Fanfic: Hand
Title: Hand
Fandom: EXO
Rating: PG-13
Characters/pairings: Krisyeol
Wordcount: 1115
A/N: Something's happening on this date. Oh yes, my sour cream is expiring.
By the by, trying something new here. Since I the other day became painfully aware of my usual fic style, I'm attempting to write from the 'submissive' persona's pov. Who better to experiment on than Krisyeol?
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Chanyeol took Kris’s hand, held it between both of his. It was so soft, endlessly soft, well, not really, but to Chanyeol it was, and that was enough. His skin was so perfectly toned, his nails impeccable and if anything, the only flaw was the slight paleness clinging to the long fingers. Kris’s palm was only a little bit bigger than Chanyeol’s own, and they fit together so nicely, Chanyeol thought, like they were pieces of a puzzle waiting to be find their counterpart…
He kept looking at Kris’s hand. There was no resistance from the owner, and Chanyeol kept touching, patting, stroking, turning, he kept playing with the fingers, curling them around his own, around each other, intertwining them. Kris’s hand remained limp all the time, Chanyeol was free to do whatever he wanted to Kris’s hand. It had always been like that; Kris would just indulge Chanyeol in his little antics, he would let Chanyeol play around with the appendage like in a strangely similar manner to how a kitten plays with a ball of yarn. He would smile fondly at the brunette in his lap, who in turn would grin almost maniacally back at him.
Kris was not smiling at him now. Chanyeol thought with a frown that Kris should be smiling now, but he was not. Chanyeol could not make Kris smile today. He had always been able to make Kris smile, no matter how bitchy or pissed or annoyed he was. Nothing was ever to bleak, and whatever Chanyeol did would eventually break Kris’s silent resolve to himself about being grumpy. Not today. Today, it was impossible to make Kris smile, and Chanyeol did not know what to do.
Instead, he stubbornly kept playing with the hand of his most adored Kris. Chanyeol handled it with the most precious care, appreciating it more than toying. He cradled it between both of his to protect it, to protect Kris. It was all he could do now.
“Why are you like this,” he mumbled quietly, mostly to himself as he intertwined their fingers once and for all, desperately trying to ignore the limp feel, lack of response. “I miss you.”
Chanyeol lifted their hands to place a soft, longing kiss on the back of Kris’s cold, wizened palm, letting his lips linger for just a bit as something weird obscured his vision. Annoying flimmer, he thought and quickly rubbed it away.
How long had it been? Too long. Chanyeol almost wished he had kept count, but then again, it might have been too painful. It was bad enough when the days felt like years, what if…
“You’re mean for doing this to me, Kris,” Chanyeol voiced out loud, again to distract himself, and the deep rumble of his matured voice cut through the silence harshly, maybe too harsh. But Kris had never minded before, he had rather admitted his fondness of the mismatched and heavy voice - surely he would not mind now. “I’m lonely… Come back to me, won’t you?”
He kept staring at the hand intertwined with his own as he spoke. When comparing them, the dread he tried, always desperately tried to suppress became painfully obvious in his gut. Kris’s hands were beautiful, yes, his skin was soft and the joints were composed so much more beautiful than Chanyeol’s clumsy fingers that were already too tan and worn by nature. But some things voiced louder than other; the pretty paleness was actually more sickly yellow, green, blue… Nothing like a healthy pallor at all. The elegant slimness was really only bony tendencies and the softness was becoming more like wax than anything else.
Chanyeol tried not to look too much at Kris’s face these days.
“What do you want me to do?” He said to the still body, almost congratulating himself for how steady he sounded. He felt nothing like it, more like a wreck than a solid structure. He knew he was soundly falling apart, and if he found any use of it, he would have been proud of how well he hid this particular sentiment. If only it mattered. “I’ll stop being annoying, I’ll do whatever you say instead of just laugh it off, I’ll do better at work and help you with your brother… Just please, wake up for me…”
Of course it was futile. Chanyeol repeated the same prayer, the same plea every time he came to see Kris, every day. Kris never responded, nothing at all, not a twitch, not a smile, not even an exasperated sigh.
Never.
Chanyeol sighed to himself instead, a broken little sound, and kissed Kris’s hand once more before laying it down on the hospital bed. Reluctantly, he untangled their fingers - Kris’s willingly left his, and Chanyeol wished they had fought to stay in his grip. But no, of course they would not. They never did.
Chanyeol gently put the hand next to the other, arranging them to be carefully folded on top of Kris’s chest. He brushed across the mask covering most of Kris’s face in the process, but pretended not to notice.
It was all about enduring nowadays. He had kept it going for so long, and Chanyeol was tired, but no good came of it, he could do nothing. Nothing but wait and hope, wait and continue tricking himself with a tiny dream that maybe someday, he would lay on Kris’s lap and play with his hand again. It was a silly and trivial thing, and given the situation, most people would probably hope for something more, something more substantial. But it would have been enough for Chanyeol - Kris’s assurances were his security blanket of warmth and comfort, the strong hands his protectors and the life emanating from Kris’s body would be Chanyeol’s source of life.
Nothing more, nothing less.
That was why Chanyeol wanted, needed, to entertain the notion for himself, if nothing else. When everyone else looked at him with pity and whispered condescending words behind his back, Chanyeol blocked them out until there was only himself and Kris, Chanyeol and Kris’s hand. In a vague memory that eventually evolved to a faint idea, they were on a field, green as anything, the sun shone bright upon them as a slight breeze played with curly chestnut and short blonde. Chanyeol rested his head on Kris’s lap, thoroughly examining a slightly larger hand as contented himself with watching.
Peaceful.
Happy.
The thought lingered on Chanyeol’s mind as he, with one last look at the peaceful figure on the bed, walked out and wrapped his arms around himself. Tomorrow, Chanyeol thought. Maybe tomorrow, I won’t be lonely anymore.
He steadily continued to delude himself with the thought.
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For my Krisyeol feels. Why is there so little Krisyeol in my life nowadays. :(
Fandom: EXO
Rating: PG-13
Characters/pairings: Krisyeol
Wordcount: 1115
A/N: Something's happening on this date. Oh yes, my sour cream is expiring.
By the by, trying something new here. Since I the other day became painfully aware of my usual fic style, I'm attempting to write from the 'submissive' persona's pov. Who better to experiment on than Krisyeol?
--------
Chanyeol took Kris’s hand, held it between both of his. It was so soft, endlessly soft, well, not really, but to Chanyeol it was, and that was enough. His skin was so perfectly toned, his nails impeccable and if anything, the only flaw was the slight paleness clinging to the long fingers. Kris’s palm was only a little bit bigger than Chanyeol’s own, and they fit together so nicely, Chanyeol thought, like they were pieces of a puzzle waiting to be find their counterpart…
He kept looking at Kris’s hand. There was no resistance from the owner, and Chanyeol kept touching, patting, stroking, turning, he kept playing with the fingers, curling them around his own, around each other, intertwining them. Kris’s hand remained limp all the time, Chanyeol was free to do whatever he wanted to Kris’s hand. It had always been like that; Kris would just indulge Chanyeol in his little antics, he would let Chanyeol play around with the appendage like in a strangely similar manner to how a kitten plays with a ball of yarn. He would smile fondly at the brunette in his lap, who in turn would grin almost maniacally back at him.
Kris was not smiling at him now. Chanyeol thought with a frown that Kris should be smiling now, but he was not. Chanyeol could not make Kris smile today. He had always been able to make Kris smile, no matter how bitchy or pissed or annoyed he was. Nothing was ever to bleak, and whatever Chanyeol did would eventually break Kris’s silent resolve to himself about being grumpy. Not today. Today, it was impossible to make Kris smile, and Chanyeol did not know what to do.
Instead, he stubbornly kept playing with the hand of his most adored Kris. Chanyeol handled it with the most precious care, appreciating it more than toying. He cradled it between both of his to protect it, to protect Kris. It was all he could do now.
“Why are you like this,” he mumbled quietly, mostly to himself as he intertwined their fingers once and for all, desperately trying to ignore the limp feel, lack of response. “I miss you.”
Chanyeol lifted their hands to place a soft, longing kiss on the back of Kris’s cold, wizened palm, letting his lips linger for just a bit as something weird obscured his vision. Annoying flimmer, he thought and quickly rubbed it away.
How long had it been? Too long. Chanyeol almost wished he had kept count, but then again, it might have been too painful. It was bad enough when the days felt like years, what if…
“You’re mean for doing this to me, Kris,” Chanyeol voiced out loud, again to distract himself, and the deep rumble of his matured voice cut through the silence harshly, maybe too harsh. But Kris had never minded before, he had rather admitted his fondness of the mismatched and heavy voice - surely he would not mind now. “I’m lonely… Come back to me, won’t you?”
He kept staring at the hand intertwined with his own as he spoke. When comparing them, the dread he tried, always desperately tried to suppress became painfully obvious in his gut. Kris’s hands were beautiful, yes, his skin was soft and the joints were composed so much more beautiful than Chanyeol’s clumsy fingers that were already too tan and worn by nature. But some things voiced louder than other; the pretty paleness was actually more sickly yellow, green, blue… Nothing like a healthy pallor at all. The elegant slimness was really only bony tendencies and the softness was becoming more like wax than anything else.
Chanyeol tried not to look too much at Kris’s face these days.
“What do you want me to do?” He said to the still body, almost congratulating himself for how steady he sounded. He felt nothing like it, more like a wreck than a solid structure. He knew he was soundly falling apart, and if he found any use of it, he would have been proud of how well he hid this particular sentiment. If only it mattered. “I’ll stop being annoying, I’ll do whatever you say instead of just laugh it off, I’ll do better at work and help you with your brother… Just please, wake up for me…”
Of course it was futile. Chanyeol repeated the same prayer, the same plea every time he came to see Kris, every day. Kris never responded, nothing at all, not a twitch, not a smile, not even an exasperated sigh.
Never.
Chanyeol sighed to himself instead, a broken little sound, and kissed Kris’s hand once more before laying it down on the hospital bed. Reluctantly, he untangled their fingers - Kris’s willingly left his, and Chanyeol wished they had fought to stay in his grip. But no, of course they would not. They never did.
Chanyeol gently put the hand next to the other, arranging them to be carefully folded on top of Kris’s chest. He brushed across the mask covering most of Kris’s face in the process, but pretended not to notice.
It was all about enduring nowadays. He had kept it going for so long, and Chanyeol was tired, but no good came of it, he could do nothing. Nothing but wait and hope, wait and continue tricking himself with a tiny dream that maybe someday, he would lay on Kris’s lap and play with his hand again. It was a silly and trivial thing, and given the situation, most people would probably hope for something more, something more substantial. But it would have been enough for Chanyeol - Kris’s assurances were his security blanket of warmth and comfort, the strong hands his protectors and the life emanating from Kris’s body would be Chanyeol’s source of life.
Nothing more, nothing less.
That was why Chanyeol wanted, needed, to entertain the notion for himself, if nothing else. When everyone else looked at him with pity and whispered condescending words behind his back, Chanyeol blocked them out until there was only himself and Kris, Chanyeol and Kris’s hand. In a vague memory that eventually evolved to a faint idea, they were on a field, green as anything, the sun shone bright upon them as a slight breeze played with curly chestnut and short blonde. Chanyeol rested his head on Kris’s lap, thoroughly examining a slightly larger hand as contented himself with watching.
Peaceful.
Happy.
The thought lingered on Chanyeol’s mind as he, with one last look at the peaceful figure on the bed, walked out and wrapped his arms around himself. Tomorrow, Chanyeol thought. Maybe tomorrow, I won’t be lonely anymore.
He steadily continued to delude himself with the thought.
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For my Krisyeol feels. Why is there so little Krisyeol in my life nowadays. :(