Façade
Title: Façade
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: PG13
Summary: Qui demandent raison à l'amour d'être l'amour.
Note: Do not fear the french summary and cut, the fic is in english. This is my entry for shawol_haven 's twelfth challenge :)
Façade.
When the door clicks shut and the keys hit the counter, minho feels the need to state the obvious, say love, say you’re home, say I’ve been waiting.
Don’t turn on the lights, he says instead.
Why?
Don’t want you to see me like this.
The lights flick on suddenly and with a snap that just reads panic in a billion languages, and there are hands on his face before he knows it, hands checking his wrists -why, what for- and that place where the muscle was ripped apart- but that was years ago, years ago.
Minho is surprised- that he remembers.
What are you talking about, what’s wrong, the voice is wild and rough and the eyes are too black to convey any feeling, but minho knows concern on this face when he sees it, and he wishes he could lie to him, drag his soft thumb across his own body and tell him here here and here, it hurts everywhere and you should kiss it better.
Some nights are dark, sometimes minho is young and needy and in love.
He never asked for it.
Baby? The boy asks, the word awkward on his tongue, still. He has the golden highlights back, minho moves to touch them, to make sure. You’re ok, yeah?
Minho nods, slowly, swallowing, smiling, I was just joking, hyung.
Jonghyun never knows when to be angry or amused, so he does both, and minho loves him, irrevocably.
He tugs at the golden strands.
Won’t you kiss me? He was never the one to ask for it. What’s wrong with you. Everything, everything for years, but jonghyun doesn’t ask, just plunges in, leans down, tasting of girls and smoke.
There’s a head on his chest for minutes afterwards, and he can’t wash the taste from his mouth, he thinks the boy is sleeping, but more importantly, he’s here.
Marry me, minho thinks and licks his lips, marry me in theory.
I do not want to tie you down, just want you to know the vows you break when you follow red heels to bathrooms.
He touches the shell of an ear, earns a nose in his stomach, a small grunt, a sloppy kiss through his shirt.
You’re so wrong for me, he says, smiling. You’re the worst for me.
He means it. And he loves it. Every minute, every night with the lights switched off and no keys on the counter, slow rotting on the couch with his shirt on the floor and his hands shaking with withdrawal.
The boy with the highlights jerks, fights the long fingers away, says fucking idiot, we have to keep up appearances, what do you want from me, to walk around with your face on my shirt?
Minho laughs, touches his knuckles to a perfect cheekbone, says nothing, baby, hush, I just want you.
You.
You, just you and all the girls on your tongue, I picked my poison long ago, just you I swear.
A/N: The title, summary, and cut are all from the poem "Façade" by André Breton, René Char and Paul Éluard.
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: PG13
Summary: Qui demandent raison à l'amour d'être l'amour.
Note: Do not fear the french summary and cut, the fic is in english. This is my entry for shawol_haven 's twelfth challenge :)
Façade.
When the door clicks shut and the keys hit the counter, minho feels the need to state the obvious, say love, say you’re home, say I’ve been waiting.
Don’t turn on the lights, he says instead.
Why?
Don’t want you to see me like this.
The lights flick on suddenly and with a snap that just reads panic in a billion languages, and there are hands on his face before he knows it, hands checking his wrists -why, what for- and that place where the muscle was ripped apart- but that was years ago, years ago.
Minho is surprised- that he remembers.
What are you talking about, what’s wrong, the voice is wild and rough and the eyes are too black to convey any feeling, but minho knows concern on this face when he sees it, and he wishes he could lie to him, drag his soft thumb across his own body and tell him here here and here, it hurts everywhere and you should kiss it better.
Some nights are dark, sometimes minho is young and needy and in love.
He never asked for it.
Baby? The boy asks, the word awkward on his tongue, still. He has the golden highlights back, minho moves to touch them, to make sure. You’re ok, yeah?
Minho nods, slowly, swallowing, smiling, I was just joking, hyung.
Jonghyun never knows when to be angry or amused, so he does both, and minho loves him, irrevocably.
He tugs at the golden strands.
Won’t you kiss me? He was never the one to ask for it. What’s wrong with you. Everything, everything for years, but jonghyun doesn’t ask, just plunges in, leans down, tasting of girls and smoke.
There’s a head on his chest for minutes afterwards, and he can’t wash the taste from his mouth, he thinks the boy is sleeping, but more importantly, he’s here.
Marry me, minho thinks and licks his lips, marry me in theory.
I do not want to tie you down, just want you to know the vows you break when you follow red heels to bathrooms.
He touches the shell of an ear, earns a nose in his stomach, a small grunt, a sloppy kiss through his shirt.
You’re so wrong for me, he says, smiling. You’re the worst for me.
He means it. And he loves it. Every minute, every night with the lights switched off and no keys on the counter, slow rotting on the couch with his shirt on the floor and his hands shaking with withdrawal.
The boy with the highlights jerks, fights the long fingers away, says fucking idiot, we have to keep up appearances, what do you want from me, to walk around with your face on my shirt?
Minho laughs, touches his knuckles to a perfect cheekbone, says nothing, baby, hush, I just want you.
You.
You, just you and all the girls on your tongue, I picked my poison long ago, just you I swear.
A/N: The title, summary, and cut are all from the poem "Façade" by André Breton, René Char and Paul Éluard.