like ships in the night
(passing me by.)
super junior | g | donghae/kyuhyun
"theif!"
he's a dark-haired, dark eyed boy whose mouth works faster than his brain. he runs like a panther; swift, quiet, and fast. he can imagine himself running across rooftops, looking behind him as wind ruffles through his hair and as he carries anything - doesn't matter what - to make the chase worthwhile.
...well, truthfully, right now he's just threading through the crowd of bewildered people in the middle of seoul as an elderly man yells back at him, his face angry and red.
serves him right, kyuhyun thinks, slowing to an easy pace and ducking his head as he blends in with the rest of the sweltering crowd. bastard had the nerve to touch a girl about fifteen years younger than him. he had seen her face, how disgusted and scared she was, and he stepped right behind him and swiped his pocket, bumping into his shoulder like a rookie to make sure that the guy got what was coming. kyuhyun didn't like stealing from random strangers and instead liked swiping from those insufferable ones that give humankind a bad name.
of course, when the tough got going, he'd do anything for warmth and just a bit of food. that was the life of a street rat, of course, even a clever, used-to-go-to-school-and-possibly-had-a-future one like him.
he threw that life away when things got to be too much. he wasn't going to go back. all he needed was his guitar, his voice, and his quick hands, that was all.
kyuhyun fishes out the wallet in his pocket, checking over the id card and credit cards with no interest. he sticks his hand in and comes back with a bunch of five hundreds, a few thousands, and a few ones. he knows he's hit the jackpot when he finds a hundred thousand and slips it in between his fingers, happy that it would last him for a while.
his hideout is a place where no one knows. it's in the alleyway of a dumpster site, where he puts his guitar case with all his life savings (could you call it that?) there. it smells, he knows, but he always carries the instrument around and he only leaves it there to steal. and sometimes, he doesn't leave it there at all. people don't suspect a hurrying musical student to be a theif, after all.
he throws out the wallet, stuffs the money in his guitar case and slings it over his shoulder, walking out of the alleyway while humming a tone underneath his breath.
he's barely walked a few steps before a hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. he's faced with chocolate brown eyes on a handsome face.
"you know, that was a really cowardly thing to do," the guy says, his voice deep like smooth butter. kyuhyun cocks his head, silently coming to a conclusion that he was older than him. "running away with my uncle's money. i know he isn't the best of people, but really? he's got me chasing after you now."
kyuhyun's mind flashes to the angry man that he's seen earlier, and the brown-eyed teen before him now. his face shows no change of expression as he snickers on the inside incredulously, that's his uncle? i see no resemblence.
"i'd be happy if you'd give that wallet back now," the other says seriously, now sounding worried, his hand tightening. "then we'll both go our seperate ways."
kyuhyun makes his first motion by snorting. "threw it out," he replies, hating the way how his voice is so raspy. he needs to sing again soon, or else he's going to lose his voice. "i don't have it anymore. probably in one trashcan or something."
the other pulls away, stunned, "why would you do that?"
kyuhyun glares at him. "you're awfully naive, aren't you, if you think that i'm going to keep a piece of trash that belongs to a piece of trash that'll just get me in trouble with authority." ah, that's better. his voice sounds like his own again; smooth, sharp, like a runaway.
brunette-stranger opens his mouth, then closes it. he doesn't know what to say, and he's terribly confused. "but-"
"take a hint," kyuhyun cuts in smoothly, turning around quickly, "and grow up."
kyuhyun ignores the way that a small voice in his head says, but you don't want to grow up either, do you, hypocrite?
.
he stands on top of a bench made of stone and pretty marble, wearing his dirty clothes that he changes about once a month. they drape off his unusually skinny form, taking away some of the light in his large, doe eyes and adding to the gauntness in his cheeks, but there's no mistaking the smile on his face as he sings, sings his heart out to the world and beaming down at the people who are willing to listen.
his guitar case is down on the floor and sometimes he sees people throwing their money in there, coins and paper dollars of won and tips. he can care later, when he stops getting high off the salty air from the han river behind him and the rush that singing gives him, the melody that threads through the air and makes its way through his lungs.
"stop talking - i hate myself for knowing everything before you even opened your mouth..."
when he's all sung out for the day - or the hour, because really, he's never empty of music - he puts down his guitar next to the case beside him, tucked protectively behind his back. he sits down cross-legged on the floor, so happy - he's never happy until the day comes to this - that he gives everyone his blinding smile, even though crooked and unused, making everyone smile back at him,
he turns down to the case and is about to gather up all the money carefully in his palms, just so he can count it all and put it back in the guitar case for life later. but he's interrupted by the jingle of coins as they flop down on the worn velvet of his case, and he looks up to thank another person when he freezes.
in front of him is a boy, a pretty handsome boy with chocolate eyes and a knowing, probing look in his eyes. kyuhyun can't help but feel as if he knows him.
"you're a really good singer," the boy says softly, and even his voice is familiar. "crazy good. for a second there, i though i almost fell in love with your voice."
it's a compliment that he doesn't get much. people usually just look and listen, smile and awe, then leave as he is forgotten in the back of their minds. he is not important to them; but his music is to him, "thanks," he says shortly, motioning to the money as well.
"i also found it surprising that a thief could actually work for his money too."
kyuhyun stops again. oh, he thinks, his mood turning downward. now i remember you.
"not all thieves live by the code," he replies easily, his face unchanging. it does nothing, though, because he can see the other smirk as he stands up. "some of us actually do something for money too. we're that desperate."
"it seems to me that you just like singing," the chocolate-eyed boy says softly, his long hair - cut in layers, not shaggy and dirty like his - swishing across his forehead. they're eye to eye, kyuhyun notices, if the other's not just an inch or two taller. "in fact, i think you'd sing even if you didn't get any money for the whole week."
kyuhyun doesn't say anything, because hey, it's true.
he turns and starts to walk around the boy, away from the high that the salty air gives him and the rush that the wind blows through his bangs. the other, however, stops him with a rugged tug of the shoulder, and it's very familiar, very warm.
"here," the other says, holding up a white bag. it's crinkled at the top where he holds it, but kyuhyun can smell the fresh bread inside, and his eyes go wide. the other chuckles. "i'm a baker's son. i don't need this. you, however...look like you do."
kyuhyun snorts, but takes the bag gently. he folds up the top and, just for kicks, after a hesitant second he bows. his shirt falls away from his thin chest, and he can see the other boy's feet start back in surprise.
"thank you," he says when he comes back up, his voice soft and looking down at the bag with the utmost caution. no one, in all the ten years he's been on the run, has ever given him food straight up. it's the kindest thing that he's experienced so far, and he's shocked - scared - to pinpoint a warmth blooming in his chest.
then, there's someone ruffling his head, their fingers through his dark locks, and he looks up to see the other with a smile on his thin lips. "thank you, donghae," he corrects, and kyuhyun repeats it with a slow tongue and a wondrous feeling blooming.
.
donghae doesn't live like a beggar. he's grown up in a thrifty house, where the tension is so thick that you move through it like honey. he's used to seeing his brother cry and his mother sob in front of a black-and-white picture of a man that looks so much like him, flowers all around the frame and their sobs the only thing in the room. he doesn't remember the sound, because all he can remember is the sound of his heart breaking.
he doesn't really live for the next four years. he thinks that maybe he's just going through a phase (denial, they all said) but he knows that when you don't really take pleasure in anything, then it's just when your body is numb, like a doll. he can't feel, he can't hear, he can't even think properly.
him and his family move into his uncle's bakery in the middle of seoul, away from mokpo. donghwa, his brother, his hyung, says that seoul is a place of beginnings and beauty and he has the most heartbreaking smile on his face, so full of pain, so full of sadness, so full of i want this to be over. so donghae just agrees.
he doesn't see the beauty. all he sees is the embezzlement charges in the mail against his uncle, their hope of living, the dull shifting of the day as it goes from night to day to day to night and back again. the droning of teachers in his new school, the blathering of his self-proclaimed 'best friend', the way that he's there but he's not really there. he's always been this way, and everyone knows, everyone doesn't say a word.
and then, he experiences the first real moment of his life.
it's looking out from the store windows and seeing a dark head slip into a pocket, his uncle yelling at someone in the seoul crowd, his face red and his clothes mussed. it's jumping when he realizes that he's told to go chase after that damn boy and get his money back even though he'll never catch up.
but donghae, donghae just shuts up and goes. it's what he does best, after all.
the kid's not hard to find. he has dark hair shaggier, longer, more pitch-black than the rest, and even though other people don't seem to notice him, donghae does.
he waits until the kid goes in an alleyway and comes out, a guitar case strapped to his back.
that's when he grabs hold of the shoulder and breathes a long breath, turning the other around to come face-to-face with big dark eyes and full lips, and he doesn't miss the way that his heart skips a beat.
.
kyuhyun is two years younger than him, donghae learns. he's a runaway. his mum left him when he was young, and his father was a 'drunken bastard'. when he was young - kyuhyun says he can't remember when - he ran away and got caught by the authorities. then he lived in a foster home for a year. and then he ran away again.
donghae learns that kyuhyun is quick and clever. his mind works fast and he acts accordingly. though he's skinny and he has too long hair that falls in his big, big eyes (that donghae can never take his eyes away from) and he's got these lips that are just so full and pretty and his skin's so clear and white and the bridge of his nose is perfectly shaped, donghae can't help but think that the thing that he likes the most is his smile. kyuhyun has this blinding smile that makes his world less dull, makes seoul that place of beginnings and beauty that his hyung told him so long ago.
and then, when kyuhyun sings, donghae feels a flame of nostalgia, that old wish and dream and life of his that he had. one that involved laughing, drinking strawberry milk alongside his father and dancing whenever he feels like it.
kyuhyun sings for him all the time. he doesn't know how it happens, but it just does.
donghae would walk by the han river, where kyuhyun is there everyday, standing on top of the same marble stone. he's never unhappy, he's never late, and he's never absent. the han river glitters behind him like it's listening to those songs too, but now even long after the crowd is gone kyuhyun sits crossed legged on the floor with his beat up shoes touching the tips of his own. donghae's so close that he can feel the warmth of kyuhyun's knee pressing against his, smell his somehow endearing scent of seoul air.
and then kyuhyun strums his guitar, and he opens his mouth, and donghae knows that kyuhyun is singing just for him. he can see it when kyuhyun just glances at him at the corner of his eye, his cheeks just slightly flushed, his eyes bright. donghae thinks that they're the brightest things he's ever seen.
kyuhyun sings of love and dreams, of happiness in another place far away. he sings about flying and soaring, so high above the clouds that it makes everything else pale in comparison. he sings of wishes that shoot across the night, of tiny paper boats that children float on the river, of the locks with engraved futures snapped on to gates. he sings about all the things, and somehow, in the middle, he just stops strumming his guitar and just sings, sings like it's what he wants to do every day of his life, sings like it's all he can do.
donghae thinks that he may have fallen in love with that voice. sometimes, their fingers intertwine just in the middle, and kyuhyun will let his voice train away, and donghae will ask a question about kyuhyun, and kyuhyun will answer. and then kyuhyun will do the same, and donghae will answer. and they know each other, they learn about each other, this way until there is everything to know about them.
he doesn't steal anymore. donghae doesn't know if that's true (because kyuhyun's told him that one day when he was done singing) because he's pretty sure that the younger is stealing something very important of donghae's without even knowing.
spring and summer pass by just like that, with their hands intertwined under the stars, and songs in between them. donghae, he just starts getting the little brighter, and people start to notice.
"you look happier," donghwa says to him one day, after he's sent another person in the bakery off. "met a girl?"
and donghae just looks at him with a smile that he hasn't worn since his dad died and colour on his cheeks. "better."
truthfully, donghae wants to bring kyuhyun home. he wants to show off kyuhyun to the world; he wants to tell everyone, scream in their faces: look at him! look at how beautiful he is. doesn't he move you? doesn't he mean anything to you? because donghae can't stand the way that people look at kyuhyun, like he's scum under their shoe, like he's not worth their time, when donghae's sure that he's worth a thousand of donghae's lives (in his eyes). he would spend all day with him, if he could. sometimes, he just skips out on nights all together, and they sit together like they've been doing it all their lives, their hands locked, their knees pressed together.
it amazes donghae, how he could depend so much on one person, how much he could want to hug someone and kiss them senseless. it surprises him how much he wants to keep that smile on kyuhyun's face, how much he wants to poke that cheek and carry him over his shoulder while the other shouts at him to let him down. it surprises donghae at how hard and fast he's fallen, because hey, isn't love supposed to be like those explosive and problematic dramas? but no, it's nothing like that, and he's glad - so glad - that it's not like that.
and so, when kyuhyun's singing in the middle of the day where no one's really paying attention - it's too cold, they don't care about music, only warmth - donghae pulls him down into his chest and hugs him tight, ignoring the sound of indignation. he places a blanket around the other's shoulders, glad that when he pulls back the face to hold it in his uncovered palms, it's just a little fuller, a little more prettier.
and when he kisses kyuhyun, he tastes like bakery bread and firecrackers. donghae hears all those sappy love songs and skippy jives play over and over in his head when kyuhyun kisses him back.
...you should have expected a kyuhae one, lol. otp is too strong to resist. ;-;
another added to the stranger series. whoo. i think they'll all take place in seoul...
super junior | g | donghae/kyuhyun
"theif!"
he's a dark-haired, dark eyed boy whose mouth works faster than his brain. he runs like a panther; swift, quiet, and fast. he can imagine himself running across rooftops, looking behind him as wind ruffles through his hair and as he carries anything - doesn't matter what - to make the chase worthwhile.
...well, truthfully, right now he's just threading through the crowd of bewildered people in the middle of seoul as an elderly man yells back at him, his face angry and red.
serves him right, kyuhyun thinks, slowing to an easy pace and ducking his head as he blends in with the rest of the sweltering crowd. bastard had the nerve to touch a girl about fifteen years younger than him. he had seen her face, how disgusted and scared she was, and he stepped right behind him and swiped his pocket, bumping into his shoulder like a rookie to make sure that the guy got what was coming. kyuhyun didn't like stealing from random strangers and instead liked swiping from those insufferable ones that give humankind a bad name.
of course, when the tough got going, he'd do anything for warmth and just a bit of food. that was the life of a street rat, of course, even a clever, used-to-go-to-school-and-possibly-had-a-future one like him.
he threw that life away when things got to be too much. he wasn't going to go back. all he needed was his guitar, his voice, and his quick hands, that was all.
kyuhyun fishes out the wallet in his pocket, checking over the id card and credit cards with no interest. he sticks his hand in and comes back with a bunch of five hundreds, a few thousands, and a few ones. he knows he's hit the jackpot when he finds a hundred thousand and slips it in between his fingers, happy that it would last him for a while.
his hideout is a place where no one knows. it's in the alleyway of a dumpster site, where he puts his guitar case with all his life savings (could you call it that?) there. it smells, he knows, but he always carries the instrument around and he only leaves it there to steal. and sometimes, he doesn't leave it there at all. people don't suspect a hurrying musical student to be a theif, after all.
he throws out the wallet, stuffs the money in his guitar case and slings it over his shoulder, walking out of the alleyway while humming a tone underneath his breath.
he's barely walked a few steps before a hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. he's faced with chocolate brown eyes on a handsome face.
"you know, that was a really cowardly thing to do," the guy says, his voice deep like smooth butter. kyuhyun cocks his head, silently coming to a conclusion that he was older than him. "running away with my uncle's money. i know he isn't the best of people, but really? he's got me chasing after you now."
kyuhyun's mind flashes to the angry man that he's seen earlier, and the brown-eyed teen before him now. his face shows no change of expression as he snickers on the inside incredulously, that's his uncle? i see no resemblence.
"i'd be happy if you'd give that wallet back now," the other says seriously, now sounding worried, his hand tightening. "then we'll both go our seperate ways."
kyuhyun makes his first motion by snorting. "threw it out," he replies, hating the way how his voice is so raspy. he needs to sing again soon, or else he's going to lose his voice. "i don't have it anymore. probably in one trashcan or something."
the other pulls away, stunned, "why would you do that?"
kyuhyun glares at him. "you're awfully naive, aren't you, if you think that i'm going to keep a piece of trash that belongs to a piece of trash that'll just get me in trouble with authority." ah, that's better. his voice sounds like his own again; smooth, sharp, like a runaway.
brunette-stranger opens his mouth, then closes it. he doesn't know what to say, and he's terribly confused. "but-"
"take a hint," kyuhyun cuts in smoothly, turning around quickly, "and grow up."
kyuhyun ignores the way that a small voice in his head says, but you don't want to grow up either, do you, hypocrite?
.
he stands on top of a bench made of stone and pretty marble, wearing his dirty clothes that he changes about once a month. they drape off his unusually skinny form, taking away some of the light in his large, doe eyes and adding to the gauntness in his cheeks, but there's no mistaking the smile on his face as he sings, sings his heart out to the world and beaming down at the people who are willing to listen.
his guitar case is down on the floor and sometimes he sees people throwing their money in there, coins and paper dollars of won and tips. he can care later, when he stops getting high off the salty air from the han river behind him and the rush that singing gives him, the melody that threads through the air and makes its way through his lungs.
"stop talking - i hate myself for knowing everything before you even opened your mouth..."
when he's all sung out for the day - or the hour, because really, he's never empty of music - he puts down his guitar next to the case beside him, tucked protectively behind his back. he sits down cross-legged on the floor, so happy - he's never happy until the day comes to this - that he gives everyone his blinding smile, even though crooked and unused, making everyone smile back at him,
he turns down to the case and is about to gather up all the money carefully in his palms, just so he can count it all and put it back in the guitar case for life later. but he's interrupted by the jingle of coins as they flop down on the worn velvet of his case, and he looks up to thank another person when he freezes.
in front of him is a boy, a pretty handsome boy with chocolate eyes and a knowing, probing look in his eyes. kyuhyun can't help but feel as if he knows him.
"you're a really good singer," the boy says softly, and even his voice is familiar. "crazy good. for a second there, i though i almost fell in love with your voice."
it's a compliment that he doesn't get much. people usually just look and listen, smile and awe, then leave as he is forgotten in the back of their minds. he is not important to them; but his music is to him, "thanks," he says shortly, motioning to the money as well.
"i also found it surprising that a thief could actually work for his money too."
kyuhyun stops again. oh, he thinks, his mood turning downward. now i remember you.
"not all thieves live by the code," he replies easily, his face unchanging. it does nothing, though, because he can see the other smirk as he stands up. "some of us actually do something for money too. we're that desperate."
"it seems to me that you just like singing," the chocolate-eyed boy says softly, his long hair - cut in layers, not shaggy and dirty like his - swishing across his forehead. they're eye to eye, kyuhyun notices, if the other's not just an inch or two taller. "in fact, i think you'd sing even if you didn't get any money for the whole week."
kyuhyun doesn't say anything, because hey, it's true.
he turns and starts to walk around the boy, away from the high that the salty air gives him and the rush that the wind blows through his bangs. the other, however, stops him with a rugged tug of the shoulder, and it's very familiar, very warm.
"here," the other says, holding up a white bag. it's crinkled at the top where he holds it, but kyuhyun can smell the fresh bread inside, and his eyes go wide. the other chuckles. "i'm a baker's son. i don't need this. you, however...look like you do."
kyuhyun snorts, but takes the bag gently. he folds up the top and, just for kicks, after a hesitant second he bows. his shirt falls away from his thin chest, and he can see the other boy's feet start back in surprise.
"thank you," he says when he comes back up, his voice soft and looking down at the bag with the utmost caution. no one, in all the ten years he's been on the run, has ever given him food straight up. it's the kindest thing that he's experienced so far, and he's shocked - scared - to pinpoint a warmth blooming in his chest.
then, there's someone ruffling his head, their fingers through his dark locks, and he looks up to see the other with a smile on his thin lips. "thank you, donghae," he corrects, and kyuhyun repeats it with a slow tongue and a wondrous feeling blooming.
.
donghae doesn't live like a beggar. he's grown up in a thrifty house, where the tension is so thick that you move through it like honey. he's used to seeing his brother cry and his mother sob in front of a black-and-white picture of a man that looks so much like him, flowers all around the frame and their sobs the only thing in the room. he doesn't remember the sound, because all he can remember is the sound of his heart breaking.
he doesn't really live for the next four years. he thinks that maybe he's just going through a phase (denial, they all said) but he knows that when you don't really take pleasure in anything, then it's just when your body is numb, like a doll. he can't feel, he can't hear, he can't even think properly.
him and his family move into his uncle's bakery in the middle of seoul, away from mokpo. donghwa, his brother, his hyung, says that seoul is a place of beginnings and beauty and he has the most heartbreaking smile on his face, so full of pain, so full of sadness, so full of i want this to be over. so donghae just agrees.
he doesn't see the beauty. all he sees is the embezzlement charges in the mail against his uncle, their hope of living, the dull shifting of the day as it goes from night to day to day to night and back again. the droning of teachers in his new school, the blathering of his self-proclaimed 'best friend', the way that he's there but he's not really there. he's always been this way, and everyone knows, everyone doesn't say a word.
and then, he experiences the first real moment of his life.
it's looking out from the store windows and seeing a dark head slip into a pocket, his uncle yelling at someone in the seoul crowd, his face red and his clothes mussed. it's jumping when he realizes that he's told to go chase after that damn boy and get his money back even though he'll never catch up.
but donghae, donghae just shuts up and goes. it's what he does best, after all.
the kid's not hard to find. he has dark hair shaggier, longer, more pitch-black than the rest, and even though other people don't seem to notice him, donghae does.
he waits until the kid goes in an alleyway and comes out, a guitar case strapped to his back.
that's when he grabs hold of the shoulder and breathes a long breath, turning the other around to come face-to-face with big dark eyes and full lips, and he doesn't miss the way that his heart skips a beat.
.
kyuhyun is two years younger than him, donghae learns. he's a runaway. his mum left him when he was young, and his father was a 'drunken bastard'. when he was young - kyuhyun says he can't remember when - he ran away and got caught by the authorities. then he lived in a foster home for a year. and then he ran away again.
donghae learns that kyuhyun is quick and clever. his mind works fast and he acts accordingly. though he's skinny and he has too long hair that falls in his big, big eyes (that donghae can never take his eyes away from) and he's got these lips that are just so full and pretty and his skin's so clear and white and the bridge of his nose is perfectly shaped, donghae can't help but think that the thing that he likes the most is his smile. kyuhyun has this blinding smile that makes his world less dull, makes seoul that place of beginnings and beauty that his hyung told him so long ago.
and then, when kyuhyun sings, donghae feels a flame of nostalgia, that old wish and dream and life of his that he had. one that involved laughing, drinking strawberry milk alongside his father and dancing whenever he feels like it.
kyuhyun sings for him all the time. he doesn't know how it happens, but it just does.
donghae would walk by the han river, where kyuhyun is there everyday, standing on top of the same marble stone. he's never unhappy, he's never late, and he's never absent. the han river glitters behind him like it's listening to those songs too, but now even long after the crowd is gone kyuhyun sits crossed legged on the floor with his beat up shoes touching the tips of his own. donghae's so close that he can feel the warmth of kyuhyun's knee pressing against his, smell his somehow endearing scent of seoul air.
and then kyuhyun strums his guitar, and he opens his mouth, and donghae knows that kyuhyun is singing just for him. he can see it when kyuhyun just glances at him at the corner of his eye, his cheeks just slightly flushed, his eyes bright. donghae thinks that they're the brightest things he's ever seen.
kyuhyun sings of love and dreams, of happiness in another place far away. he sings about flying and soaring, so high above the clouds that it makes everything else pale in comparison. he sings of wishes that shoot across the night, of tiny paper boats that children float on the river, of the locks with engraved futures snapped on to gates. he sings about all the things, and somehow, in the middle, he just stops strumming his guitar and just sings, sings like it's what he wants to do every day of his life, sings like it's all he can do.
donghae thinks that he may have fallen in love with that voice. sometimes, their fingers intertwine just in the middle, and kyuhyun will let his voice train away, and donghae will ask a question about kyuhyun, and kyuhyun will answer. and then kyuhyun will do the same, and donghae will answer. and they know each other, they learn about each other, this way until there is everything to know about them.
he doesn't steal anymore. donghae doesn't know if that's true (because kyuhyun's told him that one day when he was done singing) because he's pretty sure that the younger is stealing something very important of donghae's without even knowing.
spring and summer pass by just like that, with their hands intertwined under the stars, and songs in between them. donghae, he just starts getting the little brighter, and people start to notice.
"you look happier," donghwa says to him one day, after he's sent another person in the bakery off. "met a girl?"
and donghae just looks at him with a smile that he hasn't worn since his dad died and colour on his cheeks. "better."
truthfully, donghae wants to bring kyuhyun home. he wants to show off kyuhyun to the world; he wants to tell everyone, scream in their faces: look at him! look at how beautiful he is. doesn't he move you? doesn't he mean anything to you? because donghae can't stand the way that people look at kyuhyun, like he's scum under their shoe, like he's not worth their time, when donghae's sure that he's worth a thousand of donghae's lives (in his eyes). he would spend all day with him, if he could. sometimes, he just skips out on nights all together, and they sit together like they've been doing it all their lives, their hands locked, their knees pressed together.
it amazes donghae, how he could depend so much on one person, how much he could want to hug someone and kiss them senseless. it surprises him how much he wants to keep that smile on kyuhyun's face, how much he wants to poke that cheek and carry him over his shoulder while the other shouts at him to let him down. it surprises donghae at how hard and fast he's fallen, because hey, isn't love supposed to be like those explosive and problematic dramas? but no, it's nothing like that, and he's glad - so glad - that it's not like that.
and so, when kyuhyun's singing in the middle of the day where no one's really paying attention - it's too cold, they don't care about music, only warmth - donghae pulls him down into his chest and hugs him tight, ignoring the sound of indignation. he places a blanket around the other's shoulders, glad that when he pulls back the face to hold it in his uncovered palms, it's just a little fuller, a little more prettier.
and when he kisses kyuhyun, he tastes like bakery bread and firecrackers. donghae hears all those sappy love songs and skippy jives play over and over in his head when kyuhyun kisses him back.
...you should have expected a kyuhae one, lol. otp is too strong to resist. ;-;
another added to the stranger series. whoo. i think they'll all take place in seoul...