FICTION

[fictionfixation]

You Didn't Forget That I Love You

It's hard to believe. implied!Suho/Lay (Joonmyun/Yixing), 1602w, G.

Note: Because I'm a whore for this story like that. Dedicated to imperfectlyclassic, my Suho and North Star, and ayyypril who has always supported us all along. What can I say? He's a fucking unicorn.

Enjoy~

He pushes himself off of the bed slowly, his muscles unfamiliar with movement. How long has he been asleep? At least, he thinks he's been asleep. He runs a hand over his stomach carefully, just skimming over the skin, but there isn't any wound. There's a long, deep scar across the skin, it's the scar of the wound, but the wound has already closed up and the scar doesn't even look new anymore. That was strange too. Maybe he was in heaven after all. He doesn't know what to expect of it, but he knows this doesn't really feel much different from Earth, from being alive.

He manages to sit up in the bed and he uses the pillows he was sleeping on to prop himself up. His body still feels a little weak and he's not used to moving around. He surveys the room with a slow, sweeping glance across the room. It is scarcely furnished. Besides the bed he's sitting on and a bedside table, there's no other furniture in the room. He notices a cup of water on the bedside table with a little surprise. He thinks his amazement at the cup might be because he hasn't seen water like that in a long time. He counts the time and he thinks he might have been at the hospital for at least 5 years.

For 5 years, he hasn't seen water in a cup or in a bottle where he can reach it so easily. He remembers that he was by the lake before he had blacked out too. He recalls the cool feeling of the lake as he had dipped his hand into it, the memories flooding back – the memories – but even then he hadn't seen the water for himself.

He reaches out for the cup hesitantly, as if expecting one of the oddly clad nurses to pop out and punch him in the face again, but even as he wraps his hand around the cup and lifts it up, nothing happens. He moves gingerly back into his sitting position; the ache in his stomach hasn't gone away. He doesn't take a sip out of the cup right away. He spends some time staring at the liquid in the cup, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he's actually holding onto a cup of water that he could touch, if he wanted to. The cup in one hand and his other hand free, he dips a finger into the cup and he marvels at how it feels.

He remembers. Even before he dipped his finger into the cup, he remembered. All of the memories are in his mind now. He can place the voice. He can pull up every little memory to match the voice, when the voice is happy, when the voice is sad, when the voice is angry, he remembers everything. He feels his heart ache even though he remembers. It's an ache he hadn't had in all his 5 years at the hospital, but he remembers how he ached all those years alone before that. He remembers how he would sit in an old, dirty apartment every day, just an apartment that he had rented after leaving the Institute.

There had been no way to stay for long at the Institute, not after what had happened then. He had left for somewhere else with lesser memories. In fact, he had even gone back to his home country for a while. Despite living in Korea all his life, he had been born in China. He was still Chinese after all. He had gone back, tried adjusting to the different culture and life there. He had spent a few years of his life in China trying to silence his mind, trying to silence the memories. It hadn't worked out well. Living in China had been harder than he had expected. He hadn't been used to the authentic cuisine or the people. He hadn't been able to adapt to the differences between China and Korea. The roads were all different, the environments were starkly contrasting and while he was Chinese, he didn't fit in at all.

He'd returned back to Korea after trying his best to live in China. The Korean in his accent had never gone away and his mannerisms were too much like a Korean person's. He didn't even respond to his own name well. Although he started introducing himself by his real name in China, he could never stop cringing whenever anyone addressed him.

That was how he had ended up in that old, dirty apartment. He had returned to Korea, nowhere to go, nowhere to be. He just knew he couldn't go back to the Institute or the island, but after that he was lost. So he rented any apartment he could afford. He worked enough to pay his rent, but it was cheap because he lived in the cheapest part of the city, the cheapest apartment block in the cheapest unit they had. He didn't need a fancy place that was safe or secure. His security was in-

His breath catches in his throat as he remembers this particular memory.

-the unicorn lighter.

One thing he still doesn't remember is how he ended up in the hospital with all his memories suppressed. His memories stop on an average day coming back from his job at a convenience store, just resuming the vigil that he constantly kept, his eyes burning from lack of sleep but being unable to fall asleep at the same time. He remembers running his hand over his right pocket as usual on the last night he can remember of his life before ending up in the hospital. The unicorn lighter had been in his pocket then but he doesn't remember having it at the hospital.

He wonders where it might be now and his heart aches at the thought. The ache that he's always had since that day, just one of the days before he had left the Institute, the day that he'll never forget, the ache that he's carried with him for so long. The ache he thinks he had all the time even at the hospital; he just didn't remember then that he had had such an ache.

It aches as he looks down at the cup of water in his hand too, but he hears the sound of footsteps approaching the room from outside of the door and his mind snaps back to the present. Where was he?

The door clicks open, just a crack, and it pauses there for a moment. The door doesn't swing open any further than that and he sits dumbly in confusion, not sure if he should be afraid or if he should feel safe. He doesn't understand for that long moment, he doesn't get it at all and he's about to open his mouth to ask when something startles him. The water from the cup he's holding onto slowly rises up and out of the cup, hovering in front of him in mid-air. He drops the empty cup onto his abdomen, not even caring when it hurts, the cup rolling off of him. His hands clamp over his mouth, killing the gasp that almost comes out of his mouth.

It must be some sort of sick joke from heaven because it can't be. It just can't be real. He doesn't believe it, he refuses to believe it, it's been so long, it's been so much and he doesn't know if he dares to trust his own eyes. He doesn't know if he wants to trust his own eyes. Tears well up in his eyes as the water begins to move, not just hovering there, it moves to form shapes- no, not shapes, they form words.

Zhang Yixing. You remembered.

The tears fall by themselves. He doesn't even realise he's cried until there's a thumb brushing the tears away gently and he doesn't even dare to look. He doesn't dare. A warm hand takes one of his, familiar fingers interlacing with his and he lets out a sob he has been holding back, his eyes squeezed shut.

It must be a trick. It must be an illusion of his mind because it just can't be true. He had died; everyone left the hospital dea- his mind picks up on this detail and his eyes fly open. Tears blur his vision but even so, he would recognise the person sitting on the bed next to him, face right before him, anywhere. The years don't make a difference. Right now, nothing makes a difference.

He cries. He cries so badly as those arms embrace him. He cries as he buries his face against that strong chest. He cries as he wraps his own arms around that neck. He cries as he breathes in that scent.

"I didn't forget."

Below the sentence that he had read, there's a small heart-shaped bubble with a unicorn lighter encased safely within. A name signs off next to it.

Kim Joonmyun, Clan Leader of the Uiseong Kim Clan.

He didn't forget.

[fictionfixation]

I Remember That You Love Me

I just thought I'd let you know, I finally remember. implied!Suho/Lay (Joonmyun/Yixing), 1906w, PG-13 (for certain violent descriptions, imagery and mild gore).

Note: It's been a long while since I updated this place. I'm glad to be back and I hope that you guys don't mind a fandom switch. I know a lot of you are X-5 fans who came here from the sex-5 rec, but I kind of moved on from writing for the X-5 fandom. If you don't want to read stuff from another fandom, feel free to unfollow me, I really do understand and I don't mind. For those who are sticking with me no matter what the fandom is, thank you, I really appreciate that you like my writing enough to follow me through my obsessions.

I know there hasn't been any real Suho/Lay interaction of any sort, but I came up with this pairing from a roleplay I was recently on. The story there snowballed really hard and there are lots of stories for this pairing in a script form and there are other unposted smut pieces that I wrote as well. After I clean everything up, I might put it up here. In the mean time, this piece is something I wrote for this pairing. It probably won't make a lot of sense or impact to any of you readers yet, because there's a lot of hidden meanings that you need to know for the story to make sense. Some of the things I can tell you without spoiling other things is, Lay is a fire manipulator and Suho is a water manipulator. They were from a xmen!verse roleplay, I'm sure if you're familiar with roleplaying on Tumblr, you might know which RP I'm from. I won't point it out here though. You can feel free to search for it yourself.

This is set after Suho and Lay have broken up actually. Lay has been taken in by the government to a mutant testing facility and most of his memories have been wiped out. Water is a trigger for him to remember, but it isn't a supernatural kind of thing. If I'm not mistaken, regaining your memory in such a drastic manner from such a minor trigger is possible, but I have exaggerated a little within the story itself. I would just like to point out that the way he remembers is not a supernatural thing, it is not part of his ability. 

And this note is going to become even longer than the actual story if I don't stop here so I hope you enjoy this even without the full story. On to the actual piece!

He leans against the windowsill of the small hospital room that he's confined in, the tag around his wrist worn from the amount of time he's been here. He looks out of his little cell toward the green park in the near distance. There's a small manmade lake in the middle of the park, little white ducks spotting the deep turquoise of the water. There are other patients out by the body of water and he recognises the bright red beanie of one of the patients in a wheelchair.

That's the young boy from next door who doesn't have legs anymore, but that's okay because he doesn't need them.

He tears his eyes away from the people surrounding the lake and stares at the lake itself instead. Every day, every time, he sits by the windowsill to look out, to look away, he can't take his eyes away from the water. He wonders if it has something to do with his own affliction, because water is the best solution for it, but he thinks it's something else.

The water catches the sunlight beautifully, the light sparkling beautifully as it reflects off the surface. He likes watching the lake like that, he could spend hours just sitting here, if he could, but he can't.

The door to his little cell swings open and he stands up. He's not one to resist. It hurts more when he does anyway, so he just follows them obediently and they don't hit him with their standard issue whips. He thinks of the water and how beautiful it is as he walks down the dark, poorly lit corridor and into the testing room that he knows by heart. He recognises the smell of it, his bare feet have memorised the feeling of the floor beneath them, he hears the permanent buzz of the room when he's not even inside sometimes and he even knows how the room tastes. He's been beaten to the point where his tongue lolls out of his mouth that he can't close and they've rolled him over onto his face in such a state, dragging him across the room, so he knows how the room tastes.

When the doors close and they strap him down on the chair they like to put him in, his mind clings onto the image of the lake and the feeling it stirs in his chest like he's forgetting something so very important.

Today, it's needles tearing through his arms, creating scars over old scars, scars he came in with. He almost can't make them out anymore, with the new scars the hospital has given him, but he remembers how they look; his scars are all over his chest, his arms and his legs. They are a few memories that the hospital can't take away from him. These memories are a little too expensive to remove, so they let him have it. But they're slowly taking these memories away too, bit by bit, little by little.

I know it's something important to me.

He lies numbly in bed for the next few days, unable to move. He's had a lot of different things injected into his bloodstream from that day and now he's on an IV drip that's clearing everything out of him. He needs to pee at least 10 times a day, but even that he can't do himself. They come in whenever he manages to croak something out before he wets his pants. Once or twice he doesn't make it in time and the nurses dressed in their strange white uniforms get angry at him – one of them tries to suffocate him with his own pillow – but they never kill him. He's left sucking painful breaths of air into his battered throat, the IV needle almost torn out of his hand, but he's still alive.

He's glad that he's alive. He's not glad for himself. To be honest, he isn't really glad, but he feels happy to be alive. It's a relief to be alive. There's something at the back of his mind telling him that he can't die yet. He's not meant to die here. He must have made a promise a long time ago, when he could still remember, but he knows he can't die in here. They'll have to let him out eventually. People don't die in here. He knows because he's seen them leave on the brink of death, delivered to somewhere far, far away. If you've got a good track record, he's heard you can choose where to go too.

So he keeps a good track record. He lets them do as they wish and he never fights back. He's not like the rest. He doesn't find joy in making use of his affliction, but he doesn't hate it either. He's got a pretty good control of it either so he doesn't end up accidentally hurting those strange nurses in their strange suits. If he didn't have his affliction, if this were a normal hospital, he thinks they might even like him. Well, even if it isn't a normal hospital, he thinks they might like him a lot more than they do the others. It's not too bad sometimes. Some of them even look at him with pity. It's not too bad.

Sometimes I think I might even remember.

Occasionally he wakes up in the middle of the night. On good days, he can crawl out of bed and sit by the windowsill. He'll watch the moon's light shining down on the lake and he'll try to recall the voice from his dreams. He hears it all the time. Sometimes it sounds happy, sometimes it cries, sometimes it sounds angry but most of the time, it sounds in love. He doesn't know why he thinks it does, but his mind tells him that the voice sounds in love. He doesn't remember what love is anymore, much less how it feels like. The only thing he knows of it is this voice. The hospital must not have wiped his memory properly before bringing him in, but he doesn't hold a grudge against that. He appreciates this once in a blue moon mistake.

With others, they don't remember anything at all. They stare at him blankly and some of them scoff when he tells them about these things, but he doesn't mind. He knows it's okay. They just don't remember. They don't even know that they've forgotten. It's a blessing, his mind tells him, that at least he knows he's forgotten. It's a start and he can try to remember from here.

Sometimes watching the lake brings the voice to the fore of his mind as well. He struggles to make it out and though he never succeeds, he's sure the lake must have something to do with this something he can't remember. He looks at the waters from his room – they never let him out despite his good behaviour, it's probably because they know that he knows he's forgotten – and he feels a sense of contentment cloud over him until they take him away again, back to the testing room, back to another round of tests. It's a nice feeling to go to the testing room with so he usually tries, if it doesn't hurt too much, to watch the waters before he has to go. Sometimes, he can even go in with the voice whispering to him in his mind. That's always nice.

I remembered once, I know I did, but then they found out and made me forget again.

He rolls the empty plastic bottle in his hands. They never give him any water to drink or to touch. They give him damp towels to clean himself with. Once a week, they knock him out and wash his hair, but when he's awake his hair is always dry and there's not a single drop of water. There's a thin rubber cord in his room that they feed him water with, but a nurse does that. When he drinks, they don't let a single drop of water anywhere but right into his mouth, down his throat, and they always make sure he's swallowed all the water before they lock it back in place.

They let him have the empty plastic bottle though. They always watch him when they let him have it, but they let him have it anyway so he doesn't mind the nurse that stares at him with unblinking eyes.

There was once the plastic bottle wasn't completely empty and he came into contact with a single drop of water. All he remembers from that is a great sense of achievement and a punch to his face from the nurse that had been watching him. He knows he remembered from that one time, but after he had gotten knocked out, they wiped it all away again, everything he had remembered.

He remembers though.

I remember.

His head feels light, his blood is gushing out of the deep wound in his stomach. The tests this time went too far and there's no way to save him. The examiner hovering over him tells him that he has a few hours as he coughs up some blood and asks him where he wants to go. He chokes out his answer and they look at him in surprise. He knows they were expecting him to ask for someplace else. He knows they probably expected him to name a place he remembers or something, but he doesn't remember any of that.

He breathes in the fresh air mixed with the metallic scent of his own blood when they lay him by the lake. It's nice to feel the sun directly on his pale skin, the colour leaving him quickly. He moves his hand to dip it in the water and they don't stop him. He's dying anyway, it doesn't matter now if he remembers and so he touches the water.

As fast as his blood must be pumping out of his body from his wound, his mouth and even his nose now, the memories return to him like a huge tidal wave. He manages to laugh at this, choking on blood again, but that's okay. He doesn't mind. It doesn't bother him. That's not what's important now.

He remembers now.

Are you happy where you are now? I hope that you're still okay. I hope you're smiling that smile again, the one I took away. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I remembered, the way you asked me to. Aren't you proud of me, wherever you are?

He asks one of the nurses to come close and he wheezes out for a favour. Just one little message to someone important, please? He'll take everything else with him in death, he promises. He waits as they look at each other hesitantly before they call over someone else who does have power. The cold eyes that bear into his, watching him die, soften and give in. One message. One person. That's all he's allowed. He smiles, grimaces a bit, but he smiles. Just the one message to the one person and he'll be on his way to death. They know he can't come back anyway, he laughs at this again, it's a joke to him, but they only stare back gravely. That's okay; he didn't expect them to laugh anyway.

"Joonmyun-ah, I remember."

I remember.

[fictionfixation]

Seeing No Thing

I am nothing without her and she is nothing without me. A soliloquy, 1540w, G.

Note: I thought of this while having dinner with my own family. Based off of reality, but not completely realistic. I wanted to try my hand at something like this, because it's been a while since I've written in first person. I was also reading a bit of Tablo's "Pieces of You", so there's a bit of inspiration from there in terms of writing style too, but I can say confidently that I did not rip off of him at all in terms of content. The content here is purely my own, but just a little difference in the execution style.

An original piece, no fandom, you can read this if you like my writing, but if you're only interested in fanfic, this is not a piece for you. This is more like my own personal record of this. The title is also accurate, it is meant to be written that way. Another one of my silly "it must be written this way" titles, although there isn't a logical reasoning for it. The story will explain the title, so I don't have to explain it here in my notes.

Oh and, by the way, to that very kind anon, I hope that you won't just stop when you feel like you've come to my level. I'm very flattered that you see me as a standard to achieve, but you must also excel in your own way and create your own personal standard. If there's a day when you write something you love, please do show it to me, I would really like to see it.

tl;dr: Enjoy~

We sit in the corner of a little diner carved into the walls of a nameless street. The lights are dim, but enough so that she can squint at the menu disinterestedly. The other customers are a fairly quiet bunch; all of them immersed in their own private conversations. The sounds of happy Japanese pop music drifts from the hidden speakers unobtrusively, a soft buzz in the background to set a light mood.

She sits close to the conveyor belt that circles around the small restaurant, every dish of sushi passing every table slowly. She stares at the plates going by, but I wonder if she is seeing something else. An endless, repetitive cycle of the same things, again and again. The others at the table decide on their orders and wave over a waitress, I nudge her and she breaks her stare, as if suddenly aware of where she is. But she doesn't notice me; she must have started out of it on her own. She takes another cursory look at the menu and shakes her head, a little twisted smile on her face. It trembles and I notice, even under the dim lights, because I'm watching her. Her lips tremble as her face stretches awkwardly into that weak imitation of a smile. She doesn't remember how to smile anymore.

She turns back to the conveyor belt and plucks a dish off, flipping off the plastic lid and picking up a pair of chopsticks. She picks up one of the two identical pieces of sushi, putting it into her mouth gingerly. Her jaw hurts, because she chews slowly, not as if she's tasting the food, but as though she's trying to hold back the flavour of pain. She pushes the plate, with the other piece of sushi, away from her and places her chopsticks back down on the white serving plate, shaped like a leaf, carefully detailed with leaf veins.

She stares at the conveyor belt again, her face blank, but her eyes are full of anguish. She's not watching the plates cycling by anymore, her eyes aren't focused at all. For all I know, she might just be trying to disappear. Her usually heavyset figure seems diminished today; her shoulders look like they're trying to cave in on her. Her body is folded, discreetly, and she takes up as little space as possible.

I look deeper into her eyes, trying to bring the glassy eyes back into focus, so that I can at least try to figure something out. I study her eyes for a few minutes while the rest of the table chatters on quietly. The atmosphere of the table is palpably tensed. The laughter sounds artificial and forced, but she doesn't hear any of it at all. It's as if she's lost in another world, not of her own creation. She's lost in a world that she was forced into. I think that, by now, she's so used to getting lost in that world that anywhere else feels foreign and unfamiliar. She's been living in our world longer than she has that other world and yet she is still so deeply rooted in that unreality.

The others call out to her and she blinks, a bit of light finally returning to her eyes; she is disconnecting from her unreality and slowly reconnecting back to our world, just for a short while. The tension eases for a little bit at that, we can all see that she's responding again.

I remain silent, but the others try their hand at cajoling her to eat more. She seems disturbed at this, but her face stretches again and she's plucking another dish off of the conveyer belt. She bites down on another one of two identical pieces of sushi before pushing the plate away again. There is no flavour in the food; she's eating to appease the rest. She's just waiting to connect back to her unreality. It isn't a place she can leave as and when she wants to. Something always pulls her back; something always extinguishes the light from her eyes. I watch as the light slowly dims and goes off entirely and her eyes slip back into glassy not-focus.

The tension at the table shifts to resignation. They don't watch the light go out, they've seen this far too many times, because it's just too difficult to stomach. Even if she won't eat, they will have to. They try, I know they do, because I see them as they do, but there's only so much they can do when they can't get her to reconnect to the right reality.

Occasionally, her head tilts to a side, as if she is expressing curiosity at something, but her face is far too expressionless to tell. Her face muscles have tightened over time and this blank, clear mask is just the easiest expression to make. Anything else requires too much effort of her. Effort she doesn't have the strength to make anymore. I don't display any emotion either, but I couldn't even if I tried. I'd never made a facial expression before. For her, the only expression she can execute with ease is one of discomfort, but her discomfort isn't her only emotion. It is just too tiring to do anymore.

Her face expresses discomfort now, light flickering unsteadily in her eyes, as if she's flitting back and forth between her two realities. It disorientates her because she can't tell where she is, one leg in and out of each reality and no ability to step fully into either one. I can't guess what is forcing her into this limbo between two realities, but I want to reach out and help her onto either side. It doesn't matter which reality anymore, the discomfort on her face is just too harsh. The mad flickering of the light in her eyes is making me shift in my seat too. I feel like I should just reach out and yank her into a proper place, but I stay still.

One of the others notices and he places a gentle hand on her arm, just a light touch, but the light in her eyes slowly steadies itself, slowing down into a mild glimmer. I let out a soft sigh of relief that makes her glance up, right at me, but she looks right through me. She can't see me at all. He asks if she wants some of the fish they ordered and she nods like clockwork. He places a few pieces of the fish onto her leaf-shaped plate and she whispers a soft thanks, as loud as she can force her voice to go, and he smiles. I hate the sympathy in his smile. She doesn't need sympathy. She needs help.

When she finishes the meagre amounts of fish that was placed on her plate, the light burns out and she gazes at some point of some wall in some part of the diner. I feel her vision extending toward me but then passing right through me. She doesn't see me, not even in the slightest.

Dinner ends quickly, because no one wants to stay in this place anymore. It feels stuffy, as though they're trapped. In any other place, they could pretend she was actually connected to the same reality that they were, but in this diner with its dim lights and cushy seats, they can't ignore her absence. They can't ignore her absence in their presence. They rise and shimmy out of the booth, striding away quickly, but the motion is not lost on her. Her unreality disconnects her, ejects her, and she's standing up, tottering her way out of the booth. I follow after her, I can't do anything without her, and she walks out of the diner, pausing along the entrance.

I reach out to her thoughtlessly and I regret it the moment the tips of my fingers brush against her skin. It is a ghost of a touch – I snort at the figure of speech – but in that split second of connection between the both of us, she is electrified. She sees me, in that split second of connection, and I curse myself mentally. Her eyes are flickering hysterically again and I can almost hear her internal screaming in my own head.

She looks terrified, not because she has seen me, but also because she has seen me. I look back into the diner, moving out of my spot, wishing that someone would just come out and shake her out of this limbo and resolve my mistake.

She doesn't take her eyes away from the spot I was at, one of her hands moving, moving to touch the exact spot where my face should have been as we touched, she's reaching out back to me.

But she can't grab me, so her hand slacks back to her side, the light fading out of her eyes again.

When they emerge from the diner, the others, they take her by the arm and guide her along, back to their home, her house – her jail.

And I simply follow, because I can't do anything without her.

I am nothing without her and she is nothing without me.

[fictionfixation]

Just A Boy

Minwoo is just a boy. Donghyun/Minwoo, 498w, G.

Note: I'm aware that a lot of Best Friends are calling Donghyun a "pedo/pedophile" because he's very close to Minwoo, even in real life. I'd just like to correct you guys by saying that pedophilia has two criteria. First of all, the person targeted by the pedophile must be a child (child: defined as someone below the legal age of majority). So, yes, Minwoo is a child, Donghyun is not a child. That fulfils one criteria. Second criteria, which is crucial in differentiating between pedophiles and just a normal relationship between a person of legal age and a person not of legal age: the pedophile is sexually attracted to children.

Therefore, any form of Donghyun/Minwoo fanfiction portrays Donghyun as a pedophile (at least for the next 2 years), so if you're sensitive to pedophilia, please leave the page now. Otherwise, please don't misuse the word pedophile and call Donghyun one when you don't even have evidence that he is a pedophile. It's a harmful word that can hurt someone, so please don't say such things about Donghyun. And I'm saying this as a Best Friend on the whole and also someone who is biased to Donghyun.

In this particular piece, I tried to portray a realistic internal battle for Donghyun who, as a character in this story, identifies as a heterosexual male but has fallen for his fellow band mate, a very male Minwoo. Whether or not you want to believe that Donghyun loves Minwoo or if he's just making use of Minwoo is up to you, but the point of my story is about the conflict Donghyun has with himself since his attraction to Minwoo is not considered "normal" or even mildly "acceptable" within majority of the Korean society. Korean fangirls do ship band members together, but I don't think they want the band members to actually be gay together.

tl;dr: Hope you enjoy this~!

Donghyun wraps his arms around the slender waist, pulling the warm, petite – just an inch or two too tall – body into his arms.

"Hyung, what are you doing?" the voice is high pitched, but it's unmistakeably male. Donghyun doesn't mind; there are certain things he can overlook. There are certain things that he has to overlook.

A flat chest presses against his when he spins his little lover around in his arms to face him. Instead of soft curves, there are firm muscles. No cascading hair spilling down his lover's back; just short brown hair that barely brushes past eyes. Donghyun runs a hand through the smooth locks and ignores the feeling in his chest when he can't go beyond the nape of his lover's neck.

"Hyung," the voice calls out gently, wistfully, but Donghyun just smiles as he buries his face into the crook of his lover's neck. Instead of sweet perfume, the smell of cologne lingers and the underlying scent is undeniably masculine.

Donghyun wonders if he'll ever be able to accept this; the fact that he's not with a woman, but another man – not even a man, just a boy.

He'll tell himself, he'll repeat it in his head –

It's only because he's the closest thing to a female. It's only because it's convenient. It's only because I don't want to go through the hassle of a scandal. It's easier to keep it between us. No one will ever think this is anything more than a hyung doting on his dongsaeng, teasing him, making fun of him.

"You looked cute in that dress, Minwoo," Donghyun grins at his little lover as he pulls away, his arms loosely encircling Minwoo's waist. Slender, but not slender enough.

"I'm not a girl, hyung," Minwoo says, with almost-resignation. It's a careless remark, Minwoo probably doesn't even realise the effect of his words, but it still affects Donghyun.

Every time he pulls Minwoo in for a hug, every time he presses his lips against Minwoo's soft lips, every time they take a shower together, Donghyun gets a jarring reminder.

Donghyun wonders when it'll stop bothering him; the fact that he's not with a woman but a boy. He's dated countless women, they flock to him like insects to a light, but with Minwoo, this is his first time.

Donghyun wonders when the muscled arms will stop surprising him, when the voice that comes out of those soft lips will stop startling him, when the power in the tiny body will stop throwing him off.

He wonders when he'll see Minwoo for who he really is, instead of just another woman, because Minwoo isn't another woman.

Most of all, Donghyun wonders when Minwoo will be able to smile, smile with a real smile. Not this painful half-smile that speaks volumes to Donghyun. Not the smile that Minwoo is giving him now.

Donghyun wonders when he'll see Minwoo as a man and not be afraid of that.

[fictionfixation]

Not One But Three

Minhyun just wants to have more time to spend with his fathers. Hyunseong/Jungmin, 3547w, G (lots of fluffy).

Note: Towards the last bit, I got sleepy, so I might have made some minor errors in the writing. Do point it out if you think I wrote something wrongly. I was inspired to write this because of Boyfriend's W Academy Episode 6 and I saw someone in the Boyfriend tag asking for Hyunseong m!preg fic, but I don't know if I managed to write something satisfactory. I think I might have ended up writing more Jungmin m!preg than Hyunseong with their baby, since the story is written mainly in Jungmin's point of view. Minhyun's name is a namesquish of Hyunseong and Jungmin, for anyone who is curious.

I stole the title off Boyfriend's track "Not One But Two" from their single album "I'll Be There", so no credits there for me.

First Boyfriend fic in a while and one that's written with better knowledge of how the members are actually like, so I hope you enjoy this.

"Daddy, when is Papa coming home?" Jungmin feels a persistent tug on the back of his jeans and he turns around to look at his son. He smiles at the sight of the tiny little boy, barely 4 years old, staring up at him with an impatient impression. Jungmin bends down and hoists the little boy up to rest on his hip, arms wrapped securely around the child.

"Papa is coming back soon," Jungmin says as he makes a quick check of the time with his wristwatch, "but why are you in such a rush to find Papa, Minhyun?" Jungmin carries Minhyun out of the study room, where he was searching for a CD, and heads toward Minhyun's nursery in the next room. Minhyun fidgets around, hands flailing around everywhere, squealing in a way that meant he was trying to find the words to describe his dilemma to Jungmin.

"I want to play with Papa," Minhyun finally says after Jungmin plops the both of them down onto one of the cushy beanbags in the nursery, careful to make sure that he didn't crush his son's leg. As soon as they're on the beanbag, Minhyun wriggles out of Jungmin's arms and clambers to sit on Jungmin's stomach instead. He rests his elbows on Jungmin's chest and stares seriously into his daddy's eyes.

"Why doesn't Papa stay at home all day like you, Daddy?" Minhyun asks, small creases on his forehead forming an equally small frown on his face. Jungmin smiles because it isn't the first time Minhyun has enquired about his papa having to go to work every day. By Jungmin's count, Minhyun asks at least twice during the workweek – weekdays, because Hyunseong doesn't work weekends – and there was even one week where Minhyun had asked for every single day of the week.

"Papa goes to work, remember?" Jungmin reminds his son, because it's not like Minhyun doesn't remember, he's a smart boy even at his age, he was just extremely stubborn about this particular issue.

"But why does Papa have to work every day? I don't like Papa's work, I want to play with Papa!" Minhyun whines, pounding his little clenched fists lightly against Jungmin's chest. It doesn't hurt, but Jungmin stops Minhyun with a firm grip anyway.

"Didn't Papa say that you shouldn't hurt people, Minhyun? Hitting people hurts people, so you can't hit people, Minhyun," the 4-year-old looks suitably ashamed and murmurs a soft apology to his daddy, averting his eyes. Jungmin holds back the smile that threatens to spread across his face, but hugs Minhyun instead, stroking his son's hair.

"Papa has to work every day because that's what adults do because they have to earn money. Everything we own needs to be bought with money, so Papa has to work so that you can eat, have clothes to wear, have a house to stay in and toys to play with," Jungmin delivers his usual speech about why Hyunseong had to work but he knows the question that will follow up his answer, so it surprises him when Minhyun doesn't ask Jungmin why he doesn't work.

"Daddy, if I give up all my toys and the clothes I don't wear, will Papa not work so much?" Minhyun asks hopefully, looking at Jungmin with those huge round eyes of an innocent child. Jungmin freezes, taken aback by the sudden question, but then feels his heart swell with affection for his young son.

"I don't know, Minhyun, we'll have to ask Papa about that. What will you do if Papa works less?" Minhyun pauses to think about the question, tilting his head cutely, before he decides on an answer. It was one thing about Minhyun that Jungmin loved a lot. The 4-year-old always thought carefully when asked a new question, treating every question seriously. It was something Minhyun had learned from Hyunseong.

"If Papa works-" Minhyun wrinkles his nose in concentration "-less, I want to go to the beach again with Papa and Daddy." Jungmin smiles with pride, even though there's no one to share his pride with at the moment, because Minhyun is quick to catch the subtle corrections to his Korean that Jungmin and Hyunseong always drop. Perhaps it was just that Minhyun liked to and imitated his fathers well, but nevertheless he was very adept at picking up Korean from his parents.

"What do you want to do at the beach with Papa and Daddy?" Jungmin continues along this thread of conversation, distracting Minhyun from his original intentions. Hyunseong would be coming home any time already, so Jungmin just needs to pull Minhyun's attention away from the subject of Hyunseong's work for a little while more. Jungmin knows from experience, from countless of similar conversations before, that if he doesn't switch the topic away from one about Hyunseong's work, Minhyun has a tendency to harp on it relentlessly and would most likely end up screaming and sobbing his little head off until Hyunseong finally gets home from work. Today is already a very good day, considering how Minhyun was asking so close to the time Hyunseong returned home from work, but sometimes Minhyun asks from mid-morning and can stick on the same issue till Hyunseong comes home in the evening.

Minhyun hooks onto the new conversation, thankfully, and starts to describe a trip to the beach with Hyunseong and Jungmin. The little boy rattles off a long list of activities, only stopping when sounds of the apartment door opening and closing drifts into the nursery. Minhyun stops immediately when he catches onto the sound and wriggles off excitedly, sliding off the beanbag and launching straight towards the main door of the apartment. Jungmin follows after Minhyun, half because he wants to keep an eye on the boy in case of any falls or tumbles and half because he wants to see his lover as well.

"Papa!" Minhyun shrieks as he throws himself at Hyunseong, who catches him perfectly after toeing off his shoes. Jungmin folds his arms across his chest and grins at the sight of his lover and their son greeting each other. Hyunseong pecks Minhyun on the head sweetly and spins them around once, eliciting gleeful giggles from the child.

"I'm home," Hyunseong greets Jungmin, carrying Minhyun along as he gives Jungmin a chaste kiss on the lips and a hug. Minhyun giggles even harder as Hyunseong does this, wedged between his parents.

"Welcome home," Jungmin replies quietly as Minhyun starts recounting his day to Hyunseong without being prompted. Jungmin watches as the fatherly smile on Hyunseong's face grows even wider. The gentle look in Hyunseong's eyes enraptured Jungmin; that look was one of the reasons why Jungmin had decided to have a child with Hyunseong.

"Want to tell me more about that while we take a shower, Minhyun?" Hyunseong inserts the question into the conversation smoothly and Minhyun nods as he continues detailing his pirate adventure, which Jungmin had supervised, to his papa. Jungmin goes into the kitchen after Hyunseong carries Minhyun off to the bedroom to retrieve the clothes and towels for the shower. Jungmin takes the food he had prepared for dinner, while Minhyun had taken his afternoon nap, and starts the actual cooking of dinner.

Jungmin finishes with his cooking and setting of the table before the shower ends, so he pops into the bathroom to check on the father and son after removing his apron. He finds Hyunseong sitting, or maybe squatting, on the stool in the shower stall while Minhyun scrubs his back with a loofah.

"Dinner is ready," Jungmin interrupts Minhyun in the process of "scrubbing the coral reef clean", not even holding back his laughter at the silly grin on Hyunseong's face as he pretends to be a coral reef for their son.

"Time to rinse up the coral reef, Minhyun!" Jungmin isn't able to control his laughter, so he leaves the bathroom to organise the nursery a little. There are blankets, soft toys and books strewn all across the room and Jungmin cleans up most of the mess first. Hyunseong and Jungmin normally get Minhyun to clean up after himself, but usually the mess is too much for Minhyun to clean on his own so Jungmin cleans up a bit first and makes sure to leave a bit of the mess for Minhyun to clean himself.

"Daddy! Can we eat dinner?" Minhyun barrels into Jungmin's legs as he yells happily, Hyunseong trailing into the nursery after him.

"Okay, come on, let's eat," Jungmin says as Minhyun grabs one of his hands and one of Hyunseong's, dragging the both of them to the kitchen. They all sit down at the dinner table and Hyunseong helps Minhyun onto his booster seat, because he is still too small to be sitting on the normal chair by himself.

"What do you say before meals?" Hyunseong prompts Minhyun and the 4-year-old replies obediently.

"Thank you for the food!"

Minhyun leads most of the conversation for dinner as Hyunseong and Jungmin take turns to feed him intermittently. Minhyun is old enough to eat by himself, but he often loses himself in the midst of relating his adventures in the nursery so Hyunseong and Jungmin still have to feed him during certain meal times when Minhyun is especially enthusiastic with his stories.

"Minhyun, why don't you tell Papa what you told Daddy just now?" Jungmin slips into the conversation and storytelling while he forks a piece of broccoli into his mouth. Hyunseong shoots him a curious look, but Jungmin simply shakes his head with a grin and waits for Minhyun to fill in the rest.

"Oh! Papa! If I give up all my toys and all my extra clothes, will you work less?" Hyunseong reacts the way Jungmin expected he would. Hyunseong halts mid-movement for a split second at Minhyun's question before he breaks out into a beautiful smile, reaching out to mess Minhyun's hair fondly.

"You can keep your toys and your clothes, but maybe if you're a good boy, Minhyun, then I'll try to work a little less sometimes," Hyunseong promises and Jungmin observes Minhyun for his reaction. Minhyun looks visibly crestfallen, but he wipes off the expression quickly enough and his jaw sets in determination.

"I'll be a good boy, Papa, so you can work less and we can all go to the beach!" Minhyun says resolutely without questioning Hyunseong. Jungmin has long realised that Minhyun demonstrates his love for both his fathers in very different ways. Minhyun always listens to Hyunseong and idolises the man like a god, but when it comes to asking questions and clarifying his uncertainties, Minhyun will always come to Jungmin.

"Yes, Papa, I'll make sure to check if Minhyun is a good boy so that we can go to the beach, right?" Jungmin teases Hyunseong as he spoons a mouthful of rice for Minhyun, who chomps down on the spoon after avoiding it a little.

"Yes, we'll definitely go to the beach if Minhyun is a good boy," Hyunseong grins and at that, Minhyun begins to tell his papa about the beach activities that he has already planned.

By the time dinner ends, Minhyun has already moved on from the beach to the things he would do if he were an astronaut in space. Hyunseong stops Minhyun to clean just his mouth, because Minhyun has grown past the age where he would drop food all over himself although he still spills a bit of food onto the table.

"Thank you for the food, Daddy," Hyunseong says and Minhyun parrots after him before asking Hyunseong to play with him in the nursery. Jungmin waves off the two of them off, even though Hyunseong sends him apologetic looks, as he always does, for leaving Jungmin to deal with the cleanup. Jungmin doesn't really mind because it was something he had decided to do after they had had Minhyun. Hyunseong and Jungmin had sat down for a serious conversation after they had discovered Jungmin was carrying a baby. They had both agreed that Hyunseong would continue working and that Jungmin would stop working to take care of Minhyun until he was old enough to take care of himself.

Jungmin had volunteered to quit his job, which he didn't really like anyway, to stay home to take care of Minhyun. It wasn't like Hyunseong had weaselled his way out of taking care of Minhyun, so Jungmin really doesn't mind doing the household chores. Hyunseong helped Jungmin during the first year or so when Minhyun would have to wake up every few hours through the night, despite his job, and continued to do his best to relieve Jungmin of child raising duties even after Minhyun had grown into his toddler stage. Besides, Hyunseong loved Minhyun so much to the point where he spent all his time after work when Minhyun was awake with their son. It effectively freed up time for Jungmin to do the things he had to around the house too, so it wasn't like Jungmin had it that rough.

Jungmin goes about clearing the plates and cutlery, wiping down the table and the washing and drying of all the utensils. By the time he's done cleaning up in the kitchen, it is already close to Minhyun's bedtime. Jungmin takes a shower before he goes to the nursery to help Hyunseong with Minhyun's bedtime routine.

"Daddy, I cleaned everything up by myself! Can you tell me a bedtime story later?" Minhyun asks earnestly, so Jungmin looks to Hyunseong for confirmation. Hyunseong nods his head as Minhyun cuddles on his lap on the beanbag that Jungmin had been sitting on with Minhyun earlier.

"Okay, but now you have to get ready for bed before I can tell you the story," Jungmin instructs and Minhyun scrambles to get off the beanbag again, little hands and legs flailing everywhere as usual. Hyunseong manages to push himself off the beanbag, all while holding onto the mess of limbs that was Minhyun. He swings Minhyun upward lightly once he's on his feet, causing the little boy to erupt into another fit of exhilarated giggles.

"Time to brush your teeth!" Hyunseong announces.

"To the cleaning station!" Minhyun chimes in with his impression of an official tone of voice and Hyunseong sweeps off toward the bathroom, Jungmin following after with an amused grin.

All three of them brush their teeth together, Minhyun trying to speak to his fathers through the toothpaste and brushing, but failing in a spectacularly adorable manner. Hyunseong lifts Minhyun up to the height of the sink to rinse and gargle his mouth, but Minhyun still somehow manages to misaim and accidentally spit out his toothpaste onto the bathroom counter instead of into the sink. They laugh as Minhyun whines about how he had been doing a count of how many days he had been able to spit properly into the sink and his count being disrupted.

"Minhyun is so heavy because he's a big boy now," Hyunseong pretends to complain when Jungmin guides Minhyun as the 4-year-old cleans the mess of toothpaste and spit off the counter because he is the one lifting Minhyun up. Minhyun evokes another round of laughter when he asks if being heavy and a big boy is a good or bad thing.

After the bathroom accident, Hyunseong carries Minhyun, at his insistence, as they all go to his bedroom.

"Papa, Daddy, can we lie on the bed together?" Minhyun asks as Hyunseong tucks him into bed under a navy blue duvet with rocket prints all over, so the two of them end up curled around Minhyun in a tangle of legs and hands to tell Minhyun his bedtime story. Jungmin doesn't use storybooks when he tells Minhyun bedtime stories anymore, because he's already read through all of the possible fairytales at least thrice through and Jungmin has developed a knack for coming up with bedtime stories on the spot.

On this night, Jungmin tells a story about a knight that defeats many monsters so that he can save his best friend, whom he has always loved but could never confess to. He exchanges glances with Hyunseong as he tells the story, who smiles knowingly back at Jungmin, their hands intertwined and resting lightly on top of Minhyun's legs.

When the story finishes, Minhyun is already dozing off with a faint smile still on his cherubic face, almost a carbon copy of Hyunseong as a child. The both of them wait for a few minutes in silence, just watching Minhyun sleeping. Jungmin thinks that they're thinking of the same thing; how Minhyun is a miracle that they never expected and how wonderful their lives with each other have become because of the little boy they had raised together. They wait until Minhyun is soundly asleep before they slowly and gingerly untangle themselves and slide off the bed. Hyunseong bends over and kisses Minhyun on the forehead lovingly before he takes Jungmin's hand and brings them to their own bedroom.

"You've worked hard today," Jungmin says as he pulls Hyunseong into a hug once they enter their bedroom. Hyunseong encircles Jungmin's waist with his arms and presses their foreheads together so that he can look straight into Jungmin's eyes.

"You've worked hard too," Hyunseong replies as he lifts Jungmin effortlessly and sets him down on their bed. Jungmin blushes, he always does, because Hyunseong is looking at him with those eyes. The ones filled with absolute sincerity and love for Jungmin, the ones that are so genuine and pure-hearted that they make Jungmin feel overwhelmed by Hyunseong's tenderness.

"Are you really going to work less?" Jungmin wonders as he pulls Hyunseong onto the bed with him, so that they both lie on the bed closely, but comfortably. Hyunseong gives Jungmin another apologetic smile, but Jungmin returns it with what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

"It's okay if you can't, since it's not something you can control," Jungmin reassures Hyunseong, because it really isn't something he should be beating himself up for. And Jungmin hasn't been with Hyunseong for almost 10 years for nothing, so he knows that Hyunseong will beat himself up inside for not being able to do everything he wants to do. Sometimes, Jungmin wonders if it really was for the best that Hyunseong ended up as the one going to work.

"I just wish I could spend more time with Minhyun," Hyunseong sighs, "and you." Jungmin chuckles, because this is something that is funny only when Hyunseong does it. The way he slyly sort of includes Jungmin into something so that Jungmin doesn't get offended – Jungmin isn't as sensitive as a girl though, so these things don't actually bother him but he does tease Hyunseong about them occasionally – but the way he manages to seem completely innocent while doing it. It makes Jungmin laugh because he still can't tell if Hyunseong is being sly or if he really is just that innocent, even after almost a decade of being together.

"If you were the one at home all day, Minhyun would forget that he even has a father like me, since he loves you so much," Jungmin pretends to be jealous and upset, but Hyunseong flashes a sheepish grin and Jungmin chuckles again.

"Maybe you can try to apply for leave on a Friday, then we can make a trip down to the beach," Jungmin suggests as Hyunseong nuzzles closer, like a very endearing puppy. The mental imagery of Hyunseong as a puppy doesn't surprise Jungmin that much, because it isn't a far cry from how Hyunseong already is. It's almost like Hyunseong, just with fur.

"Hmm, I'll check at work tomorrow then," Hyunseong mumbles, bringing his hands up to cup Jungmin's cheeks. He kisses Jungmin languidly; a very normal and average kiss by any standard, but Jungmin is engulfed by all the emotions that Hyunseong places into the kiss. It feels the same as it has always felt, since their beginning, but there are subtle differences. Apprehension now replaced by unassuming confidence and something just so inexplicably steady that it feels virtually unshakeable. It's a kind of security that comforts Jungmin so much whenever he's with Hyunseong, the kind of security no one else could provide him with before he had met Hyunseong.

When they pull apart, Jungmin has to catch his breath from the intensity of the kiss; not of the physical kind.

"I love you, Lee Jungmin," Hyunseong says unabashedly, different from his usual shy and withdrawn self, a side that Jungmin thinks he's the only who has seen. It's not that Hyunseong is hiding a part of himself from other people, this side is just a side that, Jungmin likes to think, only Jungmin can bring out. Then again, Hyunseong is also the only one who can make Jungmin feel like he's falling in love for the first time, every day, all the time.

"I love you too, Shim Hyunseong," Jungmin smiles breathlessly and brings himself close to kiss Hyunseong again. There will never be someone like Hyunseong for Jungmin ever again and the only one Jungmin could raise Minhyun with is him.

The person I had hoped for, the person I had dreamt of – it's you, only you.

[fictionfixation]

Matter of Understanding

Zin takes a nap while Sulhu makes lunch. He dreams a dream he hasn't dreamt for a while now. Zin (Hyunjin)/Sulhu (Jinwan), 1347w, R (for mature themes like rape).

Note: Part of the Dangerous!au and the Matters!sub-verse, this is set a little in the future, after Sulhu and Zin have that phone call and start seeing each other. The beginning of their friendship-relationship. They are friends, but they are also more than friends, in a way. With them, it's hard to label anything at all. There's no explicit relationship indicators like kissing, hugging, sharing things lovers share, but this is the romantic relationship between Zin and Sulhu in their own unique way. I hope everyone enjoys their special expression of love.

Also, this particular piece has less of a plot than "I Always Knew It", so maybe those who are looking for an exciting plot will want to skip over this one. In fact, when do I ever write exciting plot-filled pieces? 

"Yah, Zin-ah, we're going to hang at the arcade, you coming?" Zin looks up from his textbook and at some of the other students in his class, the typical rebellious teenage boys. It's afternoon remedial classes, so it's no surprise to Zin that they want to skip.

But it does come as a surprise that they've invited him. Zin pushes his glasses up from slipping down his nose because of his sweat. The classroom is swelteringly hot and Zin is doing perfectly fine in classes, so he doesn't see a reason to stay. He nods to the guys, guys he has never really even spoken to before, and he packs his bag to follow them.

"Hyunseok and Haewon hyung aren't home today, they'll probably be back late. Would you like some lunch?" Sulhu asks, his tone as monotonous as it usually is when he isn't quite talking about anything in particular. Zin nods yes to Sulhu, yes, he would like to have lunch, from the couch. Zin keeps his eyes focused on the open space of the living room floor in front of the couch, keeps his eyes carefully away from the television console and what sits on the sleek white structure.

Sulhu doesn't ask if Zin would like anything in particular. He normally doesn't ask beyond the basic questions and when it comes to Sulhu, basic really means just the first fundamental question. He goes his own way after that. Sulhu has told Zin that Haewon reasoned it as the cause of Sulhu's lack of friends, but Zin thinks that he likes Sulhu's method.

Somehow Sulhu always manages to guess what Zin wants to eat or at least what he likes to eat. Among other things that Sulhu knows to do. When it comes to Zin. The older, slightly taller male sometimes wonders if he really is such an open book that Sulhu has him completely figured out.

Zin settles himself more comfortably on the couch and tilts his head back to rest on the couch, closing his eyes. He hasn't been too busy with school. He never has been too busy with school, he remembers. But he's still tired. He always feels tired, lethargic and restless when he doesn't get to see Sulhu. And unlike Zin, no matter how well Sulhu follows along in his classes, he's always busy with schoolwork some time or another. So it limits their time together, Zin is never too busy to meet Sulhu, but Sulhu is usually always too busy to meet Zin.

So they compromise. Zin meets Sulhu during meal times, whenever Sulhu can manage time for a meal. They don't meet during dinner. Hyunseok and Haewon don't disapprove, but they don't want to meet Zin yet, again anyway. Dinner is for meals with Hyunseok and Haewon, so Zin is left with breakfast and lunch, which is a lot more than Hyunseok and Haewon by principal. Zin knows Hyunseok and Haewon get to see Sulhu besides mealtime, since they all live together (or sort of, since Haewon is always in the apartment he might as well be living in it). But it doesn't bother Zin too much.

The fact that Sulhu hasn't rejected him yet is enough to keep Zin satisfied.

Zin struggles to just breathe against the huge, calloused hand clamped over his face. He tries to keep the rest of his body still, because it hurts when he moves, the rough ground scratches against his back, tears his skin, there's a pain shooting up his back, he can feel the warm blood trailing down his thigh, along with other things he'd rather not think about. If he squirms too much, he gets a sharp elbow full to his ribs or a hard smack to some part or other, so he stays still. He just shakes his head around, trying to wriggle his nose free of the vice-like grip on his face. He just wants to breathe, damn it all, before he dies.

Zin just wants to breathe, really.

"Zin."

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, because he doesn't want to think of what happens next, because there's a certain piece of anatomy pressing up against a spot where it shouldn't be, and he tries to ignore the sensation of his body ripping apart again. He holds back the scream; he holds back the scream that struggles just like he does to breathe. Breathe the air around him.

"Zin." The voice sounds strangely familiar, but not right at all, this time. It isn't as perverse as it should be. It doesn't sound as gleeful as it usually does. In fact, it doesn't sound like it feels anything at all. Zin tries to move a little bit, but he's still restrained by a large body pinning him down. Is it someone different this time? Did someone manage to take over while Zin wasn't paying attention? Zin knows he could survive the voice from before, but he doesn't know if he can survive through this one. He can't even tell what it wants.

"Zin."

He jolts awake, eyes flying open, heart racing, breathing heavy, frantic.

"Lunch is ready," Sulhu says. He doesn't reach out to touch Zin. His eyes don't even express concern. But Zin notices that Sulhu pauses and waits for Zin to nod before he turns back to the kitchen. Zin stays seated for a moment, he hasn't had that dream – or maybe it would be more appropriate to call it a nightmare – for a while now. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to erase it from his subconscious, but at least he used to dream of it less.

Zin takes his time to rise from his seat on the couch and walks slowly, tentatively, toward the kitchen.

He takes a deep breath, inhales deeply, feels the air rushing to fill his lungs.

"Smells good," he says as he takes a seat at the table where the cutlery and food is set.

"Thank you," Sulhu says mechanically and Zin smiles. He picks up the spoon and digs into the rice, scooping himself a mouthful.

"Tastes good too," Zin adds after he swallows it. Sulhu inclines his head in acknowledgement and that elicits another amused smile from Zin. Sometimes, he doesn't understand why other people isolate Sulhu that much. In his opinion, Sulhu is just as good as everyone else, if not many times better. Zin shovels another few mouthfuls of rice into his mouth, along with some side dishes.

Sulhu eats systematically. One mouth of rice, one mouth of one side dish, another mouth of rice, another mouth of the next side dish. He eats with a pattern, the way Zin eats without thinking at all. It is just natural, but all the same, anyone else looking would find it unnatural.

He takes a deep breath, inhales deeply, feels the air rushing to fill his lungs.

He can smell the stench of sex and blood thick in the air, just as much as he can feel it through his body, right down to his bones.

"It was good," Zin says, his way of thanks, to Sulhu as he gathers all the dishes and brings it to the sink for the wash up. Sulhu grabs a wet towel to wipe the table down and takes his usual spot next to Zin with another dry cloth when he finishes with the table.

"I'm alright," Zin assures, even though Sulhu doesn't ask, not verbally, nor with his eyes, nor with his actions. Zin assures Sulhu more like he's assuring himself, but he likes to think It matters to Sulhu.

Zin soaps the bowls, plates and cutlery down with quick efficiency. He's used to the routine of washing up by now and he's developed quite a knack for it. He rinses everything off one by one, a little slower than the soaping, and makes sure everything is properly clean before he passes each piece to Sulhu.

Sulhu wipes everything with his usual meticulous precision, something Zin admires because he never seems to achieve it himself.

"Okay."

It's okay.

[fictionfixation]

I Always Knew It

It doesn't come as a surprise, no, not really. broken!Taefung (Donghyun)/Haewon, implied!Ghun (Hyunseok)/Haewon, 1292w, PG-13 (for mature themes like cheating).

Note: If you're not a big fan of this au, not a big fan of this couple, not a big fan of abstract fics that focus more on emotion than plot and characterisation and all those actually important points of fic, then don't bother reading this. This fic was merely a flight of my fancy, I wrote this out because of the new B2ST song "I Knew It" and it fit this couple and I just wanted to write this out because it felt like a good idea and I like it despite it not being actually that good. I hope whoever decides to read this enjoys it anyway, because I liked writing it. I'm morbidly fascinated with writing cheating fics. I've never even cheated or been cheated on, so excuse me if I mis-portray certain things.

Otherwise, please enjoy and now that Tumblr has the fanmail option, I wouldn't object to receiving any.

"Haewon-ah, what are you doing?" Taefung asks affectionately as he wraps his arms around his lover's waist, resting his chin on the slender male's shoulder as he peers to look at Haewon's cell phone screen.

The brightly lit screen flashes black and Haewon is squirming out of his arms.

"Taefung." There's a strangely flat tone to the way Haewon says his name. "I didn't know you were coming back so early," Haewon continues, still with that same tone. If Taefung listens carefully, it almost sounds as though he's disappointed. Haewon has never been and never will be the most affectionate lover; in fact, Haewon shows his love in the most peculiar ways. Haewon chides Taefung like a mother about maintaining his hygiene and grooming, he never initiates physical interaction, but he never rejects them when Taefung does. Haewon is witty, always has a smart comeback ready, insults Taefung more than he compliments the redhead but he always smiles in that charming manner of his whenever Taefung does something to Haewon's pleasure.

Haewon is never obviously affectionate or in love, but Taefung has always been able to tell. Taefung has always been able to tell that Haewon loved him.

Loved.

The tense of the word makes Taefung cringe mentally. He forces a grin onto his face.

"The project meeting ended early, so I decided to come home instead of hanging with the others," he explains, his shoulders stiff. He feels the tension thick in the air, as though Haewon is angry with him, but none of the reasons make sense.

None of the pleasant reasons, anyway.

"Oh, I see. I made plans to go out with my friend though, you should have joined yours," Haewon says, apologetically, but it isn't a real apology. A thought that Haewon isn't actually sorry nudges Taefung vaguely at the back of his mind, but Taefung snarls at the thought of the possibility, crushing it. Taefung is sure he is just thinking too much, a side-affect of doing too much work in a day.

"That's okay, I'm pretty bushed anyway, so I'll just take a break or something. Who are you going out with?" Haewon tilts his head, the brief look in his eyes throws Taefung off, but then Haewon breaks out into that lovely smile of his and it makes Taefung smile back dumbly in response.

"It's just Hyunseok from school."

"Oh, okay, well, have fun with your friend then," Taefung says. He doesn't have an impression of the name Hyunseok. He doesn't remember any of Haewon's friends having that name. He knows most of Haewon's friends, or the ones that matter anyway, but he hasn't heard of Haewon hanging out with any Hyunseok before. Taefung thinks it best not to probe, because Haewon doesn't keep things from him. He never has and Taefung trusts that he never will. There are certain things Taefung doesn't need to know about Haewon anyway, not now, not yet.

Haewon rises from his seat on the couch and grabs his wallet and keys off the coffee table of the small one-room apartment that Taefung's parents had rented for him when he entered university.

"Have a good rest, Taefung," Haewon pulls on his shoes and steps out of the door with just a glance back, a mild curl to his lips.

The door slams shut.

I love you too.

Taefung tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the coffee table, where Haewon's things were. He lies down on his couch, the rough, scratchy material irritates his skin, but he just closes his eyes and allows the noisy whirring of the fan to lull him to sleep.

---

"Yah, Haewon-ah, your phone is ringing," Taefung calls out, his voice loud enough so that Haewon can hear from wherever he is in the apartment. Taefung picks the plain black, unembellished cell phone up from the coffee table and looks at the caller ID.

The string of numbers isn't saved under a particular name, but those numbers make Haewon smirk, just for a moment, after he takes the phone from Taefung. He answers the phone, his body shifting slightly to face another direction, but his face is still clear for Taefung to see.

Taefung knows he should probably go back to the set of notes he had been reading through, because even if they are lovers, Haewon deserves some sort of privacy too.

But he doesn't look back to his notes. He listens.

"No, I don't think that'll be okay. Hmm, maybe another day? Yeah. No, not that. It's just-" Haewon suddenly looks at Taefung, who has to forcefully maintain his gaze instead of turning away from Haewon, "-I'm busy right now." Haewon finishes.

Taefung cannot shake the strong feeling of finality in those words and this time, he turns away, he breaks their gaze first. He looks back down at his notes, on his lap, but none of the words process. He just can't help the ominous feeling in his chest.

Haewon ends the call shortly after that and sits down next to Taefung quietly.

"Haewon-ah," Taefung asks more than he doesn't and the realisation of that bothers him.

"Haewon-ah, you know I love you right?" Taefung wonders when saying this lost its playful demeanour and became so uncertain. Taefung wonders if this has to do with the mysterious Hyunseok or the string of unfamiliar numbers that make Haewon smirk. Taefung wonders why he's so doubtful.

Haewon's features soften; he doesn't look as foreign as he has for the past few weeks now. There is a bit of that familiar love in his expression, but it's mixed with certain emotions that Taefung can't identify. The emotions falter between each other so quickly that Taefung can't tell what it is that Haewon is truly feeling. He can't just pick one and decide what it is.

"I do know," is all Haewon offers and the finality, again, strikes Taefung so hard that he straightens from his seat, reaching out to Haewon. The distance in those words make him anxious and Taefung stretches his hand out to Haewon, to pull him closer, to take a proffered hand, it doesn't matter which, he just wants to touch Haewon now. There is a certain comfort in physical touches, for Taefung, so he tries to entwine their fingers together, but he fumbles.

He fumbles and Haewon is the one to twine their fingers together properly.

Haewon places their intertwined hands on the edge of his knee.

Taefung feels the breath he inhales catch in his throat and his eyes water as he chokes on it.

"I love you," Taefung mutters as he uses their entangled hands to pull the slender frame toward him. His free hand curls around a hip, but the feeling isn't the same. It's the same curve of Haewon that Taefung likes the most, but it isn't either.

"I love you," Taefung repeats, but it isn't for emphasis. It is more like a reminder.

Haewon whispers to Taefung gently, holding him loosely, loosely.

"I love you too."

---

It doesn't surprise Taefung when Haewon carries a box of his personal belongings into the living room of Taefung's apartment, not their apartment, from Taefung's bedroom.

They don't exchange words as Haewon places the box by his shoes and his bag at the doorway, turning to walk back to where Taefung stands beside the kitchen table.

Taefung doesn't mistake the tears that gleam in Haewon's eyes, but there are none in his own.

"I loved you," Haewon speaks truthfully, pulling Taefung into a loose embrace, a loose one.

When he closes the door shut, quietly, always quiet when it matters most, Taefung thinks he smiles, he can't be sure about this one.

I love you too.

[fictionfixation]

Just a note, unfortunately.

To all my new followers who have come from the sex-5 rec post, welcome! And thank you for following me!

I have a set of unfortunate news, however, for all my followers.

I am currently taking my national examinations this year, similar to the SAT in America. British Tumblr users may be familiar with this term, but I'm taking my Ordinary 'O' Level examinations. I was supposed to take them last year but took a leave of absence from school instead as I wanted to focus on recovering from my depression first. 

A lot of things have changed for me this year, therefore I am very busy in school catching up with the schoolwork I am not up to date with, as well as having missed several chapters of certain subjects which were taught to my current class last year.

I doubt I have much time to update much this year, but if I ever get the time to, I definitely will! I have several pieces I hoped to complete before school began, but did not manage to however. I do have them outlined already and they are generally ready to be written, edited and posted. I just need to find the time to write them out.

I hope everyone sticks with me, although if you don't I can understand, but I am always, always grateful to the people who have chosen to follow me. I thank you all for subscribing to have my works posted on your dashboard very much.

I sincerely apologize to all of you following me, but thank you so much for having followed me. I really appreciate it.

[fictionfixation]

Mother, Moving Men, The Man and The Lady

Jinwan moves into a new house. Sulhu!focused, 909w, G.

Note: I just felt like writing a little abut the reason why Sulhu is the way he is in the Dangerous!verse. It's not exactly the freshest idea and background, but I just thought this up on the spot. I like Sulhu's personality more than the reason behind it.

What kind of child am I?

Jinwan stood nervously behind his mother, clutching onto his teddy bear with a death grip in one hand and his other hand clinging onto the hem of his mother's skirt. He didn't understand all the boxes of their belongings in this new house with this new man. He didn't understand why he didn't see his father anymore either.

"Mama," he called out softly, shifting closer to her. She was barking at the uniformed men carting the boxes around imperiously and she didn't seem to notice that Jinwan was completely terrified. He missed his father and he was scared of all the huge boxes, the gruff men and the sheer magnitude of the house he was standing in. He was pretty sure all the people in the world could fit into this one house. His mother snarled at one of the movers and didn't hear Jinwan.

"Mama," he whimpered this time when one of the gruff men came too close, there was a sheen of sweat on the exposed skin of the man's body and he had a deep frown knitting his eyebrows as he concentrated on moving the boxes without incurring the wrath of Jinwan's mother. To Jinwan, who was only 5 years old, the moving man looked like a great monster who could sweep him up and swallow him whole.

"Be quiet, Jinwan," his mother snapped at him sharply, jerking his hand away from her skirt in irritation. Jinwan let out a pained cry, but his mother simply glared at him even more. He shrank away from her look and wanted so badly to go home and find his father, who usually comforted him whenever his mother frightened him, but Jinwan knew that if he asked to go home, his mother would become even angrier than she already was.

Jinwan stood silently behind his mother, as closely as he could without her shoving him away, still holding onto his teddy bear tightly, tears tracking their way down chubby, rosy red cheeks.

Am I a child who is loved?

Jinwan stared at the haughty looking man standing in front of him. His mother had just told him to call the man "Daddy" from now onward. Jinwan didn't want to. Daddy was the kind of name you called your father, Jinwan knew because his friends had told him before, but this man was not his father. Jinwan's father had a kind and warm smile that made Jinwan feel happy too. The man before Jinwan now looked more like the moving men, formidable and fearsome.

"Mama," Jinwan tried to reach out for his mother uneasily, but she slapped his hands away and clamped her hands down on his shoulders, directing him to face the man.

"If the child won't address me, forget it. Just leave him to the maids," the man rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to walk away when Jinwan did not speak up. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but continued away from Jinwan and his mother.

"Mama," Jinwan tried not to cry, but he couldn't control himself before the tears started rolling down his face again. His mother made an exasperated noise and wiped his face roughly, pushing him in the direction of the kitchens.

"Stop crying, Jinwan, you're not a girl," his mother scolded coldly. She called out to one of the maids.

"Take care of him. Just make sure he eats, showers and sleeps. I don't care what else you do with him," Jinwan wanted to run after his mother and beg her to bring him home, but she had already turned away as the man had and strode away briskly.

"Mama," Jinwan whimpered again. He didn't want her to leave, because if she left then there would be nothing familiar left in the house. She had taken his teddy bear away just now before meeting the man too.

He turned to look at the lady his mother had ordered to take care of him. She seemed just as scary as the moving men and the man.

"Rich people shouldn't have children if they're not going to take care of their little brats," the maid sneered and she too, walked away from Jinwan. His little knees grew weak and gave way so that he fell to the ground, crumpling like a broken doll.

Is there a child such as I, so unloved?

Jinwan sat in his room, hugging onto his teddy bear, staring at his wall but not quite looking at anything.

Everyday, at set times, the maid would deliver food to his room. He was given three meals a day. He had breakfast and lunch in his room, but on certain days, he would be brought to a large dining hall for dinner with the man and his mother. He took a shower once every day before dinner.

Jinwan was not allowed to leave the house at all and he didn't like the vast mansion either, so he stayed in his room all the time. None of the maids in the house spoke to him and his mother was always somewhere or another with the man. Jinwan had not said anything beyond "please" and "thank you" for two weeks, counting by the number of breakfasts he had had.

Jinwan missed his father, his own home and the mother who would at least cook for him and help him shower.

"Teddy, I want to go home."

[fictionfixation]

We Loved But It Ended

Donghyun thinks about things in retrospect. broken!Taefung (Donghyun)/Haewon, Ghun (Hyunseok)/Haewon, mentions of female OC, 1676w, PG-13 (for mature themes like cheating).

Note: I don't really like this, but I'm posting this anyway. Excuse any incoherence, it is almost 2am and I am fucking exhausted but I churned this out because it had to be written. Wow, this was really sloppy as fuck.

Donghyun thinks, as he slides into a booth at the café near his apartment block, that in retrospect it may not have been such a bad thing to have lost Haewon. He smiles as one of his friends, a female friend, slides into the same booth across from him.

"This is a really nice café," she says, sincere, as she looks around at the interior of the café with wide eyes. She seems genuinely impressed and amazed by the café, something Haewon never really was whenever he was with Donghyun.

"Yeah, they have really good coffee too. Shall I recommend you something?" she nods eagerly. Donghyun thinks he pauses for just a fraction of a second, unused to the enthusiasm.

He waves over a waiter, who dutifully strides over with an order chit book and pen in hand. Donghyun opens his mouth, about to order two vanilla lattes, one with caramel in it, but he stops himself just before he makes a sound.

"One white chocolate mocha and another caramel macchiato mocha please," he orders. The waiter scribbles the order down.

"Anything else?" the waiter drawls, sounding bored. Donghyun turns to his friend, who shakes her head with a sheepish grin and a hand gesture to her flat stomach. Diet, something Donghyun had forgotten about.

"No, we're okay with just these for now, thank you," the waiter nods and turns on his heel, striding to the counter briskly, contrasting with his lazy tone of voice.

"You think I got fat too?" she asks, suddenly, very clearly and obviously upset. Donghyun blinks in surprise, confused. He had mentioned nothing about her getting fat or otherwise. He hadn't even said a single thing.

"No, why would you think that?" he wonders if this is a difference between males and females or if it's just the difference between Haewon and his friend.

"No, I just-" she blushes, just as abruptly as she had asked her question, and turns quiet. She looks away from Donghyun, down to her hands now folded on her lap. The silence between them is strange, not quite tense, not quite comfortable, but just... strange. Donghyun fidgets uncertainly; he doesn't remember the right words to break such odd silences. He looks out for the waiter and their orders, turning his attention to that instead of how his friend looks like she's about to cry.

Their waiter is the one to break the silence, carrying over their orders in a serving tray. He plops the tray down on the table brusquely, almost spilling the contents of the caramel macchiato. The waiter names each drink as he places them on the table, swearing under his breath because of the hot cups.

"Enjoy," the waiter drawls, striding away quickly before Donghyun or his friend can interject. His friend stares back and forth between both drinks, not quite moving. Donghyun realizes that she doesn't know which drink is for her, so he pushes the mocha over to her and drags the macchiato to himself.

"I thought you might like that," he adds, awkwardly. He takes a nervous sip of the macchiato and it burns his tongue before he can taste anything. A part of his mind is swearing, because now he won't even be able to taste the drink properly. The other part of his mind just wishes things would smooth out somehow again between his friend and he. Donghyun isn't used to dealing with sensitivity.

Donghyun isn't used to having to deal with anything. Haewon has always been easy to deal with. Haewon has always listed his nitpicks clearly and has always clearly defined what annoyed him and what didn't. Haewon always did things in ways that got him what he wanted, precisely. Donghyun isn't used to having to guide someone else now, when everything had been plainly laid out for him till just days ago.

"Thank you," she mumbles as she picks up the cup of coffee and takes a tentative sip. Donghyun doesn't even understand how she can swing from wide-eyed wonder to reserved not-quite-yet-silence, almost standoffish.

They don’t converse anymore. Donghyun doesn't know what he can say and she doesn't seem like she wants him to say anything either. They finish their coffee separately, Donghyun just staring out of the window, watching the people passing. He carefully blocks her out so that he doesn't notice what she does, but he is still somewhat paying attention to her.

A few long minutes later, she inhales deeply, setting the coffee mug down.

"I think I'm going to go," she starts, but just as Donghyun averts his eyes from the streets outside to her, he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

Slender, fair skinned, well dressed walking next to broad, tanned, muscular. It makes Donghyun do a double take and distracts him to the point where his mind blanks out what his friend says next. He stares, he can't help but stare, because hands are subtly intertwined beneath a knitted sweater and behind a strong-looking back.

He takes in the sight of broad, tanned, muscular more than slender, fair skinned and well dressed. The features are sharp, handsome, chiselled and the body is well sculpted. Donghyun feels a pang of inferiority. He doesn't think he can even match up to half the masculine physical features of this other male.

"Donghyun?" he snaps his eyes to his friend. She looks angry now, her face red in splotches, frown knitting the space between her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, what?" it's a lie. He's not sorry, he doesn't actually quite give a damn, he doesn't even want to know what she said, but he doesn't fancy a tight slap across the face, so he chooses the easiest alternative. She repeats herself, something or another, but Donghyun isn't listening. He's thinking of the brilliant smile that he'd seen on Haewon's face. He's thinking of the charismatic grin that the broad, tanned, muscular male had given in return.

"Oh, okay, see you again sometime then," Donghyun says absentmindedly as his friend stops speaking, her face less red, and frown less prominent. She looks more annoyed than angry now, but now she just nods and stalks off unhappily. Donghyun remains glued to his seat in the café, hands still wrapped around the mug of his now-cold caramel macchiato. Haewon and his new lover are no longer in sight, but Donghyun can't shake himself out of his stupor.

It's cliché, he knows, he hates it so of course he knows, but he can't help it. It's disgustingly like a scene from a drama, seeing an ex-lover after being dumped while on a potential date with a new person. It irks Donghyun, he wants to shake these revolting feelings away, but Donghyun is frozen. He's frozen in his place, unable to force aside his emotions.

Donghyun hasn't cried. He hasn't allowed himself to feel upset. Haewon was cheating on him with another man. Haewon wasn't worth his tears or his sadness. Haewon was a hurtful, lying, cheating, deceitful scumbag. Haewon is a hurtful, lying, cheating, deceitful scumbag.

He doesn't cry now. He doesn't want to cry. More than crying, Donghyun feels painfully empty, as though a part of himself has been violently ripped from him. He's angry, he's upset, he's hurt, he's furious, he's close to just punching something from all the things he's feeling, but Donghyun just grips onto his mug tightly.

Donghyun doesn't really understand his feelings, as much as he feels them. There are no reasons behind each of his feelings, not any he can think of. He doesn't even know what are the names of some of things he's feeling, but beyond it all, he doesn't understand why he's only feeling these things now. Is it because he's finally seen Haewon and his new boy toy so that he can have some sort of proof of their separation?

He lets go of the cup and fishes out the right amount of money for the two drinks to leave out on the table. He doesn't wait for the wait staff to approach him before he rises from his seat, all the smile wiped out of him, and exits the café.

He was foolish to come to this café, especially since Haewon and his new boy toy could possibly come round, which they sort of had. It was dumb because the café was filled with more memories than Donghyun had thought there were.

Donghyun walks straight back to his apartment block and takes the lift up to his own flat, polite to his neighbours, but he doesn't linger to chat.

Maybe, maybe he had hoped. Maybe Donghyun had hoped that their break-up had been some sort of twisted, warped, extremely realistic dream. Maybe Donghyun had hoped that after waking up, Haewon would walk back through the door with his charming and flirtatious smile. Maybe Donghyun had hoped that even if Haewon continued to go out for "coffee with a friend", he would still stay.

It was such a hope that repulses Donghyun the most, he thinks, as he drops his keys on the coffee table and sinks down into his couch.

He knows he shouldn't want Haewon back, but he does.

He knows he shouldn't still be in love with Haewon, but he is.

He knows he shouldn't regret losing this relationship, but he regrets.

He knows that he should have treasured what he had, when he had it, but he hadn't.

He knows he probably should have done more to keep what was precious to him with him, but he'd been so certain he wouldn't lose it until he had lost it.

And that, Donghyun thinks, throwing his head back against the soft cushion of his couch, is what hurts more than seeing another man, any other man, next to Haewon. The thought that Donghyun had not done his utmost to keep Haewon with him is the one that digs deepest.

In retrospect, it wasn't losing Haewon that hurt the most; it was losing someone he had treasured as his own.

[fictionfixation]

Dance Tonight

We wanna fall in love. Ghun (Hyunseok)/Haewon, 1061w, R (for implications of sexual activity).

Note: I will say this now and I will say this only once. I am absolute crap at smut. I cannot write hot and steamy scenes. This was just a flight of fancy and I'm only posting it up because I have someone who wants to read this. I guess I'll just sit and laugh when you come and criticise my smut writing skills, because this isn't really considered as smut anyway. I'm only rating it R because, well, I don't want to sully virgin minds.

Haewon leans against the headboard of the bed tiredly, the muscles in his entire body aching and screaming in pain. A sharp pain shoots up his back if he moves, so he stays still. He pulls the messy and dirty bed sheets over his lower body gingerly; his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to block out the pain.

"Are you okay?" Hyunseok asks, sitting at the little makeshift table that came with his room service order. To anyone else looking, Hyunseok might be slightly insensitive, eating while Haewon is in so much pain, but the younger male doesn't mind. It is part of their routine and Haewon will eat whatever Hyunseok leaves behind from his order once the pain in his back subsides.

"You were a little rougher than usual," Haewon answers honestly, smiling a little wearily. Hyunseok smiles back sheepishly, like a little boy caught with his hand down the cookie jar. Haewon can't find the heart to get angry with Hyunseok, even though he feels as though he can barely walk anymore, because of that sheepish smile. Haewon wonders if Hyunseok is purposely smiling like that, because he knows that Haewon will always melt at the sight of it, or if Hyunseok honestly doesn't realise the kind of effect he has on Haewon.

"Want some pasta?" Hyunseok asks, lifting the heavy hotel fine dining plate with one hand easily. Haewon pauses, momentarily distracted by the flexing muscles in Hyunseok's arms, before nodding. Hyunseok grins widely, Haewon's heart skips a beat at that, and he crawls onto the bed with the plate of pasta. He plops himself down comfortably in front of Haewon and folds his legs, crossed, under his thighs. He twirls some pasta onto his fork and feeds Haewon the mouthful of it.

"It's good, isn't it?" Hyunseok's eyes twinkle with happiness as he takes a mouthful of the mushroom pasta himself. Haewon nods, still chewing on the pasta in his mouth, tasting the slick oily flavour of the noodles. He doesn't quite share the same taste as Hyunseok, who prefers savoury, flavourful dishes, but he likes letting Hyunseok choose what to eat precisely because of that twinkle in his eyes. Haewon thinks there isn't any dish as delightful as the sight of Hyunseok enjoying his food.

Haewon tries his best to relax his body and to minimize movement so that he won't aggravate the pain in his muscles, but it doesn't help much. He's sure he's still grimacing in a very unattractive way, but he hears the ruffling of Hyunseok shifting around on the bed and then the soft thud of him setting the pasta back down on the makeshift table. There is more rustling, the sound of Hyunseok moving back across the large bed fit for three, and then there are gentle hands massaging Haewon in all the right places with all the right moves.

Haewon lets out a little moan when Hyunseok kneads at just the precise spot that is hurting Haewon the most to which Hyunseok chuckles, low in his throat, and presses a light kiss on the skin. Haewon inhales sharply at the lip to skin contact and Hyunseok pulls away, teasingly so.

"You're horrible," Haewon frowns as he opens his eyes and looks at Hyunseok disapprovingly, but the other male merely shoots another charming smile at Haewon.

"Please allow me to do better," Haewon raises a questioning eyebrow, but Hyunseok is already moving to straddle the taller male, careful not to rest any weight on Haewon. The fairer male can feel Hyunseok's powerful legs resting on both sides of his own and he's about to speak when-

Oh. Haewon thinks all the bones in his body just melted, because Hyunseok is flicking a tongue right under the patch of skin beneath Haewon's left earlobe and Haewon thinks there is no other place on his body that is more of an erogenous zone than this one. Haewon reflexively wraps his arms around Hyunseok's neck to pull the other male closer, but fingers wrap firmly, though lightly, around his wrists and pull his hands away.

"What-" Haewon begins to ask again, but his attempts are futile when Hyunseok starts to suck on the patch of skin, alternating between that and enthusiastic licking that has Haewon losing all the remaining strength of his body – including the strength to form coherent words.

"Feel better?" Hyunseok breathes heavily into Haewon's ear and the slighter male doesn't think he'll last very long like this, even though he can feel Hyunseok, dripping and heavy, right over him.

"You're not going to though," Haewon barely manages to keep the stutter out of his voice and he wants to clutch onto Hyunseok, wants to dig nails deep into the muscular back, but Hyunseok is still holding his wrists down. Haewon knows he could probably pull away, if he wanted to, but he doesn't.

"Doesn't matter," Hyunseok nips at Haewon's earlobe this time and elicits the most ridiculous sounding mewl Haewon thinks he's ever made, but he doesn't even give a fuck. He's still so sore and sensitive from their previous coupling and Hyunseok is about to give him a fucking orgasm from just teasing his erogenous zone. Hyunseok grinds down onto Haewon fleetingly, just enough friction to drive Haewon crazy, but not enough to actually push him over the edge.

"You're a fucking dick," Haewon growls, rolling his hips up to give them more contact, but Hyunseok just laughs – the bastard actually laughs – and gathers Haewon's wrists in one hand. He uses his free hand to press Haewon's hips down, it doesn't stop Haewon entirely, but he successfully prevents Haewon from getting what he wants.

"I have a fucking dick," Hyunseok corrects Haewon and dragging his hips down again, excruciatingly slow.

"You have a fucking dick and you are a- fuck!" Haewon curses when Hyunseok suddenly speeds up, one swift grind down. It surprises Haewon so much that it pushes him completely off the edge, white lights flashing behind his closed eyelids.

After the wave of pleasure washes over Haewon, he opens his eyes and looks up at Hyunseok, who is grinning that absolutely annoyingly gorgeous smile.

"Feel better?" Hyunseok teases and Haewon pushes him off.

"Fucking dick." Hyunseok laughs as he plops back down at the makeshift table to finish his pasta.

Complete certified, absolute dick.

[fictionfixation]

8 Seconds Left

Haewon needs to run, run, run. sort-of-broken!Ghun (Hyunseok)/Haewon, Taefung (Donghyun)/Haewon, 425w, PG (implications of illicit activities of the sexual nature, beware children).

Note: the title and drabble was inspired by "Over My Head (Cable Car)" by The Fray, which I heard in a restaurant. The title has nothing to do with the drabble though, so I do apologise for mistitling, but it was the most appropriate title I could think of. 

They lace hands, lying together on the bed, facing each other. Hyunseok traces Haewon's features with his eyes, lapping in the sight of every single inch of flawless pale porcelain. Haewon smiles at his lover, watches the tanner, shorter male. Haewon lifts one of his legs and nudges at one of Hyunseok's, the other man lifting his leg automatically to allow Haewon to tangle their legs as well. Hyunseok shifts himself closer to Haewon, pulling their intertwined hands to his face. Hyunseok presses a soft kiss to the back of Haewon's hand and breathes in the smell of his skin.

They stay in silence, just like that, twisted all around each other, close, for a few minutes.

Haewon moves to nuzzle the nest of thick black hair crowning Hyunseok's head. It smells smoky, the faint scent of barbequed meat lingering from their dinner before, and then the heady scent that belonged to Hyunseok and no one else. They remain silent, almost reluctant to speak, almost reluctant to break the comfortable absence of speech.

Haewon pulls apart first.

"I'm sorry," he whispers without looking, without seeing and he turns away, but it's too late. He already feels the subtle difference in the air of the room. The ethereal calmness of before is shattered by almost tangible despair. Haewon gathers his belongings, not once turning back, shrugging off every slight brush of skin against skin. He's gathering his belongings and he doesn't have to shower or dress himself again this time, but he feels as guilty as he always does.

He is guilty.

"See you tomorrow," Haewon keeps the tremble out of his voice as he pushes his way out of the room, rough, purposefully curt, because if he doesn't hurt someone else, he'll hurt himself and he's selfish, he doesn't want it to hurt. He doesn't care if it hurts everyone else but himself. He really doesn't care. He doesn't want to care.

"See you," and Haewon repeats to himself, I don't give a fuck, at the sound of so much raw hope that he can never satisfy.

Turn and run, stay apathetic, don't lose yourself to him, don't. Because you can't. There is nothing you can give anyway.

Haewon's cell phone trills sharply as he leaves the hotel room, so he digs it out of his coat pocket.

"Hello? Oh, Donghyun? I'm on my way home, I was just out for some coffee."

You're worth nothing. Because you'll hurt everyone else but yourself. You'll dig deep into someone else to save yourself. Run, run, run.

[fictionfixation]

Matter of Will

If there's a will, there's a way. Most of the time. implied!Zin (Hyunjin)/Sulhu (Jinwan), implied!Ghun (Hyunseok)/Haewon, 1992w, PG.

Note: Carried on from Matter of Interest, I hope you enjoy this.

Study for finals, wait for dinner, have dinner, study for finals, take a shower, study for finals, go to sleep.

Sulhu casts a glance at his cell phone, distracted momentarily from his textbook.

It has been 5 weeks.

He has kept count. Sulhu is a meticulous person in things he wants to be meticulous about. He looks at the date and nods to himself. It has been 5 weeks.

In the past 5 weeks, Hyunseok and Haewon had worked out whatever had gone wrong at the club. Sulhu still sees the split second of hesitation before Hyunseok pulls Haewon into a hug. Sulhu still sees the pause Haewon takes before he responds to any of the other guys in class, especially when Hyunseok is around. Things are still not back in place, probably might never go back into place, not after what happened in the club with Zin, but things are getting better.

In the past 5 weeks, for Sulhu, he has been scanning the immediate vicinity of his dormitory every time he leaves the building. He has been cautious for 5 weeks of the people around him. Every time he travels from one place to another, he takes a glimpse backward every few minutes. Every time he walks into class, he quickly gives the lecture hall a once down, looking for dyed light brown hair. Sulhu can't be sure if he is looking to find or if he has been checking to make sure. Neither Hyunseok nor Haewon have mentioned anything, if either of them have noticed anything off in Sulhu.

Sulhu stares at his cell phone, frowning at it. He has never been like this before. He has never been distracted when he set his mind to work. He has never been distracted before. Sulhu stares at his cell phone for a little while more and then sets his pen down.

He picks up his cell phone and unlocks it, staring at the screen for a moment. This has become a strangely familiar routine. He would stare at his phone, contemplating for a few minutes, before he would pick his phone up. He knows this step.

He stares at his wall paper, a default, generic picture of something abstract, something dark blue, nothing that shows Sulhu's tastes or identity. Even his contacts are efficiently labelled by name, no special symbols, no special nicknames. Even his parents are saved by name, nothing to indicate that they are his parents. His call record is oddly blank. His inbox is the same and so is the folder for his outgoing messages. He doesn't have music saved in his cell phone or any photos in them either. It is almost like a new cell phone, but with contacts and certain numbers set on speed dial.

It is almost like an unnecessary gadget, but one that Sulhu doesn't let others touch. It is something that Sulhu doesn't think he could bear losing.

Sulhu stares and inwardly argues with himself. Two is enough. Hell, two is more than enough. Two are more than enough. Two are more than he can even manage.

"Yah, Sulhu, I thought you were studying?" Hyunseok calls as he leans against the doorjamb, gulping water from a bottle. He is dressed in gym clothes, a simple sweat suit, and his clothes are soaked with sweat. He is back from the gym. Sulhu is torn from his thoughts and he looks up at Hyunseok.

"Hello, hyung," Sulhu greets, polite, because Hyunseok is older than him and no matter how close they are, Sulhu must be polite to Hyunseok.

"What are you doing staring at your phone?" Hyunseok asks again, still leaning against the doorjamb. Sulhu stands from his seat, bringing his cell phone with him. If he doesn't do anything about the situation, he will never be able to study for his finals. He isn't going to mess up his finals, his grades, his education, because of something as stupid as this. He doesn't even care if this isn't part of the routine, because if he were still going by routine, he would have put his phone down before Hyunseok had even gotten back.

"I can't decide whether I should call someone or not," Sulhu answers. Hyunseok pauses mid-gulp of water and lowers the bottle from his lips.

"Wait, what?" Hyunseok asks, as though he couldn't hear Sulhu properly the first time.

"I can't decide whether I should call someone or not," Sulhu repeats, emphasising, so that Hyunseok will catch everything properly. Hyunseok makes an incredulous expression, pushing off of the doorjamb and standing properly on his own two feet now. He takes a step back and looks at Sulhu for a moment, as if he can't be sure that it really is Sulhu in front of him.

"Well," Hyunseok begins when he finally responds, "I think you should. I know there have been things going on with Haewon and I-" Sulhu doesn't miss the grimace that he knows Hyunseok didn't intend, "-but it doesn't mean we have been ignoring you. Something has been bothering you for some time now, hasn't it? Haewon mentioned it to me and I have been noticing as well. Whoever you don't know to call or not must be important enough if the person has been bothering you for this long."

So Hyunseok and Haewon had noticed after all. Sulhu thought they might have, that they must have, no matter how preoccupied they were.

"What if the person was the guy who was making out with Haewon, that night, in the club?" Sulhu asks, he has to ask, because Hyunseok is important to him. Hyunseok is one of two, but Zin isn't. Zin isn't one of two. Sulhu thinks, if Hyunseok told him not to, he wouldn't. He trusts Hyunseok, he trusts Hyunseok to make the right decisions, to tell him the right things, to guide him in the right direction. He trusts Hyunseok will do what is right for Sulhu. Hyunseok grits his teeth, jaw tight, and Sulhu watches the mental conversation flashing in Hyunseok's eyes. He knows Sulhu trusts him. He knows that Sulhu knows he will do the right thing.

It takes time, it takes a while, but Sulhu is fine. It isn't easy to guide another person. It isn't easy to decide the right decisions for someone else. It isn't easy to do the right thing, especially for someone else. Sulhu knows that as well, so he waits patiently for Hyunseok to decide.

"I think-" Hyunseok grinds his teeth for a moment, a nervous habit, "-that you should call him anyway. It isn't often that you meet someone who affects you this much, Sulhu. You've never-" Hyunseok pauses, eyes widening, "-you've never met someone who has affected you before. You've never met someone who would make you so distracted before..." Hyunseok trails off and he takes a tentative step forward. Sulhu, standing in the middle of his room, takes a small step backward. Hyunseok meets his eyes and takes a moment to take a step into Sulhu's room.

"I think you should call him, Sulhu," Hyunseok says in a soft, but firm voice. There is certainty in this. It is a decision, Sulhu can tell, because he has had years of practice in reading the way Hyunseok speaks. Hyunseok holds out his arms, close to his arms, not widely open, but Sulhu understands. It's an offer to hug. Hyunseok doesn't pull Sulhu into a hug the way he does with Haewon or the way he does with his family members. Sulhu closes the distance between them and carefully wraps his arms around Hyunseok's torso.

It's a strange feeling to be the taller one in a hug. Or maybe for Sulhu, it's just a strange feeling to be in a hug. He doesn't hug people often, he doesn't like skin-to-skin contact, it bothers him when touches are not quick, fleeting. Holding Hyunseok so close to him makes him squirm, really squirm, but Hyunseok is warm, soft and small in Sulhu's arms. He is broader, more muscular, he is larger built than Sulhu's lean, slender body, but Hyunseok is shorter and to Sulhu that is the greatest difference. Sulhu waits for Hyunseok to let go, but he loosens his grip to let Hyunseok know that he wants to let go.

Hyunseok pulls away, some of his sweat now staining Sulhu's shirt, but he grins widely at the younger male.

"Call him, okay? Then let me know what happens when you call him, because I really need a shower now and Haewon is coming over soon, so you know what that means," Hyunseok is already turning and walking off in mid-sentence so he is raising his voice a little by the end of the sentence just to be heard. Sulhu chuckles to himself, because he does know what Haewon coming over means. It means that Haewon will be complaining and grumbling about food until Hyunseok either submits to cooking or taking the both of them out for dinner.

Sulhu usually helps to make dinner, because Haewon is not patient and Hyunseok cannot manage on his own when Haewon is waiting. He decides to call Zin later after dinner, whether they stay in to cook or go out for food. Sulhu wriggles out of the shirt that Hyunseok dirtied with his sweat and folds it neatly before setting it down on his chair, right in the middle. He takes brisk steps over to his closet, opening it and systematically pulling out the first shirt from the left. He puts the hanger back up, but first from the right now, along with all the other hangers on the silver rod that holds up his shirts.

He pulls on the shirt, surveys himself in the mirror on the closet wall and then shuts the closet doors. He walks back to his seat, picks up the dirty shirt and walks out of his room, shutting the door to his room as well, before he heads to the laundry room of the little apartment that he shares with Hyunseok. There is a rectangular, fair sized box in the laundry room, on the washing machine. He places the shirt on one side, along with all his other dirty clothing, similarly folded. The box is about half full on his side and is almost overflowing on Hyunseok's side, spilling over to his side, so he makes a mental note to do the laundry after calling Zin.

He checks the bottle of detergent to make sure that there had been no spills, because the last time he hadn't checked, Hyunseok had made a large blue stain on the top of the washing machine that they couldn't wash off. The blue stain seems to mock Sulhu gleefully, so he turns his eyes to the dryer on the other side of the tiny room. He checks the small box of fabric softeners on top of the dryer and makes sure that there are at least three pieces of solid fabric softener. The number is getting dangerously close to three, so Sulhu makes another mental note to buy more fabric softener after he calls Zin, before he puts in the laundry.

Sulhu brushes his shirt off as he makes one last scan of the laundry room and walks out, back to his room.

Wait for dinner, have dinner, call Zin, buy fabric softener, put the laundry in, study for finals, take laundry out, put laundry in dryer, study for finals, take laundry out, fold laundry, sort laundry, put laundry in closets, take a shower, study for finals, go to sleep.

Sulhu casts a glance at his cell phone, distracted momentarily from arranging his textbooks, notebooks and stationary into their proper places. He wonders if he will have enough time to finish all that he plans do, now that he has more things than he had originally planned to do.

It has been half an hour.

He will.

[fictionfixation]

Confession

Sulhu makes a confession. Sulhu, Lizzy, intended!Zin/Sulhu, 359w, PG for homosexuality.

Note: Originally intended this one to be much longer, but I ended up deciding against it. I might continue from this piece to what I intended to write though. No guarantees, so enjoy this instead! My portrayal of Lizzy does not imply anything about my personal opinion of her, so please don't misunderstand me.

"Hey, Jinwan, did you know I have a tattoo on my neck?" Sulhu looked up from the notebook that he had been scribbling in, staring at Lizzy.

"No, noona, I didn't know," he replied flatly, rather irritated, "did you finish those questions yet?" Lizzy was one of Sulhu's seniors from school, but she was doing rather poorly in her Chemistry class, something that Sulhu excelled at in school. Even though Lizzy was a solid three years older, she was still in senior year – like Zin – because she could barely pass any of her classes in school. She was in Sulhu's Chemistry class, the regular Chemistry class, and already she was failing to the point where their subject teacher had requested that another student tutor Lizzy. It was just Sulhu's luck that he was one of the better students, which was why the student guidance counsellor had recommended he tutor Lizzy.

Lizzy let out a shrill, annoying giggle that made Sulhu clench his fists.

"Aww, come on, Jinwan," Sulhu didn't know that his name could be said in such a whiny tone, not until then. He frowned at Lizzy, but the senior just batted her eyelashes in a manner that just begged for Sulhu to grab her by the hair and bash her head into the table.

"Yes, noona?" Sulhu did his best to keep his voice as respectful as he could. He resisted the desire to either just slap her or just leave. He had much better things to do than have to bother with a girl who clearly had no interest in her schoolwork.

"Come on, take a look at my tattoo. It's really cool, I got a really pretty butterfly," Lizzy said in a saccharinely sweet tone, as if it would entice Sulhu more if she spoke as though she had swallowed an entire bucket of honey. Sulhu pushed off of his seat and leaned over, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear so that the edges of her tramp stamp looking butterfly tattoo peeked out at him. He bent close to her ear and whispered.

"Noona, my name is Sulhu and I'm gay."

[fictionfixation]

Matter of Interest

May I interest you with a stranger from a gay club. Zin (Hyunjin)/Sulhu (Jinwan), Ghun (Hyunseok)/Haewon, 4364w, PG-13 for language. 

Note: What happens after Sulhu walks back into the club during Dangerous.

Sulhu walks back into the club, his head pounding painfully. The thumping music of the club and the seizure-inducing flashing lights don't ease the pain, but there's a dull haze of alcohol in his mind already and he's sure the headache would be much worse if there wasn't. He heads straight to the bar and orders a drink, any drink, one with enough alcohol content to make sure it assuages his headache. It isn't enough to intoxicate him, but it'll help. He pays while waiting for his drink to be served and leaves the bar area as soon as he gets it.

The club isn't too crowded off the dance floor, just the usual amount of people you might expect in a club on a weekday night. He isn't even sure how he allowed Hyunseok and Haewon to convince him to follow them to the club. He takes a seat at a free table, different from the one before. He doesn't turn his eyes to the dance floor; instead, he focuses on the visuals of his drink and allows his mind to drown everything else out. It doesn't make sense to stay in the club, especially with his headache, but he doesn't want to go home either. A tiny voice in his head goes "oh" because that's how he let the couple coerce him into joining them at a club, a gay club at that.

He takes a sip of the alcoholic drink and feels it slide down his throat, an uncomfortable sensation. Sulhu doesn't drink much, he's technically not even legal to drink, but he drinks anyway because alcohol is an easy way to set things aside. It provides a simple distraction to the other more pressing things in Sulhu's life that he rather not think about.

"Hello," like men hitting on him in a gay club. He isn't a homophobe, what with his two best friends being an absolutely, outright, flamingly gay couple. He doesn't find himself, however, inclined to swing in the same direction. Sulhu doesn't think he's straight, but he isn't homosexual or bisexual either and more often than not, he gets teased about Haewon about being asexual. It doesn't bother him that he hasn't had interest in anyone, sexually, for the past 19 years of his life, not really. So this guy in front of him probably won't interest him either, that's just sort of the way things go for Sulhu.

He looks up at the male, at least, because it's rude not to. He has to suppress the desire to snort in this guy's face though, because he has an impressive bruise blooming on one side of his face in a print that Sulhu thinks might vaguely look like Hyunseok's knuckles. Sulhu doesn't reply to the friendly greeting because he doesn't want to risk opening his mouth and laughing blatantly in the guy's face. He should be pitied a little too, since Hyunseok packed a rather nasty punch. The number of martial arts certificates on Hyunseok's dorm room wall testified to his strength, despite the fact that he was easily a few inches shorter than both this stranger and Sulhu.

"Mind if I join you?" the stranger asks when he realises Sulhu is not going to grace him with a return greeting. Sulhu shrugs, maybe the rest of the tables are occupied, maybe this guy is trying to hook-up with him the way he clearly was going to with Haewon, maybe he just wants the ice in Sulhu's drink for his face, the 19-year-old doesn't know but he doesn't give a shit either. It's much less complicated that way, if he doesn't give a shit. The stranger takes Sulhu's shrug for a positive response and slides onto the seat across from Sulhu's.

"So you tried to hook up with Haewon-hyung," Sulhu says carefully, making sure not to let a single trace of even a giggle to colour his voice. He doesn't make it a question, but it isn't a jeer either. Sulhu thinks he manages to keep his tone relatively neutral, as though he's telling the stranger that he has a penis, which he does; it's just a fact.

"Oh, the dude with the boyfriend that punches like Bruce Lee?" Sulhu thinks Bruce Lee doesn't throw punches, he might have heard Hyunseok talking about it once to Haewon, but he isn't sure so he just nods. The stranger doesn't have his own drink; he merely sits and leans forward on the table, as though he wants to get closer to Sulhu.

"So you know him?" the stranger sounds a little disbelieving. He probably can't believe how he just got punched trying to pick up a guy who seemed very willing and is trying to pick up another guy who knows the first guy. Sulhu nods again, periodically sipping on his drink. The ache in his temple isn't as sharp and he reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose every once in a while, a useless habit that just comforts Sulhu whenever he has a headache.

"Do you punch as well as his boyfriend?" the stranger must be desperate to get laid or something, because if he's still conversing with someone as uninterested as Sulhu, he must have been rejected by everyone else in the club who would do him or be done by him. Sulhu nods his head because it's the safer answer – he actually can't punch anyone without hurting himself first – and sets his drink on the table, looking a little closer at the stranger.

Sulhu can't see much, because the lighting is as bad as it normally is in clubs. From what he can make out though, besides the ugly bruise spreading across half his face, the stranger isn't unattractive. He has styled, dyed light brown hair and generally handsome features on a tanned face that looks well maintained. Sulhu can tell because Haewon had dragged him around once to stare at people's faces to tell who were of "acceptable" standard to date and who weren't, superficially. When Sulhu asked about Hyunseok, who basically looked like the living dead when Haewon didn't force him to clean up, his fair-complexioned, very well maintained friend had delicately told him that sometimes, some people who weren't of "acceptable" superficial standards turned out to have very "excellent" standards in character.

Sulhu had stowed away the lesson on physical appearances for future reference and had, since then, found himself accessing the physical aspects of people he newly met. This stranger was no exception to Sulhu's evaluation. Frankly speaking, Sulhu couldn't quite understand why the stranger was even talking to him. Sulhu rarely combed his hair, unless it got too unruly and Haewon nagged at him to "please try not to hide your attractiveness with lack of effort in grooming". Sulhu also didn't actively do anything to improve his complexion, nor did he work out as often as Hyunseok and Haewon did to sculpt their bodies. If Sulhu were to evaluate himself in the mirror, he was an okay looking person. He had naturally pale skin that he couldn't ever tan, he was tall in an awkward looking way and he had broad shoulders even though he didn't work out much. Haewon had once told him that he currently classified as "barely acceptable" the way he looked, but if he put just some effort to groom himself, he could go straight up to "so fucking attractive that ass needs to be tapped now".

"Is there something on my face?" the stranger asks, his question coloured with confusion more so than curiosity.

"Besides that really unsightly bruise on your face? Maybe just some flyaway hair," Sulhu teases casually, because the stranger had asked a rather dumb question. Had he expected to escape from a punch by Hyunseok without any visible marks?

"It's Zin, by the way," the stranger – or maybe Zin now, Sulhu didn't know if he cared enough about the beaten up guy to remember his name – says as he brushes as hand across his hairline, feeling for flyaway hairs. Sulhu debates between shaking his head in disbelief or just sitting there dumbly. He doesn't get a chance to decide before the stranger – Zin – speaks again.

"You're a really quiet guy, huh? What's your name?" Sulhu pauses for a moment to weigh out the options. It didn't seem too disadvantageous to tell a gay male in a gay club his real name, since there wouldn't be much to go on if he only knew Sulhu's name.

"My name's Jinwan, but you can call me Sulhu," he settles on telling this to the stra-Zin. Sulhu picks his drink up again and disappointedly realises that it's almost all gone. It was a rather pleasant drink too, the foul taste of alcohol aside.

"Well if we're talking about real names, then I'll just say mine is Hyunjin. Is that a nickname you came up with?" Sulhu finishes off the drink in one last mouthful and raises an eyebrow at Zin – but then he said his real name was Hyunjin, Sulhu really wished people would stop confusing him like that – questioningly.

"Nope, someone else gave it to me. Why? Is Zin something you came up with yourself?" Sulhu belatedly realises something very important. Zin is about to respond, to answer Sulhu's question, but Sulhu holds a hand up for silence and really stares at Zin, thinking about their conversation so far.

He was actually interested in the guy.

Hyunseok was his best friend because their parents were friends and they had grown up together. Hyunseok was the hyung his parents never actually had, but had assigned to take care of Sulhu since he was a toddler still in his diapers. Hyunseok was also the one who had started calling him Sulhu for a reason neither of them could remember anymore. Haewon was Hyunseok's first boyfriend after a slew of girls who had all dumped Hyunseok very painfully. Haewon was the first relationship of Hyunseok's that had not, as of yet, ended up in Hyunseok and Sulhu joining some sort of crazy endurance competition that required months of training for preparation; months which they rarely ever had. It was hard to not be friends with either male, especially when Sulhu hadn't really been given a choice. In any case, Sulhu had not really been interested in either before they became best friends.

This stranger in a gay club, Zin or Hyunjin, was the first person that Sulhu genuinely felt interested in.

Sulhu lowers his hand and gestures for Zin to continue. The other male seems slightly distracted by the pause Sulhu had taken to process his epiphany, but nonetheless continues from where their conversation had trailed off.

"Zin is just cutting my real name down to one syllable, I didn't really give it to myself, but I've been using it a lot in these sort of clubs," this elicits another raised brow from Sulhu, "but Sulhu doesn't seem like a sort of nickname from your real name so I thought it was some sort of moniker you like to go by." The logic of his explanation seems reasonable to Sulhu, who nods in understanding.

"Hyunseok hyung, the guy who punched you, gave me that nickname. It doesn't really have a meaning anymore, but I still use it," Sulhu offers to the curious expression on Zin's face. Sulhu checks the time on his wristwatch, the one his father had given to him upon his entry to university, and notes that while the night was still young for a club, it was way past the time he had promised himself to go home at.

"I have to go," Sulhu says and gets up from his seat, not waiting for Zin. As much as he is interested in the other male, as much as he is interested in another human being, as much as he mentally feels like fina-fucking-lly, I was beginning to worry I couldn't be interested in people, he has to get back to the dormitory. He doesn't think the first person he could be interested in is as important as staying in university and completing his higher education, because it is only a mild interest.

"Hey, wait up," a hand clamps on Sulhu's shoulder and hinders his walking. He tries to shrug it off, but the grip is tight, so he turns to look at Zin. He's surprised when he realises the other male is taller than him. At 6"2, Sulhu hardly finds anyone else who even matches up to him, not in Korea anyway, so he stops in surprise for a moment when he sees that Zin is actually taller than him.

"You're taller than me," Sulhu sounds his feelings out into words. The little space in between Zin's eyebrows crease and Sulhu thinks he might be doing what Haewon calls "brain farts" but he doesn't really care. People taller than Sulhu, in Korea at least, are like leprechauns: nonexistent.

"What? No, hey, where are you going?" Zin asks, frowning, still holding onto Sulhu by the shoulder. His hand was a light weight on Sulhu's shoulder, not warm, not cold, just a weight on his shoulder.

"I'm going back to my dorm. I actually have a life, unlike these people who don't seem to need sleep or rest for the following day," Sulhu jerks his head towards the people still swarming on the dance floor and the tables, unmoving from their positions. Zin's eyes follow in the same direction.

"Oh, well, can I walk you back to your place or something?" Sulhu hears Hyunseok's voice nagging at the back of his mind that Zin could be some sort of rapist or serial killer or something along the lines of a murderous sadist. Zin firmly trails after Sulhu for the rest of the way out of the club, determined to accompany the slightly shorter male home. As Sulhu stops outside of the club, street lamps filling the walkways with light, he examines Zin's clothes. The other male has impossibly tight clothes on, black skinny jeans that cling onto his legs like a second skin and a shirt that, if it were the same colour as Zin's skin, Sulhu probably wouldn't have noticed. There aren't any suspicious bumps or places where Zin could possibly hide a weapon, because Sulhu can clearly make out the cell phone, wallet and ring of keys that Zin had somehow managed to squeeze into his front pockets.

"Hands up," Sulhu requests in the most polite tone he can manage while speaking to a person he has just met. Zin stares at Sulhu like he has grown another head and Sulhu can almost hear him mentally contemplating whether or not Sulhu is worth the effort, before he reluctantly lifts his hands up. Sulhu pats him down swiftly, making sure to aim for the trickiest places where someone might have hidden a weapon. The only weapon Zin seemed to have was his dick, which was glaringly obvious because of the black jeans.

"Let's go," Sulhu finally decides as he heads in the direction of the school dormitory. Zin follows, as he has done the entire time since Zin had approached Sulhu, but not without question.

"Did you just feel me up?" more than disbelief and outrage, Sulhu detects amusement in the way Zin speaks.

"I was patting you down for weapons, not feeling you up," Sulhu explains with a tone one might use with young children who did not understand complicated things. Sulhu expects Zin to take offence, because most people would, but the other male just laughs and falls a few paces back from his laughter.

"Well, I guess it's just not as convincing if I just tell you that I'm not an axe murderer, huh?" Zin is still laughing as he says this; Sulhu hears the cheer in his voice, different from the previous curious interest.

"Well, you could still be a rapist," Sulhu reminds him in a serious tone, because it isn't a joke, Sulhu knows that there is still a possibility of Zin being a rapist. Sulhu feels for his cell phone in his pocket and gets ready to call Hyunseok on speed dial. He briefly wonders if Hyunseok will answer his call and help him, even now when Sulhu probably should have followed Hyunseok home after the disaster that had occurred precisely because of Zin.

"You know, I room with the guy who punched you," Sulhu adds, walking the normal route back to the university dormitory. The club that they had been in was the usual one that Hyunseok and Haewon always dragged him to whenever they felt like going to one. It was within walking distance from the university dormitory so that they wouldn't have to drive or choose a designated driver between Hyunseok and Haewon, since Sulhu still had a year to go before he could get his license.

"Hey, I had no idea that that Hae – what's his name again? – dude was attached, okay? If I knew he had a boyfriend or if he had pushed me off, I would have backed off," Zin defends himself, but Sulhu raises an eyebrow at him again. He was watching, after all, when Haewon was making out with Zin.

"I saw you grabbing him back when he tried to push you away."

"Oh, that. Let me correct myself, I would have backed off if he had pushed me off from the beginning. I thought he was trying to play hard to get or something," Zin clarifies. Sulhu shakes his head. Did people actually do that? He takes a turn, which Zin misses. He can hear the screech of rubber soles backtracking and then the slightly quickened pace of Zin catching up to Sulhu easily.

"Are you trying to shake me off?" Zin asks petulantly.

"Nope, if I was trying to shake you off, I would run," Sulhu replies honestly, because he is a fast runner. For every race he has competed in, Sulhu has never come in second to anyone. He thinks most of it has to do with the fact that he has long legs and some of it has to do with the endurance competitions.

"Oh really? You run fast? Want to race?" Zin has that same amused more than disbelieving tone again.

"You don't know the way, so that's a disadvantage to you. Even if you got ahead, you wouldn't know where to run to," Sulhu points out and it was true. Even if Zin could run faster than Sulhu, he wouldn't know where to run toward because he didn't know where the dormitory was.

"Don't worry, just try it with me, unless you're afraid of losing?" Zin challenges. Toward anyone else, Sulhu might have rolled his eyes and just ignored the person, especially if it was Haewon because the guy had an endless list of things he thought he was good at.

"Okay. You want to count down or-"

"Start!" Zin yells gleefully and prances a few paces forward. Sulhu ignores the teasing expression on the other male's face and sprints in the direction of the dormitory. It's not a far run, so he doesn't have to pace himself. He doesn't control his speed, he doesn't even care if he loses Zin, he just focuses on getting to the dormitory at top speed.

He breathes heavily through his mouth, it's easier to run this way when he doesn't have to focus on remembering how to breathe through his nose. He feels the lactic acid in his legs and makes a mental note to stretch before he goes for a shower or risk having sore legs tomorrow. He doesn't think of anything but the way back to the dormitory, doesn't even think Zin has him in sight anymore, so it surprises him when he sees a flash of dyed light brown hair before Zin is dashing in front of him.

"That one?" Zin yells back, not bothering to keep his voice down as he points right at the entrance to Sulhu's dormitory. It takes Sulhu a few moments to catch his breath to reply, but he does manage to reply.

"Yeah," he heaves back, but he doesn't slow down. After he shakes himself of the surprise that Zin could actually overtake him, he forces his legs to move faster. Well, steely determination and the dislike of losing to people were probably reasons why Sulhu was never second to anyone too. He pushes himself to run harder and he catches up to Zin, just a few feet away from the door. Zin slows down, probably because he doesn't want to slam into the door, but Sulhu forgets to do the same.

It's a little too late when he tries to stop, so he ends up skidding and crashing into the glass doors of the dormitory lobby.

"Fuck!" Sulhu curses as a sharp pain shoots up the shoulder that collided with the door and his knees buckle, causing him to drop to the floor in a pathetic heap. Zin is laughing as he walks over, breathless, but still laughing.

"Are you alright?" Zin manages to say between laughs, clutching onto his sides. Sulhu doesn't reply immediately, because his head is spinning from the combination of alcohol consumption and the collision. He takes a few seconds to get up and by then Zin has stopped laughing to help him. The brunette repeats his question when Sulhu doesn't reply him, genuine concern in his voice this time.

"Yeah," Sulhu mumbles as he tries to clear his mind. It dawns on him that his headache was no longer bothering him, but he cannot remember when it stopped. He searches his pockets for his student identity card so that he can get into the dormitory building. Zin hovers by his side, no longer as concerned as before since Sulhu had assured him that he was fine but still watchful.

Sulhu punches in the right number code after swiping his identity card by the little scanner on the wall beside the doors. He turns to look at Zin after he swings one of the doors open. He doesn't quite understand what to do next, because Haewon had never told him what to do when a stranger from a gay club races you back to your dormitory. Sulhu doesn't think that such a situation exists in Haewon's list of situations-you-might-get-caught-in-after-going-to-a-club. Instead, he just waits for Zin to speak or act first. The two of them stand awkwardly in silence for almost a minute, until Zin breaks it.

"Well, I was hoping you'd invite me up or something, but I guess you're not that kind of person, huh? In any case, goodnight, see you soon or something," Zin smiles genially, not at all pissed off that Sulhu had not invited him up as expected. Sulhu thinks Zin is strange, because Haewon gets pissed off a lot when Hyunseok doesn't do as expected. Hell, even Sulhu gets pissed off when people don't act the way he expects them too. But wait-

"See me soon? What? Are you going to come here and stalk me?" Sulhu questions, because he will definitely be in a lot of shit if Hyunseok realises that the guy who had made out with Haewon was now stalking Sulhu. Zin lets out a short burst of laughter before he presses a hand over his mouth, trying to stop himself.

"You're a really cautious person," now Zin was just the master of observations, wasn't he? Wasn't it just natural to be cautious around dodgy characters from gay clubs who might possibly stalk you?

"Yeah, I am going to stalk you," Zin laughs again, but Sulhu doesn't see the hilarity in the prospect of getting stalked. Zin stops laughing when Sulhu doesn't join him.

"Wait, did you actually- I'm not really going to stalk you," Sulhu doesn't really believe Zin and it probably shows in his face.

"I'm really not going to stalk you," Zin holds his hands up, not unlike the way he did when Sulhu was patting him down for weapons.

"I'm really not going to stalk you, Jinwan. I won't even come here if you don't call me to say it's okay. Here's my number," Zin recites a string of numbers that Sulhu recognises as a cell phone number.

"How do I know that's not a fake number? What if you come anyway?"

"Okay, here, you can call me and check if it's a real number. If it bothers you, you can delete your number from my phone too. And you're really careful, aren't you? You'd know if I tried to stalk you, wouldn't you?" Sulhu studies the other male for a moment. He read an article about body language before and while it was easy to fake body language sometimes, Zin didn't seem to be telling any outright lies. He inclines his head slowly and Zin pulls his cell phone out of his pocket with less difficulty than Sulhu had thought there would be. Sulhu takes the cell phone from Zin and dials his own number on the phone before deleting the entry from the call list on Zin's phone. He saves the brunette's number on his phone under 'Zin', just in case.

He doesn't intend to call the other male back, not at this point, but it doesn't hurt to have the number. Zin didn't have his number either, so he wouldn't be able to bug Sulhu. There wasn't any particular disadvantage to the situation so he would just keep Zin's number. He hands Zin's cell phone back to him, the door to the dormitory still open.

"Okay, goodbye," Sulhu bows, just in between politely and might as well not bowing, before he turns to enter the dormitory.

"See you, I hope," Zin calls as the door swings shut and Sulhu turns back just once to make sure that Zin isn't trying to sneak into the dormitory building. Zin waves at him from behind the glass, Sulhu nods in acknowledgement and continues on to the lift.

Maybe, eventually.

If he didn't try to stalk Sulhu, that is.

[fictionfixation]

Dangerous

Don't fucking tell me you don't know. sortofbroken!Ghun(Hyunseok)/Haewon, sortof!Zin/Haewon, past!Taefung/Haewon, 976w, PG-13 for language. 

Note: Not one of my best, not something I'm completely satisfied with, but I like this in its little imperfect way. I hope you enjoy this ^^ (I think this is my first time posting X-5 fanfic, although I can't actually be sure.)

Haewon knows that it's dangerous; of course it's dangerous. He's in a fucking relationship, for goodness' sake, of course it's dangerous. He has a boyfriend who loves him more than anything and even through the disagreements and the fights, Haewon loves Hyunseok too much to let anything tear them apart.

That's why when he finds himself gyrating against a handsome stranger on the dance floor, both of their hands in places where they shouldn't be, he's completely stumped for a reason why. He sees Sulhu staring at him from off the dance floor, jaw slack and body language shocked. He thinks on the inside, his mind is pretty much in the same state as Sulhu, but his hips are moving on their own and there's a freezing hand slipping up his shirt and another unbuckling his belt. His own hands are stuck on the stranger's sharp shoulders, protruding from underneath at least two layers of clothes. A pair of chapped lips are forcing themselves onto his and his tongue automatically reacts, licking the lower lip, sliding its way to hot and wet friction. He closes his eyes, blocking out Sulhu's incredulous expression, but he tries his best to ignore how wrong this person's lips and tongue feel as well.

"Zin," the stranger breathes heavily in the split second they pull away before lips are latching onto Haewon's pale neck, sucking and bruising.

"What?" Haewon doesn't understand, doesn't know what the fuck he's doing and doesn't know why the fuck he isn't stopping either.

"That's the name you'll be screaming tonight," the stranger whispers. Haewon feels it more on his skin than he hears it.

"What?" he repeats dumbly, because it doesn't make sense. Why the fuck would he scream this stranger's name? He doesn't even want to have sex with him, no matter how hot this guy might be. The tugging on Haewon's belt finally stops and Haewon thinks that's the end, there's nothing more, but suddenly the cold hand is slipping past tight leather and dangerously close to somewhere Haewon definitely doesn't want it touching.

Haewon twists away from the stranger and those frigid hands, but for some reason the stranger doesn't let go. He tightens a bruising grip on Haewon's hipbone and the cold hand shoves its way deeper into Haewon's pants.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" a husky, panting, angry voice sounds in Haewon's ears and everything is flashing emergency red now, despite the green laser lights that are blinding the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Haewon hears the crunch of fist to cheekbone before he feels the body being thrown off of his and onto some of those nearby. Warm hands encircle his wrist in a vice grip and he's being manhandled through the sea of bodies.

"I said, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Hyunseok's voice is tense, his words are sharp and the wind is cutting Haewon's skin, but he clings onto the warm body next to him shamelessly. Hands tuck his shirt into his pants and fix his belt roughly before he's being pushed off the warm haven in the middle of whipping wind.

"What were you doing?" the tension in Hyunseok's voice is still as taut as before, but it sounds desperate now the way it didn't before.

"I-I have-I don't-"

"Don't fucking tell me you don't know!" the words rip through the air and Haewon stumbles. His hands are trembling – from the cold or from what happened to him, he doesn't even care – but dark, threatening but pleading brown eyes are bearing into him like a hot brand.

"Hyung, back off," Sulhu's deep bass voice breaks the connection between Haewon and Hyunseok and his broad back separates the two. He places an arm on Hyunseok's arm and Haewon frowns when Hyunseok doesn't shrug it off. No words are exchanged between Sulhu and Hyunseok, but somehow the younger male manages to calm Hyunseok to a certain degree. Haewon realises Hyunseok's shoulders are no longer shaking – in fury? From the wind? – the way they were moments ago.

"I'm sorry," Haewon doesn't quite understand his apology, but the guilt and discomfort bubbling in his chest makes him say the words. He's being completely sincere though. He is sorry.

"Don't-don't apologise. Don't tell me you're sorry," Hyunseok says, his words biting, and he sounds as if he means to continue, but he doesn't. The words that were leaving his mouth slip out silently, as a breath, lost in the whistle of the wind.

"Are you okay?" he asks, but Haewon is sure these aren't the things he meant to say. He nods yes anyway, because he is okay, he thinks. He's as okay as he can be when the taste on his lower lip, tongue reflexively wetting it, doesn't belong to Hyunseok. Haewon wonders if the shorter male will kiss him and get rid of the foreign taste on Haewon's lips for him. He stretches out to reach for Hyunseok, but the other male flinches away faster than Haewon can touch him. Sulhu cringes, but he doesn't speak. He eyes Hyunseok for a moment before he's walking off, back in the direction of the club, but he still casts the couple a single backward glance.

"H-Hyunseok?" Haewon stutters when he calls out, teeth clattering against each other. Hyunseok takes a step back as Haewon steps forward, eyes wary.

"I'll see you tomorrow, in school," Hyunseok says, softly. Haewon almost misses it, that's how soft it is, but before he can ask to check twice Hyunseok is already walking away.

"This is karma," Hyunseok mutters to himself, straining against the desire to just turn back and sweep Haewon back into his arms, "this is karma for stealing Haewon from Taefung."

[fictionfixation]

Ask Box Open for Feedback and Comments!

Actually, my ask box has always been open for feedback and comments, but I figured some people might take the title ask box literally and think that you can only ask me questions there. So just to clarify, my ask box is open for feedback and/or comments on my works! I'd appreciate if you would mention what you're commenting on before the actual comment, just so that I don't get confused ^^

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