I'm a gas tank running on empty, baby. P-p-pump me up.
not your usual cookie-cutter love
pg-13, onew/key, jonghyun/taemin, gd/seungri
Onew/Key
You're the difference between flying and falling
It's not about whether or not they're in love or how Kibum can give the sweetest apology kisses or Jinki's unfailing ability to somehow make things alright (because he smiles and laughs and whispers assurance into Kibum's skin and Kibum sort of falls a little bit more in something with the boy that stole his heart away the first second he saw Jinki stumble into a wall) or the nights counted in between fights when Kibum sleeps on the couch with Jonghyun's blanket or the way that they make such a strange pair, such a fucking odd couple, they really really do, and. Well. Maybe it is about that stuff, but.
“I think,” Kibum says slowly with an arm thrown over his eyes, “that maybe we should-”
“Yeah,” says Jinki. Because, yeah, maybe they should. Slow down, that is. “Maybe.” But Jinki's not sure what kind of slow down they're talking about here; an attempt to savor what they've got perhaps. Or, more likely, judging by the pained expression Kibum's been wearing so very often lately, an attempt to make the whole 'moving-on' bit (that Jinki's been hoping would never have to happen, not to them) easier.
Kibum laughs, only it comes out as sort of half sobbing, half incredulity and Jinki can't tell whether or not he should comfort him like usual, kiss the underside of his chin, smooth circles into his neck with his thumbs, or if that'd be inappropriate given the current circumstances.
“Hey,” Jinki tries, but he doesn't really know what else to say so that's all that he's able to get out.
“Can't you, like, disagree or something? Talk me out of this?” Kibum's seemingly talking to himself. “I just. God, Jinki. I don't. Fuck. I can't do this.”
“Yeah,” Jinki says again.
And they still crash into walls of bathroom stalls after performances, pressing together unceremoniously again and again until Kibum's voice has gone up an octave and Jinki has him singing, just fucking singing, and. It's still beautiful. But it's a different kind of a beautiful. It's the kind of grotesque loveliness that lingers where a problem that has been long untouched has grown and branched out and wrapped it's way around everything in their life, turning it green and leafy and killing them slowly and they're lost in it. They can't find their way out.
“I'm in love with you,” Kibum tells him when they are all sort of drunk and leaning against each other and Taemin is half asleep against Jinki's shoulder and Jonghyun is about to take his shirt off on their make-shift dance floor in their living room and Minho lays spread out across everyone's laps because that is where he fell and didn't really have the energy to get up again (and he's asleep, Jinki thinks - hopes - because otherwise Minho would understand what was going on and that can't happen; it would ruin everything). Jinki smiles - only it's not assuring or comfortable like before, more sad and grounded like reality finally hit - and leans in to kiss him in way of an answer.
“Yeah,” Jinki says. Because that's all he can really say without thoroughly fucking things up.
So they pack away the alcohol where the managers will never find it (though they'll probably guess anyway when Taemin throws up later that night or when neither Minho nor Jonghyun can be dragged out of bed the next morning or the way Kibum is sleeping soundly while tucked into Jinki's side) and turn off the lights and Jinki smooths circles on Kibum's arms and. They're fucked up. They really are. And nothing is right, but at the same time they can't see how such a thing can be wrong, and it's all just a mess, but. But.
“This,” says Kibum. “I need this.”
“Yeah,” whispers Jinki as he leans in to press blind kisses against Kibum's skin - anywhere that he can reach - because, really, he couldn't agree more.
Jonghyun/Taemin
Thumbelina
He's tiny, you think, as the flower petals fall by his bed side. He curls into the center of the rose that he resides in and wrinkles his nose and slowly stretches out all pretty-like as if he's been asleep for god-knows-how-long instead of, well, you're not really sure what faeries do before their flowers bloom, so.
“Hey,” you smile down at him, lifting the boy out of his bed and into the palm of your hand.
He blinks unevenly and his wings unfold themselves from his back as he stares at you.
“Hey,” you say again. “Hey, what's your name?”
But instead of answering - not that you had expected him to answer you, really, because faeries can't talk, not like humans do - he titters forward and bites your thumb, like he's trying to be defiant or something. It's not hard, but it kind of hurts anyway.
“Jonghyun,” he tells you with the fluttering of his wings and the coy way he's looking up at you underneath heavy eyelashes.
“Taemin!” your mother calls, waves her hands frantically from the porch steps. “Didn't I tell you to stop playing in the garden? There are bees in there; you'll get stung.”
Taemin sighs sadly and puts Jonghyun back in his flower. “Mom can't see you,” he explains and Jonghyun blinks back comfortingly. “She doesn't understand.”
Taemin stands up anyway, brushing off his pants as he does so, and heads back toward the house. He takes one final glance, watching as Jonghyun flutters about the garden roses, before he takes his mom's hand and allows her to lead him inside.
He can play with Jonghyun tomorrow anyway.
G Dragon/Seungri
White washed walls and painting blocks all cut out in black in white
Seungri first sees him passed out at the library drooling into the creases of a book on ancient civilizations. The other boy is irrevocably wedged into Seungri's life when he realizes that this is the book he needs for his upcoming history paper.
“Jiyong,” he spells out for Seungri, writing the characters on a sticky note and book marking some odd page or another in the text book. “Be seeing you, then.” The boy salutes Seungri as he leaves.
Jiyong left more than his name in the book, it seems (name, cell number, dorm address), and Seungri has half a mind to crumple it up and toss it into his roommate's trash bin. Only he doesn't because. Well, he doesn't really know. He must just be some sick romantic sap because he saves it and tucks it into an envelope at the back of his desk drawer and promises that it's just because he'd feel bad if he threw it away.
It has absolutely nothing at all to do with Jiyong's pretty eyelashes or charming smile or the way Seungri has started seeing him almost everywhere he goes now - the cafeteria, the library, the foyer area in their dorms; everywhere.
Absolutely nothing at all.
Jiyong is climbing the fence practically, clawing at the wires as he screams for their school football team's quarterback to 'step it up' and 'fucking play instead of shitting around'.
Seungri hangs back quietly, sitting with the friends that had dragged him here, and watches Jiyong throw his cap off when the referee calls a foul on one of their own players.
“If you had one more eye, ref, you'd be a cyclops,” Jiyong shouts, and Seungri can see his friends eying the other boy strangely, judging the way he's laughing too loud and screaming and jumping and getting the people around him to join in with a few cheers.
“Who's he?” asks the guy to Seungri's right (some friend of a friend that he's acquaintances with at most).
The friend that had talked him into going in the first place jabs his finger toward Jiyong and replies, “Him? He's some Junior that's studying psyche or something like that.”
He leans forward then as if he's going to tell a huge secret and suddenly Seungri feels petty, sitting and listening and not stopping them. But he leans forward with everyone else anyway because, alright dammit, he's curious. “They say he got banged by some older kid last year because, well, he's one of them, you know? A rainbow boy,” his friend says all low and quiet. Seungri's stomach clenches and flips at the information and he feels a bit sick because he thinks he might know why he never threw away that post-it note. “And the guy forgot to tell him about the present he'd be leaving him afterward.” His friend laughs and now Seungri feels sick for a whole different reason altogether. “How cliché. Flower boy gets laid at a party, wakes up with AIDs, right?”
And suddenly Seungri's on his feet, hands curled into fists and before his friend can laugh at the sick, cruel joke he's attempting to make, Seungri lays a sound hit into his jaw, knocking him backward.
Jiyong ceases his cheering and screaming when Seungri drags him down the steps, taking them two at a time, but he doesn't attempt to stop him; just lets himself be pulled into the parking lot and as far away as they can get from the stadium.
“I paid for a ticket to get into that,” Jiyong says instead. “You owe me now.”
“Yeah?” Seungri says and attempts to calm down. “Well.” He doesn't really want to explain his outburst; doesn't really want to tell him what his friend had been talking about. He thinks Jiyong might get it anyway. (He's strange like that.)
“How about you start by buying me dinner?” Jiyong suggests with a twinkle in his eye and subtly slips his fingers into Seungri's hand.
Seungri winds their fingers together. “Yeah?” he says. “I think that's a pretty good place to start.”
Inspired by the SHINee prompt gen. thing. Except for the last one. Obvs.
heechul_oppa: You need to shut up about your fics. I love them. I wrote this for you to prove my love. And I never write fic. So. Yeah. D: Stop being angsty, bitch.
pg-13, onew/key, jonghyun/taemin, gd/seungri
Onew/Key
You're the difference between flying and falling
It's not about whether or not they're in love or how Kibum can give the sweetest apology kisses or Jinki's unfailing ability to somehow make things alright (because he smiles and laughs and whispers assurance into Kibum's skin and Kibum sort of falls a little bit more in something with the boy that stole his heart away the first second he saw Jinki stumble into a wall) or the nights counted in between fights when Kibum sleeps on the couch with Jonghyun's blanket or the way that they make such a strange pair, such a fucking odd couple, they really really do, and. Well. Maybe it is about that stuff, but.
“I think,” Kibum says slowly with an arm thrown over his eyes, “that maybe we should-”
“Yeah,” says Jinki. Because, yeah, maybe they should. Slow down, that is. “Maybe.” But Jinki's not sure what kind of slow down they're talking about here; an attempt to savor what they've got perhaps. Or, more likely, judging by the pained expression Kibum's been wearing so very often lately, an attempt to make the whole 'moving-on' bit (that Jinki's been hoping would never have to happen, not to them) easier.
Kibum laughs, only it comes out as sort of half sobbing, half incredulity and Jinki can't tell whether or not he should comfort him like usual, kiss the underside of his chin, smooth circles into his neck with his thumbs, or if that'd be inappropriate given the current circumstances.
“Hey,” Jinki tries, but he doesn't really know what else to say so that's all that he's able to get out.
“Can't you, like, disagree or something? Talk me out of this?” Kibum's seemingly talking to himself. “I just. God, Jinki. I don't. Fuck. I can't do this.”
“Yeah,” Jinki says again.
And they still crash into walls of bathroom stalls after performances, pressing together unceremoniously again and again until Kibum's voice has gone up an octave and Jinki has him singing, just fucking singing, and. It's still beautiful. But it's a different kind of a beautiful. It's the kind of grotesque loveliness that lingers where a problem that has been long untouched has grown and branched out and wrapped it's way around everything in their life, turning it green and leafy and killing them slowly and they're lost in it. They can't find their way out.
“I'm in love with you,” Kibum tells him when they are all sort of drunk and leaning against each other and Taemin is half asleep against Jinki's shoulder and Jonghyun is about to take his shirt off on their make-shift dance floor in their living room and Minho lays spread out across everyone's laps because that is where he fell and didn't really have the energy to get up again (and he's asleep, Jinki thinks - hopes - because otherwise Minho would understand what was going on and that can't happen; it would ruin everything). Jinki smiles - only it's not assuring or comfortable like before, more sad and grounded like reality finally hit - and leans in to kiss him in way of an answer.
“Yeah,” Jinki says. Because that's all he can really say without thoroughly fucking things up.
So they pack away the alcohol where the managers will never find it (though they'll probably guess anyway when Taemin throws up later that night or when neither Minho nor Jonghyun can be dragged out of bed the next morning or the way Kibum is sleeping soundly while tucked into Jinki's side) and turn off the lights and Jinki smooths circles on Kibum's arms and. They're fucked up. They really are. And nothing is right, but at the same time they can't see how such a thing can be wrong, and it's all just a mess, but. But.
“This,” says Kibum. “I need this.”
“Yeah,” whispers Jinki as he leans in to press blind kisses against Kibum's skin - anywhere that he can reach - because, really, he couldn't agree more.
Jonghyun/Taemin
Thumbelina
He's tiny, you think, as the flower petals fall by his bed side. He curls into the center of the rose that he resides in and wrinkles his nose and slowly stretches out all pretty-like as if he's been asleep for god-knows-how-long instead of, well, you're not really sure what faeries do before their flowers bloom, so.
“Hey,” you smile down at him, lifting the boy out of his bed and into the palm of your hand.
He blinks unevenly and his wings unfold themselves from his back as he stares at you.
“Hey,” you say again. “Hey, what's your name?”
But instead of answering - not that you had expected him to answer you, really, because faeries can't talk, not like humans do - he titters forward and bites your thumb, like he's trying to be defiant or something. It's not hard, but it kind of hurts anyway.
“Jonghyun,” he tells you with the fluttering of his wings and the coy way he's looking up at you underneath heavy eyelashes.
“Taemin!” your mother calls, waves her hands frantically from the porch steps. “Didn't I tell you to stop playing in the garden? There are bees in there; you'll get stung.”
Taemin sighs sadly and puts Jonghyun back in his flower. “Mom can't see you,” he explains and Jonghyun blinks back comfortingly. “She doesn't understand.”
Taemin stands up anyway, brushing off his pants as he does so, and heads back toward the house. He takes one final glance, watching as Jonghyun flutters about the garden roses, before he takes his mom's hand and allows her to lead him inside.
He can play with Jonghyun tomorrow anyway.
G Dragon/Seungri
White washed walls and painting blocks all cut out in black in white
Seungri first sees him passed out at the library drooling into the creases of a book on ancient civilizations. The other boy is irrevocably wedged into Seungri's life when he realizes that this is the book he needs for his upcoming history paper.
“Jiyong,” he spells out for Seungri, writing the characters on a sticky note and book marking some odd page or another in the text book. “Be seeing you, then.” The boy salutes Seungri as he leaves.
Jiyong left more than his name in the book, it seems (name, cell number, dorm address), and Seungri has half a mind to crumple it up and toss it into his roommate's trash bin. Only he doesn't because. Well, he doesn't really know. He must just be some sick romantic sap because he saves it and tucks it into an envelope at the back of his desk drawer and promises that it's just because he'd feel bad if he threw it away.
It has absolutely nothing at all to do with Jiyong's pretty eyelashes or charming smile or the way Seungri has started seeing him almost everywhere he goes now - the cafeteria, the library, the foyer area in their dorms; everywhere.
Absolutely nothing at all.
Jiyong is climbing the fence practically, clawing at the wires as he screams for their school football team's quarterback to 'step it up' and 'fucking play instead of shitting around'.
Seungri hangs back quietly, sitting with the friends that had dragged him here, and watches Jiyong throw his cap off when the referee calls a foul on one of their own players.
“If you had one more eye, ref, you'd be a cyclops,” Jiyong shouts, and Seungri can see his friends eying the other boy strangely, judging the way he's laughing too loud and screaming and jumping and getting the people around him to join in with a few cheers.
“Who's he?” asks the guy to Seungri's right (some friend of a friend that he's acquaintances with at most).
The friend that had talked him into going in the first place jabs his finger toward Jiyong and replies, “Him? He's some Junior that's studying psyche or something like that.”
He leans forward then as if he's going to tell a huge secret and suddenly Seungri feels petty, sitting and listening and not stopping them. But he leans forward with everyone else anyway because, alright dammit, he's curious. “They say he got banged by some older kid last year because, well, he's one of them, you know? A rainbow boy,” his friend says all low and quiet. Seungri's stomach clenches and flips at the information and he feels a bit sick because he thinks he might know why he never threw away that post-it note. “And the guy forgot to tell him about the present he'd be leaving him afterward.” His friend laughs and now Seungri feels sick for a whole different reason altogether. “How cliché. Flower boy gets laid at a party, wakes up with AIDs, right?”
And suddenly Seungri's on his feet, hands curled into fists and before his friend can laugh at the sick, cruel joke he's attempting to make, Seungri lays a sound hit into his jaw, knocking him backward.
Jiyong ceases his cheering and screaming when Seungri drags him down the steps, taking them two at a time, but he doesn't attempt to stop him; just lets himself be pulled into the parking lot and as far away as they can get from the stadium.
“I paid for a ticket to get into that,” Jiyong says instead. “You owe me now.”
“Yeah?” Seungri says and attempts to calm down. “Well.” He doesn't really want to explain his outburst; doesn't really want to tell him what his friend had been talking about. He thinks Jiyong might get it anyway. (He's strange like that.)
“How about you start by buying me dinner?” Jiyong suggests with a twinkle in his eye and subtly slips his fingers into Seungri's hand.
Seungri winds their fingers together. “Yeah?” he says. “I think that's a pretty good place to start.”
Inspired by the SHINee prompt gen. thing. Except for the last one. Obvs.
heechul_oppa: You need to shut up about your fics. I love them. I wrote this for you to prove my love. And I never write fic. So. Yeah. D: Stop being angsty, bitch.