taekey - one shots
Title: When hearts collide
Author: mandarinorange
Band/Pairing: Key/Taemin (SHINee)
Rating: G
Warnings: none.
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: A mistake during practice leads to (maybe not-so) catastrophic results.
A/N: written for a taekey anon who i hope is sleeping better these days. ♥
The first time Kibum and Taemin crash into each other during dance practice, no one quite knows what has just happened. Kibum stumbles backwards and Taemin follows, hands clutching at Kibum's shirt to keep from falling. For a second, they just look at each other with wide eyes because they are never this clumsy, but the moment passes just as quickly as it comes.
"I know I'm beautiful, but pay attention," Kibum jokes, giving Taemin a small shove when both their feet are situated firmly on the ground again.
"I'll be more careful, your almighty-ness." Taemin laughs and moves a safe distance away so they can try again, and everything should go back to normal with those motions.
Except it doesn't because Kibum suddenly feels off balance in a way that he's never felt, one side of his body heavier than the other. It makes practice even harder than usual, and what's worse is that Taemin seems to be struggling just as much, his face contorted with the extra effort. Even after they go shower, Kibum is still turning the memory of their collision over in his mind, inspecting it from every angle. He can't remember whose fault it was, whose wrong move caused them to run into each other, so he decides that maybe they both were just in the wrong place for the choreography at the wrong time.
It takes all the will power Kibum has gained over the years to keep from panicking when he feels his heart beat on the wrong side of his chest. He spends an extra fifteen minutes in the bathroom touching his fingertips to each side of his chest, feeling for the telltale pulsations that keeps him alive, and each time he feels a startling, hollow emptiness on the left. His fingers graze his neck, his face, as he stares in the mirror, and he wonders if maybe he'll die soon.
He finally rejoins the others, feeling lopsided and dazed, but he doesn't say anything because he isn't sure how to explain that all of his organs may have just decided to rearrange themselves at will and he'll probably kick the bucket soon, but Taemin you really are my favorite, Jinki-hyung your constant failure makes you a better leader, honest, and Minho your crush on Jonghyun is adorable, now if only Jonghyun will stop being an oblivious twat. So he wedges himself between Jonghyun and Taemin on the couch and keeps his lips pressed firmly together, thinking that maybe he really should draft a will. Just in case.
Several days later, Taemin is in the kitchen with Jinki, fiddling with his fingers.
"Left is... this side, right?" He extends one of his hands towards Jinki, examines it, then turns himself so he's facing the same way as Jinki with his hand still extended.
"Yes, that's left. You should really be studying more if you can't even remember your left from your right," Jinki admonishes, and Taemin laughs soft and terrifyingly fake.
If Kibum hadn't been so busy worrying over who would get his iPod and who he'd entrust the task of clearing the harddrive on his laptop to, he might have noticed the uneasy set of Taemin's mouth or the way his eyebrows drew together as he passed by.
Nights pass where Kibum spends the hours thinking of his misplaced heart. He stares into the darkness of the bedroom, wondering if his heart is bruised from the move and about the condition of all his other organs. He thinks of how out of alignment he is and how it's making the choreography they've been practicing that much harder, of how maybe he won't die, but remain awkward and off balance forever. The right side of his body presses heavier into the mattress than the left side, and he believes this is all terribly unfair.
The bed dips under a sudden addition of weight and Kibum jumps only to realize that it's Taemin, looking almost not there in the dark. Taemin whispers his name to check his alertness, and Kibum nods his head, makes a small affirmative noise in the back of his throat when he realizes that Taemin probably can't see him that well.
"Hey, you know. You know how they say stuff in space collides? Like, planets and stars and stuff, right?" Taemin pauses and fidgets. "And then they get knocked out of alignment with their axes and start spinning all weird, yeah? Do. Do you think hearts can do that? Can run into each other?" And he doesn't ask if they can beat on the wrong side of a person's chest, but Kibum is pretty sure he understands.
Kibum can feel Taemin's gaze, steady and insistent, but instead of giving a response, he reaches forward and presses his palm to Taemin's chest. Sure enough, his heartbeat is on the wrong side. He wants to sigh in happiness that he's not alone, but then he thinks that maybe this just means both of them will die. Either way, it's nice to have company. So he takes Taemin's hand in his and presses it to his own chest and against his own heartbeat. Taemin laughs breathlessly and allows himself to fold into Kibum's side.
"Will we die?"
"Maybe. But probably not."
Taemin smiles into Kibum's neck, and Kibum is okay with his center of gravity being off if it means the occasional collision of his heart with Taemin's.
Title: Domesticity
Author: mandarinorange
Band/Pairing: Key/Taemin (SHINee)
Rating: G
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 500-ish.
Summary: Taemin has dreams of a perfect home.
When Taemin is little, his parents tell him that he can have any kind of house that he dreams of having. He gets to work immediately, sketching five-story houses with enormous double doors and dozens of windows that he colors yellow to signify the light and warmth that he associates with a happy home. He doesn't think about how impractical the houses are, only dispays each one on the refrigerator, saying, "This is the house I'm gonna live in!" every time. He doesn't think about what materials to build them from or where the support beams will go because they're all built on foundations of dreams, and that's stable enough for him.
But he never gets his dream house with the elevator and the smiley face shaped pool, or the house with the baby blue exterior and apple trees lining the walkway. What he does get is an apartment situated in the heart of Seoul. His parents call it cramped and we really hope you're moving soon, son, this just doesn't suit you, but he thinks it's good enough for a less-than-rich architecture major. And besides, for everything that falls short of his dream home, he has Kibum.
To most people, Kibum doesn't seem to add much to Taemin's tiny apartment. He doesn't do any more cleaning than washing the dishes when Taemin is studying too hard to pay them any mind or occasionally vacuuming, but Taemin doesn't think that matters. He's good for other things, like wrestling on the floor with and kissing until they're practically breathing each other in, and curling into when Taemin is too tired to walk to the bed, even through the half-hearted complaints and shoves. And he likes grocery shopping, especially when they make a list and still forget something essential and have to walk back to the store, wrists bumping and fingers occasionally tangling together because they're so close to one another. The apartment should feel twice as small with the presence of another person within its walls, but to Taemin it only feels cozier.
"You should hurry up and graduate so you can design our fabulous first house," Kibum says one day. He's cupping half of their pair of matching mugs that they never fill with coffee because neither particularly like the taste, and the edges of his smile curl over the rim. Taemin notices how well the blues and grays of the early morning suit him, thinks about what colors he'd paint the walls of their house.
"I will," Taemin replies easily. Then he places his elbows on the table, leans forward until he can smell the hot cocoa in Kibum's cup. "And I'll carry you over the threshold since you're the wife and all."
Kibum snorts in a way that shouldn't be pretty but is and taps Taemin's nose. "Yeah, imagine a stick like you doing that." His eyes belie his words, however, and Taemin knows he appreciates the sentiment anyway.
Author: mandarinorange
Band/Pairing: Key/Taemin (SHINee)
Rating: G
Warnings: none.
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: A mistake during practice leads to (maybe not-so) catastrophic results.
A/N: written for a taekey anon who i hope is sleeping better these days. ♥
The first time Kibum and Taemin crash into each other during dance practice, no one quite knows what has just happened. Kibum stumbles backwards and Taemin follows, hands clutching at Kibum's shirt to keep from falling. For a second, they just look at each other with wide eyes because they are never this clumsy, but the moment passes just as quickly as it comes.
"I know I'm beautiful, but pay attention," Kibum jokes, giving Taemin a small shove when both their feet are situated firmly on the ground again.
"I'll be more careful, your almighty-ness." Taemin laughs and moves a safe distance away so they can try again, and everything should go back to normal with those motions.
Except it doesn't because Kibum suddenly feels off balance in a way that he's never felt, one side of his body heavier than the other. It makes practice even harder than usual, and what's worse is that Taemin seems to be struggling just as much, his face contorted with the extra effort. Even after they go shower, Kibum is still turning the memory of their collision over in his mind, inspecting it from every angle. He can't remember whose fault it was, whose wrong move caused them to run into each other, so he decides that maybe they both were just in the wrong place for the choreography at the wrong time.
It takes all the will power Kibum has gained over the years to keep from panicking when he feels his heart beat on the wrong side of his chest. He spends an extra fifteen minutes in the bathroom touching his fingertips to each side of his chest, feeling for the telltale pulsations that keeps him alive, and each time he feels a startling, hollow emptiness on the left. His fingers graze his neck, his face, as he stares in the mirror, and he wonders if maybe he'll die soon.
He finally rejoins the others, feeling lopsided and dazed, but he doesn't say anything because he isn't sure how to explain that all of his organs may have just decided to rearrange themselves at will and he'll probably kick the bucket soon, but Taemin you really are my favorite, Jinki-hyung your constant failure makes you a better leader, honest, and Minho your crush on Jonghyun is adorable, now if only Jonghyun will stop being an oblivious twat. So he wedges himself between Jonghyun and Taemin on the couch and keeps his lips pressed firmly together, thinking that maybe he really should draft a will. Just in case.
Several days later, Taemin is in the kitchen with Jinki, fiddling with his fingers.
"Left is... this side, right?" He extends one of his hands towards Jinki, examines it, then turns himself so he's facing the same way as Jinki with his hand still extended.
"Yes, that's left. You should really be studying more if you can't even remember your left from your right," Jinki admonishes, and Taemin laughs soft and terrifyingly fake.
If Kibum hadn't been so busy worrying over who would get his iPod and who he'd entrust the task of clearing the harddrive on his laptop to, he might have noticed the uneasy set of Taemin's mouth or the way his eyebrows drew together as he passed by.
Nights pass where Kibum spends the hours thinking of his misplaced heart. He stares into the darkness of the bedroom, wondering if his heart is bruised from the move and about the condition of all his other organs. He thinks of how out of alignment he is and how it's making the choreography they've been practicing that much harder, of how maybe he won't die, but remain awkward and off balance forever. The right side of his body presses heavier into the mattress than the left side, and he believes this is all terribly unfair.
The bed dips under a sudden addition of weight and Kibum jumps only to realize that it's Taemin, looking almost not there in the dark. Taemin whispers his name to check his alertness, and Kibum nods his head, makes a small affirmative noise in the back of his throat when he realizes that Taemin probably can't see him that well.
"Hey, you know. You know how they say stuff in space collides? Like, planets and stars and stuff, right?" Taemin pauses and fidgets. "And then they get knocked out of alignment with their axes and start spinning all weird, yeah? Do. Do you think hearts can do that? Can run into each other?" And he doesn't ask if they can beat on the wrong side of a person's chest, but Kibum is pretty sure he understands.
Kibum can feel Taemin's gaze, steady and insistent, but instead of giving a response, he reaches forward and presses his palm to Taemin's chest. Sure enough, his heartbeat is on the wrong side. He wants to sigh in happiness that he's not alone, but then he thinks that maybe this just means both of them will die. Either way, it's nice to have company. So he takes Taemin's hand in his and presses it to his own chest and against his own heartbeat. Taemin laughs breathlessly and allows himself to fold into Kibum's side.
"Will we die?"
"Maybe. But probably not."
Taemin smiles into Kibum's neck, and Kibum is okay with his center of gravity being off if it means the occasional collision of his heart with Taemin's.
Title: Domesticity
Author: mandarinorange
Band/Pairing: Key/Taemin (SHINee)
Rating: G
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 500-ish.
Summary: Taemin has dreams of a perfect home.
When Taemin is little, his parents tell him that he can have any kind of house that he dreams of having. He gets to work immediately, sketching five-story houses with enormous double doors and dozens of windows that he colors yellow to signify the light and warmth that he associates with a happy home. He doesn't think about how impractical the houses are, only dispays each one on the refrigerator, saying, "This is the house I'm gonna live in!" every time. He doesn't think about what materials to build them from or where the support beams will go because they're all built on foundations of dreams, and that's stable enough for him.
But he never gets his dream house with the elevator and the smiley face shaped pool, or the house with the baby blue exterior and apple trees lining the walkway. What he does get is an apartment situated in the heart of Seoul. His parents call it cramped and we really hope you're moving soon, son, this just doesn't suit you, but he thinks it's good enough for a less-than-rich architecture major. And besides, for everything that falls short of his dream home, he has Kibum.
To most people, Kibum doesn't seem to add much to Taemin's tiny apartment. He doesn't do any more cleaning than washing the dishes when Taemin is studying too hard to pay them any mind or occasionally vacuuming, but Taemin doesn't think that matters. He's good for other things, like wrestling on the floor with and kissing until they're practically breathing each other in, and curling into when Taemin is too tired to walk to the bed, even through the half-hearted complaints and shoves. And he likes grocery shopping, especially when they make a list and still forget something essential and have to walk back to the store, wrists bumping and fingers occasionally tangling together because they're so close to one another. The apartment should feel twice as small with the presence of another person within its walls, but to Taemin it only feels cozier.
"You should hurry up and graduate so you can design our fabulous first house," Kibum says one day. He's cupping half of their pair of matching mugs that they never fill with coffee because neither particularly like the taste, and the edges of his smile curl over the rim. Taemin notices how well the blues and grays of the early morning suit him, thinks about what colors he'd paint the walls of their house.
"I will," Taemin replies easily. Then he places his elbows on the table, leans forward until he can smell the hot cocoa in Kibum's cup. "And I'll carry you over the threshold since you're the wife and all."
Kibum snorts in a way that shouldn't be pretty but is and taps Taemin's nose. "Yeah, imagine a stick like you doing that." His eyes belie his words, however, and Taemin knows he appreciates the sentiment anyway.