[fic]
Title: An Imaginary Being
Rating: G
Fandom: SHINee
Pairing: Onew/Minho
Wordcount: 1,284
Summary: Minho has seen it twice since then, flitting around the garden, always just vanishing out of sight before he can do anything.
Notes: This is just small, short, and inconsequential, written for a friend to cheer her up. I hope it worked!
People will think he's crazy, Minho knows this. Even he's starting to believe that he might be. But he's also almost certain of what he saw.
He inches through the garden, eyes as wide as possible to catch any unusual movement. It's a tiny garden, hardly one at all, really, just an excuse to increase the rent of his place; there's a bit of grass, some scrubby bushes lining one of the fences, and one tree. It was in that tree that Minho saw it for the first time, almost faster than the eye could see, beating a hasty retreat from his prying eyes.
Minho has seen it twice since then, flitting around the garden, always just vanishing out of sight before he can do anything. Minho's curious, of course he's curious because from the little glimpses he's caught he saw what looked like arms, two regular human arms only tiny, and delicate, blurred with their quick beating, wings. So of course there's a curiosity to it, but he's also concerned. If it is what he suspects it might (impossibly) be, then he's concerned for its safety. There are cats in his neighbourhood, and he's seen a number of his neighbours cats toy with birds and rodents they've caught in these slap-dash gardens.
He doesn't want it to get hurt.
Minho is quiet, is cautious, and moves slowly throughout his cramped garden, alert for anything. He pauses, and there, there it is. He hears a faint humming, a fluttering, noises he doesn't associate with his garden. His eyes scan the area, searching for signs of movement. As he listens, he begins to think that the humming might actually be a voice, a tiny voice, speaking. He can't make out any words, but Minho thinks the humming sounds irritated. He sees some weeds flutter, and there's no wind today. And then, he sees it. Minho holds his breath, holds himself, and does nothing.
There, amongst the tall weeds that Minho has neglected to take care of recently, he sees a tiny, fluttering figure. From what Minho can make out between the weeds, it is very much human-like in shape; two arms, two legs, a head, the only differences are that it has wings, and it looks like it could fit comfortably in the palm of Minho's hand.
Cats must be monsters to this poor, tiny creature.
He isn't sure what to do, he hesitates, and as his mind stutters his instincts take control. “Um, hello. Excuse me?” he says, but as soon as any sound passes Minho's lips the figure flutters away, almost too fast to see. Minho thinks it might have flown off to hide in the scrubby bushes.
“Please,” he says, vainly, cursing his mistake. But he's never encountered a creature like this before, and it's not as if Minho knows a right way to go about this, that there even is a right way, because this is kind of completely crazy. But he has to try, even so. Minho never gives up.
He decides against taking a step forward, and stays where he is, so as not to startle the creature further. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.”
There is the humming again, and now Minho is certain that the sound is the creature talking. This time, it most definitely sounds irritated to Minho, and he thinks he can even pick out a few words.
“...Wish people...tend to...gardens better.”
It sounds quite disgruntled, and Minho notices then the exceedingly poor and scrubby state of the bushes, and can hardly imagine being tiny and getting tangled in their mess.
“Are you okay?” he ventures, feeling concerned. “I hope you're not hurt.”
The humming stops, then, and there is no sign of movement, either. Still, Minho stays where he is.
“I'm Minho,” he says, after some time, still unwilling to give up. “I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I just...” he doesn't know what to say, or what to do, and in that moment Minho really does think that he might have actually gone crazy because he's standing in his garden, on a lovely day, talking to the bushes. He dearly hopes no one can see him now. “I was just worried about the cats. There are a lot, and they're not very nice.”
He waits, and it feels like time is stretching out, endlessly, before him. Nothing happens, and Minho resigns himself to having to give up this time. He doesn't blame the creature, if it isn't just his mind playing elaborate games with him.
“Okay, well you don't have to come out. I was just concerned, and wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll, um, leave you to it.”
He feels increasingly stupid as he talks to the bush, and he turns to walk away, to try and forget this ever happened.
A tiny voice pipes up, and Minho has to strain to make out the words.
“I hate cats.”
When Minho turns, he sees the tiny figure just peeking out of the bushes, peering up at him. Minho hardly dares breathe, as he stares at the figure. Now he finally gets an almost clear look at its tiny face, and Minho thinks it's a man, despite the longish hair.
“Me too,” Minho agrees, unable to believe his eyes.
The creature floats out just a touch closer from the bush, and seems to be watching Minho, both curiously and cautiously. Minho doesn't want to disappoint it. Him.
“You don't have a cat?”
Minho shakes his head.
“Oh, that's good, then. I thought the big orange beast might belong to this house, because it always chases me up that tree.” The little figure points to the lone tree in Minho's garden, and he's sure the creature is making a face as he talks. He wants so badly to take a closer look, but doesn't dare to startle him away.
“Definitely not the orange one, he's the worst cat in this neighbourhood.”
The creature seems to hum in agreement. Then slowly, with extreme caution, as if he might fly away at any second, he begins to make his way a little closer to Minho, his eyes on him the whole time. Minho still doesn't move.
“I'm Jinki,” the creature says eventually, still a safe distance away.
“It's nice to meet you.” Minho smiles, and tries to inject every honest, sincere thought he possesses into that smile, to inject himself into his smile. “I just...I just wanted to let you know, there's no one else in the house but me, and if the garden gets dangerous you're free to...to hide in there.”
There is a long silence, but finally the tiny man speaks up. His voice is soft, quiet, as he says with sincerity and surprise, “Thank you.”
Minho really doesn't know what to do now, but he decides not to push his luck. The creature - Jinki - seems like the nervous type, and Minho doesn't blame him. “Okay, um. I'll...leave you to your business now? It was nice to talk to you.”
“Goodbye, Minho,” comes the tiny voice, and after a moment, Jinki vanishes, almost quicker than Minho can see.
He almost tells himself that none of it happened, that it was some fevered dream or he really has gone crazy, and he tries to forget about the whole thing and doesn't go sneaking through his garden again. But one morning he comes into his kitchen and finds a small pile of neatly arranged acorns on his kitchen table.
There's no other explanation, and his heart swells as he realises that Jinki has been there.
Rating: G
Fandom: SHINee
Pairing: Onew/Minho
Wordcount: 1,284
Summary: Minho has seen it twice since then, flitting around the garden, always just vanishing out of sight before he can do anything.
Notes: This is just small, short, and inconsequential, written for a friend to cheer her up. I hope it worked!
People will think he's crazy, Minho knows this. Even he's starting to believe that he might be. But he's also almost certain of what he saw.
He inches through the garden, eyes as wide as possible to catch any unusual movement. It's a tiny garden, hardly one at all, really, just an excuse to increase the rent of his place; there's a bit of grass, some scrubby bushes lining one of the fences, and one tree. It was in that tree that Minho saw it for the first time, almost faster than the eye could see, beating a hasty retreat from his prying eyes.
Minho has seen it twice since then, flitting around the garden, always just vanishing out of sight before he can do anything. Minho's curious, of course he's curious because from the little glimpses he's caught he saw what looked like arms, two regular human arms only tiny, and delicate, blurred with their quick beating, wings. So of course there's a curiosity to it, but he's also concerned. If it is what he suspects it might (impossibly) be, then he's concerned for its safety. There are cats in his neighbourhood, and he's seen a number of his neighbours cats toy with birds and rodents they've caught in these slap-dash gardens.
He doesn't want it to get hurt.
Minho is quiet, is cautious, and moves slowly throughout his cramped garden, alert for anything. He pauses, and there, there it is. He hears a faint humming, a fluttering, noises he doesn't associate with his garden. His eyes scan the area, searching for signs of movement. As he listens, he begins to think that the humming might actually be a voice, a tiny voice, speaking. He can't make out any words, but Minho thinks the humming sounds irritated. He sees some weeds flutter, and there's no wind today. And then, he sees it. Minho holds his breath, holds himself, and does nothing.
There, amongst the tall weeds that Minho has neglected to take care of recently, he sees a tiny, fluttering figure. From what Minho can make out between the weeds, it is very much human-like in shape; two arms, two legs, a head, the only differences are that it has wings, and it looks like it could fit comfortably in the palm of Minho's hand.
Cats must be monsters to this poor, tiny creature.
He isn't sure what to do, he hesitates, and as his mind stutters his instincts take control. “Um, hello. Excuse me?” he says, but as soon as any sound passes Minho's lips the figure flutters away, almost too fast to see. Minho thinks it might have flown off to hide in the scrubby bushes.
“Please,” he says, vainly, cursing his mistake. But he's never encountered a creature like this before, and it's not as if Minho knows a right way to go about this, that there even is a right way, because this is kind of completely crazy. But he has to try, even so. Minho never gives up.
He decides against taking a step forward, and stays where he is, so as not to startle the creature further. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.”
There is the humming again, and now Minho is certain that the sound is the creature talking. This time, it most definitely sounds irritated to Minho, and he thinks he can even pick out a few words.
“...Wish people...tend to...gardens better.”
It sounds quite disgruntled, and Minho notices then the exceedingly poor and scrubby state of the bushes, and can hardly imagine being tiny and getting tangled in their mess.
“Are you okay?” he ventures, feeling concerned. “I hope you're not hurt.”
The humming stops, then, and there is no sign of movement, either. Still, Minho stays where he is.
“I'm Minho,” he says, after some time, still unwilling to give up. “I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I just...” he doesn't know what to say, or what to do, and in that moment Minho really does think that he might have actually gone crazy because he's standing in his garden, on a lovely day, talking to the bushes. He dearly hopes no one can see him now. “I was just worried about the cats. There are a lot, and they're not very nice.”
He waits, and it feels like time is stretching out, endlessly, before him. Nothing happens, and Minho resigns himself to having to give up this time. He doesn't blame the creature, if it isn't just his mind playing elaborate games with him.
“Okay, well you don't have to come out. I was just concerned, and wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll, um, leave you to it.”
He feels increasingly stupid as he talks to the bush, and he turns to walk away, to try and forget this ever happened.
A tiny voice pipes up, and Minho has to strain to make out the words.
“I hate cats.”
When Minho turns, he sees the tiny figure just peeking out of the bushes, peering up at him. Minho hardly dares breathe, as he stares at the figure. Now he finally gets an almost clear look at its tiny face, and Minho thinks it's a man, despite the longish hair.
“Me too,” Minho agrees, unable to believe his eyes.
The creature floats out just a touch closer from the bush, and seems to be watching Minho, both curiously and cautiously. Minho doesn't want to disappoint it. Him.
“You don't have a cat?”
Minho shakes his head.
“Oh, that's good, then. I thought the big orange beast might belong to this house, because it always chases me up that tree.” The little figure points to the lone tree in Minho's garden, and he's sure the creature is making a face as he talks. He wants so badly to take a closer look, but doesn't dare to startle him away.
“Definitely not the orange one, he's the worst cat in this neighbourhood.”
The creature seems to hum in agreement. Then slowly, with extreme caution, as if he might fly away at any second, he begins to make his way a little closer to Minho, his eyes on him the whole time. Minho still doesn't move.
“I'm Jinki,” the creature says eventually, still a safe distance away.
“It's nice to meet you.” Minho smiles, and tries to inject every honest, sincere thought he possesses into that smile, to inject himself into his smile. “I just...I just wanted to let you know, there's no one else in the house but me, and if the garden gets dangerous you're free to...to hide in there.”
There is a long silence, but finally the tiny man speaks up. His voice is soft, quiet, as he says with sincerity and surprise, “Thank you.”
Minho really doesn't know what to do now, but he decides not to push his luck. The creature - Jinki - seems like the nervous type, and Minho doesn't blame him. “Okay, um. I'll...leave you to your business now? It was nice to talk to you.”
“Goodbye, Minho,” comes the tiny voice, and after a moment, Jinki vanishes, almost quicker than Minho can see.
He almost tells himself that none of it happened, that it was some fevered dream or he really has gone crazy, and he tries to forget about the whole thing and doesn't go sneaking through his garden again. But one morning he comes into his kitchen and finds a small pile of neatly arranged acorns on his kitchen table.
There's no other explanation, and his heart swells as he realises that Jinki has been there.