ChenLay ficlet dump
Feb. 28th, 2016 06:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
saxophonicCrossposted from my kpop sideblog.
Title: Table #3
Summary: I lifted table 3 from the 10_prompts LJ comm for pre-chenlay flash fics, vaguely chronological order, set from predebut to immediately after debut.
Rating: G
Word Count: 3,035
Note: Originally posted on May 24, 2015.
01. Castle
When the other trainees mention the “Changsha Prince,” Jongdae’s imagination goes into overdrive. It fits a handsome face on a boy built tall, slender, and talented, like one of the older Chinese trainees. The figure has good cheekbones, sharp eyes, and a sharper wit. He’s the sort of cruelly beautiful person expected in manhwas.
Jongdae assumes this prince probably grew up with in spacious rooms decorated with impressive luxuries from Western palaces. Atop unreachable parapets, family-crested flags wave in the wind. The imaginary Changsha Prince fits right in. He orders servants about with the lift of a finger, the comfortable final piece of a puzzle.
After their first introduction, Jongdae realizes he’s got it all wrong. Yixing is no aloof prince, no spoiled heir. He doesn’t seem accustomed to mind-numbingly endless leisure over the struggle of a hard day.
He’s distant, yes, and the look in his eyes makes Jongdae wonder if he’s fully awake. He’s handsome, too, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones under a fall of long hair. Yixing’s voice is soft and light, heavily accented as he introduces himself.
By the end of their first day in the same training group, Jongdae learned to fight his envy of Yixing’s dancing talent. Instead, he found Yixing eager to help him learn. They arrange to meet for extra practice during the free hour after dinner.
Over dinner, his eyes catch on Yixing by chance. He falls in with the Chinese rapper-trainees of the group when Yixing looks up. Yixing gives Jongdae a friendly nod before both return to their present companions. Jongdae supposes he’s beginning to understand why people call Yixing a prince, silly as the nickname is. Baekhyun knocks him from his thoughts with a well-placed jab of the elbow, and it’s back to bickering as usual.
02. Book
Jongdae whines, sighing louder than he should in the designated study room. The vocabulary lists are blurring together. He can’t tell if he’s getting his tones right. After a hard day full of choreography lessons, the muscles in his limbs nag him for sleep. He grits his teeth against the ache. It’s difficult to ignore, especially the soreness in his back.
He sits up, stretching his arms above his head. Rolling out his shoulders and patting himself on both cheeks, he tries to refocus. If he can just get through this list three times, he’ll let himself sleep.
Back…thigh…belly…arm…. Jongdae runs through the list, testing each word on his tongue until he gets it right, or close enough. By the end, he’s not sure if it counts as one run-through. Jongdae lets it slide, eyes back at the top of the list, fighting to stay awake.
“Up late, I see.”
Jongdae’s head jerks up at the sound. He offers the best smile he can manage to Yixing, standing in the shadows of the door. “I want it to be perfect.”
“You need to sleep so you brain can learn.” Yixing’s voice is dry, cracking around the edges. Jongdae wonders what brought him out of the dorm room. He didn’t think he was being disruptive, but Jongdae knows he tends toward loud.
“So, help me.”
Yixing hesitates for a moment, lingering in the doorway before he tips forward. His pads with sock-clad feet toward the table lit by a single desk lamp. He lifts a chair, setting it down backwards in the spot across from Jongdae. Then it’s a slow and quiet rearranging of limbs: elegant fingers uncurling from the seat back, an expanse of thigh as legs spread to straddle the seat, arms closing in a circle as he hugs the chair to his shoulders. By the end of the display, Yixing watches him. His sleepy, dark eyes turn intense in the high relief cast by the close study lamp. Jongdae closes his mouth, suddenly gone dry.
A finger extends as Yixing reaches his arm across the table. He taps the page, right above the first word on the vocabulary list. “Go.”
Jongdae blinks before his eyes find the word and he tries again, taking it from the top.
03. Simple things
There’s comfort in the routine they take up, an unceremonious, unspoken agreement. The warmth of a fond smile nudges Jongdae in the right direction when they review pronunciation together. Lifting almost to tiptoe, fingers comb through dark hair to untangle a stray bit of fuzz from Yixing’s head.
An extra water bottle, rolled across the dance room floor, launches a grateful smile upon receipt. They split a secret extra helping of rice, devoured by two hungry boys still adjusting to the company’s restrictions. Hands and palms roll out sore muscles, a small reprieve from the stiffness their trainers insist will fade.
Late at night, they lie awake in their dorm room, reviewing vocabulary words in two languages half-murmured to each other, secluded from the deep, even breathing of the other boys’ dreaming.
04. Boat
The managers will often put on a movie during those rare moments when the group can relax together. Tonight’s is an American import, one of the more famous ones. Korean subtitles flash across the bottom of the screen. The movie runs long with slow pacing. Jongdae finds his focus wavering in and out of the movie. Joonmyeon and Kyungsoo, engaged by the drama unfolding on-screen, both watch with tear-brightened eyes. Jongin is asleep between them, head tilting back against the sofa.
The redheaded woman on screen holds her robe closed for a moment before pulling it open and letting it fall to the floor. The man in the chair shifts, eyes taking her in before speaking his lines. Someone stifles a laugh; it sounds like Chanyeol. The woman lays back on the loveseat, large necklace glittering around her neck. She shifts her limbs on screen, prompted by the artist, and Zitao and Sehun join in the fit of giggles.
Jongdae feels weight shift onto his shoulder, followed by a ghostly tickle of hair against his neck. He looks away from the screen to see Yixing has nodded off, using Jongdae’s shoulder as a makeshift pillow. Before he can stop himself, Jongdae rests his cheek on Yixing’s head. He considers staying there, let himself lull into a catnap. Instead, he lifts his head back to the movie.
His gaze lands on the screen in time to see the artist sketch a woman’s breast on screen. He feels himself flush a deep red. Jongdae averts his eyes to his phone the rest of the film, careful not to disturb Yixing from his slumber.
05. Music
After a successful test with the language tutor, Jongdae finds himself with a new list of vocabulary. It’s easier this time around to verbalize written tones. Jongdae makes a mental note to find some way to thank Yixing later. Maybe take on one of his chores for a day, laundry or something.
The muffled sounds of fingers plucking guitar strings carries into the room. He can tell whose hands are crafting the melody a few notes in, and packs up his things to find Yixing.
Jongdae peeks his head in the room a few doors down, trying his best not to disturb the guitarist upon arrival. He fails, but it doesn’t matter much when Yixing dimples at him as the last chord dissipates into the air. “Hey.”
“Hi. You can keep playing, if you want.” Jongdae shuts the door behind him. He picks his way across the room to sit on the floor by the far wall. “I like it.” He can feel Yixing’s eyes tracking him as he moves. Jongdae fights the curious urge to look up at the young man sitting in his chair, acoustic guitar resting in his lap.
Instead, he meticulously unpacks his workbook and practice sheets, setting them beside him and in his lap. He picks up where he left off, testing each tone as he puts the words together.
Within a few moments, Yixing’s fingers pluck the strings in a wandering, ear-pleasing melody. Jongdae circles back to the top of his vocab list twice before reading them in sing-song over the guitar chords. “Sad, awkward, embarrassed, cheerful….” Jongdae bobs his head in time to the music as he recites the new vocabulary list. Yixing chuckles when he stumbles over a word, supplying the proper pronunciation in song as Jongdae tucks his chin to his chest.
Yixing keeps the chords repetitive and slow without Jongdae asking him for the favor. They trade words, in Mandarin then Korean, over the strum of the guitar until they can’t ignore rumble of their bellies.
06. Gloomy
Incessant rain and an early autumn chill make the walk to the convenience store feel ten times more the chore than it is. Jongdae was supposed to run the errand for the group with Minseok. But, as the oldest of the group, Minseok managed to delegate his turn running errands to another.
Yixing’s expression mimicked the atmosphere of chilly rain falling around them. Despite this, the umbrella he carried remained carefully between them. “It’s okay to take the whole umbrella,” Jongdae says, shaking his arms inside his thin grey rain slicker. “I’ll be fine.”
With a sidelong glance and a disbelieving sigh, Yixing tilts the umbrella closer to himself. They reach the convenience store by the time Jongdae notices the umbrella again covers them both to the best of its ability.
Inside, they split up to run their errands. Jongdae finishes his tasks before Yixing, attention hooked on the prepackaged waffle display. It seems to be the latest trend in convenience store offerings. The selection jams together many brands in the eye-catching cardboard pop-up stand.
“Do you want some?” Jongdae’s question seems to bring Yixing part-way out of his momentary daze. He shakes his head. “Okay then. Let’s finish up and get back to the dorm.”
Outside, the weather hadn’t improved during their convenience store jaunt. With a victorious laugh, Jongdae surprises Yixing with an umbrella of his own. It was the last in the store: a bright yellow child-sized umbrella with a happy face design centered around the shaft. He opens it, striking a pose as outlandish and exaggerated as his mind can conjure.
Yixing almost cries laughing on the walk home, and Jongdae’s chest bursts with a smug sense of pleasure.
07. Scarred
Vocal exercises progress to duet preparation, with all the members pairing off, rappers included. The managers split them six and six, so they rotate practice partners within the sub-units.
This week, Jongdae’s partner is Yixing. It’s a welcome change from training with Luhan for three weeks while the others mixed around. They meet up in the practice room at the end of the hall. It’s the only one with an old upright piano, kept in tune just like the newer models.
This piano is Yixing’s favorite, he confides to Jongdae as they sit side by side on the worn piano bench. “It has the most character of all the pianos.”
By ‘character’ Jongdae assumes Yixing means its scattered wear and tear. The marks are a testament to its time before and with SM Entertainment. Yixing runs his finger along one such groove in the fallboard, tracing it with deliberate care. Jongdae lets his gaze wander from the long fingers up Yixing’s arm to the closed look on Yixing’s face.
Sitting this close, Jongdae can see the small, dark hairs budding on Yixing’s chin. There is a smattering of discolorations on Yixing’s cheeks. They look smooth. Jongdae wants to touch them to make sure, and doesn’t. His eyes flick up when Yixing blinks, down to his mouth when he swallows. The swell of Yixing’s lips bunch together in a pout, the corners of his mouth firm as his lips fold.
Jongdae averts his gaze to the sheet music clenched in his hands, and he sets it on the music rack. Yixing lifts up the fallboard while Jongdae smoothes out the wrinkles in the pages. “Ready?” Jongdae looks back to his practice partner, eyes careful to meet Yixing’s own stare.
With two fingers on the piano keys, Yixing finds the root and the third of the opening chord. Internalizing the sound, he nods. “Ready.” They open their mouths to breathe together, to sing together.
08. Spotless
The makeup room is a required stop before any of them split into groups to film teasers. This morning, Jongdae feels like someone’s pulled the rug from under his feet. Baekhyun sits in one chair, Yixing in the other, brushes applying powders to their faces.
Yixing’s long hair is gone.
Well, not entirely. But a haidresser took buzz clippers to the back and sides of Yixing’s head. Only a long asymmetrical cut remains, draping down from the top of his head. It suits him, but Jongdae misses the full head of hair. His fingers itch to touch, but he puts them in his pockets and out of trouble.
One of the makeup staff uses an alligator clip to pin Yixing’s bangs out of the way. Jongdae meets his eyes in the mirror. Yixing’s face lights up. “Jongdae! You like it?”
BB Cream and setting powder have smoothed and matted Yixing’s face. He looks slightly inhuman. A staff member draws a brush down the slope of Yixing’s nose. Yixing’s eyes squint closed on instinct and Jongdae wills himself to move. He finds an unobtrusive spot against the makeup counter to lean on. Lucky for him, that ends up being midway between Baekhyun and Yixing.
Baekhyun cuts him off before he gets a chance to speak. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a new haircut, too.” Yixing laughs, cut off by a crewmember with a lip brush hushes him into a blank expression. The technician holds Yixing’s face steady with two fingers framing his jaw. Jongdae watches the paint spread color along Yixing’s bottom lip. Yixing catches his eye again, winking with both eyes and making Jongdae laugh.
Looking away, Jongdae turns on Baekhyun, a retort already forming on the tip of his tongue.
09. Dying
A lucky few survive with permission to keep their names. Chen is not among them. It takes a bit of time getting used to his new stage name, drilling the instinct to respond to it. They all have to practice to not default to the birth names when referring to each other on camera. By the end of the first day, most of them have adjusted to the change.
An arm snakes around his shoulder. “ChenChen.” Yixing’s – no, Lay’s – voice is a soft, lilting tease against the outer shell of his ear. Jongdae, or Chen, turns to meet warm, brown eyes, corners crinkled with mirth.
“Not fair,” Jongdae whines. “LayLay doesn’t match.” Yixing laughs and Jongdae feels it in his chest. “How am I supposed to get used to Lay? I feel like I don’t even know him.”
Yixing pauses for a moment, giving the comment more consideration than Jongdae thinks it merits. Jongdae starts to dismiss joke, but Yixing cuts him off in Mandarin too quick for Jongdae to understand.
“Slower, please?” Jongdae asks in Mandarin, hopeful he got the pronunciation right.
Yixing repeats himself, but it’s still lost on Jongdae. With a chuckle, Yixing squeezes his shoulder. He disentangles himself to follow his nose into the kitchen, Jongdae lost in his wake.
10. Afraid
The dorms in China are smaller, but this time, the managers scramble the boys into new room assignments. Everything is fresh and new and fun, until it isn’t, until the night before a day full of appearances in a language Jongdae barely understands. He’s better now, but his fluency is nowhere near where it should be.
He finds himself awake in the small common area. His thumbs tinker with a game on his phone, too restless to sleep and too anxious to study. Even if he could, he isn’t sure what good a last-minute, late-night cram session would be. His lagging fluency needs more time to fix than he’s got left. In an exercise in optimism, Jongdae counts himself lucky four times over: once for each Chinese bandmate. The managers also promised they’ll have professional translators available to help, too. At least, they’ll be there during some of the interviews.
Jongdae’s phone chirps, too cheerful of a noise for someone who lost the level. “Even I know it helps if you focus on what you’re doing.” Turning on the couch, Jongdae finds Yixing standing precipitously on his tiptoes. Bed-tousled hair falls into sleepy eyes, wrinkled purple V-neck and boxers tossed on like an afterthought of modesty. In the cool dorm air, Yixing’s nipples poke against the thin tee. Jongdae’s eyes skitter back up to meet his gaze.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” Yixing climbs over the side of the sofa, sprawling over the cushion beside Jongdae. “Try again.”
With a sidelong look, Jongdae gauges his intent before restarting the level. Yixing watches as he plays. The room stays quiet save for the soft in-game effects of Jongdae’s phone and the muted noises from city life outside. This time, he clears the level, but just barely.
Jongdae exits the game app, clutching his phone in one hand as he sits back, sighing. He crosses his arms. “I’m worried I haven’t prepared enough, that I won’t be interesting enough for them.”
On the street outside, someone’s car alarm goes off for a few seconds before it cuts out. The room feels more empty than before. “Jongdae.” His name feels familiar in Yixing’s accent. Jongdae holds himself still for a moment before making himself relax. He lets his arms unfold before meeting Yixing’s eyes. “You’ve prepared well,” he says in Mandarin. Jongdae can understand that much. The rest of his quiet encouragement is lost on Jongdae, save for the slow, deliberate interlacing of their fingers, the squeezing of hands as night edges closer to day. “You’re enough.”
They sit in the quiet until Jongdae squeezes Yixing’s hand and releases it. His palm misses the warmth of another pressed against it. “You’re up late,” Jongdae chides, standing with a brusque display of self-assurance. “You should go to sleep so you’ll be awake in the morning. Come on. Tomorrow comes whether we want it or not.”
---
Title:chenlay firebenders au Untitled
Summary: A friendly firebending spar.
Rating: G
Word Count: 953
Note: Originally posted on June 29, 2015.
If this was a real fight, an open brown shawl would have fallen from their bare shoulders as they rose from a kneel in the duel ring, fluttering to the ground to pool beside their unshod feet. They both would have the metal arm bands Jongdae sports on each bicep, thin rings of gold he prefers to wear because he says it makes him focus, but Yixing knows Jongdae thinks they make his muscles look bigger. If this was a real fight, the intent would be to incapacitate, by any means necessary, with no time to pause and appreciate at the opponent’s form.
Firebending and otherwise.
Jongdae leaps into the air, kicking his legs forward and sending blasts of fire toward Yixing. They’re not exchanging blows at full power, just strong enough that the fire will make it across the arena, hot enough they need to dodge. Yixing deflects them, crossing his forearms in front of his body then slicing his arms out to the sides, sending the flames away before they have a chance to make contact.
As Jongdae lands, Yixing follows up with an attack of his own. He brings his arms back in, chopping at the air and sending fire Jongdae’s way. The attacks spiral as his arms move, slashing one way and another, and Jongdae has to drop and roll to avoid them. While rolling on the ground, he slashes his arm out and sends a quick jet of fire at Yixing’s feet.
Yixing jumps, kicking his feet and sending bursts at Jongdae as he dodges the ground-level attack. Jongdae counters with another roll, getting to his knees and punching fists forward. Fireballs follow a beat behind Yixing, the flame soaring over his head as he lands and crouches.
He sets his form again, knees bent and leading with one side of his body. Yixing tucks his elbows as he raises his hands chest-level before him. Jongdae stands, darting to one side to avoid a blast of fire. Yixing steps forward, arms moving in jabs and kicks as he executes an attack form. Fire bursts from his limbs in quick succession. Jongdae bends the fire away from himself as he moves across the field, forcing Yixing to circle him to keep his attacks on target.
There’s still a bit of distance between them, now in that middle-range between close combat and distance dueling. As the sparring match draws them closer together, Jongdae can see the glimmer of sweat on Yixing’s torso as he moves, sinuous body full of the power he bends. Jongdae shows signs of exertion as well, sweat beading at his temples as he pants. Yixing lets his eyes linger on Jongdae’s lithe waist before he clenches his fists, feeling the energy flow through his body with his breath.
Breaking off his attack, Yixing intends to readjust his strategy. He’s a beat too slow shifting into the next form, and Jongdae takes advantage of the hesitation. With a yell, he leaps forward, spinning a kick that sends a whip of fire in Yixing’s direction. And another, and another, attacking as he spins, each step precise. Yixing raises his hands, controlling the flames as he brings each attack down to dissipate beside him.
Yixing gives up a few paces of ground before he steps aside from the blast to lunge forward, bringing one fist across his body and bending fire. A lunge accompanies a punch of flame, which Yixing follows up by dropping down to kick a low-flying arc of fire at Jongdae.
Jongdae kicks his own flame at the arc, a shoddy attempt at blasting back Yixing’s attack. It does the job well enough, stopping the attack from harming him but not in its tracks. Heat licks his feet as he charges forward, slicing through air with a flat palm. Fire erupts from the tips of his fingers.
Standing back up, Yixing leverages a high strike with his foot, kicking his own block at Jongdae’s attack. Each round of blows, fiery kicks and blocks and chops, bring them closer together. They’re in close combat, trading in sweeping attacks for short blasts.
Throwing fire, Jongdae steps forward with each attack, shouting as he bends the flames. Yixing presses his hands together before him, deflecting the fire away as he spreads his arms out. He follows with one fist, reaching for Jongdae and bending a puff of flame from his palm. Jongdae reaches inside his arm, knocking Yixing’s forearm away with his forearm. Yixing keeps his block high, anticipating the fall of Jongdae’s next attack and dissipating the heat.
Growling, Jongdae clenches his fists and bends small jets of fire from the pinky-side of his palm. Wielding fire-daggers, he attacks Yixing, trying to get him to step off-balance. Instead, Yixing ducks and sweeps his leg out. He manages hook their ankles together, and Jongdae is falling.
But he’s not going down alone. Fire gone from his hands, Jongdae reaches out and grabs Yixing. The two of them fall, rolling to break their fall, and then it’s a wrestling match on the floor.
Yixing has never been good at wrestling. He ends up flat on his back, Jongdae pinning him down and fist poised to strike. The smirk suits him. “You almost had me.” If it was anyone else but Jongdae straddling him, he’d be surprised they had enough breath left to speak. “Almost, of course.”
“Of course.”
“You’re getting better at attacking. That’s good.” Jongdae puts his arm down, planting his hand next to Yixing’s head. Jongdae’s gaze wanders away from Yixing’s eyes, roving over his flushed and sweaty skin. “I could get used to you like this, you know.”
Yixing has to laugh at that. “You already are.”
Title: Table #3
Summary: I lifted table 3 from the 10_prompts LJ comm for pre-chenlay flash fics, vaguely chronological order, set from predebut to immediately after debut.
Rating: G
Word Count: 3,035
Note: Originally posted on May 24, 2015.
01. Castle
When the other trainees mention the “Changsha Prince,” Jongdae’s imagination goes into overdrive. It fits a handsome face on a boy built tall, slender, and talented, like one of the older Chinese trainees. The figure has good cheekbones, sharp eyes, and a sharper wit. He’s the sort of cruelly beautiful person expected in manhwas.
Jongdae assumes this prince probably grew up with in spacious rooms decorated with impressive luxuries from Western palaces. Atop unreachable parapets, family-crested flags wave in the wind. The imaginary Changsha Prince fits right in. He orders servants about with the lift of a finger, the comfortable final piece of a puzzle.
After their first introduction, Jongdae realizes he’s got it all wrong. Yixing is no aloof prince, no spoiled heir. He doesn’t seem accustomed to mind-numbingly endless leisure over the struggle of a hard day.
He’s distant, yes, and the look in his eyes makes Jongdae wonder if he’s fully awake. He’s handsome, too, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones under a fall of long hair. Yixing’s voice is soft and light, heavily accented as he introduces himself.
By the end of their first day in the same training group, Jongdae learned to fight his envy of Yixing’s dancing talent. Instead, he found Yixing eager to help him learn. They arrange to meet for extra practice during the free hour after dinner.
Over dinner, his eyes catch on Yixing by chance. He falls in with the Chinese rapper-trainees of the group when Yixing looks up. Yixing gives Jongdae a friendly nod before both return to their present companions. Jongdae supposes he’s beginning to understand why people call Yixing a prince, silly as the nickname is. Baekhyun knocks him from his thoughts with a well-placed jab of the elbow, and it’s back to bickering as usual.
02. Book
Jongdae whines, sighing louder than he should in the designated study room. The vocabulary lists are blurring together. He can’t tell if he’s getting his tones right. After a hard day full of choreography lessons, the muscles in his limbs nag him for sleep. He grits his teeth against the ache. It’s difficult to ignore, especially the soreness in his back.
He sits up, stretching his arms above his head. Rolling out his shoulders and patting himself on both cheeks, he tries to refocus. If he can just get through this list three times, he’ll let himself sleep.
Back…thigh…belly…arm…. Jongdae runs through the list, testing each word on his tongue until he gets it right, or close enough. By the end, he’s not sure if it counts as one run-through. Jongdae lets it slide, eyes back at the top of the list, fighting to stay awake.
“Up late, I see.”
Jongdae’s head jerks up at the sound. He offers the best smile he can manage to Yixing, standing in the shadows of the door. “I want it to be perfect.”
“You need to sleep so you brain can learn.” Yixing’s voice is dry, cracking around the edges. Jongdae wonders what brought him out of the dorm room. He didn’t think he was being disruptive, but Jongdae knows he tends toward loud.
“So, help me.”
Yixing hesitates for a moment, lingering in the doorway before he tips forward. His pads with sock-clad feet toward the table lit by a single desk lamp. He lifts a chair, setting it down backwards in the spot across from Jongdae. Then it’s a slow and quiet rearranging of limbs: elegant fingers uncurling from the seat back, an expanse of thigh as legs spread to straddle the seat, arms closing in a circle as he hugs the chair to his shoulders. By the end of the display, Yixing watches him. His sleepy, dark eyes turn intense in the high relief cast by the close study lamp. Jongdae closes his mouth, suddenly gone dry.
A finger extends as Yixing reaches his arm across the table. He taps the page, right above the first word on the vocabulary list. “Go.”
Jongdae blinks before his eyes find the word and he tries again, taking it from the top.
03. Simple things
There’s comfort in the routine they take up, an unceremonious, unspoken agreement. The warmth of a fond smile nudges Jongdae in the right direction when they review pronunciation together. Lifting almost to tiptoe, fingers comb through dark hair to untangle a stray bit of fuzz from Yixing’s head.
An extra water bottle, rolled across the dance room floor, launches a grateful smile upon receipt. They split a secret extra helping of rice, devoured by two hungry boys still adjusting to the company’s restrictions. Hands and palms roll out sore muscles, a small reprieve from the stiffness their trainers insist will fade.
Late at night, they lie awake in their dorm room, reviewing vocabulary words in two languages half-murmured to each other, secluded from the deep, even breathing of the other boys’ dreaming.
04. Boat
The managers will often put on a movie during those rare moments when the group can relax together. Tonight’s is an American import, one of the more famous ones. Korean subtitles flash across the bottom of the screen. The movie runs long with slow pacing. Jongdae finds his focus wavering in and out of the movie. Joonmyeon and Kyungsoo, engaged by the drama unfolding on-screen, both watch with tear-brightened eyes. Jongin is asleep between them, head tilting back against the sofa.
The redheaded woman on screen holds her robe closed for a moment before pulling it open and letting it fall to the floor. The man in the chair shifts, eyes taking her in before speaking his lines. Someone stifles a laugh; it sounds like Chanyeol. The woman lays back on the loveseat, large necklace glittering around her neck. She shifts her limbs on screen, prompted by the artist, and Zitao and Sehun join in the fit of giggles.
Jongdae feels weight shift onto his shoulder, followed by a ghostly tickle of hair against his neck. He looks away from the screen to see Yixing has nodded off, using Jongdae’s shoulder as a makeshift pillow. Before he can stop himself, Jongdae rests his cheek on Yixing’s head. He considers staying there, let himself lull into a catnap. Instead, he lifts his head back to the movie.
His gaze lands on the screen in time to see the artist sketch a woman’s breast on screen. He feels himself flush a deep red. Jongdae averts his eyes to his phone the rest of the film, careful not to disturb Yixing from his slumber.
05. Music
After a successful test with the language tutor, Jongdae finds himself with a new list of vocabulary. It’s easier this time around to verbalize written tones. Jongdae makes a mental note to find some way to thank Yixing later. Maybe take on one of his chores for a day, laundry or something.
The muffled sounds of fingers plucking guitar strings carries into the room. He can tell whose hands are crafting the melody a few notes in, and packs up his things to find Yixing.
Jongdae peeks his head in the room a few doors down, trying his best not to disturb the guitarist upon arrival. He fails, but it doesn’t matter much when Yixing dimples at him as the last chord dissipates into the air. “Hey.”
“Hi. You can keep playing, if you want.” Jongdae shuts the door behind him. He picks his way across the room to sit on the floor by the far wall. “I like it.” He can feel Yixing’s eyes tracking him as he moves. Jongdae fights the curious urge to look up at the young man sitting in his chair, acoustic guitar resting in his lap.
Instead, he meticulously unpacks his workbook and practice sheets, setting them beside him and in his lap. He picks up where he left off, testing each tone as he puts the words together.
Within a few moments, Yixing’s fingers pluck the strings in a wandering, ear-pleasing melody. Jongdae circles back to the top of his vocab list twice before reading them in sing-song over the guitar chords. “Sad, awkward, embarrassed, cheerful….” Jongdae bobs his head in time to the music as he recites the new vocabulary list. Yixing chuckles when he stumbles over a word, supplying the proper pronunciation in song as Jongdae tucks his chin to his chest.
Yixing keeps the chords repetitive and slow without Jongdae asking him for the favor. They trade words, in Mandarin then Korean, over the strum of the guitar until they can’t ignore rumble of their bellies.
06. Gloomy
Incessant rain and an early autumn chill make the walk to the convenience store feel ten times more the chore than it is. Jongdae was supposed to run the errand for the group with Minseok. But, as the oldest of the group, Minseok managed to delegate his turn running errands to another.
Yixing’s expression mimicked the atmosphere of chilly rain falling around them. Despite this, the umbrella he carried remained carefully between them. “It’s okay to take the whole umbrella,” Jongdae says, shaking his arms inside his thin grey rain slicker. “I’ll be fine.”
With a sidelong glance and a disbelieving sigh, Yixing tilts the umbrella closer to himself. They reach the convenience store by the time Jongdae notices the umbrella again covers them both to the best of its ability.
Inside, they split up to run their errands. Jongdae finishes his tasks before Yixing, attention hooked on the prepackaged waffle display. It seems to be the latest trend in convenience store offerings. The selection jams together many brands in the eye-catching cardboard pop-up stand.
“Do you want some?” Jongdae’s question seems to bring Yixing part-way out of his momentary daze. He shakes his head. “Okay then. Let’s finish up and get back to the dorm.”
Outside, the weather hadn’t improved during their convenience store jaunt. With a victorious laugh, Jongdae surprises Yixing with an umbrella of his own. It was the last in the store: a bright yellow child-sized umbrella with a happy face design centered around the shaft. He opens it, striking a pose as outlandish and exaggerated as his mind can conjure.
Yixing almost cries laughing on the walk home, and Jongdae’s chest bursts with a smug sense of pleasure.
07. Scarred
Vocal exercises progress to duet preparation, with all the members pairing off, rappers included. The managers split them six and six, so they rotate practice partners within the sub-units.
This week, Jongdae’s partner is Yixing. It’s a welcome change from training with Luhan for three weeks while the others mixed around. They meet up in the practice room at the end of the hall. It’s the only one with an old upright piano, kept in tune just like the newer models.
This piano is Yixing’s favorite, he confides to Jongdae as they sit side by side on the worn piano bench. “It has the most character of all the pianos.”
By ‘character’ Jongdae assumes Yixing means its scattered wear and tear. The marks are a testament to its time before and with SM Entertainment. Yixing runs his finger along one such groove in the fallboard, tracing it with deliberate care. Jongdae lets his gaze wander from the long fingers up Yixing’s arm to the closed look on Yixing’s face.
Sitting this close, Jongdae can see the small, dark hairs budding on Yixing’s chin. There is a smattering of discolorations on Yixing’s cheeks. They look smooth. Jongdae wants to touch them to make sure, and doesn’t. His eyes flick up when Yixing blinks, down to his mouth when he swallows. The swell of Yixing’s lips bunch together in a pout, the corners of his mouth firm as his lips fold.
Jongdae averts his gaze to the sheet music clenched in his hands, and he sets it on the music rack. Yixing lifts up the fallboard while Jongdae smoothes out the wrinkles in the pages. “Ready?” Jongdae looks back to his practice partner, eyes careful to meet Yixing’s own stare.
With two fingers on the piano keys, Yixing finds the root and the third of the opening chord. Internalizing the sound, he nods. “Ready.” They open their mouths to breathe together, to sing together.
08. Spotless
The makeup room is a required stop before any of them split into groups to film teasers. This morning, Jongdae feels like someone’s pulled the rug from under his feet. Baekhyun sits in one chair, Yixing in the other, brushes applying powders to their faces.
Yixing’s long hair is gone.
Well, not entirely. But a haidresser took buzz clippers to the back and sides of Yixing’s head. Only a long asymmetrical cut remains, draping down from the top of his head. It suits him, but Jongdae misses the full head of hair. His fingers itch to touch, but he puts them in his pockets and out of trouble.
One of the makeup staff uses an alligator clip to pin Yixing’s bangs out of the way. Jongdae meets his eyes in the mirror. Yixing’s face lights up. “Jongdae! You like it?”
BB Cream and setting powder have smoothed and matted Yixing’s face. He looks slightly inhuman. A staff member draws a brush down the slope of Yixing’s nose. Yixing’s eyes squint closed on instinct and Jongdae wills himself to move. He finds an unobtrusive spot against the makeup counter to lean on. Lucky for him, that ends up being midway between Baekhyun and Yixing.
Baekhyun cuts him off before he gets a chance to speak. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a new haircut, too.” Yixing laughs, cut off by a crewmember with a lip brush hushes him into a blank expression. The technician holds Yixing’s face steady with two fingers framing his jaw. Jongdae watches the paint spread color along Yixing’s bottom lip. Yixing catches his eye again, winking with both eyes and making Jongdae laugh.
Looking away, Jongdae turns on Baekhyun, a retort already forming on the tip of his tongue.
09. Dying
A lucky few survive with permission to keep their names. Chen is not among them. It takes a bit of time getting used to his new stage name, drilling the instinct to respond to it. They all have to practice to not default to the birth names when referring to each other on camera. By the end of the first day, most of them have adjusted to the change.
An arm snakes around his shoulder. “ChenChen.” Yixing’s – no, Lay’s – voice is a soft, lilting tease against the outer shell of his ear. Jongdae, or Chen, turns to meet warm, brown eyes, corners crinkled with mirth.
“Not fair,” Jongdae whines. “LayLay doesn’t match.” Yixing laughs and Jongdae feels it in his chest. “How am I supposed to get used to Lay? I feel like I don’t even know him.”
Yixing pauses for a moment, giving the comment more consideration than Jongdae thinks it merits. Jongdae starts to dismiss joke, but Yixing cuts him off in Mandarin too quick for Jongdae to understand.
“Slower, please?” Jongdae asks in Mandarin, hopeful he got the pronunciation right.
Yixing repeats himself, but it’s still lost on Jongdae. With a chuckle, Yixing squeezes his shoulder. He disentangles himself to follow his nose into the kitchen, Jongdae lost in his wake.
10. Afraid
The dorms in China are smaller, but this time, the managers scramble the boys into new room assignments. Everything is fresh and new and fun, until it isn’t, until the night before a day full of appearances in a language Jongdae barely understands. He’s better now, but his fluency is nowhere near where it should be.
He finds himself awake in the small common area. His thumbs tinker with a game on his phone, too restless to sleep and too anxious to study. Even if he could, he isn’t sure what good a last-minute, late-night cram session would be. His lagging fluency needs more time to fix than he’s got left. In an exercise in optimism, Jongdae counts himself lucky four times over: once for each Chinese bandmate. The managers also promised they’ll have professional translators available to help, too. At least, they’ll be there during some of the interviews.
Jongdae’s phone chirps, too cheerful of a noise for someone who lost the level. “Even I know it helps if you focus on what you’re doing.” Turning on the couch, Jongdae finds Yixing standing precipitously on his tiptoes. Bed-tousled hair falls into sleepy eyes, wrinkled purple V-neck and boxers tossed on like an afterthought of modesty. In the cool dorm air, Yixing’s nipples poke against the thin tee. Jongdae’s eyes skitter back up to meet his gaze.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” Yixing climbs over the side of the sofa, sprawling over the cushion beside Jongdae. “Try again.”
With a sidelong look, Jongdae gauges his intent before restarting the level. Yixing watches as he plays. The room stays quiet save for the soft in-game effects of Jongdae’s phone and the muted noises from city life outside. This time, he clears the level, but just barely.
Jongdae exits the game app, clutching his phone in one hand as he sits back, sighing. He crosses his arms. “I’m worried I haven’t prepared enough, that I won’t be interesting enough for them.”
On the street outside, someone’s car alarm goes off for a few seconds before it cuts out. The room feels more empty than before. “Jongdae.” His name feels familiar in Yixing’s accent. Jongdae holds himself still for a moment before making himself relax. He lets his arms unfold before meeting Yixing’s eyes. “You’ve prepared well,” he says in Mandarin. Jongdae can understand that much. The rest of his quiet encouragement is lost on Jongdae, save for the slow, deliberate interlacing of their fingers, the squeezing of hands as night edges closer to day. “You’re enough.”
They sit in the quiet until Jongdae squeezes Yixing’s hand and releases it. His palm misses the warmth of another pressed against it. “You’re up late,” Jongdae chides, standing with a brusque display of self-assurance. “You should go to sleep so you’ll be awake in the morning. Come on. Tomorrow comes whether we want it or not.”
---
Title:
Summary: A friendly firebending spar.
Rating: G
Word Count: 953
Note: Originally posted on June 29, 2015.
If this was a real fight, an open brown shawl would have fallen from their bare shoulders as they rose from a kneel in the duel ring, fluttering to the ground to pool beside their unshod feet. They both would have the metal arm bands Jongdae sports on each bicep, thin rings of gold he prefers to wear because he says it makes him focus, but Yixing knows Jongdae thinks they make his muscles look bigger. If this was a real fight, the intent would be to incapacitate, by any means necessary, with no time to pause and appreciate at the opponent’s form.
Firebending and otherwise.
Jongdae leaps into the air, kicking his legs forward and sending blasts of fire toward Yixing. They’re not exchanging blows at full power, just strong enough that the fire will make it across the arena, hot enough they need to dodge. Yixing deflects them, crossing his forearms in front of his body then slicing his arms out to the sides, sending the flames away before they have a chance to make contact.
As Jongdae lands, Yixing follows up with an attack of his own. He brings his arms back in, chopping at the air and sending fire Jongdae’s way. The attacks spiral as his arms move, slashing one way and another, and Jongdae has to drop and roll to avoid them. While rolling on the ground, he slashes his arm out and sends a quick jet of fire at Yixing’s feet.
Yixing jumps, kicking his feet and sending bursts at Jongdae as he dodges the ground-level attack. Jongdae counters with another roll, getting to his knees and punching fists forward. Fireballs follow a beat behind Yixing, the flame soaring over his head as he lands and crouches.
He sets his form again, knees bent and leading with one side of his body. Yixing tucks his elbows as he raises his hands chest-level before him. Jongdae stands, darting to one side to avoid a blast of fire. Yixing steps forward, arms moving in jabs and kicks as he executes an attack form. Fire bursts from his limbs in quick succession. Jongdae bends the fire away from himself as he moves across the field, forcing Yixing to circle him to keep his attacks on target.
There’s still a bit of distance between them, now in that middle-range between close combat and distance dueling. As the sparring match draws them closer together, Jongdae can see the glimmer of sweat on Yixing’s torso as he moves, sinuous body full of the power he bends. Jongdae shows signs of exertion as well, sweat beading at his temples as he pants. Yixing lets his eyes linger on Jongdae’s lithe waist before he clenches his fists, feeling the energy flow through his body with his breath.
Breaking off his attack, Yixing intends to readjust his strategy. He’s a beat too slow shifting into the next form, and Jongdae takes advantage of the hesitation. With a yell, he leaps forward, spinning a kick that sends a whip of fire in Yixing’s direction. And another, and another, attacking as he spins, each step precise. Yixing raises his hands, controlling the flames as he brings each attack down to dissipate beside him.
Yixing gives up a few paces of ground before he steps aside from the blast to lunge forward, bringing one fist across his body and bending fire. A lunge accompanies a punch of flame, which Yixing follows up by dropping down to kick a low-flying arc of fire at Jongdae.
Jongdae kicks his own flame at the arc, a shoddy attempt at blasting back Yixing’s attack. It does the job well enough, stopping the attack from harming him but not in its tracks. Heat licks his feet as he charges forward, slicing through air with a flat palm. Fire erupts from the tips of his fingers.
Standing back up, Yixing leverages a high strike with his foot, kicking his own block at Jongdae’s attack. Each round of blows, fiery kicks and blocks and chops, bring them closer together. They’re in close combat, trading in sweeping attacks for short blasts.
Throwing fire, Jongdae steps forward with each attack, shouting as he bends the flames. Yixing presses his hands together before him, deflecting the fire away as he spreads his arms out. He follows with one fist, reaching for Jongdae and bending a puff of flame from his palm. Jongdae reaches inside his arm, knocking Yixing’s forearm away with his forearm. Yixing keeps his block high, anticipating the fall of Jongdae’s next attack and dissipating the heat.
Growling, Jongdae clenches his fists and bends small jets of fire from the pinky-side of his palm. Wielding fire-daggers, he attacks Yixing, trying to get him to step off-balance. Instead, Yixing ducks and sweeps his leg out. He manages hook their ankles together, and Jongdae is falling.
But he’s not going down alone. Fire gone from his hands, Jongdae reaches out and grabs Yixing. The two of them fall, rolling to break their fall, and then it’s a wrestling match on the floor.
Yixing has never been good at wrestling. He ends up flat on his back, Jongdae pinning him down and fist poised to strike. The smirk suits him. “You almost had me.” If it was anyone else but Jongdae straddling him, he’d be surprised they had enough breath left to speak. “Almost, of course.”
“Of course.”
“You’re getting better at attacking. That’s good.” Jongdae puts his arm down, planting his hand next to Yixing’s head. Jongdae’s gaze wanders away from Yixing’s eyes, roving over his flushed and sweaty skin. “I could get used to you like this, you know.”
Yixing has to laugh at that. “You already are.”
