illusions
Illusions
Taemin/Key
PG-13, 271 w.
hey, hyung, will you kiss me?
In your dreams, he’d say, hey, hyung, will you kiss me, and you would. And it would be warm and soft and taste like vanilla and early morning pancakes and promises. And you would brush his cheek with your knuckles just because you could, because he would flush and smile and lean into it. He would pull you closer, deeper, craving something more substantial, and his fingers would press into your cheeks, against your jaw, down your neck and into the hollow between your collarbones. And it would be messy and awkward and somehow perfect.
In your head, he’ll say, hey, hyung, will you kiss me, and you’ll say, don’t be ridiculous; that’s inappropriate. You’ll pretend not to see his disappointment, and he’ll pretend he never asked. And later, when the moment has passed, and you think he’s forgotten, he’ll ask you, why not, and you won’t tell him that you’ve been dreaming about it, that you want it more than anything. Instead, you’ll say, I’m sorry. I can’t. We can’t. And you’ll try not to watch his face crumble because then you’ll give in and kiss him. And you know you’ll see Jonghyun’s tight lips and teary eyes, Onew’s fractured, sad smile, and Minho’s empty hands, pulling away.
In reality, he says, hey, hyung, will you kiss me, and a million thoughts race through your head before you slide your hand around the back of his neck and press your lips to his, soft and wet. You say, we shouldn’t, and as he smiles against your lips, he says, I know, but I want to. Somehow that makes it okay.
Taemin/Key
PG-13, 271 w.
hey, hyung, will you kiss me?
In your dreams, he’d say, hey, hyung, will you kiss me, and you would. And it would be warm and soft and taste like vanilla and early morning pancakes and promises. And you would brush his cheek with your knuckles just because you could, because he would flush and smile and lean into it. He would pull you closer, deeper, craving something more substantial, and his fingers would press into your cheeks, against your jaw, down your neck and into the hollow between your collarbones. And it would be messy and awkward and somehow perfect.
In your head, he’ll say, hey, hyung, will you kiss me, and you’ll say, don’t be ridiculous; that’s inappropriate. You’ll pretend not to see his disappointment, and he’ll pretend he never asked. And later, when the moment has passed, and you think he’s forgotten, he’ll ask you, why not, and you won’t tell him that you’ve been dreaming about it, that you want it more than anything. Instead, you’ll say, I’m sorry. I can’t. We can’t. And you’ll try not to watch his face crumble because then you’ll give in and kiss him. And you know you’ll see Jonghyun’s tight lips and teary eyes, Onew’s fractured, sad smile, and Minho’s empty hands, pulling away.
In reality, he says, hey, hyung, will you kiss me, and a million thoughts race through your head before you slide your hand around the back of his neck and press your lips to his, soft and wet. You say, we shouldn’t, and as he smiles against your lips, he says, I know, but I want to. Somehow that makes it okay.