SSS 2010: for bree_nd
For: bree_nd
From: Your (Emergency) Secret Santa
Title: Deterrents
Pairing: Onew/Key
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2,190
Summary: This was him, on his way to believing.
Kibum remembered crying outside of the restaurant he worked in, squatting between two dumpsters in the backstreets and sobbing as loud as he possibly could. He didn't remember why he was crying, because he cried for no reason all the time, but he did remember an unfamiliar hand reaching out and running fingers through Kibum’s hair. He remembered calming down and gasping through his hiccups as he looked up and saw a man with a kind, crooked smile squatting next to him
And although he would never admit it to anybody, that smile made him cry more, because he'd never seen such a beautiful smile in his life.
“So do you like working in a restaurant?” The man he later learned to be named Jinki asked, after picking him up and dragging him to a nearby cafe, demanding he drink something warm that would sooth his throat. He had lent Kibum his coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck, telling him that he'd get sick standing in the cold in just that waiter outfit of his.
Kibum considered replying with something witty and sarcastic and indirect, but he had no will to go along with it, so he settled with “no”, and kept sipping his coffee for the sake of keeping his lips busy. He noticed the way Jinki kept sweeping his long fringe out of his face and the way he pressed his lips together after everything he said- as if nervous in the waiting of Kibum's response- and the way his grip tightened around his own cup when Kibum's eyes met his own.
Jinki licked his lips, pressing them together before he spoke too. “That's not good. Why do you work there then?”
Kibum felt as if Jinki was just making small talk, and while it was nice and all, Kibum didn't like small talk. He set his cup down and leaned forward in his seat. “Do you do this with every crying stranger you meet?” He bluntly asked, and as he said this, he could hear the hoarseness in his voice and feel how bloodshot his eyes probably were.
He could tell Jinki was a bit surprised by the dismissal of his own question, but he offered Kibum a smile anyway. “No. I don't run across many crying strangers on my walks home, if any.”
“I must be a freak then, right?” Kibum said, laughing dryly.
“Not at all,” Jinki said, shaking his head. “I'm sure you have your reasons.”
Kibum sniffed and continued to use his coffee as an excuse not to talk.
Jinki worked across the street at the super market, the chore of ringing people's groceries up being his daily routine. When Kibum asked why, Jinki answered with, “My parents owns the place.” Kibum didn't find the answer very enlightening, but he didn't bother with the subject.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Kibum asked one day as they once again found themselves in the backstreets, Jinki watching intently as he pulled a lighter from his coat pocket and flicked it on and off, on and off. He stopped, breaking Jinki of his trance.
“Oh,” Jinki started, eyes blinking in the darkness. “No.”
Kibum didn't know why Jinki was back here, didn't ask either. He shoved both his hands in his pockets, watched his breath form in the cold, night air for a second, before walking towards the end of the alley. It didn't surprise him when he heard light footsteps trailing after him, didn't slow down when he heard them quicken.
Jinki cleared his throat, matching Kibum's pace as he walked along side him. “Why do you ask?”
Kibum gave him a sideways look. “Do I need a reason?”
“I guess not,” Jinki laughed, attempting to lighten to the mood. Kibum stared at him curiously, watched as Jinki's eyes curved into a smile. “But it'd still be nice to know.”
Kibum stopped walking as they reached a corner, fumbling with the lighter in his pocket and staring at the pavement around his shoes. “You're cute,” and left it at that, turning in the direction of his apartment and walking away. He didn't hear footsteps following this time.
So Kibum counted on his fingers how many times he had dreamed of a small child curled up in the darkness, buried underneath piles of toys and whimpering about pointless shit. How many times he woke up from the dreams with an angry jolt, clutching onto his blankets, fists balled tight.
Sometimes, he'd dream of crooked smiles and stupid laughs.
“We live on the second floor above the store. My dad figures no one would try to rob a store that people live in, which seems to be true, since we have yet to be robbed,” Jinki told him over a cup of coffee. They were in the same cafe again, hidden away behind potted trees in a secluded corner, where they just so happened to run into each other. They ran into each other a lot, and Kibum had no problem with that.
“So you live across the street,” Kibum stated as more of a reminder for himself than anything. Jinki nodded in response, propping his chin up on his hand and staring at Kibum thoughtfully. Kibum raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Who are you?” Jinki bluntly asked, and Kibum narrowed his eyes at him because he really didn't understand. Jinki hummed to himself, looking as if he was trying to find the words. “I know you're Kibum, the waiter who works across the street. I know you like pink, because you're wearing it every time I see you. I know you're a nice person.” And Jinki was smiling at him again.
Kibum pondered not answering at all, getting up and just leaving. He thought about asking the same question, because he could. Instead, “We'll find that out eventually, won't we?”
Jinki beamed at him. “We will?” He nodded to himself reassuringly. “Yes, because we are friends, and we have a ton of time to learn about each other, right?”
“Friends,” Kibum repeated, letting the word hang in the air. He swished his coffee around in it's cup, stared at his rippling reflection. He glanced at the clock on the wall, got up and grabbed his coat that was draped over the back of his chair. “My break is almost over. I should go.”
Jinki followed his actions, getting up quickly. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, staring at Kibum attentively. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”
Kibum wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, but he didn't answer either way.
Kibum found himself mindlessly writing Jinki's name on napkins, writing until the ink bled through and stained little, black blots on his kitchen table. His grip on the pen tightened when he realized what he was doing, throwing the pen away from him and crumpling the napkin up. He grimaced, getting up and deciding sleep was better than this shit.
When Kibum awoke, he thought about buying eggs or something he probably already had at the market.
Then Kibum was knocking on Jinki's door in the middle of the night, knocking until he heard rustling upstairs and saw Jinki's fuzzy slippers descending, knocking until he saw Jinki smiling in his direction again. He even gave him his cordial smiles when Kibum was a soaking mess, disheveled and drunk and unfocused eyes.
Jinki blinked surprisingly at him a few times through the glass of his market's automatic doors, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He slid the doors open, staring at Kibum apprehensively. “What the hell are you doing, Kibum? It's raining, why don't you have a jacket?”
Kibum stumbled forward, clinging onto the front of Jinki's shirt, and although he was getting wet, Jinki didn't push him away. Jinki adjusted him around his shoulders, helped him inside and up the stairs. He sat him down on his couch and placed firm hands on his shoulders to keep him still.
“Stay here. I'll get you a change of clothes,” he said, and Kibum couldn't tell if his voice sounded annoyed or was it just the buzzing in his ears. He did as he was told, curling up into himself and sitting still until Jinki returned with a shirt and pajama bottoms. He stared blankly as Jinki held them out to him, gently thrusting them in his direction.
Jinki sighed, picking Kibum up into a sitting position and lifting his shirt up. “Hold your arms up.” Kibum obeyed, letting Jinki slip the shirt off and put the clean one on. “Are you capable of doing your pants, or do I have to do those too?” He asked, holding the pants up.
Kibum didn't know why he began crying so hysterically, but that was exactly what he was doing at the moment. Maybe it was a result of his drunken stupor, maybe it was piled up stress, maybe it was Jinki. Maybe it was his own self.
He thought about how stupid he must have looked and wiped at his tears frantically. “I'm,” he choked on his words, “I'm sorry. I must be bothering you.”
“Not at all,” Jinki quickly said, looking a bit panicked. He grabbed Kibum's face, wiped at the tears with his thumbs. “Not at all, Kibum.”
“Liar,” Kibum laughed because it was easier to hide the disappointment.
Jinki ran his fingers through Kibum's hair, and Kibum thought about how familiar the action felt. He glanced up at Jinki through his wet fringe, leaned into him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled back, felt Jinki's hand freeze, watched as his face contorted in surprise, before leaning in again.
Kibum didn't go to work for a few days, didn't leave his apartment or answer his phone. He stayed curled up on his couch, staring at a blank television screen and wondering where life was trying to take him. He wondered if anybody was missing him or thinking about him.
He wondered why he cared so much and grabbed another bottle of alcohol.
For some reason, Kibum kept expecting to see Jinki every time his shift ended, but this did not happen, so he decided to go to Jinki himself. He counted the steps it took to get across the street, counted the seconds it took him to enter the market, counted the minutes he had wasted as he turned around and started to head back.
“Kibum?” He heard, turning around slowly to see Jinki rounding the corner with a box in hand and staring at him in surprise. He set the box down on the curb and dusted his hands off on his pants. “Were you going to buy something? I can assist you.”
“No, I prefer the other convenience store down the street,” Kibum said, realizing moments later how insulting that must have sounded.
“Alright ,” Jinki trailed off, glancing away awkwardly. He cracked a smile. “I guess I'll see you around then.”
As Kibum warily walked back across the street, stepping in a muddy puddle from the previous night's rains and stumbling back into the safety of his workspace, he realized that he might have been hopelessly in love.
So while Kibum was busy breaking his own heart, Jinki was calling his name and chasing after him. Kibum didn't notice until he was in the middle of tying his apron back around his waist, looking up to see Jinki out of breath and bent over on the other side of the revolving door. Kibum gave him an inquisitive look. “Yes?”
The door spun as Jinki pushed through it, stopping in front of Kibum.“Well,” Jinki cleared his throat, still out of breath. He looked hesitant. “My parents are going out tonight, so I was just wondering if you wanted to come over later. Again. Not drunk.”
“I guess,” Kibum said, not knowing whether he should laugh or cry. He felt his heart dance against his ribcage as Jinki's face lit up. “I mean, I have nothing better to do.”
“Great.” Jinki grinned.
He told Jinki a story about a boy who ran away, a boy with rich parents who didn't give a damn about anything but themselves, a boy who grown up independent and content with loneliness. He twisted it into a fairytale, not being able to say how oddly similar it was to his childhood.
Jinki didn't ask why he was being told any this, just stayed silent and listened. Kibum stopped talking and grabbed Jinki's hand, traced words into his palm that Jinki would probably never hear, words that Kibum would probably never say. He sighed and let the hand lay in his lap, looking up to see Jinki staring at him with his ever so curious eyes.
Kibum smiled, wondering if Jinki liked his smile as much as he liked Jinki's.
From: Your (Emergency) Secret Santa
Title: Deterrents
Pairing: Onew/Key
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2,190
Summary: This was him, on his way to believing.
Kibum remembered crying outside of the restaurant he worked in, squatting between two dumpsters in the backstreets and sobbing as loud as he possibly could. He didn't remember why he was crying, because he cried for no reason all the time, but he did remember an unfamiliar hand reaching out and running fingers through Kibum’s hair. He remembered calming down and gasping through his hiccups as he looked up and saw a man with a kind, crooked smile squatting next to him
And although he would never admit it to anybody, that smile made him cry more, because he'd never seen such a beautiful smile in his life.
“So do you like working in a restaurant?” The man he later learned to be named Jinki asked, after picking him up and dragging him to a nearby cafe, demanding he drink something warm that would sooth his throat. He had lent Kibum his coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck, telling him that he'd get sick standing in the cold in just that waiter outfit of his.
Kibum considered replying with something witty and sarcastic and indirect, but he had no will to go along with it, so he settled with “no”, and kept sipping his coffee for the sake of keeping his lips busy. He noticed the way Jinki kept sweeping his long fringe out of his face and the way he pressed his lips together after everything he said- as if nervous in the waiting of Kibum's response- and the way his grip tightened around his own cup when Kibum's eyes met his own.
Jinki licked his lips, pressing them together before he spoke too. “That's not good. Why do you work there then?”
Kibum felt as if Jinki was just making small talk, and while it was nice and all, Kibum didn't like small talk. He set his cup down and leaned forward in his seat. “Do you do this with every crying stranger you meet?” He bluntly asked, and as he said this, he could hear the hoarseness in his voice and feel how bloodshot his eyes probably were.
He could tell Jinki was a bit surprised by the dismissal of his own question, but he offered Kibum a smile anyway. “No. I don't run across many crying strangers on my walks home, if any.”
“I must be a freak then, right?” Kibum said, laughing dryly.
“Not at all,” Jinki said, shaking his head. “I'm sure you have your reasons.”
Kibum sniffed and continued to use his coffee as an excuse not to talk.
Jinki worked across the street at the super market, the chore of ringing people's groceries up being his daily routine. When Kibum asked why, Jinki answered with, “My parents owns the place.” Kibum didn't find the answer very enlightening, but he didn't bother with the subject.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Kibum asked one day as they once again found themselves in the backstreets, Jinki watching intently as he pulled a lighter from his coat pocket and flicked it on and off, on and off. He stopped, breaking Jinki of his trance.
“Oh,” Jinki started, eyes blinking in the darkness. “No.”
Kibum didn't know why Jinki was back here, didn't ask either. He shoved both his hands in his pockets, watched his breath form in the cold, night air for a second, before walking towards the end of the alley. It didn't surprise him when he heard light footsteps trailing after him, didn't slow down when he heard them quicken.
Jinki cleared his throat, matching Kibum's pace as he walked along side him. “Why do you ask?”
Kibum gave him a sideways look. “Do I need a reason?”
“I guess not,” Jinki laughed, attempting to lighten to the mood. Kibum stared at him curiously, watched as Jinki's eyes curved into a smile. “But it'd still be nice to know.”
Kibum stopped walking as they reached a corner, fumbling with the lighter in his pocket and staring at the pavement around his shoes. “You're cute,” and left it at that, turning in the direction of his apartment and walking away. He didn't hear footsteps following this time.
So Kibum counted on his fingers how many times he had dreamed of a small child curled up in the darkness, buried underneath piles of toys and whimpering about pointless shit. How many times he woke up from the dreams with an angry jolt, clutching onto his blankets, fists balled tight.
Sometimes, he'd dream of crooked smiles and stupid laughs.
“We live on the second floor above the store. My dad figures no one would try to rob a store that people live in, which seems to be true, since we have yet to be robbed,” Jinki told him over a cup of coffee. They were in the same cafe again, hidden away behind potted trees in a secluded corner, where they just so happened to run into each other. They ran into each other a lot, and Kibum had no problem with that.
“So you live across the street,” Kibum stated as more of a reminder for himself than anything. Jinki nodded in response, propping his chin up on his hand and staring at Kibum thoughtfully. Kibum raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Who are you?” Jinki bluntly asked, and Kibum narrowed his eyes at him because he really didn't understand. Jinki hummed to himself, looking as if he was trying to find the words. “I know you're Kibum, the waiter who works across the street. I know you like pink, because you're wearing it every time I see you. I know you're a nice person.” And Jinki was smiling at him again.
Kibum pondered not answering at all, getting up and just leaving. He thought about asking the same question, because he could. Instead, “We'll find that out eventually, won't we?”
Jinki beamed at him. “We will?” He nodded to himself reassuringly. “Yes, because we are friends, and we have a ton of time to learn about each other, right?”
“Friends,” Kibum repeated, letting the word hang in the air. He swished his coffee around in it's cup, stared at his rippling reflection. He glanced at the clock on the wall, got up and grabbed his coat that was draped over the back of his chair. “My break is almost over. I should go.”
Jinki followed his actions, getting up quickly. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, staring at Kibum attentively. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”
Kibum wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, but he didn't answer either way.
Kibum found himself mindlessly writing Jinki's name on napkins, writing until the ink bled through and stained little, black blots on his kitchen table. His grip on the pen tightened when he realized what he was doing, throwing the pen away from him and crumpling the napkin up. He grimaced, getting up and deciding sleep was better than this shit.
When Kibum awoke, he thought about buying eggs or something he probably already had at the market.
Then Kibum was knocking on Jinki's door in the middle of the night, knocking until he heard rustling upstairs and saw Jinki's fuzzy slippers descending, knocking until he saw Jinki smiling in his direction again. He even gave him his cordial smiles when Kibum was a soaking mess, disheveled and drunk and unfocused eyes.
Jinki blinked surprisingly at him a few times through the glass of his market's automatic doors, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He slid the doors open, staring at Kibum apprehensively. “What the hell are you doing, Kibum? It's raining, why don't you have a jacket?”
Kibum stumbled forward, clinging onto the front of Jinki's shirt, and although he was getting wet, Jinki didn't push him away. Jinki adjusted him around his shoulders, helped him inside and up the stairs. He sat him down on his couch and placed firm hands on his shoulders to keep him still.
“Stay here. I'll get you a change of clothes,” he said, and Kibum couldn't tell if his voice sounded annoyed or was it just the buzzing in his ears. He did as he was told, curling up into himself and sitting still until Jinki returned with a shirt and pajama bottoms. He stared blankly as Jinki held them out to him, gently thrusting them in his direction.
Jinki sighed, picking Kibum up into a sitting position and lifting his shirt up. “Hold your arms up.” Kibum obeyed, letting Jinki slip the shirt off and put the clean one on. “Are you capable of doing your pants, or do I have to do those too?” He asked, holding the pants up.
Kibum didn't know why he began crying so hysterically, but that was exactly what he was doing at the moment. Maybe it was a result of his drunken stupor, maybe it was piled up stress, maybe it was Jinki. Maybe it was his own self.
He thought about how stupid he must have looked and wiped at his tears frantically. “I'm,” he choked on his words, “I'm sorry. I must be bothering you.”
“Not at all,” Jinki quickly said, looking a bit panicked. He grabbed Kibum's face, wiped at the tears with his thumbs. “Not at all, Kibum.”
“Liar,” Kibum laughed because it was easier to hide the disappointment.
Jinki ran his fingers through Kibum's hair, and Kibum thought about how familiar the action felt. He glanced up at Jinki through his wet fringe, leaned into him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled back, felt Jinki's hand freeze, watched as his face contorted in surprise, before leaning in again.
Kibum didn't go to work for a few days, didn't leave his apartment or answer his phone. He stayed curled up on his couch, staring at a blank television screen and wondering where life was trying to take him. He wondered if anybody was missing him or thinking about him.
He wondered why he cared so much and grabbed another bottle of alcohol.
For some reason, Kibum kept expecting to see Jinki every time his shift ended, but this did not happen, so he decided to go to Jinki himself. He counted the steps it took to get across the street, counted the seconds it took him to enter the market, counted the minutes he had wasted as he turned around and started to head back.
“Kibum?” He heard, turning around slowly to see Jinki rounding the corner with a box in hand and staring at him in surprise. He set the box down on the curb and dusted his hands off on his pants. “Were you going to buy something? I can assist you.”
“No, I prefer the other convenience store down the street,” Kibum said, realizing moments later how insulting that must have sounded.
“Alright ,” Jinki trailed off, glancing away awkwardly. He cracked a smile. “I guess I'll see you around then.”
As Kibum warily walked back across the street, stepping in a muddy puddle from the previous night's rains and stumbling back into the safety of his workspace, he realized that he might have been hopelessly in love.
So while Kibum was busy breaking his own heart, Jinki was calling his name and chasing after him. Kibum didn't notice until he was in the middle of tying his apron back around his waist, looking up to see Jinki out of breath and bent over on the other side of the revolving door. Kibum gave him an inquisitive look. “Yes?”
The door spun as Jinki pushed through it, stopping in front of Kibum.“Well,” Jinki cleared his throat, still out of breath. He looked hesitant. “My parents are going out tonight, so I was just wondering if you wanted to come over later. Again. Not drunk.”
“I guess,” Kibum said, not knowing whether he should laugh or cry. He felt his heart dance against his ribcage as Jinki's face lit up. “I mean, I have nothing better to do.”
“Great.” Jinki grinned.
He told Jinki a story about a boy who ran away, a boy with rich parents who didn't give a damn about anything but themselves, a boy who grown up independent and content with loneliness. He twisted it into a fairytale, not being able to say how oddly similar it was to his childhood.
Jinki didn't ask why he was being told any this, just stayed silent and listened. Kibum stopped talking and grabbed Jinki's hand, traced words into his palm that Jinki would probably never hear, words that Kibum would probably never say. He sighed and let the hand lay in his lap, looking up to see Jinki staring at him with his ever so curious eyes.
Kibum smiled, wondering if Jinki liked his smile as much as he liked Jinki's.