Dropping Pencils
Pairing: 2min
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Life
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2000
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine of course~
Summary: Minho sits in front of Taemin in history class.
History is the class that Taemin likes the most. It isn’t because of the teacher, although she is nice. It isn’t because of the subject, although Taemin finds it interesting. It isn’t because of the kids in the class, although Taemin gets along with them. Or maybe it is. The reason Taemin looks forward to history every day is Choi Minho. The tall, popular boy sits directly in front of him, and Taemin is fairly sure that Minho doesn’t even know he exists. But it doesn’t really matter that much. Just sitting behind him is enough for him.
Every day, he gets to his seat early and sits down, and every day, Minho takes the seat directly in front of him. Their seats are right next to the window, so Taemin can pass off staring at that tantalizing strip of skin on Minho’s lower back that reveals itself whenever he leans forward as looking at the lovely view of the street. But the sunlight that shines through the window does wonders for Minho’s already beautiful face when he looks to the side. He has a nice profile, Taemin notes. A sharp jaw, a graceful nose, thick but elegant eyebrows, and big, beautiful light brown eyes that turn golden amber when he looks into the sun. Tiny little Taemin, with a slightly curved nose and small black eyes, is jealous in passing, but how could anyone be jealous of perfection and not feel bad about it?
Every day, Taemin longs to reach forward and touch him, to play with his hair, or maybe feel those strong back muscles for himself. But Taemin knows that even just a graze of the fingers would be enough for him, although he wouldn’t say no if offered a hug either. To be enveloped in those strong arms, lovingly smothered by that sheer size, seems very appealing to Taemin. And what a thrill Taemin gets whenever Minho leans back to stretch. His shoulder blades touch the edge of Taemin’s desk; his arms nearly hit Taemin’s head. He always freezes when Minho does that, even though he knows that if he moves ever so slightly, maybe he’d have the chance to touch the object of his affections. But somehow he can’t bring himself to budge, he is that smitten. Taemin thinks in the back of his mind that if the person stretching had been anyone other than Minho, he’d be annoyed, telling them off for invading his personal bubble.
But this is Minho, after all, so he doesn’t mind a bit.
One day Minho drops a pencil and accidentally kicks it under his chair with his long legs. He turns around, eyeing Taemin as if he’d never seen him before. Maybe he hadn’t, but Taemin’s heart jumps anyway.
“I dropped my pencil but I can’t reach it. Do you mind?” Minho asks him.
“N-no, of course not,” Taemin stutters. Taemin reaches down for the pencil and picks it up. He returns it to its owner with shaking hands, his eyes wide in embarrassment and nervousness. Minho smiles dashingly.
“Thanks,” he says, and he turns back to his seat.
A few days later Minho turns around again, this time startling Taemin.
“I missed the answer to number two. Did you happen to get it?” he asks.
“Yes,” Taemin says quietly, turning slightly red and looking down at his desk. “It’s 'the Enlightenment.'” Minho thanks him again, and Taemin doesn’t notice that Minho’s eyes linger on him for several seconds before he turns back to the desk.
It’s barely a week later in the cafeteria, and Taemin is walking down the aisle between two rows of tables. He slips, and as he’s falling he thinks that of course it’s just his luck that he’d fall in front of Minho. When he realizes he doesn’t hit the ground, his heart nearly stops.
“Watch your step, Taemin-ssi,” Minho laughs good-naturedly, releasing Taemin. He ruffles his hair before he leaves. Taemin’s mind runs at a million miles a second, but the two main things he thinks are he caught me and he knows my name.
History gets progressively more exciting, and not because they’re finally learning about relevant things. Minho talks to Taemin almost every day, even if it’s just “what’s the homework again?” or “can I borrow a sheet of paper?” Taemin’s heart flutters every time he hears Minho’s deep voice. He feels silly acting like a teenage girl, but he figures he’s just deluding himself into thinking that he has a chance. He doesn’t stop hoping anyway.
Several days later, Taemin gets to class slightly later than normal. He spots a confused looking Minho standing in the middle of the classroom amongst the other students. Taemin walks over to his normal desk and sits down, watching Minho. Minho talks to a few other kids before glancing over towards his usual seat, and Taemin swears they make eye contact for a split second. It’s not long before Minho sits down and stretches again. It seems to Taemin that Minho must be extra sore from soccer practice, because his stretch seems stiff and more obvious than usual. So much more obvious, in fact, that Minho hits Taemin’s head with his long arms. He whips around, apologizing profusely. Taemin waves it off with a smile, and he’s pleased to see that Minho returns the gesture.
A few days go by and Taemin could swear that Minho is getting clumsier. He drops his pencil at least four times every class, sometimes as many as eight times. Not only does he drop them, he also manages to kick them before he can retrieve them, so that Taemin has to continually pick them up. Not that he minds. It’s an excuse to see Minho’s smile whenever his pencil is returned, an excuse to hear that deep, genuine “thank you” come out of those beautiful lips.
Taemin tells his best friend Jinki everything. Jinki knows about Taemin’s crush on Minho. He knows that Taemin goes to the café by their school every Saturday at two. He knows that Taemin always orders hot chocolate, or else banana milk in the summer. Jinki also knows things that Taemin doesn’t tell him. For example, he knows that his friend Jonghyun is on Minho’s soccer team. From Jonghyun, he knows that soccer practice ends at one-thirty on Saturdays. He knows that Jonghyun and the rest of the soccer team go out for Chinese food after these practices, but he also knows that Minho never goes with them because he doesn’t like Chinese food. And if there’s one thing that Jinki is good at besides knowing things, it’s dropping subtle hints. He has a plan, but Jinki, unlike Taemin, does not tell his best friend everything. Surprises are good once in a while.
Taemin orders his hot chocolate from the barista at the café. Key always adds a few extra marshmallows for his cute regular customer. As Taemin sits down, who should appear but Minho, stepping out of the cold into the warm coziness of the café. Taemin is suddenly unable to swallow the marshmallows he’s been chewing. He overhears Minho’s order (“a medium Americano, please”) and watches Minho get his drink. He’s startled to see Minho walking towards him, and is even more surprised when Minho sits down at his table.
“Hi, Taemin-ssi, I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” he says, smiling his dazzling smile.
“Go ahead, Minho-ssi,” Taemin mumbles, even though he’s beyond excited. He can feel his face getting red. Minho opens his backpack, taking out a few pencils, sheets of paper, and their history textbook.
“I know it’s kind of weird, but do you think you could help me with history?” Minho asks. “I don’t quite understand this event.” Taemin reads over the passage that Minho points out, completely oblivious to whatever Minho is doing with his pencil.
“Sure…uh, it’s simple, really, it’s, uh,” Taemin fumbles with his words. He looks up at Minho who suddenly drops the pencil he’d been holding. Impossibly, he kicks it towards Taemin.
“I guess we’re used to this, huh?” Minho chuckles as Taemin leans down to pick it up. Something is different about this pencil. It’s wrapped with paper in a spiral pattern. He sees that the paper has words on it, but the only ones he can read are “to Taemin-ssi.” He glances up at Minho, who nods. Taemin unwraps the paper, and there are only three more words on the sheet.
I love you.
Taemin looks up wildly but has no time to react. Minho kisses him quickly on the lips, and even though it only lasts a mere few seconds, Taemin can feel the affection radiating from the older boy. They break apart, and Minho looks questioningly at Taemin, desperately waiting for approval.
Taemin smiles and Minho’s face looks relieved as he smiles back.
Their next kiss is one of many to come.
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Life
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2000
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine of course~
Summary: Minho sits in front of Taemin in history class.
History is the class that Taemin likes the most. It isn’t because of the teacher, although she is nice. It isn’t because of the subject, although Taemin finds it interesting. It isn’t because of the kids in the class, although Taemin gets along with them. Or maybe it is. The reason Taemin looks forward to history every day is Choi Minho. The tall, popular boy sits directly in front of him, and Taemin is fairly sure that Minho doesn’t even know he exists. But it doesn’t really matter that much. Just sitting behind him is enough for him.
Every day, he gets to his seat early and sits down, and every day, Minho takes the seat directly in front of him. Their seats are right next to the window, so Taemin can pass off staring at that tantalizing strip of skin on Minho’s lower back that reveals itself whenever he leans forward as looking at the lovely view of the street. But the sunlight that shines through the window does wonders for Minho’s already beautiful face when he looks to the side. He has a nice profile, Taemin notes. A sharp jaw, a graceful nose, thick but elegant eyebrows, and big, beautiful light brown eyes that turn golden amber when he looks into the sun. Tiny little Taemin, with a slightly curved nose and small black eyes, is jealous in passing, but how could anyone be jealous of perfection and not feel bad about it?
Every day, Taemin longs to reach forward and touch him, to play with his hair, or maybe feel those strong back muscles for himself. But Taemin knows that even just a graze of the fingers would be enough for him, although he wouldn’t say no if offered a hug either. To be enveloped in those strong arms, lovingly smothered by that sheer size, seems very appealing to Taemin. And what a thrill Taemin gets whenever Minho leans back to stretch. His shoulder blades touch the edge of Taemin’s desk; his arms nearly hit Taemin’s head. He always freezes when Minho does that, even though he knows that if he moves ever so slightly, maybe he’d have the chance to touch the object of his affections. But somehow he can’t bring himself to budge, he is that smitten. Taemin thinks in the back of his mind that if the person stretching had been anyone other than Minho, he’d be annoyed, telling them off for invading his personal bubble.
But this is Minho, after all, so he doesn’t mind a bit.
One day Minho drops a pencil and accidentally kicks it under his chair with his long legs. He turns around, eyeing Taemin as if he’d never seen him before. Maybe he hadn’t, but Taemin’s heart jumps anyway.
“I dropped my pencil but I can’t reach it. Do you mind?” Minho asks him.
“N-no, of course not,” Taemin stutters. Taemin reaches down for the pencil and picks it up. He returns it to its owner with shaking hands, his eyes wide in embarrassment and nervousness. Minho smiles dashingly.
“Thanks,” he says, and he turns back to his seat.
A few days later Minho turns around again, this time startling Taemin.
“I missed the answer to number two. Did you happen to get it?” he asks.
“Yes,” Taemin says quietly, turning slightly red and looking down at his desk. “It’s 'the Enlightenment.'” Minho thanks him again, and Taemin doesn’t notice that Minho’s eyes linger on him for several seconds before he turns back to the desk.
It’s barely a week later in the cafeteria, and Taemin is walking down the aisle between two rows of tables. He slips, and as he’s falling he thinks that of course it’s just his luck that he’d fall in front of Minho. When he realizes he doesn’t hit the ground, his heart nearly stops.
“Watch your step, Taemin-ssi,” Minho laughs good-naturedly, releasing Taemin. He ruffles his hair before he leaves. Taemin’s mind runs at a million miles a second, but the two main things he thinks are he caught me and he knows my name.
History gets progressively more exciting, and not because they’re finally learning about relevant things. Minho talks to Taemin almost every day, even if it’s just “what’s the homework again?” or “can I borrow a sheet of paper?” Taemin’s heart flutters every time he hears Minho’s deep voice. He feels silly acting like a teenage girl, but he figures he’s just deluding himself into thinking that he has a chance. He doesn’t stop hoping anyway.
Several days later, Taemin gets to class slightly later than normal. He spots a confused looking Minho standing in the middle of the classroom amongst the other students. Taemin walks over to his normal desk and sits down, watching Minho. Minho talks to a few other kids before glancing over towards his usual seat, and Taemin swears they make eye contact for a split second. It’s not long before Minho sits down and stretches again. It seems to Taemin that Minho must be extra sore from soccer practice, because his stretch seems stiff and more obvious than usual. So much more obvious, in fact, that Minho hits Taemin’s head with his long arms. He whips around, apologizing profusely. Taemin waves it off with a smile, and he’s pleased to see that Minho returns the gesture.
A few days go by and Taemin could swear that Minho is getting clumsier. He drops his pencil at least four times every class, sometimes as many as eight times. Not only does he drop them, he also manages to kick them before he can retrieve them, so that Taemin has to continually pick them up. Not that he minds. It’s an excuse to see Minho’s smile whenever his pencil is returned, an excuse to hear that deep, genuine “thank you” come out of those beautiful lips.
Taemin tells his best friend Jinki everything. Jinki knows about Taemin’s crush on Minho. He knows that Taemin goes to the café by their school every Saturday at two. He knows that Taemin always orders hot chocolate, or else banana milk in the summer. Jinki also knows things that Taemin doesn’t tell him. For example, he knows that his friend Jonghyun is on Minho’s soccer team. From Jonghyun, he knows that soccer practice ends at one-thirty on Saturdays. He knows that Jonghyun and the rest of the soccer team go out for Chinese food after these practices, but he also knows that Minho never goes with them because he doesn’t like Chinese food. And if there’s one thing that Jinki is good at besides knowing things, it’s dropping subtle hints. He has a plan, but Jinki, unlike Taemin, does not tell his best friend everything. Surprises are good once in a while.
Taemin orders his hot chocolate from the barista at the café. Key always adds a few extra marshmallows for his cute regular customer. As Taemin sits down, who should appear but Minho, stepping out of the cold into the warm coziness of the café. Taemin is suddenly unable to swallow the marshmallows he’s been chewing. He overhears Minho’s order (“a medium Americano, please”) and watches Minho get his drink. He’s startled to see Minho walking towards him, and is even more surprised when Minho sits down at his table.
“Hi, Taemin-ssi, I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” he says, smiling his dazzling smile.
“Go ahead, Minho-ssi,” Taemin mumbles, even though he’s beyond excited. He can feel his face getting red. Minho opens his backpack, taking out a few pencils, sheets of paper, and their history textbook.
“I know it’s kind of weird, but do you think you could help me with history?” Minho asks. “I don’t quite understand this event.” Taemin reads over the passage that Minho points out, completely oblivious to whatever Minho is doing with his pencil.
“Sure…uh, it’s simple, really, it’s, uh,” Taemin fumbles with his words. He looks up at Minho who suddenly drops the pencil he’d been holding. Impossibly, he kicks it towards Taemin.
“I guess we’re used to this, huh?” Minho chuckles as Taemin leans down to pick it up. Something is different about this pencil. It’s wrapped with paper in a spiral pattern. He sees that the paper has words on it, but the only ones he can read are “to Taemin-ssi.” He glances up at Minho, who nods. Taemin unwraps the paper, and there are only three more words on the sheet.
I love you.
Taemin looks up wildly but has no time to react. Minho kisses him quickly on the lips, and even though it only lasts a mere few seconds, Taemin can feel the affection radiating from the older boy. They break apart, and Minho looks questioningly at Taemin, desperately waiting for approval.
Taemin smiles and Minho’s face looks relieved as he smiles back.
Their next kiss is one of many to come.