A Lack of Color [7/10]
Title: A Lack of Color [7/10]
Main Pairing: Yoochun/OC
Rating: PG-13, R
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drabble!verse
Summary: Park Yoochun is a lonely man of very few words. With ten minutes left until the New Year, he spends them on the Brooklyn Bridge smoking his last pack of cigarettes and contemplating love, life, and the one girl that broke down his walls.
Watching the wisps of smoke float through the frigid air, Yoochun sighed wistfully before his eyes fluttered shut. A frosty breeze blew up from the East River, yanking the man from his thoughts as his body wracked with shivers. Feeling a small wetness tremble onto his nose, the composer opened his eyes and felt another small drop onto his cheek. Turning his head slightly, he looked out at the tiny snowflakes falling lightly from the sky. Gazing over the river toward Manhattan, the lone man on the bench looked at the lights that lit up the streets and buildings and the shade of each color the cityscape created and blended.
Color.
His life needed color.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The sun’s rays shone through the window onto the pair of naked bodies nestled together under the covers, waking one of them from their slumber. As Yoochun’s eyes fluttered open, he gazed down at the head of hair that belonged to the sleeping woman in his arms. Smiling at the sight, he gently brushed away the dark tresses that cascaded over her before lightly pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. He inhaled the faint scent of cherry blossoms from her shampoo, the smell bringing him more comfort than anything. If he experienced hell on earth, then this was most definitely his heaven on earth.
Lying there with Nina in his arms, Yoochun closed his eyes, just focusing on the feeling of having her with him to take the world on. Feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she took each even breath, the composer could hear a beautiful melody float through his ears. As the music flowed through his being, laying at rest in his very heart and soul, the man opened his eyes with a barely audible gasp.
Moving slowly from beside his lover to not wake her as he slipped off the bed, Yoochun padded over to the grand piano that stood at the center of his loft and sat himself down on the bench. He looked over at the sheet music notebook before him and pulled it down, flipping through until he got to an empty page. Reaching for the pencil that had fallen onto the floor the day before, the longhaired man straightened himself out before putting the graphite to the blank canvas. With a concentrated ease, he began to draw a variety of circles, dots, straight lines, and curves across the paper.
After twenty minutes of rapid scribbling and swift erasing, the composer finally set the pencil down before placing the notebook atop the stand of the piano. Raking his eyes over the notes that littered the sheet, Yoochun moved his hands and rested them over the ivory keys were an extension of himself. Inhaling a breath of air, the composer closed his eyes and exhaled before pressing his fingers into the keys.
The music surged through his veins and through his fingertips as they ran across the ebony and ivory keys to create a soft, sweet melody that wafted through the still air. Each note took him deeper and deeper into the music, giving him a slice of paradise that he could forever have ingrained on paper and in his mind. Yoochun was so engrossed in the music that he didn’t even register the figure on the bed stirring until he heard a soft voice enter his symphony of sound.
Nina’s airy voice sang along with the melody, her hums harmonizing perfectly with the chords the pianist struck gently. Glancing up above the sheets of music, Yoochun cracked a smile as his eyes met the beauty sitting on the bed with his sheets wrapped around her lithe figure. The girl smiled in return, her light brown eyes crinkling into half moons as the sun shone over her tresses, giving the illusion of a halo on her head.
Sliding soundlessly off the bed, Nina continued to sing along as she took light steps toward the composer sitting at the piano, sheets draped over her shoulders. Yoochun never took his eyes off her as he continued to play, his fingers dancing across the keys. Slowly stepping until she was right behind him, Nina rested her hands on his shoulders as she looked down at the man, his head tilted back so he could look straight up at her.
Yoochun rested his head against her chest as he stared up at her, his hair falling back and brushing against her collarbone as he felt her voice through her skin. Ending the melody with a flourish, he smiled brightly up at the girl who sung her last note before smiling back. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cover hers.
Leaning over to press her lips against his forehead, she gazed down at the composer. “That was beautiful,” she commented softly. “Did you just write it?”
He nodded before he moved her hands off of him and stood up. Turning to face her, he tilted his head down and set his hands over the sheets on her upper arms. “Did you like it?” he asked.
Nina hummed in affirmation. “It’s very colorful,” she complimented.
A look of confusion crossed Yoochun’s features. Sensing the need to explain, the girl reached up and grasped the composer’s wrists and moved them so their hands were between them. With each step backwards, Nina silently guided him back toward the bed until they stood right in front of it, learning early on into the relationship that when it came to the composer, actions spoke much louder than words.
Letting go of his hands, Nina moved to wrap her arms around her lover’s neck and leaned up, pressing her lips to his chastely. Pulling back slightly, she murmured against his lips. “There’s a lack of color here…your loft has only whites and grays and blacks.”
Yoochun hummed as he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, feeling her body mesh against the contours of his while he rested his forehead onto hers. “I had no reason to have any color in my life,” he admitted. “But I do now…” he continued before closing his eyes and giving his lover another kiss on her lips.
Lifting her hand up to ravel in Yoochun’s hair, the girl deepened the kiss, tilting her head and parting her lips. The composer instantly reacted to her, feeling completely attuned to everything about his lover. Stepping forward, the man slowly lowered Nina onto the bed before crawling over her, lips never detaching from each other.
The kiss deepened with nibbling on lips and swipes of tongues as hands roamed all over each other, leaving light caresses over their skin and bones. Finally breaking off with a gasp, Yoochun returned his forehead to rest atop Nina’s, eyes boring into hers. “Your hazel eyes with those speckles of brown and green light up my day when I look at them,” he murmured before he kissed her nose. “And your red lips are all I think about sometimes when I’m alone,” he admitted, pecking her lips.
“Yoochun…” Nina whispered from beneath him, hand lifting up to rest against his cheek.
The composer smiled as he leaned into the hand and thumb stroking his cheekbone. “Your skin gets slightly tanned in the summer and you look like a golden goddess after a day in the sun,” he continued. “Your favorite color is a shade of sapphire blue that should truly be illegal for you to wear because you look so gorgeous in that color that I can barely keep my hands off you in public.”
The girl blushed at the bold admittance, trying to avert her eyes from the man above her as she squeezed them shut in shyness.
“No,” he called out as he nudged her cheek with his nose. “Look at me, Nina.”
After a bit of coaxing, her eyes opened up and she gazed up at him.
“You’re the reds, oranges, and yellows that keep me warm at night; you’re the greens, blues, and violets that keep me calm and at ease…” Yoochun murmured. “You’re the harmony to my melody and the reason I can even feel again. My life lacked color but it just doesn’t anymore. It’s you, love. Everything is you.”
The two pairs of eyes searched each other’s countenance, just simply searching, and what both of them saw was something that didn’t need to be spoken.
They completed each other.
word count: 1405
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Main Pairing: Yoochun/OC
Rating: PG-13, R
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drabble!verse
Summary: Park Yoochun is a lonely man of very few words. With ten minutes left until the New Year, he spends them on the Brooklyn Bridge smoking his last pack of cigarettes and contemplating love, life, and the one girl that broke down his walls.
Watching the wisps of smoke float through the frigid air, Yoochun sighed wistfully before his eyes fluttered shut. A frosty breeze blew up from the East River, yanking the man from his thoughts as his body wracked with shivers. Feeling a small wetness tremble onto his nose, the composer opened his eyes and felt another small drop onto his cheek. Turning his head slightly, he looked out at the tiny snowflakes falling lightly from the sky. Gazing over the river toward Manhattan, the lone man on the bench looked at the lights that lit up the streets and buildings and the shade of each color the cityscape created and blended.
Color.
His life needed color.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The sun’s rays shone through the window onto the pair of naked bodies nestled together under the covers, waking one of them from their slumber. As Yoochun’s eyes fluttered open, he gazed down at the head of hair that belonged to the sleeping woman in his arms. Smiling at the sight, he gently brushed away the dark tresses that cascaded over her before lightly pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. He inhaled the faint scent of cherry blossoms from her shampoo, the smell bringing him more comfort than anything. If he experienced hell on earth, then this was most definitely his heaven on earth.
Lying there with Nina in his arms, Yoochun closed his eyes, just focusing on the feeling of having her with him to take the world on. Feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she took each even breath, the composer could hear a beautiful melody float through his ears. As the music flowed through his being, laying at rest in his very heart and soul, the man opened his eyes with a barely audible gasp.
Moving slowly from beside his lover to not wake her as he slipped off the bed, Yoochun padded over to the grand piano that stood at the center of his loft and sat himself down on the bench. He looked over at the sheet music notebook before him and pulled it down, flipping through until he got to an empty page. Reaching for the pencil that had fallen onto the floor the day before, the longhaired man straightened himself out before putting the graphite to the blank canvas. With a concentrated ease, he began to draw a variety of circles, dots, straight lines, and curves across the paper.
After twenty minutes of rapid scribbling and swift erasing, the composer finally set the pencil down before placing the notebook atop the stand of the piano. Raking his eyes over the notes that littered the sheet, Yoochun moved his hands and rested them over the ivory keys were an extension of himself. Inhaling a breath of air, the composer closed his eyes and exhaled before pressing his fingers into the keys.
The music surged through his veins and through his fingertips as they ran across the ebony and ivory keys to create a soft, sweet melody that wafted through the still air. Each note took him deeper and deeper into the music, giving him a slice of paradise that he could forever have ingrained on paper and in his mind. Yoochun was so engrossed in the music that he didn’t even register the figure on the bed stirring until he heard a soft voice enter his symphony of sound.
Nina’s airy voice sang along with the melody, her hums harmonizing perfectly with the chords the pianist struck gently. Glancing up above the sheets of music, Yoochun cracked a smile as his eyes met the beauty sitting on the bed with his sheets wrapped around her lithe figure. The girl smiled in return, her light brown eyes crinkling into half moons as the sun shone over her tresses, giving the illusion of a halo on her head.
Sliding soundlessly off the bed, Nina continued to sing along as she took light steps toward the composer sitting at the piano, sheets draped over her shoulders. Yoochun never took his eyes off her as he continued to play, his fingers dancing across the keys. Slowly stepping until she was right behind him, Nina rested her hands on his shoulders as she looked down at the man, his head tilted back so he could look straight up at her.
Yoochun rested his head against her chest as he stared up at her, his hair falling back and brushing against her collarbone as he felt her voice through her skin. Ending the melody with a flourish, he smiled brightly up at the girl who sung her last note before smiling back. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cover hers.
Leaning over to press her lips against his forehead, she gazed down at the composer. “That was beautiful,” she commented softly. “Did you just write it?”
He nodded before he moved her hands off of him and stood up. Turning to face her, he tilted his head down and set his hands over the sheets on her upper arms. “Did you like it?” he asked.
Nina hummed in affirmation. “It’s very colorful,” she complimented.
A look of confusion crossed Yoochun’s features. Sensing the need to explain, the girl reached up and grasped the composer’s wrists and moved them so their hands were between them. With each step backwards, Nina silently guided him back toward the bed until they stood right in front of it, learning early on into the relationship that when it came to the composer, actions spoke much louder than words.
Letting go of his hands, Nina moved to wrap her arms around her lover’s neck and leaned up, pressing her lips to his chastely. Pulling back slightly, she murmured against his lips. “There’s a lack of color here…your loft has only whites and grays and blacks.”
Yoochun hummed as he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, feeling her body mesh against the contours of his while he rested his forehead onto hers. “I had no reason to have any color in my life,” he admitted. “But I do now…” he continued before closing his eyes and giving his lover another kiss on her lips.
Lifting her hand up to ravel in Yoochun’s hair, the girl deepened the kiss, tilting her head and parting her lips. The composer instantly reacted to her, feeling completely attuned to everything about his lover. Stepping forward, the man slowly lowered Nina onto the bed before crawling over her, lips never detaching from each other.
The kiss deepened with nibbling on lips and swipes of tongues as hands roamed all over each other, leaving light caresses over their skin and bones. Finally breaking off with a gasp, Yoochun returned his forehead to rest atop Nina’s, eyes boring into hers. “Your hazel eyes with those speckles of brown and green light up my day when I look at them,” he murmured before he kissed her nose. “And your red lips are all I think about sometimes when I’m alone,” he admitted, pecking her lips.
“Yoochun…” Nina whispered from beneath him, hand lifting up to rest against his cheek.
The composer smiled as he leaned into the hand and thumb stroking his cheekbone. “Your skin gets slightly tanned in the summer and you look like a golden goddess after a day in the sun,” he continued. “Your favorite color is a shade of sapphire blue that should truly be illegal for you to wear because you look so gorgeous in that color that I can barely keep my hands off you in public.”
The girl blushed at the bold admittance, trying to avert her eyes from the man above her as she squeezed them shut in shyness.
“No,” he called out as he nudged her cheek with his nose. “Look at me, Nina.”
After a bit of coaxing, her eyes opened up and she gazed up at him.
“You’re the reds, oranges, and yellows that keep me warm at night; you’re the greens, blues, and violets that keep me calm and at ease…” Yoochun murmured. “You’re the harmony to my melody and the reason I can even feel again. My life lacked color but it just doesn’t anymore. It’s you, love. Everything is you.”
The two pairs of eyes searched each other’s countenance, just simply searching, and what both of them saw was something that didn’t need to be spoken.
They completed each other.
word count: 1405
previous | next