[fic]
title: Just Incase
rating: PG-ish
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Sungmin/Donghae
summary: How do you know when someone loves you?
notes: becchan and I agreed that we'd each write a Sungmin-centric fic. Here's me filling out my part of the deal. Not as well as she did, though.
Love, it seems, is a complicated emotion. And you only understand a tiny fraction of it.
There are so many different types of love as well. The love you have for a close friend is different from the love you have for your mother, and that in turn differs from the love you have for your favourite movie. There’s the love you feel for your family and friends. There’s the love you have for your favourite song. There’s the love you have for your favourite foods. There’s the love you have for a warm, summer’s day, or a crisp autumn evening, or a snowy winter’s morning.
And then there’s romantic love. That heart-racing, stomach-fluttering, skin-tingling, breathless, hold-me-close forever kind of love. The love that countless movies and songs and books all talk about.
The love you wonder if you’ve ever actually felt. The love that confuses you the most. And the love you want to feel more than anything in the world.
But all these different types of love share one thing in common: that warm happiness that they bring.
How do you know when someone loves you, though?
That’s a good question, one you’ve been wondering for a long time now. You’re sure that there has to be signs, signals, hints and clues, given by the other person. A look, perhaps. A touch. A smile. Softly spoken words. All those little cliché’s you read and see and hear about.
Have you been given any of those signs? You try to think back on it; try to pick out specific moments.
You’re sure you’ve received a look or two from him. You didn’t know what it meant, but you remember seeing it, just this look in his dark eyes, directed at you. At the time it made your heart pound and your stomach flutter, and you’d wondered if maybe your breath would forever stay trapped in your throat like that.
Just remembering that look brings all those feelings back to you now, and you have to take a moment out to catch your breath.
You’d wondered at the time if he felt the things you had. You wonder the same thing now.
And touches? Oh, yes, you’re also pretty sure there have been a few of those. You can clearly recall the warm touch of lingering fingers over the back of your neck. You shiver as the ghost of that feeling brushes over your skin again.
There was also that other time, when you felt his fingers brushing lightly over your own. You’d wondered if he was going to take your hand in his and hold it. He hadn’t, but you’d wished he had.
You also remember a hug that was held a little too close for a little too long. A hug that had stolen your breath and made you wonder if perhaps …
Words? Had he said anything special to you? You remember him smiling, that bright, warm smile of his, as he waveringly told you what a good friend you are. That smile had made something inside of you shake.
He’s called you ‘cute’, too, on a number of occasions. But that was nothing special, because most everyone called you cute. But it always meant so much more whenever he said it.
And you’re almost positive that he’s called you ‘pretty’ too. You can’t be entirely sure, because at the time, his voice had been so soft and his words only a whisper, and that soft, sweet smile of his had accompanied the words. But you’re pretty sure that he said to you: ‘you’re so pretty, Minnie.’
But did all of this, did any of it, mean anything? You can’t be sure. And it frustrates you. You wish you could read his mind, or his emotions, and see if he ever suffered from the same skin-tingling, heart-racing, stomach-fluttering feelings of breathlessness that you feel whenever he’s around. But you can’t. So you can’t be sure.
You can’t even be sure of your own feelings.
From the movies you’ve seen and the books you’ve read, you’ve managed to come up with a pretty good idea of what this kind of love is supposed to feel like. You know you suffer from all of the main symptoms, the racing heart and tingling skin, the butterflies in your stomach and the breath stopping in your lungs, and on more than one occasion you’ve felt your knees go weak because of his smile. You find yourself wanting to touch him, hold him, run your fingers through his hair and feel his breath on your skin. You want to kiss him and feel his lips all over you, and so much more. You want everything, absolutely everything. And you want it all forever.
It feels like love to you. What you think love should feel like. You want to be everything to him, everything and so much more. You want to mean the world to him, just like he’s come to mean to you. You want to hear him whisper your name in a way that no one ever has. And most of all, you want to hear him say those three little words to you.
You imagine the scenario, what it might be like.
You imagine his lips, soft and sweet, sliding gently over your own. You imagine his eyes, so open and dark, looking deep into your own. You imagine his breath, warm across your skin as he breathes so close to you. You imagine his fingers brushing lightly over your cheek. You imagine his voice, soft and low, but with that certain ring of honesty and emotion in it, saying those words to you. I love you, Sungmin. You imagine how you would feel. Much like you do now, just thinking about it, breathless and trembling, wide-eyed and oh-so-happy. You imagine saying them back, of course, and then being wrapped up tightly in his arms, held closer than close as he breathes in your scent and kisses your cheek.
That would be wonderful. Too wonderful to be true, or ever happen though. Because this isn’t a movie, or a book, or a song. It’s real life, and in real life, as you’ve learnt so far, things work differently.
Another scenario comes to mind. One where you’re still not sure of his feelings, but you’re almost positive by his long glances and lingering touches and soft smiles that you know what he’s feeling. And one night you build up your courage and find yourself brave enough to admit to him how you feel, and the moment you see him you find the words just pouring from your lips.
But in this scene that you’re imagining, things don’t work out. It isn’t rainbows and butterflies and happily-ever-afters. In this scenario, you see his eyes widen in surprise and his mouth twist into a nervous frown. And you can tell instantly that it wasn’t the right time to tell him, because he’s surprised, and doesn’t know what to say besides I’m sorry.
Imagining this brings the familiar prickle of tears to your eyes and before you know it you find yourself curled up tightly in your bed under your trembling blanket as you bite your lip and try to stop your sobs from escaping. Imagining his rejection is just too much for you. It’s not even real, it’s all been dreamed up in your mind, but it still hurts and makes your heart tremble and ache. You couldn’t handle that, you couldn’t.
And as you lay there, shaking and sobbing, wondering what love is and what love means and if you’ll ever find it, you realise that you’re never going to tell him, that you’ll never find the strength to admit your feelings to him, just in case. Just in case it doesn’t turn out like movies and books and songs, and he rejects you.
So instead of telling him, you whisper out the most important words you’ll ever say to someone else in the empty quiet of your bedroom, trying to make it real, and knowing that it’s not.
I love you, Donghae.
- end -
rating: PG-ish
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Sungmin/Donghae
summary: How do you know when someone loves you?
notes: becchan and I agreed that we'd each write a Sungmin-centric fic. Here's me filling out my part of the deal. Not as well as she did, though.
Love, it seems, is a complicated emotion. And you only understand a tiny fraction of it.
There are so many different types of love as well. The love you have for a close friend is different from the love you have for your mother, and that in turn differs from the love you have for your favourite movie. There’s the love you feel for your family and friends. There’s the love you have for your favourite song. There’s the love you have for your favourite foods. There’s the love you have for a warm, summer’s day, or a crisp autumn evening, or a snowy winter’s morning.
And then there’s romantic love. That heart-racing, stomach-fluttering, skin-tingling, breathless, hold-me-close forever kind of love. The love that countless movies and songs and books all talk about.
The love you wonder if you’ve ever actually felt. The love that confuses you the most. And the love you want to feel more than anything in the world.
But all these different types of love share one thing in common: that warm happiness that they bring.
How do you know when someone loves you, though?
That’s a good question, one you’ve been wondering for a long time now. You’re sure that there has to be signs, signals, hints and clues, given by the other person. A look, perhaps. A touch. A smile. Softly spoken words. All those little cliché’s you read and see and hear about.
Have you been given any of those signs? You try to think back on it; try to pick out specific moments.
You’re sure you’ve received a look or two from him. You didn’t know what it meant, but you remember seeing it, just this look in his dark eyes, directed at you. At the time it made your heart pound and your stomach flutter, and you’d wondered if maybe your breath would forever stay trapped in your throat like that.
Just remembering that look brings all those feelings back to you now, and you have to take a moment out to catch your breath.
You’d wondered at the time if he felt the things you had. You wonder the same thing now.
And touches? Oh, yes, you’re also pretty sure there have been a few of those. You can clearly recall the warm touch of lingering fingers over the back of your neck. You shiver as the ghost of that feeling brushes over your skin again.
There was also that other time, when you felt his fingers brushing lightly over your own. You’d wondered if he was going to take your hand in his and hold it. He hadn’t, but you’d wished he had.
You also remember a hug that was held a little too close for a little too long. A hug that had stolen your breath and made you wonder if perhaps …
Words? Had he said anything special to you? You remember him smiling, that bright, warm smile of his, as he waveringly told you what a good friend you are. That smile had made something inside of you shake.
He’s called you ‘cute’, too, on a number of occasions. But that was nothing special, because most everyone called you cute. But it always meant so much more whenever he said it.
And you’re almost positive that he’s called you ‘pretty’ too. You can’t be entirely sure, because at the time, his voice had been so soft and his words only a whisper, and that soft, sweet smile of his had accompanied the words. But you’re pretty sure that he said to you: ‘you’re so pretty, Minnie.’
But did all of this, did any of it, mean anything? You can’t be sure. And it frustrates you. You wish you could read his mind, or his emotions, and see if he ever suffered from the same skin-tingling, heart-racing, stomach-fluttering feelings of breathlessness that you feel whenever he’s around. But you can’t. So you can’t be sure.
You can’t even be sure of your own feelings.
From the movies you’ve seen and the books you’ve read, you’ve managed to come up with a pretty good idea of what this kind of love is supposed to feel like. You know you suffer from all of the main symptoms, the racing heart and tingling skin, the butterflies in your stomach and the breath stopping in your lungs, and on more than one occasion you’ve felt your knees go weak because of his smile. You find yourself wanting to touch him, hold him, run your fingers through his hair and feel his breath on your skin. You want to kiss him and feel his lips all over you, and so much more. You want everything, absolutely everything. And you want it all forever.
It feels like love to you. What you think love should feel like. You want to be everything to him, everything and so much more. You want to mean the world to him, just like he’s come to mean to you. You want to hear him whisper your name in a way that no one ever has. And most of all, you want to hear him say those three little words to you.
You imagine the scenario, what it might be like.
You imagine his lips, soft and sweet, sliding gently over your own. You imagine his eyes, so open and dark, looking deep into your own. You imagine his breath, warm across your skin as he breathes so close to you. You imagine his fingers brushing lightly over your cheek. You imagine his voice, soft and low, but with that certain ring of honesty and emotion in it, saying those words to you. I love you, Sungmin. You imagine how you would feel. Much like you do now, just thinking about it, breathless and trembling, wide-eyed and oh-so-happy. You imagine saying them back, of course, and then being wrapped up tightly in his arms, held closer than close as he breathes in your scent and kisses your cheek.
That would be wonderful. Too wonderful to be true, or ever happen though. Because this isn’t a movie, or a book, or a song. It’s real life, and in real life, as you’ve learnt so far, things work differently.
Another scenario comes to mind. One where you’re still not sure of his feelings, but you’re almost positive by his long glances and lingering touches and soft smiles that you know what he’s feeling. And one night you build up your courage and find yourself brave enough to admit to him how you feel, and the moment you see him you find the words just pouring from your lips.
But in this scene that you’re imagining, things don’t work out. It isn’t rainbows and butterflies and happily-ever-afters. In this scenario, you see his eyes widen in surprise and his mouth twist into a nervous frown. And you can tell instantly that it wasn’t the right time to tell him, because he’s surprised, and doesn’t know what to say besides I’m sorry.
Imagining this brings the familiar prickle of tears to your eyes and before you know it you find yourself curled up tightly in your bed under your trembling blanket as you bite your lip and try to stop your sobs from escaping. Imagining his rejection is just too much for you. It’s not even real, it’s all been dreamed up in your mind, but it still hurts and makes your heart tremble and ache. You couldn’t handle that, you couldn’t.
And as you lay there, shaking and sobbing, wondering what love is and what love means and if you’ll ever find it, you realise that you’re never going to tell him, that you’ll never find the strength to admit your feelings to him, just in case. Just in case it doesn’t turn out like movies and books and songs, and he rejects you.
So instead of telling him, you whisper out the most important words you’ll ever say to someone else in the empty quiet of your bedroom, trying to make it real, and knowing that it’s not.
I love you, Donghae.
- end -