over the fence
taemin/minho; rom; pg-13; wc: ~2,197; a life-threatening journey through mud and carrots - all in the name of searching!
i'm entering this fic for shawol_haven challenge 009! :D
prompt: "Events are only inevitable after they happen." -Eric Foner
i've never written fantasy!shinee before so i'm both excited and nervous in posting this. pretty much inspired by studio ghibil's films. :)
© meridianslair .
thank you everyone who voted! ♥
over the fence
They say that there was no box.
In the children’s stories, there had been a box. Silver and the size of your palm, it held things so scary and violent, that once opened, would release the most terrible nightmares, so horrific they would drive the mountains apart and men insane - that death would be easier than living.
But there was a speck of gold beneath all that darkness. It was soft, tiny and gentle, incandescent and hopeful. Nothing more than a grain of sand, this little thing, but it was men’s only hope - the only redemption the gods had left as our final saving grace.
Children stories are meant for children, and when boys become trapped in a limbo - child and adult, part lovely and part cynical - they start to ask. They question and challenge and don’t accept things as they are any longer - where is this box?
There was a fence Taemin had never climbed over. It wasn’t the white picket fences separating neat little squares of green, house from house. This fence had lost its colour, becoming paint-cracked and aged yellow - and it cuts across the land, dividing it into two. It separates the light and the dark - not little squares of green, house from house - and Taemin could never see beyond it. Absolute darkness hung behind, solid and impenetrable, but there was a strange shifting inside of it - like wisps of gas in a messy waltz.
It took one exploration for Taemin to see that the fences travelled without end towards the horizon, tall and menacing with sharp jagged tips and angry grains.
Two, for him to pack his bag the following night, scribble a hasty note - the fifth step creaks - and give his spirit to the night wind.
Because there was no box here - on the other side, the forbidden side where old people tell tales about, where parents and schools never suggest for excursions, where people never returned, that, must be the box.
And just like in the stories, Taemin believes there will be something there, something incandescent and tiny.
“This is your entire fault,” Kibum stuttered nervously.
That was all Taemin could make out above mud squelching and soil climbing up their legs - literally. Apparently, the land on the other side could morph and change and was basically both very much alive and disturbing.
But more importantly, it’s currently hungry and it wants to eat the both of them.
But hyung, it’s here, the light is here, he tried to reason, but it stuck in his throat as he struggled in place, watching frightfully as hands made of mud sprouted out from the ground, groping blindly over one another reaching for his ankles.
“Abominations!” Kibum shrilled, wrenching his right foot out of the puddle, severing brown hands in the process, sending them flying through the air. As if offended, they became more aggressive, piling up onto Kibum faster, one after the other - and he sinks knee-deep into the ground. “No - I don’t think we can find love here and especially not when I’m about to die a miserable death drowning in mud - and god, I don’t even like the colour brown!”
“We’ll get out of this,” Taemin said, his lack of conviction apparent with how shaky it came out. The grips around his ankles were tightening, digging into his calves. It hurt and strength was sapping from his legs.
“You and your crazy ideas, looking for love. I knew we would fail from the start,” Kibum was waist deep now and his voice rose with each word. “Nobody survives here!”
In a sudden surge, Taemin was tugged forcefully deep into the ground, right up to his chest. His legs can’t kick around anymore - it’s all hard rock. Glancing at Kibum (still busy swatting away hands), a weight drops into his stomach while something like anxiety explodes through his body - Taemin registers for the first time: he was going to die.
“Hold on!”
Opening his eyes, a large branch hovered in front of his face, with the mud fingers pulling and molesting it. Hastily, Taemin lunged for it, and immediately he cut through the ground like knife through butter before landing painfully on coarse grass, feeling mud against his jittery toes.
Instantly, ignoring the dull ache throbbing through him, his head snapped towards the mudpool, only to find the mud hands grappling with each other over empty air. For a scary second he thought Kibum had been pulled underneath - then there was a silent muttering about clothes and hair beside him. It had been too close for comfort, relief still tentatively bordering on his senses, and as Taemin said thank you, he realised two things.
He was alive.
And they weren’t alone.
The boy who saved them was called Minho.
He had been searching for food when the commotion happened. Minho had a friend around, but because the land changes so frequently, they’ve become separated. Technically, it was possible an entire mountain range had erupted between them. The fact left Taemin horrified - how will you find each other again? But Minho, however, had appeared at most, mildly amused and Taemin guessed he must’ve spent a long time on this side already.
Somewhere behind, at a tree they’ve passed a day ago, or a week maybe - the dates have stopped counting (it’s always 3 p.m., 14 July on Taemin’s watch now) - and dirt ground had merged into a lighter, softer brown; it was fragrant.
Underneath their soles was bread - their dirty soles that rendered the spongy oatmeal inedible with mudprints. They were suddenly akin to little figurines sitting atop an iced cake. Sweet aromas wafted into Taemin’s nose - a river of chocolate, trees growing candy, biscuit mounds; his stomach rumbled lowly.
Minho had gone about stuffing food into his backpack, unknowingly child-like and peculiarly cute, as Taemin watched and helped himself to candy floss (they grew on trees). Kibum, however, had spent the time picking up cookie pebbles, grimacing at the carbs contained in that miniscule disc, before flinging it into the chocolate river beside them.
“Hyung, I don’t think you should do that,” Taemin pointed out, licking melted candy floss off his fingers.
“And I don’t think we should be here,” Kibum retorted sharply, looking at him squarely. “Why?”
“Cause it’s like littering.”
Kibum rolled his eyes.
“Honestly hyung, I didn't...force you, did I? To come.”
"Yes, I suppose I could let a seventeen year old wander through godforsaken land all by himself, searching for something I don’t understand why we can’t search for back at home,” Kibum rattled, roughly following Minho’s trail in an uncertain path, trudging up a french loaf. “As if I would be irresponsible enough to do that.”
“But it’s here, hyung,” Taemin led another attempt to convince the diva. “Just like in the stories!”
“We’re going to die, it’s inevitable,” Kibum deadpanned. “Just like in the stories.”
By then, Taemin had run dry of arguments and persuasions, and instead, settled for scuffing his heel against bread as they walked, watching the fibres of food flaking under his shoe.
“Tsk, don’t do that,” Kibum scolded, taking in Taemin’s expression for a second. “…Oh, if you must know. And maybe because, well, just a bit, I had hoped for a little bit of luck myself.”
Taemin faced him, blinking, warmth filling his stomach despite the sideways glance Kibum threw him. On top of a candy mound, Minho waved, yelling for them to hurry up. Four steps into a run, and suddenly, carrots burst from the ground.
Well, bread. Or ground.
Ground-bread.
Kibum screams his pretty little head off to the point of his perfectly arranged fringe becoming displaced, as sharp ends of carrots threatened to impale him into painful death. Orange spikes - vegetables really - were tearing through the ground like some killing-machine-saw-3-obstacle-course-thing and Taemin’s legs were getting cut and his pants ripped.
It resembled jumping over exercise mats with sharp rocks meant to massage your feet - Taemin was twisting and leaping and trying not to get stabbed by killer vegetables - before strong arms grabbed his waist, the world spinning in a blur of bread, chocolate, candy and orange.
“Fine! Fine! I’m sorry, I’m sorry for littering!” Kibum sputtered just as a carrot rips through his shoulder bag. “Hey that was Prada!”
“Kibum!” Taemin yelled when he’s finally on safe ground again, waist tingling and chest pounding. Minho was already scaling down the mound to save frantic Kibum - whom was really just running in circles pursued by orange spikes.
“I told you we were going to die!”
Before Minho can reach Kibum, a whizz collided into Kibum in a rugby tackle (Kibum screams so hard here it’s guttural), sending the both of them out danger. They tumble for a distance, stopping; leaving the lonely killer carrots searching for fresh meat behind.
“JongHyun,” Minho breathed disbelievingly and Taemin was looking at a huge, megawatt smile above Kibum’s scowl.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Minho’s voice rumbled behind his ear.
“Family, maybe,” Taemin curled up tighter, extending his arm and catching tiny cold stars in his palm. There was a humming of thought, Minho’s arms binding them closer together.
The land rained stars, wet and icy, and they lingered in shape for a second before melting into water. Their only shelter was spots of sunbeams that managed to cut through the clouds, leaving a cramped space of light.
Right now, it was raining at 3 p.m., the 14th of July, and the only way they could both fit into a sunspot was their current arrangement; Taemin tucked tight into Minho’s arms, his knees pulled into his chest with Minho’s on either side of him.
Kibum and JongHyun were a distance away from them, and despite Taemin hating being separated - what if the land changed? - one sunspot couldn’t fit four teenagers. Through the rain, Taemin barely makes out dark blotches, Kibum in JongHyun’s arms, and images of Kibum breaking down made Taemin shift uncomfortably around Minho’s warmth. The diva had skipped dinner on a few occasions and as a result, fainted during their treks.
“He’ll be fine,” Minho said, as if reading his thoughts.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s my fault,” He blurted out. Every time Kibum recovers from fainting, JongHyun would crack a joke. Kibum would snap and suddenly, they start fighting - the former crying and beating at the latter’s back - and something awful gets stuck in Taemin’s throat because he knows Kibum was going crazy because of him.
“He chose to come,” Minho said after awhile. The rain became heavier and the dark blotches disappeared as the world around them crashed with falling stars. “We might never find the fence again.”
“I know.”
“We came looking for something,” Minho continued and Taemin found comfort in the heat against his back as stars splashed by his feet. “There’s no turning back. We just have to find what we came here to find.”
I came looking for love, Taemin thought, and he realises that he’s never asked Minho before. “Hyung, what are you finding?”
In the minutes that passed, all he heard was the pitter-patter of rain, his back slowly rising and falling with the rhythm of Minho’s chest, and sleep almost has a hold on him when a deep voice breaks the lull.
“I think I’ve found it.”
Insane was probably the only word to describe the 14th of July, 3 p.m.
They had been following a flying lamp - it was the light Taemin had heard about in the stories, and it was only in the last metre when the ground began fracturing and exploding with lava. The first thing that cuts through the air was Kibum’s scream as the ground began fissuring, huge oak trees slowly swallowed by molten fire. The four of them was suddenly on a slab of rock, separating itself from the rest of Earth, bubbling lava sloshing up onto JongHyun’s shoe and charring it.
“Oh my god. This is it, we are going to die,” Kibum whimpered as they tried to find balance on the bobbing slab of rock.
“We’ll be saved. Like every other time,” JongHyun said, a little more than scared. “I hope.”
There was a deafening “boom!” and Taemin stumbled, startled, before a large hand grabbed his wrist, holding tight. A wall of mist erupted behind them, and something like a huge ship appeared.
Captain Jinki offered them a ride - they were at the juncture where magma meets the ocean and it was “very dangerous” offered by the captain himself, before he tripped as his vessel rocked violently on its way back into azure blue.
On the 14th of July, 3 p.m., Taemin realises, as he sits back against Minho’s chest on the head of the chicken statue found on The Chicken Maiden's deck, that events are only inevitable only after they happen - like how they were saved when they thought they were going to die, and just like how it was inevitable that he’d find love in the land of horrors.
Because it's already happened; he's already found it.
end.
ah, i'm not sure if anyone picked it up, but there are some symbolisms and juxtapositions i've inserted in the fic between this universe and the time we fall in love, and are loving somebody. one of which was taemin's watch stopping. it bears multiple meanings and...i'll stop here and not spoil it all for you guys. kekeke.
do share your thoughts if you desire! however, here's a short run-through if you're like me, both interested in literature, but criminally lazy. :p /clings onto you if you are i'll update the meaning post together with your input. :D
oh please do vote if you enjoyed the story! ♥ (voting begins on the 4th of march and ends on the 8th if i'm not mistaken.)
and i might consider re-writing this outside and after the challenge because of the word constraints. i'm not sure, we'll see how it goes. ^^
i'm entering this fic for shawol_haven challenge 009! :D
prompt: "Events are only inevitable after they happen." -Eric Foner
i've never written fantasy!shinee before so i'm both excited and nervous in posting this. pretty much inspired by studio ghibil's films. :)
© meridianslair .
thank you everyone who voted! ♥
over the fence
They say that there was no box.
In the children’s stories, there had been a box. Silver and the size of your palm, it held things so scary and violent, that once opened, would release the most terrible nightmares, so horrific they would drive the mountains apart and men insane - that death would be easier than living.
But there was a speck of gold beneath all that darkness. It was soft, tiny and gentle, incandescent and hopeful. Nothing more than a grain of sand, this little thing, but it was men’s only hope - the only redemption the gods had left as our final saving grace.
Children stories are meant for children, and when boys become trapped in a limbo - child and adult, part lovely and part cynical - they start to ask. They question and challenge and don’t accept things as they are any longer - where is this box?
There was a fence Taemin had never climbed over. It wasn’t the white picket fences separating neat little squares of green, house from house. This fence had lost its colour, becoming paint-cracked and aged yellow - and it cuts across the land, dividing it into two. It separates the light and the dark - not little squares of green, house from house - and Taemin could never see beyond it. Absolute darkness hung behind, solid and impenetrable, but there was a strange shifting inside of it - like wisps of gas in a messy waltz.
It took one exploration for Taemin to see that the fences travelled without end towards the horizon, tall and menacing with sharp jagged tips and angry grains.
Two, for him to pack his bag the following night, scribble a hasty note - the fifth step creaks - and give his spirit to the night wind.
Because there was no box here - on the other side, the forbidden side where old people tell tales about, where parents and schools never suggest for excursions, where people never returned, that, must be the box.
And just like in the stories, Taemin believes there will be something there, something incandescent and tiny.
“This is your entire fault,” Kibum stuttered nervously.
That was all Taemin could make out above mud squelching and soil climbing up their legs - literally. Apparently, the land on the other side could morph and change and was basically both very much alive and disturbing.
But more importantly, it’s currently hungry and it wants to eat the both of them.
But hyung, it’s here, the light is here, he tried to reason, but it stuck in his throat as he struggled in place, watching frightfully as hands made of mud sprouted out from the ground, groping blindly over one another reaching for his ankles.
“Abominations!” Kibum shrilled, wrenching his right foot out of the puddle, severing brown hands in the process, sending them flying through the air. As if offended, they became more aggressive, piling up onto Kibum faster, one after the other - and he sinks knee-deep into the ground. “No - I don’t think we can find love here and especially not when I’m about to die a miserable death drowning in mud - and god, I don’t even like the colour brown!”
“We’ll get out of this,” Taemin said, his lack of conviction apparent with how shaky it came out. The grips around his ankles were tightening, digging into his calves. It hurt and strength was sapping from his legs.
“You and your crazy ideas, looking for love. I knew we would fail from the start,” Kibum was waist deep now and his voice rose with each word. “Nobody survives here!”
In a sudden surge, Taemin was tugged forcefully deep into the ground, right up to his chest. His legs can’t kick around anymore - it’s all hard rock. Glancing at Kibum (still busy swatting away hands), a weight drops into his stomach while something like anxiety explodes through his body - Taemin registers for the first time: he was going to die.
“Hold on!”
Opening his eyes, a large branch hovered in front of his face, with the mud fingers pulling and molesting it. Hastily, Taemin lunged for it, and immediately he cut through the ground like knife through butter before landing painfully on coarse grass, feeling mud against his jittery toes.
Instantly, ignoring the dull ache throbbing through him, his head snapped towards the mudpool, only to find the mud hands grappling with each other over empty air. For a scary second he thought Kibum had been pulled underneath - then there was a silent muttering about clothes and hair beside him. It had been too close for comfort, relief still tentatively bordering on his senses, and as Taemin said thank you, he realised two things.
He was alive.
And they weren’t alone.
The boy who saved them was called Minho.
He had been searching for food when the commotion happened. Minho had a friend around, but because the land changes so frequently, they’ve become separated. Technically, it was possible an entire mountain range had erupted between them. The fact left Taemin horrified - how will you find each other again? But Minho, however, had appeared at most, mildly amused and Taemin guessed he must’ve spent a long time on this side already.
Somewhere behind, at a tree they’ve passed a day ago, or a week maybe - the dates have stopped counting (it’s always 3 p.m., 14 July on Taemin’s watch now) - and dirt ground had merged into a lighter, softer brown; it was fragrant.
Underneath their soles was bread - their dirty soles that rendered the spongy oatmeal inedible with mudprints. They were suddenly akin to little figurines sitting atop an iced cake. Sweet aromas wafted into Taemin’s nose - a river of chocolate, trees growing candy, biscuit mounds; his stomach rumbled lowly.
Minho had gone about stuffing food into his backpack, unknowingly child-like and peculiarly cute, as Taemin watched and helped himself to candy floss (they grew on trees). Kibum, however, had spent the time picking up cookie pebbles, grimacing at the carbs contained in that miniscule disc, before flinging it into the chocolate river beside them.
“Hyung, I don’t think you should do that,” Taemin pointed out, licking melted candy floss off his fingers.
“And I don’t think we should be here,” Kibum retorted sharply, looking at him squarely. “Why?”
“Cause it’s like littering.”
Kibum rolled his eyes.
“Honestly hyung, I didn't...force you, did I? To come.”
"Yes, I suppose I could let a seventeen year old wander through godforsaken land all by himself, searching for something I don’t understand why we can’t search for back at home,” Kibum rattled, roughly following Minho’s trail in an uncertain path, trudging up a french loaf. “As if I would be irresponsible enough to do that.”
“But it’s here, hyung,” Taemin led another attempt to convince the diva. “Just like in the stories!”
“We’re going to die, it’s inevitable,” Kibum deadpanned. “Just like in the stories.”
By then, Taemin had run dry of arguments and persuasions, and instead, settled for scuffing his heel against bread as they walked, watching the fibres of food flaking under his shoe.
“Tsk, don’t do that,” Kibum scolded, taking in Taemin’s expression for a second. “…Oh, if you must know. And maybe because, well, just a bit, I had hoped for a little bit of luck myself.”
Taemin faced him, blinking, warmth filling his stomach despite the sideways glance Kibum threw him. On top of a candy mound, Minho waved, yelling for them to hurry up. Four steps into a run, and suddenly, carrots burst from the ground.
Well, bread. Or ground.
Ground-bread.
Kibum screams his pretty little head off to the point of his perfectly arranged fringe becoming displaced, as sharp ends of carrots threatened to impale him into painful death. Orange spikes - vegetables really - were tearing through the ground like some killing-machine-saw-3-obstacle-course-thing and Taemin’s legs were getting cut and his pants ripped.
It resembled jumping over exercise mats with sharp rocks meant to massage your feet - Taemin was twisting and leaping and trying not to get stabbed by killer vegetables - before strong arms grabbed his waist, the world spinning in a blur of bread, chocolate, candy and orange.
“Fine! Fine! I’m sorry, I’m sorry for littering!” Kibum sputtered just as a carrot rips through his shoulder bag. “Hey that was Prada!”
“Kibum!” Taemin yelled when he’s finally on safe ground again, waist tingling and chest pounding. Minho was already scaling down the mound to save frantic Kibum - whom was really just running in circles pursued by orange spikes.
“I told you we were going to die!”
Before Minho can reach Kibum, a whizz collided into Kibum in a rugby tackle (Kibum screams so hard here it’s guttural), sending the both of them out danger. They tumble for a distance, stopping; leaving the lonely killer carrots searching for fresh meat behind.
“JongHyun,” Minho breathed disbelievingly and Taemin was looking at a huge, megawatt smile above Kibum’s scowl.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Minho’s voice rumbled behind his ear.
“Family, maybe,” Taemin curled up tighter, extending his arm and catching tiny cold stars in his palm. There was a humming of thought, Minho’s arms binding them closer together.
The land rained stars, wet and icy, and they lingered in shape for a second before melting into water. Their only shelter was spots of sunbeams that managed to cut through the clouds, leaving a cramped space of light.
Right now, it was raining at 3 p.m., the 14th of July, and the only way they could both fit into a sunspot was their current arrangement; Taemin tucked tight into Minho’s arms, his knees pulled into his chest with Minho’s on either side of him.
Kibum and JongHyun were a distance away from them, and despite Taemin hating being separated - what if the land changed? - one sunspot couldn’t fit four teenagers. Through the rain, Taemin barely makes out dark blotches, Kibum in JongHyun’s arms, and images of Kibum breaking down made Taemin shift uncomfortably around Minho’s warmth. The diva had skipped dinner on a few occasions and as a result, fainted during their treks.
“He’ll be fine,” Minho said, as if reading his thoughts.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s my fault,” He blurted out. Every time Kibum recovers from fainting, JongHyun would crack a joke. Kibum would snap and suddenly, they start fighting - the former crying and beating at the latter’s back - and something awful gets stuck in Taemin’s throat because he knows Kibum was going crazy because of him.
“He chose to come,” Minho said after awhile. The rain became heavier and the dark blotches disappeared as the world around them crashed with falling stars. “We might never find the fence again.”
“I know.”
“We came looking for something,” Minho continued and Taemin found comfort in the heat against his back as stars splashed by his feet. “There’s no turning back. We just have to find what we came here to find.”
I came looking for love, Taemin thought, and he realises that he’s never asked Minho before. “Hyung, what are you finding?”
In the minutes that passed, all he heard was the pitter-patter of rain, his back slowly rising and falling with the rhythm of Minho’s chest, and sleep almost has a hold on him when a deep voice breaks the lull.
“I think I’ve found it.”
Insane was probably the only word to describe the 14th of July, 3 p.m.
They had been following a flying lamp - it was the light Taemin had heard about in the stories, and it was only in the last metre when the ground began fracturing and exploding with lava. The first thing that cuts through the air was Kibum’s scream as the ground began fissuring, huge oak trees slowly swallowed by molten fire. The four of them was suddenly on a slab of rock, separating itself from the rest of Earth, bubbling lava sloshing up onto JongHyun’s shoe and charring it.
“Oh my god. This is it, we are going to die,” Kibum whimpered as they tried to find balance on the bobbing slab of rock.
“We’ll be saved. Like every other time,” JongHyun said, a little more than scared. “I hope.”
There was a deafening “boom!” and Taemin stumbled, startled, before a large hand grabbed his wrist, holding tight. A wall of mist erupted behind them, and something like a huge ship appeared.
Captain Jinki offered them a ride - they were at the juncture where magma meets the ocean and it was “very dangerous” offered by the captain himself, before he tripped as his vessel rocked violently on its way back into azure blue.
On the 14th of July, 3 p.m., Taemin realises, as he sits back against Minho’s chest on the head of the chicken statue found on The Chicken Maiden's deck, that events are only inevitable only after they happen - like how they were saved when they thought they were going to die, and just like how it was inevitable that he’d find love in the land of horrors.
Because it's already happened; he's already found it.
end.
ah, i'm not sure if anyone picked it up, but there are some symbolisms and juxtapositions i've inserted in the fic between this universe and the time we fall in love, and are loving somebody. one of which was taemin's watch stopping. it bears multiple meanings and...i'll stop here and not spoil it all for you guys. kekeke.
do share your thoughts if you desire! however, here's a short run-through if you're like me, both interested in literature, but criminally lazy. :p /clings onto you if you are i'll update the meaning post together with your input. :D
oh please do vote if you enjoyed the story! ♥ (voting begins on the 4th of march and ends on the 8th if i'm not mistaken.)
and i might consider re-writing this outside and after the challenge because of the word constraints. i'm not sure, we'll see how it goes. ^^