Before the Clock Drops - Oneshot (Kyuchul)
Title: Before the Clock Drops
Fic Challenge: 050. Lost, Heechul/Kyuhyun (4/100)
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Heechul/Kyuhyun (could be platonic?)
Band: Super Junior
Genre: angst
Rating: PG
Warning: cussing, Kyuhyun in the hospital
Disclaimer: Don't own these boys, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: Heechul sails in the door past the protesting nurse, complete with a full plastic bag and the usual overbearing presence.
Comments: original post here
It has to be early morning by now, you decide, not taking the effort to look at the clock. Your parents left hours ago, (“We’ll see you soon, honey,” with caring smiles and worrying eyes that make you tired.) but you can’t get your body to cooperate - you’ve been resting on and off all damn day, there’s no chance of sleep now.
The clock ticks and a monitor beeps and there’s hurried footsteps past the door, someone shouts for a doctor, and you’re thinking again. It’s too quiet; there’s too much time for reflection - you’ve thought so damn much you’re tired of your own mind.
You’re interrupted just before you decide you’re going to go crazy. “You can’t - Sir - He needs his rest -“
Heechul sails in the door past the protesting nurse, complete with a full plastic bag and the usual overbearing presence. He looks especially made up today - you almost make an offhand comment about the nurse’s stunningly obvious blush - but he cuts you off, closing the door in her face.
“Ryeowook said you asked for games.” He’s staring, too hard and too calculated, and you wonder what else Ryeowook said. (“How are you doing?” crackling over the phone, you laugh - wheeze a little, “Okay, I guess.” The line goes silent for too long.) You stretch a smile at him - wonder if his eyes always burned like that.
“Don’t do that, it looks like you need to throw up.” He piles the games next to your bed, watches you adjust the hospital bed to a sitting position. (“Kyuhyun, can I try it?” Donghae’s eyes sparkle as his hand hovers over the button. You chance a half-shrug, “Sure.” - This place needs a bit more of some damn happiness.)
“Thanks, hyung.” You say, half sarcastic in response to his words, half grateful for the games - and the company. (“Here.” Kibum places your phone by the bedside, carefully smiling at you. “In case you need anything from us.” He starts to say something else, stops, tries again. “Call if you’re lonely.”) Heechul shrugs off the comment.
“You need to get better soon, I swear, everyone’s been acting so depressing.” His eyes narrow a little - and you can’t follow his thoughts. He plays with the window blind’s chord for a moment, crosses the room and settles in the plastic chair in the corner. Too much thinking; too much silence.
You turn to check which games he brought, pause when he speaks again. “We’ve all been worried.” You pull yourself up a little more; ignore the sudden ache up your ribs. (Eunhyuk’s scared whispers, “Is he going to be okay, is he going to be okay?” and Shindong leaning over you, and pain, pain, pain - darkness.)
“Oh.” All the air rushes out of you (“You’re speaking!” Sungmin smiles, clutches your hand tighter. “The doctors said you stopped being able to speak because of shock, but, you’re talking to me!”) and the words won’t come. Heechul’s up on his feet, eyes flashing again and then he’s right next to you, “Don’t start feeling guilty, okay? If you get sicker because of it, it’s going to be my fault.”
You try a glare, wait until you can breath again and reply, “You’d treat your dongsaeng is such a rough way?”
His laughter shatters the lingering quiet of the room; he pushes your shoulder - too gentle to seem normal. (Siwon reaches towards your hand, hesitates, looks at you with wide eyes. A tinge of frustration bubbles underneath your exhaustion. “I’m not going to break.”)
“I’m bored.” You admit, looking away from Heechul. His laughter fades out, and the hand stays perched on your shoulder. “I’m bored, and I feel kind of lost.”
Your hands clench at the off-white sheets, you suck in short breaths as your voice escapes you again. The dull pain in your chest rises. (“Sing.” Yesung glances at you in surprise. “Sing,” you repeat. Because you can’t.) “I - I’m trying really hard to get better fast.”
“Don’t - “ Heechul’s voice chokes - that never happens, you think - and his fingers are digging in to your shoulder. (“Don’t pretend to be damn strong or something.” Kangin mutters, looks away from you as the nurse rubs antiseptic on your arm. “Okay?” and you wince at the needle’s sting.) He curses, pulls his hand away and turns towards the window.
You don’t notice you’re crying until a hot tear scalds your skin, and makes you hurry to rub at wet eyes. (Hankyung brushes at the corner of his eye, tries to hide the quiet sniffling from you. “I’m glad you’re awake.”) Heechul takes a few steps towards the wall; his hands clench to fists at his sides.
“I wish you’d stop trying so damn hard and let us take care of you.” (Eeteuk smiles at you, freshly marred skin above his eyes. You try to sit up, ask how he is, but he pats your hand. “We’ll take care of you now.”) You rub harder at the tears threatening to fall, pull yourself up more - welcome the distracting jolt of pain.
Heechul turns around, sees you - opens his mouth, “Don’t-” And then he’s moving fast, and suddenly arms are wrapping around your shoulders and a warm nose is buried against your neck.
“I know it’s lonely,” he mutters into your skin. (“Heechul was in an accident,” The manager’s eyes are full of disbelief, “he’s staying in the hospital.”) Heechul’s arms stay wrapped around you. The silence stretches on, broken only by activity outside the room, but it’s okay - it’s the right silence.
The clock ticks again, and you count the seconds, wonder how late it is - wonder if everyone else is sleeping back at the dorms, or if they’re still busy with schedules. You wonder how long before you’ll be a part of it again.
“I’ll be fine soon,” you promise. “I’m going to be fine soon.”
“Shut up, I know.”
(They all huddle around the bed - the room seems cramped with so many bodies - and wait for you to speak. “I want to take part in the second album.”
Protests bubble up in the throats of some, worry in the eyes of others. Heechul grins at you.
“No,” you say, “This is right.”)
Fic Challenge: 050. Lost, Heechul/Kyuhyun (4/100)
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Heechul/Kyuhyun (could be platonic?)
Band: Super Junior
Genre: angst
Rating: PG
Warning: cussing, Kyuhyun in the hospital
Disclaimer: Don't own these boys, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: Heechul sails in the door past the protesting nurse, complete with a full plastic bag and the usual overbearing presence.
Comments: original post here
It has to be early morning by now, you decide, not taking the effort to look at the clock. Your parents left hours ago, (“We’ll see you soon, honey,” with caring smiles and worrying eyes that make you tired.) but you can’t get your body to cooperate - you’ve been resting on and off all damn day, there’s no chance of sleep now.
The clock ticks and a monitor beeps and there’s hurried footsteps past the door, someone shouts for a doctor, and you’re thinking again. It’s too quiet; there’s too much time for reflection - you’ve thought so damn much you’re tired of your own mind.
You’re interrupted just before you decide you’re going to go crazy. “You can’t - Sir - He needs his rest -“
Heechul sails in the door past the protesting nurse, complete with a full plastic bag and the usual overbearing presence. He looks especially made up today - you almost make an offhand comment about the nurse’s stunningly obvious blush - but he cuts you off, closing the door in her face.
“Ryeowook said you asked for games.” He’s staring, too hard and too calculated, and you wonder what else Ryeowook said. (“How are you doing?” crackling over the phone, you laugh - wheeze a little, “Okay, I guess.” The line goes silent for too long.) You stretch a smile at him - wonder if his eyes always burned like that.
“Don’t do that, it looks like you need to throw up.” He piles the games next to your bed, watches you adjust the hospital bed to a sitting position. (“Kyuhyun, can I try it?” Donghae’s eyes sparkle as his hand hovers over the button. You chance a half-shrug, “Sure.” - This place needs a bit more of some damn happiness.)
“Thanks, hyung.” You say, half sarcastic in response to his words, half grateful for the games - and the company. (“Here.” Kibum places your phone by the bedside, carefully smiling at you. “In case you need anything from us.” He starts to say something else, stops, tries again. “Call if you’re lonely.”) Heechul shrugs off the comment.
“You need to get better soon, I swear, everyone’s been acting so depressing.” His eyes narrow a little - and you can’t follow his thoughts. He plays with the window blind’s chord for a moment, crosses the room and settles in the plastic chair in the corner. Too much thinking; too much silence.
You turn to check which games he brought, pause when he speaks again. “We’ve all been worried.” You pull yourself up a little more; ignore the sudden ache up your ribs. (Eunhyuk’s scared whispers, “Is he going to be okay, is he going to be okay?” and Shindong leaning over you, and pain, pain, pain - darkness.)
“Oh.” All the air rushes out of you (“You’re speaking!” Sungmin smiles, clutches your hand tighter. “The doctors said you stopped being able to speak because of shock, but, you’re talking to me!”) and the words won’t come. Heechul’s up on his feet, eyes flashing again and then he’s right next to you, “Don’t start feeling guilty, okay? If you get sicker because of it, it’s going to be my fault.”
You try a glare, wait until you can breath again and reply, “You’d treat your dongsaeng is such a rough way?”
His laughter shatters the lingering quiet of the room; he pushes your shoulder - too gentle to seem normal. (Siwon reaches towards your hand, hesitates, looks at you with wide eyes. A tinge of frustration bubbles underneath your exhaustion. “I’m not going to break.”)
“I’m bored.” You admit, looking away from Heechul. His laughter fades out, and the hand stays perched on your shoulder. “I’m bored, and I feel kind of lost.”
Your hands clench at the off-white sheets, you suck in short breaths as your voice escapes you again. The dull pain in your chest rises. (“Sing.” Yesung glances at you in surprise. “Sing,” you repeat. Because you can’t.) “I - I’m trying really hard to get better fast.”
“Don’t - “ Heechul’s voice chokes - that never happens, you think - and his fingers are digging in to your shoulder. (“Don’t pretend to be damn strong or something.” Kangin mutters, looks away from you as the nurse rubs antiseptic on your arm. “Okay?” and you wince at the needle’s sting.) He curses, pulls his hand away and turns towards the window.
You don’t notice you’re crying until a hot tear scalds your skin, and makes you hurry to rub at wet eyes. (Hankyung brushes at the corner of his eye, tries to hide the quiet sniffling from you. “I’m glad you’re awake.”) Heechul takes a few steps towards the wall; his hands clench to fists at his sides.
“I wish you’d stop trying so damn hard and let us take care of you.” (Eeteuk smiles at you, freshly marred skin above his eyes. You try to sit up, ask how he is, but he pats your hand. “We’ll take care of you now.”) You rub harder at the tears threatening to fall, pull yourself up more - welcome the distracting jolt of pain.
Heechul turns around, sees you - opens his mouth, “Don’t-” And then he’s moving fast, and suddenly arms are wrapping around your shoulders and a warm nose is buried against your neck.
“I know it’s lonely,” he mutters into your skin. (“Heechul was in an accident,” The manager’s eyes are full of disbelief, “he’s staying in the hospital.”) Heechul’s arms stay wrapped around you. The silence stretches on, broken only by activity outside the room, but it’s okay - it’s the right silence.
The clock ticks again, and you count the seconds, wonder how late it is - wonder if everyone else is sleeping back at the dorms, or if they’re still busy with schedules. You wonder how long before you’ll be a part of it again.
“I’ll be fine soon,” you promise. “I’m going to be fine soon.”
“Shut up, I know.”
(They all huddle around the bed - the room seems cramped with so many bodies - and wait for you to speak. “I want to take part in the second album.”
Protests bubble up in the throats of some, worry in the eyes of others. Heechul grins at you.
“No,” you say, “This is right.”)