Spectrum
| Spectrum | pg-13 to r | super junior | various |
Heechul: everybody lies. [house au, abandoned wip]. 684.
Heechul pops a Vicodin and stares out of his glass-walled office. He's told it's supposed to develop his character or something, but the muttering of his minions outside is making that very difficult. He hobbles towards the door, intending to instill a little fear and intimidation into them, but it suddenly opens and he's greeted by an extremely large and eager smile.
"Hello Doctor Kim!" the man enunciates carefully, although traces of an accent and exclamation marks are still painfully obvious. "I was just about to come and consult you for your highly esteemed professional expertise."
Heechul blinks, then leans sideways until the rest of his staff are visible. "Who the hell is this? I thought I said no hiring without my explicit approval."
"Our new internal medicine intern. He just sat himself down and refused to leave." Kyuhyun says, not looking up from his DS. On the whiteboard behind him are the words lupus, vasculitis, and it's never those, so let’s lock Heechul up with the patient until he reaches an epiphany.
The insolence makes Heechul's blood boil. Time to show some authority around here. Shoving the newcomer to the side, Heechul strides towards the table. "Donghae, what's the status on the patient?"
"Alive," he says with a barely covered yawn. The bleeding heart was probably working all night at the emergency room again. "At least for now. But if we don't treat her soon, she might lose her toes." He makes a very sad face at this. "She's a very accomplished tightrope walker. It would be such a waste if - "
Heechul waves an impatient hand. "Alright, run the usual tests. Where the hell is kibum? He should be helping you guys out."
"Gone to cheat MRI time out of Doctor Hankyung's patients." Kyuhyun finally looks up. "Speaking of which, he left a note for you."
Heechul looks around wildly before the new guy taps him on the shoulder, his smile looking more apprehensive by the second, and hands him a worn, sweat-damp envelop.
This is Zhou Mi, the note reads in Hankyung's neat, careful writing, I told Jungsu how much you wanted a new intern and ta-dah! They happened to have a spare one. I know how much you enjoy aiding and encouraging the growth of budding doctors...
Heechul flips the note over. …So maybe now you’ll stop messing with my patients.
"You," He glowers at the smiley guy - Zhou Mi, the note reminds him - "Go make yourself useful. I'll be in my office plotting someone’s demise."
-
He debates having penis-shaped pizzas delivered to Hankyung's office, but then decides that it's too childish, even for him. Instead, he bribes the janitor to set off the sprinklers from the cafeteria to the seventh floor, so that Hankyung's walk back from lunch is showered with Heechul's cold, dripping love.
"I really hate you." Hankyung hisses later that day, pulling on spare surgery slacks and flip-flops. Nurses and interns alike have been peeking into the office, possibly for a glimpse of bare back or thigh - an unforeseen consequence that Heechul isn't particularly fond of. "My leukemia patient made me a card. She can barely move , but she still made me a goddamn card. A card that was, incidentally, destroyed by water damage this afternoon. What do you think about that, hmm?"
"Oh please," Heechul rolls his eyes, "I wasn't the one who forcibly held that card over your head to protect your brand new armani suit. Speaking of which, it looks fake. You should get Zhou Mi to look at it. It's uncanny how he has an eye for these things."
Hankyung shoves him out and locks the door. Heechul turns to face Kyuhyun's smirk. "It's not lupus or vasculitis," he says, waving sheets of test results. "And I see Hankyung's angry at you again. I do love a normal day at work."
Kyuhyun gets fired for the fifth time that week, not that it ever holds. Heechul thinks more severe punishments are in order, but he needs someone to bounce ideas off of, and Hankyung is, pardon the understatement, unavailable at the moment.
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi: from somewhere up in the sky. 187.
So once upon a time there were these fifteen multi-coloured bears who lived in a castle in the sky, right? And they must've been super light weight too, cause they could stand on clouds and shit and they were all super happy and friendly and often baked cakes of rainbows and butterflies.
And speaking of rainbows, they…kind of shot that from their bellies.
Oftentimes, they looked down at the patterns on their chests with a twinge of embarrassment. This hit some of them especially hard, especially Kyuhyun, if his latest suicide attempt was anything to go by.
"You're Grumpy Bear," said Zhou Mi, "not Suicidal Bear. No wonder kids don't like you."
A new line of determination hardened Kyuhyun's jaw as storm clouds gathered over his tinfoil hat. Unfortunately, the dark clouds were soon blasted away by a well-timed yellow beam from Zhou Mi's torso.
"Fuck you," Kyuhyun snarled, glaring at the bright smiling sun imprinted on Zhou Mi's belly, "Everything to you is fun and games. I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought earthquakes were happy."
And at that, the corners of Zhou Mi’s mouth drooped.
Kyuhyun: if you can't stand the fire. 409.
He may have learned how to supreme a grapefruit in thirty seconds, but there are still holes in his skill set that would make his career - and life, because god knows he needs help at that - easier. There's a reason nobody brings a chef to a gunfight, Heechul told him once, drunk on the instructors' stash of prized cooking wines and post-graduation adrenaline, completely fucking useless out of our natural environment. Can you imagine the carnage? You can only hope they'd kill themselves laughing first.
It’s a well known fact that Heechul was once a force to be reckoned with at school. By the time he entered, he already had more kitchen experience than half the graduating students, and could competently drink the other half under the table. Nobody messed with him if they could help it - the great Kim Heechul, who could cut you just as easily with his words as his knife - and even the instructors were in awe of him, making special arrangements to accommodate his special genius. Kyuhyun once heard the administration discussing the possibility of adding a trauma therapist to their payroll, a temp position that should last four years at most, hopefully, if Heechul doesn't pass his other talents onto a younger student, but the cost probably overweighed the benefits.
Or maybe they figured that, between the students' casual and professional drinking (the sommeliers insist on developing their palates at all times of the day), they were in perfect mental health, and the rest just needed a few more alcohol addled visits to the bar.
Kyuhyun would have been afraid of Heechul - he was taught to when he first arrived after all - except the other man had taken a liking to him. Perhaps it's because they were both exceptionally talented and ambitious, except -
Except ambition doesn't really include running away with the son of the hole-in-the-wall dumpling shop down the street. Nor does it include opening a dingier hole-in-the-wall dumpling shop across town and playing kitchen hand to someone who learned cooking from his mother and doing the odd delivery. It positively baffles Kyuhyun, but with his upcoming exams, he can’t spare a moment thinking about Heechul wasting his talent and trained palate. Instead, he rolls his shoulders to relieve their stiffness and tips a stream of warm, clear butter into the bowl of eggyolks, whisking the mixture into a blur of silver and yellow.
Kyuhyun/Jonghyun: adventures in laundryland. 219.
As far as couples go, Jonghyun thinks he and Kyuhyun have got it pretty easy. After all, it's what they deserve after a rough start. Jonghyun blames it on the meddling of fourteen other people with too much time on their hands, but he supposes he's at least partially responsible. He hadn't quite grasped the concept of not spilling things on Kyuhyun until the fifth date, but that had led to a series of late nights waiting for Kyuhyun's pants to dry and finding really-good-and-totally-awesome-like-you-cannot-imagine ways of passing that time.
Which is how doing laundry together has sort of become their...thing.
sorry but im gonna have to cancel tonight, reads the text from Kyuhyun. siwon's having trouble hitting the high note again.
Jonghyun tries not to deflate from the disappointment. Lately these texts have been happening more and more often. With a sigh, he sends back it's alright, we'll reschedule for another day. He debates whether to add a heart too, but then decides that he is Rather Upset with Kyuhyun who, therefore, doesn't really deserve one.
And besides, who needs him anyways? With a determined frown, Jonghyun turns the washer load to heavy, climbs on top, and announces in a deep, grave voice:
"Ready for liftoff in five, four, three, two, one-"
And hits the Start Cycle.
Kyuhyun/Jonghyun: black and white and red all over. 276.
He wants a room with walls of blackboard resin and a floor perpetually layered with chalk dust. He wants the smear of conte to never leave his fingertips, until everything he touches carries a smudge of white. It'll be like his mark on the world, he thinks, palms pressed flat against the floor-to-ceiling galaxy he has just drawn; the irony of his insignificance is not lost on him.
"You know, if anyone should feel insignificant, it's me." Jonghyun says, squinting at the lines of their height bisecting the Milky Way. "It sucks to be short."
Kyuhyun leans close and presses a crooked smile against the half-formed complaint on Jonghyun's lips. He pushes him into the bed, perpetually unmade just for this purpose, and the air fogs from billows of chalk dust. Jonghyun struggles, resentment clear in the way his feet fight for purchase on the ground, adding to the skid marks that already decorate the floor.
“Stop.” Jonghyun gasps between kisses, “Stop, I can’t do this. I love him.”
“So do I.” Kyuhyun mutters against the quivering muscles of Jonghyun’s abdomen, tracing his tongue along the trail of hair leading into his jeans. “Why else would I do this with you?”
He tugs off the other boy’s jeans with none of the gentleness he once reserved for someone whose scent still lingers on his pillow. “You’re such a bastard.” Jonghyun moans, fingers fisting into hair almost too short to grasp. “He’s with me now, just let it go.”
No, Kyuhyun thinks. Never. And he grips Jonghyun’s hip hard enough to bruise, until the bright red skin shows pinkish and faded through a layer of white powder.
Ryeowook/Yesung: galatea. 302.
"How did we get like this?" He asks, and you can't tell if it's rhetorical. Better not to answer, you think, and let your body curl a little closer. The tips of his fingers are cold, but his palm is still warm, and it's the sort of warmth you want to feel against your shoulder blades, on the backs of your knees, on that hollow below your anklebone.
But that time is long past. "Was it worth it?" He asks, and you're still not sure if he wants an answer. So you link your fingers through his and bring his palm to your lips, and he doesn't seem to mind.
Once upon a time, you worshiped the curve of his cheekbones, the flat plane of his stomach, the taper of his thighs, the arch of his sole. You called him a doll because he was porcelain all over. You were happy in his perfection, and even though he resented the name "Ryeong," he still smiled for you.
"I'm not going to be young forever," he joked the day you pressed open-mouthed kisses to the well of his hips, but you couldn't even force a laugh. It bothered you that all his peerless grandeur would go to waste, that one day, heavens forbid, his subconscious grace would segue into clumsy stumbles.
No. You decided. That must not happen. And so you made it come true.
He's cold now, like marble on priceless statues. "Was it worth it, Jongwoonie?" He asks again, a little sad, and for a moment, you're angered by his ungratefulness. He can't possibly understand this was all for him. But still, you forgive him and kiss his unmoving lips.
"Of course, Ryeong," you say, because you're pretty sure he does want an answer, "I don't regret it for a second."
i swear some of these made more sense in my head.
Heechul: everybody lies. [house au, abandoned wip]. 684.
Heechul pops a Vicodin and stares out of his glass-walled office. He's told it's supposed to develop his character or something, but the muttering of his minions outside is making that very difficult. He hobbles towards the door, intending to instill a little fear and intimidation into them, but it suddenly opens and he's greeted by an extremely large and eager smile.
"Hello Doctor Kim!" the man enunciates carefully, although traces of an accent and exclamation marks are still painfully obvious. "I was just about to come and consult you for your highly esteemed professional expertise."
Heechul blinks, then leans sideways until the rest of his staff are visible. "Who the hell is this? I thought I said no hiring without my explicit approval."
"Our new internal medicine intern. He just sat himself down and refused to leave." Kyuhyun says, not looking up from his DS. On the whiteboard behind him are the words lupus, vasculitis, and it's never those, so let’s lock Heechul up with the patient until he reaches an epiphany.
The insolence makes Heechul's blood boil. Time to show some authority around here. Shoving the newcomer to the side, Heechul strides towards the table. "Donghae, what's the status on the patient?"
"Alive," he says with a barely covered yawn. The bleeding heart was probably working all night at the emergency room again. "At least for now. But if we don't treat her soon, she might lose her toes." He makes a very sad face at this. "She's a very accomplished tightrope walker. It would be such a waste if - "
Heechul waves an impatient hand. "Alright, run the usual tests. Where the hell is kibum? He should be helping you guys out."
"Gone to cheat MRI time out of Doctor Hankyung's patients." Kyuhyun finally looks up. "Speaking of which, he left a note for you."
Heechul looks around wildly before the new guy taps him on the shoulder, his smile looking more apprehensive by the second, and hands him a worn, sweat-damp envelop.
This is Zhou Mi, the note reads in Hankyung's neat, careful writing, I told Jungsu how much you wanted a new intern and ta-dah! They happened to have a spare one. I know how much you enjoy aiding and encouraging the growth of budding doctors...
Heechul flips the note over. …So maybe now you’ll stop messing with my patients.
"You," He glowers at the smiley guy - Zhou Mi, the note reminds him - "Go make yourself useful. I'll be in my office plotting someone’s demise."
-
He debates having penis-shaped pizzas delivered to Hankyung's office, but then decides that it's too childish, even for him. Instead, he bribes the janitor to set off the sprinklers from the cafeteria to the seventh floor, so that Hankyung's walk back from lunch is showered with Heechul's cold, dripping love.
"I really hate you." Hankyung hisses later that day, pulling on spare surgery slacks and flip-flops. Nurses and interns alike have been peeking into the office, possibly for a glimpse of bare back or thigh - an unforeseen consequence that Heechul isn't particularly fond of. "My leukemia patient made me a card. She can barely move , but she still made me a goddamn card. A card that was, incidentally, destroyed by water damage this afternoon. What do you think about that, hmm?"
"Oh please," Heechul rolls his eyes, "I wasn't the one who forcibly held that card over your head to protect your brand new armani suit. Speaking of which, it looks fake. You should get Zhou Mi to look at it. It's uncanny how he has an eye for these things."
Hankyung shoves him out and locks the door. Heechul turns to face Kyuhyun's smirk. "It's not lupus or vasculitis," he says, waving sheets of test results. "And I see Hankyung's angry at you again. I do love a normal day at work."
Kyuhyun gets fired for the fifth time that week, not that it ever holds. Heechul thinks more severe punishments are in order, but he needs someone to bounce ideas off of, and Hankyung is, pardon the understatement, unavailable at the moment.
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi: from somewhere up in the sky. 187.
So once upon a time there were these fifteen multi-coloured bears who lived in a castle in the sky, right? And they must've been super light weight too, cause they could stand on clouds and shit and they were all super happy and friendly and often baked cakes of rainbows and butterflies.
And speaking of rainbows, they…kind of shot that from their bellies.
Oftentimes, they looked down at the patterns on their chests with a twinge of embarrassment. This hit some of them especially hard, especially Kyuhyun, if his latest suicide attempt was anything to go by.
"You're Grumpy Bear," said Zhou Mi, "not Suicidal Bear. No wonder kids don't like you."
A new line of determination hardened Kyuhyun's jaw as storm clouds gathered over his tinfoil hat. Unfortunately, the dark clouds were soon blasted away by a well-timed yellow beam from Zhou Mi's torso.
"Fuck you," Kyuhyun snarled, glaring at the bright smiling sun imprinted on Zhou Mi's belly, "Everything to you is fun and games. I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought earthquakes were happy."
And at that, the corners of Zhou Mi’s mouth drooped.
Kyuhyun: if you can't stand the fire. 409.
He may have learned how to supreme a grapefruit in thirty seconds, but there are still holes in his skill set that would make his career - and life, because god knows he needs help at that - easier. There's a reason nobody brings a chef to a gunfight, Heechul told him once, drunk on the instructors' stash of prized cooking wines and post-graduation adrenaline, completely fucking useless out of our natural environment. Can you imagine the carnage? You can only hope they'd kill themselves laughing first.
It’s a well known fact that Heechul was once a force to be reckoned with at school. By the time he entered, he already had more kitchen experience than half the graduating students, and could competently drink the other half under the table. Nobody messed with him if they could help it - the great Kim Heechul, who could cut you just as easily with his words as his knife - and even the instructors were in awe of him, making special arrangements to accommodate his special genius. Kyuhyun once heard the administration discussing the possibility of adding a trauma therapist to their payroll, a temp position that should last four years at most, hopefully, if Heechul doesn't pass his other talents onto a younger student, but the cost probably overweighed the benefits.
Or maybe they figured that, between the students' casual and professional drinking (the sommeliers insist on developing their palates at all times of the day), they were in perfect mental health, and the rest just needed a few more alcohol addled visits to the bar.
Kyuhyun would have been afraid of Heechul - he was taught to when he first arrived after all - except the other man had taken a liking to him. Perhaps it's because they were both exceptionally talented and ambitious, except -
Except ambition doesn't really include running away with the son of the hole-in-the-wall dumpling shop down the street. Nor does it include opening a dingier hole-in-the-wall dumpling shop across town and playing kitchen hand to someone who learned cooking from his mother and doing the odd delivery. It positively baffles Kyuhyun, but with his upcoming exams, he can’t spare a moment thinking about Heechul wasting his talent and trained palate. Instead, he rolls his shoulders to relieve their stiffness and tips a stream of warm, clear butter into the bowl of eggyolks, whisking the mixture into a blur of silver and yellow.
Kyuhyun/Jonghyun: adventures in laundryland. 219.
As far as couples go, Jonghyun thinks he and Kyuhyun have got it pretty easy. After all, it's what they deserve after a rough start. Jonghyun blames it on the meddling of fourteen other people with too much time on their hands, but he supposes he's at least partially responsible. He hadn't quite grasped the concept of not spilling things on Kyuhyun until the fifth date, but that had led to a series of late nights waiting for Kyuhyun's pants to dry and finding really-good-and-totally-awesome-like-you-cannot-imagine ways of passing that time.
Which is how doing laundry together has sort of become their...thing.
sorry but im gonna have to cancel tonight, reads the text from Kyuhyun. siwon's having trouble hitting the high note again.
Jonghyun tries not to deflate from the disappointment. Lately these texts have been happening more and more often. With a sigh, he sends back it's alright, we'll reschedule for another day. He debates whether to add a heart too, but then decides that he is Rather Upset with Kyuhyun who, therefore, doesn't really deserve one.
And besides, who needs him anyways? With a determined frown, Jonghyun turns the washer load to heavy, climbs on top, and announces in a deep, grave voice:
"Ready for liftoff in five, four, three, two, one-"
And hits the Start Cycle.
Kyuhyun/Jonghyun: black and white and red all over. 276.
He wants a room with walls of blackboard resin and a floor perpetually layered with chalk dust. He wants the smear of conte to never leave his fingertips, until everything he touches carries a smudge of white. It'll be like his mark on the world, he thinks, palms pressed flat against the floor-to-ceiling galaxy he has just drawn; the irony of his insignificance is not lost on him.
"You know, if anyone should feel insignificant, it's me." Jonghyun says, squinting at the lines of their height bisecting the Milky Way. "It sucks to be short."
Kyuhyun leans close and presses a crooked smile against the half-formed complaint on Jonghyun's lips. He pushes him into the bed, perpetually unmade just for this purpose, and the air fogs from billows of chalk dust. Jonghyun struggles, resentment clear in the way his feet fight for purchase on the ground, adding to the skid marks that already decorate the floor.
“Stop.” Jonghyun gasps between kisses, “Stop, I can’t do this. I love him.”
“So do I.” Kyuhyun mutters against the quivering muscles of Jonghyun’s abdomen, tracing his tongue along the trail of hair leading into his jeans. “Why else would I do this with you?”
He tugs off the other boy’s jeans with none of the gentleness he once reserved for someone whose scent still lingers on his pillow. “You’re such a bastard.” Jonghyun moans, fingers fisting into hair almost too short to grasp. “He’s with me now, just let it go.”
No, Kyuhyun thinks. Never. And he grips Jonghyun’s hip hard enough to bruise, until the bright red skin shows pinkish and faded through a layer of white powder.
Ryeowook/Yesung: galatea. 302.
"How did we get like this?" He asks, and you can't tell if it's rhetorical. Better not to answer, you think, and let your body curl a little closer. The tips of his fingers are cold, but his palm is still warm, and it's the sort of warmth you want to feel against your shoulder blades, on the backs of your knees, on that hollow below your anklebone.
But that time is long past. "Was it worth it?" He asks, and you're still not sure if he wants an answer. So you link your fingers through his and bring his palm to your lips, and he doesn't seem to mind.
Once upon a time, you worshiped the curve of his cheekbones, the flat plane of his stomach, the taper of his thighs, the arch of his sole. You called him a doll because he was porcelain all over. You were happy in his perfection, and even though he resented the name "Ryeong," he still smiled for you.
"I'm not going to be young forever," he joked the day you pressed open-mouthed kisses to the well of his hips, but you couldn't even force a laugh. It bothered you that all his peerless grandeur would go to waste, that one day, heavens forbid, his subconscious grace would segue into clumsy stumbles.
No. You decided. That must not happen. And so you made it come true.
He's cold now, like marble on priceless statues. "Was it worth it, Jongwoonie?" He asks again, a little sad, and for a moment, you're angered by his ungratefulness. He can't possibly understand this was all for him. But still, you forgive him and kiss his unmoving lips.
"Of course, Ryeong," you say, because you're pretty sure he does want an answer, "I don't regret it for a second."
i swear some of these made more sense in my head.