Monochrome
Title: Monochrome
Author: lunayeppeo
Word count: 200
Pairing: Taemin-centric; mild 2min
Rating: PG
Summary: It's not just the same without you.
Author's Notes: Character death. Also, if it's not too much trouble, may I please have a tag?
Ever since that day, his vision's been reduced to shades of black and white. An endless parade of black suits and ties, stark against pressed white shirts; black hanboks and tiny white hair ribbons. Countless arrangements of white chrysanthemums, lining the hallways and filling the air with a scent so strong it makes him want to retch. Onew's face, pale and pasty from hours of negotiations and press conferences and acceptances of condolences. Key's new wardrobe, devoid of anything bright or trendy or remotely alive. The huge sunglasses Jonghyun borrowed off Kyuhyun, now a permanent fixture to his face. The suit they put the body in. The slick white coffin the corpse now lies in.
They ask him to play Ave Maria for the funeral. He nearly slams his hands on the keys, fingers trembling and bloodless against the spread of ebony and ivory.
And yet this new monochrome world is better (anything is better) than the splatter of red that is permanently burned into his retinas, a single image clipped from the reel of a silent horror film. Bright red, splashed across the canvas of dark asphalt and white road paint, across long pale limbs and empty black eyes.
Author: lunayeppeo
Word count: 200
Pairing: Taemin-centric; mild 2min
Rating: PG
Summary: It's not just the same without you.
Author's Notes: Character death. Also, if it's not too much trouble, may I please have a tag?
Ever since that day, his vision's been reduced to shades of black and white. An endless parade of black suits and ties, stark against pressed white shirts; black hanboks and tiny white hair ribbons. Countless arrangements of white chrysanthemums, lining the hallways and filling the air with a scent so strong it makes him want to retch. Onew's face, pale and pasty from hours of negotiations and press conferences and acceptances of condolences. Key's new wardrobe, devoid of anything bright or trendy or remotely alive. The huge sunglasses Jonghyun borrowed off Kyuhyun, now a permanent fixture to his face. The suit they put the body in. The slick white coffin the corpse now lies in.
They ask him to play Ave Maria for the funeral. He nearly slams his hands on the keys, fingers trembling and bloodless against the spread of ebony and ivory.
And yet this new monochrome world is better (anything is better) than the splatter of red that is permanently burned into his retinas, a single image clipped from the reel of a silent horror film. Bright red, splashed across the canvas of dark asphalt and white road paint, across long pale limbs and empty black eyes.