Behind the Sex - Prologue
Title: Behind the Sex
Fandom(s) : U-KISS
Pairing(s): KeMaru
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, Romance
Warnings: Awful!English
Author's Notes: My second NaNoWriMo, and a rather bold decision, if I might say :)! Hopefully doesn't contain too much inaccuracies, and if it does, please ignore it? >_>?
The warmth of the sun this morning was just right - the soothing, comfortable sort that made one want to wriggle under the blanket and sleep on.
Except that this wasn’t the case for Kibum, all up and already prepared for the day ahead. The new semester just started, and being on time was always important for the meticulous Kibum - a habit cultivated over the years.
Always leaving ten minutes for himself to pick out clothes for the day, it wasn’t to attract girls like the other guys would. Instead, Kibum wanted the rather mildly coloured clothes to give off an active, but not too bright aura. To give off a serious, but not distantly solemn personality. Jeans were too casual, not for school, as always. With rather fitting pants worn with a belt, the uncreased collared shirt left with a button undone, he smiled into the mirror.
The neat, studious look with a tinge of casualness. Perfect.
He then left his room after packing his bed and picking out a hair that fell from his head - was it the stress? Grabbing his bag by the door, he hurried down the steps. Only that on his calm face, there was not a hint of rush, his conditioned reflex taking over when the minute hand of his watch is three minutes past the number four.
“Dad, I took the last pack of cereal mix! Get your own breakfast today, I’ve got to go!” Kibum called out, getting hold of the said object before moving to the door. Picking out a pair of black ankle socks that matched his deep blue pants, he slipped in his feet first into his socks, then his sneakers.
There was a subtle hint of breeze, but not enough to move that stray strand of hair away from his face.
Kibum smiled at the friendly neighbour of his, before continuing forward and seeing a couple embracing each other at the sidewalk against a lamppost. Such affection in the morning…?
“How much are you worth today? I want you.”
He didn’t mean to, he was just passing by. So the girl was a prostitute? They actually work in the morning? They don’t actually have a fixed price?
The many thoughts just went round in his head, despite walking forward all the same.
School, Kibum paused his thoughts. Now is not the time for other people’s business.
-
He rounded a corner and entered the second classroom, waving amiably to his classmates. He wasn’t the sort of guy with friends, his contact list mostly containing only the names of teachers for help, and one or two classmates who exchanged numbers with him due to being in the same project group.
Kibum was what you would call lonely, except not fully. He would still smile, still talk, still have lunches with you if you asked him, but only if you asked him.
Moving to the side of the classroom, closest to the window and right in the middle of the vertical width, he placed his bag on the floor and slipped into his seat.
His sensitive ears were doing their job again, picking up conversations from the usual buzzing around him.
In front of him was a group of girls discussing the latest fashion trends and the rationale behind the type of clothes that clings to the body, emphasising only the assets and not the flaws. Kibum agreed, that these clothes were the best for middle-aged women, especially worried for their uncontrolled weight gain and trying all sorts of ways to hide it.
Diagonally behind him, on his right, there was a mixed group of three talking about the new semester and what to be expected. Apparently, there wasn’t going to be much this semester. The teachers would be loosening the lesson schedule, allowing students to focus on the degree they were pinning their future career on.
“For our psychology lessons, there would be a big individual project lasting the whole semester and small lessons in between to help us along. I hope it’s interesting this year. Last year’s thesis was the most boring thing I heard that I can’t even remember it now.” The girl rolled her eyes, or at least that’s what Kibum thought she did. She was prone to rolling her eyes whenever she used that exasperated tone, anyway.
“Hello, my class of geniuses.” Their psychology mentor, Professor Lee, beamed.
Always good to start a day with a compliment, Kibum chuckled, looking around subtly to see who had fallen for the trick. There were smiles returned, as if letting their guard fall. But then again, this wasn’t a dangerous situation, only a friendly greeting.
“Did you guys have fun in the holidays? Who met me at the café two blocks down from here?” The professor warmly asked, seeing some raised hands. “I was trying to hit on the waitress there.”
The class erupted into fits of laughter, knowing too well that it was just a joke.
“All right, back to the topic.” Professor Lee cleared his throat, bringing out the marker he was used to from his pocket. “Don’t know if anyone of you heard, we are embarking on a semester-long project. That’s our main focus, and if you fail it, well, let’s just say I would celebrate another birthday for you. Although that would mean lesser trips to the café for that waitress…”
Some amused smiles could be seen, and Kibum readjusted his seating position to hear better.
“Someone,” The serious atmosphere slowly settling in as the cursive writing filled a quarter of the board - emphasis. “Going through emotional turmoil.”
Murmurs started getting louder, some complains of “too easy”, “too vague” and some approving voices of “enough space for creativity”.
Kibum waited, seeing the pleased face of his professor almost shining at him.
“Kibum, do you have something to say?”
The mutterings quietened down, curiously looking at the best student in their class. Not a hint of fear in those bright eyes, Kibum only calmly shrugged. “Do you have a sentence to finish?”
“Yes, indeed.” The older man chuckled lightly, and some students immediately caught on, whining softly. “Going through emotional turmoil, but not facing it, in fact, denying it.”
“Oh.” An almost harmonious sound.
“The best part is, it could be anyone.”
With that, a few discussions started forming again, some already deciding on their target.
Impulsive, Kibum thought. as the professor reannounced the project in a more formal manner.
“So, you are to spend a semester researching and finding out the emotional turmoil a certain person faces but is denying the existence of. Consciously or subconsciously, I don’t care, as long as it doesn’t show on that person’s surface. Report by the second last week of the semester, and that’s your final grade.” Professor Lee smiled, clapping his hands together. “All right, you have all the time till the end of the lesson to consult me. But being a graduating batch, you guys better decide on your own.”
Taking a seat behind the teacher’s table and then drumming his fingers on the table top, he scanned the room for any movement.
A lot of hesitation, so much that even Kibum could feel it in the atmosphere. The bone-chilling sound of the chair jerked across the floor, that sound like using one’s fingernail to scratch a glass surface. Yet again, no movement.
Everyone was careful, more so in psychology classes.
To ask or not to ask, that was the question.
Kibum shook his head. It was always a better choice not to ask. Firstly, the vibe he would give off was one that was certain, and sure. Secondly, there might be marks deducted from their final grade for not being thinkers themselves. Why would you study psychology of the mind, thoughts of others, when you can’t even think for yourself?
Kibum scoffed internally when a meek girl stood up, and then looking back down at his hands, more interested in finalising a target for his thesis.
Just what was he going to do with this seemingly easy, but awfully complicated thesis?
“I think I’m just going to talk to my mother.” A voice stated, and Kibum’s mind registered that to be one of those borderline passes student.
“My sister just broke up with her boyfriend.” One girl replied, voice with a tinge of unwillingness. “You think I should talk to her?”
“Sounds good actually. Is she acting strong?”
“You know Professor Park, the one who lost her husband but didn’t lose her smile?” Kibum could hear the pride oozing out of those words. “I think that’s it.”
“Wow, you dare take it that far?”
Kibum frowned harder, deciding to block out the voices from his ears while bringing out a blank piece of paper and writing the thesis statement on it. He was undecided, and to worsen things, he had no idea what his currently non-existent choices were. “Stop being distracted, Kim Kibum, focus.”
“Person”, “emotional turmoil”, “not facing it”. Circling the last point furiously for emphasis, Kibum sighed.
Ideas, he had no one. Guess he was back to mind maps, the basics that he detests going back to.
“Kibum, have you decided?” A friendly classmate smiled, questioningly cocking her head to a side cutely.
Kibum returned a polite smile, shaking his head and not giving away his despair. “Not yet.”
“I’ll expect a lot from you.” The classmate chuckled, attention shifting away.
Of course, Kibum was one of the best students for a reason. It wouldn’t be as simple as a depression sort of emotional turmoil. Not the “I love you, but you love her.” sort either. Something deeper, something that is more than what the world would think of it. He scribbled down his thoughts as he thought, mumbling in hopes of them becoming coherent.
“A semester long project. Six months. Emotional turmoil is stable, constant. Job. Stable, constant, it’s a job. Money issue? Pride issue? Emotions. Not facing it, not showing it. Not showing it. Not able to show it. A façade. Job, acting happy.” Kibum growled in frustration quietly, not processing all that he was saying in favour of finding a target for his thesis.
He needed someone small. There was no way he was going to be able to ask a politician casual questions for six months, even if the politician’s job was acting happy (or at least that was what it seemed like). Someone smaller. Guard? Usher? But wait, no, that would be almost impossible for contact and interaction.
“Interaction.” Kibum paused, a brief small flashed across his face. He was getting somewhere, he could feel it in his veins. As a student, or human, Kibum is a consumer, a customer, and a commuter. Yet, how punctual are the buses that fetch him home? What if the shifts are not regular?
No.
“Time, time, time.” Kibum chanted, drawing circles about the very word to remind himself the need for time. Kibum threw his pen down in defeat, maintaining a calm demeanor despite his desperateness behind.
How does he get time? Who was willing to waste their time-
Buy.
He can buy time. With money, in the brothel, for prostitutes.
And it all linked.
Kibum stared at his mind map in fascination, linking his key ideas with ease.
Prostitutes - their job is to act happy, with a façade, for their job is to please. Degrading job, emotional turmoil almost definite for they are shamed by the outside world, their bodies are priced. The world thinks of them as pests, home-wrecking people, while the customers think of them as a sexual relief with no strings attached.
His idea was insane. Insanely brilliant. Details to be figured out later, but he did pick a very satisfactory “someone”, though having no idea who it was just yet. He better keep this low, no one was to find out yet, until six months later when he submits his report.
He wasn’t going to let anyone stop him.
Crushing the mind map into a ball, something that looked almost insignificant in the eyes of the others but his life for six months, he tossed it into the bin.
“Class, you’re dismissed.”
Kibum stood up almost instantly, keeping the pen he had taken out and moving to his next lesson.
Who was going to be his research subject for six months?
-
I personally think this is a very different writing style from my usual lot, but hopefully you guys wouldn't mind the change? :)
I've also made teasers and a trailer for this story, so if you're interested, you could click on the links below!
Teaser 1 :: Teaser 2 :: Trailer
Fandom(s) : U-KISS
Pairing(s): KeMaru
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, Romance
Warnings: Awful!English
Author's Notes: My second NaNoWriMo, and a rather bold decision, if I might say :)! Hopefully doesn't contain too much inaccuracies, and if it does, please ignore it? >_>?
The warmth of the sun this morning was just right - the soothing, comfortable sort that made one want to wriggle under the blanket and sleep on.
Except that this wasn’t the case for Kibum, all up and already prepared for the day ahead. The new semester just started, and being on time was always important for the meticulous Kibum - a habit cultivated over the years.
Always leaving ten minutes for himself to pick out clothes for the day, it wasn’t to attract girls like the other guys would. Instead, Kibum wanted the rather mildly coloured clothes to give off an active, but not too bright aura. To give off a serious, but not distantly solemn personality. Jeans were too casual, not for school, as always. With rather fitting pants worn with a belt, the uncreased collared shirt left with a button undone, he smiled into the mirror.
The neat, studious look with a tinge of casualness. Perfect.
He then left his room after packing his bed and picking out a hair that fell from his head - was it the stress? Grabbing his bag by the door, he hurried down the steps. Only that on his calm face, there was not a hint of rush, his conditioned reflex taking over when the minute hand of his watch is three minutes past the number four.
“Dad, I took the last pack of cereal mix! Get your own breakfast today, I’ve got to go!” Kibum called out, getting hold of the said object before moving to the door. Picking out a pair of black ankle socks that matched his deep blue pants, he slipped in his feet first into his socks, then his sneakers.
There was a subtle hint of breeze, but not enough to move that stray strand of hair away from his face.
Kibum smiled at the friendly neighbour of his, before continuing forward and seeing a couple embracing each other at the sidewalk against a lamppost. Such affection in the morning…?
“How much are you worth today? I want you.”
He didn’t mean to, he was just passing by. So the girl was a prostitute? They actually work in the morning? They don’t actually have a fixed price?
The many thoughts just went round in his head, despite walking forward all the same.
School, Kibum paused his thoughts. Now is not the time for other people’s business.
-
He rounded a corner and entered the second classroom, waving amiably to his classmates. He wasn’t the sort of guy with friends, his contact list mostly containing only the names of teachers for help, and one or two classmates who exchanged numbers with him due to being in the same project group.
Kibum was what you would call lonely, except not fully. He would still smile, still talk, still have lunches with you if you asked him, but only if you asked him.
Moving to the side of the classroom, closest to the window and right in the middle of the vertical width, he placed his bag on the floor and slipped into his seat.
His sensitive ears were doing their job again, picking up conversations from the usual buzzing around him.
In front of him was a group of girls discussing the latest fashion trends and the rationale behind the type of clothes that clings to the body, emphasising only the assets and not the flaws. Kibum agreed, that these clothes were the best for middle-aged women, especially worried for their uncontrolled weight gain and trying all sorts of ways to hide it.
Diagonally behind him, on his right, there was a mixed group of three talking about the new semester and what to be expected. Apparently, there wasn’t going to be much this semester. The teachers would be loosening the lesson schedule, allowing students to focus on the degree they were pinning their future career on.
“For our psychology lessons, there would be a big individual project lasting the whole semester and small lessons in between to help us along. I hope it’s interesting this year. Last year’s thesis was the most boring thing I heard that I can’t even remember it now.” The girl rolled her eyes, or at least that’s what Kibum thought she did. She was prone to rolling her eyes whenever she used that exasperated tone, anyway.
“Hello, my class of geniuses.” Their psychology mentor, Professor Lee, beamed.
Always good to start a day with a compliment, Kibum chuckled, looking around subtly to see who had fallen for the trick. There were smiles returned, as if letting their guard fall. But then again, this wasn’t a dangerous situation, only a friendly greeting.
“Did you guys have fun in the holidays? Who met me at the café two blocks down from here?” The professor warmly asked, seeing some raised hands. “I was trying to hit on the waitress there.”
The class erupted into fits of laughter, knowing too well that it was just a joke.
“All right, back to the topic.” Professor Lee cleared his throat, bringing out the marker he was used to from his pocket. “Don’t know if anyone of you heard, we are embarking on a semester-long project. That’s our main focus, and if you fail it, well, let’s just say I would celebrate another birthday for you. Although that would mean lesser trips to the café for that waitress…”
Some amused smiles could be seen, and Kibum readjusted his seating position to hear better.
“Someone,” The serious atmosphere slowly settling in as the cursive writing filled a quarter of the board - emphasis. “Going through emotional turmoil.”
Murmurs started getting louder, some complains of “too easy”, “too vague” and some approving voices of “enough space for creativity”.
Kibum waited, seeing the pleased face of his professor almost shining at him.
“Kibum, do you have something to say?”
The mutterings quietened down, curiously looking at the best student in their class. Not a hint of fear in those bright eyes, Kibum only calmly shrugged. “Do you have a sentence to finish?”
“Yes, indeed.” The older man chuckled lightly, and some students immediately caught on, whining softly. “Going through emotional turmoil, but not facing it, in fact, denying it.”
“Oh.” An almost harmonious sound.
“The best part is, it could be anyone.”
With that, a few discussions started forming again, some already deciding on their target.
Impulsive, Kibum thought. as the professor reannounced the project in a more formal manner.
“So, you are to spend a semester researching and finding out the emotional turmoil a certain person faces but is denying the existence of. Consciously or subconsciously, I don’t care, as long as it doesn’t show on that person’s surface. Report by the second last week of the semester, and that’s your final grade.” Professor Lee smiled, clapping his hands together. “All right, you have all the time till the end of the lesson to consult me. But being a graduating batch, you guys better decide on your own.”
Taking a seat behind the teacher’s table and then drumming his fingers on the table top, he scanned the room for any movement.
A lot of hesitation, so much that even Kibum could feel it in the atmosphere. The bone-chilling sound of the chair jerked across the floor, that sound like using one’s fingernail to scratch a glass surface. Yet again, no movement.
Everyone was careful, more so in psychology classes.
To ask or not to ask, that was the question.
Kibum shook his head. It was always a better choice not to ask. Firstly, the vibe he would give off was one that was certain, and sure. Secondly, there might be marks deducted from their final grade for not being thinkers themselves. Why would you study psychology of the mind, thoughts of others, when you can’t even think for yourself?
Kibum scoffed internally when a meek girl stood up, and then looking back down at his hands, more interested in finalising a target for his thesis.
Just what was he going to do with this seemingly easy, but awfully complicated thesis?
“I think I’m just going to talk to my mother.” A voice stated, and Kibum’s mind registered that to be one of those borderline passes student.
“My sister just broke up with her boyfriend.” One girl replied, voice with a tinge of unwillingness. “You think I should talk to her?”
“Sounds good actually. Is she acting strong?”
“You know Professor Park, the one who lost her husband but didn’t lose her smile?” Kibum could hear the pride oozing out of those words. “I think that’s it.”
“Wow, you dare take it that far?”
Kibum frowned harder, deciding to block out the voices from his ears while bringing out a blank piece of paper and writing the thesis statement on it. He was undecided, and to worsen things, he had no idea what his currently non-existent choices were. “Stop being distracted, Kim Kibum, focus.”
“Person”, “emotional turmoil”, “not facing it”. Circling the last point furiously for emphasis, Kibum sighed.
Ideas, he had no one. Guess he was back to mind maps, the basics that he detests going back to.
“Kibum, have you decided?” A friendly classmate smiled, questioningly cocking her head to a side cutely.
Kibum returned a polite smile, shaking his head and not giving away his despair. “Not yet.”
“I’ll expect a lot from you.” The classmate chuckled, attention shifting away.
Of course, Kibum was one of the best students for a reason. It wouldn’t be as simple as a depression sort of emotional turmoil. Not the “I love you, but you love her.” sort either. Something deeper, something that is more than what the world would think of it. He scribbled down his thoughts as he thought, mumbling in hopes of them becoming coherent.
“A semester long project. Six months. Emotional turmoil is stable, constant. Job. Stable, constant, it’s a job. Money issue? Pride issue? Emotions. Not facing it, not showing it. Not showing it. Not able to show it. A façade. Job, acting happy.” Kibum growled in frustration quietly, not processing all that he was saying in favour of finding a target for his thesis.
He needed someone small. There was no way he was going to be able to ask a politician casual questions for six months, even if the politician’s job was acting happy (or at least that was what it seemed like). Someone smaller. Guard? Usher? But wait, no, that would be almost impossible for contact and interaction.
“Interaction.” Kibum paused, a brief small flashed across his face. He was getting somewhere, he could feel it in his veins. As a student, or human, Kibum is a consumer, a customer, and a commuter. Yet, how punctual are the buses that fetch him home? What if the shifts are not regular?
No.
“Time, time, time.” Kibum chanted, drawing circles about the very word to remind himself the need for time. Kibum threw his pen down in defeat, maintaining a calm demeanor despite his desperateness behind.
How does he get time? Who was willing to waste their time-
Buy.
He can buy time. With money, in the brothel, for prostitutes.
And it all linked.
Kibum stared at his mind map in fascination, linking his key ideas with ease.
Prostitutes - their job is to act happy, with a façade, for their job is to please. Degrading job, emotional turmoil almost definite for they are shamed by the outside world, their bodies are priced. The world thinks of them as pests, home-wrecking people, while the customers think of them as a sexual relief with no strings attached.
His idea was insane. Insanely brilliant. Details to be figured out later, but he did pick a very satisfactory “someone”, though having no idea who it was just yet. He better keep this low, no one was to find out yet, until six months later when he submits his report.
He wasn’t going to let anyone stop him.
Crushing the mind map into a ball, something that looked almost insignificant in the eyes of the others but his life for six months, he tossed it into the bin.
“Class, you’re dismissed.”
Kibum stood up almost instantly, keeping the pen he had taken out and moving to his next lesson.
Who was going to be his research subject for six months?
-
I personally think this is a very different writing style from my usual lot, but hopefully you guys wouldn't mind the change? :)
I've also made teasers and a trailer for this story, so if you're interested, you could click on the links below!
Teaser 1 :: Teaser 2 :: Trailer