skinship (oneshot)
Title: Skinship
Pairing: Boran/Xinbo
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 626
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Boran has an epiphany.
At two in the morning, legs tangled in his sheets from endless tossing and turning, Boran suddenly sits up in bed, bolt upright. His first reaction is to dive out of bed, fishing his cell phone out of the drawer in his desk, furiously starting a text to Xinbo. Then, nothing. He stares blankly at the screen, not finding the right word to start. Then, it's gone. Completely gone. The cell phone is tossed back into the drawer and the drawer shoved closed with his hip before he tumbles back onto his bed to gaze at the ceiling.
Xinbo had once told him about things like this- epiphanies- but Boran had never experienced one before. They say epiphanies are moments of absolutely clear thought, but once you try to put them into words, you lose them altogether. "How stupid," he whispers to the ceiling.
Feeling his eyes start to drift closed again, he lets them. Maybe if he tried to retrace his thoughts, his epiphany would come back to him. Unlikely, but he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon.
He inhales deeply, kicking his blanket to the side. Immediately he is aware of the cold, but he doesn't go to retrieve his blanket, because it's different, this cold. First his arms feel cold, then the feeling slowly creeps down, along his forearms and wrists, to his hands. Cold wraps around each of his fingers, numbing them until they tingle slightly, as if asleep. He presses his arms close to his sides, then hugs himself, but nothing works. He flexes his hands in front of his face in the dark, and as he opens and closes them, he realizes the problem-
They're empty. He puts one inside the other, awkwardly hooking the fingers together, but of course they don't fit. Holding hands with yourself is impossible. Now he just feels foolish, so he rolls over on his side and tries to push his thoughts far, far away. What good is an epiphany, anyway? One of his hands fists in his pillow, though, and he thinks to himself that it feels slightly warmer like that.
Keeping his eyes closed, he can picture his hand clutching the pillow, and instead imagines a hand there, holding his tightly. The last time he held hands was with Xinbo, he muses, standing onstage with the fans screaming below. Xinbo's hand wraps around his, then disconnects to wrap his entire arm around Boran's waist. The screams crescendo, and they grin to each other. Boran winks. The MC shouts something to the crowd and the pair jog off, Boran's hands finding Xinbo's ribs and almost make him trip offstage.
And then, at another show, standing side by side and waiting for their turn, they're utterly bored. Xinbo amuses himself with tugging at Boran's shirt, pulling it to the side, slightly up, laughing when Boran shoves it back down. He reaches out to tickle Xinbo, who tries to scoot away, but is pulled back in by Boran's hands wrapped around his torso. So Xinbo decides to steal some stick-like prop from the pile of props lying about, and shoves it down Boran's pants. As soon as Boran goes to pull it back out, Xinbo is escaping to the safety of further backstage. A few minutes later, though, he's back at Boran's side, arms tangled together as they watch the cameras in fascination.
Boran giggles out loud, the sudden noise making him jump. His arms feel oddly warm and comfortable, and his hands rub against his pillow affectionately as he thinks about how it feels to put hands inside other hands and rub arms against arms.
At 2:37 in the morning, Boran sits back up in bed, for a split second everything clear and painfully understandable because he remembers his epiphany- love.
Pairing: Boran/Xinbo
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 626
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Boran has an epiphany.
At two in the morning, legs tangled in his sheets from endless tossing and turning, Boran suddenly sits up in bed, bolt upright. His first reaction is to dive out of bed, fishing his cell phone out of the drawer in his desk, furiously starting a text to Xinbo. Then, nothing. He stares blankly at the screen, not finding the right word to start. Then, it's gone. Completely gone. The cell phone is tossed back into the drawer and the drawer shoved closed with his hip before he tumbles back onto his bed to gaze at the ceiling.
Xinbo had once told him about things like this- epiphanies- but Boran had never experienced one before. They say epiphanies are moments of absolutely clear thought, but once you try to put them into words, you lose them altogether. "How stupid," he whispers to the ceiling.
Feeling his eyes start to drift closed again, he lets them. Maybe if he tried to retrace his thoughts, his epiphany would come back to him. Unlikely, but he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon.
He inhales deeply, kicking his blanket to the side. Immediately he is aware of the cold, but he doesn't go to retrieve his blanket, because it's different, this cold. First his arms feel cold, then the feeling slowly creeps down, along his forearms and wrists, to his hands. Cold wraps around each of his fingers, numbing them until they tingle slightly, as if asleep. He presses his arms close to his sides, then hugs himself, but nothing works. He flexes his hands in front of his face in the dark, and as he opens and closes them, he realizes the problem-
They're empty. He puts one inside the other, awkwardly hooking the fingers together, but of course they don't fit. Holding hands with yourself is impossible. Now he just feels foolish, so he rolls over on his side and tries to push his thoughts far, far away. What good is an epiphany, anyway? One of his hands fists in his pillow, though, and he thinks to himself that it feels slightly warmer like that.
Keeping his eyes closed, he can picture his hand clutching the pillow, and instead imagines a hand there, holding his tightly. The last time he held hands was with Xinbo, he muses, standing onstage with the fans screaming below. Xinbo's hand wraps around his, then disconnects to wrap his entire arm around Boran's waist. The screams crescendo, and they grin to each other. Boran winks. The MC shouts something to the crowd and the pair jog off, Boran's hands finding Xinbo's ribs and almost make him trip offstage.
And then, at another show, standing side by side and waiting for their turn, they're utterly bored. Xinbo amuses himself with tugging at Boran's shirt, pulling it to the side, slightly up, laughing when Boran shoves it back down. He reaches out to tickle Xinbo, who tries to scoot away, but is pulled back in by Boran's hands wrapped around his torso. So Xinbo decides to steal some stick-like prop from the pile of props lying about, and shoves it down Boran's pants. As soon as Boran goes to pull it back out, Xinbo is escaping to the safety of further backstage. A few minutes later, though, he's back at Boran's side, arms tangled together as they watch the cameras in fascination.
Boran giggles out loud, the sudden noise making him jump. His arms feel oddly warm and comfortable, and his hands rub against his pillow affectionately as he thinks about how it feels to put hands inside other hands and rub arms against arms.
At 2:37 in the morning, Boran sits back up in bed, for a split second everything clear and painfully understandable because he remembers his epiphany- love.