of glitters and dust
of glitters and dust
pg, kyungmeon
1416 wc
prompt: timeshift
“I don’t think we’re in Seoul anymore.”
Kyungsoo tugs at the hem of his pink glittery jacket, biting his lips and looking terribly confused at the sudden increase of shrubs and trees around him. The sky is a beautiful canvas of blue, clear and with little smudges of white clouds. The air feels cold on his sticky skin and caked face. It ruffles his limp hair drenched with post-performance sweat.
Beside him stood the eldest on their group, entirely unhelpful with the way he gazes around him, fascinated at the twittering of birds and curious about the weeds and dirt beneath his shoes. Kyungsoo thinks this is the best time Junmyeon channels even the littlest bit of his inner leader.
“What do you think happened?”
Well, no such luck on that thought then.
The last thing Kyungsoo vividly remembers is the powder of glitter a fan threw over him and Junmyeon, the others blessedly further away that only the two of them had the misfortune to inhale said substance and barely stop themselves from hacking out loud in front of thousands of their fans.
The director’s eyes widen in recognition for a split second before he starts and frantically gestures for them to move backstage. The man’s face is scrunched up in panic, arms wildly waving behind the camera to emphasize his point. They all rush at the ‘We are one!’ before running to the back stage, Junmyeon ahead and the other four behind him.
Junmyeon stops still at the bottom of the backstage stairs and Kyungsoo had that one second to wonder why when his foot clears the last step and a blinding white fills his vision. When he opened his eyes, gone were the stage set-up, the crew, and the other members.
Thus, this scene.
“We should at least get out of this forest.” Kyungsoo suggests, looking at every direction to get a vague hint where to start walking to. He never took SM’s Camping 101 lessons seriously back when they were trainees. None of them did. He never knew he’d get to the moment where he would actually regret it. “Which way is north? Do we head north?”
Junmyeon nods. He grasps Kyungsoo’s right arm and, with his game face on that was far too hilarious, starts to walk. Kyungsoo giggles from behind his free hand and lets himself be dragged to god-knows-where.
-
After too many hours of walking blindly, arguing about whose fault was whom, and throwing out various ideas on how they ended up to wherever this is, they finally stumble outside the edge of the godforsaken forest they initially found themselves in.
They had both stripped off their flashy jackets when it started to irritate their skin and even their feet were aching from their shoes that were not meant to be worn by humans for a long time. Their coordi-noonas are going to kill them if they come back in pieces.
Or, if they could come back at all. But this was a depressing thought Kyungsoo shoves at the back of his mind for the mean time.
“Finally! Road!” Junmyeon collapsed beside the dirt road, probably bruising his knees in the process and earning an hour’s worth of ear-splitting lecture from his coordi-noona about taking better care of his skin.
“I don’t see people.” Kyungsoo looked at both ends of the road leading to, well, only trees and more trees. Neither roofs of houses nor buildings are on sight.
“Did Shindong-sunbaenim hit us on the head again and dumped us on Busan?” Junmyeon sits cross-legged on dirt and Kyungsoo shudders as he remembers that particular accident.
Their Super Junior-hyungs are awesome; popular, with one of the biggest fanbases, talented, good-looking, and everything an idol aspires to be. They look up to them, really, but there was one fault than even though they try so hard to ignore, it just kept slapping them in the face. Sometimes figuratively, but more often, quite literally painful at that. It was hard love.
“I don’t think they’re mean enough to leave us alone in some random forest.”
Junmyeon looks at him dubiously for a while before picking himself up and dusting the back of his pants. The little rocks were probably digging painfully in his behind.
“So where do we go? Left, right?”
“You’re the leader, you decide.” Kyungsoo crosses his arms over his chest, shrugging his shoulders.
Junmyeon puts his finger on his chin, eyes darting between directions and frowning contemplatively at one of the most important choices he will ever make. Do they go left, or do they go right?
A minute passes, and then two, and three -
“Some time in the century, hyung.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “No rush.”
“Ah right, I’m sorry. Um, left.” Junmyeon’s eyes are wide, the questioning tone practically dripping from his statement.
Kyungsoo heaves a big sigh, squares his shoulders and starts walking to the left of the dirt road. Junmyeon is behind him, mumbling under his breath about the pros and cons of the left direction.
Kyungsoo tries not to tremble in panic and succeeds.
For an hour.
-
“That’s a…”
“Yeah…”
“So this…”
“Yeah…”
“They didn’t…”
“Yeah…”
“We’re really…”
“Yeah…”
“Oh…”
“Yeah…”
“Fuck…?”
“Very, yeah…”
-
There are dragons circling above a medieval tower adorned with (Kyungsoo squints, are those… oh my god what the fuck) heads on pikes.
Dragons.
Decapitated heads on spears.
He belatedly becomes aware of Junmyeon vomiting beside him. He’s dry-heaving now and a mix of yellow and orange excreted substance decorates their shoes and soaks the dry road in front of them. Kyungsoo feels light-headed himself.
“What’s going to happen?” His voice is scratchy to his own ears. He swallows hard to relieve his dry throat.
“I don’t know…” Junmyeon is still bending over, hands firmly grasping knees and arms locked tight for support. If Junmyeon was trembling, Kyungsoo ignores it because he’s probably the same. Idols weren’t trained for these scenarios after all.
A bang of a drum echoes from a distance.
The sound has them straightening and moving to the cover of the forest. They stumble to the trees, tripping on weeds and roots in their haste before positioning behind a particular thick trunk of a tree nearest to the road.
The sounds of hooves get closer and closer not long after. Junmyeon peeks over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, Junmyeon’s chest pressing intimately to his back. In this proximity, he feels Junmyeon’s nervous breathing and sweaty skin.
He gets a hold of his focus just in time as the first rider passes, all glistening armor and brightly colored cape. A carriage follows soon after with more riders as, obviously enough, body guards.
The procession was long. Riders upon riders pass by them, some even have people attached to their horses by the rope through the neck. There are wagons of the wounded, leaving a dark trail of blood and agonized moans in its wake, and wagons of swords, riches, and armors. Spoils and losses, probably.
“They’ve been to war.” Junmyeon muses, and Kyungsoo almost jumps out of his skin when the whisper blows straight to his ear. “Royal family, you think?”
“Maybe. They’re heading to the castle.”
“Should we follow them?”
“Yes?”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go.”
“Moving.”
But none of them twitch. They don’t know if they were still waiting for any other sounds to indicate there are more coming even after the riders were long gone or just plain numb and dumbfounded to even work any part of their muscles.
“I really don’t want to.” Kyungsoo honestly feels ill at the thought of getting a closer look on real heads stuck on a pike let alone real dragons to dare follow the ruthless monarchs that apparently beheads occasionally.
“Me too.”
Both of them sags down to large tree roots, the smell of nature and soil overwhelming their nostrils from their position. Their initial shock was wearing off, their adrenalines waning as they begin to see the large picture of which they found themselves.
Panic is creeping in and they don’t even have the slightest clue how to continue.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Probably more than you, actually.” Junmyeon admits and grimaces.
There was a moment of silence, each creating their own scenarios over their heads.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
An uncomfortable sense of deja vu washes over them. They've both heard that one before, the billion won question and the answer the spells most dooms.
idek anymore sobs
fic by length but drabble at heart oh well
dry season at it's best
pg, kyungmeon
1416 wc
prompt: timeshift
“I don’t think we’re in Seoul anymore.”
Kyungsoo tugs at the hem of his pink glittery jacket, biting his lips and looking terribly confused at the sudden increase of shrubs and trees around him. The sky is a beautiful canvas of blue, clear and with little smudges of white clouds. The air feels cold on his sticky skin and caked face. It ruffles his limp hair drenched with post-performance sweat.
Beside him stood the eldest on their group, entirely unhelpful with the way he gazes around him, fascinated at the twittering of birds and curious about the weeds and dirt beneath his shoes. Kyungsoo thinks this is the best time Junmyeon channels even the littlest bit of his inner leader.
“What do you think happened?”
Well, no such luck on that thought then.
The last thing Kyungsoo vividly remembers is the powder of glitter a fan threw over him and Junmyeon, the others blessedly further away that only the two of them had the misfortune to inhale said substance and barely stop themselves from hacking out loud in front of thousands of their fans.
The director’s eyes widen in recognition for a split second before he starts and frantically gestures for them to move backstage. The man’s face is scrunched up in panic, arms wildly waving behind the camera to emphasize his point. They all rush at the ‘We are one!’ before running to the back stage, Junmyeon ahead and the other four behind him.
Junmyeon stops still at the bottom of the backstage stairs and Kyungsoo had that one second to wonder why when his foot clears the last step and a blinding white fills his vision. When he opened his eyes, gone were the stage set-up, the crew, and the other members.
Thus, this scene.
“We should at least get out of this forest.” Kyungsoo suggests, looking at every direction to get a vague hint where to start walking to. He never took SM’s Camping 101 lessons seriously back when they were trainees. None of them did. He never knew he’d get to the moment where he would actually regret it. “Which way is north? Do we head north?”
Junmyeon nods. He grasps Kyungsoo’s right arm and, with his game face on that was far too hilarious, starts to walk. Kyungsoo giggles from behind his free hand and lets himself be dragged to god-knows-where.
-
After too many hours of walking blindly, arguing about whose fault was whom, and throwing out various ideas on how they ended up to wherever this is, they finally stumble outside the edge of the godforsaken forest they initially found themselves in.
They had both stripped off their flashy jackets when it started to irritate their skin and even their feet were aching from their shoes that were not meant to be worn by humans for a long time. Their coordi-noonas are going to kill them if they come back in pieces.
Or, if they could come back at all. But this was a depressing thought Kyungsoo shoves at the back of his mind for the mean time.
“Finally! Road!” Junmyeon collapsed beside the dirt road, probably bruising his knees in the process and earning an hour’s worth of ear-splitting lecture from his coordi-noona about taking better care of his skin.
“I don’t see people.” Kyungsoo looked at both ends of the road leading to, well, only trees and more trees. Neither roofs of houses nor buildings are on sight.
“Did Shindong-sunbaenim hit us on the head again and dumped us on Busan?” Junmyeon sits cross-legged on dirt and Kyungsoo shudders as he remembers that particular accident.
Their Super Junior-hyungs are awesome; popular, with one of the biggest fanbases, talented, good-looking, and everything an idol aspires to be. They look up to them, really, but there was one fault than even though they try so hard to ignore, it just kept slapping them in the face. Sometimes figuratively, but more often, quite literally painful at that. It was hard love.
“I don’t think they’re mean enough to leave us alone in some random forest.”
Junmyeon looks at him dubiously for a while before picking himself up and dusting the back of his pants. The little rocks were probably digging painfully in his behind.
“So where do we go? Left, right?”
“You’re the leader, you decide.” Kyungsoo crosses his arms over his chest, shrugging his shoulders.
Junmyeon puts his finger on his chin, eyes darting between directions and frowning contemplatively at one of the most important choices he will ever make. Do they go left, or do they go right?
A minute passes, and then two, and three -
“Some time in the century, hyung.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “No rush.”
“Ah right, I’m sorry. Um, left.” Junmyeon’s eyes are wide, the questioning tone practically dripping from his statement.
Kyungsoo heaves a big sigh, squares his shoulders and starts walking to the left of the dirt road. Junmyeon is behind him, mumbling under his breath about the pros and cons of the left direction.
Kyungsoo tries not to tremble in panic and succeeds.
For an hour.
-
“That’s a…”
“Yeah…”
“So this…”
“Yeah…”
“They didn’t…”
“Yeah…”
“We’re really…”
“Yeah…”
“Oh…”
“Yeah…”
“Fuck…?”
“Very, yeah…”
-
There are dragons circling above a medieval tower adorned with (Kyungsoo squints, are those… oh my god what the fuck) heads on pikes.
Dragons.
Decapitated heads on spears.
He belatedly becomes aware of Junmyeon vomiting beside him. He’s dry-heaving now and a mix of yellow and orange excreted substance decorates their shoes and soaks the dry road in front of them. Kyungsoo feels light-headed himself.
“What’s going to happen?” His voice is scratchy to his own ears. He swallows hard to relieve his dry throat.
“I don’t know…” Junmyeon is still bending over, hands firmly grasping knees and arms locked tight for support. If Junmyeon was trembling, Kyungsoo ignores it because he’s probably the same. Idols weren’t trained for these scenarios after all.
A bang of a drum echoes from a distance.
The sound has them straightening and moving to the cover of the forest. They stumble to the trees, tripping on weeds and roots in their haste before positioning behind a particular thick trunk of a tree nearest to the road.
The sounds of hooves get closer and closer not long after. Junmyeon peeks over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, Junmyeon’s chest pressing intimately to his back. In this proximity, he feels Junmyeon’s nervous breathing and sweaty skin.
He gets a hold of his focus just in time as the first rider passes, all glistening armor and brightly colored cape. A carriage follows soon after with more riders as, obviously enough, body guards.
The procession was long. Riders upon riders pass by them, some even have people attached to their horses by the rope through the neck. There are wagons of the wounded, leaving a dark trail of blood and agonized moans in its wake, and wagons of swords, riches, and armors. Spoils and losses, probably.
“They’ve been to war.” Junmyeon muses, and Kyungsoo almost jumps out of his skin when the whisper blows straight to his ear. “Royal family, you think?”
“Maybe. They’re heading to the castle.”
“Should we follow them?”
“Yes?”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go.”
“Moving.”
But none of them twitch. They don’t know if they were still waiting for any other sounds to indicate there are more coming even after the riders were long gone or just plain numb and dumbfounded to even work any part of their muscles.
“I really don’t want to.” Kyungsoo honestly feels ill at the thought of getting a closer look on real heads stuck on a pike let alone real dragons to dare follow the ruthless monarchs that apparently beheads occasionally.
“Me too.”
Both of them sags down to large tree roots, the smell of nature and soil overwhelming their nostrils from their position. Their initial shock was wearing off, their adrenalines waning as they begin to see the large picture of which they found themselves.
Panic is creeping in and they don’t even have the slightest clue how to continue.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Probably more than you, actually.” Junmyeon admits and grimaces.
There was a moment of silence, each creating their own scenarios over their heads.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
An uncomfortable sense of deja vu washes over them. They've both heard that one before, the billion won question and the answer the spells most dooms.
idek anymore sobs
fic by length but drabble at heart oh well
dry season at it's best