DRABBLES; 15-minute challenges pt. 2
15-minute drabbles, part two ; YunJae, YooMin, JaeSu, JaeMin
roselit @ viewscape
angst, romance ; varying wordcounts
A/N: These were written for several of the 15-minute prompt challenges in kpfw 10.0, in which writers were given 15 minutes to produce a drabble based off a prompt.
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yunjae; R, 110w. (prompt)
Yunho can still see Jaejoong when he closes his eyes every night, vivid as if from a dream. He can still feel him in the brush of sheets, twisted and ruffled because Jaejoong never did fit with smooth surfaces, perfect in his imperfection.
And every night, it never changes. Yunho hears the same words in the same voice, sees the same face, hollow and sunken like ghost ships and faded photos. The water swallows him whole, an image imprinted in his mind in permanent ink.
When he wakes to a dark and empty bedroom, Jaejoong's voice is ringing in his ears as it always does.
Why didn't you jump, too?
yoomin; R, 157w. (prompt)
Being the youngest means nothing, but it's enough of an excuse for Changmin to stick to the rules. He doesn't bend or break them, not usually and not when he has no reason to.
But one night, Yoochun steps into his room at two in the morning, intoxication on his breath and faded cologne clinging to cotton, and Changmin has to hurry over to keep him from stumbling into his bookshelf. It's nothing short of protocol because this is Yoochun, and Yoochun always walks in the opposite direction of everyone else.
Changmin knows this, but it's not enough to prepare him when Yoochun traps him between body and wall. It's sudden, a little rough, and Changmin scrambles for reasoning, but Yoochun melds himself against him, lips to lips, and no, Changmin can't say that it's unpleasant.
So he reaches up, tilts his head, goes a little further because he has all the reason to-right here.
jaesu; PG, 193w. (prompt)
It must be a disease, Junsu thinks, or an addiction, an obsession, something that leaves him craving for more even when he knows it's not good for him. That's what Jaejoong is, all masculinity and cool composure that breaks only in the obscurity of dark bedrooms, with Junsu pinned underneath and erratic breaths mingling between.
Addiction turns to habit, and Junsu embraces Jaejoong, lets him in and through as if he's the sieve and Jaejoong's the water. Junsu finds that Jaejoong is as tangible as air against his fingertips, as contradictory as snowfall in spring.
And yet despite everything, Junsu follows, attuned to every gesture and remark that leaves Jaejoong's lips. Jaejoong goes to Rome, to Paris, to Cambodia and back, and Junsu finds that he doesn't have the courage to say no to each invitation.
So two days after Egypt, Jaejoong turns to Junsu with that familiar grin stretching his lips. His hand is outstretched towards him, palm up and soaking in the sunlight of Cairo.
"Let's hit Africa next," he says, and Junsu resists the urge to say, can it be Kenya? Instead, he slips his hand into Jaejoong's and smiles.
jaemin; PG, 142w.
(prompt:
Be Drunk by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Louis Simpson
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it-it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
*retweaked a bit of the ending)
Thirty years since and counting, in the quiet contentment of the living room to their shared apartment, Changmin slips his fingers between Jaejoong's. Their palms press together in such a way that leaves a tingle running down Changmin's spine, as if he's catching the first sunrise.
When he finally looks to Jaejoong's face, he's met with tired lines and subtle creases, perfection tarnished over the years (but barely). The only thing that hasn't changed is the vibrant gleam in Jaejoong's eyes, bringing a playful kind of clarity that defies everything the world's brought down upon them.
Changmin doesn't realize he's staring until Jaejoong gives his hand a light squeeze, and he blinks, notices the whisper-soft smile edged along Jaejoong's lips.
And Changmin can't quite help mirroring a small grin. Thirty years since and counting-Jaejoong's still addictive, and Changmin's still intoxicated.
____________________
A/N: Will crosspost these later... maybe. I was largely uninspired this time around, so these didn't turn out as well as I wanted.
but at least i'm writing, even though i have more pressing things i should be working on /dies ;; my life ;__;
roselit @ viewscape
angst, romance ; varying wordcounts
A/N: These were written for several of the 15-minute prompt challenges in kpfw 10.0, in which writers were given 15 minutes to produce a drabble based off a prompt.
____________________
yunjae; R, 110w. (prompt)
Yunho can still see Jaejoong when he closes his eyes every night, vivid as if from a dream. He can still feel him in the brush of sheets, twisted and ruffled because Jaejoong never did fit with smooth surfaces, perfect in his imperfection.
And every night, it never changes. Yunho hears the same words in the same voice, sees the same face, hollow and sunken like ghost ships and faded photos. The water swallows him whole, an image imprinted in his mind in permanent ink.
When he wakes to a dark and empty bedroom, Jaejoong's voice is ringing in his ears as it always does.
Why didn't you jump, too?
yoomin; R, 157w. (prompt)
Being the youngest means nothing, but it's enough of an excuse for Changmin to stick to the rules. He doesn't bend or break them, not usually and not when he has no reason to.
But one night, Yoochun steps into his room at two in the morning, intoxication on his breath and faded cologne clinging to cotton, and Changmin has to hurry over to keep him from stumbling into his bookshelf. It's nothing short of protocol because this is Yoochun, and Yoochun always walks in the opposite direction of everyone else.
Changmin knows this, but it's not enough to prepare him when Yoochun traps him between body and wall. It's sudden, a little rough, and Changmin scrambles for reasoning, but Yoochun melds himself against him, lips to lips, and no, Changmin can't say that it's unpleasant.
So he reaches up, tilts his head, goes a little further because he has all the reason to-right here.
jaesu; PG, 193w. (prompt)
It must be a disease, Junsu thinks, or an addiction, an obsession, something that leaves him craving for more even when he knows it's not good for him. That's what Jaejoong is, all masculinity and cool composure that breaks only in the obscurity of dark bedrooms, with Junsu pinned underneath and erratic breaths mingling between.
Addiction turns to habit, and Junsu embraces Jaejoong, lets him in and through as if he's the sieve and Jaejoong's the water. Junsu finds that Jaejoong is as tangible as air against his fingertips, as contradictory as snowfall in spring.
And yet despite everything, Junsu follows, attuned to every gesture and remark that leaves Jaejoong's lips. Jaejoong goes to Rome, to Paris, to Cambodia and back, and Junsu finds that he doesn't have the courage to say no to each invitation.
So two days after Egypt, Jaejoong turns to Junsu with that familiar grin stretching his lips. His hand is outstretched towards him, palm up and soaking in the sunlight of Cairo.
"Let's hit Africa next," he says, and Junsu resists the urge to say, can it be Kenya? Instead, he slips his hand into Jaejoong's and smiles.
jaemin; PG, 142w.
(prompt:
Be Drunk by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Louis Simpson
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it-it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
*retweaked a bit of the ending)
Thirty years since and counting, in the quiet contentment of the living room to their shared apartment, Changmin slips his fingers between Jaejoong's. Their palms press together in such a way that leaves a tingle running down Changmin's spine, as if he's catching the first sunrise.
When he finally looks to Jaejoong's face, he's met with tired lines and subtle creases, perfection tarnished over the years (but barely). The only thing that hasn't changed is the vibrant gleam in Jaejoong's eyes, bringing a playful kind of clarity that defies everything the world's brought down upon them.
Changmin doesn't realize he's staring until Jaejoong gives his hand a light squeeze, and he blinks, notices the whisper-soft smile edged along Jaejoong's lips.
And Changmin can't quite help mirroring a small grin. Thirty years since and counting-Jaejoong's still addictive, and Changmin's still intoxicated.
____________________
A/N: Will crosspost these later... maybe. I was largely uninspired this time around, so these didn't turn out as well as I wanted.
but at least i'm writing, even though i have more pressing things i should be working on /dies ;; my life ;__;