Progression: The Chorus
Title: Progression: The Chorus.
Fandom: Super Generation!
Characters/Pairing: Leeteuk/Taeyeon
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG for implied themes.
Word Count: 2080 (I think it's clear how obsessed I am now.)
Summary: The progression of his fall into her. Part 3 of 4.
A/N: Inspired by the detective work conducted by netizens. I ship it. You should too.
It's been years now and while she finds she no longer has the strength to fly at him in a running hug every time, and while he's no longer as level headed as he used to be, they still talk and they're still close in a way neither could, if they would, describe. And though what they have remains the same, both have changed.
He's had U, and Sorry Sorry, and proven to Korea that men in suits was the way forward. He's a radio DJ and he's been voted the best leader of an idol group by netizens. He has control over a horde of fans that would demolish a house with their bare hands if he wanted them too and he's part of the biggest boy group in the world, and one of the most successful.
She's had Gee, and Genie, and led the wave of colourful skinny jeans and military inspired outfits. She's part of a group that the Korean military have all but sworn fealty too and is nationally loved by men of all ages, and loved by most of their mothers too (if not their girlfriends). She's got fans that would scream themselves hoarse for her, but she's also painfully aware of the antis that would not hesitate to bring her down.
And while she loves all of the music that he performs (not that she would ever admit to compulsively watching performances of U just for that hip thrust, because she doesn't), he dislikes most of hers (not that he would ever tell her). He doesn't like seeing her being marketed under her age. It makes him feel the age gap between them all the more keenly and he feels like a pervert because he does enjoy watching her sing Kissing You and Baby Baby though he tells himself he doesn't.
But none of that compares to how he despises Genie.
Not because of the music. The melody and harmony was not offensive at all. It was the lyrics. And the dance. And the outfits.
The cuteness of Gee was all innocence and purity and first love and he was okay with that. But now she was performing in shorts that showed too much of her legs to be legal all while purring for men to tell her their wish because it was her sole desire to grant them. He felt like he was being forced to share, and dammit Taeyeon shouldn't be anybody's genie except his, and she should only be wondering what his wishes were not anybody else's, and she shouldn't be in shorts ever because those legs could kill a man, and-
BAM
He squeezed his eyes shut against the burning pain, shoving one hand against his forehead to try and soothe the hurt and bashing his other fist into the wall he'd walked into. It would have been nice to say that this was the first time he'd walked into something while thinking about her, but he was never one for lying to himself.
“Dammit,” he growled.
This was torture. It was torture to see her being so clearly lusted after by thousands of men who were thinking thoughts they shouldn't be about her and to know that she was feeding right into what they wanted and playing every trick in the book to keep them salivating. He knows this. She probably knew this. But god if it doesn't kill him to know that she is, practically, selling herself in order to sell music.
And he'd been getting some really protective and possessive feelings about her lately, feelings that have actually brought him to the brink of wanting to throw something at that one male trainee who was salivating over her body to a friend in the corridors. It was a good thing he was rushing somewhere, otherwise he would have taken the time to punch that snotty teenager for talking about his Taeyeon like that.
There he goes again. With the whole 'his' thing. He tightened the hand that was on his temple, squeezing to the point where he could see stars behind his eyes.
She is not yours, Park Jungsoo. He recited in his head, the words a well known mantra that never failed to start that ache in his chest. She is not yours. Not. Yours.
But goddammit she should be.
--
He finds her outside of the practice room, timing his arrival just as they're supposed to be taking a break so he doesn't look like a stalker waiting outside the door. He's an old hand at this, having waited for her to finish more times than he would care to count.
And there she is slipping out from behind the door, pulling off her hair tie and shaking her head, a cascade of long brown hair falling over her shoulders and he catches his breath. The scent of her is a long since memorised one and the waft of it under his nose makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise. She sighs as she rubs a hand on the back of her neck and stretches upward, the curved line of her back tempting and teasing as her shirt rides up and the low waistline of her pants sits just so on her hips so he can see that expanse of creamy skin-
No. No he can't. She's six years younger than him and he can't be thinking this about her. And yet he's transfixed by the sight of her, by the closeness of her and he can't seem to recall his name.
Her head rises and she sees him. Warmth and affection immediately floods her eyes, but the sparkle that used to glow so brightly is dimmed and he wonders why that is.
God, he's missed her.
“It's been a while since you've visited me,” she says as she moves towards him, her voice tired through the fondness in her tone and he hates how obviously exhausted she is.
He wraps his arms around her waist and roughly pulls her to him, making her squeak as her face collides with his chest. She cranes her head upwards, a question in her eyes, but she doesn't try to pull away from what had to be an uncomfortable position. He clears his throat to stall for time, because he honestly doesn't have a good reason as to why he just did that.
Eventually he simply releases her and draws his hand down her arm until her fingers are entwined in his. “Come with me.”
He leads her away from the eyes that would see them and mouths that would gossip, keeps on tugging her until they reach an empty practice room and he pulls her inside. She's bemused at the way he's acting. Her lips quirk upwards and her head's cocked to the side at an indulgent angle as she watches him fumble for words.
“I missed your birthday.”
That's because you've been busy preparing for your tour, she thinks, but she lets him finish.
“And I wanted to give you this,” he finishes, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small turquoise box, tied awkwardly with a white silk ribbon.
“You didn't have to,” she says, utterly surprised and happily pleased at the gift, reaching out tentatively to take it in her hands.
“No I did.”
She's puzzled at his reply, but she opts to let it go and instead unties the ribbon and opens the box.
“Oh my god,” she exclaims, “It's beautiful.”
It's a silver heart, beautiful in its elegance, dangling from a fine, silver chain. She lifts it out carefully, fingering the heart reverently, mind churning as she finally absorbs the colour of the box. “Is this real?” She blurts out, at once looking up in horror as she realised what she said.
His laugh is very real as he looks at her with fondness. “Nothing less than the best for my Taeyeon.”
“But this must have been-” she bites down on her tongue. Hard. Wordlessly she holds out the necklace to him.
Confusion colours his expression. “What is it?”
“I can't accept this,” she bites out even though she does desperately want to keep the necklace, “You're crazy. This is too much for me. I don't deserve this.”
Suddenly he's standing too close to her and in her shock she drops the box even as he snatches the necklace out of her hands.
“Don't you dare, Kim Taeyeon,” he growls, and she's actually a little worried at that fire in his eyes but she knows he won't ever hurt her and she resists the urge to back away. “Don't you dare say anything like that about yourself again. No one is allowed to say what you do or don't deserve and I will decide whether or not you're worth this.”
He sees the confusion and uncertainty in her eyes, the way she seems to be trembling with shock, and he's immediately stricken with guilt at the way he just acted. He forces himself to breathe and when he does look back at her all his anger is gone and replaced with apologetic shyness.
“Listen,” he moves toward her, his arms encircling her as he unclasps the necklace and places it around her neck, “Yes, this was expensive and I probably shouldn't have spent the amount of money that I did, but that shouldn't matter to you.” He redoes the clasp and steps back to look at the heart resting against the background of her skin. “What should matter to you is that I think you're worth this and that you deserve something really nice for your birthday, which I did miss.”
She prays he doesn't notice how short her breaths are becoming. This prolonged closeness with him is sending her senses into overdrive and she can't even begin to describe what it feels like to have his hands on her skin. Unconsciously her hand reaches up between them to touch him, but at the last moment she regains control and instead touches the heart at her throat, ducking her head down in pretense of examining her new gift but really because she can't take that look in his eyes.
A long moment passes where she can't bring herself to move and he won't, keeping them locked too close together for her peace of mind.
“Taeyeon.”
She looks up then, wondering what he could have to say now. Feeling that something was going to change but not knowing what. She watches as he visibly swallows and steps closer to her until she can feel the warmth radiating from him. He places his hand on her neck and she freezes.
His eyes are burning, flaming with something she will not name and the blood in her veins runs hotter and hotter until she can feel a fire begin low in her stomach and she trembles.
“Y-yes?” She finally manages to stutter out, mind becoming a haze and her eyelids getting heavy as he draws so close she can feel his breath on her lips.
“Happy birthday.”
And then he kisses her.
The hand on her neck moves into her hair and his other arm is around her waist, supporting her against him as her knees go weak. He is gentle, soft and coaxing and she is melting and it is so much more than she imagined it would be. For one moment, for one blinding, soaring second, nothing else matters but the touch of his hand and the feel of his kiss and she could swear she's flying in his arms.
They part and her eyes flutter open. She sees his smile and can do little more than smile stupidly back because it's happened, just like in her dreams and she's still drowning in ecstasy from his touch.
And then reality hits her and it becomes coldly clear to her what they have just done and what would happen if anyone found out. The consequences of this would be more than just a reprimand, she knows this. She doesn't want to imagine what they could do to her. To him.
Happiness turns to anguish and she pulls away swallowing back a sob, backing away to the door even as his arms remain outstretched to her, his eyes a story of confusion and pain.
“Taeng-”
She runs.