[ficlet] running on my mind, boy
Title: running on my mind, boy
Pairing: tao-centric
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, crack
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: tao hero-worshipping gd. that's it, that's the fic. for some reason i feel like this should be a momentous intersection in my writing career, but really it's just a stupid thing i cobbled together for staygame. as i do. 940 words.
The MAMAs last, like, seven fucking hours. These things are marginally better when Zitao's either busy performing or shuttling back and forth between outfits and weaving underneath the stage during events, like they were during the long SMTOWN concerts over the summer. When he's preoccupied with the next set or waiting for his cue backstage, at least he feels like he's doing something, walking with purpose. But this-this is the first big award show of the season, and if he's bored and antsy now, he doesn't know how he'll deal with the entire next month of overseas festivals and gayo daejuns, sitting on his ass and smiling like a doll at the red carpet photographers and idol pit cameras for hours on end.
He isn't quite sure what's happening at first when the eerie music comes on, but he's startled out of his stupor when Big Bang blasts on stage with Crayon to frenzied screaming from the audience. The chorus comes up and Baekhyun sends him this shrewd glance and Zitao can't help himself, starts shouting along, shoulders jumping and arms waving to the beat.
"Funny," Baekhyun says into his ear, after the performance is over and Zitao's worked up a fresh sheen of sweat underneath his outfit. "That's the best I've ever heard your Korean."
Zitao turns his head and pretends not to hear.
He's settled down by the time they file backstage again, exhaustion pulling heavy at his limbs. Somehow he still feels restless, though-he doesn't want to sit still. He's had enough of that for today. The stylist noonas are picking at Sehun and Lu Han's stage clothes. Of course. More waiting. Zitao hops onto his feet and makes his way to the door, ignores the questioning look Jongin sends him from the make-up vanity.
He wanders aimlessly around the floor and gives hasty bows to everyone who turns his way. He sees Amber disappearing into Super Junior's waiting room and makes a beeline for it, nearly runs into G-Dragon and T.O.P barreling down the other end of the hallway.
They're both smaller than he'd imagined-G-Dragon especially, who's tiny up close and personal, a good seven or eight centimeters shorter than Zitao is. He still seems almost larger than life, and Zitao's throat goes dry as the goddamn Sahara when their eyes meet.
Kangin and Donghae are closest to the entrance and stride over to meet them at the doorway, matching grins on their faces.
"G-Dragon-sshi," Zitao says before they get there, bowing clumsily, and he doesn't think he's ever cursed his abysmal Korean more than in this moment. He thinks ridiculously that he should've brought his copy of One of a Kind on the off chance that G-Dragon would've been willing to sign it, then ditches the thought immediately. Stupid. I want to be able to do what you do, he wants to say, wake everyone the fuck up after four hours of dull back-to-back awards and performances, or you're the one who made me want to get into this in the first place, I love your work, please teach me your ways. He swallows and mumbles, "I'm a really big fan," instead, tongue curling miserably around the paltry words.
And then Donghae's slinging an arm over his shoulder and Kangin's supplying helpfully, "This is Tao, one of EXO-M's rappers, and he's a lot better at Chinese," and Zitao kind of wants to crawl into a hole and die. This really isn't how he'd envisioned how meeting a personal hero would go at all, melting foundation mixed in with the sweat dripping past his temple, hair a flyaway mess encased in gel. He's not quite sure what to do with his hands: clasped in front? Behind his back? No, too schoolboy. But crossed over his chest-would that be rude?
T.O.P smiles and elbows G-Dragon in the side, head tossed toward Zitao. "Hey, what happened to your perfect Chinese?"
G-Dragon snorts, scrunches his nose. He bows back, a perfect ninety-degree angle, gaze sweeping over Zitao again. "I like your shirt," he says in Korean, voice curiously soft when he isn't rapping his way across a stage. The leather of his glove flashes when his hand comes up to adjust his cap. "It matches the jacket."
And that-well. Zitao has to double-check like an idiot because his mind's blanking on the design. He sees the upside-down phoenix and nods. "Thanks," he manages, extricating himself from Donghae's arm and bowing his way back down the hallway in a daze. The door to their dressing room opens up for him as he gets there. He almost trips over Baekhyun, slams himself into the chair next to Jongin's and just breathes for a second.
"You look weird," comes Baekhyun's voice over his shoulder. "What's up?"
Zitao shakes his head, numb all over, foot jiggling against the leg of the chair. "I-uh? I think I just met G-Dragon?"
"You only think?" he asks, sounding amused. "Did you or didn't you?"
"Yeah," Zitao says, carding a hand through his hair. Jongin sees Zitao's reflection through the vanity mirror and lets out a little chuckle at the way his fringe sticks up in every direction. "He, um, complimented my shirt."
"Oh, lovely," says Baekhyun.
"You wouldn't understand," Zitao grumbles. He tries to lean back shakily on two legs of his chair and ends up nose-diving into the floor, Baekhyun gasping with laughter above him. Same old shit, he thinks, exasperated, but his skin already feels a bit less like it's stretched too tight over his own body. He sits up and smiles a little, tips Baekhyun onto the ground with him.
fin
A/N: brought to you by the fact that tao in this fancam is basically me!!! title from forrest gump by frank ocean.
Pairing: tao-centric
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, crack
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: tao hero-worshipping gd. that's it, that's the fic. for some reason i feel like this should be a momentous intersection in my writing career, but really it's just a stupid thing i cobbled together for staygame. as i do. 940 words.
The MAMAs last, like, seven fucking hours. These things are marginally better when Zitao's either busy performing or shuttling back and forth between outfits and weaving underneath the stage during events, like they were during the long SMTOWN concerts over the summer. When he's preoccupied with the next set or waiting for his cue backstage, at least he feels like he's doing something, walking with purpose. But this-this is the first big award show of the season, and if he's bored and antsy now, he doesn't know how he'll deal with the entire next month of overseas festivals and gayo daejuns, sitting on his ass and smiling like a doll at the red carpet photographers and idol pit cameras for hours on end.
He isn't quite sure what's happening at first when the eerie music comes on, but he's startled out of his stupor when Big Bang blasts on stage with Crayon to frenzied screaming from the audience. The chorus comes up and Baekhyun sends him this shrewd glance and Zitao can't help himself, starts shouting along, shoulders jumping and arms waving to the beat.
"Funny," Baekhyun says into his ear, after the performance is over and Zitao's worked up a fresh sheen of sweat underneath his outfit. "That's the best I've ever heard your Korean."
Zitao turns his head and pretends not to hear.
He's settled down by the time they file backstage again, exhaustion pulling heavy at his limbs. Somehow he still feels restless, though-he doesn't want to sit still. He's had enough of that for today. The stylist noonas are picking at Sehun and Lu Han's stage clothes. Of course. More waiting. Zitao hops onto his feet and makes his way to the door, ignores the questioning look Jongin sends him from the make-up vanity.
He wanders aimlessly around the floor and gives hasty bows to everyone who turns his way. He sees Amber disappearing into Super Junior's waiting room and makes a beeline for it, nearly runs into G-Dragon and T.O.P barreling down the other end of the hallway.
They're both smaller than he'd imagined-G-Dragon especially, who's tiny up close and personal, a good seven or eight centimeters shorter than Zitao is. He still seems almost larger than life, and Zitao's throat goes dry as the goddamn Sahara when their eyes meet.
Kangin and Donghae are closest to the entrance and stride over to meet them at the doorway, matching grins on their faces.
"G-Dragon-sshi," Zitao says before they get there, bowing clumsily, and he doesn't think he's ever cursed his abysmal Korean more than in this moment. He thinks ridiculously that he should've brought his copy of One of a Kind on the off chance that G-Dragon would've been willing to sign it, then ditches the thought immediately. Stupid. I want to be able to do what you do, he wants to say, wake everyone the fuck up after four hours of dull back-to-back awards and performances, or you're the one who made me want to get into this in the first place, I love your work, please teach me your ways. He swallows and mumbles, "I'm a really big fan," instead, tongue curling miserably around the paltry words.
And then Donghae's slinging an arm over his shoulder and Kangin's supplying helpfully, "This is Tao, one of EXO-M's rappers, and he's a lot better at Chinese," and Zitao kind of wants to crawl into a hole and die. This really isn't how he'd envisioned how meeting a personal hero would go at all, melting foundation mixed in with the sweat dripping past his temple, hair a flyaway mess encased in gel. He's not quite sure what to do with his hands: clasped in front? Behind his back? No, too schoolboy. But crossed over his chest-would that be rude?
T.O.P smiles and elbows G-Dragon in the side, head tossed toward Zitao. "Hey, what happened to your perfect Chinese?"
G-Dragon snorts, scrunches his nose. He bows back, a perfect ninety-degree angle, gaze sweeping over Zitao again. "I like your shirt," he says in Korean, voice curiously soft when he isn't rapping his way across a stage. The leather of his glove flashes when his hand comes up to adjust his cap. "It matches the jacket."
And that-well. Zitao has to double-check like an idiot because his mind's blanking on the design. He sees the upside-down phoenix and nods. "Thanks," he manages, extricating himself from Donghae's arm and bowing his way back down the hallway in a daze. The door to their dressing room opens up for him as he gets there. He almost trips over Baekhyun, slams himself into the chair next to Jongin's and just breathes for a second.
"You look weird," comes Baekhyun's voice over his shoulder. "What's up?"
Zitao shakes his head, numb all over, foot jiggling against the leg of the chair. "I-uh? I think I just met G-Dragon?"
"You only think?" he asks, sounding amused. "Did you or didn't you?"
"Yeah," Zitao says, carding a hand through his hair. Jongin sees Zitao's reflection through the vanity mirror and lets out a little chuckle at the way his fringe sticks up in every direction. "He, um, complimented my shirt."
"Oh, lovely," says Baekhyun.
"You wouldn't understand," Zitao grumbles. He tries to lean back shakily on two legs of his chair and ends up nose-diving into the floor, Baekhyun gasping with laughter above him. Same old shit, he thinks, exasperated, but his skin already feels a bit less like it's stretched too tight over his own body. He sits up and smiles a little, tips Baekhyun onto the ground with him.
fin
A/N: brought to you by the fact that tao in this fancam is basically me!!! title from forrest gump by frank ocean.