name it
Title: name it.
Author: thankyouandyou
Rating: G
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Note: What’s going on in my head, these days.
Summary: You still don’t know what this is.
Here be the recipe for destruction. Two cups of immaturity, one tablespoon of lethal naiveté and a big old chunk of mischief. Throw in a handful of pillowfights, foodfights and some epic wars over the playstation controllers, add some harmless, shameless flirting and the sincere need to protect, to hold, to shield. Sprinkle with those stolen shirts and ruined comic books and the favorite lost earrings. Stir everything up, serve in a not-too-tall glass with two curly straws and too many umbrellas.
Yes, you still don’t know what this is.
It’s bones meet teeth, skinny kid meets singing moron with an ego to power up a small city. It’s the worst idea you ever had, it’s such fun. This thing born from easy amusement and never being told no as a kid, and of course, let’s face it, we’re hot and I like your mouth when you grin at me.
I don’t know what this is isn’t I don’t know what I’m doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, doing lies in the action, smiles pressed to skin and kisses pressed to his eyebrows, his stupid green beanie, and perhaps, after the lights are out, the line of his neck. It’s simple and as easy as stealing candybars from a mini-mart and stuffing the wrappers in foreign pockets.
This isn’t serious and this isn’t frantic, and this isn’t going anywhere. It’s safe. You won’t get lost here, there’s no map and you have nowhere to be. You know doors that could lead you somewhere, mattresses to be exact, take your pick, kneel on this one or that one and you could fly across a line cut in the air, something you can foresee in the back of your head, blurry and vague the way a nightmare echoes by breakfast time. But you don’t pick either of those mattresses, you sit on the one by the door, next to his stuffed animals, in the vee of his legs.
When he smiles, you brace yourself for another aimless trip, this flying mattress in the mercy of a constantly blowing wind, here or there and everywhere and nowhere, we don’t need a destination when we’re that young, when combined we’re just so pretty.
You don’t feel the need to explain or justify or even to identify. Whatever this is, it’s here. Perhaps it’s always been here. Hidden under his sheets and how easily he can make you laugh and melt a little.
He asks why sometimes, the way kids ask where does the sun go when he goes to sleep, where do babies come from, and because you’re slightly older, some things make more sense to you. So you could tell him why. You could tell him, the earth spins on its axis and babies grow in uteruses and do you remember that day outside the recording room? You were on the floor, picking out the orange M’n’Ms from the plastic bag and keeping them in your palm, melting into your lifeline and I said gimme but you wouldn’t. Just wolfed them all down and licked your palm clean. Remember how I put my boots down on the linoleum, the sun so bright on us it was almost turning you white, blending your features out, and I said you just take what you want don’t you, and you said yes, happily, naturally, no other way in the world, the earth doesn’t spin on it axis, it spins around me. Remember how I kissed you real quick, just a hint of chocolate and soft lip because I thought oh he is adorable and I adore him, but really, really, who does he think he is.
But you don’t. Tell him, that is. Some secrets you keep and some you don’t and this, who the sun is here, he’ll get that when he’s older.
For now you just tell him, because. Becausebecausebecause and it makes him mad and it makes him sulky; he doesn’t like being this young despite his love for big strong hands in his hair.
He tells you I love you one early morning, when you’re sick and miserable curled up on the couch. You don’t know what to say, don’t know what this is, if this is a thing, if you should apologize or make it right somehow, if it broke while you weren’t looking. Can’t even kiss him to get out of this mess because there’ll be hell to pay if you pass this cold on. You just sit there, wrapped in a comforter, aching and all out of answers, full of reheated jasmine tea, and he looks at you, sits on the coffee table because Kibum’s not here to yell at him, and laughs.
You love me too, don’t you?
Like it’s that easy.
And you remember. The glory of not thinking too much, of no destination and no second thoughts, just wrestling on the scratchy kitchen carpet after dark and skinning your knee tripping down the stairs, the smell of antiseptic under his fingernails.
Yes, you say, I do, because it is that easy.
Taemin kisses you once-twice-thrice, like a pinky swear, and moves away to get his morning glass of milk. You follow him with your eyes for a while, before you drift back to sleep.
Note: Name it is the anagram of….? :P Cookies to all that figure it out.
Stupid little thing came to me around three months ago and I had to write it now in the middle of my exams. Regret nothing etc etc.
Author: thankyouandyou
Rating: G
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Note: What’s going on in my head, these days.
Summary: You still don’t know what this is.
Here be the recipe for destruction. Two cups of immaturity, one tablespoon of lethal naiveté and a big old chunk of mischief. Throw in a handful of pillowfights, foodfights and some epic wars over the playstation controllers, add some harmless, shameless flirting and the sincere need to protect, to hold, to shield. Sprinkle with those stolen shirts and ruined comic books and the favorite lost earrings. Stir everything up, serve in a not-too-tall glass with two curly straws and too many umbrellas.
Yes, you still don’t know what this is.
It’s bones meet teeth, skinny kid meets singing moron with an ego to power up a small city. It’s the worst idea you ever had, it’s such fun. This thing born from easy amusement and never being told no as a kid, and of course, let’s face it, we’re hot and I like your mouth when you grin at me.
I don’t know what this is isn’t I don’t know what I’m doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, doing lies in the action, smiles pressed to skin and kisses pressed to his eyebrows, his stupid green beanie, and perhaps, after the lights are out, the line of his neck. It’s simple and as easy as stealing candybars from a mini-mart and stuffing the wrappers in foreign pockets.
This isn’t serious and this isn’t frantic, and this isn’t going anywhere. It’s safe. You won’t get lost here, there’s no map and you have nowhere to be. You know doors that could lead you somewhere, mattresses to be exact, take your pick, kneel on this one or that one and you could fly across a line cut in the air, something you can foresee in the back of your head, blurry and vague the way a nightmare echoes by breakfast time. But you don’t pick either of those mattresses, you sit on the one by the door, next to his stuffed animals, in the vee of his legs.
When he smiles, you brace yourself for another aimless trip, this flying mattress in the mercy of a constantly blowing wind, here or there and everywhere and nowhere, we don’t need a destination when we’re that young, when combined we’re just so pretty.
You don’t feel the need to explain or justify or even to identify. Whatever this is, it’s here. Perhaps it’s always been here. Hidden under his sheets and how easily he can make you laugh and melt a little.
He asks why sometimes, the way kids ask where does the sun go when he goes to sleep, where do babies come from, and because you’re slightly older, some things make more sense to you. So you could tell him why. You could tell him, the earth spins on its axis and babies grow in uteruses and do you remember that day outside the recording room? You were on the floor, picking out the orange M’n’Ms from the plastic bag and keeping them in your palm, melting into your lifeline and I said gimme but you wouldn’t. Just wolfed them all down and licked your palm clean. Remember how I put my boots down on the linoleum, the sun so bright on us it was almost turning you white, blending your features out, and I said you just take what you want don’t you, and you said yes, happily, naturally, no other way in the world, the earth doesn’t spin on it axis, it spins around me. Remember how I kissed you real quick, just a hint of chocolate and soft lip because I thought oh he is adorable and I adore him, but really, really, who does he think he is.
But you don’t. Tell him, that is. Some secrets you keep and some you don’t and this, who the sun is here, he’ll get that when he’s older.
For now you just tell him, because. Becausebecausebecause and it makes him mad and it makes him sulky; he doesn’t like being this young despite his love for big strong hands in his hair.
He tells you I love you one early morning, when you’re sick and miserable curled up on the couch. You don’t know what to say, don’t know what this is, if this is a thing, if you should apologize or make it right somehow, if it broke while you weren’t looking. Can’t even kiss him to get out of this mess because there’ll be hell to pay if you pass this cold on. You just sit there, wrapped in a comforter, aching and all out of answers, full of reheated jasmine tea, and he looks at you, sits on the coffee table because Kibum’s not here to yell at him, and laughs.
You love me too, don’t you?
Like it’s that easy.
And you remember. The glory of not thinking too much, of no destination and no second thoughts, just wrestling on the scratchy kitchen carpet after dark and skinning your knee tripping down the stairs, the smell of antiseptic under his fingernails.
Yes, you say, I do, because it is that easy.
Taemin kisses you once-twice-thrice, like a pinky swear, and moves away to get his morning glass of milk. You follow him with your eyes for a while, before you drift back to sleep.
Note: Name it is the anagram of….? :P Cookies to all that figure it out.
Stupid little thing came to me around three months ago and I had to write it now in the middle of my exams. Regret nothing etc etc.