in every single way [oneshot]
Title: in every single way
Author: salted_taiyaki
Pairing(s): Onew x Key
Genre: Romance, AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: jinki's dyslexic and kibum has self-confidence issues. love solves it all.
a/n: i kind of...idk lol.
kibum likes to toy with the cuffs of his sleeves because sometimes the strands aren't long enough to cover his wrists, and he hates when skin is exposed like that, especially during the winter. he doesn't see a need for t-shirts, or shorts, or flip flops or sandals so he likes to wrap himself up in cotton and polyester for warmth.
he hasn't worn khakis or vests ever since fifth grade, but he's fine with that. he likes to sew his own clothes, anyway.
jinki has trouble reading sometimes, and he says it's because the english vocabulary is pretty difficult, but his mom doesn't say anything and just turns away. he shrugs it off, because he knows that you can't be good at everything, so he likes to stick with math. but sometimes sixes look like eights which look like threes and a decimal is two places off so jinki just gives up on everything.
he doesn't understand what's so important with being valedictorian, anyway. basic arithmetic will get him far in life.
jinki and kibum meet one day at a mixer, kibum constantly checking his wrist-there isn't a watch, jinki notes-and jinki examining a bottle-all it says is "so" and "ju", what's so hard about that?-before their plates accidentally clatter together and they look up, eyes wide.
"hi," jinki tentatively says, dropping the bottle onto the wooden table. "my name's jinki."
kibum nods, "i'm kibum," and shakes jinki's outstretched hand, not before pulling the sleeve of his sweater down further. "i, uh, the hanja's pretty difficult, isn't it? i don't understand the brush strokes sometimes," he says slowly, a finger pointed to the paper wrapping.
jinki's face instantly lights, "that's exactly what i think! but i dunno, i've always kind of sucked with hanja since grade school." they smile awkwardly at each other, taking in the warmth that radiated from the grill in the middle, and jinki chuckles a bit under a hand. "your sweater's really nice. did you knit it?"
with a gulp kibum tucks back a few strands of black hair behind his ears. "y-yeah, yeah, i did."
the boy smiles so widely at that and laughs, "you're pretty great! sweaters are the best for winter." and then he looks down at his own wrist where a bracelet dangles from his tan skin. "this would look really good with that." he slips it off and hands it over to the bewildered raven, insistently lifts it up to his eyes.
thin fingers shakily grasp the wound fabric and kibum slips it on his wrist carefully, deft fingers fumbling a bit. he examines his wrist, the overlapping of wool and lanyard, black and green. he grins.
"thanks."
jinki smiles back. "you're welcome."
kibum reads jinki his favorite poems from a couple of collections that he has in his room, and while jinki nods along, he ties together more and more bracelets that wrap tightly around kibum's wrist, becoming another layer of colorful skin for the cold winter. they look up at each other every once in a while with sheepish smiles on their faces, only to be broken away when jinki's mother comes in rather cheerfully and pushes in a plate of pears for the two.
sometimes they watch movies because they hate doing work and they laze around on the couch, blankets pooled around their feet and on their laps, and jinki stuffs his face with popcorn as kibum tries his hardest not to choke on his sugar free iced tea at the image. sometimes they reach for the remote at the same time and jinki's fingers get tangled in the loose pieces of lanyard that look like loops of lace around the perimeter, and kibum tries hard to tear his eyes from the red tips of their digits.
kibum sleeps over jinki's house often and his mom doesn't mind, because she knows that kibum's family is having some difficulty a few blocks down, and jinki's more than excited to see the raven appear with a duffel bag in his thin arms. they share small stories of their childhood and of high school and of their best adventures of the day. jinki tends to fall asleep mid-story, though, much to kibum's dismay, so the two lie around on strewn covers, eyes zipping under thin eyelashes, anxious for sunlight.
one night kibum stares blankly at the screen, at the infomercial of the latest treadmill, then of some health shakes that have magical weight loss powers indescribable to man, and then of the models walking along the catwalk with high heels and high heads. the blue and green and red lights are absorbed by his black, black eyes, and they bleed into the white around his dilated pupils.
jinki walks in, bowl of popcorn tucked under his arm, and he kneels down next to the boy unfazed. "what are you watching?"
the screen suddenly flickers and everything turns dark, including the stars and moon outside, and kibum lets out a cry. instinctively he throws his arms up around himself and the bowl goes tumbling into the dark corner of the living room. jinki gapes stupidly, a jumbled "what's wrong?" barely hitting the floor before kibum has his fingers knit in the boy's shirt.
and jinki's sure he reads fear, anxiety, panic, everything stomach-churning on the boy's face, and he grabs him by the shirt too, pulls him in for a deep embrace.
it takes fifteen minutes for kibum to stop shaking and another hour for the lights to come back on, but the two stay huddled on the cold floor, blankets pooled around their waists, arms stiff but wrapped around each other.
when they're on jinki's bed for the night, a little lamp lit in the corner of the room, kibum whispers softly as he pulls the blankets tighter over himself, "i'm so sorry."
but jinki sees no reason for him to be sorry, "in fact, i should be the one to apologize," and the two stare at each other for minutes and half hours and moons until jinki finally blinks and brushes his lips against kibum's cheek. kibum's eyes flutter shut and jinki takes it as permission, permission to coil around the smaller boy, permission to finally slip his hands together with the thin fingers that are always so desperate for coverage.
they stay up the whole night, toes brushing and noses scrunching, at the warmth and the unusual glow that the stars emit. and then kibum goes to sleep first with jinki following soon after, small smiles on their faces.
kibum says he's going to italy because his parents are allowing him, and he wants to study fashion more when he has the time. jinki tries his hardest to overcome his reading problems and takes on a teacher's assistant job at their high school. they stare at each other one last time before kibum happily laughs, "come see me tomorrow," and jinki nods, "i'll see you soon."
he receives a text two hours later, one of few words, and a time that jinki keeps close to his heart. he falls asleep that day with the alarm set to seven and crawls into a rather empty, vacant bed, but his arms are around his pillow like they were around kibum's.
but the next day, jinki never comes.
kibum waits by the gate for minutes and minutes and when it's four minutes before boarding time, he holds back tears behind crumpled paper and turns his back to leave.
jinki stumbles into the air port at eight forty with flowers and chocolates in his hands, along with a bag of colorful bracelets he had made a few days before, but as he scans and scans the air port he sees no one, no shining face, no kibum to give him one last hug. he runs across the halls, but there's nothing when he reaches the last terminal. running back, jinki doubles over with forceful pants and looks at the times of departure. it's nine twenty when he flips open his cell phone once more to check the message.
and when he stares at the six-not a three, not an eight-his body crumbles against the too-cold wall of the airport. he barely makes it into his car before he unwinds completely and throws everything out the window.
three years later, kibum returns to korea and sends a lonely text to the first number on his list. he's not expecting flowers or gifts at his doorstep, but he figures it's nice to give a warning every once in a while.
he stands before the door rather awkwardly, not knowing how to approach his parents after three years of no contact, but he's sure that they'll be proud of what he's done-he started a company in collaboration with some popular designers-and he tentatively knocks, once, twice, and then walks in.
his eyes flicker up to see jinki's contorted face, partially covered by the flowers and gifts in his hands, and his ears barely pick up the "i'm so sorry" above the roaring in his ears. jinki's wearing glasses now, probably to help him read, but they're smudged by tears and fingerprints. "i misread it, i don't know how," he cries and the red petals glisten sadly as his body shakes.
kibum wraps two arms around the taller man's waist and he whispers, "it's all right," though his heart aches because it's all too sad to him, and jinki cries harder into his shoulder.
"i love you," jinki exclaims like he's been practicing the words for ages and he blinks away the tears clinging desperately to his eyelashes. he can't see kibum's face because they refuse to let go, so jinki tries again with his tongue tied and heart bursting, "i love you."
kibum gulps and then shifts his body closer to the brunet's chest, lets his bare, thin arms enclose him in an embrace, and repeats, "it's all right." and something in his heart finally tells him that it is as jinki falls to the ground, face buried in his shirt.
jinki likes to read kibum the children stories he's taken from his office at school and likes to hear kibum laugh at his funny voices and imitations. it's really nice in the bedroom because it ricochets off the wall-as do other things, but kibum's laugh is the best-so they like to curl up on the bed while one reads and the other knits sweaters for the winter.
kibum has some trouble getting started with his company but apparently foreigners like lace a lot lately so it's booming and every night jinki hugs him close to his chest to mumble, "good job," and he smiles into his soft hair. it's moment like these that make kibum's heart swell with confidence, and it's the best feeling.
jinki still has trouble reading words like maieutics and zoeae and onomatopoeia (who doesn't?), and kibum still refuses to wear shorts in the winter (he likes jeans anyway), but love is a universal thing, existing in any season and time, so they don't have much difficulty with that.
.end
ok this was supposed to be pretty angsty but i think it made a complete...turn at the end D: uh the first ending was me just NOT thinking at and it was absolutely horrible. i'm glad i scrapped it though, haha. err i don't know why i'm in this, like, mood. this style of writing is beginning to annoy me now, sigh.
but anyway i hope you enjoyed, guys :) if...the ending doesn't make sense idk i was just desperate for closure LOL
Author: salted_taiyaki
Pairing(s): Onew x Key
Genre: Romance, AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: jinki's dyslexic and kibum has self-confidence issues. love solves it all.
a/n: i kind of...idk lol.
kibum likes to toy with the cuffs of his sleeves because sometimes the strands aren't long enough to cover his wrists, and he hates when skin is exposed like that, especially during the winter. he doesn't see a need for t-shirts, or shorts, or flip flops or sandals so he likes to wrap himself up in cotton and polyester for warmth.
he hasn't worn khakis or vests ever since fifth grade, but he's fine with that. he likes to sew his own clothes, anyway.
jinki has trouble reading sometimes, and he says it's because the english vocabulary is pretty difficult, but his mom doesn't say anything and just turns away. he shrugs it off, because he knows that you can't be good at everything, so he likes to stick with math. but sometimes sixes look like eights which look like threes and a decimal is two places off so jinki just gives up on everything.
he doesn't understand what's so important with being valedictorian, anyway. basic arithmetic will get him far in life.
jinki and kibum meet one day at a mixer, kibum constantly checking his wrist-there isn't a watch, jinki notes-and jinki examining a bottle-all it says is "so" and "ju", what's so hard about that?-before their plates accidentally clatter together and they look up, eyes wide.
"hi," jinki tentatively says, dropping the bottle onto the wooden table. "my name's jinki."
kibum nods, "i'm kibum," and shakes jinki's outstretched hand, not before pulling the sleeve of his sweater down further. "i, uh, the hanja's pretty difficult, isn't it? i don't understand the brush strokes sometimes," he says slowly, a finger pointed to the paper wrapping.
jinki's face instantly lights, "that's exactly what i think! but i dunno, i've always kind of sucked with hanja since grade school." they smile awkwardly at each other, taking in the warmth that radiated from the grill in the middle, and jinki chuckles a bit under a hand. "your sweater's really nice. did you knit it?"
with a gulp kibum tucks back a few strands of black hair behind his ears. "y-yeah, yeah, i did."
the boy smiles so widely at that and laughs, "you're pretty great! sweaters are the best for winter." and then he looks down at his own wrist where a bracelet dangles from his tan skin. "this would look really good with that." he slips it off and hands it over to the bewildered raven, insistently lifts it up to his eyes.
thin fingers shakily grasp the wound fabric and kibum slips it on his wrist carefully, deft fingers fumbling a bit. he examines his wrist, the overlapping of wool and lanyard, black and green. he grins.
"thanks."
jinki smiles back. "you're welcome."
kibum reads jinki his favorite poems from a couple of collections that he has in his room, and while jinki nods along, he ties together more and more bracelets that wrap tightly around kibum's wrist, becoming another layer of colorful skin for the cold winter. they look up at each other every once in a while with sheepish smiles on their faces, only to be broken away when jinki's mother comes in rather cheerfully and pushes in a plate of pears for the two.
sometimes they watch movies because they hate doing work and they laze around on the couch, blankets pooled around their feet and on their laps, and jinki stuffs his face with popcorn as kibum tries his hardest not to choke on his sugar free iced tea at the image. sometimes they reach for the remote at the same time and jinki's fingers get tangled in the loose pieces of lanyard that look like loops of lace around the perimeter, and kibum tries hard to tear his eyes from the red tips of their digits.
kibum sleeps over jinki's house often and his mom doesn't mind, because she knows that kibum's family is having some difficulty a few blocks down, and jinki's more than excited to see the raven appear with a duffel bag in his thin arms. they share small stories of their childhood and of high school and of their best adventures of the day. jinki tends to fall asleep mid-story, though, much to kibum's dismay, so the two lie around on strewn covers, eyes zipping under thin eyelashes, anxious for sunlight.
one night kibum stares blankly at the screen, at the infomercial of the latest treadmill, then of some health shakes that have magical weight loss powers indescribable to man, and then of the models walking along the catwalk with high heels and high heads. the blue and green and red lights are absorbed by his black, black eyes, and they bleed into the white around his dilated pupils.
jinki walks in, bowl of popcorn tucked under his arm, and he kneels down next to the boy unfazed. "what are you watching?"
the screen suddenly flickers and everything turns dark, including the stars and moon outside, and kibum lets out a cry. instinctively he throws his arms up around himself and the bowl goes tumbling into the dark corner of the living room. jinki gapes stupidly, a jumbled "what's wrong?" barely hitting the floor before kibum has his fingers knit in the boy's shirt.
and jinki's sure he reads fear, anxiety, panic, everything stomach-churning on the boy's face, and he grabs him by the shirt too, pulls him in for a deep embrace.
it takes fifteen minutes for kibum to stop shaking and another hour for the lights to come back on, but the two stay huddled on the cold floor, blankets pooled around their waists, arms stiff but wrapped around each other.
when they're on jinki's bed for the night, a little lamp lit in the corner of the room, kibum whispers softly as he pulls the blankets tighter over himself, "i'm so sorry."
but jinki sees no reason for him to be sorry, "in fact, i should be the one to apologize," and the two stare at each other for minutes and half hours and moons until jinki finally blinks and brushes his lips against kibum's cheek. kibum's eyes flutter shut and jinki takes it as permission, permission to coil around the smaller boy, permission to finally slip his hands together with the thin fingers that are always so desperate for coverage.
they stay up the whole night, toes brushing and noses scrunching, at the warmth and the unusual glow that the stars emit. and then kibum goes to sleep first with jinki following soon after, small smiles on their faces.
kibum says he's going to italy because his parents are allowing him, and he wants to study fashion more when he has the time. jinki tries his hardest to overcome his reading problems and takes on a teacher's assistant job at their high school. they stare at each other one last time before kibum happily laughs, "come see me tomorrow," and jinki nods, "i'll see you soon."
he receives a text two hours later, one of few words, and a time that jinki keeps close to his heart. he falls asleep that day with the alarm set to seven and crawls into a rather empty, vacant bed, but his arms are around his pillow like they were around kibum's.
but the next day, jinki never comes.
kibum waits by the gate for minutes and minutes and when it's four minutes before boarding time, he holds back tears behind crumpled paper and turns his back to leave.
jinki stumbles into the air port at eight forty with flowers and chocolates in his hands, along with a bag of colorful bracelets he had made a few days before, but as he scans and scans the air port he sees no one, no shining face, no kibum to give him one last hug. he runs across the halls, but there's nothing when he reaches the last terminal. running back, jinki doubles over with forceful pants and looks at the times of departure. it's nine twenty when he flips open his cell phone once more to check the message.
and when he stares at the six-not a three, not an eight-his body crumbles against the too-cold wall of the airport. he barely makes it into his car before he unwinds completely and throws everything out the window.
three years later, kibum returns to korea and sends a lonely text to the first number on his list. he's not expecting flowers or gifts at his doorstep, but he figures it's nice to give a warning every once in a while.
he stands before the door rather awkwardly, not knowing how to approach his parents after three years of no contact, but he's sure that they'll be proud of what he's done-he started a company in collaboration with some popular designers-and he tentatively knocks, once, twice, and then walks in.
his eyes flicker up to see jinki's contorted face, partially covered by the flowers and gifts in his hands, and his ears barely pick up the "i'm so sorry" above the roaring in his ears. jinki's wearing glasses now, probably to help him read, but they're smudged by tears and fingerprints. "i misread it, i don't know how," he cries and the red petals glisten sadly as his body shakes.
kibum wraps two arms around the taller man's waist and he whispers, "it's all right," though his heart aches because it's all too sad to him, and jinki cries harder into his shoulder.
"i love you," jinki exclaims like he's been practicing the words for ages and he blinks away the tears clinging desperately to his eyelashes. he can't see kibum's face because they refuse to let go, so jinki tries again with his tongue tied and heart bursting, "i love you."
kibum gulps and then shifts his body closer to the brunet's chest, lets his bare, thin arms enclose him in an embrace, and repeats, "it's all right." and something in his heart finally tells him that it is as jinki falls to the ground, face buried in his shirt.
jinki likes to read kibum the children stories he's taken from his office at school and likes to hear kibum laugh at his funny voices and imitations. it's really nice in the bedroom because it ricochets off the wall-as do other things, but kibum's laugh is the best-so they like to curl up on the bed while one reads and the other knits sweaters for the winter.
kibum has some trouble getting started with his company but apparently foreigners like lace a lot lately so it's booming and every night jinki hugs him close to his chest to mumble, "good job," and he smiles into his soft hair. it's moment like these that make kibum's heart swell with confidence, and it's the best feeling.
jinki still has trouble reading words like maieutics and zoeae and onomatopoeia (who doesn't?), and kibum still refuses to wear shorts in the winter (he likes jeans anyway), but love is a universal thing, existing in any season and time, so they don't have much difficulty with that.
.end
ok this was supposed to be pretty angsty but i think it made a complete...turn at the end D: uh the first ending was me just NOT thinking at and it was absolutely horrible. i'm glad i scrapped it though, haha. err i don't know why i'm in this, like, mood. this style of writing is beginning to annoy me now, sigh.
but anyway i hope you enjoyed, guys :) if...the ending doesn't make sense idk i was just desperate for closure LOL