SHINee Fic: KeyHo
of rainbows and those who can see them
key/minho, romance (gen)
He's not lost. Or. Well. He might be, but he doesn't care either way because it's nice out, warm, bright, sunny. His kind of perfect. He lays back in the grass with closed eyes, relaxing every part of himself until he feels more zen and more at peace than he thinks he's ever felt before. Solitude really is his forte after all.
There's a breeze, light and cool, and it rustles the grass, pushes it against his cheeks, his calves, his fingers. He basks in it, revels in the way the shadows from the treeline a few yards up the hill shift and sway, letting the sunlight peek through occasionally.
"Hey."
Minho blinks, feeling somewhat like he should be mad right about now, upset at his loss of peace and quiet, but. He's not. And he can't seem to put his finger on why. He lifts himself up on his elbows.
Key sits down next to him, distanced a few feet away, and plucks at the grass. His eyes are trained to his hands. Minho may not share dirty secrets in truth or dare or spill his hidden thoughts in a fit of anxiety - he doesn't like to depend on people like that - but. But he watches, and he observes, and he prides himself in knowing his members more than they probably think he does.
And right now, Key - fidgety, out of place, unaware...Key looks like he wants to say something only. Only he doesn't quite know how. Minho encourages him the only way he can think to and sits quietly and waits.
"I wish you'd stop leaving like that," Key says softly, speaking to the ground. "Sometimes... Sometimes we get worried that you're not going to come back." He laughs a little, but it fades quickly. He pulls at the grass in his hand, slowly ripping it to pieces, bits falling on his leg that's curled beneath him.
"I'll come back," Minho assures him.
Key smiles - upward, at the sky this time, far away, at nothing; anywhere but toward Minho. "It's not so much. I mean." Key sighs, pausing in his minuscule destruction of nature. "I know that you'll come back. You'll have to get hungry at some point." He laughs again, empty. "But. I don't know, Minho. I just."
This time he looks up, they catch eyes, and suddenly Minho feels like he's on fire. It lasts for a second, tiny, unimportant, but Minho can still feel it everywhere like molten fingertips. He breathes to calm himself down.
"You've changed," Key says, and now his tone has flipped. It's purposeful, motivated, and Minho thinks that Key's finally broken through the barrier he'd seen him fighting against before.
"We all have," Minho comments, watching carefully for something - a sign - that might give way to where this is going.
"Yeah. But you. It's not so much you, per se. Just. I don't know." He begins pulling at the grass again, fingers trembling. "You don't talk to me much anymore."
Minho smiles jokingly. "I don't talk much at all, hyung." His smile drops, however, when Key fails to respond, and it's then that he feels that something is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong, horribly wrong.
"I'm not like you," Key says suddenly, voice harsh and serious. "I can't - I can't just watch from afar and analyze people. I can't - that just doesn't work for me." He breathes, shuddering and quiet. "I need you to tell me what's going on or. Or I can't understand."
Minho watches him for a second, memorizing the way his knuckles turn white, grip straining on the fistful of grass he's holding; the way his head is bowed, so unlike usual, so out of character; the way he thinks he can hear the sound of a heart breaking and he can't tell whose it is anymore. He thinks it doesn't matter though, because either way it hurts.
"Look," Key starts, softer, more gentle than before. "I know that you're not very good at this type of stuff. This. This whole...closeness concept, but. I'd still like you to try it.
The breeze picks up momentarily, pushing up at Key's bangs, and Minho thinks he's crying, noticing the way he's brushing his forearm across his eyes, rubbing at his cheeks with the heel of his palm. Minho watches Key crumble, fall, watches as he spills his thoughts in a fit of anxiety.
And Key is honestly about to give up when suddenly Minho is on his feet, closing the distance between them. He kneels down at Key's side, eyes studying Key's hands, and he pries them open, fingers pressed to palms. They linger for a second, fingertips brushing Key's wrists, but then he brings them up to Key's neck, thumbs rubbing circles into the sides of his jaw, and then he kisses him.
It's slow, thoughtful, sweet, and Minho can taste tears and happiness. He takes mental pictures of the way Key's eyelashes flutter against his cheek before his eyelids fall closed, sighing relief into Minho's lips. Key raises his hands to Minho's shirt, slow and somewhat hesitant, but sure in the way they hang on, pulling Minho closer.
The sun spreads warmth across Minho's back, grass tickling his shins, and he continues to press small butterfly kisses to Key's skin, pads of fingers melting into the feeling of it all.
And then it's over, space filling between them as Minho pulls back, drops down to sit next to Key, and the silence that follows suit is awed, comfortable. Key studies his hands once again, only this time he looks more controlled, more peaceful, and less frightened.
"I can't do words," Minho says offhandedly, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, fiery, blazing. "But I hope you can understand me anyway."
Key laughs, sudden and bright, happy. He looks over at Minho, touches his thigh, and leans in toward him, mouth hovering next to Minho's cheek as he lets his breath warm the skin there. And then he leans forward, kisses him sloppily, goofy, silly, leaning his weight further and further forward until they're both on the ground, grinning like idiots, and Minho watches Key from the corner of his eye, observes, and thinks he hears Key say, 'I hope so too.'
But then again. Sometimes some things are better left unsaid.
They kiss under the sunset and don't return until midnight, hungry and happy.
A/N: Sorry if it's kind of broken or phrased badly at parts. This was written in an MSN convo with flamingkey because I love her and her OTP needs more fic, ngl.
key/minho, romance (gen)
He's not lost. Or. Well. He might be, but he doesn't care either way because it's nice out, warm, bright, sunny. His kind of perfect. He lays back in the grass with closed eyes, relaxing every part of himself until he feels more zen and more at peace than he thinks he's ever felt before. Solitude really is his forte after all.
There's a breeze, light and cool, and it rustles the grass, pushes it against his cheeks, his calves, his fingers. He basks in it, revels in the way the shadows from the treeline a few yards up the hill shift and sway, letting the sunlight peek through occasionally.
"Hey."
Minho blinks, feeling somewhat like he should be mad right about now, upset at his loss of peace and quiet, but. He's not. And he can't seem to put his finger on why. He lifts himself up on his elbows.
Key sits down next to him, distanced a few feet away, and plucks at the grass. His eyes are trained to his hands. Minho may not share dirty secrets in truth or dare or spill his hidden thoughts in a fit of anxiety - he doesn't like to depend on people like that - but. But he watches, and he observes, and he prides himself in knowing his members more than they probably think he does.
And right now, Key - fidgety, out of place, unaware...Key looks like he wants to say something only. Only he doesn't quite know how. Minho encourages him the only way he can think to and sits quietly and waits.
"I wish you'd stop leaving like that," Key says softly, speaking to the ground. "Sometimes... Sometimes we get worried that you're not going to come back." He laughs a little, but it fades quickly. He pulls at the grass in his hand, slowly ripping it to pieces, bits falling on his leg that's curled beneath him.
"I'll come back," Minho assures him.
Key smiles - upward, at the sky this time, far away, at nothing; anywhere but toward Minho. "It's not so much. I mean." Key sighs, pausing in his minuscule destruction of nature. "I know that you'll come back. You'll have to get hungry at some point." He laughs again, empty. "But. I don't know, Minho. I just."
This time he looks up, they catch eyes, and suddenly Minho feels like he's on fire. It lasts for a second, tiny, unimportant, but Minho can still feel it everywhere like molten fingertips. He breathes to calm himself down.
"You've changed," Key says, and now his tone has flipped. It's purposeful, motivated, and Minho thinks that Key's finally broken through the barrier he'd seen him fighting against before.
"We all have," Minho comments, watching carefully for something - a sign - that might give way to where this is going.
"Yeah. But you. It's not so much you, per se. Just. I don't know." He begins pulling at the grass again, fingers trembling. "You don't talk to me much anymore."
Minho smiles jokingly. "I don't talk much at all, hyung." His smile drops, however, when Key fails to respond, and it's then that he feels that something is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong, horribly wrong.
"I'm not like you," Key says suddenly, voice harsh and serious. "I can't - I can't just watch from afar and analyze people. I can't - that just doesn't work for me." He breathes, shuddering and quiet. "I need you to tell me what's going on or. Or I can't understand."
Minho watches him for a second, memorizing the way his knuckles turn white, grip straining on the fistful of grass he's holding; the way his head is bowed, so unlike usual, so out of character; the way he thinks he can hear the sound of a heart breaking and he can't tell whose it is anymore. He thinks it doesn't matter though, because either way it hurts.
"Look," Key starts, softer, more gentle than before. "I know that you're not very good at this type of stuff. This. This whole...closeness concept, but. I'd still like you to try it.
The breeze picks up momentarily, pushing up at Key's bangs, and Minho thinks he's crying, noticing the way he's brushing his forearm across his eyes, rubbing at his cheeks with the heel of his palm. Minho watches Key crumble, fall, watches as he spills his thoughts in a fit of anxiety.
And Key is honestly about to give up when suddenly Minho is on his feet, closing the distance between them. He kneels down at Key's side, eyes studying Key's hands, and he pries them open, fingers pressed to palms. They linger for a second, fingertips brushing Key's wrists, but then he brings them up to Key's neck, thumbs rubbing circles into the sides of his jaw, and then he kisses him.
It's slow, thoughtful, sweet, and Minho can taste tears and happiness. He takes mental pictures of the way Key's eyelashes flutter against his cheek before his eyelids fall closed, sighing relief into Minho's lips. Key raises his hands to Minho's shirt, slow and somewhat hesitant, but sure in the way they hang on, pulling Minho closer.
The sun spreads warmth across Minho's back, grass tickling his shins, and he continues to press small butterfly kisses to Key's skin, pads of fingers melting into the feeling of it all.
And then it's over, space filling between them as Minho pulls back, drops down to sit next to Key, and the silence that follows suit is awed, comfortable. Key studies his hands once again, only this time he looks more controlled, more peaceful, and less frightened.
"I can't do words," Minho says offhandedly, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, fiery, blazing. "But I hope you can understand me anyway."
Key laughs, sudden and bright, happy. He looks over at Minho, touches his thigh, and leans in toward him, mouth hovering next to Minho's cheek as he lets his breath warm the skin there. And then he leans forward, kisses him sloppily, goofy, silly, leaning his weight further and further forward until they're both on the ground, grinning like idiots, and Minho watches Key from the corner of his eye, observes, and thinks he hears Key say, 'I hope so too.'
But then again. Sometimes some things are better left unsaid.
They kiss under the sunset and don't return until midnight, hungry and happy.
A/N: Sorry if it's kind of broken or phrased badly at parts. This was written in an MSN convo with flamingkey because I love her and her OTP needs more fic, ngl.