notes from october

Chie [chee-eh] / 20something I decided to finish writing all of my dusty Kaisoo prompts that have been shelved for three years.

[aloebride]

I love your drabbles <3 my fave is the latest you just posted! I love Disney!au and you did a different take on Sleeping Beauty which is amazing! I can imagine Kaisoo in their Joseon era outfits, and omg MALEPISENTEU and also the three fairis so adorable. Are you planning to post a longer fic? even just a one-shot perhaps? Keep writing Kaisoo <3

Aw, thank you, thank you so much! 

Yes, I’m currently writing two fics of around 12k-15k in length. One of them is almost done, so I’ll probably post it by the end of September or first week of October. And yes, I will keep writing Kaisoo! Thank you ♥

[aloebride]

Kyungsoo wouldn’t have saved Crown Prince Jongin if it wasn’t for the three male “fairies”—Suho, the strong-willed leader who gave the prince the gift of handsomeness; Lay, the good-natured naïve one who bestowed the gift of dance; and Sehun, the straight-forward youngest fairy whose gift was to weaken the curse of Malepisenteu. So instead of dying from being pricked on the spindle of a spinning wheel, the Crown Prince would only be put into a deep sleep until he’s awakened by a true love’s kiss.

“My name is spelled as M-A-L-E-F-I-C-E-N-T. Malepisenteu,” said Baekhyun aka Malepisenteu, as he would like to be called (no one knows what it means). “It is an English name…or something.”

Kyungsoo, who was tied on a wooden chair inside Baekhyun’s palace, narrowed his eyes at the King’s former lover. “Why,” he said half-asking and half-judging (very hard).

“It’s…it’s none of your business,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes and went away, leaving Kyungsoo in the dark.

After a few seconds, the three male fairies showed up, transforming from 3-inch creatures into adult-sized humans who were apparently taller than Kyungsoo.

“Oh thank thee Confucius and Buddha,” Kyungsoo said. “Now please, would you help me at an instant?”

With the use of their wands, the three freed Kyungsoo from the chair, and unlocked the door. Suho, the one who wore red and pink all over, granted Kyungsoo a sword and a shield for the expected obstacles he had to face to save Crown Prince Jongin.

“This is the Sword of Truth,” Suho said.

“Lame,” whispered Sehun, the fairy who wore blue.

“It’s not lame, Sehun. I think it’s the most wondrous name!” Lay said, clapping with his hands hidden inside his green sleeves.  

“Can’t we just call it…sword?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Aye, whatev’r,” Suho said, sighing.  

As the son of Joseon’s best former general officer and the younger brother of the current general, Kyungsoo was trained in swordsmanship, archery, and martial arts. The obstacles that Baekhyun had planned and prepared were a piece of kimchi (mostly because of the help those three fairies and their wands had provided).            

Kyungsoo had won over Baekhyun’s goblins that looked like the love-children of a boar and a bat. He had hastily ridden his white horse, and because of the horse’s agility (and the magic of the fairies), they were able to pass the spiky gate and the wooden bridge split in half.

A forest of trees with thorny branches emerged in front of the Gyeongbokgung Palace, the main royal palace of Joseon. The tasseled ends of Kyungsoo’s belt were caught on one of the thorns, but he managed to get through the dancing trees. But once he had finally passed the forest, a gigantic black dragon with yellow tongue roared and snarled its way towards Kyungsoo. It spewed fire of lemon lime color.

But Kyungsoo defeated the dragon anyways, piercing the sword on the dragon’s chest with the help of the fairies (as always). He had expected the dragon to transform into Baekhyun, but it was just a real dragon after all. He shrugged.

After passing the commoners, the royal guards, the ladies-in-waiting, the princesses, the King and the Queen, who were all sleeping soundly despite their uncomfortable positions, Kyungsoo rushed towards the Crown Prince’s room with the three fairies.

Right now, Kyungsoo is kneeling beside the prince, admiring his beauty even when he’s sleeping. Crown Prince Jongin is lying straight on a futon on the floor, still wearing his black headgear and his blue silk robe with golden emblems of four-toed dragons on the shoulders and on the chest. His hands grasp a red rose.

Kyungsoo releases a heavy breath, trying to slow down the erratic beating of his heart. Then he slowly leans in, planting a kiss on the Crown Prince’s full lips.

The prince’s eyes flutters open, his gaze landing on Kyungsoo’s lips, then on Kyungsoo’s eyes. And then he whines.

“UGH! Hyung!” Jongin whines and whines like a child, grimacing at Kyungsoo as if he wasn’t saved. “That was a good sleep! I wanted to sleep even more!”

Kyungsoo huffs and stands up, crossing his arms on his chest. “Ya! I just saved you from that Malepisenteu’s curse with my true love’s kiss!”

“Oh, you mean, Baekhyun hyung? That gent’s just bored, just messing up again.” Jongin shrugs, closing his eyes to sleep.

“Would you look at the time?!” Suho says (“Where? How?” Lay asks). “I’m afraid we need to go, bye!” Suho drags the other two fairies, Sehun’s guffaw echoing around the palace.

Kyungsoo huffs one more time, groaning, and then turning away. Before he could take a step, he feels Jongin’s hand on his wrist.

“Lie down with me,” says Jongin, voice as mellow as marshmallows.

Kyungsoo stays on his place, eyes wide. “If you’re planning to say ‘that’s an order’ well I still won’t—”

Jongin pulls him to his torso, tightening his hug so Kyungsoo can’t move away.

“Ya, Crown Prince Jongin,” Kyungsoo mutters, his face buried on the prince’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

The prince doesn’t answer. He remains silent, his breathing slows down.

And then there’s a snore.

Kyungsoo sighs, but he hugs Jongin back anyway (and falls asleep).  

A/N: Sleeping Beauty set in the Joseon era haha. Click here & here to see Kyungsoo’s attire, and click here for Jongin’s. ♥

[aloebride]

HAPPY KIM JONGIN RECIPE by Kim Jongin

Ingredients:

1 bucket of fried chicken (everyday or every other day)

3 cups of poodles (preferably named Monggu, Janggu, and Jjangah)

100 tablespoons of “dreamlike” songs

1 cup of Ne-Yo’s “Part of the List”

12 pieces of Michael Jackson albums

1 box each of Keigo Higashino and Bernard Werber books

1 whole day at a dance studio

10+ hours of sleep, NOT minced

365 days spent with family and friends

1 guy named Do Kyungsoo (give him to Kim Jongin untouched and unharmed pls. And oh, dress him up in a penguin onesie. Thnx.)  

[aloebride]

“Let’s end this, hyung,” Jongin said.

Kyungsoo answered him with muffled sobs.

“This is getting ridiculous and tiring. I don’t want this anymore.”

Kyungsoo let out a faint “no,” and then shook his head several times.

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Jongin ignored him, stood up, and allowed Kyungsoo to watch his retreating back.

“Jongin, please,” Kyungsoo said, still shaking his head. “Don’t!”

The room became silent.

“UGH!” Kyungsoo stomped his way towards Jongin. He punched, and slapped, and hit Jongin on any accessible part of his body, but Jongin just kept on laughing at him.

“You’ve watched that episode so many times, hyung!” he said as he shield himself from Kyungsoo’s attacks. “And besides, Prince of Tennis has nothing dramatic for you to cry about.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and kicked Jongin on his shins. Jongin continued to laugh, but it was a soft laughter this time.

“Hyung,” he said, laying his hands on Kyungsoo’s face, and gently stroking the remaining tears with his thumb. “You’ll get headaches again if you cry and cry,” he chuckled. “C’mon hyung, let’s just lie on the bed and sleep.”

Kyungsoo continued to glare at him.

“What? You want to spend more time with that fictional Ryoma guy more than me?”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but followed Jongin to the bed anyway.

[aloebride]

IN OSAKA, JAPAN

“Foreigner?” someone asked in standard Japanese with Kanto accent, most probably from Tokyo.  

“Yes,” Kyungsoo said as he studied the man sitting beside him. They were in front of a small okonomiyaki stand in an early-autumn evening, away from the crowd of natives and tourists during the rush hour.

“Your accent doesn’t sound like a Kansai one. So I figured, Korean?”

“Wow, that’s…that’s correct.”

“I’m Kai.”

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure if Kai was his surname, or if it was this man’s nickname.

“Gyonsu,” Kyungsoo said his first name anyway, like the way most Japanese people would pronounce it: rounded “o,” nasal “n,” and compressed “u” with a glottal stop.

“What’s the real pronunciation?”

Kyungsoo blinked a few times in amusement. “Kyung-soo,” he said. Blended “k” and “g,” un-rounded and uncompressed “u” (like the awe in awesome, or the u in gut) and rounded “oo.”  

“Kyungsoo,” Kai said flawlessly. Kyungsoo would have mistaken him as a Korean.

IN KYOTO, JAPAN

They met again at the Kyoto Botanical Garden a week later under the cherry trees. Kyungsoo was the first one to approach this time. “I think I have seen you before,” he said with an obvious accent.

Kai released a soft chuckle. “Yes, we met in Osaka.”

“No, Kai-san,” said Kyungsoo as he shook his head. “I think I have seen you even before that.”

“You might have seen me when you looked up, or when you flipped a page.”

Kyungsoo peered at Kai, bushy eyebrows knitted in confusion. Kai just smiled.

IN KOBE, JAPAN

They crossed paths once again at a hot spring resort in Kobe another week later. They were the only ones inside the men-only bath.

“Kai-san, why do I have a feeling that you’re following me?” Kyungsoo asked, half joking but slightly paranoid, as he watched Kai enter the cloudy water and put the towel on his head.

“I’m not,” Kai said, grinning. “I’m actually amused by these coincidences. Or maybe this is some kind of fate or destiny?”

Kyungsoo didn’t say anything, suddenly feeling tensed from the heat forming in his naked body. He liked to convince himself that it was just the hot spring.

“Your Japanese is good, Kyungsoo-san. But I’m pretty sure you’re not a Zainichi Korean who was born and raised here.”

“My mother was the Zainichi Korean. I wanted to experience the places she loved the most.”

Kai nodded slowly. Kyungsoo tried to ignore the pleasant appearance of Kai’s broad shoulders above the water.  

“By the way, I figured out where I’ve seen you,” Kyungsoo said after clearing his throat awkwardly. “Billboards and ads. You’re the most famous male model here in Japan.”

Kai smiled. “What do you think of them? My photos, I mean.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “So-so.”    

Kai pouted.

BACK IN OSAKA, JAPAN

They saw each other again three days later at the Kansai International Airport.

“Oh, Kai-san. Are you sure you’re not following me?” Kyungsoo said, wide-eyed the moment Kai sat beside him on the waiting area.  

“I’m sure I’m not following you,” Kai flashed a small smile. “But I’m sure this is destiny. Don’t you agree?”

Kyungsoo drew himself back, sending judging glares at the beaming Kai. “Where are you headed?” Kyungsoo asked anyway.

“Home.”

“Uhm, Tokyo? Shouldn’t you be on the other building for domestic departures?”

“I’m not from Tokyo,” Kai shook his head. “I mean, I live there permanently. But I don’t consider it as my home.”

Kyungsoo furrowed his eyebrows. “Where is your home, then?”

“Seoul,” Kai said with a grin, and then he continued in perfect standard Korean, “My real name is Kim Jongin, and I’m a fan of your music, D.O-ssi.”

When Kyungsoo’s eyes widened even more and he moved away, Jongin let out a hearty laugh as he shook his head. “No I’m not stalking you, seriously,” he said. “I think we are really meant to see each other again and again.”

Kyungsoo blinked a few times, until his expression softened as he gazed at Jongin’s genuine façade. They stared at each other for awhile, and then Kyungsoo smiled. “Let’s go home together, Jongin-ssi.”        

*Kansai – a region in Japan where the cities of Osaka, Kyoto, and Kobe are located. They have a distinct dialect and accent comparing to the standard Japanese used in Kanto region (where Tokyo is located). *Okonomiyaki – pancake mainly associated w/ the Kansai region. *Zainichi Korean – ethnic Koreans who are born and raised, or who are permanent (long-term) residents of Japan. *Kai – it is also a surname in Japan, and sometimes a nickname.  

I was inspired by Kai’s resemblance to Mizuhara Kiko who is a Korean-American active in Japan :>

[aloebride]

From: Kim Jongin <[email protected]> To: Do Kyungsoo <[email protected]>

Subject: Request

Dear Mr. Do:

I would like to thank you for your unending kindness and support. Especially that one time when everyone in the office left early for lunch, so we ate together for the first time and you paid for my food (it was only my second week on the job, you were so kind and cute and thoughtful). And also that one time when we saw each other on the train by chance. I fell asleep on your shoulders, but you weren’t disturbed or disgusted at all (even though my head was probably heavy, and I had drools all over your shirt). And also for always appreciating my designs. By the way, thanks for writing that dog cafes article! :3 

Now here’s my request. I’ll go straight to the point: Will you go on a date with me? You know, hyung (can I call you hyung?), I like you. So much. I was nervous ‘cause I didn’t know if you’re into guys but Baekhyun hyung assured me that you are. He also said that you like me too!! So, will you go out with me? Here’s my digits by the way: 010-4553-354

With love,

Kim Jongin Graphic Designer, Creative Team Cloud 9 Magazine | EXO Publications

From: Kim Jongin <[email protected]> To: Do Kyungsoo <[email protected]>

RE: Request

Dear Mr. Do:

I sincerely apologize for the previous e-mail. I wasn’t the one who sent that message. However, I am certain that it was the doing of Oh Sehun from the Creative Team, and Mr. Byun Baekhyun from the Sales & Marketing Team. I saw them using my computer seconds ago. Please disregard the message. I hope we will continue our professional relationship. Again, I apologize.

Respectfully,

Kim Jongin Graphic Designer, Creative Team Cloud 9 Magazine | EXO Publications

From: Oh Sehun <[email protected]> To: Do Kyungsoo <[email protected]> Cc: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: …

Dear Mr. Do:

No. Nini boy is lying, Mr. Do.

PS. professional relationship my ass

Respectfully,

Oh Sehun Layout Artist, Creative Team Cloud 9 Magazine | EXO Publications

From: Byun Baekhyun <[email protected]> To: Do Kyungsoo <[email protected]> Cc: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: ;>

Dear Dororo,

Sehun & I got nothing to do with it, ok? Jongin is lying. Well, only about that, though. He is really interested in you. Like more than interested. He likes you like you like him, promise. Come to my desk for the details!!!

Love,

Byun Baekhyun (your bff since your fetus days, whom you should believe and trust the most) Marketing Associate, Sales & Marketing Team Cloud 9 Magazine | EXO Publications

From: Do Kyungsoo <[email protected]> To: Kim Jongin <[email protected]> Cc: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: Regarding the Request

Dear Jongin,

I like you too. Yes, I’ll go out with you (and yes, you can call me hyung). Contact me at: 010-3875-367

Thanks Sehun and Baekhyun.

Sincerely yours,

Do Kyungsoo Features Editor, Editorial Team Cloud 9 Magazine | EXO Publications

From: Byun Baekhyun <[email protected]> To: Do Kyungsoo <[email protected]> Cc: [email protected]

Subject: Ew

Kyungsoo-ya,

Stop acting so formal on your e-mail like you weren’t doing a manly squeal in front of your computer just now. 

Love,

Byun Baekhyun  Marketing Associate, Sales & Marketing Team Cloud 9 Magazine | EXO Publications

[aloebride]

“Not a red rose or a satin heart,” Jongin said (with a matching accent) at 3 in the morning. It was Carol Ann Duffy’s “Valentine” poem. “I give you an onion.”

Kyungsoo, still situated on the bed, picked up an onion from Jongin’s right palm. Jongin was hiding something on the other.

“It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love.”

“You’re not supposed to take it literally,” Kyungsoo said with a yawn. Jongin raised a finger to prevent Kyungsoo from saying another word. The latter grimaced.

“Here,” Jongin gave a different onion with his left hand. “It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling phot—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll cook.”

“Wait, really?” Jongin’s stomach growled in anticipation.

“Of course,” Kyungsoo said. He stood up, fixed his bed hair, and walked past Jongin. “It’s like I haven’t cooked for you early in the morning before.”

Jongin followed Kyungsoo to the kitchen, skipping and grinning like a child who was excited to start his best day ever. “I am trying to be truthful, though,” Jongin continued the poem as Kyungsoo pulled the marinated diced chicken from the refrigerator.

“Not a cute card or a kissogram,” Jongin strolled closer to Kyungsoo.

“We’re out of rice cakes. You can eat dak galbi without it, right?” Kyungsoo said as he prepared the ingredients: diced chicken, chili pepper paste, cabbage, sweet potatoes, scallions and onions from Jongin. He settled the cutting board, and then took the knife.  

“I give you an onion,” Jongin continued. He grabbed Kyungsoo’s arms, and carefully turned him over to face him. “Its fierce kiss,” Jongin smacked their lips together, and then chuckled at Kyungsoo’s surprised expression. “…will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful as we are,” he held unto Kyungsoo’s waist, and whispered, “For as long as we are.”

Jongin stepped back from Kyungsoo who stood frozen by the kitchen counter. Jongin pulled a red leathered box from the pocket of his sweatpants, and he knelt down.

“Take it,” Jongin opened the box, revealing a silver ring. “Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring, if you like. Lethal. Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife.” Jongin wiggled his eyes at the knife on Kyungsoo’s hand.

“Idiot, same-sex marriage is still not legal in South Korea,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, turned around, and placed the onion on the cutting board. “And where did you get that? From Sehun’s store?”

Jongin laughed as he rose from his position. “Yeah, it looks real, right?”

Kyungsoo just hummed as he began slicing the onion.

The apartment fell silent again for a while.

Jongin dropped the box to his pocket, slipped his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist, and rested his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “I, Kim Jongin, take you Do Kyungsoo, to be my partner, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”

“How did you memorize that?” Kyungsoo paused, brushing the back of his hand on his irritated eyes. Tears started to leak. “And it’s not even Valentine’s, it’s not our anniversary. What’s up with you?”

Jongin nuzzled against Kyungsoo’s neck. “I don’t know,” he said. His stomach rumbled.

Kyungsoo shook his head. “It’s hunger, I guess,” he muttered to himself.

“I love you, hyung. I just love you so much.”

Kyungsoo swept his eyes as tears began to drop again. But this time, he wasn’t sure if it was the onion to blame. “I love you too, Jongin. So much.”

[aloebride]

Kim Jongin had never anticipated an ending—an ending of a novel, a television drama, a film, a play.

An enthusiast would most likely get immersed on a story for the ending because it was, after all, as important as the beginning. If they experienced (or had been experiencing) the climax, their eyes would ignite and leap for the awaited finale. But if Jongin’s eyes would indeed ignite and leap during or after the peak of the story, it wasn’t for the ending.

“I just don’t like endings,” he would say.

What he wouldn’t say was he had been drowning.

A lukewarm air would lift him, and it would let his arms and hands search for something to hold, and his legs and feet search for something to step on. At first he would think that he was floating upwards, but he would realize that he was actually falling slowly when invisible hands would grasp his lungs and heart. Then suddenly, the air around him would run away from him, but he would continue to look for it. He would give up when the noise would get devoured by a harsh pressure, and all he could hear were bubbles dropping on space (it was just his heartbeat). Then he would close his eyes and let himself enter another world.

On the whole, if Jongin had encountered (or had been encountering) the height of a story, his eyes would ignite and leap, and then he would drown—not for the ending, but for the moment itself. If the story had managed to give that effect on him, he wouldn’t want that moment to end. Heck, he would never even reach the end on purpose. That’s why he’d say, “I just don’t like endings,” with a shrug. He wanted to feel it again and again. There would be no rooms for a conclusion or a finale.  He would keep coming back.

And if you would ask Jongin about the best story that made him feel like that, he would say: “Do Kyungsoo,” with a smile (and eyes that would ignite and leap).