fic: No One Said It Would Be Easy
Title: No One Said It Would Be Easy
Author: dria1029
Pairings:Jongho
Genre: Romance
Warnings: Some fluff. Mostly a silent sword fight though. You know how stubborn some men are when it comes to burying the hatchet with each other…/Miranda Priestly stare
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Minho had a moment of weakness when it came to his boyfriend’s best friend but all was not what it seemed. In the quiet after the storm, the teenage couple couldn’t be any more awkward.
Word Count: 2,301
a/n: I really suck at summaries haha. Again, another antique from my collection that I never posted. Main reason being I thought the wording would confuse people, like how in the beginning when I alternate back and forth between Jonghyun and Minho’s action. Eh.
Hyoshin, if you’re reading this…I’m sorry for the lack of smutsies babe :3 Maybe next time. ;)
The evening bathes the interior of the small apartment in scattered shadows, signaling that another day in southern California is coming to a close. Another day full of crime, full tan-hide enthusiasts and worshippers of the beating sun, full of the usual bustle of these inhabitants of the western of the most western coast.
Well, more or less.
Because everyone knows that there are also the laid-back folk gracing the state in carefree spirits. Cannabis driven, freely given, and all worries suspended…
A day where the meekest of the meek turn a temporary new leaf. Where the fire that burned as passion decided to use the alternative flame of vice and discouragement to curl its smoke into the sky of life. The heat of testing words and the questioning of bonds both ancient and just arriving on the scene. New discoveries….heart aching recoveries.
The curtains drape to a close. But what a show!
Come to California and the theatrics are subjected to, but not limited to the set of Hollywood. Oh no. Sometimes the action, the romance, the suspense-it all can happen anywhere…even in one’s own meager apartment.
And sometimes, that’s where you receive only the best after
Lights…
Camera…
Action
Jonghyun’s lids dragged open. Head felt as if it were manufactured with lead as he began to lift it from the flat pillow. Leaving the tear-stained cloth in his wake, he propped himself on his elbows in sweat enriched skin. The chestnut strands spilling over his drowsy mug and the lack of physical energy could only mean one thing:
A restless sleep.
‘It could have been better,’ Minho thinks out in the living room, slouching over his knees in a sitting position with his head down. After hours of tossing and turning, the permed mass is unbound and nearly touching the rug his giant feet are planted upon. He’s been up for the better part of the sunset, back into a fitful rest, and now here he was giving up on the whole concept of sleep altogether. Pouty lips pinch together in a swirling cloud of emotions. Thoughts and images he hadn’t been able to rid himself of even in his dreams.
What could have been better? The nap or the way things panned out?
He found he couldn’t settle for one or the other, simply because the answer was both.
Fingers twitch from limp wrists dangling over his knees.
The posture of one deprived of peace.
The older yawned into his hand and steadied himself up from the bed. Bent down to pick up jeans he’d peeled off because of the oppressive heat of the room, of the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds of the nearby window….
…and under it, Minho picked up the shirt he had thrown over his head because of the warmth from midday torture. The owner, she needed to get her AC checked out. And because some of the heat still lingered, he decided to stuff the shirt in his duffle bag instead.
Jonghyun didn’t notice the younger’s half-naked form walking into the kitchen as his own body blindly directed him across the hall to the bathroom. The fridge door opened as one closed behind the brown-haired tempest making use of the confines of a tiled, four walled space.
Eunsook put those plates somewhere, but where? Genetics had blessed him well, as he was able to take a peek at the top of the fridge without effort. The oven sheltered the precious cookies; he took one greedily.
Search shortly ended when he popped the microwave open and took out the foiled goods. A Pee-Wee Herman smile.
The microwave buzzed with his dinner/breakfast as the toilet finished flushing and Jonghyun emerged, satisfied after a well-needed wiz. Smacking his chops like an old biddy, he padded down the few feet of carpet with the notion to ask that best friend of his if she forgot to adjust her thermostat again-not everyone liked living in a furnace, you know.
He lifted his head only to have the smart assed comment die on dry lips.
Minho turned around in a chirpy hum, fork stabbed into a piece of sausage on his plate.
Two pairs of eyes locked. Greeting, sizing, picking each other apart, taking in horrible visages and searching for signs of some sort of gratifying normality. Are you okay? Are you still a jerk? But you’re okay though, right? Kay, good. You look like death warmed over by the way.
Lock picked.
The shorter man coughed. Speaking of ‘warmed over’ his stomach spoke up about the promising meal he had waiting for him.
There, that counter.
But before he could enter the kitchen, his statuesque frenemy seemed to eagerly take the foil off the other plate and toss it in the microwave.
Don’t worry about it.
I could have done it myself.
Yeah, but I just did it for you. You’re welcome.
You didn’t have to
I did it because I wanted to. And I was already in here.
Whatever. Thank s
Love you too….
Oh, these words stolen from the dwellings of that which we use to vocalize thoughts. Now the words leave two bodies as messages through the windows of souls. Is it still too soon to say anything? They want to be anything but silent yet…
It is too soon.
Minho’s buttering his pancakes. A small hand gently grasps his shoulder as the elder leans down into the cool zephyrs of the open fridge. This time, though, Jonghyun has the balance of a champion gymnast-surely he didn’t need to use Minho for support….
He knows what he’s doing. Minho thinks he knows what his silent, pensive half is doing.
All the same, Minho secretly enjoys his touch. That universal language-body language- was something else.
The smile on Minho’s lips dissipates when Jonghyun’s up again, untwisting the cap on a water bottle. He pointedly doesn’t look at the younger as he sashays away with the bottle to his lips, cursing himself for the foolish, female flaunt. What, now he was suddenly up for seduction? And what about switching hips would lure Minho to him in this circumstance? Hmm, maybe the small faced cretin was right. Maybe to some extent Jonghyun was insa-
No. Hell no.
Few minutes later, Jonghyun’s up at the beeping of microwave, frown lines on the side of his mouth. Slightly trembling hands further prepare his meal before he finds himself turning and standing in the middle of the kitchen. And it was like his first day in eighth grade lunch all over again. Only this time, the only possible ‘student’ (wasn’t he one anyway? He was enrolled into USC, of course) he would have the pleasure of sharing a table with was the brooding, shirtless, peach-skinned, curly haired brute currently stuffing his face.
Childish acting was he? Well, he’d show him. He’d be a civilized adult and sit with him.
But, alas for Jonghyun, it was under yet another (that) childish impulse that he tried to disprove the claim made during an earlier squall.
Ah, there he was. Pity of it-him picking fights with Minho even in his mind. With some other part of him acting as Minho; the younger shoving it in his face that he was right. Technically, Jonghyun shoving it in his own face that Minho was right.
Stop trying to give yourself a worse headache, Jjong
Minho barely shed a skin cell when the bottom of the chair scraping against the tile across from him sounded off. But he had to suppress that smirk of his when amused eyes zipped from his peeved “missus” back to his half-empty plate.
Hell is he smiling for? Hmph The fork lifted to Jonghyun’s mouth. Brown coals regarded his giant indignantly.
They ate in the accompanying clinks of eating utensils making happy with porcelain plates. Otherwise, silence. Eunsook hadn’t even cracked the door open yet, so not even her chipper attitude could lighten things up.
Yet it was within that silence that Jonghyun really thought about his slumbering friend. About how….Sooky seemed to be okay. She was okay despite the fact that something terrible was about to take place.
And Eunsook was risking throwing her friendship under the bus when it came down to defending the man sitting before Jonghyun. Since when does a woman do something like that for someone about to cause her bodily harm? When and how because he surely wasn’t around when that social ploy was passed around.
Since when had Eunsook ever been so passionate about something in her life, as a matter of fact?
Besides baking and being Jonghyun’s number one fan.
All that adamancy….
It could only mean one thing.
That Jonghyun was, simply put, an asshole.
Doubting her, ugh….why? I should’ve known better. But what is it? Why did my bab-he do that?
He knew he’d owe Sooky for forever and then some for this subtle way of trying to preserve something he’d finally come across. A guy down for him. The match of a lifetime. He couldn’t even count on the three fleshy sections of one finger how many motherfuckers would do that for him! They’d either let Minho fuck in their jealously or just blatantly tell Jonghyun that he tried to rape them, he should break up with him, he’s a monster etc…..out of jealousy.
But what’s wrong?
Another chance left on the horizon for this man; Jonghyun couldn’t deny him of it.
He hoped Minho would be just as courteous.
Lost in his own circus of thoughts, he didn’t realize that Minho’d already finished and was staring. Just staring now. No more was the symphony of dishware. When Jonghyun had taken his last bite, his feet touched the tile ready to take him to the kitchen and the then back to the dark room.
The cold sliced up through the balls of Jonghyun’s feet as they balked, reacting to a sudden, husky inquiry.
“Can I join you?”
“…Yeah.”
Oy? No hesitation?
Minho’s smile didn’t stay for long. Jonghyun wondered why.
“I’ll be with you in minute then.”
“…Okay.”
Minho took the shorter man’s plate with his, arising.
It was like a cruel snicker ringing in his ears when, seconds later, the sound of running water echoed from behind his retreating back. With red tipped ears, he admonished Minho again for being the saintlier of the two-he couldn’t even remember the last time he had volunteered to wash dishes for Eunsook, even after a shared meal. It only did well to remind him how much he devalued a close, loyal friend. One whom he’d said that if he were to ever go straight, Sooky would be the top candidate.
The short hand was on eleven when Minho completed his task and turned the light off. Down the hallway he went, pausing at an open door. His lips folded in apprehensively at the sight of Jonghyun jerking his head up at the tall silhouette in the doorway. He had been obviously sitting there waiting.
Minho swallowed. Well, he was here.
He stepped in and closed the door behind him. It locked with a soft click.
Time seemed to tick by slowly within those walls, it seemed. Or maybe it was going by so fast, it appeared to creep along. Maybe time wanted to forget all about the inhabitants of the small, stuffy room and occupy its existence with the exciting rush of whether or not a woman would be robbed if her boss let her off work early tonight; she’d avoid the mugger creeping into the ally by her job at 11:30 if she was already a block away at 11:15. Or the worry of a mother whose son wasn’t home yet from a party she forbad him to attend. Maybe time had better things to do, a more interesting channel to turn to.
Maybe.
It must have found the low tones of two young men side-by-side on a bed too mundane. Maybe it was so bored, it decided to spice things up by letting Eunsook sleep on into the night-time would be there in the morning to haunt her for waking up too late to start the day. At least it had that to look forward to. Lord knew it wasn’t too engrossed with the crumbling foundation of a wall made of oblivious stones. It was crashing down between them with the soft-spoken tales and legends and history and antagonizing claws of something known as misunderstanding. Unintended endeavors.
Nah.
Time couldn’t bear to stick around for this sap.
Not even for the urgent whisper that Jonghyun has to believe him. Does he believe him?
Apparently so. Time would know-it ticked by in the quiet between question and the weeping answer of “Yeah…I believe you Minho.”
They continue on.
Eunsook. Guilt. Trauma. Hope. Assurance. Apologies. Support. Heart to hearts. Future plans.
Restoration.
Forgiveness….
But time perks up when Minho gently takes him by the back of the neck, leans in, and seals his lips to his. Due to his command, Jonghyun’s back declines upon the sheets as Minho shifts atop his smaller body; the younger is shaking. Doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, yet knows its right. Jonghyun’s lips are soft. Warm. He’s warm…
Jonghyun’s in tune with his fear. But desire has also decided to tag along on this adventure. This moment. Minho’s asking with his emblematic eyes. His hand burns Jonghyun’s left breast when it’s tenderly placed there after he breaks their kiss and gazes down at parted pink mounds and star glazed pools.
Time ceases.
They are beautiful.
Time is love.
I’m ready. Let me love you…
The heart encased under his palm thuds harder. Reading his stare is like listening to a smooth voice reciting the most breathtaking poem ever written…
And now…the ball is in Jonghyun’s court.
Play….
Author: dria1029
Pairings:Jongho
Genre: Romance
Warnings: Some fluff. Mostly a silent sword fight though. You know how stubborn some men are when it comes to burying the hatchet with each other…/Miranda Priestly stare
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Minho had a moment of weakness when it came to his boyfriend’s best friend but all was not what it seemed. In the quiet after the storm, the teenage couple couldn’t be any more awkward.
Word Count: 2,301
a/n: I really suck at summaries haha. Again, another antique from my collection that I never posted. Main reason being I thought the wording would confuse people, like how in the beginning when I alternate back and forth between Jonghyun and Minho’s action. Eh.
Hyoshin, if you’re reading this…I’m sorry for the lack of smutsies babe :3 Maybe next time. ;)
The evening bathes the interior of the small apartment in scattered shadows, signaling that another day in southern California is coming to a close. Another day full of crime, full tan-hide enthusiasts and worshippers of the beating sun, full of the usual bustle of these inhabitants of the western of the most western coast.
Well, more or less.
Because everyone knows that there are also the laid-back folk gracing the state in carefree spirits. Cannabis driven, freely given, and all worries suspended…
A day where the meekest of the meek turn a temporary new leaf. Where the fire that burned as passion decided to use the alternative flame of vice and discouragement to curl its smoke into the sky of life. The heat of testing words and the questioning of bonds both ancient and just arriving on the scene. New discoveries….heart aching recoveries.
The curtains drape to a close. But what a show!
Come to California and the theatrics are subjected to, but not limited to the set of Hollywood. Oh no. Sometimes the action, the romance, the suspense-it all can happen anywhere…even in one’s own meager apartment.
And sometimes, that’s where you receive only the best after
Lights…
Camera…
Action
Jonghyun’s lids dragged open. Head felt as if it were manufactured with lead as he began to lift it from the flat pillow. Leaving the tear-stained cloth in his wake, he propped himself on his elbows in sweat enriched skin. The chestnut strands spilling over his drowsy mug and the lack of physical energy could only mean one thing:
A restless sleep.
‘It could have been better,’ Minho thinks out in the living room, slouching over his knees in a sitting position with his head down. After hours of tossing and turning, the permed mass is unbound and nearly touching the rug his giant feet are planted upon. He’s been up for the better part of the sunset, back into a fitful rest, and now here he was giving up on the whole concept of sleep altogether. Pouty lips pinch together in a swirling cloud of emotions. Thoughts and images he hadn’t been able to rid himself of even in his dreams.
What could have been better? The nap or the way things panned out?
He found he couldn’t settle for one or the other, simply because the answer was both.
Fingers twitch from limp wrists dangling over his knees.
The posture of one deprived of peace.
The older yawned into his hand and steadied himself up from the bed. Bent down to pick up jeans he’d peeled off because of the oppressive heat of the room, of the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds of the nearby window….
…and under it, Minho picked up the shirt he had thrown over his head because of the warmth from midday torture. The owner, she needed to get her AC checked out. And because some of the heat still lingered, he decided to stuff the shirt in his duffle bag instead.
Jonghyun didn’t notice the younger’s half-naked form walking into the kitchen as his own body blindly directed him across the hall to the bathroom. The fridge door opened as one closed behind the brown-haired tempest making use of the confines of a tiled, four walled space.
Eunsook put those plates somewhere, but where? Genetics had blessed him well, as he was able to take a peek at the top of the fridge without effort. The oven sheltered the precious cookies; he took one greedily.
Search shortly ended when he popped the microwave open and took out the foiled goods. A Pee-Wee Herman smile.
The microwave buzzed with his dinner/breakfast as the toilet finished flushing and Jonghyun emerged, satisfied after a well-needed wiz. Smacking his chops like an old biddy, he padded down the few feet of carpet with the notion to ask that best friend of his if she forgot to adjust her thermostat again-not everyone liked living in a furnace, you know.
He lifted his head only to have the smart assed comment die on dry lips.
Minho turned around in a chirpy hum, fork stabbed into a piece of sausage on his plate.
Two pairs of eyes locked. Greeting, sizing, picking each other apart, taking in horrible visages and searching for signs of some sort of gratifying normality. Are you okay? Are you still a jerk? But you’re okay though, right? Kay, good. You look like death warmed over by the way.
Lock picked.
The shorter man coughed. Speaking of ‘warmed over’ his stomach spoke up about the promising meal he had waiting for him.
There, that counter.
But before he could enter the kitchen, his statuesque frenemy seemed to eagerly take the foil off the other plate and toss it in the microwave.
Don’t worry about it.
I could have done it myself.
Yeah, but I just did it for you. You’re welcome.
You didn’t have to
I did it because I wanted to. And I was already in here.
Whatever. Thank s
Love you too….
Oh, these words stolen from the dwellings of that which we use to vocalize thoughts. Now the words leave two bodies as messages through the windows of souls. Is it still too soon to say anything? They want to be anything but silent yet…
It is too soon.
Minho’s buttering his pancakes. A small hand gently grasps his shoulder as the elder leans down into the cool zephyrs of the open fridge. This time, though, Jonghyun has the balance of a champion gymnast-surely he didn’t need to use Minho for support….
He knows what he’s doing. Minho thinks he knows what his silent, pensive half is doing.
All the same, Minho secretly enjoys his touch. That universal language-body language- was something else.
The smile on Minho’s lips dissipates when Jonghyun’s up again, untwisting the cap on a water bottle. He pointedly doesn’t look at the younger as he sashays away with the bottle to his lips, cursing himself for the foolish, female flaunt. What, now he was suddenly up for seduction? And what about switching hips would lure Minho to him in this circumstance? Hmm, maybe the small faced cretin was right. Maybe to some extent Jonghyun was insa-
No. Hell no.
Few minutes later, Jonghyun’s up at the beeping of microwave, frown lines on the side of his mouth. Slightly trembling hands further prepare his meal before he finds himself turning and standing in the middle of the kitchen. And it was like his first day in eighth grade lunch all over again. Only this time, the only possible ‘student’ (wasn’t he one anyway? He was enrolled into USC, of course) he would have the pleasure of sharing a table with was the brooding, shirtless, peach-skinned, curly haired brute currently stuffing his face.
Childish acting was he? Well, he’d show him. He’d be a civilized adult and sit with him.
But, alas for Jonghyun, it was under yet another (that) childish impulse that he tried to disprove the claim made during an earlier squall.
Ah, there he was. Pity of it-him picking fights with Minho even in his mind. With some other part of him acting as Minho; the younger shoving it in his face that he was right. Technically, Jonghyun shoving it in his own face that Minho was right.
Stop trying to give yourself a worse headache, Jjong
Minho barely shed a skin cell when the bottom of the chair scraping against the tile across from him sounded off. But he had to suppress that smirk of his when amused eyes zipped from his peeved “missus” back to his half-empty plate.
Hell is he smiling for? Hmph The fork lifted to Jonghyun’s mouth. Brown coals regarded his giant indignantly.
They ate in the accompanying clinks of eating utensils making happy with porcelain plates. Otherwise, silence. Eunsook hadn’t even cracked the door open yet, so not even her chipper attitude could lighten things up.
Yet it was within that silence that Jonghyun really thought about his slumbering friend. About how….Sooky seemed to be okay. She was okay despite the fact that something terrible was about to take place.
And Eunsook was risking throwing her friendship under the bus when it came down to defending the man sitting before Jonghyun. Since when does a woman do something like that for someone about to cause her bodily harm? When and how because he surely wasn’t around when that social ploy was passed around.
Since when had Eunsook ever been so passionate about something in her life, as a matter of fact?
Besides baking and being Jonghyun’s number one fan.
All that adamancy….
It could only mean one thing.
That Jonghyun was, simply put, an asshole.
Doubting her, ugh….why? I should’ve known better. But what is it? Why did my bab-he do that?
He knew he’d owe Sooky for forever and then some for this subtle way of trying to preserve something he’d finally come across. A guy down for him. The match of a lifetime. He couldn’t even count on the three fleshy sections of one finger how many motherfuckers would do that for him! They’d either let Minho fuck in their jealously or just blatantly tell Jonghyun that he tried to rape them, he should break up with him, he’s a monster etc…..out of jealousy.
But what’s wrong?
Another chance left on the horizon for this man; Jonghyun couldn’t deny him of it.
He hoped Minho would be just as courteous.
Lost in his own circus of thoughts, he didn’t realize that Minho’d already finished and was staring. Just staring now. No more was the symphony of dishware. When Jonghyun had taken his last bite, his feet touched the tile ready to take him to the kitchen and the then back to the dark room.
The cold sliced up through the balls of Jonghyun’s feet as they balked, reacting to a sudden, husky inquiry.
“Can I join you?”
“…Yeah.”
Oy? No hesitation?
Minho’s smile didn’t stay for long. Jonghyun wondered why.
“I’ll be with you in minute then.”
“…Okay.”
Minho took the shorter man’s plate with his, arising.
It was like a cruel snicker ringing in his ears when, seconds later, the sound of running water echoed from behind his retreating back. With red tipped ears, he admonished Minho again for being the saintlier of the two-he couldn’t even remember the last time he had volunteered to wash dishes for Eunsook, even after a shared meal. It only did well to remind him how much he devalued a close, loyal friend. One whom he’d said that if he were to ever go straight, Sooky would be the top candidate.
The short hand was on eleven when Minho completed his task and turned the light off. Down the hallway he went, pausing at an open door. His lips folded in apprehensively at the sight of Jonghyun jerking his head up at the tall silhouette in the doorway. He had been obviously sitting there waiting.
Minho swallowed. Well, he was here.
He stepped in and closed the door behind him. It locked with a soft click.
Time seemed to tick by slowly within those walls, it seemed. Or maybe it was going by so fast, it appeared to creep along. Maybe time wanted to forget all about the inhabitants of the small, stuffy room and occupy its existence with the exciting rush of whether or not a woman would be robbed if her boss let her off work early tonight; she’d avoid the mugger creeping into the ally by her job at 11:30 if she was already a block away at 11:15. Or the worry of a mother whose son wasn’t home yet from a party she forbad him to attend. Maybe time had better things to do, a more interesting channel to turn to.
Maybe.
It must have found the low tones of two young men side-by-side on a bed too mundane. Maybe it was so bored, it decided to spice things up by letting Eunsook sleep on into the night-time would be there in the morning to haunt her for waking up too late to start the day. At least it had that to look forward to. Lord knew it wasn’t too engrossed with the crumbling foundation of a wall made of oblivious stones. It was crashing down between them with the soft-spoken tales and legends and history and antagonizing claws of something known as misunderstanding. Unintended endeavors.
Nah.
Time couldn’t bear to stick around for this sap.
Not even for the urgent whisper that Jonghyun has to believe him. Does he believe him?
Apparently so. Time would know-it ticked by in the quiet between question and the weeping answer of “Yeah…I believe you Minho.”
They continue on.
Eunsook. Guilt. Trauma. Hope. Assurance. Apologies. Support. Heart to hearts. Future plans.
Restoration.
Forgiveness….
But time perks up when Minho gently takes him by the back of the neck, leans in, and seals his lips to his. Due to his command, Jonghyun’s back declines upon the sheets as Minho shifts atop his smaller body; the younger is shaking. Doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, yet knows its right. Jonghyun’s lips are soft. Warm. He’s warm…
Jonghyun’s in tune with his fear. But desire has also decided to tag along on this adventure. This moment. Minho’s asking with his emblematic eyes. His hand burns Jonghyun’s left breast when it’s tenderly placed there after he breaks their kiss and gazes down at parted pink mounds and star glazed pools.
Time ceases.
They are beautiful.
Time is love.
I’m ready. Let me love you…
The heart encased under his palm thuds harder. Reading his stare is like listening to a smooth voice reciting the most breathtaking poem ever written…
And now…the ball is in Jonghyun’s court.
Play….