Reception, Perception (Kyuhyun/Ryeowook)
Kyuhyun/Ryeowook (Super Junior)
G, AU. 567w. For shiryu_yugure. Sorry this isn't longer! This was supposed to be for your birthday :[ I am not totaaaally happy with the pacing of this supposed-to-be drabble, so I might work a bit more on this.
Inspired by Damien Rice's O album.
'Can you hear me now?'
There was a brief pause before whispers crackled down the line, and Ryeowook shook his head.
'How about now?' Ryeowook lifted the receiver back to his ear, listening carefully, and felt more than heard the tremble of static. He frowned, shaking his head again.
A sigh came from somewhere to his left, and he felt Kyuhyun sit himself heavily by his side.
'Don't worry, Kyuhyun.' He reached out with a hesitant hand, fingertips making contact with the rough fabric of Kyuhyun's shirt, and he firmed his touch, gripping his friend's shoulder. 'You'll get it soon enough.'
Kyuhyun's hand covered his own for a moment, then fell away as his body moved from beside Ryeowook. He could hear him making his usual clinking, rattling, packing-away noises that sounded rather more like sweeping-things-aside noises. There was a clatter, followed by a thud, and Ryeowook couldn't help but smile in bemusement.
Kyuhyun's voice sounded slightly strained, as though he were reaching for something. 'Come on, let's get some fresh air,' - it came from beneath the table, muffled, before resurfacing again into audible clarity - 'it's incredibly dim in here.'
Ryeowook ran his fingers over the rough edge of the wooden table, and smiled ruefully as Kyuhyun grasped his hand, pulling it from the tabletop and lacing their fingers together, dragging Ryeowook off of his stool. 'I wouldn't know.'
'Well,' Kyuhyun said matter-of-factly, 'you have me for a reason, do you not?'
The end of his words were whisked away in a breeze when Kyuhyun opened the door of his workshop, the evening air cool in a rush against Ryeowook's skin. His eyes were open wide, and, though unseeing, the darkness, for once, felt welcoming. Kyuhyun's hand was warm in his, each dry whorl of his skin familiar, each crease of his palm, each bony knuckle.
'Yes,' he said, 'that's why I have you.'
He could hear the smile in Kyuhyun's voice as he led him down the now-familiar path towards the Kim house. As was his habit, Kyuhyun descibed the winding path, lined with stone, and the pathside oak trees losing their golden leaves. The old wooden bench five feet from Kyuhyun's workroom, unstable and rotting at the joints, then the waving rushes, and the rough walkway lining the mossy lake across the dusty road.
Ryeowook had walked this path a hundred times before, and a hundred times again with Kyuhyun's voice and touch by his side, his remaining senses assailed with familiar sounds and smells. Each time, his memory of it was as vivid as though he could still see each blade of grass along the pathway. As though he might still be able to count the leaves coasting along with the wind.
Kyuhyun's voice was lovely and low, and he, too, Ryeowook could almost see. He could envision Kyuhyun's large eyes, how dark they were, and how the darkness of his hair would sweep the paleness of his brow. He would be white-skinned from hours in the workroom, only emerging into the sunlight at Ryeowook's urging. His eyelids would flutter, and he would wince at the brightness of the sun, shading his eyes with a hand. Ryeowook would laugh at him behind his own hand.
Though life wasn't the same, Ryeowook knew, some things remained unchanged. He still saw the world - simply differently. He saw with Kyuhyun, and that was all.
G, AU. 567w. For shiryu_yugure. Sorry this isn't longer! This was supposed to be for your birthday :[ I am not totaaaally happy with the pacing of this supposed-to-be drabble, so I might work a bit more on this.
Inspired by Damien Rice's O album.
'Can you hear me now?'
There was a brief pause before whispers crackled down the line, and Ryeowook shook his head.
'How about now?' Ryeowook lifted the receiver back to his ear, listening carefully, and felt more than heard the tremble of static. He frowned, shaking his head again.
A sigh came from somewhere to his left, and he felt Kyuhyun sit himself heavily by his side.
'Don't worry, Kyuhyun.' He reached out with a hesitant hand, fingertips making contact with the rough fabric of Kyuhyun's shirt, and he firmed his touch, gripping his friend's shoulder. 'You'll get it soon enough.'
Kyuhyun's hand covered his own for a moment, then fell away as his body moved from beside Ryeowook. He could hear him making his usual clinking, rattling, packing-away noises that sounded rather more like sweeping-things-aside noises. There was a clatter, followed by a thud, and Ryeowook couldn't help but smile in bemusement.
Kyuhyun's voice sounded slightly strained, as though he were reaching for something. 'Come on, let's get some fresh air,' - it came from beneath the table, muffled, before resurfacing again into audible clarity - 'it's incredibly dim in here.'
Ryeowook ran his fingers over the rough edge of the wooden table, and smiled ruefully as Kyuhyun grasped his hand, pulling it from the tabletop and lacing their fingers together, dragging Ryeowook off of his stool. 'I wouldn't know.'
'Well,' Kyuhyun said matter-of-factly, 'you have me for a reason, do you not?'
The end of his words were whisked away in a breeze when Kyuhyun opened the door of his workshop, the evening air cool in a rush against Ryeowook's skin. His eyes were open wide, and, though unseeing, the darkness, for once, felt welcoming. Kyuhyun's hand was warm in his, each dry whorl of his skin familiar, each crease of his palm, each bony knuckle.
'Yes,' he said, 'that's why I have you.'
He could hear the smile in Kyuhyun's voice as he led him down the now-familiar path towards the Kim house. As was his habit, Kyuhyun descibed the winding path, lined with stone, and the pathside oak trees losing their golden leaves. The old wooden bench five feet from Kyuhyun's workroom, unstable and rotting at the joints, then the waving rushes, and the rough walkway lining the mossy lake across the dusty road.
Ryeowook had walked this path a hundred times before, and a hundred times again with Kyuhyun's voice and touch by his side, his remaining senses assailed with familiar sounds and smells. Each time, his memory of it was as vivid as though he could still see each blade of grass along the pathway. As though he might still be able to count the leaves coasting along with the wind.
Kyuhyun's voice was lovely and low, and he, too, Ryeowook could almost see. He could envision Kyuhyun's large eyes, how dark they were, and how the darkness of his hair would sweep the paleness of his brow. He would be white-skinned from hours in the workroom, only emerging into the sunlight at Ryeowook's urging. His eyelids would flutter, and he would wince at the brightness of the sun, shading his eyes with a hand. Ryeowook would laugh at him behind his own hand.
Though life wasn't the same, Ryeowook knew, some things remained unchanged. He still saw the world - simply differently. He saw with Kyuhyun, and that was all.