[infinite] shorts 01
most of these are slightly edited versions of things i've posted elsewhere.
thunder road
hoya, sungyeol
g, 292w
prompt: the blankket, "thunder road". (or springsteen, w/e)
Hoya is sitting on the porch with his suitcase and he can hear Sungyeol's car approaching before he sees it puttering up to the building. He can't help but smile.
Sungyeol gets out and waves one long arm. Hoya picks up his suitcase and walks down to the car.
"That's everything?" says Sungyeol, eyes wide. "We're not coming back, you know."
Hoya shrugs. "What do I need? You're the one who has to have fifty pounds of makeup at all times."
"Yah, do you want me to leave you here?" says Sungyeol, but he's walking over and opening the trunk and Hoya throws in his suitcase and slams it closed. He gets into the passenger seat. The whole time he hasn't looked at the dormitory building. He doesn't want to. It would make it seem too real.
Sungyeol gets in and does up his seatbelt. He grins at Hoya. "So, you ready? Give up university life and make it on our own?"
Hoya nods. "I think so. I'm..." He trails off.
Sungyeol scoffs. "Come on. Are you gonna stay in Busan for the rest of your life? There's so much of the country to see."
Hoya hesitates, then nods again, jaw set firmly. "Then I'm ready."
"Great. We're on our way!" Sungyeol turns the key and the engine hums to life, then promptly stalls. He and Hoya wait for a moment, then Sungyeol tries again. The engine sputters, like it's getting worked up, and then dies.
They sit in silence for a few seconds.
"Well, that was fun," says Hoya, undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. "Thanks for the lift."
"At least call me a mechanic!" shrieks Sungyeol as Hoya walks back towards the dormitory building with his suitcase.
grip
myungsoo/sungjong
pg-13, 324w
prompt: "grip on reality".
Sungjong comes to see him at the hospital, sitting at his bedside and stroking his hair. "It's not visiting hours," Myungsoo croaks. "They'll kick you out." Sungjong just smiles, still petting his hair.
"Poor Myungsoo," he says, not unkindly. "Someone really got you this time, didn't they?"
Myungsoo nods. He lets his body fall back into the bed, hearing it creak under his weight, the rattle of his own breath through oxygen tubes.
"My poor Myungsoo," says Sungjong again. "You know why this happened, though, right?" His fingers trail lightly up Myungsoo's arm, over the scar, and Myungsoo shivers.
"No," he says weakly.
Sungjong tuts. "Because you let it happen to you," he says.
"No."
"Because you hate yourself."
"No," says Myungsoo, louder, and he coughs from the strain, falling back against the bed. "No."
Sungjong smiles sadly. "Because no one cares about you like I do."
His fingers pause over the IV needle taped against Myungsoo's forearm, and then he yanks it out, letting it fall to the floor. Myungsoo yelps in pain and an alarm sounds somewhere, and Sungjong leans over his bed and presses his lips to Myungsoo's eyelids, holding his face with both hands. Myungsoo hits at his chest and shoulders wildly, but Sungjong doesn't budge. He's always been stronger than Myungsoo thinks.
Two nurses come rushing into the room and Sungjong steps back as they grab Myungsoo by his arms, holding him down as he thrashes. He wriggles against their grip, desperate to reach Sungjong. He tries to scream his name, tries to alert the nurses to his presence, but it comes out as a garbled noise stuck in his throat. Then he feels a stinging in one arm, and an empty feeling floods his chest and he falls back against the bed, suddenly exhausted.
"Come back," he mumbles, passive as the nurses manipulate his limbs. "Sungjong, come back." But Sungjong's melted into the shadows, nowhere to be seen.
i'm a troublemaker
sungyeol, myungsoo, sungjong
pg, 254w
prompt: "(315): So i just bought beer on a credit card, using a fake ID, while wearing my nametag from work. All 3 have different names on them. God i love my boobs."
Sungyeol pauses and looks at himself in the employee bathroom mirror, then shakes his head. "Aish, this isn't going to work."
"It's okay," says Myungsoo as he brushes Sungyeol's hair, petting it with his other hand. "It's gonna be fine. Just be seductive."
Sungyeol tugs on his shirt, looking down. "I'm still wearing my work uniform."
"So?"
"It's not sexy enough."
"It's just a beer run. You don't want to look like a hooker," says Sungjong, leaning against a stall and looking Sungyeol's reflection up and down critically.
"If I don't want to look like a hooker, then why did you make them so..." Sungyeol grabs his chest desperately, and the tissues crinkle. "Big?"
"You're a distraction, remember?"
Sungyeol tugs at the ends of the brown wig that falls over his shoulders, then pulls a strand of it out of the gloss on his lips that Sungjong got from... He doesn't want to know where. "I still don't understand why you couldn't have just borrowed Dongwoo hyung's ID instead."
"Because Dongwoo hyung looks nothing like any of us." Myungsoo grins. "But his sister does."
"Hyung, are you finished? We only have twenty minutes left for lunch," says Sungjong.
Sungyeol purses his lips and examines himself in the mirror, hands on his hips, turning one way and the other. "Hello there," he says, trying out a breathy voice. Myungsoo stifles a laugh and Sungyeol glares at him. "What's so funny? I am trying to be seductive."
Sungjong sighs. "Let's pray that the cashier is gay."
la vie en rose
sunggyu/hoya
g, 251w
prompt: "our melody".
In Paris, Hoya combs the souvenir shops to find a music box that plays one particular song he doesn't know the name of, a tinkling melody mapped out in a mysterious code of raised points.
"Sentimental," says Sunggyu, who is waiting for him with his hands crammed in his jacket pockets. He's getting antsy; he wanted to look at clothes. Both of them are vaguely conscious of the cloud of fans in front of the store awaiting their next move.
Hoya plays the music box for him, turning the tiny crank a bit too slowly so the teeth snag on the bumps. "Hyung, listen." He leans in with a smile, holding it up to his ear. Sunggyu does not lean in. "It's nice, right?"
Sunggyu tilts his head. "It's nice. Sungjongie will like it."
"It's not for Sungjong," says Hoya, walking to the cash.
"Oh." Sunggyu frowns. "Then Dongwoo will definitely like it."
Hoya carefully counts out his bills and coins before handing them to the cashier. "Not Dongwoo hyung, either."
Sunggyu looks helplessly over at Geonam hyung, who's negotiating something with the cashier and a phrasebook as Hoya walks back toward him. "It's just for you, then?"
"Put out your hand." He takes one hand out of his pocket and Hoya presses the music box into his palm, folding his fingers around it gently. The painful shape of the metal box doesn't match the warm bluntness of his fingers.
"It can be our song, hyung," says Hoya, and Sunggyu blushes.
thunder road
hoya, sungyeol
g, 292w
prompt: the blankket, "thunder road". (or springsteen, w/e)
Hoya is sitting on the porch with his suitcase and he can hear Sungyeol's car approaching before he sees it puttering up to the building. He can't help but smile.
Sungyeol gets out and waves one long arm. Hoya picks up his suitcase and walks down to the car.
"That's everything?" says Sungyeol, eyes wide. "We're not coming back, you know."
Hoya shrugs. "What do I need? You're the one who has to have fifty pounds of makeup at all times."
"Yah, do you want me to leave you here?" says Sungyeol, but he's walking over and opening the trunk and Hoya throws in his suitcase and slams it closed. He gets into the passenger seat. The whole time he hasn't looked at the dormitory building. He doesn't want to. It would make it seem too real.
Sungyeol gets in and does up his seatbelt. He grins at Hoya. "So, you ready? Give up university life and make it on our own?"
Hoya nods. "I think so. I'm..." He trails off.
Sungyeol scoffs. "Come on. Are you gonna stay in Busan for the rest of your life? There's so much of the country to see."
Hoya hesitates, then nods again, jaw set firmly. "Then I'm ready."
"Great. We're on our way!" Sungyeol turns the key and the engine hums to life, then promptly stalls. He and Hoya wait for a moment, then Sungyeol tries again. The engine sputters, like it's getting worked up, and then dies.
They sit in silence for a few seconds.
"Well, that was fun," says Hoya, undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. "Thanks for the lift."
"At least call me a mechanic!" shrieks Sungyeol as Hoya walks back towards the dormitory building with his suitcase.
grip
myungsoo/sungjong
pg-13, 324w
prompt: "grip on reality".
Sungjong comes to see him at the hospital, sitting at his bedside and stroking his hair. "It's not visiting hours," Myungsoo croaks. "They'll kick you out." Sungjong just smiles, still petting his hair.
"Poor Myungsoo," he says, not unkindly. "Someone really got you this time, didn't they?"
Myungsoo nods. He lets his body fall back into the bed, hearing it creak under his weight, the rattle of his own breath through oxygen tubes.
"My poor Myungsoo," says Sungjong again. "You know why this happened, though, right?" His fingers trail lightly up Myungsoo's arm, over the scar, and Myungsoo shivers.
"No," he says weakly.
Sungjong tuts. "Because you let it happen to you," he says.
"No."
"Because you hate yourself."
"No," says Myungsoo, louder, and he coughs from the strain, falling back against the bed. "No."
Sungjong smiles sadly. "Because no one cares about you like I do."
His fingers pause over the IV needle taped against Myungsoo's forearm, and then he yanks it out, letting it fall to the floor. Myungsoo yelps in pain and an alarm sounds somewhere, and Sungjong leans over his bed and presses his lips to Myungsoo's eyelids, holding his face with both hands. Myungsoo hits at his chest and shoulders wildly, but Sungjong doesn't budge. He's always been stronger than Myungsoo thinks.
Two nurses come rushing into the room and Sungjong steps back as they grab Myungsoo by his arms, holding him down as he thrashes. He wriggles against their grip, desperate to reach Sungjong. He tries to scream his name, tries to alert the nurses to his presence, but it comes out as a garbled noise stuck in his throat. Then he feels a stinging in one arm, and an empty feeling floods his chest and he falls back against the bed, suddenly exhausted.
"Come back," he mumbles, passive as the nurses manipulate his limbs. "Sungjong, come back." But Sungjong's melted into the shadows, nowhere to be seen.
i'm a troublemaker
sungyeol, myungsoo, sungjong
pg, 254w
prompt: "(315): So i just bought beer on a credit card, using a fake ID, while wearing my nametag from work. All 3 have different names on them. God i love my boobs."
Sungyeol pauses and looks at himself in the employee bathroom mirror, then shakes his head. "Aish, this isn't going to work."
"It's okay," says Myungsoo as he brushes Sungyeol's hair, petting it with his other hand. "It's gonna be fine. Just be seductive."
Sungyeol tugs on his shirt, looking down. "I'm still wearing my work uniform."
"So?"
"It's not sexy enough."
"It's just a beer run. You don't want to look like a hooker," says Sungjong, leaning against a stall and looking Sungyeol's reflection up and down critically.
"If I don't want to look like a hooker, then why did you make them so..." Sungyeol grabs his chest desperately, and the tissues crinkle. "Big?"
"You're a distraction, remember?"
Sungyeol tugs at the ends of the brown wig that falls over his shoulders, then pulls a strand of it out of the gloss on his lips that Sungjong got from... He doesn't want to know where. "I still don't understand why you couldn't have just borrowed Dongwoo hyung's ID instead."
"Because Dongwoo hyung looks nothing like any of us." Myungsoo grins. "But his sister does."
"Hyung, are you finished? We only have twenty minutes left for lunch," says Sungjong.
Sungyeol purses his lips and examines himself in the mirror, hands on his hips, turning one way and the other. "Hello there," he says, trying out a breathy voice. Myungsoo stifles a laugh and Sungyeol glares at him. "What's so funny? I am trying to be seductive."
Sungjong sighs. "Let's pray that the cashier is gay."
la vie en rose
sunggyu/hoya
g, 251w
prompt: "our melody".
In Paris, Hoya combs the souvenir shops to find a music box that plays one particular song he doesn't know the name of, a tinkling melody mapped out in a mysterious code of raised points.
"Sentimental," says Sunggyu, who is waiting for him with his hands crammed in his jacket pockets. He's getting antsy; he wanted to look at clothes. Both of them are vaguely conscious of the cloud of fans in front of the store awaiting their next move.
Hoya plays the music box for him, turning the tiny crank a bit too slowly so the teeth snag on the bumps. "Hyung, listen." He leans in with a smile, holding it up to his ear. Sunggyu does not lean in. "It's nice, right?"
Sunggyu tilts his head. "It's nice. Sungjongie will like it."
"It's not for Sungjong," says Hoya, walking to the cash.
"Oh." Sunggyu frowns. "Then Dongwoo will definitely like it."
Hoya carefully counts out his bills and coins before handing them to the cashier. "Not Dongwoo hyung, either."
Sunggyu looks helplessly over at Geonam hyung, who's negotiating something with the cashier and a phrasebook as Hoya walks back toward him. "It's just for you, then?"
"Put out your hand." He takes one hand out of his pocket and Hoya presses the music box into his palm, folding his fingers around it gently. The painful shape of the metal box doesn't match the warm bluntness of his fingers.
"It can be our song, hyung," says Hoya, and Sunggyu blushes.