this was born in the comment box
love collectively
jonghyun/minho (shinee). pg, 900 words. time traveler!fic, minho meets 3 selves of jonghyun.
for rebreak because she is cute and fun and i am trying to coerce her into writing more.
prompt:
i think i am beginning to fall in love with you. not that you’re one person- you are sometimes, but sometimes you’re two, or three, or six. and i am beginning to fall in love with you collectively. i am beginning to fall in love with what it’s like when we are together.
i don’t know if it’s proximity speaking, if it’s the careless laughter and closeness and the way you’re always there, always with the easy “come in we’re here make yourself at home yes we like you what the hell are you talking about?” and
i want to be yours, i want to be yours so fiercely that you defend me (you already do) and refer to me as your own, i want to belong somewhere, i want that somewhere to be with you, you six three two one whatever.
i need a place and you’ve become it.
i don’t know what this means.
i am beginning to fall in love with you, all of you.
closetbird
"Jonghyun, come back here! Put on some clothes before you answer the door. How could you let him come to the door like this?" a tired woman grabs Jonghyun by both his shoulders and pulls him back. She risks her dry clothes by scooping four-year old Jonghyun up in her arms, and water drips off the helmet of hair he already has and splashes onto her apron.
"I was giving him a bath, and then I heard the doorbell ring-don't give me that look, because at least I shut off the water," a man, who Minho guesses is Jonghyun's father, says.
"Well, go back to what you were doing before. Dry him off. No, teach him how to drape the towel around himself," Jonghyun's mother says, gently letting Jonghyun's feet touch the hallway and pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. His father grumbles and follows the wet footsteps.
"Sorry, you can uncover your eyes now," she says, and Minho takes his hands off and shakes the hair out of his face. "You didn't see anything, right?"
"If I did, I don't remember," he says, fighting back his smile. She doesn't notice his struggle, and continues talking.
"Kids these days. Always doing things that make me worry," Jonghyun's mother murmurs.
"Well," Minho says. "They're going to make you proud someday."
Her lips curl into a smile. “Is that what you’re trying to sell?”
“Actually, I’m just going to move on to the next house. You wouldn’t buy this super-efficient washing tool anyway,” Minho says, and leaves before she asks for a look.
“Did your laundry wrong?” Minho asks. He adjusts his tie and flattens the creases on his pants, even though they’re likely to show up again. He sits down on the bench, and Jonghyun stops swinging his legs. When they’re not blurring in motion, they’re skinny and hairless.
“Who are you?” Jonghyun asks, releasing the bench from his grip. There’s sweat where his finger tips were.
“A sponsor for the other team,” Minho lies.
Jonghyun stares at him. “I would act suspicious right now, but it’s not like I’m all that close with my own team.”
“It does explain the bench and the jersey 5 sizes bigger than you,” Minho smirks.
“Ha ha. Before you think I’m the water boy, I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up. I’ve got better things to do than kick around a ball,” Jonghyun says, facing the clash of colors on the field.
“So what is the activity that makes sports a waste of time?” Minho asks, following the ball with his eyes and half of his attention. The other half waits for Jonghyun’s reply.
“My band. Still in the making, but it’s a band,” Jonghyun answers, and his voice is louder and clearer now. Minho can imagine him singing notes with that voice.
“Do you sing?”
“No. But I’m pretty good at the bass-hey, why am I telling all this to a stranger?” His team scores a goal, and Jonghyun is free to gaze at Minho now.
“Maybe because you don’t feel like you’re telling it to a stranger,” Minho answers.
Minho checks both directions of the hallway, and tells himself that there’s not going to be a trainee or coordinator curious enough to open the janitor’s closet. He turns the doorknob, and quickly sneaks behind the door. It’s stuffy and warm in the closet, so it doesn’t feel too bad to unbutton his suit and drop his pants on the floor.
He steps out, angling his cap low. He grabs the first mop and drags out an empty bucket, steering them into the open elevator.
“Hey, are you new?” he hears as soon as the doors open again. Minho sets out his things, and immeditately starts to clean a shining floor.
“Yeah, I just got accepted.” Minho laughs at the sound of his pubescent voice. He takes one quick peek at his younger self, who’s towering over Jonghyun with arms glued to his sides.
“Cool. I came here not too long before you. Maybe we’ll see each other around,” Jonghyun says, moving past Minho.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around...”
“Jonghyun. My name’s Kim Jonghyun.”
“Oh. I’m Choi Minho.”
Minho has the urge to trip Jonghyun with his broom stick, but moves out of the way instead. He’ll get the best of him another time.
“Where did you go?” Jonghyun whispers, and stops shaking his head to the music. Minho scoots the chair out from under the table, and the red tablecloth slides off the seat.
“Away from you embarrassing me,” Minho says. Jonghyun freezes, but a good part of the song makes him roll his head again.
“Will you stop moving your head?” Minho says, cupping his hands on the side of Jonghyun’s head. “I love you. Your exhibitionist self, your non-athletic self, your going-up-to-people-and-introducing-yourself-first act. I love all of it.”
“Yeah. I know you do,” Jonghyun says. He slides one hand under the table and locks hands with Minho, forcing himself to move one arm up in the air now. Without Jonghyun paying attention, Minho looks at his watch, and makes sure he’s in the right time. The music is up-to-date, Jonghyun's swinging Minho into motion. It's the right year.
jonghyun/minho (shinee). pg, 900 words. time traveler!fic, minho meets 3 selves of jonghyun.
for rebreak because she is cute and fun and i am trying to coerce her into writing more.
prompt:
i think i am beginning to fall in love with you. not that you’re one person- you are sometimes, but sometimes you’re two, or three, or six. and i am beginning to fall in love with you collectively. i am beginning to fall in love with what it’s like when we are together.
i don’t know if it’s proximity speaking, if it’s the careless laughter and closeness and the way you’re always there, always with the easy “come in we’re here make yourself at home yes we like you what the hell are you talking about?” and
i want to be yours, i want to be yours so fiercely that you defend me (you already do) and refer to me as your own, i want to belong somewhere, i want that somewhere to be with you, you six three two one whatever.
i need a place and you’ve become it.
i don’t know what this means.
i am beginning to fall in love with you, all of you.
closetbird
"Jonghyun, come back here! Put on some clothes before you answer the door. How could you let him come to the door like this?" a tired woman grabs Jonghyun by both his shoulders and pulls him back. She risks her dry clothes by scooping four-year old Jonghyun up in her arms, and water drips off the helmet of hair he already has and splashes onto her apron.
"I was giving him a bath, and then I heard the doorbell ring-don't give me that look, because at least I shut off the water," a man, who Minho guesses is Jonghyun's father, says.
"Well, go back to what you were doing before. Dry him off. No, teach him how to drape the towel around himself," Jonghyun's mother says, gently letting Jonghyun's feet touch the hallway and pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. His father grumbles and follows the wet footsteps.
"Sorry, you can uncover your eyes now," she says, and Minho takes his hands off and shakes the hair out of his face. "You didn't see anything, right?"
"If I did, I don't remember," he says, fighting back his smile. She doesn't notice his struggle, and continues talking.
"Kids these days. Always doing things that make me worry," Jonghyun's mother murmurs.
"Well," Minho says. "They're going to make you proud someday."
Her lips curl into a smile. “Is that what you’re trying to sell?”
“Actually, I’m just going to move on to the next house. You wouldn’t buy this super-efficient washing tool anyway,” Minho says, and leaves before she asks for a look.
“Did your laundry wrong?” Minho asks. He adjusts his tie and flattens the creases on his pants, even though they’re likely to show up again. He sits down on the bench, and Jonghyun stops swinging his legs. When they’re not blurring in motion, they’re skinny and hairless.
“Who are you?” Jonghyun asks, releasing the bench from his grip. There’s sweat where his finger tips were.
“A sponsor for the other team,” Minho lies.
Jonghyun stares at him. “I would act suspicious right now, but it’s not like I’m all that close with my own team.”
“It does explain the bench and the jersey 5 sizes bigger than you,” Minho smirks.
“Ha ha. Before you think I’m the water boy, I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up. I’ve got better things to do than kick around a ball,” Jonghyun says, facing the clash of colors on the field.
“So what is the activity that makes sports a waste of time?” Minho asks, following the ball with his eyes and half of his attention. The other half waits for Jonghyun’s reply.
“My band. Still in the making, but it’s a band,” Jonghyun answers, and his voice is louder and clearer now. Minho can imagine him singing notes with that voice.
“Do you sing?”
“No. But I’m pretty good at the bass-hey, why am I telling all this to a stranger?” His team scores a goal, and Jonghyun is free to gaze at Minho now.
“Maybe because you don’t feel like you’re telling it to a stranger,” Minho answers.
Minho checks both directions of the hallway, and tells himself that there’s not going to be a trainee or coordinator curious enough to open the janitor’s closet. He turns the doorknob, and quickly sneaks behind the door. It’s stuffy and warm in the closet, so it doesn’t feel too bad to unbutton his suit and drop his pants on the floor.
He steps out, angling his cap low. He grabs the first mop and drags out an empty bucket, steering them into the open elevator.
“Hey, are you new?” he hears as soon as the doors open again. Minho sets out his things, and immeditately starts to clean a shining floor.
“Yeah, I just got accepted.” Minho laughs at the sound of his pubescent voice. He takes one quick peek at his younger self, who’s towering over Jonghyun with arms glued to his sides.
“Cool. I came here not too long before you. Maybe we’ll see each other around,” Jonghyun says, moving past Minho.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around...”
“Jonghyun. My name’s Kim Jonghyun.”
“Oh. I’m Choi Minho.”
Minho has the urge to trip Jonghyun with his broom stick, but moves out of the way instead. He’ll get the best of him another time.
“Where did you go?” Jonghyun whispers, and stops shaking his head to the music. Minho scoots the chair out from under the table, and the red tablecloth slides off the seat.
“Away from you embarrassing me,” Minho says. Jonghyun freezes, but a good part of the song makes him roll his head again.
“Will you stop moving your head?” Minho says, cupping his hands on the side of Jonghyun’s head. “I love you. Your exhibitionist self, your non-athletic self, your going-up-to-people-and-introducing-yourself-first act. I love all of it.”
“Yeah. I know you do,” Jonghyun says. He slides one hand under the table and locks hands with Minho, forcing himself to move one arm up in the air now. Without Jonghyun paying attention, Minho looks at his watch, and makes sure he’s in the right time. The music is up-to-date, Jonghyun's swinging Minho into motion. It's the right year.