Drabble Batch #2
Warnings: Crossdressing, focus on alcohol, focus on drugs, weirdness
Rating: PG-13, PG-15 for the last
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Friendship, Bromance, Drama
Word Count: shortest 129 words, longest 1,138 words.
What’s My Age Again: Jonghyun/Onew. Crossdressing, speed-dating, and awkward attempts to charm collide.
“I’m pretty smart, huh,” the man across from him says, waggling his eyebrows. Jonghyun assumes it’s meant to be sexy, intriguing, but the man has a baby face and too large a smile to be taken as anything besides friendly and innocent.
“Anyone sounds smart if they say ‘scale of psychosocial development’. And you won’t get a date if the first thing you do to your partner is examine their mental progress.”
Jonghyun watches from the corner of his eye as the male’s smile falters but never falls. He must really be an idiot, fancy vocabulary or no. He scans the crowd, some looking as bored as he, a couple looking upset, a rare group of satisfied people. Heechul is back again and his date looks frightened. The hand on the clock ticks closer to the two minute alarm. Jonghyun fixes his wig in anticipation of the shift.
“Listen,” he starts, glancing at the nametag the guy sports. Jonghyun’s been doing this long enough to read into everything. The fact that he put it on his shoulder means he wants to be different and wants to be noticed. However, the hesitant, small print lets him know any confidence exhibited is uncharacteristic. “Jinki. I’m actually a dude. Don’t let the rejection get to you.”
Jinki hits the pause bottom on the clock just a breath before it goes off.
--
Working at the Car Wash: ’89 line/Mir. Wherein Seungho, Byunghee, and Mir work their way through dirty dishes and a pile of candy bars. And save the environment along the way.
“If I was going to spend my years cleaning food off plates anyway,” he singsongs, aiming the water flow at the stubborn stain at the bottom of a shiny can, “I would’ve accepted that lunch lady job~!”
“Jung Byunghee, shut up.”
“Yes, boss,” he chirps, turning around just enough to smile at the grumpy man standing behind him, hands on his hips. He’s the manager or assistant manager or perhaps even the president of where Byunghee works. He’s not too sure; all he knows is he’s been there the longest and he brings everyone’s paychecks on Friday. He has his respect.
“Seungho-hyung,” is shrieked from the other side of the belt, where Chulyong has his own recycled products to sort through and clean. The red head comes tripping over, nearly dropping the jar he’s got clutched in his hand. “Smell this! What was it!”
“Applesauce,” the shorter male answers after a quick sniff. His legendary ability to decipher smells is another reason he has all the employees’ respect. “Local grocery’s brand based on the pungency.”
“Wow,” Chulyong says, grinning like he’s been dipping into the snickers stash again. He rounds on Byunghee. “What do you think it smells like?”
“Piss and cinnamon?”
--
Dolphin’s Cry: Gwangsu/Joongki. Merman are supposed to be, like, ripped and likable and graceful, right? So Joongki has to wonder why Gwangsu is gangly, unpopular, and awkward even though he has the gills and whatnot.
It occurs to Joongki as he watches Gwangsu watch Jong Kook watch his “kids” affectionately, still sulking over the muscular man ignoring him again in favor of the two older men during filming. They’re taking a break at the moment, an interval between the light-hearted games and the pace-quickening chase. Gwangsu really shouldn’t be eating - he’ll just complain of cramps later and become even more of a dead weight to whichever team gets him - but he takes small, agitated bites from nearby junk food nonetheless. He’s made relatively quick work of a donut and seems to be eyeing the pile of bananas thoughtfully.
“Shouldn’t mermen be more, y’know,” Joongki starts, watching with a disdainful raised eyebrow as the elder male bypasses the bananas and goes for one of the PD’s unattended ramyun cups instead. “Personable?”
Gwangsu looks up from the hot water machine, seeming somewhat surprised to find his same-age friend inches from him, which annoys the other to no end since he’s been there from the beginning of his pathetic binge. He follows, disgruntled, as the taller man treks to a table away from the others, probably feeling self-conscious enough about his eating habits that he feels the need to hide them. Though he doesn’t even hesitate on grabbing another sweet along the way. Just how upset can the kid be over a nearly weekly occurrence?
“What do you mean,” Gwangsu asks curiously, sparing Joongki a few glances in between impatient stares to his noodles and longing gazes to the playful trio a distance away. The Commander’s annoyingly loving voice has joined a chorus with Gary’s flat tone and HaHa’s nasally inflection.
Joongki has to think how to put this without hurting the other’s feelings. Not that Gwangsu’s emotions have ever been important but… Even blasé flower boys don’t kick puppies when they’re down.
“Well, you’re just - You don’t exactly get along with people all that great, do you?”
“That’s not true,” Gwangsu states, pointing his chopsticks at the younger. And Joongki concedes that he’s kinda right. He may not interact like how you’d imagine a performer or a socialite (or even a normally functioning member of society) to, but he’s certainly not a lost cause. Old people seem to adore him; his best fans are the ones too old to care about what’s cool anymore, still young enough to remember “when I was your age”. And while women don’t show much interest in him, they certainly don’t hate him either.
It doesn’t change the fact that rocks have more people skills than him at times.
"MS Mincho"">--
Fingertips: Joon/Seungho. Joon isn’t the most eloquent, but he needs to express that when they fall, he looks forward to tumbling down with him.
With long, spindly fingers calloused by grace and hidden tenderness, you’ll grasp my points from amidst the babble and stutters. You’ll lay it flat, smooth it out, and surmise what I have to say.
Smile, I’ll whisper and wish. And you’ll smile. Beautiful. We’ll laugh through hardships and another past year. We’ve made it so far, but this is glass we use as pavement.
Make this your runway or make it your grave. Make me your model and take me with you when you go. We’re stars right now, but we’ll eventually fall. If at all possible, I want to plummet down to earth with you. We can hold hands and smile and laugh. I’ll try and tell you how much it means to me, but the wind will catch my throat.
You’ll know anyway, won’t you?
--
Save Tonight: Taec/Jay. You’re wasted and there’s dilemmas that arrive. Like how to get that drunk girl without feeling like you’ve lowered your standards, and what to do if someone offers to get you even more wasted. Thankfully, the Great Jay Park has a solution.
When someone offers you alcohol - when your third bottle of the same is already blurring right in front of you - don’t worry. Jay Park - in the house - has created a list of what you should do. It’s on a napkin, but it’s still pretty legible, discounting the diagram smeared by the salt from bar nuts. The guide is as follows:
--
Fidelity: Koizumi/Kyon. Itsuki is being a creeper and Kyon chastises him with his usual cynicism.
“I find myself loving you in a peculiar way most people would frown upon.”
“I frown on it.”
“But I was thinking: maybe in another life, it’ll be alright.”
“Another life? You mean when Haruhi snaps and recreates us all?”
“Maybe we’ll both be girls, and guys will find my feelings for you hot.”
“Or maybe they’ll share my feelings and want to punch you in the face.”
“Perhaps one of us will remain a guy and everything will work itself out.”
“You brain needs to be worked out. It’s dying and your mouth appears to be broadcasting its demise.”
Itsuki smiled, all diplomatic and shielded, showing no sign of hearing any caustic comments directed at him. As far as he was concerned, Kyon and he were best friends.
--
World So Cold: Onew/Jonghyun. Jinki and Jonghyun take a deep breath and let the smoke fill their lungs.
“Why are there so many of these ads lately?”
It took an inordinate amount of effort to merely twitch his head to the left, letting gravity take care of the rest and roll his head onto his shoulder. He could see only Jonghyun’s back lit up by the computer screen, not whatever he was staring at on the bright display. The white light was a bit disconcerting in his current state. The swirling colors were one of the reasons they shut off the living room light, but obviously his dongsaeng didn’t remember.
“What ads?”
His tongue was thick and his mouth was overly hydrated, saliva slicking over the pink muscle and dribbling onto his lips. He was pretty sure he was a nasty imitation of what fans idolized right now. But he didn’t want to think about that. Those very thoughts were the reason he retreated to this condition.
“The ones that suggest someone is looking for me… T-that I need to find out who… is ‘searching for you’.” Jonghyun’s ability to speak was steadily degrading. Jinki summoned the strength to lean forward, putting out the flame burning between them. He drew in a large inhale of the pungent smoke before aligning himself with a couch cushion. “Is our - our population compr- compri- made up of more assassins than I thought!”
Ignoring him, though he might later find that train of thought amusing, Jinki waved a hand at the silhouetted back of his friend. “Mm, come here.”
The younger male clicked off the monitor, struggling for a few seconds with misplaced jabs, before tripping to his hyung. He aimed for the space between Jinki and the coffee table. He ended up head butting the elder in the stomach, wriggling until his dark locks were pillowed on a thin thigh. Jinki threaded his fingers in the hair, easily distracted by the contortions of the other’s ear under his tips.
“Are we doing something bad?”
Jonghyun, his unique voice, lilted to Jinki through layers of denim and cotton and skin. He sounded unnaturally childish. Jinki’s mind automatically drew a connection to the young voice and about a dozen horror movies he had been forced to watch - and then he reeled his mind back in long enough to process what had been said.
Kibum had taken the two younger boys out for grocery shopping. Normally, the two oldest wouldn’t have taken the risk. It was a short trip and they’d be back in at least an hour. Not enough time to lose yourself and manage to get yourself back together without corrupting the dongsaeng. But then Minho had phoned a few minutes later that Kibum was also dragging them clothes shopping. Now that would take a while.
“Hyung?”
Jonghyun’s eyes bored into him, slightly askew and hazy. His tone was innocent, but this moment - what they were doing, who they had become - was anything but. They had a reputation, a following, a lifestyle to uphold. Yet here they were, seeking comfort in disorientation and scorching body heat perpetuated by wisps of smoke and burnt leaves.
Jonghyun was the least popular member though, and putting his heart into this next project, hoping to show fans the Bling Bling they loved before all the drama. He was trying to bridge the gap of talent that had been made when he was injured, when he was being stupid. And Jinki was struggling and working hard, too. He had to make sure that - despite the problems happening with other bands in the company, in their country - SHINee could always be trusted to entertain. He needed to be funnier and more amazing.
“No, we aren’t,” he finally replied, glazed eyes searching out pattern to the ceiling’s bumps. Jonghyun nestled in farther and warmth sunk in deeper.
Because there was nothing wrong with taking a break, mending the cracks before the dam breaks.
--
…I think there needs to be a series of advice column/self help books by Jay Park. With Taec trolling in most of them. My immediate ideas are: Jay Park’s Guide on How to Get in Touch With Your Emotions With a Pretty, Foreign Boy Without Losing Your Seattle Masculinity AND Jay Park’s Guide to Discontinuing Friendship With an Abnormally Gigantic Idiot Who Needs to Stop Being Gay.
Also, I freaking love how the Gwangsu/Joongki one turned out. If you haven’t watched Running Man, it’s become your homework for this week.
And - as always - all of these can be counted as either WIPs or drabbles. I’m willing to continue any drabble on request as long as I’m sufficiently inspired.
Rating: PG-13, PG-15 for the last
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Friendship, Bromance, Drama
Word Count: shortest 129 words, longest 1,138 words.
What’s My Age Again: Jonghyun/Onew. Crossdressing, speed-dating, and awkward attempts to charm collide.
“I’m pretty smart, huh,” the man across from him says, waggling his eyebrows. Jonghyun assumes it’s meant to be sexy, intriguing, but the man has a baby face and too large a smile to be taken as anything besides friendly and innocent.
“Anyone sounds smart if they say ‘scale of psychosocial development’. And you won’t get a date if the first thing you do to your partner is examine their mental progress.”
Jonghyun watches from the corner of his eye as the male’s smile falters but never falls. He must really be an idiot, fancy vocabulary or no. He scans the crowd, some looking as bored as he, a couple looking upset, a rare group of satisfied people. Heechul is back again and his date looks frightened. The hand on the clock ticks closer to the two minute alarm. Jonghyun fixes his wig in anticipation of the shift.
“Listen,” he starts, glancing at the nametag the guy sports. Jonghyun’s been doing this long enough to read into everything. The fact that he put it on his shoulder means he wants to be different and wants to be noticed. However, the hesitant, small print lets him know any confidence exhibited is uncharacteristic. “Jinki. I’m actually a dude. Don’t let the rejection get to you.”
Jinki hits the pause bottom on the clock just a breath before it goes off.
--
Working at the Car Wash: ’89 line/Mir. Wherein Seungho, Byunghee, and Mir work their way through dirty dishes and a pile of candy bars. And save the environment along the way.
“If I was going to spend my years cleaning food off plates anyway,” he singsongs, aiming the water flow at the stubborn stain at the bottom of a shiny can, “I would’ve accepted that lunch lady job~!”
“Jung Byunghee, shut up.”
“Yes, boss,” he chirps, turning around just enough to smile at the grumpy man standing behind him, hands on his hips. He’s the manager or assistant manager or perhaps even the president of where Byunghee works. He’s not too sure; all he knows is he’s been there the longest and he brings everyone’s paychecks on Friday. He has his respect.
“Seungho-hyung,” is shrieked from the other side of the belt, where Chulyong has his own recycled products to sort through and clean. The red head comes tripping over, nearly dropping the jar he’s got clutched in his hand. “Smell this! What was it!”
“Applesauce,” the shorter male answers after a quick sniff. His legendary ability to decipher smells is another reason he has all the employees’ respect. “Local grocery’s brand based on the pungency.”
“Wow,” Chulyong says, grinning like he’s been dipping into the snickers stash again. He rounds on Byunghee. “What do you think it smells like?”
“Piss and cinnamon?”
--
Dolphin’s Cry: Gwangsu/Joongki. Merman are supposed to be, like, ripped and likable and graceful, right? So Joongki has to wonder why Gwangsu is gangly, unpopular, and awkward even though he has the gills and whatnot.
It occurs to Joongki as he watches Gwangsu watch Jong Kook watch his “kids” affectionately, still sulking over the muscular man ignoring him again in favor of the two older men during filming. They’re taking a break at the moment, an interval between the light-hearted games and the pace-quickening chase. Gwangsu really shouldn’t be eating - he’ll just complain of cramps later and become even more of a dead weight to whichever team gets him - but he takes small, agitated bites from nearby junk food nonetheless. He’s made relatively quick work of a donut and seems to be eyeing the pile of bananas thoughtfully.
“Shouldn’t mermen be more, y’know,” Joongki starts, watching with a disdainful raised eyebrow as the elder male bypasses the bananas and goes for one of the PD’s unattended ramyun cups instead. “Personable?”
Gwangsu looks up from the hot water machine, seeming somewhat surprised to find his same-age friend inches from him, which annoys the other to no end since he’s been there from the beginning of his pathetic binge. He follows, disgruntled, as the taller man treks to a table away from the others, probably feeling self-conscious enough about his eating habits that he feels the need to hide them. Though he doesn’t even hesitate on grabbing another sweet along the way. Just how upset can the kid be over a nearly weekly occurrence?
“What do you mean,” Gwangsu asks curiously, sparing Joongki a few glances in between impatient stares to his noodles and longing gazes to the playful trio a distance away. The Commander’s annoyingly loving voice has joined a chorus with Gary’s flat tone and HaHa’s nasally inflection.
Joongki has to think how to put this without hurting the other’s feelings. Not that Gwangsu’s emotions have ever been important but… Even blasé flower boys don’t kick puppies when they’re down.
“Well, you’re just - You don’t exactly get along with people all that great, do you?”
“That’s not true,” Gwangsu states, pointing his chopsticks at the younger. And Joongki concedes that he’s kinda right. He may not interact like how you’d imagine a performer or a socialite (or even a normally functioning member of society) to, but he’s certainly not a lost cause. Old people seem to adore him; his best fans are the ones too old to care about what’s cool anymore, still young enough to remember “when I was your age”. And while women don’t show much interest in him, they certainly don’t hate him either.
It doesn’t change the fact that rocks have more people skills than him at times.
"MS Mincho"">--
Fingertips: Joon/Seungho. Joon isn’t the most eloquent, but he needs to express that when they fall, he looks forward to tumbling down with him.
With long, spindly fingers calloused by grace and hidden tenderness, you’ll grasp my points from amidst the babble and stutters. You’ll lay it flat, smooth it out, and surmise what I have to say.
Smile, I’ll whisper and wish. And you’ll smile. Beautiful. We’ll laugh through hardships and another past year. We’ve made it so far, but this is glass we use as pavement.
Make this your runway or make it your grave. Make me your model and take me with you when you go. We’re stars right now, but we’ll eventually fall. If at all possible, I want to plummet down to earth with you. We can hold hands and smile and laugh. I’ll try and tell you how much it means to me, but the wind will catch my throat.
You’ll know anyway, won’t you?
--
Save Tonight: Taec/Jay. You’re wasted and there’s dilemmas that arrive. Like how to get that drunk girl without feeling like you’ve lowered your standards, and what to do if someone offers to get you even more wasted. Thankfully, the Great Jay Park has a solution.
When someone offers you alcohol - when your third bottle of the same is already blurring right in front of you - don’t worry. Jay Park - in the house - has created a list of what you should do. It’s on a napkin, but it’s still pretty legible, discounting the diagram smeared by the salt from bar nuts. The guide is as follows:
- Pry eyes off nearby empty bottle. No matter how hard you look, it’s never going to cease being interesting in the state you’re in. It’s better to make the break while you can.
- Blearily look up at the source of the offer and wait for the three dancing figures to blend into a single, more solid one. Blink a few times if necessary.
- Wait for the facial features of your guest to morph into more human ones.
- Realize that his ears and teeth and face are naturally like that and there’s nothing wrong with your eyes.
- Hiccup out an insult involving elephants, the newcomer, and the resemblance between both. Don’t open your mouth. If it’s not word vomit you spew in this condition, it’s going to be real puke. Either way is mortifying. And won’t land you that chick in the corner that’s been alternating between checking you out and passing out across the couch.
- Intelligently squint your eyes. As if you totally comprehended everything going on and were just probing to see if he knew.
- Feel relieved when he repeats himself and it makes sense this time.
- Turn your squinty eyes on the bottle in his hand. It looks good, right? So good, in fact, that you’re willing to disregard the fact that it’s handed to you by a dude. (Ice cold beer tastes best with something aesthetically pleasing nearby, but that doesn’t mean it’s nasty sans a hot chick.) You also ignore the fact that it’s open.
- Gulp down liquid.
- Choke back up some of the liquid. It’s hard to swallow when all your functions aren’t, well, functioning. Most of the alcohol winds up on the front of your shirt, but it’s cool. You’re not embarrassed of your body, are you?
- Realize that the girl’s been staring at you so play if off casually, lifting the hand that had been wringing out your shirt to your Mohawk and smoothing it back. It only took ten minutes to give it that kind of body anyway.
- Exchange a few smiles with the girl until some fat dude comes toddling between you two, distracting you with the way his boobs jiggle independently of each other. Forget the bottle from earlier; that’s fascinating.
- Notice that the strange guy from before hasn’t left, and is actually standing at your side, rubbing your back.
- Feel a mixture of comfort, confusion, and an emotion patented by Jay Park himself, something he likes to call “Disgust™”. It actually stands for something, but you won’t be able to remember the acronym when you’re drunk, so simply remember that it’s basically “Dude, I’m straight, what the hell are you doing!”
- Actually, it’s mostly comfort after the strange dude does it long enough. His cold fingers really feel good on the knots in your neck.
- Become aware, at some point during this impromptu massage, that the room is hazier and spinning-er than before.
- Think that the chick sprawled across the couch really doesn’t look good as an amorphous blob - whatever that is.
- Wonder if perhaps you’ve been lowering your standards.
- Somehow stagger despite the fact that you’re sitting.
- Fall into the arms of the strange elephant man just as everything starts to go dark.
- ...Fast forward a few hours.
- Feel groggy but unwilling to open your eyes for a few more minutes. It’s pretty warm.
- Finally allow sunlight to pierce your eyes like a - a - some really sharp thing. Groan, moan, and curse the world a bit. It helps.
- Glance down at the warmth pressed to the length of your side (and also thrown a bit over you, by the crushed feel your stomach currently exhibits.)
- Remember those features from last night, however, have a disconnect on why they are now inches from your face and why - why is there some naked skin pressed to your own? At least you can sense boxers ghosting over your own skin.
- “Taec,” you rasp, pushing your arm up from where it had been clung to by an overgrown parasite. Knock the increasingly familiar countenance away from your own and sit up.
- Watch as the body next to you stirs. He has something distinctly phallic drawn on his face, but the artist at least signed their name. ‘Khun’ is written in messy scrawl, followed by a heart.
- “Hi,” Taec breathes. Feel the stink of morning breath and alcohol aggravate that pounding headache a bit more. Also, consider punching that teasing expression off that disproportionate face.
- “You drugged me,” you might wish to exclaim at the point. No need to beat around the bush. You should be certain of this; after all, he’s done it before. He’s a creep.
- “I missed spending time with you,” the ugly freak might mutter, rubbing his cheek on your arm. Options A through Z involve snatching your arm back and flicking him in the eye. Do so.
- “You drugged me! I better not have another tattoo,” you may choose to say. It’s advised to squirm a bit to see if you have the burn of a new carving across your butt. Not this time.
- Ignoring you, this bane of your existence might then whisper, “Last night was great. You really made me feel like a woman.” Despite how every fiber in your being says to kill, kill, and be gone of this annoyance, don’t. Resist.
- Allow yourself the pleasure of displacing a foot in his crotch, however, if you so desire.
- “I was going to get laid, you prick,” you can declare as you get out of the bed, shuddering as the cold air hits you with full impact. You’d like to sleep a bit more, but unfortunately, the sheets on your bed currently need to be burned.
- Grab the bottle of pain reliever from your dresser and knock back a couple. Looking at your living room, you’ll notice Kwon and - oh, yes, at some point in the duration of the party, he broke out the tutu. You need to find pictures.
- “Dude,” you’ll hear from behind you. Turn, if you wish, but the image of Taec looking so at home in your bed is a disturbing one that won’t leave your head for a very long time. “That was Khun.”
- Decide it’s time to stop drinking.
--
Fidelity: Koizumi/Kyon. Itsuki is being a creeper and Kyon chastises him with his usual cynicism.
“I find myself loving you in a peculiar way most people would frown upon.”
“I frown on it.”
“But I was thinking: maybe in another life, it’ll be alright.”
“Another life? You mean when Haruhi snaps and recreates us all?”
“Maybe we’ll both be girls, and guys will find my feelings for you hot.”
“Or maybe they’ll share my feelings and want to punch you in the face.”
“Perhaps one of us will remain a guy and everything will work itself out.”
“You brain needs to be worked out. It’s dying and your mouth appears to be broadcasting its demise.”
Itsuki smiled, all diplomatic and shielded, showing no sign of hearing any caustic comments directed at him. As far as he was concerned, Kyon and he were best friends.
--
World So Cold: Onew/Jonghyun. Jinki and Jonghyun take a deep breath and let the smoke fill their lungs.
“Why are there so many of these ads lately?”
It took an inordinate amount of effort to merely twitch his head to the left, letting gravity take care of the rest and roll his head onto his shoulder. He could see only Jonghyun’s back lit up by the computer screen, not whatever he was staring at on the bright display. The white light was a bit disconcerting in his current state. The swirling colors were one of the reasons they shut off the living room light, but obviously his dongsaeng didn’t remember.
“What ads?”
His tongue was thick and his mouth was overly hydrated, saliva slicking over the pink muscle and dribbling onto his lips. He was pretty sure he was a nasty imitation of what fans idolized right now. But he didn’t want to think about that. Those very thoughts were the reason he retreated to this condition.
“The ones that suggest someone is looking for me… T-that I need to find out who… is ‘searching for you’.” Jonghyun’s ability to speak was steadily degrading. Jinki summoned the strength to lean forward, putting out the flame burning between them. He drew in a large inhale of the pungent smoke before aligning himself with a couch cushion. “Is our - our population compr- compri- made up of more assassins than I thought!”
Ignoring him, though he might later find that train of thought amusing, Jinki waved a hand at the silhouetted back of his friend. “Mm, come here.”
The younger male clicked off the monitor, struggling for a few seconds with misplaced jabs, before tripping to his hyung. He aimed for the space between Jinki and the coffee table. He ended up head butting the elder in the stomach, wriggling until his dark locks were pillowed on a thin thigh. Jinki threaded his fingers in the hair, easily distracted by the contortions of the other’s ear under his tips.
“Are we doing something bad?”
Jonghyun, his unique voice, lilted to Jinki through layers of denim and cotton and skin. He sounded unnaturally childish. Jinki’s mind automatically drew a connection to the young voice and about a dozen horror movies he had been forced to watch - and then he reeled his mind back in long enough to process what had been said.
Kibum had taken the two younger boys out for grocery shopping. Normally, the two oldest wouldn’t have taken the risk. It was a short trip and they’d be back in at least an hour. Not enough time to lose yourself and manage to get yourself back together without corrupting the dongsaeng. But then Minho had phoned a few minutes later that Kibum was also dragging them clothes shopping. Now that would take a while.
“Hyung?”
Jonghyun’s eyes bored into him, slightly askew and hazy. His tone was innocent, but this moment - what they were doing, who they had become - was anything but. They had a reputation, a following, a lifestyle to uphold. Yet here they were, seeking comfort in disorientation and scorching body heat perpetuated by wisps of smoke and burnt leaves.
Jonghyun was the least popular member though, and putting his heart into this next project, hoping to show fans the Bling Bling they loved before all the drama. He was trying to bridge the gap of talent that had been made when he was injured, when he was being stupid. And Jinki was struggling and working hard, too. He had to make sure that - despite the problems happening with other bands in the company, in their country - SHINee could always be trusted to entertain. He needed to be funnier and more amazing.
“No, we aren’t,” he finally replied, glazed eyes searching out pattern to the ceiling’s bumps. Jonghyun nestled in farther and warmth sunk in deeper.
Because there was nothing wrong with taking a break, mending the cracks before the dam breaks.
--
…I think there needs to be a series of advice column/self help books by Jay Park. With Taec trolling in most of them. My immediate ideas are: Jay Park’s Guide on How to Get in Touch With Your Emotions With a Pretty, Foreign Boy Without Losing Your Seattle Masculinity AND Jay Park’s Guide to Discontinuing Friendship With an Abnormally Gigantic Idiot Who Needs to Stop Being Gay.
Also, I freaking love how the Gwangsu/Joongki one turned out. If you haven’t watched Running Man, it’s become your homework for this week.
And - as always - all of these can be counted as either WIPs or drabbles. I’m willing to continue any drabble on request as long as I’m sufficiently inspired.