The cabs drive by as you watch the sky on a black October night.
5 minutes to midnight
pg, jaebum/nichkhun
So you're pretty sure you have no idea what's happening anymore (you lost track somewhere between the car chase and the bank robbery) and the mess of plot and dialogue being flashed at you is starting to give you a migraine (add that with the fact that you've never really liked hardcore action movies), but Junsu is laying on Jaebum who has his leg halfway over Junho's thigh and Junho is halfway on your lap at this point and it's not like you can move or anything, so you've condemned yourself to sitting through the movie anyway.
“Hey, Khun,” Taecyeon whispers none too stealthily from where's he's laying spread eagled in the middle of the floor, Chansung already asleep with his head on Taecyeon's stomach. “How about making us some popcorn?”
You sigh and roll your eyes, all indicators that, no, you will not make them some fucking popcorn because jesus christ what? But he's still staring at you from the foot of the couch, blinking expectantly and okay, fine. Whatever, you say and wiggle out from underneath Junho who rolls bonelessly to fill in the space you had previously occupied.
You switch on the kitchen light and blink uncomfortably as you stumble your way to the cupboards, finding that you're much much more sleepy than you'd expected, and lean against the edge of the sink to catch your bearings. You breathe through your nose and close your eyes, relaxing slightly, before straightening your back as you grapple around the cupboard for the microwavable popcorn bags. You find one underneath the numerous boxes of cereal (each member has their favorite brand, after all) and use your teeth to rip it from the plastic outing. It doesn't work so you try using your hands instead only now you've gotten spit on it and that makes it hard to hold onto and dammit.
It's too late for this. Really. Way way too late.
“Uhm,” someone says drowsily from the doorway. “Need help?” Jaebum stands there while rubbing his eyes, sweatpants low and baggy on his waist. He looks comfortable, you note. He ambles over to your side and stares at the popcorn bag in your hands. You drop it onto the counter with a huff, massaging the bridge of your nose with your forefinger and thumb. You kind of want to yell and stomp and throw a hissy fit because you get crabby when you're sleepy and god, shit, this is frustrating, but you find that the lethargic weight pushing down on you is a bit too much to fight against. He gets the message anyway.
He picks it up, biting down on the end as he pulls in the opposite direction, and hey, indirect kiss - only you stop yourself there because no. exhausted or not, that's just not something you should be thinking about. Ever. And you hear a slight ripping noise as he manages to make a small tear on the edge. He hands you the unwrapped popcorn bag and smiles.
“Here.” You take it. He's still smiling, you notice. All teeth and droopy eyes and hunched shoulders.
“Thanks,” you say in return, hoarse and raspy because it's been at least an hour since you last said something.
He lingers around the microwave as you slide the popcorn in, feet shuffling back and forth, tapping against the floor. You look at him in confusion and blink unevenly. He stares back with some mix of nervousness and overly-fake nonchalance and. Goddamn.
It's too late for this.
“So,” he starts, abruptly and loud and, yeah, by the look on his face you don't think he meant for it to come out like that. “So,” he repeats, quieter. “Did you, uh. What did you think of the movie?”
You're tired so your reactions are somewhat sluggish and you stare at him blankly, watching the minutes count down on the microwave clock out of the corner of your eye. “I couldn't really understand it,” you say bluntly.
He laughs, genuinely, which makes you smile (involuntarily) and makes a face, hunching over a bit further. “Yeah, I thought so.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “It's pretty late, isn't it?” he comments randomly, but you nod in agreement.
“Yup.”
He looks back up at you, eyes unable to settle anywhere as they scan your face. You feel yourself blush a little under his scrutiny (unnecessary, you think furiously and duck your head a little), but he looks somewhat determined now.
You have to admit, despite that foreboding sense of nervousness fluttering around the pit of your stomach, you're curious as to what he wants to say to you.
“I, uh,” he says, voice breaking slightly. “Promise you won't freak, okay?” He begins to sweat lightly under your stare, stuttering as he continues. “I-I have a girlfriend.”
You blink.
“Yeah, I mean. It's nothing really serious, not with the company being so strict and all, but she gave me her number last night and we've been talking...” he trails off.
You blink again.
“What?” he asks, voice quiet and helpless. You realize that you must be making a pretty ugly face right now because he's looking at you as if you'd just kicked him in the stomach and you can feel the corners of your mouth tightening into a frown and your brows furrowing and. Fucking hell.
It's too late for this.
“Why are you telling me?” you ask and it comes out harsher than intended. He flinches a bit, shoulders sagging even further, and you feel a slight swell of victory as he does so.
“Because you're my best friend, Khun,” he says and suddenly you don't feel victorious anymore. Now you just feel embarrassed. And maybe a little bit hurt, though you're not really sure why.
“Do the other members know?” you ask instead, suddenly feeling weary and faint.
“No,” he says, scuffing his foot against the floor. “I. I don't think I'm going to tell them. Like I said, it's nothing serious.”
“That's not fair, Jae,” you sigh, burying your face into your hands. “You can't do this to me, Jae.”
He looks guilty now. Guilty and sad. “I can break it off with her if you want.” He shuffles his weight from foot to foot. “It's. It's not like I'm extremely attached to her or anything.”
“No,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose once again in frustration. “No, just. I don't know, Jae. It's late. How about we just talk about this tomorrow.”
He shakes his head adamantly, standing his ground, and says, “No.” He stands firm. “Let's talk about this now.” He gains a little confidence, straightening his back. “Give me one good reason as to why I should break it off with her. Just one. If you can do that, I'll make you a promise, a promise that I won't break, to end it with her tomorrow morning. Okay?”
There are plenty of reasons that you can think of as to why he should not be dating someone, plenty very very good ones, convincing ones. But none of them are coming to mind. Instead, all you can seem to think is: “I just don't like it. I don't like the way it's making me jealous. Jealous, Jae. That's not natural, to be jealous over something like this. I don't like the way that it's confusing me.” But you can't say that to him because. You just can't. You feel a headache beginning to form again.
“Well?” he says impatiently, looking up at you with crossed arms and squared shoulders and. His eyes. They're tired and sad. Still. They betray what the rest of his body is trying to say. They show his nervousness, his fear.
And then you find yourself leaning forward, head tilted a bit downward, and your hands coming to rest at his shoulders, sliding up to his neck as your fingers brush over the back of his ears, and you kiss him. It's quick and chaste, but the burn still lingers, an impression in your mind, a memory that you'll never forget. This time it's his turn to blush, all the way from the arch of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He's stuttering out nonsense, random short syllables that don't quite fit together. Your heart is hammering in your chest, lips numb but at the same time on fire.
“You-” he starts to say. “I mean, what-” but you're kissing him again, harder, more insistent than before, and then shit, holy fuck he's kissing back, hands awkwardly gripping your elbows and. It's this. This is the reason why he can't have a girlfriend. This is the reason why you won't let him. And it's wrong, wrong, so so wrong.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth and you almost want to laugh because you don't care how wrong it is. It's Jaebum. And that's really all that matters.
And then the microwave timer goes off, beeps echoing off the kitchen walls and you jolt apart, suddenly wide awake and breathing hard.
“Uhm,” he says and his eyes are big and confused.
Your heart still beats excitedly under your shirt. “I. Jae, I just.” You breathe, in through your nose out through your mouth. Steady. Easy now. Easy. “I mean that. And everything it implies.”
He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth, hand coming to grip his own forearm, and he says, “Good. I mean. Yeah. Good.”
And tomorrow he'll break up with her, a nameless girl that he never really knew, and you'll kiss him all soft and gentle underneath covers, hidden and secret. And he will fall in love and you will realize you always were, always had to be (in love, with him). And you will be bandmates and lovers and friends and so much more.
But that's tomorrow and this is tonight and, really, you think while holding the bowl of popcorn, buttery fingers slipping against each other as you brush hands while reaching for a handful of popcorn. You're happy with whatever happens today. Tomorrow will come eventually. You know this.
But. It's late. Way too late to be in any hurry.
He kisses you goodnight.
Credit to Sarah for the prompt (which was movie, popcorn, and couch lulz). :) I think I've stolen your writing style. :'D :'D :'D
pg, jaebum/nichkhun
So you're pretty sure you have no idea what's happening anymore (you lost track somewhere between the car chase and the bank robbery) and the mess of plot and dialogue being flashed at you is starting to give you a migraine (add that with the fact that you've never really liked hardcore action movies), but Junsu is laying on Jaebum who has his leg halfway over Junho's thigh and Junho is halfway on your lap at this point and it's not like you can move or anything, so you've condemned yourself to sitting through the movie anyway.
“Hey, Khun,” Taecyeon whispers none too stealthily from where's he's laying spread eagled in the middle of the floor, Chansung already asleep with his head on Taecyeon's stomach. “How about making us some popcorn?”
You sigh and roll your eyes, all indicators that, no, you will not make them some fucking popcorn because jesus christ what? But he's still staring at you from the foot of the couch, blinking expectantly and okay, fine. Whatever, you say and wiggle out from underneath Junho who rolls bonelessly to fill in the space you had previously occupied.
You switch on the kitchen light and blink uncomfortably as you stumble your way to the cupboards, finding that you're much much more sleepy than you'd expected, and lean against the edge of the sink to catch your bearings. You breathe through your nose and close your eyes, relaxing slightly, before straightening your back as you grapple around the cupboard for the microwavable popcorn bags. You find one underneath the numerous boxes of cereal (each member has their favorite brand, after all) and use your teeth to rip it from the plastic outing. It doesn't work so you try using your hands instead only now you've gotten spit on it and that makes it hard to hold onto and dammit.
It's too late for this. Really. Way way too late.
“Uhm,” someone says drowsily from the doorway. “Need help?” Jaebum stands there while rubbing his eyes, sweatpants low and baggy on his waist. He looks comfortable, you note. He ambles over to your side and stares at the popcorn bag in your hands. You drop it onto the counter with a huff, massaging the bridge of your nose with your forefinger and thumb. You kind of want to yell and stomp and throw a hissy fit because you get crabby when you're sleepy and god, shit, this is frustrating, but you find that the lethargic weight pushing down on you is a bit too much to fight against. He gets the message anyway.
He picks it up, biting down on the end as he pulls in the opposite direction, and hey, indirect kiss - only you stop yourself there because no. exhausted or not, that's just not something you should be thinking about. Ever. And you hear a slight ripping noise as he manages to make a small tear on the edge. He hands you the unwrapped popcorn bag and smiles.
“Here.” You take it. He's still smiling, you notice. All teeth and droopy eyes and hunched shoulders.
“Thanks,” you say in return, hoarse and raspy because it's been at least an hour since you last said something.
He lingers around the microwave as you slide the popcorn in, feet shuffling back and forth, tapping against the floor. You look at him in confusion and blink unevenly. He stares back with some mix of nervousness and overly-fake nonchalance and. Goddamn.
It's too late for this.
“So,” he starts, abruptly and loud and, yeah, by the look on his face you don't think he meant for it to come out like that. “So,” he repeats, quieter. “Did you, uh. What did you think of the movie?”
You're tired so your reactions are somewhat sluggish and you stare at him blankly, watching the minutes count down on the microwave clock out of the corner of your eye. “I couldn't really understand it,” you say bluntly.
He laughs, genuinely, which makes you smile (involuntarily) and makes a face, hunching over a bit further. “Yeah, I thought so.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “It's pretty late, isn't it?” he comments randomly, but you nod in agreement.
“Yup.”
He looks back up at you, eyes unable to settle anywhere as they scan your face. You feel yourself blush a little under his scrutiny (unnecessary, you think furiously and duck your head a little), but he looks somewhat determined now.
You have to admit, despite that foreboding sense of nervousness fluttering around the pit of your stomach, you're curious as to what he wants to say to you.
“I, uh,” he says, voice breaking slightly. “Promise you won't freak, okay?” He begins to sweat lightly under your stare, stuttering as he continues. “I-I have a girlfriend.”
You blink.
“Yeah, I mean. It's nothing really serious, not with the company being so strict and all, but she gave me her number last night and we've been talking...” he trails off.
You blink again.
“What?” he asks, voice quiet and helpless. You realize that you must be making a pretty ugly face right now because he's looking at you as if you'd just kicked him in the stomach and you can feel the corners of your mouth tightening into a frown and your brows furrowing and. Fucking hell.
It's too late for this.
“Why are you telling me?” you ask and it comes out harsher than intended. He flinches a bit, shoulders sagging even further, and you feel a slight swell of victory as he does so.
“Because you're my best friend, Khun,” he says and suddenly you don't feel victorious anymore. Now you just feel embarrassed. And maybe a little bit hurt, though you're not really sure why.
“Do the other members know?” you ask instead, suddenly feeling weary and faint.
“No,” he says, scuffing his foot against the floor. “I. I don't think I'm going to tell them. Like I said, it's nothing serious.”
“That's not fair, Jae,” you sigh, burying your face into your hands. “You can't do this to me, Jae.”
He looks guilty now. Guilty and sad. “I can break it off with her if you want.” He shuffles his weight from foot to foot. “It's. It's not like I'm extremely attached to her or anything.”
“No,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose once again in frustration. “No, just. I don't know, Jae. It's late. How about we just talk about this tomorrow.”
He shakes his head adamantly, standing his ground, and says, “No.” He stands firm. “Let's talk about this now.” He gains a little confidence, straightening his back. “Give me one good reason as to why I should break it off with her. Just one. If you can do that, I'll make you a promise, a promise that I won't break, to end it with her tomorrow morning. Okay?”
There are plenty of reasons that you can think of as to why he should not be dating someone, plenty very very good ones, convincing ones. But none of them are coming to mind. Instead, all you can seem to think is: “I just don't like it. I don't like the way it's making me jealous. Jealous, Jae. That's not natural, to be jealous over something like this. I don't like the way that it's confusing me.” But you can't say that to him because. You just can't. You feel a headache beginning to form again.
“Well?” he says impatiently, looking up at you with crossed arms and squared shoulders and. His eyes. They're tired and sad. Still. They betray what the rest of his body is trying to say. They show his nervousness, his fear.
And then you find yourself leaning forward, head tilted a bit downward, and your hands coming to rest at his shoulders, sliding up to his neck as your fingers brush over the back of his ears, and you kiss him. It's quick and chaste, but the burn still lingers, an impression in your mind, a memory that you'll never forget. This time it's his turn to blush, all the way from the arch of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He's stuttering out nonsense, random short syllables that don't quite fit together. Your heart is hammering in your chest, lips numb but at the same time on fire.
“You-” he starts to say. “I mean, what-” but you're kissing him again, harder, more insistent than before, and then shit, holy fuck he's kissing back, hands awkwardly gripping your elbows and. It's this. This is the reason why he can't have a girlfriend. This is the reason why you won't let him. And it's wrong, wrong, so so wrong.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth and you almost want to laugh because you don't care how wrong it is. It's Jaebum. And that's really all that matters.
And then the microwave timer goes off, beeps echoing off the kitchen walls and you jolt apart, suddenly wide awake and breathing hard.
“Uhm,” he says and his eyes are big and confused.
Your heart still beats excitedly under your shirt. “I. Jae, I just.” You breathe, in through your nose out through your mouth. Steady. Easy now. Easy. “I mean that. And everything it implies.”
He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth, hand coming to grip his own forearm, and he says, “Good. I mean. Yeah. Good.”
And tomorrow he'll break up with her, a nameless girl that he never really knew, and you'll kiss him all soft and gentle underneath covers, hidden and secret. And he will fall in love and you will realize you always were, always had to be (in love, with him). And you will be bandmates and lovers and friends and so much more.
But that's tomorrow and this is tonight and, really, you think while holding the bowl of popcorn, buttery fingers slipping against each other as you brush hands while reaching for a handful of popcorn. You're happy with whatever happens today. Tomorrow will come eventually. You know this.
But. It's late. Way too late to be in any hurry.
He kisses you goodnight.
Credit to Sarah for the prompt (which was movie, popcorn, and couch lulz). :) I think I've stolen your writing style. :'D :'D :'D