In The Company of Shadows
Title: In The Company of Shadows
Pairing: Minho/Key
Rating: G
Another drabble, continued from my minkey drabbles over at vipjuly. did you miss them as much as i did? ^^
A/N: am i posting too frequently? lmao i feel like i am but i've just got all this stuff that i want to share ;_;
The hum of the vacuum was quiet, as it should be for being so expensive, Key running the smooth head along the hardwood floors of the dorm. Fives hours of fitful sleep imprinted dark circles under his eyes and really, five hours of fitful sleep should be cherished and praised in this non-stop industry, but Key can only find himself tiredly pushing the vacuum along the floor. The slide of the head over the wood floor, the crackling sounds of the suction picking up crumbs, it was all better than any stupid nap Key could squeeze into their schedule.
At near two in the afternoon, Key was still waking up from his nap. He hadn't collapsed into bed until nine a.m. - their schedule the previous day had went on well past midnight but once they were home, the members all falling into their beds and passing out, Key found his anxiety knotted in a tight ball of energy in the pit of his stomach. He had played on the internet, cleaned the kitchen, done a load of laundry, but he couldn't fall asleep. By the time he crawled into bed a few hours after the sun had risen Minho was already waking up on the other side of the room, quietly observing Key before getting dressed and heading out for his schedule.
It was like clockwork. His body rarely reached the five hour mark of sleep and it wasn't even enough time to get to rapid-eye-movement cycle, his limbs traitorous as they started tingling the instant he woke up, urging him out of bed every day.
When his body was too tired to function, when Key knew that he was too exhausted to eat or shower or do anything productive, he vacuumed. The floors were already really clean most of the time but the noise of the vacuum soothed him, the back and forth motion rocked his spent body and kept him upright. Emptying the dust bin was mechanical and routine, and Key could actually probably fall asleep while he was still doing this and continue to clean the house in a state of unconsciousness. It never got that bad, but today his brain was edging on the border of awake and asleep rather dangerously.
Over the whirr of the vacuum he heard the door open, and he shook himself alert, clearing his throat and moving from the spot he'd been vacuuming for almost ten minutes. The head of the vacuum swiveled under the couch and Key bent his body a bit, peering underneath to see if he needed to move the furniture and get under it.
“Kibum,” Minho's voice sounded a bit out of breath. He must have just got done at the gym. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning,” Key replied, all hints of his personality devoid from his voice as he avoided looking at Minho. He could feel the bags under his eyes sagging into his skin and he didn't want the other man to see him like this.
Flashbacks of nights in the distant past erupted behind Key's drooping eyelids. Nights that weren't quite night but weren't quite morning yet, of Key distracting himself from sleep apnea by taking on ridiculous tasks, a shadow lingering behind him and ready to whisk him off to bed. That shadow was approaching him now, a hand moving to the crook of Key's elbow, Minho's palms still hot from where they gripped his weights not a half hour ago.
“Go back to bed.”
The command was quiet and Key shut off the vacuum. Sharing a room with Minho was a blessing and a burden all at once, in that moment; he propped the vacuum up until it clicked in place and Minho carefully took it from him, treating it as if it were Key's own infant child. It may as well be. Minho stored it in the closet and his hand went back to Key's elbow, gently pulling him towards their shared bedroom.
Rooming with Minho was a blessing because now he could properly cater to Key's sleep-deprived quirks. It was a burden because sometimes Key just didn't want to be helped.
Now wasn't one of those times he felt like resisting, and when Key collapsed on his bed in a heap of bones and sighs, Minho was over him and bringing the light blanket up to his chin, the room too hot and absent of air-conditioning for a heavier blanket. Key's fingers curled around the edge, reminiscent of a child being tucked in, and he blearily looked up at Minho, whose brows were furrowed and his gaze on some other part of Key's face rather than his eyes.
“I must look hideous,” Key said softly, his voice a bit croaky from lack of sleep and vocal chord use.
A small smile curved over Minho's lips and he sat down on the edge of Key's bed, his eyes finally raising to Key's as he reached up a hand and gently brushed blond bangs away from his face.
“I think you're beautiful, like this.”
Key wanted to huff and roll his eyes and tell Minho that he was a twisted fuck for thinking Key was beautiful when he was wore down to the bone, but he could only manage to let out a short breath. Minho's fingers carded through his hair one more time, his eyes roving over Key's features, making him even more self-conscious. Black eyes, unwashed hair, some foundation lingering on his face where he couldn't be bothered to swipe his make-up remover.
But this was how Minho was. Minho was quiet in his concern and did more through actions rather than words. That was alright, because Key needed someone to take the initiative, because he sure as hell wasn't doing it.
Minho's fingers feathered down the side of Key's face, over his jaw and the tip of his earlobe, down the side of his neck and to the collarbones that were exposed from an overly large tank top that may or may not have been Minho's. It was in these motions, it was in the soft look in Minho's eyes that Key knew Minho thought he was beautiful like this, because he thought Key was prettiest when he was weak.
When Key was weak, he had no defenses. He had no walls or barriers to put up and if someone was paying attention to what they were doing, their hand could press against the invisible fortress and easily pass through. Minho's big hands seemed perfect for breaching security walls.
Key just let him.
His eyes fluttered shut under the soft touches of Minho, and he felt the man's hands tucking the duvet underneath Key's sides in the way Key liked, in the way Key's mother used to do when he was a toddler.
He didn't need to be told to sleep, his bones sinking like lead into the mattress as his mind finally fogged over. And even as sleep took over his mind, Key felt the mattress shift a bit, and like many times before, he knew Minho had grabbed a book and settled against the headboard to read while Key slept.
Because Minho knew Key liked him to be the first thing he see when he wakes up.
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Pairing: Minho/Key
Rating: G
Another drabble, continued from my minkey drabbles over at vipjuly. did you miss them as much as i did? ^^
A/N: am i posting too frequently? lmao i feel like i am but i've just got all this stuff that i want to share ;_;
The hum of the vacuum was quiet, as it should be for being so expensive, Key running the smooth head along the hardwood floors of the dorm. Fives hours of fitful sleep imprinted dark circles under his eyes and really, five hours of fitful sleep should be cherished and praised in this non-stop industry, but Key can only find himself tiredly pushing the vacuum along the floor. The slide of the head over the wood floor, the crackling sounds of the suction picking up crumbs, it was all better than any stupid nap Key could squeeze into their schedule.
At near two in the afternoon, Key was still waking up from his nap. He hadn't collapsed into bed until nine a.m. - their schedule the previous day had went on well past midnight but once they were home, the members all falling into their beds and passing out, Key found his anxiety knotted in a tight ball of energy in the pit of his stomach. He had played on the internet, cleaned the kitchen, done a load of laundry, but he couldn't fall asleep. By the time he crawled into bed a few hours after the sun had risen Minho was already waking up on the other side of the room, quietly observing Key before getting dressed and heading out for his schedule.
It was like clockwork. His body rarely reached the five hour mark of sleep and it wasn't even enough time to get to rapid-eye-movement cycle, his limbs traitorous as they started tingling the instant he woke up, urging him out of bed every day.
When his body was too tired to function, when Key knew that he was too exhausted to eat or shower or do anything productive, he vacuumed. The floors were already really clean most of the time but the noise of the vacuum soothed him, the back and forth motion rocked his spent body and kept him upright. Emptying the dust bin was mechanical and routine, and Key could actually probably fall asleep while he was still doing this and continue to clean the house in a state of unconsciousness. It never got that bad, but today his brain was edging on the border of awake and asleep rather dangerously.
Over the whirr of the vacuum he heard the door open, and he shook himself alert, clearing his throat and moving from the spot he'd been vacuuming for almost ten minutes. The head of the vacuum swiveled under the couch and Key bent his body a bit, peering underneath to see if he needed to move the furniture and get under it.
“Kibum,” Minho's voice sounded a bit out of breath. He must have just got done at the gym. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning,” Key replied, all hints of his personality devoid from his voice as he avoided looking at Minho. He could feel the bags under his eyes sagging into his skin and he didn't want the other man to see him like this.
Flashbacks of nights in the distant past erupted behind Key's drooping eyelids. Nights that weren't quite night but weren't quite morning yet, of Key distracting himself from sleep apnea by taking on ridiculous tasks, a shadow lingering behind him and ready to whisk him off to bed. That shadow was approaching him now, a hand moving to the crook of Key's elbow, Minho's palms still hot from where they gripped his weights not a half hour ago.
“Go back to bed.”
The command was quiet and Key shut off the vacuum. Sharing a room with Minho was a blessing and a burden all at once, in that moment; he propped the vacuum up until it clicked in place and Minho carefully took it from him, treating it as if it were Key's own infant child. It may as well be. Minho stored it in the closet and his hand went back to Key's elbow, gently pulling him towards their shared bedroom.
Rooming with Minho was a blessing because now he could properly cater to Key's sleep-deprived quirks. It was a burden because sometimes Key just didn't want to be helped.
Now wasn't one of those times he felt like resisting, and when Key collapsed on his bed in a heap of bones and sighs, Minho was over him and bringing the light blanket up to his chin, the room too hot and absent of air-conditioning for a heavier blanket. Key's fingers curled around the edge, reminiscent of a child being tucked in, and he blearily looked up at Minho, whose brows were furrowed and his gaze on some other part of Key's face rather than his eyes.
“I must look hideous,” Key said softly, his voice a bit croaky from lack of sleep and vocal chord use.
A small smile curved over Minho's lips and he sat down on the edge of Key's bed, his eyes finally raising to Key's as he reached up a hand and gently brushed blond bangs away from his face.
“I think you're beautiful, like this.”
Key wanted to huff and roll his eyes and tell Minho that he was a twisted fuck for thinking Key was beautiful when he was wore down to the bone, but he could only manage to let out a short breath. Minho's fingers carded through his hair one more time, his eyes roving over Key's features, making him even more self-conscious. Black eyes, unwashed hair, some foundation lingering on his face where he couldn't be bothered to swipe his make-up remover.
But this was how Minho was. Minho was quiet in his concern and did more through actions rather than words. That was alright, because Key needed someone to take the initiative, because he sure as hell wasn't doing it.
Minho's fingers feathered down the side of Key's face, over his jaw and the tip of his earlobe, down the side of his neck and to the collarbones that were exposed from an overly large tank top that may or may not have been Minho's. It was in these motions, it was in the soft look in Minho's eyes that Key knew Minho thought he was beautiful like this, because he thought Key was prettiest when he was weak.
When Key was weak, he had no defenses. He had no walls or barriers to put up and if someone was paying attention to what they were doing, their hand could press against the invisible fortress and easily pass through. Minho's big hands seemed perfect for breaching security walls.
Key just let him.
His eyes fluttered shut under the soft touches of Minho, and he felt the man's hands tucking the duvet underneath Key's sides in the way Key liked, in the way Key's mother used to do when he was a toddler.
He didn't need to be told to sleep, his bones sinking like lead into the mattress as his mind finally fogged over. And even as sleep took over his mind, Key felt the mattress shift a bit, and like many times before, he knew Minho had grabbed a book and settled against the headboard to read while Key slept.
Because Minho knew Key liked him to be the first thing he see when he wakes up.
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