fic: theoretically speaking
Title: Theoretically Speaking
Pairing/Characters: Jonghyun/Key
Rating: PG
Notes: For shineeworld's challenge, fireworks.
Summary: The worst part of pick-your-own-adventure stories is that it only serves to remind you of what you can't really have.
In this world, Jonghyun and Key grow up together. Childhood friends, if anything. A symbiotic relationship, if you were being technical.
Jonghyun sings for Key’s band; Key is Jonghyun’s math tutor. Jonghyun is Key’s best friend’s girlfriend’s best friend’s cousin; Key is in three of Jonghyun’s classes and they only talk in two of them.
“Move your fat head, I can’t see the board.”
“No.”
“Oh come on, Jonghyun-ah. I can’t see the notes.”
“I don’t want to move. I’ll give them to you later.”
A snort. “I don’t want your notes; I can’t read your ugly handwriting.”
“…Just for that, I’m going to stay right here.”
“…Fuck. I really hate you sometimes.”
In this life, Jonghyun and Key just happen to occupy a subway car on the same day at the same time every week.
Key is often fleetingly annoyed by the loud bursts of laughter that comes from Jonghyun, and Jonghyun carelessly apologizes for accidentally bumping shoulders with Key when he goes to sit down.
Jonghyun gets off a few stops earlier than Key, and Key sits in the seat Jonghyun just occupied.
They see each other about once every week - usually Thursday mornings, 7:54 A.M. sharp, when Jonghyun stumbles in through the subway doors, hair perpetually out of place and eyes bleary.
After two years of the same thing every morning, Key goes to college overseas.
In this life, they don’t meet.
They never do.
In this life - in this life, there isn’t, and has never been, anything more attractive that Jonghyun on a stage. Key watches Jonghyun, sometimes, sees the little charms that are somehow so, so endearing; hears the way that being on stage, in front of a thousand people or more, always makes Jonghyun’s voice sound just that much better.
In this life, Jonghyun is the performer that Key will never be. Jonghyun is the professional, the enthusiast, the serious one. Jonghyun is young and talented and Key is in love.
Key is sorry. Key wraps fingers that can’t help themselves around Jonghyun’s wrist, forces the first kiss but not the second, the third, the fourth.
“I’m sorry,” Key says, but he’s not really. He just wants his fingers constantly at the edge of sensibility-and-cause-for-concern and Jonghyun’s voice all tangled up with his. “I just wanted - maybe I just wanted you, just you. I’m sorry if there was something you had wanted more.”
Jonghyun breathes out, breathes in. “I just wanted to mean something to someone,” he says finally. “It didn’t matter who, or what, or how many. I just wanted to sing and someone to care.”
In this life, Jonghyun and Key are best friends and colleagues and if there is anything akin to love here, both would categorically refuse it on the grounds that it would be detrimental to their performances, morally, and to the greater good.
Pairing/Characters: Jonghyun/Key
Rating: PG
Notes: For shineeworld's challenge, fireworks.
Summary: The worst part of pick-your-own-adventure stories is that it only serves to remind you of what you can't really have.
In this world, Jonghyun and Key grow up together. Childhood friends, if anything. A symbiotic relationship, if you were being technical.
Jonghyun sings for Key’s band; Key is Jonghyun’s math tutor. Jonghyun is Key’s best friend’s girlfriend’s best friend’s cousin; Key is in three of Jonghyun’s classes and they only talk in two of them.
“Move your fat head, I can’t see the board.”
“No.”
“Oh come on, Jonghyun-ah. I can’t see the notes.”
“I don’t want to move. I’ll give them to you later.”
A snort. “I don’t want your notes; I can’t read your ugly handwriting.”
“…Just for that, I’m going to stay right here.”
“…Fuck. I really hate you sometimes.”
In this life, Jonghyun and Key just happen to occupy a subway car on the same day at the same time every week.
Key is often fleetingly annoyed by the loud bursts of laughter that comes from Jonghyun, and Jonghyun carelessly apologizes for accidentally bumping shoulders with Key when he goes to sit down.
Jonghyun gets off a few stops earlier than Key, and Key sits in the seat Jonghyun just occupied.
They see each other about once every week - usually Thursday mornings, 7:54 A.M. sharp, when Jonghyun stumbles in through the subway doors, hair perpetually out of place and eyes bleary.
After two years of the same thing every morning, Key goes to college overseas.
In this life, they don’t meet.
They never do.
In this life - in this life, there isn’t, and has never been, anything more attractive that Jonghyun on a stage. Key watches Jonghyun, sometimes, sees the little charms that are somehow so, so endearing; hears the way that being on stage, in front of a thousand people or more, always makes Jonghyun’s voice sound just that much better.
In this life, Jonghyun is the performer that Key will never be. Jonghyun is the professional, the enthusiast, the serious one. Jonghyun is young and talented and Key is in love.
Key is sorry. Key wraps fingers that can’t help themselves around Jonghyun’s wrist, forces the first kiss but not the second, the third, the fourth.
“I’m sorry,” Key says, but he’s not really. He just wants his fingers constantly at the edge of sensibility-and-cause-for-concern and Jonghyun’s voice all tangled up with his. “I just wanted - maybe I just wanted you, just you. I’m sorry if there was something you had wanted more.”
Jonghyun breathes out, breathes in. “I just wanted to mean something to someone,” he says finally. “It didn’t matter who, or what, or how many. I just wanted to sing and someone to care.”
In this life, Jonghyun and Key are best friends and colleagues and if there is anything akin to love here, both would categorically refuse it on the grounds that it would be detrimental to their performances, morally, and to the greater good.