fic dump 1
HOLA DOES ANYONE MISS ME. too bad i’m not posting a fic though haha because this is a ~*~fic dump post~*~. just because i hate having too many things in my wip folder and i don’t think i can finish any of these so. blame school and my writing block ok ;_; but!!! i have a yadong coming up, so i hope i can post it next week if my brain can actually cooperate with me :3
meanwhile, enjoy these unfinished fics.
1. so um, this was supposed to be a myungyeol but i got lazy. obviously. and there’re supposed to be a slight woogyu and wool too ): oh well.
Infinite: Myungsoo/Sungyeol, Myungsoo/various; 494w
1.
the first time myungsoo (thinks he) is in love, it’s when he’s six and a half, with the loud noona who lives across of his apartment. he is the same age with her younger brother, the one who always gets pushed around with a loud yell, a loud mocking laugh. he always watches silently from the side when she teases her brother, a cheerful smile across her face. every time he sees it, he’ll take a bright color from his crayon box, drawing a big sun with a blinding sunshine.
one day, the boy trips against myungsoo’s feet accidentally, and he gets hit by her.
his head throbs painfully, and the young boy cries at the scrap on his knee, and she bites her lower lip as his mother scolds her for hitting someone who is not at fault. her left hand is gripping her brother’s hand tightly, the other hand holding the hem of her dress as if she wants to rips it off. he can see her eyes watering.
(but she doesn’t cry, not even when her mother yells at her, and his heart flutters.)
“sorry,” she offers quietly, when their mother are talking to each other, her brother on her mother’s lap.
myungsoo looks up from his drawing (the bright sunshine), and says, “it’s okay.”
“this,” she says again, straightens her arm towards him, palm closed, “is for you.” she urges him to take it with her eyes, and when he places his palm under hers (badump, badump), she lets three petals of sunflowers drop, yellow against his pale skin. “i pick it from the park,” she tells him, rather shyly, and smiles.
“thanks,” myungsoo says, his voice sincere.
“don’t tell my mom,” she warns him, and he giggles because she looks like she wants to hit him again. she laughs at his giggles, and they both are laughing when her mom comes to get her.
(“my name is sunhi,” she whispers to him, before she kisses his cheek and runs to his mum. he blinks, withering petals in his hand, a quiet ‘sunhi’ against his lips.)
1,5.
first love, as sweet as it is, doesn’t last long. he moves with his parents and little brother to another city, another apartment, and myungsoo forgets about her almost immediately after he gets into elementary school at the age of seven.
it’s a pity, he thinks sometimes, that when he sees the drawing of the sun on his desk, when he sees the three brown petals in a jar at the bottom of his drawer, he can’t remember the reason he keeps it in the first place. such a pity, as he throws it in the dustbin at the kitchen, replaces it with robots and trains and more crayons.
2.
the second time he (thinks he) falls in love, it’s the quiet girl who sits in front of him on the fourth grade.
2. inspired by run mv but i have no idea how to continue this. toodles.
Infinite: Myungsoo/Sungyeol; 666w
look straight. don’t listen to anything else except your own breath, your own heartbeat. feel the tingling running through your veins, going to your whole body. feel the air making its way to your lungs, filling it with life.
run. run as fast as you can, as far as you’re allowed to be.
“yah,” someone suddenly interrupts, “yah, myungsoo, i’m cold.”
myungsoo doesn’t budge. he keeps his eyes to the track, his knee touching the ground.
“yah, kim myungsoo.”
breath. inhale. exhale. breath. “yes, sungyeol?” he still doesn’t look at him.
sungyeol makes a whiny noise. “you’ve run how many laps already, thousands? how many laps do you want to run? it’s five o’clock, the security has come to me three times to ask when are you going to finish, and i’m so cold i can’t feel any of my fingers,” he sneezes as if to make a point, “and you’re not looking at me. why aren’t you looking at me? i’m talking here, are you listening? myungsoo!”
“just,” myungsoo grits his teeth, “go home already. i don’t mind.”
“no freaking way,” sungyeol’s voice sounds dumbfounded, “i’ve waited for two hours, i’m not going to leave now.”
then shut up, myungsoo says in his mind. “myungsoo,” sungyeol whines again, and he gives up. he straightens his body, palms against his waist as he turns to look at him. sungyeol’s face brightens up almost immediately, his grin wide as he jumps to where his friend is standing. “there,” he says, throwing a towel at myungsoo, who dodges and lets the white towel falls to the ground; it makes sungyeol pouts. “aw man,” he says again, bending to pick it up, “sungjong specifically told me to give this to you.”
“sure,” myungsoo mumbles, snatches the small towel on sungyeol’s shoulder. the taller boy stares as myungsoo wipes his sweat.
“that’s,” he starts, but myungsoo takes the bottle peeking from the pocket of sungyeol’s jumper, inhales the whole water inside in three gulps. he throws the bottle towards the big dustbin besides the bench where sungyeol was sitting as he whined not three meters from them. “those are mine,” sungyeol lamely finishes.
myungsoo wipes his mouth with his wristband. “okay,” he says, and turns to leave. sungyeol sighs, before he follows suit, protests silently about how heartless he’s being.
“we’ve been through this,” myungsoo says quietly, his eyes hard and persistent. “sungyeol.”
“i’ve told you,” sungyeol replies, just as stubborn, “i’m doing this.”
“no, you-,” myungsoo winces as his friend turns the screw around his knee.
sungyeol pauses, looking guilty. “sorry,” he mumbles, his hands work slower. “i’m sorry.”
he wants to scream in frustration, slaps sungyeol’s hand away, pushes his friend from him and leaves. he wants to, but sungyeol’s eyes are so sincere that myungsoo shuts his mouth, tired of the same argument. whatever he wants.
myungsoo wakes up to sungyeol kissing his knee. something is wet, and he doesn’t need to turn on the light to know that he’s crying again. “sungyeol.”
“i’m sorry,” he sobs, his words incoherent, “god, myungsoo. god.”
he pretends he doesn’t hear it. “come here,” he whispers, reaching down to pull sungyeol up. the taller boy leans over him then, his red and tired face looks pale against the light from the street outside, slipping from the moving curtain. he forgets to close his window again. “we’ve talked about this.”
“but,” sungyeol cries, “but myungsoo-“
“just,” he traces his tears, “shut up.”
he wakes up alone. the window is closed, locked perfectly, as if it has never been opened. there’s an electricity running on his lips though, warm and thick and, sungyeol. he closes his eyes again.
“good morning,” his mom greets him when she sees him coming down from the stair, his tie hanging around his neck as he scratches his stomach sleepily. “sungyeol’s here.”
“hewoh,” sungyeol grins, his mouth full of bread. he gulps down his milk before he continues, “good morning.”
“hm,” he replies, eyes half-opened.
3. WHY DO I HAVE SO MANY MYUNGYEOL LMAO DON’T ASK ME. this is written during a detention class (sobs) and it’s so random idek why i wrote it. but yeah. don’t know where to bring this either so ): and i hate the way i wrote sungyeol omg i think it’s so ooc fsjdfkhdkjg.
Infinite; Myungsoo/Sungyeol; 637w
It's hard for Myungsoo to fall in love.
He's stubborn as hell, and he can't, for the life of him, find the purpose of laying his heart in the open, for trusting his all to a certain someone that can easily leave. Things change, feelings fade, people forget; nothing is certain, and being in love won't last forever. Love won't last forever. He's careful, too, and love is way too risky. It's like standing on a cliff with your back facing the dark, like stepping back and falling down, down, down, hoping that the journey will be worth it.
Most of the time, he knows, it isn't.
And then there's Sungyeol.
Sungyeol is a dreamer; he sees the world with bright eyes and blinding smile and he doesn't think of the dark. He sees the sun instead of the shadow, leaving everything behind and just, runs forward for his dream. He closes his eyes and there's hope, he opens his mouth and there's expectation. He thinks of love as something deep, something that can anchor your heart. He's adventurous; he embraces the fear of falling, loving every moment of it.
The edges are sharp but you're not alone.
Myungsoo hates naïve people--he thinks they're stupid. To hope, to wish, to dream. To love. He's real, and reality is not, will never be something Sungyeol draws it to be. It will always hit them in the face when they are comfortable, and expectation will make them lose their mind.
"Just," Sungyeol says, "enjoy your life. Live it a little."
"I enjoy my life," Myungsoo insists, "I enjoy this."
This being them, panting in the practice room, back to back, each others' hair sticking to the other's neck with sweat. Sungyeol rolls the water bottle at him, head butting against Myungsoo's shoulder blade.
"But you don't live it," Sungyeol tells him, abnormally patient--like telling a five-year-old boy that the crayon he's holding is red and not orange. Babying.
Myungsoo opens his mouth to retort, but Sungyeol laces their fingers together, and it doesn't matter. "Life's too short for you to worry, L-ah," Sungyeol smiles, as if there's a camera he wants to lie to. Another facade.
He turns away.
Sungyeol can be all sunshine and positive in one second, and frown and dark clouds another second. He is a maze that Myungsoo hates to solve, because he's too complicated and too annoying and seeing the thousands sides of him makes Myungsoo feels nausea; he feels bland. Myungsoo tells him to be more constant--Sungyeol tells him that human can't be constant. Robots do constant.
It pisses Myungsoo off.
(Deep inside, he knows he's jealous.)
You change, Myungsoo reasons. And so do eight billions people in this world. Why risk falling in love?
"Don't you get it though, Myung--L," Sungyeol traces the side of his mouth, "you're not changing alone. There's someone beside you, willing to change with you. For you. That's the whole point of being in love; you don't have to be alone."
"But what if," Myungsoo tries, "what if, when I'm not what I'm used to be, and they--this person, whoever they might be, what if they're not satisfied? What if they think I'm becoming worse? What if after being together, then they think, 'Oh, I don't want you after all'?"
Sungyeol shrugs. "Simple," he says, "they're not the one."
Myungsoo groans, runs his fingers through his hair; frustrated. Sungyeol is frustrating. "You make it sound so easy."
"No, L," Sungyeol tells, "I never say it's easy. It will never be easy, in fact," and with that, with his eyes on Myungsoo' eyes, with his fingers against his skin, with his lips ghosting over bones, "I'm just saying it's worth it."
Even when Sungyeol leaves, Myungsoo doesn't tell him that he doesn't understand.
4. why hello there depressing woogyu. my first first first attempt in writing woogyu before i realized i suck in writing them. another random thing i wrote after shinee’s kiss kiss kiss came out. i don’t even know why. woohyun’s supposed to wake up and sweeps sunggyu off of his feet and be ghei together the end.
Infinite: Woohyun/Sunggyu; 965w
there are moments when sunggyu forgets.
moments when he laughs at a joke the radio dj just made, when he turns to his right side but find the air, the bubble of laughter explodes in a snap. moments when he feels like sleeping at the van, when he leans to his left, but is met with the coldness of the window instead of the usual warmth. moments when he is about to scream, about to lose his temper, when he seeks for a hand behind his back to calm him down, but is left with his own breathing, hard. moments when he reaches the home late, hungry, but finds his room filled with sungjong instead of someone who he can ask for food.
there are moments when sunggyu forgets, that woohyun is not there.
“hello there,” sunggyu says, smiling that bright smile, and he pulls a chair from the corner of the room. “it’s cold today.”
the wind is chilly, his bones feel like they are shattering. he leaves the window open though, curtain dancing against the breeze, and he grins at the feel of sun against his skin.
“i bring flower,” he chuckles, shakes the bouquet of flower in his hand. he turns to the vase on the table beside the bed, replaces the yellowing plants inside it with his own fresh roses. he smiles again as he throws them to the dustbin under the bed, withering calyxes. “sungjong bought it. pretty, huh?”
the room is quiet. the whiteness of the wall makes him sick, but he keeps his bright expression. for you, he thinks, and leans to the bed. “they all miss you,” he says again, his tone cheerful and easy, “they talk about you a lot, those children. say the mood is always down when you’re not around. isn’t it funny,” sunggyu snorts, “and they always say we bring down the mood with our lovey dovey act, whatever that means.”
sunggyu breathes through his nose, because his throat is all choked up. he has learnt to smile longer each day, learnt how to act. he’s getting better, kind of. “yeah,” he chokes, and there’s a drip of water against his eyelashes, but he carries on with his word, pained and short. “i miss you.”
the machine’s constant beeping doesn’t change. it haunts sunggyu’s dream, but he stays there, woohyun’s hand in his tight grip.
he’s not the only one who has nightmares about it, sunggyu knows at least that much. sungyeol and dongwoo were in the car too, and myungsoo was on the phone with him when it happened; he must have heard how atrocious it was. since he rooms with sungjong, the younger has always tossed and turned, mumbles incoherence words until he wakes up sweaty with tears across his cheeks. sunggyu spends a lot of his night trying to sooth sungjong back to sleep nowadays, and he doesn’t blame him; because if he has someone who can make him forget, he will try, too.
“how is he,” myungsoo starts when it’s only the two of them in the van, and sunggyu is startled, because it’s been months since he talked to the younger boy.
months, since that night. “the same,” sunggyu answers, tries his hard not to sound depressed.
myungsoo nods. “i,” he says, and stops. he stares at sunggyu as if he wants to scream, but in the end, he sighs and takes his phone out, leaves his words hanging.
sunggyu doesn’t need to hear it to know, or at least guess it though. i miss him, i want to see him, i’m sorry, i hate seeing you like this. it’s always the same, his members these days. it’s almost funny.
sungyeol was the last to be discharged from the hospital before woohyun, right after four months. he was in coma after the accident, and he didn’t breathe for three minutes during his operation. even after the doctor told them he’s not in a critical condition, he didn’t wake up for another three and a half weeks.
it was crazy in the dorm then. myungsoo refused to speak, refused to eat, and all he did was practicing and practicing, dancing until his feet swell and turn red. even then, it needed a punch on the face from hoya to make him stop.
“have you had enough,” hoya yelled, and myungsoo broke.
it pained all of them to see their strongest member crying like that, tears like waterfall, eyes so dark and heartbreaking it made them look away. sungjong hugged him as if he was the only lifeline for him, and sunggyu left the room.
he took out his phone to call him, forgot for a second that woohyun was no longer there. not yet.
it only comes to him that maybe, what myungsoo wants to say is, i know how you feel. sunggyu laughs weakly, tears in his eyes.
“will he wake up,” dongwoo asks quietly when he is finally able to gather his courage and power to accompany sunggyu to woohyun’s room.
sunggyu almost stand up to punch his face, to scream i don’t know you fucking idiot, who do you think i am? if i know, do you think i will come here everyday, praying my best that he will at least move an eyeball? if i know, do you think i’ll cry myself to sleep every night? if i know, do you think i will still be here, miserable and breaking and dying more and more everyday? he wants to, he really does, but he remembers that he’s their leader, the leader, and there’s no one to hold his hand now. not yet. “of course he will,” he answers instead, and even he is amazed at how sure he sounds. how good he is in faking.
5. this is a shinee fic. the end. lmao okay got the idea from drag!taemin, obviously, but then i fell out of the fandom and this is left unfinished ;_______; my baby though, i really like the idea.
SHINee: Minho/Taemin; 733w
minho comes home from school to find that someone is sitting against his apartment door. he has come running through the pouring rain, his whole body soaking wet, and he has expected to come inside the house and probably faint at the front hallway, but no. he comes up the stairs, three in a step, and finds a skinny girl with a long, blonde hair and clothes way too revealing to be appropriate blocking his way to the comfort of his warm home.
he tries hard not to judge (whore), so he blinks and approaches the girl slowly. “hello?”
“oh,” the girl looks up from her shoes (red, shiny, high boots) and smiles at him. it’s pretty, and it looks innocent enough for minho to actually smiles back. “hello there.”
“eh,” minho replies not so smartly, but the girl simply grins at him.
“yeah,” she says, doesn’t seem bothered at minho’s confused look. “i need a shelter.”
it turns out that the girl is a boy. minho doesn’t even try to look unfazed, because he thinks his jaw is three centimeters away from the floor when the girl-boy-strips into a pair of boxer under the short glittery skirt in the living room.
“this place is comfortable,” he says as he fumbles with his long hair (wig, minho realizes, as he sees pins being take off), “even the couch seems fluffy enough for me to sleep on it.”
“wha-,” minho says, finally snaps out of his daze, “sleep?”
“uh huh,” the boy says, looking at minho as if he’s the one who has ruthlessly barged in into someone else’s home; though, technically, minho lets him in. “i told you i need a shelter.”
“and you think this place is a good shelter for you because-?”
the boy suddenly turns at him, his head looks weird with the net replacing the long hair. “huh,” he says, “you don’t remember me?”
minho blinks. he reckons that he has done that a lot since he met the boy. “am i supposed to?”
“i thought you let me in because you know who i am, hyung,” the boy whines, his expression hurt. “i thought-ugh, nevermind. i’m too tired to deal with this.” with that, he throws his wig at minho; who fumbles with it for a second before he lets it drop to the ground; and throws himself to the couch, his flashy clothes scatter around the floor.
minho stays silent, freezes, because he doesn’t know whether he should call the police or just let him be, because he says he knows him and he calls him hyung and he does look familiar, only minho is too confused to grasp anything from his memory. when he decides to just let it go for today because he is more concerned about his headache, the boy moves from his place and mumbles, “by the way, my name is taemin.”
taemin. of course.
“taemin?” he hears his mom says, “i’ve never heard about that boy since he ran away from home two months ago.”
minho massages his temple. “why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“i remember i mentioned it,” his mom protests, “it’s not my fault that you never pay attention at anything i say.” minho rolls his eyes. “why? this is the first time you’ve ever asked about taemin since you move. is everything okay?”
no, he wants to say. that boy is currently sleeping on the couch in my living room, his clothes are all over the place, he dresses as a girl, his snore is so loud it can blow the place up, and why is he here anyway? how does he know where i live? did you tell him? what is happening right now?
but taemin’s snore reaches his ears, and it sounds so, so tired that he sighs. “no, mom. everything is okay. i guess i just miss home,” which makes his mom squeals in glee as she fills him in with all gossips in his old neighborhood.
taemin doesn’t wake up when he goes to school, and he still hasn’t woke up when he comes back, ditching soccer practice because he’s worried the boy will turn the place upside down once he realizes that he is locked inside the apartment.
he comes home to a loud snore though. minho lets him sleep for another three hours, just because.
6. this was supposed to be a titanic!minkey, but everytime i try to continue this i just, ugh what the fuck am i doing fuck this, so. jonghyun’s supposed to be the bad guy and it’s supposed to be dramatic and sad and everything too. sigh.
SHINee: Minho/Key; 398w
Minho glances at the man beside him, straightens his lips as his eyes wander to the others’ card. Flush, straight, and fuck, is that full house? He sips his drink before he lets out a puff of smoke from his parted lips, menthol and slightly dizzying, but he frowns because he likes to make a fool out of people. The man beside him snickers, maybe thinking that a teenager will always be a teenager no matter how great or mature his look is.
“One more step,” he can hear Jinki’s whisper over the tense atmosphere around the table, a gentle reassurance against his back, and Minho brings up his cigarette and inhales, deep and long and deep and he presses his chin to his knuckles. “We’ve got this.”
Sure, sure, he wants to laugh, because seriously? Jinki is a genius, though his niceness makes him horrible in making a pokerface. There’s no way in the world, he plays with a chip beside his elbow, flips, flips, flips, and Jinki sighs loudly, satisfied. Minho’s lips twitch at the side, but he needs to be careful. Slowly, slowly, and.
“Done,” Jinki chuckles, takes the bottle of beer beside the chips in front of him, gulping thrice before he clanks it loudly to the edge of Minho’s glass. “Good luck, boy.” He moves away from the confused crowd, their expressions make Minho wants to spit in happiness and glee, because having Jinki as his friend, older brother, kind of, it is more than enough of a good luck in playing this game. In putting a bet, because the victory? It’s impossible to defeat.
“I’ll call you all when I reach the big city,” he smirks to the people around the table, laying a royal flush on the table and pulls all the chips around him, dances a little as he listens to the groans and curses those sailors let out. He finally yells in happiness, a fucking finally we are going to leave this place, baby, when the oldest man there pushes some money and a pair of ticket to the biggest ship in town to his hand, muttering little complains.
He turns around and catches Jinki’s eyes, even though the older boy is making out with a waitress there, blonde and short, but cute nevertheless. He grins, shakes the tickets in his hand, and Jinki laughs to the girl’s mouth.
7. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS. IDEK. henry/jino is adorable as fuck ok goodbye. wrote it for some challenge but then school got in the way le sob. IT’S 2.5K YOU GUYS I CAN’T. ;_;
SMTown: Henry/Jino; 2,575w
He jumps at the second the bell rings. He simply swipes all his things into his big bag and slings it across his shoulder, already halfway to the door when the teacher says her greeting. He is running, his tiny body swiftly avoids the people flooding the corridor, and he keeps shouting an apology every time his bag hits someone.
“Sorry,” he says for the thirteen times, and the other just simply rubs his shoulder with a chuckle.
“Seriously, Jino,” he says, but Jino is already three meters away from him, so he yells, “Calm down a little, boy!”
He turns around and grins, waving his arm frantically, “Sorry again, Jay Hyung!”
When he reaches his bicycle, he throws his bag to the basket at the front and pulls out the bicycle key from his back pocket, pushing it harshly as he quickly settles himself on the vehicle. He opens his bag then, pulling out a long big scarf and wraps it around himself, the red wool material covering half of his face. When he finishes putting his coat on (from his bag, too), he pauses, closes his eyes, breathing in and out. Slower, Jino, he inhales, and exhales, he’s not going anywhere.
He opens his eyes then, smiling widely, and starts pedaling.
The bell on top of the door rings softly, but it makes his heart jumps even harder. His grip around the rope becomes tighter, and he can hear his dog whimpers slightly at his pull. He quickly lets it loose again, squatting down to pick his dog up to his arms, scratching the back of his ear. The dog whimpers again, but now, he seems happy. Jino smiles and walks inside slowly, careful as to not touch anything. He walks past an aisle full of packs of sand, another aisle with cages in many shapes and sizes, and there’s an aisle full of the dog food he needs. He looks up and bites his lower lip, looking for the right brand, even though he practically comes there every day and knows exactly where the food he needs and usually buys is placed. He reaches up and takes a yellow pack then, hugs it with an arm that is not used for holding his dog in place.
He puts down the pack and his own dog to the cashier table, and presses the bell on it. Now, he waits.
A head suddenly peeks out from the door behind the table, his dark brown hair tousled up everywhere, his cheeks are dirty with brown soil. His white t-shirt is smudged with dark colors, and his green apron-with a red ‘Hello Pet-o’ printed at the front-somehow has feathers sticking to it. Jino chuckles, and the boy grins.
“Hey, Jin,” he says in English, stepping out of the door and looks even messier under the bright light in the store.
Jino tilts his head to the side, bites down a laugh, “You look busy, Hyung.”
He laughs then, light and crisp, and he doesn’t even know why, but Jino can feel his cheeks are flushed with the sound of the laughter. He pulls his dog closer to him as he tries to hide his shaking hands, and the dog barks loudly, unimpressed. The man reaches down then, scratches the tip of the dog’s nose with his dirty fingers. “Not really,” he says, his eyes bright with amusement as the dog purrs appreciatively at him, “I was just trying to fix some things.”
“Like what,” Jino asks on impulse, and he shuts his mouth as fast as he asks that question. The man simply looks up at him, still grinning, and he uses his other hand to pinch the bridge of Jino’s nose.
“It’s not like you would understand, boy,” he says, and Jino sighs, because it has always been like this. He wipes the dirt on his nose with his uniform’s sleeve, pouting all the way, because he has never been taken seriously. It’s always either ‘you won’t understand’ or ‘I can’t tell you’ or some mumbling that Jino is pretty sure a little insulting, and they are always followed by ‘boy’. He hates it. A lot.
“I’m not a kid, Henry,” he pouts, and Henry raises an eyebrow as he takes the dog food and checks its barcode, typing the item’s number to the machine. Jino bites his lip, “Hyung.”
Henry is still typing, not looking at him, when he says, “I’ve never said you are one, Jino.”
Jino sighs, pulling some money from his pocket and pushes it to the older boy, eyes concentrating on the patterns of the table. Henry doesn’t say anything, only takes his money and puts it, takes out some coins from the machine and drops it in front of Jino. “Here,” he says, a smile is apparent in his voice, “your dog must eat awfully a lot if you need to come back here every day.”
As if on cue, the dog turns and stares at him with its big black eyes, like he is waiting for a smart answer from its owner. Jino stares back at it, almost annoyed, before he pushes his dog’s head and turns to Henry. “Jonghyun’s a big eater.”
His dog barks lowly then, almost like he is laughing at him, and Jino picks him up to his arms and takes the plastic bag Henry has put his dog food to. “I need to go now.”
“Bye,” Henry smiles at him, a genuine smile, and Jino wonders why he loves that smile so much. It’s distracting, almost irritating, but once Henry smiles like that, it is guaranteed that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for the next day and a half, let alone erase it from his mind.
Jino gives him a weak smile then. Damn you, I really like you. “Bye, Hyung.”
Taemin doesn’t even look confused when Jino comes to the class with a gloomy expression the next day. He closes his book, looks up and mumbles a Physics formula he needs to memorize, and goes back to his book again, ignoring how his deskmate is staring at him incredulously. Jino slumps to his chair with a long huff, and Taemin takes his bag away from him. Jino turns to him and says, “It’s the red book.”
Taemin pulls out the red book and grins at him. “Thanks, you are my savior.”
“Everyone can be your savior, Taemin,” Jino mumbles to his sleeves, a frown between his brows, “anyone with a brain and a will to do his homework everyday.”
“Yeah,” Taemins says, distractedly, but he is still grinning. His eyes catch Jino’s irate expression but he brushes it off and takes out his pencil case. “Someone like you, who is hard to find these days, with lazy people everywhere. Seriously, why don’t those people understand the importance of doing their tasks everyday?”
“People like you, you mean,” Jino grumbles, and Taemin’s smile doesn’t falter. He pats Jino on the back once, but he goes back to his book and starts copying his homework neatly.
“You’re so mean, Taemin,” a girl’s voice is heard from somewhere above him, and Jino almost curse, but he doesn’t even make a move, not even when he can feel someone threading their fingers on his hair. “He looks depressed.”
Taemin doesn’t answer, so he is either ignoring her or doesn’t feel that answering with words is necessary. Jino hopes, with his whole heart, that it’s the former. He shakes his head, trying to make those fingers go, “Go away, Jinri.”
That’s when a girl’s face comes into his vision, and this time Jino growls, low and tired. He can hear Taemin laughs, and he makes sure that he kicks his friend’s shin when he moves his legs and moves away from her. “Hello, Jino.”
“Go bother someone else, okay.”
“How could you do that to me,” she pouts, and even though it can make almost half of the school woo under her feet, he just thinks it’s disgusting. “We are related by blood. You shouldn’t be mean to your sibling, especially when you are in the same class.”
“Oh, God,” he mutters, and she rolls her eyes.
“Is this about that Canadian again?”
Jino is pretty sure that he breaks a bone or two when he sits up so fast, and his elbow hits Taemin’s table so hard that there’s a crack and Taemin groans when his pen makes a long scratch along the book because the table moves. “Crap,” he says, reaching for a correction fluid.
Jino ignores the pain shoots up his arm and his neck and just looks up at his not-so-identical twin with wide eyes. “What?”
“What, what,” she says, uninterested as she takes a seat in front of their desk even though her seat is across the room. The boy besides her looks so happy and red as if he might burst if she moves that little bit closer. She ignores him and him, picking dirt in her nail instead. “Canadian?”
Jino’s mouth is dry. “What?”
“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, clearly thinking that he is stupid, like she always does. “You think I don’t know where you are taking Jonghyun every day? The reasons why there are tons of dog food in your house? Why you always leave early every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday? I’m not an idiot like you, okay, I get all the smart genes from Dad.”
Usually, after she tells him that he is stupid, he will say that he is not the one at the bottom of the class, and she will retort that she at least get the tall genes, in which Jino will hit her head. But this time, he is just too stunned to do anything other than opening his mouth, his eyes wide, and he thinks his cheeks have lost all their color.
“You’ll catch flies,” Taemin says, pushing his jaw up to close his mouth.
He closes his mouth then, licking his lips nervously as he blinks repeatedly, shaking his head to clear his head. The world seems like it moves in a slower movement, and he can only focus his head to the girl in front of him, who has ignored him and is now bothering Taemin, to his friend’s dismay. “You,” he starts, and Jinri pauses, allows Taemin to take back the red book he is copying his homework from. She flicks his forehead, but Taemin hits her hand before it even reaches him, and she is about to yell and punch his shoulder when Jino grips her wrist, tight. She startles, looks surprised, and Jino stares at her eyes. “Jinri,” he says again, “you know?”
Jinri blinks, not moving. “Know what?”
“Um,” he says, unsure of himself either, because if he asks her directly than she will really know, and he doesn’t want that, does he. Not when the only one who is supposed to know is himself, Taemin (who he always bugs because he doesn’t know who to talk to, and considering he copies his homework and gets all the answers for his exams from him, it’s really not in Taemin’s place to complain), and maybe Jonghyun, but Jonghyun is a dog.
Jinri stares at him with a blank expression, but she says, “I’m your twin.”
“What is that even supposed to mea-“
“I know,” Jinri says, not meanly, but it’s not that kind either. It’s just flat, like a simple statement, and he doesn’t know whether he needs to be bothered or not. “Of course I know, idiot.”
“Oh,” Jino says, astounded, but Jinri rolls her eyes again and says, “Everyone knows, Jino. I think the only one who doesn’t know is Henry himself, but maybe it’s because of his dreadful Korean.”
Jino doesn’t know what to do about that piece of information.
“I can’t believe you told her!” There’s a bump on the road, and he can feel his stomach being turned around and around as he gripped to the handle of the bicycle. Jonghyun jumps a little, trembling on the front basket, but Jino ignored it.
Taemin avoids the bump and turns his bicycle to the side carefully, his bangs being tied to the back as the rest of his hair hitting him on the face. On his own front basket a white pomeranian is sleeping soundly. “I didn’t tell her anything!”
Jino scoffs and looks to the front, ignoring Taemin’s call to wait for him. It’s after school, and it’s Friday, and since he has some ‘things to talk about’ with Taemin anyway, he figures asking him to go to the pet shop together is appropriate. He likes to think that he handles the shock that Jinri has given him earlier better than he has expected, because even though he tries to avoid Jinri as much as possible, he doesn’t stuff her mouth or threaten her or anything. She doesn’t seem bothered by his avoidance, and when he rejects her request to bring her home because her other friends are going on a date, she only throws him a dirty glare and walks away.
Jonghyun turns and stares at him with his big eyes, pleading, and Jino sighs softly as he slows down a little, feels bad at how his own emotion makes Jonghyun suffers. A minute later, Taemin catches up with him and bumps their bicycle together. “I swear, okay, I didn’t say anything to her.”
“Whatever,” Jino says to the air, and instead of looking to the front, he looks at his dog looking at Taemin’s dog with adoration. His body has seemed to be familiar with the way to the pet shop anyway, so it’s not like he is going to be lost or got into any accident.
The pet shop is half an hour away from Jino’s house, so maybe for other people it’s ridiculous for him to ride a bicycle three days a week to buy the unneeded dog food. Sure, he always says that Jonghyun is a big eater, and that Jonghyun’s stomach is already comfortable with the food there (which, despite Taemin’s knowing look, is not entirely a lie, because that one time he is too busy with his art club’s project for the school’s festival and forgets to buy any dog food for the whole week, and his parents have bought another dog food from another pet shop, they have spent money almost as much as Jino’s allowance for three weeks at the vet), but that is not the case at all.
He has found the pet shop when he stays at his grandmother’s house three months ago because he has a fight with his father. His grandmother needed to buy some dog food for his bag black doberman, Minho, and told him to go buy some from the pet shop near, three houses across her house. He shrugged then, went without thinking, as he brought Minho with him.
That’s when he met Henry, and the rest is history. The way they both stuttered for two different reasons, the way Henry looked friendly and nice enough that even Minho liked him, purring like a little dog when Henry petted the underside of his big mouth, the way Henry smiled so brightly as he asked, broken Korean, about the condition of his grandmother.
The way Jino falls so easily, it’s history.
---
meanwhile, enjoy these unfinished fics.
1. so um, this was supposed to be a myungyeol but i got lazy. obviously. and there’re supposed to be a slight woogyu and wool too ): oh well.
Infinite: Myungsoo/Sungyeol, Myungsoo/various; 494w
1.
the first time myungsoo (thinks he) is in love, it’s when he’s six and a half, with the loud noona who lives across of his apartment. he is the same age with her younger brother, the one who always gets pushed around with a loud yell, a loud mocking laugh. he always watches silently from the side when she teases her brother, a cheerful smile across her face. every time he sees it, he’ll take a bright color from his crayon box, drawing a big sun with a blinding sunshine.
one day, the boy trips against myungsoo’s feet accidentally, and he gets hit by her.
his head throbs painfully, and the young boy cries at the scrap on his knee, and she bites her lower lip as his mother scolds her for hitting someone who is not at fault. her left hand is gripping her brother’s hand tightly, the other hand holding the hem of her dress as if she wants to rips it off. he can see her eyes watering.
(but she doesn’t cry, not even when her mother yells at her, and his heart flutters.)
“sorry,” she offers quietly, when their mother are talking to each other, her brother on her mother’s lap.
myungsoo looks up from his drawing (the bright sunshine), and says, “it’s okay.”
“this,” she says again, straightens her arm towards him, palm closed, “is for you.” she urges him to take it with her eyes, and when he places his palm under hers (badump, badump), she lets three petals of sunflowers drop, yellow against his pale skin. “i pick it from the park,” she tells him, rather shyly, and smiles.
“thanks,” myungsoo says, his voice sincere.
“don’t tell my mom,” she warns him, and he giggles because she looks like she wants to hit him again. she laughs at his giggles, and they both are laughing when her mom comes to get her.
(“my name is sunhi,” she whispers to him, before she kisses his cheek and runs to his mum. he blinks, withering petals in his hand, a quiet ‘sunhi’ against his lips.)
1,5.
first love, as sweet as it is, doesn’t last long. he moves with his parents and little brother to another city, another apartment, and myungsoo forgets about her almost immediately after he gets into elementary school at the age of seven.
it’s a pity, he thinks sometimes, that when he sees the drawing of the sun on his desk, when he sees the three brown petals in a jar at the bottom of his drawer, he can’t remember the reason he keeps it in the first place. such a pity, as he throws it in the dustbin at the kitchen, replaces it with robots and trains and more crayons.
2.
the second time he (thinks he) falls in love, it’s the quiet girl who sits in front of him on the fourth grade.
2. inspired by run mv but i have no idea how to continue this. toodles.
Infinite: Myungsoo/Sungyeol; 666w
look straight. don’t listen to anything else except your own breath, your own heartbeat. feel the tingling running through your veins, going to your whole body. feel the air making its way to your lungs, filling it with life.
run. run as fast as you can, as far as you’re allowed to be.
“yah,” someone suddenly interrupts, “yah, myungsoo, i’m cold.”
myungsoo doesn’t budge. he keeps his eyes to the track, his knee touching the ground.
“yah, kim myungsoo.”
breath. inhale. exhale. breath. “yes, sungyeol?” he still doesn’t look at him.
sungyeol makes a whiny noise. “you’ve run how many laps already, thousands? how many laps do you want to run? it’s five o’clock, the security has come to me three times to ask when are you going to finish, and i’m so cold i can’t feel any of my fingers,” he sneezes as if to make a point, “and you’re not looking at me. why aren’t you looking at me? i’m talking here, are you listening? myungsoo!”
“just,” myungsoo grits his teeth, “go home already. i don’t mind.”
“no freaking way,” sungyeol’s voice sounds dumbfounded, “i’ve waited for two hours, i’m not going to leave now.”
then shut up, myungsoo says in his mind. “myungsoo,” sungyeol whines again, and he gives up. he straightens his body, palms against his waist as he turns to look at him. sungyeol’s face brightens up almost immediately, his grin wide as he jumps to where his friend is standing. “there,” he says, throwing a towel at myungsoo, who dodges and lets the white towel falls to the ground; it makes sungyeol pouts. “aw man,” he says again, bending to pick it up, “sungjong specifically told me to give this to you.”
“sure,” myungsoo mumbles, snatches the small towel on sungyeol’s shoulder. the taller boy stares as myungsoo wipes his sweat.
“that’s,” he starts, but myungsoo takes the bottle peeking from the pocket of sungyeol’s jumper, inhales the whole water inside in three gulps. he throws the bottle towards the big dustbin besides the bench where sungyeol was sitting as he whined not three meters from them. “those are mine,” sungyeol lamely finishes.
myungsoo wipes his mouth with his wristband. “okay,” he says, and turns to leave. sungyeol sighs, before he follows suit, protests silently about how heartless he’s being.
“we’ve been through this,” myungsoo says quietly, his eyes hard and persistent. “sungyeol.”
“i’ve told you,” sungyeol replies, just as stubborn, “i’m doing this.”
“no, you-,” myungsoo winces as his friend turns the screw around his knee.
sungyeol pauses, looking guilty. “sorry,” he mumbles, his hands work slower. “i’m sorry.”
he wants to scream in frustration, slaps sungyeol’s hand away, pushes his friend from him and leaves. he wants to, but sungyeol’s eyes are so sincere that myungsoo shuts his mouth, tired of the same argument. whatever he wants.
myungsoo wakes up to sungyeol kissing his knee. something is wet, and he doesn’t need to turn on the light to know that he’s crying again. “sungyeol.”
“i’m sorry,” he sobs, his words incoherent, “god, myungsoo. god.”
he pretends he doesn’t hear it. “come here,” he whispers, reaching down to pull sungyeol up. the taller boy leans over him then, his red and tired face looks pale against the light from the street outside, slipping from the moving curtain. he forgets to close his window again. “we’ve talked about this.”
“but,” sungyeol cries, “but myungsoo-“
“just,” he traces his tears, “shut up.”
he wakes up alone. the window is closed, locked perfectly, as if it has never been opened. there’s an electricity running on his lips though, warm and thick and, sungyeol. he closes his eyes again.
“good morning,” his mom greets him when she sees him coming down from the stair, his tie hanging around his neck as he scratches his stomach sleepily. “sungyeol’s here.”
“hewoh,” sungyeol grins, his mouth full of bread. he gulps down his milk before he continues, “good morning.”
“hm,” he replies, eyes half-opened.
3. WHY DO I HAVE SO MANY MYUNGYEOL LMAO DON’T ASK ME. this is written during a detention class (sobs) and it’s so random idek why i wrote it. but yeah. don’t know where to bring this either so ): and i hate the way i wrote sungyeol omg i think it’s so ooc fsjdfkhdkjg.
Infinite; Myungsoo/Sungyeol; 637w
It's hard for Myungsoo to fall in love.
He's stubborn as hell, and he can't, for the life of him, find the purpose of laying his heart in the open, for trusting his all to a certain someone that can easily leave. Things change, feelings fade, people forget; nothing is certain, and being in love won't last forever. Love won't last forever. He's careful, too, and love is way too risky. It's like standing on a cliff with your back facing the dark, like stepping back and falling down, down, down, hoping that the journey will be worth it.
Most of the time, he knows, it isn't.
And then there's Sungyeol.
Sungyeol is a dreamer; he sees the world with bright eyes and blinding smile and he doesn't think of the dark. He sees the sun instead of the shadow, leaving everything behind and just, runs forward for his dream. He closes his eyes and there's hope, he opens his mouth and there's expectation. He thinks of love as something deep, something that can anchor your heart. He's adventurous; he embraces the fear of falling, loving every moment of it.
The edges are sharp but you're not alone.
Myungsoo hates naïve people--he thinks they're stupid. To hope, to wish, to dream. To love. He's real, and reality is not, will never be something Sungyeol draws it to be. It will always hit them in the face when they are comfortable, and expectation will make them lose their mind.
"Just," Sungyeol says, "enjoy your life. Live it a little."
"I enjoy my life," Myungsoo insists, "I enjoy this."
This being them, panting in the practice room, back to back, each others' hair sticking to the other's neck with sweat. Sungyeol rolls the water bottle at him, head butting against Myungsoo's shoulder blade.
"But you don't live it," Sungyeol tells him, abnormally patient--like telling a five-year-old boy that the crayon he's holding is red and not orange. Babying.
Myungsoo opens his mouth to retort, but Sungyeol laces their fingers together, and it doesn't matter. "Life's too short for you to worry, L-ah," Sungyeol smiles, as if there's a camera he wants to lie to. Another facade.
He turns away.
Sungyeol can be all sunshine and positive in one second, and frown and dark clouds another second. He is a maze that Myungsoo hates to solve, because he's too complicated and too annoying and seeing the thousands sides of him makes Myungsoo feels nausea; he feels bland. Myungsoo tells him to be more constant--Sungyeol tells him that human can't be constant. Robots do constant.
It pisses Myungsoo off.
(Deep inside, he knows he's jealous.)
You change, Myungsoo reasons. And so do eight billions people in this world. Why risk falling in love?
"Don't you get it though, Myung--L," Sungyeol traces the side of his mouth, "you're not changing alone. There's someone beside you, willing to change with you. For you. That's the whole point of being in love; you don't have to be alone."
"But what if," Myungsoo tries, "what if, when I'm not what I'm used to be, and they--this person, whoever they might be, what if they're not satisfied? What if they think I'm becoming worse? What if after being together, then they think, 'Oh, I don't want you after all'?"
Sungyeol shrugs. "Simple," he says, "they're not the one."
Myungsoo groans, runs his fingers through his hair; frustrated. Sungyeol is frustrating. "You make it sound so easy."
"No, L," Sungyeol tells, "I never say it's easy. It will never be easy, in fact," and with that, with his eyes on Myungsoo' eyes, with his fingers against his skin, with his lips ghosting over bones, "I'm just saying it's worth it."
Even when Sungyeol leaves, Myungsoo doesn't tell him that he doesn't understand.
4. why hello there depressing woogyu. my first first first attempt in writing woogyu before i realized i suck in writing them. another random thing i wrote after shinee’s kiss kiss kiss came out. i don’t even know why. woohyun’s supposed to wake up and sweeps sunggyu off of his feet and be ghei together the end.
Infinite: Woohyun/Sunggyu; 965w
there are moments when sunggyu forgets.
moments when he laughs at a joke the radio dj just made, when he turns to his right side but find the air, the bubble of laughter explodes in a snap. moments when he feels like sleeping at the van, when he leans to his left, but is met with the coldness of the window instead of the usual warmth. moments when he is about to scream, about to lose his temper, when he seeks for a hand behind his back to calm him down, but is left with his own breathing, hard. moments when he reaches the home late, hungry, but finds his room filled with sungjong instead of someone who he can ask for food.
there are moments when sunggyu forgets, that woohyun is not there.
“hello there,” sunggyu says, smiling that bright smile, and he pulls a chair from the corner of the room. “it’s cold today.”
the wind is chilly, his bones feel like they are shattering. he leaves the window open though, curtain dancing against the breeze, and he grins at the feel of sun against his skin.
“i bring flower,” he chuckles, shakes the bouquet of flower in his hand. he turns to the vase on the table beside the bed, replaces the yellowing plants inside it with his own fresh roses. he smiles again as he throws them to the dustbin under the bed, withering calyxes. “sungjong bought it. pretty, huh?”
the room is quiet. the whiteness of the wall makes him sick, but he keeps his bright expression. for you, he thinks, and leans to the bed. “they all miss you,” he says again, his tone cheerful and easy, “they talk about you a lot, those children. say the mood is always down when you’re not around. isn’t it funny,” sunggyu snorts, “and they always say we bring down the mood with our lovey dovey act, whatever that means.”
sunggyu breathes through his nose, because his throat is all choked up. he has learnt to smile longer each day, learnt how to act. he’s getting better, kind of. “yeah,” he chokes, and there’s a drip of water against his eyelashes, but he carries on with his word, pained and short. “i miss you.”
the machine’s constant beeping doesn’t change. it haunts sunggyu’s dream, but he stays there, woohyun’s hand in his tight grip.
he’s not the only one who has nightmares about it, sunggyu knows at least that much. sungyeol and dongwoo were in the car too, and myungsoo was on the phone with him when it happened; he must have heard how atrocious it was. since he rooms with sungjong, the younger has always tossed and turned, mumbles incoherence words until he wakes up sweaty with tears across his cheeks. sunggyu spends a lot of his night trying to sooth sungjong back to sleep nowadays, and he doesn’t blame him; because if he has someone who can make him forget, he will try, too.
“how is he,” myungsoo starts when it’s only the two of them in the van, and sunggyu is startled, because it’s been months since he talked to the younger boy.
months, since that night. “the same,” sunggyu answers, tries his hard not to sound depressed.
myungsoo nods. “i,” he says, and stops. he stares at sunggyu as if he wants to scream, but in the end, he sighs and takes his phone out, leaves his words hanging.
sunggyu doesn’t need to hear it to know, or at least guess it though. i miss him, i want to see him, i’m sorry, i hate seeing you like this. it’s always the same, his members these days. it’s almost funny.
sungyeol was the last to be discharged from the hospital before woohyun, right after four months. he was in coma after the accident, and he didn’t breathe for three minutes during his operation. even after the doctor told them he’s not in a critical condition, he didn’t wake up for another three and a half weeks.
it was crazy in the dorm then. myungsoo refused to speak, refused to eat, and all he did was practicing and practicing, dancing until his feet swell and turn red. even then, it needed a punch on the face from hoya to make him stop.
“have you had enough,” hoya yelled, and myungsoo broke.
it pained all of them to see their strongest member crying like that, tears like waterfall, eyes so dark and heartbreaking it made them look away. sungjong hugged him as if he was the only lifeline for him, and sunggyu left the room.
he took out his phone to call him, forgot for a second that woohyun was no longer there. not yet.
it only comes to him that maybe, what myungsoo wants to say is, i know how you feel. sunggyu laughs weakly, tears in his eyes.
“will he wake up,” dongwoo asks quietly when he is finally able to gather his courage and power to accompany sunggyu to woohyun’s room.
sunggyu almost stand up to punch his face, to scream i don’t know you fucking idiot, who do you think i am? if i know, do you think i will come here everyday, praying my best that he will at least move an eyeball? if i know, do you think i’ll cry myself to sleep every night? if i know, do you think i will still be here, miserable and breaking and dying more and more everyday? he wants to, he really does, but he remembers that he’s their leader, the leader, and there’s no one to hold his hand now. not yet. “of course he will,” he answers instead, and even he is amazed at how sure he sounds. how good he is in faking.
5. this is a shinee fic. the end. lmao okay got the idea from drag!taemin, obviously, but then i fell out of the fandom and this is left unfinished ;_______; my baby though, i really like the idea.
SHINee: Minho/Taemin; 733w
minho comes home from school to find that someone is sitting against his apartment door. he has come running through the pouring rain, his whole body soaking wet, and he has expected to come inside the house and probably faint at the front hallway, but no. he comes up the stairs, three in a step, and finds a skinny girl with a long, blonde hair and clothes way too revealing to be appropriate blocking his way to the comfort of his warm home.
he tries hard not to judge (whore), so he blinks and approaches the girl slowly. “hello?”
“oh,” the girl looks up from her shoes (red, shiny, high boots) and smiles at him. it’s pretty, and it looks innocent enough for minho to actually smiles back. “hello there.”
“eh,” minho replies not so smartly, but the girl simply grins at him.
“yeah,” she says, doesn’t seem bothered at minho’s confused look. “i need a shelter.”
it turns out that the girl is a boy. minho doesn’t even try to look unfazed, because he thinks his jaw is three centimeters away from the floor when the girl-boy-strips into a pair of boxer under the short glittery skirt in the living room.
“this place is comfortable,” he says as he fumbles with his long hair (wig, minho realizes, as he sees pins being take off), “even the couch seems fluffy enough for me to sleep on it.”
“wha-,” minho says, finally snaps out of his daze, “sleep?”
“uh huh,” the boy says, looking at minho as if he’s the one who has ruthlessly barged in into someone else’s home; though, technically, minho lets him in. “i told you i need a shelter.”
“and you think this place is a good shelter for you because-?”
the boy suddenly turns at him, his head looks weird with the net replacing the long hair. “huh,” he says, “you don’t remember me?”
minho blinks. he reckons that he has done that a lot since he met the boy. “am i supposed to?”
“i thought you let me in because you know who i am, hyung,” the boy whines, his expression hurt. “i thought-ugh, nevermind. i’m too tired to deal with this.” with that, he throws his wig at minho; who fumbles with it for a second before he lets it drop to the ground; and throws himself to the couch, his flashy clothes scatter around the floor.
minho stays silent, freezes, because he doesn’t know whether he should call the police or just let him be, because he says he knows him and he calls him hyung and he does look familiar, only minho is too confused to grasp anything from his memory. when he decides to just let it go for today because he is more concerned about his headache, the boy moves from his place and mumbles, “by the way, my name is taemin.”
taemin. of course.
“taemin?” he hears his mom says, “i’ve never heard about that boy since he ran away from home two months ago.”
minho massages his temple. “why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“i remember i mentioned it,” his mom protests, “it’s not my fault that you never pay attention at anything i say.” minho rolls his eyes. “why? this is the first time you’ve ever asked about taemin since you move. is everything okay?”
no, he wants to say. that boy is currently sleeping on the couch in my living room, his clothes are all over the place, he dresses as a girl, his snore is so loud it can blow the place up, and why is he here anyway? how does he know where i live? did you tell him? what is happening right now?
but taemin’s snore reaches his ears, and it sounds so, so tired that he sighs. “no, mom. everything is okay. i guess i just miss home,” which makes his mom squeals in glee as she fills him in with all gossips in his old neighborhood.
taemin doesn’t wake up when he goes to school, and he still hasn’t woke up when he comes back, ditching soccer practice because he’s worried the boy will turn the place upside down once he realizes that he is locked inside the apartment.
he comes home to a loud snore though. minho lets him sleep for another three hours, just because.
6. this was supposed to be a titanic!minkey, but everytime i try to continue this i just, ugh what the fuck am i doing fuck this, so. jonghyun’s supposed to be the bad guy and it’s supposed to be dramatic and sad and everything too. sigh.
SHINee: Minho/Key; 398w
Minho glances at the man beside him, straightens his lips as his eyes wander to the others’ card. Flush, straight, and fuck, is that full house? He sips his drink before he lets out a puff of smoke from his parted lips, menthol and slightly dizzying, but he frowns because he likes to make a fool out of people. The man beside him snickers, maybe thinking that a teenager will always be a teenager no matter how great or mature his look is.
“One more step,” he can hear Jinki’s whisper over the tense atmosphere around the table, a gentle reassurance against his back, and Minho brings up his cigarette and inhales, deep and long and deep and he presses his chin to his knuckles. “We’ve got this.”
Sure, sure, he wants to laugh, because seriously? Jinki is a genius, though his niceness makes him horrible in making a pokerface. There’s no way in the world, he plays with a chip beside his elbow, flips, flips, flips, and Jinki sighs loudly, satisfied. Minho’s lips twitch at the side, but he needs to be careful. Slowly, slowly, and.
“Done,” Jinki chuckles, takes the bottle of beer beside the chips in front of him, gulping thrice before he clanks it loudly to the edge of Minho’s glass. “Good luck, boy.” He moves away from the confused crowd, their expressions make Minho wants to spit in happiness and glee, because having Jinki as his friend, older brother, kind of, it is more than enough of a good luck in playing this game. In putting a bet, because the victory? It’s impossible to defeat.
“I’ll call you all when I reach the big city,” he smirks to the people around the table, laying a royal flush on the table and pulls all the chips around him, dances a little as he listens to the groans and curses those sailors let out. He finally yells in happiness, a fucking finally we are going to leave this place, baby, when the oldest man there pushes some money and a pair of ticket to the biggest ship in town to his hand, muttering little complains.
He turns around and catches Jinki’s eyes, even though the older boy is making out with a waitress there, blonde and short, but cute nevertheless. He grins, shakes the tickets in his hand, and Jinki laughs to the girl’s mouth.
7. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS. IDEK. henry/jino is adorable as fuck ok goodbye. wrote it for some challenge but then school got in the way le sob. IT’S 2.5K YOU GUYS I CAN’T. ;_;
SMTown: Henry/Jino; 2,575w
He jumps at the second the bell rings. He simply swipes all his things into his big bag and slings it across his shoulder, already halfway to the door when the teacher says her greeting. He is running, his tiny body swiftly avoids the people flooding the corridor, and he keeps shouting an apology every time his bag hits someone.
“Sorry,” he says for the thirteen times, and the other just simply rubs his shoulder with a chuckle.
“Seriously, Jino,” he says, but Jino is already three meters away from him, so he yells, “Calm down a little, boy!”
He turns around and grins, waving his arm frantically, “Sorry again, Jay Hyung!”
When he reaches his bicycle, he throws his bag to the basket at the front and pulls out the bicycle key from his back pocket, pushing it harshly as he quickly settles himself on the vehicle. He opens his bag then, pulling out a long big scarf and wraps it around himself, the red wool material covering half of his face. When he finishes putting his coat on (from his bag, too), he pauses, closes his eyes, breathing in and out. Slower, Jino, he inhales, and exhales, he’s not going anywhere.
He opens his eyes then, smiling widely, and starts pedaling.
The bell on top of the door rings softly, but it makes his heart jumps even harder. His grip around the rope becomes tighter, and he can hear his dog whimpers slightly at his pull. He quickly lets it loose again, squatting down to pick his dog up to his arms, scratching the back of his ear. The dog whimpers again, but now, he seems happy. Jino smiles and walks inside slowly, careful as to not touch anything. He walks past an aisle full of packs of sand, another aisle with cages in many shapes and sizes, and there’s an aisle full of the dog food he needs. He looks up and bites his lower lip, looking for the right brand, even though he practically comes there every day and knows exactly where the food he needs and usually buys is placed. He reaches up and takes a yellow pack then, hugs it with an arm that is not used for holding his dog in place.
He puts down the pack and his own dog to the cashier table, and presses the bell on it. Now, he waits.
A head suddenly peeks out from the door behind the table, his dark brown hair tousled up everywhere, his cheeks are dirty with brown soil. His white t-shirt is smudged with dark colors, and his green apron-with a red ‘Hello Pet-o’ printed at the front-somehow has feathers sticking to it. Jino chuckles, and the boy grins.
“Hey, Jin,” he says in English, stepping out of the door and looks even messier under the bright light in the store.
Jino tilts his head to the side, bites down a laugh, “You look busy, Hyung.”
He laughs then, light and crisp, and he doesn’t even know why, but Jino can feel his cheeks are flushed with the sound of the laughter. He pulls his dog closer to him as he tries to hide his shaking hands, and the dog barks loudly, unimpressed. The man reaches down then, scratches the tip of the dog’s nose with his dirty fingers. “Not really,” he says, his eyes bright with amusement as the dog purrs appreciatively at him, “I was just trying to fix some things.”
“Like what,” Jino asks on impulse, and he shuts his mouth as fast as he asks that question. The man simply looks up at him, still grinning, and he uses his other hand to pinch the bridge of Jino’s nose.
“It’s not like you would understand, boy,” he says, and Jino sighs, because it has always been like this. He wipes the dirt on his nose with his uniform’s sleeve, pouting all the way, because he has never been taken seriously. It’s always either ‘you won’t understand’ or ‘I can’t tell you’ or some mumbling that Jino is pretty sure a little insulting, and they are always followed by ‘boy’. He hates it. A lot.
“I’m not a kid, Henry,” he pouts, and Henry raises an eyebrow as he takes the dog food and checks its barcode, typing the item’s number to the machine. Jino bites his lip, “Hyung.”
Henry is still typing, not looking at him, when he says, “I’ve never said you are one, Jino.”
Jino sighs, pulling some money from his pocket and pushes it to the older boy, eyes concentrating on the patterns of the table. Henry doesn’t say anything, only takes his money and puts it, takes out some coins from the machine and drops it in front of Jino. “Here,” he says, a smile is apparent in his voice, “your dog must eat awfully a lot if you need to come back here every day.”
As if on cue, the dog turns and stares at him with its big black eyes, like he is waiting for a smart answer from its owner. Jino stares back at it, almost annoyed, before he pushes his dog’s head and turns to Henry. “Jonghyun’s a big eater.”
His dog barks lowly then, almost like he is laughing at him, and Jino picks him up to his arms and takes the plastic bag Henry has put his dog food to. “I need to go now.”
“Bye,” Henry smiles at him, a genuine smile, and Jino wonders why he loves that smile so much. It’s distracting, almost irritating, but once Henry smiles like that, it is guaranteed that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for the next day and a half, let alone erase it from his mind.
Jino gives him a weak smile then. Damn you, I really like you. “Bye, Hyung.”
Taemin doesn’t even look confused when Jino comes to the class with a gloomy expression the next day. He closes his book, looks up and mumbles a Physics formula he needs to memorize, and goes back to his book again, ignoring how his deskmate is staring at him incredulously. Jino slumps to his chair with a long huff, and Taemin takes his bag away from him. Jino turns to him and says, “It’s the red book.”
Taemin pulls out the red book and grins at him. “Thanks, you are my savior.”
“Everyone can be your savior, Taemin,” Jino mumbles to his sleeves, a frown between his brows, “anyone with a brain and a will to do his homework everyday.”
“Yeah,” Taemins says, distractedly, but he is still grinning. His eyes catch Jino’s irate expression but he brushes it off and takes out his pencil case. “Someone like you, who is hard to find these days, with lazy people everywhere. Seriously, why don’t those people understand the importance of doing their tasks everyday?”
“People like you, you mean,” Jino grumbles, and Taemin’s smile doesn’t falter. He pats Jino on the back once, but he goes back to his book and starts copying his homework neatly.
“You’re so mean, Taemin,” a girl’s voice is heard from somewhere above him, and Jino almost curse, but he doesn’t even make a move, not even when he can feel someone threading their fingers on his hair. “He looks depressed.”
Taemin doesn’t answer, so he is either ignoring her or doesn’t feel that answering with words is necessary. Jino hopes, with his whole heart, that it’s the former. He shakes his head, trying to make those fingers go, “Go away, Jinri.”
That’s when a girl’s face comes into his vision, and this time Jino growls, low and tired. He can hear Taemin laughs, and he makes sure that he kicks his friend’s shin when he moves his legs and moves away from her. “Hello, Jino.”
“Go bother someone else, okay.”
“How could you do that to me,” she pouts, and even though it can make almost half of the school woo under her feet, he just thinks it’s disgusting. “We are related by blood. You shouldn’t be mean to your sibling, especially when you are in the same class.”
“Oh, God,” he mutters, and she rolls her eyes.
“Is this about that Canadian again?”
Jino is pretty sure that he breaks a bone or two when he sits up so fast, and his elbow hits Taemin’s table so hard that there’s a crack and Taemin groans when his pen makes a long scratch along the book because the table moves. “Crap,” he says, reaching for a correction fluid.
Jino ignores the pain shoots up his arm and his neck and just looks up at his not-so-identical twin with wide eyes. “What?”
“What, what,” she says, uninterested as she takes a seat in front of their desk even though her seat is across the room. The boy besides her looks so happy and red as if he might burst if she moves that little bit closer. She ignores him and him, picking dirt in her nail instead. “Canadian?”
Jino’s mouth is dry. “What?”
“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, clearly thinking that he is stupid, like she always does. “You think I don’t know where you are taking Jonghyun every day? The reasons why there are tons of dog food in your house? Why you always leave early every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday? I’m not an idiot like you, okay, I get all the smart genes from Dad.”
Usually, after she tells him that he is stupid, he will say that he is not the one at the bottom of the class, and she will retort that she at least get the tall genes, in which Jino will hit her head. But this time, he is just too stunned to do anything other than opening his mouth, his eyes wide, and he thinks his cheeks have lost all their color.
“You’ll catch flies,” Taemin says, pushing his jaw up to close his mouth.
He closes his mouth then, licking his lips nervously as he blinks repeatedly, shaking his head to clear his head. The world seems like it moves in a slower movement, and he can only focus his head to the girl in front of him, who has ignored him and is now bothering Taemin, to his friend’s dismay. “You,” he starts, and Jinri pauses, allows Taemin to take back the red book he is copying his homework from. She flicks his forehead, but Taemin hits her hand before it even reaches him, and she is about to yell and punch his shoulder when Jino grips her wrist, tight. She startles, looks surprised, and Jino stares at her eyes. “Jinri,” he says again, “you know?”
Jinri blinks, not moving. “Know what?”
“Um,” he says, unsure of himself either, because if he asks her directly than she will really know, and he doesn’t want that, does he. Not when the only one who is supposed to know is himself, Taemin (who he always bugs because he doesn’t know who to talk to, and considering he copies his homework and gets all the answers for his exams from him, it’s really not in Taemin’s place to complain), and maybe Jonghyun, but Jonghyun is a dog.
Jinri stares at him with a blank expression, but she says, “I’m your twin.”
“What is that even supposed to mea-“
“I know,” Jinri says, not meanly, but it’s not that kind either. It’s just flat, like a simple statement, and he doesn’t know whether he needs to be bothered or not. “Of course I know, idiot.”
“Oh,” Jino says, astounded, but Jinri rolls her eyes again and says, “Everyone knows, Jino. I think the only one who doesn’t know is Henry himself, but maybe it’s because of his dreadful Korean.”
Jino doesn’t know what to do about that piece of information.
“I can’t believe you told her!” There’s a bump on the road, and he can feel his stomach being turned around and around as he gripped to the handle of the bicycle. Jonghyun jumps a little, trembling on the front basket, but Jino ignored it.
Taemin avoids the bump and turns his bicycle to the side carefully, his bangs being tied to the back as the rest of his hair hitting him on the face. On his own front basket a white pomeranian is sleeping soundly. “I didn’t tell her anything!”
Jino scoffs and looks to the front, ignoring Taemin’s call to wait for him. It’s after school, and it’s Friday, and since he has some ‘things to talk about’ with Taemin anyway, he figures asking him to go to the pet shop together is appropriate. He likes to think that he handles the shock that Jinri has given him earlier better than he has expected, because even though he tries to avoid Jinri as much as possible, he doesn’t stuff her mouth or threaten her or anything. She doesn’t seem bothered by his avoidance, and when he rejects her request to bring her home because her other friends are going on a date, she only throws him a dirty glare and walks away.
Jonghyun turns and stares at him with his big eyes, pleading, and Jino sighs softly as he slows down a little, feels bad at how his own emotion makes Jonghyun suffers. A minute later, Taemin catches up with him and bumps their bicycle together. “I swear, okay, I didn’t say anything to her.”
“Whatever,” Jino says to the air, and instead of looking to the front, he looks at his dog looking at Taemin’s dog with adoration. His body has seemed to be familiar with the way to the pet shop anyway, so it’s not like he is going to be lost or got into any accident.
The pet shop is half an hour away from Jino’s house, so maybe for other people it’s ridiculous for him to ride a bicycle three days a week to buy the unneeded dog food. Sure, he always says that Jonghyun is a big eater, and that Jonghyun’s stomach is already comfortable with the food there (which, despite Taemin’s knowing look, is not entirely a lie, because that one time he is too busy with his art club’s project for the school’s festival and forgets to buy any dog food for the whole week, and his parents have bought another dog food from another pet shop, they have spent money almost as much as Jino’s allowance for three weeks at the vet), but that is not the case at all.
He has found the pet shop when he stays at his grandmother’s house three months ago because he has a fight with his father. His grandmother needed to buy some dog food for his bag black doberman, Minho, and told him to go buy some from the pet shop near, three houses across her house. He shrugged then, went without thinking, as he brought Minho with him.
That’s when he met Henry, and the rest is history. The way they both stuttered for two different reasons, the way Henry looked friendly and nice enough that even Minho liked him, purring like a little dog when Henry petted the underside of his big mouth, the way Henry smiled so brightly as he asked, broken Korean, about the condition of his grandmother.
The way Jino falls so easily, it’s history.
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