multi-fandom drabbles.
han geng/victoria ; stop and erase
she lies on the couch akimbo, blanket pulled up to her chest. a manicured finger lightly touches the screen, hovering over the name, lingering on the ‘call’ button (this always happens just before the realization hits that she has no right to do this any longer) before hesitation overpowers and the device is tossed onto the coffee table next to her.
her breathing is uneven, climaxing and diminishing all at once. her fingers have lost their tremor that they used to have and are just limp, like her heart when she keeps on waiting for him to return while knowing full well that he won’t and that she doesn’t have a place with him anymore.
“hello?”
his voice is warm, tinted with confusion due to the phone call from an unrecognizable number (she’s never given him the number she uses in korea since she figures he'll have no reason to call) but he seems genuine and friendly because this is han geng and never has he been known to have even a speckle of abhorrence in his being.
“geng-ge?”
nails scrape the inside of her throat as she chokes, pushing the expanding lump back inside. her fingers clutch the cell phone as if holding on for dear life.
“who is this? ah qian?” his voice takes on a higher tone and she spots hope. faith. joy, above everything else.
and that in itself is enough. she presses ‘end call’ and lets the phone nestle in her clammy hands. after a long pause, she finds his name and deletes it.
seungho/soyeon ; part-time lover, full-time friend
“you’re really boring on tv, you know.”
she snorts, stabbing the piece of chicken in front of her as if it is him. “how is that you have the right to say anything?” she snaps. “you’re not exactly jo kwon.” sarcasm paints her biting remark but a corner of her lip is pulled slightly upward so she doesn’t quite mind when he laughs outright.
“i never said that,” he refutes, “but really, injung. you should react more openly. be excited! you always look so goddamn serious all the time. take lessons from hyomin and jiyeon.” he steals a fry off her plate and pops it into his mouth, deftly ignoring the holes she bores into his head.
(it’s okay, though, since they’re only best friends; they’ve seen the best and the worst and the real smiles and the fake ones so there are no blinds or curtains between them. maybe there is, but they really can’t tell.)
she scowls and harshly pulls the hood of his sweater further down his face in aggravation. he catches her fingers and playfully place careful kisses against them. rolling her eyes, she slaps him. he withdraws with an easy smile, going back to his drink.
“i’m paying tonight,” he abruptly decides, pleased by the shock on her face (because it’s not like this is a date) that she’s clearly trying to conceal. she clears her throat. “i suppose. a gentleman won’t let a lady pay.”
“yeah. a lady shouldn’t pay on a date, right?” he finds her confusion-riddle adorable, so he grins teasingly.
she grunts, “like this is even a date.”
he finds himself to be a little disappointed but he just ruffles her hair and signals the waiter over.
eli/jihae ; long overdue
“jihae-ssi?”
the voice is familiar, stuck somewhere at the very back of her mind but she knows that it was once a rather integral part of her life (albeit it being a portion too short for both of them to live, without even a goodbye) so she replies cautiously, “yes?”
“this is eli. eli kim. from u-kiss?”
he isn’t sure how to introduce himself because he doubts she remembers who he is. if she does, he’s positive that she thinks he is a useless douche. he’s never been romantic, he’s never been caring, he’s never even been nice and although he hopes she saw through all that, he knows she didn’t.
“oh. eli-ssi,” she responds.
unsurprisingly, she is stunned because he is the last person she would ever expect to get a call from, although he was her boyfriend (he didn’t act like one but the shivers she felt made her aware that it seemed like he was even though he was a total asshole) for a little while. “i heard about alex - well, i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay…baby.”
his offhand statement makes her giggle shyly, and all of a sudden she can’t place why she ever thought he was an ass because she has always been adamant that there’s a different person in there somewhere.
“listen,” he begins, rather hesitant, “i don’t know why i called but i think it’s to say sorry. all this, well, whatever this is, has made me realize a bunch of stuff. i never apologized to you.”
it’s a quiet, poignant confession - a far cry from the cold eli she knows - so she assures him that it’s fine and i’ll be glad to meet you for coffee later.
junho/bekah ; in a class of her own
bekah is the reason he wants to learn how to speak english.
he has no idea why since he only meets her sporadically - backstage at music shows, random variety shows (good luck junho-ssi with eyelashes fluttering as she keeps an eye on minho and jungah) and there’s absolutely nothing more than that so he has no reason, really, to feel so much.
perhaps it’s because she is different. not just the fact that she’s american but because what other people see as a cutesy act, he sees her real center; what other people see as flaming sensuality, he sees allure and natural charm combined into one odd trait because she is just so agile and able and perfect.
“when will i see you again?”
the question comes out wrong. it makes it sound like he’s in desperate want but he really doesn’t care because he figures she can already tell.
“there’ll be other variety shows, junho-ssi. and if you pick me, then i’ll pick you.”
truthfully, he’d pick her out of a sea of girls, any day of the week. she’s like a star in the middle of a dark galaxy, outshining everyone on her own. “sure,” he agrees giddily. “all the best, bekah-ssi. good luck and take care!” then they bow to each other haltingly before she trots off in search of her band mates.
(bekah is the reason he wants to learn how to speak english. he has to match up and be level with this stunning woman who oozes impeccability. because he’s pretty sure that his ranking is quite low and he wants to show her that what little thing they have could be salvaged. that he is worth it.)
g-dragon/yoona ; standing out above the rest
the bustle of the overcrowded building passes by him like a haze. stylists and managers are all over the place and young female idols flit around big bang’s dressing room unconsciously but he doesn’t really care. all these girls mean nothing (he wants one he can’t have) to him.
bored silly, he decides to go to the bathroom for no reason. walking with his head down to avoid the throng of gushing admirers, he accidentally bumps into another person. “oh, god. i’m sorry.”
“that’s alright.”
the tinkling voice startles him so much that he looks up into a pair of pretty dark eyes, sparkling in merriment. she tucks a strand of dark auburn hair behind her ear. “hello, g-dragon-ssi. it’s nice to see you.”
she offers a hand to the startled male in front of her, who clasps it just barely in his own (he might be captivated or confused or shocked beyond anything else but maybe there’s a tinge of pleasure somewhere) before replying, “likewise, yoona-ssi.”
“i’m on my way to a variety show recording but onew-oppa and minho said you guys would be here so it’d be nice if i stop by,” she explains, beaming radiance. “so, good luck to you and big bang. you guys will be great! oh, and i saw your video message for me on ‘strong heart’, by the way. thank you.”
faint pink furiously smothers his face but he manages a nod.
“i have to go now,” she announces. “bye, then. and good luck - again!” she raises her hand in a halfhearted wave before proceeding to leave. mustering all of his courage, he calls out, “you can call me jiyong, yoona-ssi.”
“sure. next time.” her impossibly enchanting smile grows wider before she walks off.
onew/seungyeon ; it’s been a while
filming just ended and the night is getting windier. she sits on the lazy chair by the pool, dazedly watching as the cameramen and directors wrap up their equipment. her mind is cluttered beyond words and she really doesn’t know why she’s really here but she figures this might be the last time.
“hi,” chirps onew cheerfully, sidling over to sit on the chair next to hers.
she smiles. “hi. it’s getting colder and the other guys are already heading upstairs. you should follow them.”
he raises an eyebrow. “the other girls are already upstairs. why aren’t you?”
“i just want to sit here and think for a while,” she replies (sit and think about how her life and their entire bond could be cracking and splintering so quickly, that is) as nonchalantly as she can.
silence occupies the minimal space between them but they don’t feel that uncomfortable; not exactly at ease, either, but there’s something there that puts her at ease. “it’s been a long time since we’ve met on a variety show, isn’t it?” she asks, her tone foggy as she eyes the lapping waters of the pool.
“it’s been a while. joint stages are a thing of the past, too.” is it her imagination or does he sound wistful?
he collects himself and throws her one of his infamous grins so she’s sure that he has positively no reason to feel any longing or pensiveness.
she suddenly blurts out, “i hope being paired up with me wasn’t so bad today. i mean, if it was awkward for you or anything, it was for me, too, so we’re on the same page. and the thing about us being on ‘we got married’? so not true.”
she’s rambling like crazy and a (big) part of him finds it endearing. “i’m down for that if your dad still wants me as a son-in-law,” he jokes, wincing as she pokes her elbow into his side.
but already her laugh is brighter, lighter. happier.