Guitar Boy [Drabble Challenge: Recurring]
Oct. 16th, 2010 05:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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dbsk_flashficTitle: Guitar Boy
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scarletpeonies
Word-count: 200
Concrit? Yes
Characters: Changmin, Yoochun
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Changmin passes Guitar Boy every day before and after work.
A/N: Hee. It's been a while since I posted here.
He sits in a corner near the wall, just outside the bus terminal. His fingers strum away. You’ve passed him every day before and after work. You don’t pay any attention to homeless Guitar Boy.
Guitar Boy has blown pupils. In a corner he sits, with a brown bowl. Some kindly souls give him five dollar bills.
You always pass him. You’re not the type to throw bills in.
Everyone earns their way up.
You work your ass off. You don’t go out drinking with colleagues after work.
Instead you stay back to work overtime. Your boss stays back too. She’s five foot two, petite and at precisely five p.m., her knock sounds lightly on your cabin door.
Her legs wrap around your waist. Your pants fall down to your knees. Her nails leave long red lines down your back.
She spritzes perfume on the inside of her wrists, behind her ears, on her breasts and between her thighs. You never tire of kissing your way down this trail but her indifference after is starting to make you hurt.
Guitar Boy’s strumming makes your heart ache today.
He doesn’t say anything when you drop a fifty dollar bill into his bowl.
Author:
scarletpeoniesWord-count: 200
Concrit? Yes
Characters: Changmin, Yoochun
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Changmin passes Guitar Boy every day before and after work.
A/N: Hee. It's been a while since I posted here.
He sits in a corner near the wall, just outside the bus terminal. His fingers strum away. You’ve passed him every day before and after work. You don’t pay any attention to homeless Guitar Boy.
Guitar Boy has blown pupils. In a corner he sits, with a brown bowl. Some kindly souls give him five dollar bills.
You always pass him. You’re not the type to throw bills in.
Everyone earns their way up.
You work your ass off. You don’t go out drinking with colleagues after work.
Instead you stay back to work overtime. Your boss stays back too. She’s five foot two, petite and at precisely five p.m., her knock sounds lightly on your cabin door.
Her legs wrap around your waist. Your pants fall down to your knees. Her nails leave long red lines down your back.
She spritzes perfume on the inside of her wrists, behind her ears, on her breasts and between her thighs. You never tire of kissing your way down this trail but her indifference after is starting to make you hurt.
Guitar Boy’s strumming makes your heart ache today.
He doesn’t say anything when you drop a fifty dollar bill into his bowl.
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