a little foolishness (4/5)
title: a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity
pairing: jaykhun
rating: pg-13
warnings: um... khun gets drunk? /spoilers
a/n: comments are so SO very appreciated♥
summary: seeing jaebum at the club was pure coincidence. stalking him all night and waking up in his apartment? not so much.
a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity
No telling what I might do tonight,
waiting for you.
I'm right on the edge of crossing the line,
coming unglued
I'm going crazy here by myself.
I want you and o one else.
Sending out a signal of my distress.
I confess, I'm obsessed.
-Obsessed, BoA
Part 3.5 (for real this time)
The club is dirty and smelly, mostly due to the mass of sweaty bodies that are crowded inside it who are currently pushing against the walls and making the room seem much smaller than it is. If Nichkhun were claustrophobic, he’d be in the middle of a massive panic attack right now. But, thankfully, he isn’t, so he only feels mild discomfort at the sensation of breathing in air that is too thick for his liking. He sips his drink pensively (it’s a vodka and cranberry, stronger than his usual Heineken) and tries not to think. But even the alcohol can’t seem to mute his thoughts; it can’t even bring them down from the dull roar that floods his brain and pushes against the sharp headache that is forming just above his eyebrows. Nichkhun glares at the useless drink and tries to watch the dancing bodies from his perch on the sidelines.
Normally, he’s a dancer. He has never been shy, but his forward side seems to manifest itself whenever he sees a dance floor. He isn’t one of those overly-touchy people; he only dances with others when he’s invited to. But there’s something in him that just can’t resist the feeling of moving in harmony with the other club-goers. He can’t explain what it is about dancing that’s so appealing to him, but whatever it is, it’s something he usually can’t seem to ignore. But tonight is an exception. Tonight he has stood with his back firmly pressed against the wall, drink in hand and too many thoughts swirling around in his head.
Nichkhun looked out at the crowd of writhing bodies, wishing he was one of them. He takes another sip of his drink, and then promptly spits it back out, the alcohol burning his throat and making his eyes water. He tries to hide his coughing, but he figures it was fairly obvious anyways. He ducks his head down, seemingly enthralled with his vodka (in a sad way, he kind of is), desperately trying to hide his face from the man who has just walked in.
The newcomer’s face is partially obscured by the large group of people that accompanies him. Most of them are girls, a fact that Nichkhun is unsure of how to interpret. On the one hand, if Jay is bisexual, that could be an issue. On the other hand, if Jay is gay and in denial (which is what Nichkhun thinks is going on) and Nichkhun just “happens” to show up and make Jay start rethinking his sexuality, it could work in his favor. But on the other, other hand, if Jay isn’t gay and Nichkhun had been imagining the flirting at the club and the piano lesson debacle had just been a fluke, Nichkhun could be setting himself up for some serious heartache. Nichkhun gives his drink one last hard stare, wondering if the answers to life are somehow hidden at the bottom of it, and decides that it’s now or never. He squares his shoulders, his mouth set into a sharp line, and steels himself for the nerve-wracking night he’s about to endure.
He realizes that Jay hasn’t noticed him yet somewhere between his third and fourth drinks, both of them drunk while dancing up on girls he doesn’t know. He hasn’t even seen most of their faces, but they all assume that he’s straight and start grinding on him. Nichkhun doesn’t really mind, mostly because asses aren’t gender specific and also because he’s too buzzed to give a shit, so he just sips his drinks some more and tries not to trip over something.
It’s around his ninth drink, when his vision is beginning to blur at the edges and his head starts feeling like it’s filled with impossibly heavy Styrofoam cubes (like the kind you find in gymnastics pits), when he realizes that Jay isn’t even on this side of the dance floor. He looks for a route near the wall that will take him to the other side of the dance floor that doesn’t require him to suddenly acquire the ability to walk through walls or other tangible objects (such as bodies), but he’s having a bit of an issue with the whole “seeing” thing, so he doesn’t find much. By this point he’s feeling rather frustrated, since it took a monumental effort for him to gather the will to even find Jay and confront him (his wounded pride is screaming at him to run in the other direction, though at this point running anywhere probably isn’t the greatest idea ever). Now it seems as though the universe itself is against this idea, even though it should be supporting him in his efforts (y’know, poetic justice and fate and destiny and all that shit). If he is really meant to work things out with Jay, shouldn’t the path just unfold before him accompanied by a chorus of singing angels and holy light or something, instead of being accompanied by blurry vision, a headache, and two hundred sweaty, wriggling club-goers blocking his way?
Nichkhun is starting to feel utterly convinced that the universe and whatever deity/deities exist are frowning upon any possible relationship between him and Jay, and that to attempt to be together anyways would only result in catastrophe and possibly a tear in the space-time continuum (or perhaps another hurricane on the Gulf Coast or even another earthquake), and he gets ready to leave. If he can’t even muster the courage to talk to Jay, and he can’t dance, and, fuck, he can’t even see (not to mention the fact that he has now lowered himself to grinding on girls, girls!), then he thinks it’s about time he went home. Of course he trips on the way out of the door, nearly bashes his head into the wall, and almost throws up on the sidewalk. This is when he thinks that this has truly been one of the worst nights he’s had in recent memory, though right now his memory isn’t exactly at its best, so he could be wrong. For all he knows, he’s actually a Spanish flamenco dancer with an obese wife and three kids suffering from amnesia due to an accident involving an emu and some exceptionally large tiki heads (like the ones on Easter Island). Honestly, even if he is all of those things, he doesn’t really care. He just wants to go home.
Nichkhun makes it to the first street light without bumping into anyone. He can feel the odd looks he’s garnering, can feel the burning and prickling of their stares on his back, but he’s too drunk to do anything about it. He thinks he probably deserves them, and also thinks that no one should ever be this drunk. Especially in public. But he doesn’t cause any trouble with his public drunkenness, well, until he bumps into that person. He raises himself up (with intense willpower and not much else) and attempts to apologize to the person, who looks like a guy but he can’t really tell. He tries to focus on the tan-ish blob that looks like his face, but his eyes keep sliding to the left a bit and he can’t seem to make them stay put.
He’s opening his mouth to say the word when the blob speaks. He can’t really tell what it’s saying, but he knows that the voice is familiar. He knows this person, and the person’s name is really just on the tip of his tongue, and if only he could just focus for one second he would know who it is.
A pair of brown, slanted eyes fills his vision before the world suddenly goes black.
The first thing Nichkhun is aware of is the anvil resting on his forehead. It’s currently squashing his head, and he won’t be surprised if his face is flattened against the pillow like a pancake, just like what happens to cartoon characters whenever they’re crushed by heavy objects. He imagines sitting up, his head flopping back and forth on his shoulders, but the act of using his brain only heightens the pain, and he finds himself shooting up from the bed impossibly quickly and retching into the conveniently placed trash can that sits beside his bed.
Except, this isn’t his bed. Nichkhun wipes his mouth, head spinning, and slowly sits up, wondering where the hell he is and how he has managed to get here. He’s lying on a cheap pull-out bed outfitted in only a ratty sheet and an itchy, woolen, obnoxiously bright blanket. Nichkhun wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, wishing he could unsee the painfully bright blues and reds of the blanket because they’re only making his headache worse. He sighs, wondering how the hell he’s going to get out of this one. He is also wondering what exactly happened last night. All he remembers is seeing Jay at a club, drinking way too much, and stumbling out of the club. Everything else is horribly, terrifyingly blank, and Nichkhun wonders if he did anything unnaturally stupid last night.
But then he remembers that Jay was there, and he remembers that he was trying to talk to him. Nichkhun feels a heavy ice cube settle right in the middle of his chest. He knows that if he was going to talk to Jay, and he’s obviously not with Jay because he remembers leaving the club alone, then he must have said or done something incredibly stupid to make the already tense situation between them worse. He wonders if he has completely destroyed any chance at a friendship between them (or anything more than friendship), and decides to get up and call Jay right this instant before he can chicken out.
Nichkhun searches the room for a telephone, looking on the bedside desk, the dresser against the wall, and the lamp stand, but he finds nothing. He opens the door and goes to look for the owner of the house, partly to thank him or her for taking him in last night, partly to ask him/her if they have raped him, and also to ask them if he can possibly use their phone to call a friend of his because he thinks that he has really fucked up things between them and he needs to call them before his pride can return from its long hiatus in the Tropics and bite him in the ass.
He walks down the hallway quietly, hoping to sneak up on the owner of the house (because now that he’s thinking about it, the likelihood of him being raped or sexually abused in any way is rather high because he was really drunk last night). He hopes to catch him/her off guard so he can size them up, see if they’re the “raping” type, and hopefully get the fuck out of there before they can do anything else lewd and inappropriate to him. He guesses he’ll just have to use his own phone when he gets home to call Jay. He figures he’ll be able to wait a few minutes.
He walks to the end of the hallway and hears movement in what looks like the kitchen. He inches slowly up to the entrance of the kitchen, glimpsing the back of the obviously male owner of the house (part of him is relieved, because if he has to be raped by anyone, he really doesn’t want it to be a girl. His ego has taken far too many blows in the past few days, and he really doesn’t need something like that on his mind right now). Nichkhun slowly creeps out into the kitchen, thinking that if he can scare the guy, he may buy himself enough time to make it to the front door, which lies at the other end of the room. The man in the kitchen begins to turn around. Nichkhun sends up a quick prayer and prepares to pounce. The man turns around fully, his eyes widening as 170 pounds of Nichkhun slam into him with what must be enough force to knock over a baby elephant (Nichkhun has been working out lately).
The only problem with Nichkhun’s brilliant escape plan is that he suddenly finds himself not wanting to escape anymore, which is definitely a problem, because Nichkhun is now faced with an extremely ticked off Jay Park, all 5’6” of him. Normally, Nichkhun would find that cute, and he might even giggle a bit. But something in Jay’s eyes tells Nichkhun that he really isn’t happy, so instead of giggling, Nichkhun carefully detaches himself from the mess of tangled limbs that currently lie on Jay’s kitchen floor and offers the shorter man a hand to help him up. Jay glares scornfully at the extended hand and Nichkhun puts it away quickly, his cheeks turning a brilliant red.
If he thought last night was bad, he has the feeling that today is going to be much worse.
pairing: jaykhun
rating: pg-13
warnings: um... khun gets drunk? /spoilers
a/n: comments are so SO very appreciated♥
summary: seeing jaebum at the club was pure coincidence. stalking him all night and waking up in his apartment? not so much.
a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity
No telling what I might do tonight,
waiting for you.
I'm right on the edge of crossing the line,
coming unglued
I'm going crazy here by myself.
I want you and o one else.
Sending out a signal of my distress.
I confess, I'm obsessed.
-Obsessed, BoA
Part 3.5 (for real this time)
The club is dirty and smelly, mostly due to the mass of sweaty bodies that are crowded inside it who are currently pushing against the walls and making the room seem much smaller than it is. If Nichkhun were claustrophobic, he’d be in the middle of a massive panic attack right now. But, thankfully, he isn’t, so he only feels mild discomfort at the sensation of breathing in air that is too thick for his liking. He sips his drink pensively (it’s a vodka and cranberry, stronger than his usual Heineken) and tries not to think. But even the alcohol can’t seem to mute his thoughts; it can’t even bring them down from the dull roar that floods his brain and pushes against the sharp headache that is forming just above his eyebrows. Nichkhun glares at the useless drink and tries to watch the dancing bodies from his perch on the sidelines.
Normally, he’s a dancer. He has never been shy, but his forward side seems to manifest itself whenever he sees a dance floor. He isn’t one of those overly-touchy people; he only dances with others when he’s invited to. But there’s something in him that just can’t resist the feeling of moving in harmony with the other club-goers. He can’t explain what it is about dancing that’s so appealing to him, but whatever it is, it’s something he usually can’t seem to ignore. But tonight is an exception. Tonight he has stood with his back firmly pressed against the wall, drink in hand and too many thoughts swirling around in his head.
Nichkhun looked out at the crowd of writhing bodies, wishing he was one of them. He takes another sip of his drink, and then promptly spits it back out, the alcohol burning his throat and making his eyes water. He tries to hide his coughing, but he figures it was fairly obvious anyways. He ducks his head down, seemingly enthralled with his vodka (in a sad way, he kind of is), desperately trying to hide his face from the man who has just walked in.
The newcomer’s face is partially obscured by the large group of people that accompanies him. Most of them are girls, a fact that Nichkhun is unsure of how to interpret. On the one hand, if Jay is bisexual, that could be an issue. On the other hand, if Jay is gay and in denial (which is what Nichkhun thinks is going on) and Nichkhun just “happens” to show up and make Jay start rethinking his sexuality, it could work in his favor. But on the other, other hand, if Jay isn’t gay and Nichkhun had been imagining the flirting at the club and the piano lesson debacle had just been a fluke, Nichkhun could be setting himself up for some serious heartache. Nichkhun gives his drink one last hard stare, wondering if the answers to life are somehow hidden at the bottom of it, and decides that it’s now or never. He squares his shoulders, his mouth set into a sharp line, and steels himself for the nerve-wracking night he’s about to endure.
He realizes that Jay hasn’t noticed him yet somewhere between his third and fourth drinks, both of them drunk while dancing up on girls he doesn’t know. He hasn’t even seen most of their faces, but they all assume that he’s straight and start grinding on him. Nichkhun doesn’t really mind, mostly because asses aren’t gender specific and also because he’s too buzzed to give a shit, so he just sips his drinks some more and tries not to trip over something.
It’s around his ninth drink, when his vision is beginning to blur at the edges and his head starts feeling like it’s filled with impossibly heavy Styrofoam cubes (like the kind you find in gymnastics pits), when he realizes that Jay isn’t even on this side of the dance floor. He looks for a route near the wall that will take him to the other side of the dance floor that doesn’t require him to suddenly acquire the ability to walk through walls or other tangible objects (such as bodies), but he’s having a bit of an issue with the whole “seeing” thing, so he doesn’t find much. By this point he’s feeling rather frustrated, since it took a monumental effort for him to gather the will to even find Jay and confront him (his wounded pride is screaming at him to run in the other direction, though at this point running anywhere probably isn’t the greatest idea ever). Now it seems as though the universe itself is against this idea, even though it should be supporting him in his efforts (y’know, poetic justice and fate and destiny and all that shit). If he is really meant to work things out with Jay, shouldn’t the path just unfold before him accompanied by a chorus of singing angels and holy light or something, instead of being accompanied by blurry vision, a headache, and two hundred sweaty, wriggling club-goers blocking his way?
Nichkhun is starting to feel utterly convinced that the universe and whatever deity/deities exist are frowning upon any possible relationship between him and Jay, and that to attempt to be together anyways would only result in catastrophe and possibly a tear in the space-time continuum (or perhaps another hurricane on the Gulf Coast or even another earthquake), and he gets ready to leave. If he can’t even muster the courage to talk to Jay, and he can’t dance, and, fuck, he can’t even see (not to mention the fact that he has now lowered himself to grinding on girls, girls!), then he thinks it’s about time he went home. Of course he trips on the way out of the door, nearly bashes his head into the wall, and almost throws up on the sidewalk. This is when he thinks that this has truly been one of the worst nights he’s had in recent memory, though right now his memory isn’t exactly at its best, so he could be wrong. For all he knows, he’s actually a Spanish flamenco dancer with an obese wife and three kids suffering from amnesia due to an accident involving an emu and some exceptionally large tiki heads (like the ones on Easter Island). Honestly, even if he is all of those things, he doesn’t really care. He just wants to go home.
Nichkhun makes it to the first street light without bumping into anyone. He can feel the odd looks he’s garnering, can feel the burning and prickling of their stares on his back, but he’s too drunk to do anything about it. He thinks he probably deserves them, and also thinks that no one should ever be this drunk. Especially in public. But he doesn’t cause any trouble with his public drunkenness, well, until he bumps into that person. He raises himself up (with intense willpower and not much else) and attempts to apologize to the person, who looks like a guy but he can’t really tell. He tries to focus on the tan-ish blob that looks like his face, but his eyes keep sliding to the left a bit and he can’t seem to make them stay put.
He’s opening his mouth to say the word when the blob speaks. He can’t really tell what it’s saying, but he knows that the voice is familiar. He knows this person, and the person’s name is really just on the tip of his tongue, and if only he could just focus for one second he would know who it is.
A pair of brown, slanted eyes fills his vision before the world suddenly goes black.
The first thing Nichkhun is aware of is the anvil resting on his forehead. It’s currently squashing his head, and he won’t be surprised if his face is flattened against the pillow like a pancake, just like what happens to cartoon characters whenever they’re crushed by heavy objects. He imagines sitting up, his head flopping back and forth on his shoulders, but the act of using his brain only heightens the pain, and he finds himself shooting up from the bed impossibly quickly and retching into the conveniently placed trash can that sits beside his bed.
Except, this isn’t his bed. Nichkhun wipes his mouth, head spinning, and slowly sits up, wondering where the hell he is and how he has managed to get here. He’s lying on a cheap pull-out bed outfitted in only a ratty sheet and an itchy, woolen, obnoxiously bright blanket. Nichkhun wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, wishing he could unsee the painfully bright blues and reds of the blanket because they’re only making his headache worse. He sighs, wondering how the hell he’s going to get out of this one. He is also wondering what exactly happened last night. All he remembers is seeing Jay at a club, drinking way too much, and stumbling out of the club. Everything else is horribly, terrifyingly blank, and Nichkhun wonders if he did anything unnaturally stupid last night.
But then he remembers that Jay was there, and he remembers that he was trying to talk to him. Nichkhun feels a heavy ice cube settle right in the middle of his chest. He knows that if he was going to talk to Jay, and he’s obviously not with Jay because he remembers leaving the club alone, then he must have said or done something incredibly stupid to make the already tense situation between them worse. He wonders if he has completely destroyed any chance at a friendship between them (or anything more than friendship), and decides to get up and call Jay right this instant before he can chicken out.
Nichkhun searches the room for a telephone, looking on the bedside desk, the dresser against the wall, and the lamp stand, but he finds nothing. He opens the door and goes to look for the owner of the house, partly to thank him or her for taking him in last night, partly to ask him/her if they have raped him, and also to ask them if he can possibly use their phone to call a friend of his because he thinks that he has really fucked up things between them and he needs to call them before his pride can return from its long hiatus in the Tropics and bite him in the ass.
He walks down the hallway quietly, hoping to sneak up on the owner of the house (because now that he’s thinking about it, the likelihood of him being raped or sexually abused in any way is rather high because he was really drunk last night). He hopes to catch him/her off guard so he can size them up, see if they’re the “raping” type, and hopefully get the fuck out of there before they can do anything else lewd and inappropriate to him. He guesses he’ll just have to use his own phone when he gets home to call Jay. He figures he’ll be able to wait a few minutes.
He walks to the end of the hallway and hears movement in what looks like the kitchen. He inches slowly up to the entrance of the kitchen, glimpsing the back of the obviously male owner of the house (part of him is relieved, because if he has to be raped by anyone, he really doesn’t want it to be a girl. His ego has taken far too many blows in the past few days, and he really doesn’t need something like that on his mind right now). Nichkhun slowly creeps out into the kitchen, thinking that if he can scare the guy, he may buy himself enough time to make it to the front door, which lies at the other end of the room. The man in the kitchen begins to turn around. Nichkhun sends up a quick prayer and prepares to pounce. The man turns around fully, his eyes widening as 170 pounds of Nichkhun slam into him with what must be enough force to knock over a baby elephant (Nichkhun has been working out lately).
The only problem with Nichkhun’s brilliant escape plan is that he suddenly finds himself not wanting to escape anymore, which is definitely a problem, because Nichkhun is now faced with an extremely ticked off Jay Park, all 5’6” of him. Normally, Nichkhun would find that cute, and he might even giggle a bit. But something in Jay’s eyes tells Nichkhun that he really isn’t happy, so instead of giggling, Nichkhun carefully detaches himself from the mess of tangled limbs that currently lie on Jay’s kitchen floor and offers the shorter man a hand to help him up. Jay glares scornfully at the extended hand and Nichkhun puts it away quickly, his cheeks turning a brilliant red.
If he thought last night was bad, he has the feeling that today is going to be much worse.