you can touch me, here
you can touch me, here | an exo drabble collection
mostly luhan-centric ; mentions of sehun, jongin ; kyungsoo/baekhyun
2082 words in total
a/n: i guess you can read them separately... okay, maybe not. i wrote them at different times and with different plots in mind so that is why they're part of this drabble collection rather than a whole fic. especially since they don't flow as well as a normal oneshot, get what i mean?
fingers | au
luhan-centric ; sehun/jongin (can you spot them, can you, can you!? hehe)
728 words
as much as possible, luhan tries not to have any sort of contact with people. it leads to all sorts of discoveries that luhan thinks are unnecessary; a single touch shouldn't be that revealing. people takes time to know each other and he wishes for it to be like that but life isn't always so kind (his powers are useless in that sense). but then again, it doesn't matter. nothing matters much anymore since that time.
(that when he came home to his whole family dead, shot in their heads and the authorities not giving two fucks about it because apparently everyone else in china is suffering, too, and murder/deaths is not uncommon. the investigators of the murder case gave up after a few months, coming up with no leads - the killer was a really good one, he left not a single trace of evidence.
luhan remembered bending over his mother's lifeless body and placing a finger on her cheek. he saw darkness at the back of his mind and he felt pain stabbing at his chest - autopsy reports later showed that his mother died not from the gunshot to her head but a knife driven straight to her heart.
luhan took refuge in seoul, all tears dried up and with a hardened heart. he doesn't care because nothing matters anymore.)
he curses aloud when someone crashes into him, the brief contact almost makes luhan visibly recoil in disgust because clumsy guy is actually a pervert who steals girls' lingerie from the neighbourhood and sleeps with them all over his face, jerks off to the rubbing of silk panties against his cock. the guy grins apologetically at him, politely bowing but luhan is already starting to move away. this is exactly why he hates his “talent”; there are things he'd rather not know. the world is full of creeps and weirdos.
walking glumly back to his apartment, luhan tries to think of happy things instead of the pervert he bumped into just a while ago. the lift lobby is quiet - as it is at this time of the day - and luhan hums as he waits for the lift. he nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears footsteps. he turns and sees an unfamiliar face, someone new, perhaps. luhan nods in acknowledgement once and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the the stranger does the same.
their fingers brush past each other and that is when luhan sees:
his mother's face, pleading, crying and hands clasped over her chest, begging for her life. luhan blinks and the stranger is smiling at him, asking if he is staying on the sixteenth level, too. he doesn't know how but he finds himself slamming his body against the stranger's, his fingers curling tight around his neck. the lift trembles a little from the force and luhan does it again, taking the stranger by the collar and slamming him forcefully against the wall.
“you,” luhan breathes into his the stranger's face. he feels his eyes stinging with tears, the visions of his parents getting killed flashing in his mind's eye over and over again. he presses his nails deeper into the stranger's skin, the rasping breaths that come out of his mouth becoming almost satisfying to luhan's ears.
“p-please,” the stranger wheezes, confusion wild in his eyes as he clamps a hand on luhan's wrist.
“i think that was what mrs lu from beijing said, five years back, do you fucking remember,” luhan spits into the stranger's face. he reaches for the stranger's back and unsurprisingly draws out a revolver, tucked into the band of his jeans. something else flashes in his mind - three characters: oh se hun.
luhan doesn't feel a thing (nothing important; they were just fear, surprise and then a mysterious feeling of longing and regret but luhan doesn't give a fuck) when he digs the revolver into sehun's chest and pulls the trigger. sehun gasps, his face contorting in pain and luhan sees flashes of men in black suits, driving black, sleek cars, revolvers tucked safely into their jackets and a face of another man with tanned skin and plump lips before sehun falls limp in his arms.
luhan sees darkness for the second time in his life as he shakes away sehun's fingers from his skin.
- - -
waist | au
luhan-centric ; oc
769 words
the first time that luhan realises that he was special was when he was embarrassingly picked to demonstrate a dance in front of the class. he was only eleven and his english teacher had been telling the class about how people in other parts of the world, express themselves through dance. she had been talking about the waltz.
luhan, at the time, was busy sword-fighting with yixing at the back of class, the unsharpened tip of his pencil triumphantly poised in his friend's arm. yixing had been mock whimpering and making pretty loud noises as luhan told him to shut up, his other hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. mrs lee was not at all impressed as she barked out luhan's name.
“put your arm around meiling's waist,” she ordered, immediately drawing whistles and catcalls. eleven-year-olds apparently weren't that innocent, either. luhan looked at her in alarm and cocked his head in confusion. meiling had turned a deep shade of red and was staring at the floor.
“your arm,” mrs lee grabbed luhan's thin arm (he caught flashes of college students, poring over books, words, he cannot understand and he thought he was going crazy) and placed them forcefully on meiling's waist. “meiling's waist.”
meiling's face was red beyond recognition as the class erupted with laughter and cheers and luhan was sure yixing was the one whistling the loudest and making most of the noise. he would have to kill his best friend later but - but what was this man doing to meiling? why was he hitting her with a belt even though meiling was shouting and crying at him to stop? and why is meiling suddenly half-naked in front of the mirror as she lets another woman rub ointment on her upper torso, which was all red and bruised? luhan shook his head and sees meiling smiling down at his face.
“your father hits you? doesn't he?” luhan muttered to meiling when they had been alone during recess. he had abandoned yixing and their soccer friends for a while when he spotted meiling coming down to sit at the benches facing the fields, her hand tightly clasping her lunchbox.
“what?” meiling looked at him in surprise. she nearly dropped her lunchbox.
“your - your father,” luhan says, looking at the ground.
“how did you know - i mean. no! what are you talking about?” meiling had once again, turned red and was now kicking at the ground, her pigtails bouncing about her shoulders as she did it.
luhan said nothing after that when his eyes caught sight of thin red lines on meiling's calf. meiling didn't have to say a thing - those marks on her legs were enough proof that what luhan saw back in the classroom was true; they weren't merely figments of imagination. luhan was about to leave when meiling whispered, “papa drinks too much and he doesn't know what he's doing... meiling - meiling hasn't been a very good girl - that's why -- ”
luhan shushed her, carefully bringing his palm to meiling's face (he saw sleepless nights and crying into pillows and felt the immense fear whenever meiling saw her father, escalating when the man brought his hands to his waist, to his belt). he brought his face close to hers and whispered back, “you are a very good girl. you should tell someone about this.”
meiling shook her head, letting luhan's hand fall to his side. she smiled up at him, tears glistening in her eyes and gestures towards the fields. his friends were calling him.
when luhan cups meiling's face, eight years after that first touch, and angles his face in to kiss her, he sees sleepless nights of giggling into her pillows recounting every memory of luhan's smile, luhan's words to her in school, of meiling staying up not to finish up her essays but instead write tons and tons of letters to luhan before tearing them up and chucking them aside. luhan smirks at that vision and pulls his girlfriend closer, memorising the curve of her body against his.
meiling is smiling against his lips and when he tightens his grasp around her waist, all that he can feel is love and the want to protect her from whatever - he has never loved someone so much before and it makes him almost lightheaded as he kisses meiling once more, her soft, soft lips moving so gently, so lovingly against his.
so this is what happiness and love feels like in his hands - luhan thinks he has never touched something so wonderful.
- - -
thigh | au
luhan-centric ; kyungsoo/baekhyun
578 words
luhan smiles as he scrolls down his facebook feed page on his mobile. meiling looks beautiful in her wedding gown and yixing, though luhan will never say it aloud, looks equally as handsome. he misses his best friends but beijing is no longer safe as it used to be. in fact, nowhere is ever safe enough but seoul is not beijing and luhan learns to make the best of what he has. working in this bookstore and stoning at the cashier counter while waiting for these bookworms to finally make a purchase is safe, kind of, especially when kyungsoo comes in for his shift with a lunchbox in hand. whatever that kyungsoo has in the lunchbox is, to be honest, definitely safe and delicious.
“here you go,” kyungsoo says, smiling, as he places the lunchbox in front of luhan.
“thanks,” luhan smiles back, inhaling the aroma of lunch that kyungsoo has prepared. “you don't have to, you know.”
“don't mention it,” kyungsoo waves a hand as he takes his place behind the counter. “i like cooking, anyway.”
luhan smiles once more and is about to leave the store when he trips over nothing and falls, pulling kyungsoo together with him as he tries to grab at something to stop himself from falling. kyungsoo just happens to be that something and luhan almost feels apologetic. almost because kyungsoo starts kicking at him and his eyes are open so wide, luhan thinks they might eat up his whole face.
“oh my god luhan, get off me, you're heavy,” kyungsoo whimpers as he feebly pushes luhan away. luhan tells kyungsoo to shut the fuck up as tries to get up but his foot hits a stool and he accidentally presses too hard on kyungsoo's inner thigh instead, making both of them scream out loud(kyungsoo in pain and luhan in pain - his right knee has painfully made contact with the floor again - and disgust). luhan wishes he could erase the visions he sees when he made contact with kyungsoo's thigh - he does not want to know the things that kyungsoo and his boyfriend has been up to.
and yet he still asks just to tease the younger boy,“oh god, what did you do with byunbaek last night.” he dusts his pants, shooting kyungsoo a glare. kyungsoo's face turns red and luhan shouts, bringing a palm over kyungsoo's mouth, “okay, shut up! i don't need to know.”
“then why did you ask,” kyungsoo grumbles as he rubs his thigh, where luhan has painfully dig his palm into. “and i bet you knew already, you pervert.”
“hey i didn't choose the visions okay!”
“what did luhan see this time?” a familiar voice asks and luhan rolls his eyes. byun baekhyun saunters into the bookstore, hands in pockets, as he smiles adoringly (disgustingly) at kyungsoo. luhan almost vomits out his breakfast.
“nothing,” luhan replies. he stifles a groan when baekhyun leans over to kiss kyungsoo, “guys. we have customers, here. can you please not?”
“no,” baekhyun says, his mouth still against kyungsoo's. luhan resists the urge to throw the lunchbox in his hands to baekhyun's face (because kyungsoo makes really good food and it will be wasted on baekhyun and his eyeliner) and turns to get out of the store but not before catching sight of kyungsoo pulling baekhyun's head closer to his face to deepen their kiss.
he doesn't warn them that, kris, their manager, is heading their way.
end.
a/n part ii
(a little section on how i come up with all these nonsense)
okay, here's the thing.
i just come up with a title as above (you can touch me, here) and then i play around with the words. when i see the word 'touch', i think of body parts and then i just list them out like:
fingers | waist | thigh
i come up with 'collarbones' and 'jaw' as well but i couldn't my brain just died after 'thigh' and so i couldn't continue. the inspiration for this collection of drabbles (oneshot, whatever, you want to call it, really) is from some korean drama that i remembered watching. it's about this girl that gets flashes of visions of someone's history just by touching them or something... or is it the objects that she touched - to be honest, i cannot remember. anyway, that was what that sparked off 'you can touch me, here'.
this is terribly disorganised and there are tons of grammatical errors... i hope you understand what i'm trying to put across!
most of the time, this is also how i get inspired to write. i watch something, i read something and then i just get this feeling that i have to write. usually, i just think up a title and try to write from there. i have all these ideas swirling around my head and i just cannot pin one down and start writing because i don't have skills like that, okay? but i do hope that you've enjoyed what you've read because i certainly did enjoy all the writing :)
thank you for reading & have a good day! ♥