2pm; various meme responses; chanho, chankhun.
Lazy Afternoon.
2pm; chankhun; 544 w; reposted from here
“Hyung,” Chansung says one evening after work, while they’re getting some much needed quiet time. He twists around from his place on the floor next to Nichkhun’s knee to stare up at him. Nichkhun makes a noncommittal noise, not so much as glancing up from his magazine. Chansung nudges his foot, and he finally gives in and meets his gaze.
“Yes?”
“I like you,” Chansung says, turning around all the way and facing him, legs crossed, staring up at him from the floor to while Nichkhun’s seated on the couch. Nichkhun’s heart jumps from his chest to his throat, which is definitely not healthy.
“What?” He asks, clearing his throat.
“I like you,” Chansung repeats, raising himself up on his knees and grabbing for his hand. Nichkhun lets him take it because Chansung’s hands are always so warm. It looks like a confession, or a proposal, and the comparison makes his heart thud against his ribcage. “Like, I like you, hyung.” He enunciates carefully, as though he knows how hard it is for him to understand this concept, especially since he’s Chansung.
“I didn’t know you were gay,” he finds himself whispering, unable to hear the words leave his lips. “I mean, you flirt with all of the girls.”
“No I don’t,” Chansung frowns, hurt. “I just talk to them.” He takes a few seconds to compose himself, and then he seems to get his will back and tries again. “Anyway, I - I’m not gay.” He’s swallowing hard.
“But you just -” Nichkhun shuts up when Chansung takes his other hand and envelopes them with his own.
“I like you, because you’re you.” He rephrases. “I just like you, is that okay?”
“Um, yes?” He says, quirking his head to the side. “So you’re not gay?”
“No,” Chansung says, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Hyung, why don’t you get it?” He asks with the most literal version of a frowny face Nichkhun’s ever seen. “I don’t like Wooyoung, or Taecyeon, or Jinwoonie, or anyone else. Not even Seohyun, okay?”
“You can’t not like Seohyun,” Nichkhun frowns.
“That’s not the point,” Chansung says. “Okay, I like her but not like this,” he swallows, lifting Nichkhun’s hands up to his mouth and placing a quick peck against his knuckles. He drops the hands right after, as though scalded.
Nichkhun’s stomach twists with something he can’t really put his finger on, but it’s not unpleasant. Chansung’s never unpleasant.
“Do you like me more than mangoes?”
“Yes.” Chansung doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even blink.
“Bananas?” Nichkhun’s eyebrows rise above his hairline, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Yes!” He pauses. “Okay maybe not, but I still love you.”
“Love me?”
Chansung freezes, his teeth closing hard on his tongue. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he whispers.
“Oh, good.” Nichkhun smiles, and dips down to place a quick kiss on Chansung’s brow before withdrawing one hand and turning back to his magazine.
“Hyung?” Chansung’s eyes search his as earnestly as a puppy. “Are you...?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nichkhun mutters, pointing at a pair of pants that hug the model’s thighs all the way down his legs. “You’d look really good in these, Chansungie.”
Love over homophobia.
chansung/junho; 1200 w; Originally here
Homophobia. It’s a problem that has bothered Junho for a long time. There are countless quotes about it, how only homo-sapiens are homophobic, how only people choose to hate, how only people have wars. He’s not the wisest of people, he knows this for sure, but he’s also not a douche bag, not when it counts. He’s not homophobic.
“I’m not homophobic,” he says, looking directly at the camera in an interview.
“So are you gay?” The interviewer asks, forward.
Junho opens his mouth to respond, and mulls over his answer a second too long. He doesn’t like to deal with definitives. He’s witnessed situations that happen where the straightest person can fall in love with someone of the same gender. But does he qualify them as gay?
Nichkhun nudges him in the elbow.
“I’m not,” he says with an easy smile.
After the interview, the producer sighs at him and claps him on the back. “We’ll edit that last question out, okay?”
“Why?” Junho asks, raising an eyebrow above his hairline as he wipes foundation off his cheek.
“We want to avoid rumors, Junho-ssi,” the man says in a matter of fact tone, and then Chansung ropes his arm around Junho’s neck and pulls him along towards the changing room with him. Chansung’s arm is warm against his back, his hand his heavy on his shoulder. He leans against him ever so slightly as they walk along in silence.
“Do you think I’m homophobic?” He asks, sullen. He keeps getting asked the same questions, over and over again.
“Who, you?” Chansung laughs, mussing his hair with a warm hand. “Yeah right,” he snorts. “If you were I couldn’t do this,” he says and slobbers all over his cheek.
“Ewww, gross!” Junho jerks out of his hold and wipes at his cheek with the back of his hand. Chansung takes off down the hallway after the other members with a bark of a laugh. “Chansung-yah!” He shouts, tearing off after him and leaping on his back when he catches up.
It shouldn't bother him so much, that one interview, but it still does, weeks later. He’s watching Chansung filming for his part in a cf shooting with a can of coke in one hand. Chansung is being all sorts of suave and cool and the complete opposite of himself. Or he is until he sees Junho watching and grins at him with a smile that shoots sunshine into his heart. Junho dribbles coke down his front when he smiles back, much to the disdain of the stylist.
It’s this moment, while getting his clothes urgently patted down because they’re worth more than his entire life savings, that he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have told the camera that he isn’t gay, after all.
It’s not like doesn’t believe in boundaries. Gay people are gay and straight people are straight, and he can be friends with both and even if he doesn’t see exactly what they like, it usually doesn’t bother him. But then the grey lines start to blur, and he starts to think he’s probably in trouble when he gets himself off in the shower while thinking of Chansung. He tries to get off to someone else, like Yuri, or Hyosung, or even Lee Hyori, but it doesn’t work. His mind keeps wandering back to Chansung.
But he’s Lee Junho, and he’s not allowed to be gay. That’s what he told the cameras, so that’s what has to be, and it doesn’t matter if he’s dying inside, because he shouldn't be acting like this anyway. He wears his “love not homophobia” shirt and pretends he’s just like anyone else who wants to spread the love, when he really just has no idea what he wants anymore.
One night, he goes drinking with Chansung. It’s probably his biggest mistake in the world, because Chansung is a big huge puppy who can’t hold his drink at all, especially when they go out to bars, since the hard liquor is a classical favorite.
“Come on, you ape,” he says, pulling Chansung along by the crook of his elbow so that he can’t run off into the street.
“I love the stars,” Chansung says, throwing his arms up towards the sky and squinting at it.
“What stars?” Junho asks, cranky because he didn’t even get drunk and he’s already being forced to drag Chansung home. It’s really hard for Chansung to sit still when he’s sober, let alone now, and the effort is just irritating him more than it should.
“I love the city, I love the lights, I love you,” Chansung grins, throwing his arms around Junho and nearly pulling him down to the pavement from the force of his body. He swallows back the joyful hoop rolling in his stomach.
“That’s nice,” Junho grumbles, trying to ignore the blush on his cheeks or how hot Chansung’s breath is or how close his face is - how his huge nose is bumping his cheek. “Oh my god, Chansungie, how much did you drink?”
“Enough,” Chansung singsongs, and plants a kiss on Junho’s cheek with a happy laugh. “I love you!” He sings again, badly. Junho finds himself fighting a smile.
“I love you too,” he mumbles, wrapping an arm around Chansung’s waist to pull him along. “Come on,” he frowns when Chansung anchors himself to the street. “What now?” He asks, looking back.
“You love me?” Chansung’s eyes are huge when they stare at him. Chansung’s body is warm against his when he leans on him.
Junho swallows bile. “You know I do.”
“Then kiss me,” he says. He leans forward more, until all Junho can see is his face. “Do it,” his eyes are warm, his face has a rosy glow from the alcohol. Junho wants nothing more than to lean in and plant a kiss against that happy, anxious smile.
Junho flushes from head to toe, “I don’t want too.” He turns his head away.
“You do,” Chansung’s hands have found his waist. “You really do, I know it.”
Junho closes his eyes and turns his head back to face him.
“Chansung, I’m not...” And then, Chansung’s lips are soft and warm on his, shutting him up before he can stammer out more excuses. His hands spring to Chansung’s shoulders, but he doesn’t pull him away, he even closes his eyes as Chansung pushes his tongue into his mouth and sweeps the roof of his mouth. When he pulls back he even nips at his bottom lip a little.
“There,” Chansung smiles when he pulls away, there's something in his eyes, buried far below the surface of those dark brown eyes. “It’s nice, right?” He grabs Junho’s hand and pulls him along. “You don’t have to be gay, right?” Junho swallows hard, fighting back the lump in his throat.
“Right,” he whispers, and feels like he just might have broken his own heart.
note: chansung is too amazing for me to handle, sometimes.
2pm; chankhun; 544 w; reposted from here
“Hyung,” Chansung says one evening after work, while they’re getting some much needed quiet time. He twists around from his place on the floor next to Nichkhun’s knee to stare up at him. Nichkhun makes a noncommittal noise, not so much as glancing up from his magazine. Chansung nudges his foot, and he finally gives in and meets his gaze.
“Yes?”
“I like you,” Chansung says, turning around all the way and facing him, legs crossed, staring up at him from the floor to while Nichkhun’s seated on the couch. Nichkhun’s heart jumps from his chest to his throat, which is definitely not healthy.
“What?” He asks, clearing his throat.
“I like you,” Chansung repeats, raising himself up on his knees and grabbing for his hand. Nichkhun lets him take it because Chansung’s hands are always so warm. It looks like a confession, or a proposal, and the comparison makes his heart thud against his ribcage. “Like, I like you, hyung.” He enunciates carefully, as though he knows how hard it is for him to understand this concept, especially since he’s Chansung.
“I didn’t know you were gay,” he finds himself whispering, unable to hear the words leave his lips. “I mean, you flirt with all of the girls.”
“No I don’t,” Chansung frowns, hurt. “I just talk to them.” He takes a few seconds to compose himself, and then he seems to get his will back and tries again. “Anyway, I - I’m not gay.” He’s swallowing hard.
“But you just -” Nichkhun shuts up when Chansung takes his other hand and envelopes them with his own.
“I like you, because you’re you.” He rephrases. “I just like you, is that okay?”
“Um, yes?” He says, quirking his head to the side. “So you’re not gay?”
“No,” Chansung says, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Hyung, why don’t you get it?” He asks with the most literal version of a frowny face Nichkhun’s ever seen. “I don’t like Wooyoung, or Taecyeon, or Jinwoonie, or anyone else. Not even Seohyun, okay?”
“You can’t not like Seohyun,” Nichkhun frowns.
“That’s not the point,” Chansung says. “Okay, I like her but not like this,” he swallows, lifting Nichkhun’s hands up to his mouth and placing a quick peck against his knuckles. He drops the hands right after, as though scalded.
Nichkhun’s stomach twists with something he can’t really put his finger on, but it’s not unpleasant. Chansung’s never unpleasant.
“Do you like me more than mangoes?”
“Yes.” Chansung doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even blink.
“Bananas?” Nichkhun’s eyebrows rise above his hairline, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Yes!” He pauses. “Okay maybe not, but I still love you.”
“Love me?”
Chansung freezes, his teeth closing hard on his tongue. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he whispers.
“Oh, good.” Nichkhun smiles, and dips down to place a quick kiss on Chansung’s brow before withdrawing one hand and turning back to his magazine.
“Hyung?” Chansung’s eyes search his as earnestly as a puppy. “Are you...?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nichkhun mutters, pointing at a pair of pants that hug the model’s thighs all the way down his legs. “You’d look really good in these, Chansungie.”
Love over homophobia.
chansung/junho; 1200 w; Originally here
Homophobia. It’s a problem that has bothered Junho for a long time. There are countless quotes about it, how only homo-sapiens are homophobic, how only people choose to hate, how only people have wars. He’s not the wisest of people, he knows this for sure, but he’s also not a douche bag, not when it counts. He’s not homophobic.
“I’m not homophobic,” he says, looking directly at the camera in an interview.
“So are you gay?” The interviewer asks, forward.
Junho opens his mouth to respond, and mulls over his answer a second too long. He doesn’t like to deal with definitives. He’s witnessed situations that happen where the straightest person can fall in love with someone of the same gender. But does he qualify them as gay?
Nichkhun nudges him in the elbow.
“I’m not,” he says with an easy smile.
After the interview, the producer sighs at him and claps him on the back. “We’ll edit that last question out, okay?”
“Why?” Junho asks, raising an eyebrow above his hairline as he wipes foundation off his cheek.
“We want to avoid rumors, Junho-ssi,” the man says in a matter of fact tone, and then Chansung ropes his arm around Junho’s neck and pulls him along towards the changing room with him. Chansung’s arm is warm against his back, his hand his heavy on his shoulder. He leans against him ever so slightly as they walk along in silence.
“Do you think I’m homophobic?” He asks, sullen. He keeps getting asked the same questions, over and over again.
“Who, you?” Chansung laughs, mussing his hair with a warm hand. “Yeah right,” he snorts. “If you were I couldn’t do this,” he says and slobbers all over his cheek.
“Ewww, gross!” Junho jerks out of his hold and wipes at his cheek with the back of his hand. Chansung takes off down the hallway after the other members with a bark of a laugh. “Chansung-yah!” He shouts, tearing off after him and leaping on his back when he catches up.
It shouldn't bother him so much, that one interview, but it still does, weeks later. He’s watching Chansung filming for his part in a cf shooting with a can of coke in one hand. Chansung is being all sorts of suave and cool and the complete opposite of himself. Or he is until he sees Junho watching and grins at him with a smile that shoots sunshine into his heart. Junho dribbles coke down his front when he smiles back, much to the disdain of the stylist.
It’s this moment, while getting his clothes urgently patted down because they’re worth more than his entire life savings, that he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have told the camera that he isn’t gay, after all.
It’s not like doesn’t believe in boundaries. Gay people are gay and straight people are straight, and he can be friends with both and even if he doesn’t see exactly what they like, it usually doesn’t bother him. But then the grey lines start to blur, and he starts to think he’s probably in trouble when he gets himself off in the shower while thinking of Chansung. He tries to get off to someone else, like Yuri, or Hyosung, or even Lee Hyori, but it doesn’t work. His mind keeps wandering back to Chansung.
But he’s Lee Junho, and he’s not allowed to be gay. That’s what he told the cameras, so that’s what has to be, and it doesn’t matter if he’s dying inside, because he shouldn't be acting like this anyway. He wears his “love not homophobia” shirt and pretends he’s just like anyone else who wants to spread the love, when he really just has no idea what he wants anymore.
One night, he goes drinking with Chansung. It’s probably his biggest mistake in the world, because Chansung is a big huge puppy who can’t hold his drink at all, especially when they go out to bars, since the hard liquor is a classical favorite.
“Come on, you ape,” he says, pulling Chansung along by the crook of his elbow so that he can’t run off into the street.
“I love the stars,” Chansung says, throwing his arms up towards the sky and squinting at it.
“What stars?” Junho asks, cranky because he didn’t even get drunk and he’s already being forced to drag Chansung home. It’s really hard for Chansung to sit still when he’s sober, let alone now, and the effort is just irritating him more than it should.
“I love the city, I love the lights, I love you,” Chansung grins, throwing his arms around Junho and nearly pulling him down to the pavement from the force of his body. He swallows back the joyful hoop rolling in his stomach.
“That’s nice,” Junho grumbles, trying to ignore the blush on his cheeks or how hot Chansung’s breath is or how close his face is - how his huge nose is bumping his cheek. “Oh my god, Chansungie, how much did you drink?”
“Enough,” Chansung singsongs, and plants a kiss on Junho’s cheek with a happy laugh. “I love you!” He sings again, badly. Junho finds himself fighting a smile.
“I love you too,” he mumbles, wrapping an arm around Chansung’s waist to pull him along. “Come on,” he frowns when Chansung anchors himself to the street. “What now?” He asks, looking back.
“You love me?” Chansung’s eyes are huge when they stare at him. Chansung’s body is warm against his when he leans on him.
Junho swallows bile. “You know I do.”
“Then kiss me,” he says. He leans forward more, until all Junho can see is his face. “Do it,” his eyes are warm, his face has a rosy glow from the alcohol. Junho wants nothing more than to lean in and plant a kiss against that happy, anxious smile.
Junho flushes from head to toe, “I don’t want too.” He turns his head away.
“You do,” Chansung’s hands have found his waist. “You really do, I know it.”
Junho closes his eyes and turns his head back to face him.
“Chansung, I’m not...” And then, Chansung’s lips are soft and warm on his, shutting him up before he can stammer out more excuses. His hands spring to Chansung’s shoulders, but he doesn’t pull him away, he even closes his eyes as Chansung pushes his tongue into his mouth and sweeps the roof of his mouth. When he pulls back he even nips at his bottom lip a little.
“There,” Chansung smiles when he pulls away, there's something in his eyes, buried far below the surface of those dark brown eyes. “It’s nice, right?” He grabs Junho’s hand and pulls him along. “You don’t have to be gay, right?” Junho swallows hard, fighting back the lump in his throat.
“Right,” he whispers, and feels like he just might have broken his own heart.
note: chansung is too amazing for me to handle, sometimes.
