"circus"
circus ; pg-13 ; kris/sehun ; one shot. '66 shades of exo' challenge - kris/sehun - 'circus'.
there's only two types of people in the world: the ones that entertain, and the ones that observe.
→ ☆ ☆ ☆
Come one, come all! Step right up to see the exquisite horror of Circus de EXO, where talented boys
struggle to make a living trapped among the impossible expectations of the world at large.
What will they make of themselves? What can they make of themselves?
Ringleader Wu Yifan runs our show tonight, and the special acts include...
Oh Sehun, the trapeze artist!
The sound of his sneakers was odd and misplaced, as if the cement was telling him through his ears not to ride so high on it. Don't scuff up the curb, the scratched surface begged of him. Don't drop your gum here. Don't climb that high! Don't--Don't--
Sehun gave a short laugh, and Yifan studied him out of the corner of his eyes.
"You're going to fall," he reminded gently. Sehun gave a short shrug. If he could, Yifan thought, Sehun would probably trying to walk the top of metal linked fences, like all those martial artists he watched in Japanese animated cartoons. As it was, Sehun had settled for the top of the cement wall that separated the sidewalk from the expensive houses beyond. Yifan didn't understand why Sehun would want to be even taller. Then again, he confessed, to a small, shadowed corner of his inner thoughts, he didn't really understand much of what Sehun did at all.
"I wonder if cats do this," Sehun mumbled aloud. Yifan looked up at him again. His arms were outstretched for balance, almost flapping in the cool night air, and Yifan stuck his hands in his pockets, giving a speculative hum that was really more sound than thought. Sehun didn't seem to notice.
"You're not a cat," Yifan said in amusement. He could tell that Sehun had wrinkled his nose in that cute way that Yifan definitely didn't like, but he wasn't about to glance up at him again.
"I'm going to be," Sehun announced, and Yifan laughed out loud.
Oh Sehun, the lion tamer!
Chanyeol looked like he was ready to throttle someone. Yifan had long ago given up trying to reign in the argument; something he had learned from his time as leader--a position he still wasn't sure he was fit to fill--was that not every fight had to be resolved by a mediating party. Sometimes it was better just to let the fire crackle out on its own, rather than douse it with water. Junmyun wasn't particularly keen on the idea. Then again, serving as the water himself , Yifan hadn't imagined he would be.
Baekhyun was doing that little snickering thing at the stove, bumping into Kyungsoo's shoulder while he dished up dinner for himself. Yifan looked between the two of them, then back at Chanyeol, and took in a deep breath.
"Hyung," came Sehun's sing-song voice. Yifan watched with a peculiar sense of entitlement as Chanyeol's head turned slowly to regard the younger boy. Baekhyun had opened his mouth again as though to claim Chanyeol's attention with another insult, but Sehun's lips were quicker, his voice louder, and when his arms draped across Chanyeol's shoulders, Yifan pretended to study the newspaper that was still strewn across the kitchen table.
"Hyung, I tuned your guitar for you," Sehun said earnestly. He always had attitude when he was around Chanyeol. Yifan, at one point, had considered it endearing, but as of late it had become more and more irritating, to the point where he didn't particularly want to be around both of them at the same time. That, of course, created a serious problem. Chanyeol practically walked in every one of his steps behind him, and he rather enjoyed having Sehun around.
"Now's not--"
"I wanted to hear that song," Sehun continued over him, pleasantly, and let his chin rest lightly on the shelf of Chanyeol's shoulder. Chanyeol practically deflated under the weight. Yifan's eyes narrowed.
"The one you were telling me about," Sehun went on, his lips starting to turn up into one of those smiles that never meant anything particularly good. "Okay?"
Baekhyun was pouting. Yifan tried not to laugh, and pressed his lips into one thin line. Yixing must have noticed, because he came to sit next to him, pointedly pushing a plate over the newspaper, making it wrinkle and bunch up and Yifan had to smile because it was so like the other boy to do so. "I'm not hungry," he insisted quietly, but Yixing was fussing over the plate and the little tears in the newspaper, and Yifan gave a good-natured sigh and tried not to let his amusement show too much.
The tension in the room evaporated once Chanyeol disappeared down the hall with Sehun, and so did Yifan's smile.
Oh Sehun, the ventriloquist!
"You know it's Sehun's turn first," Lu Han was saying, loudly, when Yifan entered the kitchen in the morning. His hair was a floppy mess on top of his head, and part of it was itchy, somewhere, in the tangled disarray of hairspray and gel that he'd gone to sleep in because he'd been too tired to take a shower. Minseok was reading his Mandarin textbook at the table, eating an apple, and he could hear Chanyeol and Zitao laughing about something on the news in the living room.
Jongin was definitely Not In A Good Mood. Yifan could understand--he didn't really appreciate having Luhan's finger pointed in his face first thing in the morning either.
"But I didn't sleep well last night. I wanted to go in the afternoon," Jongin said in a calm voice, betraying the fact that his jaw was set enough that his words came out clipped and succinct. Lu Han shook his head, firmly.
"Sehun said he wanted to do the afternoon lesson. You can go in the morning."
Yifan wanted to argue that Lu Han's logic was ridiculous but he and Lu Han had both silently agreed long ago that Oh Sehun was a topic they would not talk about together, for a multitude of reasons. One of them being that, in Lu Han's mind--and Yifan considered his mind to be a very strange, twisted, and convoluted place--he always knew what was best for Oh Sehun's welfare; he always knew Oh Sehun's moods, he always knew Oh Sehun's likes and dislikes.
Another one being the fact that Lu Han did not and would not ever approve of the kinds of feelings Yifan sometimes harbored, unintentionally, about Oh Sehun.
Covering his face with a hand, Yifan walked right back out of the kitchen. Lu Han's voice had started to melt into some kind of annoyingly incessant nagging, and it was giving him a headache.
Sehun was lingering in the hall, still in his pajamas. When Yifan passed by him, he had that stupid smile on his face again, the one that meant he was intentionally getting his way, and he looked almost proud of himself as Yifan pressed a palm to his shoulder in acknowledgement and moved towards the bathroom.
Yifan wondered if Lu Han knew how much dirty work he actually ended up doing on Sehun's behalf. Then again, he probably wouldn't care.
Oh Sehun, the bearded lady!
It was just past midnight when Yifan gave a short knock on the bathroom door. The apartment was quiet, and dark, and there was the sound of water dripping from the dishes in the drying rack, the subtle hum of the washing machine as it spun their clothes. There was light under one of the bedroom doors (the 'Troublemaker Room', as Yifan had painfully dubbed it) but whatever they were doing in there, they were being quiet. Yifan had to give it to Chanyeol--he had started to recognize when to keep his voice down.
There was light under the bathroom door, too, which was why he knocked. When the mumble from inside gave him permission to enter, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
Sehun was dressed in a pair of leather pants and a white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jacket was lying in a lump on the floor; Yifan probably would have scolded him for treating designer clothes so thoughtlessly, but he was tired and sore and didn't have the effort. Sehun said nothing when Yifan shut the door behind him and shuffled in closer to the sink.
Sehun was shaving. Yifan knew the younger boy was uncomfortable with his face when the skin started to betray him, allowing dark hair to grow in, and he spent a lot time in the bathroom scraping across his face, pushing over it with his fingers to assure that no spot had been left untreated. Part of him, deep down, felt sorry for Sehun's obsession, but the world was so fascinated with his soft, milky skin that it was a routine demanded incessantly.
Yifan could also understand why a person would become fascinated with Sehun's soft, milky skin. So he didn't complain about it either.
With his toothbrush in hand, he turned the faucet on with slow, methodic twists of his wrist. Once wet, the brush was shoved into his mouth, and scrubbing at his teeth, thoughtlessly, Yifan trailed his eyes down to the counter. They existed in silence, for a long moment; silence was comfortable for Yifan, and he knew Sehun wouldn't complain either. The both of them sometimes spoke better with actions, rather than words. Perhaps that was why Yifan was so fond of him. He found himself understanding Sehun in ways that the others couldn't seem to grasp. (Even Lu Han--oh, that thought made him start to smile around the foam of his toothbrush.)
"Hyung," Sehun said after a moment, once Yifan had doubled over the sink to spit and rinse, palming a fleeting gulp of water up to his lips to swish and wash away.
"Yeah?" Yifan answered amicably, reaching to put his toothbrush back and wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. It was only then that he noticed Sehun's eyes, staring at him, reflected backwards in the glare of the mirror. Rather than turn to look at the real Sehun, he chose the reflection. It was soft and glossy and almost surreal, and mirror Sehun had this smeared eyeliner dodged in around his eyes, making them seem larger, wider than usual. His lashes looked long, and the way his bangs fell and curved down around his temples made Yifan's nose twitch a little, licking his lips.
"Did I miss a spot?" Sehun asked. Yifan finally had to turn to look at him properly, but real Sehun was just as soft as mirror Sehun, and when Yifan's fingers didn't lift to touch the skin, Sehun's fingers forced them to, reaching down to snatch his hand up and draw it in close to his face.
Yifan didn't know what to do. Awkwardly shifting his weight between his heels, he brushed a large thumb across the expanse of Sehun's cheek.
"Feels good to me," he answered, lowly. Sehun's lips parted, but only for his tongue, and Yifan found himself following the path of it with his own gaze, as if morbidly curious.
With Sehun's guidance, his hand passed along the younger boy's jaw, across his chin, down the front of his neck and then back up again. His fingertips tumbled; they bent and curved and almost got caught along that milky skin, unsure of where to go or how to be.
"Thanks," Sehun finally said, once Yifan realized his hand had stopped moving entirely, and that Sehun's, too, had dropped away.
He'd been standing there with his palm cradling Sehun's cheek for a good ten seconds.
"I, uh. Pick up your jacket," Yifan reminded, nodding succinctly, and struggled to back his way out of the bathroom again. The door seemed to protest, and it knocked into his elbow with reprimand, making him wince as he forced himself out into the hall again, where the air seemed decidedly thinner, cooler, and not out to strangle him.
For the grand finale, watch Oh Sehun flirt! Torture! Manipulate!
He can make even the ringleader fall to his knees.
there's only two types of people in the world: the ones that entertain, and the ones that observe.
→ ☆ ☆ ☆
Come one, come all! Step right up to see the exquisite horror of Circus de EXO, where talented boys
struggle to make a living trapped among the impossible expectations of the world at large.
What will they make of themselves? What can they make of themselves?
Ringleader Wu Yifan runs our show tonight, and the special acts include...
Oh Sehun, the trapeze artist!
The sound of his sneakers was odd and misplaced, as if the cement was telling him through his ears not to ride so high on it. Don't scuff up the curb, the scratched surface begged of him. Don't drop your gum here. Don't climb that high! Don't--Don't--
Sehun gave a short laugh, and Yifan studied him out of the corner of his eyes.
"You're going to fall," he reminded gently. Sehun gave a short shrug. If he could, Yifan thought, Sehun would probably trying to walk the top of metal linked fences, like all those martial artists he watched in Japanese animated cartoons. As it was, Sehun had settled for the top of the cement wall that separated the sidewalk from the expensive houses beyond. Yifan didn't understand why Sehun would want to be even taller. Then again, he confessed, to a small, shadowed corner of his inner thoughts, he didn't really understand much of what Sehun did at all.
"I wonder if cats do this," Sehun mumbled aloud. Yifan looked up at him again. His arms were outstretched for balance, almost flapping in the cool night air, and Yifan stuck his hands in his pockets, giving a speculative hum that was really more sound than thought. Sehun didn't seem to notice.
"You're not a cat," Yifan said in amusement. He could tell that Sehun had wrinkled his nose in that cute way that Yifan definitely didn't like, but he wasn't about to glance up at him again.
"I'm going to be," Sehun announced, and Yifan laughed out loud.
Oh Sehun, the lion tamer!
Chanyeol looked like he was ready to throttle someone. Yifan had long ago given up trying to reign in the argument; something he had learned from his time as leader--a position he still wasn't sure he was fit to fill--was that not every fight had to be resolved by a mediating party. Sometimes it was better just to let the fire crackle out on its own, rather than douse it with water. Junmyun wasn't particularly keen on the idea. Then again, serving as the water himself , Yifan hadn't imagined he would be.
Baekhyun was doing that little snickering thing at the stove, bumping into Kyungsoo's shoulder while he dished up dinner for himself. Yifan looked between the two of them, then back at Chanyeol, and took in a deep breath.
"Hyung," came Sehun's sing-song voice. Yifan watched with a peculiar sense of entitlement as Chanyeol's head turned slowly to regard the younger boy. Baekhyun had opened his mouth again as though to claim Chanyeol's attention with another insult, but Sehun's lips were quicker, his voice louder, and when his arms draped across Chanyeol's shoulders, Yifan pretended to study the newspaper that was still strewn across the kitchen table.
"Hyung, I tuned your guitar for you," Sehun said earnestly. He always had attitude when he was around Chanyeol. Yifan, at one point, had considered it endearing, but as of late it had become more and more irritating, to the point where he didn't particularly want to be around both of them at the same time. That, of course, created a serious problem. Chanyeol practically walked in every one of his steps behind him, and he rather enjoyed having Sehun around.
"Now's not--"
"I wanted to hear that song," Sehun continued over him, pleasantly, and let his chin rest lightly on the shelf of Chanyeol's shoulder. Chanyeol practically deflated under the weight. Yifan's eyes narrowed.
"The one you were telling me about," Sehun went on, his lips starting to turn up into one of those smiles that never meant anything particularly good. "Okay?"
Baekhyun was pouting. Yifan tried not to laugh, and pressed his lips into one thin line. Yixing must have noticed, because he came to sit next to him, pointedly pushing a plate over the newspaper, making it wrinkle and bunch up and Yifan had to smile because it was so like the other boy to do so. "I'm not hungry," he insisted quietly, but Yixing was fussing over the plate and the little tears in the newspaper, and Yifan gave a good-natured sigh and tried not to let his amusement show too much.
The tension in the room evaporated once Chanyeol disappeared down the hall with Sehun, and so did Yifan's smile.
Oh Sehun, the ventriloquist!
"You know it's Sehun's turn first," Lu Han was saying, loudly, when Yifan entered the kitchen in the morning. His hair was a floppy mess on top of his head, and part of it was itchy, somewhere, in the tangled disarray of hairspray and gel that he'd gone to sleep in because he'd been too tired to take a shower. Minseok was reading his Mandarin textbook at the table, eating an apple, and he could hear Chanyeol and Zitao laughing about something on the news in the living room.
Jongin was definitely Not In A Good Mood. Yifan could understand--he didn't really appreciate having Luhan's finger pointed in his face first thing in the morning either.
"But I didn't sleep well last night. I wanted to go in the afternoon," Jongin said in a calm voice, betraying the fact that his jaw was set enough that his words came out clipped and succinct. Lu Han shook his head, firmly.
"Sehun said he wanted to do the afternoon lesson. You can go in the morning."
Yifan wanted to argue that Lu Han's logic was ridiculous but he and Lu Han had both silently agreed long ago that Oh Sehun was a topic they would not talk about together, for a multitude of reasons. One of them being that, in Lu Han's mind--and Yifan considered his mind to be a very strange, twisted, and convoluted place--he always knew what was best for Oh Sehun's welfare; he always knew Oh Sehun's moods, he always knew Oh Sehun's likes and dislikes.
Another one being the fact that Lu Han did not and would not ever approve of the kinds of feelings Yifan sometimes harbored, unintentionally, about Oh Sehun.
Covering his face with a hand, Yifan walked right back out of the kitchen. Lu Han's voice had started to melt into some kind of annoyingly incessant nagging, and it was giving him a headache.
Sehun was lingering in the hall, still in his pajamas. When Yifan passed by him, he had that stupid smile on his face again, the one that meant he was intentionally getting his way, and he looked almost proud of himself as Yifan pressed a palm to his shoulder in acknowledgement and moved towards the bathroom.
Yifan wondered if Lu Han knew how much dirty work he actually ended up doing on Sehun's behalf. Then again, he probably wouldn't care.
Oh Sehun, the bearded lady!
It was just past midnight when Yifan gave a short knock on the bathroom door. The apartment was quiet, and dark, and there was the sound of water dripping from the dishes in the drying rack, the subtle hum of the washing machine as it spun their clothes. There was light under one of the bedroom doors (the 'Troublemaker Room', as Yifan had painfully dubbed it) but whatever they were doing in there, they were being quiet. Yifan had to give it to Chanyeol--he had started to recognize when to keep his voice down.
There was light under the bathroom door, too, which was why he knocked. When the mumble from inside gave him permission to enter, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
Sehun was dressed in a pair of leather pants and a white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jacket was lying in a lump on the floor; Yifan probably would have scolded him for treating designer clothes so thoughtlessly, but he was tired and sore and didn't have the effort. Sehun said nothing when Yifan shut the door behind him and shuffled in closer to the sink.
Sehun was shaving. Yifan knew the younger boy was uncomfortable with his face when the skin started to betray him, allowing dark hair to grow in, and he spent a lot time in the bathroom scraping across his face, pushing over it with his fingers to assure that no spot had been left untreated. Part of him, deep down, felt sorry for Sehun's obsession, but the world was so fascinated with his soft, milky skin that it was a routine demanded incessantly.
Yifan could also understand why a person would become fascinated with Sehun's soft, milky skin. So he didn't complain about it either.
With his toothbrush in hand, he turned the faucet on with slow, methodic twists of his wrist. Once wet, the brush was shoved into his mouth, and scrubbing at his teeth, thoughtlessly, Yifan trailed his eyes down to the counter. They existed in silence, for a long moment; silence was comfortable for Yifan, and he knew Sehun wouldn't complain either. The both of them sometimes spoke better with actions, rather than words. Perhaps that was why Yifan was so fond of him. He found himself understanding Sehun in ways that the others couldn't seem to grasp. (Even Lu Han--oh, that thought made him start to smile around the foam of his toothbrush.)
"Hyung," Sehun said after a moment, once Yifan had doubled over the sink to spit and rinse, palming a fleeting gulp of water up to his lips to swish and wash away.
"Yeah?" Yifan answered amicably, reaching to put his toothbrush back and wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. It was only then that he noticed Sehun's eyes, staring at him, reflected backwards in the glare of the mirror. Rather than turn to look at the real Sehun, he chose the reflection. It was soft and glossy and almost surreal, and mirror Sehun had this smeared eyeliner dodged in around his eyes, making them seem larger, wider than usual. His lashes looked long, and the way his bangs fell and curved down around his temples made Yifan's nose twitch a little, licking his lips.
"Did I miss a spot?" Sehun asked. Yifan finally had to turn to look at him properly, but real Sehun was just as soft as mirror Sehun, and when Yifan's fingers didn't lift to touch the skin, Sehun's fingers forced them to, reaching down to snatch his hand up and draw it in close to his face.
Yifan didn't know what to do. Awkwardly shifting his weight between his heels, he brushed a large thumb across the expanse of Sehun's cheek.
"Feels good to me," he answered, lowly. Sehun's lips parted, but only for his tongue, and Yifan found himself following the path of it with his own gaze, as if morbidly curious.
With Sehun's guidance, his hand passed along the younger boy's jaw, across his chin, down the front of his neck and then back up again. His fingertips tumbled; they bent and curved and almost got caught along that milky skin, unsure of where to go or how to be.
"Thanks," Sehun finally said, once Yifan realized his hand had stopped moving entirely, and that Sehun's, too, had dropped away.
He'd been standing there with his palm cradling Sehun's cheek for a good ten seconds.
"I, uh. Pick up your jacket," Yifan reminded, nodding succinctly, and struggled to back his way out of the bathroom again. The door seemed to protest, and it knocked into his elbow with reprimand, making him wince as he forced himself out into the hall again, where the air seemed decidedly thinner, cooler, and not out to strangle him.
For the grand finale, watch Oh Sehun flirt! Torture! Manipulate!
He can make even the ringleader fall to his knees.