[Fic] Super Junior Drabble/One-Shot Compilation
Hey everyone! I was in a writing mood today to expel some of the weird energy that has been following me around everywhere lately, so I present to you FIVE fics that I've written (drabbles and one-shots)! The first drabble was actually written quite some time ago, but I'm only getting the chance to post it now. :D
**Comments, questions, suggestions, etc. are welcomed with open arms!
All of these SJ drabbles/one-shots are dedicated to my lovely kiddies, lalazor15 and spiridox ! <3
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Fetish
Pairing: Hanchul
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 205
Notes: Inspired by Heechul’s “weakness for mustaches”: http://www.allkpop.com/2010/05/mblaqs-go-thought-super-juniors-heechul-was-gay
Heechul crossed his arms resolutely over his chest, his voice taking on a high-pitched, bratty hue. "Well, aren't you going to put it on?" He gestured to the small parcel sitting innocently on the bed he shared with the Chinese man.
"...if I say no...?" Hankyung winced slightly under the scrutiny of the piercing glare Heechul sent him in response.
The younger man sighed heavily (Ta tai wu liao le!*) and reluctantly grabbed at the item wrapped in brown paper, stalking noisily to the adjoining bathroom. What seemed like an hour later, Hankyung returned with nothing particularly out of place.
Except for the dark, bushy, and curly mustache that now graced his upper lip, that is.
Heechul's face melted into a pleased expression (in fact he looked sort of perversely turned on) as he sidled closer to the other man, pressing his form against the other’s torso and bringing his fingers up to stroke at the silky, obscenely large mustache.
"You," he breathed into Hankyung's ear, "can do me any time, baby."
Hankyung's face burned, the fake mustache tickling his cheeks uncomfortably. Who knew that Heechul liked men with facial hair?
"I had that imported from France, you know."
…once a diva, always a diva.
(Bitch.)
*Ta tai wu liao le! = He’s way too bored!
Weird translation, I know, but it makes more sense and flows better in Chinese, I swear.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Cleansing
Pairing: Kyumin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 184
Notes: Making fun of Kyuhyun is just too fun, don’t you agree? I swear, I’m the worst Kyuhyun stan ever.
Kyuhyun froze awkwardly, like an incapacitated deer with mental disabilities trapped in headlights, as the door to the bathroom suddenly clicked and slammed open, soundly smashing into the bathtub.
Sungmin stared.
Watery foam dripped lazily along the younger man’s jawline as he tried to gather what was left of his pride and hastily shove the fifty-six neatly lined product bottles under the sink counter and out of sight. He straightened as best as he could while avoiding all forms of eye contact with the older boy.
“What exactly are you doing?” Sungmin fixated an incredulous gaze on Kyuhyun’s face, which now resembled obscene gnome’s countenance, the white lather dribbling down his chin and forming a scandalous-looking beard.
“Nothing?”
Sungmin raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
Kyuhyun stared at his socks; they were a ghastly puke green.
“THEY JUST WON’T GO AWAY!” Kyuhyun resigned himself embarrassedly, flinging himself dramatically to the other side of the bathroom to reveal the fifty-six containers of acne wash that he had failed to hide completely earlier.
Sungmin giggled.
“Don’t worry, I still love you…even if you are pimply.”
Kyuhyun swooned.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: SJ-PINK
Characters: Sungmin/Heechul/Zhou Mi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 421
Notes: Overactive imagination + fetish for Sungmin in drag + talking to my kiddies = THIS. Beware, this is actually full-out crack that makes no sense. Courtesy of lalazor15 : http://twitpic.com/2phct8
“Does this dress make my ass look fat?”
Heechul strained to look at his lacey, pink polka-dot covered backside in the full-length mirror as Sungmin leaned around his hyung to squint at his reflection. Unsatisfied with the image he saw in the glass, the younger boy pulled out a compact and began brushing a peachy hue delicately across his cheekbones.
“OH-EM-GEE you guys, we should have made the dresses shorter! Now we can’t see the full extent of my gloriously long legs!” Zhou Mi whined as he burst from the adjoining bathroom, adjusting his “breasts” with gusto.
Heechul untwisted himself to face the Chinese man, smoothing down his one-piece and adjusting the oh-so-gorgeous, sparkly tiara in his oh-so-gorgeous, silky hair.
“Shut up, Mimi, we all know that your legs can’t compare to my gorgeousness. Sigh, I can’t help that I’m so handsome and pretty. Whatever did I do to deserve this curse?”
The eldest of the trio exhaled dramatically and draped himself across the dressing room couch, feeling himself up in the process.
“Heechul hyung, you’re going to get your dress wrinkly before our debut performance!” Sungmin pouted. He had now moved onto applying one final coat of shiny black mascara before sweeping up his heinously oversized bow and pinning it to the long wig he was wearing for the occasion. Mr. Snuggles the pink stuffed bunny sat on the counter next to him, his glassy eyes scrutinizing his owner’s appearance.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Min, I’m the leader/ruler of this group, after all!” Heechul’s smug voice rang back, as he twirled his heart-shaped scepter.
“SUPER JUNIOR-PINK, YOU’RE ON IN 2 MINUTES,” a Music Bank staff member called from the doorway, looking awkward and uncomfortable in the presence of the three VERY MALE idols in matching, poufy mini-dresses.
“If we do this well enough, will they let us keep these outfits? I mean - my legs just look SO long and I have this AMAZING Gucci bag that would be just PERFECT with it!” Zhou Mi gushed as he followed the other two out of the room, all three of them checking each other out along the way.
The rest of Super Junior watched from the wings, some horrified and some transfixed, as Heechul, Sungmin, and Zhou Mi lit up the stage with their fabulous cover of Orange Caramel’s ‘Magic Girl’.
Suffice it to say, Zhou Mi went home clutching his prize happily, Sungmin’s makeup looked absolutely perfect (even Mr. Snuggles agreed), and no, Heechul’s barely-covered ass did not look fat.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Velocity
Pairing: Hanchul
Rating: G
Word Count: 531
Notes: My heart aches for Hanchul; I miss seeing them next to each other. Convoluted imagery and physics/math terminology. Before reading, make sure you know the difference between velocity and speed: http://www.differencebetween.net/science/difference-between-velocity-and-speed/
Speed = Distance / Time.
Heechul stares at his blank computer screen, unblinkingly, precious memories scrolling through his head at a mile a minute like a spastic slideshow.
They are miles apart - countries apart, and the distance between them weighs heavily in the air, invisible, but crackling like a sparkplug about to burn out. He wonders if he’s thinking about him - wondering, reflecting, hoping. He glances at the photo in the frame on his desk. So close, yet so far. He burns; he aches.
It feels like ages since he last saw him, and the feeling is only augmented when the calendar on his wall rustles lightly from the breeze his ancient electric fan makes. Time is a cruel mistress; always looking ahead, never turning back. He smiles bitterly as the grandfather clock in the living room chimes three times: DONG. DONG. DONG.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing when he hurls himself to his feet, jostling his cat out of its sleepy haze, and begins upturning his room in search of certain necessities. It is spontaneous, it is chaotic, and he doesn’t stop to think. The quotient is imprinted in his mind: faster, faster, faster. He has no plan, only speed.
It’s in the dead of the night when he reaches the airport. The taxi company is startled when the one and only Kim Heechul calls and requests a ride, showing up with a single bag and looking extremely harried, but the man in question hears nothing, sees nothing. He is on autopilot: searching, yearning. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing.
He purchases the most expensive ticket he can and waits for departure, all of the sights and sounds around him metamorphosing into a bland whirl of buzzing and color. He wants to understand his actions, but his brain and instincts are screaming at him to push forward: nothing else matters.
It’s not until he’s on the plane, high in the heavenly domain, that he attempts to comprehend. The GPS guide on his personal entertainment screen fades into a chart, the distance ticking down steadily with every passing moment. He gasps at every interval the dividend decreases. He worries.
The flight time is barely under two hours, but every waking second feels like an eternity. He wrings his hands together; his palms are slippery with perspiration. The quiet bing signaling the aircraft’s descent startles him out of anxiety. He narrows his eyes and clutches his bag. It is time. The divisor stretches into infinity.
When his feet touch solid ground again, the tension returns. His fingers shake and he barely hears what is being said to him through customs. He slows down, his speed equal to a magnitude of zero, until a rough businesswoman pushes past him with a frustrated sigh.
In the end, he’s standing outside of his house, finger hovering awkwardly over the doorbell. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other: right, left, right, and it’s not until the door suddenly opens to a comically surprised expression that he begins to fathom what his journey was all about.
For speed isn’t the vector that dictates Kim Heechul’s life, it’s velocity.
And Hangeng is his direction.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Pilates
Pairing: Kyuhyun-centric, implied Kyumin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 809
Notes: I can’t imagine Kyuhyun working out for some reason. The image is just too hilarious for me to handle…I repeat: I am the worst Kyuhyun stan ever. Sarcasm ahead! Idea for the ending comes from the lovely lalazor15 .
Cho Kyuhyun, idol extraordinaire and magnae of Super Junior, reached up to wipe his sweaty forehead with the back of his wrist. It wasn’t his fault that he was born tall and lanky; it wasn’t his fault that he never gained a pound (of muscle OR fat) even when he gorged on junk food, and it was certainly not his fault that he has never been able to tone his body to look like Siwon hyung’s.
And if you asked him, none of those “faults” had anything to do with his lazy, stationary, computer-based gaming lifestyle. No way would that ever be true. (That is also DEFINITELY NOT the reason why he’s sweating up a storm doing nothing but set up the required equipment for his exercise session.)
Therefore, in an attempt to prove nature (and his fans) wrong, he decided that it was about time he got into shape. Next album release, he’d be the one prancing around in the sleeveless shirts and gaping blazers that showed off his perfect washboard abs.
Drooling slightly at his mental image of looking so good, Kyuhyun popped a pilates video (borrowed from the library, of course) into the old DVD player and did his best to keep up.
Ten minutes into the routine, Kyuhyun found himself biting back curses as he tried to balance himself on an exercise ball, legs bound together with a resistance band and his arms over his head clutching an 8-kg medicine ball. He grunted as he willed his ankles to move apart and his shoulders to lift off from the surface of the silver exercise ball; he could barely see from the stinging sensation of perspiration dripping into his eyes.
Just as he was about to reach the apex of the bizarre pilates-style ab crunch, the door burst open as Sungmin ran in with a TV camera on his heels.
“And this is the part of the practice room that we use to train our bodies!” For dramatic effect, the elder of the two SJ members in the room struck a manly pose (which actually ended up looking more cute then manly, but hey, let the boy dream) for the camera.
Kyuhyun stiffened at the intrusion.
Sungmin heard the noise behind him and spun lightly on the balls of his feet to face the younger man. A rare, evil smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.
“And this is our lovely magnae exercising for the first time in his life!”
Even if Kyuhyun wanted to glare, he couldn’t find the energy to complete the action, thanks to the screaming aches in his limbs. The cameraman gleefully zoomed in on his pained face and focused on his limp body.
At that moment, the exercise ball snapped away from under his torso, forcing him to drop the medicine ball with an embarrassingly shrill scream and the resistance band snapped from the odd tension it was receiving as a result. The band flew gracefully to smack Sungmin in the calves. Sungmin pouted at the slight tingle, but burst into high-pitched giggles at the state of his roommate.
Of course, the cameraman sadistically captured the entire moment while biting on his bottom lip to stifle amused cackles.
Kyuhyun collapsed into a sweaty, boneless heap and tried not to lose his temper. SO WHAT if he failed at pilates?! There were plenty of other forms of exercise he could do perfectly well, thank you very much!
Mustering his remaining strength (and dignity), he dragged himself into an upright position and tried to touch his toes to loosen up, but only was able to get halfway down his calves before his back and hamstrings protested. Groaning, he glanced covertly at the camera crew and Sungmin, of which the former decided it was a good idea to get a close-up of the younger man’s butt and of which the latter decided it was “laugh at Kyuhyun’s fail” day.
Kyuhyun sulked. Sungmin leaned in towards the taller man, pressing his own body subtly against the lanky one.
“Don’t worry, Kyuhyunnie-ah, I’m flexible enough for the both of us.”
Sungmin gave Kyuhyun’s butt a firm pat before skipping out the doorway, the production crew following him reluctantly, leaving the magnae by himself (his cheeks a curious shade of red). Alone now, Kyuhyun awkwardly limped towards the treadmill and tried to focus on moving his legs on the machine.
BANG.
A huge spark shot out of the exercise equipment and left Kyuhyun numb as an electric wave passed through his entire frame. Did he just get electrocuted by the treadmill?
He jumped off the belt and slammed his foot down on the ground.
“Screw this, I’m sticking to Dance Dance Revolution.”
He spared a look at the ruined gym apparatuses.
“Beginner’s mode, of course,” he added smugly as he strode confidently out of the room.
Hope you have a nice time reading! :D
**Comments, questions, suggestions, etc. are welcomed with open arms!
All of these SJ drabbles/one-shots are dedicated to my lovely kiddies, lalazor15 and spiridox ! <3
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Fetish
Pairing: Hanchul
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 205
Notes: Inspired by Heechul’s “weakness for mustaches”: http://www.allkpop.com/2010/05/mblaqs-go-thought-super-juniors-heechul-was-gay
Heechul crossed his arms resolutely over his chest, his voice taking on a high-pitched, bratty hue. "Well, aren't you going to put it on?" He gestured to the small parcel sitting innocently on the bed he shared with the Chinese man.
"...if I say no...?" Hankyung winced slightly under the scrutiny of the piercing glare Heechul sent him in response.
The younger man sighed heavily (Ta tai wu liao le!*) and reluctantly grabbed at the item wrapped in brown paper, stalking noisily to the adjoining bathroom. What seemed like an hour later, Hankyung returned with nothing particularly out of place.
Except for the dark, bushy, and curly mustache that now graced his upper lip, that is.
Heechul's face melted into a pleased expression (in fact he looked sort of perversely turned on) as he sidled closer to the other man, pressing his form against the other’s torso and bringing his fingers up to stroke at the silky, obscenely large mustache.
"You," he breathed into Hankyung's ear, "can do me any time, baby."
Hankyung's face burned, the fake mustache tickling his cheeks uncomfortably. Who knew that Heechul liked men with facial hair?
"I had that imported from France, you know."
…once a diva, always a diva.
(Bitch.)
*Ta tai wu liao le! = He’s way too bored!
Weird translation, I know, but it makes more sense and flows better in Chinese, I swear.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Cleansing
Pairing: Kyumin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 184
Notes: Making fun of Kyuhyun is just too fun, don’t you agree? I swear, I’m the worst Kyuhyun stan ever.
Kyuhyun froze awkwardly, like an incapacitated deer with mental disabilities trapped in headlights, as the door to the bathroom suddenly clicked and slammed open, soundly smashing into the bathtub.
Sungmin stared.
Watery foam dripped lazily along the younger man’s jawline as he tried to gather what was left of his pride and hastily shove the fifty-six neatly lined product bottles under the sink counter and out of sight. He straightened as best as he could while avoiding all forms of eye contact with the older boy.
“What exactly are you doing?” Sungmin fixated an incredulous gaze on Kyuhyun’s face, which now resembled obscene gnome’s countenance, the white lather dribbling down his chin and forming a scandalous-looking beard.
“Nothing?”
Sungmin raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
Kyuhyun stared at his socks; they were a ghastly puke green.
“THEY JUST WON’T GO AWAY!” Kyuhyun resigned himself embarrassedly, flinging himself dramatically to the other side of the bathroom to reveal the fifty-six containers of acne wash that he had failed to hide completely earlier.
Sungmin giggled.
“Don’t worry, I still love you…even if you are pimply.”
Kyuhyun swooned.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: SJ-PINK
Characters: Sungmin/Heechul/Zhou Mi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 421
Notes: Overactive imagination + fetish for Sungmin in drag + talking to my kiddies = THIS. Beware, this is actually full-out crack that makes no sense. Courtesy of lalazor15 : http://twitpic.com/2phct8
“Does this dress make my ass look fat?”
Heechul strained to look at his lacey, pink polka-dot covered backside in the full-length mirror as Sungmin leaned around his hyung to squint at his reflection. Unsatisfied with the image he saw in the glass, the younger boy pulled out a compact and began brushing a peachy hue delicately across his cheekbones.
“OH-EM-GEE you guys, we should have made the dresses shorter! Now we can’t see the full extent of my gloriously long legs!” Zhou Mi whined as he burst from the adjoining bathroom, adjusting his “breasts” with gusto.
Heechul untwisted himself to face the Chinese man, smoothing down his one-piece and adjusting the oh-so-gorgeous, sparkly tiara in his oh-so-gorgeous, silky hair.
“Shut up, Mimi, we all know that your legs can’t compare to my gorgeousness. Sigh, I can’t help that I’m so handsome and pretty. Whatever did I do to deserve this curse?”
The eldest of the trio exhaled dramatically and draped himself across the dressing room couch, feeling himself up in the process.
“Heechul hyung, you’re going to get your dress wrinkly before our debut performance!” Sungmin pouted. He had now moved onto applying one final coat of shiny black mascara before sweeping up his heinously oversized bow and pinning it to the long wig he was wearing for the occasion. Mr. Snuggles the pink stuffed bunny sat on the counter next to him, his glassy eyes scrutinizing his owner’s appearance.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Min, I’m the leader/ruler of this group, after all!” Heechul’s smug voice rang back, as he twirled his heart-shaped scepter.
“SUPER JUNIOR-PINK, YOU’RE ON IN 2 MINUTES,” a Music Bank staff member called from the doorway, looking awkward and uncomfortable in the presence of the three VERY MALE idols in matching, poufy mini-dresses.
“If we do this well enough, will they let us keep these outfits? I mean - my legs just look SO long and I have this AMAZING Gucci bag that would be just PERFECT with it!” Zhou Mi gushed as he followed the other two out of the room, all three of them checking each other out along the way.
The rest of Super Junior watched from the wings, some horrified and some transfixed, as Heechul, Sungmin, and Zhou Mi lit up the stage with their fabulous cover of Orange Caramel’s ‘Magic Girl’.
Suffice it to say, Zhou Mi went home clutching his prize happily, Sungmin’s makeup looked absolutely perfect (even Mr. Snuggles agreed), and no, Heechul’s barely-covered ass did not look fat.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Velocity
Pairing: Hanchul
Rating: G
Word Count: 531
Notes: My heart aches for Hanchul; I miss seeing them next to each other. Convoluted imagery and physics/math terminology. Before reading, make sure you know the difference between velocity and speed: http://www.differencebetween.net/science/difference-between-velocity-and-speed/
Speed = Distance / Time.
Heechul stares at his blank computer screen, unblinkingly, precious memories scrolling through his head at a mile a minute like a spastic slideshow.
They are miles apart - countries apart, and the distance between them weighs heavily in the air, invisible, but crackling like a sparkplug about to burn out. He wonders if he’s thinking about him - wondering, reflecting, hoping. He glances at the photo in the frame on his desk. So close, yet so far. He burns; he aches.
It feels like ages since he last saw him, and the feeling is only augmented when the calendar on his wall rustles lightly from the breeze his ancient electric fan makes. Time is a cruel mistress; always looking ahead, never turning back. He smiles bitterly as the grandfather clock in the living room chimes three times: DONG. DONG. DONG.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing when he hurls himself to his feet, jostling his cat out of its sleepy haze, and begins upturning his room in search of certain necessities. It is spontaneous, it is chaotic, and he doesn’t stop to think. The quotient is imprinted in his mind: faster, faster, faster. He has no plan, only speed.
It’s in the dead of the night when he reaches the airport. The taxi company is startled when the one and only Kim Heechul calls and requests a ride, showing up with a single bag and looking extremely harried, but the man in question hears nothing, sees nothing. He is on autopilot: searching, yearning. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing.
He purchases the most expensive ticket he can and waits for departure, all of the sights and sounds around him metamorphosing into a bland whirl of buzzing and color. He wants to understand his actions, but his brain and instincts are screaming at him to push forward: nothing else matters.
It’s not until he’s on the plane, high in the heavenly domain, that he attempts to comprehend. The GPS guide on his personal entertainment screen fades into a chart, the distance ticking down steadily with every passing moment. He gasps at every interval the dividend decreases. He worries.
The flight time is barely under two hours, but every waking second feels like an eternity. He wrings his hands together; his palms are slippery with perspiration. The quiet bing signaling the aircraft’s descent startles him out of anxiety. He narrows his eyes and clutches his bag. It is time. The divisor stretches into infinity.
When his feet touch solid ground again, the tension returns. His fingers shake and he barely hears what is being said to him through customs. He slows down, his speed equal to a magnitude of zero, until a rough businesswoman pushes past him with a frustrated sigh.
In the end, he’s standing outside of his house, finger hovering awkwardly over the doorbell. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other: right, left, right, and it’s not until the door suddenly opens to a comically surprised expression that he begins to fathom what his journey was all about.
For speed isn’t the vector that dictates Kim Heechul’s life, it’s velocity.
And Hangeng is his direction.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Pilates
Pairing: Kyuhyun-centric, implied Kyumin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 809
Notes: I can’t imagine Kyuhyun working out for some reason. The image is just too hilarious for me to handle…I repeat: I am the worst Kyuhyun stan ever. Sarcasm ahead! Idea for the ending comes from the lovely lalazor15 .
Cho Kyuhyun, idol extraordinaire and magnae of Super Junior, reached up to wipe his sweaty forehead with the back of his wrist. It wasn’t his fault that he was born tall and lanky; it wasn’t his fault that he never gained a pound (of muscle OR fat) even when he gorged on junk food, and it was certainly not his fault that he has never been able to tone his body to look like Siwon hyung’s.
And if you asked him, none of those “faults” had anything to do with his lazy, stationary, computer-based gaming lifestyle. No way would that ever be true. (That is also DEFINITELY NOT the reason why he’s sweating up a storm doing nothing but set up the required equipment for his exercise session.)
Therefore, in an attempt to prove nature (and his fans) wrong, he decided that it was about time he got into shape. Next album release, he’d be the one prancing around in the sleeveless shirts and gaping blazers that showed off his perfect washboard abs.
Drooling slightly at his mental image of looking so good, Kyuhyun popped a pilates video (borrowed from the library, of course) into the old DVD player and did his best to keep up.
Ten minutes into the routine, Kyuhyun found himself biting back curses as he tried to balance himself on an exercise ball, legs bound together with a resistance band and his arms over his head clutching an 8-kg medicine ball. He grunted as he willed his ankles to move apart and his shoulders to lift off from the surface of the silver exercise ball; he could barely see from the stinging sensation of perspiration dripping into his eyes.
Just as he was about to reach the apex of the bizarre pilates-style ab crunch, the door burst open as Sungmin ran in with a TV camera on his heels.
“And this is the part of the practice room that we use to train our bodies!” For dramatic effect, the elder of the two SJ members in the room struck a manly pose (which actually ended up looking more cute then manly, but hey, let the boy dream) for the camera.
Kyuhyun stiffened at the intrusion.
Sungmin heard the noise behind him and spun lightly on the balls of his feet to face the younger man. A rare, evil smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.
“And this is our lovely magnae exercising for the first time in his life!”
Even if Kyuhyun wanted to glare, he couldn’t find the energy to complete the action, thanks to the screaming aches in his limbs. The cameraman gleefully zoomed in on his pained face and focused on his limp body.
At that moment, the exercise ball snapped away from under his torso, forcing him to drop the medicine ball with an embarrassingly shrill scream and the resistance band snapped from the odd tension it was receiving as a result. The band flew gracefully to smack Sungmin in the calves. Sungmin pouted at the slight tingle, but burst into high-pitched giggles at the state of his roommate.
Of course, the cameraman sadistically captured the entire moment while biting on his bottom lip to stifle amused cackles.
Kyuhyun collapsed into a sweaty, boneless heap and tried not to lose his temper. SO WHAT if he failed at pilates?! There were plenty of other forms of exercise he could do perfectly well, thank you very much!
Mustering his remaining strength (and dignity), he dragged himself into an upright position and tried to touch his toes to loosen up, but only was able to get halfway down his calves before his back and hamstrings protested. Groaning, he glanced covertly at the camera crew and Sungmin, of which the former decided it was a good idea to get a close-up of the younger man’s butt and of which the latter decided it was “laugh at Kyuhyun’s fail” day.
Kyuhyun sulked. Sungmin leaned in towards the taller man, pressing his own body subtly against the lanky one.
“Don’t worry, Kyuhyunnie-ah, I’m flexible enough for the both of us.”
Sungmin gave Kyuhyun’s butt a firm pat before skipping out the doorway, the production crew following him reluctantly, leaving the magnae by himself (his cheeks a curious shade of red). Alone now, Kyuhyun awkwardly limped towards the treadmill and tried to focus on moving his legs on the machine.
BANG.
A huge spark shot out of the exercise equipment and left Kyuhyun numb as an electric wave passed through his entire frame. Did he just get electrocuted by the treadmill?
He jumped off the belt and slammed his foot down on the ground.
“Screw this, I’m sticking to Dance Dance Revolution.”
He spared a look at the ruined gym apparatuses.
“Beginner’s mode, of course,” he added smugly as he strode confidently out of the room.
Hope you have a nice time reading! :D