[2PM; chansung/nichkhun; wooyoung/junho]
title: of water
pairing: chansung/nichkhun
rating: pg-13
drabble
Nickhun thinks he’s finally losing it. It’s not normal to dream about your body caught on fire, untamed, and burning, burning endlessly, is it? Nichkhun’s old enough to know it’s not normal but he can’t go on and tell the world about it.
Chansung is water that puts out the swallowing fire inside Nichkhun. He makes Khun feel less homesick with his stories of missed trains, and dinners left cold. He tells him stories of his life before this, of people unknown to Khun, and silence, and love.
And when Khun listens to that soothing voice before he goes to sleep, the raging fire doesn’t eat him alive. Instead, it only lurks behind big trees, and Nickhun knows someday those trees will burn down and the fire will reach him, like how it did before Chansung came into the picture. But right now Khun doesn’t want to think about that, so instead, he focuses on the head that’s resting in his lap. The messy, jet-black hair all tousled, pointing into endless directions. The way Chansung’s lips move so effortlessly, creating soft, and serene sounds. Nickhun stares at the upper lip that’s craving for his attention by sticking out so obnoxiously. And before he knows it, his lips are crushed onto Chansung’s soft ones, and it’s too late to pull back, too late for regrets, too late for second-guessing, and with nothing left to be done, he leans down some more.
For the first time Chansung kind of burns Nichkhun with his breath as it hits his cheek. But it’s tolerable, so Khun’s lips close tight around Chansung’s upper lip, sucking hard and nipping and Chansung’s breaths are like knives, stabbing him through the sensitive skin of his cheek, but it’s all very tolerable.
And before Chansung knows it, it’s Khun’s fire that’s replaced memories of cold dinners, and people Chansung’s grown to unknow. It’s the fire that’s making Chansung’s insides warm, a little too warm, maybe even burning, but he accepts that because it’s Nichkhun. And because instead of cold suppers, he now enjoys instant noodles that only require hot water and are ought to be served hot, with Nichkhun.
title: grease stains
pairing: wooyoung/junho
rating: pg-13
drabble
Wooyoung hates the way those men stare at him. He hates how their eyes strip him bare so obscenely with looks that tell him they think they own him. He’s not proud to sell his body to satisfy their desires, to fulfill their dirty wet dreams outside their miserably mundane everyday lives.
He can feel grease stains on his skin, left by hundreds of men. They keep on shining even in the dark while Wooyoung’s changing his clothes. It’s so appalling; it makes his stomach turn a hundred and eighty degrees. It doesn’t help when he uses his hand to rub off the stains; they stay there on his skin, like a second layer, ghosting, and water-resistant.
Wooyoung can recognize the pattern of their fingerprints stamped on him, he can feel their fingers wrapped around his wrist, around his arm, pulling him into their lap when he closes his eyes. He keeps his mouth shut even if it hurts when the smoke from their burning cigarettes get into his eyes, when their hands grip hard enough to leave bruises. Wooyoung imagines he’s somewhere else.
He comes home to Junho who’s sitting on the floor with his books on the coffee table, and legs sprawled out on the floor as he leans in, concentrating hard on his homework. Wooyoung smiles before he whispers a hello as he hangs his keys on a nail they’d put there themselves, thinking practical. Junho looks up, and his face beams with a bright smile that makes Wooyoung melt a little. That smile erases almost a third of the stains on his skin, now covered by heavy clothes.
His steps are lighter without his shoes as Wooyoung walks over to the other, his smile never leaving his face.
“You came home early,” Junho speaks and Wooyoung nods. Maybe he’s tired, or maybe he’s occupied, staring into those small eyes. Wooyoung plops down next to Junho, letting his head fall on the boy’s shoulder, snuggling a bit but inhaling deep as Junho’s scent fills his body, limb by limb, muscle by muscle. Wooyoung can count the twenty-three fingerprints that vanished.
“A busy night?” He asks, and Wooyoung almost feels sorry for lying about his job. But he stops himself before careless words form inside his mouth. It would only hurt Junho, so Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut. He’s begun to think he’s exceptionally good at doing exactly that.
“Yeah, the restaurant had a lot of reservations.” He answers with eyes closed. Junho’s scent takes him far away from the apartment, from their lives, far from the polluted air he breathes every day.
“Maybe,” Junho hesitates, dropping his pencil on the table, “maybe I should get a job too, you know. Start waiting tables with you.”
“There’s no need for that, Junho. I can make money for the both of us. You just focus on studying and make your dreams come true, remember?” He lifts his head to face Junho. And Junho nods, although he’d like to say that his dream is to be with Wooyoung, and Wooyoung only. He also doesn’t mention the stink of men’s cologne that the other’s shower gel didn’t wash away. Junho swallows those words with a kiss he plants onto Wooyoung’s lips.
“Okay,” he says in between before Wooyoung’s fingers run through his hair, and pulls him in for another kiss, this time more passionate. And Wooyoung counts the ninety-seven stains that left his skin in a blink of an eye.
pairing: chansung/nichkhun
rating: pg-13
drabble
Nickhun thinks he’s finally losing it. It’s not normal to dream about your body caught on fire, untamed, and burning, burning endlessly, is it? Nichkhun’s old enough to know it’s not normal but he can’t go on and tell the world about it.
Chansung is water that puts out the swallowing fire inside Nichkhun. He makes Khun feel less homesick with his stories of missed trains, and dinners left cold. He tells him stories of his life before this, of people unknown to Khun, and silence, and love.
And when Khun listens to that soothing voice before he goes to sleep, the raging fire doesn’t eat him alive. Instead, it only lurks behind big trees, and Nickhun knows someday those trees will burn down and the fire will reach him, like how it did before Chansung came into the picture. But right now Khun doesn’t want to think about that, so instead, he focuses on the head that’s resting in his lap. The messy, jet-black hair all tousled, pointing into endless directions. The way Chansung’s lips move so effortlessly, creating soft, and serene sounds. Nickhun stares at the upper lip that’s craving for his attention by sticking out so obnoxiously. And before he knows it, his lips are crushed onto Chansung’s soft ones, and it’s too late to pull back, too late for regrets, too late for second-guessing, and with nothing left to be done, he leans down some more.
For the first time Chansung kind of burns Nichkhun with his breath as it hits his cheek. But it’s tolerable, so Khun’s lips close tight around Chansung’s upper lip, sucking hard and nipping and Chansung’s breaths are like knives, stabbing him through the sensitive skin of his cheek, but it’s all very tolerable.
And before Chansung knows it, it’s Khun’s fire that’s replaced memories of cold dinners, and people Chansung’s grown to unknow. It’s the fire that’s making Chansung’s insides warm, a little too warm, maybe even burning, but he accepts that because it’s Nichkhun. And because instead of cold suppers, he now enjoys instant noodles that only require hot water and are ought to be served hot, with Nichkhun.
title: grease stains
pairing: wooyoung/junho
rating: pg-13
drabble
Wooyoung hates the way those men stare at him. He hates how their eyes strip him bare so obscenely with looks that tell him they think they own him. He’s not proud to sell his body to satisfy their desires, to fulfill their dirty wet dreams outside their miserably mundane everyday lives.
He can feel grease stains on his skin, left by hundreds of men. They keep on shining even in the dark while Wooyoung’s changing his clothes. It’s so appalling; it makes his stomach turn a hundred and eighty degrees. It doesn’t help when he uses his hand to rub off the stains; they stay there on his skin, like a second layer, ghosting, and water-resistant.
Wooyoung can recognize the pattern of their fingerprints stamped on him, he can feel their fingers wrapped around his wrist, around his arm, pulling him into their lap when he closes his eyes. He keeps his mouth shut even if it hurts when the smoke from their burning cigarettes get into his eyes, when their hands grip hard enough to leave bruises. Wooyoung imagines he’s somewhere else.
He comes home to Junho who’s sitting on the floor with his books on the coffee table, and legs sprawled out on the floor as he leans in, concentrating hard on his homework. Wooyoung smiles before he whispers a hello as he hangs his keys on a nail they’d put there themselves, thinking practical. Junho looks up, and his face beams with a bright smile that makes Wooyoung melt a little. That smile erases almost a third of the stains on his skin, now covered by heavy clothes.
His steps are lighter without his shoes as Wooyoung walks over to the other, his smile never leaving his face.
“You came home early,” Junho speaks and Wooyoung nods. Maybe he’s tired, or maybe he’s occupied, staring into those small eyes. Wooyoung plops down next to Junho, letting his head fall on the boy’s shoulder, snuggling a bit but inhaling deep as Junho’s scent fills his body, limb by limb, muscle by muscle. Wooyoung can count the twenty-three fingerprints that vanished.
“A busy night?” He asks, and Wooyoung almost feels sorry for lying about his job. But he stops himself before careless words form inside his mouth. It would only hurt Junho, so Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut. He’s begun to think he’s exceptionally good at doing exactly that.
“Yeah, the restaurant had a lot of reservations.” He answers with eyes closed. Junho’s scent takes him far away from the apartment, from their lives, far from the polluted air he breathes every day.
“Maybe,” Junho hesitates, dropping his pencil on the table, “maybe I should get a job too, you know. Start waiting tables with you.”
“There’s no need for that, Junho. I can make money for the both of us. You just focus on studying and make your dreams come true, remember?” He lifts his head to face Junho. And Junho nods, although he’d like to say that his dream is to be with Wooyoung, and Wooyoung only. He also doesn’t mention the stink of men’s cologne that the other’s shower gel didn’t wash away. Junho swallows those words with a kiss he plants onto Wooyoung’s lips.
“Okay,” he says in between before Wooyoung’s fingers run through his hair, and pulls him in for another kiss, this time more passionate. And Wooyoung counts the ninety-seven stains that left his skin in a blink of an eye.