Countdown -- 10.2
Measure it out in inches; Jinki/Minho; PG-13
note: Finishing chapter 10 up~ Had a hard time with the conclusion since what I'd originally written doesn't translate into English. Don't do wordplay if the story is gonna be in more than one language...
prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10.1 | 10.2
Chapter ten -- part ii
He exhaled deliberately into my mouth. The overpowering taste of his cigarette scorched the back of my throat. With my airway closing up again, I shoved his shoulder in protest when he wouldn't let me pull away. It was by no means a playful nudge but he didn't even budge an inch. Instead, he sank his teeth into the flesh on the inside of my bottom lip. I swore I could feel his mouth pulling into a satisfied smile when I gasped in pain.
Having run out of patience, my fingernails found purchase against his skin and the heel of my hand leverage against his jaw. Struggling against his tyrannical strength, I shoved his face away from mine.
With room to finally breathe, I coughed shakily into my left shoulder.
I could taste it, the metallic tang of blood.
When I got my breath back, I lifted a hand to my mouth and gingerly dabbed around the injury, wincing at the sting.
"Fuck you, asshole." I muttered.
Running his fingertips over the angry red scratches on his chin, he laughed loudly like a mischievous child who had just pulled off a wildly successful prank, and it was the greatest one of his life at that. But in the next second, he rectified his juvenile antics with a small act of kindness. It wasn't much but that he volunteered to do it meant everything.
The man stuck his cigarette into the center of the ashtray that rested upon the bedside table before taking mine and snuffing it out beside his own.
The pair towered over the throng of older abused-looking yellow butts lying haphazardly in a sea of speckled gray ash. I stared without knowing why, mildly amused that both of them managed to stay upright, albeit they were slanted at mismatching angles. Then, unexpectedly-or perhaps predictably was the better word choice-something gave way, a little at a time, and one of them eventually toppled over.
Gravity 1 : human intention 1.
Tied game.
"I think you're interesting."
My line of sight flickered to his face at the sudden remark. He was in the process of shifting himself backwards so that he could sit up straighter and prop his head against the wall instead of the hard edge of the headboard. Still stroking the scratch marks, his eyes disappeared behind his eyelids after he decided that he was settled comfortably enough. The corners of his mouth remained upturned, matching the tone of his voice.
"Or strange, rather." He corrected himself before I had the chance to ask what he meant by the vaguest adjective of them all.
"...Me?" His expression at the moment wasn't giving me enough information on how I should answer him.
"You don't think so?" He peered at me briefly with one eye before turning to the ashtray. Picking up the fallen cigarette, he tried repeatedly to make it stand up straight. But each time, the moment he removed his fingers, it would keel over. Once, twice, three times, four times... He eventually gave up.
Gravity 7 : human intention 1.
Game ended by human forfeit.
"Just because I don't know how to..." I scowled involuntarily when he pushed the other cigarette down onto its side. "I doubt you were much better the first time you tried. Smoking is an acquired......skill...I guess......"
He rubbed his fingertips together and ignored my lame defense.
"Looking at you, it's easy to tell. You're totally the exemplary goody two-shoes, the eomchin'a, out to annoy all the less than perfect kids in the neighborhood. And despite being an adult now, I bet you still follow some kind of curfew. You probably have a list of scruples as long as the Nile and obsessive-compulsively clean up any mess you see. You more likely than not button the top button whenever you wear a dress shirt. And I have no qualms betting all my assets that you still have all your workbooks and tests starting from first grade."
I turned a few shades redder.
"I don't have OCD or..." The rest might be exaggerated to a certain extent but they were hard to deny.
"And yet you would so easily agree to spending the night with a stranger whose name you don't even know and didn't even bother asking? If that isn't strange, I don't know what is."
My chagrin faded.
"You know, I'd meant to tease you, but I didn't expect this." He gestured vaguely at the air in the room, at random pieces of furniture, just not at me.
I didn't understand what he was trying to say.
And he could tell from the confused expression that my reflection in the mirror wore.
He turned his dark eyes on me. They were glittering.
"So, why don't we make proper self-introductions now?"
The color in my face changed at the suggestion. Why was he doing something so out of character for the type of person he must be? I half frowned, half smiled. "What?"
He shrugged, rubbing absently at the space between his eyebrows. "Better late than never. I-"
I leaned over with a hand braced against his thigh for balance and pushed my lips into his. It was the first time I'd initiated a kiss and it was nowhere nearly as domineering as his. But regardless of what it was like, it served its purpose and shut him up. The thing that I forgot to take into account though was the price of this action: a wave of soreness and pain. Frowning in discomfort, I collapsed back into my original sitting position like a boneless sack of water.
Although a little intrigued by the unexpected kiss, he didn't stay quiet for long. "I-"
I lifted a single finger to my mouth and motioned for his silence through the mirror. He caught the gesture and obeyed without hesitation. The immediacy of his reaction left me slightly amazed.
"Let's not talk about it." I said, a trace of weariness creeping into my voice.
He considered me for a moment before something bright flashed through his eyes. Exactly like a little boy who'd just thought of the best game to play. "That's fine. We don't have to reveal our real names. But there is no harm in exchanging aliases, is there? So how about we do that instead?"
Really?
Seriously?
Where was the man who was ready to pay me off as if I were a prostitute?
He extended his hand towards me, a lopsided grin worn at the most attractive angle. "Hello, call me Cigarette."
I couldn't help but snicker.
He raised an eyebrow.
This man really was eccentric, wasn't he? Or maybe this was who he truly was, behind the charm, the self-importance. But what did it matter? Shaking my head, I reached out and firmly gripped his hand.
You know, humans hands fit together amazingly well.
They are warm. Reassuring.
And they speak a wordless language we all were born to understand.
With my best smile, I replied. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lighter."
Cigarettes and lighters.
Smoke and fire.
Things that were every bit intangible as they were visible.
Present, and yet never fully present.
Absent, and yet never quite absent.
But at the end of the road, what would be left?
Ashes. Stubs. Empty shells.
A scent that was quick to fade.
A warmth that was quick to dissipate.
All things eventually underwent the same transition from a state of something to a state of nothing, from a state of completeness to a state of emptiness.
Cigarettes and lighters.
Smoke and fire.
Nothingness.
That was going to be my ending.
And the idea of it seemed almost peaceful.
......
____a/n: childish minho! less hotness, more aww *pats head*. and I know, the ending doesn't make logical sense. I tried being true to what I'd meant originally, but it just came out awkward awkward awkward. lalala~
......
chapter 11.1
note: Finishing chapter 10 up~ Had a hard time with the conclusion since what I'd originally written doesn't translate into English. Don't do wordplay if the story is gonna be in more than one language...
prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10.1 | 10.2
Chapter ten -- part ii
He exhaled deliberately into my mouth. The overpowering taste of his cigarette scorched the back of my throat. With my airway closing up again, I shoved his shoulder in protest when he wouldn't let me pull away. It was by no means a playful nudge but he didn't even budge an inch. Instead, he sank his teeth into the flesh on the inside of my bottom lip. I swore I could feel his mouth pulling into a satisfied smile when I gasped in pain.
Having run out of patience, my fingernails found purchase against his skin and the heel of my hand leverage against his jaw. Struggling against his tyrannical strength, I shoved his face away from mine.
With room to finally breathe, I coughed shakily into my left shoulder.
I could taste it, the metallic tang of blood.
When I got my breath back, I lifted a hand to my mouth and gingerly dabbed around the injury, wincing at the sting.
"Fuck you, asshole." I muttered.
Running his fingertips over the angry red scratches on his chin, he laughed loudly like a mischievous child who had just pulled off a wildly successful prank, and it was the greatest one of his life at that. But in the next second, he rectified his juvenile antics with a small act of kindness. It wasn't much but that he volunteered to do it meant everything.
The man stuck his cigarette into the center of the ashtray that rested upon the bedside table before taking mine and snuffing it out beside his own.
The pair towered over the throng of older abused-looking yellow butts lying haphazardly in a sea of speckled gray ash. I stared without knowing why, mildly amused that both of them managed to stay upright, albeit they were slanted at mismatching angles. Then, unexpectedly-or perhaps predictably was the better word choice-something gave way, a little at a time, and one of them eventually toppled over.
Gravity 1 : human intention 1.
Tied game.
"I think you're interesting."
My line of sight flickered to his face at the sudden remark. He was in the process of shifting himself backwards so that he could sit up straighter and prop his head against the wall instead of the hard edge of the headboard. Still stroking the scratch marks, his eyes disappeared behind his eyelids after he decided that he was settled comfortably enough. The corners of his mouth remained upturned, matching the tone of his voice.
"Or strange, rather." He corrected himself before I had the chance to ask what he meant by the vaguest adjective of them all.
"...Me?" His expression at the moment wasn't giving me enough information on how I should answer him.
"You don't think so?" He peered at me briefly with one eye before turning to the ashtray. Picking up the fallen cigarette, he tried repeatedly to make it stand up straight. But each time, the moment he removed his fingers, it would keel over. Once, twice, three times, four times... He eventually gave up.
Gravity 7 : human intention 1.
Game ended by human forfeit.
"Just because I don't know how to..." I scowled involuntarily when he pushed the other cigarette down onto its side. "I doubt you were much better the first time you tried. Smoking is an acquired......skill...I guess......"
He rubbed his fingertips together and ignored my lame defense.
"Looking at you, it's easy to tell. You're totally the exemplary goody two-shoes, the eomchin'a, out to annoy all the less than perfect kids in the neighborhood. And despite being an adult now, I bet you still follow some kind of curfew. You probably have a list of scruples as long as the Nile and obsessive-compulsively clean up any mess you see. You more likely than not button the top button whenever you wear a dress shirt. And I have no qualms betting all my assets that you still have all your workbooks and tests starting from first grade."
I turned a few shades redder.
"I don't have OCD or..." The rest might be exaggerated to a certain extent but they were hard to deny.
"And yet you would so easily agree to spending the night with a stranger whose name you don't even know and didn't even bother asking? If that isn't strange, I don't know what is."
My chagrin faded.
"You know, I'd meant to tease you, but I didn't expect this." He gestured vaguely at the air in the room, at random pieces of furniture, just not at me.
I didn't understand what he was trying to say.
And he could tell from the confused expression that my reflection in the mirror wore.
He turned his dark eyes on me. They were glittering.
"So, why don't we make proper self-introductions now?"
The color in my face changed at the suggestion. Why was he doing something so out of character for the type of person he must be? I half frowned, half smiled. "What?"
He shrugged, rubbing absently at the space between his eyebrows. "Better late than never. I-"
I leaned over with a hand braced against his thigh for balance and pushed my lips into his. It was the first time I'd initiated a kiss and it was nowhere nearly as domineering as his. But regardless of what it was like, it served its purpose and shut him up. The thing that I forgot to take into account though was the price of this action: a wave of soreness and pain. Frowning in discomfort, I collapsed back into my original sitting position like a boneless sack of water.
Although a little intrigued by the unexpected kiss, he didn't stay quiet for long. "I-"
I lifted a single finger to my mouth and motioned for his silence through the mirror. He caught the gesture and obeyed without hesitation. The immediacy of his reaction left me slightly amazed.
"Let's not talk about it." I said, a trace of weariness creeping into my voice.
He considered me for a moment before something bright flashed through his eyes. Exactly like a little boy who'd just thought of the best game to play. "That's fine. We don't have to reveal our real names. But there is no harm in exchanging aliases, is there? So how about we do that instead?"
Really?
Seriously?
Where was the man who was ready to pay me off as if I were a prostitute?
He extended his hand towards me, a lopsided grin worn at the most attractive angle. "Hello, call me Cigarette."
I couldn't help but snicker.
He raised an eyebrow.
This man really was eccentric, wasn't he? Or maybe this was who he truly was, behind the charm, the self-importance. But what did it matter? Shaking my head, I reached out and firmly gripped his hand.
You know, humans hands fit together amazingly well.
They are warm. Reassuring.
And they speak a wordless language we all were born to understand.
With my best smile, I replied. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lighter."
Cigarettes and lighters.
Smoke and fire.
Things that were every bit intangible as they were visible.
Present, and yet never fully present.
Absent, and yet never quite absent.
But at the end of the road, what would be left?
Ashes. Stubs. Empty shells.
A scent that was quick to fade.
A warmth that was quick to dissipate.
All things eventually underwent the same transition from a state of something to a state of nothing, from a state of completeness to a state of emptiness.
Cigarettes and lighters.
Smoke and fire.
Nothingness.
That was going to be my ending.
And the idea of it seemed almost peaceful.
......
____a/n: childish minho! less hotness, more aww *pats head*. and I know, the ending doesn't make logical sense. I tried being true to what I'd meant originally, but it just came out awkward awkward awkward. lalala~
......
chapter 11.1