Because it’s my darling Hyukjae’s birthday!
So have some fic! Several things, because I love this pairing too much to say no to, and I have a roaring Hyuk bias that likes to attach itself to my ulta-supergirl-Geng bias. Ugh, I still haven't finished Sulli's birthday fic either (or Taeyeon's! /screams)!
First things first. I wrote this thing yesterday between my cello lesson and my voice lesson. Yesterday was a hot day, and you'll probably be able to tell from the atmosphere. You'll probably be able to guess where I was by reading it as well. Warning: it's incomplete. AU, they're in a coffeehouse, and no one is famous except Geng in Hyukjae's heart.
coffeehouse blues
Even when Hyukjae turns twenty-four, he's still not positive of the difference between oily skin and a fucking humid day. And coffeehouses might just be the worst place ever to be when it's eighty (plus) degrees outside the door, because it's probably an added ten where he's sitting.
The fans spin and spin above his head, but the ceiling is too high and Hyukjae kind of wishes that he could be close enough for one of the blades to graze the tips of his hairs.
Why is he here again? He brings down his line of vision-he was staring at the ceiling again, obviously-and maybe the visuals around him can jog his memory.
Oh. Right. Donghae, left. Heechul, right. Junsu, center front. That's why. There are people here, and isn't it his birthday? Yeah, that's it.
And there's something else. There's the real truth to Hyukjae's presence here, and why he's willing to sweat coffee and get sticky whipped cream on his nose from stealing Donghae's hot chocolate. This real reason for his presence could be blamed on someone behind the counter, in a dark grey wifebeater, speaking accented Korean, and sporting blonde hair that oddly suits him.
The nametag says 'Hankyung,' and Hyukjae recalls the day where he first stumbled in, read the name and committed it to memory.
Alright, so coffeehouses aren't meant to be particularly sexual romping grounds, right? Well somehow Hyukjae feels like this one has morphed into said sexual romping ground. For him, at least. Always feeling like a predator when he glances up from his coffee to the blonde man handing sweets and caffiene to giggling high school girls in short skirts. Hyukjae knows he should be more interested in the latter, but there isn't much there. There just isn't.
Heechul is speaking again, and Hyukjae brings his ears back to the table. "How are we supposed to celebrate the dude's birthday if he's too busy ogling Chinese men?"
"There's only one."
"Well, Zhou Mi works here, too," Donghae adds.
"Except Sundays. And Tuesdays," Heechul flips back some of his newly cut hair.
Junsu laughs, that endearing, high pitched giggle. "You would know."
While we're at it, have another incomplete fic! It's actually Geng-centric, and it's dark/angsty, but I was rather fond of this piece and I'm not quite sure why I haven't been able to get any ideas to finish it. So here it is, enjoy it if you can. Ninja!SiHan ♥
붕대 ; bandage
The world is going up in pink and yellow flames, with a hint of white, because you told the boy you like him. You said to the little Christian boy that you like him so much that it hurts. He doesn’t make fun of you, and he doesn’t curse you or spit at you that you’re going to hell. He’s too nice for something like that. It’s the other children dancing around you and ridiculing that tell you.
But Hyukjae and Heechul stand in a corner together to watch the chaos. They stand away from it and don’t get involved, and you secretly wonder if this is because they’re going to hell with you.
-
The pretty girl with big eyes named Taeyeon is pulling your hair. She’s always been so nice to you, and you’re dying to know why everything is so different-but at the same time, you think you know why.
Tears are tumbling like small storms underneath your eyes, even after she’s left you (trembling) below the red and blue slide on the playground.
Your nose is wet and stuffed full of boogers the other kids cringe at when Hyukjae comes over and hugs you.
“It’s okay,” he says.
“It’s not okay,” you say.
“You’re right.”
You can’t help but how his words seem to negate themselves. Hyukjae’s ‘You’re right’ sounds like ‘You’re wrong.’
-
It’s your first day of seventh grade, and you’re being pushed against a wall. Except this isn’t anything like the random fantasies you’ve dreamt about. This is scary, and dangerous, and painful when your forehead smacks against rough brick because Kangin’s fist is making enemies with the back of your head.
You breathe normally when the fist stops, and he flips you around so that the wall is petting your wounds. Nothing is of the ordinary when you suddenly feel his lips against yours in an awkward yet forceful kiss. Nothing feels right about it, but you let him do what he wants because he’s too strong to push away.
Kangin growls like an angry bear and leaves you against the wall with a bruised head and bruised lips to match. Why did he want to kiss you if it only made him angry? You don’t know, and you figure that you won’t want to know, so you just stand there and wait for the pain to fade into the background. But when it’s gone, you don’t really know if it’s truly disappeared. For now, you’ll just say to yourself that it’s gone as you walk to gym class nine minutes late.
-
You take refuge in your dancing. It’s what you do every day after school, for two hours. They don’t make fun of you there. No one teases you, or laughs at you, pulls your hair, calls you names. Your teacher thinks you’re brilliant, and your fellow dancers want to be like you. Everything is safe around you when you dance here.
One afternoon, you see a familiar face. In fact, you see two--and by familiar, you mean from school, not the friendly environment that is your dance studio. You're about to enter the changing room when you see the round innocent eyes of Lee Hyukjae poking through the emergency exit doors, his hands cupped around the sockets like telescopes. And behind him stands Kim Heechul, a skinny sack of bones that somehow manages to make an almost complete lack of fat seem attractive. Heechul is an eight grader--so to you, he's one of the kings of the school...that's what eighth graders are, right?--so why is fifth grader Hyukjae hanging out with him anyway? You've always wanted to ask them this, yet you shied away. You were too intimidated to get close to them--you've found it's hard to trust most people outside your dancer family and your parents.
Suddenly, Heechul pushes the emergency exit open, and you brace yourself for a loud alarm, but nothing happens. Nothing happens except for the fact that the two of them are staring at you, without a barrier of a glass window within the doors.
"So is this where you spend your time?" Heechul asks, walking past you.
You nod, but you're looking at Hyukjae. He's so small, so tiny and breakable. You just want to tuck him in your pocket and protect him from anything--from the bullies on the elementary playground, but you're a middle schooler and if you cross over the courtyard where your classmates hang out and enter the children's territory, they'd mock you even more than they already do. For a moment, you think about how you'd risk it. You'd risk it for this fragile little boy, and you don't even know why.
Maybe that's why he hangs out with Heechul: for protection. But they're friends, aren't they? Friendship should be based on more than I need help, protect me.
"Are you listening?" Heechul's hand is on your shoulder.
This next one is very much inspired by Epik High's song Run, but not necessarily the video. Sort of, but not really. It's also the HanHyuk theme from my SJM challenge, #33 Accordion. It's definitely an AU fic. Looking back on it now, it's strange, and it's supposed to be finished, but it kind of seems like it isn't. I say it's done, though.
limping on both legs
Hyukjae has this accordion in his basement. It's small, and it's this pretty color blue that Hyukjae finds himself fond of, his sister bought it for him when he was five with whatever money their parents had given her. So in reality, it'd been paid for by his parents, picked out by Sora. He loves it all the same. But he never plays it, never really uses it. Layers of dust build up on it until the random days when he decides to just sit with it in his lap and wish he could play. Something pretty. Not the wheezing of air, flowing in, flowing out.
There's this boy named Han Geng, and he just moved into the house across the street about five months ago. But they've known each other for longer, blame it on school.
It doesn't take long for one to befriend the other, it doesn't take long for Hyukjae to work up the courage to say I can't understand you, hyung, let me help and communication is no longer a problem.
It takes a little more time for Hyukjae to realize that he wants to play that accordion for Han Geng, and it's weird that he feels this way. Really weird.
He doesn't know what to call it. That realization will come later, he hopes. Or doesn't. Maybe it shouldn't come at all, if it is what he thinks it is.
Han Geng wonders why some people wouldn't like Hyukjae, wouldn't treat him with respect. Any hit to his face would be like hitting a small child, he has that young innocence in his eyes. He never dreams of hitting Hyukjae.
Too bad others do.
They treat him like a target. They see him dance, they get little green fires in their eyes. He doesn't look strong, let's kick his ass, no? Yeah, right after his practice. Yeah, grab him right before he can go too far, cripple him, do it, awesome.
The competition is in two weeks, they'll knock out a whole week of his rehearsal. They'll be gold. Hyukjae can suffer.
Han Geng would never think of thoughts like these, so he doesn't. He never has. He's never involved. Never heard of them.
So it all shocks him enough for his chest to hurt when it happens.
"What happened?"
Hyukjae tries to wave it off, it's not worth Han Geng's worries. He's just limping. On both legs, no big deal. "Don't worry, hyung."
Han Geng helps him across the threshold, helps him sit down on the couch and then pulls his jeans up. Giving a sharp cry, Hyukjae tries to stop him, but it's too late and there they are. Purple, bruises, red marks, a pleading look on Hyukjae's face. An unnatural, colored shadow is just barely beneath his eye, and Han Geng wishes he could take away the pain with his hands, with one touch. Or more than one.
"Can I stay here tonight?" he asks.
A nod, that's what Han Geng gives him. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."
"I don't want my parents to see me like this. Or my sister. I need…I need to figure out what to say to them."
Another nod. And they sleep in Han Geng's room that night. His mother comes home late from her restaurant and sees Hyukjae brushing his teeth in her son's bathroom. She doesn't fret, she doesn't mind, she likes the boy, so she smiles and gives him a warm hug. Somehow, it feels like she knows he's in pain, because her arms are nice and so understanding.
When she lets go, Han Geng is in the doorway, and he watches his mother wipe a tear from Hyukjae's eye.
The morning is quiet, and he calls his sister, even though he called her before bed. Sora asks him if he's okay, like she had last night. Hyukjae lies, his legs are too sore to stand on without limping, on both sides, or without leaning against something. Without leaning against Han Geng, and he's still sleeping.
They hang up soon after two 'I love you's and one 'I'll be home later.'
Hyukjae thinks about the night time. And he does it because upon waking up in the morning, a pair of arms had wound their way around him, his nose had been just lightly touching another. Close to Han Geng, that's what he'd been, just a few minutes ago. And he liked it, oh he so did.
So that's why he has to leave, now.
He hobbles down the steps, hair still standing up in all directions, and his mouth still tastes like toothpaste from last night's brushing. Han Geng's mother is there, putting on her shoes, picking up the umbrella.
"Oh, you're awake! Is Geng up?" she asks, pausing her actions when he eyes land on the skinny boy.
"No, he's still, still asleep," Hyukjae stumbles in words and not movement, and tries to put on his shoes. "I realized I have to go home, though. My sister needs me to help her with something, you know? Family stuff." Lies. But they're hurting him more than they could ever hurt his friend's mother, because he's fighting with himself.
"Alright. Would you like me to walk you over?"
"No, I'm okay."
"Sweetie, it's raining outside, heavily," she insists, taking his arm once his shoes are snug around his feet, and helping him out the door, careful not to bump his legs. Hyukjae wishes Han Geng's mother wasn't so omniscient sometimes.
Of course she notices his step, it's worn out look, the way Hyukjae bites his lip. She kisses his cheek before she leaves him to Sora's care, but Sora isn't the same as Han Geng's mom. Sora doesn't know everything, but Hyukjae loves her all the same.
He doesn't tell her, though, doesn't give his sister the reasons for his uneven walk. even when she bothers him for fifteen minutes straight, he doesn't say anything.
Later, he goes to the basement, the stairs creak under his feet as he takes one step at a time until he's at the bottom. It'll take him forever to get back up, without help, at least, but he thinks that'll be okay.
The blue accordion is there, where he last left it, and he puts it in his lap. He presses it together, so the air rasps and plays not a single real note. But he smiles to himself and hugs it close.
He thinks about Han Geng, gentle-faced and gentle in his hands, the way he cared for the bruises and cuts on Hyukjae's legs, the love in his eyes--
Hyukjae stops, and he hugs the instrument tighter, wishing he could play it right, wishing he could decipher his own heart.
His legs are fine in a week, and he's dancing again. Awkwardly, though, and it's like he doesn't want to strain himself, Donghae notices and tells him to sit out for a little. "You look tired."
"I haven't gotten much sleep," admits Hyukjae, taking the water bottle Shindong extends to him.
"Something bothering you?" Donghae.
"Did anyone threaten you?" Shindong. They know about the thing a week ago, they figured it out. It was easier to put two and two together when Sungmin had called Shindong about a threat he'd received on his way home.
"No, I'm, I'm fine."
"If you say so," Donghae sighs. "Just sit for a while."
Hyukjae nods, and does as Donghae says. Except for when Han Geng arrives at their practice, late like he'd said he'd need to be, and Hyukjae excuses himself to the bathroom. He hides there for twenty-seven minutes, and takes an extra four walking back to the room.
"Are you avoiding me?" Han Geng asks as they walk out, to the parking lot and Shindong is offering everyone rides home. Sungmin says yeah, and Donghae says he needs to meet his brother for lunch, he'll take the bus.
"No, of course not."
Hyukjae goes with Shindong and Sungmin. He watches Han Geng and Donghae get smaller behind the car as they wait. A little wave is what he gives to them, but by now they must be too far away to catch it.
"Hyukjae!" Sora's voice reaches his room upstairs. He puts down his accordion, and closes his laptop with written instructions on how the heck he should play it right. For the past few days, he's confined himself to his room, aside for dance practice and meals and bathroom trips-oh, and showers.
When he bumbles down the stairs, Han Geng is at the bottom step, smiling up at him. And Hyukjae kind of wants to run away, because his heart is doing that thing it does-the flipping thing, you know? Flip, flip, flip…
"Hey," comes the greeting.
Hyukjae grins back, and he probably looks dumb. "Hi."
"You really have been avoiding me. No answers for phone calls? Eye contact-what eyes? I forgot you even had eyes," Han Geng rolls his own. "And I like yours, they're very cute, you know."
Cute. Hyukjae gulps. Flip. Flip, flip.
"You're obligated to tell me what's the matter."
"I am?"
"Of course you are. Because you love me," Han Geng grins, and it's jokingly but Hyukjae felt his heart go through a fucking Triathlon.
But it's just then that Hyukjae notices something. That something, it's a purple shadow just underneath Han Geng's right eye. A bruise that's just starting to fade. Proof of a lack of eye contact for the past couple of days.
Hyukjae's hand hovers over it, shadowing the shadow. "What…happened?"
"It's my turn to say 'nothing,'" Han Geng smiles, a bit sadly.
They don't have to say anything, but Hyukjae brings him up to his room, closes the door behind him, and they sit together. Han Geng, on the edge of Hyukjae's bed, and Hyukjae in his desk chair.
"How are your legs now?"
"Better. Is your eye okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Han Geng's eyes are unfocused for a second, like he's deep in thought, but he comes back out in no time. "Hyukjae, I need you to sit still for a moment. Can you?"
"Of course, I'm not Donghae," Hyukjae laughs, because teasing his best friend might keep his heart from doing anymore gymnastics.
Well, that doesn't stop the flip, flip, flip when Han Geng comes closer, puts his hands on either arm of the chair Hyukjae's sitting in. It doesn't stop the feeling when Hyukjae can feel the flow of air from Han Geng's nose, or the feeling when Han Geng kisses him. The feeling just grows, exponentially.
They stop, at least an hour later, and Hyukjae is on top of him, on the bed. Fully clothed, and Han Geng's legs aren't fully propped up, they're sort of dangling off the edge.
They break apart, but Han Geng keeps him from fleeing, from running away this time. "It's because I held you, right?"
"What?"
"That one time, at my house, after your incident," Han Geng grows uncomfortable at the word. "And you slept in my room. You avoided me after because I held you, right?"
"Maybe."
"I had a feeling."
"I'm sorry I left you, and I didn't leave anything."
"That kind of hurt…"
"I'm sorry," Hyukjae feels his throat get tight.
"No, no, it's alright now," and Han Geng kisses the bridge of his nose.
Hyukjae snuggles closer. "You can hold me now," and he peers at him.
That smile is a victory, a quiet one. They lay in the silence, and the silence between them covers them with safety, with something beautiful.
//…
I've decided to add Super Junior family tags!! See my Sora and Geng's mom tags? I'm so happy, just looking at them. They're both beautiful, and so nice from what I've read/seen ;____; omg have you seen them?
I have to admit, though, I don't really know what Geng's mom is like. She seems like a truly wonderful person (she definitely passed on those genes!), from what I do know, but what I mean is, I don't know if I can write her correctly. Forgive me!
Happy Birthday to my dance machine and very sexy boy Lee Hyukjae! He's also one of the cutest people I know, in my humble opinion. And funny! You know what, when they showed his abs on EHB, I spazzed my heart out, even if they weren't as defined as Siwon's. SO THERE XD
-
First things first. I wrote this thing yesterday between my cello lesson and my voice lesson. Yesterday was a hot day, and you'll probably be able to tell from the atmosphere. You'll probably be able to guess where I was by reading it as well. Warning: it's incomplete. AU, they're in a coffeehouse, and no one is famous except Geng in Hyukjae's heart.
coffeehouse blues
Even when Hyukjae turns twenty-four, he's still not positive of the difference between oily skin and a fucking humid day. And coffeehouses might just be the worst place ever to be when it's eighty (plus) degrees outside the door, because it's probably an added ten where he's sitting.
The fans spin and spin above his head, but the ceiling is too high and Hyukjae kind of wishes that he could be close enough for one of the blades to graze the tips of his hairs.
Why is he here again? He brings down his line of vision-he was staring at the ceiling again, obviously-and maybe the visuals around him can jog his memory.
Oh. Right. Donghae, left. Heechul, right. Junsu, center front. That's why. There are people here, and isn't it his birthday? Yeah, that's it.
And there's something else. There's the real truth to Hyukjae's presence here, and why he's willing to sweat coffee and get sticky whipped cream on his nose from stealing Donghae's hot chocolate. This real reason for his presence could be blamed on someone behind the counter, in a dark grey wifebeater, speaking accented Korean, and sporting blonde hair that oddly suits him.
The nametag says 'Hankyung,' and Hyukjae recalls the day where he first stumbled in, read the name and committed it to memory.
Alright, so coffeehouses aren't meant to be particularly sexual romping grounds, right? Well somehow Hyukjae feels like this one has morphed into said sexual romping ground. For him, at least. Always feeling like a predator when he glances up from his coffee to the blonde man handing sweets and caffiene to giggling high school girls in short skirts. Hyukjae knows he should be more interested in the latter, but there isn't much there. There just isn't.
Heechul is speaking again, and Hyukjae brings his ears back to the table. "How are we supposed to celebrate the dude's birthday if he's too busy ogling Chinese men?"
"There's only one."
"Well, Zhou Mi works here, too," Donghae adds.
"Except Sundays. And Tuesdays," Heechul flips back some of his newly cut hair.
Junsu laughs, that endearing, high pitched giggle. "You would know."
While we're at it, have another incomplete fic! It's actually Geng-centric, and it's dark/angsty, but I was rather fond of this piece and I'm not quite sure why I haven't been able to get any ideas to finish it. So here it is, enjoy it if you can. Ninja!SiHan ♥
붕대 ; bandage
The world is going up in pink and yellow flames, with a hint of white, because you told the boy you like him. You said to the little Christian boy that you like him so much that it hurts. He doesn’t make fun of you, and he doesn’t curse you or spit at you that you’re going to hell. He’s too nice for something like that. It’s the other children dancing around you and ridiculing that tell you.
But Hyukjae and Heechul stand in a corner together to watch the chaos. They stand away from it and don’t get involved, and you secretly wonder if this is because they’re going to hell with you.
-
The pretty girl with big eyes named Taeyeon is pulling your hair. She’s always been so nice to you, and you’re dying to know why everything is so different-but at the same time, you think you know why.
Tears are tumbling like small storms underneath your eyes, even after she’s left you (trembling) below the red and blue slide on the playground.
Your nose is wet and stuffed full of boogers the other kids cringe at when Hyukjae comes over and hugs you.
“It’s okay,” he says.
“It’s not okay,” you say.
“You’re right.”
You can’t help but how his words seem to negate themselves. Hyukjae’s ‘You’re right’ sounds like ‘You’re wrong.’
-
It’s your first day of seventh grade, and you’re being pushed against a wall. Except this isn’t anything like the random fantasies you’ve dreamt about. This is scary, and dangerous, and painful when your forehead smacks against rough brick because Kangin’s fist is making enemies with the back of your head.
You breathe normally when the fist stops, and he flips you around so that the wall is petting your wounds. Nothing is of the ordinary when you suddenly feel his lips against yours in an awkward yet forceful kiss. Nothing feels right about it, but you let him do what he wants because he’s too strong to push away.
Kangin growls like an angry bear and leaves you against the wall with a bruised head and bruised lips to match. Why did he want to kiss you if it only made him angry? You don’t know, and you figure that you won’t want to know, so you just stand there and wait for the pain to fade into the background. But when it’s gone, you don’t really know if it’s truly disappeared. For now, you’ll just say to yourself that it’s gone as you walk to gym class nine minutes late.
-
You take refuge in your dancing. It’s what you do every day after school, for two hours. They don’t make fun of you there. No one teases you, or laughs at you, pulls your hair, calls you names. Your teacher thinks you’re brilliant, and your fellow dancers want to be like you. Everything is safe around you when you dance here.
One afternoon, you see a familiar face. In fact, you see two--and by familiar, you mean from school, not the friendly environment that is your dance studio. You're about to enter the changing room when you see the round innocent eyes of Lee Hyukjae poking through the emergency exit doors, his hands cupped around the sockets like telescopes. And behind him stands Kim Heechul, a skinny sack of bones that somehow manages to make an almost complete lack of fat seem attractive. Heechul is an eight grader--so to you, he's one of the kings of the school...that's what eighth graders are, right?--so why is fifth grader Hyukjae hanging out with him anyway? You've always wanted to ask them this, yet you shied away. You were too intimidated to get close to them--you've found it's hard to trust most people outside your dancer family and your parents.
Suddenly, Heechul pushes the emergency exit open, and you brace yourself for a loud alarm, but nothing happens. Nothing happens except for the fact that the two of them are staring at you, without a barrier of a glass window within the doors.
"So is this where you spend your time?" Heechul asks, walking past you.
You nod, but you're looking at Hyukjae. He's so small, so tiny and breakable. You just want to tuck him in your pocket and protect him from anything--from the bullies on the elementary playground, but you're a middle schooler and if you cross over the courtyard where your classmates hang out and enter the children's territory, they'd mock you even more than they already do. For a moment, you think about how you'd risk it. You'd risk it for this fragile little boy, and you don't even know why.
Maybe that's why he hangs out with Heechul: for protection. But they're friends, aren't they? Friendship should be based on more than I need help, protect me.
"Are you listening?" Heechul's hand is on your shoulder.
This next one is very much inspired by Epik High's song Run, but not necessarily the video. Sort of, but not really. It's also the HanHyuk theme from my SJM challenge, #33 Accordion. It's definitely an AU fic. Looking back on it now, it's strange, and it's supposed to be finished, but it kind of seems like it isn't. I say it's done, though.
limping on both legs
Hyukjae has this accordion in his basement. It's small, and it's this pretty color blue that Hyukjae finds himself fond of, his sister bought it for him when he was five with whatever money their parents had given her. So in reality, it'd been paid for by his parents, picked out by Sora. He loves it all the same. But he never plays it, never really uses it. Layers of dust build up on it until the random days when he decides to just sit with it in his lap and wish he could play. Something pretty. Not the wheezing of air, flowing in, flowing out.
There's this boy named Han Geng, and he just moved into the house across the street about five months ago. But they've known each other for longer, blame it on school.
It doesn't take long for one to befriend the other, it doesn't take long for Hyukjae to work up the courage to say I can't understand you, hyung, let me help and communication is no longer a problem.
It takes a little more time for Hyukjae to realize that he wants to play that accordion for Han Geng, and it's weird that he feels this way. Really weird.
He doesn't know what to call it. That realization will come later, he hopes. Or doesn't. Maybe it shouldn't come at all, if it is what he thinks it is.
Han Geng wonders why some people wouldn't like Hyukjae, wouldn't treat him with respect. Any hit to his face would be like hitting a small child, he has that young innocence in his eyes. He never dreams of hitting Hyukjae.
Too bad others do.
They treat him like a target. They see him dance, they get little green fires in their eyes. He doesn't look strong, let's kick his ass, no? Yeah, right after his practice. Yeah, grab him right before he can go too far, cripple him, do it, awesome.
The competition is in two weeks, they'll knock out a whole week of his rehearsal. They'll be gold. Hyukjae can suffer.
Han Geng would never think of thoughts like these, so he doesn't. He never has. He's never involved. Never heard of them.
So it all shocks him enough for his chest to hurt when it happens.
"What happened?"
Hyukjae tries to wave it off, it's not worth Han Geng's worries. He's just limping. On both legs, no big deal. "Don't worry, hyung."
Han Geng helps him across the threshold, helps him sit down on the couch and then pulls his jeans up. Giving a sharp cry, Hyukjae tries to stop him, but it's too late and there they are. Purple, bruises, red marks, a pleading look on Hyukjae's face. An unnatural, colored shadow is just barely beneath his eye, and Han Geng wishes he could take away the pain with his hands, with one touch. Or more than one.
"Can I stay here tonight?" he asks.
A nod, that's what Han Geng gives him. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."
"I don't want my parents to see me like this. Or my sister. I need…I need to figure out what to say to them."
Another nod. And they sleep in Han Geng's room that night. His mother comes home late from her restaurant and sees Hyukjae brushing his teeth in her son's bathroom. She doesn't fret, she doesn't mind, she likes the boy, so she smiles and gives him a warm hug. Somehow, it feels like she knows he's in pain, because her arms are nice and so understanding.
When she lets go, Han Geng is in the doorway, and he watches his mother wipe a tear from Hyukjae's eye.
The morning is quiet, and he calls his sister, even though he called her before bed. Sora asks him if he's okay, like she had last night. Hyukjae lies, his legs are too sore to stand on without limping, on both sides, or without leaning against something. Without leaning against Han Geng, and he's still sleeping.
They hang up soon after two 'I love you's and one 'I'll be home later.'
Hyukjae thinks about the night time. And he does it because upon waking up in the morning, a pair of arms had wound their way around him, his nose had been just lightly touching another. Close to Han Geng, that's what he'd been, just a few minutes ago. And he liked it, oh he so did.
So that's why he has to leave, now.
He hobbles down the steps, hair still standing up in all directions, and his mouth still tastes like toothpaste from last night's brushing. Han Geng's mother is there, putting on her shoes, picking up the umbrella.
"Oh, you're awake! Is Geng up?" she asks, pausing her actions when he eyes land on the skinny boy.
"No, he's still, still asleep," Hyukjae stumbles in words and not movement, and tries to put on his shoes. "I realized I have to go home, though. My sister needs me to help her with something, you know? Family stuff." Lies. But they're hurting him more than they could ever hurt his friend's mother, because he's fighting with himself.
"Alright. Would you like me to walk you over?"
"No, I'm okay."
"Sweetie, it's raining outside, heavily," she insists, taking his arm once his shoes are snug around his feet, and helping him out the door, careful not to bump his legs. Hyukjae wishes Han Geng's mother wasn't so omniscient sometimes.
Of course she notices his step, it's worn out look, the way Hyukjae bites his lip. She kisses his cheek before she leaves him to Sora's care, but Sora isn't the same as Han Geng's mom. Sora doesn't know everything, but Hyukjae loves her all the same.
He doesn't tell her, though, doesn't give his sister the reasons for his uneven walk. even when she bothers him for fifteen minutes straight, he doesn't say anything.
Later, he goes to the basement, the stairs creak under his feet as he takes one step at a time until he's at the bottom. It'll take him forever to get back up, without help, at least, but he thinks that'll be okay.
The blue accordion is there, where he last left it, and he puts it in his lap. He presses it together, so the air rasps and plays not a single real note. But he smiles to himself and hugs it close.
He thinks about Han Geng, gentle-faced and gentle in his hands, the way he cared for the bruises and cuts on Hyukjae's legs, the love in his eyes--
Hyukjae stops, and he hugs the instrument tighter, wishing he could play it right, wishing he could decipher his own heart.
His legs are fine in a week, and he's dancing again. Awkwardly, though, and it's like he doesn't want to strain himself, Donghae notices and tells him to sit out for a little. "You look tired."
"I haven't gotten much sleep," admits Hyukjae, taking the water bottle Shindong extends to him.
"Something bothering you?" Donghae.
"Did anyone threaten you?" Shindong. They know about the thing a week ago, they figured it out. It was easier to put two and two together when Sungmin had called Shindong about a threat he'd received on his way home.
"No, I'm, I'm fine."
"If you say so," Donghae sighs. "Just sit for a while."
Hyukjae nods, and does as Donghae says. Except for when Han Geng arrives at their practice, late like he'd said he'd need to be, and Hyukjae excuses himself to the bathroom. He hides there for twenty-seven minutes, and takes an extra four walking back to the room.
"Are you avoiding me?" Han Geng asks as they walk out, to the parking lot and Shindong is offering everyone rides home. Sungmin says yeah, and Donghae says he needs to meet his brother for lunch, he'll take the bus.
"No, of course not."
Hyukjae goes with Shindong and Sungmin. He watches Han Geng and Donghae get smaller behind the car as they wait. A little wave is what he gives to them, but by now they must be too far away to catch it.
"Hyukjae!" Sora's voice reaches his room upstairs. He puts down his accordion, and closes his laptop with written instructions on how the heck he should play it right. For the past few days, he's confined himself to his room, aside for dance practice and meals and bathroom trips-oh, and showers.
When he bumbles down the stairs, Han Geng is at the bottom step, smiling up at him. And Hyukjae kind of wants to run away, because his heart is doing that thing it does-the flipping thing, you know? Flip, flip, flip…
"Hey," comes the greeting.
Hyukjae grins back, and he probably looks dumb. "Hi."
"You really have been avoiding me. No answers for phone calls? Eye contact-what eyes? I forgot you even had eyes," Han Geng rolls his own. "And I like yours, they're very cute, you know."
Cute. Hyukjae gulps. Flip. Flip, flip.
"You're obligated to tell me what's the matter."
"I am?"
"Of course you are. Because you love me," Han Geng grins, and it's jokingly but Hyukjae felt his heart go through a fucking Triathlon.
But it's just then that Hyukjae notices something. That something, it's a purple shadow just underneath Han Geng's right eye. A bruise that's just starting to fade. Proof of a lack of eye contact for the past couple of days.
Hyukjae's hand hovers over it, shadowing the shadow. "What…happened?"
"It's my turn to say 'nothing,'" Han Geng smiles, a bit sadly.
They don't have to say anything, but Hyukjae brings him up to his room, closes the door behind him, and they sit together. Han Geng, on the edge of Hyukjae's bed, and Hyukjae in his desk chair.
"How are your legs now?"
"Better. Is your eye okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Han Geng's eyes are unfocused for a second, like he's deep in thought, but he comes back out in no time. "Hyukjae, I need you to sit still for a moment. Can you?"
"Of course, I'm not Donghae," Hyukjae laughs, because teasing his best friend might keep his heart from doing anymore gymnastics.
Well, that doesn't stop the flip, flip, flip when Han Geng comes closer, puts his hands on either arm of the chair Hyukjae's sitting in. It doesn't stop the feeling when Hyukjae can feel the flow of air from Han Geng's nose, or the feeling when Han Geng kisses him. The feeling just grows, exponentially.
They stop, at least an hour later, and Hyukjae is on top of him, on the bed. Fully clothed, and Han Geng's legs aren't fully propped up, they're sort of dangling off the edge.
They break apart, but Han Geng keeps him from fleeing, from running away this time. "It's because I held you, right?"
"What?"
"That one time, at my house, after your incident," Han Geng grows uncomfortable at the word. "And you slept in my room. You avoided me after because I held you, right?"
"Maybe."
"I had a feeling."
"I'm sorry I left you, and I didn't leave anything."
"That kind of hurt…"
"I'm sorry," Hyukjae feels his throat get tight.
"No, no, it's alright now," and Han Geng kisses the bridge of his nose.
Hyukjae snuggles closer. "You can hold me now," and he peers at him.
That smile is a victory, a quiet one. They lay in the silence, and the silence between them covers them with safety, with something beautiful.
//…
I've decided to add Super Junior family tags!! See my Sora and Geng's mom tags? I'm so happy, just looking at them. They're both beautiful, and so nice from what I've read/seen ;____; omg have you seen them?
I have to admit, though, I don't really know what Geng's mom is like. She seems like a truly wonderful person (she definitely passed on those genes!), from what I do know, but what I mean is, I don't know if I can write her correctly. Forgive me!
Happy Birthday to my dance machine and very sexy boy Lee Hyukjae! He's also one of the cutest people I know, in my humble opinion. And funny! You know what, when they showed his abs on EHB, I spazzed my heart out, even if they weren't as defined as Siwon's. SO THERE XD
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