[fic] staring
Title: staring
Length: 249 words
Rating: pg
Pairing: onew/?
A/N: i wrote this thinking of onkey, but it could be anyone. i'm pretty sure the onew in it is obvious..
**
You find yourself staring at him again. Lately, it happens a lot more often than not. You wonder if maybe you would be considered a stalker, as you watch him smooth his hair down for the umpteenth time that hour. He’s already started to sweat, fidgeting nervously as the stylist noonas fuss over his outfit and he tries his best to pay attention to the important conversations buzzing around him, and it’s really quite endearing. Maybe it’s a bad idea to stare at him as long as you do, but you can’t help yourself. He glances in your direction and your eyes meet. You’re already caught, so you decide to give him a soft smile, hoping to calm his nerves. Apparently it worked, because he visibly relaxes and smiles back, his 1000-watt smile that never fails to make your knees weak. Your heart ignores its orders to stop fluttering about in favor of lodging itself in your throat, and your words of encouragement end up sounding suspiciously like silence. He disregards the way your mouth opens and closes wordlessly, and chuckles a bit as he pats your arm in a show of sudden confidence. It’s funny how quickly the roles have switched. You see him turn to leave and you fall in line behind him. He gives one last look back at you before walking onto the stage, and you wonder why he still thinks he’s not good enough for you when you could never ask for anything more.
Length: 249 words
Rating: pg
Pairing: onew/?
A/N: i wrote this thinking of onkey, but it could be anyone. i'm pretty sure the onew in it is obvious..
**
You find yourself staring at him again. Lately, it happens a lot more often than not. You wonder if maybe you would be considered a stalker, as you watch him smooth his hair down for the umpteenth time that hour. He’s already started to sweat, fidgeting nervously as the stylist noonas fuss over his outfit and he tries his best to pay attention to the important conversations buzzing around him, and it’s really quite endearing. Maybe it’s a bad idea to stare at him as long as you do, but you can’t help yourself. He glances in your direction and your eyes meet. You’re already caught, so you decide to give him a soft smile, hoping to calm his nerves. Apparently it worked, because he visibly relaxes and smiles back, his 1000-watt smile that never fails to make your knees weak. Your heart ignores its orders to stop fluttering about in favor of lodging itself in your throat, and your words of encouragement end up sounding suspiciously like silence. He disregards the way your mouth opens and closes wordlessly, and chuckles a bit as he pats your arm in a show of sudden confidence. It’s funny how quickly the roles have switched. You see him turn to leave and you fall in line behind him. He gives one last look back at you before walking onto the stage, and you wonder why he still thinks he’s not good enough for you when you could never ask for anything more.