dear love, [drabbles]
Title: dear love,
Author: salted_taiyaki
Pairing(s): Jonghyun x Key, Onew x Taemin, Onew x Key
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG
Summary: three stories about love.
a/n: rediscovered my love for ben and the postal service. the first two are based on tps' songs. another set to help me get out of my slump.
dear love;
o1. such great heights
kibum hides his face deep into the pillow as he feels toes scrape up his bare calves, tickling them a flushed pink. words won't come out of his mouth, puffy and glued shut by fervent kisses, only strangled groans as he twists his body left and right away from the intruding limbs and digits.
this isn't exactly the type of morning call he'd had in mind.
"wake up," jonghyun whispers into his face rather disgustingly and it takes everything inside kibum not to cram the entire pillowcase in the singer's wide, smirking, mocking mouth.
"just because you can wake up at the most ungodly of hours," the younger boy grunts against persistent lips once more, "doesn't mean i will shoot right out of bed with you."
kibum feels jonghyun smirk against his mouth and then some rude fingers push under his shirt and around his waist hotly, resting on the small of his back. "boop." a poke to his nose and kibum flinches away in shock, which is too far away from the wagging finger, because any further and his head would pop up above the covers and his eyes don't quite want to see sunlight crack through the window just yet. "wake up call for kim kibum, wake up, wake up."
"god," kibum groans. he finally shakes himself loose from jonghyun's draping limbs and throws the covers off of them, huffing slightly at the lack of oxygen and the sudden flash of light.
jonghyun shimmies up close to him, presses his warm body against kibum's and kisses him again, this time with his eyes open and staring deeply into kibum's. without his permission a gasp escapes his red lips and kibum's eyes flutter shut to the sound of soft, hushed breaths. when they pull back and kibum takes a good look at jonghyun's radiating face, he sees the sun in his eyes, the sun in his hair, the sun in his smile. linked fingers, collective sighs.
kibum smiles and finds it kind of funny how he'd never really been a morning person.
o2. be still, my heart
it happened one beautiful morning, fit for such a beginning. the sun was shining, the skies were clear. a normal day during the summer, amid the rush of commuting businessmen and shopping housewives.
it only happened because of a little error he had made during his routine preparation for work. a small error, an error that usually wouldn't occur after combing through his image in front of the mirror before catching the bus, but fate must have had different plans that day and decided to switch things up a bit.
he had forgotten to tie his shoes.
so when he sprinted down the sidewalk to reach the subway station, he tripped on his laces and nearly tumbled down all fifty six (or seven, depending on how you counted them) steps of the stairwell.
a hand caught him before he could plummet to his unfortunate, untimely death.
a small scrape that cut through his pants, that's all it was. but the man-young adult? teenager? he couldn't tell under the bright sun that seemed to reflect off his beautiful, clear skin-was huddled over him, worried, are you all right? here, let me help you.
he was flustered. flustered, embarrassed, touched. the attention, the affection was unusual to him, but he enjoyed it. he enjoyed the younger man's presence, the younger man's kindness, the younger man's smile. they were infectious and distracting, and before he knew it, the subway had stopped at its last stop, fifteen miles away from his cubical on the twenty third floor of his company building.
but he didn't blame the other man, because who could ever be upset at someone who ducked his head whenever he spoke and covered his mouth when he laughed? no, he told himself, he quite liked the change, the shake up of his daily routine. and when he stood up with the younger man's handkerchief held to his kneecap he bowed from the waist.
thank you, he had said, words packed with meanings he probably didn't even intend on putting in there, and he flushed as he did so. he thanked his city stars that there was no one else in their car.
however the man didn't laugh at him, only smiled. taemin, he had said, also, take care of yourself better, and then slipped off the subway and meshed into the crowd.
hours later, after his boring day at work, they somehow met again in front of the station (though, when he thinks back to it now, it was more like taemin was waiting for him all day), and he handed the handkerchief back, washed and ironed at the office. taemin smiled.
jinki, the man finally stuttered after what felt like days baking under the evening sun, and he was close to asking for that handkerchief back again, when suddenly taemin's fingers slipped through his and held tight. jinki started. shocked, confused, maybe even a little bit scared. it was all too new for him, but something told him that he would be okay, as long as they held hands and walked together step by step. the idea didn't really strike him as funny then, because everything was glowing blindingly: taemin's eyes, taemin's smile, their fingers.
i'm hungry, taemin spoke up above the murmur of the busy streets and looked up at jinki, eyes sparkling. why don't we go have dinner together? jinki could only nod his head eagerly.
so they walked through the city, ignoring bus routes and shortcuts.
and that was the start of jinki and taemin's brand new beginning.
o3. laminated
kibum has a photo album for everything he can think of. flowers, clouds, oak cabinets. they're all different and special, and to keep himself organized he labels the albums and sorts the pictures by date. a corner of his room would be filled with scrapbooks and albums stacked one on top of the other ever since his early teen days.
but there was one thing he could not label. lee jinki.
lee jinki was a person, but that was reserved for strangers in the city. lee jinki was a friend, but after twenty years of knowing him, he'd assumed the guy was something other than just a friend. lee jinki was eccentric, but only really weird things went in there. (it was only the chicken obsession that was a bit weird about him, after all.)
so year after year kibum would sit down during the nights and try to determine just what lee jinki was with the feeling of incompleteness resting on his shoulder.
so clutter-minded was he that he had only realized once flipping to the last page that he had filled a complete album with pictures of jinki only. jinki being happy, jinki being sad, jinki being stupid, and, yes, jinki being eccentric.
it was a weird revelation. a weird revelation that made him think harder than ever before. he couldn't make sense of it, his brain too fried from late nights and lamps, so he approached jinki one day with the album open in his hands, starry pajama pants on and muddied by the long lawn he crossed.
look, he told jinki and jinki looked, then blushed.
what is this? jinki asked and kibum only shrugged because he really didn't know what the answer to the question was. he'd been slaving away at the question himself for years, after all, and not a single hint came his way.
until jinki carefully wrapped his arms around kibum's waist and pulled him in for a chaste kiss. suddenly kibum didn't quite care that he had dropped the album and that some of the pictures had slipped out of their pockets.
it was weird, different, but most definitely something kibum didn't mind. and something definitely clicked.
when kibum settled on jinki's bed that night and took out his sharpie marker, he wrote across the top cover in bold, large letters: mine. jinki laughed at him and pulled him under the covers, taking a picture of kibum with messy hair and flushed cheeks and then slipping it into the last slot of the album.
they kissed, and kibum finally felt that everything was complete.
.end
a/n: i'm wary about the third one because the tenses are all screwed up, but maybe i'll fix it up one day if it really bothers me haha. hope you enjoyed :)
Author: salted_taiyaki
Pairing(s): Jonghyun x Key, Onew x Taemin, Onew x Key
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG
Summary: three stories about love.
a/n: rediscovered my love for ben and the postal service. the first two are based on tps' songs. another set to help me get out of my slump.
dear love;
o1. such great heights
kibum hides his face deep into the pillow as he feels toes scrape up his bare calves, tickling them a flushed pink. words won't come out of his mouth, puffy and glued shut by fervent kisses, only strangled groans as he twists his body left and right away from the intruding limbs and digits.
this isn't exactly the type of morning call he'd had in mind.
"wake up," jonghyun whispers into his face rather disgustingly and it takes everything inside kibum not to cram the entire pillowcase in the singer's wide, smirking, mocking mouth.
"just because you can wake up at the most ungodly of hours," the younger boy grunts against persistent lips once more, "doesn't mean i will shoot right out of bed with you."
kibum feels jonghyun smirk against his mouth and then some rude fingers push under his shirt and around his waist hotly, resting on the small of his back. "boop." a poke to his nose and kibum flinches away in shock, which is too far away from the wagging finger, because any further and his head would pop up above the covers and his eyes don't quite want to see sunlight crack through the window just yet. "wake up call for kim kibum, wake up, wake up."
"god," kibum groans. he finally shakes himself loose from jonghyun's draping limbs and throws the covers off of them, huffing slightly at the lack of oxygen and the sudden flash of light.
jonghyun shimmies up close to him, presses his warm body against kibum's and kisses him again, this time with his eyes open and staring deeply into kibum's. without his permission a gasp escapes his red lips and kibum's eyes flutter shut to the sound of soft, hushed breaths. when they pull back and kibum takes a good look at jonghyun's radiating face, he sees the sun in his eyes, the sun in his hair, the sun in his smile. linked fingers, collective sighs.
kibum smiles and finds it kind of funny how he'd never really been a morning person.
o2. be still, my heart
it happened one beautiful morning, fit for such a beginning. the sun was shining, the skies were clear. a normal day during the summer, amid the rush of commuting businessmen and shopping housewives.
it only happened because of a little error he had made during his routine preparation for work. a small error, an error that usually wouldn't occur after combing through his image in front of the mirror before catching the bus, but fate must have had different plans that day and decided to switch things up a bit.
he had forgotten to tie his shoes.
so when he sprinted down the sidewalk to reach the subway station, he tripped on his laces and nearly tumbled down all fifty six (or seven, depending on how you counted them) steps of the stairwell.
a hand caught him before he could plummet to his unfortunate, untimely death.
a small scrape that cut through his pants, that's all it was. but the man-young adult? teenager? he couldn't tell under the bright sun that seemed to reflect off his beautiful, clear skin-was huddled over him, worried, are you all right? here, let me help you.
he was flustered. flustered, embarrassed, touched. the attention, the affection was unusual to him, but he enjoyed it. he enjoyed the younger man's presence, the younger man's kindness, the younger man's smile. they were infectious and distracting, and before he knew it, the subway had stopped at its last stop, fifteen miles away from his cubical on the twenty third floor of his company building.
but he didn't blame the other man, because who could ever be upset at someone who ducked his head whenever he spoke and covered his mouth when he laughed? no, he told himself, he quite liked the change, the shake up of his daily routine. and when he stood up with the younger man's handkerchief held to his kneecap he bowed from the waist.
thank you, he had said, words packed with meanings he probably didn't even intend on putting in there, and he flushed as he did so. he thanked his city stars that there was no one else in their car.
however the man didn't laugh at him, only smiled. taemin, he had said, also, take care of yourself better, and then slipped off the subway and meshed into the crowd.
hours later, after his boring day at work, they somehow met again in front of the station (though, when he thinks back to it now, it was more like taemin was waiting for him all day), and he handed the handkerchief back, washed and ironed at the office. taemin smiled.
jinki, the man finally stuttered after what felt like days baking under the evening sun, and he was close to asking for that handkerchief back again, when suddenly taemin's fingers slipped through his and held tight. jinki started. shocked, confused, maybe even a little bit scared. it was all too new for him, but something told him that he would be okay, as long as they held hands and walked together step by step. the idea didn't really strike him as funny then, because everything was glowing blindingly: taemin's eyes, taemin's smile, their fingers.
i'm hungry, taemin spoke up above the murmur of the busy streets and looked up at jinki, eyes sparkling. why don't we go have dinner together? jinki could only nod his head eagerly.
so they walked through the city, ignoring bus routes and shortcuts.
and that was the start of jinki and taemin's brand new beginning.
o3. laminated
kibum has a photo album for everything he can think of. flowers, clouds, oak cabinets. they're all different and special, and to keep himself organized he labels the albums and sorts the pictures by date. a corner of his room would be filled with scrapbooks and albums stacked one on top of the other ever since his early teen days.
but there was one thing he could not label. lee jinki.
lee jinki was a person, but that was reserved for strangers in the city. lee jinki was a friend, but after twenty years of knowing him, he'd assumed the guy was something other than just a friend. lee jinki was eccentric, but only really weird things went in there. (it was only the chicken obsession that was a bit weird about him, after all.)
so year after year kibum would sit down during the nights and try to determine just what lee jinki was with the feeling of incompleteness resting on his shoulder.
so clutter-minded was he that he had only realized once flipping to the last page that he had filled a complete album with pictures of jinki only. jinki being happy, jinki being sad, jinki being stupid, and, yes, jinki being eccentric.
it was a weird revelation. a weird revelation that made him think harder than ever before. he couldn't make sense of it, his brain too fried from late nights and lamps, so he approached jinki one day with the album open in his hands, starry pajama pants on and muddied by the long lawn he crossed.
look, he told jinki and jinki looked, then blushed.
what is this? jinki asked and kibum only shrugged because he really didn't know what the answer to the question was. he'd been slaving away at the question himself for years, after all, and not a single hint came his way.
until jinki carefully wrapped his arms around kibum's waist and pulled him in for a chaste kiss. suddenly kibum didn't quite care that he had dropped the album and that some of the pictures had slipped out of their pockets.
it was weird, different, but most definitely something kibum didn't mind. and something definitely clicked.
when kibum settled on jinki's bed that night and took out his sharpie marker, he wrote across the top cover in bold, large letters: mine. jinki laughed at him and pulled him under the covers, taking a picture of kibum with messy hair and flushed cheeks and then slipping it into the last slot of the album.
they kissed, and kibum finally felt that everything was complete.
.end
a/n: i'm wary about the third one because the tenses are all screwed up, but maybe i'll fix it up one day if it really bothers me haha. hope you enjoyed :)