Full Moons and Minor Keys - Oneshot (Zhou Mi/Donghae)
Title: Full Moons and Minor Keys
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Zhou Mi/Donghae
Band: Super Junior-M centric
Genre: romance/drama
Rating: PG13
Warning: insinuations
Disclaimer: Don't own these boys, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: Zhou Mi watches you - you glance up and into his gaze enough to know there’s no coincidence - but you can’t figure out why.
Comments: original post here
You’re exhausted as you head back to your room, counting steps in your head -measuring how close you are to soft sheets and precious sleep. The day’s been filled with activity, laughter and conversation in another language still ringing in your ears. The corridor feels too silent.
You’re a couple doors away from your own room now - the last few steps to needed sleep, but the silence is suddenly bearing down on you. Here, in the empty hall, with no noise to drown out your thoughts, you remember how far away you are. Your own country, your own home (the second one, the dorm home, the one teeming with boys instead of a smiling mother and the memory of a father) is across country boundaries and too many miles of land.
How, you find yourself wondering, do you fit in when the language around you is foreign syllables and the meanings are lost to your ears? Can a notepad filled with tips and phrases make your intentions loud enough? Can they understand, will they like you through the accents and translations and misinterpretations?
The questions press down on you, and suddenly you feel lonely, lonely, lonely. There’s a click, and a laugh from the room to your left.
The door is opening and Zhou Mi is sliding out, a lanky and tall shadow spreading from the light inside his room. His eyes spark when they land on you, and he murmurs, “Donghae…”
And you think you should know perfectly well there’s a difference between fear and reality - so you smile up at him and push back the loneliness. His face stays curious as you take nod a hello and turn away, and before you’re out of reach thin fingers brush against your shoulder. When you turn around he’s disappearing around the corner.
The sensation of fingers against your skin lingers.
Zhou Mi watches you - you glance up and into his gaze enough to know there’s no coincidence - but you can’t figure out why. You don’t talk much, he knows enough Korean to have common conversation, but he chatters away to Hankyung and you find familiarity in Kyuhyun and Ryeowook - while Siwon gets pulled into the company of the two Chinese and Henry slowly gravitates towards the three of you.
It’s not until the two of you are trailing far behind the mass of tired boys on the way back to your rooms (and you’re vaguely reminded of the last time you met in the hall) that you think of asking him why - blunt and simple.
He waits until the rest of them have disappeared into their rooms, Hankyung looking back at the two of you and smiling, while the others are too tired to notice (or care). And you find him suddenly so close and that wide smile straight in front of you, and something in his eyes makes you go oh.
Then your back hits the wall and he’s still smiling down at you.
A week of promotions and talk shows and constant motion pushes the night in the hall out of your head; keeps away memories of heat and smother gasps and Zhou Mi’s bright teeth and slender hands. The sudden loss of footing it sends crashing into your life fades to a dull warning - a cautious notion in your head that you could still slip.
And maybe, you think, you’re almost avoiding him because this is weird and strange and new. (and maybe, maybe you think, you were just lonely and in a foreign country and it helped the ache and you wonder if you’re just good at making excuses and you confuse yourself and keep away from him and-)
You find him pressing you against a wall again - the sense of déjà vu doesn’t seem so important when his lips are at your throat - and you’re not sure what to think, but he presses closer and any words you might have choked out are lost.
“Careful,” he mutters into the curve of your collarbone, hands balancing his weight on the wall behind your back, “Don’t want to leave any marks for the make-up artists to see.”
You’re breathing heavily into the darkness surrounding you - wondering, almost wishing, someone would walk down the hall and interrupt - because this feels too right when it’s all too wrong. But no one comes, and you’re grasping at him as he grips your hips - hard enough to bruise, enough to stain your skin with the memory of what you wanted, and shouldn’t have.
And you don’t know what to think and you look at him and - oh.
(-you ask Hankyung how to politely say ‘I’m sorry, but this won’t work’ in Mandarin, and when he looks up you flit away, laughing past the questions in his eyes.)
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Zhou Mi/Donghae
Band: Super Junior-M centric
Genre: romance/drama
Rating: PG13
Warning: insinuations
Disclaimer: Don't own these boys, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: Zhou Mi watches you - you glance up and into his gaze enough to know there’s no coincidence - but you can’t figure out why.
Comments: original post here
You’re exhausted as you head back to your room, counting steps in your head -measuring how close you are to soft sheets and precious sleep. The day’s been filled with activity, laughter and conversation in another language still ringing in your ears. The corridor feels too silent.
You’re a couple doors away from your own room now - the last few steps to needed sleep, but the silence is suddenly bearing down on you. Here, in the empty hall, with no noise to drown out your thoughts, you remember how far away you are. Your own country, your own home (the second one, the dorm home, the one teeming with boys instead of a smiling mother and the memory of a father) is across country boundaries and too many miles of land.
How, you find yourself wondering, do you fit in when the language around you is foreign syllables and the meanings are lost to your ears? Can a notepad filled with tips and phrases make your intentions loud enough? Can they understand, will they like you through the accents and translations and misinterpretations?
The questions press down on you, and suddenly you feel lonely, lonely, lonely. There’s a click, and a laugh from the room to your left.
The door is opening and Zhou Mi is sliding out, a lanky and tall shadow spreading from the light inside his room. His eyes spark when they land on you, and he murmurs, “Donghae…”
And you think you should know perfectly well there’s a difference between fear and reality - so you smile up at him and push back the loneliness. His face stays curious as you take nod a hello and turn away, and before you’re out of reach thin fingers brush against your shoulder. When you turn around he’s disappearing around the corner.
The sensation of fingers against your skin lingers.
Zhou Mi watches you - you glance up and into his gaze enough to know there’s no coincidence - but you can’t figure out why. You don’t talk much, he knows enough Korean to have common conversation, but he chatters away to Hankyung and you find familiarity in Kyuhyun and Ryeowook - while Siwon gets pulled into the company of the two Chinese and Henry slowly gravitates towards the three of you.
It’s not until the two of you are trailing far behind the mass of tired boys on the way back to your rooms (and you’re vaguely reminded of the last time you met in the hall) that you think of asking him why - blunt and simple.
He waits until the rest of them have disappeared into their rooms, Hankyung looking back at the two of you and smiling, while the others are too tired to notice (or care). And you find him suddenly so close and that wide smile straight in front of you, and something in his eyes makes you go oh.
Then your back hits the wall and he’s still smiling down at you.
A week of promotions and talk shows and constant motion pushes the night in the hall out of your head; keeps away memories of heat and smother gasps and Zhou Mi’s bright teeth and slender hands. The sudden loss of footing it sends crashing into your life fades to a dull warning - a cautious notion in your head that you could still slip.
And maybe, you think, you’re almost avoiding him because this is weird and strange and new. (and maybe, maybe you think, you were just lonely and in a foreign country and it helped the ache and you wonder if you’re just good at making excuses and you confuse yourself and keep away from him and-)
You find him pressing you against a wall again - the sense of déjà vu doesn’t seem so important when his lips are at your throat - and you’re not sure what to think, but he presses closer and any words you might have choked out are lost.
“Careful,” he mutters into the curve of your collarbone, hands balancing his weight on the wall behind your back, “Don’t want to leave any marks for the make-up artists to see.”
You’re breathing heavily into the darkness surrounding you - wondering, almost wishing, someone would walk down the hall and interrupt - because this feels too right when it’s all too wrong. But no one comes, and you’re grasping at him as he grips your hips - hard enough to bruise, enough to stain your skin with the memory of what you wanted, and shouldn’t have.
And you don’t know what to think and you look at him and - oh.
(-you ask Hankyung how to politely say ‘I’m sorry, but this won’t work’ in Mandarin, and when he looks up you flit away, laughing past the questions in his eyes.)