i am the lucky one.
i am the lucky one.
kyungsoo/xiumin - pg - fluff - 2778 words
(sort of inspired by) Ratatouille!AU. only those with true talent stand out in the world.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows that if they see him tampering with the soup, on his first night as a garbage boy, they’re going to fire him on the spot. But he knows that it isn’t aromatic enough, that they’re missing a little herb that Kyungsoo knows will make a huge difference. He knows that it’s not nearly as salty as it should be, and people will have to add copious amounts of condiments just to make it taste right.
“What are you doing?” Chanyeol, the sous chef, asks. He looks enraged to see a newbie completely changing up the recipe that he’s been using for years. “Get your hands away from that pot!”
Kyungsoo adds one last pinch of pepper before stepping back, hastily eyeing the knife on the counter. Chanyeol looks like he’s about to grab it, ready to gut Kyungsoo before he can get a word out otherwise.
Yifan takes the pot and starts serving it in the bowls, ignoring Chanyeol’s loud protests and dirty looks sent in Kyungsoo’s direction. “Dinner rush is well underway and we have no time to remake a soup that’s already been done. Let’s just hope,” he turns to face Kyungsoo, “that this is going to work out well.”
Minseok has to climb on Chanyeol’s back to restrain him from stabbing Kyungsoo with the knife already in his hands. The smaller male looks down and runs away to the back of the restaurant, breathing heavily and clutching his chest.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he did that. He knows that this is a dangerous industry and he doesn’t really belong here, but his mother told him to go work in the famous restaurant where she once worked. She died a day after telling him that, and Kyungsoo knew that he had to respect her wishes, even if it meant working as just a garbage boy.
“Kyungsoo!” the pastry chef, Baekhyun, calls him. “They need you.”
“What?” asks Kyungsoo. “Why would they need me?” He faintly hears someone yell out, “Special order for Kyungsoo’s soup!” inside the kitchen.
He stands up and rushes inside. Chanyeol and Minseok stare at him, and Kyungsoo’s still afraid that the tall man will kill him. He’s surprised when Chanyeol throws a clean apron at him. “Get dressed and put on a toque. You’re lucky this worked out for you.”
The dinner rush is a new and exhilarating feeling. Kyungsoo thrives on the sound of “Special order!” being yelled past the kitchen doors. He thrives on the sound of vegetables being chopped and stew being heated and the aroma of everything around him. He understands why his mother loved being a chef; it’s really all about the million sensations that he can feel at once.
They toast to his hidden talent and recipe at the end of the night, one that even garners a blog entry from one of the trendy food critics of today. Some say he’s special, others say he’s naturally talented; Kyungsoo thinks he just lucked out.
It doesn’t stop there; it only starts. Since he was promoted to a chef after a day of working in the restaurant, they have to train him in the very basics of cooking. Minseok is nice enough, but Kyungsoo knows the quick and clean way he cuts his vegetables and roasts his meat. He looks nice, but Kyungsoo is well-aware that he can be nearly as dangerous as Chanyeol if he gets mad.
Minseok teaches him the most basic of the basics: chop quickly and carefully; keep your station clear, and he knows that Minseok is the cleanest out of everyone in the kitchen, being neat and orderly and more observant of organization among everyone else; keep your hands and arms close to the body; follow the recipe and focus on the recipes that the restaurant is known for, but Minseok dryly comments that “maybe you’re not very used to that”; there are many ways to check if your ingredients are the freshest and the best quality; and a hundred other things, all in one day.
Kyungsoo thinks that he has hope, that maybe he isn’t going to fail miserably at this. With a smile on his face and a warm hand on his back, Minseok hands him his toque and says, “It’s dinner rush. Welcome to the crew.”
“Be careful!” Minseok scolds him when he nearly drops a pan of sauce. Yixing looks like he’s about to choke Kyungsoo for almost wasting ten minutes of his hard work. Kyungsoo apologizes and carefully spreads the sauce on the shallow bowl of pulled meat. Yifan stares pointedly at him before placing the dish on his serving tray.
“It really isn’t supposed to look like this, Kyungsoo,” he says lowly.
“But it’s already there!” Kyungsoo bites his bottom lip. “And I promise it’ll be good.”
“Are you sure?” asks Minseok. Kyungsoo nods, but he knows that Minseok noticed the split-second hesitation in his movement.
“I-I’m sure.”
Kyungsoo goes back to cutting vegetables and adding it to the pot where more meat is being cooked. He’s busy laying down the plates for another meal when Yifan bursts into the kitchen.
“Special order for Kyungsoo!”
He grins and looks away, excited that his instincts led him to doing something right again. Minseok snakes an arm around his shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Congratulations, lucky boy.” The grin on his face is unforgettable.
They spend their late night washing dishes and drinking wine. Minseok and Kyungsoo were luckily picked as the ones to stay late to clean up the kitchen and make sure that everything’s ready by the next day. Minseok runs somewhere to buy a cheap bottle of wine that they share in plastic cups, sitting on the crates behind the restaurant.
Kyungsoo starts giggling uncontrollably halfway through his second cup. Minseok chuckles, leaning against him. “What’s going on with you?”
Kyungsoo tilts his head so that he’s leaning on Minseok too. “I don’t even know what I’m doing! I don’t know what I’m doing, but so many good things are happening to me and I don’t know if I deserve it.”
“Of course you do,” Minseok says. It’s not the usual warm tone that he has; it’s tough and cold and completely not Minseok.
“Is there something wrong?” Kyungsoo may be drunk, but he’s not tactless. He knows when someone’s upset.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Minseok pulls away and rests his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “You should be happy that you’re doing everything right after a week of being in this kitchen.”
Minseok kisses him on the cheek, hopping off the crates and crushing his plastic cup on the cement. “Now you better help me clean up or I’ll have to leave you with the pan where we cooked that beef and all the grease and fried fat stuck to the bottom.”
Kyungsoo, still dazed from the light kiss, snaps back to reality and follows closely behind. They’re professionals, so they don’t fill up the sink with water accidentally and splash each other with suds. They roll up their sleeves then splash each other with suds. They’re relatively short, they have cute faces; anyone would think it was cute.
At the end of the night, Kyungsoo hugs Minseok from behind. “Thank you,” he whispers, “for teaching me how to be a good chef. I owe you so much.”
“I wasn’t the one who taught you how to be great, lucky boy,” mutters Minseok. “You didn’t need me.”
Joonmyun, the current head chef and owner of the restaurant, calls Kyungsoo into his office. The younger male takes a seat in front of his desk and fiddles with his fingers, more nervous than ever.
“You’ve done well, Kyungsoo, really well. You’re putting us on the map again,” says Joonmyun with a smile. “Not that we’ve ever been out of the map but-you know what I mean.”
Kyungsoo nods. “I do.”
“And I think it’s great! I never expected you to be the new prodigy of our restaurant, but here you are.”
“Here I am.”
Joonmyun finishes his glass of wine and pats Kyungsoo on the back. He stumbles forward a little, causing Joonmyun to laugh. “Relax. I’m not here to get mad at you for messing with all of our recipes; I’m here to congratulate you for all the good work you’ve done.
“Tonight, I’m going to test you. Let’s see if you can do anything to our regular menu, improve it in Chef Kyungsoo’s Style.”
“Chef Kyungsoo’s Style?” Kyungsoo splutters.
“That’s what the newspapers and magazines are calling your food. You’re a superstar, and I want to know if that superstar can do anything more for our restaurant.”
Kyungsoo thinks about it all day, looking at the menu and wondering if anything’s wrong. It’s harder when he actually has to think about it; his mother always told him that cooking is a lot about improvising as well. She’s always been spontaneous, one of the original cooks that formed the bases of several recipes that they still have today. He must have gotten the impulsiveness from her.
When Yifan rings the dinner rush bell, Kyungsoo immediately goes to work. He walks through the kitchen like he’s the head chef, and he knows that Joonmyun’s watching through the blinds of his office. Chanyeol is glaring at him, but when he implements the changes that Kyungsoo told him and tastes it, he has to admit that the younger male is always right.
In the end, Kyungsoo never disappoints. Joonmyun raises a toast to him as the newest member of the family and they all cheer, even Chanyeol who’s never been the nicest to him.
“I’ve given you a really hard time while you’ve been here. But now you’re one of us, and I’m glad to say that.” The maniacal grin on his face is almost as terrifying as his “I’m going to gut you with this knife in my hands” face.
The night gets later and later and everyone is drinking and stumbling out of the restaurant to go home. Yixing and Baekhyun are assigned to clean-up duty, but Kyungsoo briefly sees Minseok rushing out of the kitchen into the back alley. He follows closely, wondering if anything’s wrong.
Minseok is staring at the crates, hands clenched into fists. Kyungsoo approaches him slowly. “Is there anything wrong?”
He looks up from the floor and glares at the younger male. Minseok walks forward and lightly shoves Kyungsoo backwards. “Yes. Yes, there is a problem and that problem is you.”
He shakes his head, turning away from Kyungsoo and pacing. “No, the problem is me. I’m the problem.” Minseok starts chuckling bitterly. “I’m the problem, Kyungsoo. I’m so jealous of you. I’m so jealous of the fact that you’ve achieved success in the restaurant within one month of being here while I’ve been waiting for years and I’m still just the tiny man that fries and broils meat. You’re the superstar, and I’m the one that just can’t seem to make it.”
“You know that’s not true.” Kyungsoo walks up to him and holds his hands tightly, stopping him from walking away. “You’ve helped so much in making me… me. I couldn’t have done any of this without-”
“Don’t pity me.” Minseok scowls.
“But I do need you! You don’t know how much I do.” They’re close to each other, breathing the other’s air. Kyungsoo can smell the wine in his breath; he can feel his pulse on his wrist. But Minseok is mad, seething with rage and envy, and Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do.
“I’ve been working here for years, Kyungsoo. I’ve always known that I wanted to cook, and I’ve always seen it as my art. I’ve always thought I was good, but then you come in and I feel like it’s my first day of being in culinary school again. I’m nothing again.”
Kyungsoo slides his hands up to cup Minseok’s cheek and the side of his neck. He leans forward to kiss him, lips melding into one another’s. Kyungsoo can feel him even more now; every slight movement he makes moves Kyungsoo as well and vice versa. The way they fit is surprisingly neat, seamless and perfect. It reminds Kyungsoo of how Minseok should be.
He shouldn’t be envious of someone who looks up to him. He shouldn’t be angry at Kyungsoo because they don’t need anger to be one of the many other emotions flowing between them. They don’t need to add anger to mix of adoration and lust and wonder that’s flowing between them.
What they need is clarity. What is this? What are they?
Minseok pushes him away. His lips are red and wet and Kyungsoo is so tempted to pull him back in, but he knows what Minseok wants. He lets the older male run from him, and only now does he realize that maybe the impulsiveness he got from his mother isn’t the greatest thing ever.
Kyungsoo genuinely gets sick the next day. He doesn’t want to avoid Minseok, but he’s going to have to. Joonmyun gets mad at him through the phone; Kyungsoo feels bad, but he needs to rest up. He can be a reason why the restaurant became more famous, but he can also be a reason why it could lose all of that fame in a flash. He needs to take care of himself.
He spends that day thinking of Minseok. Maybe last night was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed Minseok; maybe waiting was the best thing to do. Then again, what’s a person supposed to do when someone tells him that he’s jealous of him? What was he supposed to do?
You didn’t have to kiss him though, he mentally berates himself.
I know that. I’m a hundred percent aware of how many other options I had other than kissing him, but we all know what I chose.
And now you’re regretting it.
Yes I am. And I’m hoping that I can fix it.
He doesn’t have to hope much longer. Someone rings the doorbell and he stands up slowly, too drowsy on allergy medication to try to be alert. It’s Minseok waiting in the hallway, a plastic bag from one of the nearby Chinese takeout restaurants near Kyungsoo’s apartment in his hand.
“Let me in,” Minseok demands. Kyungsoo’s too sleepy to even argue, making way for him and shuffling back to his bed.
Minseok takes out the food, a box of rice for him and a bowl of soup for Kyungsoo. He sits down beside the sick boy and slowly feeds him, uncaring of the sickness that could easily spread to him.
“I’m a walking bomb of bacteria and illness. Why are you sticking to me?” Kyungsoo asks.
“I only have an hour before they want me back in the kitchen for the usual preparations. I told them I had errands to run and I really do, but I chose to take care of you.” Minseok wipes Kyungsoo’s mouth with a napkin, thumb accidentally grazing the corners. Kyungsoo lazily peers up at him, the warmth of the soup filling his stomach.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks. Minseok sighs loudly, eating from his box of rice. He puts it down on the bedside table and hides under the covers with Kyungsoo. The younger male tries to push him away, not wanting him to get sick.
“I don’t care if you’re going to infect me with the flu, you walking bomb of bacteria and illness. I don’t care anymore,” he murmurs against Kyungsoo’s collarbone. He has his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist and the younger man places his arm underneath Minseok’s neck, the other one wrapping around his torso and pulling him closer.
Cuddling. They’re cuddling. It’s cute and even warmer than usual and they’re both going to get sick at this rate, but Kyungsoo doesn’t mind.
“I was drunk, Kyungsoo. I’m still a little upset, but I can’t blame you for that. I can’t blame you for having a natural affinity that I don’t have. And I’m happy that you’re genuine when you say you need me, when you say that I’ve affected you on your road to where you are now. That’s all I wanted: to matter somehow. And I’m happy that I do matter. I matter to you, right?”
Kyungsoo slides lower to look at him eye to eye. A grin creeps to his face, and he rolls on top of Minseok. Their hands are still glued to each other’s body, and the close proximity urges Kyungsoo to take the first step again and kiss Minseok sweetly.
“You do matter. You matter a lot.”
a/n: previously titled "i can play hard." (edited 26/06/2016
okay so if you're in my tlist, you are a witness of my sudden obsession with xiusoo ((and xiusoo smut [side eyes madina]))
and idek my characterization for minseok so this is very very weird and rushed and not nice at all
BUT I MUST WRITE XIUSOO OR I WILL EXPLODE
title is from krewella's play hard ((and it really makes no sense istg))
kyungsoo/xiumin - pg - fluff - 2778 words
(sort of inspired by) Ratatouille!AU. only those with true talent stand out in the world.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows that if they see him tampering with the soup, on his first night as a garbage boy, they’re going to fire him on the spot. But he knows that it isn’t aromatic enough, that they’re missing a little herb that Kyungsoo knows will make a huge difference. He knows that it’s not nearly as salty as it should be, and people will have to add copious amounts of condiments just to make it taste right.
“What are you doing?” Chanyeol, the sous chef, asks. He looks enraged to see a newbie completely changing up the recipe that he’s been using for years. “Get your hands away from that pot!”
Kyungsoo adds one last pinch of pepper before stepping back, hastily eyeing the knife on the counter. Chanyeol looks like he’s about to grab it, ready to gut Kyungsoo before he can get a word out otherwise.
Yifan takes the pot and starts serving it in the bowls, ignoring Chanyeol’s loud protests and dirty looks sent in Kyungsoo’s direction. “Dinner rush is well underway and we have no time to remake a soup that’s already been done. Let’s just hope,” he turns to face Kyungsoo, “that this is going to work out well.”
Minseok has to climb on Chanyeol’s back to restrain him from stabbing Kyungsoo with the knife already in his hands. The smaller male looks down and runs away to the back of the restaurant, breathing heavily and clutching his chest.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he did that. He knows that this is a dangerous industry and he doesn’t really belong here, but his mother told him to go work in the famous restaurant where she once worked. She died a day after telling him that, and Kyungsoo knew that he had to respect her wishes, even if it meant working as just a garbage boy.
“Kyungsoo!” the pastry chef, Baekhyun, calls him. “They need you.”
“What?” asks Kyungsoo. “Why would they need me?” He faintly hears someone yell out, “Special order for Kyungsoo’s soup!” inside the kitchen.
He stands up and rushes inside. Chanyeol and Minseok stare at him, and Kyungsoo’s still afraid that the tall man will kill him. He’s surprised when Chanyeol throws a clean apron at him. “Get dressed and put on a toque. You’re lucky this worked out for you.”
The dinner rush is a new and exhilarating feeling. Kyungsoo thrives on the sound of “Special order!” being yelled past the kitchen doors. He thrives on the sound of vegetables being chopped and stew being heated and the aroma of everything around him. He understands why his mother loved being a chef; it’s really all about the million sensations that he can feel at once.
They toast to his hidden talent and recipe at the end of the night, one that even garners a blog entry from one of the trendy food critics of today. Some say he’s special, others say he’s naturally talented; Kyungsoo thinks he just lucked out.
It doesn’t stop there; it only starts. Since he was promoted to a chef after a day of working in the restaurant, they have to train him in the very basics of cooking. Minseok is nice enough, but Kyungsoo knows the quick and clean way he cuts his vegetables and roasts his meat. He looks nice, but Kyungsoo is well-aware that he can be nearly as dangerous as Chanyeol if he gets mad.
Minseok teaches him the most basic of the basics: chop quickly and carefully; keep your station clear, and he knows that Minseok is the cleanest out of everyone in the kitchen, being neat and orderly and more observant of organization among everyone else; keep your hands and arms close to the body; follow the recipe and focus on the recipes that the restaurant is known for, but Minseok dryly comments that “maybe you’re not very used to that”; there are many ways to check if your ingredients are the freshest and the best quality; and a hundred other things, all in one day.
Kyungsoo thinks that he has hope, that maybe he isn’t going to fail miserably at this. With a smile on his face and a warm hand on his back, Minseok hands him his toque and says, “It’s dinner rush. Welcome to the crew.”
“Be careful!” Minseok scolds him when he nearly drops a pan of sauce. Yixing looks like he’s about to choke Kyungsoo for almost wasting ten minutes of his hard work. Kyungsoo apologizes and carefully spreads the sauce on the shallow bowl of pulled meat. Yifan stares pointedly at him before placing the dish on his serving tray.
“It really isn’t supposed to look like this, Kyungsoo,” he says lowly.
“But it’s already there!” Kyungsoo bites his bottom lip. “And I promise it’ll be good.”
“Are you sure?” asks Minseok. Kyungsoo nods, but he knows that Minseok noticed the split-second hesitation in his movement.
“I-I’m sure.”
Kyungsoo goes back to cutting vegetables and adding it to the pot where more meat is being cooked. He’s busy laying down the plates for another meal when Yifan bursts into the kitchen.
“Special order for Kyungsoo!”
He grins and looks away, excited that his instincts led him to doing something right again. Minseok snakes an arm around his shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Congratulations, lucky boy.” The grin on his face is unforgettable.
They spend their late night washing dishes and drinking wine. Minseok and Kyungsoo were luckily picked as the ones to stay late to clean up the kitchen and make sure that everything’s ready by the next day. Minseok runs somewhere to buy a cheap bottle of wine that they share in plastic cups, sitting on the crates behind the restaurant.
Kyungsoo starts giggling uncontrollably halfway through his second cup. Minseok chuckles, leaning against him. “What’s going on with you?”
Kyungsoo tilts his head so that he’s leaning on Minseok too. “I don’t even know what I’m doing! I don’t know what I’m doing, but so many good things are happening to me and I don’t know if I deserve it.”
“Of course you do,” Minseok says. It’s not the usual warm tone that he has; it’s tough and cold and completely not Minseok.
“Is there something wrong?” Kyungsoo may be drunk, but he’s not tactless. He knows when someone’s upset.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Minseok pulls away and rests his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “You should be happy that you’re doing everything right after a week of being in this kitchen.”
Minseok kisses him on the cheek, hopping off the crates and crushing his plastic cup on the cement. “Now you better help me clean up or I’ll have to leave you with the pan where we cooked that beef and all the grease and fried fat stuck to the bottom.”
Kyungsoo, still dazed from the light kiss, snaps back to reality and follows closely behind. They’re professionals, so they don’t fill up the sink with water accidentally and splash each other with suds. They roll up their sleeves then splash each other with suds. They’re relatively short, they have cute faces; anyone would think it was cute.
At the end of the night, Kyungsoo hugs Minseok from behind. “Thank you,” he whispers, “for teaching me how to be a good chef. I owe you so much.”
“I wasn’t the one who taught you how to be great, lucky boy,” mutters Minseok. “You didn’t need me.”
Joonmyun, the current head chef and owner of the restaurant, calls Kyungsoo into his office. The younger male takes a seat in front of his desk and fiddles with his fingers, more nervous than ever.
“You’ve done well, Kyungsoo, really well. You’re putting us on the map again,” says Joonmyun with a smile. “Not that we’ve ever been out of the map but-you know what I mean.”
Kyungsoo nods. “I do.”
“And I think it’s great! I never expected you to be the new prodigy of our restaurant, but here you are.”
“Here I am.”
Joonmyun finishes his glass of wine and pats Kyungsoo on the back. He stumbles forward a little, causing Joonmyun to laugh. “Relax. I’m not here to get mad at you for messing with all of our recipes; I’m here to congratulate you for all the good work you’ve done.
“Tonight, I’m going to test you. Let’s see if you can do anything to our regular menu, improve it in Chef Kyungsoo’s Style.”
“Chef Kyungsoo’s Style?” Kyungsoo splutters.
“That’s what the newspapers and magazines are calling your food. You’re a superstar, and I want to know if that superstar can do anything more for our restaurant.”
Kyungsoo thinks about it all day, looking at the menu and wondering if anything’s wrong. It’s harder when he actually has to think about it; his mother always told him that cooking is a lot about improvising as well. She’s always been spontaneous, one of the original cooks that formed the bases of several recipes that they still have today. He must have gotten the impulsiveness from her.
When Yifan rings the dinner rush bell, Kyungsoo immediately goes to work. He walks through the kitchen like he’s the head chef, and he knows that Joonmyun’s watching through the blinds of his office. Chanyeol is glaring at him, but when he implements the changes that Kyungsoo told him and tastes it, he has to admit that the younger male is always right.
In the end, Kyungsoo never disappoints. Joonmyun raises a toast to him as the newest member of the family and they all cheer, even Chanyeol who’s never been the nicest to him.
“I’ve given you a really hard time while you’ve been here. But now you’re one of us, and I’m glad to say that.” The maniacal grin on his face is almost as terrifying as his “I’m going to gut you with this knife in my hands” face.
The night gets later and later and everyone is drinking and stumbling out of the restaurant to go home. Yixing and Baekhyun are assigned to clean-up duty, but Kyungsoo briefly sees Minseok rushing out of the kitchen into the back alley. He follows closely, wondering if anything’s wrong.
Minseok is staring at the crates, hands clenched into fists. Kyungsoo approaches him slowly. “Is there anything wrong?”
He looks up from the floor and glares at the younger male. Minseok walks forward and lightly shoves Kyungsoo backwards. “Yes. Yes, there is a problem and that problem is you.”
He shakes his head, turning away from Kyungsoo and pacing. “No, the problem is me. I’m the problem.” Minseok starts chuckling bitterly. “I’m the problem, Kyungsoo. I’m so jealous of you. I’m so jealous of the fact that you’ve achieved success in the restaurant within one month of being here while I’ve been waiting for years and I’m still just the tiny man that fries and broils meat. You’re the superstar, and I’m the one that just can’t seem to make it.”
“You know that’s not true.” Kyungsoo walks up to him and holds his hands tightly, stopping him from walking away. “You’ve helped so much in making me… me. I couldn’t have done any of this without-”
“Don’t pity me.” Minseok scowls.
“But I do need you! You don’t know how much I do.” They’re close to each other, breathing the other’s air. Kyungsoo can smell the wine in his breath; he can feel his pulse on his wrist. But Minseok is mad, seething with rage and envy, and Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do.
“I’ve been working here for years, Kyungsoo. I’ve always known that I wanted to cook, and I’ve always seen it as my art. I’ve always thought I was good, but then you come in and I feel like it’s my first day of being in culinary school again. I’m nothing again.”
Kyungsoo slides his hands up to cup Minseok’s cheek and the side of his neck. He leans forward to kiss him, lips melding into one another’s. Kyungsoo can feel him even more now; every slight movement he makes moves Kyungsoo as well and vice versa. The way they fit is surprisingly neat, seamless and perfect. It reminds Kyungsoo of how Minseok should be.
He shouldn’t be envious of someone who looks up to him. He shouldn’t be angry at Kyungsoo because they don’t need anger to be one of the many other emotions flowing between them. They don’t need to add anger to mix of adoration and lust and wonder that’s flowing between them.
What they need is clarity. What is this? What are they?
Minseok pushes him away. His lips are red and wet and Kyungsoo is so tempted to pull him back in, but he knows what Minseok wants. He lets the older male run from him, and only now does he realize that maybe the impulsiveness he got from his mother isn’t the greatest thing ever.
Kyungsoo genuinely gets sick the next day. He doesn’t want to avoid Minseok, but he’s going to have to. Joonmyun gets mad at him through the phone; Kyungsoo feels bad, but he needs to rest up. He can be a reason why the restaurant became more famous, but he can also be a reason why it could lose all of that fame in a flash. He needs to take care of himself.
He spends that day thinking of Minseok. Maybe last night was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed Minseok; maybe waiting was the best thing to do. Then again, what’s a person supposed to do when someone tells him that he’s jealous of him? What was he supposed to do?
You didn’t have to kiss him though, he mentally berates himself.
I know that. I’m a hundred percent aware of how many other options I had other than kissing him, but we all know what I chose.
And now you’re regretting it.
Yes I am. And I’m hoping that I can fix it.
He doesn’t have to hope much longer. Someone rings the doorbell and he stands up slowly, too drowsy on allergy medication to try to be alert. It’s Minseok waiting in the hallway, a plastic bag from one of the nearby Chinese takeout restaurants near Kyungsoo’s apartment in his hand.
“Let me in,” Minseok demands. Kyungsoo’s too sleepy to even argue, making way for him and shuffling back to his bed.
Minseok takes out the food, a box of rice for him and a bowl of soup for Kyungsoo. He sits down beside the sick boy and slowly feeds him, uncaring of the sickness that could easily spread to him.
“I’m a walking bomb of bacteria and illness. Why are you sticking to me?” Kyungsoo asks.
“I only have an hour before they want me back in the kitchen for the usual preparations. I told them I had errands to run and I really do, but I chose to take care of you.” Minseok wipes Kyungsoo’s mouth with a napkin, thumb accidentally grazing the corners. Kyungsoo lazily peers up at him, the warmth of the soup filling his stomach.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks. Minseok sighs loudly, eating from his box of rice. He puts it down on the bedside table and hides under the covers with Kyungsoo. The younger male tries to push him away, not wanting him to get sick.
“I don’t care if you’re going to infect me with the flu, you walking bomb of bacteria and illness. I don’t care anymore,” he murmurs against Kyungsoo’s collarbone. He has his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist and the younger man places his arm underneath Minseok’s neck, the other one wrapping around his torso and pulling him closer.
Cuddling. They’re cuddling. It’s cute and even warmer than usual and they’re both going to get sick at this rate, but Kyungsoo doesn’t mind.
“I was drunk, Kyungsoo. I’m still a little upset, but I can’t blame you for that. I can’t blame you for having a natural affinity that I don’t have. And I’m happy that you’re genuine when you say you need me, when you say that I’ve affected you on your road to where you are now. That’s all I wanted: to matter somehow. And I’m happy that I do matter. I matter to you, right?”
Kyungsoo slides lower to look at him eye to eye. A grin creeps to his face, and he rolls on top of Minseok. Their hands are still glued to each other’s body, and the close proximity urges Kyungsoo to take the first step again and kiss Minseok sweetly.
“You do matter. You matter a lot.”
a/n: previously titled "i can play hard." (edited 26/06/2016
okay so if you're in my tlist, you are a witness of my sudden obsession with xiusoo ((and xiusoo smut [side eyes madina]))
and idek my characterization for minseok so this is very very weird and rushed and not nice at all
BUT I MUST WRITE XIUSOO OR I WILL EXPLODE
title is from krewella's play hard ((and it really makes no sense istg))