fic: and counting
and counting
Key-centric, G. 200 words, prompt: conquer. There have been bigger crowds, better venues - but this performance is going to mean so much more.
It’s a small audience, relatively - Kibum’s performed for larger crowds on actual stages, but he knows that impressing the two bored-looking middle-aged women and two equally bored-looking middle-aged men here will be his biggest performance yet.
Kibum’s performed for larger crowds on actual stages, but he knows that these next few minutes will be worth more than all those performances.
He knows he can dance - he can dance and carry a tune relatively well and he’s not afraid of people, of talking to them, of putting himself out there. His movements are sharp and clear today and, okay, so he still can’t hit that one high note but at least he’s evened out his breathing and he thinks that one of the noonas likes his smile, if the way that she smiles back is any indication - and then, it’s over.
“Thank you for your time. I am number 72, Kim Kibum.” He bows and winks, the picture of polite insouciance. It prompts a smile from noona #2 and a snort of amusement from one of the middle-aged men.
He leaves his heart at the door.
A few weeks later he gets a call promising the hearts of a million more.
Key-centric, G. 200 words, prompt: conquer. There have been bigger crowds, better venues - but this performance is going to mean so much more.
It’s a small audience, relatively - Kibum’s performed for larger crowds on actual stages, but he knows that impressing the two bored-looking middle-aged women and two equally bored-looking middle-aged men here will be his biggest performance yet.
Kibum’s performed for larger crowds on actual stages, but he knows that these next few minutes will be worth more than all those performances.
He knows he can dance - he can dance and carry a tune relatively well and he’s not afraid of people, of talking to them, of putting himself out there. His movements are sharp and clear today and, okay, so he still can’t hit that one high note but at least he’s evened out his breathing and he thinks that one of the noonas likes his smile, if the way that she smiles back is any indication - and then, it’s over.
“Thank you for your time. I am number 72, Kim Kibum.” He bows and winks, the picture of polite insouciance. It prompts a smile from noona #2 and a snort of amusement from one of the middle-aged men.
He leaves his heart at the door.
A few weeks later he gets a call promising the hearts of a million more.