[Chapter Fic] Somewhere Over the Rainbow- Four
It doesn’t take very long at all for Changmin to realize that of all the things that the Cinderblock Road is, scenic isn’t one of them.
Not pleasantly scenic anyway.
The regurgitated-crayola colorings that violated his eyes where ever he first landed spread out to the surrounding areas like some multicolored disease and the already dubious forms of landscape quickly derail themselves from existence and settle into something that could be found in a particularly untalented three-year-old’s scribbling.
It almost makes Changmin want to cry. He can’t even tell if the metaphorical toddler was going for numbers and letters or pictures.
The only thing that seems to keep consistent form on the path at all is the horrifyingly dull Cinderblock Road, and Changmin can’t even look at it for fear of seeing his feet trapped in those technicolor things that Heechul forced on him which he can’t even see without seeing the awful blue-checked kilt swishing around his legs and even the thought of that makes Changmin upset all over again. It’s the first time in his life that he’s ever wished that he could un-see things, and that’s counting every single time he catches pictures of them from the good ole’ “The Way You Are” days. He can’t even get the satisfaction of his running thoughts of bloody vengeance on the others because he can’t think of a good enough punishment to equal the visual terror.
Worst of all, Changmin keeps finding himself with the persistent urge to break out into an epic musical number at the sight of every misshapen form of life that passes by. It makes Changmin feel sorry for himself more than anything, and he contemplates just what he must have done to deserve this. He thinks carefully about the endless snark, the trickery, the mostly-undue violence and finally comes to the conclusion that someone has decided he hasn’t been a very good lately.
Karma could be a bitch to believe in when he starts to tally up everything he’s done, especially when he considers that, technically, this is his punishment for his past transgressions and when everything is added and compounded for his next life, he’s in for a whole lot of negative interest in the world of eternal suffering.
Dispirited, he picks Mangdoongie out of his man-purse again and pouts at her adorably indifferent features, “Mangdoongie, how am I going to get out of this one? I can’t even blame the others because none of them are capable of making something this awful, not even Yunho and we all know how artistically challenged he is... isn’t that right Mangdoongie? Isn’t that right? Who’s screwed? Who’s got a cute puppy? Hm? Aww, that’s my little girl. Yes it is~ Yes it-”
Changmin stops abruptly.
He refuses to let this whole thing get the best of him and make him go crazy or coo at his dog in public, especially where the surroundings are too poorly defined to tell who might be watching.
-
Up in the castle, Heechul does his ritual after-journey-primp while Yunho drools over the scrying bowl.
“You’re so hopeless,” Heechul says, reprimanding the taller man as he sets his curls, dying just a little inside when he hears the romantic whine that’s taken residence in his best friend’s voice.
“But, Heechul... he’s perfect!”
“Perfectly crazy.”
“Not you too, Donghae!” Yunho huffs, “You might not see it, but under that pout and the craziness and that kilt-”
“He’s free-ballin’ it,” Heechul says, interjecting, “I swear on my fabulousness. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“No way! Really? Can you do the wind thing and get me a little peek?”
Heechul looks past Yunho’s brilliantly interested features to confer silently with Donghae.
In Heechul’s mind, they confer very agreeably that Yunho is being a lazy ass that’s been freeloading on the couch and on their powers in the last month, and he can’t even cook so they could maybe eat something nice once in a while. Therefore, it’s a total ‘no’ on giving Yunho his little peepshow.
Donghae, however, is almost certain they’re conferring about whether or not they have to get take-out again, and if they can change the sheets on the couch without Yunho frying them with a glare for dislodging him from his perch, and also that take-out- if they are getting it- should most certainly be from the nice pizza place around the corner because they use those funny triangle things to hold the box up over the cheese. And no, Heechul doesn’t have time to give Yunho his little peepshow because he needs to order food. Plus, it’s creepy.
With a nod, they both turn away at the same time to mutually ignore Yunho’s request.
Yunho, in the middle, mutters to himself mutinously about how it’s very rude to try to act cool and have secret conversations over his head, especially since Donghae and Heechul never think they’re about the same things anyway.
At least, he grumbles, they seem to agree with each other this time.
Until Donghae goes looking for his pizza anyway.
-
“You know what, Mangdoongie? I think I might actually be getting used to the scenery. I can’t tell if this is a blessing or a curse. Maybe it’ll give me magical powers or something. Super-Awful Vision, yeah? Anything is possible if this place exists, right?” Changmin says in wonderment. He- for the third time on his journey on this crappy road- settles into being glad that no one is around. Life is good when he can be crazy all by himself-plus-dog, and there’s nothing wrong with not being able to commit despairing homicide on possibly-unsuspecting fellow travelers. Well, nothing wrong besides not having anyone to take his rage out on.
This phase of self-sufficiency lasts for all of ten minutes before Changmin decides that he really wants one of the others there to at least glare at, maybe even talk to.
This slump lasts much longer than the previous, failing, even, to lapse when he notices that some of his surroundings are less poorly drawn and violently hued. The flowers on the side of the road even kind of look like flowers, albeit flowers of every type all at the same time. Changmin feels his eyes water and decides that it must be gratitude for the landscape because he totally, definitely doesn’t miss the others one bit, not even Yunho who would get them lost in a heartbeat and then look all adorably responsible for it.
Not at all. Still hates them. Yup.
The scenery continues to improve until he notices that the Cinderblock Road is touring through a forest of what appear to be various musical instruments. He steps, very carefully, off of the Cinderblock road, waits for Heechul and his stupid bubble to appear to yell at him, and then goes to knock on a clarinet-tree. Some of the sheet-music leaves fall off from where they’re taped and Changmin scoffs.
Of course they’re taped. The tree is made of plastic. Stupid cheap Leadershii.
Changmin huffs as he returns to the road, a burble of song leaving him in affront. His hands clap over his mouth.
He refuses to turn his life into a musical for such a stingy dictator.
He chooses, instead, to stomp along the road in a way that is profoundly non-artistic in utter protest until he reaches a fork in the road where he promptly halts from the sheer force of emotion welling in him. There, in the middle of the fork, is a single figure slumped over a piano, and- Changmin notes- it’s definitely familiar. Whether anger, or joy, or desperation, Changmin lets out a shout of accusation.
“Glsdoif!”
Changmin clenches his teeth and tries again.
“Yoochun!”
The figure jerks, looking at Changmin with shining eyes before rushing over to him unsteadily and yanking him over to the piano.
“What marvelous rage! Surely you can help me! I just have to get this piece done. I just have to, or- or- oh, I just don’t know what. I’ve been in such a slump, here-” The-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun seats him on the bench and grabs his hands, pounding at the keys with them before leaping up to grab pieces of blank sheet music from the trees, tearing a leaky flower from the ground, “Go on! Play! Play! this is just what I need!”
Changmin stares as the-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun scribbles on the ledger lines feverishly before stopping all at once with a disconsolate moan.
“No! No! No! It’s all WRONG!”
The-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun sobs and thrashes about wildly for a few moments, tearing the papers to shreds before collapsing over the piano, face turned towards Changmin in a pitiable pout. Changmin swallows hard, unsure of what to make of the scene, but he reaches out tentatively to pat the-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun’s shoulder once in a gesture of consolation.
Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to have been the wrong thing to do.
A moment later, Changmin tests the sort-of peace.
“Um, Yoochun.”
“Who?”
“You, Yoochun.” Changmin frowns. The figure is clearly Yoochun. Clearly.
“No.”
“Yes. You are clearly Yoochun.”
“No.” The-figure-that-is-CLEARLY-Yoochun’s eyes narrow, “Did someone send you to harass me? Who? Was it that bastard the Reasonably-Ungood Sorceror Kangin? That boy is in for a shanking.”
“Uh,” Changmin frowns. This isn’t what he imagined would happen when he found one of his bandmates, “Uh, no. I’m not... I’m not from here. I think. Who- Who are you, then?”
The-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun studies him intently for a long moment, “No, I suppose you aren’t from around here if you’ve been wandering around dressed in that. Heechul would smite you. Well, maybe he would smite you. He’s...” the-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun looks around and leans in for a conspiratorial whisper, “...mostly bark with only a little bite if you get around to defying him.”
The-figure-whose-title-Changmin-now-thinks-is-too-long pulls away with a victorious smirk, “Anyway, you haven’t been smote yet. I’m Micky, the Forlorn Composer.”
Changmin snorts, and then coughs awkwardly, “Er, Forlorn, you say. So that’s why you’ve, uh- Why you’re... um... so... so emo?”
Micky frowns at him, “I’m not emo. I’m Forlorn.”
“Right, emo,” Changmin snickers. Micky sucker-punches him in the kidney.
“Forlorn. There’s a difference,” Micky sighs dramatically, “You see, I’ve lost my inspiration. It’s just gone. I don’t know what to do without it!”
In all fairness, Changmin doesn’t laugh at him. He does, however, pretend to have a shocked hand over his mouth while he smiles behind it. Micky doesn’t notice, but he does turn his now-profoundly forlorn gaze on Changmin.
“So, kilt-boy, what’s up with you?”
“Kilt-boy?” This time, Changmin frowns.
“Yeah, kilt-boy. If I’m emo, you have a man-skirt. Actually, even if I’m not emo, you have a man-skirt.” Yoochun smirks, and Changmin decides that snark isn’t so fun when he’s on the receiving end. Actually, it’s fucking annoying.
“Whatever. I’m Changmin. I’m not from here. Actually, where I’m from, I know someone just like you. Super-emo that one.” Changmin says curtly, “I’m traveling on this crap road so the ‘Great Leadershii’ can do something about bringing me back home and getting my normal clothes back.”
“The Great Leadershii, huh?” Micky looks thoughtful, “You think I could tag along?”
Changmin studies Micky for a moment. sure, a while ago he was dying for the company of someone from the band but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Why?”
“I need inspiration and you look miserable. Miserable people are the best inspiration,” Micky smiles all-too eagerly, “And you know what they say, misery loves company. I bet you would love my company, wouldn’t you?”
A vague image of strangling Micky and leaving him in a ditch somewhere enters Changmin’s mind and Changmin decides that, yes, he would love Micky’s company. It would finally give him someone to be angry at for everything.
Suck on that one, karma, Changmin grins to himself.
“Okay, fine, but only if you can tell me which part of the road we have to take to get to the Great Leadershii.”
Micky looks confused, “What do you mean, which part of the road? There’s only one road.”
Changmin glares at him. So the rage fest commenceth., “I mean, which way? Right or left. We’re at a fork in the road.”
Micky bursts out into a peal of laughter that Changmin doesn’t appreciate one bit that leads into an even more gleeful peal of laughter that Changmin downright resents. When it’s all over and done with, the Forlorn Composer wipes at his eyes and sighs, “Man, what place do you come from if you don’t even know the difference between a fork in the road and thi-”
The question is abruptly stopped by Changmin’s hands wrapping around his neck and shaking with Mangdoongie joyfully adding to the din, “Well, what is the difference, oh-so-intelligent Forlorn Composer? Huh? You got and answer for me? Huh?”
Changmin only stops after a moment because he wants to have Micky around for a little longer if it means that he doesn’t have to travel the hideous road alone. The composer looks more forlorn than ever before and just a touch confused and he shakes himself out before settling into forlornness.
“Well, obviously, it’s a flourish on a gigantic ‘y’.” Micky sulks. Apparently, this is the most obvious thing in the world. Changmin can feel the unspoken call of ‘dumbass’.
He decides he’ll have nothing of that name-calling, thank-you-very-much, “Well, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. What is wrong with this place?”
Micky sniffs, “Well, it’s not like I planned the road. Leadershii commissioned the road to be shaped as a very fancy ‘y’. It looked very nice on paper. You walked from the tail in Trainee Land, and the ends of the road lead to the National Pornography Institute and the Great Palace of Min. It’s a wonderful system.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Micky rolls his eyes at Changmin, “Do I look like I shit?”
A pause to consider the sentence. Micky amends his statement, “I don’t shit people. Least of all you.”
And then once more, “Well, I’m not kidding anyways.”
Changmin snorts and begins to walk down the road, satisfied as that he still holds some form of superiority over this person that looks like his bandmate despite the hideous outfit he’s sporting. Mangdoongie seems to pick up on his elation and howls her joy for him. It almost makes Changmin want to break out into song.
Almost.
Left behind, Micky scrambles to gather blank staff paper from the trees and more leaky flowers, grumbling vaguely about people who don’ appreciate the finer things in life.
He’s wrong, of course. Changmin is certainly enjoying the finer things in his life.
Of course, Micky is lagging a considerable distance behind, which Changmin notes.
He’s suddenly glad that the garish platforms make him even more freakishly tall.
~*~
Another installment finished, and more hopefully. I'm also in the process of creating a masterfic list for all of my fanfiction on this site to date, so please. If you liked what you read and you wish to read more, feel free to peruse the tags on the side. I've mostly organized them compulsively.
Not pleasantly scenic anyway.
The regurgitated-crayola colorings that violated his eyes where ever he first landed spread out to the surrounding areas like some multicolored disease and the already dubious forms of landscape quickly derail themselves from existence and settle into something that could be found in a particularly untalented three-year-old’s scribbling.
It almost makes Changmin want to cry. He can’t even tell if the metaphorical toddler was going for numbers and letters or pictures.
The only thing that seems to keep consistent form on the path at all is the horrifyingly dull Cinderblock Road, and Changmin can’t even look at it for fear of seeing his feet trapped in those technicolor things that Heechul forced on him which he can’t even see without seeing the awful blue-checked kilt swishing around his legs and even the thought of that makes Changmin upset all over again. It’s the first time in his life that he’s ever wished that he could un-see things, and that’s counting every single time he catches pictures of them from the good ole’ “The Way You Are” days. He can’t even get the satisfaction of his running thoughts of bloody vengeance on the others because he can’t think of a good enough punishment to equal the visual terror.
Worst of all, Changmin keeps finding himself with the persistent urge to break out into an epic musical number at the sight of every misshapen form of life that passes by. It makes Changmin feel sorry for himself more than anything, and he contemplates just what he must have done to deserve this. He thinks carefully about the endless snark, the trickery, the mostly-undue violence and finally comes to the conclusion that someone has decided he hasn’t been a very good lately.
Karma could be a bitch to believe in when he starts to tally up everything he’s done, especially when he considers that, technically, this is his punishment for his past transgressions and when everything is added and compounded for his next life, he’s in for a whole lot of negative interest in the world of eternal suffering.
Dispirited, he picks Mangdoongie out of his man-purse again and pouts at her adorably indifferent features, “Mangdoongie, how am I going to get out of this one? I can’t even blame the others because none of them are capable of making something this awful, not even Yunho and we all know how artistically challenged he is... isn’t that right Mangdoongie? Isn’t that right? Who’s screwed? Who’s got a cute puppy? Hm? Aww, that’s my little girl. Yes it is~ Yes it-”
Changmin stops abruptly.
He refuses to let this whole thing get the best of him and make him go crazy or coo at his dog in public, especially where the surroundings are too poorly defined to tell who might be watching.
-
Up in the castle, Heechul does his ritual after-journey-primp while Yunho drools over the scrying bowl.
“You’re so hopeless,” Heechul says, reprimanding the taller man as he sets his curls, dying just a little inside when he hears the romantic whine that’s taken residence in his best friend’s voice.
“But, Heechul... he’s perfect!”
“Perfectly crazy.”
“Not you too, Donghae!” Yunho huffs, “You might not see it, but under that pout and the craziness and that kilt-”
“He’s free-ballin’ it,” Heechul says, interjecting, “I swear on my fabulousness. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“No way! Really? Can you do the wind thing and get me a little peek?”
Heechul looks past Yunho’s brilliantly interested features to confer silently with Donghae.
In Heechul’s mind, they confer very agreeably that Yunho is being a lazy ass that’s been freeloading on the couch and on their powers in the last month, and he can’t even cook so they could maybe eat something nice once in a while. Therefore, it’s a total ‘no’ on giving Yunho his little peepshow.
Donghae, however, is almost certain they’re conferring about whether or not they have to get take-out again, and if they can change the sheets on the couch without Yunho frying them with a glare for dislodging him from his perch, and also that take-out- if they are getting it- should most certainly be from the nice pizza place around the corner because they use those funny triangle things to hold the box up over the cheese. And no, Heechul doesn’t have time to give Yunho his little peepshow because he needs to order food. Plus, it’s creepy.
With a nod, they both turn away at the same time to mutually ignore Yunho’s request.
Yunho, in the middle, mutters to himself mutinously about how it’s very rude to try to act cool and have secret conversations over his head, especially since Donghae and Heechul never think they’re about the same things anyway.
At least, he grumbles, they seem to agree with each other this time.
Until Donghae goes looking for his pizza anyway.
-
“You know what, Mangdoongie? I think I might actually be getting used to the scenery. I can’t tell if this is a blessing or a curse. Maybe it’ll give me magical powers or something. Super-Awful Vision, yeah? Anything is possible if this place exists, right?” Changmin says in wonderment. He- for the third time on his journey on this crappy road- settles into being glad that no one is around. Life is good when he can be crazy all by himself-plus-dog, and there’s nothing wrong with not being able to commit despairing homicide on possibly-unsuspecting fellow travelers. Well, nothing wrong besides not having anyone to take his rage out on.
This phase of self-sufficiency lasts for all of ten minutes before Changmin decides that he really wants one of the others there to at least glare at, maybe even talk to.
This slump lasts much longer than the previous, failing, even, to lapse when he notices that some of his surroundings are less poorly drawn and violently hued. The flowers on the side of the road even kind of look like flowers, albeit flowers of every type all at the same time. Changmin feels his eyes water and decides that it must be gratitude for the landscape because he totally, definitely doesn’t miss the others one bit, not even Yunho who would get them lost in a heartbeat and then look all adorably responsible for it.
Not at all. Still hates them. Yup.
The scenery continues to improve until he notices that the Cinderblock Road is touring through a forest of what appear to be various musical instruments. He steps, very carefully, off of the Cinderblock road, waits for Heechul and his stupid bubble to appear to yell at him, and then goes to knock on a clarinet-tree. Some of the sheet-music leaves fall off from where they’re taped and Changmin scoffs.
Of course they’re taped. The tree is made of plastic. Stupid cheap Leadershii.
Changmin huffs as he returns to the road, a burble of song leaving him in affront. His hands clap over his mouth.
He refuses to turn his life into a musical for such a stingy dictator.
He chooses, instead, to stomp along the road in a way that is profoundly non-artistic in utter protest until he reaches a fork in the road where he promptly halts from the sheer force of emotion welling in him. There, in the middle of the fork, is a single figure slumped over a piano, and- Changmin notes- it’s definitely familiar. Whether anger, or joy, or desperation, Changmin lets out a shout of accusation.
“Glsdoif!”
Changmin clenches his teeth and tries again.
“Yoochun!”
The figure jerks, looking at Changmin with shining eyes before rushing over to him unsteadily and yanking him over to the piano.
“What marvelous rage! Surely you can help me! I just have to get this piece done. I just have to, or- or- oh, I just don’t know what. I’ve been in such a slump, here-” The-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun seats him on the bench and grabs his hands, pounding at the keys with them before leaping up to grab pieces of blank sheet music from the trees, tearing a leaky flower from the ground, “Go on! Play! Play! this is just what I need!”
Changmin stares as the-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun scribbles on the ledger lines feverishly before stopping all at once with a disconsolate moan.
“No! No! No! It’s all WRONG!”
The-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun sobs and thrashes about wildly for a few moments, tearing the papers to shreds before collapsing over the piano, face turned towards Changmin in a pitiable pout. Changmin swallows hard, unsure of what to make of the scene, but he reaches out tentatively to pat the-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun’s shoulder once in a gesture of consolation.
Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to have been the wrong thing to do.
A moment later, Changmin tests the sort-of peace.
“Um, Yoochun.”
“Who?”
“You, Yoochun.” Changmin frowns. The figure is clearly Yoochun. Clearly.
“No.”
“Yes. You are clearly Yoochun.”
“No.” The-figure-that-is-CLEARLY-Yoochun’s eyes narrow, “Did someone send you to harass me? Who? Was it that bastard the Reasonably-Ungood Sorceror Kangin? That boy is in for a shanking.”
“Uh,” Changmin frowns. This isn’t what he imagined would happen when he found one of his bandmates, “Uh, no. I’m not... I’m not from here. I think. Who- Who are you, then?”
The-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun studies him intently for a long moment, “No, I suppose you aren’t from around here if you’ve been wandering around dressed in that. Heechul would smite you. Well, maybe he would smite you. He’s...” the-figure-that-is-clearly-Yoochun looks around and leans in for a conspiratorial whisper, “...mostly bark with only a little bite if you get around to defying him.”
The-figure-whose-title-Changmin-now-thinks-is-too-long pulls away with a victorious smirk, “Anyway, you haven’t been smote yet. I’m Micky, the Forlorn Composer.”
Changmin snorts, and then coughs awkwardly, “Er, Forlorn, you say. So that’s why you’ve, uh- Why you’re... um... so... so emo?”
Micky frowns at him, “I’m not emo. I’m Forlorn.”
“Right, emo,” Changmin snickers. Micky sucker-punches him in the kidney.
“Forlorn. There’s a difference,” Micky sighs dramatically, “You see, I’ve lost my inspiration. It’s just gone. I don’t know what to do without it!”
In all fairness, Changmin doesn’t laugh at him. He does, however, pretend to have a shocked hand over his mouth while he smiles behind it. Micky doesn’t notice, but he does turn his now-profoundly forlorn gaze on Changmin.
“So, kilt-boy, what’s up with you?”
“Kilt-boy?” This time, Changmin frowns.
“Yeah, kilt-boy. If I’m emo, you have a man-skirt. Actually, even if I’m not emo, you have a man-skirt.” Yoochun smirks, and Changmin decides that snark isn’t so fun when he’s on the receiving end. Actually, it’s fucking annoying.
“Whatever. I’m Changmin. I’m not from here. Actually, where I’m from, I know someone just like you. Super-emo that one.” Changmin says curtly, “I’m traveling on this crap road so the ‘Great Leadershii’ can do something about bringing me back home and getting my normal clothes back.”
“The Great Leadershii, huh?” Micky looks thoughtful, “You think I could tag along?”
Changmin studies Micky for a moment. sure, a while ago he was dying for the company of someone from the band but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Why?”
“I need inspiration and you look miserable. Miserable people are the best inspiration,” Micky smiles all-too eagerly, “And you know what they say, misery loves company. I bet you would love my company, wouldn’t you?”
A vague image of strangling Micky and leaving him in a ditch somewhere enters Changmin’s mind and Changmin decides that, yes, he would love Micky’s company. It would finally give him someone to be angry at for everything.
Suck on that one, karma, Changmin grins to himself.
“Okay, fine, but only if you can tell me which part of the road we have to take to get to the Great Leadershii.”
Micky looks confused, “What do you mean, which part of the road? There’s only one road.”
Changmin glares at him. So the rage fest commenceth., “I mean, which way? Right or left. We’re at a fork in the road.”
Micky bursts out into a peal of laughter that Changmin doesn’t appreciate one bit that leads into an even more gleeful peal of laughter that Changmin downright resents. When it’s all over and done with, the Forlorn Composer wipes at his eyes and sighs, “Man, what place do you come from if you don’t even know the difference between a fork in the road and thi-”
The question is abruptly stopped by Changmin’s hands wrapping around his neck and shaking with Mangdoongie joyfully adding to the din, “Well, what is the difference, oh-so-intelligent Forlorn Composer? Huh? You got and answer for me? Huh?”
Changmin only stops after a moment because he wants to have Micky around for a little longer if it means that he doesn’t have to travel the hideous road alone. The composer looks more forlorn than ever before and just a touch confused and he shakes himself out before settling into forlornness.
“Well, obviously, it’s a flourish on a gigantic ‘y’.” Micky sulks. Apparently, this is the most obvious thing in the world. Changmin can feel the unspoken call of ‘dumbass’.
He decides he’ll have nothing of that name-calling, thank-you-very-much, “Well, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. What is wrong with this place?”
Micky sniffs, “Well, it’s not like I planned the road. Leadershii commissioned the road to be shaped as a very fancy ‘y’. It looked very nice on paper. You walked from the tail in Trainee Land, and the ends of the road lead to the National Pornography Institute and the Great Palace of Min. It’s a wonderful system.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Micky rolls his eyes at Changmin, “Do I look like I shit?”
A pause to consider the sentence. Micky amends his statement, “I don’t shit people. Least of all you.”
And then once more, “Well, I’m not kidding anyways.”
Changmin snorts and begins to walk down the road, satisfied as that he still holds some form of superiority over this person that looks like his bandmate despite the hideous outfit he’s sporting. Mangdoongie seems to pick up on his elation and howls her joy for him. It almost makes Changmin want to break out into song.
Almost.
Left behind, Micky scrambles to gather blank staff paper from the trees and more leaky flowers, grumbling vaguely about people who don’ appreciate the finer things in life.
He’s wrong, of course. Changmin is certainly enjoying the finer things in his life.
Of course, Micky is lagging a considerable distance behind, which Changmin notes.
He’s suddenly glad that the garish platforms make him even more freakishly tall.
~*~
Another installment finished, and more hopefully. I'm also in the process of creating a masterfic list for all of my fanfiction on this site to date, so please. If you liked what you read and you wish to read more, feel free to peruse the tags on the side. I've mostly organized them compulsively.