earl grey (oneshot)
Earl Grey
jonghyun♡key; ninja!minho♡key
oneshot⟶r; Kibum is colored grey
warning: hinted drug use, sex, tragedy and angst.
dreams unmuted
The grey gloom skies at dusk veiling a nearing sunrise. The grey smoke trailing from his pasty chapped lips and expanding to the ends of his vision. The Earl Grey of his aromatic sips of tea.
Not too sweet.
He doesn’t like adding honey or sugar.
Not too bitter.
His timing is precise when steeping.
The grey decadence of the garden bed of dewy, crispy-cold teabags and cigarettes on soil meant for flowers and nurturing. Absorbing, observing, Kibum reminds himself why his favorite color isn’t grey. At his art exhibition, he always makes sure to choose the yellows and reds and pinks and blues and blacks and whites.
He looks straight ahead, not seeing the dirty grey of the paved sidewalks as he makes his way down some blocks to the Gallery. In the bathroom, it’s white that he breathes and black that dilates - he’s prepped and ready for the floor.
Art junkies and hipsters and family members and friends. An old college friend.
Minho is like the tea he drinks: regal in presence and appearance like an earl, blinding boundaries in a way only grey could. And so, he approaches him, immediately attracted to the tall man in formal-casual attire.The man commends Kibum for his works, Kibum replying with elementary interpretations, laughing with an immense effort at his own scripted phrases, something Minho could never know.
But Minho is not deaf to the unspoken truths and Kibum, despite sensing this, invites him back to his apartment.
Neither speak of how quick things move, both undressing to their boxer-briefs and submerging into the only sanctuary Kibum knows: a clawfoot bathtub filled to the rim with bubbles.
“We’re in a tub wearing just underwear, Kibum.” Minho bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing.
.
“Yeah, and?”
“Well...”
“I don’t put out on the first bath, Mister Choi.” Kibum winks and grins coyly.
Minho laughs and splashes him and Kibum would laugh along too if he didn’t all too suddenly feel like he was drowning, eyes curtaining closed.
***
“Kibum?”
“Hm?” The younger was fiddling his buoyed fingers above their bubble bath water's surface.
“What color do you get when you mix all your paint colors together?” The other's voice was abrupt, filled with curiosity and caution.
“I...don’t think I've ever tried doing that before. Maybe ...something like rainbow vomitt?" Kibum shrugs, wiggling his fingers to make tiny foamed waves.
"Wait. Wait!" He looks up with realization dawning at the older boy sitting across at the other end of the tub. "Oh my god, Jjong, you were messing with my palettes again weren't you!" He splashes him, he splashes right back and they're laughing, all the bubbled water dripping down the edge of the porcelain tub.
It was quiet after Jjong's breathed out the last of his laugh, then smiled.
"It's grey. It’s funny, right? So many colors that are so vibrant and alive, but once each meets and mix they turn into such a dreary color. It’s sad...right?”
Kibum isn’t catching on to what Jonghyun’s really trying to say right away, all he knows is that he doesn’t like the mix of wonder and sorrow on the other's face. So he rises on his knees and crawls over to him, hands on shoulders, tongue on lips, kitten on pup. He paws at his pecks before his hand traces the trickles of water down, down, down to tug his tip. Jonghyun coos into their kiss, pinching the other's fleshy handles before pulling him in on his lap.
***
“You’re bleeding, Kibummie.” An arm sheathed with white bubbly foam reaches up with their bath towel, wiping away the gewy red creeping down from the older boy's nose.
“Don’t call me that.” He whispers shakily, rooting from shivers and shudders.
“Wha-?” Kibum pulls him down, water swishing in between as he latches and nips. They connect in a united warmth underneath the waters surface, but it’s all so sudden when he opens his eyes again to see the distinction of dream and reality unfold before him.
“You look like more of a ghost than I do, Kibummie.” Kibum sits in the empty bathtub fully clothed, legs crossed and fingers twirling the edges of his shoe laces. Pasty chapped lips, pale eyes and paler skin.
Jonghyun is wearing a cloak made of clouds, stepping out from them and sitting down on the other side. He’s wearing that same look of wonder and sorrow. This time, there’s no wet kiss, no wet sex to drown the unlearning of a vague truth.
“You’re like grey, now. Aren’t you, Bummie.”
Not too white.
He doesn’t like adding honesty or support.
Not too black.
His timing is precise when weeping.
‹fin›
author's note
so uhm. yeah, wow. don't /brick/ me for the angst and sadness in this ok. blame lil wayne's "i feel like dying" .____. but i know i'm to blame for having it on loop.
ketterings is dedicating a fluff to me, so i figured it only made sense i'd...dedicate...angst....to her? uuhh yeah anyway enjoy bb. this doesn't compare to your amazing angst at all but i tried, ok, i hope you like~ and for the rest of you guys....uhm yeah i don't even know what to say hahah angst is totally not my forte but i did enjoy writing this, even though i did kinda tear up a bit T_T
footprints
for the lurkers/silent readers/etc, something to encourage you to comment :) if you would like, please include one of the following in the subject line (with or without a comment, either is perfectly fine :))
(cr) All comments, short or long, for old fics or new, and concrit are always loved and appreciated ♥
(though i wouldn't blame you if you didn't because of how ...yeah this... .___.)
jonghyun♡key; ninja!minho♡key
oneshot⟶r; Kibum is colored grey
warning: hinted drug use, sex, tragedy and angst.
dreams unmuted
The grey gloom skies at dusk veiling a nearing sunrise. The grey smoke trailing from his pasty chapped lips and expanding to the ends of his vision. The Earl Grey of his aromatic sips of tea.
Not too sweet.
He doesn’t like adding honey or sugar.
Not too bitter.
His timing is precise when steeping.
The grey decadence of the garden bed of dewy, crispy-cold teabags and cigarettes on soil meant for flowers and nurturing. Absorbing, observing, Kibum reminds himself why his favorite color isn’t grey. At his art exhibition, he always makes sure to choose the yellows and reds and pinks and blues and blacks and whites.
He looks straight ahead, not seeing the dirty grey of the paved sidewalks as he makes his way down some blocks to the Gallery. In the bathroom, it’s white that he breathes and black that dilates - he’s prepped and ready for the floor.
Art junkies and hipsters and family members and friends. An old college friend.
Minho is like the tea he drinks: regal in presence and appearance like an earl, blinding boundaries in a way only grey could. And so, he approaches him, immediately attracted to the tall man in formal-casual attire.The man commends Kibum for his works, Kibum replying with elementary interpretations, laughing with an immense effort at his own scripted phrases, something Minho could never know.
But Minho is not deaf to the unspoken truths and Kibum, despite sensing this, invites him back to his apartment.
Neither speak of how quick things move, both undressing to their boxer-briefs and submerging into the only sanctuary Kibum knows: a clawfoot bathtub filled to the rim with bubbles.
“We’re in a tub wearing just underwear, Kibum.” Minho bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing.
.
“Yeah, and?”
“Well...”
“I don’t put out on the first bath, Mister Choi.” Kibum winks and grins coyly.
Minho laughs and splashes him and Kibum would laugh along too if he didn’t all too suddenly feel like he was drowning, eyes curtaining closed.
***
“Kibum?”
“Hm?” The younger was fiddling his buoyed fingers above their bubble bath water's surface.
“What color do you get when you mix all your paint colors together?” The other's voice was abrupt, filled with curiosity and caution.
“I...don’t think I've ever tried doing that before. Maybe ...something like rainbow vomitt?" Kibum shrugs, wiggling his fingers to make tiny foamed waves.
"Wait. Wait!" He looks up with realization dawning at the older boy sitting across at the other end of the tub. "Oh my god, Jjong, you were messing with my palettes again weren't you!" He splashes him, he splashes right back and they're laughing, all the bubbled water dripping down the edge of the porcelain tub.
It was quiet after Jjong's breathed out the last of his laugh, then smiled.
"It's grey. It’s funny, right? So many colors that are so vibrant and alive, but once each meets and mix they turn into such a dreary color. It’s sad...right?”
Kibum isn’t catching on to what Jonghyun’s really trying to say right away, all he knows is that he doesn’t like the mix of wonder and sorrow on the other's face. So he rises on his knees and crawls over to him, hands on shoulders, tongue on lips, kitten on pup. He paws at his pecks before his hand traces the trickles of water down, down, down to tug his tip. Jonghyun coos into their kiss, pinching the other's fleshy handles before pulling him in on his lap.
***
“You’re bleeding, Kibummie.” An arm sheathed with white bubbly foam reaches up with their bath towel, wiping away the gewy red creeping down from the older boy's nose.
“Don’t call me that.” He whispers shakily, rooting from shivers and shudders.
“Wha-?” Kibum pulls him down, water swishing in between as he latches and nips. They connect in a united warmth underneath the waters surface, but it’s all so sudden when he opens his eyes again to see the distinction of dream and reality unfold before him.
“You look like more of a ghost than I do, Kibummie.” Kibum sits in the empty bathtub fully clothed, legs crossed and fingers twirling the edges of his shoe laces. Pasty chapped lips, pale eyes and paler skin.
Jonghyun is wearing a cloak made of clouds, stepping out from them and sitting down on the other side. He’s wearing that same look of wonder and sorrow. This time, there’s no wet kiss, no wet sex to drown the unlearning of a vague truth.
“You’re like grey, now. Aren’t you, Bummie.”
Not too white.
He doesn’t like adding honesty or support.
Not too black.
His timing is precise when weeping.
‹fin›
author's note
so uhm. yeah, wow. don't /brick/ me for the angst and sadness in this ok. blame lil wayne's "i feel like dying" .____. but i know i'm to blame for having it on loop.
ketterings is dedicating a fluff to me, so i figured it only made sense i'd...dedicate...angst....to her? uuhh yeah anyway enjoy bb. this doesn't compare to your amazing angst at all but i tried, ok, i hope you like~ and for the rest of you guys....uhm yeah i don't even know what to say hahah angst is totally not my forte but i did enjoy writing this, even though i did kinda tear up a bit T_T
footprints
for the lurkers/silent readers/etc, something to encourage you to comment :) if you would like, please include one of the following in the subject line (with or without a comment, either is perfectly fine :))
- ✿✿✿: i really enjoyed it! :D
- ✌✌✌: it was ok :)
- ☁☁☁ : meh, not my cup of tea
(cr) All comments, short or long, for old fics or new, and concrit are always loved and appreciated ♥
(though i wouldn't blame you if you didn't because of how ...yeah this... .___.)