fireworks! explosions!
fireworks! explosions!
G; DBSK-yoosu; angst/romance; nudge
the way junsu sees it, yoochun is more like texture.
note for ghostdrop. loosely based on i will possess your heart by death cab.
fireworks! explosions!
a bunch of people say, you know, if i could describe yoochun in a word, he'd be a song. and first of all, junsu would like to point out that a song is two words, not one.
second of all, yoochun could never be a song, despite what everyone would like to believe. songs are fluid, made of bass and high notes and floaty tones and lyrics that mean something, sometimes. songs are complex, difficult things. they're layered, like a cake. cream, sponge, cream, icing, cherry.
yoochun is a man, and men aren't complex.
the way junsu sees it, yoochun is more like texture. more specifically, the static that keeps a plastic bag closed (so you need moisture, junsu usually just licks his fingers) - that raises the hair on your arms and the back of your neck when you lie in the back of a car for an hour.
unless all that doesn't count as texture, in which case yoochun is special effects.
"you know i'll get you one day, right?" junsu asks when they're curled up on the couch while it's raining.
"if this is about using your special thirteen thousand won organic toothpaste again, i'm sorry, okay-"
junsu shakes his head, because obviously, someone like yoochun isn't going to understand. at least, not right off the bat. he's a bit stupid, a bit superficial. "it's not that, stupid."
"then what is it," he says, relaxing into the cushions. junsu wonders how to answer, and settles, as he does everytime they talk about this, with you'll see. like how junsu sees how easily they fit when he glimpses yoochun in the mirror, using his toothpaste.
because the way junsu sees it, he's been obvious enough. yoochun's bound to get it some time.
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G; DBSK-yoosu; angst/romance; nudge
the way junsu sees it, yoochun is more like texture.
note for ghostdrop. loosely based on i will possess your heart by death cab.
fireworks! explosions!
a bunch of people say, you know, if i could describe yoochun in a word, he'd be a song. and first of all, junsu would like to point out that a song is two words, not one.
second of all, yoochun could never be a song, despite what everyone would like to believe. songs are fluid, made of bass and high notes and floaty tones and lyrics that mean something, sometimes. songs are complex, difficult things. they're layered, like a cake. cream, sponge, cream, icing, cherry.
yoochun is a man, and men aren't complex.
the way junsu sees it, yoochun is more like texture. more specifically, the static that keeps a plastic bag closed (so you need moisture, junsu usually just licks his fingers) - that raises the hair on your arms and the back of your neck when you lie in the back of a car for an hour.
unless all that doesn't count as texture, in which case yoochun is special effects.
"you know i'll get you one day, right?" junsu asks when they're curled up on the couch while it's raining.
"if this is about using your special thirteen thousand won organic toothpaste again, i'm sorry, okay-"
junsu shakes his head, because obviously, someone like yoochun isn't going to understand. at least, not right off the bat. he's a bit stupid, a bit superficial. "it's not that, stupid."
"then what is it," he says, relaxing into the cushions. junsu wonders how to answer, and settles, as he does everytime they talk about this, with you'll see. like how junsu sees how easily they fit when he glimpses yoochun in the mirror, using his toothpaste.
because the way junsu sees it, he's been obvious enough. yoochun's bound to get it some time.
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Feedback