Recollection (Tablo/Henry) PG
Fandom: Epik High/Super Junior M
Title: Recollection
Author: ishougen /
verba_taboo
Theme: #11 - Insomniac (Set Beta) - for 30smiles
Pairing/Characters: Tablo/Henry Lau
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: None of these events have anything to do with real life and are strictly the property of my mind. I don't own the characters, sadly. (;~;)
Summary: Tablo remembers the early days, when Henry first became a fixture of his home.
Notes: I hate slumps/writer's block/whatever. I miss writing and being able to do it whenever. T_T ♥ Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
The day Henry moved in was a day full of noise. Tablo remembers lifting box after box from the truck, handing them to Mithra and Tukutz, just ignoring their muttered complaints - the small smiles on their faces were more than enough to give them away. He remembers the light, unburdened sound of laughter floating up the staircase as Henry followed behind him, carrying a potted plant and some kind of textbook. They had to take the stairs because Mithra and Tukutz were already packed into the elevator with the rest of Henry’s things. Tablo remembers the tired sighs and relieved grunts that came after they were finished, the clattering of bowls and chopsticks as they ate dinner together around his small coffee table, the fading echoes of a goodbye or two as his friends left late into the evening. He remembers the flirtatious giggles and needy moans that filled their small home as they made it belong to them for the first time.
Most of all, though, he remembers the almost-silence of Henry’s breathing as they waited for sleep to come.
“Tired?” His voice was barely there, a feather against a windowpane.
Henry didn’t speak, he just nodded, his small eyes warm and hazy with contentment. Tablo leaned forward, through the half-inch of space between them, and brushed his lips against the boy’s forehead.
“Sleep,” he murmured, and a moment later he could feel Henry’s figure relax against his own. It didn’t take long before his eyes slipped shut as well, their breath evening out into a soft, dreamlike pattern, intertwined and simultaneous.
----------
The day after Henry moved in was a day full of peace. Tablo remembers making coffee for them, being careful not to add too much sugar - Henry’s teeth were unusually susceptive to sweet things. He remembers reading a story out loud as his fingers combed through Henry’s hair, the boy’s head in his lap. Every so often, small dimples would appear in his cheeks, and then Tablo would laugh and Henry would just wiggle impatiently, wanting more of the poet’s words.
He remembers listening to Henry play song after song on the violin. The boy said it was “practice”, but those dimples were there again, so Tablo didn’t believe him for a moment. Henry didn’t need to practice. The violin was an extension of him, a wing to an angel, a whisker to a mouse. It just was.
He remembers not being able to sleep that night, even though Henry had closed his eyes and drifted off hours ago. The songs kept playing and replaying in his head, quiet but enormous, taking up his mind’s space as though it was a concert hall without an audience. He didn’t want it to stop.
As he brushed his fingers through his lover’s hair, smoothing a palm across his forehead, Tablo wondered how on earth music had brought him to this boy. The score of their life was as beautiful as it was mysterious.
He didn’t sleep that night.
-----
The day after Tablo’s insomnia, Henry let him sleep while he practiced out on the balcony. Tablo would never tell him, but he secretly stayed awake in bed, his breathing in tune with the notes that floated through their home and into his heart.
Title: Recollection
Author: ishougen /
verba_taboo
Theme: #11 - Insomniac (Set Beta) - for 30smiles
Pairing/Characters: Tablo/Henry Lau
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: None of these events have anything to do with real life and are strictly the property of my mind. I don't own the characters, sadly. (;~;)
Summary: Tablo remembers the early days, when Henry first became a fixture of his home.
Notes: I hate slumps/writer's block/whatever. I miss writing and being able to do it whenever. T_T ♥ Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
The day Henry moved in was a day full of noise. Tablo remembers lifting box after box from the truck, handing them to Mithra and Tukutz, just ignoring their muttered complaints - the small smiles on their faces were more than enough to give them away. He remembers the light, unburdened sound of laughter floating up the staircase as Henry followed behind him, carrying a potted plant and some kind of textbook. They had to take the stairs because Mithra and Tukutz were already packed into the elevator with the rest of Henry’s things. Tablo remembers the tired sighs and relieved grunts that came after they were finished, the clattering of bowls and chopsticks as they ate dinner together around his small coffee table, the fading echoes of a goodbye or two as his friends left late into the evening. He remembers the flirtatious giggles and needy moans that filled their small home as they made it belong to them for the first time.
Most of all, though, he remembers the almost-silence of Henry’s breathing as they waited for sleep to come.
“Tired?” His voice was barely there, a feather against a windowpane.
Henry didn’t speak, he just nodded, his small eyes warm and hazy with contentment. Tablo leaned forward, through the half-inch of space between them, and brushed his lips against the boy’s forehead.
“Sleep,” he murmured, and a moment later he could feel Henry’s figure relax against his own. It didn’t take long before his eyes slipped shut as well, their breath evening out into a soft, dreamlike pattern, intertwined and simultaneous.
----------
The day after Henry moved in was a day full of peace. Tablo remembers making coffee for them, being careful not to add too much sugar - Henry’s teeth were unusually susceptive to sweet things. He remembers reading a story out loud as his fingers combed through Henry’s hair, the boy’s head in his lap. Every so often, small dimples would appear in his cheeks, and then Tablo would laugh and Henry would just wiggle impatiently, wanting more of the poet’s words.
He remembers listening to Henry play song after song on the violin. The boy said it was “practice”, but those dimples were there again, so Tablo didn’t believe him for a moment. Henry didn’t need to practice. The violin was an extension of him, a wing to an angel, a whisker to a mouse. It just was.
He remembers not being able to sleep that night, even though Henry had closed his eyes and drifted off hours ago. The songs kept playing and replaying in his head, quiet but enormous, taking up his mind’s space as though it was a concert hall without an audience. He didn’t want it to stop.
As he brushed his fingers through his lover’s hair, smoothing a palm across his forehead, Tablo wondered how on earth music had brought him to this boy. The score of their life was as beautiful as it was mysterious.
He didn’t sleep that night.
-----
The day after Tablo’s insomnia, Henry let him sleep while he practiced out on the balcony. Tablo would never tell him, but he secretly stayed awake in bed, his breathing in tune with the notes that floated through their home and into his heart.