Challenge #2 -- Entry 7
Title: Cigarettes and Sunrises
Pairing: Leeteuk/Eunhyuk, Heechul/Donghae, sort of Eunhyuk/Donghae
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Grief makes people do things out of the ordinary, feel out of the ordinary.
Song(s) used for inspiration: Röyksopp - Silver Cruiser
cigarettes and sunrises
The first time Hyukjae smokes, it's at a funeral. That first drag of a cigarette punches through his lungs and he starts to wonder if he's going to suffocate. He tries not to think then they could throw me in with the casket when his own possible death comes to mind, but it's too late and he's already thought the thought, and it's out in the open. In his mind, at least. In the vast space up there, and that's where he hopes it'll stay.
But for now, he's still coughing, choking on cigarette smoke. He doesn't notice Jungsoo standing there, waiting patiently for the younger man's fit to settle down and for his lungs to work like they should again. When he finally does, he's long since stomped on the cigarette and vowed never to try that again. Hyukjae feels his back pocket for the rest of the pack and simply doesn't find it-it's gone.
"I didn't take them," is the first thing Jungsoo says.
Hyukjae loosens his tie, the rest of his friends gathered around the grave, waiting for it to be over, and part of him is glad he's over here with Donghae's old cigarettes. "Never said you did."
"Just making sure," he sweeps his new blonde hair to the side. Just dyed yesterday, for the heck of it. No special reason. Maybe because death sometimes made people take up random plans and that was Jungsoo's. Hyukjae's must've been to try smoking.
"They want you to come back, you know."
'They' probably means Donghae.
"I'm coming."
"I'll wait."
Hyukjae doesn't sigh, just feels his other back pocket in case he put the other cigarettes there. Nope.
- -
Donghae isn't hanging off Heechul's arm, nor visa versa-Heechul tends to go for Siwon's or Hankyung's on a more regular basis. But the idea of being able to suddenly reach over and clutch his hyung's sleeve gives him what he needs to make sure he doesn't go for a public demonstration of ultimate grief.
He hates funerals. Who doesn't? Heechul had scoffed the remark his apartment, the tiny box he shares with Hankyung and, Heebum and Baengsin, and Siwon even when they run out of room.
Donghae looks over his shoulder and holds onto the pack in his suit pocket. He doesn't smoke very often, probably twice a year if he's stressed-and man is he stressed-yet he still brought them today. And he'd given them to Hyukjae.
And taken them back, without being noticed. He's like a sliver of smoke that parts from between his own lips. Donghae's grip tightens on the small box at the two far away figures, Jungsoo's hand on Hyukjae's shoulder in the distance.
- -
Jungsoo is very much real, very much in front of him, and as far as Hyukjae is concerned, Jungsoo is the only one sober in the room. And there are only two of them. Hyukjae, Jungsoo. Self-explanatory, but the only thing that isn't his how they'd got to the elder's apartment. Hyukjae couldn't remember much past Donghae's hand in the back of his pocket.
So that's when he'd taken back his cigarettes.
"Hyukjae-ah, are you feeling okay?" the voice-Jungsoo's voice-is muddy and the syllables sound muffled to him, like he's underwater.
"What?"
Hands are there, at his shoulders, supporting him. "How do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" Hyukjae's throat feels disgusting, grainy and his mouth feels gross with a taste he can only think of as vomit. Lovely. "Ick."
"Descriptive," Jungsoo almost laughs, but his tone hardens with worry in less than a second. "You got drunk. Do you remember that?"
"No. Was I sleeping just now?"
"Um, not really."
"Oh," he needs to sit down. But a seat is too far away, so he'll just settle for the floor. Jungsoo's arms stop him, pull him somewhat upright until he can be horizontal on a soft and flat surface. A bed.
A bed, he's on Jungsoo's bed.
The words don't come out easily, he feels like his head is about to split open. "Hyung, can I sleep here?"
No words come at all for a moment, and Hyukjae is easily frightened when he's had too much to drink.
"Hyung?"
Hands push him back this time, forcing the support of a mattress on his back. "Of course."
Hyukjae doesn't really know if the brush against his forehead comes from Jungsoo's lips, or if he's already halfway into dreamland.
- -
When he doesn't want to, when he's most occupied, he thinks about Hyukjae. When he's currently moving in slow motion in time with Heechul's desperate hips moving-clothes still on, music filling the space around them, backseat lack of romance but plenty of lust-he starts to think about that best friend of his.
Donghae breaks for air and Heechul is unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the skin he reveals to the thick air inside Donghae's car. Everything is languid and slow, and Donghae starts to picture Hyukjae sliding out of his clothes and then touching, touching Donghae and then-
Donghae remembers where he is, and who's in front of him. Time to stop thinking. Except where things go, point A to point B. Simple as that.
Stop, stop, stop it. Move. Do the right person.
- -
His only pair of nice pants-the black ones that aren't like the various colors and types of jeans-is ripped. Not in the way all the 'cool' kids co it. Hyukjae would never call himself a 'cool' kid.
He notices this when his tongue is in Jungsoo's mouth, and what the fuck is going on there? Hyukjae nearly leaps away, even when he seemed to be the one in charge, he falls back on the hardwood floor and Jungsoo gasps. Perhaps for air.
"Never letting you get drunk again."
Hyukjae winces at the sharp pain in his elbow, and he still wants to know why there's at rip at the bottom of his pants, and why he was molesting Jungsoo's tongue.
The funny thing is, Hyukjae really doesn't remember getting drunk. Can't remember for the life of him. But he'll have to take Jungsoo's word for it-he doesn't lie very often.
"I didn't think you'd apologize," Jungsoo suddenly sighs.
"For what?"
"Nevermind."
Oh, Hyukjae thinks, the kissing thing just now. That. "Sorry."
"Anything you want to talk to me about?" he speaks slowly enough so Hyukjae can hopefully understand.
And Hyukjae does, sighing in his intoxicated state-although things are starting to clear up. "Grief. Death."
Jungsoo leans down and kisses his forehead again, his hand grazing Hyukjae's. And Hyukjae tries not to hold on too long when their hands squeeze, just for a second. In the morning, he probably won't remember this.
- -
In the morning, the sun comes up much slower than usual, peeks over the horizon and Donghae is awake when it does. Heechul is asleep, his arm clinging to Donghae's left one.
Tears, tears in his eyes. Donghae uses his free hand to wipe them, his wet cheeks feel sore from pressing into his wrinkled pillow, and from Heechul holding him so close at one point that Donghae thought they might turn into one person. Maybe this is what grief does for Heechul.
Grief toys with Donghae, makes him confuse his people and places. He imagines he's with Hyukjae, imagines they're together and that Hyukjae is home right now, in this bed, the one clinging. A brief glance to the left changes it all, though, just one second. A blink of an eye.
His back cracks, the sound making him feel weary and empty. Heechul's hold is strong, and soft in the sense that his skin seems to have been made for bruising.
But this isn't what he wants. Not every morning. Donghae wipes his cheek on the back of his hand again and tries not to move Heechul too much when he sits up. The sun says hello and Donghae wants to say goodbye. It's just a few minutes into the morning now, and Donghae wants to forget. Forget everything.
- -
Hyukjae comes home quietly and half-sober, in the same clothes he'd left in the day before. Only he seems to have gained a different pair of pants, jeans now, that don't exactly fit him just right. Almost perfect, good enough.
He kicks off his shoes and nudges them into some kind of order before he peels his jacket from his body, hangs it up and walks towards the kitchen.
Donghae is there, a glass of milk in his hands, bedhead fixed perfectly already, pajamas slightly wrinkled.
"Heechul-hyung slept over," he announces.
Hyukjae isn't all there. "Oh."
Donghae waits for Hyukjae to give something akin to an explanation. But when it doesn't happen, all Donghae does is sigh and touch Hyukjae's arm when he comes close enough.
"Welcome home."
Returned sigh. "Thanks."
The light filtering into the house, touching their bodies is orange and yellow, bright and mixed together. Trying to make them warm. Yearning for something.
Pairing: Leeteuk/Eunhyuk, Heechul/Donghae, sort of Eunhyuk/Donghae
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Grief makes people do things out of the ordinary, feel out of the ordinary.
Song(s) used for inspiration: Röyksopp - Silver Cruiser
cigarettes and sunrises
The first time Hyukjae smokes, it's at a funeral. That first drag of a cigarette punches through his lungs and he starts to wonder if he's going to suffocate. He tries not to think then they could throw me in with the casket when his own possible death comes to mind, but it's too late and he's already thought the thought, and it's out in the open. In his mind, at least. In the vast space up there, and that's where he hopes it'll stay.
But for now, he's still coughing, choking on cigarette smoke. He doesn't notice Jungsoo standing there, waiting patiently for the younger man's fit to settle down and for his lungs to work like they should again. When he finally does, he's long since stomped on the cigarette and vowed never to try that again. Hyukjae feels his back pocket for the rest of the pack and simply doesn't find it-it's gone.
"I didn't take them," is the first thing Jungsoo says.
Hyukjae loosens his tie, the rest of his friends gathered around the grave, waiting for it to be over, and part of him is glad he's over here with Donghae's old cigarettes. "Never said you did."
"Just making sure," he sweeps his new blonde hair to the side. Just dyed yesterday, for the heck of it. No special reason. Maybe because death sometimes made people take up random plans and that was Jungsoo's. Hyukjae's must've been to try smoking.
"They want you to come back, you know."
'They' probably means Donghae.
"I'm coming."
"I'll wait."
Hyukjae doesn't sigh, just feels his other back pocket in case he put the other cigarettes there. Nope.
- -
Donghae isn't hanging off Heechul's arm, nor visa versa-Heechul tends to go for Siwon's or Hankyung's on a more regular basis. But the idea of being able to suddenly reach over and clutch his hyung's sleeve gives him what he needs to make sure he doesn't go for a public demonstration of ultimate grief.
He hates funerals. Who doesn't? Heechul had scoffed the remark his apartment, the tiny box he shares with Hankyung and, Heebum and Baengsin, and Siwon even when they run out of room.
Donghae looks over his shoulder and holds onto the pack in his suit pocket. He doesn't smoke very often, probably twice a year if he's stressed-and man is he stressed-yet he still brought them today. And he'd given them to Hyukjae.
And taken them back, without being noticed. He's like a sliver of smoke that parts from between his own lips. Donghae's grip tightens on the small box at the two far away figures, Jungsoo's hand on Hyukjae's shoulder in the distance.
- -
Jungsoo is very much real, very much in front of him, and as far as Hyukjae is concerned, Jungsoo is the only one sober in the room. And there are only two of them. Hyukjae, Jungsoo. Self-explanatory, but the only thing that isn't his how they'd got to the elder's apartment. Hyukjae couldn't remember much past Donghae's hand in the back of his pocket.
So that's when he'd taken back his cigarettes.
"Hyukjae-ah, are you feeling okay?" the voice-Jungsoo's voice-is muddy and the syllables sound muffled to him, like he's underwater.
"What?"
Hands are there, at his shoulders, supporting him. "How do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" Hyukjae's throat feels disgusting, grainy and his mouth feels gross with a taste he can only think of as vomit. Lovely. "Ick."
"Descriptive," Jungsoo almost laughs, but his tone hardens with worry in less than a second. "You got drunk. Do you remember that?"
"No. Was I sleeping just now?"
"Um, not really."
"Oh," he needs to sit down. But a seat is too far away, so he'll just settle for the floor. Jungsoo's arms stop him, pull him somewhat upright until he can be horizontal on a soft and flat surface. A bed.
A bed, he's on Jungsoo's bed.
The words don't come out easily, he feels like his head is about to split open. "Hyung, can I sleep here?"
No words come at all for a moment, and Hyukjae is easily frightened when he's had too much to drink.
"Hyung?"
Hands push him back this time, forcing the support of a mattress on his back. "Of course."
Hyukjae doesn't really know if the brush against his forehead comes from Jungsoo's lips, or if he's already halfway into dreamland.
- -
When he doesn't want to, when he's most occupied, he thinks about Hyukjae. When he's currently moving in slow motion in time with Heechul's desperate hips moving-clothes still on, music filling the space around them, backseat lack of romance but plenty of lust-he starts to think about that best friend of his.
Donghae breaks for air and Heechul is unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the skin he reveals to the thick air inside Donghae's car. Everything is languid and slow, and Donghae starts to picture Hyukjae sliding out of his clothes and then touching, touching Donghae and then-
Donghae remembers where he is, and who's in front of him. Time to stop thinking. Except where things go, point A to point B. Simple as that.
Stop, stop, stop it. Move. Do the right person.
- -
His only pair of nice pants-the black ones that aren't like the various colors and types of jeans-is ripped. Not in the way all the 'cool' kids co it. Hyukjae would never call himself a 'cool' kid.
He notices this when his tongue is in Jungsoo's mouth, and what the fuck is going on there? Hyukjae nearly leaps away, even when he seemed to be the one in charge, he falls back on the hardwood floor and Jungsoo gasps. Perhaps for air.
"Never letting you get drunk again."
Hyukjae winces at the sharp pain in his elbow, and he still wants to know why there's at rip at the bottom of his pants, and why he was molesting Jungsoo's tongue.
The funny thing is, Hyukjae really doesn't remember getting drunk. Can't remember for the life of him. But he'll have to take Jungsoo's word for it-he doesn't lie very often.
"I didn't think you'd apologize," Jungsoo suddenly sighs.
"For what?"
"Nevermind."
Oh, Hyukjae thinks, the kissing thing just now. That. "Sorry."
"Anything you want to talk to me about?" he speaks slowly enough so Hyukjae can hopefully understand.
And Hyukjae does, sighing in his intoxicated state-although things are starting to clear up. "Grief. Death."
Jungsoo leans down and kisses his forehead again, his hand grazing Hyukjae's. And Hyukjae tries not to hold on too long when their hands squeeze, just for a second. In the morning, he probably won't remember this.
- -
In the morning, the sun comes up much slower than usual, peeks over the horizon and Donghae is awake when it does. Heechul is asleep, his arm clinging to Donghae's left one.
Tears, tears in his eyes. Donghae uses his free hand to wipe them, his wet cheeks feel sore from pressing into his wrinkled pillow, and from Heechul holding him so close at one point that Donghae thought they might turn into one person. Maybe this is what grief does for Heechul.
Grief toys with Donghae, makes him confuse his people and places. He imagines he's with Hyukjae, imagines they're together and that Hyukjae is home right now, in this bed, the one clinging. A brief glance to the left changes it all, though, just one second. A blink of an eye.
His back cracks, the sound making him feel weary and empty. Heechul's hold is strong, and soft in the sense that his skin seems to have been made for bruising.
But this isn't what he wants. Not every morning. Donghae wipes his cheek on the back of his hand again and tries not to move Heechul too much when he sits up. The sun says hello and Donghae wants to say goodbye. It's just a few minutes into the morning now, and Donghae wants to forget. Forget everything.
- -
Hyukjae comes home quietly and half-sober, in the same clothes he'd left in the day before. Only he seems to have gained a different pair of pants, jeans now, that don't exactly fit him just right. Almost perfect, good enough.
He kicks off his shoes and nudges them into some kind of order before he peels his jacket from his body, hangs it up and walks towards the kitchen.
Donghae is there, a glass of milk in his hands, bedhead fixed perfectly already, pajamas slightly wrinkled.
"Heechul-hyung slept over," he announces.
Hyukjae isn't all there. "Oh."
Donghae waits for Hyukjae to give something akin to an explanation. But when it doesn't happen, all Donghae does is sigh and touch Hyukjae's arm when he comes close enough.
"Welcome home."
Returned sigh. "Thanks."
The light filtering into the house, touching their bodies is orange and yellow, bright and mixed together. Trying to make them warm. Yearning for something.