we can pretend.
he has never felt love.
it isn’t an easy request. he is not the type of guy who has the freedom to frequent bars every night and flirt with pretty colleagues in pencil skirts at work before taking a walk in the park near his small yet select apartment in the evenings.
lee sungmin chose this régime on his own, so he has absolutely no right to feel remorse.
he still does (he tells himself not to time and time again because you get to live a life other people can only dream of but when his heart is hollow at the end of the day, he stops) and with every crawling minute he finds it even more difficult to carry on.
but then he catches sight of her at some music show. her eyes are wide, her smile even wider - not that it reaches her eyes - and skinny arms waving to the fans as she stands underneath the blinding stage lights. she seems fine but he realizes that something is missing.
the thrill in her is gone and so he figures that they’re on the same page.
“good luck on your comeback.”
he offers her what he hopes is an encouraging smile as he toys with the chilled can of soda in his hands. she laughs (it sounds like tinkling bells; so different and natural that it strikes his heart in the oddest of ways) and replies politely, “thank you, oppa.”
“girls’ generation will rake in all the awards again, obviously.”
the beaming lines of her face suddenly freeze. he feels guilty that he actually gets a kick out of it; the blank, dismissive expression and obvious discontentment give him even more of a reason to conclude that she is, in fact, like him.
broken, jaded, bored and lost.
“we are, after all, girls’ generation.” she spits the words out and unsurprisingly, they come out more bitter than she intended. a sense of shame floods her (she’s supposed to be loyal, to keep the faith with her members, to be strong ‘til all nine disappear) and she fidgets uncomfortably, hoping that he’s overlooked it.
“it’s tiring, isn’t it, soonkyu?”
her supple pink lips part.
“a little bit. and the name is sunny, oppa.”
the casual prompt is cheerful and makes him chuckle just a little but he still notices the string of i’m sunny sunny sunny and he wonders when she will ever tire of always having to remind people.
“congratulations on the daesang award, sunny-ah!” he cheers.
his smile is genuine and proud so when all he receives in return is a weak, insipid one, he worries. the poorly lit hallway gives her blonde hair a peculiar tinge that almost makes him turn away because this barbie disposition isn’t her.
it’s sunny. whoever soonkyu is (was) doesn’t matter because this is sunny.
“super junior should have won,” she insists, voice wobbly. “leeteuk-oppa wanted this so badly before he enlists in the army.”
he swats at her impatiently. “nonsense! you girls won fair and square. we are all so proud of you.” his arms encircle her petite body, pulling her in for a congratulatory hug. she wills herself to stay sane for just a few minutes longer but she can’t.
tear spill and within seconds, she’s trembling in his arms.
“sunny, what’s the matter?” he questions warily, forehead creasing in concern. she shakes her head no; strands of her primped hair fly and whip into her face. “soonkyu, oppa.” it almost sounds like a plea. “please call me soonkyu. just this once.”
“alright, soonkyu.”
she exhales because the name is like a signal - a doorway for her to strip and peel off this superficial skin she’s forced to wear on a daily basis and be herself (not really but she gets to pretend and even that has to be good enough) albeit for only a few minutes.
“soonkyu,” he whispers, “are you okay?”
he gazes at her with unease. she doesn’t answer. her small palms are flat against his chest and his arms are placed around her at odd angles but it doesn’t matter. she feels strangely comforted and secure in his hold.
so she reaches up on her tip-toes and grazes her lips against his.
her wet, sultry cheeks rub his as her fingers fist and twist his shirt. he holds just a bit tighter (he wants to make herself feel safe although he himself is anything but) and finds himself grinning because it feels as if she has his heart now.
(his heart will be his own again in the morning but at least he’s had a taste of what it feels like to be loved, even if it is only for three minutes. timing is everything so he very much doubts she would wait for him.
soonkyu probably would, though, so it’s not a problem.)
“thank you, oppa.”
her breath is balmy against his skin. he refuses to reply because he’s afraid it’ll all come out wrong, so he just covers her fragile fingers with his and hopes it’ll be enough.