BOTS!AU Drabble/Intro
BOTS!AU drabble
Sehun/Luhan.
Boys of the Streets AU.
~1,400 words
PG. cursing.
A/N: Posting it here b/c it was originally a drabble written on request but it was also something I've been meaning to write so...! Here is the post on my gfx tumblr.
BOTS!AU is something I've been thinking about. Inspired by lots of nameless black and white photos of EXO in die jungs, lmao.
Meanderers in the countryside: lost, soulless, rootless. They wander without an axis, fight without a purpose, laugh just for the fuck of it. Some carry knives, some carry guns, some carry rosaries, and some carry empty wallets. It’s all a give and take, a laugh and go with it. It’s about actions dictated by your heart, by what’s on your sleeve, by what you ate for breakfast that morning. Life is light. It’s easy. It’s simple.
It’s free.
And maybe that’s why people are afraid of them.
“Well fuck no,” Baekhyun might laugh, twirling his gun in that Baekhyun-esque way, lightly dangling on his index finger, spinning once, twice, three times before it swings slowly back down into place. “It’s our guns-our fucking weaponry.” He might smack his lips, kick a rock. Grin.
But when you think about it, it’s not really their fucking weaponry. It’s not really that gun in their faces that scares the townspeople. It’s what comes afterwards-the pulling back of the gun, the hysterical laughter, the cordial pat on the back, the swaggering away. The luxury in that gait, the laugh between each footstep, the twinkle in their eyes. We don’t care, it says to them. We do what we want. You can’t.
With the exception of the older community (who call them “them damn thugs”), they’re called the boys of the streets. Boys, because they’re still young children, exploring the abilities of their muscles, the flexibilities of their brains, the resilience of their hearts. Streets because they don’t have a home. Never constrained to a building, an edifice, a construct. Always wandering. Always meandering.
And Sehun is a boy of the streets.
He has the full I don’t give a fuck, why waste your life caged mentality; he shares cigarettes with Baekhyun, the unofficial leader (because in a free world like theirs, there shouldn’t really be one), and splits grilled cheese sandwiches with Kai, the “free penis.”
Every one of them has a name. In a sense, the name itself is an initiation of a new life. Welcome to a new way of living, free penis. That was Kai. He had never liked boxers, anyways. They call him freenis for short.
Sehun is noodle.
“Your arms,” Chanyeol (whose name is dumbass) had snorted after almost slicing Sehun’s ear off during an argument about the spelling of ‘doughnut,’ “they’re so fucking long. Like a noodle.” And it had stuck.
It’s a scorching hot July morning when Kai walks up to him and kicks a rock. Sehun turns to his side.
“Hey noodle,” Kai clears his throat. “Do you want to do some table sharing with some grilled cheese again? The day’s so boring I’d say I could watch ants moving bread crumbs for an hour and be more entertained.”
“Bringing anyone else?” Sehun looks up at Kai’s face, who shrugs in reply.
“Maybe two-word.”
“You’re bringing that creep?”
Kai swallows, and the humidity seeps in between them for a split second.
“He’s not much of a creep,” Kai protests, pulling two marbles out of his pocket and rolling them between his fingertips. “I mean, he doesn’t talk much, but he’s not that bad. He won’t do anything bad, I swear.”
Sehun stares a little. “Alright,” he says.
Two-word trudges behind the two of them as they make their way to the local pancake house. The town is small and the people are close. Even the boys know most of the residents, so as they approach, Kai points out a person sitting near the window.
“Newcomer, huh,” Kai says, nodding at the skinny-faced figure sipping a cup of coffee. “I’ll give you five bucks if you table-share with him and find his phone number.”
Sehun laughs. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s not like it’s hard anyways.”
“Fine, then. Go for it.”
When they walk in, with their leather jackets and their dirtied black pants, their clunk-clunking heavy boots and their loose grins, the house goes silent. People turn slowly, eyeing the three of them. They know we’re here, Sehun thinks.
But the townspeople know better than to provoke them, to prevent them. They’ve realized over the years that these kids do no harm. They’re just free souls. Sure, fear them, but still. Let them be.
They buy three grilled cheese sandwiches-to go, please, they say-and Kai goes to a two-seater table with the big-eyed, small-faced, tiny-shouldered two-word. He sits down, looks up at Sehun, and nods.
“Go ahead, noodle. Do it.”
Sehun makes a face, then takes a deep breath and sits down across from the stranger near the window. “Howdy-do,” he says. “Haven’t seen you around here.”
The man looks up. He’s surprisingly young.
“Hello,” the man says tentatively.
“And you are..?”
“Noodle,” Sehun grins. “For my arms.”
The man raises his eyebrows. “Noodle,” he repeats slowly. “Alright.”
“Who’re you?”
“I’m Luhan,” the man says, still unsure. “Why are you sitting here?”
“I’m a boy of the streets,” Sehun says, grinning, “without a seed, without a root, always wandering. I’m one of eleven, one of dancing seeds that haven’t found a home yet. That don’t need a home yet. That’s who I am, noodle, a boy of the streets.”
Luhan blinks. “Do you have family?”
This time, it’s Sehun’s turn to do a double-take.
“Family?”
“Yeah, like-do your parents know about what you do?” He glances dubiously at Sehun’s grease-stained cheeks, his leather jacket.
Sehun’s smile falters. He tries to speak, but Luhan catches on quickly.
“Never mind,” he says. He looks down at his book, then up back at Sehun. “You live here?”
He takes a bite of his grilled cheese sandwich-warm-and nods. “Been here a while. Are you here for good?”
“For good?” Luhan laughs lightly. Sehun swallows his bite. “I don’t know about for good, but I’m definitely here for a while.”
“Care to elaborate?” Sehun takes another hearty bite of the sandwich.
“I mean,” Luhan says, putting down his book, “studies, and family problems, the usual. I’m fine, though. The countryside seemed like the right place to go. It’s nice here.”
“Anywhere we go is nice,” Sehun blurts in between bites. Luhan winces a little at Sehun’s open mouth, but he smiles again at some invisible thing on Sehun’s face. Sehun feels confused.
“What’s so funny?”
Luhan smiles mildly again before chuckling, “No, nothing.” He pauses, then adds, “Do you want some of my coffee with that grilled cheese? You don’t have a drink.”
Sehun stares for a bit. “Um,” he says, unable to reply to such an off-putting question. “Sure.” And he chugs down the rest of the coffee, wincing halfway because it almost burns his throat.
It’s awkward for a few seconds before Sehun finally blurts, “What’s your number?”
Luhan seems taken aback.
“What?”
“I said, what’s your number?” Sehun wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and slams it down on the table with a demanding thud.
Luhan doesn’t reply.
“The thing you have for your phone, you know?”
“Oh,” Luhan says, and by the way he says it, it seems like he’s pretending to just have realized what Sehun meant when in reality he had just been trying to misunderstand the question. “Zero one zero-“
“Wait, wait.” Sehun waves his hand a little. “Give me a pen.”
Luhan looks at Sehun, chuckles, and then reaches in his bag to get a blue ballpoint pen.
“Okay, again?”
He writes down the numbers as Luhan calls them. When Luhan finishes, Sehun slams the pen down on the table, stands up, looks down at Luhan, and grins.
“Thank you for your patience,” Sehun says matter-of-factly. “We boys of the streets may call you one day.”
“It was nice meeting you, Noodle,” Luhan replies, again a mild smile on his face.
“I wasn’t exactly planning to watch a blind date,” Kai laughs as they walk back. “I was waiting for some of your humor, you know. The funny stuff. Not such a… normal conversation.”
Sehun shrugs. “I don’t know. I just said what I needed to. And that’s what came out.”
“You’re actually going to call him again,” two-word says behind them.
Sehun turns around. He looks at two-word. “You’re right, two-word. Maybe I will.”
Sehun/Luhan.
Boys of the Streets AU.
~1,400 words
PG. cursing.
A/N: Posting it here b/c it was originally a drabble written on request but it was also something I've been meaning to write so...! Here is the post on my gfx tumblr.
BOTS!AU is something I've been thinking about. Inspired by lots of nameless black and white photos of EXO in die jungs, lmao.
Meanderers in the countryside: lost, soulless, rootless. They wander without an axis, fight without a purpose, laugh just for the fuck of it. Some carry knives, some carry guns, some carry rosaries, and some carry empty wallets. It’s all a give and take, a laugh and go with it. It’s about actions dictated by your heart, by what’s on your sleeve, by what you ate for breakfast that morning. Life is light. It’s easy. It’s simple.
It’s free.
And maybe that’s why people are afraid of them.
“Well fuck no,” Baekhyun might laugh, twirling his gun in that Baekhyun-esque way, lightly dangling on his index finger, spinning once, twice, three times before it swings slowly back down into place. “It’s our guns-our fucking weaponry.” He might smack his lips, kick a rock. Grin.
But when you think about it, it’s not really their fucking weaponry. It’s not really that gun in their faces that scares the townspeople. It’s what comes afterwards-the pulling back of the gun, the hysterical laughter, the cordial pat on the back, the swaggering away. The luxury in that gait, the laugh between each footstep, the twinkle in their eyes. We don’t care, it says to them. We do what we want. You can’t.
With the exception of the older community (who call them “them damn thugs”), they’re called the boys of the streets. Boys, because they’re still young children, exploring the abilities of their muscles, the flexibilities of their brains, the resilience of their hearts. Streets because they don’t have a home. Never constrained to a building, an edifice, a construct. Always wandering. Always meandering.
And Sehun is a boy of the streets.
He has the full I don’t give a fuck, why waste your life caged mentality; he shares cigarettes with Baekhyun, the unofficial leader (because in a free world like theirs, there shouldn’t really be one), and splits grilled cheese sandwiches with Kai, the “free penis.”
Every one of them has a name. In a sense, the name itself is an initiation of a new life. Welcome to a new way of living, free penis. That was Kai. He had never liked boxers, anyways. They call him freenis for short.
Sehun is noodle.
“Your arms,” Chanyeol (whose name is dumbass) had snorted after almost slicing Sehun’s ear off during an argument about the spelling of ‘doughnut,’ “they’re so fucking long. Like a noodle.” And it had stuck.
It’s a scorching hot July morning when Kai walks up to him and kicks a rock. Sehun turns to his side.
“Hey noodle,” Kai clears his throat. “Do you want to do some table sharing with some grilled cheese again? The day’s so boring I’d say I could watch ants moving bread crumbs for an hour and be more entertained.”
“Bringing anyone else?” Sehun looks up at Kai’s face, who shrugs in reply.
“Maybe two-word.”
“You’re bringing that creep?”
Kai swallows, and the humidity seeps in between them for a split second.
“He’s not much of a creep,” Kai protests, pulling two marbles out of his pocket and rolling them between his fingertips. “I mean, he doesn’t talk much, but he’s not that bad. He won’t do anything bad, I swear.”
Sehun stares a little. “Alright,” he says.
Two-word trudges behind the two of them as they make their way to the local pancake house. The town is small and the people are close. Even the boys know most of the residents, so as they approach, Kai points out a person sitting near the window.
“Newcomer, huh,” Kai says, nodding at the skinny-faced figure sipping a cup of coffee. “I’ll give you five bucks if you table-share with him and find his phone number.”
Sehun laughs. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s not like it’s hard anyways.”
“Fine, then. Go for it.”
When they walk in, with their leather jackets and their dirtied black pants, their clunk-clunking heavy boots and their loose grins, the house goes silent. People turn slowly, eyeing the three of them. They know we’re here, Sehun thinks.
But the townspeople know better than to provoke them, to prevent them. They’ve realized over the years that these kids do no harm. They’re just free souls. Sure, fear them, but still. Let them be.
They buy three grilled cheese sandwiches-to go, please, they say-and Kai goes to a two-seater table with the big-eyed, small-faced, tiny-shouldered two-word. He sits down, looks up at Sehun, and nods.
“Go ahead, noodle. Do it.”
Sehun makes a face, then takes a deep breath and sits down across from the stranger near the window. “Howdy-do,” he says. “Haven’t seen you around here.”
The man looks up. He’s surprisingly young.
“Hello,” the man says tentatively.
“And you are..?”
“Noodle,” Sehun grins. “For my arms.”
The man raises his eyebrows. “Noodle,” he repeats slowly. “Alright.”
“Who’re you?”
“I’m Luhan,” the man says, still unsure. “Why are you sitting here?”
“I’m a boy of the streets,” Sehun says, grinning, “without a seed, without a root, always wandering. I’m one of eleven, one of dancing seeds that haven’t found a home yet. That don’t need a home yet. That’s who I am, noodle, a boy of the streets.”
Luhan blinks. “Do you have family?”
This time, it’s Sehun’s turn to do a double-take.
“Family?”
“Yeah, like-do your parents know about what you do?” He glances dubiously at Sehun’s grease-stained cheeks, his leather jacket.
Sehun’s smile falters. He tries to speak, but Luhan catches on quickly.
“Never mind,” he says. He looks down at his book, then up back at Sehun. “You live here?”
He takes a bite of his grilled cheese sandwich-warm-and nods. “Been here a while. Are you here for good?”
“For good?” Luhan laughs lightly. Sehun swallows his bite. “I don’t know about for good, but I’m definitely here for a while.”
“Care to elaborate?” Sehun takes another hearty bite of the sandwich.
“I mean,” Luhan says, putting down his book, “studies, and family problems, the usual. I’m fine, though. The countryside seemed like the right place to go. It’s nice here.”
“Anywhere we go is nice,” Sehun blurts in between bites. Luhan winces a little at Sehun’s open mouth, but he smiles again at some invisible thing on Sehun’s face. Sehun feels confused.
“What’s so funny?”
Luhan smiles mildly again before chuckling, “No, nothing.” He pauses, then adds, “Do you want some of my coffee with that grilled cheese? You don’t have a drink.”
Sehun stares for a bit. “Um,” he says, unable to reply to such an off-putting question. “Sure.” And he chugs down the rest of the coffee, wincing halfway because it almost burns his throat.
It’s awkward for a few seconds before Sehun finally blurts, “What’s your number?”
Luhan seems taken aback.
“What?”
“I said, what’s your number?” Sehun wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and slams it down on the table with a demanding thud.
Luhan doesn’t reply.
“The thing you have for your phone, you know?”
“Oh,” Luhan says, and by the way he says it, it seems like he’s pretending to just have realized what Sehun meant when in reality he had just been trying to misunderstand the question. “Zero one zero-“
“Wait, wait.” Sehun waves his hand a little. “Give me a pen.”
Luhan looks at Sehun, chuckles, and then reaches in his bag to get a blue ballpoint pen.
“Okay, again?”
He writes down the numbers as Luhan calls them. When Luhan finishes, Sehun slams the pen down on the table, stands up, looks down at Luhan, and grins.
“Thank you for your patience,” Sehun says matter-of-factly. “We boys of the streets may call you one day.”
“It was nice meeting you, Noodle,” Luhan replies, again a mild smile on his face.
“I wasn’t exactly planning to watch a blind date,” Kai laughs as they walk back. “I was waiting for some of your humor, you know. The funny stuff. Not such a… normal conversation.”
Sehun shrugs. “I don’t know. I just said what I needed to. And that’s what came out.”
“You’re actually going to call him again,” two-word says behind them.
Sehun turns around. He looks at two-word. “You’re right, two-word. Maybe I will.”