get a clue
get a clue
~ 950 w (drabble-ish...?), g, (minho/krystal)
In which, Minho doesn't know what a kiss means.
■ blaming dedicating this to you guys cause you made me do this: kurdoodle, kirakirashahida and bollywoodrecord #true otp yo
As most things do, it starts with a kiss and ends with well, nothing really.
Still, Minho doesn’t know why he sleeps to dream about it every night this week and the last too.
His mind works in weird ways - post questions with no direct answer, chains of thoughts floating in his brain and back to the way her chapped lips moved against his own. Days passed and they don’t talk, no random texts about the odd things she gets up to, no call to let him know he’s done something stupid - no Krystal.
Sometimes Minho tries to remember who leant in first. Was it her with the neck rubbing; angling her head into the crooked of her shoulder, moaning into his jumper? Was it? He was the one to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his lap in the first place. Both of them at the same time, maybe?
There are all these speculation, all these possibilities and he doesn’t know if it matters at all.
He rolls onto his side, hemming and hawing to no one in particular, tracing the patterns on the walls with his tired eyes.
Ten minutes later when the clock strikes eleven, Minho decides that kissing Krystal was a mistake but not one he minds making. Admittedly, Minho did spend his pubescent years, in love with her. It’s hard not to like Krystal. She’s got the kind of smile that belongs in sentimental old paintings, eyes of sadness with enough sparks to make you want to hold onto to, quotable snide remarks that’s admirable if anything. A bitter sweet being men line up for to get their heart broken - probably why he gave up by the time she knows how to flirt.
At least now he could say that once upon a time, he had kissed Jung Krystal and she kissed him back too - but then who had been there before him? Taemin had denied it endlessly, Minho’s not sure he buys it. Suho? He does follow her around even with a trail of humiliating rejections. Hyunkjae doesn’t stand a chance even if he says otherwise. But Jong In - no one’s ever been sure what his intentions are - too hot and cold to tell. They have been giving each other looks, on stage, in the hallway, behind his back - Krystal doesn’t do that with just anyone, unless...
He’s not jealous, he hasn’t been since he was nineteen but his fists are closing in on the bed sheets and that speaks for itself.
She must feel something - this delusion, conjured up by his sixteen years old self returns. They hold hands, even in summer with their sweaty palms. He knows her coffee order by heart and vice versa. In winter, it’s his flannels she crawls in bed with, his scent she falls asleep to.
She might as well be in love with him.
She should be.
She could be.
He can’t exactly tell if it’s the pending insomnia or being in an unrequited relationship with Krystal for what seemed like an eternity but he’s reckless enough to throw the cover off his mattress and shrug on a jacket with the sole intention of wandering the hall of a foreign hotel in the middle of the night. The timing’s never right but he’s got to let her know at some stage so it might as well be now.
By the time his eyes are ready to adjust to the florescent light of the outside of his room, the door cracks open and Krystal’s bedhead is frizzing through the little gap of her room she’s welcoming him with.
“Did you knock?” She asks groggily, hand blocking the lightness from her line of sights.
There’s not enough time for Minho to think of something so he stands with his mouth hang open like an idiot.
“I don’t know who’s more stupid,” Krystal complains in a mumbo jumbo, “You for being awake at this hour or me asking if you’ve knocked when you obviously did.”
“I have to tell you something.” He blurts.
She moves forward just a little more to reveal her raised brows. “You can tell me tomorrow when I’m not sleep walking, cool?”
The door’s about to shut in his face when he says too loudly than required, “It’s about the kiss.”
At this Krystal pauses and wearily steps forward, hand still gripping the door knob like it’s her life line. “What about it? It was just one kiss, Minho, I doubt it meant that much to you -“
“I -“
“It shouldn’t matter because you’re obviously not in love with me and of course, I’m not in love with you too ‘cause if I was to be then -“
“Krystal”
“It would be weird and one sided and just plain sad -“
Finally, “I love you.”
Minho’s been stuck on solving this puzzle for so long, it’s about time he gets an answer.
She looks too shock to even begin to process his words. “L - like a brother? Or like a friend? Or -“
Two gulps, one for the rejection and one for the pain that’s to come. “I’m in love with you, I - it’s been this way for as long as I can remember.”
Krystal laughs, soft and shaky. “Good.”
“Good?” Minho shakes his head, confused and conflicted more than he’s ever been, “What’s good?”
“Good,” She smiles and wraps her fingers around the front of his shirt, he doesn’t dare to breathe, “I’ve been waiting for you to say it for as long as I can remember.”
Krystal kisses him for the second time and suddenly, Minho remembers that it was her who kissed him first the last time too.
~ 950 w (drabble-ish...?), g, (minho/krystal)
In which, Minho doesn't know what a kiss means.
■ blaming dedicating this to you guys cause you made me do this: kurdoodle, kirakirashahida and bollywoodrecord #true otp yo
As most things do, it starts with a kiss and ends with well, nothing really.
Still, Minho doesn’t know why he sleeps to dream about it every night this week and the last too.
His mind works in weird ways - post questions with no direct answer, chains of thoughts floating in his brain and back to the way her chapped lips moved against his own. Days passed and they don’t talk, no random texts about the odd things she gets up to, no call to let him know he’s done something stupid - no Krystal.
Sometimes Minho tries to remember who leant in first. Was it her with the neck rubbing; angling her head into the crooked of her shoulder, moaning into his jumper? Was it? He was the one to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his lap in the first place. Both of them at the same time, maybe?
There are all these speculation, all these possibilities and he doesn’t know if it matters at all.
He rolls onto his side, hemming and hawing to no one in particular, tracing the patterns on the walls with his tired eyes.
Ten minutes later when the clock strikes eleven, Minho decides that kissing Krystal was a mistake but not one he minds making. Admittedly, Minho did spend his pubescent years, in love with her. It’s hard not to like Krystal. She’s got the kind of smile that belongs in sentimental old paintings, eyes of sadness with enough sparks to make you want to hold onto to, quotable snide remarks that’s admirable if anything. A bitter sweet being men line up for to get their heart broken - probably why he gave up by the time she knows how to flirt.
At least now he could say that once upon a time, he had kissed Jung Krystal and she kissed him back too - but then who had been there before him? Taemin had denied it endlessly, Minho’s not sure he buys it. Suho? He does follow her around even with a trail of humiliating rejections. Hyunkjae doesn’t stand a chance even if he says otherwise. But Jong In - no one’s ever been sure what his intentions are - too hot and cold to tell. They have been giving each other looks, on stage, in the hallway, behind his back - Krystal doesn’t do that with just anyone, unless...
He’s not jealous, he hasn’t been since he was nineteen but his fists are closing in on the bed sheets and that speaks for itself.
She must feel something - this delusion, conjured up by his sixteen years old self returns. They hold hands, even in summer with their sweaty palms. He knows her coffee order by heart and vice versa. In winter, it’s his flannels she crawls in bed with, his scent she falls asleep to.
She might as well be in love with him.
She should be.
She could be.
He can’t exactly tell if it’s the pending insomnia or being in an unrequited relationship with Krystal for what seemed like an eternity but he’s reckless enough to throw the cover off his mattress and shrug on a jacket with the sole intention of wandering the hall of a foreign hotel in the middle of the night. The timing’s never right but he’s got to let her know at some stage so it might as well be now.
By the time his eyes are ready to adjust to the florescent light of the outside of his room, the door cracks open and Krystal’s bedhead is frizzing through the little gap of her room she’s welcoming him with.
“Did you knock?” She asks groggily, hand blocking the lightness from her line of sights.
There’s not enough time for Minho to think of something so he stands with his mouth hang open like an idiot.
“I don’t know who’s more stupid,” Krystal complains in a mumbo jumbo, “You for being awake at this hour or me asking if you’ve knocked when you obviously did.”
“I have to tell you something.” He blurts.
She moves forward just a little more to reveal her raised brows. “You can tell me tomorrow when I’m not sleep walking, cool?”
The door’s about to shut in his face when he says too loudly than required, “It’s about the kiss.”
At this Krystal pauses and wearily steps forward, hand still gripping the door knob like it’s her life line. “What about it? It was just one kiss, Minho, I doubt it meant that much to you -“
“I -“
“It shouldn’t matter because you’re obviously not in love with me and of course, I’m not in love with you too ‘cause if I was to be then -“
“Krystal”
“It would be weird and one sided and just plain sad -“
Finally, “I love you.”
Minho’s been stuck on solving this puzzle for so long, it’s about time he gets an answer.
She looks too shock to even begin to process his words. “L - like a brother? Or like a friend? Or -“
Two gulps, one for the rejection and one for the pain that’s to come. “I’m in love with you, I - it’s been this way for as long as I can remember.”
Krystal laughs, soft and shaky. “Good.”
“Good?” Minho shakes his head, confused and conflicted more than he’s ever been, “What’s good?”
“Good,” She smiles and wraps her fingers around the front of his shirt, he doesn’t dare to breathe, “I’ve been waiting for you to say it for as long as I can remember.”
Krystal kisses him for the second time and suddenly, Minho remembers that it was her who kissed him first the last time too.