Bobbing for apples and love
| Bobbing for apples and love | pg-13 | super junior | various |
Vignettes and possibilities.
Zhou Mi/Ryeowook: sunrise. 329.
Zhou Mi closes the laptop with a sigh and squints at the blocky red letters on his alarm clock. Kyuhyun would kill him for staying up so late when they have early schedules tomorrow, especially when he was wasting hours looking at the antifan cafes. He tells himself that it's to stay grounded - arrogance isn't an attractive trait, idol or non-idol - but the pages upon pages of vitriol leave him with a feeling he can't quite shake off.
He rolls out of bed carefully to keep the creaking to a minimum; the last thing he needs now is for Kyuhyun to wake up and catch him red-handed. But apparently, someone up there has taken a liking to him, and he even manages to make his way to the shared kitchen without rousing anyone else in the group.
Or so he thought, until halfway though his cup of coffee, Ryeowook stumbles in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Zhou Mi ge ge," he mumbles through a yawn, "if you're hungry, you should have woken me. I could have made something for you."
Zhou Mi smiles spologetically, "I managed to wake you up anyways. I'm sorry."
"It's no big deal, I should probably start making breakfast anyways. Do you want an egg?"
"No, that's alright I was just-" He protests, but Ryeowook ignores him for taking a carton of eggs from the fridge and setting it on the counter.
"You need the protein." Ryeowook says, when he cracks an egg into the sizzling pan. "It'll give you strength."
They eat their early breakfast on the balcony, when the outside is still chilly and dawn-grey with the barest hint of pink peeking from the horizon.
"I really like sunrises." Zhou Mi confides. "They always manage to cheer me up. A new beginning of sorts, you see."
"Then think about it this way," Ryeowook says, blowing at his tea to cool it further, "the sun is always rising in the sky somewhere."
Kyuhyun/Sungmin: guitar strings. 172.
"I'm in love with the way you sing." Kyuhyun says, "You always manage to show so much…" He pauses, fishing for the words, “emotion. It’s like you feel what you’re singing. Like they’re not just words on a page you need to fit to a tune.”
Sungmin looks up, fingers still tangled in guitar strings, "What are you talking about? You're the singer in this group."
"Yeah, but they say my eyes look dead when I sing. And besides, you're one of the most talented people I know and you don't even try. I admire you for that." Kyuhyun fidgets a bit before turning back to his screen, fingers already dancing madly on the keys.
Sungmin laughs, soft and disbelieving, before putting down his instrument and slinging an arm over the other man's shoulders. When Kyuhyun turns to him, startled by the sudden contact, Sungmin seals the surprised murmurs with his lips and digs his guitar pick into the pale, exposed collarbone, marking Kyuhyun the only way he knows.
Henry/Kyuhyun: picture perfect. 325.
When Henry first came to Korea, he took pictures of everything: uneven streets, buildings covered with graffiti, even the cracked walls of his two-by-four metered room, shared with other trainees who couldn't understand his English or Chinese. On a few desperate occasions, he had even tried to speak his grade-school French with them, but the confusion that sparked from "uh, voulez-vous, uh, manger ca?" killed that plan rather quickly.
Yet he never let those obstacles bother him, because he was here in a brand new country, breathing unfamiliar air in a city half a world away. It was exciting in a way he couldn't describe, so he didn't waste words and instead let his photographs speak for him in his letters home.
Over the years, he gains a bit of fame in the company for his photography addiction. Word is, there isn't a single person whose picture Henry doesn't have. He has records of the SNSD members without make up, of the trainee hopefuls before and after their surgeries, and even of Lee Soo Man himself, laughing at a joke that Jinki made at the studio one day.
He looks over his photographs now, the latest batch that he likes enough to print, and lingers over every smile, every touch, and every crease at the corners of Kyuhyun's eyes. It might be love, Henry thinks, touching a trembling finger to the photograph. He wants this, wants this so badly that half the pictures come out blurry from his shaking hands, wants this so much more than being accepted for his talents and his position in a group on the verge of disbandment.
"What are you doing, Henry? Come back to bed." Kyuhyun mutters, voice drowsy with sleep.
And suddenly, Henry wonders what he's doing, falling in love with mere photographs when he's got the real thing, alive and breathing and willing, just waiting for them to be made into perfect snapshot he's been longing for.
Henry/Donghae: priorities. 111.
Henry loves the way Donghae smiles, guileless and carefree, full of childish innocence. He was friendly and playful back when Henry didn’t even know how to ask where the nearest bathroom is without consulting his pocket phrasebook, so it didn’t take much to fall in love with this overtly cheerful boy that wished him luck in the studio hallways.
But now, Henry can’t help but feel bitterness in his heart. He should have realized that Donghae’s first love is the fans who call his name and fill the stadium with sapphire light, and that given the choice between the two, Henry would always be the one to lose in the end.
Kyuhyun: sense of loss. 118.
There was a time when Super Junior weaved itself so deep into Kyuhyun’s heart that he couldn’t tell where it ended and he began. He was nice to the fans because he was genuinely grateful, but at the same time, some part of him was always concerned about drawing them in.
The disbandment hit him a little liberating but a whole lot crippling. It was like losing a limb he hadn’t realized he needed, and in the ensuing confusion he fumbled and agreed to stay on as a producer and part time composer. Now, buried in piles crumpled paper and melodies that won’t flow out with the stream of ink, he wondered what the hell he was thinking.
Title taken from Regina Spektor.
Vignettes and possibilities.
Zhou Mi/Ryeowook: sunrise. 329.
Zhou Mi closes the laptop with a sigh and squints at the blocky red letters on his alarm clock. Kyuhyun would kill him for staying up so late when they have early schedules tomorrow, especially when he was wasting hours looking at the antifan cafes. He tells himself that it's to stay grounded - arrogance isn't an attractive trait, idol or non-idol - but the pages upon pages of vitriol leave him with a feeling he can't quite shake off.
He rolls out of bed carefully to keep the creaking to a minimum; the last thing he needs now is for Kyuhyun to wake up and catch him red-handed. But apparently, someone up there has taken a liking to him, and he even manages to make his way to the shared kitchen without rousing anyone else in the group.
Or so he thought, until halfway though his cup of coffee, Ryeowook stumbles in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Zhou Mi ge ge," he mumbles through a yawn, "if you're hungry, you should have woken me. I could have made something for you."
Zhou Mi smiles spologetically, "I managed to wake you up anyways. I'm sorry."
"It's no big deal, I should probably start making breakfast anyways. Do you want an egg?"
"No, that's alright I was just-" He protests, but Ryeowook ignores him for taking a carton of eggs from the fridge and setting it on the counter.
"You need the protein." Ryeowook says, when he cracks an egg into the sizzling pan. "It'll give you strength."
They eat their early breakfast on the balcony, when the outside is still chilly and dawn-grey with the barest hint of pink peeking from the horizon.
"I really like sunrises." Zhou Mi confides. "They always manage to cheer me up. A new beginning of sorts, you see."
"Then think about it this way," Ryeowook says, blowing at his tea to cool it further, "the sun is always rising in the sky somewhere."
Kyuhyun/Sungmin: guitar strings. 172.
"I'm in love with the way you sing." Kyuhyun says, "You always manage to show so much…" He pauses, fishing for the words, “emotion. It’s like you feel what you’re singing. Like they’re not just words on a page you need to fit to a tune.”
Sungmin looks up, fingers still tangled in guitar strings, "What are you talking about? You're the singer in this group."
"Yeah, but they say my eyes look dead when I sing. And besides, you're one of the most talented people I know and you don't even try. I admire you for that." Kyuhyun fidgets a bit before turning back to his screen, fingers already dancing madly on the keys.
Sungmin laughs, soft and disbelieving, before putting down his instrument and slinging an arm over the other man's shoulders. When Kyuhyun turns to him, startled by the sudden contact, Sungmin seals the surprised murmurs with his lips and digs his guitar pick into the pale, exposed collarbone, marking Kyuhyun the only way he knows.
Henry/Kyuhyun: picture perfect. 325.
When Henry first came to Korea, he took pictures of everything: uneven streets, buildings covered with graffiti, even the cracked walls of his two-by-four metered room, shared with other trainees who couldn't understand his English or Chinese. On a few desperate occasions, he had even tried to speak his grade-school French with them, but the confusion that sparked from "uh, voulez-vous, uh, manger ca?" killed that plan rather quickly.
Yet he never let those obstacles bother him, because he was here in a brand new country, breathing unfamiliar air in a city half a world away. It was exciting in a way he couldn't describe, so he didn't waste words and instead let his photographs speak for him in his letters home.
Over the years, he gains a bit of fame in the company for his photography addiction. Word is, there isn't a single person whose picture Henry doesn't have. He has records of the SNSD members without make up, of the trainee hopefuls before and after their surgeries, and even of Lee Soo Man himself, laughing at a joke that Jinki made at the studio one day.
He looks over his photographs now, the latest batch that he likes enough to print, and lingers over every smile, every touch, and every crease at the corners of Kyuhyun's eyes. It might be love, Henry thinks, touching a trembling finger to the photograph. He wants this, wants this so badly that half the pictures come out blurry from his shaking hands, wants this so much more than being accepted for his talents and his position in a group on the verge of disbandment.
"What are you doing, Henry? Come back to bed." Kyuhyun mutters, voice drowsy with sleep.
And suddenly, Henry wonders what he's doing, falling in love with mere photographs when he's got the real thing, alive and breathing and willing, just waiting for them to be made into perfect snapshot he's been longing for.
Henry/Donghae: priorities. 111.
Henry loves the way Donghae smiles, guileless and carefree, full of childish innocence. He was friendly and playful back when Henry didn’t even know how to ask where the nearest bathroom is without consulting his pocket phrasebook, so it didn’t take much to fall in love with this overtly cheerful boy that wished him luck in the studio hallways.
But now, Henry can’t help but feel bitterness in his heart. He should have realized that Donghae’s first love is the fans who call his name and fill the stadium with sapphire light, and that given the choice between the two, Henry would always be the one to lose in the end.
Kyuhyun: sense of loss. 118.
There was a time when Super Junior weaved itself so deep into Kyuhyun’s heart that he couldn’t tell where it ended and he began. He was nice to the fans because he was genuinely grateful, but at the same time, some part of him was always concerned about drawing them in.
The disbandment hit him a little liberating but a whole lot crippling. It was like losing a limb he hadn’t realized he needed, and in the ensuing confusion he fumbled and agreed to stay on as a producer and part time composer. Now, buried in piles crumpled paper and melodies that won’t flow out with the stream of ink, he wondered what the hell he was thinking.
Title taken from Regina Spektor.