10 080 and counting...
Nika told me I'm not allowed to write a certain fic until I get some more stuff written and posted, so Kei does as Kei is told. ^.^;;;
Title: Ten Thousand Eighty
Pairing: HeechulxRyeowook-ish (Super Junior)
Rating: PG-13 for someone other than Kame getting locked in a bathroom with Heechul
Summary: Life sucks when you're Ryeowook? I guess.
Furthermore: 10 080 happens to be how many minutes are in a week, if you were wondering. Also, Heechul is so OOC it actually makes me giggle nervously and then change the subject. Ryeowook's such a mediocre martyr in this. SOMEONE CALL THE WAH-MBULANCE, WE HAVE AN EMO-GENCY.
Ten Thousand Eighty
It had been a long day.
It had been a long week, really. Dance practice was running day after day, consecutive hours of work outnumbering the brief breaks that divided them into nearly bearable segments. Everyone was tired, hungry, sore, overworked, and increasingly frustrated with the new routine, which was really more complicated than a dance routine had any right to be. Anything with that many dancers was bound to be tricky, competent though they were, but the steps actually seemed to be getting increasingly difficult the more they worked at them.
It had been a long week for everyone.
"My god, can you do nothing right?"
Especially Ryeowook.
Ryeowook was always a little twitchy, a little nervous when they had a new routine to learn. He was always afraid he wouldn't get it down in time, that he was dragging the group down with him. It didn't help that they'd been given a week for the new routine, especially when he just couldn't make it click.
Every routine has a flow to it, he believed. It has something about it that makes sense, and that makes it easy or at least possible to remember. One step goes after the other, it makes some kind of sense.
This routine wasn't making sense, at least not to Ryeowook. The steps didn't seem to flow. He couldn't remember it: the steps, the order, any of it. When he thought he had one part down, he would find another part had dissolved in his mind and he would have to relearn it entirely.
His anxiety was nearly killing him in a way that was painfully close to literal. He was sleeping two hours a night, sometimes less, sometimes not at all, staying up long after everyone else had gone to bed ("I just need to work on this one step a bit more, then I'll go to bed, promise!") to practice until he could no longer stand. He was at the point where he would trip over his own feet (always when someone else was watching, of course) and try to stand by his own means three, four times, sometimes more, before Shindong would haul him to his feet or Yehsung would force him to stay down.
Donghae had to force him to take breaks. Hankyung had to remind him to eat.
Heechul was not quite so forgiving.
"I cannot work under these conditions!" screeched Heechul, who had the routine down by the end of the third day.
"I'm sorry," Ryeowook whispered, dragging himself to his feet and rubbing the scrape on the elbow he had landed on. It hurt, but not badly enough that he would need a break. He could keep going. He had to keep going.
"Well sorry isn't going to cut it, okay?!" Heechul fumed, placing his hands on his slim hips with an elegant kind of fury and walking quick, tight circles that would have appeared amusing if everyone wasn't on the verge of collapsing.
"I... I'm..." Ryeowook murmured, fumbling, searching. He closed his eyes tightly, letting his head loll. He'd run out of words.
"I'm done."
The words, spoken so quietly it was a wonder anyone heard them, so detached and exhausted Ryeowook never would have guessed they'd come from him, hung in the air like a death sentence as he used his last ounce of strength to bolt to his feet and flee the room, somehow managing to make it down the hall and into the bathroom, even closing and latching the door before he collapsed, face pressed to the cold floor, crying for so many reasons. He tried to ignore the patter of footsteps that pursued him, shuffling and shoving and shouting, and hated himself a little for wondering if Heechul was among his pursuers.
Someone knocked softly at the door, and a voice just as soft followed. "Ryeowook? Come out, okay? He didn't mean it, promise."
That would be Shiwon, Ryeowook decided distractedly. It had to be, to say something like that and sound sincere. He tried to draw his hand closer to rub his eyes (his tears had caused his eyelashes to tangle badly enough that his vision was sadly impaired), but could muster neither the motivation nor the strength to do so.
Outside, more shuffling could be heard, followed by a smart rapping on the door and a strong, slightly whining voice. "C'mon, c'mon! I'll kick 'Rella's ass and you can watch. It'll cheer you up, what do ya say?"
Ryeowook nearly managed a small smile; he was sorely tempted to take Kangin up on that offer.
More shuffling, and a voice that made Ryeowook's soundless sobs catch in his throat. "You don't need to come out," Yehsung murmured so softly he must have had his lips nearly pressed to the narrow crack between the door and doorframe to make himself heard. "I don't blame you if you don't want to come out. But I don't want you to be alone, y'know? I'm worried, Ryeowook. Will you let me come in?"
Ryeowook nodded numbly against the cool tiles slightly warmed by his hot tears, somehow managing to heave himself up so he was leaning against the wall opposite the door. Yehsung could make everything better. Yehsung would wrap his arms around him and stroke his hair and know better than to say that everything was all right because, really, that would be a stupid thing to say. He would be there and things would be all right for a time, and right now that was all Ryeowook wanted.
Ryeowook realized with a pang that this was not entirely true; right now it was what he wanted, but it was not ALL he wanted. In truth, what he wanted was for Heechul to have never said that, for himself to have never reacted quite that way, for the whole situation to have never existed to begin with. He wanted to be able to open the door and walk into the hall and have Eeteuk hug him from in front and Kangin hug him from behind and Sungmin manage to squish in one side to hug him too and have Kibum stroke his hair and Yehsung kiss his forehead and Kyuhyun and Eunhyuk hold his hands and to see Heechul looking down at the carpet and for once in his life regret his words.
As it was, he wasn't even sure he could stand.
Well, one thing at a time.
He needed Yehsung.
"All right..." Ryeowook managed to pull himself into a kneeling position and slid slowly across the floor toward the door. He clicked the lock and let his hand sit on the doorknob a moment before pulling the door open a crack. "Yehsung..."
He saw Yehsung, saw his tired eyes, saw the kind smile that lit his face when their eyes met. He saw Yehsung shoved back, saw him hit the wall opposite, saw Kyuhyun grab his arm and get dragged down with him, saw Donghae stop them both from hitting the floor. He saw a slim form dart through the barely-open door, saw a thin hand slam the door, saw agile fingers snap the lock, saw Heechul standing over him with eyes blazing and nostrils flaring.
Startled and terrified beyond words, Ryeowook closed his eyes tightly, pushing his legs out in front of himself and scrambling backward as quickly as his exhaustion-weakened limbs would allow until he felt his back hit the side of the tub. He clutched at the dangling shower curtain desperately and held his breath.
It was only after he heard a weary sigh and felt the gentle pressure of Heechul's face pressed to his own shoulder that Ryeowook dared open his eyes. Sure enough, Heechul had dropped to the tiles beside him, collapsed into an exhausted heap, and was murmuring something so slurred it was just shy of coherent. It was only when Ryeowook made a ginger attempt to separate his aching form from Heechul's grip that he finally caught a hiccupped 'sorry' and stopped dead in his lethargic movements, too confused and frightened to move further.
"H-Heechul," Ryeowook stammered softly, feeling an obligation to say something, but he broke off, unsure of how to continue.
Heechul shivered and fell silent, but remained with his face pressed to Ryeowook's arm. Finally he sighed with surprising calm, "It's... been a long week, nn?"
"I'm sorry," Ryeowook replied automatically, biting his lower lip, shame tinging his confusion.
"I'm sorry," Heechul corrected, shaking his head in gentle contrast to his suddenly harsh tone. "Maybe... this week's really getting to me..." With another quick apology, Heechul raised his hand to rub at his eyes.
If Ryeowook hadn't been sitting, his legs probably would have buckled beneath him. Here was Heechul, group princess, professional bitch, not just apologizing but apologizing in tears. A bitter voice in the back of his mind told him that Heechul deserved it, that it was nowhere near enough to make up for all the times he himself had left a room with tears stinging his eyes over some offhand remark from the princess's lips, and try as he might to suppress it, the voice would not be silenced.
It told him how easy it would be to shake Heechul off of his arm, to go to the door and show everyone just how composed and perfect their princess really was. It told him how sweet it would be to finally get some sort of revenge, however petty it might be.
Ryeowook looked down at Heechul, who was now looking back up at him. His quiet tears had ceased, but his eyes remained damp.
Ryeowook sighed and raised his hand to stroke Heechul's hair reassuringly.
It had been a long week for everyone.
... *flees*
Title: Ten Thousand Eighty
Pairing: HeechulxRyeowook-ish (Super Junior)
Rating: PG-13 for someone other than Kame getting locked in a bathroom with Heechul
Summary: Life sucks when you're Ryeowook? I guess.
Furthermore: 10 080 happens to be how many minutes are in a week, if you were wondering. Also, Heechul is so OOC it actually makes me giggle nervously and then change the subject. Ryeowook's such a mediocre martyr in this. SOMEONE CALL THE WAH-MBULANCE, WE HAVE AN EMO-GENCY.
Ten Thousand Eighty
It had been a long day.
It had been a long week, really. Dance practice was running day after day, consecutive hours of work outnumbering the brief breaks that divided them into nearly bearable segments. Everyone was tired, hungry, sore, overworked, and increasingly frustrated with the new routine, which was really more complicated than a dance routine had any right to be. Anything with that many dancers was bound to be tricky, competent though they were, but the steps actually seemed to be getting increasingly difficult the more they worked at them.
It had been a long week for everyone.
"My god, can you do nothing right?"
Especially Ryeowook.
Ryeowook was always a little twitchy, a little nervous when they had a new routine to learn. He was always afraid he wouldn't get it down in time, that he was dragging the group down with him. It didn't help that they'd been given a week for the new routine, especially when he just couldn't make it click.
Every routine has a flow to it, he believed. It has something about it that makes sense, and that makes it easy or at least possible to remember. One step goes after the other, it makes some kind of sense.
This routine wasn't making sense, at least not to Ryeowook. The steps didn't seem to flow. He couldn't remember it: the steps, the order, any of it. When he thought he had one part down, he would find another part had dissolved in his mind and he would have to relearn it entirely.
His anxiety was nearly killing him in a way that was painfully close to literal. He was sleeping two hours a night, sometimes less, sometimes not at all, staying up long after everyone else had gone to bed ("I just need to work on this one step a bit more, then I'll go to bed, promise!") to practice until he could no longer stand. He was at the point where he would trip over his own feet (always when someone else was watching, of course) and try to stand by his own means three, four times, sometimes more, before Shindong would haul him to his feet or Yehsung would force him to stay down.
Donghae had to force him to take breaks. Hankyung had to remind him to eat.
Heechul was not quite so forgiving.
"I cannot work under these conditions!" screeched Heechul, who had the routine down by the end of the third day.
"I'm sorry," Ryeowook whispered, dragging himself to his feet and rubbing the scrape on the elbow he had landed on. It hurt, but not badly enough that he would need a break. He could keep going. He had to keep going.
"Well sorry isn't going to cut it, okay?!" Heechul fumed, placing his hands on his slim hips with an elegant kind of fury and walking quick, tight circles that would have appeared amusing if everyone wasn't on the verge of collapsing.
"I... I'm..." Ryeowook murmured, fumbling, searching. He closed his eyes tightly, letting his head loll. He'd run out of words.
"I'm done."
The words, spoken so quietly it was a wonder anyone heard them, so detached and exhausted Ryeowook never would have guessed they'd come from him, hung in the air like a death sentence as he used his last ounce of strength to bolt to his feet and flee the room, somehow managing to make it down the hall and into the bathroom, even closing and latching the door before he collapsed, face pressed to the cold floor, crying for so many reasons. He tried to ignore the patter of footsteps that pursued him, shuffling and shoving and shouting, and hated himself a little for wondering if Heechul was among his pursuers.
Someone knocked softly at the door, and a voice just as soft followed. "Ryeowook? Come out, okay? He didn't mean it, promise."
That would be Shiwon, Ryeowook decided distractedly. It had to be, to say something like that and sound sincere. He tried to draw his hand closer to rub his eyes (his tears had caused his eyelashes to tangle badly enough that his vision was sadly impaired), but could muster neither the motivation nor the strength to do so.
Outside, more shuffling could be heard, followed by a smart rapping on the door and a strong, slightly whining voice. "C'mon, c'mon! I'll kick 'Rella's ass and you can watch. It'll cheer you up, what do ya say?"
Ryeowook nearly managed a small smile; he was sorely tempted to take Kangin up on that offer.
More shuffling, and a voice that made Ryeowook's soundless sobs catch in his throat. "You don't need to come out," Yehsung murmured so softly he must have had his lips nearly pressed to the narrow crack between the door and doorframe to make himself heard. "I don't blame you if you don't want to come out. But I don't want you to be alone, y'know? I'm worried, Ryeowook. Will you let me come in?"
Ryeowook nodded numbly against the cool tiles slightly warmed by his hot tears, somehow managing to heave himself up so he was leaning against the wall opposite the door. Yehsung could make everything better. Yehsung would wrap his arms around him and stroke his hair and know better than to say that everything was all right because, really, that would be a stupid thing to say. He would be there and things would be all right for a time, and right now that was all Ryeowook wanted.
Ryeowook realized with a pang that this was not entirely true; right now it was what he wanted, but it was not ALL he wanted. In truth, what he wanted was for Heechul to have never said that, for himself to have never reacted quite that way, for the whole situation to have never existed to begin with. He wanted to be able to open the door and walk into the hall and have Eeteuk hug him from in front and Kangin hug him from behind and Sungmin manage to squish in one side to hug him too and have Kibum stroke his hair and Yehsung kiss his forehead and Kyuhyun and Eunhyuk hold his hands and to see Heechul looking down at the carpet and for once in his life regret his words.
As it was, he wasn't even sure he could stand.
Well, one thing at a time.
He needed Yehsung.
"All right..." Ryeowook managed to pull himself into a kneeling position and slid slowly across the floor toward the door. He clicked the lock and let his hand sit on the doorknob a moment before pulling the door open a crack. "Yehsung..."
He saw Yehsung, saw his tired eyes, saw the kind smile that lit his face when their eyes met. He saw Yehsung shoved back, saw him hit the wall opposite, saw Kyuhyun grab his arm and get dragged down with him, saw Donghae stop them both from hitting the floor. He saw a slim form dart through the barely-open door, saw a thin hand slam the door, saw agile fingers snap the lock, saw Heechul standing over him with eyes blazing and nostrils flaring.
Startled and terrified beyond words, Ryeowook closed his eyes tightly, pushing his legs out in front of himself and scrambling backward as quickly as his exhaustion-weakened limbs would allow until he felt his back hit the side of the tub. He clutched at the dangling shower curtain desperately and held his breath.
It was only after he heard a weary sigh and felt the gentle pressure of Heechul's face pressed to his own shoulder that Ryeowook dared open his eyes. Sure enough, Heechul had dropped to the tiles beside him, collapsed into an exhausted heap, and was murmuring something so slurred it was just shy of coherent. It was only when Ryeowook made a ginger attempt to separate his aching form from Heechul's grip that he finally caught a hiccupped 'sorry' and stopped dead in his lethargic movements, too confused and frightened to move further.
"H-Heechul," Ryeowook stammered softly, feeling an obligation to say something, but he broke off, unsure of how to continue.
Heechul shivered and fell silent, but remained with his face pressed to Ryeowook's arm. Finally he sighed with surprising calm, "It's... been a long week, nn?"
"I'm sorry," Ryeowook replied automatically, biting his lower lip, shame tinging his confusion.
"I'm sorry," Heechul corrected, shaking his head in gentle contrast to his suddenly harsh tone. "Maybe... this week's really getting to me..." With another quick apology, Heechul raised his hand to rub at his eyes.
If Ryeowook hadn't been sitting, his legs probably would have buckled beneath him. Here was Heechul, group princess, professional bitch, not just apologizing but apologizing in tears. A bitter voice in the back of his mind told him that Heechul deserved it, that it was nowhere near enough to make up for all the times he himself had left a room with tears stinging his eyes over some offhand remark from the princess's lips, and try as he might to suppress it, the voice would not be silenced.
It told him how easy it would be to shake Heechul off of his arm, to go to the door and show everyone just how composed and perfect their princess really was. It told him how sweet it would be to finally get some sort of revenge, however petty it might be.
Ryeowook looked down at Heechul, who was now looking back up at him. His quiet tears had ceased, but his eyes remained damp.
Ryeowook sighed and raised his hand to stroke Heechul's hair reassuringly.
It had been a long week for everyone.
... *flees*