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dbsk_flashficTitle: No Man's Land
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dentedsky
Word count: 543
Concrit?: Yes please.
Pairing: HoMin
Author's Notes: Makes a reference to recent fanreports.
"Real love stories never have endings." - Carolyn M. Kelley
Some lyrics say love is a battlefield and if that is the case then Yunho thinks loneliness is the enemy – a dark rumble of darkness curling in on itself across that large expanse of his heart. He’s in no man’s land: surrounded by people but alone –
Almost alone.
Changmin has a sheet of lyrics in one hand and a recipe he’d printed off the internet in the other. The pot on the stove has just started to boil. Yunho leans on the doorway to the kitchen and watches him, eyes dragging along the long curve of Changmin’s back. He contemplates his next question, rolls it around in his mind. On the plains of his heart the question is a sword held up to the sun, catching its light and glinting.
Hope, the last character in the story of Pandora’s Box, flitters past his shoulder in butterfly form.
“’I long for the day when you will let me hold you,’” Changmin mutters as he reads off the sheet of lyrics.
“Let’s go on a date,” Yunho breathes.
Changmin abruptly looks over his shoulder, putting down the recipe as he does. His eyes have gone mismatched in incredulity as he flicks them back over the lyrics. “That’s in here? I don’t remember that bit,” he adds as he thumbs through the next couple of pages.
Yunho could correct him, but he chooses to wait. And, two seconds later –
Changmin turns to him in one sudden movement, eyes wide and lips parted and shaking, as if unsure whether to grimace or smirk.
“You’re a man,” Changmin scoffs predictably, half-turned away. And yes, Yunho is aware of that little fact, and the other little fact about Changmin being a man, but –
“We could try.” He shrugs, helpless, his battle plan had not specified anything further than asking Changmin out. “We could – give it a go. Don’t mock what you haven’t tried.”
From their positions Yunho only just catches Changmin’s eye roll, but he’s hardly aloof. The set of his tense shoulders and the blush creeping upon his cheeks gives him away, and a flash of memory of Changmin on stage, hugging Yunho from behind –
What do you think of me? Changmin had asked.
There were a hundred different answers Yunho had wanted to give. Number 89: I think I’m a little bit in love with you, is that alright?
“You’re only asking me because I’m convenient,” says Changmin, sobering, completely turned away now and attention on the stove. One strand of his dark long hair curls against his nape. Yunho bows his head and fingers the hem of his t-shirt. Swings backwards and forwards, side to side. Says, as he’s turning away,
“Maybe you’re right." A pause. "I’m sorry.”
Yunho takes a step away and Changmin sighs. When Yunho looks back he sees Changmin braced on the bench, head bowed.
“It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like,” says Changmin, quietly. He still won’t look at Yunho. “To be surrounded by girls and not have a girlfriend.”
Yunho keeps his body slumped, arms crossed. They play this game sometimes: the more demure one appears the more likely the other will forgive.
A shared glance. Changmin ducks his head with a small smile.
“Alright,” he says.
___
Author:
dentedskyWord count: 543
Concrit?: Yes please.
Pairing: HoMin
Author's Notes: Makes a reference to recent fanreports.
"Real love stories never have endings." - Carolyn M. Kelley
Some lyrics say love is a battlefield and if that is the case then Yunho thinks loneliness is the enemy – a dark rumble of darkness curling in on itself across that large expanse of his heart. He’s in no man’s land: surrounded by people but alone –
Almost alone.
Changmin has a sheet of lyrics in one hand and a recipe he’d printed off the internet in the other. The pot on the stove has just started to boil. Yunho leans on the doorway to the kitchen and watches him, eyes dragging along the long curve of Changmin’s back. He contemplates his next question, rolls it around in his mind. On the plains of his heart the question is a sword held up to the sun, catching its light and glinting.
Hope, the last character in the story of Pandora’s Box, flitters past his shoulder in butterfly form.
“’I long for the day when you will let me hold you,’” Changmin mutters as he reads off the sheet of lyrics.
“Let’s go on a date,” Yunho breathes.
Changmin abruptly looks over his shoulder, putting down the recipe as he does. His eyes have gone mismatched in incredulity as he flicks them back over the lyrics. “That’s in here? I don’t remember that bit,” he adds as he thumbs through the next couple of pages.
Yunho could correct him, but he chooses to wait. And, two seconds later –
Changmin turns to him in one sudden movement, eyes wide and lips parted and shaking, as if unsure whether to grimace or smirk.
“You’re a man,” Changmin scoffs predictably, half-turned away. And yes, Yunho is aware of that little fact, and the other little fact about Changmin being a man, but –
“We could try.” He shrugs, helpless, his battle plan had not specified anything further than asking Changmin out. “We could – give it a go. Don’t mock what you haven’t tried.”
From their positions Yunho only just catches Changmin’s eye roll, but he’s hardly aloof. The set of his tense shoulders and the blush creeping upon his cheeks gives him away, and a flash of memory of Changmin on stage, hugging Yunho from behind –
What do you think of me? Changmin had asked.
There were a hundred different answers Yunho had wanted to give. Number 89: I think I’m a little bit in love with you, is that alright?
“You’re only asking me because I’m convenient,” says Changmin, sobering, completely turned away now and attention on the stove. One strand of his dark long hair curls against his nape. Yunho bows his head and fingers the hem of his t-shirt. Swings backwards and forwards, side to side. Says, as he’s turning away,
“Maybe you’re right." A pause. "I’m sorry.”
Yunho takes a step away and Changmin sighs. When Yunho looks back he sees Changmin braced on the bench, head bowed.
“It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like,” says Changmin, quietly. He still won’t look at Yunho. “To be surrounded by girls and not have a girlfriend.”
Yunho keeps his body slumped, arms crossed. They play this game sometimes: the more demure one appears the more likely the other will forgive.
A shared glance. Changmin ducks his head with a small smile.
“Alright,” he says.
___
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