3 Sungjong Drabbles
3 Sungjong Drabbles - All AU
- 1. Sungyeol/Sungjong
- 2. Hoya/Sungjong
- 3. Myungsoo/Sungjong
Table Feng Shui
Sungyeol/Sungjong
PG-13
301 words
"Shit," Sungyeol curses. "I forgot, Daeyeol managed to break the rice cooker yesterday."
Sungjong turns around, clearly amused. "Really? How did he manage to do that?"
"He probably threw it out the window or something, I don't know, he doesn't want to talk about it." He huffs. "I guess we should make it by hand then."
Sungyeol heaves again, reaching down to find a rusted pot. The two were making dinner for themselves to celebrate Sungyeol's B+ on his world history test earlier in the day, in which Sungjong spent the last week tutoring him since the poor boy doesn't even remember when the first world war was. Sungyeol was starting the preparation of the ingredients while Sungjong was to set the dining table, and knowing him, he'd spend a year making the table perfect.
"Ahjumma!" Sungyeol teases him, dropping the last cup of rice into the boiling water. "Are you going to sit there perfecting the table's symmetry all day or are you going to help me?"
Sungjong ignores him, experimenting spots where the magenta napkins would look good. Sungyeol lazily strides over to him, poking his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.
"Hey, what do you call this... art of yours?" Sungyeol leans down, wrapping his arm over the back of Sungjong's chair.
"Table Feng Shui." Sungjong replies nonchalantly. He fixes his cat-like eyes on Sungyeol's. "Even better than etiquette."
"Oh, really?" Sungyeol snorts.
"Yes, it is," The other boy insists. "Why? Are you interested in learning?"
"If it means I get private classes, then yes."
Sungyeol leans in to dip his head towards Sungjong, his eyes engulfed in his milky skin, trailing down to those soft lips and-
Sungjong pulls away to sniff the air. "I think you're burning the rice."
"Shit."
♦♦♦
Just Do It
Hoya/Sungjong
PG
658 words
Today was the day Lee Sungjong was to ask Lee Howon on a date. He had it all planned out: Go to his volleyball game (a playoff game so it was important they win), cheer the loudest in order to grab his attention (he even made a sign reading Howon-hyung, Number 1!), and after the game, walk him to their usual hangout (the third bench on the left side of the school's courtyard) and confidently ask him out.
So in other words, today is the day Lee Sungjong will probably die.
"Hyung, I think I'm going to have a heart attack." He breathed to his roommate, Sunggyu.
"Sungjong, how many times have I told you, you'll be fine." Sunggyu pressed, buttoning up the collar of his blazer. "Just do it, and whatever the outcome, you deal with it."
"Okay, okay," Sungjong heaved. He slung his bag over his shoulder and busted out their dorm room, catching a faint fighting! from his roommate, although it probably wouldn't help.
Needless to say, he barely made it through school, squirming and wriggling in his seat all day long. All his teachers had asked him if he were going mad, and every time he wanted to reply yes, yes, I went insane a long time ago, thanks. He truthfully did, however, with Sunggyu being the only person who knew about his plans and the older boy being in a separate grade, he really was crazy. He couldn't express his thoughts at all, his anxiousness, his insecurity, his mental state of insanity. He couldn't focus in class either, always dazing out the window, ignoring his peers and teachers. Did Sungjong learn anything today? No, other than the theory that Howon's left eyebrow may be slightly longer than his right one.
By the time the day was over and he arrived in the gym, he was essentially hyperventilating. By the time the game was over, however, he was hyperventilating, his voice was lost, and his body was shaking. He could barely peel himself off the bleachers when he saw Howon emerge from the locker room, meeting his own stare with a quick wave and an elongated smile, which lasted until they got outside the school.
"You did really great, hyung," Sungjong murmured, shoving his cold, bare hands in the front pockets of his windbreaker. "I'm glad you won."
Howon laughed. "Yeah, so I heard. Doesn't your voice hurt after all that screaming?"
"Hey! Be a little appreciative of your personal fan club," Sungjong playfully retorted. "I worked hard on those fan chants."
They both let out a vigorous laugh, stopping to sit down on their favorite bench. Although the metal was cold from the light snow and autumn air, the pair found themselves comfortable, or rather, Howon did. Sungjong found himself unconsciously bouncing his leg again, sitting on the very edge of the bench.
"Are you alright, Sungjong?" Howon questioned, puzzled by the other boy's seemingly anxious behavior. "What's wrong?"
Just do it. Sunggyu's voice rang through his eardrums.
"I like you."
Oh shit.
He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. "I mean, I l-like you, and your, uh, volleyball. Yeah... I like your volleyball."
Howon burst out laughing, causing Sungjong's eyes to widen even further, the lump in his throat threatening to explode.
I like your volleyball? Really? Sungjong mentally shoots himself twenty times over.
Howon pulled himself up. "Come on, let's go." He extended a hand out to Sungjong.
"Wait, wait, w-what?" He slowly stood himself up, eyes staying as wide as they go. "You don't, like, hate-"
"If you're so interested in me and my volleyball, then let's go play." He snatched Sungjong's hand, interlacing their fingers, and leading them back off towards the school.
Howon grinned once again as he felt Sungjong finally respond, holding his hand just as tight as the other boy was.
♦♦♦
Pink Trees
Myungsoo/Sungjong
PG
296 words
"Sungjong-ah, do you know what these are called?" A seven-year-old Myungsoo asked a six-year-old Sungjong.
They stood side-by-side, heads tilted upwards, gazing dreamily at the falling petals. Sungjong gasped, his small hand twitching beside him, ready to reach out and catch one, eventually doing so. He stared at the soft, baby pink colored leaf fill the empty space of his hand, just as big as his own palm.
"Pink trees!" He replied excitedly to the other boy, earning him a glistening smile in return.
"No, silly," He giggled. "They're called cherry blossoms!"
Sungjong shook his head, dragging a finger over the lead taking in it's velvety texture and even smelling it's brief scent, one of which he could not describe.
"They're definitely pink trees, hyung." He looks up to the latter, raising one eyebrow and pressing his lips together.
Myungsoo snickered again. "You'll learn about them one day, Sungjong."
Sungjong puts his head back down, focusing his attention on the leaf that was keeping him entranced.
---
To this day, Sungjong couldn't shake the thought from his mind. Even now, he was staring at the small pink leaf that was now much smaller than his palm, dragging the same finger down the center of it. His nineteen-year-old self was reminiscing of some of his favorite memories of himself and the now twenty-year-old boy next to him, his arm wrapped tightly around Sungjong's shoulder as they sat under one of the trees.
"Pink trees," Sungjong mumbled.
"Yeah, pink trees," Myungsoo stirred beside him, taking a large breath inward while rubbing Sungjong's shoulder.
The younger boy focused his attention back on the lone leaf that has been fascinated him as a child, surrounded by the warmth of the other boy, and certainly the sight of the pink trees.
♦♦♦
A/N: A few things I came up with at eleven at night.
- 1. Sungyeol/Sungjong
- 2. Hoya/Sungjong
- 3. Myungsoo/Sungjong
Table Feng Shui
Sungyeol/Sungjong
PG-13
301 words
"Shit," Sungyeol curses. "I forgot, Daeyeol managed to break the rice cooker yesterday."
Sungjong turns around, clearly amused. "Really? How did he manage to do that?"
"He probably threw it out the window or something, I don't know, he doesn't want to talk about it." He huffs. "I guess we should make it by hand then."
Sungyeol heaves again, reaching down to find a rusted pot. The two were making dinner for themselves to celebrate Sungyeol's B+ on his world history test earlier in the day, in which Sungjong spent the last week tutoring him since the poor boy doesn't even remember when the first world war was. Sungyeol was starting the preparation of the ingredients while Sungjong was to set the dining table, and knowing him, he'd spend a year making the table perfect.
"Ahjumma!" Sungyeol teases him, dropping the last cup of rice into the boiling water. "Are you going to sit there perfecting the table's symmetry all day or are you going to help me?"
Sungjong ignores him, experimenting spots where the magenta napkins would look good. Sungyeol lazily strides over to him, poking his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.
"Hey, what do you call this... art of yours?" Sungyeol leans down, wrapping his arm over the back of Sungjong's chair.
"Table Feng Shui." Sungjong replies nonchalantly. He fixes his cat-like eyes on Sungyeol's. "Even better than etiquette."
"Oh, really?" Sungyeol snorts.
"Yes, it is," The other boy insists. "Why? Are you interested in learning?"
"If it means I get private classes, then yes."
Sungyeol leans in to dip his head towards Sungjong, his eyes engulfed in his milky skin, trailing down to those soft lips and-
Sungjong pulls away to sniff the air. "I think you're burning the rice."
"Shit."
♦♦♦
Just Do It
Hoya/Sungjong
PG
658 words
Today was the day Lee Sungjong was to ask Lee Howon on a date. He had it all planned out: Go to his volleyball game (a playoff game so it was important they win), cheer the loudest in order to grab his attention (he even made a sign reading Howon-hyung, Number 1!), and after the game, walk him to their usual hangout (the third bench on the left side of the school's courtyard) and confidently ask him out.
So in other words, today is the day Lee Sungjong will probably die.
"Hyung, I think I'm going to have a heart attack." He breathed to his roommate, Sunggyu.
"Sungjong, how many times have I told you, you'll be fine." Sunggyu pressed, buttoning up the collar of his blazer. "Just do it, and whatever the outcome, you deal with it."
"Okay, okay," Sungjong heaved. He slung his bag over his shoulder and busted out their dorm room, catching a faint fighting! from his roommate, although it probably wouldn't help.
Needless to say, he barely made it through school, squirming and wriggling in his seat all day long. All his teachers had asked him if he were going mad, and every time he wanted to reply yes, yes, I went insane a long time ago, thanks. He truthfully did, however, with Sunggyu being the only person who knew about his plans and the older boy being in a separate grade, he really was crazy. He couldn't express his thoughts at all, his anxiousness, his insecurity, his mental state of insanity. He couldn't focus in class either, always dazing out the window, ignoring his peers and teachers. Did Sungjong learn anything today? No, other than the theory that Howon's left eyebrow may be slightly longer than his right one.
By the time the day was over and he arrived in the gym, he was essentially hyperventilating. By the time the game was over, however, he was hyperventilating, his voice was lost, and his body was shaking. He could barely peel himself off the bleachers when he saw Howon emerge from the locker room, meeting his own stare with a quick wave and an elongated smile, which lasted until they got outside the school.
"You did really great, hyung," Sungjong murmured, shoving his cold, bare hands in the front pockets of his windbreaker. "I'm glad you won."
Howon laughed. "Yeah, so I heard. Doesn't your voice hurt after all that screaming?"
"Hey! Be a little appreciative of your personal fan club," Sungjong playfully retorted. "I worked hard on those fan chants."
They both let out a vigorous laugh, stopping to sit down on their favorite bench. Although the metal was cold from the light snow and autumn air, the pair found themselves comfortable, or rather, Howon did. Sungjong found himself unconsciously bouncing his leg again, sitting on the very edge of the bench.
"Are you alright, Sungjong?" Howon questioned, puzzled by the other boy's seemingly anxious behavior. "What's wrong?"
Just do it. Sunggyu's voice rang through his eardrums.
"I like you."
Oh shit.
He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. "I mean, I l-like you, and your, uh, volleyball. Yeah... I like your volleyball."
Howon burst out laughing, causing Sungjong's eyes to widen even further, the lump in his throat threatening to explode.
I like your volleyball? Really? Sungjong mentally shoots himself twenty times over.
Howon pulled himself up. "Come on, let's go." He extended a hand out to Sungjong.
"Wait, wait, w-what?" He slowly stood himself up, eyes staying as wide as they go. "You don't, like, hate-"
"If you're so interested in me and my volleyball, then let's go play." He snatched Sungjong's hand, interlacing their fingers, and leading them back off towards the school.
Howon grinned once again as he felt Sungjong finally respond, holding his hand just as tight as the other boy was.
♦♦♦
Pink Trees
Myungsoo/Sungjong
PG
296 words
"Sungjong-ah, do you know what these are called?" A seven-year-old Myungsoo asked a six-year-old Sungjong.
They stood side-by-side, heads tilted upwards, gazing dreamily at the falling petals. Sungjong gasped, his small hand twitching beside him, ready to reach out and catch one, eventually doing so. He stared at the soft, baby pink colored leaf fill the empty space of his hand, just as big as his own palm.
"Pink trees!" He replied excitedly to the other boy, earning him a glistening smile in return.
"No, silly," He giggled. "They're called cherry blossoms!"
Sungjong shook his head, dragging a finger over the lead taking in it's velvety texture and even smelling it's brief scent, one of which he could not describe.
"They're definitely pink trees, hyung." He looks up to the latter, raising one eyebrow and pressing his lips together.
Myungsoo snickered again. "You'll learn about them one day, Sungjong."
Sungjong puts his head back down, focusing his attention on the leaf that was keeping him entranced.
---
To this day, Sungjong couldn't shake the thought from his mind. Even now, he was staring at the small pink leaf that was now much smaller than his palm, dragging the same finger down the center of it. His nineteen-year-old self was reminiscing of some of his favorite memories of himself and the now twenty-year-old boy next to him, his arm wrapped tightly around Sungjong's shoulder as they sat under one of the trees.
"Pink trees," Sungjong mumbled.
"Yeah, pink trees," Myungsoo stirred beside him, taking a large breath inward while rubbing Sungjong's shoulder.
The younger boy focused his attention back on the lone leaf that has been fascinated him as a child, surrounded by the warmth of the other boy, and certainly the sight of the pink trees.
♦♦♦
A/N: A few things I came up with at eleven at night.