lacerations - oneshot (yoomin)
Title: lacerations
Author: skybacktoblue
Pairing: Yoomin
Band: DBSK/THSK/TVXQ
Word Count: 636
Genre: angst
Rating: pg-13
Warning: implied sex
Disclaimer: Don't own these guys, just my interpretations of them.
Summary: yoochun was grasping at straws.
Notes: for miyamoto. ..'m sorry ;;
‘some things are just meant to be broken’
‘cynics will always die with peace of mind.’
yoochun fills in crossword puzzles with the wrong words, with no regard to the clues and hints and the fact that everything has a correct answer - that the paper doesn’t work on his philosophy. changmin never borrows that section from him anymore. he ran out of his last bottle of white-out a month ago.
he’s sitting up in bed with his ipod on full blast, harsh music, nothing like theirs, when yoochun comes in, paper in hand and eyes hooded.
changmin pulls the headphones from his ears and yoochun’s body flickers in-out of the dim light; his shadow looks emaciated on the wall.
‘i’m, looking for my socks.’ the half-awake, disoriented tone in his voice shakes a tremble from changmin’s spine. his fingers clench around the ear bud in his palm and he smiles at yoochun, sharp.
yoochun walks out.
he was grasping at straws:
1. ‘hey baby,’ he said over the top of the airport hustle. he looked like shit without makeup, face hidden by a mask and sunglasses this time, his hair mussed by agitated hands. ‘would you look at that.’
‘look,’ changmin replied, ‘at what.’
yoochun ghosted a hand over the width of his shoulders. ‘come on,’ a manager snapped from ahead of them, ‘hurry up.’
2. ‘yoochun,’ jaejoong said, ‘wake up.’
‘sorry,’ yoochun replied from behind his cup of coffee - black, no sugar. uncharacteristically lacking.
changmin stepped away from the counter, ignored the way yoochun’s eyes followed him.
everything led up to this.
(in-between, there were a lot of almosts.)
changmin is in the shower, turning up the heat until the whole of his back is burning. his skin looks angry red in the mirror, his shoulder a flash of pale bone straining against skin as he reaches for the towel; the contrast of the mild cream against the raw skin is almost bittersweet.
yoochun steps in as changmin steps out, the fluorescent bathroom bulbs unforgiving against the pasty white of his elbows as he holds the door open. changmin takes a last look at himself in the mirror, the fading blush of heat against his chest and back; yoochun closes the door. hesitation lingers in between the hair standing up on their arms and the ceiling fan.
it's too close of a call to know who moves first, but changmin's got a hand on yoochun's arm and yoochun's feet are tangled up and physics somehow ends up with them banging into the glass of the shower; water streaming down the other side as changmin nearly bites down on yoochun’s lip. i hate changmin thinks as he rises into yoochun’s kiss, his hands intent on pushing yoochun away; yoochun angles a sloppy kiss to his cheek. changmin snaps quickly, little broken down car of regrets stalling in the backyard of his mind.
when later, pressed against the adjacent wall with changmin boneless against him and his hair drying on yoochun’s shoulder, yoochun says with a grin ‘it’s handy there’s easy shower access.’
changmin thinks: fuck. did we really just do this.
against the bone of changmin’s ankle yoochun traces words, it’s meant to be romantic but changmin can’t decipher what he’s saying, has only the unequal rise-and-fall of their chests as company. ‘baby,’ yoochun says, pressing a kiss to the inside of his calf, ‘i love you.’
cut. this is where changmin will do one of two things.
a. fuck it all, perform a parody of a marriage ceremony with yoochun on the seaside and grow old in his bed: he will kiss him, right now.
b. he will tell him what he always knew.
‘this will never work.’
yoochun smiles; his hand parts from changmin’s thigh, the heady burn of a band-aid torn from skin.
Author: skybacktoblue
Pairing: Yoomin
Band: DBSK/THSK/TVXQ
Word Count: 636
Genre: angst
Rating: pg-13
Warning: implied sex
Disclaimer: Don't own these guys, just my interpretations of them.
Summary: yoochun was grasping at straws.
Notes: for miyamoto. ..'m sorry ;;
‘some things are just meant to be broken’
‘cynics will always die with peace of mind.’
yoochun fills in crossword puzzles with the wrong words, with no regard to the clues and hints and the fact that everything has a correct answer - that the paper doesn’t work on his philosophy. changmin never borrows that section from him anymore. he ran out of his last bottle of white-out a month ago.
he’s sitting up in bed with his ipod on full blast, harsh music, nothing like theirs, when yoochun comes in, paper in hand and eyes hooded.
changmin pulls the headphones from his ears and yoochun’s body flickers in-out of the dim light; his shadow looks emaciated on the wall.
‘i’m, looking for my socks.’ the half-awake, disoriented tone in his voice shakes a tremble from changmin’s spine. his fingers clench around the ear bud in his palm and he smiles at yoochun, sharp.
yoochun walks out.
he was grasping at straws:
1. ‘hey baby,’ he said over the top of the airport hustle. he looked like shit without makeup, face hidden by a mask and sunglasses this time, his hair mussed by agitated hands. ‘would you look at that.’
‘look,’ changmin replied, ‘at what.’
yoochun ghosted a hand over the width of his shoulders. ‘come on,’ a manager snapped from ahead of them, ‘hurry up.’
2. ‘yoochun,’ jaejoong said, ‘wake up.’
‘sorry,’ yoochun replied from behind his cup of coffee - black, no sugar. uncharacteristically lacking.
changmin stepped away from the counter, ignored the way yoochun’s eyes followed him.
everything led up to this.
(in-between, there were a lot of almosts.)
changmin is in the shower, turning up the heat until the whole of his back is burning. his skin looks angry red in the mirror, his shoulder a flash of pale bone straining against skin as he reaches for the towel; the contrast of the mild cream against the raw skin is almost bittersweet.
yoochun steps in as changmin steps out, the fluorescent bathroom bulbs unforgiving against the pasty white of his elbows as he holds the door open. changmin takes a last look at himself in the mirror, the fading blush of heat against his chest and back; yoochun closes the door. hesitation lingers in between the hair standing up on their arms and the ceiling fan.
it's too close of a call to know who moves first, but changmin's got a hand on yoochun's arm and yoochun's feet are tangled up and physics somehow ends up with them banging into the glass of the shower; water streaming down the other side as changmin nearly bites down on yoochun’s lip. i hate changmin thinks as he rises into yoochun’s kiss, his hands intent on pushing yoochun away; yoochun angles a sloppy kiss to his cheek. changmin snaps quickly, little broken down car of regrets stalling in the backyard of his mind.
when later, pressed against the adjacent wall with changmin boneless against him and his hair drying on yoochun’s shoulder, yoochun says with a grin ‘it’s handy there’s easy shower access.’
changmin thinks: fuck. did we really just do this.
against the bone of changmin’s ankle yoochun traces words, it’s meant to be romantic but changmin can’t decipher what he’s saying, has only the unequal rise-and-fall of their chests as company. ‘baby,’ yoochun says, pressing a kiss to the inside of his calf, ‘i love you.’
cut. this is where changmin will do one of two things.
a. fuck it all, perform a parody of a marriage ceremony with yoochun on the seaside and grow old in his bed: he will kiss him, right now.
b. he will tell him what he always knew.
‘this will never work.’
yoochun smiles; his hand parts from changmin’s thigh, the heady burn of a band-aid torn from skin.