Kneel Before Me 16/16
Title: Kneel Before Me
Author: Deferney97
Pairing: Lee Kikwang/OFC
Rating: 16+
Warning: some themes may be disturbing to young audiences
Summary: Mina's mother hates her. That's okay, though; Mina hates everything--especially her job of making the "perfect" idols look perfect. She hates the fake idol music. She hates the fake idol image. And now--somehow--she has one?
Sixteen
“You fit your image,” I say as Kikwang and I lay sprawled across the practice room floor. It’s been a week since our conversation at my father’s grave. I’ve gone back every day since.
“What exactly is my image?” he questions with a wonder-filled tone. I think he’s getting tired. I told him he didn’t have to practice with me after his schedule. Idiot said he’d come anyway.
“Your image,” I sit up, drinking some water and standing, “consists of a dumb jock who has awesome abs-basically the kind of guy who names his penis. And a weird name, at that.”
Awkward silence.
Bubbles of laughter escape my exhausted body; I’ve been practicing for nine hours, and it’s gotten more vigorous in the fours Kikwang has been here. “You’ve named your penis?”
His ears turn red, “No! It’s just…”
My sides begin to hurt.
“Listen! It's just something stupid the guys did. Fans call me 'Kwangie' and there's a video where the guys sort of make fun of me and I'm pretending to pout. A bunch of the B2UTIES posted things like 'Poor little Wangie' and stuff. Yo Seob said ‘Little Wangie’ sounded like something you'd name your...you know. So they joke about it.”
“So,” I bite back a smile, “not only is your penis named, but it was named by your members!”
His expressions falls adorably flat. “Shut up.”
“Nope,” I flirt, a teasing smile on my face as I stick out my tongue, “I don’t think I will.”
Obviously, things are different.
I’m not sure how they became like this, but it seemed like after that day, the last few years of my life were erased. I’m living happier now. Angry was never any fun anyway.
And despite my previous words, I do like Kikwang.
A lot.
Like that.
From the way he’s staring down at me now, with his hands around my waist, I’m pretty sure he knows.
QQQ
“Do you really want to trust me with this money?” Rain’s been asking me this for the last few minutes as the paperwork is drawn out and transitions are made.
“Yes,” I say with little patience.
“Do you realize how much money that is?”
“Do you realize how much I don’t care?”
He sighs. I think he’s finally starting to accept it.
As previously stated, a couple million will be put into another account that is not mine, but is mine, but is under Rain’s name. The rest goes to Hyun Ki, who is no longer my dance teacher and is now a friend I work out with.
I don’t want to touch the money yet. The idea of touching that kind of money terrifies me. So for now it stays in a vault where no one can touch it.
Especially not my mother.
At the thought of this, I look to Rain. “I have some things to take care of; do you really need me here?”
He looks at me for a few moments, and then shakes his head, “Go.”
QQQ
I walk into my old house, finding it exactly as I thought I would. It’s a piece of shit, but I need to come back to it one more time.
I think I understand why that rice bag was left in the corner now.
With little feeling in my arms, I pick it up from the corner.
Officially, I leave the rat hole behind. With new found redemption I walk to my mother’s prison. I hope visiting hours aren’t over yet.
It’s about an hour later that I arrive in just enough time to see her.
The glass between us doesn’t seem thick enough. She picks up her phone, waiting for me to pick up mine. The guard, whom I’ve already told my plan, smirks.
Seems he doesn’t like the bitch much either.
I can’t help the few tears that streak down as I stand. The human in me notices how old she suddenly seems through the glass, how worn.
But the daughter in me just sees her shooting her father over and over again. That’s how she killed him, they’re saying. Trials are still being held, but it seeming to fall on everything not in her favor. I’m enjoying that.
The open bag of rice rests on the wall, upright. I scoop some up with both hands. I pick up the phone, resting it on the table so she can hear.
And I pour the rice on the table, wincing at the familiar sounds of the soft grains being spilled to the floor.
Already, my knees are bleeding. My scars are being reopened.
“I hope,” I choke out, admittedly enjoying the look of sheer horror on the woman’s face, “that you have to spend the rest of your life kneeling on rice.”
“And even then,” I continue, “it won’t be enough pain you’ll have suffered when you die.”
And I leave her there, staring at the pale grains as though they’ll come to life and tell her a story.
The wounds heal, stinging pleasantly in the cold air.
Lucy and Ella stand in the parking lot, Lucy holding two coffee cups while Ella sips hers. Nadine sits on the sidewalk, talking on the phone with a creased brow.
I walk calmly towards my members. I haven’t seen them in a while.
“For me?” I ask Lucy, who hands me the cup. “Coffee?”
“Hot chocolate,” Ella tells me.
I straighten my shoulders, looking at them in a new light.
My hand reaches out to Lucy first, “Annyeong, my name is Mina.”
Her hand slips easily into mine, “Lucy.”
Now Ella, who’s wearing a bright smile. “I’m Ella.”
I turn to Nadine now, offering her hand to stand, but she doesn’t seem concerned with me.
Instead, her worry lines deepen by a million, and she says with a strangely firm tone, “What do you mean bankrupt?”
Author: Deferney97
Pairing: Lee Kikwang/OFC
Rating: 16+
Warning: some themes may be disturbing to young audiences
Summary: Mina's mother hates her. That's okay, though; Mina hates everything--especially her job of making the "perfect" idols look perfect. She hates the fake idol music. She hates the fake idol image. And now--somehow--she has one?
Sixteen
“You fit your image,” I say as Kikwang and I lay sprawled across the practice room floor. It’s been a week since our conversation at my father’s grave. I’ve gone back every day since.
“What exactly is my image?” he questions with a wonder-filled tone. I think he’s getting tired. I told him he didn’t have to practice with me after his schedule. Idiot said he’d come anyway.
“Your image,” I sit up, drinking some water and standing, “consists of a dumb jock who has awesome abs-basically the kind of guy who names his penis. And a weird name, at that.”
Awkward silence.
Bubbles of laughter escape my exhausted body; I’ve been practicing for nine hours, and it’s gotten more vigorous in the fours Kikwang has been here. “You’ve named your penis?”
His ears turn red, “No! It’s just…”
My sides begin to hurt.
“Listen! It's just something stupid the guys did. Fans call me 'Kwangie' and there's a video where the guys sort of make fun of me and I'm pretending to pout. A bunch of the B2UTIES posted things like 'Poor little Wangie' and stuff. Yo Seob said ‘Little Wangie’ sounded like something you'd name your...you know. So they joke about it.”
“So,” I bite back a smile, “not only is your penis named, but it was named by your members!”
His expressions falls adorably flat. “Shut up.”
“Nope,” I flirt, a teasing smile on my face as I stick out my tongue, “I don’t think I will.”
Obviously, things are different.
I’m not sure how they became like this, but it seemed like after that day, the last few years of my life were erased. I’m living happier now. Angry was never any fun anyway.
And despite my previous words, I do like Kikwang.
A lot.
Like that.
From the way he’s staring down at me now, with his hands around my waist, I’m pretty sure he knows.
QQQ
“Do you really want to trust me with this money?” Rain’s been asking me this for the last few minutes as the paperwork is drawn out and transitions are made.
“Yes,” I say with little patience.
“Do you realize how much money that is?”
“Do you realize how much I don’t care?”
He sighs. I think he’s finally starting to accept it.
As previously stated, a couple million will be put into another account that is not mine, but is mine, but is under Rain’s name. The rest goes to Hyun Ki, who is no longer my dance teacher and is now a friend I work out with.
I don’t want to touch the money yet. The idea of touching that kind of money terrifies me. So for now it stays in a vault where no one can touch it.
Especially not my mother.
At the thought of this, I look to Rain. “I have some things to take care of; do you really need me here?”
He looks at me for a few moments, and then shakes his head, “Go.”
QQQ
I walk into my old house, finding it exactly as I thought I would. It’s a piece of shit, but I need to come back to it one more time.
I think I understand why that rice bag was left in the corner now.
With little feeling in my arms, I pick it up from the corner.
Officially, I leave the rat hole behind. With new found redemption I walk to my mother’s prison. I hope visiting hours aren’t over yet.
It’s about an hour later that I arrive in just enough time to see her.
The glass between us doesn’t seem thick enough. She picks up her phone, waiting for me to pick up mine. The guard, whom I’ve already told my plan, smirks.
Seems he doesn’t like the bitch much either.
I can’t help the few tears that streak down as I stand. The human in me notices how old she suddenly seems through the glass, how worn.
But the daughter in me just sees her shooting her father over and over again. That’s how she killed him, they’re saying. Trials are still being held, but it seeming to fall on everything not in her favor. I’m enjoying that.
The open bag of rice rests on the wall, upright. I scoop some up with both hands. I pick up the phone, resting it on the table so she can hear.
And I pour the rice on the table, wincing at the familiar sounds of the soft grains being spilled to the floor.
Already, my knees are bleeding. My scars are being reopened.
“I hope,” I choke out, admittedly enjoying the look of sheer horror on the woman’s face, “that you have to spend the rest of your life kneeling on rice.”
“And even then,” I continue, “it won’t be enough pain you’ll have suffered when you die.”
And I leave her there, staring at the pale grains as though they’ll come to life and tell her a story.
The wounds heal, stinging pleasantly in the cold air.
Lucy and Ella stand in the parking lot, Lucy holding two coffee cups while Ella sips hers. Nadine sits on the sidewalk, talking on the phone with a creased brow.
I walk calmly towards my members. I haven’t seen them in a while.
“For me?” I ask Lucy, who hands me the cup. “Coffee?”
“Hot chocolate,” Ella tells me.
I straighten my shoulders, looking at them in a new light.
My hand reaches out to Lucy first, “Annyeong, my name is Mina.”
Her hand slips easily into mine, “Lucy.”
Now Ella, who’s wearing a bright smile. “I’m Ella.”
I turn to Nadine now, offering her hand to stand, but she doesn’t seem concerned with me.
Instead, her worry lines deepen by a million, and she says with a strangely firm tone, “What do you mean bankrupt?”