Secret Waltz

[dystopialights]

Secret Waltz
jaemin; pg-13
romance
4,841 words

Of music and celebration, and a love that plays in between.


Inspiration and title come from a song of the same name by Ibadi, which is a gorgeous song and I’d really recommend listening while reading :)




secret waltz mp3 | lyrics

“Congratulations, Mr. Shim, it’s a boy!”

“…What?”

“It’s a boy! I think it has a masculine feel to it, don’t you?”

Changmin eyed Yoochun strangely. “It’s a song, Yoochun.”

“So?”

“It doesn’t have a sex.”

“It has a penis.”

“It’s a doodle you drew because you were bored,” he grit out, because he was still kind of pissed about that. “And that doesn’t count. I’m not calling it anything.”

“Why not? I do it all the time - you have to call the song by something,” Yoochun teased. Changmin was sure Yoochun called his songs by ‘girl’ or ‘boy’, but he also liked to think of himself as above such ridiculousness. He stood, snatching up the sheet music.

“I’m not calling my song ‘a boy’,” he said with finality.

Yoochun shook his head mournfully. “Changmin-ah, this is your song. It is your precious creation, it is your child.”

“Guess I just don’t have your maternal instincts, hyung,” he rolled his eyes, throwing the taunt over his shoulder as he left the room. “Go and talk to Yunho about it - maybe he’ll care.”

He heard Yoochun chuckle behind him and only then allowed himself a small smile. Yoochun was kind of an idiot - but he was kind of right. It was his and definitely personal (he refused to say precious) creation; the first song he had composed solely by himself.

It didn’t matter if the song never got produced, if the company assigned it anonymously to some other group or even recycled it for trainees. He had done it, and that was enough.

“Heard you finished your song.”

Changmin looked up the spread of papers and books across the kitchen table. He was researching for an independent music theory course he had signed up for. You’d think it be easy given than music was his career, but somehow it managed to still be difficult. Said song was tucked beneath a book that had no right to be so big, and despite being rather innocuous amongst a whole spread of sheet music, Jaejoong picked it out immediately.

“Hey!” Changmin protested, making a grab for the pages. But Jaejoong was already examining the score with pursed lips.

Changmin felt flustered, because no one else had seen it - except for Yoochun, who couldn’t keep his nose out of anything in the apartment that was remotely related to composing. He shifted anxiously, growing more nervous the longer Jaejoong looked on without the smallest change of expression.

It took a long, awkward minute before Jaejoong finally slide his gaze over to Changmin. He wasn’t smiling, but Changmin knew him well enough to see it for what it was; just a smoothed-over air of thoughtfulness.

“Can I play it?” Jaejoong asked softly, chewing on his lips. Changmin licked his own, an unconscious imitation, even as his throat dried uncomfortably.

He had to clear his throat to speak. “Ah - sure, I guess.”

And then Jaejoong smiled, reaching for Changmin’s hand to pull him out of the chair. “Come listen. You’ve been studying long enough, anyway.”

“Only a few hours,” Changmin muttered, but followed along willingly. Jaejoong’s hand clenched around his and the feeling was strangely comforting.

Yoochun had left the workroom, thankfully, and when they slipped in Changmin stealthily locked the door behind them. Not too stealthily, though - when he turned Jaejoong was looking at him with raised eyebrows. Het didn’t make any other comment, though, and turned to set the sheet music in its proper place, and set himself on the piano bench with a grand flourish of rustling paper and flailing arms.

“It’s a special occasion,” he said to Changmin’s own raised brow. Changmin shook his head fondly and took a seat beside him. And then Jaejoong stopped smiling, his face taking on that crystalline quality; quiet intensity, as he let his eyes follow the slow progression of notes and his hands follow his eyes.

It was a ballad, not a love song but a song about love. The lyrics weren’t yet written, but the music itself held it all, smooth and gentle as a slow dance. Changmin had spent weeks with chords and melodies waltzing across his brain - tip-toeing into his dreams and tip-tapping into his fingers, so that every thought and movement was an extension of the song. He’d played it over and over to perfection, to what it was now.

But now, hearing Jaejoong play the song, it was like hearing a whole different song. Instead of slow and precise, it was eloquent - rising sharply, falling leisurely, each lilt a tender but powerful expression of emotion. Unhurried, graceful, poignant.

Under Jaejoong’s careful coaxing the song seemed not his own. If he believed in cliché’s as much as Yoochun did, he would have said that he may have conceived this song - but Jaejoong had given it life. He felt in himself an odd mixture of pride and regret. And when Jaejoong was done, he smiled at him honestly. “Thanks. You played it better than I ever could.”

Jaejoong twisted to look him in the eye, “No,” he said slowly, simply. “Thank you.”

Changmin shrugged, blushing.

“It’s like a dance… a waltz,” Jaejoong said slowly, and Changmin, feeling even more embarrassed but equally pleased, was quick to agree.

“Yeah. That’s… kinda how I heard it in my head.”

“You did a good job,” Jaejoong nodded. “I enjoyed playing it. Do you know how to waltz?”

“Like, uh, the full dance? No, of course I don’t-”

“Mm,” Jaejoong hummed in answer. Changmin wasn’t sure quite what that was supposed to mean.

He found out shortly enough - a few days later, in the too-early hours of the morning and Jaejoong was dragging him out of bed. He stood in the living room in an old t-shirt and his boxers, his arms crossed sullenly.

“No, no, you’re doing it all wrong. C’mere,” Jaejoong sighed. Changmin looked at him askance and scoffed.

“Like you know how to do it?”

“More than you,” the other said simply, pulling Changmin into position. “Now. Arms out-” a yank on his wrists “-and bent in-” with a tap to his elbow “-and up like that. Firm, and hold it. There, that’s… close.”

Changmin huffed. “I don’t see why I have to do this.”

“Because it’s fun, and I want to teach you.”

“But I don’t want to learn!”

“And that’s only making it more difficult! Which makes it your fault, not mine.” And Jaejoong went about the business of correcting Changmin’s stance further, treating him like some life-sized doll that he could manipulate into the perfect pose.

Changmin sighed, momentarily relenting to his bandmate’s eccentricities. He knew there was no way of getting out of this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain about it.

But then Yunho walked into the living room, on his way to the kitchen. “Hyung!” Changmin called, using the honorific because this was definitely an emergency-case scenario. “Yunho-hyung, help me!”

Yunho looked up, hearing the urgency in his cry. “Help you from what?”

“Jaejoong is teaching me how to ballroom dance,” he whined, motioning with his head to Jaejoong, who was very intent on making sure Changmin’s hips could swivel just so.

Yunho eyed them both skeptically. “Jaejoong… can you ballroom dance?”

“No,” Jaejoong said flippantly, “we’re learning together.”

“Ah. Well, don’t let me stop you.” And then Yunho smiled that shit-eating grin of his at Changmin and disappeared into the kitchen. Changmin stuck his tongue out at Yunho’s back, but for his efforts only got a smack to the cheek, because as Jaejoong complained, “You moved your neck! You can’t move your neck!”

Changmin sighed, and resigned himself to his fate.

Jaejoong eventually pronounced him a lost cause, stalking off to use the shower. Changmin just shrugged, feeling only slightly guilty, and went to the kitchen. Yunho was still there, sipping at a black coffee.

“How’d it go?” he teased.

“Shut it.” Changmin groaned, sinking into a chair and stealing Yunho’s bowl of cereal. “I asked you for help and got none. As far as I’m concerned, you’re useless.”

“Ouch.” But Yunho smiled as he said it, obviously not taking offense. “Why was he teaching you?”

“The song - the one I’ve been working on - it was kinda, uh, inspired by a waltz,” Changmin mumbled around a mouthful of bran flakes.

Yunho nodded slowly. “The infamous song, huh? You let Jaejoong listen to it?”

“I finished it, he wanted to hear it.”

“You finished it?”

Changmin blushed, his shoulders creeping up. “What is this, twenty questions?”

Yunho chuckled. “No. But - it’s your first song; no wonder Jaejoong was so excited. He was just trying to help you celebrate.”

“Shitty job of that.”

Yunho laughed again. “Congratulations,” he said, and he stood and ruffled Changmin’s hair the way he used to do when Changmin was sixteen and still liked that sort of thing. “I can’t wait to hear it, too.”

And Changmin had to shove an extra-large spoonful of flakes into his mouth to hide his smile.

The thing about a song is, once born, it’s meant to be heard. Like a baby that will cry and cry until held softly against its mother’s shoulder, a new song demands attention. A new song grows, gaining weight in new arrangements, gaining height in praise and popularity.

Good thing Changmin still thought Yoochun was full of shit.

“Go away, Jaejoong,” he complained for the thousandth time. Jaejoong was, weeks later, still trying to convince him to hand over the song to company. But Changmin wasn’t so sure he wanted to- after hearing Jaejoong play it, his feelings had changed. It didn’t matter that the song was done, it didn’t matter that it was enough.

The song was something he created, something he wanted to create for himself. And now he kind of wanted to keep it that way- between him, and maybe Jaejoong. (And probably Yoochun, but he had no choice about that so it didn’t count.)

“I’m not leaving!” Jaejoong repeated. Changmin could see the vague shape of him through the frosted glass.

“I’ve just finished a shower, Jaejoong. And now I’m getting cold. Go away so I can get out in peace.”

The blob of color that was Jaejoong crossed his arms. “I’ve seen you naked before!”

Changmin hung his head in exasperation. Of course they had, because that was just bound to happen when five men lived in one apartment. But a peak out of the corner of an eye when changing or at the sauna or a drunken dance in the living room is a bit different from straight-up blackmail. Changmin could be stubborn, too. “Go away, or at least hand me a towel, will you?”

“No. I’m not letting you out until we’ve talked. You’ve been avoiding me for days!” Jaejoong sounded like he was pouting. Changmin hated it when he pouted, because it meant Jaejoong was going to be playful and stubborn - and meant he was trying to hide how hurt he really was. The older man took the slightest things to heart, especially if he thought it was a slight from one of his members.

“Jaejoong…” he sighed.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” There was just enough of sadness laced within his tone to make Changmin actually wince.

“I’ll talk to you. Face-to-face, even,” he conceded - he was starting to get cold, the water cooling quickly on his skin - but he wasn’t admitting total defeat, adding an angry, “now give me a towel, damnit!”

The Jaejoong-blob put his hands on his hips. “Don’t be such a prude. We can talk face-to-face without the towel.” He reached forward to pull open the door, just as Changmin reached out to keep it tightly closed. They both tugged and the glass door jerked dangerously, but didn’t move too far in either direction.

Changmin grit his teeth against the strain - and a rising blush that would be visible on a hell of a lot more than his face if Jaejoong managed to open that door. “What the hell?!”

“Just open the door,” Jaejoong cried, and Changmin could practically hear the smirk.

“No! Why do you want to see me naked so bad? You’re such a pervert! I should call Yunho, tell him you’re abusing your dongsaeng,” he said scornfully.

“Am! not!” Jaejoong said, tugging forcefully with each word.

And they pulled and screamed at each other, until Yunho did come to the door, yelling at them to shut up- and Jaejoong, in his surprise, slackened his grip for just a second. It was unfortunate that at that exact moment Changmin chose to yank even harder, and without the opposing force of Jaejoong’s grip the door flew open and directly into his own face. The blow made him loose his footing, falling painfully to the wet tile even as the sudden jerk was enough to pull Jaejoong forward and directly on top of him.

And so a naked Changmin ended up with a lung empty of air and a mouth on his nipple and a lapful of flailing Jaejoong. When the older man finally got his bearings, bracing his arms and lifting his weight off Changmin, they were right at eye level.

“Somehow, this isn’t what I think you meant by face-to-face,” Jaejoong smiled weakly.

Changmin glared. “Not exactly. No.”

“Oops?”

“Get off me.”

“Will you still talk to-”

“Off.”

“Off-ing!”

They reconvened in the living room - Jaejoong with a blank face and Changmin with some pants.

The older man was sitting on the couch, and despite his blank face Changmin could see the little tells - the way his tongue swiped anxiously at his lips, how his fingers were slowly fidgeting their way deeper into the crease of the couch cushions.

“I’m not mad,” he said bluntly.

Jaejoong quickly replied “I didn’t think you were,” even as his shoulders confirmed otherwise, slumping in relief.

But Changmin wasn’t letting him off that easily, and when he took a seat beside the older man he made sure to slip in a quick punch to the arm. “But next time you convince yourself that cornering me in the shower is a good idea - don’t.”

Jaejoong let out a long sigh, but conceded.

“And stop bugging me about the song,” Changmin added. “I’m not giving it to anyone.”

“But why?” Jaejoong rounded on Changmin, eyes wide and earnest. “It’s a great song, Minnie. It deserves to be heard! You deserve to get credit for it!”

He could only shrug. “I didn’t write it to get credit. I’ll write other songs. This one is for me.”

“But-”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“But Yoochun said you were going to submit it!” Jaejoong argued.

“Yeah, well, Yoochun can’t keep his mouth shut about anything,” he muttered under his breath; then for Jaejoong: “I hadn’t really decided then. I didn’t care what was going to happen to it.”

Jaejoong made a little squawk of indignation, flailing in a way Changmin always found an interesting mixture of immature, endearing, and infuriating. “You didn’t care? But this was your song!”

He scoffed. “Are you going to lecture me about sex and precious creation, too? Because I already got that speech.”

“Well obviously you didn’t listen!”

“The both of you are freaks.”

“We’re dedicated to our art!”

“Are you passionable?” Changmin jeered, leaning in toward Jaejoong.

Jaejoong blushed, and Changmin assumed it was on behalf of his failure of a soulmate. “Close enough,” he coughed. “But seriously, Changmin... I don’t understand why you can’t appreciate it more. You created something beautiful, something really passionate - why can’t you express that outside of the song?”

Changmin flinched, just a little bit. He wasn’t sure if Jaejoong understood the strength of that particular barb. Changmin knew he wasn’t the most expressive person. That was why he wrote the song, that was why it meant so much when Jaejoong played it, why he had hoped-

But the older man didn’t seem to notice, steamrolling ahead even as Changmin withdrew into himself.

“Maybe you just need to get in the spirit - maybe we should really celebrate! Go out for drinks, all five us. Or even a big party - something to relax, and congratulate you. Yunho would agree to it.” He laughed.

But Changmin looked away, still uncomfortable, upset. “I’m not calling it a boy, and I don’t need a party.” The last thing he wanted was a group party, celebrating something that he wanted private - just another chance to be the awkward one out.

“C’mon, please?”

“No. Listen, I have to-” he cleared his throat. “I have to go, do- something. I just remembered. We’ll talk later-”

Jaejoong looked startled, finally picking up on the change in the younger man’s demeanor. “Hey-”

“Sorry, hyung, later.”

“Changmin…”

But Changmin had already stood, had already walked away, with each step trying to lift his heart back up to its rightful place.

Changmin avoided Jaejoong for the next couple of days. Normally Jaejoong wouldn’t have let that stop him, but the oldest had evidently picked up on the fact that that Changmin was avoiding him - if the quiet, dark-eyed looks he was giving him were any indication. So he stayed away.

Changmin pretended not to notice, throwing himself into bickering with Junsu even as his song - Jaejoong’s version of his song - played over and over in his head. His own version seemed lacking, now, no matter how much he played it. It was no more than a waltz for one - pointless and lonely and completely unpassionable.

So he finally showed it to Yunho, whose praises were many and meaningless. Then he showed it to Junsu, whose seriousness about it was surprising. “I like it… but it’s definitely missing something,” the other boy said honestly. He asked Junsu what he should do, but Junsu only shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s something in the song… It’s personal, Changminnie. I can’t help you with this one.”

And Changmin, for all that he never took Junsu seriously, couldn’t help but agree.

Jaejoong was in the workroom, tinkering on his keyboard; the Midi-In was making trouble again. He had his headphones on, and didn’t notice Changmin until he was standing right beside him, and when he did he nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ah!” he groaned, holding a hand over his heart like he was actually in pain. “You scared me! What the hell?”

Changmin ducked his head, staring at his toes and the wheel of Jaejoong’s chair. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

And Jaejoong answered with an inquisitive “Hm?”, like he wanted Changmin to repeat it but was trying to be subtle about it. Changmin wondered if the older singer realized that he was apologizing for more than just scaring him. Jaejoong looked like he realized it - he always was good at picking at the subtle details, when he actually tried.

“I said I’m sorry,” Changmin said, a little louder, a frown on his face. He didn’t like apologizing, especially when he was sure this was half not-his-fault, anyway.

Jaejoong just gave him another dark-eyed look. “Alright.”

Changmin winced. “Can we… can we talk?”

“Alright,” he answered again, eyebrow raised, a gentle tease.

With a sigh Changmin dragged over another chair, sinking into the seat. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his face, thinking how to begin. He hated these kinds of talks. They were always, always awkward.

The silence lasted a little more than it should have, and Jaejoong was just staring at him - it made him even more nervous. And the more Jaejoong stared, the more Changmin hesitated to talk. They must have sat for several minutes - agonizing minutes - before Jaejoong cleared his throat.

“Changmin…”

“I’m not going to submit the song,” he blurt out.

It was Jaejoong’s turn to frown. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to submit it, because…” he hesitated again, and Jaejoong took advantage of his pause.

“Is that what this is all about?” he asked. “You’ve been avoiding me for days because I was encouraging you?”

“…Maybe?”

Jaejoong leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. “I really don’t get you sometimes, dongsaeng.”

Changmin swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, feeling that familiar hurt rise within him, making any reply impossible. Maybe Jaejoong sensed it, maybe he didn’t, but he continued-

“It’s a beautiful song, Changmin. I think it’d be perfect for us - when I was playing I could already hear us playing it, performing - it may not have lyrics yet, but I could hear us singing it, too - and it’s something you wrote. I want you to get recognition for it, because you deserve it. Why is that a bad thing?”

He looked pleadingly at Changmin, and for a moment, Changmin felt almost guilty. “It’s not about recognition,” he managed to get out. “It’s not about what I deserve. When I wrote it… I was just happy to write it. When it was done, I was just happy it was done. When you played it… I was happy you were the one who was playing it.”

Another look from Jaejoong, but he couldn’t quite meet the older man’s eyes, embarrassed and uneasy. He wasn’t sure if that counted as a confession in most books, but it did for him. Once again, it was up to Jaejoong if he wanted to pick up on it or not.

But all Jaejoong said was “Oh.” Changmin really didn’t know what to make of it. The silence held on longer this time, longer and longer until Changmin couldn’t bear it. He looked back to Jaejoong, who was staring down at his keyboard, chewing on his lip. Changmin was kind of sure what that meant.

He got up and left the room, and Jaejoong didn’t follow him.

It wasn’t the next night, the night after that - or even weeks later. It was the night before his birthday, when he’d been given permission to go home and spend time with his family and sleep in his own bed, that he was woken up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He groaned and grabbed at the phone just to make it stop, not even realizing he’d answered the call until he heard the voice on the other end.

“…Hello?”

“Jaejoong?” he asked, incredulously. Jaejoong almost never called him anymore; they saw each other often enough for work, but outside of that… things were awkward, since his blink-and-miss-it rejection. It wasn’t surprising that at first he thought he must still be dreaming.

“Hey. Happy Birthday.” But no, that was Jaejoong’s voice, as real as anything.

“I’m going to see you in five hours,” he protested weakly. “Couldn’t it have waited?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Sorry, the word with a million meanings. And Jaejoong was always ten times harder to understand over the phone.

“Alright, hyung. It’s fine. Thank you,” he said, because he was too tired for subtleties.

“Don’t call me hyung.”

“What?”

Jaejoong’s voice sounded a little strained. “You only call me hyung when you’re upset or mocking me. So don’t.”

Changmin nearly bit his tongue before he answered. “Jaejoong,” he said lowly.

“There, see? Much better,” And the older man might have been joking, but that strained quality still hadn’t left his voice and it ruined the whole effect.

“Jaejoong…”

“…Yes?”

“What do you want?”

On the other end of the line was silence. It lasted so long Changmin was almost convinced that Jaejoong hung up on him. At that point, he wouldn’t put it past the older man.

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

“I, er, have something I want to give you, but I thought it wouldn’t be ready, but now it is and I couldn’t wait…” he trailed off, like the deflated balloon Hyunjoong had once so aptly described.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Changmin rolled his eyes at his cluelessness. “How are you going to give it to me? You can’t exactly come here-”

“No, no. Just, wait a second, okay? Listen.”

And then there was the sound of shuffling around, a bit of extra static feedback and Changmin wondered just what the hell, dared not to hope-

But as he lay there, staring into the dark that his eyes still hadn’t adjusted to with his phone held loose against his ear, waiting like he was supposed to - that’s when he heard it.

Jaejoong was playing to him. He could tell within the first few notes that it was him, the quality of the sound and the distinctive way that Jaejoong lingered on each note a little too long. He was struck still as he listened to the song soft and sweet and like something you would dance to; triple meter, slow tempo.

He gulped and the sound was too loud, too distracting; he let his eyes fluttered shut and focused solely on the music, felt the sound float around his ear, into his brain, over him like tender warmth. He could hear Jaejoong in those notes - in a way far more familiar way than any composition Changmin had ever heard from him.

And when he was done, Changmin kept his eyes closed and waited for the moment when Jaejoong returned to the line.

“So… what d’you think?”

Changmin tried to bring his thoughts together, managing a shaky, “It was… it was really good.”

“Really?”

He smiled, the question too typical of Jaejoong not to. “Really, Jaejoong.”

He heard a whoosh of breath, and imagined it was something like happiness. “That’s… good. I’m glad you liked it.”

Because you wrote it for me, Changmin wanted to say. But he wasn’t sure if he should, so he didn’t. It’d been a long time since they’d had music strong between them, since they’d been just co-conspirators in games of affection-tension-adoration. They breathed in silence for a moment.

“Do you-” Jaejoong started, only to cut himself off, as unsure as Changmin was. They were at an impasse. Now it was just a matter of who would break first - and Changmin wouldn’t let it be him, this time.

So he waited. And Jaejoong broke.

“I really thought it wouldn’t be here on time. I was working on it, but I couldn’t… it was hard when you weren’t here. I… Changmin.”

“Jaejoong.”

“I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath, breathing in the hurt and awkward. He breathed it all out. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, now let me in. I’m fucking freezing.”

His eyes snapped open again. “…What.”

“I’m out on the street, come get me,” Jaejoong huffed, suddenly, easily indignant.

“How the - what?”

But Jaejoong had already hung up, and Changmin could only stare at his phone in wonder.

Jaejoong was indeed on the street - sitting on the ground against a fence, keyboard in his lap. Changmin took one look at the pitiful sight and couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Jaejoong punched him for it.

He pulled Jaejoong into the building, grabbing his hand and feeling just how cold he was through his icy, shaking hands. Once inside he traded Jaejoong’s snow-soaked jacket for a thick blanket or two, and they perched on top of his bed that was really too small for the both of them.

Changmin nursed a warm mug of hot chocolate while Jaejoong played idly, quietly with his keyboard.

“What are you calling it?” Changmin asked after a while, referring to the song.

“Hm? Oh, definitely a girl.”

It was Changmin’s turn to give a punch, though he did it more to cover his blush than anything. “That’s not what I meant.”

The older man laughed softly and stuck out his tongue. “Then what did you mean?”

“Does it have a title?”

“I don’t know. Does yours?”

Changmin ducked his head. “I haven’t really looked at it, since…”

“I figured,” Jaejoong pursed his lips thoughtfully. “They need names. I think we should name them.”

“As long as it’s not Bisco In-Couple, I don’t care.”

Jaejoong cried out in indignation, the slight on his great song-naming expertise. He lunged forward to either shove or tackle Changmin - something like that, he never did figure out - but with the keyboard and a hot drink between them, it resulted in an awkward back-pedal and loss of balance that somehow ended with cup and keyboard safely up on the bed, and with them hanging upside down onto the floor, feet entangled and chests aligned and nosing bumping together.

So the kissing, really, could have been blamed on that. Changmin blamed it on that. Jaejoong liked to say it was destiny or fate or perfection or something horribly cliché like that. And Jaejoong pulled away from the frenzied kiss, bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and probably said something sincere and meaningful and heartwarming. Changmin pulled away, wide eyes and disgruntled expression, and muttered “and my song is not a girl.”

But when Jaejoong smiled and kissed his frown away, pulled him up and waltzed him around his room, tripped over furniture and laughed like no one could possibly hear them, loved him like something special- then, he didn’t mind so much.


Free Counter

For the chang_min 'make a wish' birthday contest, because I couldn't resist ;D Congrats to the winners, in all categories ♥ I had fun with this, despite it being horribly difficult to finish, as well as yet another half-baked attempt at a little comedy... but I'm still trying! lol :'D

This is also, I think it's safe to say, the official end of my unofficial hiatus. When you sign up for two contests right after attempting to leave, I think it's a sign :\ rofl