Hush, Boy: Chapter 1 [Hyukminwook]
Title: Hush, Boy
Chapter: 1
Pairings: Sungmin/Eunhyuk, Sungmin/Eunhyuk/Ryeowook. Hints of Hankyung/Heechul, Eeteuk/Kangin/Shiwon
Rating: PG-13, definitely NC-17 planned.
Warnings: Hot sex, threesome.
Genre: Romance/Angst
Word Count: 2955
A/N: Chapter 2 coming soon, after this last week kills me out of stress. <3 It may or may not shift perspective just a tiny bit within the narrative, but this first chapter is mainly Ryeowook's observation. You'll see more of Eunhyuk and Sungminnie next chapter. Literally. *gratuitous wink* Slated to be 2-3 chapters, maybe.
Music: "Stuck On Repeat" by Little Boots (also on youtube, though the imeem version is longer. the youtube = radio edit. I suggest the imeem version :D)
My heart's skipping, skipping
And I don't know why
I know every part
But every time I try, every time I try
Something comes and
Pulls me back to the start.
And it's you
That makes me move to the beat
And it's you
- - - - - - - - - -
It had been a long, bone-tired sort of day, one that clenched its teeth over your collar and dragged you with it, shaking you every so often to remind you of your consciousness, each minute bleeding together until it seemed it would never end. Eeteuk, ever the gracious leader, had invited all of his fellow members to eat with him, though no one was in any state to cook and so they had torn their way through a veritable sea of takeout cartons. Their normal dinner conversation had waned to a solemn murmur, only punctuated by the occasional spike of laughter from one end of the table. It was almost salvaged when Yesung nearly upended an entire quart of pork fried rice onto his lap, but he made a fast save, almost a little disappointed in himself, as the resulting explosion might have been enough to lift the mood, even if it would've meant suffering much ridicule in the days to come.
As the hyungs helped Eeteuk clean up, the rest slowly started to filter back to their own apartments. Ryeowook busied himself at his end of the table, using his napkin to gently sop up the greasy puddles of egg drop soup that had escaped here and there over the edge of the dish they'd passed around, as things were wont to do in the hands of young men, especially this bunch, though they were considerably less raucous than usual. Kangin was in no hurry; he and Shiwon shared this apartment with their leader, some strange bond formed between them that could really only be shared by the towering and athletic and, oddly, their short, wiry companion, the oldest and yet the most unexpected to be so authoritative.
Kangin and Eeteuk had been friends for some time, anyway, and Shiwon had somehow found a place between them, his presence slipping in easily with theirs. They laughed the least when he was teased for his effervescent coolness, anyway, and the way his gesturing parroted his speech was finding its way into their own habits. Ryeowook had dodged Eeteuk's more sweeping gestures at the table that night, giggling quietly to himself as he slid clear off of his cushion and onto the floor, Eunhyuk imitating both of them at once and sending ripples of laughter through their company.
Light fell across Ryeowook's eyes, and he looked up into the hallway light sliding through the space between the closing door and its jamb, illuminating Kyuhyun's pale cheek, Donghae's wide smile caught behind him. He could hear, even with the door closed, Shindong's voice, loud and full though he was speaking in hushed tones, as he, Kibum, and Donghae ushered the other magnae down the stairs delicately to the taxi waiting to carry him back to his parent's home, where his mother was waiting anxiously with his pain medication. He was still recovering from the accident though everyone else who had been in the car had sprung back quickly, as if it had never happened; his scars ran deep, some misfortune having clamped down on him through the metal cage of the car harder than his companions. Ryeowook remembered with some echo of pain the night the news had come through, remembered being forced to stay behind (he wasn't a child, and yet he stayed, bitterly, and Shiwon kept him company, strangely soothing though he was obviously out of his mind with nerves) as the others rushed to the hospital. He could still see Yesung's face when they returned, stricken and pale, the first through the door. It had taken ages to pull it out of someone, anyone, that there had been no fatalities. Ryeowook had nearly hyperventilated, like a caged animal, moving among the still figures with almost frantic abandon until Shiwon had pulled him back down to the couch and held him there, trembling under his shoulder. They were all so goddamned quiet.
Eeteuk picked up a dish in front of Ryeowook, who snapped out of his memory, though some traces of it lingered, and his leader nearly seemed to pick up on it, fairly unsettled as he returned to the kitchen. The youngest watched as Eeteuk lifted a hand to his face, traced the spot where the deepest scar had been, where the stitches had been so many that it looked as though his skin had been burned; the scars were nearly completely faded, now, but he was clearly still shaken by it months later, the summer of their discontent already worn away to fall. Ryeowook looked away as Kangin's hand came up over Eeteuk's, pressed some fear away, to give them privacy, and heard a whisper of mandarin sliding through the room.
Heechulsshi and Hankyung were working at the other end of the table, sliding emptied cartons into a small white garbage bag, unspoken words passed between them that only Ryeowook seemed to really notice. He was the observer, quiet and small, the youngest of the group, and not much seemed to escape him. He knew just from the way Heechul tugged the garbage bag out of Hankyung's hands, teased him, told him to save his energy and yet challenged him to do a better job, that the two wouldn't be in separate rooms for long that night. They had the strangest way of snarking at each other, little innuendos slipping into their speech, and they did so little to hide their obvious affection that Ryeowook wondered if anyone was clueless to it. It seemed a trend to announce to the rest of the group when the bonds of friendship were transcended for something more intimate, make it official, and yet Heechul and Hankyung never paraded it about, just kept a distance around the rest, the space sparking with tension, and went back to their apartments, Heechul sliding his hand into Hankyung's only when they thought no one was looking.
Ryeowook doubted that they even went to their separate rooms first anymore; he wondered idly who relented, whose bed had stayed cold for some time now as they combated the broken heater in each other's arms in the next room. Probably Hankyung; he was always the first to offer help, a noble presence among them, and Ryeowook could imagine quite vividly Heechulsshi sprawled dramatically against his pillow, hair curling around his aristocratic features as he called for Han in a tone that could be on the borderline of a whine, could imagine the deep, rattling sigh from Hankyung's room as he threw back his covers and complied, pretending it was a hassle even as that familiar, charming smile caressed his lips.
"C'mon, Wook, let's get out of here." Eunhyuk was probably the only one who didn't use his full name, always a variation; Wook, Wookie, Ryeo. Sungmin's catlike smile came into focus behind him, sliding on his coat near the door, and suddenly there were hands lifting Ryeowook to his feet by one arm, strangely small hands. Yesung winked at him over the rim of his glasses and ushered him toward the door, toward their housemates, who were exchanging words, heads close as they murmured to each other, words slipping out around secretive smiles.
"What time tomorrow, Eeteuk?" Yesung called back toward the kitchen. There was a pause, and their leader leaned around the corner (they all pretended to not notice how disheveled his usually perfect hair had become; Ryeowook kept his eyes above the collar of his leader's shirt, which had somehow become unbuttoned) with a mischevious smile on his face. Shiwon's laughter, low and sure, came from within the kitchen, and there was a light clattering of dishes as Eeteuk winked at the four of them.
"Sleep in tomorrow, my treat." Ryeowook grinned as he heard Eunhyuk and Sungmin celebrating behind him, saw Yesung doing a little victory dance out of the corner of his eye in the usual goofy fashion. "Managersshi should know by now that 8 am is so easily misread for 2 pm." That was Kangin again, and a large hand appeared on Eeteuk's shoulder, pulling him back into the kitchen, the very distinct sound of clinking bottles ringing through the room.
"Well, you heard the man, let's get to it!" Eunhyuk said in a tone half-scolding, half-teasing, as he opened the door and ushered them through; his hand was warm against Ryeowook's back as he gently lead him through, sneakers squeaking against the stairwell's linoleum, then Yesung, finally sliding around Sungmin's waist and staying there, even through the car ride home, forcing them to walk down the stairs and through the building in a strange jumble of gangly limbs jarring together if they fell out of step, though neither seemed to mind.
Ryeowook was the first through the door, heading straight for the room he shared with Sungmin while the others hung their coats in the hall closet (Eunhyuk had to struggle with the door a bit, toeing in the objects that had spilled out upon opening it, while Sungmin muttered something goodnaturedly about Eunhyuk's cleaning methods coming back to bite him), seeking the solace of the dark. The past few weeks had been so long, so completely packed, and they'd barely had time to miss the few weeks of vacation they'd been able to enjoy in August, but this lull in activity was hitting them all particularly hard. Ryeowook had always had trouble adjusting to the short, sporadic sleep schedules that they often had to work around. Coming in from a day of back to back performances and recordings, tapings and radio shows, in the early hours of the morning and then waking up some five or six hours later had made it difficult for Ryeowook to fall asleep at all, as if his body knew he'd have to wake up sooner than he'd like, and decided that it was pointless even trying. His insomniatic tendencies were catching up with him, and he inwardly thanked Eeteuk as he collapsed into bed fully clothed, a sigh of contentment seeming to emanate from his entire body as he relaxed.
With some reluctance to move again (if only for relative comfort), Ryeowook wriggled out of his sweater, underneath which he wore only a thin white sleeveless shirt, and left his jeans on, kicking his shoes off and listening to them hit the floor with a satisfied sort of thunk as he pulled his blanket up over his slight frame and curled against it, casting his eyes toward the small window on the western wall, the only window in the room to watch the night sky as he fought a losing battle with his eyelids. He was exhausted, and yet each time he felt himself tipping over the edge of sleep, something tugged him back again. He wasn't sure how long it was before he heard the door open and click shut softly (the edge of a conversation slipped through, Yesung and Eunhyuk's voices from the common area, the quiet static of the television), heard Sungmin quietly fumble around in the dark for a few minutes before crawling into bed himself.
Ryeowook's mind was alight with everything and nothing at once, and he desperately tried to focus his thoughts into a steady stream of sleep, sleep, sleep, but after a short while gave in, rolling onto his side and staring at the wall, picking out imperfections in the paint. He used to sleep so well at home. Home... it was almost embarrassing how quickly tears sprang to his eyes just at the word itself, at the fading memory of his parents' faces the last time he'd seen them, at the echo of a quiet telephone conversation and his mother reassuring him that they were so, so proud of their little boy. He couldn't tell if Sungmin was asleep yet or not; there was something in the silence, the absence of the usual soft, measured breathing that suggested he wasn't, was waiting for something, or someone, rather.
He stayed quiet, nevertheless. The worst part of his homesickness was how difficult it was to quell once it started gathering momentum. In his state, it was nearly impossible to keep a few errant tears from coursing down his cheeks, though he tried, but he simply didn't have the energy, and if he had been alone, Ryeowook would have let go, would have let out all of his pent-up frustration. Being in a large group, even living with three others he felt so close to, didn't keep him from feeling lonely at times. He brought the blanket up clutched in one hand, pressed it against his face and let himself sniffle a little, muffling the sound. He could feel his heartbeat in his head, a thick headache knotting its way up his shoulders, and knew that somehow, crying always left him feeling worse, physically and sometimes emotionally. Still, it provided a temporary escape, the weight lifting just enough to allow him breathing room before descending again, and Ryeowook would take what he could get. He barely noticed the door opening and closing again, didn't even register another presence until he heard the springs of Sungmin's bed creaking not in a tossing-and-turning way, but in a way that could only suggest the weight of another person.
"Min?" There was a small turning-over sort of creak that enveloped the whisper, and then the unmistakable sound of a kiss pressed into an inhale, as if they were breathing each other in. Ryeowook had listened to them before, countless times, and at first he'd been embarrassed, regretful that he couldn't give them any more privacy than just pretending he was asleep, but it had slowly grown into some fascination. They were so unapolegetically in love, it was almost too much to be around, not because they indulged in public displays of affection (rarely), but because he couldn't help but envy them for the uncomplicated, pure truth of their feelings for each other, the way they stole looks at each other, held hands under the dinner table occasionally, the way they found it easy to do very little to hide their relationship because they'd been such close friends all this time that it wasn't unusual for the little touches and looks between them to be taken as their natural rhythm.
It really was. They fell together so easily, as if they'd been meant to; the progression from friendship to intimacy was seamless between them. Where others felt the new possibilities of a relationship hanging from them awkwardly, it seemed a predestined thing for Eunhyuk and Sungmin, and Ryeowook truly believed they were meant for each other, as cheesy as that sounded. It wasn't when applied to the two of them; if anyone could make Ryeowook believe in love, it was the two quietly colliding behind him. Listening to them whispering to each other in the dark, stifling moans into each others' mouths, had become somewhat of a lullaby for him. He wished that the need for sleep to give them privacy would bring it about more easily; sometimes their sounds carried him to sleep, but most often his mind was so hyperactive that it would keep him awake purely in some embarrassing interest in listening to them. If they knew, they never let on.
Ryeowook would miss this nocturnal routine if ever they decided to move elsewhere out of necessity or otherwise, but at the same time he occasionally wished for a repreive, for sleep, because even they, without meaning to, made him feel all the more lonely. He had been closed when he'd first joined them, withdrawn, wary; he'd slowly started to open up, first to Eeteuk- his leadersshi was so understanding, and when they'd shared a room near the beginning, he'd at first shirked Eeteuk's insistence that he could tell him anything, but as they lay in the dark of their room, the encouraging, warm voice floating out between them had slowly drawn out Ryeowook's thoughts. They'd formed a strong bond, treating each other as through they were biological brothers; Eeteuk mussed his hair at every opportunity, dancing out of the way of Ryeowook's rebuttal, "But you're so cute, dong-saaaeng," slipping out in a sing-songy sort of voice he rarely used with anyone else.
He was close enough to Eunhyuk and Sungmin, enough that listening to them wasn't as awkward as one might imagine, as he might have imagined before they were close. Ryeowook couldn't exactly picture talking to anyone about it (casually, anyway), not even with the pair themselves; it was a strange secret, something Ryeowook felt oddly privileged to be in on. Eunhyuk kept a surprisingly neutral face each morning after, not daring to ask the youngest if he'd really been asleep, getting some strange thrill of the unknown between them, of the possibilities, and it was even a little thrilling to Ryeowook, geting away with the mystery and holding it between his teeth, a smoking bullet.
Ryeowook shifted just slightly, bringing the blanket close to his face and inhaling as softly as he could, pressing the soft seam at its hem against his burning eyelids.There was the slightest creak from behind him, a very careful shifting of position, a learned rhythm that Ryeowook had, on occasion, imagined himself a part of. It really was difficult to be involved indirectly and not wonder what it would be like to move from spectator to participant. He couldn't deny that it was appealing; the thought of Eunhyuk's wide hands splayed across his bare skin brought a flush to his face, and he was glad for this relative anonymity in the dark. His nose was starting to run as pressure from his built-up anxiety pinched the bridge of his nose, and he sniffed in vain, it seemed, as it did little to relieve the sensation, and then-
"Ryeo?"
(CHAPTER TWO)