"I want you to stay forever"
Title: "I want you to stay forever."
Author: wontonxx
Pairing: Eeteuk/Kibum
Rating: PG
Genre: failed crack, romance.
Length: oneshot, about 1450 words
Warning: really rushed, so it might seem unrealistic & not make sense.
Disclaimer: I don't think i would share with elf if i owned them, good thing i don't, ne?
A/N It's been 7 weeks, so i decided it would be a good time to continue this challenge. Soccer practice and Ap classes are burning both sides of my candle =[
038. I want you to stay forever.
In that one moment, forever did not seem long enough.
It’s 10 AM on a wonderful gorgeous weekend morning. The sun is out, it doesn’t blind people as they drive like it usually does. The wind blows, it doesn’t even misplace a single strand of hair. The streets are busy, the cars are calm. Chaos doesn’t exist, not on a day like this.
But there’s a lot going through Kibum's head when he notices the attractive waiter weaving gracefully between tables balancing full trays, not missing a beat when the doors to the kitchen fly at him. Like how his skin must look in the lighting of the restaurant or if said waiter would be able to notice that he walked out of his house in the same clothes he wore to bed.
He keeps a straight face when the waiter is back out of the kitchen heading towards his table. Completely straining to keep his austere expression by the time the waiter comes up, pulls out a writing pad, and asks how he would like his eggs.
The obscene thought of having them served with him on a silver platter doesn’t even make him blush. He wonders if that’s normal.
Somewhere between deciding what type of eggs would be just as satisfying and shifting through his menu more than necessary, Kibum catches the waiter's name tag at the corner of his eyes. Eeteuk.
That’s a nice name. What would he say if he told him so? Does he get the compliment a lot? Would he think he was hitting on him? Had he brushed his teeth this morning? Oh...that's a no. What if-
He’s leaving and Kibum is not exactly sure what he ordered. He hopes he didn’t order scrambled, though he’d probably eat it if he serves him. And gladly if he wrote a number or seven on a piece of paper.
His glasses slide down the ridge of his nose. Kibum doesn’t bother to fix them or even really notice because Eeteuk smiles wildly and hums as he picks up the empty plates of the table next to him. Eeteuk pockets the tip with an even wilder grin, Kibum thumbs the coins in his pockets. He thinks- really thinks about it- he’d do anything for that smile to be directed at him, for him, because of him. Then reconsiders as the thought implies something too outrageous for a public family orientated restaurant.
The eggs come shortly after he finishes cleaning the table. Scrambled and without a phone number. But he has another smile much different from his previous smile and it makes Kibum want to swallow the eggs whole. It stretches upon his lips just slightly and Kibum thinks his lips would look just slightly better bruising against his. He still doesn’t blush and he wonders where all his blood is going, if it‘s going. Eeteuk mistakes Kibum's glowing stare for one of excitement and mentions before he leaves again that he likes scrambled eggs a lot too.
Kibum plays with his food, squirting ketchup at random spots on his plate when he can’t see Eeteuk anymore. He imagines Eeteuk is in the back trying to guess his name while sweeping the plates he broke while looking at him through the kitchen window. It knocks him back to reality when he subconsciously scoops a spoonful of ketchup and eggs. The urge to gag is strong but Eeteuk is walking out again, Kibum swallows. The impossibility of it all tasted too salty and too insane.
Eeteuk's finger is enclosed around a band aid that wasn’t there before so maybe Kibum's imagination wasn’t so impossible as it felt sitting in his stomach. With that he’s thinking again. Thinking so intently he misses him coming over to give him the check. There’s a growl from his stomach, a huff from him, and an empty plea to be eaten from his eggs, before he's back to prodding hismixture.
---
Kibum walks into the restaurant for the 4th time this week, and Eeteuk has to spill juice all over the table he is cleaning not to smile.
By now, Eeteuk knows a few handful of facts about Kibum, more than a normal waiter should about his customer no matter how many times said customer came by.
There were simple things like how Kibum lived nearby the same college Eeteuk attended and how he had just registered. THey would start togehter this fall, although majoring in entirely different fields.
Then there were more personal things like how Kibum had recently broken up with his boyfriend of two years, but "it's okay," because it was supposedly a mutual decision.
And... then there were things that Kibum didn't even know about himself. Right before took a sip of milk (always warm as he preferred it) through his straw (always bendy), he would politely fold his hands into his lap. Kibum eats his meal with a serious face unless Eeteuk comes by, refills his cup, and accidently pokes him in the side. It makes Kibum laugh, and Eeteuk thinks Kibum looks perfect all sparkles and white teeth.
There were also things Kibum definitely didn't know Eeteuk knew. Kibum doesn't like scrabbled eggs, he likes them sunnyside up with the yolk cooked through. Eeteuk likes to humor himself, watching Kibum try to swallow every scrambbled bit.
---
There’s a few more days of the week and another 42 more weeks of the year. Kibum uses as many minutes and seconds of every one of those days sitting in the same restaurant with the same plate of eggs because that’s what Eeteuk thought he liked best.
Today is a little different, because today Kibum spends a little extra time contemplating every move Eeteuk makes. Even fools himself a few time into thinking Eeteuk is looking at him when actually he is glancing at the clock right above him
Once Kibum does enough of pretending to eat and sort of staring at a painting but really at him, he gets up to pay not forgetting to fork over the biggest tip possible on his table. No sooner than exactly twenty and a half steps is he at the door with his head turned to catch a last glimpse of the waiter. Kibum notices he is the last customer, and it probably has to do with the fact it's way beyond the time for breakfast.
But it doesn't matter because Eeteuk is looking back and his heart doesn’t know what to do, jump into his throat or frail around with the butterflies in hisstomach. It might as well just stop beating when Eeteuk speaks. And Kibum thinks he might as well be called a girl when he catches himself squeal.
“I want you to stay.” His hand on the handle goes limp and falls back to his side.
“Stay? Here? With you?” Eeteuk steps closer to him. Kibum's voice sounds more certain than confused.
“Stay here with me.” Kibum does an awkward step, half towards Eeteuk and half to turn around, and trips over his shoelace. He doesn't even remember wearing shoes today. Hadn't he slipped into sandals on his way out?
“For how long?” By now anymore steps would leave them crashing against each other. The abnormal part of Kibum , the part he has gotten to know a lot better these past few weeks, tells him he wouldn’t mind a bump or two.
“As long as you want.” So close. Close enough to see the small dimples in his smile, to count his eyelashes as they flutter down and up, to run a finger along the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. Kibum curls his fingers into the fabric of his own shirt to stop form doing just that.
“Forever.” It had meant to come across as a question. He hiccups when he sucks in air too quickly.
“Okay, stay forever.”
"..." He’s dreaming, he decides.
“But I have to close up.”
"..." He wants to be dreaming, he decides.
It’s 9 PM on a warm awkward weekend evening. The moon is up, full and brighter than it usually is. The stars gleam and the wind still blows weakly. The streets are empty but the pounding of his heart is louder than any traffic jam. There are only two figures, almost complete strangers, heading in the same direction, cloaked in the same darkness. One with cheeks glaring red for the first time (ahh, there was his blood), one too daring to even care about being strangers and just grabs for the other's hand. Chaos doesn’t exist even now, never on a night like this.
“It’s okay, there’s still tomorrow.”
Author: wontonxx
Pairing: Eeteuk/Kibum
Rating: PG
Genre: failed crack, romance.
Length: oneshot, about 1450 words
Warning: really rushed, so it might seem unrealistic & not make sense.
Disclaimer: I don't think i would share with elf if i owned them, good thing i don't, ne?
A/N It's been 7 weeks, so i decided it would be a good time to continue this challenge. Soccer practice and Ap classes are burning both sides of my candle =[
038. I want you to stay forever.
In that one moment, forever did not seem long enough.
It’s 10 AM on a wonderful gorgeous weekend morning. The sun is out, it doesn’t blind people as they drive like it usually does. The wind blows, it doesn’t even misplace a single strand of hair. The streets are busy, the cars are calm. Chaos doesn’t exist, not on a day like this.
But there’s a lot going through Kibum's head when he notices the attractive waiter weaving gracefully between tables balancing full trays, not missing a beat when the doors to the kitchen fly at him. Like how his skin must look in the lighting of the restaurant or if said waiter would be able to notice that he walked out of his house in the same clothes he wore to bed.
He keeps a straight face when the waiter is back out of the kitchen heading towards his table. Completely straining to keep his austere expression by the time the waiter comes up, pulls out a writing pad, and asks how he would like his eggs.
The obscene thought of having them served with him on a silver platter doesn’t even make him blush. He wonders if that’s normal.
Somewhere between deciding what type of eggs would be just as satisfying and shifting through his menu more than necessary, Kibum catches the waiter's name tag at the corner of his eyes. Eeteuk.
That’s a nice name. What would he say if he told him so? Does he get the compliment a lot? Would he think he was hitting on him? Had he brushed his teeth this morning? Oh...that's a no. What if-
He’s leaving and Kibum is not exactly sure what he ordered. He hopes he didn’t order scrambled, though he’d probably eat it if he serves him. And gladly if he wrote a number or seven on a piece of paper.
His glasses slide down the ridge of his nose. Kibum doesn’t bother to fix them or even really notice because Eeteuk smiles wildly and hums as he picks up the empty plates of the table next to him. Eeteuk pockets the tip with an even wilder grin, Kibum thumbs the coins in his pockets. He thinks- really thinks about it- he’d do anything for that smile to be directed at him, for him, because of him. Then reconsiders as the thought implies something too outrageous for a public family orientated restaurant.
The eggs come shortly after he finishes cleaning the table. Scrambled and without a phone number. But he has another smile much different from his previous smile and it makes Kibum want to swallow the eggs whole. It stretches upon his lips just slightly and Kibum thinks his lips would look just slightly better bruising against his. He still doesn’t blush and he wonders where all his blood is going, if it‘s going. Eeteuk mistakes Kibum's glowing stare for one of excitement and mentions before he leaves again that he likes scrambled eggs a lot too.
Kibum plays with his food, squirting ketchup at random spots on his plate when he can’t see Eeteuk anymore. He imagines Eeteuk is in the back trying to guess his name while sweeping the plates he broke while looking at him through the kitchen window. It knocks him back to reality when he subconsciously scoops a spoonful of ketchup and eggs. The urge to gag is strong but Eeteuk is walking out again, Kibum swallows. The impossibility of it all tasted too salty and too insane.
Eeteuk's finger is enclosed around a band aid that wasn’t there before so maybe Kibum's imagination wasn’t so impossible as it felt sitting in his stomach. With that he’s thinking again. Thinking so intently he misses him coming over to give him the check. There’s a growl from his stomach, a huff from him, and an empty plea to be eaten from his eggs, before he's back to prodding hismixture.
---
Kibum walks into the restaurant for the 4th time this week, and Eeteuk has to spill juice all over the table he is cleaning not to smile.
By now, Eeteuk knows a few handful of facts about Kibum, more than a normal waiter should about his customer no matter how many times said customer came by.
There were simple things like how Kibum lived nearby the same college Eeteuk attended and how he had just registered. THey would start togehter this fall, although majoring in entirely different fields.
Then there were more personal things like how Kibum had recently broken up with his boyfriend of two years, but "it's okay," because it was supposedly a mutual decision.
And... then there were things that Kibum didn't even know about himself. Right before took a sip of milk (always warm as he preferred it) through his straw (always bendy), he would politely fold his hands into his lap. Kibum eats his meal with a serious face unless Eeteuk comes by, refills his cup, and accidently pokes him in the side. It makes Kibum laugh, and Eeteuk thinks Kibum looks perfect all sparkles and white teeth.
There were also things Kibum definitely didn't know Eeteuk knew. Kibum doesn't like scrabbled eggs, he likes them sunnyside up with the yolk cooked through. Eeteuk likes to humor himself, watching Kibum try to swallow every scrambbled bit.
---
There’s a few more days of the week and another 42 more weeks of the year. Kibum uses as many minutes and seconds of every one of those days sitting in the same restaurant with the same plate of eggs because that’s what Eeteuk thought he liked best.
Today is a little different, because today Kibum spends a little extra time contemplating every move Eeteuk makes. Even fools himself a few time into thinking Eeteuk is looking at him when actually he is glancing at the clock right above him
Once Kibum does enough of pretending to eat and sort of staring at a painting but really at him, he gets up to pay not forgetting to fork over the biggest tip possible on his table. No sooner than exactly twenty and a half steps is he at the door with his head turned to catch a last glimpse of the waiter. Kibum notices he is the last customer, and it probably has to do with the fact it's way beyond the time for breakfast.
But it doesn't matter because Eeteuk is looking back and his heart doesn’t know what to do, jump into his throat or frail around with the butterflies in hisstomach. It might as well just stop beating when Eeteuk speaks. And Kibum thinks he might as well be called a girl when he catches himself squeal.
“I want you to stay.” His hand on the handle goes limp and falls back to his side.
“Stay? Here? With you?” Eeteuk steps closer to him. Kibum's voice sounds more certain than confused.
“Stay here with me.” Kibum does an awkward step, half towards Eeteuk and half to turn around, and trips over his shoelace. He doesn't even remember wearing shoes today. Hadn't he slipped into sandals on his way out?
“For how long?” By now anymore steps would leave them crashing against each other. The abnormal part of Kibum , the part he has gotten to know a lot better these past few weeks, tells him he wouldn’t mind a bump or two.
“As long as you want.” So close. Close enough to see the small dimples in his smile, to count his eyelashes as they flutter down and up, to run a finger along the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. Kibum curls his fingers into the fabric of his own shirt to stop form doing just that.
“Forever.” It had meant to come across as a question. He hiccups when he sucks in air too quickly.
“Okay, stay forever.”
"..." He’s dreaming, he decides.
“But I have to close up.”
"..." He wants to be dreaming, he decides.
It’s 9 PM on a warm awkward weekend evening. The moon is up, full and brighter than it usually is. The stars gleam and the wind still blows weakly. The streets are empty but the pounding of his heart is louder than any traffic jam. There are only two figures, almost complete strangers, heading in the same direction, cloaked in the same darkness. One with cheeks glaring red for the first time (ahh, there was his blood), one too daring to even care about being strangers and just grabs for the other's hand. Chaos doesn’t exist even now, never on a night like this.
“It’s okay, there’s still tomorrow.”