&kf001. stupidity
TITLE Stupidity
PAIRING Yewook
RATING PG
A/N New Yewook writer around these parts. I'm not labouring under the misconception that I'm any good. Written after watching and watching and rewatching Yeteuk Sebakwi cuts; I had to get this out of my system.~
Ryeowook positively snubs the older man off when he returns to the dorm later that night, still somewhat giddy from the alcohol he’d had earlier in the evening. He isn’t so tipsy, however, that he doesn’t notice the pointed cold shouldering coming from Ryeowook. When it continues and only intensifies as the hours tick on, he sobers up, taking a moment to sit back on the couch and ground himself, eyes closed, before confronting the love of his life about the matter.
He knocks softly on their bedroom door, suddenly made nervous, and although he doesn’t know whether the noncommittal response that comes is invitational or not he slips inside all the same, closing the door behind him.
The simple sight of Ryeowook just sitting there at his laptop, headphones over ears and trackpants slung low over hips, is enough to make him choke on his unspoken words. His mouth moves, and nothing comes out; it takes Ryeowook’s “Yes?” for him to snap back into focus.
“I -- hey,” he starts, as shy as he’d been that day he’d first asked Ryeowook out. He takes a few steps further into the room. “What’s up, baby.”
“I’m getting so tired of your stupid comments,” Ryeowook says, eyes still fixed on the screen before him. His tone is harsh and clipped, and it chills Jongwoon to those corners of his soul which he reserves for his boyfriend’s love. “You’ve got to think before you speak every now and again, hyung.” There’s zero respect in the honorific, spat out as it is, and the spite in his voice is so thick it’s virtually tangible.
Jongwoon hesitates for a moment, hardly expecting such a cold and vicious reply. “Is this about the stuff I said on Sebakwi? Surely it’s not about those. You know how much flak I’m going to cop for them already.”
This time, Ryeowook spins around on his chair, turning to shoot a vicious death glare across the room. “And you’re acting like they mean nothing,” he hisses, the slight tremble in his voice belying his barely-concealed rage.
He wants half to laugh then -- this is so ridiculous, he thinks to himself -- but he luckily has just enough good sense to refrain from doing so. “Are they really such a big deal to you?”
“Yes,” Ryeowook nearly yells. “Yes, they are.” And then he lets himself go. “Even though you don’t seem to care at all about ruining your own image, could you just refrain from ruining everybody else’s too? In case you’ve forgotten, I used to be that fat person. It’s me you just called lazy. And even if that’s what you really think, you should at least have enough sense not to go around saying stupid shit like that on national television. How many more people do you want to think that Super Junior are just a bunch of stupid, misogynistic pretty boys?” Hands are thrown up in frustration. “Jongwoon you are so idiotic and insular sometimes.”
Jongwoon is stunned; Ryeowook rarely ever lets his temper flare like that. In his confusion he completely forgets how to deal with the situation. “I was talking about women, not you, wasn’t I? Anyway, look at you now -- you’re so skinny; everyone’s always going on about your sunken cheeks and how you need to stop los--”
“This is what I fucking mean! So, so stupid.”
“Okay.” He stops, inhales and exhales deeply. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I made them, not at all.”
“You can’t just fix everything like that.” Ryeowook looks away, to the side, jaw set in a firm line.
“Mm, I know.” Jongwoon works up the courage to shuffle a little closer to the bed Ryeowook’s sitting on. “Now do you want to tell me the real reason you’re so angry about it?”
Ryeowook closes his eyes and shakes his head firmly. “No.”
“I guess I’ll have to tell you, then.” He comes ever closer, head tipped to the side pensively, and thinks for a moment. “You’re worried about my image. You don’t want any more antis rising against me, not when I can’t keep my own tongue in check.” Reaching the edge of the bed, he sits on it, brings his face towards his boyfriend’s. “You care about me.”
Ryeowook’s expression darkens, then, and he continues averting his gaze from Jongwoon’s, looking down at the red linen of the bed. “I hate you, don’t touch me.”
Jongwoon’s resolve decides to crack at that moment, and he swings his legs over the bed so he’s fully facing Ryeowook. He closes the small gap between them and pulls the smaller man towards him, arms wrapped protectively around him.
Ryeowook tries to twist out of his grasp, struggling in his embrace -- “Don’t touch me!” he tries again -- but Jongwoon has always been stronger, and they both know it. Tears begin to burn tracks down Ryeowook’s cheeks, and he fists his hands too tightly in the material of Jongwoon’s tee. “Why do I have to love somebody so stupid,” he whispers between wracking sobs, head buried in Jongwoon’s chest. Choosing not to answer that question, Jongwoon only holds his fragile love, murmurming soothing words to the top of his head.
Countless minutes have passed by the time Ryeowook releases his vice grip and looks up at his boyfriend. “Jongwoon,” he mouths, a new resigned and needy emotion in his eyes, before bringing his lips up to meet Jongwoon’s. Jongwoon can tell that the fight has gone out of him from the softness of the kiss, and Ryeowook lies limp in his arms as their lips touch again and again.
The salt of Ryeowook’s tears is tempered only by the sweetness on his tongue, and Jongwoon swears to himself that he’ll change so that his boyfriend won’t always be tasting stupidity on his own.
PAIRING Yewook
RATING PG
A/N New Yewook writer around these parts. I'm not labouring under the misconception that I'm any good. Written after watching and watching and rewatching Yeteuk Sebakwi cuts; I had to get this out of my system.~
Ryeowook positively snubs the older man off when he returns to the dorm later that night, still somewhat giddy from the alcohol he’d had earlier in the evening. He isn’t so tipsy, however, that he doesn’t notice the pointed cold shouldering coming from Ryeowook. When it continues and only intensifies as the hours tick on, he sobers up, taking a moment to sit back on the couch and ground himself, eyes closed, before confronting the love of his life about the matter.
He knocks softly on their bedroom door, suddenly made nervous, and although he doesn’t know whether the noncommittal response that comes is invitational or not he slips inside all the same, closing the door behind him.
The simple sight of Ryeowook just sitting there at his laptop, headphones over ears and trackpants slung low over hips, is enough to make him choke on his unspoken words. His mouth moves, and nothing comes out; it takes Ryeowook’s “Yes?” for him to snap back into focus.
“I -- hey,” he starts, as shy as he’d been that day he’d first asked Ryeowook out. He takes a few steps further into the room. “What’s up, baby.”
“I’m getting so tired of your stupid comments,” Ryeowook says, eyes still fixed on the screen before him. His tone is harsh and clipped, and it chills Jongwoon to those corners of his soul which he reserves for his boyfriend’s love. “You’ve got to think before you speak every now and again, hyung.” There’s zero respect in the honorific, spat out as it is, and the spite in his voice is so thick it’s virtually tangible.
Jongwoon hesitates for a moment, hardly expecting such a cold and vicious reply. “Is this about the stuff I said on Sebakwi? Surely it’s not about those. You know how much flak I’m going to cop for them already.”
This time, Ryeowook spins around on his chair, turning to shoot a vicious death glare across the room. “And you’re acting like they mean nothing,” he hisses, the slight tremble in his voice belying his barely-concealed rage.
He wants half to laugh then -- this is so ridiculous, he thinks to himself -- but he luckily has just enough good sense to refrain from doing so. “Are they really such a big deal to you?”
“Yes,” Ryeowook nearly yells. “Yes, they are.” And then he lets himself go. “Even though you don’t seem to care at all about ruining your own image, could you just refrain from ruining everybody else’s too? In case you’ve forgotten, I used to be that fat person. It’s me you just called lazy. And even if that’s what you really think, you should at least have enough sense not to go around saying stupid shit like that on national television. How many more people do you want to think that Super Junior are just a bunch of stupid, misogynistic pretty boys?” Hands are thrown up in frustration. “Jongwoon you are so idiotic and insular sometimes.”
Jongwoon is stunned; Ryeowook rarely ever lets his temper flare like that. In his confusion he completely forgets how to deal with the situation. “I was talking about women, not you, wasn’t I? Anyway, look at you now -- you’re so skinny; everyone’s always going on about your sunken cheeks and how you need to stop los--”
“This is what I fucking mean! So, so stupid.”
“Okay.” He stops, inhales and exhales deeply. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I made them, not at all.”
“You can’t just fix everything like that.” Ryeowook looks away, to the side, jaw set in a firm line.
“Mm, I know.” Jongwoon works up the courage to shuffle a little closer to the bed Ryeowook’s sitting on. “Now do you want to tell me the real reason you’re so angry about it?”
Ryeowook closes his eyes and shakes his head firmly. “No.”
“I guess I’ll have to tell you, then.” He comes ever closer, head tipped to the side pensively, and thinks for a moment. “You’re worried about my image. You don’t want any more antis rising against me, not when I can’t keep my own tongue in check.” Reaching the edge of the bed, he sits on it, brings his face towards his boyfriend’s. “You care about me.”
Ryeowook’s expression darkens, then, and he continues averting his gaze from Jongwoon’s, looking down at the red linen of the bed. “I hate you, don’t touch me.”
Jongwoon’s resolve decides to crack at that moment, and he swings his legs over the bed so he’s fully facing Ryeowook. He closes the small gap between them and pulls the smaller man towards him, arms wrapped protectively around him.
Ryeowook tries to twist out of his grasp, struggling in his embrace -- “Don’t touch me!” he tries again -- but Jongwoon has always been stronger, and they both know it. Tears begin to burn tracks down Ryeowook’s cheeks, and he fists his hands too tightly in the material of Jongwoon’s tee. “Why do I have to love somebody so stupid,” he whispers between wracking sobs, head buried in Jongwoon’s chest. Choosing not to answer that question, Jongwoon only holds his fragile love, murmurming soothing words to the top of his head.
Countless minutes have passed by the time Ryeowook releases his vice grip and looks up at his boyfriend. “Jongwoon,” he mouths, a new resigned and needy emotion in his eyes, before bringing his lips up to meet Jongwoon’s. Jongwoon can tell that the fight has gone out of him from the softness of the kiss, and Ryeowook lies limp in his arms as their lips touch again and again.
The salt of Ryeowook’s tears is tempered only by the sweetness on his tongue, and Jongwoon swears to himself that he’ll change so that his boyfriend won’t always be tasting stupidity on his own.