fic: the quiet things
Title: The Quiet Things
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Jonghyun/Key (kind of)
Notes: For hospitalise because I suck at writing papers. Short! But I haven't written in AGES.
Summary: No one ever talks about what happens when love just wasn't enough.
Kibum presses the ‘end’ button on his cellphone in frustration, raking his free hand through his hair. He needs to get to the airport early next morning for his truly long-deserved vacation, but what seemed like his entire fucking contact list was either busy, out of the country, or just not picking up his calls, those assholes. Minho had apologized for backing out at the last minute, but driving a best friend to the airport for a week in China was hardly comparable to a newborn baby daughter, and Kibum didn’t blame him one bit.
So, he’s left with a few options. He could call his parents, but they lived an hour away and his dad had a bad back and he really didn’t want to trouble his mother. He could call a taxi, but it seemed like a needless waste of money he could use on a nice meal or something. Or, he could call Jonghyun. He could. They were still friends, kind of. Kibum would drive Jonghyun to the airport if he really, really needed the ride.
Kibum grits his teeth, picks up his phone, and dials a number he only wishes he didn’t still know by heart.
“Hello? Uh-Kibum?” Jonghyun sounds surprised and a little cautious, like he didn’t know what Kibum could want with him.
Kibum almost hangs up right then, but steels his nerves and just went on with it, mostly because Jonghyun would call him back anyway and then he’d feel even sillier. “Hey. Sorry for calling. I just-look, I need a ride to the airport tomorrow. It’s short-notice, I know, I’m sorry, but…” He trails off, not sure what else to say. But you used to be my best friend? But we used to be in a really popular boy band together? But you were my first boyfriend, you know what they say about first loves? “I’d really appreciate it,” he finishes, a little stiltedly. “Please.”
Jonghyun’s end of the line is silent except for his breathing, and Kibum suddenly remembers late-night phone calls. Listening to Jonghyun breathe as he fell asleep. The slow and steady rise of his chest Kibum could picture in his mind, clear as anything. Kibum hated himself so much at that moment. He almost hangs up again.
“Sure,” Jonghyun finally says. “When do you want me to pick you up? You still-you still live at your old place, right?”
“I-yeah,” Kibum replies numbly. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Seven’s fine.”
“Okay,” Jonghyun says, still slow and careful and polite, “see you then. Good night, Kibum.”
“Thank you,” Kibum says again, for what felt like the fifth time, equally careful and polite. “Good night to you too,” he adds as an afterthought, but Jonghyun had already hung up.
Kibum wakes up to his alarm at five-forty the next morning and maybe it was hearing Jonghyun’s voice again last night (still as smooth and deep as he remembered; Kibum really clearly hated himself so much) combined with the suitcases at the foot of his bed because for a second he feels two inches shorter, fifteen pounds skinnier, and actually has to look over to make sure he wasn’t back in the SHINee dorm, Taemin’s thin arm hanging over the edge of his bunk bed and Jonghyun’s sheets all twisted around his legs.
When he’s sufficiently finished with convincing himself that he is indeed in his own apartment, it was five-fifty and Kibum still needed to shower, check to see if his boarding pass and passport were where he put them last night, check to see if he’d packed everything, double-check boarding pass/passport/packing, research a backup car service just in case Jonghyun decided that morning Kibum didn’t deserve a ride, and eat breakfast somewhere in between all of that.
Kibum manages to finish everything with five minutes to spare, luckily, because Jonghyun is outside his apartment door at seven sharp, and he watches Kibum struggle a little with his two suitcases before laughing and helping him. Kibum almost feels nostalgic, almost feels like it would be okay to just press a kiss to Jonghyun’s mouth thoughtlessly as thanks, especially when Jonghyun opens his door for him absentmindedly; that kind of stupid chivalrous move is just the kind of thing Kibum loves. Loved. Had loved. Fucking grammar.
“So, where are you going?” Jonghyun adjusts his car mirror and glances into his side mirror, a driving instructor’s dream, though that was mostly blown to bits the minute he actually got onto the road. “The studio doesn’t mind?”
“Shanghai,” Kibum replies, and shrugs. “I haven’t been on vacation in years.” He doesn’t bother to add that his last vacation had been with Jonghyun to Hawaii a good year and a half ago, a last-ditch attempt to save a relationship neither of them were sure they wanted anymore. But neither of them needed that, not now, especially not when they were doing so well. “Minjeok-sshi basically threatened to fire me if that’s what it would take to get me to go on a vacation.”
Jonghyun laughs appreciatively, but didn’t pursue it any further, also a marked change from how things used to be-but then again, if things were what they used to be, Jonghyun would be going to Shanghai with Kibum or, maybe, Kibum wouldn’t even have needed the trip, because he’d be happy and healthy and Minjeok-sshi wouldn’t be worried about his mental stability. But those are dreams, too, because Kibum and Jonghyun’s relationship had been anything but in the last weeks.
After a few minutes of silence, Kibum decides that he didn’t really want to watch his life flash before his eyes any more times than was necessary, so he forces his eyes away from Jonghyun’s dashboard, which was at eighty miles per hour and climbing, and says, “Thank you, by the way. Really. I mean, I know it’s really early and you must have work later or something.”
“Hey,” Jonghyun says, waving a hand around and making the car swerve dangerously to the side, which only made Kibum want to grab it and put it back on the wheel. He sits on his hands, just in case; how many times had Jonghyun complained about Kibum’s complaining and how many fights had that led to? “It’s no problem. You’re just lucky I wasn’t busy, plus you live close by anyway. It’s no problem.”
Kibum nods. It did make sense even if, for all intents and purposes, they’re still in that awkward period of time right in between breaking up with someone you had once upon a time really, truly loved, and being friends again.
They pull up to the airport in record time, thanks to Jonghyun’s apparent desire to get them all killed in a terrible accident one day. Jonghyun slips on a pair of sunglasses and puts up his hood before getting out of the car, and Kibum realizes he had forgotten Jonghyun is still just as famous as they’d all been when they were still young and pretty enough to make even talent negligible, though that had never been Jonghyun’s case. Jonghyun still gets the door for Kibum, that easy thoughtfulness again, and has his suitcases out and upright before Kibum’s even out the door.
He stands there for an awkward moment, suitcases at his feet and carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. “Well,” he finally says. Jonghyun waits, fiddling with the drawstring of his hoodie. “Thanks,” Kibum finishes softly. “I appreciate it.”
Jonghyun cracks a smile. “You’ve said that, like, twenty times,” he says, and reaches forward to give Kibum a polite chest-shoulder bump, grasping his hand for one, nostalgic moment. “I already told you I don’t mind. Have a good trip, okay? Relax.”
Kibum laughs, and picks up a suitcase. “I will, I will.” He is walking towards the doors when he hears Jonghyun call his name again; his heart swells for a second before the years catch up to him again. He is no longer twenty-one, where even the softest flush of love filled him with desperation, no longer positive that it took only love to get them through even the worst. So he turns around, no facsimile at all of regret.
Jonghyun has taken off his sunglasses, face older than and different from the one Kibum once held precious, still nestled, if he were being honest, somewhere in between his sternum and his gut. Jonghyun leans across the passenger seat to speak to Kibum through the window, eyes squinting a little at the morning sun. “Hey,” he says, and bites his lip. “Listen, if you still need a ride, you know, when you come back, just call me, alright?”
Kibum smiles and salutes. “Got it,” he says. “I’ll call you.”
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Jonghyun/Key (kind of)
Notes: For hospitalise because I suck at writing papers. Short! But I haven't written in AGES.
Summary: No one ever talks about what happens when love just wasn't enough.
Kibum presses the ‘end’ button on his cellphone in frustration, raking his free hand through his hair. He needs to get to the airport early next morning for his truly long-deserved vacation, but what seemed like his entire fucking contact list was either busy, out of the country, or just not picking up his calls, those assholes. Minho had apologized for backing out at the last minute, but driving a best friend to the airport for a week in China was hardly comparable to a newborn baby daughter, and Kibum didn’t blame him one bit.
So, he’s left with a few options. He could call his parents, but they lived an hour away and his dad had a bad back and he really didn’t want to trouble his mother. He could call a taxi, but it seemed like a needless waste of money he could use on a nice meal or something. Or, he could call Jonghyun. He could. They were still friends, kind of. Kibum would drive Jonghyun to the airport if he really, really needed the ride.
Kibum grits his teeth, picks up his phone, and dials a number he only wishes he didn’t still know by heart.
“Hello? Uh-Kibum?” Jonghyun sounds surprised and a little cautious, like he didn’t know what Kibum could want with him.
Kibum almost hangs up right then, but steels his nerves and just went on with it, mostly because Jonghyun would call him back anyway and then he’d feel even sillier. “Hey. Sorry for calling. I just-look, I need a ride to the airport tomorrow. It’s short-notice, I know, I’m sorry, but…” He trails off, not sure what else to say. But you used to be my best friend? But we used to be in a really popular boy band together? But you were my first boyfriend, you know what they say about first loves? “I’d really appreciate it,” he finishes, a little stiltedly. “Please.”
Jonghyun’s end of the line is silent except for his breathing, and Kibum suddenly remembers late-night phone calls. Listening to Jonghyun breathe as he fell asleep. The slow and steady rise of his chest Kibum could picture in his mind, clear as anything. Kibum hated himself so much at that moment. He almost hangs up again.
“Sure,” Jonghyun finally says. “When do you want me to pick you up? You still-you still live at your old place, right?”
“I-yeah,” Kibum replies numbly. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Seven’s fine.”
“Okay,” Jonghyun says, still slow and careful and polite, “see you then. Good night, Kibum.”
“Thank you,” Kibum says again, for what felt like the fifth time, equally careful and polite. “Good night to you too,” he adds as an afterthought, but Jonghyun had already hung up.
Kibum wakes up to his alarm at five-forty the next morning and maybe it was hearing Jonghyun’s voice again last night (still as smooth and deep as he remembered; Kibum really clearly hated himself so much) combined with the suitcases at the foot of his bed because for a second he feels two inches shorter, fifteen pounds skinnier, and actually has to look over to make sure he wasn’t back in the SHINee dorm, Taemin’s thin arm hanging over the edge of his bunk bed and Jonghyun’s sheets all twisted around his legs.
When he’s sufficiently finished with convincing himself that he is indeed in his own apartment, it was five-fifty and Kibum still needed to shower, check to see if his boarding pass and passport were where he put them last night, check to see if he’d packed everything, double-check boarding pass/passport/packing, research a backup car service just in case Jonghyun decided that morning Kibum didn’t deserve a ride, and eat breakfast somewhere in between all of that.
Kibum manages to finish everything with five minutes to spare, luckily, because Jonghyun is outside his apartment door at seven sharp, and he watches Kibum struggle a little with his two suitcases before laughing and helping him. Kibum almost feels nostalgic, almost feels like it would be okay to just press a kiss to Jonghyun’s mouth thoughtlessly as thanks, especially when Jonghyun opens his door for him absentmindedly; that kind of stupid chivalrous move is just the kind of thing Kibum loves. Loved. Had loved. Fucking grammar.
“So, where are you going?” Jonghyun adjusts his car mirror and glances into his side mirror, a driving instructor’s dream, though that was mostly blown to bits the minute he actually got onto the road. “The studio doesn’t mind?”
“Shanghai,” Kibum replies, and shrugs. “I haven’t been on vacation in years.” He doesn’t bother to add that his last vacation had been with Jonghyun to Hawaii a good year and a half ago, a last-ditch attempt to save a relationship neither of them were sure they wanted anymore. But neither of them needed that, not now, especially not when they were doing so well. “Minjeok-sshi basically threatened to fire me if that’s what it would take to get me to go on a vacation.”
Jonghyun laughs appreciatively, but didn’t pursue it any further, also a marked change from how things used to be-but then again, if things were what they used to be, Jonghyun would be going to Shanghai with Kibum or, maybe, Kibum wouldn’t even have needed the trip, because he’d be happy and healthy and Minjeok-sshi wouldn’t be worried about his mental stability. But those are dreams, too, because Kibum and Jonghyun’s relationship had been anything but in the last weeks.
After a few minutes of silence, Kibum decides that he didn’t really want to watch his life flash before his eyes any more times than was necessary, so he forces his eyes away from Jonghyun’s dashboard, which was at eighty miles per hour and climbing, and says, “Thank you, by the way. Really. I mean, I know it’s really early and you must have work later or something.”
“Hey,” Jonghyun says, waving a hand around and making the car swerve dangerously to the side, which only made Kibum want to grab it and put it back on the wheel. He sits on his hands, just in case; how many times had Jonghyun complained about Kibum’s complaining and how many fights had that led to? “It’s no problem. You’re just lucky I wasn’t busy, plus you live close by anyway. It’s no problem.”
Kibum nods. It did make sense even if, for all intents and purposes, they’re still in that awkward period of time right in between breaking up with someone you had once upon a time really, truly loved, and being friends again.
They pull up to the airport in record time, thanks to Jonghyun’s apparent desire to get them all killed in a terrible accident one day. Jonghyun slips on a pair of sunglasses and puts up his hood before getting out of the car, and Kibum realizes he had forgotten Jonghyun is still just as famous as they’d all been when they were still young and pretty enough to make even talent negligible, though that had never been Jonghyun’s case. Jonghyun still gets the door for Kibum, that easy thoughtfulness again, and has his suitcases out and upright before Kibum’s even out the door.
He stands there for an awkward moment, suitcases at his feet and carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. “Well,” he finally says. Jonghyun waits, fiddling with the drawstring of his hoodie. “Thanks,” Kibum finishes softly. “I appreciate it.”
Jonghyun cracks a smile. “You’ve said that, like, twenty times,” he says, and reaches forward to give Kibum a polite chest-shoulder bump, grasping his hand for one, nostalgic moment. “I already told you I don’t mind. Have a good trip, okay? Relax.”
Kibum laughs, and picks up a suitcase. “I will, I will.” He is walking towards the doors when he hears Jonghyun call his name again; his heart swells for a second before the years catch up to him again. He is no longer twenty-one, where even the softest flush of love filled him with desperation, no longer positive that it took only love to get them through even the worst. So he turns around, no facsimile at all of regret.
Jonghyun has taken off his sunglasses, face older than and different from the one Kibum once held precious, still nestled, if he were being honest, somewhere in between his sternum and his gut. Jonghyun leans across the passenger seat to speak to Kibum through the window, eyes squinting a little at the morning sun. “Hey,” he says, and bites his lip. “Listen, if you still need a ride, you know, when you come back, just call me, alright?”
Kibum smiles and salutes. “Got it,” he says. “I’ll call you.”