[ 50 B1A4 challenge ] energy
when the lights go out | prompt: energy | gongchan/sandeul | PG | 1,445 w
chansik and sandeul pass time during a blackout.
So much for movie night. The lights had flickered and died, taking everything with it, thirty minutes into the movie. Unfortunately it’d been a thriller; the timing had been so perfect that Chansik had jumped, startled and creeped out enough that he hadn’t even thought to complain when Junghwan squeezed his arm way too tight and screamed, loud and shrill, way too close to his ear.
His ears are still ringing a bit.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Junghwan whispers intensely, gazing at Chansik through the deceptively romantic haze of dancing candlelight. Chansik doesn’t answer, he’s still rummaging the drawers for more candles - really it’s a miracle they found three.
“I don’t think I have any more candles, I don’t even know where those came from.”
“And no flashlight.”
Junghwan did not really stock his house for emergency situations; it’s just not something that occurs to him naturally.
“Well, hopefully the power comes back before these candles burn out.”
The box says they’re six hour candles - so Junghwan isn’t worried. It’s only been ten minutes, so it’s not hard to remain optimistic.
“So, what can we do in the dark for a few hours?” By candlelight, Junghwan’s wide grin looks kind of crazy, and just a little bit slasher. The eyebrow waggle, like caterpillars hopping haltingly on his face, and the shifting light and shadow that dances with it - it saves him from looking truly creepy.
So Chansik just rolls his eyes and hopes that restoring power will be a matter of minutes rather than hours.
It is not a matter of minutes. Their eyes adjust to the dark but there’s no adjusting to the stifling heat. It’s hot and sticky and Junghwan starts complaining within twenty minutes of the blackout. Chansik doesn’t complain but he can feel the dampness collecting on his back. He tugs at the neck of his shirt wordlessly.
They open the windows but there isn’t even the faintest breeze, just humid, stagnant air that seems to ripple into the apartment in sluggish waves. The view beyond the window is completely dark, the lights are gone but the stars are still completely blocked out by wall after wall of high rise buildings.
Junghwan lives on the fourteenth floor and the buildings around him all seem to be even taller. Chansik sticks his head out the window and tries to look up into the sky, he sees nothing. Junghwan is looking out into the blackness as well, quietly, something that’s somewhat rare with him.
Chansik thinks he’s never seen the city so dark, and while the charm of sparkling city lights has already faded, he can’t help but miss it right now. It’s just so dark and feels so empty.
Junghwan leans in behind Chansik. He can feel Junghwan breathing against his ear, warm and slightly uncomfortable.
“Do you think there are ghosts out there?”
Chansik laughs, “That’s what you’re thinking about?”
And now Chansik is thinking about it too, instead of about how vast and dark and lonely his once glittering city really is.
Junghwan remembers that there’s ice cream in the freezer a little bit late, but not too late. It’s begun to melt into a sticky mess but once they dig pass the goopy top layer, underneath is soft and creamy and cool. They eat it straight from the carton, because what’s the point of bowls if they have to finish it anyways?
They’re stripped down to undershirts and boxers, because it’s too hot to care, spoons in their hands and a quickly vanishing tub of ice cream between them. Chansik is regretting his last two spoonfuls of half melted ice cream somewhat but Junghwan decides that now is a good time to bring out his still semi-cold beers.
“That can’t be a good idea,” Chansik says, squinting at him. The deep shadows that dance under his eyes add an unnecessarily dramatic effect, foreshadowing. Ultimately, Chansik just sighs when Junghwan opens a can and gulps it down way too fast.
“You’re going to get a stomach ache,” he warns once more, Junghwan doesn’t even slow down.
Chansik is, of course, right. Three beers later Junghwan’s face is toasty and he’s feeling faintly nauseous. He lies on the floor shirt pushed up to expose his stomach; the gurgling is audible and kind of gross. He groans.
“I don’t get it. I’m okay with beer floats,” he whines, setting his head in Chansik’s lap.
“Beer floats aren’t usually made with half a pint of ice cream and almost a litre of beer.” He rubs Junghwan’s bare stomach absently, just slow, soothing circles, like it’s the most natural thing. Junghwan reaches for Chansik’s hands and plays with his fingers, his stomach is still churning but for now he stops complaining.
They find four packs of cards, unopened, in Junghwan’s apartment. Chansik isn’t sure why he has so many brand new playing cards sitting around his apartment but not a single working flashlight or even spare batteries. At least it gives them something to do, the blackout is lasting longer than either of them imagined it’d last and the only thing that’s keeping Junghwan from thrashing around in boredom is Chansik.
“Okay, time to do something else,” Junghwan declares, dropping his cards into a pile. “I’m tired of losing.”
Junghwan frowns but when Chansik laughs he has to struggle to keep his mouth stiff and twisted. It’s absolutely not the evening they’d planned but in spite of the suffocating heat, his still gurgling stomach, and lack of cable and internet - Junghwan finds that he doesn’t really mind.
What he does mind is losing six games in a row, sometimes Chansik has no sense.
The candles burn out after four hours and a handful of minutes, leaving them completely in the dark.
“Liars,” Junghwan says sourly, Chansik is a bit annoyed too but keeps his mouth shut still. It’s not as if they know for sure that the power will be back in two more hours, so there’s no sense in whining. Chansik is somewhat glad for Junghwan’s complaining though.
“I should get my money back.”
“You don’t even know where they came from; you didn’t even buy them yourself.”
“I’ll call the manufacturer!”
It’s pretty ridiculous, considering it’s three candles but Chansik doesn’t really care. It’s nice to hear Junghwan talk, nice to hear how close he is to him since Chansik can’t actually see how close they are. He hears Junghwan shift and stumble, hears the spoons they used earlier clatter against the floor.
“What are you doing?” Chansik asks before a flash of bluish light from his phone illuminates Junghwan’s face.
“Looking for this,” Junghwan smiles and settles himself next to Chansik again. The glow dims after fifteen seconds and goes out after thirty. Chansik counts and Junghwan just taps the screen again each time it goes to sleep, twice, thrice until Chansik finally laughs again.
“Your battery’s going to run out if you keep doing that,” Chansik says, taking the phone from Junghwan and setting it aside. And it’s dark again but it’s not like he doesn’t know Junghwan is still there beside him, with or without the light.
Junghwan drops his hand on top of Chansik’s and he’s a little startled, Junghwan’s hand feels heavy and sweaty and warm. Maybe he was half hoping and half expecting the gesture, he turns his hand and laces their fingers together, bites his lip when no one can see.
“I’m okay, you know.”
“I know, but I don’t like the dark,” Junghwan says and Chansik just shakes his head because it’s been the same all night, from the start it had all been about Chansik. They planned to spend Saturday night in to watch movies together because Junghwan was worried that he might feel lonely, being alone in the city. So Junghwan picked up random strands of conversation to distract him because Junghwan knows Chansik thinks too much when it's quiet. So they ate ice cream because he knew Chansik was hot, played games together to try to make him laugh. Junghwan worries about Chansik, so he tries to take care of him by making Chansik take care of him in the most straightforward way, he complains when he knows Chansik won't.
Chansik squeezes Junghwan’s hand, his hand is probably uncomfortably warm but Junghwan won’t let go. As much as Junghwan worries Chansik is fine - perfect. Because it's impossible to be anything but when they're together like this, side by side, hand in hand.
The lights flicker back to life, the sudden brightness would have been blinding. Chansik barely notices because his eyes are closed and he’s pressing his lips to Junghwan’s.
chansik and sandeul pass time during a blackout.
So much for movie night. The lights had flickered and died, taking everything with it, thirty minutes into the movie. Unfortunately it’d been a thriller; the timing had been so perfect that Chansik had jumped, startled and creeped out enough that he hadn’t even thought to complain when Junghwan squeezed his arm way too tight and screamed, loud and shrill, way too close to his ear.
His ears are still ringing a bit.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Junghwan whispers intensely, gazing at Chansik through the deceptively romantic haze of dancing candlelight. Chansik doesn’t answer, he’s still rummaging the drawers for more candles - really it’s a miracle they found three.
“I don’t think I have any more candles, I don’t even know where those came from.”
“And no flashlight.”
Junghwan did not really stock his house for emergency situations; it’s just not something that occurs to him naturally.
“Well, hopefully the power comes back before these candles burn out.”
The box says they’re six hour candles - so Junghwan isn’t worried. It’s only been ten minutes, so it’s not hard to remain optimistic.
“So, what can we do in the dark for a few hours?” By candlelight, Junghwan’s wide grin looks kind of crazy, and just a little bit slasher. The eyebrow waggle, like caterpillars hopping haltingly on his face, and the shifting light and shadow that dances with it - it saves him from looking truly creepy.
So Chansik just rolls his eyes and hopes that restoring power will be a matter of minutes rather than hours.
It is not a matter of minutes. Their eyes adjust to the dark but there’s no adjusting to the stifling heat. It’s hot and sticky and Junghwan starts complaining within twenty minutes of the blackout. Chansik doesn’t complain but he can feel the dampness collecting on his back. He tugs at the neck of his shirt wordlessly.
They open the windows but there isn’t even the faintest breeze, just humid, stagnant air that seems to ripple into the apartment in sluggish waves. The view beyond the window is completely dark, the lights are gone but the stars are still completely blocked out by wall after wall of high rise buildings.
Junghwan lives on the fourteenth floor and the buildings around him all seem to be even taller. Chansik sticks his head out the window and tries to look up into the sky, he sees nothing. Junghwan is looking out into the blackness as well, quietly, something that’s somewhat rare with him.
Chansik thinks he’s never seen the city so dark, and while the charm of sparkling city lights has already faded, he can’t help but miss it right now. It’s just so dark and feels so empty.
Junghwan leans in behind Chansik. He can feel Junghwan breathing against his ear, warm and slightly uncomfortable.
“Do you think there are ghosts out there?”
Chansik laughs, “That’s what you’re thinking about?”
And now Chansik is thinking about it too, instead of about how vast and dark and lonely his once glittering city really is.
Junghwan remembers that there’s ice cream in the freezer a little bit late, but not too late. It’s begun to melt into a sticky mess but once they dig pass the goopy top layer, underneath is soft and creamy and cool. They eat it straight from the carton, because what’s the point of bowls if they have to finish it anyways?
They’re stripped down to undershirts and boxers, because it’s too hot to care, spoons in their hands and a quickly vanishing tub of ice cream between them. Chansik is regretting his last two spoonfuls of half melted ice cream somewhat but Junghwan decides that now is a good time to bring out his still semi-cold beers.
“That can’t be a good idea,” Chansik says, squinting at him. The deep shadows that dance under his eyes add an unnecessarily dramatic effect, foreshadowing. Ultimately, Chansik just sighs when Junghwan opens a can and gulps it down way too fast.
“You’re going to get a stomach ache,” he warns once more, Junghwan doesn’t even slow down.
Chansik is, of course, right. Three beers later Junghwan’s face is toasty and he’s feeling faintly nauseous. He lies on the floor shirt pushed up to expose his stomach; the gurgling is audible and kind of gross. He groans.
“I don’t get it. I’m okay with beer floats,” he whines, setting his head in Chansik’s lap.
“Beer floats aren’t usually made with half a pint of ice cream and almost a litre of beer.” He rubs Junghwan’s bare stomach absently, just slow, soothing circles, like it’s the most natural thing. Junghwan reaches for Chansik’s hands and plays with his fingers, his stomach is still churning but for now he stops complaining.
They find four packs of cards, unopened, in Junghwan’s apartment. Chansik isn’t sure why he has so many brand new playing cards sitting around his apartment but not a single working flashlight or even spare batteries. At least it gives them something to do, the blackout is lasting longer than either of them imagined it’d last and the only thing that’s keeping Junghwan from thrashing around in boredom is Chansik.
“Okay, time to do something else,” Junghwan declares, dropping his cards into a pile. “I’m tired of losing.”
Junghwan frowns but when Chansik laughs he has to struggle to keep his mouth stiff and twisted. It’s absolutely not the evening they’d planned but in spite of the suffocating heat, his still gurgling stomach, and lack of cable and internet - Junghwan finds that he doesn’t really mind.
What he does mind is losing six games in a row, sometimes Chansik has no sense.
The candles burn out after four hours and a handful of minutes, leaving them completely in the dark.
“Liars,” Junghwan says sourly, Chansik is a bit annoyed too but keeps his mouth shut still. It’s not as if they know for sure that the power will be back in two more hours, so there’s no sense in whining. Chansik is somewhat glad for Junghwan’s complaining though.
“I should get my money back.”
“You don’t even know where they came from; you didn’t even buy them yourself.”
“I’ll call the manufacturer!”
It’s pretty ridiculous, considering it’s three candles but Chansik doesn’t really care. It’s nice to hear Junghwan talk, nice to hear how close he is to him since Chansik can’t actually see how close they are. He hears Junghwan shift and stumble, hears the spoons they used earlier clatter against the floor.
“What are you doing?” Chansik asks before a flash of bluish light from his phone illuminates Junghwan’s face.
“Looking for this,” Junghwan smiles and settles himself next to Chansik again. The glow dims after fifteen seconds and goes out after thirty. Chansik counts and Junghwan just taps the screen again each time it goes to sleep, twice, thrice until Chansik finally laughs again.
“Your battery’s going to run out if you keep doing that,” Chansik says, taking the phone from Junghwan and setting it aside. And it’s dark again but it’s not like he doesn’t know Junghwan is still there beside him, with or without the light.
Junghwan drops his hand on top of Chansik’s and he’s a little startled, Junghwan’s hand feels heavy and sweaty and warm. Maybe he was half hoping and half expecting the gesture, he turns his hand and laces their fingers together, bites his lip when no one can see.
“I’m okay, you know.”
“I know, but I don’t like the dark,” Junghwan says and Chansik just shakes his head because it’s been the same all night, from the start it had all been about Chansik. They planned to spend Saturday night in to watch movies together because Junghwan was worried that he might feel lonely, being alone in the city. So Junghwan picked up random strands of conversation to distract him because Junghwan knows Chansik thinks too much when it's quiet. So they ate ice cream because he knew Chansik was hot, played games together to try to make him laugh. Junghwan worries about Chansik, so he tries to take care of him by making Chansik take care of him in the most straightforward way, he complains when he knows Chansik won't.
Chansik squeezes Junghwan’s hand, his hand is probably uncomfortably warm but Junghwan won’t let go. As much as Junghwan worries Chansik is fine - perfect. Because it's impossible to be anything but when they're together like this, side by side, hand in hand.
The lights flicker back to life, the sudden brightness would have been blinding. Chansik barely notices because his eyes are closed and he’s pressing his lips to Junghwan’s.