[FIC] Curiosity 4/?
Title: Curiosity
Author: Yours, truly.
Pairing: Kyumin, possible Eunhae and/or Yewook, ohoho.
Genre: High school!AU, Romance, Fluff, Comedy?, Drama [Do you see how much of this fic I have planned out?]
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some language [It's not so bad, in my opinion.]
Disclaimer: Like no other here, I do not own them. ;v;
Summary: Kyuhyun never thought 'love' was supposed to be easy.
Ryeowook never really wanted to leave.
But Sungmin hyung is stubborn - what else could he have done?
Ryeowook kind of hates him for that.
He loves him for it, too.
He shuffled his feet down the empty corridor, the sprinkling pitter-patter of rain bouncing against the close walls. The sound hugged him closely, it made everything feel smaller; it made him feel smaller.
His light steps only squeaked softly across the tile. Burying his hands further into his pockets, he sighed. The air that took place of where his cell phone should have been reminded him where he was going and what he was to do, though he hadn't even forgotten.
Sungmin was right; it would be best to leave now and hurry out before it poured.
Ryeowook hates when he's right. And he's right about a lot of things.
And Sungmin usually has reasons for his actions, too...
Whenever he passed someone along the hall, badmouthing his best friend - calling him weak, shallow, baseless - he wanted to yell at them, get angry, tell them how it really is.
'But hyung wouldn't want that.'
Distracted and deep in thought, Ryeowook almost forgot to make his turn.
He almost decided he wouldn't need his phone after all.
And he almost missed the voice, the song.
Almost.
~~~
"Now that is just mean," Sungmin giggled.
Eunhyuk pursed his lips, shrugging casually. "How? I'm doing you a favor." He extended his hand, dangling the chilled can before the one curled on the couch.
Sungmin nuzzled a cushion, the back of his neck pressed flush against it. His arms lay wrapped around his knees, drawn to his chest. "It's bad." The reply came simply. Hyukjae always offered him this same soda whenever he visited; he's to blame for Sungmin's addiction.
He also knew very well it's his favorite. And he'd never turn it down.
"You like it. There's nothing wrong with that." He persisted.
A frown tugged at the pale lips, while his eyes spun, slowly conjuring a sufficient answer. "It's not right, either,"
The taller one sat, positioning himself by the other's feet. Two fingers probed at a sock's middle, making them crinkle. A slight noise of discomfort was heard.
"And it's not right, so it must be left. Didn't your mother ever tell you two rights make a left?" Eunhyuk placed the aluminum container right at the table's edge.
"No, she did not. And it's three rights."
He pushed the can forward. There was a soft skid.
Sungmin glared.
Another push.
"Hyukjae!"
Eunhyuk hopped off the couch with a smile. Sungmin sighed in defeat, snatching the drink that now wore a thin coat of condensation. "Just go away, already."
"Will do." The other laughed and shuffled to the door, bending down to slip on his shoes. "She should be home soon. If you get hungry or tired, you know what to do. And, uh..." He took advantage of the pause in thought to fish out his keys. "No opening the door for strangers!" He chuckled.
Sungmin straightened up and stuck out his tongue in childish humor. "Fine. But don't forget an umbrella. Take mine." Eunhyuk nodded and popped the wrapped assistant from its holder. Zipping his jacket to the top, he murmured a 'bye' and stepped out. Now alone, Sungmin padded towards the door and twisted the deadbolt.
He turned away and faced the room in silence.
~~~
Kyuhyun sat in the dark of his room, the flashing of his computer screen lighting only a two feet radius. The moment he arrived home, he slipped off his shoes at the doorway - then fled to the safety and familiarity of what he deemed his, and only his, territory.
As per usual his utmost priority was cleaning up whatever schoolwork he had yet to complete, which was never much. He had more spare time in class than one might think.
Once that objective was made and set aside... Well, his next target was fairly clear:
Gaming.
For him, video games are a time-eater, distraction, things to be enjoyed - anything but an obsession. Any bitterness, rudeness, grumpiness, or just negativity that followed after was no symptom! It was all completely usual, and not simply because he lost a round. Firstly because Cho Kyuhyun never loses. Secondly, because... said bitterness, rudeness, grumpiness, and negativity was not a given in him and are not good things, nor meant to be used as an excuse.
But it wasn't an excuse, anyway!
...Kyuhyun paused to remember whatever point he had been attempting to make.
'Not important; it made no sense in the end.' He clenched his jaw irritably.
There were a few more clicks and clatters and commands to his game before it responded back to him in a very distorted voice, obliging to his orders.
"Needs more mi-"
Click.
The screen zipped to black; the power icon quit its low blinking. Kyuhyun poked the monitor button tentatively, holding his breath.
Nothing happened.
An absent growl trembled in his throat. He reached up and flicked the lamp switch to check further damage - only the light hadn't turned on.
'What's with this!' His eyes scanned the room for any answer. Looking below the desk, everything was plugged in, every cord bunched to the back. He's sure that if he tugged any out on accident, he would have known.
Moving back to his bedroom's door, he cracked it open just enough to peek. The foyer and staircase were blanketed in the shadows, which hadn't surprised him. Save for where a dim moonlight leaked from a window, it just got darker the further he looked down - until, that is, a shallow beam of light turned corners and defined the low ridges below.
In his rush, he slammed the door shut and paced back to his desk, dropping to his knees - It had to be in here somewhere.
Then again... He'd hardly been attending to the few boxes now sitting in his room's corner, filled to the brim. It was truly light packing, albeit heavy.
He scooted across and leered over the first box. He pried open the top, doing his best to peel the tape off carefully - and slid his hand inside. Five digits crawled and pushed and shoved; within seconds he knew this wasn't what he's looking for and closed the lid. He continued on, but the second box yielded no reward either.
The third box, he realized immediately, is in no way relevant and never will be...
He rose to his feet and whipped aside his window curtain. 'Damned weather,' he cursed in his head.
Again he reached over to his desk, but latched a hand on a drawer. He tugged it open. There the flashlight comfortably lay, huddled between books, papers, and utensils; not one of them sat unused. He seized the flashlight and prayed its batteries still functioned, which he confidently knew they did with the flip of a switch.
Kyuhyun groaned and gripped onto his bedsheets, heaving himself up. He waved the flashlight around, its beam dashing here and there. If he was back home, this sort of thing would've been done with already. It rarely happened in the first place - but if it did, maintenance was eager to get paid.
He let the circle skim over the titles on his bookshelf, which sat before his bed. He picked out a thick spine, brushing dirt from its worn cover.
Now, what was the word again...?
A/N: I'm sorry for the month of nothing. I'm sorry for slow progression. I'm sorry for this crap of a return. I'm sorry for having no excuse.
I'm sorry. ._______.
You can hate me, but I'll still love you guys. Thank you for even bothering to read my story...
Author: Yours, truly.
Pairing: Kyumin, possible Eunhae and/or Yewook, ohoho.
Genre: High school!AU, Romance, Fluff, Comedy?, Drama [Do you see how much of this fic I have planned out?]
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some language [It's not so bad, in my opinion.]
Disclaimer: Like no other here, I do not own them. ;v;
Summary: Kyuhyun never thought 'love' was supposed to be easy.
Ryeowook never really wanted to leave.
But Sungmin hyung is stubborn - what else could he have done?
Ryeowook kind of hates him for that.
He loves him for it, too.
He shuffled his feet down the empty corridor, the sprinkling pitter-patter of rain bouncing against the close walls. The sound hugged him closely, it made everything feel smaller; it made him feel smaller.
His light steps only squeaked softly across the tile. Burying his hands further into his pockets, he sighed. The air that took place of where his cell phone should have been reminded him where he was going and what he was to do, though he hadn't even forgotten.
Sungmin was right; it would be best to leave now and hurry out before it poured.
Ryeowook hates when he's right. And he's right about a lot of things.
And Sungmin usually has reasons for his actions, too...
Whenever he passed someone along the hall, badmouthing his best friend - calling him weak, shallow, baseless - he wanted to yell at them, get angry, tell them how it really is.
'But hyung wouldn't want that.'
Distracted and deep in thought, Ryeowook almost forgot to make his turn.
He almost decided he wouldn't need his phone after all.
And he almost missed the voice, the song.
Almost.
~~~
"Now that is just mean," Sungmin giggled.
Eunhyuk pursed his lips, shrugging casually. "How? I'm doing you a favor." He extended his hand, dangling the chilled can before the one curled on the couch.
Sungmin nuzzled a cushion, the back of his neck pressed flush against it. His arms lay wrapped around his knees, drawn to his chest. "It's bad." The reply came simply. Hyukjae always offered him this same soda whenever he visited; he's to blame for Sungmin's addiction.
He also knew very well it's his favorite. And he'd never turn it down.
"You like it. There's nothing wrong with that." He persisted.
A frown tugged at the pale lips, while his eyes spun, slowly conjuring a sufficient answer. "It's not right, either,"
The taller one sat, positioning himself by the other's feet. Two fingers probed at a sock's middle, making them crinkle. A slight noise of discomfort was heard.
"And it's not right, so it must be left. Didn't your mother ever tell you two rights make a left?" Eunhyuk placed the aluminum container right at the table's edge.
"No, she did not. And it's three rights."
He pushed the can forward. There was a soft skid.
Sungmin glared.
Another push.
"Hyukjae!"
Eunhyuk hopped off the couch with a smile. Sungmin sighed in defeat, snatching the drink that now wore a thin coat of condensation. "Just go away, already."
"Will do." The other laughed and shuffled to the door, bending down to slip on his shoes. "She should be home soon. If you get hungry or tired, you know what to do. And, uh..." He took advantage of the pause in thought to fish out his keys. "No opening the door for strangers!" He chuckled.
Sungmin straightened up and stuck out his tongue in childish humor. "Fine. But don't forget an umbrella. Take mine." Eunhyuk nodded and popped the wrapped assistant from its holder. Zipping his jacket to the top, he murmured a 'bye' and stepped out. Now alone, Sungmin padded towards the door and twisted the deadbolt.
He turned away and faced the room in silence.
~~~
Kyuhyun sat in the dark of his room, the flashing of his computer screen lighting only a two feet radius. The moment he arrived home, he slipped off his shoes at the doorway - then fled to the safety and familiarity of what he deemed his, and only his, territory.
As per usual his utmost priority was cleaning up whatever schoolwork he had yet to complete, which was never much. He had more spare time in class than one might think.
Once that objective was made and set aside... Well, his next target was fairly clear:
Gaming.
For him, video games are a time-eater, distraction, things to be enjoyed - anything but an obsession. Any bitterness, rudeness, grumpiness, or just negativity that followed after was no symptom! It was all completely usual, and not simply because he lost a round. Firstly because Cho Kyuhyun never loses. Secondly, because... said bitterness, rudeness, grumpiness, and negativity was not a given in him and are not good things, nor meant to be used as an excuse.
But it wasn't an excuse, anyway!
...Kyuhyun paused to remember whatever point he had been attempting to make.
'Not important; it made no sense in the end.' He clenched his jaw irritably.
There were a few more clicks and clatters and commands to his game before it responded back to him in a very distorted voice, obliging to his orders.
"Needs more mi-"
Click.
The screen zipped to black; the power icon quit its low blinking. Kyuhyun poked the monitor button tentatively, holding his breath.
Nothing happened.
An absent growl trembled in his throat. He reached up and flicked the lamp switch to check further damage - only the light hadn't turned on.
'What's with this!' His eyes scanned the room for any answer. Looking below the desk, everything was plugged in, every cord bunched to the back. He's sure that if he tugged any out on accident, he would have known.
Moving back to his bedroom's door, he cracked it open just enough to peek. The foyer and staircase were blanketed in the shadows, which hadn't surprised him. Save for where a dim moonlight leaked from a window, it just got darker the further he looked down - until, that is, a shallow beam of light turned corners and defined the low ridges below.
In his rush, he slammed the door shut and paced back to his desk, dropping to his knees - It had to be in here somewhere.
Then again... He'd hardly been attending to the few boxes now sitting in his room's corner, filled to the brim. It was truly light packing, albeit heavy.
He scooted across and leered over the first box. He pried open the top, doing his best to peel the tape off carefully - and slid his hand inside. Five digits crawled and pushed and shoved; within seconds he knew this wasn't what he's looking for and closed the lid. He continued on, but the second box yielded no reward either.
The third box, he realized immediately, is in no way relevant and never will be...
He rose to his feet and whipped aside his window curtain. 'Damned weather,' he cursed in his head.
Again he reached over to his desk, but latched a hand on a drawer. He tugged it open. There the flashlight comfortably lay, huddled between books, papers, and utensils; not one of them sat unused. He seized the flashlight and prayed its batteries still functioned, which he confidently knew they did with the flip of a switch.
Kyuhyun groaned and gripped onto his bedsheets, heaving himself up. He waved the flashlight around, its beam dashing here and there. If he was back home, this sort of thing would've been done with already. It rarely happened in the first place - but if it did, maintenance was eager to get paid.
He let the circle skim over the titles on his bookshelf, which sat before his bed. He picked out a thick spine, brushing dirt from its worn cover.
Now, what was the word again...?
A/N: I'm sorry for the month of nothing. I'm sorry for slow progression. I'm sorry for this crap of a return. I'm sorry for having no excuse.
I'm sorry. ._______.
You can hate me, but I'll still love you guys. Thank you for even bothering to read my story...