Caught Up [2/?]
Caught Up
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Genre: idek
Word Count: 1018
Summary: In a world where being different is on par with the most heinous of crimes, hiding is the only option. Being found out brings about the worst nightmares for most-betrayal, abandonment, imprisonment, experimentation.
Death.
Luhan is seventeen when everything goes wrong.
Working had never been Luhan's idea of fun, but he still thinks that he'd enjoy it more if he had a job he actually liked. Because as it stands, working in a busy tourist shop in Beijing is far from fun for him. His English still needs a great deal of work, and the Americans that frequent the shop don't seem to understand the concept of manners, or not touching things that they aren't going to buy.
He sighs, frustrated at having to clean the jewelry display again, the third time in thirty minutes. The fingerprints smudging the glass make his boss angry, and the last thing Luhan wants is another scolding for something that really isn't his fault at all.
The bell on the door chimes behind him, interrupting his thoughts and he turns, smile plastered on his face, stuffing the cleaning rag into his back pocket. "Welcome," he greets, inclining his head just slightly, moving back behind the counter where he can keep an eye on the whole store.
The woman giggles, presumably at his accent, turning to her husband to whisper something in his ear, and Luhan has to hide a grin behind his hand as that reveals the tattoo on the woman's upper arm. A tattoo that reads...not what was intended he's sure, and he half entertains the thought of telling her just that. If only he knew the word in English.
She steps up to him then, completely disregarding personal space and boundaries, leaning over the counter between them to ruffle his hair, to pinch his cheek before he can really get away. "He's so cute," she says, turning back to her husband and giggling again. "Isn't he cute, honey?"
Luhan thinks he's going to be sick as he pats his hair back into place, clearing his throat and holding an arm out to the different displays littered around the shop. Or maybe just angry, the frustration from before combining with now to make his voice a little less polite than it should be. "Can I help you?" he asks, trying to keep his accent as buried as possible so she doesn't comment on that as well.
"He looks like an angry kitten," she titters, and Luhan frowns, trying to piece the words together before her husband steps up, waving a hand to catch his attention like he's blind.
He bristles a little as the man steps closer, moving his hands around in a rectangular shape, voice loud and slow as he says, "Postcards?" like he thinks that Luhan is also deaf and stupid.
He wants to mock him back, point exaggeratedly, tell him 'this way' in the most accented English he can manage but he doesn't, just putting on his most polite smile and stepping around the counter to usher them over to the rack with dozens of postcards. It's in plain sight, just inside the door, and Luhan thinks that the couple are the blind, stupid ones, mood souring further as they get dirty fingerprints all over the glossy cards.
More things for him to wipe off after they leave, he thinks with a sigh.
Five minutes and twenty three-he counted-ruined postcards later the china sets on the back wall catch the woman's attention and Luhan inwardly cringes, following after like a good employee and trying to answer all of their questions. She speaks a little fast for him sometimes, but he prefers it to the slow drawl of her husband that makes him feel inferior and stupid, when really, they're the stupid ones, coming to mainland China and not knowing a single word in Mandarin.
She just looks for several minutes, and Luhan nearly lets his guard down, almost wanting to wander around and see what things her husband might be ruining when he hears a telltale clink of porcelain against the metal stands displaying them and he's by her side almost instantly, trying to guide her hand to put it back. He shakes his head very deliberately. "No touching please."
"Oh honey I wasn't gonna break it, relax," she laughs, patting his shoulder like a child, and he takes a few moments to make sure he has her words down right when there's a shout from the other side of the store.
Luhan whirls around almost instantly, eyes finding her husband near the glass orbs, the music boxes, the carved stone figurines, and the beaded necklaces. Everything that's just as breakable as the china displayed on the wall behind him, and before he knows it he's got his hands outstretched like that will somehow keep the whole case from falling to the floor.
He doesn't expect it to work, and he braces himself for the impact, the sounds of thousands of dollars worth of merchandise shattering on the floor, but it never comes. His eyes open slowly to find everything suspended in midair, wavering in the air shakily, reminding him of a mirage. The couple is looking at him like he's suddenly from another world and his boss' voice from behind him startles him.
"What is this?" he asks, voice angry, and it scares Luhan so bad that he jumps, hands shaking and eyes squeezing shut so he doesn't have to see the scene that accompanies the ridiculously loud crash, porcelain and glass and breakable stone shattering into hundreds of pieces, beads rolling all over the floor, wood from the case creaking as it settles.
He's heard about the ones that are 'special,' and he knows that they usually get a one way ticket to an asylum. It's not something he wants in the least, so when he feels his boss trying to get a grip on his shoulder Luhan jerks away, making a mad dash to get out the door, to just get away.
He doesn't bother with getting his regular clothes, his bag with his ID and his money and his phone. He should have, he realizes, but he's just so scared of being caught that he doesn't want to stay around one second longer.
So he doesn't.
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Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Genre: idek
Word Count: 1018
Summary: In a world where being different is on par with the most heinous of crimes, hiding is the only option. Being found out brings about the worst nightmares for most-betrayal, abandonment, imprisonment, experimentation.
Death.
Luhan is seventeen when everything goes wrong.
Working had never been Luhan's idea of fun, but he still thinks that he'd enjoy it more if he had a job he actually liked. Because as it stands, working in a busy tourist shop in Beijing is far from fun for him. His English still needs a great deal of work, and the Americans that frequent the shop don't seem to understand the concept of manners, or not touching things that they aren't going to buy.
He sighs, frustrated at having to clean the jewelry display again, the third time in thirty minutes. The fingerprints smudging the glass make his boss angry, and the last thing Luhan wants is another scolding for something that really isn't his fault at all.
The bell on the door chimes behind him, interrupting his thoughts and he turns, smile plastered on his face, stuffing the cleaning rag into his back pocket. "Welcome," he greets, inclining his head just slightly, moving back behind the counter where he can keep an eye on the whole store.
The woman giggles, presumably at his accent, turning to her husband to whisper something in his ear, and Luhan has to hide a grin behind his hand as that reveals the tattoo on the woman's upper arm. A tattoo that reads...not what was intended he's sure, and he half entertains the thought of telling her just that. If only he knew the word in English.
She steps up to him then, completely disregarding personal space and boundaries, leaning over the counter between them to ruffle his hair, to pinch his cheek before he can really get away. "He's so cute," she says, turning back to her husband and giggling again. "Isn't he cute, honey?"
Luhan thinks he's going to be sick as he pats his hair back into place, clearing his throat and holding an arm out to the different displays littered around the shop. Or maybe just angry, the frustration from before combining with now to make his voice a little less polite than it should be. "Can I help you?" he asks, trying to keep his accent as buried as possible so she doesn't comment on that as well.
"He looks like an angry kitten," she titters, and Luhan frowns, trying to piece the words together before her husband steps up, waving a hand to catch his attention like he's blind.
He bristles a little as the man steps closer, moving his hands around in a rectangular shape, voice loud and slow as he says, "Postcards?" like he thinks that Luhan is also deaf and stupid.
He wants to mock him back, point exaggeratedly, tell him 'this way' in the most accented English he can manage but he doesn't, just putting on his most polite smile and stepping around the counter to usher them over to the rack with dozens of postcards. It's in plain sight, just inside the door, and Luhan thinks that the couple are the blind, stupid ones, mood souring further as they get dirty fingerprints all over the glossy cards.
More things for him to wipe off after they leave, he thinks with a sigh.
Five minutes and twenty three-he counted-ruined postcards later the china sets on the back wall catch the woman's attention and Luhan inwardly cringes, following after like a good employee and trying to answer all of their questions. She speaks a little fast for him sometimes, but he prefers it to the slow drawl of her husband that makes him feel inferior and stupid, when really, they're the stupid ones, coming to mainland China and not knowing a single word in Mandarin.
She just looks for several minutes, and Luhan nearly lets his guard down, almost wanting to wander around and see what things her husband might be ruining when he hears a telltale clink of porcelain against the metal stands displaying them and he's by her side almost instantly, trying to guide her hand to put it back. He shakes his head very deliberately. "No touching please."
"Oh honey I wasn't gonna break it, relax," she laughs, patting his shoulder like a child, and he takes a few moments to make sure he has her words down right when there's a shout from the other side of the store.
Luhan whirls around almost instantly, eyes finding her husband near the glass orbs, the music boxes, the carved stone figurines, and the beaded necklaces. Everything that's just as breakable as the china displayed on the wall behind him, and before he knows it he's got his hands outstretched like that will somehow keep the whole case from falling to the floor.
He doesn't expect it to work, and he braces himself for the impact, the sounds of thousands of dollars worth of merchandise shattering on the floor, but it never comes. His eyes open slowly to find everything suspended in midair, wavering in the air shakily, reminding him of a mirage. The couple is looking at him like he's suddenly from another world and his boss' voice from behind him startles him.
"What is this?" he asks, voice angry, and it scares Luhan so bad that he jumps, hands shaking and eyes squeezing shut so he doesn't have to see the scene that accompanies the ridiculously loud crash, porcelain and glass and breakable stone shattering into hundreds of pieces, beads rolling all over the floor, wood from the case creaking as it settles.
He's heard about the ones that are 'special,' and he knows that they usually get a one way ticket to an asylum. It's not something he wants in the least, so when he feels his boss trying to get a grip on his shoulder Luhan jerks away, making a mad dash to get out the door, to just get away.
He doesn't bother with getting his regular clothes, his bag with his ID and his money and his phone. He should have, he realizes, but he's just so scared of being caught that he doesn't want to stay around one second longer.
So he doesn't.
back | next