[2] Prompt Drabbles (December '08 - March '09)
A compilation of most of the msn/lj drabbles I’ve written in the past four months or so.
jaesu | admiration
prompted by yomi_chan305
Jaejoong’s always loved Junsu’s voice; the way his pitch weaves in and out of perfection, the notes combining so effortlessly, Junsu’s eyes smiling and his mouth open wide with sound. “Duet?” He’d asked, minutes earlier, when Jaejoong was standing like a stranger in the doorway.
A duet, and it’s a bit like shouting from a high rise, the way Junsu’s voice is a challenge and a subtle-scream of happiness, a hint of laughter, a side-step to pain; he melds with Jaejoong’s own silk-thin tune and Jaejoong tastes of pure sound.
jaeho | calendars
prompted by yomi_chan305
He only tells you to call twice. The first time, you’re sitting in the back of a taxi - the driver rapping his fingers irritated on the wheel - and he’s full-quiet. It’s making you nervous; you kick against the floor of the car and make conversation with him in your head. (“I’m going to miss you, you know?” “Of course” “I lo-“)
“Jaejoong,” he’s saying. “Call me.” And then he’s out of the car before you can fake stupid and ask what for (-you know his cell number by heart; you don’t know how you’ll reach him now).
The second is full of cocktails and laughter and pretty girls and boys gliding-stumbling across the dance floor. You’ve been writing bullshit jokes on your napkin with Yoochun; he’s looking away, determinedly, keeping up the front that he disapproves. (“You’re laughing,” you hear yourself say in your head - but instead you turn and cover your mouth as Yoochun scribbles a pick-up line.)
And only two seconds later he’s scooting a napkin of his own towards you, and it says - in stiff, hurried words. ‘You’ll call me.’ No question mark, but you can hear the way his tone would lift, questioningly - hopefully, at the end.
Of course, you mouth to yourself. Of course. (I’m all ready counting down the days on the calendar.)
Yunho leaves for the military in the morning.
yunjae | breaking
prompted by fading_sun_sock
there's some things they can't control (“jaejoong, look, we can’t be like this-) and jaejoong’s downing that fact in shots of truth until he’s tripping fear, laughing fake; and when he breaks, yunho follows. (-can we?”)
& a continuation
it happens again, too many times; it’s early in the morning and they’re on the living room floor staring out the open window - one of those places where they’re not afraid of the candid-them, the open words, and yunho says, “can we?” like he means it. can we - can we be something more?
and jaejoong thinks he should be answering yes, yes, yes, of course, i’ve been waiting for you, but instead he’s saying, “i don’t know.”
yunho’s cell phone goes off - a set alarm, they’re supposed to be recording in an hour - and yunho turns it off. he stands up. the silence stretches into minutes.
“yes.” jaejoong says. yunho’s turning around and he’s leaning towards jaejoong, falling next to him again and then they’re inches away from each other, and all jaejoong can think is - you should be scared of this. i should be scared of this.
he isn’t.
yoomin | cautioned
prompted by kyolovescake
Changmin is the baby of the group - he’s off limits. Yoochun’s been repeating this in his head for the last ten minutes, especially after Jaejoong gives him this look, like he’s saying wow, you really are a cradle robber.
Changmin’s all mismatched eyes and devious smiles and he’s been doing things like grabbing Yoochun’s hand and running long fingers up his leg the whole interview. But he’s the baby of the group, Yoochun is thinking, and he's off li- aw, fuck it; and he fixes Changmin with his best greasy stare, conjuring up promises of all the things he’s going to do to him backstage. It seems to be working.
Until Changmin laughs at him.
jaechun | love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does
prompted by firelights
Yoochun and Jaejoong are sharing sugar-sweet, not-too-close kisses on the floor of Yoochun’s apartment. They’re the kind of kisses that can be almost (not quite) be mistaken for fondess between close friends, but then Jaejoong’s biting at Yoochun’s lip, pulling him closer. He’s crying.
(“Hey,” Jaejoong had said, twenty minutes earlier, standing at Yoochun’s front door. He didn’t say anything more but Yoochun heard the - I thought you’d be lonely. He wonders if it’s also a silent I’m lonely.)
Yoochun should be crying too - hell, he’s not sure why he isn’t, but instead he grabs onto Jaejoong’s back and holds on tight. He lets himself think (for a moment, just a moment) that they could stay like this forever.
The house always feels colder after Jaejoong leaves.
hosu | butterflies
prompted by tvxqluvv
Memories of Yunho’s blend together: early mornings working and silly adventures and the flicker of Junsu’s laugh when they were young and stupid. He dreams of his childhood too often; in Japan with the others breathing slow across the room; with his hands clutching at a stuffed animal and staving off exhaustion; when he can hear Junsu singing in the shower.
And always his thoughts fall back to that emotion he can’t name, and to those nights at Junsu’s house with Junho telling them to shut up, stop talking, he needed sleep. It’s like being in a field of butterflies - something too beautiful and strange.
It feels like when he’s holding Junsu’s hand.
minsu | school supplies.
prompted by tvxqluvv
“I hate you,” Junsu declares, squishing into the desk beside to Jaejoong - gaining himself an affronted glare he doesn’t notice.
“You do?” Changmin pushes his glasses further up his nose, keeping his eyes on the book. (“Come on,” Jaejoong had whined fifteen minutes earlier, “teach me calculus, Min, please.” “Before you get permanent wrinkles? Oh, so vain of you,” Changmin had replied.)
“I hate you, so, so much.” Neither of them gets a chance to ask Junsu why before he dumps out the contents of his book bag onto the desk. “Oh,” Jaejoong says, grin hidden behind his mouth, “I didn’t know you felt that way, Junsu.”
All of his school supplies have ‘Changmin is a genius’ ‘Bow down to Changmin’ and ‘Junsu’s charisma is a lie’ written on them in permanent marker.
jaechun | cameras
prompted by tvxqluvv
Jaejoong’s afraid of cameras. He loves them and seeks them out and every time he’s in front of one he turns into a person he hates - one full of fake-candid replies and loud (awkward) laughter. And when he sees himself on tape later he can’t help but think, I look strange, that was odd - could I be less me and more commercial this time.
It’s Yoochun who finds him watching old videos of them at three in the morning, on his way back from the shower to their bedroom. “Huh?” He asks, sleepy-eyed and soft-voiced. “Jae?”
And Jaejoong can’t stop the flow of words - like usual - and suddenly they’re tumbling out of his mouth unaccounted for, the fear of the camera and the embarrassment and the way he’s so --Yoochun slings an arm around his shoulder and closes the computer window.
“Jaejoong,” he says, breath warm in Jaejoong’s ear. “You’re beautiful. But. The cameras don’t need to capture those moments - aren’t they meant for us?” The four of them, all etched easy-deep in Jaejoong’s heart.
“Secret.” Yoochun’s voice is raspy with exhaustion. “Our secret.”
jaeho | butterflies
prompted by tvxqluvv
“i could be an angel.” jaejoong says, but he never really believes it. they’re standing out in an empty field, yunho rapping something silly and cheesy and jaejoong watching from the grass.
and then he mentions growing make-shift butterfly wings and yunho says, “i can picture them on your back with the wingspan spread far,” and he doesn’t say you won’t fly away without..? because he knows jaejoong doesn’t have an answer. so they sit together while the sun sets and pull apart blades of grass, and five minutes to darkness jaejoong says, “i can fly.”
and yunho says, “i believe you.”
jaemin | random facts
prompted by tvxqluvv
“here, put this on.” jaejoong says, bursting into the bedroom and bumping the door half-shut (it doesn’t shut as well these days, having become a battlefield casualty with a time-line of door slams).
“what.” changmin deadpans.
--
they end up in the middle of a department store with an assortment of sunglasses and hats making them more conspicuous then they were in the first place, and changmin’s pretty sure jaejoong’s logic has failed them again.
“you owe me,” jaejoong says, pushing through a crowd of too-close clothing racks. “that’s why you’re here.”
“someone in a sweatshop probably suffered for that coat,” changmin replies.
jaejoong puts the coat back on the rack, and frowns in changmin’s direction. “behave.”
“will you stop taking pictures of me at random times?” changmin asks.
“what does that have to do with this?”
jaejoong pokes him in the chest and changmin subtly trips him when he tries to walk away.
--
they come back at two in the morning and yunho looks up from tomorrow’s schedule, and says, “where have you been?”
“war.” changmin grumbles. jaejoong heads for the kitchen and tosses him an icepack on his way back out. changmin presses it to his shoulder. yunho looks at him understandingly.
“hard day?”
changmin gives him a look.
jaechun | socks
prompted by riiche
‘you’re cold,’ jaejoong mumbles, and yoochun has the vague impression that it’s supposed to be a threat; the meaning’s hampered by the sleep in jaejoong’s words and the way he’s cuddling closer to yoochun.
‘too cold.’ and his tone turns quiet-sad with traces of something yoochun can’t follow. it tastes too much like springtime in his room back home, empty except for his mother’s sighs and his brother’s anger, so yoochun brushes a hand through jaejoong’s hair, pokes a cold toe into the bony part of his ankle. ‘hey, i’m not the one who got into the wrong bed.’
and ‘yeah,’ jaejoong says, ‘but you’re the one who’s supposed to keep me warm.’
yoochun pulls him a little closer.
any | write someone beating up a fan
prompted by simply_emotion
Should be so much more simple than this.
Should be a slideshow-easy live with the groupies and the high and the guitar smashed into the stage. Can’t be like this - bloody nose of the money-buyer who makes you who you are. Fuckin’ fame doesn’t come with a safety belt: it’s all the pleasure and the sex you sell on stage.
Shouldn’t feel so good to hit him.
[and so it’s like this: you’ve got security riding your ass and the kid in the black shirt and the hat pulled low says some shit and you say some shit and then you jump him. just like that. easy game and people just watch. let you at him. like animals.]
But you can’t help yourself and you’ve got the people yelling and the people judging and you chain-smoke it all back to fuzzy memories. Don’t look at yourself in the window of the car on the way home because it’s another game over.
jaesu | admiration
prompted by yomi_chan305
Jaejoong’s always loved Junsu’s voice; the way his pitch weaves in and out of perfection, the notes combining so effortlessly, Junsu’s eyes smiling and his mouth open wide with sound. “Duet?” He’d asked, minutes earlier, when Jaejoong was standing like a stranger in the doorway.
A duet, and it’s a bit like shouting from a high rise, the way Junsu’s voice is a challenge and a subtle-scream of happiness, a hint of laughter, a side-step to pain; he melds with Jaejoong’s own silk-thin tune and Jaejoong tastes of pure sound.
jaeho | calendars
prompted by yomi_chan305
He only tells you to call twice. The first time, you’re sitting in the back of a taxi - the driver rapping his fingers irritated on the wheel - and he’s full-quiet. It’s making you nervous; you kick against the floor of the car and make conversation with him in your head. (“I’m going to miss you, you know?” “Of course” “I lo-“)
“Jaejoong,” he’s saying. “Call me.” And then he’s out of the car before you can fake stupid and ask what for (-you know his cell number by heart; you don’t know how you’ll reach him now).
The second is full of cocktails and laughter and pretty girls and boys gliding-stumbling across the dance floor. You’ve been writing bullshit jokes on your napkin with Yoochun; he’s looking away, determinedly, keeping up the front that he disapproves. (“You’re laughing,” you hear yourself say in your head - but instead you turn and cover your mouth as Yoochun scribbles a pick-up line.)
And only two seconds later he’s scooting a napkin of his own towards you, and it says - in stiff, hurried words. ‘You’ll call me.’ No question mark, but you can hear the way his tone would lift, questioningly - hopefully, at the end.
Of course, you mouth to yourself. Of course. (I’m all ready counting down the days on the calendar.)
Yunho leaves for the military in the morning.
yunjae | breaking
prompted by fading_sun_sock
there's some things they can't control (“jaejoong, look, we can’t be like this-) and jaejoong’s downing that fact in shots of truth until he’s tripping fear, laughing fake; and when he breaks, yunho follows. (-can we?”)
& a continuation
it happens again, too many times; it’s early in the morning and they’re on the living room floor staring out the open window - one of those places where they’re not afraid of the candid-them, the open words, and yunho says, “can we?” like he means it. can we - can we be something more?
and jaejoong thinks he should be answering yes, yes, yes, of course, i’ve been waiting for you, but instead he’s saying, “i don’t know.”
yunho’s cell phone goes off - a set alarm, they’re supposed to be recording in an hour - and yunho turns it off. he stands up. the silence stretches into minutes.
“yes.” jaejoong says. yunho’s turning around and he’s leaning towards jaejoong, falling next to him again and then they’re inches away from each other, and all jaejoong can think is - you should be scared of this. i should be scared of this.
he isn’t.
yoomin | cautioned
prompted by kyolovescake
Changmin is the baby of the group - he’s off limits. Yoochun’s been repeating this in his head for the last ten minutes, especially after Jaejoong gives him this look, like he’s saying wow, you really are a cradle robber.
Changmin’s all mismatched eyes and devious smiles and he’s been doing things like grabbing Yoochun’s hand and running long fingers up his leg the whole interview. But he’s the baby of the group, Yoochun is thinking, and he's off li- aw, fuck it; and he fixes Changmin with his best greasy stare, conjuring up promises of all the things he’s going to do to him backstage. It seems to be working.
Until Changmin laughs at him.
jaechun | love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does
prompted by firelights
Yoochun and Jaejoong are sharing sugar-sweet, not-too-close kisses on the floor of Yoochun’s apartment. They’re the kind of kisses that can be almost (not quite) be mistaken for fondess between close friends, but then Jaejoong’s biting at Yoochun’s lip, pulling him closer. He’s crying.
(“Hey,” Jaejoong had said, twenty minutes earlier, standing at Yoochun’s front door. He didn’t say anything more but Yoochun heard the - I thought you’d be lonely. He wonders if it’s also a silent I’m lonely.)
Yoochun should be crying too - hell, he’s not sure why he isn’t, but instead he grabs onto Jaejoong’s back and holds on tight. He lets himself think (for a moment, just a moment) that they could stay like this forever.
The house always feels colder after Jaejoong leaves.
hosu | butterflies
prompted by tvxqluvv
Memories of Yunho’s blend together: early mornings working and silly adventures and the flicker of Junsu’s laugh when they were young and stupid. He dreams of his childhood too often; in Japan with the others breathing slow across the room; with his hands clutching at a stuffed animal and staving off exhaustion; when he can hear Junsu singing in the shower.
And always his thoughts fall back to that emotion he can’t name, and to those nights at Junsu’s house with Junho telling them to shut up, stop talking, he needed sleep. It’s like being in a field of butterflies - something too beautiful and strange.
It feels like when he’s holding Junsu’s hand.
minsu | school supplies.
prompted by tvxqluvv
“I hate you,” Junsu declares, squishing into the desk beside to Jaejoong - gaining himself an affronted glare he doesn’t notice.
“You do?” Changmin pushes his glasses further up his nose, keeping his eyes on the book. (“Come on,” Jaejoong had whined fifteen minutes earlier, “teach me calculus, Min, please.” “Before you get permanent wrinkles? Oh, so vain of you,” Changmin had replied.)
“I hate you, so, so much.” Neither of them gets a chance to ask Junsu why before he dumps out the contents of his book bag onto the desk. “Oh,” Jaejoong says, grin hidden behind his mouth, “I didn’t know you felt that way, Junsu.”
All of his school supplies have ‘Changmin is a genius’ ‘Bow down to Changmin’ and ‘Junsu’s charisma is a lie’ written on them in permanent marker.
jaechun | cameras
prompted by tvxqluvv
Jaejoong’s afraid of cameras. He loves them and seeks them out and every time he’s in front of one he turns into a person he hates - one full of fake-candid replies and loud (awkward) laughter. And when he sees himself on tape later he can’t help but think, I look strange, that was odd - could I be less me and more commercial this time.
It’s Yoochun who finds him watching old videos of them at three in the morning, on his way back from the shower to their bedroom. “Huh?” He asks, sleepy-eyed and soft-voiced. “Jae?”
And Jaejoong can’t stop the flow of words - like usual - and suddenly they’re tumbling out of his mouth unaccounted for, the fear of the camera and the embarrassment and the way he’s so --Yoochun slings an arm around his shoulder and closes the computer window.
“Jaejoong,” he says, breath warm in Jaejoong’s ear. “You’re beautiful. But. The cameras don’t need to capture those moments - aren’t they meant for us?” The four of them, all etched easy-deep in Jaejoong’s heart.
“Secret.” Yoochun’s voice is raspy with exhaustion. “Our secret.”
jaeho | butterflies
prompted by tvxqluvv
“i could be an angel.” jaejoong says, but he never really believes it. they’re standing out in an empty field, yunho rapping something silly and cheesy and jaejoong watching from the grass.
and then he mentions growing make-shift butterfly wings and yunho says, “i can picture them on your back with the wingspan spread far,” and he doesn’t say you won’t fly away without..? because he knows jaejoong doesn’t have an answer. so they sit together while the sun sets and pull apart blades of grass, and five minutes to darkness jaejoong says, “i can fly.”
and yunho says, “i believe you.”
jaemin | random facts
prompted by tvxqluvv
“here, put this on.” jaejoong says, bursting into the bedroom and bumping the door half-shut (it doesn’t shut as well these days, having become a battlefield casualty with a time-line of door slams).
“what.” changmin deadpans.
--
they end up in the middle of a department store with an assortment of sunglasses and hats making them more conspicuous then they were in the first place, and changmin’s pretty sure jaejoong’s logic has failed them again.
“you owe me,” jaejoong says, pushing through a crowd of too-close clothing racks. “that’s why you’re here.”
“someone in a sweatshop probably suffered for that coat,” changmin replies.
jaejoong puts the coat back on the rack, and frowns in changmin’s direction. “behave.”
“will you stop taking pictures of me at random times?” changmin asks.
“what does that have to do with this?”
jaejoong pokes him in the chest and changmin subtly trips him when he tries to walk away.
--
they come back at two in the morning and yunho looks up from tomorrow’s schedule, and says, “where have you been?”
“war.” changmin grumbles. jaejoong heads for the kitchen and tosses him an icepack on his way back out. changmin presses it to his shoulder. yunho looks at him understandingly.
“hard day?”
changmin gives him a look.
jaechun | socks
prompted by riiche
‘you’re cold,’ jaejoong mumbles, and yoochun has the vague impression that it’s supposed to be a threat; the meaning’s hampered by the sleep in jaejoong’s words and the way he’s cuddling closer to yoochun.
‘too cold.’ and his tone turns quiet-sad with traces of something yoochun can’t follow. it tastes too much like springtime in his room back home, empty except for his mother’s sighs and his brother’s anger, so yoochun brushes a hand through jaejoong’s hair, pokes a cold toe into the bony part of his ankle. ‘hey, i’m not the one who got into the wrong bed.’
and ‘yeah,’ jaejoong says, ‘but you’re the one who’s supposed to keep me warm.’
yoochun pulls him a little closer.
any | write someone beating up a fan
prompted by simply_emotion
Should be so much more simple than this.
Should be a slideshow-easy live with the groupies and the high and the guitar smashed into the stage. Can’t be like this - bloody nose of the money-buyer who makes you who you are. Fuckin’ fame doesn’t come with a safety belt: it’s all the pleasure and the sex you sell on stage.
Shouldn’t feel so good to hit him.
[and so it’s like this: you’ve got security riding your ass and the kid in the black shirt and the hat pulled low says some shit and you say some shit and then you jump him. just like that. easy game and people just watch. let you at him. like animals.]
But you can’t help yourself and you’ve got the people yelling and the people judging and you chain-smoke it all back to fuzzy memories. Don’t look at yourself in the window of the car on the way home because it’s another game over.