what it means in the city
title: what it means in the city
pairing: yoosu ♥
rating: R
positive, happy fluff.
.
his fiction wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to reality; high grass passes him, mountains surround him and the sun is peeking over his shoulder, reflecting dangerously in his rear-view mirror. he very much wants to open the window and shout; I’m alive, I’m alive, but the car is a manual and he really has to keep both hands on the steering wheel with bumpy roads like these.
(a character in his book once fell in love with the country side. something begins to swell in his chest)
yoochun wants the world to never end because he’s finally slept five nights in a row and writes page after page effortlessly. life is so good to him, he makes himself pancakes with smiley faces of maple syrup. outside, a goat sneezes. yoochun tears up with happiness.
he imagines her soft and sweet, fair-skinned and captivating, unique and otherworldly. there’s dozens of other words involved with her (beautiful, love and I do I do I do) but they only come alive through keys pressed down by the sleeping fingers of a dreamer past midnight. which basically means he sucks at the whole wooing-a-woman thing.
the country side is quiet at night, but never silent. yoochun expects her to be like that.
junsu is a boy dressed in loose jeans and tight, happy shirts. he rides in a tiny open van which is filled with watermelons. he doesn’t really sell anything else and it’s more or less a summer job. he suspects it to be beneficial to his mood too; whilst driving he sings loudly with a smile bright as day. junsu belongs to the country side.
one morning, yoochun finds himself in the mood for a watermelon. just one; a big one, juicy enough to nurture his aching throat and cool enough to shake the very heat off his skin. it is quite the ridiculous urge to have and he contemplates his dire needs and desires in life for a good hour, before a miracle does fall upon him.
a red van breaks down on the little road in front of his house; a flat tire and an engine nearly on fire. yoochun hears nothing of this all as he is enjoying his morning coffee. the doorbell rings a couple of times and it takes him a whole minute to realize he’s not dreaming. rather confused, he opens the door, not expecting anyone.
(a big part of his book is about how love happens at random places and to random people. he really does believe so, even when he doesn’t notice it)
“Hi. my van broke down. could you help me change the tire?”
yoochun blinks. “sure.”
the truth is, yoochun doesn’t know about changing tires. what he knows about cars is that they go fast and are supposed to look cool and make awesome noises like they’re raging animals, but that pretty much covers it. he prays to god the car he’s rented for the journey survives the trip back to Seoul.
but junsu is just kind of radiant.
like the sun is in his skin, or something.
yoochun doesn’t give it any words.
“are you from around here?” he asks half-way through the job. the sun is beating down on them mercilessly.
“I go around here, but I live closer to the city than this,” junsu answers, wiping the sweat off his forehead with dirty fingers. it leaves a smudge.
“I live in the city, actually,” yoochun informs the man as he leans over his back to peek at the engine too. their shoulders touch. sweat.
junsu turns his head and looks, then smiles and his teeth are oh so white. “I could totally tell. only old people live in this area.”
there’s a smudge on your forehead, yoochun thinks. the swelling in his chest is back.
(the reason why he writes words like ‘once upon a time…’ is because he wants to describe exactly how it feels, that one moment when you catch someone’s eyes and all the world disappears, like in a fairytale)
they take a break around noon. It seems neither of them knows exactly how to change a tire properly and after a couple of hours moving parts about that aren’t supposed to move about, they sit down at yoochun’s kitchen table.
the sweet taste of the watermelon is almost better than he had imagined it to be and for a moment or two he loses himself completely in devouring 1/6th of the fruit. junsu is staring at him with a wide smile and curious eyes. yoochun lifts an eyebrow questioningly.
“oh. this is really good. like, proper fruit. like nothing we have in the city,” he smiles a bit sheepishly.
junsu laughs and it’s like bells ringing.
twilight in summer always runs shivers down his spine. a red-orange-purple sky slowly veiled by a haunting orangey grey. like magic hanging in the air, rays of dying sun that aren’t supposed to be there tickle his skin. he shivers and watches junsu close the trunk.
“thank you, for helping me out. I really didn’t know this would take us all day.” he is bashful, cheeks and nose red from the sun, the dirt still on his face. yoochun wants to touch him.
instead he says; “you’re beautiful.”
“uhm,” junsu says, and then; “that’s unexpected.”
but his cheeks become even redder and he’s blushing. yoochun wants to throw in every cheesy one-liner he knows, but he can only stare. he is a writer of love stories woven by his imagination and he is infatuated with a boy who sells watermelons. he almost starts blushing as well.
“in the city, that means I want to kiss you,” he catches on, eying junsu carefully.
“I thought it means you want to sleep with me.”
yoochun blinks and almost stutters, his low voice trembling dangerously. “t-that’s unexpected,” he produces.
“if you kiss me right here, the entire town will suspect you’re sleeping with me anyway,” junsu rationalises. his eyes are big and innocent and full of ideas.
they kiss like in one of those old romantic hollywood flicks; wind sweeping through their hair, the twilight sunset as their stage and with junsu’s back against a red open van with watermelons in it.
yoochun loses count of the times he feels the other’s teeth scrape his lips softly, twines his fingers into the other’s hair just a little tighter and licks at the dirt on the corner of his lips. junsu is panting, breathing into his mouth and arches his back away from the van. yoochun firmly presses him back down with his own body and swallows the gasp that falls from the other in response.
(nights heady like wine, or; my lover is passion - yoochun hasn’t chosen a title for the book yet. it would sound far too final, though he’s written the last chapter in advance. once more his words will delude the reader into believing the writer to know the true experience of loving)
they barely make it into the car. junsu’s hands are everywhere and in all the right places and yoochun is just a man after all. with only so much strength to hold back longer, they twist and turn themselves out of their jeans and shirts and all other annoying things; junsu’s necklace ends up somewhere on the front seat.
there is too much skin to touch; yoochun's fingers dance crazy patterns on the other’s back, hips, legs and abdomen. it’s kind of inexperienced and fast, but he’s never felt better. junsu reels him in with his arms, pulls him closer and whispers things to his ear that make his breath hitch. come on. let’s just do it.
his mind goes blank when he finally moves into the other. the world is so insignificant and so is all the sweat and dirt and leather and the nervous laughter. somewhere on the country side, in the back of a van he’s found the true understanding of his fantasized novel scenes. if he wasn’t so busy reveling in that feeling, he would’ve been scared.
nails dig into his flesh as junsu wraps his legs around him. dragging his hands down, he leaves angry red stripes on yoochun’s back. In response, yoochun can do nothing but moan and he’s already signing his faith. when the other man stills him and rolls his hips teasingly slow, he gives in.
he wants to write it songs or give it a name, the moment he wakes up next to junsu in his bed. the sheets are white, shining in the morning sun and the see-through curtains dance lazily in the breeze. it's so picture-perfect he could’ve never come up with it.
“what does it mean in the city when you stare someone awake?” junsu mumbles, his eyes opening slowly. there is a lazy smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
yoochun wants to giggle. “it means you stayed for breakfast.”
note: written for anika_nona ♥
pairing: yoosu ♥
rating: R
positive, happy fluff.
.
his fiction wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to reality; high grass passes him, mountains surround him and the sun is peeking over his shoulder, reflecting dangerously in his rear-view mirror. he very much wants to open the window and shout; I’m alive, I’m alive, but the car is a manual and he really has to keep both hands on the steering wheel with bumpy roads like these.
(a character in his book once fell in love with the country side. something begins to swell in his chest)
yoochun wants the world to never end because he’s finally slept five nights in a row and writes page after page effortlessly. life is so good to him, he makes himself pancakes with smiley faces of maple syrup. outside, a goat sneezes. yoochun tears up with happiness.
he imagines her soft and sweet, fair-skinned and captivating, unique and otherworldly. there’s dozens of other words involved with her (beautiful, love and I do I do I do) but they only come alive through keys pressed down by the sleeping fingers of a dreamer past midnight. which basically means he sucks at the whole wooing-a-woman thing.
the country side is quiet at night, but never silent. yoochun expects her to be like that.
junsu is a boy dressed in loose jeans and tight, happy shirts. he rides in a tiny open van which is filled with watermelons. he doesn’t really sell anything else and it’s more or less a summer job. he suspects it to be beneficial to his mood too; whilst driving he sings loudly with a smile bright as day. junsu belongs to the country side.
one morning, yoochun finds himself in the mood for a watermelon. just one; a big one, juicy enough to nurture his aching throat and cool enough to shake the very heat off his skin. it is quite the ridiculous urge to have and he contemplates his dire needs and desires in life for a good hour, before a miracle does fall upon him.
a red van breaks down on the little road in front of his house; a flat tire and an engine nearly on fire. yoochun hears nothing of this all as he is enjoying his morning coffee. the doorbell rings a couple of times and it takes him a whole minute to realize he’s not dreaming. rather confused, he opens the door, not expecting anyone.
(a big part of his book is about how love happens at random places and to random people. he really does believe so, even when he doesn’t notice it)
“Hi. my van broke down. could you help me change the tire?”
yoochun blinks. “sure.”
the truth is, yoochun doesn’t know about changing tires. what he knows about cars is that they go fast and are supposed to look cool and make awesome noises like they’re raging animals, but that pretty much covers it. he prays to god the car he’s rented for the journey survives the trip back to Seoul.
but junsu is just kind of radiant.
like the sun is in his skin, or something.
yoochun doesn’t give it any words.
“are you from around here?” he asks half-way through the job. the sun is beating down on them mercilessly.
“I go around here, but I live closer to the city than this,” junsu answers, wiping the sweat off his forehead with dirty fingers. it leaves a smudge.
“I live in the city, actually,” yoochun informs the man as he leans over his back to peek at the engine too. their shoulders touch. sweat.
junsu turns his head and looks, then smiles and his teeth are oh so white. “I could totally tell. only old people live in this area.”
there’s a smudge on your forehead, yoochun thinks. the swelling in his chest is back.
(the reason why he writes words like ‘once upon a time…’ is because he wants to describe exactly how it feels, that one moment when you catch someone’s eyes and all the world disappears, like in a fairytale)
they take a break around noon. It seems neither of them knows exactly how to change a tire properly and after a couple of hours moving parts about that aren’t supposed to move about, they sit down at yoochun’s kitchen table.
the sweet taste of the watermelon is almost better than he had imagined it to be and for a moment or two he loses himself completely in devouring 1/6th of the fruit. junsu is staring at him with a wide smile and curious eyes. yoochun lifts an eyebrow questioningly.
“oh. this is really good. like, proper fruit. like nothing we have in the city,” he smiles a bit sheepishly.
junsu laughs and it’s like bells ringing.
twilight in summer always runs shivers down his spine. a red-orange-purple sky slowly veiled by a haunting orangey grey. like magic hanging in the air, rays of dying sun that aren’t supposed to be there tickle his skin. he shivers and watches junsu close the trunk.
“thank you, for helping me out. I really didn’t know this would take us all day.” he is bashful, cheeks and nose red from the sun, the dirt still on his face. yoochun wants to touch him.
instead he says; “you’re beautiful.”
“uhm,” junsu says, and then; “that’s unexpected.”
but his cheeks become even redder and he’s blushing. yoochun wants to throw in every cheesy one-liner he knows, but he can only stare. he is a writer of love stories woven by his imagination and he is infatuated with a boy who sells watermelons. he almost starts blushing as well.
“in the city, that means I want to kiss you,” he catches on, eying junsu carefully.
“I thought it means you want to sleep with me.”
yoochun blinks and almost stutters, his low voice trembling dangerously. “t-that’s unexpected,” he produces.
“if you kiss me right here, the entire town will suspect you’re sleeping with me anyway,” junsu rationalises. his eyes are big and innocent and full of ideas.
they kiss like in one of those old romantic hollywood flicks; wind sweeping through their hair, the twilight sunset as their stage and with junsu’s back against a red open van with watermelons in it.
yoochun loses count of the times he feels the other’s teeth scrape his lips softly, twines his fingers into the other’s hair just a little tighter and licks at the dirt on the corner of his lips. junsu is panting, breathing into his mouth and arches his back away from the van. yoochun firmly presses him back down with his own body and swallows the gasp that falls from the other in response.
(nights heady like wine, or; my lover is passion - yoochun hasn’t chosen a title for the book yet. it would sound far too final, though he’s written the last chapter in advance. once more his words will delude the reader into believing the writer to know the true experience of loving)
they barely make it into the car. junsu’s hands are everywhere and in all the right places and yoochun is just a man after all. with only so much strength to hold back longer, they twist and turn themselves out of their jeans and shirts and all other annoying things; junsu’s necklace ends up somewhere on the front seat.
there is too much skin to touch; yoochun's fingers dance crazy patterns on the other’s back, hips, legs and abdomen. it’s kind of inexperienced and fast, but he’s never felt better. junsu reels him in with his arms, pulls him closer and whispers things to his ear that make his breath hitch. come on. let’s just do it.
his mind goes blank when he finally moves into the other. the world is so insignificant and so is all the sweat and dirt and leather and the nervous laughter. somewhere on the country side, in the back of a van he’s found the true understanding of his fantasized novel scenes. if he wasn’t so busy reveling in that feeling, he would’ve been scared.
nails dig into his flesh as junsu wraps his legs around him. dragging his hands down, he leaves angry red stripes on yoochun’s back. In response, yoochun can do nothing but moan and he’s already signing his faith. when the other man stills him and rolls his hips teasingly slow, he gives in.
he wants to write it songs or give it a name, the moment he wakes up next to junsu in his bed. the sheets are white, shining in the morning sun and the see-through curtains dance lazily in the breeze. it's so picture-perfect he could’ve never come up with it.
“what does it mean in the city when you stare someone awake?” junsu mumbles, his eyes opening slowly. there is a lazy smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
yoochun wants to giggle. “it means you stayed for breakfast.”
note: written for anika_nona ♥