one-shot。laundromats。
laundromats。| hyunjoong/kyujong。| pg-13。
hyunjoong meets kyujong in a rundown laundromat in the middle of town。
三2,628 words。
hyunjoong enters the small downtown laundromat with one bag stuffed full of clothes, and another full of blankets and sheets. the place is tiny compared to the laundromats he's seen in his lifetime, with only about ten of both washers and dryers each and slightly peeling drywall with old faded wallpaper. it's also empty save for one young man folding clothes on the folding counter with headphones blasting in his ears.
hyunjoong, pursing his lips at the quaint small-town feel the tacky fake flowers have and the television permanently set to show the weather channel, starts to dump his loads into the washer. he separates the blankets into one of the larger washers, and his clothes into the smaller one with an air of carelessness.
he hates doing laundry, hated the constant waiting for clothes to be done, the musty air of laundry that makes him want to gag, the annoying hum of dryers and washers, hated the awkward feeling of standing around with unknown people who want to steal his underwear the first second he turns his back.
this trip is supposed to go smoothly but the change machine eats his five dollar bill when he tries to put it in. he curses, because that was all the money he had left, he turns to face the other man in the room, who's folding jeans neatly into a pile. "hey," he calls, but of course he can't hear anything with his music blasting in his ears.
hyunjoong huffs in annoyance and walks over, avoiding laundry carts and some lady's thong that was left on the floor. the man jumps when a finger taps him on the shoulder. he rounds about with a wide eyed expression and mouth parted slightly, taking out one of his ear-buds to hear clearly. he hears a faint echo of the song he's listening to, but he licks his dry lips and attempts to ask anyways.
"do you have any change i could borrow? the machine ate the last of my change," he stutters, quivers under the gaze of those contact sharpened eyes. and then mentally kicks himself because he's not supposed to stutter, and he's not supposed to quiver of all things.
"oh," the man laughs, "that old machine does that all the time." he slams the corner of the change machine and quarters come pouring out like a river so that hyunjoong has to hold his hands under the cup before quarters spill over the edge of the cup. his savior is already folding shirts again by the time hyunjoong has enough sense to thank him.
hyunjoong shakes himself a little and goes about his business of starting the machines. taking a seat at one of the tacky chairs for patrons, he flips though a five-year-old fashion magazine instead of watching the faded paint peel.
laughing about out of trend fashions is only so amusing for so long though (what is that, a turtleneck?), and soon enough he's pacing back and forth, from looking at the old photos on the wall to staring at the weather (it called for sunny skies tomorrow), to staring at the back of the only other person in the building.
"so what's your name?" he asks, only to be ignored again. he repeats himself, getting louder and louder, until he looks up from his task.
"sorry?" he asks, dropping the earphones around his neck so that he can hear him. hyunjoong likes the way he cocks his head ever so slightly when he's asked a question.
"your name?" hyunjoong wasn't interested anymore, and he sighs as he says it. he's repeated himself enough already, and he doesn't really like repetition.
"kyujong," he smiles, putting folded clothes into the hamper. "yourself?" kyujong is a nice name, perfectly fitting for the happy smile and polite way he talks. he seems like the ultimate good guy, one who'll go so far as to iron his clothes and look presentable every day.
"hyunjoong." the exchange makes his stomach crawl with something (he doesn't want to admit that it's pleasure because it's been so long since he's held a perfectly pleasant conversation with someone who doesn't order him around). kyujong smiles at him politely, ever so politely, and goes back to his work like one who doesn't want to be bothered.
hyunjoong bothers him anyways (because he's bored). "so, why are you here?"
kyujong starts to place folded clothes into his hamper. "i'm doing laundry, why are you here? to chat me up?"
hyunjoong's face colours to the roots of his hair, "i'm just making conversation." he scratches the back of his neck and scuffs his foot a bit into the ground. kyujong's face colours and he has to admit that it's a bit cute. he returns to his work, but doesn't put the earphones back in. he tries to tell himself that it's because the song that's on is one he doesn't want to listen to at the moment, but it's really because this new guy is chuckling and smiling to himself with the most adorable smile that he can't help but grin himself.
they make more light, meaningless conversation while kyujong folds clothes and hyunjoong waits. kyujong finds out that hyunjoong is living on his own and works at a music store, and kyujong relents that he lives at home and is saving up for school with a few part time jobs.
hyunjoong's fighting the washer for a pair of boxers when kyujong finishes. "i'll see you around," he waves, and hyunjoong slams his finger in the washer door. kyujong leaves to the musical sound of furious cursing, and he laughs all the way to his house.
he doesn't think they'll meet again, but when he enters the laundromat one soaking monday night, after a long day of waiting tables and cleaning rooms, hyunjoong's there, throwing his clothes haphazardly into the washer. there's an elderly lady at the folding tables, distracted by the weather channel. kyujong puts his ipod away, figuring he wont need it today after all, not with the resident flirt here.
he sidles up to hyunjoong and puts his bag on the floor in front of the washer beside him. "you know, your laundry will never come out right if you do it like that."
hyunjoong jumps, his eyes widening almost comically. "you!" kyujong starts putting his clothes into the washer, having sorted them before he came, whites with whites, colours with colours, darks with darks, and so on, and so forth. his mother would be proud.
"hey, how was your week?" kyujong started, making small talk and pretending his heart wasn't beating like a jackhammer because he knew hyunjoong was staring at him. he hated it, hated making small talk, because small talk leads nowhere. he just had nothing to say otherwise.
"boring," hyunjoong dropped a pair of socks accidentally onto kyujong's foot. at the same time they leaned to pick it up, their heads colliding with a spark of pain and fireworks and fairy dust. kyujong gasped a little, falling back and holding the spot of contact, hyunjoong mirroring his actions. their gazes met, their smiles met, and then they shuffled away from each other awkwardly, doing their laundry in silence.
just when kyujong was about to go digging for his ipod again, hyunjoong spoke again. "you look nice with glasses," he said, not looking at him but at the machine he was putting a five dollar bill in.
"thanks," kyujong touched the metal frames self-consciously. there was something about laundromats, he decided, that was just awkward. it was irritating how awkward they were because no matter how much he tried to have a decent conversation with hyunjoong, every question would always be awkward.
"it's just to awkward," hyunjoong sighed out loud, slamming the machine as it jammed on him again.
kyujong's face fell like shattered glass. "what's awkward?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what he was talking about.
"laundromats," hyunjoong said, "they're just awkward." kyujong could have laughed because of how similar their thoughts were, but he held his tongue.
"what would make them less awkward?" he asked, thinking aloud as he started putting his sisters underwear into the washer.
hyunjoong's eye caught on one of the ridiculously frilly and laced up panties before he could throw them in. "well, you could stop dressing up like a girl," he smirked. kyujong's face coloured a gross purple.
"they're not mine," he said, hastily. "they're my--"
"girlfriend's?" hyunjoong finished for him, his face falling as he slammed the washer door shut so hard that the entire line rattled.
"no, they're not my...girlfriend's." kyujong nearly yelled, his heart jumping to his chest. he ducked his head and leaned in until he could smell spearmint and smoke from his job. "i'm gay," he admitted, his heart beating so fast that he felt he was going to have a heart attack.
hyunjoong gave a strangled laugh, backing hastily over his feet. "so, they are yours, after all." he smiled, i knew you were to girly."
kyujong opened his mouth to object, but hyunjoong had made a hasty enough retreat from him, he didn't need to be chased again. he looked at his reflection in the mirror, at his longer hair falling around his chin and neck, bangs slightly falling under his wire frames.
he wasn't that girly, really.
after hyunjoong had gone home, kyujong glanced over at the dryer he'd hastily snatched clothes from and spotted a pair of plaid boxers left behind. with a frown, he grabbed them and folded them nicely, tucking them in one of his bags to return next time they might see each other. maybe it's just a hope that they will see each other, more than an act of kindness. kyujong's always been selfish like that.
he touches the tips of his hair with a self-conscience frown, and before he knows it, he's scheduling a date with the hair salon down the street on his tacky four-year-old cellphone. he's pretty sure he's never going to recognize himself again, but at least he won't look like a pansy, and maybe hyunjoong will stop hiding when he looks like a man, not a boy who wears his sisters frilly panties.
hyunjoong was anything but homophobic. it was just when his heart thundered in his ears and made gravity fade away like it did when kyujong leaned in to tell him his deepest, darkest secret and he inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla and felt the warmth of his hand brushing against his. that's when he had problems because hyunjoong wasn't supposed to like men. he especially wasn't supposed to like men that he'd met in the laundromat, doing laundry better than his own mother.
he has to go by kyujong again when his clothes finish in the washer, and as soon as he comes within view, kyujong bends over. he's never noticed how well jeans form around the ass of a man when he bends over. he's seen it happen every day on a woman, but he's never felt all the heat in his body rush south for a man who he's only met once before. honestly, it's not very fair, but that annoying voice of his mom says "life isn't fair". and he's back to square one.
life really isn't fair that it makes him go out of his way every day on his way to work, just to see if kyujong is in the laundromat or not. life isn't fair that he forgets where the collection of their beatles records are because he's too busy thinking of the sharpness of kyujong's eyes and the strong build to his shoulders.
life isn't fair when he walks into the laundromat at the end of the week with his duffle bag over his shoulder and comes face to face with a god. he drops his bag and thinks of dropping to his knees as well because the man with short cropped brown hair and a dark sweater with tight, dark jeans couldn't possibly, possibly be kyujong. and then he glances his way and smiles that smile that shows the corners of his gums and hyunjoong wants to cry from the unfairness of it all.
words escape him, and he's standing there, in the doorway with the weather channel music as the background noise because there's no one else in the building but the two of them, and kyujong hasn't opened his ridiculously neat bags yet.
"hey," kyujong says, nonchalantly leaning against the folding counter. "how's work?"
his words blend together for hyunjoong, not that it matters anyways, because he still can't remember how to talk, especially when their eyes meet. kyujong's eyes are hypnotic, there is no other explanation for the why his feet are moving across the floor on their own, how his hand cups the back of kyujong's neck and his other tips his chin slightly. he doesn't even know why his mouth feels so pleasant, or why his stomach feels warm like he's just had a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.
kyujong kisses like he'd imagine clouds to feel, gentle and hesitant but warm all the same, slightly wet but tangible. it's like some sort of dream, until kyujong pulls away with a slight "oh," and leaves him panting for more.
then hyunjoong's mind returns to his body and the two jump apart, secreting awkwardness. instead of that fuzzy warm feeling of home he'd felt just moments ago, that overpowering air of uncertainty appears again, taking over their actions and their words.
kyujong clears his throat, bending over to grab his bag. hyunjoong's eyes automatically followed his rear and stay there until kyujong straightens up and catches him in an accusing stare. he thought that he'd say something, but he didn't, instead he reaches into the bag and pulls out a neatly folded familiar pair of boxers.
"you left these," kyujong clears his throat again. "i took them so no one else would steal them."
hyunjoong grabs them quickly, their fingers connecting for a moment. hyunjoong never noticed how nice kyujong's hands were until that moment. "thanks," his voice squeaks a little, and he curses his failing nerves. he kissed him after all, not the other way around. so much for being straight as an arrow.
there's a long moment of silence, during which kyujong sorts clothes colours and he looks for enough change in his wallet to start the washer. he's at the change machine when kyujong speaks again. "those girly panties, i just want you to know that they're my sisters."
when he turns to give some sort of smart remark, his heart bottoms out by how close kyujong is standing, close enough for his gasp to make the tips of his short hair flutter. quickly their gazes meet again, like long lost lovers. quickly he loses all feeling in his legs; knees turning to jelly.
kyujong--this new, manly kyujong with short hair and spry muscles that he never knew he had until he is pushed against fading wallpaper; this new kyujong with hypnotic eyes and soft, soft lips for kissing--places warm hands on both sides of his face and leans in, eyes fluttering closed. hyunjoong realizes in a moment, then that it's not any supernatural witchcraft that's making him feel this way. in reality it's all of kyujong, and all of himself, falling in love with him.
hyunjoong's gone out on plenty of dates and liked plenty of people in his life. but when his fingers wrap around kyujong's way-too-slim-to-be-male waist and pulls him close, when his lips don't want to make excuses, but want to greet another pair with flushed relish, he realizes that he's as gay as they come, after all.
(he'll be damned if he wears kyujong's sisters panties, though.)
a/n: trips to the laundromat with your grandmother bring about the strangest of things. fuck my life, this took for ever and ever. thanks for looking this over dimentionally, my bitch.
p.s. did you guys see the new rec list for u-kiss and ss501 fic? it's amazing.
hyunjoong meets kyujong in a rundown laundromat in the middle of town。
三2,628 words。
hyunjoong enters the small downtown laundromat with one bag stuffed full of clothes, and another full of blankets and sheets. the place is tiny compared to the laundromats he's seen in his lifetime, with only about ten of both washers and dryers each and slightly peeling drywall with old faded wallpaper. it's also empty save for one young man folding clothes on the folding counter with headphones blasting in his ears.
hyunjoong, pursing his lips at the quaint small-town feel the tacky fake flowers have and the television permanently set to show the weather channel, starts to dump his loads into the washer. he separates the blankets into one of the larger washers, and his clothes into the smaller one with an air of carelessness.
he hates doing laundry, hated the constant waiting for clothes to be done, the musty air of laundry that makes him want to gag, the annoying hum of dryers and washers, hated the awkward feeling of standing around with unknown people who want to steal his underwear the first second he turns his back.
this trip is supposed to go smoothly but the change machine eats his five dollar bill when he tries to put it in. he curses, because that was all the money he had left, he turns to face the other man in the room, who's folding jeans neatly into a pile. "hey," he calls, but of course he can't hear anything with his music blasting in his ears.
hyunjoong huffs in annoyance and walks over, avoiding laundry carts and some lady's thong that was left on the floor. the man jumps when a finger taps him on the shoulder. he rounds about with a wide eyed expression and mouth parted slightly, taking out one of his ear-buds to hear clearly. he hears a faint echo of the song he's listening to, but he licks his dry lips and attempts to ask anyways.
"do you have any change i could borrow? the machine ate the last of my change," he stutters, quivers under the gaze of those contact sharpened eyes. and then mentally kicks himself because he's not supposed to stutter, and he's not supposed to quiver of all things.
"oh," the man laughs, "that old machine does that all the time." he slams the corner of the change machine and quarters come pouring out like a river so that hyunjoong has to hold his hands under the cup before quarters spill over the edge of the cup. his savior is already folding shirts again by the time hyunjoong has enough sense to thank him.
hyunjoong shakes himself a little and goes about his business of starting the machines. taking a seat at one of the tacky chairs for patrons, he flips though a five-year-old fashion magazine instead of watching the faded paint peel.
laughing about out of trend fashions is only so amusing for so long though (what is that, a turtleneck?), and soon enough he's pacing back and forth, from looking at the old photos on the wall to staring at the weather (it called for sunny skies tomorrow), to staring at the back of the only other person in the building.
"so what's your name?" he asks, only to be ignored again. he repeats himself, getting louder and louder, until he looks up from his task.
"sorry?" he asks, dropping the earphones around his neck so that he can hear him. hyunjoong likes the way he cocks his head ever so slightly when he's asked a question.
"your name?" hyunjoong wasn't interested anymore, and he sighs as he says it. he's repeated himself enough already, and he doesn't really like repetition.
"kyujong," he smiles, putting folded clothes into the hamper. "yourself?" kyujong is a nice name, perfectly fitting for the happy smile and polite way he talks. he seems like the ultimate good guy, one who'll go so far as to iron his clothes and look presentable every day.
"hyunjoong." the exchange makes his stomach crawl with something (he doesn't want to admit that it's pleasure because it's been so long since he's held a perfectly pleasant conversation with someone who doesn't order him around). kyujong smiles at him politely, ever so politely, and goes back to his work like one who doesn't want to be bothered.
hyunjoong bothers him anyways (because he's bored). "so, why are you here?"
kyujong starts to place folded clothes into his hamper. "i'm doing laundry, why are you here? to chat me up?"
hyunjoong's face colours to the roots of his hair, "i'm just making conversation." he scratches the back of his neck and scuffs his foot a bit into the ground. kyujong's face colours and he has to admit that it's a bit cute. he returns to his work, but doesn't put the earphones back in. he tries to tell himself that it's because the song that's on is one he doesn't want to listen to at the moment, but it's really because this new guy is chuckling and smiling to himself with the most adorable smile that he can't help but grin himself.
they make more light, meaningless conversation while kyujong folds clothes and hyunjoong waits. kyujong finds out that hyunjoong is living on his own and works at a music store, and kyujong relents that he lives at home and is saving up for school with a few part time jobs.
hyunjoong's fighting the washer for a pair of boxers when kyujong finishes. "i'll see you around," he waves, and hyunjoong slams his finger in the washer door. kyujong leaves to the musical sound of furious cursing, and he laughs all the way to his house.
he doesn't think they'll meet again, but when he enters the laundromat one soaking monday night, after a long day of waiting tables and cleaning rooms, hyunjoong's there, throwing his clothes haphazardly into the washer. there's an elderly lady at the folding tables, distracted by the weather channel. kyujong puts his ipod away, figuring he wont need it today after all, not with the resident flirt here.
he sidles up to hyunjoong and puts his bag on the floor in front of the washer beside him. "you know, your laundry will never come out right if you do it like that."
hyunjoong jumps, his eyes widening almost comically. "you!" kyujong starts putting his clothes into the washer, having sorted them before he came, whites with whites, colours with colours, darks with darks, and so on, and so forth. his mother would be proud.
"hey, how was your week?" kyujong started, making small talk and pretending his heart wasn't beating like a jackhammer because he knew hyunjoong was staring at him. he hated it, hated making small talk, because small talk leads nowhere. he just had nothing to say otherwise.
"boring," hyunjoong dropped a pair of socks accidentally onto kyujong's foot. at the same time they leaned to pick it up, their heads colliding with a spark of pain and fireworks and fairy dust. kyujong gasped a little, falling back and holding the spot of contact, hyunjoong mirroring his actions. their gazes met, their smiles met, and then they shuffled away from each other awkwardly, doing their laundry in silence.
just when kyujong was about to go digging for his ipod again, hyunjoong spoke again. "you look nice with glasses," he said, not looking at him but at the machine he was putting a five dollar bill in.
"thanks," kyujong touched the metal frames self-consciously. there was something about laundromats, he decided, that was just awkward. it was irritating how awkward they were because no matter how much he tried to have a decent conversation with hyunjoong, every question would always be awkward.
"it's just to awkward," hyunjoong sighed out loud, slamming the machine as it jammed on him again.
kyujong's face fell like shattered glass. "what's awkward?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what he was talking about.
"laundromats," hyunjoong said, "they're just awkward." kyujong could have laughed because of how similar their thoughts were, but he held his tongue.
"what would make them less awkward?" he asked, thinking aloud as he started putting his sisters underwear into the washer.
hyunjoong's eye caught on one of the ridiculously frilly and laced up panties before he could throw them in. "well, you could stop dressing up like a girl," he smirked. kyujong's face coloured a gross purple.
"they're not mine," he said, hastily. "they're my--"
"girlfriend's?" hyunjoong finished for him, his face falling as he slammed the washer door shut so hard that the entire line rattled.
"no, they're not my...girlfriend's." kyujong nearly yelled, his heart jumping to his chest. he ducked his head and leaned in until he could smell spearmint and smoke from his job. "i'm gay," he admitted, his heart beating so fast that he felt he was going to have a heart attack.
hyunjoong gave a strangled laugh, backing hastily over his feet. "so, they are yours, after all." he smiled, i knew you were to girly."
kyujong opened his mouth to object, but hyunjoong had made a hasty enough retreat from him, he didn't need to be chased again. he looked at his reflection in the mirror, at his longer hair falling around his chin and neck, bangs slightly falling under his wire frames.
he wasn't that girly, really.
after hyunjoong had gone home, kyujong glanced over at the dryer he'd hastily snatched clothes from and spotted a pair of plaid boxers left behind. with a frown, he grabbed them and folded them nicely, tucking them in one of his bags to return next time they might see each other. maybe it's just a hope that they will see each other, more than an act of kindness. kyujong's always been selfish like that.
he touches the tips of his hair with a self-conscience frown, and before he knows it, he's scheduling a date with the hair salon down the street on his tacky four-year-old cellphone. he's pretty sure he's never going to recognize himself again, but at least he won't look like a pansy, and maybe hyunjoong will stop hiding when he looks like a man, not a boy who wears his sisters frilly panties.
hyunjoong was anything but homophobic. it was just when his heart thundered in his ears and made gravity fade away like it did when kyujong leaned in to tell him his deepest, darkest secret and he inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla and felt the warmth of his hand brushing against his. that's when he had problems because hyunjoong wasn't supposed to like men. he especially wasn't supposed to like men that he'd met in the laundromat, doing laundry better than his own mother.
he has to go by kyujong again when his clothes finish in the washer, and as soon as he comes within view, kyujong bends over. he's never noticed how well jeans form around the ass of a man when he bends over. he's seen it happen every day on a woman, but he's never felt all the heat in his body rush south for a man who he's only met once before. honestly, it's not very fair, but that annoying voice of his mom says "life isn't fair". and he's back to square one.
life really isn't fair that it makes him go out of his way every day on his way to work, just to see if kyujong is in the laundromat or not. life isn't fair that he forgets where the collection of their beatles records are because he's too busy thinking of the sharpness of kyujong's eyes and the strong build to his shoulders.
life isn't fair when he walks into the laundromat at the end of the week with his duffle bag over his shoulder and comes face to face with a god. he drops his bag and thinks of dropping to his knees as well because the man with short cropped brown hair and a dark sweater with tight, dark jeans couldn't possibly, possibly be kyujong. and then he glances his way and smiles that smile that shows the corners of his gums and hyunjoong wants to cry from the unfairness of it all.
words escape him, and he's standing there, in the doorway with the weather channel music as the background noise because there's no one else in the building but the two of them, and kyujong hasn't opened his ridiculously neat bags yet.
"hey," kyujong says, nonchalantly leaning against the folding counter. "how's work?"
his words blend together for hyunjoong, not that it matters anyways, because he still can't remember how to talk, especially when their eyes meet. kyujong's eyes are hypnotic, there is no other explanation for the why his feet are moving across the floor on their own, how his hand cups the back of kyujong's neck and his other tips his chin slightly. he doesn't even know why his mouth feels so pleasant, or why his stomach feels warm like he's just had a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.
kyujong kisses like he'd imagine clouds to feel, gentle and hesitant but warm all the same, slightly wet but tangible. it's like some sort of dream, until kyujong pulls away with a slight "oh," and leaves him panting for more.
then hyunjoong's mind returns to his body and the two jump apart, secreting awkwardness. instead of that fuzzy warm feeling of home he'd felt just moments ago, that overpowering air of uncertainty appears again, taking over their actions and their words.
kyujong clears his throat, bending over to grab his bag. hyunjoong's eyes automatically followed his rear and stay there until kyujong straightens up and catches him in an accusing stare. he thought that he'd say something, but he didn't, instead he reaches into the bag and pulls out a neatly folded familiar pair of boxers.
"you left these," kyujong clears his throat again. "i took them so no one else would steal them."
hyunjoong grabs them quickly, their fingers connecting for a moment. hyunjoong never noticed how nice kyujong's hands were until that moment. "thanks," his voice squeaks a little, and he curses his failing nerves. he kissed him after all, not the other way around. so much for being straight as an arrow.
there's a long moment of silence, during which kyujong sorts clothes colours and he looks for enough change in his wallet to start the washer. he's at the change machine when kyujong speaks again. "those girly panties, i just want you to know that they're my sisters."
when he turns to give some sort of smart remark, his heart bottoms out by how close kyujong is standing, close enough for his gasp to make the tips of his short hair flutter. quickly their gazes meet again, like long lost lovers. quickly he loses all feeling in his legs; knees turning to jelly.
kyujong--this new, manly kyujong with short hair and spry muscles that he never knew he had until he is pushed against fading wallpaper; this new kyujong with hypnotic eyes and soft, soft lips for kissing--places warm hands on both sides of his face and leans in, eyes fluttering closed. hyunjoong realizes in a moment, then that it's not any supernatural witchcraft that's making him feel this way. in reality it's all of kyujong, and all of himself, falling in love with him.
hyunjoong's gone out on plenty of dates and liked plenty of people in his life. but when his fingers wrap around kyujong's way-too-slim-to-be-male waist and pulls him close, when his lips don't want to make excuses, but want to greet another pair with flushed relish, he realizes that he's as gay as they come, after all.
(he'll be damned if he wears kyujong's sisters panties, though.)
a/n: trips to the laundromat with your grandmother bring about the strangest of things. fuck my life, this took for ever and ever. thanks for looking this over dimentionally, my bitch.
p.s. did you guys see the new rec list for u-kiss and ss501 fic? it's amazing.