[fic] shinee; our fingers shape
our fingers shape; key/taemin
825 words. rated pg.
♦ in which romance really isn’t kibum’s strong point, but he tries with favorable results
♦ written for lovescone's prompt at rarelyshining; taemin/key (1 2 3 4 5)
It starts when Jonghyun casually suggests to Kibum that he should write Taemin a love letter. Kibum blinks at him, thinking, fuck, he has to be kidding.
“You’re joking, right?”
Jonghyun shrugs, kicks his feet up. “Well, girls usually go for that shit.”
“Taemin’s not a girl, though,” Jinki cuts in, fitting his chin into the indent of his palm, carefully thinking over Kibum’s current situation. He scrunches his face in thought, trying to supply his own helpful information. “He likes music.”
“You could write him a song, you know,” Jonghyun says then, bright eyed and grinning, very much interested in the subject of Kibum’s not-so-much personal, love life as his magazine lays forgotten at the foot of Jinki’s bed. “Tell him how you feel.”
Kibum puffs his cheeks, glaring up at the light fixture until the brightness stings his eyes. He casually leans back against the wall, drawling, “because that has worked so well for you,” and crumples a piece of notebook paper into a ball between his fingertips.
“It’s the thought that counts, asshole.”
Jonghyun sucks in his left cheek, eyes narrowing, and Kibum can tell by the flush in his cheeks that Jonghyun is annoyed with him. He’s Kim Kibum, the Almighty Key, and there was no way in hell he was going to croon about his less than brotherly feelings for Taemin. He was the chasee, not the chaser; this love-thing was an entirely new concept for him, and not an all-too-pleasant experience at that.
Kibum doesn’t do romance, and he definitely draws the line when Jonghyun starts substituting Taemin’s name in Juliette and JoJo.
Kibum settles on compiling a list of songs that remind him of Taemin.
Jonghyun rolls his eyes at him, and Jinki presses the tips of his fingers into the crease of Kibum’s elbow in silent encouragement. And, at times, Taemin catches his eye from across the room, like he knows Kibum’s secret, inside and out to the very core of his being. It’s more than a little unnerving.
Romance isn’t Kibum’s forte and he’s never really known the art of subtlety, so he includes Ivy’s Touch Me at the very beginning of the track list and takes pleasure in seeing how wide Minho’s eyes are when he’s startled.
Taemin laughs when he sees it, though, and he punches his shoulder softly. But there’s this glow about him, burning bright and red from his neck to his ears, that Kibum swears is a blush.
A few days later and sometimes he can hear one of his songs playing in the fizzle of static that comes from Taemin’s headphones. Kibum bites his lip then, going back to his comic books, and tries to convince himself that his heart isn’t beating any faster than normal.
And sometimes, he’ll catch Taemin staring at him from the shadow of his bangs.
“Hey.”
Kibum startles at Taemin’s voice coming from behind him, hoping that he didn’t see him stupidly staring at his reflection by use of Jonghyun’s stolen cell phone.
He straightens out his spine, smiles the best he can because those damn knots in his stomach keep twisting tighter. “Hey.”
“I think you accidentally gave me this when you lent me your CD,” Taemin says slowly, hand extended with a tiny slip of paper dangling between his fingers.
Kibum takes it from him, confused, and he’s sure he hasn’t written anything in the past month or so, at least something that wasn’t written in his journal. Especially anything that says I love you. He looks back up at Taemin, eyes squinted as he tries to figure out what this letter means, aside from the obvious of course.
“I didn’t…?”
“I know,” Taemin interrupts with a silly smile that Kibum doesn’t want to think is endearing, but it is. He glances down at his nails, then curls his fingers. “I wrote it. For you.”
Kibum opens his mouth. He proceeds to shut it because, for once, he’s speechless.
“Hyung,” Taemin begins again; Kibum can see the self-consciousness in Taemin’s posture, and he’s glad he isn’t the only one scared shitless. “I think it’s your turn to speak now.”
But Kibum doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for tangling his fingers in Taemin’s hair and tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the right. He thinks Taemin probably already knows what he’s trying to say, and words just get in the way when, according to Kibum, a kiss can show him how he really feels.
He feels, rather than sees, Taemin smile against his lips, knuckles gently pressed into Kibum’s side, and there’s this little sound he makes that is really quite adorable. And actions have always spoken louder than words.
Kibum knows Taemin understands.
825 words. rated pg.
♦ in which romance really isn’t kibum’s strong point, but he tries with favorable results
♦ written for lovescone's prompt at rarelyshining; taemin/key (1 2 3 4 5)
It starts when Jonghyun casually suggests to Kibum that he should write Taemin a love letter. Kibum blinks at him, thinking, fuck, he has to be kidding.
“You’re joking, right?”
Jonghyun shrugs, kicks his feet up. “Well, girls usually go for that shit.”
“Taemin’s not a girl, though,” Jinki cuts in, fitting his chin into the indent of his palm, carefully thinking over Kibum’s current situation. He scrunches his face in thought, trying to supply his own helpful information. “He likes music.”
“You could write him a song, you know,” Jonghyun says then, bright eyed and grinning, very much interested in the subject of Kibum’s not-so-much personal, love life as his magazine lays forgotten at the foot of Jinki’s bed. “Tell him how you feel.”
Kibum puffs his cheeks, glaring up at the light fixture until the brightness stings his eyes. He casually leans back against the wall, drawling, “because that has worked so well for you,” and crumples a piece of notebook paper into a ball between his fingertips.
“It’s the thought that counts, asshole.”
Jonghyun sucks in his left cheek, eyes narrowing, and Kibum can tell by the flush in his cheeks that Jonghyun is annoyed with him. He’s Kim Kibum, the Almighty Key, and there was no way in hell he was going to croon about his less than brotherly feelings for Taemin. He was the chasee, not the chaser; this love-thing was an entirely new concept for him, and not an all-too-pleasant experience at that.
Kibum doesn’t do romance, and he definitely draws the line when Jonghyun starts substituting Taemin’s name in Juliette and JoJo.
Kibum settles on compiling a list of songs that remind him of Taemin.
Jonghyun rolls his eyes at him, and Jinki presses the tips of his fingers into the crease of Kibum’s elbow in silent encouragement. And, at times, Taemin catches his eye from across the room, like he knows Kibum’s secret, inside and out to the very core of his being. It’s more than a little unnerving.
Romance isn’t Kibum’s forte and he’s never really known the art of subtlety, so he includes Ivy’s Touch Me at the very beginning of the track list and takes pleasure in seeing how wide Minho’s eyes are when he’s startled.
Taemin laughs when he sees it, though, and he punches his shoulder softly. But there’s this glow about him, burning bright and red from his neck to his ears, that Kibum swears is a blush.
A few days later and sometimes he can hear one of his songs playing in the fizzle of static that comes from Taemin’s headphones. Kibum bites his lip then, going back to his comic books, and tries to convince himself that his heart isn’t beating any faster than normal.
And sometimes, he’ll catch Taemin staring at him from the shadow of his bangs.
“Hey.”
Kibum startles at Taemin’s voice coming from behind him, hoping that he didn’t see him stupidly staring at his reflection by use of Jonghyun’s stolen cell phone.
He straightens out his spine, smiles the best he can because those damn knots in his stomach keep twisting tighter. “Hey.”
“I think you accidentally gave me this when you lent me your CD,” Taemin says slowly, hand extended with a tiny slip of paper dangling between his fingers.
Kibum takes it from him, confused, and he’s sure he hasn’t written anything in the past month or so, at least something that wasn’t written in his journal. Especially anything that says I love you. He looks back up at Taemin, eyes squinted as he tries to figure out what this letter means, aside from the obvious of course.
“I didn’t…?”
“I know,” Taemin interrupts with a silly smile that Kibum doesn’t want to think is endearing, but it is. He glances down at his nails, then curls his fingers. “I wrote it. For you.”
Kibum opens his mouth. He proceeds to shut it because, for once, he’s speechless.
“Hyung,” Taemin begins again; Kibum can see the self-consciousness in Taemin’s posture, and he’s glad he isn’t the only one scared shitless. “I think it’s your turn to speak now.”
But Kibum doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for tangling his fingers in Taemin’s hair and tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the right. He thinks Taemin probably already knows what he’s trying to say, and words just get in the way when, according to Kibum, a kiss can show him how he really feels.
He feels, rather than sees, Taemin smile against his lips, knuckles gently pressed into Kibum’s side, and there’s this little sound he makes that is really quite adorable. And actions have always spoken louder than words.
Kibum knows Taemin understands.