Drabbles: The Won Collection
001. Chocolate
“Stop squirming, you're ruining my lines.” Sungmin, snuggly nestled between Siwon's denim-clad thighs, breathes against the glossy bold lettering peeking out from beneath the waistband of his pants while he dips three fingers into the hot bowl beside them. “And shush already,” dark eyes peering mischievously into his pink face, “Heechul-hyung's still awake.”
Siwon can only watch, panting and gripping the pillow above his head, as Sungmin opens his fingers to let the warm melted chocolate drip thickly onto his abdomen - over the rock hard muscles contracting beneath it - then traces the gracefully curled lines of cocoa with the tip of his tongue.
002. Tattoo
You don't stop to ask yourself why you didn't even hesitate when he came to you, clutching his favorite pink hand towel and shaking a perfectly cut temporary tattoo in your face, whining with jutted lower lip for you to please, please, pleeaase Siwonnie, help him put it on since he's the only one here and it's too hot for him to do it himself. The next time you open your eyes, he's laid out flat on the living room floor shirtless, his arms folded to cradle his cheek - and you're straddling his hips, hunched over the creamy back while you squeeze a bit of water from your towel onto the thin tattoo sheet on his shoulder.
It shimmers, once you peel the paper off; a bright pink, yellow, and blue butterfly fluttering within a cloud of glitter and shine. You feel him shiver as you blow on it, your lips only centimeters from his skin, the sparkle, the butterfly, and you hear yourself through a dull pounding in your ears, a rush of heat up your neck and cheeks, it suits you, hyung.
003. Tongue
Siwon pretends not to notice it when Sungmin's cheeks thin out and lose their color because no one else seems to see it - which means he must be imagining it; the others would never let something like that pass over them without a word.
He pretends he can't tell the difference between the healthy olive hue of Sungmin's skin a month ago and the pasty, washed-out tint now when he hovers beneath a set of studio lights. Porcelain is pretty and just as desirable as any other. From the corner of his eye during rehearsal, he sees Kangin brush his knuckles down his jaw and says, in passing, looks good, kid.
No one tries to ask any questions the afternoon Sungmin returns from his doctor's appointment clutching a handful of differently sized and colored informational brochures and prescriptions; not even when he shuts himself up in his room with his favorite mixed CD on repeat for two hours to try to muffle the pathetic sobs that they all can hear anyway. Eeteuk places a bowl of hot broth in Siwon's hands while Yesung and Ryeowook and Donghae quietly set the table behind him, Sungmin's CD filling the silence. Tell him I have another bowl for him here if he wants seconds.
“Hyung...” Siwon calls from the front door that night, knuckles white as he grips his umbrella, watching the boy with all the secrets that no one seems to have enough courage to pull from him standing at the curb, barefoot, soaked, sick; his head dipped back only enough so that he can stick his tongue out to catch the cool autumn rain on the tip. “Hyung.”
004. I'm Here
I can’t do this, you realize when Hankyung hands back the grammar exercise sheet you spent all night working on, marked up in bold bright red marker. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong…
I can’t do this, you think as hot tears well up at the edges of your eyes while you try to focus on everything Hankyung is saying, one wrong answer at a time, with a patience and wisdom that makes you wish you’d have laughed less at his mistakes with the others back in Korea.
I’m tired hyung, you want to say but your stomach turns to knots at the thought, I just want to sleep and eat my mom’s seaweed soup and play games on the bus with Hyukjae and tell bad jokes with Yesung and slap hands with Sungmin on stage and I miss my drums and I just…I just…
He sees right through you when you try to hide your eyes behind your hand, because he’s been there, he knows what it’s like to know nothing and miss everyone you love and to want to give up when you can’t stand not being able to understand that’s being said to you. You hear his chair scrape against the floor and then his hands are cupped around your head and he’s pulling you forward into his chest so you can feel his heart beating against your cheek while you cry like a homesick child.
I’m here, he whispers into your hair, in thickly accented Korean, I’m here.
005. Happy Birthday to You
“We have to be up in three hours, hyung…”
“Siwon, we’re in Manila! I know we’re big bad busy idol stars, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do anything for your birthday. Shut up and enjoy yourself, a couple shots won’t hurt.”
“But what if-“
“No one will find out.”
“How do you-“
“Because I’m just that good, Won-ah. Here, drink.”
“…oh god, what is this stuff? Acid?”
“I don’t know, I just bought the first thing my hand touched.”
“It burns…”
“Siwon…you’re not supposed to sip a shot.”
“But it burns.”
“That’s why you take it down in one shot.”
“...did Heechul-hyung set you up to this?”
“No, I didn’t tell anyone about this. I only had enough for one bottle of…whatever this is.”
“Well then why don’t you try it?”
“Fine, if you’re going to be a baby about it, I might as well show you how real men drink.”
“…”
“…holy…burns…burns…can’t…you! Don’t…laugh at…me!”
“Sorry, I just realized if that’s what real men look like when they drink, I’d rather not drink at all.”