2Min Drabble

I woke up, apparently, having feels about Taemin’s rosary, so I wrote this on my phone and I’m copying and pasting it to my tumblr. Let me know if there are any embarrassing autocorrects. Also, read more’s are hard on my phone, so there will be none of that.


Taemin didn’t realize he was rubbing at his rosary, rotating it around his wrist, thumb catching at the beads, until a warm hand was over his, stopping the movement. He glanced down first at the hand, saw the faint pink streaks where the beads had been pressed too hard into his skin, then up at the face looking down at him.

"Everything all right?" Minho asked.

Taemin blinked, mind slow to reengage. “Yeah.”

Minho sat down beside him, hand still over Taemin’s wrist. He was pressing the wood deeper into Taemin’s skin, but it didn’t hurt. Truthfully, he hardly noticed it. Minho’s thumb brushed over the back of his hand.

"You sure?"

Taemin nodded.

"You only play with that when you’re upset."

"I do?"

Minho laughed, voice soft in the otherwise loud airport. “You’re adorable. Really though, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing, honestly. I’ve just been feeling…" Taemin cast about in his mind for a few seconds, trying to find the right word. Minho waited, patient. "…Unsettled, lately."

"Like how?"

"I don’t know. I just feel a little off. It’s okay though. I get this way sometimes. It’ll pass."

Minho leaned in close and under the pretense of whispering, “As long as you’re really okay” in Taemin’s ear, he brushed his lips across Taemin’s cheek. Taemin smiled faintly.

"I will be."

"Good, but stop with that. You’re going to hurt yourself."

Taemin put his hand over Minho’s and wished they were alone so he could kiss him properly. He only rested his cheek against Minho’s shoulder.

"It’ll be all right, Taeminnie." Taemin made a soft sound of agreement and pressed a little closer to Minho.

JongKey fic

Written on my phone, I’ll put it behind a cut when I get home. And fix any autocorrects I missed.
Key was jealous. Yes, Kim Kibum was jealous. Sure, he had been voted one of Korea’s most fashionable idols. Sure, he had his own fair share of fangirls—and fanboys. And yes, he had this unusual talent to learn dances just by watching them a couple of times, something even Taemin couldn’t do, at least not to the extent Key could. He could sing and rap and his languages weren’t all that shoddy. There was just one thing.

He didn’t eat, sleep, and breathe music the way Jonghyun did. The music sparked across his skin, pulsed through his blood, flowed from his fingertips. Key didn’t know how no one else noticed it. He didn’t understand how it wasn’t a visible sign of just how impossible it was that a man like Jonghyun existed.

Key was lucky. He was lucky that although he would never BE the music like Jonghyun was, he could almost catch glimpses. When Jonghyun’s hands trailed down Key’s arms, they left staves in their wake. When they kissed, Key’s lungs filled with notes. There were chords in his chest when their bodies slid together and the rhythm beneath his skin when Jonghyun dropped to the bed beside him.

He would never have the music as part of him the way it was for Jonghyun, but he felt it when Jonghyun’s bare foot slid up Key’s calf in bed at night and he heard it when Jonghyun spoke. Sure, Kim Kibum was jealous, but he was pretty sure everybody else should have been a lot more jealous of him.