dbsk wip drop
homin band fic take one
(is being rebooted in another direction)
It’s a sad and terrible fact of Jung Yunho’s life that some of his best friend’s most heinously disastrous and consequence-ridden plans start out with five simple words.
Relax, I’m great at blackjack. I’m bringing back silk scarves. Your van needs racing stripes.
Five simple words.
It’s an equally sad and terrible fact that Yunho seems to have the memory of a goldfish when these moments come, and signs up enthusiastically to whatever half-cracked plan Heechul’s devised this time. In his defense, there’s usually…substances involved.
And so when they’re in Heechul hyung’s basement, fans half-heartedly diffusing the thick cloud of smoke that’s hanging in the air, he doesn’t so much as frown when Heechul passes his cigarette over and casually states,
“We should start a band.”
Yunho looks at him from where he’s lying on his back on the floor, legs splayed on the seat of the couch. “What, like...like really start a band?”
Heechul grins at him, pouring them both another shot of tequila and downing his before responding. “Wouldn’t it be freaking perfect? I mean, I play guitar, you play drums...”
“I play samulnori.”
“Well, whatever, it can’t be that much different. You could totally learn. And most of it is just being able to keep a beat anyway,” his hyung retorts loftily, tugging up one of his striped socks and looking down at him with disdain.
Yunho raises the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag and letting the smoke out slowly.
“Like...what would we play?”
“Cover songs, for now. And then I could write us some stuff, or we’ll plagiarize from crappy people on YouTube, God, Yunho. Do you have to be such a wet blanket? Who cares about that stuff? We’re starting a band! We should start thinking of names...” Heechul stumbles off the sofa, thigh thwacking the pool table as he skirts it to dig out a pen and paper.
Yunho pushes himself up off the floor with a soft curse, three shots of Jose Cuervo making motor skills a bit more of an issue than usual. He stands swaying slightly in the middle of the room, watching Heechul as he straightens and triumphantly waves a notebook and pen.
“But...but aren’t we going to need like a...singer? And a bassist? Isn’t that what most bands have?”
The look Heechul gives him at that is positively spine-chilling. Yunho looks up at the ceiling. Shit.
“Are you saying I’m not good enough to be our singer? Is that what you’re saying, Jung?”
Shit.
“Uh. No. Not at all. Just...it’d be easier, you know, to focus on guitar. Girls find guitarists sexiest, you know? Like...” He searches for an example. “Jimmy Hendrix. Or...or....the dude from Motley Crue.” He dares make eye-contact again only to find Heechul staring at him like he’s slow in the head.
“Oh my God, what kind of music are you listening to?” He flops down on the sofa, uncapping the pen and clearly dismissing that vein of conversation for now.
“How about Picasso's Petals?”
*
When sobriety settles in and Heechul’s enthusiasm has yet to fade, Yunho resigns himself to the fact that this is going to be one of the ones that stick.
It’s how he finds himself trailing Heechul around the local music shop with an extra large coffee and a hangover, just
praying the other man doesn’t decide to test anything out. Or God forbid, buy anything, because he knows full well just how bad Heechul’s credit is.
The clerk, who’s name tag reads Kyuhyun, seems to have a similar look of apprehension on his awkward teenage features. He rubs at the back of his nape, looking as if he wants to snatch the $2,000 Fender out of Heechul’s hands and just push the both of them out of the store.
“So…are you looking for lessons?” the kid asks, eying the two of them and more specifically, the cup of coffee in Yunho’s hand. Yunho offers him a weak smile.
“We have a guy that comes in every Thursday, he charges about $20 a lesson, for 45 minutes…can you just-“ Kyuhyun all but snatches the stratocaster that Heechul is attempting to play power chords on away from him, clutching it to his chest before moving to put it back.
Heechul glowers.
“Yah, freaking punk kid,” he mutters, arms crossed over his chest as he fires lasers from his eyes into the back of Kyuhyun’s head. Yunho will never, ever tell him how much he looks like a teenaged girl when he’s sulking.
“Telling me I need lessons? Are you freaking kidding me, who the hell-“
“Actually,” Yunho interjects as smoothly as he can between the two-Heechul talking about the kid behind his back, to his face, and Kyuhyun turning out to have a rather impressive glare in his arsenal as well. “Do you have uh…any kind of board for adverstisments? We’re looking for a singer and a bassist…”
“Maybe a singer,” Heechul cuts in and Yunho sighs. Right. They hadn’t resolved that yet.
Kyuhyun looks over at him, the glare fading as he seems to consider something. “Are you guys starting a band?”
Heechul rolls his eyes so hard they all but pop out of his head. “No. We’re conducting a census. Shit, kid, how do you work here?”
Bristling, Kyuhyun stands up a little straighter, and Yunho hurries to cut of the retort because he really, really does have a bitch of a hangover and he does not need to pull Heechul off this kid.
“Yes, we are. Hyung plays guitar, and I play drums.” Kind of. “Do you play an instrument?”
Heechul snorts derisively. “Look at him. He probably played clarinet in the marching band.”
Kyuhyun turns bright red.
“If you’re not going to buy anything,” the kid gets out, his voice cold, “we have a no loitering policy.” He points to the sign.
Heechul scoffs, grabbing his water bottle from where he’d set in on an amp, nudging Yunho towards the door.
“Fine. But when we’re rich and famous, then who’s going to be laughing? That’s right, kid, you think about that-“
“I’ll catch up to you outside, hyung,” Yunho interjects quickly, shoving him lightly in the direction of the door, neatly ignoring the murderous look that followed.
Rubbing at his temples, Yunho smiles at Kyuhyun-the charming, winsome smile he uses on girls to get phone numbers and his mother to get lunchboxes sent home with him-stepping close to him.
“Look, my name’s Yunho. And we really need people, so if you can play bass, or-“
“I sing,” Kyuhyun interrupts, eying him as if daring him to challenge that. “And I know a bass player, he comes in here all the time.”
Yunho beams, the younger man giving him the first good news he’s heard all day. “Really? Oh, that’s awesome. Here, lemme give you my phone number.” He grabs Kyuhyun’s cell phone where he sees it sticking out of his pocket, starting to plug himself into the contact list.
“And just call and we can meet up and start jamming.” He grins brightly at him.
“Jamming,” Kyuhyun repeats, looking decidedly unimpressed.
homin x-mas
“He dumped you the week before Christmas? Motherfucker!” Junsu exclaims, hefting a little girl in pigtails up into skinny arms. She reaches for the bell on his hat, tugging enthusiastically.
“Muthafucker!” She giggles, showing gap teeth and dimples . Changmin face-palms as Junsu’s eyes go wide.
Junsu laughs awkwardly, passing her off to a glaring Santa. “Merry Christmas!”
Changmin shakes his head in disbelief, the bells on his elf hat jingling, and reaches down to take the next kid from their parents, wincing slightly as he lifts the chubby little boy. “Drop it, hyung. I don’t want to talk about it.”
A sympathetic look from Junsu, ruined slightly by the forced smiles they have to keep in place for the parents. “You didn’t give him the song, did you? Oh fuck, you gave him the song-“
“Junsu-“ Changmin bites off, gritting out a ‘Merry Christmas’ that lacks significant cheer. “No, I didn’t. You’ll be happy to know he broke my heart before I could humiliate myself completely.”
His best friend’s face falls a little. “Fuck, Minnie, I didn’t mean it that way.”
Changmin smiles weakly, holding up a quick hand to halt any further words. The smile is dangerously close to dying, like a flame in the wind, and it takes all of him to hold it through a little longer. “Stop cursing. Look, hyung. It’s fine. I just…I don’t want to talk about him, alright?”
Junsu nods hesitantly, taking the boy from him and sitting him down in Santa’s lap. “Okay, but shit, Min. You know I’m here, right?”
“Right,” he affirms, something warming in him under the broken thing he’s carrying around inside, the thing that used to be his heart.
Junsu has been his best friend since they were in bibs and strollers, since he shot up five inches in sophomore year and dwarfed the other man. Friends through break ups and heart breaks and he doesn’t know how to tell him that this time…this time it’s different.
The other man is watching him, the elf costume more appropriate than Changmin will ever tell him. “Why don’t we grab a drink after work?”
Changmin shakes his head. “No, that’s alright, I just-“
A familiar face catches his eye, and even as something tells him he doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to turn and see, he does, feeling a fissure split through his heart.
another homin
The blue of the television screen makes his skin look almost alien, catching at the edges of his fingernails, turning them bloodless. He tucks them under his stomach, shifting incrementally on the overly posh sofa, feeling a muscle in the thigh under his cheek twitch.
The movie is long since over, scenes fading to credits fading to blank, cold blue, but he doesn’t dare move. Won’t dare give this up.
Yunho’s hand is warm against his neck where it’s fallen from his hair, the light petting motion petering off as the older man had slipped into an awkward but deep sleep. He closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of the heavy weight on his shoulder, keeping his breaths even and soft.
Changmin knows his role as magnae is only underscored by his penchant for hypochondria, but he had no idea it could pay off so well. He supposes he’d looked suitably pathetic when the other hyungdeul had announced plans to go out clubbing, having elected to stay home with a sullen ‘I have a headache.’
Imagine his surprise when Yunho had given him a gentle smile, telling the hyungdeul to go ahead without him, moving lightly ruffle Changmin’s hair. “Come on,” he’d said. “I’ll make you some tea and we’ll watch a movie.”
He must have looked like an eager puppy, judging by the twin smirks on Jaejoong and Yoochun hyung’s faces.