The Love Song (Kyuhyun/???)

[warmboys]

Fandom: Super Junior
Character/Pairing: Kyuhyun/???
Rating and category: G, AU
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: Kyuhyun is a high school recording artist who rides the bus home every day from the studio. One night he notices someone who gets on the stop after his.
A/N: Plays loosely with time and identities.
Original Post



The Love Song

It is already nightfall by the time Kyuhyun arrives at the bus stop, panting and hunching forward in exhaustion, arms dangling right over the knees. He ran the whole five blocks, checking his watch every fifteen seconds and muttering curses at himself for losing track of time. His stomach is growling so intensely that he worries it’ll resort to eating itself. If he misses this one, the next one won’t be for an hour. He catches his breath, his heartbeat has returned to something like sixty beats a minute, and corrects his posture just as the bus pulls up at his feet.

It’s past rush hour, so he manages to grab a seat by the window. He takes out the large headphones he borrowed from the studio and pulls them over his ears. He doesn’t need music, just some peace and quiet.

At the next stop, someone gets on and takes the seat next to him. It’s a boy, a couple years older than himself, maybe a college student. Thoughts of the future, college, dreams inundate his mind, and he presses himself closer to the window, which fogs immediately upon contact. The bulky headphones make it impossible for him to lean on it without bumping his head.

His stomach releases another rumble, deafening this time. Even the regular noises of the bus aren’t loud enough to mask it. Embarrassed, he folds his arms across his chest and draws his legs inwards, with some difficulty as these seats weren’t built with legs like his in mind.

He sneaks a sideways glance at the boy next to him to see if he heard. The boy is smiling complacently, and there isn’t the vaguest hint of a smirk or taunt like I’ve had dinner, and you haven’t. They could as well be existing in two different realities.

Kyuhyun draws his arms tighter around himself and tries to contract his body into a ball while distracting himself with visions of roasted chickens dancing atop a checkered tablecloth to the rhythm of his stomach growls.

He is full the next time. So full that he immediately rests his head on the window and conks out for the rest of the ride. The bus driver has to wake him up at the last stop. He shakes his shoulders roughly, like a father would. “Last stop, kid. Wake up.”

“Wha…t?” His eyes open reluctantly, and the first thing they find isn’t the middle-aged man before him but the boy from last night looking at him curiously as he stands up a couple seats away and pulls a bag strap over his shoulder. The boy looks as if he’s laughing, although Kyuhyun can’t hear it.

Kyuhyun rides the whole way back with eyes burned open.

The boy listens to music through tiny earbuds connected to a CD player. Kyuhyun stares openly now. He couldn’t remember the last time he used one. It’s safely stored away in a closet somewhere next to other things he’s grown out of.

The boy never skips tracks or bops his head along to the songs. He wears the same pale smile for the whole bus ride, looking straight ahead. Kyuhyun wonders if he knows he’s being stared at.

Without so much as a conscious decision, Kyuhyun begins walking five blocks to the next stop and they now board the bus together. He slides into the seat next to the older boy, who always sits by the aisle. If he has noticed that Kyuhyun prefers the window, he shows no indication.

Kyuhyun takes in his brown hair curling at the ends, the soft unclenched jaw, the straight bridge of his nose. He trains his eyes on the CD player resting between the boy’s hands, as though looking hard and long enough could reveal the disc spinning inside it.

The boy finally notices. He moves his head dully towards Kyuhyun, who doesn’t know whether he should look out the window or at the floor. But then suddenly, miraculously, his face breaks into a wide grin, and he reaches into his bag.

He fumbles around for a bit and pulls out a CD case. He waves it across Kyuhyun’s face with the same unwavering smile. It belongs to a boyband that disbanded a couple years ago. Kyuhyun fingers the case lightly but can’t help but feel disappointed by the poor choice. No one listens to this trash nowadays.

Before he gets off he feels the boy slip the case into his fingers. He turns to say thanks, but nothing comes out. Blushing, he practically darts out of the bus, the CD tight in his grip.

During his break he leaves the recording room and his manager hands him a wrapped bento box. “Eat up. You’ve worked hard,” and she reaches up to ruffle his hair. His height has always made it hard for people to pamper him.

She watches with motherly care as he wolfs down chunks of beef and rice. “What’s that song?” She asks after he wipes his mouth on a napkin.

He blinks at her, puzzled.

“The one you’ve been humming since you got here,” she laughs. “It sounds so familiar, but I can’t place it.”

Neither can he.

I call, even though I call for you
And there’s no reply, I’ll wait for you

“It was good. I liked it,” Kyuhyun musters enough courage to say when they’re sitting. He takes the CD out of his bag and offers it to the boy.

The boy grins as he takes it back. He flips over the case and points a finger at track number six. Kyuhyun leans over and squints. It’s the one his manager had asked him about.

“That one’s my favorite, too,” Kyuhyun says, heartbeat quickening as the words come out. The boy’s grin doesn’t budge.

There are so many things he would like to ask him, but he stops himself. They’re strangers, after all.

After a couple minutes of silence, the boy takes out the CD and slips it back into his CD player. Kyuhyun looks away and towards the window dejectedly. He’s missed his chance to continue the conversation.

He feels fingers on his sleeve. He turns back to see the boy offering him an earbud.

They sit the rest of the way joined by centimeters of black cord. Love songs fill the silence.

“I’m Kyuhyun,” he starts nervously, removing the earbud to hear his own voice quiver. “Cho Kyuhyun.” He extends a hand for good measure.

The boy slips his hand into Kyuhyun’s, but it’s the wrong one, transforming the handshake into tentative handholding. His eyes never leave Kyuhyun’s lips.

“Ee,” the boy says. “Ee. Ong-Ae. Ee Ong Ae.” The look on his face is odd, even fearful, as he scans Kyuhyun’s face for a reaction.

He tries again, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “D-dd. Ong h-h-ae. D-dong hae.”

Lee Dong Hae.

Now he knows why Donghae never skipped a track, never swayed to the music, and answered Kyuhyun always only with a smile.

The next day Kyuhyun has difficulty keeping his eyes open. He spent the entire night with eyes glued to the computer screen, downloading information into his brain as quickly and effectively as possible.

When he sees Donghae at the bus stop, the older boy seems startled, although they have been meeting here for days already. They wait quietly and board the bus together when it arrives.

When they’re finally seated, Kyuhyun takes a deep breath and pulls his hands out of his pockets.

He points a finger to himself. I am…

Cho Kyuhyun, he hopes his hands are saying.

They pause in midair as he struggles to remember the next part and fails. Everything he’s practiced is erased from memory as blood drains from his brain to settle in his cheeks.

But Donghae’s eyes have widened and the worried look is gone when he raises his own hands.

I’m Lee Donghae. It’s…

Kyuhyun racks his brain, trying to interpret the next couple of signs. It’s…

nice to meet you.

His heart catches in his throat as he repeats the same signs back at the other boy.

Donghae is grinning so much his face looks as if it might tear at the edges. He starts signing again, and Kyuhyun is instantly on guard, trying to concentrate harder than he has on anything-video games and singing included.

You’re cute.

Donghae’s voice is soft and unused-his fingers deft and well-trained.

Kyuhyun pokes lightly at the veins on the hand intertwined in his.

admittedly stylistically different from what i'm used to writing,
the pairing as well. what do you think?