re: the way you hold my hand; 3 drabbles
two drabbles about holding hands, one about touching someone you love
how we learned to hold hands
chanyeol/kyungsoo, g, 387 w.
title stolen from a morbid, unrelated poem by matthea harvey
five teenaged boys sit in one of the boys’ home movie theatre and stare at the screen, which is currently playing some type of 60’s horror flick with fake guts and ketchup blood. the boys are joonmyun, kyungsoo, sehun, yixing, and chanyeol.
joonmyun sits next to yixing on a loveseat and sehun sits in a lazyboy to the left of them. chanyeol and kyungsoo sit on the ground, covered by a plaid green blanket. all five of them are bored to death. chanyeol feels kyungsoo’s hand against his thigh. chanyeol thinks, “i should hold his hand.”
slowly, chanyeol shifts and kyungsoo does, too. kyungsoo takes the hand away from chanyeol’s thigh and chanyeol feels sad and unsure as to why he had wanted to hold kyungsoo’s hand in the first place. on the television, a woman with big hair is dying and screaming. chanyeol wants kyungsoo’s hand in his.
leaning over, chanyeol puts his mouth near kyungsoo’s ear and whispers, “i want to hold your hand.”
“what?” kyungsoo whispers back.
blindly, chanyeol reaches over to kyungsoo and begins to feel around his legs. kyungsoo turns his head and squints at chanyeol. chanyeol says, “your hand.”
“my hand?” kyungsoo asks. he moves his legs a little bit. chanyeol frowns.
“i want to hold it,” chanyeol mutters. “i want to hold it.”
“why?” kyungsoo continues to question. “are you scared of the movie.”
“no,” chanyeol replies, earnest. “i just want to feel your hand.”
“it is, like, sweating. i am warm,” kyungsoo says. “it’s gross.”
“no,” chanyeol shakes his head a little. “i want to feel your sweaty hand.”
“ew,” kyungsoo says. “that is so gross.”
“do you want to hold my hand, too,” chanyeol asks. “i want to hold your hand.”
kyungsoo bites his lower lip and looks down for a moment, where he has his hands. he slaps them together and holds his own hand. he says, “yeah, i do, i think.”
“okay,” chanyeol, once again, blindly looks for kyungsoo’s hand until kyungsoo places his hand in chanyeol’s. “i found it.”
“yeah,” kyungsoo says. “don’t let go, okay?”
“okay.”
they smile at each other and watch people that are already dead in real life die on screen. chanyeol thinks, ‘i feel glad to be holding kyungsoo’s hand, i feel glad to be sitting next to kyungsoo.’
What are you searching for
kris/lu han, g, 224 w.
title stolen from a song by alice boman
two teenaged boys sit on a bus, side by side. one teenaged boy looks out the window and the other teenaged boy looks at the other boy. lu han looks out the window and kris looks at lu han. it’s morning, they’re on a school bus. the sun is rising. it is winter. the moon and the sun are beginning to coexist.
lu han has his earbuds in, so kris doesn’t say anything. he stares at lu han staring out the window, looking at the sky, which has become a silvery pink. lu han reaches over with his eyes still glued to the window. he puts his hand on kris’ face.
lu han’s hand is cold and kris doesn’t know what to do. kris keeps staring at lu han and then, at one point, lu han turns his head and stares back at kris with drowsy, first-thing-in-the-morning eyes. kris doesn’t say anything. lu han puts his face next to kris’ ear and says, “you dummy. hold my hand.”
kris nods meekly and lu han drops his hand, putting it in kris’, which is resting in his lap. lu han easily laces their fingers together and kris feels relieved. the silvery pink in the sky has intensified, but kris barely notices this because he’s too busy looking at the subtle smile on lu han’s face.
iii. open mouth kisses
kris/lu han, pg13, 768 w.
from a different drabble set
it is dark. the only light coming into the room is the set of the autumn sun, an orange tint filtering in through beige window sheers. there is a desk, a bookcase, a bed, a dresser, and a bed frame with two mattresses on it. all of these things (save for the mattresses) are the same deep mahogany, and the orange is good against it, warming the wood slightly, even in the low fifties of the autumn dusk. two boys, kris and lu han, sit on the mattresses atop the mahogany bed frame and look at each other.
kris has his hands under lu han’s shirt, his palms resting flat against the other boy’s stomach. lu han has his hands curled over kris’ shoulders, his fingers digging into the other boy’s clothed skin. lu han’s face is pretty in this lighting, kris thinks. kris’ face is nice in this lighting, lu han thinks. they look at each other and they blink a bit but the rest of their respective bodies don’t seem to move.
they suppose this is their way of watching the sun set. they suppose they can see the light from their window fade as the sun’s filtered streaks also begin to cease against each others’ faces. soon enough, the sun will retire for the night and they will too, long after the moon has taken the sun’s place.
moving for the first time in half an hour or more, kris’ fingers curl against the skin of lu han’s belly. he leans over and he puts his forehead on lu han’s forehead. he sighs a little and then says, “i feel glad to have you.”
immediately, lu han’s cheeks heat up. the sun is already off his face, so he has no excuse. he accepts his fate and says, “i feel glad to have you, too. i like that we can do this every once in a while. it makes me feel good.”
kris keeps smiling until he moves in closer and puts his lips on lu han’s lips. their mouths are barely touching. both their mouths hang open slightly, a single word seeming to have caught between their lips. they don’t do anything for seconds, but suddenly, simultaneously, their eyes fall shut and their lips touch fully in a kiss. they do not look at each other while their lips dance together. they do not see the sun go away.
splaying his hands out once more, kris slowly pushes his hands up, until he can feel the soft indent of lu han’s ribs. he pulls his lips away from lu han’s lips and says, quiet, “i’m going to take your shirt off, okay?”
lu han nods a bit and opens his eyes and lifts his arms. he sees a lot of grey. the orange seems to have gone away. soon, he feels cold. then, he feels fingertips cascading down his skin. he has goosebumps. his hands find their way back to kris’ broad shoulders and his fingers curl once more when he feels kris’ lips against his collarbone.
beneath kris’ hands, lu han feels so small. he feels fragile and handled like delicate china. he thinks he likes the way it feels, likes the way kris presses the heel of his palm against the spaces between his ribs, likes the way it feels when kris’ fingertips brush against his navel. kris keeps his touch light, and lu han likes that.
kris trails kisses down lu han’s chest, scooting backwards on the bed so he can bend over and push lu han back in order to run his lips down lu han’s sides. he presses open-mouthed kisses against lu han’s sticky-outty ribs, and then he mumbles, “the sun is gone, but you’re still so warm. like, weird.. warm. not like.. normal warm or like sick warm, just warm.”
it seems like kris is just talking to be talking, but lu han replies, “but i feel cold, like inside. can you give me a hug. i like these kisses but your face is kind of cold.”
“okay.” kris says. he moves towards lu han and lays down. lu han lays down beside him. kris puts his arm around lu han and lu han rolls over to put his face against kris’ chest.
they hold each other like this and lu han thinks he likes this, too, likes it when kris holds him too tight, like an old, safe teddy bear, likes it when kris tangles their legs together.
how we learned to hold hands
chanyeol/kyungsoo, g, 387 w.
title stolen from a morbid, unrelated poem by matthea harvey
five teenaged boys sit in one of the boys’ home movie theatre and stare at the screen, which is currently playing some type of 60’s horror flick with fake guts and ketchup blood. the boys are joonmyun, kyungsoo, sehun, yixing, and chanyeol.
joonmyun sits next to yixing on a loveseat and sehun sits in a lazyboy to the left of them. chanyeol and kyungsoo sit on the ground, covered by a plaid green blanket. all five of them are bored to death. chanyeol feels kyungsoo’s hand against his thigh. chanyeol thinks, “i should hold his hand.”
slowly, chanyeol shifts and kyungsoo does, too. kyungsoo takes the hand away from chanyeol’s thigh and chanyeol feels sad and unsure as to why he had wanted to hold kyungsoo’s hand in the first place. on the television, a woman with big hair is dying and screaming. chanyeol wants kyungsoo’s hand in his.
leaning over, chanyeol puts his mouth near kyungsoo’s ear and whispers, “i want to hold your hand.”
“what?” kyungsoo whispers back.
blindly, chanyeol reaches over to kyungsoo and begins to feel around his legs. kyungsoo turns his head and squints at chanyeol. chanyeol says, “your hand.”
“my hand?” kyungsoo asks. he moves his legs a little bit. chanyeol frowns.
“i want to hold it,” chanyeol mutters. “i want to hold it.”
“why?” kyungsoo continues to question. “are you scared of the movie.”
“no,” chanyeol replies, earnest. “i just want to feel your hand.”
“it is, like, sweating. i am warm,” kyungsoo says. “it’s gross.”
“no,” chanyeol shakes his head a little. “i want to feel your sweaty hand.”
“ew,” kyungsoo says. “that is so gross.”
“do you want to hold my hand, too,” chanyeol asks. “i want to hold your hand.”
kyungsoo bites his lower lip and looks down for a moment, where he has his hands. he slaps them together and holds his own hand. he says, “yeah, i do, i think.”
“okay,” chanyeol, once again, blindly looks for kyungsoo’s hand until kyungsoo places his hand in chanyeol’s. “i found it.”
“yeah,” kyungsoo says. “don’t let go, okay?”
“okay.”
they smile at each other and watch people that are already dead in real life die on screen. chanyeol thinks, ‘i feel glad to be holding kyungsoo’s hand, i feel glad to be sitting next to kyungsoo.’
What are you searching for
kris/lu han, g, 224 w.
title stolen from a song by alice boman
two teenaged boys sit on a bus, side by side. one teenaged boy looks out the window and the other teenaged boy looks at the other boy. lu han looks out the window and kris looks at lu han. it’s morning, they’re on a school bus. the sun is rising. it is winter. the moon and the sun are beginning to coexist.
lu han has his earbuds in, so kris doesn’t say anything. he stares at lu han staring out the window, looking at the sky, which has become a silvery pink. lu han reaches over with his eyes still glued to the window. he puts his hand on kris’ face.
lu han’s hand is cold and kris doesn’t know what to do. kris keeps staring at lu han and then, at one point, lu han turns his head and stares back at kris with drowsy, first-thing-in-the-morning eyes. kris doesn’t say anything. lu han puts his face next to kris’ ear and says, “you dummy. hold my hand.”
kris nods meekly and lu han drops his hand, putting it in kris’, which is resting in his lap. lu han easily laces their fingers together and kris feels relieved. the silvery pink in the sky has intensified, but kris barely notices this because he’s too busy looking at the subtle smile on lu han’s face.
iii. open mouth kisses
kris/lu han, pg13, 768 w.
from a different drabble set
it is dark. the only light coming into the room is the set of the autumn sun, an orange tint filtering in through beige window sheers. there is a desk, a bookcase, a bed, a dresser, and a bed frame with two mattresses on it. all of these things (save for the mattresses) are the same deep mahogany, and the orange is good against it, warming the wood slightly, even in the low fifties of the autumn dusk. two boys, kris and lu han, sit on the mattresses atop the mahogany bed frame and look at each other.
kris has his hands under lu han’s shirt, his palms resting flat against the other boy’s stomach. lu han has his hands curled over kris’ shoulders, his fingers digging into the other boy’s clothed skin. lu han’s face is pretty in this lighting, kris thinks. kris’ face is nice in this lighting, lu han thinks. they look at each other and they blink a bit but the rest of their respective bodies don’t seem to move.
they suppose this is their way of watching the sun set. they suppose they can see the light from their window fade as the sun’s filtered streaks also begin to cease against each others’ faces. soon enough, the sun will retire for the night and they will too, long after the moon has taken the sun’s place.
moving for the first time in half an hour or more, kris’ fingers curl against the skin of lu han’s belly. he leans over and he puts his forehead on lu han’s forehead. he sighs a little and then says, “i feel glad to have you.”
immediately, lu han’s cheeks heat up. the sun is already off his face, so he has no excuse. he accepts his fate and says, “i feel glad to have you, too. i like that we can do this every once in a while. it makes me feel good.”
kris keeps smiling until he moves in closer and puts his lips on lu han’s lips. their mouths are barely touching. both their mouths hang open slightly, a single word seeming to have caught between their lips. they don’t do anything for seconds, but suddenly, simultaneously, their eyes fall shut and their lips touch fully in a kiss. they do not look at each other while their lips dance together. they do not see the sun go away.
splaying his hands out once more, kris slowly pushes his hands up, until he can feel the soft indent of lu han’s ribs. he pulls his lips away from lu han’s lips and says, quiet, “i’m going to take your shirt off, okay?”
lu han nods a bit and opens his eyes and lifts his arms. he sees a lot of grey. the orange seems to have gone away. soon, he feels cold. then, he feels fingertips cascading down his skin. he has goosebumps. his hands find their way back to kris’ broad shoulders and his fingers curl once more when he feels kris’ lips against his collarbone.
beneath kris’ hands, lu han feels so small. he feels fragile and handled like delicate china. he thinks he likes the way it feels, likes the way kris presses the heel of his palm against the spaces between his ribs, likes the way it feels when kris’ fingertips brush against his navel. kris keeps his touch light, and lu han likes that.
kris trails kisses down lu han’s chest, scooting backwards on the bed so he can bend over and push lu han back in order to run his lips down lu han’s sides. he presses open-mouthed kisses against lu han’s sticky-outty ribs, and then he mumbles, “the sun is gone, but you’re still so warm. like, weird.. warm. not like.. normal warm or like sick warm, just warm.”
it seems like kris is just talking to be talking, but lu han replies, “but i feel cold, like inside. can you give me a hug. i like these kisses but your face is kind of cold.”
“okay.” kris says. he moves towards lu han and lays down. lu han lays down beside him. kris puts his arm around lu han and lu han rolls over to put his face against kris’ chest.
they hold each other like this and lu han thinks he likes this, too, likes it when kris holds him too tight, like an old, safe teddy bear, likes it when kris tangles their legs together.