyway.
There were a lot more fun things to do on a night like this.
He had almost asked Dongwoo to come to the park, too, so they could play like they had all those years before. But Dongwoo had grown up; he had other people to play with now.
I really don’t mind-you can go by yourself.
Then why did he look angry? Why were Dongwoo’s eyes brimming with tears? Why-and what-was he yelling?
…You could die doing this.
Now that he thought about it, Junghwan did feel a little chilled. A little numb.
But wasn’t that part of the fun?
After a while Dongwoo stopped and just stood there, his hands on Junghwan’s shoulders as he tried to search those clouded eyes for something, anything.
But they only widened when he said, genuinely curious. “Why aren’t you at the dance?”
And Dongwoo laughed. It began as a biting, humorless laugh, but when Junghwan joined in it became sincere. Then they stopped, and Dongwoo hugged him, tightly. And Junghwan sighed as the warmth that had been missing returned to the both of them.
“You don’t think it’d be boring without you?”
So they stood with their chins resting on each other’s shoulders.
...You don’t think I could ever live without you?
--
A/N: Something a little gloomier for B1A4, but I still hope you liked it. Thank you for reading.
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: CNU/Sandeul
Rating: G
Word Count: 1062
Summary: Sandeul shares his light.
[This is a series of drabbles for this drabble challenge, culminating into one fic.]
::Summer, 349 words::
--
It was the summer before fourth grade, under the hot, hot sun.
He was crazy and playful and loud and fantastically, irresistibly bright. His smile and skin glowed as he raised his hands up and did cartwheels in the grass until he was too tired and dizzy to do any more.
“I’m new to the neighborhood,” he said, when he finally realized someone had been watching, and stuck out his hand. “My name is Lee Junghwan.”
It practically bounced off Dongwoo’s tongue as he repeated it, and saying his own name in comparison was like drinking flat soda.
“Want to play with us?”
It’s really nice to meet you.
The other kids, though, said his name like it was salt in their mouths. They looked the boy up and down, taking in his dirty jeans and skinny arms and goofy grin. But they still put him on Dongwoo’s team, and the game commenced, with their makeshift goals and slightly flat black-and-white ball.
But apparently Junghwan wasn’t cut out for the sport. He tripped over his feet even more often than he tripped over the ball, and kept finding himself turning in circles, wondering in which direction he ought to run.
After a while he got too tired and sat down in the middle of their tiny field to play with the ladybugs climbing up the blades of grass.
Soon a shadow appeared over his tiny green world. He looked up and saw them standing over him, silhouetted with the sun shining right above them.
Get out of here!
His mouth made an “o”, but he was smiling as he got up to leave, though not before he caught Dongwoo’s eye.
You can come if you want.
But Dongwoo just shook his head, looking down at his shoes, and from the corner of his eye he could see Junghwan shrug and move back to the other side of the park.
And even as they continued, he kept looking over at Junghwan’s cartwheels, wondering how bad it would be if he were to depart from the game and do them, too.
::Wind, 333 words::
--
It was their final middle school autumn, a Friday.
They hadn’t said much on the way home that day. The cold seeped through their coats and the brisk wind whipped relentlessly at their uncovered ears and faces. Dongwoo kept stealing glances at him, although their eyes didn’t meet.
Are you really okay?
Junghwan was keeping his head down, staying uncharacteristically quiet, simply looking down at the pavement, kicking at the leaves and smashing them with a crunch beneath his feet.
Years had gone by. They had gotten too busy for bike rides and skinned knees, too old for sleeping beneath half finished forts made late at night. Now Dongwoo sat at class council meetings, and Junghwan sat at empty tables during lunch. Girls left presents and notes on Dongwoo’s desk, while things went missing from Junghwan’s locker.
His desk in the courtyard. His notebooks in puddles. Silence as he walked by, whispers when he passed.
What a loser.
But Junghwan wasn’t a loser, could never be a loser. He could be a clown or a little kid or an angel. But apparently he was only Dongwoo’s clown, Dongwoo’s kid, Dongwoo’s angel. No one else’s.
So they still shared pitchers of lemonade on the porch, still played video games until the sun rose. Junghwan got hurt and Dongwoo patched him up. Junghwan could make jokes and Dongwoo could find laughter underneath the stress and pain. They couldn’t help but smile at each other even on their darkest days.
“Do you want to come over for dinner or something?” Junghwan finally spoke up, and Dongwoo almost sighed in relief.
“Yeah, of course.”
And a switch flipped in Junghwan. He went off with a story about dinner the night before, and then about steamed vegetables, and then about whether carrots or broccoli was better, then whether pineapples or watermelons were better, and on and on and on and Dongwoo cracked up.
Because Junghwan still had his shine, his beautiful, perfect shine that lit up Dongwoo’s universe.
::Formal, 380 words::
--
It was the night of the juniors’ formal dance, a week before Christmas break began.
Neither of them was attending, for one was hiding and the other was seeking, though it wasn’t a game they were playing.
Dongwoo finally found him at the park, trying to do cartwheels in the snow.
He was only wearing a thin jacket and his gloveless hands were like ice when Dongwoo grabbed them to bring him back up.
Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was the overcast sky and the dark of the evening, but Junghwan looked dull, gray. Dim. He didn’t look at Dongwoo, even when he was gripped by the wrists and shaken.
Junghwan didn’t want to attend the dance, no matter how many times Dongwoo asked him. He didn’t feel right in crowded places, he didn’t know how to dance, and after all…
Could he really be thinking about going?
Ugh. I hope not.
… he didn’t expect it to be very fun for him, anyway.
There were a lot more fun things to do on a night like this.
He had almost asked Dongwoo to come to the park, too, so they could play like they had all those years before. But Dongwoo had grown up; he had other people to play with now.
I really don’t mind-you can go by yourself.
Then why did he look angry? Why were Dongwoo’s eyes brimming with tears? Why-and what-was he yelling?
…You could die doing this.
Now that he thought about it, Junghwan did feel a little chilled. A little numb.
But wasn’t that part of the fun?
After a while Dongwoo stopped and just stood there, his hands on Junghwan’s shoulders as he tried to search those clouded eyes for something, anything.
But they only widened when he said, genuinely curious. “Why aren’t you at the dance?”
And Dongwoo laughed. It began as a biting, humorless laugh, but when Junghwan joined in it became sincere. Then they stopped, and Dongwoo hugged him, tightly. And Junghwan sighed as the warmth that had been missing returned to the both of them.
“You don’t think it’d be boring without you?”
So they stood with their chins resting on each other’s shoulders.
...You don’t think I could ever live without you?
--
A/N: Something a little gloomier for B1A4, but I still hope you liked it. Thank you for reading.