Various drabbles/fics @ kpfw
I forgot I had these to post, lol. Wrote these fic for a request thread at kpfw 10.0. Enjoy :)
The point of no return
Changmin/Minho; 401 words; PG. Maybe Minho idolizes Changmin too much. Changmin doesn't have a problem with it, though. (inspired by Sekaiichi Hatsukoi)
It was a quiet day in the library as usual. No one frequented this part of the school, and it was for the same reason that Changmin took refuge in it. That, and he had this intense love for books that even the slightest mention of it made his senses tingle and brought a small smile to his lips.
Most people would call him a lunatic, but he didn't care. He rather liked the company of his books, thank you very much, especially at a time when his parents were going through have a divorce.
His grip on the spine of the book he just got from the shelf tightened. He shouldn't be thinking about these kinds of things, especially since he was still at school.
A light squeak and a suppressed scream brought him back to his senses, and he turned his head sharply only to find a young man on his knees, scrambling to gather all the books on the floor. He furrowed his eyebrows a little - the titles looked awfully familiar, but that might just be because he had already read half of the books in the library, possibly even more.
"Aa, S-Shim-sunbae!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Do I know you," he asked flatly. He watched as the young man worried his lip a bit too much, then parted his lips as if he was supposed to say something. "And why do you know me?" he said a few seconds after. He made sure to keep his profile low; he didn't like having a lot of people around him.
"B-because sunbae is my idol."
Changmin chuckled. He could see that - the boy had way too many books in his arms, and all the titles were those that he had already read. He took the book on top of the pile, checked the library card and mumbled, "Choi Minho, huh." He returned the book to the young man - now with an identity, Choi Minho - and turned on his heel.
Choi Minho, he repeated, this time in his head. The name sounded awfully familiar, like he'd seen it many times before. He didn't have much time to think about it, so he tucked himself back in his favorite spot and opened the book he's just gotten, but checked the library card before he even read the first line.
'Choi Minho' was the person who borrowed the book before he did.
A favorable response
Myungsoo/Sungyeol; 177 words; PG-13. Sungyeol might just be a bit too selfless for his sanity.
Often people would find them acting awkwardly around each other, making weird movements and exchanging weird gestures whenever they talked or walked side by side, but Sungyeol knew better than to read too much into things, even when Myungsoo would sneak in a kiss in between breaks, slip an arm around his waist to pull him close and whisper all these weird promises in his ear, because he knew that Myungsoo's mind was set on Sungjong even as they collide like this, all flesh and limbs on each other, on Sungjong's bed for no one else to hear.
"Why do you keep letting me do this to you," Myungsoo would ask. Sungyeol would shrug, then chuckle, then bury his face in the crook of Myungsoo's neck.
"Because I'm stupid."
The next day, they'd emerge from the room unscathed, as if nothing happened. Myungsoo would shoot him a look from across the table at breakfast, but Sungyeol knew better than to assume anything. Sungjong was just beside him, or maybe Myungsoo just wanted him to pass the bread.
You and me and Paris
Amber/Key; 257 words; PG. It was easy to get lost in Paris, especially with Key.
It was funny how Kibum easily got lost in the wonder that was Paris. Right after the staff had announced that they had the rest of the day to themselves after practice, Kibum grabbed Amber by the arm and dragged him to Lord knew where. He had a lot of plans - shopping, food tripping, sight-seeing, just plain hanging out and around in the streets of Paris. Kibum was easy to please.
It's 8 p.m. and they'd finally reached the Eiffel Tower. Kibum had excused himself to contact the manager and Jinki; they'd have his head if he didn't tell them where he was going. "Just a minute!" Kibum said, smiling rather childishly, his gold hairband glimmering in the night. The Parisian streetlamps cast a soft glow on him.
Amber smiled a little. This was perfect.
She took out her phone, held it in front of her, framing Kibum in a picture. Behind him was the Eiffel tower, a perfect testament of their visit here. Her hands shook a little; it wasn't as if she hadn't taken a picture of Kibum before, and it shouldn't be any different now.
So she pressed on the clicker and captured the scene in a flash.
"Hey, no taking pics of me when I'm not ready!" Kibum stormed in her direction, his lips poised in a half-smile, half-chuckle. "And no flash, please. It's so unflattering."
Amber just stuck out her tongue, slipped her phone back in her pocket and sat back as she watched Kibum frown at her and slap her arm.
(I am) The girl who can't be moved
Amber/Henry; 184 words; PG. Amber declines the best Poutine in the world. Henry thinks Amber's actions should be rectified.
"I am not going to eat that."
Henry rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! It's just your regular fries and, well, more!" He frowned as Amber's face contorted a little, a look of something akin to fear surfacing on her features. "You're not going to die with a little fat! Sheesh. And well, we both know you can't resist cheese..."
Amber furrowed her eyebrows. "I can! As a matter of fact, I'm resisting it right now!"
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, really!"
"Then I'd have to resort to drastic measures."
Henry slipped his hand behind Amber's neck and pulled her close until their lips were only a few centimeters apart. "What are you-" Amber's words hung loosely in the air, and Henry held his breath and he took a fry and stuffed it in Amber's mouth while her lips were still parted open.
"What the fuck, man!" Amber managed to say, her speech garbled as she chewed on the fry. "That was sneaky!"
Henry shrugged, a grin on his lips. He loved the taste of victory, but he loved the taste of Poutine all the more.
Summer lovin' happens too fast
Krystal/Amber; 502 words; PG. Amber recounts the many times she and Krystal have met and impresses each moment in her memory like the birth of something special.
1. It's summer when they first meet. Krystal's got her hair tied up in a bun and she's wearing something flimsy for an evening dress. She's blond, and she's anything but an ice princess with her bright and warm smile.
Amber takes a deep breath, fixes her attention back to the chocolate fountain that she's supposed to be operating and smiles at the people asking if they can take a dip.
They don't exactly get to introduce themselves to each other, but Krystal's eyes get caught in Amber's own in a brief moment of surprise. Amber looks away, then there's a relapse when she smiles at a little girl tiptoeing to get some marshmallows and she sees Krystal looking from the corner of her eye. She convinces herself not to look again, but her body acts against her will and soon after she finds herself looking at Krystal for the nth time that night.
And Krystal is looking away.
2. They're rivals the next time they meet. Krystal is the lead singer of this rising rock band, and Amber is the lead singer and bassist of the opposing band. Amber doesn't deny the fact that Krystal is a good singer, possibly way better than her, but they have better music. That, and from what Amber has heard Krystal can be a total bitch. She can see where people are coming from.
All these ill thoughts conveniently get lost at the back of her head when Krystal stars singing, eyes closed just lightly, head titled to the side. The spotlight is harsh on her skin and paints her a sickly glow, but Amber holds her breath in awe and pure admiration.
There's a sick feeling settling at the pit of Amber's stomach, but she ignores this. It's just nervousness, she tells herself. It can't be anything else. This is what she leads herself to believe until the end of the song, when Krystal's got her gasping for air and clutching at her chest.
3. They're both normal people this time around. No titles, no distinctions, just two people sitting on opposite ends of the table in a common friend's gathering. Amber furrows her eyebrows because she can't shake off the feeling that they've met before. Krystal shoots her a weird look because she thinks all the staring is getting creepy.
Halfway through the party and a couple of bottles of beer after, they're both sitting on the couch, obviously wasted to the core but still a bit awake. They're sitting too close for people who don't even know each other, but they can always shrug this off as something that drunk people do. Amber can't even be bothered to shift in her position now that she's comfortable, and because Krystal's head is snug on her shoulder, and the steady rise and fall of Krystal's chest (the tiny 'o' of her lips, the tousled hair framing her face just perfectly) is a bit too amusing to watch.
... And enough to lull her into a very comfortable sleep.
Debacles
Krystal/Minho; 920 words; PG. Minho seeks answers; Krystal offers more questions.
Amber has so bluntly put it out there for Krystal to digest - if she and Minho aren't together, then they must be complete and total sluts for each other.
"I mean, just look at you two, smiling at each other and touching and doing all those lovey-dovey stuff..." Amber's voice drifts off as a weird look surfaces on her features. She cringes a little. "Look, if Minho oppa isn't asking you to be his girlfriend, then he just wants to get into your pants.
"I don't think he's that kind of guy." Krystal frowns, then fumbles with the hem of her shirt. "Besides, I don't even wear pants."
Amber rolls her eyes. "And of course you lose your sense of logic."
Amber walks away, excusing herself to grab a cup of coffee and some sanity. Krystal leans back against the couch, sinking in it and letting the pillows engulf her. She then reaches for her phone, looks for Minho in her contacts and texts, 'What are we?'
"What are we?"
"Uh well, we're friends. At least I think we are." Kibum gestures for Minho to pass the popcorn and soda. It's almost six and he's eating as much as he can; he doesn't even know why he's been snacking on popcorn these past few days. "Unless we're more? I don't know. You always act weird around me that I get the feeling that you like me."
"Shut up, Kibum. I was reading a text out loud." Minho lets out a sigh, then takes a handful of popcorn. "And just so we're clear, I don't like you. In fact, you're the last person I'll ever fall in love with."
"Don't say that, Choi. You might just fall in love with me." Kibum winks, and Minho slaps him hard on the arm.
Minho scowls. "Fuck off!"
"No sex on my couch, please!" Jonghyun shoves the two aside and plops on whatever space is left on the couch. Jinki settles on the floor and uses Jonghyun's legs as his backrest and eyes Minho curiously.
"Girlfriend issues?" Jinki asks. Minho smiles for the first time since the start of the conversation and nods. Finally, someone who understands, he thinks, and shoves his phone in Jinki's direction.
Jinki shakes his head.
"Shit just got real, bro."
Minho gets to send the 'date initiation text' at eight in the evening, after much quarreling and rephrasing (thanks to Jonghyun, who they have now deemed as the 'expert at killing people softly'). "I'll see you at 9, in practice room 1," it says, and it sounds overly cheesy even for someone like Minho.
"You think you can do this?" Jinki asks on their way to the SM building. Jinki's driving tonight, because Jonghyun's apparent lack of sense of direction when he's excited cannot be of use right now. "Why didn't you even do this sooner?"
"I am not answering that question. Thanks for the ride, hyung."
He plants a soft kiss on Jinki's forehead to shut up the elder, and it proves to be effective. He runs up the steps, into the building and to the elevator.
He's never been so nervous his entire life.
Krystal's there early, as expected. Maybe Minho should've come here earlier knowing that, but then Jinki wasn't such a good driver when he was interrogating Minho. "Hey. Hi," Minho begins, and small but awkward smile on his lips. "You came."
"What are we? No really, Minho, what are we?"
Minho's sharp intake of breath is cut by Krystal's statement. His lips are slightly parted, a thin sheet of air passing through them, and he finds it hard to breathe. There's something bottling up in his chest, like at any moment he'll explode if he doesn't press his lips tightly against each other. But then he doesn't have much time - a confession escapes his lips, raw and real.
"Girlfriend. You're my girlfriend. I thought this was clear already."
"You never said anything!" Krystal shakes her head, a wry smile on her lips. "We do all these crazy stuff but you've never made anything clear and I'm forever left wondering if we actually..." Krystal worries her lower lips. "... are an item."
Minho chuckles. "Well, if it isn't clear enough, let me tell you this: you're my girlfriend. If it can't be you, it can't be anyone else. It has to be you."
Krystal scoffs. "Cheesy as always, Choi." She punches Minho lightly on the arm. "But always so honest."
Minho stands still as Krystal rushes to him, their bodies colliding in an embrace. His fists unclench, his tongue gets untangled, and he finally finds the perfect words for a long overdue confession.
"You're cute," he opts to say, because Krystal will have his head for being so cheesy. Krystal chuckles and this sends fancy tingles down Minho's spine, down to his toes, and to his lips to form a crooked smile.
("That was the cheesiest confession ever," Jonghyun says from outside practice room 1. "He's so vague, I can't even imagine how Krystal manages!"
Jinki looks up from peeking at the crevice of the door. "You said something?"
Jonghyun looks at Jinki for a while, a silly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He shakes his head and whispers, "Nothing," and watches as Jinki goes back to dutifully watching the two from the small opening of the door.
And Jonghyun just sits there, watching and smiling until Jinki grabs him by the arm to run back to the car - a perfect escape from their nightjob.)