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TL;DR RULES1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else ( Read more... )
TL;DR RULES1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else ( Read more... )
It's not about the pits; it's what the pits represent. That's what he says to his therapist, who gives him a Look over her horn-rimmed glasses. "Really?" She asks, like she knows he's bull-shitting. Which is bull-shit because no one ever knows when he's bull-shitting. He's so fucking fantastic at it.
"Yes ma'am," he says, rolling onto his stomach. She said, "Make yourself comfortable," not, "Sit in the goddamn chair like an adult." This was supposed to be relaxing, right? Maybe he's most relaxed rubbing carpet burns onto his belly, wriggling on the floor like he's putting out a cigarette with his whole body. Judgment-free zone, right? Maybe he's an earthworm and the floor is as close to home as he'll get right now. This is boring. He wonders where she got those glasses. They make her look like a fucking librarian.
"Well, okay, tell me more about what draws you to," she pauses to check her notes, "Tao's armpits."
"Oh, lord." He drags out the groan. "Where do I begin?"
The truth is there is no boy and there are no armpits. Or, fine, there is a boy, and duh, he has armpits. But he's just a punk kid like any other punk kid in Chanyeol's school. No, actually he's worse because he doesn't even know Korean. It physically PAINS Chanyeol to sit in the front row playing ironic-teacher's-pet while a teeny prepubescent voice goes, "Excuse me?" every time Mr. Jang uses an idiom or something. "Excuse me?" Chanyeol rolls his eyes replaying it in his head. "Excuuuuuse me?"
"Shut the fuck up," Baekhyun says, picking up his lunch tray. "That impression stopped being funny ten thousand times ago."
Chanyeol used to have a best friend. Now he's running for homecoming king and fucking acting like he's too good to be hanging out with Chanyeol when he needs to be hitting on cheerleaders and putting up posters of his ugly mug throughout the school. Chanyeol walks by one stuck on the bathroom door and colors in two of Baekhyun's front teeth, generously revealed in his toolish politician's grin. He realizes he's using a highlighter and so ends up coloring in the rest of them too. No one wants to be represented by someone who doesn't even whiten their teeth properly. In this day and age! C'mon! Chanyeol does his daily five-minute fix of Crest White strips like clockwork, right before getting tucked into bed.
And that's the real problem, now, the reason for his armpit fabrications. His parents are splitting, so there won't be much tucking for him from now on. It's not a big deal, he tells Baekhyun, who nods because he's watched enough sappy movies to know how to be a good best friend for the ten minutes it'll take Chanyeol to moan about his family sitch, but he kind of wants to act out anyway. "This is like my one big shot. If I don't throw the tantrumiest of tantrums at this age, when will I ever get another chance?"
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"Get the fuck out of here," Chanyeol says, but he's pretty tickled. He fucking worships Marshall Bruce Mathers the Third.
So what ends up happening, right, is his therapist turns out to look just like one of Chanyeol's favorite Japanese porn stars. She's asking Chanyeol all these gentle probing questions and at one point even offers to exchange cell phone numbers. Chanyeol goes, "YES" and then, upon seeing her startled reaction, "I mean -- if that's alright with you." She says it is, and unlocks her phone. Her wallpaper is of fucking One Direction.
Not even a Korean boyband. Where was the pride, man?
But then he got an idea. Girls who like boybands like... weird shit, right? Like dudes touching each other and hugging and holding pinkies while they cross the street or something. That kind of shit turned them on like fucking sprinklers. He remembered this one girl in homeroom who squealed whenever Baekhyun asked for a pencil and Chanyeol gave it to him, their fingers brushing for .0000001010202 of a second. A pencil. A short stubby pencil. It wasn't even phallic. But you know what--if his hot therapist is into it, he'll give it to her. Oh yeah, baby. He'll give it good.
"There's this kid in my class," he says at their next session, improvising a whimper and a quivering lower lip, "who has the most amazing hairy armpits. He kinda bullies me around, but I love it, Ms. Kim--can I call you Taeyeon? that's okay right? I just feel so comfortable with you, Taeyeon, unlike with other noonas... you give off that friendly aura... hope I'm not making this too awkward... heh heh..."
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all the lovely things for you, anon(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ thanks for writing and sharing!!
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