Storyteller's Song; PG
The Storyteller's Song
yoomin; 1,010 words; PG
The last thing he remembered was a woman calling for help.
He awoke somewhere much cooler, skinny ribbons of sunlight slipping between wooden panels that formed the ceiling; it was enough for him to see that the person removing the wet cloth from his forehead was a man, maybe.
"You're awake." Changmin blinked, realizing that it was a man that was speaking to him, features soft and tired.
Sitting up, he rubbed a particularly sore spot on his head, trying to recall what had happened and drawing a blank. "Ow."
Warm hands pressed against his nape, and the cloth, newly wet, was pressed to his forehead. The man pushed him back down, supporting his neck. "You need to rest."
"Thanks ...um."
"Yoochun."
//
The air smelled foreign, a different kind of crisp and clean. Home never had a moon that bright, at least not what he remembered about home.
"Most of the people here don't remember anything." Yoochun sat himself down on the grass, a warm, glossy green even in cold moonlight. He pulled blades between his fingers but not hard enough to uproot them from the earth. People on the island here, they all had the same story. All of them had pasts they couldn't remember, pasts they even weren't sure existed ("Some of them think that maybe this is the afterlife."). They were all found on the shore of the island after the tide pulls away after a stormy night, with nothing on their person but torn clothing.
Changmin broke the silence. "I remember being a storyteller, a riddler." He stared up at the sky, eyes connecting stars with lines, forming shapes and stories with fuzzy origin.
"Oh?"
"One truth and one lie in every story."
By the end of that night, Changmin had Yoochun on his stomach, elbows digging into grass and dirt, legs kicking behind him, listening with eyes brighter than any Changmin had yet seen on the island.
My father was a storyteller.
You remember him, Changmin?
No.
//
"Yoochun, just let me do it."
"No, why? It's fine."
"I'm getting all wet-"
"Move in closer." Yoochun uncurled two fingers from the umbrella handle, pinching the fabric of Changmin's sleeve and pulled him closer.
Changmin closed the small space between them, "If we were any closer we would be Siamese twins."
Yoochun switched the umbrella to his other hand, linking arms with Changmin. "We're not Siamese twins now."
Yoochun's smile was more than enough to stop Changmin from retorting. "I'll have to get another umbrella."
"Oh?" Yoochun laughed uncomfortably.
"A bigger one to share, idiot."
"You're going to make a new umbrella for us?"
"Don't look so happy."
//
Changmin had never given up on finding a way off the island. He sneaked out at night as soon as Yoochun had fallen into a deep sleep. He always ended up at the beach, squatting, knees to his chest, squeezing sand beneath his palms. A part of him never stopped missing home, and that was a truth he would never tell Yoochun. Usually there is nothing but sand and salt water, but that night he found something, buried under the sand. His fingers brushed against something warm and curiosity pushed him to dig further, squinting his eyes and trying to see in the dark of a thin, crescent moon.
What he found was something he didn't remember.
//
It seemed like it was in Yoochun's nature to lure and to tempt. Something about the man's charm seemed inhuman. Perhaps it was just how real he felt compared to everything else on this island. His skin is warm, his heart an open book on his sleeve.
They had been out in the field again when Yoochun found himself, similar to their first night together, on his stomach, elbows digging into dirt. The difference is the solid, hot body moving on top of his, shielding him from moonlight.
He even pulled at the grass the same way.
//
Yoochun kicked and squeezed until he found a way to slip a leg between Changmin's, toes pressing against the younger man's calf while the other leg was tossed over Changmin's hips.
Changmin tried to turn over in his sleep, fatigue and Yoochun's tangled placement of their limbs stopping him, "Yoochun, you're annoying."
"Now tell me a truth." Yoochun moved in, smirking.
"Don't kiss me." He wasn't up for Yoochun's games this early in the morning.
Yoochun kissed him anyway.
"And how do you know which is the lie and which is the truth?"
"I'm hopeful."
"I can tell."
Changmin kissed away the pout he knew was forming.
//
He decided to hide the necklace back in the sand. Taking branches and leaves, Changmin made intricate arrangements to point him back to that spot when he would return the next night. He would have taken it home with him, but there was something on the pendant that would give him away. It had a reminder of his past. Engraved on the shiny, warm silver were the words: Shim Changmin, Son and Survivor.
//
He chose a night when the moon was fat and bright to pop open the locket. A piece of paper popped out, aged and folded. The folds were very intricate, reminding him of the origami Yoochun tried teaching him. Surprising even himself, he opened up the note without ripping it. Eyes scanned over quickly. It was a story.
But not one of his.
No lies.
//
He accidentally woke Yoochun up, in the process of getting off the bed.
"Stay with me." Yoochun wrapped his hands around Changmin's wrist, stopping him.
Changmin turned around, shifting on the bed until he's leaning over Yoochun's body, cupping his face. "One more riddle."
"Nooo, stay and tell me tomorrow."
Changmin sighed, "Okay, tomorrow."
Yoochun was quick to fall asleep tucked into his arms and his promise.
"I love you."
One truth, one lie.
//
He left before sunrise, jealous of the sea breeeze that he knew would get to kiss Yoochun's skin.
//
Hidden in ocean mist, there is a siren that sings its storyteller's song, waiting for the happy ending.
yoomin; 1,010 words; PG
The last thing he remembered was a woman calling for help.
He awoke somewhere much cooler, skinny ribbons of sunlight slipping between wooden panels that formed the ceiling; it was enough for him to see that the person removing the wet cloth from his forehead was a man, maybe.
"You're awake." Changmin blinked, realizing that it was a man that was speaking to him, features soft and tired.
Sitting up, he rubbed a particularly sore spot on his head, trying to recall what had happened and drawing a blank. "Ow."
Warm hands pressed against his nape, and the cloth, newly wet, was pressed to his forehead. The man pushed him back down, supporting his neck. "You need to rest."
"Thanks ...um."
"Yoochun."
//
The air smelled foreign, a different kind of crisp and clean. Home never had a moon that bright, at least not what he remembered about home.
"Most of the people here don't remember anything." Yoochun sat himself down on the grass, a warm, glossy green even in cold moonlight. He pulled blades between his fingers but not hard enough to uproot them from the earth. People on the island here, they all had the same story. All of them had pasts they couldn't remember, pasts they even weren't sure existed ("Some of them think that maybe this is the afterlife."). They were all found on the shore of the island after the tide pulls away after a stormy night, with nothing on their person but torn clothing.
Changmin broke the silence. "I remember being a storyteller, a riddler." He stared up at the sky, eyes connecting stars with lines, forming shapes and stories with fuzzy origin.
"Oh?"
"One truth and one lie in every story."
By the end of that night, Changmin had Yoochun on his stomach, elbows digging into grass and dirt, legs kicking behind him, listening with eyes brighter than any Changmin had yet seen on the island.
My father was a storyteller.
You remember him, Changmin?
No.
//
"Yoochun, just let me do it."
"No, why? It's fine."
"I'm getting all wet-"
"Move in closer." Yoochun uncurled two fingers from the umbrella handle, pinching the fabric of Changmin's sleeve and pulled him closer.
Changmin closed the small space between them, "If we were any closer we would be Siamese twins."
Yoochun switched the umbrella to his other hand, linking arms with Changmin. "We're not Siamese twins now."
Yoochun's smile was more than enough to stop Changmin from retorting. "I'll have to get another umbrella."
"Oh?" Yoochun laughed uncomfortably.
"A bigger one to share, idiot."
"You're going to make a new umbrella for us?"
"Don't look so happy."
//
Changmin had never given up on finding a way off the island. He sneaked out at night as soon as Yoochun had fallen into a deep sleep. He always ended up at the beach, squatting, knees to his chest, squeezing sand beneath his palms. A part of him never stopped missing home, and that was a truth he would never tell Yoochun. Usually there is nothing but sand and salt water, but that night he found something, buried under the sand. His fingers brushed against something warm and curiosity pushed him to dig further, squinting his eyes and trying to see in the dark of a thin, crescent moon.
What he found was something he didn't remember.
//
It seemed like it was in Yoochun's nature to lure and to tempt. Something about the man's charm seemed inhuman. Perhaps it was just how real he felt compared to everything else on this island. His skin is warm, his heart an open book on his sleeve.
They had been out in the field again when Yoochun found himself, similar to their first night together, on his stomach, elbows digging into dirt. The difference is the solid, hot body moving on top of his, shielding him from moonlight.
He even pulled at the grass the same way.
//
Yoochun kicked and squeezed until he found a way to slip a leg between Changmin's, toes pressing against the younger man's calf while the other leg was tossed over Changmin's hips.
Changmin tried to turn over in his sleep, fatigue and Yoochun's tangled placement of their limbs stopping him, "Yoochun, you're annoying."
"Now tell me a truth." Yoochun moved in, smirking.
"Don't kiss me." He wasn't up for Yoochun's games this early in the morning.
Yoochun kissed him anyway.
"And how do you know which is the lie and which is the truth?"
"I'm hopeful."
"I can tell."
Changmin kissed away the pout he knew was forming.
//
He decided to hide the necklace back in the sand. Taking branches and leaves, Changmin made intricate arrangements to point him back to that spot when he would return the next night. He would have taken it home with him, but there was something on the pendant that would give him away. It had a reminder of his past. Engraved on the shiny, warm silver were the words: Shim Changmin, Son and Survivor.
//
He chose a night when the moon was fat and bright to pop open the locket. A piece of paper popped out, aged and folded. The folds were very intricate, reminding him of the origami Yoochun tried teaching him. Surprising even himself, he opened up the note without ripping it. Eyes scanned over quickly. It was a story.
But not one of his.
No lies.
//
He accidentally woke Yoochun up, in the process of getting off the bed.
"Stay with me." Yoochun wrapped his hands around Changmin's wrist, stopping him.
Changmin turned around, shifting on the bed until he's leaning over Yoochun's body, cupping his face. "One more riddle."
"Nooo, stay and tell me tomorrow."
Changmin sighed, "Okay, tomorrow."
Yoochun was quick to fall asleep tucked into his arms and his promise.
"I love you."
One truth, one lie.
//
He left before sunrise, jealous of the sea breeeze that he knew would get to kiss Yoochun's skin.
//
Hidden in ocean mist, there is a siren that sings its storyteller's song, waiting for the happy ending.