you're the song that i can't stop playing [exo]
xiuyeol, xiuhan
pg-13
for jo because she's jo ♥
Chanyeol falls backwards on the bed, clapping his hands and laughing. He stops clapping just to cover his face with both hands as Minseok looks back at him with a smile that’s both confused and amused. “Was it good?” Minseok asks, and his tone tells Chanyeol that Minseok already knows the answer. Chanyeol can only give a thumbs-up with the hand he isn’t using to muffle his laughter.
They’re the only ones in the room, but they’ve left the door open for when Baekhyun and Zitao come back from their shower.
It’s the night before his and Minseok’s schedule as guest DJs-together, but on their own. One of their managers suggested practicing since a few days ago but they’ve been so tired from the other schedules that they haven’t gotten to it until just tonight. It’s last minute, but it can’t be helped. They’re curled together on Chanyeol’s bed, scripts in hand, occasionally penning in improvisations that they’ll do in hopefully successful attempts at making the show funnier-or at least, even if they fail, it’ll be good enough fanservice for the fans that’ll tune in.
“That one, hyung,” Chanyeol says, sitting up once he can breathe again. He grins. “Definitely do that one tomorrow.”
Minseok squints at him. “Is it actually funny or are you fucking with me?”
Chanyeol grins. “Just do it-it’ll be awesome.”
“You’d better do it too,” Minseok says, pointing a finger in his face. “I swear-if you leave me hanging-”
“Mine won’t be as sexy as yours, hyung,” Chanyeol teases, “but I’ll give it a shot.”
A returning grin tugs at Minseok’s lips as he rolls his eyes and turns the script. “What’s next?”
The younger man flops down onto his back, long legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He covers his face with the script, leaving the sheets of paper there to block out the room’s fluorescent lights. “Can’t we stop? We can go over the rest in the car on the way tomorrow, hyung. I’m tired.”
And then the script is being pulled off of Chanyeol’s face, but the lights are still blocked. Chanyeol finds his sight filled with pink gums and smiling lips and curved eyes and pale cheeks, and all he can do is blink as Minseok laughs down at him. Their faces are breaths apart and Chanyeol is suddenly a little too aware of where the mattress dips down from their weights combined and pressed close together. He’s a little too aware of how Minseok’s hand is on the mattress, resting right beside Chanyeol’s ear. The thin sleeves of Minseok’s t-shirt billow above Chanyeol’s face and he isn’t sure whether the shirt is too big or Minseok is too small, but Chanyeol can see up the short, wide sleeves-stretches of pale skin over the thin muscle of Minseok’s arms.
He’s far, far too aware of how Minseok’s thighs are straddling his hips.
“You want to do something else then?” Minseok grins, voice laced with laughter as he hovers over Chanyeol like that.
The younger man blinks again. Chanyeol licks his lips and swallows, and he feels the blood pounding in his ears-feels like he can hear his heart beating like a drum in his chest. Only when the seconds tick by in silence, and Minseok’s expression turns expectant does Chanyeol realize that he should probably say something-do something-other than continue to lie here under Minseok’s body, pressed into the bed.
His throat is dry and his heart thuds a panicked beat when Minseok raises his eyebrows, still waiting and beginning to look confused at Chanyeol’s silence. Chanyeol doesn’t know what he’s going to say, empty white spaces coming up as his mind tries to put something hastily together, when he opens his mouth only to be cut off by Baekhyun shuffling into the room, freshly showered with a towel around his waist.
Minseok sits back on Chanyeol’s stomach, turning just as Baekhyun comes in and starts ruffling the towel previously around his neck through his hair. “Zitao’s not done?” Minseok asks, and Chanyeol lies like a stone. He doesn’t trust himself to sit up.
“Putting on eye cream,” Baekhyun says absently, pulling on boxers. He waves towards the door. “Hyung, Luhan-hyung’s looking for you.”
Minseok snorts. “Luhan’s always looking for me,” he says, but it’s hard not to hear how his voice brightens. He pats Chanyeol’s cheek. “Tomorrow in the car,” Minseok says, narrowing his eyes playfully as he rolls off the younger man and pulls Chanyeol up. “Speed-rehearsal, be ready, Park Chanyeol.”
“Always, hyung,” Chanyeol grins back, even as he feels his heart sinking with every steadying beat. Minseok gives him one last returning grin before grabbing his script and jogging out the door, pausing only to pinch Baekhyun’s hip as the vocalist pulls on a shirt.
Minseok leaves the room already shouting playful yells of, “Luhan!”
Chanyeol collapses back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s about to close his eyes when Baekhyun’s face pops into his view, once more blocking the light. “You should learn,” Chanyeol’s friend says, “when to give up on a lost cause.”
The rapper swats half-heartedly at the air until Baekhyun backs off, resuming slapping lotion onto his face from Zitao’s stash. “It’s not lost,” Chanyeol defends, sitting up and hunching over with his script lying across his lap. “I’m not ugly or anything. I’m likable. I’m young and talented with my own set of unique charms.”
“You sound like you’re auditioning for a company,” Baekhyun snorts, sitting down on the bed across from Chanyeol’s.
Chanyeol grumbles and shrugs. “It’s just-you make it sound like it’s hopeless.”
A peal of laughter, and indignant screech, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s heads turn towards the open door of their bedroom. Minseok is backing up in the hallway, seemingly just caught after Luhan pursued him around the dorms, and Chanyeol watches the grins on his hyungs’ faces as they pass by, no doubt on their way to save time and shower together (and how he’d wanted to scoff when Luhan announced on television that he’d much rather shower alone).
Baekhyun meets Chanyeol’s eyes and shrugs back. “Isn’t it?”
Chanyeol looks down at the script in his hands. “No,” he says, swallowing and he’s determined. He doesn’t know what he’s determined for-not wishing unhappiness for anyone, least of all Luhan, least of all Minseok-but he doesn’t want to give up. “It’s not.”
pg-13
for jo because she's jo ♥
Chanyeol falls backwards on the bed, clapping his hands and laughing. He stops clapping just to cover his face with both hands as Minseok looks back at him with a smile that’s both confused and amused. “Was it good?” Minseok asks, and his tone tells Chanyeol that Minseok already knows the answer. Chanyeol can only give a thumbs-up with the hand he isn’t using to muffle his laughter.
They’re the only ones in the room, but they’ve left the door open for when Baekhyun and Zitao come back from their shower.
It’s the night before his and Minseok’s schedule as guest DJs-together, but on their own. One of their managers suggested practicing since a few days ago but they’ve been so tired from the other schedules that they haven’t gotten to it until just tonight. It’s last minute, but it can’t be helped. They’re curled together on Chanyeol’s bed, scripts in hand, occasionally penning in improvisations that they’ll do in hopefully successful attempts at making the show funnier-or at least, even if they fail, it’ll be good enough fanservice for the fans that’ll tune in.
“That one, hyung,” Chanyeol says, sitting up once he can breathe again. He grins. “Definitely do that one tomorrow.”
Minseok squints at him. “Is it actually funny or are you fucking with me?”
Chanyeol grins. “Just do it-it’ll be awesome.”
“You’d better do it too,” Minseok says, pointing a finger in his face. “I swear-if you leave me hanging-”
“Mine won’t be as sexy as yours, hyung,” Chanyeol teases, “but I’ll give it a shot.”
A returning grin tugs at Minseok’s lips as he rolls his eyes and turns the script. “What’s next?”
The younger man flops down onto his back, long legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He covers his face with the script, leaving the sheets of paper there to block out the room’s fluorescent lights. “Can’t we stop? We can go over the rest in the car on the way tomorrow, hyung. I’m tired.”
And then the script is being pulled off of Chanyeol’s face, but the lights are still blocked. Chanyeol finds his sight filled with pink gums and smiling lips and curved eyes and pale cheeks, and all he can do is blink as Minseok laughs down at him. Their faces are breaths apart and Chanyeol is suddenly a little too aware of where the mattress dips down from their weights combined and pressed close together. He’s a little too aware of how Minseok’s hand is on the mattress, resting right beside Chanyeol’s ear. The thin sleeves of Minseok’s t-shirt billow above Chanyeol’s face and he isn’t sure whether the shirt is too big or Minseok is too small, but Chanyeol can see up the short, wide sleeves-stretches of pale skin over the thin muscle of Minseok’s arms.
He’s far, far too aware of how Minseok’s thighs are straddling his hips.
“You want to do something else then?” Minseok grins, voice laced with laughter as he hovers over Chanyeol like that.
The younger man blinks again. Chanyeol licks his lips and swallows, and he feels the blood pounding in his ears-feels like he can hear his heart beating like a drum in his chest. Only when the seconds tick by in silence, and Minseok’s expression turns expectant does Chanyeol realize that he should probably say something-do something-other than continue to lie here under Minseok’s body, pressed into the bed.
His throat is dry and his heart thuds a panicked beat when Minseok raises his eyebrows, still waiting and beginning to look confused at Chanyeol’s silence. Chanyeol doesn’t know what he’s going to say, empty white spaces coming up as his mind tries to put something hastily together, when he opens his mouth only to be cut off by Baekhyun shuffling into the room, freshly showered with a towel around his waist.
Minseok sits back on Chanyeol’s stomach, turning just as Baekhyun comes in and starts ruffling the towel previously around his neck through his hair. “Zitao’s not done?” Minseok asks, and Chanyeol lies like a stone. He doesn’t trust himself to sit up.
“Putting on eye cream,” Baekhyun says absently, pulling on boxers. He waves towards the door. “Hyung, Luhan-hyung’s looking for you.”
Minseok snorts. “Luhan’s always looking for me,” he says, but it’s hard not to hear how his voice brightens. He pats Chanyeol’s cheek. “Tomorrow in the car,” Minseok says, narrowing his eyes playfully as he rolls off the younger man and pulls Chanyeol up. “Speed-rehearsal, be ready, Park Chanyeol.”
“Always, hyung,” Chanyeol grins back, even as he feels his heart sinking with every steadying beat. Minseok gives him one last returning grin before grabbing his script and jogging out the door, pausing only to pinch Baekhyun’s hip as the vocalist pulls on a shirt.
Minseok leaves the room already shouting playful yells of, “Luhan!”
Chanyeol collapses back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s about to close his eyes when Baekhyun’s face pops into his view, once more blocking the light. “You should learn,” Chanyeol’s friend says, “when to give up on a lost cause.”
The rapper swats half-heartedly at the air until Baekhyun backs off, resuming slapping lotion onto his face from Zitao’s stash. “It’s not lost,” Chanyeol defends, sitting up and hunching over with his script lying across his lap. “I’m not ugly or anything. I’m likable. I’m young and talented with my own set of unique charms.”
“You sound like you’re auditioning for a company,” Baekhyun snorts, sitting down on the bed across from Chanyeol’s.
Chanyeol grumbles and shrugs. “It’s just-you make it sound like it’s hopeless.”
A peal of laughter, and indignant screech, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s heads turn towards the open door of their bedroom. Minseok is backing up in the hallway, seemingly just caught after Luhan pursued him around the dorms, and Chanyeol watches the grins on his hyungs’ faces as they pass by, no doubt on their way to save time and shower together (and how he’d wanted to scoff when Luhan announced on television that he’d much rather shower alone).
Baekhyun meets Chanyeol’s eyes and shrugs back. “Isn’t it?”
Chanyeol looks down at the script in his hands. “No,” he says, swallowing and he’s determined. He doesn’t know what he’s determined for-not wishing unhappiness for anyone, least of all Luhan, least of all Minseok-but he doesn’t want to give up. “It’s not.”