light
jongyu, g, fluff for jarnscye
1309 w
Jinki sees the boy for the first time as his fingers stutter with the match, trying to light the fireworks. He's across from him, eyes settled on the little crate in front of them, teeth chewing his bottom lip a little in nervousness.
"Is it going to work?" he asks. His voice floats through the night, melding with the stars in the sky and the fire Jinki's going to start in the clouds. The awe in the other's face fills Jinki with confidence and warms him, from his toes up.
"Sure," he nods, striking the match a seventeenth time, and the black stub bursts into blue flame. "Count of three?" he asks, shaking, grinning with excitement and nervousness, and the boy shoves his hands in pockets, nodding tensely. "Okay, then. You start." He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, threatening to vomit his heart out.
"One," he's wearing an answering grin, he's ecstatic - they both are.
There's the whole of Seoul waiting for the first firework to burst into golden flames and kiss the moon, and they're just two boys, strangers, in a deserted gulley. There's a chance they won't work - that'll be a blow to young hearts - but there's a chance it will, and it makes Jinki want to laugh and cry at the same time. This is important. This is important.
"Two," Jinki swallows, and brings the match closer to the wires. He can hear guitars strumming from bars two streets across, and loud singing from a hundred soju-slick throats, and this is alive, this cold biting wind, the way the complete stranger sways his shoulders from left to right and sings snatches of songs he hasn't heard, this is life, and it's thrilling, he wants it to last and last.
"Three!" the boy licks his lips, giving him a thumbs up. Jinki closes his eyes, flings the match against the crate and sprints around it, dragging the other boy by his countless wristbands. The kid's laugh is gleeful and carefree, and the guitar is getting louder, the men's laughter mingling in with the fizzling that Jinki's dreamed of for days. They get a safe distance away and turn back, Jinki literally grasping at air until the boy pats his shoulder and slings an arm around his shoulders.
"Jonghyun," he offers, and Jinki smiles.
"Jinki."
A little ball of fire flies up, and falls on the pavement, bounces back up once, twice, thrice. It lands in a wayward puddle and they see vapors waft up from where it cooled. They wait some more, hearts pounding into the silence, until Jinki realizes it's been over a minute. He feels his throat beginning to constrict, Jonghyun's jacket twisting under his fingers' grasp.
Jonghyun doesn't waver, stands still, arm comforting and stolid around Jinki. He doesn't say a thing, because they can both see what apparently failed, and there is nothing to say that won't make it worse. Maybe next year, they both think. Next year their dragons will be the first in the sky.
"Maybe," Jinki says, and Jonghyun thumps him on the back.
"You wanna stay and wait?"
"I don't kn-"
It's like a gunshot echoing through the night, a comet high-tailing to the troposphere, making a seventeen year old fall to his knees in the middle of a forgotten little street three blocks from the dirtiest bar in the city, staring up at the sparks as a sixteen year old boy stands and smiles down at the look on his face.
Jinki's dragon spreads its wings and graces the buildings airily as it falls into glittering dust, smoke furling from the niche it had taken in the sky. A series of bangs sends Jinki scrambling to his feet again, and they both start running to the nearest building.
"Didn't expect that, huh?" Jonghyun yelled after him, and Jinki could only laugh as they burst through the gate and paused up the steps. "I'll take the elevator," Jonghyun mulls. "Bet you a hundred won I get there first."
"Only a hundred?" Jinki scoffs, and skips to the fourth step, taking the stairs three at a time. Jonghyun rushes to the elevator and swears as the numbers show it's at the fourth floor. "Bad luck," Jinki calls, and he wants to laugh but he's way too breathless and tired and pumped.
The bannisters are filthy and wet, the stairs are broken in places and he slips as he reaches the third floor, but Jonghyun's up to the second floor and he's not going to lose so he scrambles up as fast as he can.
Jinki's the first to reach the roof - there's no dispute because Jinki reaches a good two minutes before Jonghyun, hands on his waist, legs akimbo. He takes a deep breath of the scent of days' old laundry left out to to dry and forgotten, of burnt metal and cigarettes. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and spaces out a second, where everything is black and he forgets to think for a moment. He opens his eyes, and another shower rockets up before his eyes, dispersing multi-colored sparks of Jinki's sweat tears and hopes across everyone's vision as they look up and keep looking.
The guitar is joined by a drum set somewhere down there on the street. The beat pulses through Jinki's blood, and Jonghyun jogs up to him, sliding his arm through Jinki's.
"Dance?" Jonghyun elbows him, and Jinki answers with a blank look on his face before he clears his throat and says something about his mother telling him not to fool around with strangers. Jonghyun nods understandingly and grabs his hands and they do some kind of poor excuse for a salsa or something but nobody cares because nobody's there. It's just them and they're just seventeen and sixteen and hell, they don't even know that much about each other. Tonight's New Year's Eve and Jinki's fireworks are almost as beautiful as this stranger's smile and, and - Jinki's mind flounders for the next thought in the chain for a moment before it pounces on a quote he read, graffiti'd on some wall in sixth grade, and continues - it doesn't matter that he's dancing with a stranger because life begins when you step out your comfort zone or something and man he's breathing, he's alive, they all are, all ten million people across this beautiful city that he wasn't born in but loves to bits anyhow.
"Jonghyun, right?" Jinki pants as the last of Jinki's fireworks die down.
"Right," he shuffles back a little, pulling up the hood of his jacket.
"Thanks."
"Thanks."
They scuff their feet in the dust awkwardly for a bit before Jinki suggests jumping down the roof and somehow surviving, maybe. Jonghyun shoots that down immediately, so they use the elevator and walk back to Jinki's crate of fireworks.
Most of the bars of the crate are broken, half of them are smudged black. "Good job, Jinki," Jonghyun says, and Jinki opens his mouth to reply that he really wants to talk with Jonghyun every day and be friends with him and talk about fire and flame and blue and yellow and chemicals and anything that Jonghyun loves, but he stops himself because however much living starts outside of comfort zones, that's usually for the person trying to live - in this case, Jinki - and trespassing Jonghyun's comfort zone won't bring either of them much good. So he shrugs and grins at Jonghyun's shoes.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Jonghyun asks, carefully, and Jinki agrees with a little too much enthusiasm. It doesn't seem to scare Jonghyun off from promising to meet him again, right here, the next day, so Jinki takes it as a good sign.
He heaves a sigh and slumps against the wall behind him, watching the other's figure retreat into the shadows.
1309 w
Jinki sees the boy for the first time as his fingers stutter with the match, trying to light the fireworks. He's across from him, eyes settled on the little crate in front of them, teeth chewing his bottom lip a little in nervousness.
"Is it going to work?" he asks. His voice floats through the night, melding with the stars in the sky and the fire Jinki's going to start in the clouds. The awe in the other's face fills Jinki with confidence and warms him, from his toes up.
"Sure," he nods, striking the match a seventeenth time, and the black stub bursts into blue flame. "Count of three?" he asks, shaking, grinning with excitement and nervousness, and the boy shoves his hands in pockets, nodding tensely. "Okay, then. You start." He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, threatening to vomit his heart out.
"One," he's wearing an answering grin, he's ecstatic - they both are.
There's the whole of Seoul waiting for the first firework to burst into golden flames and kiss the moon, and they're just two boys, strangers, in a deserted gulley. There's a chance they won't work - that'll be a blow to young hearts - but there's a chance it will, and it makes Jinki want to laugh and cry at the same time. This is important. This is important.
"Two," Jinki swallows, and brings the match closer to the wires. He can hear guitars strumming from bars two streets across, and loud singing from a hundred soju-slick throats, and this is alive, this cold biting wind, the way the complete stranger sways his shoulders from left to right and sings snatches of songs he hasn't heard, this is life, and it's thrilling, he wants it to last and last.
"Three!" the boy licks his lips, giving him a thumbs up. Jinki closes his eyes, flings the match against the crate and sprints around it, dragging the other boy by his countless wristbands. The kid's laugh is gleeful and carefree, and the guitar is getting louder, the men's laughter mingling in with the fizzling that Jinki's dreamed of for days. They get a safe distance away and turn back, Jinki literally grasping at air until the boy pats his shoulder and slings an arm around his shoulders.
"Jonghyun," he offers, and Jinki smiles.
"Jinki."
A little ball of fire flies up, and falls on the pavement, bounces back up once, twice, thrice. It lands in a wayward puddle and they see vapors waft up from where it cooled. They wait some more, hearts pounding into the silence, until Jinki realizes it's been over a minute. He feels his throat beginning to constrict, Jonghyun's jacket twisting under his fingers' grasp.
Jonghyun doesn't waver, stands still, arm comforting and stolid around Jinki. He doesn't say a thing, because they can both see what apparently failed, and there is nothing to say that won't make it worse. Maybe next year, they both think. Next year their dragons will be the first in the sky.
"Maybe," Jinki says, and Jonghyun thumps him on the back.
"You wanna stay and wait?"
"I don't kn-"
It's like a gunshot echoing through the night, a comet high-tailing to the troposphere, making a seventeen year old fall to his knees in the middle of a forgotten little street three blocks from the dirtiest bar in the city, staring up at the sparks as a sixteen year old boy stands and smiles down at the look on his face.
Jinki's dragon spreads its wings and graces the buildings airily as it falls into glittering dust, smoke furling from the niche it had taken in the sky. A series of bangs sends Jinki scrambling to his feet again, and they both start running to the nearest building.
"Didn't expect that, huh?" Jonghyun yelled after him, and Jinki could only laugh as they burst through the gate and paused up the steps. "I'll take the elevator," Jonghyun mulls. "Bet you a hundred won I get there first."
"Only a hundred?" Jinki scoffs, and skips to the fourth step, taking the stairs three at a time. Jonghyun rushes to the elevator and swears as the numbers show it's at the fourth floor. "Bad luck," Jinki calls, and he wants to laugh but he's way too breathless and tired and pumped.
The bannisters are filthy and wet, the stairs are broken in places and he slips as he reaches the third floor, but Jonghyun's up to the second floor and he's not going to lose so he scrambles up as fast as he can.
Jinki's the first to reach the roof - there's no dispute because Jinki reaches a good two minutes before Jonghyun, hands on his waist, legs akimbo. He takes a deep breath of the scent of days' old laundry left out to to dry and forgotten, of burnt metal and cigarettes. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and spaces out a second, where everything is black and he forgets to think for a moment. He opens his eyes, and another shower rockets up before his eyes, dispersing multi-colored sparks of Jinki's sweat tears and hopes across everyone's vision as they look up and keep looking.
The guitar is joined by a drum set somewhere down there on the street. The beat pulses through Jinki's blood, and Jonghyun jogs up to him, sliding his arm through Jinki's.
"Dance?" Jonghyun elbows him, and Jinki answers with a blank look on his face before he clears his throat and says something about his mother telling him not to fool around with strangers. Jonghyun nods understandingly and grabs his hands and they do some kind of poor excuse for a salsa or something but nobody cares because nobody's there. It's just them and they're just seventeen and sixteen and hell, they don't even know that much about each other. Tonight's New Year's Eve and Jinki's fireworks are almost as beautiful as this stranger's smile and, and - Jinki's mind flounders for the next thought in the chain for a moment before it pounces on a quote he read, graffiti'd on some wall in sixth grade, and continues - it doesn't matter that he's dancing with a stranger because life begins when you step out your comfort zone or something and man he's breathing, he's alive, they all are, all ten million people across this beautiful city that he wasn't born in but loves to bits anyhow.
"Jonghyun, right?" Jinki pants as the last of Jinki's fireworks die down.
"Right," he shuffles back a little, pulling up the hood of his jacket.
"Thanks."
"Thanks."
They scuff their feet in the dust awkwardly for a bit before Jinki suggests jumping down the roof and somehow surviving, maybe. Jonghyun shoots that down immediately, so they use the elevator and walk back to Jinki's crate of fireworks.
Most of the bars of the crate are broken, half of them are smudged black. "Good job, Jinki," Jonghyun says, and Jinki opens his mouth to reply that he really wants to talk with Jonghyun every day and be friends with him and talk about fire and flame and blue and yellow and chemicals and anything that Jonghyun loves, but he stops himself because however much living starts outside of comfort zones, that's usually for the person trying to live - in this case, Jinki - and trespassing Jonghyun's comfort zone won't bring either of them much good. So he shrugs and grins at Jonghyun's shoes.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Jonghyun asks, carefully, and Jinki agrees with a little too much enthusiasm. It doesn't seem to scare Jonghyun off from promising to meet him again, right here, the next day, so Jinki takes it as a good sign.
He heaves a sigh and slumps against the wall behind him, watching the other's figure retreat into the shadows.