Clunky Dancing (1/13)
Title: Clunky Dancing (1/13)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin (others to follow)
Genre: AU
Summary: His parents are strongly against dancing, especially when it comes to their only son. “Dancing is for girls”, they say. Little do they know, he sways in the darkness of his room and fantasizes about an escape to the rhythm of samba. He prays for someone to come and take him away from the dullness of his perfect life.
It's almost time. The clock strikes a quarter past one a.m. and tiny, silky butterflies start forming in the pit of his stomach. He has already done this, but somehow it always feels like the first time. Carefully opening his bedroom door to avoid the ultra loud creaking sound, he manages to slide out. The annoying snore coming from his parents' room makes him sigh in relief. He hurries towards the front door, unlocks it and he's finally out in the night. A full moon greets him as he almost trips over the doormat. Taking a moment to compose himself and take a deep breath, he thinks about what's to come. As usual, his heart starts racing. A smile at the moon and he's off.
------------------
It's half past one a.m. and the room is on fire. At least 30 sweaty bodies are engaged in what seems like a voodoo rite. A tall, lean man stands in the middle, his whole being possessed by the pounding music. Slowly, the tune fades into a more mellow, sensual one. Couples start forming spontaneously on the dance floor. He stops gracefully and looks around for a split second, then nonchalantly finds his way through the crowd. He reaches the corner of the room, where a shorter but more muscular man is cutting up a watermelon.
"Nothing's better than sweating out a long day's work, huh?"
"I'm not sure… I'd rather be lying down on my bed, getting some hard earned slee-"
"Oh come on, you're not even dancing! Well that looks tasty."
He snatches a slice of watermelon and eats it heartily. Before the other man can even think of scolding him, he grabs his hand and guides him right in the middle of the dance floor.
"Forget the fruit and dance with me."
------------------
He can't see much from that awfully fogged window, but what he sees is enough to make his knees weak.
It's the fifth time he sneaks out of the luxurious apartment his parents booked for the holidays in the most exclusive resort of the area. It's the fifth time he walks unnoticed in the shadows to reach the white building in the farthest corner of the resort. During the day, multiple dance courses for the guests are held here. After midnight, unbeknownst to most, it becomes the instructors' lair. Waiters, cooks, maids, the instructors themselves, every single worker gathers in this place to dance the stress away.
He comes to watch and daydream about the night he will finally muster enough courage to bust open the doors and jump inside. His parents are strongly against dancing, especially when it comes to their only son. "Dancing is for girls", they say. Little do they know, he sways in the darkness of his room and fantasizes about an escape to the rhythm of samba. He prays for someone to come and take him away from the dullness of his perfect life.
A week earlier, he had merged the idea of that someone with the sight of the waiter serving them breakfast. After ten days of refusing to get out of bed relatively early, he had given in and joined his parents at the table. With his father talking politics and his mother complaining about a chipped nail, he was left admiring the croissants.
"Tea, sir?"
Upon hearing such a low, rich voice, he had raised his head absent-mindedly. Their personal waiter was indeed waiting for him to reply. His small but plump mouth, half-open and smiling, had asked him about tea. Staring at the cute mole just above the upper lip, he had muttered a "Yes, please." Two hands had swiftly proceeded to pour
the hot beverage in his cup.
"Sugar?"
"Uhm… I'll help myself, thanks." he had said to the mole.
With his set of skills, it only took him half a day to know that their personal waiter was also a quite popular dance instructor after dinner. It took him even less to discover about the night gathering.
While reminiscing the past week and feeling all warm in his chest at the thought of his waiter shaking it, he doesn't notice the door opening until he comes face to face with a short, muscular man, carrying two watermelons.
"Hi kid! What are you doing here?"
"I… I was just…"
"Oh whatever, you look solid, can you help me with this?"
He shoves a watermelon in his arms with a smile.
"We gotta get these back to the kitchen, I brought them along earlier but it turns out nobody is interested in eating, they say one watermelon is more than enough, 'why didn't you bring some potato chips instead', I mean fruit is the way to go in summer, am I right?"
The rambling hits him hard. He stares at the thick fringe that almost covers the man's eyes.
"Haha, sorry kid. I know I talk too much, I just kind of forget about it. Let's just go. It's not too heavy, right? Oh, I'm Jaejoong by the way. What's your name?"
"...Changmin."
------------------
It's two a.m. and Changmin finds himself in the main kitchen of the resort, sitting on the floor, side by side with Jaejoong. They're both drinking an ice cold beer.
"This is the good part about being the main chef. Free access to everything and anything!"
He's been talking nonstop for at least ten minutes, ever since they left the white building, but there's something about him that puts Changmin at total ease.
He sounds genuine, he's funny in his own weird way and he doesn't ask too many questions. He thinks they might become friends. Having an inside man in the kitchen doesn't sound too bad.
"So, Changmin, what about you? Are you still in school? Do you- Oh wait, you still haven't told me what you were doing out there, earlier! You looked kinda sneaky…"
There goes the thought of him not being too nosy.
"Hmm. Truth is…"
It might be the alcohol. Or the honest look in Jaejoong's eyes. Or the warmth he senses when accidentally brushing his arm. Whatever it is, it makes his feelings pour out.
"I want to dance so bad but my parents are against it. Other than that, they pretty much ignore me. Well, except for when I come home with perfect grades. I kind of hate spending the holidays in this place, they play golf all day long while I'm stuck in my room because I'm too shy to participate in anything. I don't dare to attend dance lessons during the day, so I wait for them to fall asleep and sneak out after midnight. Well… I come also because there's someone I like. I get all hot and bothered just by watching and-"
... I can't believe I just said that.
He's not drunk enough for this. A deep shade of red spreads furiously on his cheeks as he covers his mouth with both hands, eyes wide in shock. Beware of the quiet ones indeed.
Jaejoong laughs, but it's not mocking. It's a laughter full of marvel and innocence and sweet thoughts. He claps his hands softly. Changmin looks at him shyly and meets his understanding gaze.
"You're so adorable… I will help you."
In Changmin's mind, Jaejoong puts on a fairy godmother costume. Brushing aside his thick fringe, he takes a final sip of his beer and gets up to dump the empty bottle in the trash. He then extends a hand to the little ball of shame who is still sitting on the floor, dumbstruck and all kinds of red.
"Come. It's time to dance."
Rating: PG
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin (others to follow)
Genre: AU
Summary: His parents are strongly against dancing, especially when it comes to their only son. “Dancing is for girls”, they say. Little do they know, he sways in the darkness of his room and fantasizes about an escape to the rhythm of samba. He prays for someone to come and take him away from the dullness of his perfect life.
It's almost time. The clock strikes a quarter past one a.m. and tiny, silky butterflies start forming in the pit of his stomach. He has already done this, but somehow it always feels like the first time. Carefully opening his bedroom door to avoid the ultra loud creaking sound, he manages to slide out. The annoying snore coming from his parents' room makes him sigh in relief. He hurries towards the front door, unlocks it and he's finally out in the night. A full moon greets him as he almost trips over the doormat. Taking a moment to compose himself and take a deep breath, he thinks about what's to come. As usual, his heart starts racing. A smile at the moon and he's off.
------------------
It's half past one a.m. and the room is on fire. At least 30 sweaty bodies are engaged in what seems like a voodoo rite. A tall, lean man stands in the middle, his whole being possessed by the pounding music. Slowly, the tune fades into a more mellow, sensual one. Couples start forming spontaneously on the dance floor. He stops gracefully and looks around for a split second, then nonchalantly finds his way through the crowd. He reaches the corner of the room, where a shorter but more muscular man is cutting up a watermelon.
"Nothing's better than sweating out a long day's work, huh?"
"I'm not sure… I'd rather be lying down on my bed, getting some hard earned slee-"
"Oh come on, you're not even dancing! Well that looks tasty."
He snatches a slice of watermelon and eats it heartily. Before the other man can even think of scolding him, he grabs his hand and guides him right in the middle of the dance floor.
"Forget the fruit and dance with me."
------------------
He can't see much from that awfully fogged window, but what he sees is enough to make his knees weak.
It's the fifth time he sneaks out of the luxurious apartment his parents booked for the holidays in the most exclusive resort of the area. It's the fifth time he walks unnoticed in the shadows to reach the white building in the farthest corner of the resort. During the day, multiple dance courses for the guests are held here. After midnight, unbeknownst to most, it becomes the instructors' lair. Waiters, cooks, maids, the instructors themselves, every single worker gathers in this place to dance the stress away.
He comes to watch and daydream about the night he will finally muster enough courage to bust open the doors and jump inside. His parents are strongly against dancing, especially when it comes to their only son. "Dancing is for girls", they say. Little do they know, he sways in the darkness of his room and fantasizes about an escape to the rhythm of samba. He prays for someone to come and take him away from the dullness of his perfect life.
A week earlier, he had merged the idea of that someone with the sight of the waiter serving them breakfast. After ten days of refusing to get out of bed relatively early, he had given in and joined his parents at the table. With his father talking politics and his mother complaining about a chipped nail, he was left admiring the croissants.
"Tea, sir?"
Upon hearing such a low, rich voice, he had raised his head absent-mindedly. Their personal waiter was indeed waiting for him to reply. His small but plump mouth, half-open and smiling, had asked him about tea. Staring at the cute mole just above the upper lip, he had muttered a "Yes, please." Two hands had swiftly proceeded to pour
the hot beverage in his cup.
"Sugar?"
"Uhm… I'll help myself, thanks." he had said to the mole.
With his set of skills, it only took him half a day to know that their personal waiter was also a quite popular dance instructor after dinner. It took him even less to discover about the night gathering.
While reminiscing the past week and feeling all warm in his chest at the thought of his waiter shaking it, he doesn't notice the door opening until he comes face to face with a short, muscular man, carrying two watermelons.
"Hi kid! What are you doing here?"
"I… I was just…"
"Oh whatever, you look solid, can you help me with this?"
He shoves a watermelon in his arms with a smile.
"We gotta get these back to the kitchen, I brought them along earlier but it turns out nobody is interested in eating, they say one watermelon is more than enough, 'why didn't you bring some potato chips instead', I mean fruit is the way to go in summer, am I right?"
The rambling hits him hard. He stares at the thick fringe that almost covers the man's eyes.
"Haha, sorry kid. I know I talk too much, I just kind of forget about it. Let's just go. It's not too heavy, right? Oh, I'm Jaejoong by the way. What's your name?"
"...Changmin."
------------------
It's two a.m. and Changmin finds himself in the main kitchen of the resort, sitting on the floor, side by side with Jaejoong. They're both drinking an ice cold beer.
"This is the good part about being the main chef. Free access to everything and anything!"
He's been talking nonstop for at least ten minutes, ever since they left the white building, but there's something about him that puts Changmin at total ease.
He sounds genuine, he's funny in his own weird way and he doesn't ask too many questions. He thinks they might become friends. Having an inside man in the kitchen doesn't sound too bad.
"So, Changmin, what about you? Are you still in school? Do you- Oh wait, you still haven't told me what you were doing out there, earlier! You looked kinda sneaky…"
There goes the thought of him not being too nosy.
"Hmm. Truth is…"
It might be the alcohol. Or the honest look in Jaejoong's eyes. Or the warmth he senses when accidentally brushing his arm. Whatever it is, it makes his feelings pour out.
"I want to dance so bad but my parents are against it. Other than that, they pretty much ignore me. Well, except for when I come home with perfect grades. I kind of hate spending the holidays in this place, they play golf all day long while I'm stuck in my room because I'm too shy to participate in anything. I don't dare to attend dance lessons during the day, so I wait for them to fall asleep and sneak out after midnight. Well… I come also because there's someone I like. I get all hot and bothered just by watching and-"
... I can't believe I just said that.
He's not drunk enough for this. A deep shade of red spreads furiously on his cheeks as he covers his mouth with both hands, eyes wide in shock. Beware of the quiet ones indeed.
Jaejoong laughs, but it's not mocking. It's a laughter full of marvel and innocence and sweet thoughts. He claps his hands softly. Changmin looks at him shyly and meets his understanding gaze.
"You're so adorable… I will help you."
In Changmin's mind, Jaejoong puts on a fairy godmother costume. Brushing aside his thick fringe, he takes a final sip of his beer and gets up to dump the empty bottle in the trash. He then extends a hand to the little ball of shame who is still sitting on the floor, dumbstruck and all kinds of red.
"Come. It's time to dance."