Baby-Pop - Drabble (Blohyuk)
Title: Baby-Pop
Author: kayjayloves
Word Count: 229
Pairing: Tablo/Eunhyuk
Band: Epik High; Super Junior
Genre: angst/romance
Rating: PG-13
Warning: cussing
Disclaimer: Don't own these guys, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: hyukjae’s lying in his glass case on his bed of roses and tablo isn’t going to dare wake him up
Comments: to kill writer's block, add tablo and mix thoroughly. for raenism
super junior comes on the tv at two-forty in the afternoon in tablo’s apartment, when he’s already drunk as shit and working his way through another bottle. it’s an anticipation game, he waits for the cut to hyukjae, wonders what he’ll be wearing this time, how he’ll look at the camera. and then there he is: his lips parted like some grotesque parody of a blow-up doll; snow white with her ashen skin and red, red lips. tablo tastes sick on his own breath, swallows down the bitter stench.
so young. so fuckin’ young. he can count the years and see the figure difference and say, hey, it’s not that much - but hyukjae has that baby-star pop feel and the sugar clean lyrics and the molded body, face, hands. he’s an industry dog just like tablo himself, but the difference is he doesn’t even know it.
innocence. like fuckin’ snow white and how she waits for her kiss of life - reality. hyukjae’s lying in his glass case on his bed of roses and tablo isn’t going to dare wake him up, not now, not ever, not going to shatter the smooth lines on that perfectly peaceful face and stir him from that sweet sleep.
tablo takes a deep swig for each time hyukjae appears on screen.
he’s no prince charming. this life has no happy ending for them.
Author: kayjayloves
Word Count: 229
Pairing: Tablo/Eunhyuk
Band: Epik High; Super Junior
Genre: angst/romance
Rating: PG-13
Warning: cussing
Disclaimer: Don't own these guys, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: hyukjae’s lying in his glass case on his bed of roses and tablo isn’t going to dare wake him up
Comments: to kill writer's block, add tablo and mix thoroughly. for raenism
super junior comes on the tv at two-forty in the afternoon in tablo’s apartment, when he’s already drunk as shit and working his way through another bottle. it’s an anticipation game, he waits for the cut to hyukjae, wonders what he’ll be wearing this time, how he’ll look at the camera. and then there he is: his lips parted like some grotesque parody of a blow-up doll; snow white with her ashen skin and red, red lips. tablo tastes sick on his own breath, swallows down the bitter stench.
so young. so fuckin’ young. he can count the years and see the figure difference and say, hey, it’s not that much - but hyukjae has that baby-star pop feel and the sugar clean lyrics and the molded body, face, hands. he’s an industry dog just like tablo himself, but the difference is he doesn’t even know it.
innocence. like fuckin’ snow white and how she waits for her kiss of life - reality. hyukjae’s lying in his glass case on his bed of roses and tablo isn’t going to dare wake him up, not now, not ever, not going to shatter the smooth lines on that perfectly peaceful face and stir him from that sweet sleep.
tablo takes a deep swig for each time hyukjae appears on screen.
he’s no prince charming. this life has no happy ending for them.