(no subject)
Title: From winter to winter
Pairing: none
Genre: melancholy? I really don’t know :/
Rating: G
Summary: Yoochun loves winter. Jaejoong loves springs. Junsu adores summer. Changmin likes autumn. And on New Year’s Eve Yunho reflects on it all.
AN: This is short, pointless and old, but I like it. I did it to prove myself I could wrote other things besides angst and I'm rather pleased with the result. I fancy it came out fresh and cheery, in a strange way.
Drabble one - Winter/Yoochun
Yoochun loved winter. When the first snow came, when the little pieces of silver covered all the filth of Seoul and when the icy fingers of the wind crocheted cobweb-thin lace on the windows, bewitching the gaze then he could truly believe that in the world there was purity and good. He rode in his car to a distant metro station, leaving it in the parking lot and wandering around. His feet walked on the shimmering path, taking him to an old abandoned house, stopping only in front of a drink automate. He leaned against one of the brick walls, sipped his coffee with his head raised to look at the sky. He watched the little white dots spiraling down from the grey sky, falling down, kissing the broken bricks, the shattered glass, the charred paint, caressing the broken past that was the house, covering the ugliness and leaving a veil of pure beauty. Yoochun sat there, watching the whiteness reflect in the glass pieces on the ground, reflect in the sullied transparency, refract because of the little grains of mud, break down into sparkles, then come together again, forming something new and unnamed, stirring something deep in his soul. The white was no longer white, truly, but it carried the grey of misery and tears, which contrasted against the clear shine hidden in the snowflakes and multiplied it. After a few quiet moments Yoochun drew out is notebook and started scribbling away lyrics drenched in dulled sorrow and those were his favorite ones, even though not even half of them would have their own melody. The words were self-sufficient, they lived a life of their own. And then when he had scribbled the last letter in black ink on the sepia-toned paper, when the last drop of coffee was gone in his throat, when the cold was seeping into his bones, Yoochun got up, unstuck himself off the wall and carried his body back to the parking lot under the dark sky, back to the rest of the world, sunk in multicolored cacophony, lost in the search of what Yoochun found in the breath of winter - solace.
Drabble Two - Spring/Jaejoong
Jaejoong loved spring. The first green shoots on the trees’ bare branches gave color to the world, previously diluted and faded because of the snow, and gave warmth to his soul. Cold’s melancholy and the booming fireplace’s wooziness left him and the soft sunbeams injected energy into his body. He opened his eyes to see the mildly colored blue sky and the clouds floating on it were the indecipherable yearnings of his heart, notes to a yet unwritten song, unclear thoughts of a happiness to come and an ode to life. On the days he looked out through the studio’s window and saw the blooming flowers and the world slowly awakening for a new year tender warmth filled him. That was the time he behaved the kindest to people around him, he noticed the radiance in women's faces, saw the unfolding energy in men's chests, and he came under the impression that for three months the world hadn’t lived, covered by snow’s chilly kiss. New tones escaped from Jaejoong’s throat, clearer, purer, more powerful, filled with faith and hope. He fixed his eyes on the faces in the public to see music’s reflection and he saw smiles of expectation, looks convinced of a brighter future. On such days Jaejoong felt the best, because he had managed to convey his thinking to others. He lay down on the second storey of his bed, staring at the ceiling, covered by his striped comforter up to his chest and dreamed awake, under the spell of the fragrant spring air.
Drabble Three - Summer/Junsu
Junsu adored summer. The hot air brought his raging blood to the boiling point, young miss Sun’s burning kisses made him go crazy and he didn’t feel the heaviness the others found in the air. With the rising of the bright disc of emotions in the sky his eyes shot open and heard the whispers of the dusty air - get up, it told him, you’re wasting your life sleeping. And while the others were still in their beds he was already in the bathroom under the shower’s stream, while they were stretching drowsily and lifted the sheets they had kicked off because of the heat, he poured himself orange juice, as bright and as bold as his eyes. It infused something sparkling and maddening in his veins and after the glass of juice Junsu went out for a run, because his smile’s blaze was too bright for his half-awake friends. The warm morning air pleasantly tickled him and as Junsu was staring the deep saturated blue abyss above him he felt as though he could run forever, hugged by the sun’s rays, hand in hand with summer’s spirit - always laughing, hurried, burning. But in the end summer’s dry lips left him breathless and its hugs drew out the energy they had given. He went back to the apartment and lay in the lukewarm bathtub, tired but also happy, and, his mouth humming a spontaneously made-up tune, his heart still chased the shadow of the hot sun disc outside.
Drabble Four - Autumn/Changmin
Changmin liked autumn. After the overwhelming summer heat the world needed some cooling, he thought, and looked at the grey clouds racing in the sky, merging together and tearing apart, caught up in a wild tango. The red leafs were torn off the dead branches under the wind’s crude gusts and danced a violent paso doble with it, and in the end, exhausted by their affair, fell on the muddy earth. They lay there, forgotten by the world, trampled by people and cars, slowly losing their bright colors, contaminated by the apathy of those around them. Eventually the sky, mourning over them and touched by the dying trees’ strives to reach their already dead children, covered them in its tears in a desperate attempt to wash them but alas, they were irreversibly marred. But the rhythm of the falling drops calmed Changmin’s soul. The steady knocks on the glass equalized the rhythm of his heart with that of the sky and in such moments he found the path to his soul. Tap-tap-tap, the quiet song wrapped the street under him. Tap-tap-tap, but only Changmin heard the water’s voice. It was his little secret - his and autumn’s only. He listened to her and she dressed him in tranquility and confidence. Those clothes, weaved with the color of storms by autumn’s cinnamon fingers, were with him through the whole day, the fresh aroma of rain walking before him and its breath charming the people around him. They saw Changmin’s smile, and couldn’t help but smile themselves. Raindrops helped him find the quiet corner in his heart and open up to the others. The rhythm sounded in his ears and even on stage he felt the silent tap-tap-tap outside. And calmed, appeased, he revealed his soul to the public to show them peace.
Drabble Five - New Year/Yunho
On New Year’s Eve Yunho sat down and took a swig of soju. The warmness of the drink spread through his body and chased the numbness away from his limbs. The year had performed a full circle once more, spring, summer, autumn had come and left, and now it was winter’s turn again. Outside there was a blizzard, the wind slamming against the windows desperately, unable to come into the apartment. The sound of the snowstorm wasn’t pleasant at all and to drown it, Yunho turned up the volume of the radio. He looked at Yoochun’s figure, standing next to the window with a glass in his hand, gazing at the snowflakes’ wild chase lost in thought. Yunho mused how his four friends were so much like their favorite seasons. He saw how every one of them was illuminated by something within when the respective time of the year came, how they found something they couldn’t see through the other seasons. He also saw the readiness with which they shared their discoveries with everyone else. He wondered to which season they would compare him to - spring was his favorite, but he couldn’t see himself in it. Probably each of my friends would say that I belong to his season, Yunho thought and his lips curved upwards. He stared at the roaring fireplace. The flames were dancing to the music coming from the radio, they rose up, hugged each other, spilled and twisted, bewitching and blinding and burning until the song died down and was replaces by another. Dong Bang Shin Ki’s voices started pouring out of the loudspeaker. Yoochun’s lyrics, Junsu’s music, Jaejoong’s and Changmin’s voices, and his own too. He caught the others’ impressions and in his soul they were amplified, taking on a new shape and sense.
Yoochun plopped himself next to Yunho and interrupted his thought process. “What are you doing, sitting here alone like that, staring at the fire”, he said, taking the bottle. “Join us over there.” Yunho smiled and turned off the radio, then tagged along behind him, leaving the fire to dance its magic to the music coming from the voices in the bedroom.
Pairing: none
Genre: melancholy? I really don’t know :/
Rating: G
Summary: Yoochun loves winter. Jaejoong loves springs. Junsu adores summer. Changmin likes autumn. And on New Year’s Eve Yunho reflects on it all.
AN: This is short, pointless and old, but I like it. I did it to prove myself I could wrote other things besides angst and I'm rather pleased with the result. I fancy it came out fresh and cheery, in a strange way.
Drabble one - Winter/Yoochun
Yoochun loved winter. When the first snow came, when the little pieces of silver covered all the filth of Seoul and when the icy fingers of the wind crocheted cobweb-thin lace on the windows, bewitching the gaze then he could truly believe that in the world there was purity and good. He rode in his car to a distant metro station, leaving it in the parking lot and wandering around. His feet walked on the shimmering path, taking him to an old abandoned house, stopping only in front of a drink automate. He leaned against one of the brick walls, sipped his coffee with his head raised to look at the sky. He watched the little white dots spiraling down from the grey sky, falling down, kissing the broken bricks, the shattered glass, the charred paint, caressing the broken past that was the house, covering the ugliness and leaving a veil of pure beauty. Yoochun sat there, watching the whiteness reflect in the glass pieces on the ground, reflect in the sullied transparency, refract because of the little grains of mud, break down into sparkles, then come together again, forming something new and unnamed, stirring something deep in his soul. The white was no longer white, truly, but it carried the grey of misery and tears, which contrasted against the clear shine hidden in the snowflakes and multiplied it. After a few quiet moments Yoochun drew out is notebook and started scribbling away lyrics drenched in dulled sorrow and those were his favorite ones, even though not even half of them would have their own melody. The words were self-sufficient, they lived a life of their own. And then when he had scribbled the last letter in black ink on the sepia-toned paper, when the last drop of coffee was gone in his throat, when the cold was seeping into his bones, Yoochun got up, unstuck himself off the wall and carried his body back to the parking lot under the dark sky, back to the rest of the world, sunk in multicolored cacophony, lost in the search of what Yoochun found in the breath of winter - solace.
Drabble Two - Spring/Jaejoong
Jaejoong loved spring. The first green shoots on the trees’ bare branches gave color to the world, previously diluted and faded because of the snow, and gave warmth to his soul. Cold’s melancholy and the booming fireplace’s wooziness left him and the soft sunbeams injected energy into his body. He opened his eyes to see the mildly colored blue sky and the clouds floating on it were the indecipherable yearnings of his heart, notes to a yet unwritten song, unclear thoughts of a happiness to come and an ode to life. On the days he looked out through the studio’s window and saw the blooming flowers and the world slowly awakening for a new year tender warmth filled him. That was the time he behaved the kindest to people around him, he noticed the radiance in women's faces, saw the unfolding energy in men's chests, and he came under the impression that for three months the world hadn’t lived, covered by snow’s chilly kiss. New tones escaped from Jaejoong’s throat, clearer, purer, more powerful, filled with faith and hope. He fixed his eyes on the faces in the public to see music’s reflection and he saw smiles of expectation, looks convinced of a brighter future. On such days Jaejoong felt the best, because he had managed to convey his thinking to others. He lay down on the second storey of his bed, staring at the ceiling, covered by his striped comforter up to his chest and dreamed awake, under the spell of the fragrant spring air.
Drabble Three - Summer/Junsu
Junsu adored summer. The hot air brought his raging blood to the boiling point, young miss Sun’s burning kisses made him go crazy and he didn’t feel the heaviness the others found in the air. With the rising of the bright disc of emotions in the sky his eyes shot open and heard the whispers of the dusty air - get up, it told him, you’re wasting your life sleeping. And while the others were still in their beds he was already in the bathroom under the shower’s stream, while they were stretching drowsily and lifted the sheets they had kicked off because of the heat, he poured himself orange juice, as bright and as bold as his eyes. It infused something sparkling and maddening in his veins and after the glass of juice Junsu went out for a run, because his smile’s blaze was too bright for his half-awake friends. The warm morning air pleasantly tickled him and as Junsu was staring the deep saturated blue abyss above him he felt as though he could run forever, hugged by the sun’s rays, hand in hand with summer’s spirit - always laughing, hurried, burning. But in the end summer’s dry lips left him breathless and its hugs drew out the energy they had given. He went back to the apartment and lay in the lukewarm bathtub, tired but also happy, and, his mouth humming a spontaneously made-up tune, his heart still chased the shadow of the hot sun disc outside.
Drabble Four - Autumn/Changmin
Changmin liked autumn. After the overwhelming summer heat the world needed some cooling, he thought, and looked at the grey clouds racing in the sky, merging together and tearing apart, caught up in a wild tango. The red leafs were torn off the dead branches under the wind’s crude gusts and danced a violent paso doble with it, and in the end, exhausted by their affair, fell on the muddy earth. They lay there, forgotten by the world, trampled by people and cars, slowly losing their bright colors, contaminated by the apathy of those around them. Eventually the sky, mourning over them and touched by the dying trees’ strives to reach their already dead children, covered them in its tears in a desperate attempt to wash them but alas, they were irreversibly marred. But the rhythm of the falling drops calmed Changmin’s soul. The steady knocks on the glass equalized the rhythm of his heart with that of the sky and in such moments he found the path to his soul. Tap-tap-tap, the quiet song wrapped the street under him. Tap-tap-tap, but only Changmin heard the water’s voice. It was his little secret - his and autumn’s only. He listened to her and she dressed him in tranquility and confidence. Those clothes, weaved with the color of storms by autumn’s cinnamon fingers, were with him through the whole day, the fresh aroma of rain walking before him and its breath charming the people around him. They saw Changmin’s smile, and couldn’t help but smile themselves. Raindrops helped him find the quiet corner in his heart and open up to the others. The rhythm sounded in his ears and even on stage he felt the silent tap-tap-tap outside. And calmed, appeased, he revealed his soul to the public to show them peace.
Drabble Five - New Year/Yunho
On New Year’s Eve Yunho sat down and took a swig of soju. The warmness of the drink spread through his body and chased the numbness away from his limbs. The year had performed a full circle once more, spring, summer, autumn had come and left, and now it was winter’s turn again. Outside there was a blizzard, the wind slamming against the windows desperately, unable to come into the apartment. The sound of the snowstorm wasn’t pleasant at all and to drown it, Yunho turned up the volume of the radio. He looked at Yoochun’s figure, standing next to the window with a glass in his hand, gazing at the snowflakes’ wild chase lost in thought. Yunho mused how his four friends were so much like their favorite seasons. He saw how every one of them was illuminated by something within when the respective time of the year came, how they found something they couldn’t see through the other seasons. He also saw the readiness with which they shared their discoveries with everyone else. He wondered to which season they would compare him to - spring was his favorite, but he couldn’t see himself in it. Probably each of my friends would say that I belong to his season, Yunho thought and his lips curved upwards. He stared at the roaring fireplace. The flames were dancing to the music coming from the radio, they rose up, hugged each other, spilled and twisted, bewitching and blinding and burning until the song died down and was replaces by another. Dong Bang Shin Ki’s voices started pouring out of the loudspeaker. Yoochun’s lyrics, Junsu’s music, Jaejoong’s and Changmin’s voices, and his own too. He caught the others’ impressions and in his soul they were amplified, taking on a new shape and sense.
Yoochun plopped himself next to Yunho and interrupted his thought process. “What are you doing, sitting here alone like that, staring at the fire”, he said, taking the bottle. “Join us over there.” Yunho smiled and turned off the radio, then tagged along behind him, leaving the fire to dance its magic to the music coming from the voices in the bedroom.