Flashback to when I co-modded
blockbtime with two other lovely people! :)
If Not Famous, Notorious, b-bomb/taeil. for
youniqornpublishing house au. despite the 2716359 working hours and perpetually low caffeine levels, the pub house has its perks; or, a day in the life of editor-in-chief lee taeil. pg-13. 1370w.
"What's this?"
"My two weeks notice."
Taeil blinks. Jaehyo's frown is still there when he glances up at him. Taeil sighs, scrubs a hand down his face, and reminds himself that it is only just Monday.
"This is the sixth time this month that you've sent in your two weeks notice," says Taeil. "What happened this time?"
Jaehyo glances behind him, seemingly paranoid, and when he's satisfied that no one is listening in he says, "I heard Minhyuk killed Hanhae." He begins to fidget in his place in front of Taeil's desk, picking at his sideburns and smoothing down his hair. Taeil often thinks about telling Jaehyo about stress-induced baldness, but then Jaehyo'd extra-quit on the grounds that he's being bullied at work. "I think I might be next on his hit-list."
Taeil pinches the bridge of his nose. Jaehyo, the intern-turned-editor, had at one point in time been Taeil's favorite coffee boy - if he ignored the multiple coffee spills and completely botched orders here and there. When Hanhae transferred offices, Taeil had needed to make a decision. Jaehyo's résumé listed all his previous work experience, his lack of a business degree (after dropping the major, and then university altogether), and the fact that he was a rather "skilled" typist. Not exactly qualified for the job, but at least he had been eager - if not a little desperate.
Honestly, Taeil didn't have any other choices on hand and Jaehyo bought him lunch that day. It was no contest, really.
"Who told you that?"
Jaehyo opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. His shoulders slump, and he says, "Jiho... and Kyung. But I'm beginning to believe it too! He keeps staring at me -"
"That's not exactly an offense, Jaehyo. Minhyuk stares at everyone like that," Taeil says, cradling his chin in his open palm. So far the week hasn't started as he would've hoped: quiet morning, no interruptions, him and his coffee and newspaper; instead it's been issue after issue (Kyung's server crashed, Minho called in sick, Minhyuk cut Hanhae up at night, etc). "Stop listening to those two; they're dumbasses."
Jaehyo pouts, hands on his hips. "When I go missing one of these days, I'm going to tell you that I told you so."
Taeil rustles his newspaper, and where is Jihoon with his coffee? "No you won't," says Taeil; he flips the page of his paper. "You'll be dead. Now get outta here before I kill you myself."
"Jiho and Kyung are spreading rumors about me again," Minhyuk grumps after lunch break.
"Yeah, I heard. You killed Hanhae." Taeil sips from his mug. Jihoon brought his coffee just before noon, and just in time too. Caffeine levels had been dangerously low. "I wonder if Hanhae knows he's dead."
Minhyuk folds his arms across his chest and leans back in one of the office chairs. "If I had to choose anyone to end, it'd be Jiho. Why is he even here? He works with the Creative department."
Taeil shrugs, eyeing the lapels of Minhyuk's jacket. He looks nice today: pale gray suit and blue tie. "You learn to ignore him."
"Easy for you to say," Minhyuk says, leaning onto Taeil's desk. "He doesn't get in your way when you're trying to walk down the halls. Next time I'm just going to hit him."
Taeil waves Minhyuk off. "Don't make me an accessory to any murders. I'm too important and very busy."
Minhyuk rolls his eyes, but he does push off the desk. He straightens out his suit, sliding his hands over the creases at his waist. "Hey, are we still on for dinner tonight?" he asks, the corners of his lips turned upward in this tiny, awkward smile. All of Minhyuk's smiles kind of look like this when directed at him. "It's my turn to pick the movie, by the way."
Taeil nods, and despite the rules that clearly point out no fraternization and no PDA (the last of which was submitted by one Kim Yukwon) he leans forward and kisses Minhyuk. "Don't pick out anything geared toward twelve year old girls this time. It's hard trying to picture you naked when animals are singing onscreen."
Minhyuk bites his bottom lip for that.
It is no secret around the department that - other than coffee-boy-slash-intern Pyo Jihoon - Yukwon is Taeil's favorite employee. Mostly because he's sane, but also because he doesn't barge into his office every hour.
Yukwon sleeps under his desk for no apparent reason and sometimes he's reading the latest issue of his favorite manga instead of the manuscripts he should be editing, but Taeil likes him. He's not necessarily the best employee, but Taeil awards him with Employee of the Month every month anyway. Much to Park Kyung's dismay and Jaehyo's tantrums.
"What's going on?" Taeil asks during a short intermission. He catches the very end of what Jaehyo's saying to Kyung: because it was a weapon of math destruction, and watches Kyung's mouth curl up. Taeil's not sure if Kyung's smiling out of polite-interest or if he really finds Jaehyo funny; since no one thinks Jaehyo's funny, Taeil assumes it's the former.
Yukwon removes the brim of his Styrofoam cup from his teeth. "I think they're flirting," he says, solemn.
Taeil laughs. "That bad, huh?"
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry." Yukwon sloshes the remains of his coffee around in his cup. He glances over at Taeil and smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I feel a wave of second-hand embarrassment for both of them."
"After being friends with Jaehyo for so long, I think I'm immune to his embarrassing ways."
Sadly, this is true, but Jaehyo around Kyung is a special brand of painfully awkward. Taeil's made numerous observations over the passing months; it's hard not to notice them as they create chaos wherever they go in some form or fashion. When together, the two regress into an eight and ten year old respectively, teasing and taunting and shoving. Taeil believes there may be a cash pool and bets on when one of the two will finally make the first move.
(Totally off the record, but Taeil doesn't think it'll take much longer. He also believes Kyung will be the first to confess in some roundabout, passive way; Jaehyo won't take a hint. The no PDA rule will be broken, but Yukwon won't have to witness it, napping beneath his desk.)
Near the end of the day, Taeil receives a department-wide email marked URGENT!!! sent by Woo Jiho. It says:
PARK KYUNG WANTS AHN JAEHYO'S NUTSACK!
Taeil promptly trashes the email and continues on with his work like it never happened.
At a quarter till five there's a soft knock on his office doorway. The department has calmed considerably since the morning, especially after the extra long, extra special Monday coffee break at 2pm, and Taeil's managed to make a dent in the papers stacked up on his desk.
"Hey," Minhyuk greets, strolling in, tie loosened around his neck and shirttail untucked. He comes around the back of Taeil's desk and chair, hands falling to his tired shoulders, and begins to knead the muscles and skin. "Almost done?"
"Not at all," Taeil answers, eyeing the pile of crinkled sheets towering over him. "Probably gonna take another hour or so." He leans his head back to stare up at Minhyuk's face; all he can see from this angle is his nose. "What movie did you decide on?"
Minhyuk tips his head down and aligns their mouths. "Ghost," is what he says when they part, but before Taeil can even comment on the fact that Minhyuk cries so easily during sad romances he's already kissing him again, fingers in his hair and on his chin and ears.
"I'll be in my office when you're done," Minhyuk says, drawing away. He gives Taeil's shoulders one last firm squeeze. He rounds the desk and heads back to the exit, and Taeil admits he rather likes the view of Minhyuk's ass in those pants. "Bye Boss," Minhyuk says, giving him a two-finger salute.
Taeil eyes the papers on his desk. He glances back to where Minhyuk just left. He shrugs.
"They can wait till tomorrow."
young heart, wild child, b-bomb/kyung. for
nerveless ♥
high school au. minhyuk could never really say no to park kyung, and maybe this is why he's kyung's favorite. pg. 947w.
In the more recent years of their friendship - and sometimes Minhyuk doesn't know how it's managed to become years of friendship - Kyung's taken to showing up at random times of the day and throwing rocks at his window.
“What are you doing, Kyung?” Minhyuk asks. He inspects the chipped paint on his windowpane. “Aside from destroying public property?”
Kyung grins; Minhyuk can see it plain as day, bright and wide and slightly abashed, even from this bird's eye view.
“Coming to kidnap you!” Kyung announces, and quite happily too. He spreads his arms out wide, fingers waggling, and says: “Just like any great romance!”
Minhyuk winces and draws back to listen in on his parents in the room next door. When he hears nothing, he leans back out the window to say: “You probably shouldn't say that.” He intends to scold, but he's laughing at how proud Kyung is, standing in the faint glow of the streetlights with his arms outstretched.
“C'mon, Minhyukie,” he hears Kyung say, voice lower. He's practically whining, and Minhyuk could never really say no to Park Kyung - not when they were middle school children and not now. “It'll be fun.”
“It's for luck,” Kyung says, popping a piece of yeot into his mouth. He offers a piece to Minhyuk, but he politely refuses. He never liked yeot anyway. “More good luck for me, then,” Kyung says, grinning so wide that Minhyuk feels a phantom pain in his own cheeks.
Minhyuk bumps into Kyung's side, walking awfully close but comfortable, and Kyung retaliates by looping his arm through Minhyuk's. The neon glow of a club's sign ahead casts half of Kyung's body in a reddish glow, bright and brilliant, and it still amuses Minhyuk that - for all his haughtiness and confidence - Kyung continues to blush and turn his face away from the scantily-clad models in the lingerie store on the strip.
But before Minhyuk can begin to make a jab at Kyung's flustering, Kyung points to a tiny ramyun stand opposite where they stand. “Buy me dinner,” Kyung suggests, tugging on Minhyuk's fingers.
Between a mouthful of ramyun and a long-winded, pointless anecdote involving Jiho and Yukwon during band practice earlier, Minhyuk comes to a sudden realization.
“Is this a date? This kind of feels like a date.”
Kyung shoves noodles in his own mouth. His cheeks and nose quickly take on a pinkish hue, but it could be because of the heat of the noodles and spices he consumed. “What are you talking about?” he asks once he swallows.
“You and me. On a date?” Minhyuk supplies, turning on his stool to face Kyung. All he gets is a profile-view of Kyung's tensed jaw and cheeks puffed with noodles and soupy contents. Minhyuk touches Kyung's thigh, rubs his palm in a slow circle just above his knee, and draws out his name: “Kyung-ie.”
Kyung tenses. He swats Minhyuk's hand, lazy and halfhearted. “Hush child.”
He does stop once Kyung stuffs his mouth with the remaining noodles in his large bowl, but even that doesn't wipe the stupidly silly grin off of Minhyuk's face.
“I can't believe we're on a date and you weren't going to tell me,” Minhyuk says conversationally on the way back to his house. Kyung tightens his thighs' grip on Minhyuk's hips, and Minhyuk thumbs over the downward slope of Kyung's knee in response. “And now you're making me carry you.”
“Did I ever tell you that I like you best, Minhyukie?”
Minhyuk frowns and turns his face to the side to glimpse Kyung. “Don't lie. You told Jihoonie that yesterday. And Taeil the same thing this morning.”
Kyung nuzzles into the side of Minhyuk's neck, nose cold but lips warm, and it almost makes up for Kyung's traitorous habits. “They're my other favorites, but you're my most favorite?”
“Why do you sound so unsure?”
“Because I'm afraid you're going to drop me on my ass any second now and I might need to take my comment back.”
Minhyuk laughs, pinches the undersides of Kyung's thighs, and jostles him so he has a better grip on Kyung. Once settled, Kyung rests heavily against his back, and Minhyuk can feel the solid weight of Kyung press into him. It's quiet for a long moment. Every even breath Kyung exhales kisses his neck, intimate in a way only a kiss can be.
If Minhyuk walks a little slower, no one can fault him for that.
Kyung twists his hands on the bars of his bike; Minhyuk watches his knuckles grow white.
The bike's a tiny thing - possibly meant for someone more Chan's age than Kyung's, but it suits him. It's red, small, one of the pedals has flecks of dirt and grass from where he drops it on the school-grounds, and the back tire is in desperate need of some air. Minhyuk will lend him his air-pump; if he remembers to do so tomorrow, that is. He's always been pretty bad about remembering the important things.
Kyung kisses him.
It's chaste, shy, nothing more than a brush of their skin together for the briefest of moments. Kyung draws back, fidgeting again. Minhyuk feels the silly smile on his face, and he doesn't know how to stop it - he doesn't know if he wants to stop.
“So it was a date then.”
Kyung punches him. He needs to work on his aim, hitting Minhyuk just below his bicep and almost in the crook of his arm. “Shut up, asshole. You totally want me because I'm so awesome. Admit it.”
Minhyuk admits nothing, but he does pull Kyung in by the collar of his t-shirt and kiss him again. Maybe that's answer enough.
Flowers in your hair, kyung-centric. for
kikutandytopia au. the heap hasn’t seen flowers in years. pg-13. 1586w.
The Heap hasn’t seen flowers in years.
There’s no place for flowers - for any life, for that matter - in this wasteland, not since the Great Collapse and the mercenaries came to stay. Fields gave way to buildings gave way to the rubble and corruption; the plate that hangs overhead, successfully shutting the Heap from the Cradle, blocks out all flecks of light, casting the world below in an eternal winter.
-
Kyung had been newly sixteen when the Cradle was built, when society deemed him unfit to survive and damned him and his family to waste away in the Heap. He had been angry then, kicking and screaming and picking fights with the men who guarded the gates to the Cradle; but the days grew long, and the body grew weary.
Kyung left school because there was no more reason to stay, and he took to the streets like all the other boys and girls.
-
Jiho changed his name to Zico when he joined the resistance faction; if he discarded his past, then it would be hard to trace him back to his family. Kyung kept his name, all that he had of his family anymore; he buried Chan, and he left with Zico to join the cause.
It should be the afternoon, early summer ripe with berries and flowers, but with the plate casting shadows down across the Heap it could be easily mistaken for mid-winter. Time and seasons are nonexistent below the plate, and now everything is gray and dull. Even the colors of old cloths and fabrics have faded until they've bled into one murky shade. Kyung cannot remember what his favorite color even looks like these days, let alone how brilliant and blue the sky would look this time of year or how green the fields would be.
Zico and he travel together amid the soot-colored streets, picking up odd jobs here and there and stealing what little they can when the days are rougher. The buildings are crumpled, piles of rubble that give the Heap its name, and what's left make for tiny shacks that mismatched people who refer to themselves as a family use as makeshift homes. Kyung hasn't known of a home in four years; he forgets what makes a family anymore, if there is even such a thing in this wasteland.
-
Lee Taeil owns a bar on the outskirts of the Heap. It's tiny and shabby, the only place that even has alcohol any longer, and it serves as the base for the resistance faction. Zico drug him here after Chan died that one night, told him that he knew a place where he could stay, and Taeil took him in, no questions asked or needed.
Kyung's not a formal addition to the team; he mops with dirty brown water, and he wipes the mugs with the cleanest towel in the joint to pay for his room and board. But he does listen in on their plans, notes the different people that make up this rag-tag team rebelling the Cradle and the government that subjected them all to this fate. There are six of them total, including Taeil and Zico.
“That won't work,” he says during his shift one night. No one else is in the bar, just them and him and the ticking clock in the corner. They look up at him, pulled out of their heated debate on how to break through the Cradle's defense. He grips his mop handle tighter. “They'll kill you.”
Minhyuk, the most enigmatic of them all, says, “We can still try.”
“They'll kill you,” he repeats, finding his voice quiet and weak. The spittle of fire that once ran through his veins has long burnt out.
The man next to Minhyuk, just to his left around the dingy wooden table, is Ahn Jaehyo. He's an outsider, not of this place, but he's trapped just like any of them. Zico doesn't look at him, eyes focused on the sketch laid across the table, and Taeil listens in on the conversation, gaze focused on Kyung.
Jaehyo asks, brow furrowed: “What do you suggest we do?”
-
Yukwon had the job of bar-keeping before Kyung; he now sits at the table and discusses battle plans. Kyung's not close with him - it's hard to be close to anyone these days - but Kyung considers him a confidant, especially during the nights when Zico is away with Jaehyo and Minhyuk.
They share the mat in the upstairs room with one another, listening to the water drip into the bucket in the southeast corner. Kyung misses Chan and Saehim and mother and father, and the gunfire rattles through his dreams and pierces the deepest recesses of his mind. Yukwon doesn't roll away when he clings to him; he loops his arm around his waist and comforts him to the steady drip-drip-drip of the leaking ceiling.
-
Pyo Jihoon isn't from the Heap - he's not quite like Jaehyo, an outsider from a distant part of the wasteland, because Jihoon hails from the Cradle itself. No one knows why he left the cushy life above with endless days of sunshine and grass growing wild and food abundant for this. He never speaks of it.
It's hard to mistrust someone like Jihoon, though; no matter how much they want to hate him for what world he once belonged to, they can't. There's an innocence in his eyes, a playfulness in his demeanor, that Taeil and Minhyuk want to protect. Kyung understands; he's probably spent the most time with Jihoon, curled up on a beat-up sofa in the only corner of the bar that doesn't leak, laughing at shared stories from life before the Great Collapse.
There's a bit of him that reminds him of Chan - this one special piece, maybe his eyes or his words or his laugh or his hugs - and Kyung takes Jihoon in as his own surrogate brother.
-
They've been talking for months, trading ideas back and forth, but one night they take action. Kyung waits at the bar, wipes the same mug over and over again with his filthy rag, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. The grandfather clock is broken, so he doesn't know how long it's been, and Jihoon rocks about on his stool uncharacteristically quiet.
The time passes slowly, dragging its feet wearily. Then:
“Kyung, get the bandages!” Zico barks as he pushes open the door. The right side of his face is bleeding, and memories rush back of fires and bullets and screaming. Kyung stands frozen. Zico rages: “Kyung, get the fucking bandages now.”
He fumbles with the medicine box beneath the bar and Jihoon's rushing to Jaehyo and Taeil's sides as they tumble in through the door as well. They're dirty, grimy, and their clothes are tattered but with a cursory glance Kyung assess that they're mostly fine if not a bit bruised.
“Where's Kwon? Minhyuk?” Kyung asks, hands shaking as he wipes the dried blood from Zico's temple. He hisses, but otherwise he sits as still as a statue beneath the hard press of his cloth. “Tell me they're alright.”
“We're fine,” someone grumbles - Minhyuk, tumbling through the open doorway with Yukwon hanging onto him. His lip is busted, as is Yukwon's, and Kyung feels relief flood his chest. Yukwon's limping, but nothing appears broken.
Yukwon presses his thumb to the cut on his bottom lip when Kyung makes his way toward them with the bandages. His brows furrow at the sight of the blood, but when Kyung tilts his chin to take in the damage, he offers him a small smile.
“Told you we'd make it back alive.”
-
The way Jaehyo patches up Taeil's arm is clumsy, knot sloppily tied to secure it around his bicep, and Minhyuk laughs lowly before he shows Jaehyo how to do it correctly. Kyung's hands haven't stopped shaking since they've returned, and his pen scratches and jumps about the paper he writes in skittering, frantic jerks. He remembers Jihoon telling him of how he came to the Heap; how there are no guards at the south exit during a certain hour; how the infrastructure is weak there - comments Jihoon made in passing and no one placed much stock in. Kyung times and plans it out till the last detail.
And, later, much later, he addresses the group: “I have an idea,” and his hands no longer shake.
-
They stand together when the metal screeches and breaks; when the infrastructure begins to chime in the new era with a sharp crack and the slipping of the structure. They stand there, all seven of them, triumphant with their elbows touching.
Kyung imagines the fields of flowers when they return again in the spring, bringing life back to the scorched earth. Kyung will lie there, somewhere in the field, flowers bent beneath his back and tickling his cheeks and neck. Jaehyo will tie the flowers into chains, clumsy knots and crushed petals; Minhyuk will take them from him, steady his hands, nimble fingers at work. There will be Jihoon, happier than ever, and Yukwon not having to hold back any of his smiles. Zico will search for his family and tell them of his accomplishments, reintroduce himself as Jiho. Taeil will have the bar, booming and loud and never empty, and no one will forget.
Kyung can see it, this bright and blinding future, as the first bits of sunshine peek from between the broken, splintered metal and highlight the land before them.
-
It's a brand new day.
notes
→ these all date back to april '13. i handpicked these prompts, and i loved writing all of them :) thank you (
youniqorn,
nerveless, &
kikutan) for allowing me to play with your (amazing!!!) prompts.
→ this is (probably!) goodbye. i've enjoyed my time here immensely. i may have some regrets, but given the chance to do it all again i don't think i'd change anything about this adventure.