jypn sketches
reposting ficlets written for the jyp nation comment ficathon
the sun hasn't died
day6 (ot6)
pg-15, 1293w
They finally decide it’s safe to get out of the basement when they run out of water (aka when Junhyuk drinks the last drop and loudly proclaims that he needs more before he collapses and they’ll all have to resort to drinking each other’s blood to survive). Jae doesn’t mind. He’s used to skinship and all other strange Korean man on Korean man touchiness by now, sure, but being stuck in a small dark room with five other guys and poor ventilation for the past few days really hasn’t been his cup of tea. Or coffee. He could do with a coffee right now. A mocha frappe, maybe. With vanilla ice cream and extra chocolate and -
“Do you think they forgot about us?” Wonpil asks when Sungjin creaks the door open cautiously and peers outside. All clear. No one replies. They could be anyone - the fans, their labelmates, their manager, their boss. They could be everyone. Everyone could have forgotten about them in the chaos, JYP’s not-quite-idol band full of not-quite-idols.
Jae’s stomach churns, and he throws up whatever water he had in his stomach back into the basement. Brian pats him helpfully on the back, but it does little to comfort him. Junhyuk peers into the gloom, wrinkling his nose.
“We’re not going back into the basement,” he says firmly.
Wonpil chokes.
They were lucky, they think. They find no one (alive or dead) in the rest of the half-demolished building, but they find plenty of bodies out on the street amidst the burning astral debris of the comet (just dead). At first Junhyuk insists on clutching Dowoon to his chest and covering his eyes every time they come across a new body until Brian convinces him that this is going to be their new normal.
Nobody likes to think that is their new normal.
Brian tears his jeans falling on to the asphalt in despair when they find Jaebum. Wonpil scares the crows picking away at Jinyoung. Jae throws up again on the sidewalk.
They tell each other that they are going to survive this. Just like they survived being the black sheep of the JYP fam, just like they survived years of brutal training to finally be able to reach out and touch the stars. Jae wants to laugh at the irony that it was a star that brought them crashing back to Earth, but he can tell from the looks on their faces that they already know.
They're lucky, they think. Or just terribly unlucky.
“Do you think there’s anyone alive now who remembers us?” Jae asks when they’ve set up camp for the night in the virtually untouched but empty apartment they broke into. Dowoon, despite being the quietest and most unassuming of all of them, proves disturbingly good at picking locks on doors and windows. Jae wonders what other secret skills the maknae has that they don’t know of. It sort of unnerves him.
“It’s not like it matters anymore,” Junhyuk shrugs. “We’re never going to live that life again. We’ll probably never pick up an instrument again. What does it matter if people forget us? We’re all already dead.”
“Hey,” Sungjin says warningly. “We don’t need any of that now.” Warning sign 1; Sungjin never threatens anyone.
“I’m just stating the facts,” Junhyuk narrows his eyes. Brian begins to look wary, like he usually does before Sungjin and Junhyuk have a fight. Jae still remembers the scolding they all got when JYP himself opened the studio door to find Sungjin and Junhyuk kicking at each other while he, Brian and Wonpil held them back. Dowoon hadn’t joined them then. He realized a while back that Dowoon made Junhyuk a lot less hot blooded.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to be so fucking negative about it,” Sungjin shoots back. Warning sign number 2; Sungjin hardly ever swears. “Look, we just need to come up with a good plan so that we can make sure we -.”
“Screw your plans!” Junhyuk jumps to his feet and smacks one hand into the broken television. “I’m sick of plans! Plans don’t help you one little bit. We planned to become the best band in Korea, didn’t we? We planned on getting number 1 on the charts, didn’t we? In the end what happened? A bloody comet goes on a rampage and destroys half the world and we’re sitting in the middle of a wasteland still talking about making fucking plans.”
“Junhyuk, calm your tits,” Jae says without thinking. Brian splutters.
Dowoon and Wonpil choose that exact moment to barrel back into the living room, grinning like Cheshire Cats. Dowoon stops when he sees Junhyuk and Sungjin staring each other down, their fists clenched, and his grin disappears. Wonpil doesn’t even notice.
“Look what we found,” he says gleefully, and drops a package on to the floor at their feet. Jae recognizes it immediately, remembers his head on Brian’s thigh, his elbow digging into Sungjin’s chest, and the bloody grass that gave him hayfever for the rest of the day. Nostalgia presses down on him and leaves him breathless, and he can see from the looks on Sungjin and Junhyuk’s faces that they remember that day perfectly well.
“You are joking,” Brian recovers first, picking up the album and inspecting it, his smile ear to ear. “Hey, do you think she was my fan?” he asks.
“Not every fan is your fan,” Wonpil shakes his head. “She was probably mine.”
“Nah,” says Dowoon out of nowhere. “Look, there’s a love heart on my face.”
“Your plans aren’t dumb,” Junhyuk says suddenly as Wonpil balks. “They just aren’t realistic. We need to keep our feet on the ground if we want to survive.” He crosses his arms across his chest. and gives Sungjin a challenging look. Jae nudges Wonpil to make him shut up.
“Don’t worry,” Sungjin says firmly. He smiles then, his eyes twinkling the way they do when he’s performing in front of a large crowd of screaming fans. “I’ll make us into the most kickass post-apocalypse warriors the world has ever known.”
Brian whoops, and Jae wonders if badminton rackets count as weapons.
They decide to leave the apartment a few days later. Dowoon gets the baseball bat and Junhyuk gets the kitchen knives. They all agree Wonpil is too thin to do much damage, and make him navigator (but Sungjin promises if they find a sniper rifle, they’ll let him have it). Kicking everyone’s ass at arcade racing games makes Brian the driver (they’re lucky the apartment belongs to the owner of a minivan) and kicking everyone’s ass at badminton makes Jae the fly swatter.
“Just kidding,” Sungjin squeezes his shoulder. “We found a guitar. You can be the radio until we find another baseball bat or something.”
It’s the best news Jae has heard since the warning to take cover before all communication fizzled out.
“Onwards men!” Sungjin hollers when they finally manage to get everyone into the vehicle with enough provisions to last a few days. “They’ll write about us in history books, they’ll build statues in our honour! Day6, the group who survived the zombie apocalypse!”
“Comet collision,” Brian corrects, but Junhyuk shushes him.
“We’re going to be great,” Sungjin smiles. “I just know it.”
And they believe him as they head off into the sunrise, bright orange clouds and candy pink and purple hues striped across the sky. They believe him as Wonpil makes Brian do a U-turn because they turned the wrong way out of the street. Just like they believed him during the late nights and the long hours and Junhyuk falling asleep on Jae’s shoulder in the middle of song writing.
They were going to be great.
Maybe they always were.
pull me out to sea
suzy/l
g, 471w
They tell her she’s dangerous.
Things never go according to plan for people like her. She didn’t quite plan on blowing up that fire hydrant in the middle of the sidewalk just because that guy nearly hit her just as she was stepping on to the street, and she definitely did not plan on slamming a lightning bolt on to the guy’s car as he cursed at her when it was really his fault, and she especially did not plan on wiping out the electricity circuits around her in a 5 mile radius when he yelled that she was a freak.
Still, she thinks as the rain she brought forth soaks her skin and plasters her hair to her head, it could be worse. She might have actually killed someone, could have really hurt somebody. But she didn’t. She didn’t.
Not this time, at least.
Here, high above the street and crashed cars and general chaos, she can see everything. She can see children crying as they’re dragged away by their terrified mothers, she can see men running from her in fear. There is always someone crying. There is always someone running.
And then she sees him, a boy standing impassively on the corner beside the coin laundry with his eyes on her. Not crying, just watching. Not running, just standing. His face upturned to hers like he’s looking heavenward, his clothes drenched in her rain, his hair whipping in her wind. She floats a little closer. His head follows. She can see his expression properly now, and it isn’t the kind where he wants to lock her up and throw away the key.
He is the first.
The rain slows to a drizzle a she drifts downwards, and completely vanishes as her feet touch the ground. The wind dies as she takes a step towards him. She’s curious, to be honest. She wants to know why he’s looking at her like he’s seeing the sun when he should be seeing a storm.
Water drips off his bangs. His eyes are dark, darker than the blackouts she creates when she loses her temper and short circuits her whole apartment building, but then he smiles. The clouds clear above her. The sun slips through the cracks and swings a golden spotlight right where they’re standing, on the corner beside the coin laundry.
“They say I’m dangerous,” she tells him when they’re a foot apart.
“No,” he shakes his head as she stares up into his face. “You’re beautiful.” She feels thunderclaps running through her chest, a blustery gale sweeping her off her feet. He lifts his head when he hears sirens in the distance, then holds his hand out to her. “Let’s get out of here,” he says.
She takes it. It feels like lightning bolts pricking through her skin.
They run.
the sun hasn't died
day6 (ot6)
pg-15, 1293w
They finally decide it’s safe to get out of the basement when they run out of water (aka when Junhyuk drinks the last drop and loudly proclaims that he needs more before he collapses and they’ll all have to resort to drinking each other’s blood to survive). Jae doesn’t mind. He’s used to skinship and all other strange Korean man on Korean man touchiness by now, sure, but being stuck in a small dark room with five other guys and poor ventilation for the past few days really hasn’t been his cup of tea. Or coffee. He could do with a coffee right now. A mocha frappe, maybe. With vanilla ice cream and extra chocolate and -
“Do you think they forgot about us?” Wonpil asks when Sungjin creaks the door open cautiously and peers outside. All clear. No one replies. They could be anyone - the fans, their labelmates, their manager, their boss. They could be everyone. Everyone could have forgotten about them in the chaos, JYP’s not-quite-idol band full of not-quite-idols.
Jae’s stomach churns, and he throws up whatever water he had in his stomach back into the basement. Brian pats him helpfully on the back, but it does little to comfort him. Junhyuk peers into the gloom, wrinkling his nose.
“We’re not going back into the basement,” he says firmly.
Wonpil chokes.
They were lucky, they think. They find no one (alive or dead) in the rest of the half-demolished building, but they find plenty of bodies out on the street amidst the burning astral debris of the comet (just dead). At first Junhyuk insists on clutching Dowoon to his chest and covering his eyes every time they come across a new body until Brian convinces him that this is going to be their new normal.
Nobody likes to think that is their new normal.
Brian tears his jeans falling on to the asphalt in despair when they find Jaebum. Wonpil scares the crows picking away at Jinyoung. Jae throws up again on the sidewalk.
They tell each other that they are going to survive this. Just like they survived being the black sheep of the JYP fam, just like they survived years of brutal training to finally be able to reach out and touch the stars. Jae wants to laugh at the irony that it was a star that brought them crashing back to Earth, but he can tell from the looks on their faces that they already know.
They're lucky, they think. Or just terribly unlucky.
“Do you think there’s anyone alive now who remembers us?” Jae asks when they’ve set up camp for the night in the virtually untouched but empty apartment they broke into. Dowoon, despite being the quietest and most unassuming of all of them, proves disturbingly good at picking locks on doors and windows. Jae wonders what other secret skills the maknae has that they don’t know of. It sort of unnerves him.
“It’s not like it matters anymore,” Junhyuk shrugs. “We’re never going to live that life again. We’ll probably never pick up an instrument again. What does it matter if people forget us? We’re all already dead.”
“Hey,” Sungjin says warningly. “We don’t need any of that now.” Warning sign 1; Sungjin never threatens anyone.
“I’m just stating the facts,” Junhyuk narrows his eyes. Brian begins to look wary, like he usually does before Sungjin and Junhyuk have a fight. Jae still remembers the scolding they all got when JYP himself opened the studio door to find Sungjin and Junhyuk kicking at each other while he, Brian and Wonpil held them back. Dowoon hadn’t joined them then. He realized a while back that Dowoon made Junhyuk a lot less hot blooded.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to be so fucking negative about it,” Sungjin shoots back. Warning sign number 2; Sungjin hardly ever swears. “Look, we just need to come up with a good plan so that we can make sure we -.”
“Screw your plans!” Junhyuk jumps to his feet and smacks one hand into the broken television. “I’m sick of plans! Plans don’t help you one little bit. We planned to become the best band in Korea, didn’t we? We planned on getting number 1 on the charts, didn’t we? In the end what happened? A bloody comet goes on a rampage and destroys half the world and we’re sitting in the middle of a wasteland still talking about making fucking plans.”
“Junhyuk, calm your tits,” Jae says without thinking. Brian splutters.
Dowoon and Wonpil choose that exact moment to barrel back into the living room, grinning like Cheshire Cats. Dowoon stops when he sees Junhyuk and Sungjin staring each other down, their fists clenched, and his grin disappears. Wonpil doesn’t even notice.
“Look what we found,” he says gleefully, and drops a package on to the floor at their feet. Jae recognizes it immediately, remembers his head on Brian’s thigh, his elbow digging into Sungjin’s chest, and the bloody grass that gave him hayfever for the rest of the day. Nostalgia presses down on him and leaves him breathless, and he can see from the looks on Sungjin and Junhyuk’s faces that they remember that day perfectly well.
“You are joking,” Brian recovers first, picking up the album and inspecting it, his smile ear to ear. “Hey, do you think she was my fan?” he asks.
“Not every fan is your fan,” Wonpil shakes his head. “She was probably mine.”
“Nah,” says Dowoon out of nowhere. “Look, there’s a love heart on my face.”
“Your plans aren’t dumb,” Junhyuk says suddenly as Wonpil balks. “They just aren’t realistic. We need to keep our feet on the ground if we want to survive.” He crosses his arms across his chest. and gives Sungjin a challenging look. Jae nudges Wonpil to make him shut up.
“Don’t worry,” Sungjin says firmly. He smiles then, his eyes twinkling the way they do when he’s performing in front of a large crowd of screaming fans. “I’ll make us into the most kickass post-apocalypse warriors the world has ever known.”
Brian whoops, and Jae wonders if badminton rackets count as weapons.
They decide to leave the apartment a few days later. Dowoon gets the baseball bat and Junhyuk gets the kitchen knives. They all agree Wonpil is too thin to do much damage, and make him navigator (but Sungjin promises if they find a sniper rifle, they’ll let him have it). Kicking everyone’s ass at arcade racing games makes Brian the driver (they’re lucky the apartment belongs to the owner of a minivan) and kicking everyone’s ass at badminton makes Jae the fly swatter.
“Just kidding,” Sungjin squeezes his shoulder. “We found a guitar. You can be the radio until we find another baseball bat or something.”
It’s the best news Jae has heard since the warning to take cover before all communication fizzled out.
“Onwards men!” Sungjin hollers when they finally manage to get everyone into the vehicle with enough provisions to last a few days. “They’ll write about us in history books, they’ll build statues in our honour! Day6, the group who survived the zombie apocalypse!”
“Comet collision,” Brian corrects, but Junhyuk shushes him.
“We’re going to be great,” Sungjin smiles. “I just know it.”
And they believe him as they head off into the sunrise, bright orange clouds and candy pink and purple hues striped across the sky. They believe him as Wonpil makes Brian do a U-turn because they turned the wrong way out of the street. Just like they believed him during the late nights and the long hours and Junhyuk falling asleep on Jae’s shoulder in the middle of song writing.
They were going to be great.
Maybe they always were.
pull me out to sea
suzy/l
g, 471w
They tell her she’s dangerous.
Things never go according to plan for people like her. She didn’t quite plan on blowing up that fire hydrant in the middle of the sidewalk just because that guy nearly hit her just as she was stepping on to the street, and she definitely did not plan on slamming a lightning bolt on to the guy’s car as he cursed at her when it was really his fault, and she especially did not plan on wiping out the electricity circuits around her in a 5 mile radius when he yelled that she was a freak.
Still, she thinks as the rain she brought forth soaks her skin and plasters her hair to her head, it could be worse. She might have actually killed someone, could have really hurt somebody. But she didn’t. She didn’t.
Not this time, at least.
Here, high above the street and crashed cars and general chaos, she can see everything. She can see children crying as they’re dragged away by their terrified mothers, she can see men running from her in fear. There is always someone crying. There is always someone running.
And then she sees him, a boy standing impassively on the corner beside the coin laundry with his eyes on her. Not crying, just watching. Not running, just standing. His face upturned to hers like he’s looking heavenward, his clothes drenched in her rain, his hair whipping in her wind. She floats a little closer. His head follows. She can see his expression properly now, and it isn’t the kind where he wants to lock her up and throw away the key.
He is the first.
The rain slows to a drizzle a she drifts downwards, and completely vanishes as her feet touch the ground. The wind dies as she takes a step towards him. She’s curious, to be honest. She wants to know why he’s looking at her like he’s seeing the sun when he should be seeing a storm.
Water drips off his bangs. His eyes are dark, darker than the blackouts she creates when she loses her temper and short circuits her whole apartment building, but then he smiles. The clouds clear above her. The sun slips through the cracks and swings a golden spotlight right where they’re standing, on the corner beside the coin laundry.
“They say I’m dangerous,” she tells him when they’re a foot apart.
“No,” he shakes his head as she stares up into his face. “You’re beautiful.” She feels thunderclaps running through her chest, a blustery gale sweeping her off her feet. He lifts his head when he hears sirens in the distance, then holds his hand out to her. “Let’s get out of here,” he says.
She takes it. It feels like lightning bolts pricking through her skin.
They run.