boy. [Han Geng/Henry]
Title; Boy
Fandom/Pairing; Hankyung/Henry, sort of Hankyung/Yoochun
Rating; G
Summary; Henry's going on a trip with Geng and Yoochun, and he's trying to stifle the fact that he loves Geng.
A/N; Again, not angst! But, don't worry, angst is still being written, hahaaaaa. This piece might suck, but I loved this prompt from milkpoet (again!), so I wrote it out anyway. I wanted so badly to write from this for a couple days-maybe weeks-now. And while I was sitting in class today, I finally got a solid pairing and idea. I must be off to bed now!
Word Count; 1198
Boy
- - -
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.
Henry lifts his eyes from the internet on the little screen of his iPod, just barely skimming his vision against the one he wants to look at. He’s had Richard Siken’s You Are Jeff saved on the screen since they were out of the city and he lost connection. He keeps reading it over and over again, because Yoochun and Hankyung seem to be lost in their own world in the front seats of the car.
Henry feels much younger than he really is as he lounges in the back, kicking his feet up on the windowsill.
The wind rushing past the car is tickling Henry’s bare feet and blowing Yoochun’s hair across his face. Hankyung’s hair remains in tact-his window is down, and only little strands are flailing handsomely in the breeze. Henry is staring again, and he tells himself he has to stop.
He reads the first line of his favorite paragraph again.
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.
He looks at the side of Hankyung’s face. But Hankyung isn’t really Hankyung. To Henry, he’s Han Geng. Geng. But Yoochun always calls him ‘Hankyung’ and honestly, Henry feels like wincing a little when he hears that other name slip out of Yoochun’s lips towards Henry’s Geng.
Well, he doesn’t belong to Henry, but Henry likes to think that it’s that way sometimes. After all, Geng usually introduces him as ‘his Henry’ to new people. And Henry’s soft heart flutters when he hears it. Say it again, ge. Tell them I’m your Henry.
Henry likes to think that Han Geng loves him. He dreams about it. He tries not to just come right up front now and tell Han Geng how much he loves him; he tries to push the feelings into the back of his heart. Because saying that right in front of Yoochun would be weird. Even then, Henry is afraid that he’ll never get the chance to.
Henry sits up and leans against the inside of one door as he looks out the window over the other. Glistening water is in his view. And it lifts his mood, although part of him is starting to feel the guilt of leaving his other friends so suddenly, just picking up and leaving when Han Geng showed up at his door with a secret plan on his lips. But he couldn’t say no to Han Geng. So when he did show up unexpectedly, Henry found the closest duffle bag, tossed a few things in there, swallowed sorry pills, and gulped it down with some extra apology juice before leaving a note for his roommate and running out the door, making sure to pick up a pair of sunglasses on the way out. The sun is extra bright that day, and maybe it’s because he’s with Han Geng.
Definitely, Henry thinks with a sly smile. He adjusts the sunglasses over his face again, listening to the Korean babbling in the front. Henry’s Korean is decent, but when he’s not really tuned in, he doesn’t understand a word.
But he always hears Han Geng’s voice, no matter what language. He always listens.
“There’s supposedly an awesome diner down the road,” he sees Han Geng lift one hand from the wheel to point.
Yoochun says something, but Henry doesn’t quite catch it-it’s too mumbled and fuzzy and it seems like Yoochun doesn’t think Henry’s listening anyway. He’s partially right.
“Yeah, but if Henry’s hungry, we should stop there.”
“I’m not that hungry, ge,” he answers in Mandarin, knowing that Yoochun won’t really understand, but that’s alright with Henry. “We can do what Yoochun-ge wants to do.”
Han Geng translates briefly. Yoochun turns around and gives the younger boy a toothy grin. “You’re such a good kiddo, you know?”
Henry nods, adjusting his sunglasses again before his eyes return to his iPod screen.
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and-
He stops reading and puts it away, trying to forget how well You Are Jeff can describe him, especially right now. Henry sits up again as Han Geng parks his car. The sparkling water is in sight, with the sun just perched on the edge like an expectant canary. Yoochun opens his door and sprints down the beach, kicking up sand and swinging his arms around excitedly. So, that’s what he wanted to do. Henry laughs and his eyes flicker to his sandals underneath the driver’s seat-Han Geng’s seat. He thinks about putting them back on, but doesn’t.
He thinks about getting out of the car and doing down to the waves but doesn’t. Because Han Geng is staring at him in the rearview mirror, and Henry can feel those eyes piercing through the lenses of his dark sunglasses. He wonders what it would be like to have that gaze on him without the glasses, as piercing as it is already.
The door to the passenger’s seat is still open, and they can hear Yoochun’s happy splashing. Because that’s how quiet the car is, until Han Geng suddenly unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs into the backseat with Henry. He lands close to the younger boy, their legs touching just barely through jeans.
Henry gulps as Han Geng takes the glasses away from his eyes, all the while never looking away from each other. The words are rushing into Henry’s mind and trespassing all over his thoughts, even though they’re so right. So, so right.
-you’re trembling, but he reaches over and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist-
Henry’s read this too many times. He knows every word. He bites his lip and feels himself shaking lightly as Han Geng touches his face, cupping Henry’s chin in his warm hands. Henry feels something inside him burst and a blush spreads across those adorable cheeks everyone’s fond of pinching.
-and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.
It’s then that Henry finishes reciting the words in his mind like his own personal biography. Han Geng is still looking at him with those beautiful eyes, captivating him, and Henry feels like his mind is being read.
Maybe it is.
His hand is suddenly grabbing a handful of Han Geng’s shirt, and without much of a warning except the intent tone in each other’s gazes, their lips are pressing together-they don’t crash or crush or bleed or bruise. Something stunning happens between them, and Henry’s mind is tracing over words through the haze of his feelings.
Something I don’t even have a name for.
Han Geng is kissing him gently, his arms secured around Henry’s waist. Henry’s heart bursts again. He returns every movement of lips to lips, his arms around strong shoulders.
He agrees. This isn’t love. This is something more than love.
Something no one has a name for.
Fandom/Pairing; Hankyung/Henry, sort of Hankyung/Yoochun
Rating; G
Summary; Henry's going on a trip with Geng and Yoochun, and he's trying to stifle the fact that he loves Geng.
A/N; Again, not angst! But, don't worry, angst is still being written, hahaaaaa. This piece might suck, but I loved this prompt from milkpoet (again!), so I wrote it out anyway. I wanted so badly to write from this for a couple days-maybe weeks-now. And while I was sitting in class today, I finally got a solid pairing and idea. I must be off to bed now!
Word Count; 1198
Boy
- - -
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.
Henry lifts his eyes from the internet on the little screen of his iPod, just barely skimming his vision against the one he wants to look at. He’s had Richard Siken’s You Are Jeff saved on the screen since they were out of the city and he lost connection. He keeps reading it over and over again, because Yoochun and Hankyung seem to be lost in their own world in the front seats of the car.
Henry feels much younger than he really is as he lounges in the back, kicking his feet up on the windowsill.
The wind rushing past the car is tickling Henry’s bare feet and blowing Yoochun’s hair across his face. Hankyung’s hair remains in tact-his window is down, and only little strands are flailing handsomely in the breeze. Henry is staring again, and he tells himself he has to stop.
He reads the first line of his favorite paragraph again.
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.
He looks at the side of Hankyung’s face. But Hankyung isn’t really Hankyung. To Henry, he’s Han Geng. Geng. But Yoochun always calls him ‘Hankyung’ and honestly, Henry feels like wincing a little when he hears that other name slip out of Yoochun’s lips towards Henry’s Geng.
Well, he doesn’t belong to Henry, but Henry likes to think that it’s that way sometimes. After all, Geng usually introduces him as ‘his Henry’ to new people. And Henry’s soft heart flutters when he hears it. Say it again, ge. Tell them I’m your Henry.
Henry likes to think that Han Geng loves him. He dreams about it. He tries not to just come right up front now and tell Han Geng how much he loves him; he tries to push the feelings into the back of his heart. Because saying that right in front of Yoochun would be weird. Even then, Henry is afraid that he’ll never get the chance to.
Henry sits up and leans against the inside of one door as he looks out the window over the other. Glistening water is in his view. And it lifts his mood, although part of him is starting to feel the guilt of leaving his other friends so suddenly, just picking up and leaving when Han Geng showed up at his door with a secret plan on his lips. But he couldn’t say no to Han Geng. So when he did show up unexpectedly, Henry found the closest duffle bag, tossed a few things in there, swallowed sorry pills, and gulped it down with some extra apology juice before leaving a note for his roommate and running out the door, making sure to pick up a pair of sunglasses on the way out. The sun is extra bright that day, and maybe it’s because he’s with Han Geng.
Definitely, Henry thinks with a sly smile. He adjusts the sunglasses over his face again, listening to the Korean babbling in the front. Henry’s Korean is decent, but when he’s not really tuned in, he doesn’t understand a word.
But he always hears Han Geng’s voice, no matter what language. He always listens.
“There’s supposedly an awesome diner down the road,” he sees Han Geng lift one hand from the wheel to point.
Yoochun says something, but Henry doesn’t quite catch it-it’s too mumbled and fuzzy and it seems like Yoochun doesn’t think Henry’s listening anyway. He’s partially right.
“Yeah, but if Henry’s hungry, we should stop there.”
“I’m not that hungry, ge,” he answers in Mandarin, knowing that Yoochun won’t really understand, but that’s alright with Henry. “We can do what Yoochun-ge wants to do.”
Han Geng translates briefly. Yoochun turns around and gives the younger boy a toothy grin. “You’re such a good kiddo, you know?”
Henry nods, adjusting his sunglasses again before his eyes return to his iPod screen.
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and-
He stops reading and puts it away, trying to forget how well You Are Jeff can describe him, especially right now. Henry sits up again as Han Geng parks his car. The sparkling water is in sight, with the sun just perched on the edge like an expectant canary. Yoochun opens his door and sprints down the beach, kicking up sand and swinging his arms around excitedly. So, that’s what he wanted to do. Henry laughs and his eyes flicker to his sandals underneath the driver’s seat-Han Geng’s seat. He thinks about putting them back on, but doesn’t.
He thinks about getting out of the car and doing down to the waves but doesn’t. Because Han Geng is staring at him in the rearview mirror, and Henry can feel those eyes piercing through the lenses of his dark sunglasses. He wonders what it would be like to have that gaze on him without the glasses, as piercing as it is already.
The door to the passenger’s seat is still open, and they can hear Yoochun’s happy splashing. Because that’s how quiet the car is, until Han Geng suddenly unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs into the backseat with Henry. He lands close to the younger boy, their legs touching just barely through jeans.
Henry gulps as Han Geng takes the glasses away from his eyes, all the while never looking away from each other. The words are rushing into Henry’s mind and trespassing all over his thoughts, even though they’re so right. So, so right.
-you’re trembling, but he reaches over and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist-
Henry’s read this too many times. He knows every word. He bites his lip and feels himself shaking lightly as Han Geng touches his face, cupping Henry’s chin in his warm hands. Henry feels something inside him burst and a blush spreads across those adorable cheeks everyone’s fond of pinching.
-and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.
It’s then that Henry finishes reciting the words in his mind like his own personal biography. Han Geng is still looking at him with those beautiful eyes, captivating him, and Henry feels like his mind is being read.
Maybe it is.
His hand is suddenly grabbing a handful of Han Geng’s shirt, and without much of a warning except the intent tone in each other’s gazes, their lips are pressing together-they don’t crash or crush or bleed or bruise. Something stunning happens between them, and Henry’s mind is tracing over words through the haze of his feelings.
Something I don’t even have a name for.
Han Geng is kissing him gently, his arms secured around Henry’s waist. Henry’s heart bursts again. He returns every movement of lips to lips, his arms around strong shoulders.
He agrees. This isn’t love. This is something more than love.
Something no one has a name for.