[fic] shinee; let the day in
let the day in, taemin
803 words. rated g.
♦ how taemin breaks a day into hours, into minutes, into seconds
♦ written for taemin's bday. ♥ all unrelated pieces. hints of jonghyun/taemin & minho/taemin. based off this & this
I could fall in love with you, Taemin writes. with them.
It’s the only thing he writes in the tiny left-hand corner of his paper, boxed in by crisscrossing red-blue lines. He writes it for no one in particular, thinks only of the people he spends his life with, and tears the section from the sheet and slides open the window.
Summer peels back the layers of Seoul, leaves the city hanging with restlessness and life. July brings the sun closer to the land, and Taemin lets the sunlight catch his smile.
When the wind picks up, he lets go of his secret letter, and hopes to make someone else smile- if only for a moment.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Jonghyun chirps from overhead, dipping his face close and letting his warmth seep through the thin fabric of his shirt. He runs his fingers through Taemin’s tousled hair, tugs out tangles that encircle his rings, and informs him of things he doesn’t care about, “You are wasting the day by sleeping.”
Taemin groans, pulls at his sheets, and successfully knocks Jonghyun off his waist. “Growing boys need their rest.”
He feels Jonghyun frown against his bare shoulder, lips damp from wetting them out of habit. The sticky morning clings tight against his sheet-tangled legs and sleep-rumpled hair; Jonghyun sticks to him even tighter.
Jonghyun’s frown lifts, casually slipping into something more appropriate for Taemin’s birthday, and Taemin flicks his eyes to an openmouthed smile. He pulls away laughing and the right side of Taemin’s body breathes a little better without the added weight.
“I,” Jonghyun fiddles with the brass knob of the door, and Taemin peers at him from beneath thick lashes, “I. I just want to say,” he grins after the pause, “happy birthday, Taemin.”
Minho is behind the wheel of a company vehicle, Jinki throwing panicked arms around when Taemin asks if they stole it.
“Borrowed,” Kibum corrects, kicks the back of Jinki’s seat with his old sneakers with the worn in heels. He crosses his arms and wriggles against the slippery leather, brushing his knuckles along the seam of Taemin’s pants, smiling. “For a good cause, of course.”
Minho makes a turn. The adult store passes by out the corner of Taemin’s eyes, and Jonghyun catches his brown stare, winks at him with an obnoxiously stupid grin on his face.
“You’re not going to buy me porn?” he asks. Minho fumbles for the breaks and stops meters from the light, Jinki’s breathing hitching in either fear for his life or for Taemin’s innocence. He eyes the corner where a young woman smokes against the brick facing of some rundown café. “A prostitute then.”
Kibum raises a brow. “Get your mind out of the gutter and your head out of your ass.” And Taemin sends a cheeky smile his way, wrapping his fingers around his knees.
“Besides,” Jonghyun says, placing his hand on top of Taemin’s, pinching lightly at the skin of his forefinger, “being in our company for a day should be much better than sex.”
He can see Minho roll his eyes through the mirror, and Kibum snorts into shoulder with humor apparent on his face. Jinki turns to grin at him with squinted eyes and rounded cheeks, and Jonghyun’s hand on his helps spread the warm feeling the sunlight brings into the tinted windows. Taemin laughs and enjoys the ride.
There’s not much money to be had when you’re a trainee, and Taemin spends his first birthday with them in a small practice room.
Minho sacrifices what loose change he has to buy bags of chocolate kisses, and Jinki says nothing about the candy and their strict diet. Kibum draws him pictures, strange in their own right, and Jonghyun sings him some R&B influenced birthday song in low notes and high tones. He’s not used to spending birthdays alone, with strangers nonetheless, but these people are just like him. They feel like home.
Minho, the boy who held his hand first and kissed his cheek at midnight, catches his eye. Taemin smiles, and, unknowingly, gives them his heart.
They’re pieces of him.
Jonghyun sang, Taemin taps his pencil along the spine of his journal. He bites his fingernail. He always sings. But today he sang to me, and not to anyone else.
He tears the paper out, folds it. Starts another page.
Kibum told me that I’m weird. Weird, but pretty. I told him I thought that he was pretty. But weird. Taemin skips a few lines, writes another. Jinki gave me a hand-made birthday card. He said that he was here for me, no matter what. Lifetime guarantee. He repeats the process one final time. Minho kissed me. It was nice. I kissed him back.
803 words. rated g.
♦ how taemin breaks a day into hours, into minutes, into seconds
♦ written for taemin's bday. ♥ all unrelated pieces. hints of jonghyun/taemin & minho/taemin. based off this & this
I could fall in love with you, Taemin writes. with them.
It’s the only thing he writes in the tiny left-hand corner of his paper, boxed in by crisscrossing red-blue lines. He writes it for no one in particular, thinks only of the people he spends his life with, and tears the section from the sheet and slides open the window.
Summer peels back the layers of Seoul, leaves the city hanging with restlessness and life. July brings the sun closer to the land, and Taemin lets the sunlight catch his smile.
When the wind picks up, he lets go of his secret letter, and hopes to make someone else smile- if only for a moment.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Jonghyun chirps from overhead, dipping his face close and letting his warmth seep through the thin fabric of his shirt. He runs his fingers through Taemin’s tousled hair, tugs out tangles that encircle his rings, and informs him of things he doesn’t care about, “You are wasting the day by sleeping.”
Taemin groans, pulls at his sheets, and successfully knocks Jonghyun off his waist. “Growing boys need their rest.”
He feels Jonghyun frown against his bare shoulder, lips damp from wetting them out of habit. The sticky morning clings tight against his sheet-tangled legs and sleep-rumpled hair; Jonghyun sticks to him even tighter.
Jonghyun’s frown lifts, casually slipping into something more appropriate for Taemin’s birthday, and Taemin flicks his eyes to an openmouthed smile. He pulls away laughing and the right side of Taemin’s body breathes a little better without the added weight.
“I,” Jonghyun fiddles with the brass knob of the door, and Taemin peers at him from beneath thick lashes, “I. I just want to say,” he grins after the pause, “happy birthday, Taemin.”
Minho is behind the wheel of a company vehicle, Jinki throwing panicked arms around when Taemin asks if they stole it.
“Borrowed,” Kibum corrects, kicks the back of Jinki’s seat with his old sneakers with the worn in heels. He crosses his arms and wriggles against the slippery leather, brushing his knuckles along the seam of Taemin’s pants, smiling. “For a good cause, of course.”
Minho makes a turn. The adult store passes by out the corner of Taemin’s eyes, and Jonghyun catches his brown stare, winks at him with an obnoxiously stupid grin on his face.
“You’re not going to buy me porn?” he asks. Minho fumbles for the breaks and stops meters from the light, Jinki’s breathing hitching in either fear for his life or for Taemin’s innocence. He eyes the corner where a young woman smokes against the brick facing of some rundown café. “A prostitute then.”
Kibum raises a brow. “Get your mind out of the gutter and your head out of your ass.” And Taemin sends a cheeky smile his way, wrapping his fingers around his knees.
“Besides,” Jonghyun says, placing his hand on top of Taemin’s, pinching lightly at the skin of his forefinger, “being in our company for a day should be much better than sex.”
He can see Minho roll his eyes through the mirror, and Kibum snorts into shoulder with humor apparent on his face. Jinki turns to grin at him with squinted eyes and rounded cheeks, and Jonghyun’s hand on his helps spread the warm feeling the sunlight brings into the tinted windows. Taemin laughs and enjoys the ride.
There’s not much money to be had when you’re a trainee, and Taemin spends his first birthday with them in a small practice room.
Minho sacrifices what loose change he has to buy bags of chocolate kisses, and Jinki says nothing about the candy and their strict diet. Kibum draws him pictures, strange in their own right, and Jonghyun sings him some R&B influenced birthday song in low notes and high tones. He’s not used to spending birthdays alone, with strangers nonetheless, but these people are just like him. They feel like home.
Minho, the boy who held his hand first and kissed his cheek at midnight, catches his eye. Taemin smiles, and, unknowingly, gives them his heart.
They’re pieces of him.
Jonghyun sang, Taemin taps his pencil along the spine of his journal. He bites his fingernail. He always sings. But today he sang to me, and not to anyone else.
He tears the paper out, folds it. Starts another page.
Kibum told me that I’m weird. Weird, but pretty. I told him I thought that he was pretty. But weird. Taemin skips a few lines, writes another. Jinki gave me a hand-made birthday card. He said that he was here for me, no matter what. Lifetime guarantee. He repeats the process one final time. Minho kissed me. It was nice. I kissed him back.