(no subject)
█ ✫ SEVEN MINUTES ··· ( oneshot )
█ pairing: Jongyu
█ rating: PG
█ genre: Romance
█ summary:
Jinki hated house parties, and this was exactly why.
✫ ··· author's note:
Just a thingy. IDK~ I have to be awake in 3 hours. Oh well. :D
It was official. Whoever invented this whole Seven Minutes in Heaven thing was a sadist.
The only light in the linen closet was the weak yellow strip across their feet, skittering in through the half-inch gap at the bottom of the door. It wasn't enough to illuminate anything but the toes and laces of their shoes, one pair of feet loose and relaxed on the right, the other tucked tight and drawn in close on the left. There was no eye contact, no body language, nothing to go on at all - just the sound of Jinki's own heart in his ears, and the muffled rowdy cheers of the party on the main floor below them.
It was just his luck that he'd let Taemin's stupid doe-eyed begging face break his normal Friday night routine, studying parabolic trajectories by the light of his desk lamp until he went cross-eyed. Jinki had heard enough about Kim Kibum's infamous house parties to know it really wasn't his scene in any way, shape or form, but there was no way he was letting Taemin go to one by himself, either. It was with a building sense of dread that he had agreed to go, and since their arrival he only felt more and more justified in his pessimistic view of the whole affair.
The worst part was that he was now locked in a rather small closet with nothing but six-or-so minutes of seclusion remaining, and the real-life subject of every single one of his wet dreams for the past year and a half sitting on the opposite side.
Jinki was well-aware that being barricaded in a small, dark room with the guy you've been secretly crushing on for eighteen months (well, seventeen months and sixteen days, but it wasn't like he was counting, and if he was it wasn't like he was doing it consciously) was meant to be a good thing - a really fucking awesome thing, actually. His main issue with the whole arrangement was that, despite his long-standing affections for one Kim Jonghyun, he had probably said all of ten words to him (eleven, and they'd waved to one another twice, but really he wasn't keeping track) since they'd met at orientation in first year. Being older, even by just a year, had made Jinki feel awkward, but Jonghyun had just laughed and delighted in being able to call him hyung, and poor Jinki had been smitten ever since.
“You're awfully quiet.”
Jinki nearly leapt out of his own skin as the silky voice touched against his ears out of nowhere. It was low and warm, oddly quiet - almost sensual. The initial shock was immediately replaced by a shiver, and Jinki was all at once terribly glad for the absence of light in the cramped space. “S-sorry,” he muttered, face falling as his voice trembled. He felt a wave of embarrassed heat crawl up his neck and over his cheeks. The breathy chuckle he got in response only made it worse.
Silence settled between them again, with Jinki counting his heartbeats in an attempt to slow them down. His method failed miserably when he heard Jonghyun shift across from him, pulse rocketing right back up like a hummingbird's. At this point he was almost certain the constant echoing thudthudthud of his heart was audible. All he really wanted to do was crawl up into a little ball and pretend he didn't exist until Kibum saw fit to let them out, and then Jinki could collect Taemin and continue pretending he didn't exist in the comfort of his own home. Where he should never have left in the first place.
“Y'know, hyung,” Jonghyun started slowly, quietly, causing Jinki to tense even further, “We don't actually have to do anything, if you're nervous.”
If there was one thing Jinki disliked about his personality, it was his naturally over-analytical nature. Rather than take Jonghyun's words at face value his brain disassembled the sentence, sorting nouns and inflections in a way that was completely and totally unnecessary. When it was finished he'd barely had a moment to register what his brain had concluded before he was carelessly blurting out his findings.
“Are you suggesting you... Want to?”
Fuck pretending. He wanted to disappear, permanently.
“Maybe.”
Wait, what?
He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Jonghyun chuckled. Mortified, Jinki opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it again as he pressed himself back against the shelves behind him. Though he couldn't see him, he could suddenly feel Jonghyun directly in front of him, a shudder falling down his back as their legs bumped together. He drew in a short, sharp breath when one of Jonghyun's hands gently tilted his face up by the chin. It would have been longer, more drawn-out, but then their lips were touching and there was no way this was actually happening because Jinki just wasn't able process this properly and he had never realized Jonghyun smelled faintly of licorice and coffee and that was actually rather nice.
Oh God they were kissing.
Jonghyun pulled back ever-so slightly, their mouths still close enough that Jinki could feel the warmth against his lips when Jonghyun breathed. They stayed like that for a while, Jinki's back ramrod straight against the towels at his back, Jonghyun hovering well within his personal space, hand still cradling his chin. Jinki wondered how many minutes they had left, but he was never a very good judge of time so it was rather pointless to think about.
“Tell me to stop,” Jonghyun said, his voice strained and strangely muted, as if speaking required a great amount of effort, “If you don't want this, you have to tell me now. Tell me to stop, Jinki.”
Okay, he'd changed his mind again. Disappearing right now would be a total waste.
“Do -” Jinki's tongue stumbled over his sentence and he paused, swallowing hard. He could feel his face burning, and he was certain the heat was radiating across Jonghyun's nose. “Do that again. P-please.”
After a beat Jonghyun brought his other hand underneath Jinki's chin as well, splaying them both out across his jaw as he moved back in for a second kiss.
They were both momentarily blinded as the closet door was wrenched open without warning, and the white pop of a flash went off in their eyes. Jinki squeaked, reflexively tugging his face from Jonghyun's grip as he tried to duck away from the sudden onslaught of light. “Gotcha!” Kibum cried, holding his digital camera up in a gesture of victory and giving them a rather amused smirk.
Jonghyun fixed him with a dark glare, before his face suddenly split into a sly grin. He grabbed hold of the door and tugged it shut with a slam, causing Jinki to squeak again from the inside.
Holding in a bubble of laughter, Kibum shook his head at the closet door, looking rather a lot like the cat who'd been at the cream. He walked back to the staircase at the end of the hall, flipping to the picture display on his camera and admiring his handiwork.
“Oh, this is so going on Facebook.”
█ pairing: Jongyu
█ rating: PG
█ genre: Romance
█ summary:
Jinki hated house parties, and this was exactly why.
✫ ··· author's note:
Just a thingy. IDK~ I have to be awake in 3 hours. Oh well. :D
It was official. Whoever invented this whole Seven Minutes in Heaven thing was a sadist.
The only light in the linen closet was the weak yellow strip across their feet, skittering in through the half-inch gap at the bottom of the door. It wasn't enough to illuminate anything but the toes and laces of their shoes, one pair of feet loose and relaxed on the right, the other tucked tight and drawn in close on the left. There was no eye contact, no body language, nothing to go on at all - just the sound of Jinki's own heart in his ears, and the muffled rowdy cheers of the party on the main floor below them.
It was just his luck that he'd let Taemin's stupid doe-eyed begging face break his normal Friday night routine, studying parabolic trajectories by the light of his desk lamp until he went cross-eyed. Jinki had heard enough about Kim Kibum's infamous house parties to know it really wasn't his scene in any way, shape or form, but there was no way he was letting Taemin go to one by himself, either. It was with a building sense of dread that he had agreed to go, and since their arrival he only felt more and more justified in his pessimistic view of the whole affair.
The worst part was that he was now locked in a rather small closet with nothing but six-or-so minutes of seclusion remaining, and the real-life subject of every single one of his wet dreams for the past year and a half sitting on the opposite side.
Jinki was well-aware that being barricaded in a small, dark room with the guy you've been secretly crushing on for eighteen months (well, seventeen months and sixteen days, but it wasn't like he was counting, and if he was it wasn't like he was doing it consciously) was meant to be a good thing - a really fucking awesome thing, actually. His main issue with the whole arrangement was that, despite his long-standing affections for one Kim Jonghyun, he had probably said all of ten words to him (eleven, and they'd waved to one another twice, but really he wasn't keeping track) since they'd met at orientation in first year. Being older, even by just a year, had made Jinki feel awkward, but Jonghyun had just laughed and delighted in being able to call him hyung, and poor Jinki had been smitten ever since.
“You're awfully quiet.”
Jinki nearly leapt out of his own skin as the silky voice touched against his ears out of nowhere. It was low and warm, oddly quiet - almost sensual. The initial shock was immediately replaced by a shiver, and Jinki was all at once terribly glad for the absence of light in the cramped space. “S-sorry,” he muttered, face falling as his voice trembled. He felt a wave of embarrassed heat crawl up his neck and over his cheeks. The breathy chuckle he got in response only made it worse.
Silence settled between them again, with Jinki counting his heartbeats in an attempt to slow them down. His method failed miserably when he heard Jonghyun shift across from him, pulse rocketing right back up like a hummingbird's. At this point he was almost certain the constant echoing thudthudthud of his heart was audible. All he really wanted to do was crawl up into a little ball and pretend he didn't exist until Kibum saw fit to let them out, and then Jinki could collect Taemin and continue pretending he didn't exist in the comfort of his own home. Where he should never have left in the first place.
“Y'know, hyung,” Jonghyun started slowly, quietly, causing Jinki to tense even further, “We don't actually have to do anything, if you're nervous.”
If there was one thing Jinki disliked about his personality, it was his naturally over-analytical nature. Rather than take Jonghyun's words at face value his brain disassembled the sentence, sorting nouns and inflections in a way that was completely and totally unnecessary. When it was finished he'd barely had a moment to register what his brain had concluded before he was carelessly blurting out his findings.
“Are you suggesting you... Want to?”
Fuck pretending. He wanted to disappear, permanently.
“Maybe.”
Wait, what?
He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Jonghyun chuckled. Mortified, Jinki opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it again as he pressed himself back against the shelves behind him. Though he couldn't see him, he could suddenly feel Jonghyun directly in front of him, a shudder falling down his back as their legs bumped together. He drew in a short, sharp breath when one of Jonghyun's hands gently tilted his face up by the chin. It would have been longer, more drawn-out, but then their lips were touching and there was no way this was actually happening because Jinki just wasn't able process this properly and he had never realized Jonghyun smelled faintly of licorice and coffee and that was actually rather nice.
Oh God they were kissing.
Jonghyun pulled back ever-so slightly, their mouths still close enough that Jinki could feel the warmth against his lips when Jonghyun breathed. They stayed like that for a while, Jinki's back ramrod straight against the towels at his back, Jonghyun hovering well within his personal space, hand still cradling his chin. Jinki wondered how many minutes they had left, but he was never a very good judge of time so it was rather pointless to think about.
“Tell me to stop,” Jonghyun said, his voice strained and strangely muted, as if speaking required a great amount of effort, “If you don't want this, you have to tell me now. Tell me to stop, Jinki.”
Okay, he'd changed his mind again. Disappearing right now would be a total waste.
“Do -” Jinki's tongue stumbled over his sentence and he paused, swallowing hard. He could feel his face burning, and he was certain the heat was radiating across Jonghyun's nose. “Do that again. P-please.”
After a beat Jonghyun brought his other hand underneath Jinki's chin as well, splaying them both out across his jaw as he moved back in for a second kiss.
They were both momentarily blinded as the closet door was wrenched open without warning, and the white pop of a flash went off in their eyes. Jinki squeaked, reflexively tugging his face from Jonghyun's grip as he tried to duck away from the sudden onslaught of light. “Gotcha!” Kibum cried, holding his digital camera up in a gesture of victory and giving them a rather amused smirk.
Jonghyun fixed him with a dark glare, before his face suddenly split into a sly grin. He grabbed hold of the door and tugged it shut with a slam, causing Jinki to squeak again from the inside.
Holding in a bubble of laughter, Kibum shook his head at the closet door, looking rather a lot like the cat who'd been at the cream. He walked back to the staircase at the end of the hall, flipping to the picture display on his camera and admiring his handiwork.
“Oh, this is so going on Facebook.”