lovely.
Title: lovely. [1/1]
Pairing: jongho
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): cursing, character death, hints to smut but trust me- nothing too descriptive.
a/n: THIS IS FOR YOU GWYNNIE! :D whoooo! This is obamajesus's fanfiction journal. BECAUSE I CAN. :< LOL, BUT YEAH. I got the idea, and something that Minho says from a picture/ macro type thing. It was really intense. :3
[lovely.]
“Mama, grandma told me to tell you that, ‘Things will get better, suga’ pie. Just have faith.’” The words interrupted a single mother’s deep thought- the coffee cup shattered, hitting the tile. The woman’s eyes widened, seeming to become misty, and a hand found its way to her heart. She looked down at her son who was coloring in his notebook, just outside the entryway from the kitchen to the living room.
“A-and when did she tell you that, Jongy?”
The boy contemplated the next color he should use. Green.
“Just now.”
His mother swallowed a small sob, and tried to collect herself before speaking. “Baby…grandma’s been dead for almost a year. She couldn’t have-”
“But she did, honest! She was standing next to you, wings and-”
“Jonghyun, that’s enough,” his mom slammed her hand on the table, causing him to jump. “There was no one there!” The boy gazed up from his drawing; looking both confused and expectant.
“But, Mama. Can’t you see the angels, too?”
Kim Jonghyun was able to see those that were no longer living. He was five years old.
----------------------------------------------------------
When Jonghyun turned seven, that’s when he decided to confront a figure who had been a constant face among the dead he saw. He and his mother lived in the town of Valencia- some unknown, not too small town in some obscure state.
It was probably a good thing the town was small; everyone knew you, and you knew them. But that also meant that there was no such thing as the word “secret”. As Jonghyun made his way to the park, he passed familiar adults.
Adults that had always told their children to stay away from him. Adults that whispered.
The boy stuffed his hands in his pockets as he turned into the gate, making his way to the abandoned swing set. Jonghyun made himself comfortable on the swing before finally looking up at the older boy standing off to the side of him. “Who are you?” the boy tilted his head to the side and waited expectantly. The older brunette was very tall and lanky; eyes a dark chocolate and wide with surprise.
“Are you, by chance, talking to me?” the boy’s voice rumbled low, but strong. Jonghyun nodded, tiny hands gripping the rusting chain links, pushing himself back and forth. “Come sit down; maybe I can help you. What’s your name?”
The taller figure made no move closer to Jonghyun. “Minho. I do not require assistance.” The young boy in his thin scarf, and scuffed Nike’s pursed his lips in contemplation. There was a thick silence. Jonghyun’s eyes rose up to meet Minho’s, studying the expression in them with an air of wisdom that didn’t belong in the stare of a child.
Minho, centuries upon centuries old, looked away. “Your wings are very nice. My mama thinks grey is a lovely color. So do I.” Jonghyun flashed Minho a toothy smile, eyes crinkling around the edges.
Minho never had to deal with one who had the Sight actually confronting him- most believed him to be just another of the lost souls who wandered this realm.
“So,” Jonghyun began, standing. “Since you don’t need my help, and you don’t seem to keen on telling me what you’re here for- wanna be friends?” Minho tilted his head, eyes slightly wide. “I beg your pardon?”
Jonghyun shrugged. “Well, I really can’t ignore you, now that we’ve talked. Mama says that would be rude. Besides, I’m sure you probably get bored, right?”
Jonghyun didn’t wait for an answer. The seven year old hopped over a pile of leaves, making his way back to the gate he had not long ago come from. Minho stood there for a moment, before gliding after the boy.
The grass beneath his feet wilting and browning.
------------------------------------------------
“Does your mother often let you roam alone in the forest?” Minho asked, perched on a branch somewhat above Jonghyun. The latter, seated comfortable at the base of the tree, pulling at the grass and hummed a tune he couldn’t quite keep contained.
“Of course, Minho- you know my mama doesn’t mind.” Jonghyun blew some fringe from his eyes. He smiled up at the boy in the tree. “Would you like to hear?”
Minho flashed a rare, but bright smile back. Minho seemed to be smiling a lot more since Jonghyun talked to him those few years ago. “I always love hearing you sing.” Jonghyun was about to let the music float out, but paused. “Yah, Minho?” Said boy tilted his head.
“Yes, Jonghyun?”
“Could I…maybe touch your wings?”
Minho stared.
Jonghyun blushed and turned back around to the clearing; the late Spring wind ruffling the grass and slipping through his hair. Minho’s throaty laugh echoed through the air and he suddenly appeared next to Jonghyun, kneeling on one knee. “Of course you may.”
Jonghyun scooted closer to Minho, wrapping an arm around his knees, pulling them to his chest. His other hand reaching out to gently, almost hesitantly, touch the curve of the bone in the wing.
It seemed to move, almost yielding for a moment, before accepting the boys touch. Jonghyun’s fingertips ever so softly pressed into the grey feathers. And then he began to sing. Eyes slipping shut, music pouring from his lungs. The melody and words gliding into the air; weaving through the grass, and hugging the trees- kissing the daisies and forget me not’s.
Somehow Minho's eyes had closed at the first note. Somehow, he found himself getting lost in Jonghyun's voice- a heart he didn’t know he possessed clenched. At the end of it all, Minho somehow found his head lying in Jonghyun’s lap, said boy’s fingers trailing through the silkiness of his hair.
Jonghyun was twelve.
---------------------------------------------
There was nothing wrong or questionable about their relationship. Minho may have been the Angel of Death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel.
---------------------------------------------
“Jonghyun, baby, you need to go out, have some friends over-”
“What ‘friends, Mama? In case you haven’t noticed, no one wants to be around the resident freak of this hell hole.” Jonghyun snapped, before chugging down half his water bottle. His mother looked up at him; dark brown eyes tired, as though they’ve had this conversation hundreds of times. And, in all honesty, they had.
“Jongy-” she tried.
“Don’t defend them, Mama! They do the same to you at the hospital. Treat you like shit, all because of m-”
“Don’t you dare say it, Jonghyun!” his mother stood then, eyes just as blazing as her little boys.
Jonghyun’s mouth settled into a tight line; his mother continued in a low voice. “Those people are the ones who have something wrong. You are perfectly fine; smart, and handsome, and sweet.” She smiled softly and leaned forward to touch Jonghyun’s cheek.
“What you have is a gift. They just don’t…understand.”
Later that night, Jonghyun sat in the middle of his bed; eyebrows scrunched together, knees pulled close to his chest. He blew a wisp of blonde hair from his forehead. “Your mother is right, Jonghyun. You cannot spend all your days by yourself.” A familiar weight sank down into the spot next to him.
Jonghyun groaned, and flopped back into his pillows. “Not you too, Minho! Besides, I’m not by myself- I have you.” Minho stared down at the boy for a moment before sighing, and placing a hand gently on Jonghyun’s arm. “I am keeping you from…life. No pun being intended. I…you need to be with the living, Jonghyun.” Minho’s voice was almost pleading.
Jonghyun turned his eyes, which were previously tracing patterns in the ceiling, to the angel.
Took in the brown of his eyes, and the way his hair looked so touchable (he knew it was). Minho’s skin was pale but milky, and smooth.
Then Jonghyun was pushing himself up on his elbow, and pulling Minho’s lips to his. It was a clumsy first kiss; uncomfortable and all wrong. That is until Minho tilted his head a little bit to the left, and leaned in closer, sliding a hand behind the nape of Jonghyun’s neck.
The boy’s hands fisted themselves in Minho’s hair. He was shivering and didn’t know why-some unknown feeling beating at him from all sides.
It was like flying.
It was like falling.
It was pleasure and pain; dying and living all at once.
They pulled away, lips lingering just barely brushing, though the slightest pressure was felt. Jonghyun kept his eyes closed a moment before he looked into Minho’s. “I want you here always, Minho; you’re not keeping me from life. I’m already dead.”
Minho thought Jonghyun never looked so young with his wide, wide eyes. Minho never thought Jonghyun looked so old either; the things he’s seen, and nightmares he’s dealt with- the looks and words thrown at him.
Pushes.
Shoves.
Punches.
Minho shifted, mindful of his wings and pulled Jonghyun into him; his very being breaking at the silent sobs shaking the boy in his arms.
Jonghyun was fifteen.
-----------------------------------
Jonghyun’s nails raked down Minho’s back, and he raised his hips to meet the brunettes; arched into his long fingered touch, head tilting back. The sighs and moans that tumbled from Jonghyun’s lips raw and unchecked.
Minho devoured the throat before him, and he pushed in deeper. Moved harder. Held him closer.
Notes and syllables, and silence, and pleas poured out of Jonghyun like music. Another form of song, that Minho didn’t want the blonde to ever stop singing. Minho always loved Jonghyun’s songs.
Jonghyun was nineteen.
---------------------------------
A few days later…
Jonghyun shoved his lyric book and the sheet music he had been working on into his back pack. The quietness of the choir room seemed to pierce some part of Jonghyun. “‘The time has come,’ the walrus said.” Jonghyun quoted.
The time had come indeed.
The silence remained as the blonde made his way off campus, bowing to the few professors he passed, and made his way home. Jonghyun felt that dying might be a little easier for people if they knew when they were going to. But Minho would often argue the opposition; claiming that it made most reckless. Uncaring of the brief time they had left.
The late afternoon sky was bright pink and orange sorbet- the clouds opting to color themselves a soft purple/white. Sunbeams splayed across their bunnies and mermaids.
For the most part, Jonghyun was alone as he made his way down the sidewalk. Minho normally wandered around town whenever Jonghyun was in school; even in the very beginning. 22nd street never really was crowded.
But those footfalls that seemed to mirror Jonghyun’s (though just a fraction of a second off) had been following him for about three blocks now. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.
One ring, two ring, three-
“Jongy?” a woman’s voice answered. Jonghyun stopped walking.
“I love you, Mama. Everything will be okay.”
“I love you, too, Jonghyun. What’s wrong? Are you-“
He hung up, and turned off his phone.
A gun was pressed to his back, and for the first time in a long time, the blonde was afraid. He wasn’t ready to die; to leave his mother and his new weird, some-what friends he had finally made (Kibum wouldn’t have some one to go shopping with him, Jinki would need someone to laugh at his lame jokes, and Taemin would need someone to make sure that Kibum didn’t attack Jinki).
And then…Minho.
He more heard than felt the gun go off. It was surprisingly quick and yes, full of pain.
Jonghyun was nineteen years, four months, and twelve days old when he was murdered-the victim of a serial killer who had been on the run.
----------------------
Minho stood before Jonghyun, looking all kinds of beautiful in the sea of white that surrounded them. Just like he use to. Jonghyun smiled sadly. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, Minho. Ha, that’s why you always shadowed me right?”
Minho looked pained; mouth in a thin line as he clutched a curling scythe, which seemed to glint in an undetermined source of light. “My purpose was to stay near you, Jonghyun. I never had to let you see me.” Minho’s voice seemed to waver.
Jonghyun’s smile fell. “But…why could I…”
“Because I wanted you to-I am here now, to give you a choice.” Minho looked down for a second. “We can give you a new body, a new voice. You’ll miss your mother and the sun but…you’ll be able to sing.”
Jonghyun remained silent for a moment. “What’s the other choice?” Minho closed his eyes. “You can stay in this realm. With…me.”
The blonde let out a breath, and met Minho’s sad and slightly hopeful gaze. He took a step forward, taking the taller boy’s hand within his own. “I love you, Minho. Let me be with you?”
Minho smiled then, and squeezed Jonghyun’s hand.
“Always.”/lj-cut>
Pairing: jongho
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): cursing, character death, hints to smut but trust me- nothing too descriptive.
a/n: THIS IS FOR YOU GWYNNIE! :D whoooo! This is obamajesus's fanfiction journal. BECAUSE I CAN. :< LOL, BUT YEAH. I got the idea, and something that Minho says from a picture/ macro type thing. It was really intense. :3
[lovely.]
“Mama, grandma told me to tell you that, ‘Things will get better, suga’ pie. Just have faith.’” The words interrupted a single mother’s deep thought- the coffee cup shattered, hitting the tile. The woman’s eyes widened, seeming to become misty, and a hand found its way to her heart. She looked down at her son who was coloring in his notebook, just outside the entryway from the kitchen to the living room.
“A-and when did she tell you that, Jongy?”
The boy contemplated the next color he should use. Green.
“Just now.”
His mother swallowed a small sob, and tried to collect herself before speaking. “Baby…grandma’s been dead for almost a year. She couldn’t have-”
“But she did, honest! She was standing next to you, wings and-”
“Jonghyun, that’s enough,” his mom slammed her hand on the table, causing him to jump. “There was no one there!” The boy gazed up from his drawing; looking both confused and expectant.
“But, Mama. Can’t you see the angels, too?”
Kim Jonghyun was able to see those that were no longer living. He was five years old.
----------------------------------------------------------
When Jonghyun turned seven, that’s when he decided to confront a figure who had been a constant face among the dead he saw. He and his mother lived in the town of Valencia- some unknown, not too small town in some obscure state.
It was probably a good thing the town was small; everyone knew you, and you knew them. But that also meant that there was no such thing as the word “secret”. As Jonghyun made his way to the park, he passed familiar adults.
Adults that had always told their children to stay away from him. Adults that whispered.
The boy stuffed his hands in his pockets as he turned into the gate, making his way to the abandoned swing set. Jonghyun made himself comfortable on the swing before finally looking up at the older boy standing off to the side of him. “Who are you?” the boy tilted his head to the side and waited expectantly. The older brunette was very tall and lanky; eyes a dark chocolate and wide with surprise.
“Are you, by chance, talking to me?” the boy’s voice rumbled low, but strong. Jonghyun nodded, tiny hands gripping the rusting chain links, pushing himself back and forth. “Come sit down; maybe I can help you. What’s your name?”
The taller figure made no move closer to Jonghyun. “Minho. I do not require assistance.” The young boy in his thin scarf, and scuffed Nike’s pursed his lips in contemplation. There was a thick silence. Jonghyun’s eyes rose up to meet Minho’s, studying the expression in them with an air of wisdom that didn’t belong in the stare of a child.
Minho, centuries upon centuries old, looked away. “Your wings are very nice. My mama thinks grey is a lovely color. So do I.” Jonghyun flashed Minho a toothy smile, eyes crinkling around the edges.
Minho never had to deal with one who had the Sight actually confronting him- most believed him to be just another of the lost souls who wandered this realm.
“So,” Jonghyun began, standing. “Since you don’t need my help, and you don’t seem to keen on telling me what you’re here for- wanna be friends?” Minho tilted his head, eyes slightly wide. “I beg your pardon?”
Jonghyun shrugged. “Well, I really can’t ignore you, now that we’ve talked. Mama says that would be rude. Besides, I’m sure you probably get bored, right?”
Jonghyun didn’t wait for an answer. The seven year old hopped over a pile of leaves, making his way back to the gate he had not long ago come from. Minho stood there for a moment, before gliding after the boy.
The grass beneath his feet wilting and browning.
------------------------------------------------
“Does your mother often let you roam alone in the forest?” Minho asked, perched on a branch somewhat above Jonghyun. The latter, seated comfortable at the base of the tree, pulling at the grass and hummed a tune he couldn’t quite keep contained.
“Of course, Minho- you know my mama doesn’t mind.” Jonghyun blew some fringe from his eyes. He smiled up at the boy in the tree. “Would you like to hear?”
Minho flashed a rare, but bright smile back. Minho seemed to be smiling a lot more since Jonghyun talked to him those few years ago. “I always love hearing you sing.” Jonghyun was about to let the music float out, but paused. “Yah, Minho?” Said boy tilted his head.
“Yes, Jonghyun?”
“Could I…maybe touch your wings?”
Minho stared.
Jonghyun blushed and turned back around to the clearing; the late Spring wind ruffling the grass and slipping through his hair. Minho’s throaty laugh echoed through the air and he suddenly appeared next to Jonghyun, kneeling on one knee. “Of course you may.”
Jonghyun scooted closer to Minho, wrapping an arm around his knees, pulling them to his chest. His other hand reaching out to gently, almost hesitantly, touch the curve of the bone in the wing.
It seemed to move, almost yielding for a moment, before accepting the boys touch. Jonghyun’s fingertips ever so softly pressed into the grey feathers. And then he began to sing. Eyes slipping shut, music pouring from his lungs. The melody and words gliding into the air; weaving through the grass, and hugging the trees- kissing the daisies and forget me not’s.
Somehow Minho's eyes had closed at the first note. Somehow, he found himself getting lost in Jonghyun's voice- a heart he didn’t know he possessed clenched. At the end of it all, Minho somehow found his head lying in Jonghyun’s lap, said boy’s fingers trailing through the silkiness of his hair.
Jonghyun was twelve.
---------------------------------------------
There was nothing wrong or questionable about their relationship. Minho may have been the Angel of Death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel.
---------------------------------------------
“Jonghyun, baby, you need to go out, have some friends over-”
“What ‘friends, Mama? In case you haven’t noticed, no one wants to be around the resident freak of this hell hole.” Jonghyun snapped, before chugging down half his water bottle. His mother looked up at him; dark brown eyes tired, as though they’ve had this conversation hundreds of times. And, in all honesty, they had.
“Jongy-” she tried.
“Don’t defend them, Mama! They do the same to you at the hospital. Treat you like shit, all because of m-”
“Don’t you dare say it, Jonghyun!” his mother stood then, eyes just as blazing as her little boys.
Jonghyun’s mouth settled into a tight line; his mother continued in a low voice. “Those people are the ones who have something wrong. You are perfectly fine; smart, and handsome, and sweet.” She smiled softly and leaned forward to touch Jonghyun’s cheek.
“What you have is a gift. They just don’t…understand.”
Later that night, Jonghyun sat in the middle of his bed; eyebrows scrunched together, knees pulled close to his chest. He blew a wisp of blonde hair from his forehead. “Your mother is right, Jonghyun. You cannot spend all your days by yourself.” A familiar weight sank down into the spot next to him.
Jonghyun groaned, and flopped back into his pillows. “Not you too, Minho! Besides, I’m not by myself- I have you.” Minho stared down at the boy for a moment before sighing, and placing a hand gently on Jonghyun’s arm. “I am keeping you from…life. No pun being intended. I…you need to be with the living, Jonghyun.” Minho’s voice was almost pleading.
Jonghyun turned his eyes, which were previously tracing patterns in the ceiling, to the angel.
Took in the brown of his eyes, and the way his hair looked so touchable (he knew it was). Minho’s skin was pale but milky, and smooth.
Then Jonghyun was pushing himself up on his elbow, and pulling Minho’s lips to his. It was a clumsy first kiss; uncomfortable and all wrong. That is until Minho tilted his head a little bit to the left, and leaned in closer, sliding a hand behind the nape of Jonghyun’s neck.
The boy’s hands fisted themselves in Minho’s hair. He was shivering and didn’t know why-some unknown feeling beating at him from all sides.
It was like flying.
It was like falling.
It was pleasure and pain; dying and living all at once.
They pulled away, lips lingering just barely brushing, though the slightest pressure was felt. Jonghyun kept his eyes closed a moment before he looked into Minho’s. “I want you here always, Minho; you’re not keeping me from life. I’m already dead.”
Minho thought Jonghyun never looked so young with his wide, wide eyes. Minho never thought Jonghyun looked so old either; the things he’s seen, and nightmares he’s dealt with- the looks and words thrown at him.
Pushes.
Shoves.
Punches.
Minho shifted, mindful of his wings and pulled Jonghyun into him; his very being breaking at the silent sobs shaking the boy in his arms.
Jonghyun was fifteen.
-----------------------------------
Jonghyun’s nails raked down Minho’s back, and he raised his hips to meet the brunettes; arched into his long fingered touch, head tilting back. The sighs and moans that tumbled from Jonghyun’s lips raw and unchecked.
Minho devoured the throat before him, and he pushed in deeper. Moved harder. Held him closer.
Notes and syllables, and silence, and pleas poured out of Jonghyun like music. Another form of song, that Minho didn’t want the blonde to ever stop singing. Minho always loved Jonghyun’s songs.
Jonghyun was nineteen.
---------------------------------
A few days later…
Jonghyun shoved his lyric book and the sheet music he had been working on into his back pack. The quietness of the choir room seemed to pierce some part of Jonghyun. “‘The time has come,’ the walrus said.” Jonghyun quoted.
The time had come indeed.
The silence remained as the blonde made his way off campus, bowing to the few professors he passed, and made his way home. Jonghyun felt that dying might be a little easier for people if they knew when they were going to. But Minho would often argue the opposition; claiming that it made most reckless. Uncaring of the brief time they had left.
The late afternoon sky was bright pink and orange sorbet- the clouds opting to color themselves a soft purple/white. Sunbeams splayed across their bunnies and mermaids.
For the most part, Jonghyun was alone as he made his way down the sidewalk. Minho normally wandered around town whenever Jonghyun was in school; even in the very beginning. 22nd street never really was crowded.
But those footfalls that seemed to mirror Jonghyun’s (though just a fraction of a second off) had been following him for about three blocks now. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.
One ring, two ring, three-
“Jongy?” a woman’s voice answered. Jonghyun stopped walking.
“I love you, Mama. Everything will be okay.”
“I love you, too, Jonghyun. What’s wrong? Are you-“
He hung up, and turned off his phone.
A gun was pressed to his back, and for the first time in a long time, the blonde was afraid. He wasn’t ready to die; to leave his mother and his new weird, some-what friends he had finally made (Kibum wouldn’t have some one to go shopping with him, Jinki would need someone to laugh at his lame jokes, and Taemin would need someone to make sure that Kibum didn’t attack Jinki).
And then…Minho.
He more heard than felt the gun go off. It was surprisingly quick and yes, full of pain.
Jonghyun was nineteen years, four months, and twelve days old when he was murdered-the victim of a serial killer who had been on the run.
----------------------
Minho stood before Jonghyun, looking all kinds of beautiful in the sea of white that surrounded them. Just like he use to. Jonghyun smiled sadly. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, Minho. Ha, that’s why you always shadowed me right?”
Minho looked pained; mouth in a thin line as he clutched a curling scythe, which seemed to glint in an undetermined source of light. “My purpose was to stay near you, Jonghyun. I never had to let you see me.” Minho’s voice seemed to waver.
Jonghyun’s smile fell. “But…why could I…”
“Because I wanted you to-I am here now, to give you a choice.” Minho looked down for a second. “We can give you a new body, a new voice. You’ll miss your mother and the sun but…you’ll be able to sing.”
Jonghyun remained silent for a moment. “What’s the other choice?” Minho closed his eyes. “You can stay in this realm. With…me.”
The blonde let out a breath, and met Minho’s sad and slightly hopeful gaze. He took a step forward, taking the taller boy’s hand within his own. “I love you, Minho. Let me be with you?”
Minho smiled then, and squeezed Jonghyun’s hand.
“Always.”/lj-cut>