Dollhouse [PART 1]
Title: Dollhouse
Pairing: Onkey, Onho, Jongkey, Taekey
Rating: R
Summary: They had always been more than just dolls to Kibum.
Warnings: So, umm, this would be a pretty messed up fic..
He thoroughly enjoyed it. He enjoyed the feeling of having the power to create, to mold, to invent. And although he would never be able to outright state it, he enjoyed playing with his older sister’s dolls.
Every night, before he went to sleep, he would clean up the dolls his sister had left in a messy pile on the ground after she had finished with it. This gave him the perfect excuse to hang around her dolls, giving them his own made up names and his own characteristics. He made sure each Barbie doll was unique to another, and made up scenarios in his head, stories where the dolls would meet each other and become friends. The clothes his sister had dressed them in would be gently rolled off their plastic figures and replaced with pieces of clothing that he found fitting for the occasion, the scenario. He reveled in the belief that no person knew his sister’s dolls as well as he knew them.
He was not ashamed, and certainly not embarrassed of his favourite hobby, but he kept quiet on his interests because his parents were traditional Korean folks that found anything out of the norm absolutely shunning.
Every night, he found himself falling more and more in love with a fabricated world, a world where princesses were real and princes were dashing, not the perverted, overconfident boys in his middle school.
As he laid the last doll, a ken doll he had named ‘Onew’ on a chair beside his bed after he realized that the scene he had included all the other dolls in (in which he had left in his sister’s room in a beautiful, silent scene of a marriage ceremony), Onew could not be included into the scene. Onew’s character, Kibum imagined, was silent, shy and reserved, hardly outgoing enough to join such a loud and mischievous gathering.
Hopefully, his sister wouldn’t notice one doll missing from her collection for tonight.
Kibum let out an audible sigh as he kneeled on the floor to try and look the doll in the eye. Onew had always been his favourite doll, being the one who’s character he had spent the most time creating. He always left the nicest clothes for Onew and always remembered to celebrate the doll’s factory birthdate with a small slice of cake that he bought with money he saved from New Year’s Day.
His sister however, didn’t seem to take a liking to Onew, and always threw him in a corner when she played with her dolls. Onew had warm chestnut brown hair that fell right below his ears, bangs almost completely covering his small, smiley eyes. Kibum had instinctively brushed the bangs to the side, as tenderly as he could because he didn’t want Onew to think that Kibum didn’t like his hair.
Onew was stockier than the other dolls, his features a little less perfectly proportional, with his waist a little too slim and his thighs a little too thick, while a puddle of dried skin-coloured plastic glued to his ankle looked much like a birthmark, when actually, the doll-maker had probably just let the machine slip and a little accident had occurred.
His smile always seemed a little too wide, teeth flashing brightly between the thinned out red lips, as his cheeks seemed to flush a pale pink. His smile was always in place, so Kibum enjoyed looking at the doll’s face, imagining that the bright smile was meant for him.
All these irregularities and small flaws made Kibum’s sister despise the doll, thinking that she had been ripped off and that the entire doll had to be an accident, while Kibum, Kibum loved the doll to no end.
Because whenever Kibum cried, he could look at the smiling doll’s face and wonder how it would be like to hear the doll’s laughter, see the crinkling eyes smile at him. Kibum was your typical Asian boy, his family pressuring him into fields of work he had no interest in, but whenever he sat in his sister’s room and played out his fantasies, he always has a spark in his eyes.
The little Onew doll always laid on the spot beside him so that Kibum could turn to the doll and ask for opinions (answering them himself), and so that the little boy could clutch at the doll as silent tears fell down his cheeks every time he was reminded of how none of his family seemed to know him at all.
It didn’t matter, because Onew was always smiling at him, and Onew understood him.
On Christmas day, when his sister would be getting piles upon piles of new dolls, Kibum snuck into her room and took Onew, hiding the doll under a pile of dirty clothes until he was sure that his sister wouldn’t be looking for the doll anymore. The following nights, with the doll tucked safely under his arm, and layers upon layers of blankets, Kibum fell asleep with a smile for the first time in his life.
Sometimes, Kibum would wonder why nobody else seemed too pleased with his interest in dolls (especially his sister, who laughed and teased him to no end), and he never knew the reason till he reached high school, where a bunch of seniors had thrown his bag to the ground, laughing hysterically at the brunet doll that cascaded onto the ground along with pretty much everything else in the bag.
It was the first time he had been beaten up for his interest in dolls. It had also been the first time he was called a faggot.
But it was okay, because once he got home and curled up onto his bed with Onew under his arm, the bruises didn’t hurt anymore and the names didn’t matter. He liked to do just that; close his eyes as his fingers traced over the small, plastic cheek of the doll. Kibum liked to believe that when his eyes were closed, and night fell, the dolls would come alive.
He liked to think that sometimes, Onew’s small plastic fingers would be stroking his wrist, and that the doll smiled into his touch.
~
Sorry; short Chappie is short! Kind of like a prologue though...
NEXT -->
Pairing: Onkey, Onho, Jongkey, Taekey
Rating: R
Summary: They had always been more than just dolls to Kibum.
Warnings: So, umm, this would be a pretty messed up fic..
He thoroughly enjoyed it. He enjoyed the feeling of having the power to create, to mold, to invent. And although he would never be able to outright state it, he enjoyed playing with his older sister’s dolls.
Every night, before he went to sleep, he would clean up the dolls his sister had left in a messy pile on the ground after she had finished with it. This gave him the perfect excuse to hang around her dolls, giving them his own made up names and his own characteristics. He made sure each Barbie doll was unique to another, and made up scenarios in his head, stories where the dolls would meet each other and become friends. The clothes his sister had dressed them in would be gently rolled off their plastic figures and replaced with pieces of clothing that he found fitting for the occasion, the scenario. He reveled in the belief that no person knew his sister’s dolls as well as he knew them.
He was not ashamed, and certainly not embarrassed of his favourite hobby, but he kept quiet on his interests because his parents were traditional Korean folks that found anything out of the norm absolutely shunning.
Every night, he found himself falling more and more in love with a fabricated world, a world where princesses were real and princes were dashing, not the perverted, overconfident boys in his middle school.
As he laid the last doll, a ken doll he had named ‘Onew’ on a chair beside his bed after he realized that the scene he had included all the other dolls in (in which he had left in his sister’s room in a beautiful, silent scene of a marriage ceremony), Onew could not be included into the scene. Onew’s character, Kibum imagined, was silent, shy and reserved, hardly outgoing enough to join such a loud and mischievous gathering.
Hopefully, his sister wouldn’t notice one doll missing from her collection for tonight.
Kibum let out an audible sigh as he kneeled on the floor to try and look the doll in the eye. Onew had always been his favourite doll, being the one who’s character he had spent the most time creating. He always left the nicest clothes for Onew and always remembered to celebrate the doll’s factory birthdate with a small slice of cake that he bought with money he saved from New Year’s Day.
His sister however, didn’t seem to take a liking to Onew, and always threw him in a corner when she played with her dolls. Onew had warm chestnut brown hair that fell right below his ears, bangs almost completely covering his small, smiley eyes. Kibum had instinctively brushed the bangs to the side, as tenderly as he could because he didn’t want Onew to think that Kibum didn’t like his hair.
Onew was stockier than the other dolls, his features a little less perfectly proportional, with his waist a little too slim and his thighs a little too thick, while a puddle of dried skin-coloured plastic glued to his ankle looked much like a birthmark, when actually, the doll-maker had probably just let the machine slip and a little accident had occurred.
His smile always seemed a little too wide, teeth flashing brightly between the thinned out red lips, as his cheeks seemed to flush a pale pink. His smile was always in place, so Kibum enjoyed looking at the doll’s face, imagining that the bright smile was meant for him.
All these irregularities and small flaws made Kibum’s sister despise the doll, thinking that she had been ripped off and that the entire doll had to be an accident, while Kibum, Kibum loved the doll to no end.
Because whenever Kibum cried, he could look at the smiling doll’s face and wonder how it would be like to hear the doll’s laughter, see the crinkling eyes smile at him. Kibum was your typical Asian boy, his family pressuring him into fields of work he had no interest in, but whenever he sat in his sister’s room and played out his fantasies, he always has a spark in his eyes.
The little Onew doll always laid on the spot beside him so that Kibum could turn to the doll and ask for opinions (answering them himself), and so that the little boy could clutch at the doll as silent tears fell down his cheeks every time he was reminded of how none of his family seemed to know him at all.
It didn’t matter, because Onew was always smiling at him, and Onew understood him.
On Christmas day, when his sister would be getting piles upon piles of new dolls, Kibum snuck into her room and took Onew, hiding the doll under a pile of dirty clothes until he was sure that his sister wouldn’t be looking for the doll anymore. The following nights, with the doll tucked safely under his arm, and layers upon layers of blankets, Kibum fell asleep with a smile for the first time in his life.
Sometimes, Kibum would wonder why nobody else seemed too pleased with his interest in dolls (especially his sister, who laughed and teased him to no end), and he never knew the reason till he reached high school, where a bunch of seniors had thrown his bag to the ground, laughing hysterically at the brunet doll that cascaded onto the ground along with pretty much everything else in the bag.
It was the first time he had been beaten up for his interest in dolls. It had also been the first time he was called a faggot.
But it was okay, because once he got home and curled up onto his bed with Onew under his arm, the bruises didn’t hurt anymore and the names didn’t matter. He liked to do just that; close his eyes as his fingers traced over the small, plastic cheek of the doll. Kibum liked to believe that when his eyes were closed, and night fell, the dolls would come alive.
He liked to think that sometimes, Onew’s small plastic fingers would be stroking his wrist, and that the doll smiled into his touch.
~
Sorry; short Chappie is short! Kind of like a prologue though...
NEXT -->