Childhood friends, Never forgotten. [Twoshot]
Title: Childhood friends, Never forgotten. [Twoshot]
Genre: Angst-ish, high school AU
Rating: PG13 -swearing
Summary: Drifted apart, lost in a world of grey. Minho doesn't know how.
Minho walked, surrounded by the pandemonium of noise that was his classmates, jostling to catch up with friends, chatter of the summer vacation that had passed and gone. The promises of late nights staying up to do forgotten assignments and strains of football training lay in front of him, close yet still unfamiliar.
He walked, drifting, taking no notice of the familiar faces that blended into one, occasionally bumping into him, hearing the obligated muttered ‘sorry’ as the culprit slipped out of sight. He made his way to class, not focusing, until he was jolted awake by his friends on either side of him, questions of, ‘Are you still too tired?’ and ‘Dude, you’re the brains here, summer’s over’ being directed at him.
It was when Minho was on his way to the canteen that he saw him once again.
Lee Taemin.
His hair was dyed an intoxicating shade of copper, bright and gleaming in the summer sun that streamed in through the windows.
Lee Taemin walked on, not acknowledging that Minho slowed his pace slightly, willing Taemin to even give him a sideways glance, a sign that he knew Minho was there and the corridor was occupied, to interrupt the blank concentrated look of determination that he had on his face, continuing his journey to somewhere Minho didn’t know.
Minho knew now that they were two separated beings, yet he still clung on to the hope that they were two halves of the same heart.
Lee Taemin, after all, was attractive, with the pale creamy skin that empathised his innocence, and perfect bow shaped lips that held the hint of a secretive smile, telling you that Taemin knew something that you didn’t.
Lee Taemin was smart, a dancer, fluidity in every movement that he made, whilst Minho was tanned from the hours of playing football outside, unruly wavy hair caught up in a sloppy ponytail, just another one of those jockeys that was on the school team with long limbs that held the instinct to run.
Minho came to terms with the fact that Taemin was like a butterfly, never present for more than a moment for his beauty to be captured, before disappearing again, never staying long enough for emotional ties to be made. The moments with him were fleeting, wondrous, as if time stopped and the world spun even faster for them, memories of echoing laughter, the fields of golden ripe wheat bowing in the breeze where they played hide and seek as children in the hot blistering summers.
Minho didn’t know when they had started to drift apart, when the string that held them together began to loosen and slacken and caused his world be become more a drab grey than vivid and colourful, delicious food seeming to lose taste and glorious days of sunshine mocking his own soul.
He bought lunch, preferring to sit outside rather than with his team that was of loud jokes and throwing of food.
Maybe it had been when they had first started high school, Minho having been ecstatic at getting on the team, telling Taemin that he wasn’t able to walk home with him every day as he did after primary school. He thought back, remembering Taemin congratulating him before turning away to hide a faltering smile.
It was when one of his friends teased Taemin of looking too pretty for a boy, and Minho stood there awkwardly, ignoring Taemin’s pleading eyes to say something.
Maybe it was when Minho had forgotten his file at school and ran back to get it, telling his friends to go on without him, and he heard music from one of the dance studios, the beat pounding and hypnotising, urging him to inch closer. Maybe it was the moment that he had opened the door silently, peering in to find a Taemin clad only in a vest and sweats, sweating body performing flawless choreography, chest rising and falling sharply with quick intakes of breath, that Minho realised that those feelings had been buried within him all along, and it was wrong to feel for Taemin the way he did.
Minho lay on the grass, eyes shut as the sun roasted his skin through his dark uniform, groaning and contemplating skipping school when the bell rang to signify the end of lunch.
It was after school when Minho reluctantly ventured in the corridor, having lingered in the classroom to avoid the crush of students rushing home and causing a traffic jam in the school. He held his file in hand, his whistling echoing as he made his way to the main doors, feet scuffing the clean floor.
He heard a murmur in the background, senses kicking in as he registered the words.
Who do you think you are, walking around like you own the place?
A resilient silence, tasting of reserved suspense, the person not bothering to dignify the questioner with an answer.
Minho held his breath, feet padding silently to the edge of the wall.
You and your fucking bright red hair, you little attention seeker. People can easily mistake you for a girl.
Minho stepped out, making him visible to the owners of the jeering voices. They stopped, looking intimidated by this new predator who stood taller than them, seething fury and anger blazing in his eyes.
He registered the scene. Taemin who had been backed against the wall, lips pursed into a thin line, face composed as he was surrounded by three men.
Minho’s teeth clenched, fighting to control the anger in his voice, disdain in his voice evident. ‘Get the hell out of here, before I put you all in hospital.’
They left, footsteps uncertain as they broke into a run.
Minho closed his eyes, fingers massaging his forehead as he fought to keep himself in line.
‘Minho.’
His eyes flickered open, meeting those large mahogany eyes in front of him, warmth and comfort flooding his body as he heard Taemin’s voice. Taemin stood, unsure what to do, twining his fingers together uneasily.
‘Thank you.’
A gentle smile crossed those full lips, eyes crinkling at the corner just as Minho had remembered.
‘Taemin,’ Minho breathed, ‘I’m sorry. So sorry.’
‘Hyung.’ Taemin’s fingers brushed Minho’s arm fleetingly, resting lightly on Minho’s wrist. ‘It’s ok.’
They stood, a world of thoughts, emotions, unsaid words battling and warring to be let out between their eyes.
‘Walk me home.’
Next
A/N: a break from my chaptered fic :)
Thinking of perhaps making a sequel of this? If anyone reads this to begin with that is...
Genre: Angst-ish, high school AU
Rating: PG13 -swearing
Summary: Drifted apart, lost in a world of grey. Minho doesn't know how.
Minho walked, surrounded by the pandemonium of noise that was his classmates, jostling to catch up with friends, chatter of the summer vacation that had passed and gone. The promises of late nights staying up to do forgotten assignments and strains of football training lay in front of him, close yet still unfamiliar.
He walked, drifting, taking no notice of the familiar faces that blended into one, occasionally bumping into him, hearing the obligated muttered ‘sorry’ as the culprit slipped out of sight. He made his way to class, not focusing, until he was jolted awake by his friends on either side of him, questions of, ‘Are you still too tired?’ and ‘Dude, you’re the brains here, summer’s over’ being directed at him.
It was when Minho was on his way to the canteen that he saw him once again.
Lee Taemin.
His hair was dyed an intoxicating shade of copper, bright and gleaming in the summer sun that streamed in through the windows.
Lee Taemin walked on, not acknowledging that Minho slowed his pace slightly, willing Taemin to even give him a sideways glance, a sign that he knew Minho was there and the corridor was occupied, to interrupt the blank concentrated look of determination that he had on his face, continuing his journey to somewhere Minho didn’t know.
Minho knew now that they were two separated beings, yet he still clung on to the hope that they were two halves of the same heart.
Lee Taemin, after all, was attractive, with the pale creamy skin that empathised his innocence, and perfect bow shaped lips that held the hint of a secretive smile, telling you that Taemin knew something that you didn’t.
Lee Taemin was smart, a dancer, fluidity in every movement that he made, whilst Minho was tanned from the hours of playing football outside, unruly wavy hair caught up in a sloppy ponytail, just another one of those jockeys that was on the school team with long limbs that held the instinct to run.
Minho came to terms with the fact that Taemin was like a butterfly, never present for more than a moment for his beauty to be captured, before disappearing again, never staying long enough for emotional ties to be made. The moments with him were fleeting, wondrous, as if time stopped and the world spun even faster for them, memories of echoing laughter, the fields of golden ripe wheat bowing in the breeze where they played hide and seek as children in the hot blistering summers.
Minho didn’t know when they had started to drift apart, when the string that held them together began to loosen and slacken and caused his world be become more a drab grey than vivid and colourful, delicious food seeming to lose taste and glorious days of sunshine mocking his own soul.
He bought lunch, preferring to sit outside rather than with his team that was of loud jokes and throwing of food.
Maybe it had been when they had first started high school, Minho having been ecstatic at getting on the team, telling Taemin that he wasn’t able to walk home with him every day as he did after primary school. He thought back, remembering Taemin congratulating him before turning away to hide a faltering smile.
It was when one of his friends teased Taemin of looking too pretty for a boy, and Minho stood there awkwardly, ignoring Taemin’s pleading eyes to say something.
Maybe it was when Minho had forgotten his file at school and ran back to get it, telling his friends to go on without him, and he heard music from one of the dance studios, the beat pounding and hypnotising, urging him to inch closer. Maybe it was the moment that he had opened the door silently, peering in to find a Taemin clad only in a vest and sweats, sweating body performing flawless choreography, chest rising and falling sharply with quick intakes of breath, that Minho realised that those feelings had been buried within him all along, and it was wrong to feel for Taemin the way he did.
Minho lay on the grass, eyes shut as the sun roasted his skin through his dark uniform, groaning and contemplating skipping school when the bell rang to signify the end of lunch.
It was after school when Minho reluctantly ventured in the corridor, having lingered in the classroom to avoid the crush of students rushing home and causing a traffic jam in the school. He held his file in hand, his whistling echoing as he made his way to the main doors, feet scuffing the clean floor.
He heard a murmur in the background, senses kicking in as he registered the words.
Who do you think you are, walking around like you own the place?
A resilient silence, tasting of reserved suspense, the person not bothering to dignify the questioner with an answer.
Minho held his breath, feet padding silently to the edge of the wall.
You and your fucking bright red hair, you little attention seeker. People can easily mistake you for a girl.
Minho stepped out, making him visible to the owners of the jeering voices. They stopped, looking intimidated by this new predator who stood taller than them, seething fury and anger blazing in his eyes.
He registered the scene. Taemin who had been backed against the wall, lips pursed into a thin line, face composed as he was surrounded by three men.
Minho’s teeth clenched, fighting to control the anger in his voice, disdain in his voice evident. ‘Get the hell out of here, before I put you all in hospital.’
They left, footsteps uncertain as they broke into a run.
Minho closed his eyes, fingers massaging his forehead as he fought to keep himself in line.
‘Minho.’
His eyes flickered open, meeting those large mahogany eyes in front of him, warmth and comfort flooding his body as he heard Taemin’s voice. Taemin stood, unsure what to do, twining his fingers together uneasily.
‘Thank you.’
A gentle smile crossed those full lips, eyes crinkling at the corner just as Minho had remembered.
‘Taemin,’ Minho breathed, ‘I’m sorry. So sorry.’
‘Hyung.’ Taemin’s fingers brushed Minho’s arm fleetingly, resting lightly on Minho’s wrist. ‘It’s ok.’
They stood, a world of thoughts, emotions, unsaid words battling and warring to be let out between their eyes.
‘Walk me home.’
Next
A/N: a break from my chaptered fic :)
Thinking of perhaps making a sequel of this? If anyone reads this to begin with that is...