Games
GAMES;; G
It's just a game.
It's just a game, he tells her when they are prepping for filming rushing against sunset.
"I'm going to pick you later, alright? Pick me back, yeah?" He whispers into her ear, barely audible when the staff is turning a blind-eye readjusting their mics.
She nods, relieved to have a saftey net and replies, "Sure, oppa," before they high-five with overbearing spirits. While everyone is going to be a nervous wreck later, she's going to be in the safe harem of her caring oppa and it's enough comfort for her to slightly uncurl her fingers from tension.
(But then they start walking back to the fiming area, and Minho turns around to give her a quick reassuring smile and Krystal tucks her hair behind her ear wistfully where he had whispered.)
When the shooting wraps up and everyone scampers back to the hotel under the warm palm trees of the temporary paradise, Minho catches up with Krystal's hurried pace, cutting in between her hairdresser and make-up unnies, letting out a hearty laugh in the slight chill of the night.
"Yah, when Hyuk hyung picked you I almost wanted to clobber him for a second,"
"Really?" She perks up, but Minho doesn't hear it at all, too caught up in his competitive melodrama.
"But then I knew there would be no contest. We're undefeatable! The only reason he picked you was because he wanted to win against me in another game. Hyung should know better by know, I won't lose."
Krystal loses her own battle of trying to smile, but it doesn't matter really because before she knows it a diplomatic suit is thrown over her shoulders and Minho is walking fast past her to his hyungs, and she becomes an afterthought.
Just a pawn for him to win another game.
Krystal's already in bed when she remembers the suit jacket at the perch of her bed, and she debates for a good moment whether or not she should hop down the hallway in her plushy robe and give it back. She decides against it, choosing to inch it a little closer to her and when her unnies aren't looking she takes a slight sniff within the embroidered lapel. The overbearing scent of Minho is engraved into the seams; lemon, patchouli, baby powder and hardworking sweat seeping out. It's childish and more girly than Krystal would ever attest to, but she keeps it by her pillow when she sleeps, the scent lusting into her dreams subconsciously.
She wakes up extra early to iron out the wrinkles, her cheeks a bright pink under the scrutinized eyes of her staff, but they say nothing to her or to each other, concentrating on packing under a time crunch as usual.
On the airplane, it's like the whole trip and friendly companionship between them never happened. She sits alone in the back of their section, pretending to read, pretending to knit, pretending to sleep but mostly ticking her nails in anxiety. The more she ticks her nails, the more she gets mad at herself for thinking anything would happen in the first place so she forces her attention on the movie at bay.
Krystal barely hears three sentences of the movie, instead watching her labelmate frolic up and down the aisle, traipsing with Onew, and then not; jumping to Donghae and Eunhyuk, bonding with Nichkhun, laughing at Seungri's jokes, taking a seat with Hara for far too long than Krystal would ever like. Being social is just a game for him. It's just a game, it's just another conquest and she's far too unsociable to ever be satiable.
She nods off, head lolling against her seat, and then not, as she fights to stay conscious. A faint cough and the familiar scent of lemon stirs her to awaken and she pops her eyes open deliriously, wondering if she's dreaming when she finds Minho sitting next to her, straightfaced, eyes jilted. She decides it's not a dream and the reality when he sniffs his nose odiously from the plane draft and asks a passing by attendant for some blankets.
"Oppa," she sputters out as Minho takes one of the blankets and wordlessly secures it over her legs, very much unabashed. Krystal ignores the blush streaming upon her cheekbones, watching Minho as he wraps himself in the other blanket, in such a permanent position she wonders if he's going to bother wandering around again.
A silence lulls over them, almost awkward, and she racks her brain trying to think of a conversation piece, but her and Minho were never the types to have a lengthy debate about architecture or the likes. She sighs in defeat but Minho looks over, face burrowed in puzzlement before he reaches over and fiddles with her signature ring she always wears on her middle finger.
"I can't wait to go home." He exhales happily, fingers still playing. She twitches a little but doesn't move away.
"Why, Minho oppa?" She returns the favor, her left hand grazing the silver chained bracelet forever attached to his wrist, but the metal is cold and strange so she stops, ears intent on listening to Minho.
"The game is on tonight. If we make it back to the dorm in time, me and Jinki hyung made a bet on who would win, but it's in the bag that the Dostiers would win. I mean, they switched last season for the best player, Marcel, so it's a sure bet."
Minho's voice raises and he continues to ramble for quite a while. Krystal wants to nod off again but it's kind of hard to when every time Minho gets excited he twists her ring around her finger like a bad habit. The constant hum of his touch is kind of addicting even if he's just her brother figure; he's still a boy after all.
"This was a fun trip," he finally concludes sometime after finishing his sport talk and merging into talking about the filming. "We make a good team, you and I." He gives her hand one last pat before retrieving it into his own lap. Krystal's mouth creases into a frown.
"Is that why you picked me for your partner? Why did you pick me over any of the other girls?"
Thump, thump, thump.
"I think we could conquer the world with my mind and your legs, Krystal. If we wanted to," He's cheeky, he's bright, he's deluded.
"Besides, you're my favorite dongsaeng."
"Oh," she settles her heart into a less than happy resolve and even the little squeeze he gives to her nose does nothing to resuscitate it.
It's uncomfortable for the rest of the plane ride, Krystal resignedly shutting the blinds shut as the sky dims reds and oranges, her heart beating to a dull when Minho nods off, a slight snore escaping from being worn out. It's not romantic at all and not even considerate. But Krystal is a nice girl underneath it all, so she shuts his tray shut, turns off his tv, and tucks an extra pillow behind his head so that he doesn't get a crick in his neck when he wakes up.
They get off the plane, leave the airport and it's like nothing happened at all, Minho gallivanting with Donghae the second they step on pure land. Krystal goes home, enjoying her mother's warm embrace, stretching her gazelle legs on her bed, happy to be off the plane and in the vicinity of another safety net.
She vaguely remembers Minho's suit jacket lays at the very depth of her suitcase at one in the morning, and she makes a lazy promise to unpack it in the morning and return it eventually, but her phone buzzes in the middle of her slumber. Curious, she untangles herself from her sheets and reaches over to see who it is.
'You were also the prettiest girl. I've always thought you were pretty, you know that? -Minho.'
Sensation overloads and Krystal doesn't feel like sleeping anymore, so she gets up and makes herself a toasty cup of coffee, huddling by the fireplace, feet tapping eagerly.
"Here, take it. It's yours." She hands him his suit jacket, clean and in fine shape the next week when they meet for some random rehearsal. He inspects it, his broad athletic shoulders stoic in the hall lights.
"Thanks," he grins and that awkward silence falls over them once more.
"Okay, see you around then oppa." Krystal turns around, with every intention of moving on and letting that tiny trip be an insignificant portion of their friendship and nothing more, but that unsettling hand grips her shoulder and she meets some tickling and nervous eyes in return.
"Wait," he mutters breathlessly, taking off his chain link bracelet and handing it to her.
"But that - that belongs to you?" Utter confusion wipes over her, staring at her wrist dumbfoundedly after Minho clasps it on her, a look of pure satisfaction overtaking his face.
"It's yours now."
A rare genuine smile plays on Krystal's face, good enough to compete with the one on Minho's face and it refuses to go away.
Maybe being his favorite dongsaeng wasn't such a bad thing.
---
i've shipped these two since dream team but i am totally on overload with them these days, =D
It's just a game.
It's just a game, he tells her when they are prepping for filming rushing against sunset.
"I'm going to pick you later, alright? Pick me back, yeah?" He whispers into her ear, barely audible when the staff is turning a blind-eye readjusting their mics.
She nods, relieved to have a saftey net and replies, "Sure, oppa," before they high-five with overbearing spirits. While everyone is going to be a nervous wreck later, she's going to be in the safe harem of her caring oppa and it's enough comfort for her to slightly uncurl her fingers from tension.
(But then they start walking back to the fiming area, and Minho turns around to give her a quick reassuring smile and Krystal tucks her hair behind her ear wistfully where he had whispered.)
When the shooting wraps up and everyone scampers back to the hotel under the warm palm trees of the temporary paradise, Minho catches up with Krystal's hurried pace, cutting in between her hairdresser and make-up unnies, letting out a hearty laugh in the slight chill of the night.
"Yah, when Hyuk hyung picked you I almost wanted to clobber him for a second,"
"Really?" She perks up, but Minho doesn't hear it at all, too caught up in his competitive melodrama.
"But then I knew there would be no contest. We're undefeatable! The only reason he picked you was because he wanted to win against me in another game. Hyung should know better by know, I won't lose."
Krystal loses her own battle of trying to smile, but it doesn't matter really because before she knows it a diplomatic suit is thrown over her shoulders and Minho is walking fast past her to his hyungs, and she becomes an afterthought.
Just a pawn for him to win another game.
Krystal's already in bed when she remembers the suit jacket at the perch of her bed, and she debates for a good moment whether or not she should hop down the hallway in her plushy robe and give it back. She decides against it, choosing to inch it a little closer to her and when her unnies aren't looking she takes a slight sniff within the embroidered lapel. The overbearing scent of Minho is engraved into the seams; lemon, patchouli, baby powder and hardworking sweat seeping out. It's childish and more girly than Krystal would ever attest to, but she keeps it by her pillow when she sleeps, the scent lusting into her dreams subconsciously.
She wakes up extra early to iron out the wrinkles, her cheeks a bright pink under the scrutinized eyes of her staff, but they say nothing to her or to each other, concentrating on packing under a time crunch as usual.
On the airplane, it's like the whole trip and friendly companionship between them never happened. She sits alone in the back of their section, pretending to read, pretending to knit, pretending to sleep but mostly ticking her nails in anxiety. The more she ticks her nails, the more she gets mad at herself for thinking anything would happen in the first place so she forces her attention on the movie at bay.
Krystal barely hears three sentences of the movie, instead watching her labelmate frolic up and down the aisle, traipsing with Onew, and then not; jumping to Donghae and Eunhyuk, bonding with Nichkhun, laughing at Seungri's jokes, taking a seat with Hara for far too long than Krystal would ever like. Being social is just a game for him. It's just a game, it's just another conquest and she's far too unsociable to ever be satiable.
She nods off, head lolling against her seat, and then not, as she fights to stay conscious. A faint cough and the familiar scent of lemon stirs her to awaken and she pops her eyes open deliriously, wondering if she's dreaming when she finds Minho sitting next to her, straightfaced, eyes jilted. She decides it's not a dream and the reality when he sniffs his nose odiously from the plane draft and asks a passing by attendant for some blankets.
"Oppa," she sputters out as Minho takes one of the blankets and wordlessly secures it over her legs, very much unabashed. Krystal ignores the blush streaming upon her cheekbones, watching Minho as he wraps himself in the other blanket, in such a permanent position she wonders if he's going to bother wandering around again.
A silence lulls over them, almost awkward, and she racks her brain trying to think of a conversation piece, but her and Minho were never the types to have a lengthy debate about architecture or the likes. She sighs in defeat but Minho looks over, face burrowed in puzzlement before he reaches over and fiddles with her signature ring she always wears on her middle finger.
"I can't wait to go home." He exhales happily, fingers still playing. She twitches a little but doesn't move away.
"Why, Minho oppa?" She returns the favor, her left hand grazing the silver chained bracelet forever attached to his wrist, but the metal is cold and strange so she stops, ears intent on listening to Minho.
"The game is on tonight. If we make it back to the dorm in time, me and Jinki hyung made a bet on who would win, but it's in the bag that the Dostiers would win. I mean, they switched last season for the best player, Marcel, so it's a sure bet."
Minho's voice raises and he continues to ramble for quite a while. Krystal wants to nod off again but it's kind of hard to when every time Minho gets excited he twists her ring around her finger like a bad habit. The constant hum of his touch is kind of addicting even if he's just her brother figure; he's still a boy after all.
"This was a fun trip," he finally concludes sometime after finishing his sport talk and merging into talking about the filming. "We make a good team, you and I." He gives her hand one last pat before retrieving it into his own lap. Krystal's mouth creases into a frown.
"Is that why you picked me for your partner? Why did you pick me over any of the other girls?"
Thump, thump, thump.
"I think we could conquer the world with my mind and your legs, Krystal. If we wanted to," He's cheeky, he's bright, he's deluded.
"Besides, you're my favorite dongsaeng."
"Oh," she settles her heart into a less than happy resolve and even the little squeeze he gives to her nose does nothing to resuscitate it.
It's uncomfortable for the rest of the plane ride, Krystal resignedly shutting the blinds shut as the sky dims reds and oranges, her heart beating to a dull when Minho nods off, a slight snore escaping from being worn out. It's not romantic at all and not even considerate. But Krystal is a nice girl underneath it all, so she shuts his tray shut, turns off his tv, and tucks an extra pillow behind his head so that he doesn't get a crick in his neck when he wakes up.
They get off the plane, leave the airport and it's like nothing happened at all, Minho gallivanting with Donghae the second they step on pure land. Krystal goes home, enjoying her mother's warm embrace, stretching her gazelle legs on her bed, happy to be off the plane and in the vicinity of another safety net.
She vaguely remembers Minho's suit jacket lays at the very depth of her suitcase at one in the morning, and she makes a lazy promise to unpack it in the morning and return it eventually, but her phone buzzes in the middle of her slumber. Curious, she untangles herself from her sheets and reaches over to see who it is.
'You were also the prettiest girl. I've always thought you were pretty, you know that? -Minho.'
Sensation overloads and Krystal doesn't feel like sleeping anymore, so she gets up and makes herself a toasty cup of coffee, huddling by the fireplace, feet tapping eagerly.
"Here, take it. It's yours." She hands him his suit jacket, clean and in fine shape the next week when they meet for some random rehearsal. He inspects it, his broad athletic shoulders stoic in the hall lights.
"Thanks," he grins and that awkward silence falls over them once more.
"Okay, see you around then oppa." Krystal turns around, with every intention of moving on and letting that tiny trip be an insignificant portion of their friendship and nothing more, but that unsettling hand grips her shoulder and she meets some tickling and nervous eyes in return.
"Wait," he mutters breathlessly, taking off his chain link bracelet and handing it to her.
"But that - that belongs to you?" Utter confusion wipes over her, staring at her wrist dumbfoundedly after Minho clasps it on her, a look of pure satisfaction overtaking his face.
"It's yours now."
A rare genuine smile plays on Krystal's face, good enough to compete with the one on Minho's face and it refuses to go away.
Maybe being his favorite dongsaeng wasn't such a bad thing.
---
i've shipped these two since dream team but i am totally on overload with them these days, =D