Minho/Key - Only You Can (Make Me Feel)
Title: Only You Can (Make Me Feel)
Pairing: Minho/Key
Word Count: 1, 220
Type: One-shot, PG
Notes: This is extremely self-indulgent (I let myself be, for once) and kind of fluff-inserted here and there, kind of cheesy, mostly just to help me feel better and working as part of an obligatory fic thing for Kibum's now belated birthday. Unbeta-ed, as usual. (If anyone's willing to be my beta, I'm looking for one, kindly give me a heads up! Just drop me a PM.) Thank you for reading. P.S. it's kinda like 2am+ right now and my brain isn't exactly in the best of situations, but this is extremely relevant to fic below.
Key lets Nicole in, the small space that is the living room filled with laughter, loud chatter and too many people. From his position at the door, Key counts - Jonghyun, Mir, Dongwoon, Seunghyun, Jinwoon, Nana, and probably ten more people or so, a birthday cake in the middle of them. The birthday cake isn’t touched, it’s positioned right in the middle, peaceful and undisturbed, with the plastic knife and candles lying right by its side.
“Kibum can we please blow the candles already,” is what Jonghyun tells him when he returns to the seat at the center of the crowd, with some of the other chiming in, they’ve all got curfews, managers to account to, stalker fans to reassure. Key shakes his head, a big grin spreading across his face but which doesn’t reach his eyes.
“It’s barely late, most of the party’s just arrived, I want you guys to stay longer!” Key is aware that he sounds like a spoilt brat, like the world revolves around him, like… He isn’t waiting for anybody. Nobody at all. Besides, he’s got a right, it’s his goddamn birthday, and if the people in the room weren’t going to give in to him on his special day, they might as well forget it.
So the people leave one by one, Key sees them, first to go being Seunghyun and his band mates from F.T Island, after which he can’t remember the order anymore. All he knows is that at 11, he’s looking at only Jonghyun and Nicole around the table.
The three of them avoid mentioning a certain name like the plague, they twist and turn and talk about everything else under the sun - or maybe it was the moon, then, instead - and try to humor the birthday boy, to fight and keep his mind off what the three of them know he’s thinking. And the birthday cake sits in the center of the table, still uncut, still untouched, the cold air in the cake box slowly vapourizing, forming droplets, drip drip drip on the cardboard surface.
It’s 11:30. Nicole leaves.
11:45. “He won’t be able to make it, Kibum-ah.” Key fights the urge to ask whoever’s speaking to shut up.
He reads the birthday wishes in his phone again. The first came from Dongwoon, a minute too early, then Jinwoon’s, right on time, Jonghyun’s, Wonbin’s, Joon’s, Mir’s, the rest of BEAST, Onew’s and Taemin’s…. the time on the top right corner of his phone reads 11:55. Jonghyun’s putting the candles into the birthday cake.
Jonghyun lights the candles, sings Key a sweet, sweet, almost beautiful birthday song, tells him not to stay up too late, then walks out to the balcony of the birthday boy’s Daegu home. Key knows he’s going to be on the phone with Jessica, the both of them, always, right before midnight.
He sits on the floor in the middle of the living room, staring at the birthday cake with the candles reluctantly blown out, the wax dried on the multi-coloured sticks making little dents in the smooth surface of vanilla, mind blank.
Suddenly a shadow is cast over him. He sees the mark of a drip of water on the wooden floor.
He looks up.
Then it is like “Kibum, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back in time, I ran, I seriously ran from that place - you know where I was, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back in time, I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry - “
His arms are around the younger boy’s neck, hugging him tightly, the tears warm on his face, all Kibum knows, all he is sure of, is the build of Minho, the touch of Minho, the smell of Minho, how sweaty Minho is but what does he care, Minho Minho Minho and then he decides that whatever time it is, whatever time is, it isn’t important because right then, right there, he’s got all he wanted, all he wants and all he’ll ever want.
When they finally pull apart, it’s for Minho to wipe the tears off Kibum’s face, to give him another long list of “sorry”s, right in his eyes this time, after which the birthday boy points at the cake.
“I wanted to wait till you came to blow the candles out. But… Jonghyun insisted, said it was my birthday, and cakes - or one, at least - has to have its candles blown out on the actual birth date, otherwise the wish wouldn’t work anymore.”
Minho nods, slowly, as if pondering a very serious thought, at which Kibum decides to ask, opening his mouth again - “But why not a birthday wish, at the very least, on my birthday? It’s my birthday, you know, if you couldn’t be here in person you could, definitely, drop me a wish, couldn’t you?”
Minho takes out his phone from his back pocket, presses the power on button, presses it again. The screen doesn’t light up.
“I… left my charger back at the dorm. On Tuesday. When manager hyung told us we could go back to our families for Chuseok. I forgot to pack it in.” Minho’s voice is sincere, full of apology. Kibum gives him a long, hard look - and notices the bouquet of roses in his hand.
“Is that…” his hands move to point at the wrapped box that Minho casually put on the table, the traditional plaid stripes characterizing the brand, brown and black, brown and black.
“Perfume? Yeah.”
“But I’m not 21… Yet.”
Minho gets up from the sofa, walks up to Kibum, looks into his eyes. “It doesn’t really matter, you know, you’re already in a relationship. Guess that means you’re mature enough.”
Kibum wants to say something back in return, maybe something like no, it matters, I’m a secret upholder of tradition and all the old values that nobody cares for nowadays, things like love that lasts a lifetime, only one person can make you feel a particular way - but Minho kisses him, kisses him long and hard, the feeling not something electric that jolts through but a warmth that spreads slowly, all the way into the depths of his heart, through his body to his fingertips, his toes, and love grinds into him like a pit at the bottom of his stomach, a particular feeling that Kibum thinks he can take a lifetime getting to know, a lifetime to fully comprehend.
Minho’s hands run down the small of his back, circle his waist, draws him closer in, closer, closer, till their bodies are both pressing together and the light of the room burns brighter and hotter than Kibum ever remembers it. The both of them stand that way for endless moments, Kibum’s hands entwined around Minho’s neck, Minho’s tight around his waist, swaying to silent music. The birthday boy would have missed the words if not for his head resting on Minho’s chest, feeling it heaving only slightly but surely, “Happy birthday Kibum.”
Kibum smiles, his lips slowly curving to form a crescent that lights up his eyes, dazzling, brilliant, unwavering. He knows, in his heart he knows, one of those things that only the heart can tell, and only time can prove. That Minho’s the one, just one, merely one, simply one, but the only one.
Pairing: Minho/Key
Word Count: 1, 220
Type: One-shot, PG
Notes: This is extremely self-indulgent (I let myself be, for once) and kind of fluff-inserted here and there, kind of cheesy, mostly just to help me feel better and working as part of an obligatory fic thing for Kibum's now belated birthday. Unbeta-ed, as usual. (If anyone's willing to be my beta, I'm looking for one, kindly give me a heads up! Just drop me a PM.) Thank you for reading. P.S. it's kinda like 2am+ right now and my brain isn't exactly in the best of situations, but this is extremely relevant to fic below.
Key lets Nicole in, the small space that is the living room filled with laughter, loud chatter and too many people. From his position at the door, Key counts - Jonghyun, Mir, Dongwoon, Seunghyun, Jinwoon, Nana, and probably ten more people or so, a birthday cake in the middle of them. The birthday cake isn’t touched, it’s positioned right in the middle, peaceful and undisturbed, with the plastic knife and candles lying right by its side.
“Kibum can we please blow the candles already,” is what Jonghyun tells him when he returns to the seat at the center of the crowd, with some of the other chiming in, they’ve all got curfews, managers to account to, stalker fans to reassure. Key shakes his head, a big grin spreading across his face but which doesn’t reach his eyes.
“It’s barely late, most of the party’s just arrived, I want you guys to stay longer!” Key is aware that he sounds like a spoilt brat, like the world revolves around him, like… He isn’t waiting for anybody. Nobody at all. Besides, he’s got a right, it’s his goddamn birthday, and if the people in the room weren’t going to give in to him on his special day, they might as well forget it.
So the people leave one by one, Key sees them, first to go being Seunghyun and his band mates from F.T Island, after which he can’t remember the order anymore. All he knows is that at 11, he’s looking at only Jonghyun and Nicole around the table.
The three of them avoid mentioning a certain name like the plague, they twist and turn and talk about everything else under the sun - or maybe it was the moon, then, instead - and try to humor the birthday boy, to fight and keep his mind off what the three of them know he’s thinking. And the birthday cake sits in the center of the table, still uncut, still untouched, the cold air in the cake box slowly vapourizing, forming droplets, drip drip drip on the cardboard surface.
It’s 11:30. Nicole leaves.
11:45. “He won’t be able to make it, Kibum-ah.” Key fights the urge to ask whoever’s speaking to shut up.
He reads the birthday wishes in his phone again. The first came from Dongwoon, a minute too early, then Jinwoon’s, right on time, Jonghyun’s, Wonbin’s, Joon’s, Mir’s, the rest of BEAST, Onew’s and Taemin’s…. the time on the top right corner of his phone reads 11:55. Jonghyun’s putting the candles into the birthday cake.
Jonghyun lights the candles, sings Key a sweet, sweet, almost beautiful birthday song, tells him not to stay up too late, then walks out to the balcony of the birthday boy’s Daegu home. Key knows he’s going to be on the phone with Jessica, the both of them, always, right before midnight.
He sits on the floor in the middle of the living room, staring at the birthday cake with the candles reluctantly blown out, the wax dried on the multi-coloured sticks making little dents in the smooth surface of vanilla, mind blank.
Suddenly a shadow is cast over him. He sees the mark of a drip of water on the wooden floor.
He looks up.
Then it is like “Kibum, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back in time, I ran, I seriously ran from that place - you know where I was, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back in time, I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry - “
His arms are around the younger boy’s neck, hugging him tightly, the tears warm on his face, all Kibum knows, all he is sure of, is the build of Minho, the touch of Minho, the smell of Minho, how sweaty Minho is but what does he care, Minho Minho Minho and then he decides that whatever time it is, whatever time is, it isn’t important because right then, right there, he’s got all he wanted, all he wants and all he’ll ever want.
When they finally pull apart, it’s for Minho to wipe the tears off Kibum’s face, to give him another long list of “sorry”s, right in his eyes this time, after which the birthday boy points at the cake.
“I wanted to wait till you came to blow the candles out. But… Jonghyun insisted, said it was my birthday, and cakes - or one, at least - has to have its candles blown out on the actual birth date, otherwise the wish wouldn’t work anymore.”
Minho nods, slowly, as if pondering a very serious thought, at which Kibum decides to ask, opening his mouth again - “But why not a birthday wish, at the very least, on my birthday? It’s my birthday, you know, if you couldn’t be here in person you could, definitely, drop me a wish, couldn’t you?”
Minho takes out his phone from his back pocket, presses the power on button, presses it again. The screen doesn’t light up.
“I… left my charger back at the dorm. On Tuesday. When manager hyung told us we could go back to our families for Chuseok. I forgot to pack it in.” Minho’s voice is sincere, full of apology. Kibum gives him a long, hard look - and notices the bouquet of roses in his hand.
“Is that…” his hands move to point at the wrapped box that Minho casually put on the table, the traditional plaid stripes characterizing the brand, brown and black, brown and black.
“Perfume? Yeah.”
“But I’m not 21… Yet.”
Minho gets up from the sofa, walks up to Kibum, looks into his eyes. “It doesn’t really matter, you know, you’re already in a relationship. Guess that means you’re mature enough.”
Kibum wants to say something back in return, maybe something like no, it matters, I’m a secret upholder of tradition and all the old values that nobody cares for nowadays, things like love that lasts a lifetime, only one person can make you feel a particular way - but Minho kisses him, kisses him long and hard, the feeling not something electric that jolts through but a warmth that spreads slowly, all the way into the depths of his heart, through his body to his fingertips, his toes, and love grinds into him like a pit at the bottom of his stomach, a particular feeling that Kibum thinks he can take a lifetime getting to know, a lifetime to fully comprehend.
Minho’s hands run down the small of his back, circle his waist, draws him closer in, closer, closer, till their bodies are both pressing together and the light of the room burns brighter and hotter than Kibum ever remembers it. The both of them stand that way for endless moments, Kibum’s hands entwined around Minho’s neck, Minho’s tight around his waist, swaying to silent music. The birthday boy would have missed the words if not for his head resting on Minho’s chest, feeling it heaving only slightly but surely, “Happy birthday Kibum.”
Kibum smiles, his lips slowly curving to form a crescent that lights up his eyes, dazzling, brilliant, unwavering. He knows, in his heart he knows, one of those things that only the heart can tell, and only time can prove. That Minho’s the one, just one, merely one, simply one, but the only one.