Valentine's Day requests - PART ONE
This ended up a lot longer than I expected. Um. Wow, guys. Just wow.
Total word count for Valentine's Day 2013: 10,445 (REALLY YOU GUYS???)
1. yanma, taekai, AU
2. mia, taekey, canon
3. lily, sukris, AU
4. chelsea, taokai, canon
5. lia, lukai, AU
6. lucy, chanyeol/key, AU
1. Yanma, TaeKai, AU
The first time it happened was so surreal that Jongin thought he was dreaming as he watched his friend suddenly be enveloped in a cluster of light and reappear moments later in a frilly skirt and bows facing down the monster that threatened them in the dark alley.
"Soldier of Love and Beauty," Taemin practically twinkled, "The pretty sailor suited soldier Sailor Venus! In the name of Love, I will punish you!"
Jongin could only stare in horrified fascination as Taemin cartwheeled gracefully past the monster.
"Gonna have to be faster than that!" Taemin taunted, dodging a swipe from some nasty-looking claws, "Crescent Beam!"
The creature staggered back as it was struck by beam of golden light from Taemin's pointed finger. Taemin skipped daintily behind it and kicked its legs out from underneath it, but just as it hit the ground, a third arm suddenly sprouted from its side and grabbed Taemin by the neck.
Jongin shouted in horror as Taemin clawed at the hand choking him.
"Jong... in..." he heard his friend whisper, "Help..."
Jongin searched uselessly around for something to use as a weapon, but the alleyway was distressingly free of debris. Desperate, he pulled off one of his sneakers and started beating the monster over the head with it.
"Let him go!" he yelled, and shrunk back as the thing turned its beady eyes on him.
"Jongin, you have to... transform..." Taemin croaked out, eyes watering.
Jongin shook his head furiously and waved his hands in supplication as the monster backed him slowly towards the wall. The toes of Taemin's golden heels scraped the dirt of the alley and Jongin couldn't tear his eyes away even as he felt his back hit the cold bricks of the building behind him.
"I-" he choked, looking up at Taemin helplessly, "Transform? I can't-"
"Yes... you can..." Taemin whispered, "I believe... in you... Jongin..."
Taemin's eyes fluttered closed and Jongin suddenly felt his heart lurch painfully. It was like he was suddenly the one who couldn't breathe. He staggered a step forward and felt his limbs move almost of their own accord. Words sprang into his mind and he shouted them without thinking.
"Mars Power... Make Up!"
He described it later to Sehun as being like a drug trip mixed with a kaleidoscope mixed with being mindcontrolled. There were worryingly bright sparkly shapes zooming past and Jongin was twirling and pirouetting like he hadn't twirled or pirouetted since debuting with a boyband idol group. He struck a pose and heard words coming out of his mouth that he sure as hell didn't put there.
"Soldier of Flame and Passion, the pretty sailor suited soldier, Sailor Mars! In the name of planet Mars, I shall punish you!"
Jongin stood there and blinked down for a moment at the huge bow on his chest and the frilly skirt, like Taemin's but red. He took a step and stumbled before realizing that he was also wearing heels like Taemin.
"What," he said carefully, "Is going on?"
"Another Soldier I see," the creature growled for the first time, "You look about as pathetic as this one."
It shook Taemin, whose head fell to one side weakly. Jongin saw his fingers twitch slightly and dove to the left, the sudden surge of rage propelling him easily past the attack the monster threw at him.
"Nah, looks like you're the one who's pathetic," he smirked, "Pathetically ugly, that is."
The thing growled and sprouted several more arms, all with razor-sharp claws aimed directly at Jongin. Jongin leapt and managed a handspring over his opponent's head.
Well, this is interesting, he thought, feeling remarkably calm about the whole situation, even as a breeze reminded him, mid-air, that there was not a whole lot going on under these skirts, I guess these shoes aren't as big a deal as they look.
He landed and caught the arm holding Taemin with a solid kick. The monster dropped him and shook out its wrist comically.
"What's the matter?" Taemin coughed, pushing himself up on one arm, "Chip a nail or something?"
"You okay?" Jongin offered him a hand up, which Taemin took gratefully.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just finish this ugly son of a bitch."
Jongin nodded. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder and the monster took a step back. Out of the corner of his eye Jongin could see Taemin preparing another attack, and he felt the weird out-of-body feeling coming back, guiding him into action.
He brought his hands together and focused on the enemy in front of them.
"Fire Soul!" he shouted, and a stream of flame instantly shot at the creature.
"Crescent Beam!"
The two attacks combined and Jongin watched the flesh actually melt off the creature's bones before it dissolved completely into dust.
The two of them stood staring at the spot for a moment.
"Well, that was new and gross," Taemin finally volunteered, "Usually they just disappear instead of going all melty first."
"Usually?" Jongin said weakly.
The adrenaline was wearing off and Jongin's knees had started to shake. He steadied himself against the wall and took a deep breath.
"Exactly how long have you been doing this then?"
"... A little over a year maybe?" Taemin replied thoughtfully, "I've been around longer than a lot of the others."
"Others?"
Taemin laughed at Jongin's gobsmacked face.
"Of course," he said, "Did you think we were the only ones? Not everyone is... exactly like us-" he gestured vaguely at the frilly outfit "-but many of us are special in our own way. The company looks out for potential like ours... they could probably tell you had power of some sort."
Jongin pressed his forehead to the cool brick and tried not to go crazy.
"I think," he said carefully, "I've lost control of my life."
"I don't think you ever had control of your life, to be honest," said Taemin, "Best just to go with it, really. The outfit suits you at least."
Jongin looked down.
"The skirt could be a little longer," he said finally, "Also, how do you walk in these things without breaking a leg?"
"Practice," replied Taemin, "Just wait until you have to start crossdressing on stage... it actually helps to have an excuse to practice."
"Also," he said, holding onto Jongin's arm to steady him, "I think the skirt is great the way it is. Makes your ass look fantastic."
"You were staring at my ass?" Jongin raised an amused eyebrow.
"The more relevant question is when am I ever not staring at your ass?" Taemin leered, "They can try to hide it in those pants all they like, but a truly fine butt can never be hidden."
"So you like the skirt," Jongin mused, "And we can make them appear any time we want...?"
"I like the way this train of thought is going," Taemin looked at him sneakily.
Jongin smirked.
"I think the first step is for you to show me how to get out of this getup."
"I think that sounds like the best idea."
______________________________
2. Mia, TaeKey, canon
"Where's Key hyung? I need him to taste this."
Taemin voice came floating out of the kitchen. Kibum and Jonghyun exchanged panicked looks.
"Who let him in the kitchen?" Kibum hissed, "You know he's not allowed in there anymore!"
"I don't know!" Jonghyun whispered back, "He must have slipped past me!"
"Sound the alarm."
Jonghyun slipped silently out of the room to find the others. Kibum kept a lookout over the kitchen door.
"Guys?" Taemin called again, "Does anyone know where Kibum is? Or where we keep the barbeque sauce? Or the artichokes?"
Jinki's eyes went wide as he entered the room just in time to catch the tail-end of Taemin's request.
"No," he breathed.
"Yes," said Kibum grimly.
Jonghyun returned, tugging a very confused Minho by the arm.
"What's going on?" he asked, "I was skyping with Changmin hyung."
"Taemin cooked," Jinki groaned.
Minho went pale.
"This is why it's vitally important that we get out of here before he comes to find us," Kibum insisted, "It sounds like he's almost done-"
"Oh, there you are."
They all turned in unison to see Taemin standing in the doorway holding a covered pot. They all stared at it, as if afraid it would go off at any second.
"We were just-" Jonghyun started.
"-going out," Jinki interjected, "Minho needed some new-"
"-running shoes," Minho supplied quickly, "It's urgent."
"Oh," Taemin pouted slightly, "Do you all have to go? I just wanted someone to help me try this..."
Kibum looked back at the others with a pained expression.
"Go," he whispered, "I'll hold him off."
Jonghyun grabbed his hand with tears in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said, "I'll never forget this."
"Just go," Kibum shoved them towards the door, "Hurry!"
He slammed the door quickly behind them and leaned against it with a sigh before heading back to the kitchen.
"They're all gone?" Taemin asked.
"Yup," Kibum said, "You're right, that was a good plan."
He looked at the pot balefully.
"Did you really have to go all the way and actually cook something, though? What are we going to do with-"
He lifted the lid and a delicious smell filled the room.
"Wait," Kibum said, looking back and forth between the dish and Taemin suspiciously, "This looks positively edible. What's going on?"
"It's not that hard when there are instructions right there on the package," Taemin shrugged.
"You complete bastard," Kibum gaped, "You could cook this whole time! And here I was, banning you from making any food and- ... oh."
Taemin grinned deviously.
"Got me out of cooking duties, didn't it?" he smirked.
"You are evil," Kibum said, "I think Minho is still traumatized from The Ramyun Incident."
"And the best part is," Taemin said, coming up to wrap his arms around Kibum's waist, "That if you tell anyone, I'll let them know that this was all a clever plot to get them all out of the dorm so that you could do horrible, corrupting things to their precious maknae."
"... You are the worst," Kibum shook his head.
"Yeah, probably," Taemin agreed, "Now I think we should see about breakfast in bed."
"I'm not all that hungry," Kibum said.
"Oh good, then we can cut out the breakfast part."
Kibum made sure to turn off the stove under the pot before locking the bedroom door.
______________________________
3. Lily, SuKris, AU
Junmyeon stomps into the coffee shop seething.
"He's got one more student than me! Again!"
Jongdae sighs and moves his coffee out of the way of his friend's angrily swinging bag.
"But aren't your students generally getting better grades?" he asks.
"That's-"
Junmyeon stares at Jongdae across the table.
"... Okay, sure. Maybe they do," he admits, "But he's spending all his time with those basketball practices, so I don't know why he's even tutoring anyone to begin with!"
Junmyeon pulls out a notebook and almost slams it down onto the table. Jongdae sighs and picks up his drink again to avoid the shockwave.
"That's how he gets all these students, you know," Junmyeon hisses, "He's using his popularity to get all this attention-"
"He is very popular," Jongdae says thoughtfully, "And quite attractive."
"Shut up. He's not even that good a teacher! What kind of English tutor speaks English like he has a mouth perpetually full of marshmallows, anyway?"
"He speaks more English than most other students here," Jongdae feels compelled to point out.
"Not that you can ever understand him," Junmyeon mutters.
He sighs in frustration and leans his chair back on two legs, so Jongdae knows the situation is serious.
"Why does he even have to be a tutor anyway?" Junmyeon complains, "It's not like he even has time... He's got to have a ridiculous number of practices, so how he finds time to tutor more students than me is absurd. Is he a wizard or something? Does he not sleep?"
"Careful, hyung," says Jongdae, "That's sounding dangerously close to admiration there."
Junmyeon's chair legs hit the floor with a thud.
"I hate him," he declares, "I hate Wufan forever."
~~
Next week finds Junmyeon in an even more distraught mental state. He's moved on from rocking his chair back to compulsively tearing up any disposable material his hands rest on. Jongdae carefully removes his napkins from the table and looks at his friend in sympathy.
"He still has more students?" he asks.
"Yes," Junmyeon groans, "And the president of the Student Academic Committee praised him for bringing his students' grades up by an entire letter grade on average."
"Whoa," Jongdae raises an eyebrow, "I thought that was your strong point."
"And," Junmyeon continues, "He had the gall to look over and grin at me afterwards. Like he knows he's ruining my life!"
Junmyeon reaches across the table and clasps Jongdae's hand.
"Please," he pleads, "You have to let me tutor you."
"I'm not even taking any Economics classes, hyung."
"I don't care! I need to get my numbers up if he's going to beat my scores! Can't you switch into a 101 or something?"
"The add/drop date has already passed, so no," Jongdae pats his hand consolingly, "Don't worry... I'm sure there are a ton of failing students out there, just waiting for you to rescue them. Take out an ad in the school paper or something."
Junmyeon perks up.
"You think that would work?"
"Anything's possible."
Junmyeon rubs his hands together deviously.
"Oh ho ho, yes," he laughs, "Wufan, you are going down."
"I think he's going by Kris now," Jongdae says, opening his music folder again.
"What?" Junmyeon gapes at him, "But- I thought he just changed his name from Li Jiaheng two weeks ago or something!"
Jongdae finds it amusing that Junmyeon took the time to remember even that, but simply shrugs.
"I don't know, hyung," he says, "That's what one of his friends on the team was calling him the other day."
Junmyeon leans forward, interested.
"You know someone on the basketball team?" he asks.
Jongdae looks at him curiously.
"Yeah, Luhan's in my Chinese Literature class," he says, "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, no reason," Junmyeon brushes him off, "His friends would know of any potential weaknesses, wouldn't you say?"
Jongdae sighs again.
"Hyung, please tell me you're not-"
Jongdae is cut off when Junmyeon suddenly yelps in pain and shock. He's finally ripped far enough into his coffee cup to send it all into his lap.
Jongdae pulls out his stash of napkins.
~~
The next week Junmyeon neglects to show up, but Jongdae gets a text instead.
Luhan is a no-go, it reads, Do better.
~~
The week after that Junmyeon is too dejected to even text, so instead Jongdae packs up and bangs on his door for about five minutes before he finally answers. Junmyeon is wrapped up in a blanket and half-eaten dining hall to-go boxes cover his desk.
“How long is it since you last left your room?” Jongdae asks incredulously.
“37 hours and counting.”
Junmyeon collapses back onto his bed in a huddled ball.
“You skipped classes?”
The situation really was dire then.
“I know all the material anyway,” Junmyeon’s voice comes from the pile of blankets.
“You’re being a baby,” Jongdae says bluntly, “This obsession with Kris is getting out of hand-"
"I am not obsessed with him!"
Jongdae ignores him.
"Why are you letting this take over your life? Don’t you think this is letting him win whatever weird sort of war you have going?”
“I don’t even care anymore,” says Junmyeon miserably, “I should just resign as a tutor. Wuf- Kris can take over my subject if he likes. I don’t care.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed as well.
“I don’t think he’s in any Economics classes,” he points out, “I think he’d be a terrible replacement, hyung. You’re a vital and important part of the tutoring endeavor. The world needs your skills in... whatever it is you do.”
Junmyeon’s head pokes out of the blankets, looking pitiful.
“You really think so?”
“Of course I do,” Jongdae pats his knee, “What makes you even think Kris is out to get you in the first place? I mean, you two work in completely different fields.”
“It’s just... something about his face,” Junmyeon says, “Like every single thing he’s done since he started tutoring has been calculated to rub in my face. Every time the president praises him or anyone talks about ‘the difference he’s making in the student body’ he just looks over at me and grins. He looks at me, Jongdae! No one else! It’s like he’s daring me not to clap and congratulate him along with everyone else!”
A nagging suggestion of a feeling starts to form in Jongdae’s mind.
“Is that it?” he asks.
“No,” Junmyeon huffs, “He always seems to make it a point to come over and ask me how my students are doing too. He’s waving his accomplishments in my face and dancing with glee! He’s even gone so far as to ask me exactly what it is I’m teaching them! Like he even cares. His eyes were glazing over within ten minutes.”
“He stayed and listened to you talk about... whatever it is you talk about... for ten whole minutes?”
“Yes. Probably sticking around to see if I’d put my foot in my mouth or choke on my own breath or something. At least I showed him that I am unrivaled in the field of Economics tutoring! He was positively sweating with nerves by the time I was done.”
Junmyeon deflates somewhat and wraps himself back up in the blankets.
“Of course, it didn’t stop him from coming over to brag about his newest whiz kid’s flawless score on some godawful paper the very next time I saw him.”
Jongdae coughs.
“Hyung...” he says, “I’m not sure exactly how to put this delicately. It sounds like this guy may have a crush.”
“Why should I care if he likes anyone? Stupid dumb jock with his stupid popular friends probably-”
“On you.”
The silence is deafening.
“What.”
“Have you ever heard of a little kid on a playground teasing the girl he likes and pulling her pigtails and stuff? Yeah, like that.”
Junmyeon emerges from the blankets once again, his face bright red.
“Are you saying Kris is pulling my pigtails because he likes me?”
“Metaphorically speaking, yes.”
Junmyeon appears to consider this.
“I’m not sure I like this idea,” he says finally.
“Why not?” Jongdae asks, “Isn’t this better than him actively trying to ruin your life?”
“Well, I guess, but-”
“Do you think he’s ugly?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Do you think it’s so far from the realm of credulity to think that maybe he was just trying to get to know you and maybe impress you a little bit?”
Junmyeon facepalms.
“You make me sound like such a jerk,” he groans.
“Honestly, I don’t know why he keeps trying. Any sane person would have decided long ago that you hated their guts and given up. He’s either insane or he really likes you.”
“I did hate his guts...”
Jongdae raises an eyebrow.
“As in... past tense?”
Junmyeon picks at a loose stitch in his blanket.
“You make him sound so pitiful...” he mumbles.
“You’re right,” Jongdae agrees, “Maybe you shouldn’t date him after all. He sounds really lame now.”
Junmyeon splutters and disappears one more time in a flailing mass of blankets and limbs.
“Who said anything about dating him-”
Jongdae just laughs.
~~
The next week, Junmyeon fails to show up in the coffee shop once again. Jongdae texts him and laughs at the prompt response.
I thought I’d drop by basketball practice, it reads, See if I can dig up any weaknesses by observing the enemy in his natural habitat. Closer observation and interaction is needed. Do not text me again. I am undercover.
P.S. Luhan is lovely when you get to know him.
______________________________
4. Chelsea, TaoKai, canon
Zitao learned each dance the way he would learn a form. Hands go here, feet shift from this spot to that, hips move this way, shoulders positioned just so...
A piece of choreography was not all that different from a form, after all. It required the same precision and control as a form. Years of martial arts had given him a level of control over his own body that he could easily adapt to dance. It worked very well as a system, he thought.
That is, until he saw Jongin dance.
Jongin had all the precision and power to his movements that Zitao did, but there was something else too. He flowed from one movement to another seamlessly, presenting a perfectly united whole and making it nearly impossible to see the individual motions. For Zitao, who broke down each piece of choreography he learned into its component parts and learned them in perfect sequence, it made his own dancing seem stilted and chopped up.
One practice while they were all twelve there together, Zitao found himself watching Jongin more than the instructor. It made him distracted and sloppier than usual, drawing the instructor's attention and earning him a sharp reprimand. During the break Jongin remained dancing in front of the mirror while the others pulled out water bottles and collapsed to the floor. Zitao stood nearby and watched grumpily.
"That's not the way," he said finally.
"What?" Jongin stopped, surprised.
"That foot goes this way... right leg does not bend so far," Zitao said, his Korean feeling as choppy as his dancing.
"Oh..." said Jongin, considering for a moment, "But I think it looks better this way, don't you?"
Zitao turned away and tried not to stalk over to where Wufan was sitting.
Jongin, Zitao thought almost bitterly, could see the soul of the dance.
That day he stayed late in the SM building instead of going home. He visited the rooftop where he had heard stories of sunbaes practicing alone. He fell asleep there and dreamed that the streetlamps blinking on were lights on a stage.
When he woke up it was to find five missed calls and about fifteen texts, all wondering where he was. He sent a text back to Yixing saying he was staying late to practice, since Yixing was the most likely to be chill about it and just tell the others instead of sending nagging texts back, and left the roof.
As he wandered the empty halls near the practice rooms, he could hear a faint beat coming from nearby. The building was largely silent otherwise, so Zitao followed the sound back to the same big practice room they had all been using earlier. When he opened the door, the room was empty except for one figure still dancing alone in front of the mirror. Zitao slipped inside and silently closed the door.
Jongin was running through the same choreography as earlier, but even as Zitao watched he started to change it. It was still the same dance as before but suddenly he was shifting through styles fluidly, putting a different twist on the dance each time he ran through it. He ran through the dance at double speed, his feet never actually seeming to stay in one spot for more than a split second, then he slowed it down and held each movement out, stretching each limb and holding precise angles before smoothly sweeping out into the next motion. Finally he ran through it one more time, isolating each movement and running through it repeatedly, making minute corrections until he had it just so. He came to the step that Zitao had corrected earlier and frowned.
Zitao kept to the shadows near the door as Jongin ran through it time after time, tweaking it ever so slightly... bending a leg further this time and keeping it straighter the next. One last change in his foot position and he finally seemed pleased with the result, landing exactly as Zitao had clumsily instructed before.
Zitao let out the breath he had been holding with a low laugh and Jongin spun around, looking terrified.
"Oh my god," he said, clutching his chest, "Don't do that. I didn't know anyone was there."
"Sorry," said Zitao awkwardly, "I was watching you practice."
"Now that you know my secrets, I'll have to kill you," Jongin laughed.
He sounded almost uncertain, completely at odds with the surety and confidence with which he had moved a second ago. The soul of the dance had gone from him as he stood still. Zitao thought he looked better in motion.
"Maybe," Zitao said, "You can teach me?"
Jongin smiled for real then.
"Yeah," he said, "Okay."
They stood side by side before the mirror, and the dance began again.
______________________________
5. Lia, LuKai, AU
Luhan likes every part of the drawing process. He likes storyboarding and writing the script, like he's filming a movie, and watching the story take shape as he builds it. He really likes sketching and penciling, seeing the scenes come into focus under his fingers. He even likes inking, a step many of his fellow artists seem to hate. Inking is like making a decision, he thinks. Choosing which lines to make permanent, which shapes to outline in stark black and white. Even mistakes, little bumps and wavers in the lines, help to make it more real, sometimes improving the original pencil.
(The one thing he's not fond of is lettering, since his handwriting is terrible. But that's okay, that's why he has Yixing as his best friend and letterer.)
The drawing process is one he loves, one he's familiar and confident with.
What Luhan really doesn't like is public appearances.
Without his pen in his hands, he lacks the methodical process of refining a panel before unveiling it to the eyes of the public. When he speaks in public, it's like jumping straight into inking, the words he speaks indelibly imprinting themselves on the air and the ears of his audience before he has a chance to even sketch a guideline.
Signing events are generally easier than Q&A panels, since all he has to do is scribble his name on a coverpage, murmuring thanks to whatever sentiment or complement the bookholder gushes over him. Luhan doesn't particularly understand why anyone would be eager to meet him. He thinks that meeting the author of any series he truly loved would somehow ruin the magic of the story. Authors were plain, dull, typical humans, after all. Reality could never live up to the stories they created.
"Hi."
Luhan takes the book and starts to sign his name in careful black ink, trying to draw the shapes of his name the way he'd draw a hand or a tilted jawline.
"Say, I don't suppose you remember me?"
Luhan looks up, startled and ready to say "no, of course not," but the words never leave his lips as he realizes he does remember the face in front of him. The guy grins at Luhan and Luhan recognizes the smile too because it's one he's seen in every audience he's looked out over in the past year.
"You've been at every signing I've had since..."
The familiar stranger finishes the sentence for him.
"Since the first volume came out, yeah. I'm hooked."
Luhan looks down at the book in his hands. It's from the very first series he ever got published, back before anyone knew who he was.
"Why on earth are you reading this?" he wonders out loud before he has a chance to catch the words.
"I like it," the stranger says, "It's my favorite actually."
Luhan scoffs.
"The art's terrible," he says, "I didn't know how to keep anything looking consistent."
"The story's amazing though," the guy protests, "The characters feel more real than in your more recent stuff. Less magic and fantasy to distract from them, I guess."
"No one wants to read about normal people," Luhan mutters, "They're boring."
"They're not boring," the guy (boy? man?) insists, "Every time I read these stories, I learn a little more about you."
Luhan knows how to recognize a pick-up line when he hears one, and oh does he ever hear them. Every time he goes out in the middle of the week because he has no deadline to meet yet and can afford to stay out late. He winds up in bars and clubs with all the desperately lonely people sacrificing sleep for a chance at actual human contact or at least a drink or two to lull them into forgetfulness. Luhan sketches them in his mind and tries to slip back unnoticed behind the pages of the stories he sees. He's the unseen author, not a character to be watched and studied and taken apart and made a part of people's thoughts.
Luhan frowns.
"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" he asks, smoothing a crease out of the thin front cover of the volume, "You keep coming to see me to understand my characters better?"
"I don't need to learn about your characters," comes the response, "I can read about them on the page any time I want."
He can feel the intense gaze on the top of his head and keeps his eyes trained down on the pages in front of him, looking at the crooked lines, just as inadequate to the worlds in his head as he feels himself.
"You're a mystery. I keep coming to learn about you. I read your stories to learn about you."
Luhan lets out a shaky laugh.
"I'm not that interesting, really. You'd be disappointed."
"I bet you're wrong."
Luhan fiddles with his pen indecisively and turns back to the title page where his name is still half-finished.
"What's your name?" he asks, pen poised to sign.
The stranger laughs delightedly.
"You ask me that every time," he says, "It's Jongin. My name is Kim Jongin."
Luhan draws the sounds smoothly on the page before going back to complete his own name. The pen hangs over the last line, not sure if it's finished or not. Luhan is still sketching out this particular panel.
"Kim Jongin," he says, finally placing a name to the face, "Why would you think I even want you to know about me?"
Jongin smiles again.
"I picked up your latest volume the other day too. Your stories tell me new things about you, remember?" he says, tugging at the hem of his shirt, "You introduced a new character. He looks just like me."
Luhan inks the first line of his own story in the form of a phone number.
______________________________
6. Lucy, Chanyeol/Key, AU
"Hey, watch it!"
Soda and whatever questionable meat is on the menu for today goes crashing to the floor as Chanyeol swerves to the side to avoid someone passing by and trips straight over a leg stuck into his path.
"Sorry!" he says and tries to brush a glob of... wow, he hopes that's fat... off of the boy's shirt.
He thinks it probably just made it worse and the boy seems to agree since he stands up and takes a step forward menacingly. Chanyeol towers over him, but still takes a step back, apologizing the whole time.
"You better be sorry," the boy says, "What color is this shirt, Park? You know what color this is?"
"Uh, white," Chanyeol puts his hands up defensively, "Sorry, I really didn't mean to-"
"And you got it on my tie too," the boy shoves Chanyeol, "I ought to make you pay for this, you-"
"I've got a better idea. Why don't I make you eat that tie instead?"
All heads whip around at the new voice.
"Kibum!" A huge smile appears on Chanyeol's face, "Sorry, I just tripped again and spilled my lunch... It's my fault, Kibum-"
"Try not to be stupid, Chanyeol," Kibum snaps, "I know that's a hard task for you, so shut up and try not to embarrass yourself any more."
He turns to the other boy who is still blustering on about his tie.
"I saw exactly what happened, and don't think you can intimidate me like this moron."
Kibum is shorter than both the other boys, but Chanyeol thinks there's always something about him that makes the other students pause and stay on his good side. It's not just that he'll say anything and everything. He also has... connections. His closest circle of friends is comprised almost entirely out of people who know how to get shit done. People who know people, or who are on important committees, or who are in some other way influential. Kibum is perfectly capable of making your life a living hell if you get in his way and Chanyeol is never exactly sure why he always goes out of his way to get Chanyeol out of trouble.
The other boy glances back and forth angrily between Chanyeol and Kibum before sitting slowly back down in his seat.
"That's what I thought," Kibum sneers, "Come on, Chanyeol, don't just stand there like a tree with bad posture."
He stalks off back towards the food line but Chanyeol's long legs make it easy to keep up with his rapid pace. Chanyeol notes somewhat ruefully that while they both wear the school uniform in roughly the same state of disarray, Kibum always manages to look smooth and suave, whereas Chanyeol perpetually is stuck looking like a drunken shriner.
"Honestly," Kibum is saying as they near the counter again, "I don't know how a freakish giant like you lets himself get picked on so much."
"I don't know either," Chanyeol agrees quietly.
"I mean, you probably could have picked up that guy and bounced him on his head a dozen times, no problem."
Chanyeol winces.
"But I wouldn't want to do that," he protests, "It wasn't that big a deal, really..."
Kibum sighs and hands him a new tray, which makes Chanyeol smile again. People think Kibum is rude and unapproachable, but Chanyeol had taken one look at the friends he had and had known that that couldn't be true. For example, no one could be friends with that senior, Lee Jinki, and be a bad person. You just... had to make an effort to make friends with Kibum, and Chanyeol was more than willing to make that effort.
He doesn't realize that he had been staring absentmindedly until Kibum elbows him into the food line.
"Oops, sorry," Chanyeol apologizes.
Kibum frowns again at that.
"Why do you keep apologizing?" he asks, "Just pay more attention and stop being such a freak all the time."
"Okay," says Chanyeol agreeably.
"See, that's part of your problem," Kibum says, "You're too fucking nice all the time. You need to stop letting people walk all over you. I just called you a freak. You shouldn't just stand there and take that."
"Okay," Chanyeol says again with a grin.
"... Were you deliberately being a doormat just then to be funny, or what?"
Kibum crosses his arms and stares at Chanyeol. Chanyeol just grins back.
"I dunno," he shrugs, "You're probably right. You're usually right."
"You're impossible!" Kibum throws up his hands, "I can't tell if you're being serious or not anymore. What is your problem?"
They're walking back towards the tables at this point. Chanyeol had scooped food onto his plate without really paying attention. He'd probably been staring again.
"I don't have any problems," he says happily, "Everything is awesome, why would I have problems?"
He reaches out and takes hold of Kibum's hand without thinking. Kibum raises an eyebrow but doesn't pull away, making Chanyeol smile even wider.
"You're crazy," Kibum sighs, "What am I going to do with you?"
"I dunno, date me?" Chanyeol says without really thinking.
Kibum turns faintly pink.
"In your dreams, Park."
"Yeah, probably," Chanyeol laughs.
______________________________
Total word count for Valentine's Day 2013: 10,445 (REALLY YOU GUYS???)
1. yanma, taekai, AU
2. mia, taekey, canon
3. lily, sukris, AU
4. chelsea, taokai, canon
5. lia, lukai, AU
6. lucy, chanyeol/key, AU
1. Yanma, TaeKai, AU
The first time it happened was so surreal that Jongin thought he was dreaming as he watched his friend suddenly be enveloped in a cluster of light and reappear moments later in a frilly skirt and bows facing down the monster that threatened them in the dark alley.
"Soldier of Love and Beauty," Taemin practically twinkled, "The pretty sailor suited soldier Sailor Venus! In the name of Love, I will punish you!"
Jongin could only stare in horrified fascination as Taemin cartwheeled gracefully past the monster.
"Gonna have to be faster than that!" Taemin taunted, dodging a swipe from some nasty-looking claws, "Crescent Beam!"
The creature staggered back as it was struck by beam of golden light from Taemin's pointed finger. Taemin skipped daintily behind it and kicked its legs out from underneath it, but just as it hit the ground, a third arm suddenly sprouted from its side and grabbed Taemin by the neck.
Jongin shouted in horror as Taemin clawed at the hand choking him.
"Jong... in..." he heard his friend whisper, "Help..."
Jongin searched uselessly around for something to use as a weapon, but the alleyway was distressingly free of debris. Desperate, he pulled off one of his sneakers and started beating the monster over the head with it.
"Let him go!" he yelled, and shrunk back as the thing turned its beady eyes on him.
"Jongin, you have to... transform..." Taemin croaked out, eyes watering.
Jongin shook his head furiously and waved his hands in supplication as the monster backed him slowly towards the wall. The toes of Taemin's golden heels scraped the dirt of the alley and Jongin couldn't tear his eyes away even as he felt his back hit the cold bricks of the building behind him.
"I-" he choked, looking up at Taemin helplessly, "Transform? I can't-"
"Yes... you can..." Taemin whispered, "I believe... in you... Jongin..."
Taemin's eyes fluttered closed and Jongin suddenly felt his heart lurch painfully. It was like he was suddenly the one who couldn't breathe. He staggered a step forward and felt his limbs move almost of their own accord. Words sprang into his mind and he shouted them without thinking.
"Mars Power... Make Up!"
He described it later to Sehun as being like a drug trip mixed with a kaleidoscope mixed with being mindcontrolled. There were worryingly bright sparkly shapes zooming past and Jongin was twirling and pirouetting like he hadn't twirled or pirouetted since debuting with a boyband idol group. He struck a pose and heard words coming out of his mouth that he sure as hell didn't put there.
"Soldier of Flame and Passion, the pretty sailor suited soldier, Sailor Mars! In the name of planet Mars, I shall punish you!"
Jongin stood there and blinked down for a moment at the huge bow on his chest and the frilly skirt, like Taemin's but red. He took a step and stumbled before realizing that he was also wearing heels like Taemin.
"What," he said carefully, "Is going on?"
"Another Soldier I see," the creature growled for the first time, "You look about as pathetic as this one."
It shook Taemin, whose head fell to one side weakly. Jongin saw his fingers twitch slightly and dove to the left, the sudden surge of rage propelling him easily past the attack the monster threw at him.
"Nah, looks like you're the one who's pathetic," he smirked, "Pathetically ugly, that is."
The thing growled and sprouted several more arms, all with razor-sharp claws aimed directly at Jongin. Jongin leapt and managed a handspring over his opponent's head.
Well, this is interesting, he thought, feeling remarkably calm about the whole situation, even as a breeze reminded him, mid-air, that there was not a whole lot going on under these skirts, I guess these shoes aren't as big a deal as they look.
He landed and caught the arm holding Taemin with a solid kick. The monster dropped him and shook out its wrist comically.
"What's the matter?" Taemin coughed, pushing himself up on one arm, "Chip a nail or something?"
"You okay?" Jongin offered him a hand up, which Taemin took gratefully.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just finish this ugly son of a bitch."
Jongin nodded. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder and the monster took a step back. Out of the corner of his eye Jongin could see Taemin preparing another attack, and he felt the weird out-of-body feeling coming back, guiding him into action.
He brought his hands together and focused on the enemy in front of them.
"Fire Soul!" he shouted, and a stream of flame instantly shot at the creature.
"Crescent Beam!"
The two attacks combined and Jongin watched the flesh actually melt off the creature's bones before it dissolved completely into dust.
The two of them stood staring at the spot for a moment.
"Well, that was new and gross," Taemin finally volunteered, "Usually they just disappear instead of going all melty first."
"Usually?" Jongin said weakly.
The adrenaline was wearing off and Jongin's knees had started to shake. He steadied himself against the wall and took a deep breath.
"Exactly how long have you been doing this then?"
"... A little over a year maybe?" Taemin replied thoughtfully, "I've been around longer than a lot of the others."
"Others?"
Taemin laughed at Jongin's gobsmacked face.
"Of course," he said, "Did you think we were the only ones? Not everyone is... exactly like us-" he gestured vaguely at the frilly outfit "-but many of us are special in our own way. The company looks out for potential like ours... they could probably tell you had power of some sort."
Jongin pressed his forehead to the cool brick and tried not to go crazy.
"I think," he said carefully, "I've lost control of my life."
"I don't think you ever had control of your life, to be honest," said Taemin, "Best just to go with it, really. The outfit suits you at least."
Jongin looked down.
"The skirt could be a little longer," he said finally, "Also, how do you walk in these things without breaking a leg?"
"Practice," replied Taemin, "Just wait until you have to start crossdressing on stage... it actually helps to have an excuse to practice."
"Also," he said, holding onto Jongin's arm to steady him, "I think the skirt is great the way it is. Makes your ass look fantastic."
"You were staring at my ass?" Jongin raised an amused eyebrow.
"The more relevant question is when am I ever not staring at your ass?" Taemin leered, "They can try to hide it in those pants all they like, but a truly fine butt can never be hidden."
"So you like the skirt," Jongin mused, "And we can make them appear any time we want...?"
"I like the way this train of thought is going," Taemin looked at him sneakily.
Jongin smirked.
"I think the first step is for you to show me how to get out of this getup."
"I think that sounds like the best idea."
______________________________
2. Mia, TaeKey, canon
"Where's Key hyung? I need him to taste this."
Taemin voice came floating out of the kitchen. Kibum and Jonghyun exchanged panicked looks.
"Who let him in the kitchen?" Kibum hissed, "You know he's not allowed in there anymore!"
"I don't know!" Jonghyun whispered back, "He must have slipped past me!"
"Sound the alarm."
Jonghyun slipped silently out of the room to find the others. Kibum kept a lookout over the kitchen door.
"Guys?" Taemin called again, "Does anyone know where Kibum is? Or where we keep the barbeque sauce? Or the artichokes?"
Jinki's eyes went wide as he entered the room just in time to catch the tail-end of Taemin's request.
"No," he breathed.
"Yes," said Kibum grimly.
Jonghyun returned, tugging a very confused Minho by the arm.
"What's going on?" he asked, "I was skyping with Changmin hyung."
"Taemin cooked," Jinki groaned.
Minho went pale.
"This is why it's vitally important that we get out of here before he comes to find us," Kibum insisted, "It sounds like he's almost done-"
"Oh, there you are."
They all turned in unison to see Taemin standing in the doorway holding a covered pot. They all stared at it, as if afraid it would go off at any second.
"We were just-" Jonghyun started.
"-going out," Jinki interjected, "Minho needed some new-"
"-running shoes," Minho supplied quickly, "It's urgent."
"Oh," Taemin pouted slightly, "Do you all have to go? I just wanted someone to help me try this..."
Kibum looked back at the others with a pained expression.
"Go," he whispered, "I'll hold him off."
Jonghyun grabbed his hand with tears in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said, "I'll never forget this."
"Just go," Kibum shoved them towards the door, "Hurry!"
He slammed the door quickly behind them and leaned against it with a sigh before heading back to the kitchen.
"They're all gone?" Taemin asked.
"Yup," Kibum said, "You're right, that was a good plan."
He looked at the pot balefully.
"Did you really have to go all the way and actually cook something, though? What are we going to do with-"
He lifted the lid and a delicious smell filled the room.
"Wait," Kibum said, looking back and forth between the dish and Taemin suspiciously, "This looks positively edible. What's going on?"
"It's not that hard when there are instructions right there on the package," Taemin shrugged.
"You complete bastard," Kibum gaped, "You could cook this whole time! And here I was, banning you from making any food and- ... oh."
Taemin grinned deviously.
"Got me out of cooking duties, didn't it?" he smirked.
"You are evil," Kibum said, "I think Minho is still traumatized from The Ramyun Incident."
"And the best part is," Taemin said, coming up to wrap his arms around Kibum's waist, "That if you tell anyone, I'll let them know that this was all a clever plot to get them all out of the dorm so that you could do horrible, corrupting things to their precious maknae."
"... You are the worst," Kibum shook his head.
"Yeah, probably," Taemin agreed, "Now I think we should see about breakfast in bed."
"I'm not all that hungry," Kibum said.
"Oh good, then we can cut out the breakfast part."
Kibum made sure to turn off the stove under the pot before locking the bedroom door.
______________________________
3. Lily, SuKris, AU
Junmyeon stomps into the coffee shop seething.
"He's got one more student than me! Again!"
Jongdae sighs and moves his coffee out of the way of his friend's angrily swinging bag.
"But aren't your students generally getting better grades?" he asks.
"That's-"
Junmyeon stares at Jongdae across the table.
"... Okay, sure. Maybe they do," he admits, "But he's spending all his time with those basketball practices, so I don't know why he's even tutoring anyone to begin with!"
Junmyeon pulls out a notebook and almost slams it down onto the table. Jongdae sighs and picks up his drink again to avoid the shockwave.
"That's how he gets all these students, you know," Junmyeon hisses, "He's using his popularity to get all this attention-"
"He is very popular," Jongdae says thoughtfully, "And quite attractive."
"Shut up. He's not even that good a teacher! What kind of English tutor speaks English like he has a mouth perpetually full of marshmallows, anyway?"
"He speaks more English than most other students here," Jongdae feels compelled to point out.
"Not that you can ever understand him," Junmyeon mutters.
He sighs in frustration and leans his chair back on two legs, so Jongdae knows the situation is serious.
"Why does he even have to be a tutor anyway?" Junmyeon complains, "It's not like he even has time... He's got to have a ridiculous number of practices, so how he finds time to tutor more students than me is absurd. Is he a wizard or something? Does he not sleep?"
"Careful, hyung," says Jongdae, "That's sounding dangerously close to admiration there."
Junmyeon's chair legs hit the floor with a thud.
"I hate him," he declares, "I hate Wufan forever."
~~
Next week finds Junmyeon in an even more distraught mental state. He's moved on from rocking his chair back to compulsively tearing up any disposable material his hands rest on. Jongdae carefully removes his napkins from the table and looks at his friend in sympathy.
"He still has more students?" he asks.
"Yes," Junmyeon groans, "And the president of the Student Academic Committee praised him for bringing his students' grades up by an entire letter grade on average."
"Whoa," Jongdae raises an eyebrow, "I thought that was your strong point."
"And," Junmyeon continues, "He had the gall to look over and grin at me afterwards. Like he knows he's ruining my life!"
Junmyeon reaches across the table and clasps Jongdae's hand.
"Please," he pleads, "You have to let me tutor you."
"I'm not even taking any Economics classes, hyung."
"I don't care! I need to get my numbers up if he's going to beat my scores! Can't you switch into a 101 or something?"
"The add/drop date has already passed, so no," Jongdae pats his hand consolingly, "Don't worry... I'm sure there are a ton of failing students out there, just waiting for you to rescue them. Take out an ad in the school paper or something."
Junmyeon perks up.
"You think that would work?"
"Anything's possible."
Junmyeon rubs his hands together deviously.
"Oh ho ho, yes," he laughs, "Wufan, you are going down."
"I think he's going by Kris now," Jongdae says, opening his music folder again.
"What?" Junmyeon gapes at him, "But- I thought he just changed his name from Li Jiaheng two weeks ago or something!"
Jongdae finds it amusing that Junmyeon took the time to remember even that, but simply shrugs.
"I don't know, hyung," he says, "That's what one of his friends on the team was calling him the other day."
Junmyeon leans forward, interested.
"You know someone on the basketball team?" he asks.
Jongdae looks at him curiously.
"Yeah, Luhan's in my Chinese Literature class," he says, "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, no reason," Junmyeon brushes him off, "His friends would know of any potential weaknesses, wouldn't you say?"
Jongdae sighs again.
"Hyung, please tell me you're not-"
Jongdae is cut off when Junmyeon suddenly yelps in pain and shock. He's finally ripped far enough into his coffee cup to send it all into his lap.
Jongdae pulls out his stash of napkins.
~~
The next week Junmyeon neglects to show up, but Jongdae gets a text instead.
Luhan is a no-go, it reads, Do better.
~~
The week after that Junmyeon is too dejected to even text, so instead Jongdae packs up and bangs on his door for about five minutes before he finally answers. Junmyeon is wrapped up in a blanket and half-eaten dining hall to-go boxes cover his desk.
“How long is it since you last left your room?” Jongdae asks incredulously.
“37 hours and counting.”
Junmyeon collapses back onto his bed in a huddled ball.
“You skipped classes?”
The situation really was dire then.
“I know all the material anyway,” Junmyeon’s voice comes from the pile of blankets.
“You’re being a baby,” Jongdae says bluntly, “This obsession with Kris is getting out of hand-"
"I am not obsessed with him!"
Jongdae ignores him.
"Why are you letting this take over your life? Don’t you think this is letting him win whatever weird sort of war you have going?”
“I don’t even care anymore,” says Junmyeon miserably, “I should just resign as a tutor. Wuf- Kris can take over my subject if he likes. I don’t care.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed as well.
“I don’t think he’s in any Economics classes,” he points out, “I think he’d be a terrible replacement, hyung. You’re a vital and important part of the tutoring endeavor. The world needs your skills in... whatever it is you do.”
Junmyeon’s head pokes out of the blankets, looking pitiful.
“You really think so?”
“Of course I do,” Jongdae pats his knee, “What makes you even think Kris is out to get you in the first place? I mean, you two work in completely different fields.”
“It’s just... something about his face,” Junmyeon says, “Like every single thing he’s done since he started tutoring has been calculated to rub in my face. Every time the president praises him or anyone talks about ‘the difference he’s making in the student body’ he just looks over at me and grins. He looks at me, Jongdae! No one else! It’s like he’s daring me not to clap and congratulate him along with everyone else!”
A nagging suggestion of a feeling starts to form in Jongdae’s mind.
“Is that it?” he asks.
“No,” Junmyeon huffs, “He always seems to make it a point to come over and ask me how my students are doing too. He’s waving his accomplishments in my face and dancing with glee! He’s even gone so far as to ask me exactly what it is I’m teaching them! Like he even cares. His eyes were glazing over within ten minutes.”
“He stayed and listened to you talk about... whatever it is you talk about... for ten whole minutes?”
“Yes. Probably sticking around to see if I’d put my foot in my mouth or choke on my own breath or something. At least I showed him that I am unrivaled in the field of Economics tutoring! He was positively sweating with nerves by the time I was done.”
Junmyeon deflates somewhat and wraps himself back up in the blankets.
“Of course, it didn’t stop him from coming over to brag about his newest whiz kid’s flawless score on some godawful paper the very next time I saw him.”
Jongdae coughs.
“Hyung...” he says, “I’m not sure exactly how to put this delicately. It sounds like this guy may have a crush.”
“Why should I care if he likes anyone? Stupid dumb jock with his stupid popular friends probably-”
“On you.”
The silence is deafening.
“What.”
“Have you ever heard of a little kid on a playground teasing the girl he likes and pulling her pigtails and stuff? Yeah, like that.”
Junmyeon emerges from the blankets once again, his face bright red.
“Are you saying Kris is pulling my pigtails because he likes me?”
“Metaphorically speaking, yes.”
Junmyeon appears to consider this.
“I’m not sure I like this idea,” he says finally.
“Why not?” Jongdae asks, “Isn’t this better than him actively trying to ruin your life?”
“Well, I guess, but-”
“Do you think he’s ugly?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Do you think it’s so far from the realm of credulity to think that maybe he was just trying to get to know you and maybe impress you a little bit?”
Junmyeon facepalms.
“You make me sound like such a jerk,” he groans.
“Honestly, I don’t know why he keeps trying. Any sane person would have decided long ago that you hated their guts and given up. He’s either insane or he really likes you.”
“I did hate his guts...”
Jongdae raises an eyebrow.
“As in... past tense?”
Junmyeon picks at a loose stitch in his blanket.
“You make him sound so pitiful...” he mumbles.
“You’re right,” Jongdae agrees, “Maybe you shouldn’t date him after all. He sounds really lame now.”
Junmyeon splutters and disappears one more time in a flailing mass of blankets and limbs.
“Who said anything about dating him-”
Jongdae just laughs.
~~
The next week, Junmyeon fails to show up in the coffee shop once again. Jongdae texts him and laughs at the prompt response.
I thought I’d drop by basketball practice, it reads, See if I can dig up any weaknesses by observing the enemy in his natural habitat. Closer observation and interaction is needed. Do not text me again. I am undercover.
P.S. Luhan is lovely when you get to know him.
______________________________
4. Chelsea, TaoKai, canon
Zitao learned each dance the way he would learn a form. Hands go here, feet shift from this spot to that, hips move this way, shoulders positioned just so...
A piece of choreography was not all that different from a form, after all. It required the same precision and control as a form. Years of martial arts had given him a level of control over his own body that he could easily adapt to dance. It worked very well as a system, he thought.
That is, until he saw Jongin dance.
Jongin had all the precision and power to his movements that Zitao did, but there was something else too. He flowed from one movement to another seamlessly, presenting a perfectly united whole and making it nearly impossible to see the individual motions. For Zitao, who broke down each piece of choreography he learned into its component parts and learned them in perfect sequence, it made his own dancing seem stilted and chopped up.
One practice while they were all twelve there together, Zitao found himself watching Jongin more than the instructor. It made him distracted and sloppier than usual, drawing the instructor's attention and earning him a sharp reprimand. During the break Jongin remained dancing in front of the mirror while the others pulled out water bottles and collapsed to the floor. Zitao stood nearby and watched grumpily.
"That's not the way," he said finally.
"What?" Jongin stopped, surprised.
"That foot goes this way... right leg does not bend so far," Zitao said, his Korean feeling as choppy as his dancing.
"Oh..." said Jongin, considering for a moment, "But I think it looks better this way, don't you?"
Zitao turned away and tried not to stalk over to where Wufan was sitting.
Jongin, Zitao thought almost bitterly, could see the soul of the dance.
That day he stayed late in the SM building instead of going home. He visited the rooftop where he had heard stories of sunbaes practicing alone. He fell asleep there and dreamed that the streetlamps blinking on were lights on a stage.
When he woke up it was to find five missed calls and about fifteen texts, all wondering where he was. He sent a text back to Yixing saying he was staying late to practice, since Yixing was the most likely to be chill about it and just tell the others instead of sending nagging texts back, and left the roof.
As he wandered the empty halls near the practice rooms, he could hear a faint beat coming from nearby. The building was largely silent otherwise, so Zitao followed the sound back to the same big practice room they had all been using earlier. When he opened the door, the room was empty except for one figure still dancing alone in front of the mirror. Zitao slipped inside and silently closed the door.
Jongin was running through the same choreography as earlier, but even as Zitao watched he started to change it. It was still the same dance as before but suddenly he was shifting through styles fluidly, putting a different twist on the dance each time he ran through it. He ran through the dance at double speed, his feet never actually seeming to stay in one spot for more than a split second, then he slowed it down and held each movement out, stretching each limb and holding precise angles before smoothly sweeping out into the next motion. Finally he ran through it one more time, isolating each movement and running through it repeatedly, making minute corrections until he had it just so. He came to the step that Zitao had corrected earlier and frowned.
Zitao kept to the shadows near the door as Jongin ran through it time after time, tweaking it ever so slightly... bending a leg further this time and keeping it straighter the next. One last change in his foot position and he finally seemed pleased with the result, landing exactly as Zitao had clumsily instructed before.
Zitao let out the breath he had been holding with a low laugh and Jongin spun around, looking terrified.
"Oh my god," he said, clutching his chest, "Don't do that. I didn't know anyone was there."
"Sorry," said Zitao awkwardly, "I was watching you practice."
"Now that you know my secrets, I'll have to kill you," Jongin laughed.
He sounded almost uncertain, completely at odds with the surety and confidence with which he had moved a second ago. The soul of the dance had gone from him as he stood still. Zitao thought he looked better in motion.
"Maybe," Zitao said, "You can teach me?"
Jongin smiled for real then.
"Yeah," he said, "Okay."
They stood side by side before the mirror, and the dance began again.
______________________________
5. Lia, LuKai, AU
Luhan likes every part of the drawing process. He likes storyboarding and writing the script, like he's filming a movie, and watching the story take shape as he builds it. He really likes sketching and penciling, seeing the scenes come into focus under his fingers. He even likes inking, a step many of his fellow artists seem to hate. Inking is like making a decision, he thinks. Choosing which lines to make permanent, which shapes to outline in stark black and white. Even mistakes, little bumps and wavers in the lines, help to make it more real, sometimes improving the original pencil.
(The one thing he's not fond of is lettering, since his handwriting is terrible. But that's okay, that's why he has Yixing as his best friend and letterer.)
The drawing process is one he loves, one he's familiar and confident with.
What Luhan really doesn't like is public appearances.
Without his pen in his hands, he lacks the methodical process of refining a panel before unveiling it to the eyes of the public. When he speaks in public, it's like jumping straight into inking, the words he speaks indelibly imprinting themselves on the air and the ears of his audience before he has a chance to even sketch a guideline.
Signing events are generally easier than Q&A panels, since all he has to do is scribble his name on a coverpage, murmuring thanks to whatever sentiment or complement the bookholder gushes over him. Luhan doesn't particularly understand why anyone would be eager to meet him. He thinks that meeting the author of any series he truly loved would somehow ruin the magic of the story. Authors were plain, dull, typical humans, after all. Reality could never live up to the stories they created.
"Hi."
Luhan takes the book and starts to sign his name in careful black ink, trying to draw the shapes of his name the way he'd draw a hand or a tilted jawline.
"Say, I don't suppose you remember me?"
Luhan looks up, startled and ready to say "no, of course not," but the words never leave his lips as he realizes he does remember the face in front of him. The guy grins at Luhan and Luhan recognizes the smile too because it's one he's seen in every audience he's looked out over in the past year.
"You've been at every signing I've had since..."
The familiar stranger finishes the sentence for him.
"Since the first volume came out, yeah. I'm hooked."
Luhan looks down at the book in his hands. It's from the very first series he ever got published, back before anyone knew who he was.
"Why on earth are you reading this?" he wonders out loud before he has a chance to catch the words.
"I like it," the stranger says, "It's my favorite actually."
Luhan scoffs.
"The art's terrible," he says, "I didn't know how to keep anything looking consistent."
"The story's amazing though," the guy protests, "The characters feel more real than in your more recent stuff. Less magic and fantasy to distract from them, I guess."
"No one wants to read about normal people," Luhan mutters, "They're boring."
"They're not boring," the guy (boy? man?) insists, "Every time I read these stories, I learn a little more about you."
Luhan knows how to recognize a pick-up line when he hears one, and oh does he ever hear them. Every time he goes out in the middle of the week because he has no deadline to meet yet and can afford to stay out late. He winds up in bars and clubs with all the desperately lonely people sacrificing sleep for a chance at actual human contact or at least a drink or two to lull them into forgetfulness. Luhan sketches them in his mind and tries to slip back unnoticed behind the pages of the stories he sees. He's the unseen author, not a character to be watched and studied and taken apart and made a part of people's thoughts.
Luhan frowns.
"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" he asks, smoothing a crease out of the thin front cover of the volume, "You keep coming to see me to understand my characters better?"
"I don't need to learn about your characters," comes the response, "I can read about them on the page any time I want."
He can feel the intense gaze on the top of his head and keeps his eyes trained down on the pages in front of him, looking at the crooked lines, just as inadequate to the worlds in his head as he feels himself.
"You're a mystery. I keep coming to learn about you. I read your stories to learn about you."
Luhan lets out a shaky laugh.
"I'm not that interesting, really. You'd be disappointed."
"I bet you're wrong."
Luhan fiddles with his pen indecisively and turns back to the title page where his name is still half-finished.
"What's your name?" he asks, pen poised to sign.
The stranger laughs delightedly.
"You ask me that every time," he says, "It's Jongin. My name is Kim Jongin."
Luhan draws the sounds smoothly on the page before going back to complete his own name. The pen hangs over the last line, not sure if it's finished or not. Luhan is still sketching out this particular panel.
"Kim Jongin," he says, finally placing a name to the face, "Why would you think I even want you to know about me?"
Jongin smiles again.
"I picked up your latest volume the other day too. Your stories tell me new things about you, remember?" he says, tugging at the hem of his shirt, "You introduced a new character. He looks just like me."
Luhan inks the first line of his own story in the form of a phone number.
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6. Lucy, Chanyeol/Key, AU
"Hey, watch it!"
Soda and whatever questionable meat is on the menu for today goes crashing to the floor as Chanyeol swerves to the side to avoid someone passing by and trips straight over a leg stuck into his path.
"Sorry!" he says and tries to brush a glob of... wow, he hopes that's fat... off of the boy's shirt.
He thinks it probably just made it worse and the boy seems to agree since he stands up and takes a step forward menacingly. Chanyeol towers over him, but still takes a step back, apologizing the whole time.
"You better be sorry," the boy says, "What color is this shirt, Park? You know what color this is?"
"Uh, white," Chanyeol puts his hands up defensively, "Sorry, I really didn't mean to-"
"And you got it on my tie too," the boy shoves Chanyeol, "I ought to make you pay for this, you-"
"I've got a better idea. Why don't I make you eat that tie instead?"
All heads whip around at the new voice.
"Kibum!" A huge smile appears on Chanyeol's face, "Sorry, I just tripped again and spilled my lunch... It's my fault, Kibum-"
"Try not to be stupid, Chanyeol," Kibum snaps, "I know that's a hard task for you, so shut up and try not to embarrass yourself any more."
He turns to the other boy who is still blustering on about his tie.
"I saw exactly what happened, and don't think you can intimidate me like this moron."
Kibum is shorter than both the other boys, but Chanyeol thinks there's always something about him that makes the other students pause and stay on his good side. It's not just that he'll say anything and everything. He also has... connections. His closest circle of friends is comprised almost entirely out of people who know how to get shit done. People who know people, or who are on important committees, or who are in some other way influential. Kibum is perfectly capable of making your life a living hell if you get in his way and Chanyeol is never exactly sure why he always goes out of his way to get Chanyeol out of trouble.
The other boy glances back and forth angrily between Chanyeol and Kibum before sitting slowly back down in his seat.
"That's what I thought," Kibum sneers, "Come on, Chanyeol, don't just stand there like a tree with bad posture."
He stalks off back towards the food line but Chanyeol's long legs make it easy to keep up with his rapid pace. Chanyeol notes somewhat ruefully that while they both wear the school uniform in roughly the same state of disarray, Kibum always manages to look smooth and suave, whereas Chanyeol perpetually is stuck looking like a drunken shriner.
"Honestly," Kibum is saying as they near the counter again, "I don't know how a freakish giant like you lets himself get picked on so much."
"I don't know either," Chanyeol agrees quietly.
"I mean, you probably could have picked up that guy and bounced him on his head a dozen times, no problem."
Chanyeol winces.
"But I wouldn't want to do that," he protests, "It wasn't that big a deal, really..."
Kibum sighs and hands him a new tray, which makes Chanyeol smile again. People think Kibum is rude and unapproachable, but Chanyeol had taken one look at the friends he had and had known that that couldn't be true. For example, no one could be friends with that senior, Lee Jinki, and be a bad person. You just... had to make an effort to make friends with Kibum, and Chanyeol was more than willing to make that effort.
He doesn't realize that he had been staring absentmindedly until Kibum elbows him into the food line.
"Oops, sorry," Chanyeol apologizes.
Kibum frowns again at that.
"Why do you keep apologizing?" he asks, "Just pay more attention and stop being such a freak all the time."
"Okay," says Chanyeol agreeably.
"See, that's part of your problem," Kibum says, "You're too fucking nice all the time. You need to stop letting people walk all over you. I just called you a freak. You shouldn't just stand there and take that."
"Okay," Chanyeol says again with a grin.
"... Were you deliberately being a doormat just then to be funny, or what?"
Kibum crosses his arms and stares at Chanyeol. Chanyeol just grins back.
"I dunno," he shrugs, "You're probably right. You're usually right."
"You're impossible!" Kibum throws up his hands, "I can't tell if you're being serious or not anymore. What is your problem?"
They're walking back towards the tables at this point. Chanyeol had scooped food onto his plate without really paying attention. He'd probably been staring again.
"I don't have any problems," he says happily, "Everything is awesome, why would I have problems?"
He reaches out and takes hold of Kibum's hand without thinking. Kibum raises an eyebrow but doesn't pull away, making Chanyeol smile even wider.
"You're crazy," Kibum sighs, "What am I going to do with you?"
"I dunno, date me?" Chanyeol says without really thinking.
Kibum turns faintly pink.
"In your dreams, Park."
"Yeah, probably," Chanyeol laughs.
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