[Oneshot] the world is at standstill yet you still pull me towards you
Title: the world is at standstill yet you still pull me towards you
Pairing(s): Jaebum/Jinyoung
Rating: G
Warning(s): N/A
Synopsis: One day Jaebum finds out that the fragrance invading his apartment is from the new takokayi cart on the street, and he also finds out that owner of said stall pulls him in like the moon and the ocean tide.
A/N: The ~traveling takoyaki~ AU for Cynthia's (Nyeonggi @ twitter) birthday. omg this is like mad late. crap
It’s two weeks into March when Jaebum realizes that the fragrance that invades his home comes from the new food stall down the block. He’s walking home from his weekly grocery shopping when he realizes the existence of the large white car parked at the corner of the street. The van’s adorned with red lettering-Traveling Takoyaki, it exclaimed in bold typeface-and a very strange looking octopus in a headband. Standing in front of the cart was a raven haired male who was dressed in the same red that covered the white truck, alongside a headband that was just as silly as the one on the cartoon creature. He doesn’t expect to meet eyes with the other boy, but he does (and it only slightly fazes him how bright the other’s eyes were). Giving a small nod and a smile, he moves back on his way. And on a chilly spring evening, Jaebum walks back to his apartment as the other male silently sets up his food cart. (He takes a mental note of alternative food sources when his wallet goes thin and he has to succumb to road-side food.)
The next time he finds himself passing by the stall, on his way to the train station to rush for his ethics class, he’s faced with a group of preteen school girls barricading his path. It takes him more time than he has to make it through the crowd, and by the time he makes it out, he feels more dishevelled and discombobulated than he was when at the start of his day. Tugging slightly at his hair, he sighs and glances back at the crowd. He catches the stall owner’s gaze in his peripheral vision for a mere moment before he stumbles down the sidewalk, pushing his overgrown bangs down over his eyes. The soft apologetic smile of the black haired boy pushes itself into his thoughts and he combs his bangs past his eyes-hoping they cover the unnatural shade of red (one that’s slightly akin to the atrocious outfit the other boy was wearing) that his cheeks were turning into.
He reaches the station four minutes late and promptly sees the sight of his train leaving. His world’s thrown off schedule and he wonders vaguely if this abnormal tempo (of life, of his heart beat) will continue for as long as the boy clad in red stays in his head. He finds out two weeks later that it does, and he walks home from evening literature class while his heart beats on in quarter beats instead of half beats. The stall is empty at this time, preteen students long gone, and he walks by to catch the bright eyed boy sitting within his truck-head buried in a novel. He recognizes the title as the same one within his bag (the one he has to write an eight page paper on) and his mind loses temporary control as his legs walk him to the food stall.
“Hi,” he mutters, jolting the stall owner from his book-and the other looks up with starry eyes (bedazzled but also so frighteningly vast, and Jaebum reels himself back, shifting back on his heels). “Hey,” the other replies, voice soft and sweet. Jaebum doesn’t tell him that it’s exactly how he’d imagined the other’s voice to be. He orders the first thing on the menu, too shaken to actually contemplate prices, and he idly fiddles with his wallet while the raven haired male prepared his order. He chooses to stare at the book laid on the side of the table instead of the concrete floor; he notices too fast that the other was only one-fourth in (where the novel was still ideally sweet and golden). He wonders if he should tell him to prepare for the sudden turmoil that hits by the middle of the novel.
“Do you like the book?” A voice interrupted his thoughts, and Jaebum tears his gaze from the novel to the boy in ridiculously bright clothing. “N-no. It’s just that I just finished reading the same book.” He stutters, clammy hands gripping tightly on his leather wallet.
“Really?”
“Yeah, for my literature class.” He hands over the slightly crumpled bills (his hands are still clammy and cold) and mutters a quick “thank you”, and “good luck” before he accepts his order and makes his way back up to his apartment. He walks too fast, almost tripping over air, and he never does turn around to catch the lost look on the other boy. The meaning of his “good luck” remains un-deciphered and he spends the night munching on his takoyaki while Nora proceeds to walk upon his stomach. “Hey,” he calls out idly to Nora as she settles upon his abdomen. “Do you think he’ll get sad over the book? Do you?” He asks, receiving a flick of a tail for a response and he returns to snacking on his late night meal.
“Well, I think he would,” he says to the empty room.
“You didn’t warn me,” says the stall owner to him as he’s walking down the road for his weekly grocery trip and Jaebum almost stops in slight shock--feet stumbling and heart still not at the right rhythm. He turns to meet the other’s gaze, soft smile and bright eyes. “I did,” he refutes, “I said ‘good luck’ to you last time.” He scuffs the sole of his sneakers against the concrete sidewalk, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he spoke.
“So that’s what you meant?”
“Yeah.” Jaebum replies in a mutter, soft voice blending in with the searing of batter against oiled steel. He wonders if the other male had heard him at all, and he contemplates leaving amidst the silence that lingers awkwardly around them. “I’m just standing here like a fool,” he thinks, hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to think of an interjection to bid farewell. He’s about to open his mouth to speak when the other does first and his “Sorry” is masked by a cheery “I’m Jinyoung by the way.” His heart is faltering in arrhythmia and he opens and closes his mouth in an attempt for coherency. (which utterly fails)
“A-ah, I’m Jaebum.” He replies after his internal struggle with neurons and dendrites. “Nice to meet you.” He adds on to his introduction, offering a small smile. And Jinyoung returns one just as bedazzling as the sun in the afternoon sky.
Jaebum learns soon enough that Jinyoung is much more like the moon than he is like the sun, and the initial radiance he thought he saw was actually a reflection. Park Jinyoung simply reflects the light of the world he lives in, intaking everything and directing it outwards. He catches the downcast gazes and repression of words, everything paints Jinyoung in a new light--and he seems so much more resilient and mellow. And in between their fifteen minute talks (Jaebum’s been spending way too much on Jinyoung’s stall) he finds himself to be the tide. Jinyoung blinks and Jaebum feels a small part of his gravitational pole shift. He smiles and Jaebum never regains his breath in time. He speaks, and Jaebum doesn’t ever think he can hear anything more sonorous and melodic as the other’s voice.
“He’s just a guy selling street food. You’re getting too worked up over this,” Mark states. “If you like him so much, just ask him out.” Jackson adds on, and Jaebum only shakes his head. “You guys don’t understand,” he retorts. But he doesn’t blame them, because he doesn’t fully understand either.
Jinyoung’s akin to the moon that pulls him (the tide) and he does so in relentless but subtle ways, where Jaebum feels like he’s always on the receiving end. It doesn’t seem right (so utterly thrown off balance) for him to initiate anything in extreme. Everything with them goes in subtle steps, where you stand at the edge of the tide and feel yourself being moved without actually moving. But later that night when Mark and Jackson are both gone, silence taking over their high pitched laughs and overlapping sentences, he lies in his bed to think. Nora’s curled up at his side, softly purring as he wonders. “But if nothing moves, will we ever get anywhere?” He asks, and Nora nuzzles into him, giving a short mew in response.
And when he’s just about to finally fall asleep, time ticking away, he remembers that no one feels the earth rotate but the sun still rises and sets. “Maybe we will get somewhere,” he yawns, shifting in his blankets and pulling Nora into his arms. She gives him a lick at his jaw and he smiles, patting her head as he falls into the world of dreams.
“But don’t you think it’d be better if she left? Leaving a household that sweeps her under the table, as if she’s a stain in their lives?”
“There’s no way they’re letting her leave, you know that. Just because they disdain her doesn’t mean they’ll risk their family image.”
“I know that, but she could still walk out. Why would she willingly stay?” Jinyoung questions, brows furrowing in distress as he prepares the batter for the day.
“We’re talking about a female member of a misogynist society, Jinyoung. How would she survive?”
“It’s not like it couldn’t happen, you know.” He replies, voice a bit softer and Jaebum can only see his eyes through his lashes. It makes Jaebum think of veiled light, clouds that subdue the shine of the moon. It takes a while until he remembers to respond, but he does in the end.
“I know,” he says, “it’s just that not everyone is strong enough to do so.” And as Jaebum looks up at Jinyoung, ever diligently working, he wonders if Jinyoung is strong enough to leave comfort zones and face the imminent obstacles of the new. He wonders if he, himself, is strong enough to do so.
But then again, whether he’s equipped with courage or not, the world moves on and fate pulls the strings attached to their hearts.
The first time Jaebum steps inside Jinyoung’s food stall is on a Thursday evening, where he’s standing on the side of the street--separated from Jinyoung by a ledge (he’s only spoken with the other boy with something in between them) when the the clouds condense and drops of rain descend upon them. The logical part of his brain tells him to go home, it’s raining and he doesn’t remember if he’s closed his windows. But the gears shut down as he looks up at Jinyoung, who responds to his gaze with a smile and an invitation.
“Do you want to stay in here for a while?”
“I-I-I--yes, I do.”
And as Jinyoung walks over to unlatch the back door of the car, Jaebum feels a small part of his gravitational shift. He thinks this must be the moment, where he opens his eyes and finds himself having deviated from his original spot. The waves crash against the shore, and the layers of wet sand meld into one another. He’s moving past their barrier, and he holds onto the rail, stepping into the truck that he was always outside of.
It’s a different perspective, where Jinyoung is on his right and not in front of him, where they turn and meet eye to eye instead of him straining his neck to look up at Jinyoung looking down.
There’s a shift in their sequence, the moon’s full tonight.
“It’s nice here,” Jaebum says with a smile. He doesn’t add the ‘with you’ part, and he leans against the counter, looking out the open window.
“Yeah, it is.” Jinyoung doesn’t say his full sentence either, but he thinks the words are still there between them.
“Why don’t you ever bring an umbrella when it’s raining?” Jinyoung asks after the sixth time Jaebum camps out in his food truck on rainy days. April seems to live up to its name, and storm clouds gather upon the world with utmost frequency.
“Well, I like the rain?” It’s not a complete lie, he does like the rain, he just happens to like rainy days a bit more than the actual rain though. It just so happens that the only days where his conversations with Jinyoung are not interrupted by one customer after another are the days where no one comes. (Which coincidentally are only on rainy days.)
“That doesn’t give you any logical reason to drench yourself in the rain, you know?”
“I’m not drenched in rain right now, am I?” He asks, completely dry underneath the shelter of Jinyoung’s food truck. He finds it ironic, that somehow the falling rain cascades around them like a barrier--distances them from the outside world, and it’s only the two of them existing. Time is frozen, and Jaebum is the only one Jinyoung sees.
“That’s only because I let you in.” Jinyoung chuckles, rearranging the bowls on the counter.
“Do you not want me here? Do I bother you?” Jaebum blurts out, brows knitting together in slight distress but it smoothens out when Jinyoung dismisses it with a firm, “No.” The younger male goes back to preparing the stock ingredients even though the rain deters customers and he’ll most likely end up making less sales than most days.
“But is that what it is?” Jinyoung muses after a while, and it jolts Jaebum out of the slight daze he was in. “What?” He questions, leaning back to stretch out the kinks in his back.
“You not bringing your umbrella--was it to stay here with me?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
A/N: Omg Cyn, this is super late and I hope you like it alksjfdlkfj I'M SO ANXIOUS GOD.
Pairing(s): Jaebum/Jinyoung
Rating: G
Warning(s): N/A
Synopsis: One day Jaebum finds out that the fragrance invading his apartment is from the new takokayi cart on the street, and he also finds out that owner of said stall pulls him in like the moon and the ocean tide.
A/N: The ~traveling takoyaki~ AU for Cynthia's (Nyeonggi @ twitter) birthday. omg this is like mad late. crap
It’s two weeks into March when Jaebum realizes that the fragrance that invades his home comes from the new food stall down the block. He’s walking home from his weekly grocery shopping when he realizes the existence of the large white car parked at the corner of the street. The van’s adorned with red lettering-Traveling Takoyaki, it exclaimed in bold typeface-and a very strange looking octopus in a headband. Standing in front of the cart was a raven haired male who was dressed in the same red that covered the white truck, alongside a headband that was just as silly as the one on the cartoon creature. He doesn’t expect to meet eyes with the other boy, but he does (and it only slightly fazes him how bright the other’s eyes were). Giving a small nod and a smile, he moves back on his way. And on a chilly spring evening, Jaebum walks back to his apartment as the other male silently sets up his food cart. (He takes a mental note of alternative food sources when his wallet goes thin and he has to succumb to road-side food.)
The next time he finds himself passing by the stall, on his way to the train station to rush for his ethics class, he’s faced with a group of preteen school girls barricading his path. It takes him more time than he has to make it through the crowd, and by the time he makes it out, he feels more dishevelled and discombobulated than he was when at the start of his day. Tugging slightly at his hair, he sighs and glances back at the crowd. He catches the stall owner’s gaze in his peripheral vision for a mere moment before he stumbles down the sidewalk, pushing his overgrown bangs down over his eyes. The soft apologetic smile of the black haired boy pushes itself into his thoughts and he combs his bangs past his eyes-hoping they cover the unnatural shade of red (one that’s slightly akin to the atrocious outfit the other boy was wearing) that his cheeks were turning into.
He reaches the station four minutes late and promptly sees the sight of his train leaving. His world’s thrown off schedule and he wonders vaguely if this abnormal tempo (of life, of his heart beat) will continue for as long as the boy clad in red stays in his head. He finds out two weeks later that it does, and he walks home from evening literature class while his heart beats on in quarter beats instead of half beats. The stall is empty at this time, preteen students long gone, and he walks by to catch the bright eyed boy sitting within his truck-head buried in a novel. He recognizes the title as the same one within his bag (the one he has to write an eight page paper on) and his mind loses temporary control as his legs walk him to the food stall.
“Hi,” he mutters, jolting the stall owner from his book-and the other looks up with starry eyes (bedazzled but also so frighteningly vast, and Jaebum reels himself back, shifting back on his heels). “Hey,” the other replies, voice soft and sweet. Jaebum doesn’t tell him that it’s exactly how he’d imagined the other’s voice to be. He orders the first thing on the menu, too shaken to actually contemplate prices, and he idly fiddles with his wallet while the raven haired male prepared his order. He chooses to stare at the book laid on the side of the table instead of the concrete floor; he notices too fast that the other was only one-fourth in (where the novel was still ideally sweet and golden). He wonders if he should tell him to prepare for the sudden turmoil that hits by the middle of the novel.
“Do you like the book?” A voice interrupted his thoughts, and Jaebum tears his gaze from the novel to the boy in ridiculously bright clothing. “N-no. It’s just that I just finished reading the same book.” He stutters, clammy hands gripping tightly on his leather wallet.
“Really?”
“Yeah, for my literature class.” He hands over the slightly crumpled bills (his hands are still clammy and cold) and mutters a quick “thank you”, and “good luck” before he accepts his order and makes his way back up to his apartment. He walks too fast, almost tripping over air, and he never does turn around to catch the lost look on the other boy. The meaning of his “good luck” remains un-deciphered and he spends the night munching on his takoyaki while Nora proceeds to walk upon his stomach. “Hey,” he calls out idly to Nora as she settles upon his abdomen. “Do you think he’ll get sad over the book? Do you?” He asks, receiving a flick of a tail for a response and he returns to snacking on his late night meal.
“Well, I think he would,” he says to the empty room.
“You didn’t warn me,” says the stall owner to him as he’s walking down the road for his weekly grocery trip and Jaebum almost stops in slight shock--feet stumbling and heart still not at the right rhythm. He turns to meet the other’s gaze, soft smile and bright eyes. “I did,” he refutes, “I said ‘good luck’ to you last time.” He scuffs the sole of his sneakers against the concrete sidewalk, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he spoke.
“So that’s what you meant?”
“Yeah.” Jaebum replies in a mutter, soft voice blending in with the searing of batter against oiled steel. He wonders if the other male had heard him at all, and he contemplates leaving amidst the silence that lingers awkwardly around them. “I’m just standing here like a fool,” he thinks, hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to think of an interjection to bid farewell. He’s about to open his mouth to speak when the other does first and his “Sorry” is masked by a cheery “I’m Jinyoung by the way.” His heart is faltering in arrhythmia and he opens and closes his mouth in an attempt for coherency. (which utterly fails)
“A-ah, I’m Jaebum.” He replies after his internal struggle with neurons and dendrites. “Nice to meet you.” He adds on to his introduction, offering a small smile. And Jinyoung returns one just as bedazzling as the sun in the afternoon sky.
Jaebum learns soon enough that Jinyoung is much more like the moon than he is like the sun, and the initial radiance he thought he saw was actually a reflection. Park Jinyoung simply reflects the light of the world he lives in, intaking everything and directing it outwards. He catches the downcast gazes and repression of words, everything paints Jinyoung in a new light--and he seems so much more resilient and mellow. And in between their fifteen minute talks (Jaebum’s been spending way too much on Jinyoung’s stall) he finds himself to be the tide. Jinyoung blinks and Jaebum feels a small part of his gravitational pole shift. He smiles and Jaebum never regains his breath in time. He speaks, and Jaebum doesn’t ever think he can hear anything more sonorous and melodic as the other’s voice.
“He’s just a guy selling street food. You’re getting too worked up over this,” Mark states. “If you like him so much, just ask him out.” Jackson adds on, and Jaebum only shakes his head. “You guys don’t understand,” he retorts. But he doesn’t blame them, because he doesn’t fully understand either.
Jinyoung’s akin to the moon that pulls him (the tide) and he does so in relentless but subtle ways, where Jaebum feels like he’s always on the receiving end. It doesn’t seem right (so utterly thrown off balance) for him to initiate anything in extreme. Everything with them goes in subtle steps, where you stand at the edge of the tide and feel yourself being moved without actually moving. But later that night when Mark and Jackson are both gone, silence taking over their high pitched laughs and overlapping sentences, he lies in his bed to think. Nora’s curled up at his side, softly purring as he wonders. “But if nothing moves, will we ever get anywhere?” He asks, and Nora nuzzles into him, giving a short mew in response.
And when he’s just about to finally fall asleep, time ticking away, he remembers that no one feels the earth rotate but the sun still rises and sets. “Maybe we will get somewhere,” he yawns, shifting in his blankets and pulling Nora into his arms. She gives him a lick at his jaw and he smiles, patting her head as he falls into the world of dreams.
“But don’t you think it’d be better if she left? Leaving a household that sweeps her under the table, as if she’s a stain in their lives?”
“There’s no way they’re letting her leave, you know that. Just because they disdain her doesn’t mean they’ll risk their family image.”
“I know that, but she could still walk out. Why would she willingly stay?” Jinyoung questions, brows furrowing in distress as he prepares the batter for the day.
“We’re talking about a female member of a misogynist society, Jinyoung. How would she survive?”
“It’s not like it couldn’t happen, you know.” He replies, voice a bit softer and Jaebum can only see his eyes through his lashes. It makes Jaebum think of veiled light, clouds that subdue the shine of the moon. It takes a while until he remembers to respond, but he does in the end.
“I know,” he says, “it’s just that not everyone is strong enough to do so.” And as Jaebum looks up at Jinyoung, ever diligently working, he wonders if Jinyoung is strong enough to leave comfort zones and face the imminent obstacles of the new. He wonders if he, himself, is strong enough to do so.
But then again, whether he’s equipped with courage or not, the world moves on and fate pulls the strings attached to their hearts.
The first time Jaebum steps inside Jinyoung’s food stall is on a Thursday evening, where he’s standing on the side of the street--separated from Jinyoung by a ledge (he’s only spoken with the other boy with something in between them) when the the clouds condense and drops of rain descend upon them. The logical part of his brain tells him to go home, it’s raining and he doesn’t remember if he’s closed his windows. But the gears shut down as he looks up at Jinyoung, who responds to his gaze with a smile and an invitation.
“Do you want to stay in here for a while?”
“I-I-I--yes, I do.”
And as Jinyoung walks over to unlatch the back door of the car, Jaebum feels a small part of his gravitational shift. He thinks this must be the moment, where he opens his eyes and finds himself having deviated from his original spot. The waves crash against the shore, and the layers of wet sand meld into one another. He’s moving past their barrier, and he holds onto the rail, stepping into the truck that he was always outside of.
It’s a different perspective, where Jinyoung is on his right and not in front of him, where they turn and meet eye to eye instead of him straining his neck to look up at Jinyoung looking down.
There’s a shift in their sequence, the moon’s full tonight.
“It’s nice here,” Jaebum says with a smile. He doesn’t add the ‘with you’ part, and he leans against the counter, looking out the open window.
“Yeah, it is.” Jinyoung doesn’t say his full sentence either, but he thinks the words are still there between them.
“Why don’t you ever bring an umbrella when it’s raining?” Jinyoung asks after the sixth time Jaebum camps out in his food truck on rainy days. April seems to live up to its name, and storm clouds gather upon the world with utmost frequency.
“Well, I like the rain?” It’s not a complete lie, he does like the rain, he just happens to like rainy days a bit more than the actual rain though. It just so happens that the only days where his conversations with Jinyoung are not interrupted by one customer after another are the days where no one comes. (Which coincidentally are only on rainy days.)
“That doesn’t give you any logical reason to drench yourself in the rain, you know?”
“I’m not drenched in rain right now, am I?” He asks, completely dry underneath the shelter of Jinyoung’s food truck. He finds it ironic, that somehow the falling rain cascades around them like a barrier--distances them from the outside world, and it’s only the two of them existing. Time is frozen, and Jaebum is the only one Jinyoung sees.
“That’s only because I let you in.” Jinyoung chuckles, rearranging the bowls on the counter.
“Do you not want me here? Do I bother you?” Jaebum blurts out, brows knitting together in slight distress but it smoothens out when Jinyoung dismisses it with a firm, “No.” The younger male goes back to preparing the stock ingredients even though the rain deters customers and he’ll most likely end up making less sales than most days.
“But is that what it is?” Jinyoung muses after a while, and it jolts Jaebum out of the slight daze he was in. “What?” He questions, leaning back to stretch out the kinks in his back.
“You not bringing your umbrella--was it to stay here with me?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
A/N: Omg Cyn, this is super late and I hope you like it alksjfdlkfj I'M SO ANXIOUS GOD.