[various] 10 song drabble
10 song drabble
itunes on shuffle, pairings predecided
ratings from g to r depending
1. beni - smile; jonghun/hongki; fti; pg
Jonghun thinks that Hongki’s the most beautiful when he smiles. Hongki’s face lights up when he’s happy, geniunely happy. A smile pulls at his lips, his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and the carefree laugh he lets out is raucous but melodic and beautiful to Jonghun’s ears.
Their schedules don’t leave much time for smiling, though. It’s the third week of promotions for their new album after coming back to Korea, and they’re already being overshadowed. They’re tired, on the brink of being overworked, sick of hand-syncing criticisms, and they’re all feeling the toll, especially Hongki. His voice had never been in tip-top condition, not with all the smoking and drinking he does (which Jonghun nags at him to cut down on, but who’s he to talk, he’s just as bad), and those high notes are really wearing him thin.
So, Hongki hasn’t smiled much at all this year.
Jonghun notices, because heck, he’s Hongki’s best friend, and he’s supposed to pick up on the small things that others miss. Hongki still keeps his spirits up on broadcast and variety shows, whenever there’s a camera floating around, but Hongki’s always been a volatile person, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s not too hard for Jonghun to notice when something’s amiss.
“You okay?” Jonghun asks Hongki one night when they’re settled back into their dorms, having just come back from Music Bank. There had been technical problems that night, and they had to perform the same song five times live for the PD to give them an ‘OK’. Hongki had missed that last note, though, and no one’s a harsher critic of Hongki than Hongki himself.
“Yeah,” Hongki says, lips drooping down, face haggard. He coughs. His voice is still hoarse, straining at the edges. “I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong, just...”
Jonghun looks at Hongki’s back as Hongki curls up in his bed and turns away from him, mulling in his own thoughts. He crawls into the bed and drapes a hand over Hongki’s arm. It’s his special way of comforting Hongki.
“Hongki-yah -- no, don’t talk, just listen. It’s not your fault.”
Hongki shifts and turns around to face Jonghun. “But I--”
“--Shh. Just smile. Can you smile? For me?”
Hongki looks up at Jonghun. His face is weary, but his lips twitch up into a feeble smile. He pushes Jonghun’s arm gently.
“Only for you.”
2. shin seunghoon - 전설 속의 누군가처럼 (the unwritten legend); dongwoo/woohyun; infinite; g
All his life, Jang Dongwoo’s been bested by Nam Woohyun.
It’s not like he really minds, though, although he’s been reminded a thousand times by his parents and siblings that he should. It’s just that Woohyun shines, because he’s in a league of his own. Even the other villagers call him the legendary one, the future saviour of their race -- and with good reason.
Ever since he was seven, Woohyun’s managed to activate and learn to control the special powers of the fire dragon sleeping dormant inside him -- the strongest, most ferocious dragon spirit to have ever appeared in their clan’s legends and records. He’s been blessed from birth with a special, coveted power.
Woohyun’s a living legend.
Dongwoo has a similar power resting inside him, but he’s never been able to control it with the skill and prowess of Woohyun. And in any case, his dragon is second rate. Dongwoo’s the vessel of the water dragon, defeated in battle centuries ago, forced into retreat and shame before it lifted its head and returned its spirit in the form of a bawling baby Dongwoo. Dongwoo can’t use any of its powers though. For the past seventeen years of his life, Dongwoo’s never once been able to offer his dragonborn abilities to the village. He’s starting to doubt he has any.
Dongwoo is special, though, in another way. What Woohyun has in special dragonborn powers and energy, Dongwoo has in sincerity. Dongwoo is strong -- and not just in the physical sense. While Woohyun can be hot tempered, rash, and full of arrogance, Dongwoo’s incredibly loyal, the most easily trusting, most upwards looking, most affectionate dragonborn to have ever been born into the village. The problem is, the villagers don’t see him for that. They’ve given up on him; compared him too many times with the powerful Woohyun, written him off as a dragonborn failure.
“If only you could control your spirit like Woohyun, then you wouldn’t get cursed at like that,” his sister scolds. She’s a master of the swords, a beautiful, deadly dancing swordswoman, with the nickname of ‘dancing flower petal’. She’s also the best sword-wielder in this country. Dongwoo cowers beneath her gaze.
“But I’m not a legend like him,” he protests. “I’m just...me.”
“Maybe your legend’s still being written then,” his sister says with a sigh. “The unwritten legend. Maybe you have to write it yourself.”
Dongwoo nods slowly, but doubts her words.
It’s not until he turns eighteen and feels the crack of a seal breaking inside of him, an uncontrollable, powerful, blue spirit surging out, that he thinks his sister might be right after all.
3. the fray - where the story ends; junghwan/jinyoung; b1a4; g
Junghwan’s not one to be sucked into fairytales. He’d never thought once that B1A4 would last forever -- how could it, in this kind of industry? The average lifespan of an idol was five years, give or take. More if you were very, very good, and much less if you screwed up.
So yes, Junghwan had never thought once that it would last forever, but he’d also never thought that he would fall in love on the way, and not be able to let go when the time came to close the book on that chapter of their lives and part ways.
Their group termination contracts have already been signed. All that’s left is for the paperwork to process, and they’ll be done. Finished. Junghwan snuggles into Jinyoung’s arms, silent, sad. The other members are moving their boxes out of the dorm, leaving them together for one last moment of privacy. Jinyoung runs a hand through Junghwan’s hair gently, fiddling with a strand, the way he always does when he’s troubled about something.
“Did you ever imagine it would happen so fast?” Junghwan speaks softly. Jinyoung chuckles, a low chuckle that vibrates through Junghwan.
“It all has to end someday.”
Jinyoung’s moving to another company as a composer and songwriter. Junghwan smiles -- at least Jinyoung’s dream came true. The same can’t be said about him though. He’s still waiting, for contact, for confirmation, for the acknowledgement that he’s still useful.
“I just never imagined our story would end here.”
4. wheesung - 일생을 (life is); hyunsoo/jihyuk; shut up! flower boy band; g
Hyunsoo doesn't accept things for what they are. Hyunsoo never accepts things for what they are. If he’s beaten in a game, he’ll challenge for a second round, and try his goddamned best to win. If someone says no he can’t, then yes he can. He’s stubborn; too stubborn for his own good sometimes, and whenever he got into trouble, it’d always be Jihyuk who was there to save his back.
Hyunsoo’s been with Jihyuk for as long as he can remember. Ever since they were both six years old and Hyunsoo had scraped his knee while playing soccer and Jihyuk had offered him a bandaid, they'd been inseparable. They went everywhere together, conquered everything together, won and lost everything as a team, be it soccer matches, arcades games, or, as they grew up, fistfights against neighbourhood gangs and thugs. They were inseparable, and, Hyunsoo thought, they’d be together like this forever.
But life is strange, and cruel, and nothing lasts forever.
Hyunsoo opens the door to Jihyuk’s room one day and finds him sitting on the bed, laughing and playing the guitar with Byunghee. He stares at Jihyuk, who looks back at him with an apologetic expression, feeling all kinds of hurt and betrayal, then stares at Byunghee. Byunghee cocks his head to the side and waves back nonchalantly.
Hyunsoo runs out of the house. He runs, runs away, feeling his incompetence hit him right in the face.
Jihyuk loves music, and Byunghee can sing and play the guitar. Hyunsoo can only win at Tekken, and maybe take down a couple of thugs with his hook kick. He remembers how radiant Jihyuk's face had been, the split second before he'd intruded. Jihyuk's smile had reached all the way to his eyes. There was no competition.
For the first time in his life, Hyunsoo can't find the strength to fight back.
“Where’s Jihyuk oppa?” his sister asks him when he gets home, shoulders slumped. He's puffing from running all the way home. His sister tugs at his trouser leg. Hyunsoo picks her up, heaving a sigh.
“He’s playing with his new best friend.”
She looks back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “But aren’t you his best friend?”
Hyunsoo looks at her. He thinks back to this afternoon, and suddenly, he's angry. He's angry at Byunghee, angry at Jihyuk, but mostly, he's angry at himself -- for not seeing that this would happen.
“Yeah. Yeah. I thought I was too.”
5. yui - blue wind; kevin/eli; u-kiss; g
Maybe it’s because they’re both from America, away from a comfortable language, and kind of lost, but when Kevin meets Eli, he feels a strange affinity for him.
Eli stutters and stumbles over his Korean introduction, the same way Kevin had done when he first set foot in Korea three years ago. Honestly, Eli seems a few marbles short, but Kevin assumes that it’s just because he’s unfamiliar with Korean.
It’s actually not, though. Eli’s just as bad in English.
“Hey, sup, I’m Eli. Uh, well, Ellison actually, but no one actually ever spells that right, and then they all call me Alison, so, yeah, uh, I’m Eli.”
Kevin laughs. Not at Eli, not because he thinks Eli’s stupid (okay, he might, just a bit), but because he appreciates Eli’s genuine friendliness. He’s suffered too many betrayals. U-Kiss was meant to be a kind of fresh start for him, so he’s glad there’s one other person he can count on besides Kibum.
“I’m Kevin.”
“Hey,” Eli says to him one afternoon, as they’re lying on the grassy hills outside the training room, taking a quick ten minute break. He’s speaking in English. Korean still sits weirdly on Eli’s tongue, and he never uses it with Kevin. “Hey, Kevin, I heard that there’s a special, paran...baram...blue wind in Korea.”
Kevin turns to look at Eli, frowning in puzzlement and curiosity. “What’s that?”
“I dunno. I read it somewhere, I think. Like, if you see the blue wind, all your wishes will be granted or something.” Eli’s eyes are closed, a small smile on his lips.
Kevin laughs quietly. If he’d known sooner, maybe he’d have tried to look for this blue wind, and then, maybe he could wish his lawsuit away -- but he knows at the back of the mind that Eli’s just being Eli again, stupid Eli, making up stories. Blue wind doesn’t exist. Kevin just laughs, and wishes it did.
Eli opens his eyes, shading his face from the sun with one hand. “I wanna become an actor. I’m gonna find this blue wind, and ask it to make me an actor. Badass, like Jackie Chan, and Jet Li, and the Karate Kid in those awesome Kung Fu movies. I’m gonna be an action star.”
Eli’s voice is so animated, so full of hope, that Kevin doesn’t have the heart to tell him that this blue wind is just wishful thinking. He doesn’t want to crush Eli with reality, so he stays silent.
Years later, when even gullible, unsuspecting Eli is jaded from the industry, when U-Kiss are over and a bunch of memories, Kevin remembers back to that time on the hills. He releases a handful of blue glitter into the air, watches it fly off in the wind, and makes a wish.
6. peppertones - 겨울의 사업가 (a businessman selling winter); suhoon/hyunmin; dgna; g
Suhoon loves winter. He loves the way that the air fogs up when he breathes out, a misty fog shrouding his view. He loves the freshly fallen snow, crisp and white beneath his feet, soft and powdery on a good day. He walks down the streets of Seoul, just breathing the chilly air and expelling it in a cloudy mist.
“Hey,” a voice calls out behind him one day, when he’s taking a stroll outside his apartment. “Hey, sir, would you like some--”
“Not interested,” Suhoon calls out, rubbing his hands together and making his way along the road. He might love winter, but he doesn’t like it when his fingers are almost frostbitten and his ears are bright red and his face is numb. At those times, he yearns for warmth.
“But sir, you don’t even know what I’m selling.”
“What?” Suhoon makes his way back, annoyed. He crosses his arms and taps his feet, looking warily at the man. The man’s about the same height as him, except where Suhoon has black hair and a long face, this man has brown hair and a strong, sturdy jawline. He’s wearing a black business suit, out of place in this residential area of Seoul.
“I’m selling winter.”
Suhoon scoffs and turns right around to walk off again. What a waste of time. There’s winter all around him, for him to enjoy, right here. He doesn’t need to buy winter, when it’s free.
“You didn’t ask how much.”
“How much?” Suhoon says back. The man smiles and extends his arms, suit crinkling under his arms.
“Free. I can maximise your winter experience.”
“With what?”
“A hug.”
Suhoon eyes him skeptically. The man tilts his head to the side, smiling. He has a nice smile, and a low, rough voice. He reminds Suhoon of a Siberian husky, for some highly irrational reason.
“You need warmth to feel the fresh coldness of winter, don’t you? Consider it a community service.”
So, against his better judgement, Suhoon finds himself walking into the man’s arms, wondering what strange spell has been cast over him. The man’s warm. Suhoon slowly melts into the hug, and it’s not as awkward or uncomfortable as he thought it would be. After a while, it becomes strangely comforting, feeling the warmth of a stranger’s arms around his body, warm and reassuring.
“Happy winter,” the man says, after Suhoon pulls away and feels cold air rushing back where there was warmth a second ago. The man turns around to leave.
“Wait,” Suhoon shouts. “What’s your name?”
The man smiles. “Woo Hyunmin, a businessman selling winter.”
7. vivian hsu - sitting on the moon; myungsoo/sungyeol; infinite; r
“Can you imagine,” Myungsoo mutters to Sungyeol, “if we all lived on the moon.”
It’s a quiet night, and the silver moonlight filtering through the slats of the blinds casts shadows over their sheets, bunched up and twisted between their naked bodies. Sungyeol lies back, hands behind his head, and shakes his head at Myungsoo. Myungsoo shuffles in, head resting on the crook of Sungyeol’s arm. His lips curl into a smile. The moon is particularly bright tonight.
“It’s so far away, but so close.” Myungsoo raises a hand, letting the light illuminate it. “Sometimes it looks so close that it feels like I could just reach out and take it in my hands.”
Sungyeol nods again, closing his eyes. Myungsoo scoffs quietly, hitting him gently on the arm. Sungyeol wasn’t a post-sex talker. Myungsoo did the talking, sometimes going off into strange tangents, and Sungyeol listened -- that was just the way it worked. But tonight, Myungsoo wants to hear Sungyeol’s voice.
“Hey, Sungyeol, say something.”
“What?” Sungyeol’s eyes are still closed.
Myungsoo sighs. “Anything.”
“Okay. I don’t know. Moon. It kind of looks bouncy to me. Like a gym ball.” Myungsoo quirks an eyebrow, lifting his head to look at Sungyeol. Sungyeol opens one eye surreptitiously, then closes it. “What? It does. I bet I could sit on the moon.”
“Twenty bucks you can’t.”
“Twenty bucks and a blowjob.”
Myungsoo sits up, looking suspiciously at Sungyeol, before straddling him and poking a finger at his chest. Myungsoo smirks.
“You’re on.”
Sungyeol ends up taking out an old plush toy in the shape of a crescent moon the next day, and plonking himself on it. Myungsoo narrows his eyes at Sungyeol, who just beams back, and extends his hand.
“You didn’t specify which moon. Twenty bucks and one blowjob.”
Myungsoo decides that he’ll never let Sungyeol talk after sex again.
8. iu - 기차를 타고 (riding the train); iu/yoseob; g
The train ride is long -- longer than Jieun had expected, but that's exactly what she wants. Landscapes pass her by, trees, power lines, the pitch blackness of tunnels, fleeting glimpses of the sea, or of buildings too high, sticking out of the flat ground like a sore thumb. Jieun grips her bag tightly, takes in all the scenery, the different scenery, scenery that doesn't remind her of him, and wonders if she could go back in time.
The carriage is empty, save for a couple sitting in the seat diagonally opposite to her. The girl is curled up into the boy, feet resting on the seat, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. She looks happy, content, and Jieun's struck with jealousy. Jieun’s gaze travels to the boy. At that moment, he looks up, face no longer obscured by his hoodie, and Jieun notes with a sickening jolt in her stomach that she knows him much too well.
It hits her all at once. She remembers late nights after college classes, sweet, lingering kisses, tangled legs and messy bedsheets between their bodies, breathing in each other's scent. She remembers picnics and movies, serenades, snuggling by the fireplace during winter with a blanket and a bowl of marshmallows -- but she remembers at the same time the bouquet of roses scattered on the floor, a hand slamming into the wall next to her face, a voice too loud and too angry to be Yoseob, sweet, caring Yoseob, shouting into her face. She cried for them that night, cried for what would never be. She remembers too clearly, too vividly, and it's unwelcome, like stumbling over loose rocks on an otherwise smooth path. She'd sweep the rocks away if she could, but the heart isn't so easily opened.
Yoseob raises his head. His eyes meet Jieun's, and a similar look of shock and surprise appears on his face. It's only fleeting though; he regains his composure, and before she knows it he's back to regarding her with slightly apologetic eyes and a slight purse of the lips. It has been a year after all, and like they always say, one side always takes the breakup harder than the other. She'd evidently been on the losing side.
The girl nestled in Yoseob's arms shifts, curling so her head is resting on his chest. Yoseob hugs her protectively. Jieun looks away, hurt, but also embarrassed at being caught like this, so confused and off guard.
The train pulls into a station, lurching to a halt. Jieun grabs her bags and rushes out the doors, head held low, not caring where she's going. Her emotions are going haywire.
She hasn't been able to concentrate for an entire year because of him. The trip was for him, for forgetting him -- but in the end, before it had even started, fate played some kind of cruel joke on her and gloated in her face.
And she's not okay.
9. big bang - remember; woohyun/sunggyu; infinite; pg
“Hey, Sunggyu hyung,” Woohyun says, waltzing into the living room. Sunggyu’s lying on the floor, playing with his phone, revelling in finally having a schedule-free day. The other members have gone off to walk the puppies, leaving only Sunggyu and Woohyun behind to man the dorms. It’s not really like Sunggyu minds though. He hardly has enough energy to keep up with the other members, let alone other members plus puppies.
Woohyun stretches and yawns off his sleep, plopping himself next to Sunggyu. He scratches his neck. “Hey, do you remember that time you ripped your pants onstage?”
Sunggyu puts down his phone and looks at Woohyun suspiciously. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” Woohyun says nonchalantly. “Just checking how good your memory is.”
Sunggyu frowns and sits up, bracing his weight on his hands. “Hey, Woohyun, just because I’m older than you doesn’t mean I’m going senile. I can still remember everything.”
“Okay then.” Woohyun grins. “Then, you remember those baby photos of yours circulating the internet right now?”
Sunggyu huffs. “Yes. How could I forget. Why are you asking me this?”
“That time we left you home alone to look after the puppies?”
“That was last week, you idiot.”
“That time you dressed up as a girl?”
“...Yes. Woohyun, what’s the point of thi--”
“--That time you got really, really, drunk and told me you liked me? Like liked me?”
Sunggyu freezes, hairs standing up on the back of his heck. He scrambles around in his memory, but he can’t for the life of him remember anything like that. He looks at Woohyun, panicked. Woohyun’s face is serious. Sunggyu squints. There’s no way Woohyun can act that well.
“I--Woohyun, I didn’t--I don’t, I...” Sunggyu trails off, running his hand through his head. He thought he was good with alcohol. Maybe he wasn’t so great after all. He sighs and rests his head in his hands, cursing his memory.
It’s only when he hears snorting giggles coming from behind him that he realises he’s been utterly played. Woohyun's in stitches, holding his stomach and rolling around on the ground in mirth.
“Don’t worry, Sunggyu hyung,” Woohyun says, chortling. “You're not going senile at all. Your memory is fantastic.”
Woohyun escapes to their room and slams the door shut before Sunggyu can react fast enough to whack him on the head.
10. tank - the truth is too risky; hoya/dongwoo/kiseop; infinite; r
Hoya doesn't like to act on impulse. He’s never been one to take risks, never been one to overstep the boundaries first, or even approach the boundaries at all. So when Dongwoo comes up to him and confesses drunkenly one night, all flushed cheeks and uncertain eyes, he had told Dongwoo it was too much of a risk -- and he wasn’t going to take it.
In this respect, Hoya can’t scream foul when he pushes open the changeroom door a crack and sees Dongwoo pressed up against the tiled wall, his legs wrapped around Kiseop's waist. Dongwoo's mouth is open in a perfect 'O' as Kiseop runs his lips down Dongwoo’s neck and fumbles at the drawstrings of his trackpants, grunting with frustration. Hoya’s surprised at how much he wants to yell and kick the door down, walk in, and tear Dongwoo away -- but of course, he doesn’t do that. It’s too risky.
Hoya just watches.
He watches with bated breath as Kiseop caresses Dongwoo, skin on skin; as Kiseop slides a hand under Dongwoo’s shirt; as Kiseop moves in to kiss Dongwoo, hard, fast, and Dongwoo responds with fervour. Kiseop slips his free hand into Dongwoo’s pants. Dongwoo groans, a low groan muffled by Kiseop’s lips.
Hoya can’t look away. He knows he should, knows he needs to let go of his hidden feelings for Dongwoo and let him be happy with Kiseop. Dongwoo has a soft spot for Kiseop. Hoya knows Kiseop will be able to give more to Dongwoo than he ever would -- but it still hurts, a small, persistent pain stabbing him on the left side of his chest.
Dongwoo throws his head back as Kiseop gets on his knees and pulls down his trackpants. Hoya tears his eyes away and quietly shuts the door. He shouldn’t involve himself any longer.
After all, he'd been the one who had pushed Dongwoo away.
itunes on shuffle, pairings predecided
ratings from g to r depending
1. beni - smile; jonghun/hongki; fti; pg
Jonghun thinks that Hongki’s the most beautiful when he smiles. Hongki’s face lights up when he’s happy, geniunely happy. A smile pulls at his lips, his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and the carefree laugh he lets out is raucous but melodic and beautiful to Jonghun’s ears.
Their schedules don’t leave much time for smiling, though. It’s the third week of promotions for their new album after coming back to Korea, and they’re already being overshadowed. They’re tired, on the brink of being overworked, sick of hand-syncing criticisms, and they’re all feeling the toll, especially Hongki. His voice had never been in tip-top condition, not with all the smoking and drinking he does (which Jonghun nags at him to cut down on, but who’s he to talk, he’s just as bad), and those high notes are really wearing him thin.
So, Hongki hasn’t smiled much at all this year.
Jonghun notices, because heck, he’s Hongki’s best friend, and he’s supposed to pick up on the small things that others miss. Hongki still keeps his spirits up on broadcast and variety shows, whenever there’s a camera floating around, but Hongki’s always been a volatile person, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s not too hard for Jonghun to notice when something’s amiss.
“You okay?” Jonghun asks Hongki one night when they’re settled back into their dorms, having just come back from Music Bank. There had been technical problems that night, and they had to perform the same song five times live for the PD to give them an ‘OK’. Hongki had missed that last note, though, and no one’s a harsher critic of Hongki than Hongki himself.
“Yeah,” Hongki says, lips drooping down, face haggard. He coughs. His voice is still hoarse, straining at the edges. “I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong, just...”
Jonghun looks at Hongki’s back as Hongki curls up in his bed and turns away from him, mulling in his own thoughts. He crawls into the bed and drapes a hand over Hongki’s arm. It’s his special way of comforting Hongki.
“Hongki-yah -- no, don’t talk, just listen. It’s not your fault.”
Hongki shifts and turns around to face Jonghun. “But I--”
“--Shh. Just smile. Can you smile? For me?”
Hongki looks up at Jonghun. His face is weary, but his lips twitch up into a feeble smile. He pushes Jonghun’s arm gently.
“Only for you.”
2. shin seunghoon - 전설 속의 누군가처럼 (the unwritten legend); dongwoo/woohyun; infinite; g
All his life, Jang Dongwoo’s been bested by Nam Woohyun.
It’s not like he really minds, though, although he’s been reminded a thousand times by his parents and siblings that he should. It’s just that Woohyun shines, because he’s in a league of his own. Even the other villagers call him the legendary one, the future saviour of their race -- and with good reason.
Ever since he was seven, Woohyun’s managed to activate and learn to control the special powers of the fire dragon sleeping dormant inside him -- the strongest, most ferocious dragon spirit to have ever appeared in their clan’s legends and records. He’s been blessed from birth with a special, coveted power.
Woohyun’s a living legend.
Dongwoo has a similar power resting inside him, but he’s never been able to control it with the skill and prowess of Woohyun. And in any case, his dragon is second rate. Dongwoo’s the vessel of the water dragon, defeated in battle centuries ago, forced into retreat and shame before it lifted its head and returned its spirit in the form of a bawling baby Dongwoo. Dongwoo can’t use any of its powers though. For the past seventeen years of his life, Dongwoo’s never once been able to offer his dragonborn abilities to the village. He’s starting to doubt he has any.
Dongwoo is special, though, in another way. What Woohyun has in special dragonborn powers and energy, Dongwoo has in sincerity. Dongwoo is strong -- and not just in the physical sense. While Woohyun can be hot tempered, rash, and full of arrogance, Dongwoo’s incredibly loyal, the most easily trusting, most upwards looking, most affectionate dragonborn to have ever been born into the village. The problem is, the villagers don’t see him for that. They’ve given up on him; compared him too many times with the powerful Woohyun, written him off as a dragonborn failure.
“If only you could control your spirit like Woohyun, then you wouldn’t get cursed at like that,” his sister scolds. She’s a master of the swords, a beautiful, deadly dancing swordswoman, with the nickname of ‘dancing flower petal’. She’s also the best sword-wielder in this country. Dongwoo cowers beneath her gaze.
“But I’m not a legend like him,” he protests. “I’m just...me.”
“Maybe your legend’s still being written then,” his sister says with a sigh. “The unwritten legend. Maybe you have to write it yourself.”
Dongwoo nods slowly, but doubts her words.
It’s not until he turns eighteen and feels the crack of a seal breaking inside of him, an uncontrollable, powerful, blue spirit surging out, that he thinks his sister might be right after all.
3. the fray - where the story ends; junghwan/jinyoung; b1a4; g
Junghwan’s not one to be sucked into fairytales. He’d never thought once that B1A4 would last forever -- how could it, in this kind of industry? The average lifespan of an idol was five years, give or take. More if you were very, very good, and much less if you screwed up.
So yes, Junghwan had never thought once that it would last forever, but he’d also never thought that he would fall in love on the way, and not be able to let go when the time came to close the book on that chapter of their lives and part ways.
Their group termination contracts have already been signed. All that’s left is for the paperwork to process, and they’ll be done. Finished. Junghwan snuggles into Jinyoung’s arms, silent, sad. The other members are moving their boxes out of the dorm, leaving them together for one last moment of privacy. Jinyoung runs a hand through Junghwan’s hair gently, fiddling with a strand, the way he always does when he’s troubled about something.
“Did you ever imagine it would happen so fast?” Junghwan speaks softly. Jinyoung chuckles, a low chuckle that vibrates through Junghwan.
“It all has to end someday.”
Jinyoung’s moving to another company as a composer and songwriter. Junghwan smiles -- at least Jinyoung’s dream came true. The same can’t be said about him though. He’s still waiting, for contact, for confirmation, for the acknowledgement that he’s still useful.
“I just never imagined our story would end here.”
4. wheesung - 일생을 (life is); hyunsoo/jihyuk; shut up! flower boy band; g
Hyunsoo doesn't accept things for what they are. Hyunsoo never accepts things for what they are. If he’s beaten in a game, he’ll challenge for a second round, and try his goddamned best to win. If someone says no he can’t, then yes he can. He’s stubborn; too stubborn for his own good sometimes, and whenever he got into trouble, it’d always be Jihyuk who was there to save his back.
Hyunsoo’s been with Jihyuk for as long as he can remember. Ever since they were both six years old and Hyunsoo had scraped his knee while playing soccer and Jihyuk had offered him a bandaid, they'd been inseparable. They went everywhere together, conquered everything together, won and lost everything as a team, be it soccer matches, arcades games, or, as they grew up, fistfights against neighbourhood gangs and thugs. They were inseparable, and, Hyunsoo thought, they’d be together like this forever.
But life is strange, and cruel, and nothing lasts forever.
Hyunsoo opens the door to Jihyuk’s room one day and finds him sitting on the bed, laughing and playing the guitar with Byunghee. He stares at Jihyuk, who looks back at him with an apologetic expression, feeling all kinds of hurt and betrayal, then stares at Byunghee. Byunghee cocks his head to the side and waves back nonchalantly.
Hyunsoo runs out of the house. He runs, runs away, feeling his incompetence hit him right in the face.
Jihyuk loves music, and Byunghee can sing and play the guitar. Hyunsoo can only win at Tekken, and maybe take down a couple of thugs with his hook kick. He remembers how radiant Jihyuk's face had been, the split second before he'd intruded. Jihyuk's smile had reached all the way to his eyes. There was no competition.
For the first time in his life, Hyunsoo can't find the strength to fight back.
“Where’s Jihyuk oppa?” his sister asks him when he gets home, shoulders slumped. He's puffing from running all the way home. His sister tugs at his trouser leg. Hyunsoo picks her up, heaving a sigh.
“He’s playing with his new best friend.”
She looks back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “But aren’t you his best friend?”
Hyunsoo looks at her. He thinks back to this afternoon, and suddenly, he's angry. He's angry at Byunghee, angry at Jihyuk, but mostly, he's angry at himself -- for not seeing that this would happen.
“Yeah. Yeah. I thought I was too.”
5. yui - blue wind; kevin/eli; u-kiss; g
Maybe it’s because they’re both from America, away from a comfortable language, and kind of lost, but when Kevin meets Eli, he feels a strange affinity for him.
Eli stutters and stumbles over his Korean introduction, the same way Kevin had done when he first set foot in Korea three years ago. Honestly, Eli seems a few marbles short, but Kevin assumes that it’s just because he’s unfamiliar with Korean.
It’s actually not, though. Eli’s just as bad in English.
“Hey, sup, I’m Eli. Uh, well, Ellison actually, but no one actually ever spells that right, and then they all call me Alison, so, yeah, uh, I’m Eli.”
Kevin laughs. Not at Eli, not because he thinks Eli’s stupid (okay, he might, just a bit), but because he appreciates Eli’s genuine friendliness. He’s suffered too many betrayals. U-Kiss was meant to be a kind of fresh start for him, so he’s glad there’s one other person he can count on besides Kibum.
“I’m Kevin.”
“Hey,” Eli says to him one afternoon, as they’re lying on the grassy hills outside the training room, taking a quick ten minute break. He’s speaking in English. Korean still sits weirdly on Eli’s tongue, and he never uses it with Kevin. “Hey, Kevin, I heard that there’s a special, paran...baram...blue wind in Korea.”
Kevin turns to look at Eli, frowning in puzzlement and curiosity. “What’s that?”
“I dunno. I read it somewhere, I think. Like, if you see the blue wind, all your wishes will be granted or something.” Eli’s eyes are closed, a small smile on his lips.
Kevin laughs quietly. If he’d known sooner, maybe he’d have tried to look for this blue wind, and then, maybe he could wish his lawsuit away -- but he knows at the back of the mind that Eli’s just being Eli again, stupid Eli, making up stories. Blue wind doesn’t exist. Kevin just laughs, and wishes it did.
Eli opens his eyes, shading his face from the sun with one hand. “I wanna become an actor. I’m gonna find this blue wind, and ask it to make me an actor. Badass, like Jackie Chan, and Jet Li, and the Karate Kid in those awesome Kung Fu movies. I’m gonna be an action star.”
Eli’s voice is so animated, so full of hope, that Kevin doesn’t have the heart to tell him that this blue wind is just wishful thinking. He doesn’t want to crush Eli with reality, so he stays silent.
Years later, when even gullible, unsuspecting Eli is jaded from the industry, when U-Kiss are over and a bunch of memories, Kevin remembers back to that time on the hills. He releases a handful of blue glitter into the air, watches it fly off in the wind, and makes a wish.
6. peppertones - 겨울의 사업가 (a businessman selling winter); suhoon/hyunmin; dgna; g
Suhoon loves winter. He loves the way that the air fogs up when he breathes out, a misty fog shrouding his view. He loves the freshly fallen snow, crisp and white beneath his feet, soft and powdery on a good day. He walks down the streets of Seoul, just breathing the chilly air and expelling it in a cloudy mist.
“Hey,” a voice calls out behind him one day, when he’s taking a stroll outside his apartment. “Hey, sir, would you like some--”
“Not interested,” Suhoon calls out, rubbing his hands together and making his way along the road. He might love winter, but he doesn’t like it when his fingers are almost frostbitten and his ears are bright red and his face is numb. At those times, he yearns for warmth.
“But sir, you don’t even know what I’m selling.”
“What?” Suhoon makes his way back, annoyed. He crosses his arms and taps his feet, looking warily at the man. The man’s about the same height as him, except where Suhoon has black hair and a long face, this man has brown hair and a strong, sturdy jawline. He’s wearing a black business suit, out of place in this residential area of Seoul.
“I’m selling winter.”
Suhoon scoffs and turns right around to walk off again. What a waste of time. There’s winter all around him, for him to enjoy, right here. He doesn’t need to buy winter, when it’s free.
“You didn’t ask how much.”
“How much?” Suhoon says back. The man smiles and extends his arms, suit crinkling under his arms.
“Free. I can maximise your winter experience.”
“With what?”
“A hug.”
Suhoon eyes him skeptically. The man tilts his head to the side, smiling. He has a nice smile, and a low, rough voice. He reminds Suhoon of a Siberian husky, for some highly irrational reason.
“You need warmth to feel the fresh coldness of winter, don’t you? Consider it a community service.”
So, against his better judgement, Suhoon finds himself walking into the man’s arms, wondering what strange spell has been cast over him. The man’s warm. Suhoon slowly melts into the hug, and it’s not as awkward or uncomfortable as he thought it would be. After a while, it becomes strangely comforting, feeling the warmth of a stranger’s arms around his body, warm and reassuring.
“Happy winter,” the man says, after Suhoon pulls away and feels cold air rushing back where there was warmth a second ago. The man turns around to leave.
“Wait,” Suhoon shouts. “What’s your name?”
The man smiles. “Woo Hyunmin, a businessman selling winter.”
7. vivian hsu - sitting on the moon; myungsoo/sungyeol; infinite; r
“Can you imagine,” Myungsoo mutters to Sungyeol, “if we all lived on the moon.”
It’s a quiet night, and the silver moonlight filtering through the slats of the blinds casts shadows over their sheets, bunched up and twisted between their naked bodies. Sungyeol lies back, hands behind his head, and shakes his head at Myungsoo. Myungsoo shuffles in, head resting on the crook of Sungyeol’s arm. His lips curl into a smile. The moon is particularly bright tonight.
“It’s so far away, but so close.” Myungsoo raises a hand, letting the light illuminate it. “Sometimes it looks so close that it feels like I could just reach out and take it in my hands.”
Sungyeol nods again, closing his eyes. Myungsoo scoffs quietly, hitting him gently on the arm. Sungyeol wasn’t a post-sex talker. Myungsoo did the talking, sometimes going off into strange tangents, and Sungyeol listened -- that was just the way it worked. But tonight, Myungsoo wants to hear Sungyeol’s voice.
“Hey, Sungyeol, say something.”
“What?” Sungyeol’s eyes are still closed.
Myungsoo sighs. “Anything.”
“Okay. I don’t know. Moon. It kind of looks bouncy to me. Like a gym ball.” Myungsoo quirks an eyebrow, lifting his head to look at Sungyeol. Sungyeol opens one eye surreptitiously, then closes it. “What? It does. I bet I could sit on the moon.”
“Twenty bucks you can’t.”
“Twenty bucks and a blowjob.”
Myungsoo sits up, looking suspiciously at Sungyeol, before straddling him and poking a finger at his chest. Myungsoo smirks.
“You’re on.”
Sungyeol ends up taking out an old plush toy in the shape of a crescent moon the next day, and plonking himself on it. Myungsoo narrows his eyes at Sungyeol, who just beams back, and extends his hand.
“You didn’t specify which moon. Twenty bucks and one blowjob.”
Myungsoo decides that he’ll never let Sungyeol talk after sex again.
8. iu - 기차를 타고 (riding the train); iu/yoseob; g
The train ride is long -- longer than Jieun had expected, but that's exactly what she wants. Landscapes pass her by, trees, power lines, the pitch blackness of tunnels, fleeting glimpses of the sea, or of buildings too high, sticking out of the flat ground like a sore thumb. Jieun grips her bag tightly, takes in all the scenery, the different scenery, scenery that doesn't remind her of him, and wonders if she could go back in time.
The carriage is empty, save for a couple sitting in the seat diagonally opposite to her. The girl is curled up into the boy, feet resting on the seat, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. She looks happy, content, and Jieun's struck with jealousy. Jieun’s gaze travels to the boy. At that moment, he looks up, face no longer obscured by his hoodie, and Jieun notes with a sickening jolt in her stomach that she knows him much too well.
It hits her all at once. She remembers late nights after college classes, sweet, lingering kisses, tangled legs and messy bedsheets between their bodies, breathing in each other's scent. She remembers picnics and movies, serenades, snuggling by the fireplace during winter with a blanket and a bowl of marshmallows -- but she remembers at the same time the bouquet of roses scattered on the floor, a hand slamming into the wall next to her face, a voice too loud and too angry to be Yoseob, sweet, caring Yoseob, shouting into her face. She cried for them that night, cried for what would never be. She remembers too clearly, too vividly, and it's unwelcome, like stumbling over loose rocks on an otherwise smooth path. She'd sweep the rocks away if she could, but the heart isn't so easily opened.
Yoseob raises his head. His eyes meet Jieun's, and a similar look of shock and surprise appears on his face. It's only fleeting though; he regains his composure, and before she knows it he's back to regarding her with slightly apologetic eyes and a slight purse of the lips. It has been a year after all, and like they always say, one side always takes the breakup harder than the other. She'd evidently been on the losing side.
The girl nestled in Yoseob's arms shifts, curling so her head is resting on his chest. Yoseob hugs her protectively. Jieun looks away, hurt, but also embarrassed at being caught like this, so confused and off guard.
The train pulls into a station, lurching to a halt. Jieun grabs her bags and rushes out the doors, head held low, not caring where she's going. Her emotions are going haywire.
She hasn't been able to concentrate for an entire year because of him. The trip was for him, for forgetting him -- but in the end, before it had even started, fate played some kind of cruel joke on her and gloated in her face.
And she's not okay.
9. big bang - remember; woohyun/sunggyu; infinite; pg
“Hey, Sunggyu hyung,” Woohyun says, waltzing into the living room. Sunggyu’s lying on the floor, playing with his phone, revelling in finally having a schedule-free day. The other members have gone off to walk the puppies, leaving only Sunggyu and Woohyun behind to man the dorms. It’s not really like Sunggyu minds though. He hardly has enough energy to keep up with the other members, let alone other members plus puppies.
Woohyun stretches and yawns off his sleep, plopping himself next to Sunggyu. He scratches his neck. “Hey, do you remember that time you ripped your pants onstage?”
Sunggyu puts down his phone and looks at Woohyun suspiciously. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” Woohyun says nonchalantly. “Just checking how good your memory is.”
Sunggyu frowns and sits up, bracing his weight on his hands. “Hey, Woohyun, just because I’m older than you doesn’t mean I’m going senile. I can still remember everything.”
“Okay then.” Woohyun grins. “Then, you remember those baby photos of yours circulating the internet right now?”
Sunggyu huffs. “Yes. How could I forget. Why are you asking me this?”
“That time we left you home alone to look after the puppies?”
“That was last week, you idiot.”
“That time you dressed up as a girl?”
“...Yes. Woohyun, what’s the point of thi--”
“--That time you got really, really, drunk and told me you liked me? Like liked me?”
Sunggyu freezes, hairs standing up on the back of his heck. He scrambles around in his memory, but he can’t for the life of him remember anything like that. He looks at Woohyun, panicked. Woohyun’s face is serious. Sunggyu squints. There’s no way Woohyun can act that well.
“I--Woohyun, I didn’t--I don’t, I...” Sunggyu trails off, running his hand through his head. He thought he was good with alcohol. Maybe he wasn’t so great after all. He sighs and rests his head in his hands, cursing his memory.
It’s only when he hears snorting giggles coming from behind him that he realises he’s been utterly played. Woohyun's in stitches, holding his stomach and rolling around on the ground in mirth.
“Don’t worry, Sunggyu hyung,” Woohyun says, chortling. “You're not going senile at all. Your memory is fantastic.”
Woohyun escapes to their room and slams the door shut before Sunggyu can react fast enough to whack him on the head.
10. tank - the truth is too risky; hoya/dongwoo/kiseop; infinite; r
Hoya doesn't like to act on impulse. He’s never been one to take risks, never been one to overstep the boundaries first, or even approach the boundaries at all. So when Dongwoo comes up to him and confesses drunkenly one night, all flushed cheeks and uncertain eyes, he had told Dongwoo it was too much of a risk -- and he wasn’t going to take it.
In this respect, Hoya can’t scream foul when he pushes open the changeroom door a crack and sees Dongwoo pressed up against the tiled wall, his legs wrapped around Kiseop's waist. Dongwoo's mouth is open in a perfect 'O' as Kiseop runs his lips down Dongwoo’s neck and fumbles at the drawstrings of his trackpants, grunting with frustration. Hoya’s surprised at how much he wants to yell and kick the door down, walk in, and tear Dongwoo away -- but of course, he doesn’t do that. It’s too risky.
Hoya just watches.
He watches with bated breath as Kiseop caresses Dongwoo, skin on skin; as Kiseop slides a hand under Dongwoo’s shirt; as Kiseop moves in to kiss Dongwoo, hard, fast, and Dongwoo responds with fervour. Kiseop slips his free hand into Dongwoo’s pants. Dongwoo groans, a low groan muffled by Kiseop’s lips.
Hoya can’t look away. He knows he should, knows he needs to let go of his hidden feelings for Dongwoo and let him be happy with Kiseop. Dongwoo has a soft spot for Kiseop. Hoya knows Kiseop will be able to give more to Dongwoo than he ever would -- but it still hurts, a small, persistent pain stabbing him on the left side of his chest.
Dongwoo throws his head back as Kiseop gets on his knees and pulls down his trackpants. Hoya tears his eyes away and quietly shuts the door. He shouldn’t involve himself any longer.
After all, he'd been the one who had pushed Dongwoo away.