rabenhorst (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rabenhorst) wrote2012-01-24 12:46 am
rabenhorst) wrote2012-01-24 12:46 am
Entry tags:
[fic] Onew/Key – SHINee – Falling on the Sharp Edge – oneshot
Title: Falling on the Sharp Edge
Author:fonulyn
Rating: R
Warnings: character death (OCs, briefly mentioned)
Pairing: Onew/Key (Jinki/Kibum)
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: On the streets, everyone knows them as Onew and Key, one the shadow of another, always together. When they’re alone there is no Onew, there is no Key. Not when they let their guard down, their pretences slip. There are only Jinki and Kibum, stripped down to the core.
Comments: I tried out the SHINee random pairing+prompt generator and it kept feeding me onkey (not that I’m complaining, after minkey it’s my favourite) and one of the prompts was “morally bankrupt”. That, together with this song, is my excuse. \o/
...also, I am a sad case who had to make her little brother name the fic. clearly, I rock.
THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A 100-WORD DRABBLE. WHY IS IT 1800 WORDS!?
Jinki’s hands are shaking.
He never thought the rush of adrenaline could sear through him like this, like it’s branded in his spine and pierces through every single molecule of his body. Living on the streets has taught him a thing or two but never before has he run like this, feared for his life like this.
Feared for someone else’s life like this.
Fingers squeeze his own and instinctively he tightens his hold, a sweaty palm against another. He isn’t completely certain if they’re safe now but he doesn’t have the energy to check. All he can do is collapse against the brick wall, the rough texture digging into his back through his thin shirt.
A split second later Jinki exhales when another body collides with his, still warm and concrete, full of life. “Kibum,” he whispers, releasing the death-grip on the hand he’s holding to instead wrap his arms around thin shoulders. He pulls Kibum close, Kibum’s fingers digging deep into his sides as he clutches him tight. It hurts but Jinki doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to change it.
Instead he holds on like his life depends on it.
Jinki can feel Kibum trembling right against him, and he isn’t certain if the dampness of his shirt is all sweat, or if there are tears in the mix. When he shifts his hands to Kibum’s back his fingers graze something warm and sticky. Blood. He jolts back, eyes wide. “Kibum, are you alright?”
“No,” Kibum says, choked, right into Jinki’s neck. “I am fucking not alright. We just got shot at and those fuckers killed, fucking killed, our friends right the fuck in front of us!” He holds on even tighter and Jinki tilts his head to bury his face into Kibum’s hair. Images of blood and dirt, sounds of screams and pain, it all floods his consciousness the second he lets his guard down.
“I didn’t mean that, Kibum,” Jinki says. He fights to keep his voice steady, but there is no helping the slight waver. “There’s blood.”
“Oh.” Kibum sounds marginally calmer but he doesn’t pull back, not an inch. “It’s not mine. I don’t think it’s mine.”
“We need to go get cleaned up, okay.” Jinki pushes Kibum off himself, but makes sure to lace their fingers together again. Kibum squeezes hard, but refuses to look up and meet Jinki’s eyes. Stubbornly he keeps his gaze directed down to the muddy ground, his mussed hair falling on his face.
Anyone would describe Kibum as stubborn and strong, a fiery character that never gives up. Right now he looks the exact opposite. He looks worn, tired. Like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders and he isn’t strong enough to hold it alone. Like it’s a matter of seconds when it’ll crush him.
Jinki can’t let that happen. He reaches out and gently cups Kibum’s chin to make him look at him. “It’ll be alright,” he says, even if he isn’t completely sure he believes himself. “It’ll be alright.”
Weakly, Jinki smiles, and when Kibum looks up at him there is a hint of hope deep in his eyes. There is a splash of blood on Kibum’s cheek, in clear contrast to his eerily pale skin. Jinki’s throat laces up and he fights back tears when he reaches to cup Kibum’s jaw in his palm, smudging the stain with his thumb. He is still scared, they are still scared, but they need to get out of here and somewhere hidden.
“Jinki,” Kibum says. It sounds too much like a plea. “You’d better keep that promise.”
What is there to do but nod? Jinki dips his head down just slightly, before wordlessly dragging Kibum out of that alleyway.
-
Hours later they finally stop roaming the streets and use the last of their money to book a cheap motel room for the night. The bed is only a single mattress and there is no chair, no desk, no nothing. But the shower is hot and that is exactly what they need. Kibum showers first, while Jinki tries to scrape together something to eat. Soon he’s back with a loaf of bread, walking in to find Kibum is sitting on the bed, his skin a little lighter, clearer than before.
When it’s Jinki’s turn to shower he spends an eternity watching the muddy swirls go down the drain, his forehead pressed against the cool tiled wall. Hot water is pounding down his back, but it’s a poor distraction. The events of the day still keep coming back to him.
Never in his life has Jinki pulled a gun on another human being with the intention to kill. He shakes his head to clear his mind.
He isn’t sure which scares him more: the thought of losing Kibum or the fact that he would, in a heartbeat, give his own life in exchange. So he tries not to think. Forcibly he brings his brains to a screeching halt and tries to black everything out. Tries, but never succeeds. The clipped metal cuts his fingers when he punches the tap to close it, but he barely registers the pain. If anything, it reminds him he’s still alive.
Angrily, Jinki rubs their bloody, dirty shirts in the sink. He doesn’t even try to salvage the pants but maybe he can get the stench of blood off Kibum’s shirt. It’s the only one he’s got with him and it needs to be clean, needs to, needs to.
The water in the sink is an ugly mix of copper and crimson. For one horrifying moment Jinki feels like it will suck him in until he can’t breathe, until he can’t escape anymore. With a shout he shoves the shirt deeper under the surface, splashes staining his arms.
Jinki sinks to the floor, curls up and cries.
-
Kibum sits on the bed, completely still, in the exact same place he occupied when Jinki passed him the food and retreated into the bathroom. The bread lies on the bumpy mattress right next to him, untouched. The mere thought of eating makes his stomach churn and him feel like throwing up.
Only the soft thud of a door closing makes him look up.
One single glance at Jinki’s face tells him he’s been crying, despite the smile he pastes on to seem brave. It breaks Kibum’s heart, how fake it is. “Come here,” he reaches out, the woollen blanket slipping off his bare shoulders to pool around his hips.
Without a word, Jinki approaches him until he can climb on the bed, sink into the waiting embrace. Kibum’s arms slip around his torso, blunt fingernails digging into his back just enough to sting. Their tattered edges slot together and for a second it feels like nothing has changed, nothing is wrong.
Only for a second though. Kibum feels Jinki break apart in his arms, deep sobs wrecking his body. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, so he just holds Jinki close and waits. It feels like a small eternity later when Jinki finally speaks up, carefully. “I’m sorry.”
Kibum doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for so he pulls Jinki up, meets his gaze straight. “Jinki, stop it. Stop it. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t kill anyone.” He knows that Jinki wants so badly to be strong, for him, but in a way it feels suitable it’s now his turn.
“But I should have.”
The whisper is so silent Kibum isn’t certain he even heard correctly, but the look on Jinki’s face is solemn, resigned. He really means it. A million thoughts race through Kibum’s mind, but it all boils down to a single word. “No.”
“No,” Kibum repeats firmly in the wake of Jinki’s confused expression. “You shouldn’t have. Did you see how many they were? If you had shot one the others would’ve butchered you on the spot. You can’t go against a dozen guns with one.”
“But they shot him,” Jinki says, resigned. “They shot him, I should’ve …taken revenge.”
“Jinki, you listen to me!” Fire flashes in Kibum’s eyes and he grabs Jinki’s face between his palms, holding on a bit too tight. It almost hurts but they stay there like frozen, staring at one another. “I already lost two very dear friends. I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. You’re everything.” He fights the pain in his chest at the mere thought of losing the one person he considers practically a part of himself.
Jinki doesn’t say anything, but the unadulterated panic in his eyes starts to fade. He manages a faint smile that, in contrast to the ones before, is genuine. He started this part of his life together with Kibum, and he will stay with him till the end. When Jinki moves in and connects their lips, it says so much more than words ever could. There are countless kisses behind them, in their past, but with this he promises that the future holds even more.
It breaks the floodgates and soon it’s only skin on skin, fevered touches anywhere they can reach.
-
The slide of Jinki’s cock inside of him still makes Kibum tense, a breathy curse spilling from him. There’s too little lubrication, too much haste, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not right now. He needs all of it, this whole intense stretch that makes him feel like the world isn’t crashing down after all.
Jinki breathes butterfly kisses on Kibum’s collarbones, ever so gentle, as he even now tries to make sure he isn’t hurting him. As an answer Kibum lifts his hips, changes the angle in which their bodies join, and it makes them both release a throaty moan. Unable to hold back, Jinki thrusts forward once, twice, burying himself in as deep as humanly possible.
The pressure within makes Kibum’s head spin, and for once he doesn’t think. There is nothing in his world but the coupling, the contrast between sharp snaps of hips and the feathery brush of fingertips on his cheek. Jinki is everywhere around him, inside of him, over him, as if sheltering him from the rest of the world.
Kibum’s thighs are trembling from the effort so he wraps his legs around Jinki’s waist, the movement guiding him even closer. “J-jinki,” he gasps, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. Overwhelmed, he vaguely thinks he has never in his life been this full, this close to another human being, not even to Jinki.
The illusion fades when they shatter against one another. Through the haze Kibum feels Jinki twine their fingers together and he squeezes, he clings on.
Right then, right there, he decides he will never let go.
By this point they have nothing to lose.
---
(1800 words)
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this was just one of those things that possessed my soul until I wrote it down, you know? I was listening to this (love the song ;~;) and the next thing I knew I was typing like a maniac. I wanted to make it a long epic au but then, I am not good with long and epic so this is what I settled on. if it’s interesting to others, too, I might expand it into a longer fic once? but idk. /shuts up
Author:
fonulynRating: R
Warnings: character death (OCs, briefly mentioned)
Pairing: Onew/Key (Jinki/Kibum)
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: On the streets, everyone knows them as Onew and Key, one the shadow of another, always together. When they’re alone there is no Onew, there is no Key. Not when they let their guard down, their pretences slip. There are only Jinki and Kibum, stripped down to the core.
Comments: I tried out the SHINee random pairing+prompt generator and it kept feeding me onkey (not that I’m complaining, after minkey it’s my favourite) and one of the prompts was “morally bankrupt”. That, together with this song, is my excuse. \o/
...also, I am a sad case who had to make her little brother name the fic. clearly, I rock.
THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A 100-WORD DRABBLE. WHY IS IT 1800 WORDS!?
Jinki’s hands are shaking.
He never thought the rush of adrenaline could sear through him like this, like it’s branded in his spine and pierces through every single molecule of his body. Living on the streets has taught him a thing or two but never before has he run like this, feared for his life like this.
Feared for someone else’s life like this.
Fingers squeeze his own and instinctively he tightens his hold, a sweaty palm against another. He isn’t completely certain if they’re safe now but he doesn’t have the energy to check. All he can do is collapse against the brick wall, the rough texture digging into his back through his thin shirt.
A split second later Jinki exhales when another body collides with his, still warm and concrete, full of life. “Kibum,” he whispers, releasing the death-grip on the hand he’s holding to instead wrap his arms around thin shoulders. He pulls Kibum close, Kibum’s fingers digging deep into his sides as he clutches him tight. It hurts but Jinki doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to change it.
Instead he holds on like his life depends on it.
Jinki can feel Kibum trembling right against him, and he isn’t certain if the dampness of his shirt is all sweat, or if there are tears in the mix. When he shifts his hands to Kibum’s back his fingers graze something warm and sticky. Blood. He jolts back, eyes wide. “Kibum, are you alright?”
“No,” Kibum says, choked, right into Jinki’s neck. “I am fucking not alright. We just got shot at and those fuckers killed, fucking killed, our friends right the fuck in front of us!” He holds on even tighter and Jinki tilts his head to bury his face into Kibum’s hair. Images of blood and dirt, sounds of screams and pain, it all floods his consciousness the second he lets his guard down.
“I didn’t mean that, Kibum,” Jinki says. He fights to keep his voice steady, but there is no helping the slight waver. “There’s blood.”
“Oh.” Kibum sounds marginally calmer but he doesn’t pull back, not an inch. “It’s not mine. I don’t think it’s mine.”
“We need to go get cleaned up, okay.” Jinki pushes Kibum off himself, but makes sure to lace their fingers together again. Kibum squeezes hard, but refuses to look up and meet Jinki’s eyes. Stubbornly he keeps his gaze directed down to the muddy ground, his mussed hair falling on his face.
Anyone would describe Kibum as stubborn and strong, a fiery character that never gives up. Right now he looks the exact opposite. He looks worn, tired. Like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders and he isn’t strong enough to hold it alone. Like it’s a matter of seconds when it’ll crush him.
Jinki can’t let that happen. He reaches out and gently cups Kibum’s chin to make him look at him. “It’ll be alright,” he says, even if he isn’t completely sure he believes himself. “It’ll be alright.”
Weakly, Jinki smiles, and when Kibum looks up at him there is a hint of hope deep in his eyes. There is a splash of blood on Kibum’s cheek, in clear contrast to his eerily pale skin. Jinki’s throat laces up and he fights back tears when he reaches to cup Kibum’s jaw in his palm, smudging the stain with his thumb. He is still scared, they are still scared, but they need to get out of here and somewhere hidden.
“Jinki,” Kibum says. It sounds too much like a plea. “You’d better keep that promise.”
What is there to do but nod? Jinki dips his head down just slightly, before wordlessly dragging Kibum out of that alleyway.
-
Hours later they finally stop roaming the streets and use the last of their money to book a cheap motel room for the night. The bed is only a single mattress and there is no chair, no desk, no nothing. But the shower is hot and that is exactly what they need. Kibum showers first, while Jinki tries to scrape together something to eat. Soon he’s back with a loaf of bread, walking in to find Kibum is sitting on the bed, his skin a little lighter, clearer than before.
When it’s Jinki’s turn to shower he spends an eternity watching the muddy swirls go down the drain, his forehead pressed against the cool tiled wall. Hot water is pounding down his back, but it’s a poor distraction. The events of the day still keep coming back to him.
Never in his life has Jinki pulled a gun on another human being with the intention to kill. He shakes his head to clear his mind.
He isn’t sure which scares him more: the thought of losing Kibum or the fact that he would, in a heartbeat, give his own life in exchange. So he tries not to think. Forcibly he brings his brains to a screeching halt and tries to black everything out. Tries, but never succeeds. The clipped metal cuts his fingers when he punches the tap to close it, but he barely registers the pain. If anything, it reminds him he’s still alive.
Angrily, Jinki rubs their bloody, dirty shirts in the sink. He doesn’t even try to salvage the pants but maybe he can get the stench of blood off Kibum’s shirt. It’s the only one he’s got with him and it needs to be clean, needs to, needs to.
The water in the sink is an ugly mix of copper and crimson. For one horrifying moment Jinki feels like it will suck him in until he can’t breathe, until he can’t escape anymore. With a shout he shoves the shirt deeper under the surface, splashes staining his arms.
Jinki sinks to the floor, curls up and cries.
-
Kibum sits on the bed, completely still, in the exact same place he occupied when Jinki passed him the food and retreated into the bathroom. The bread lies on the bumpy mattress right next to him, untouched. The mere thought of eating makes his stomach churn and him feel like throwing up.
Only the soft thud of a door closing makes him look up.
One single glance at Jinki’s face tells him he’s been crying, despite the smile he pastes on to seem brave. It breaks Kibum’s heart, how fake it is. “Come here,” he reaches out, the woollen blanket slipping off his bare shoulders to pool around his hips.
Without a word, Jinki approaches him until he can climb on the bed, sink into the waiting embrace. Kibum’s arms slip around his torso, blunt fingernails digging into his back just enough to sting. Their tattered edges slot together and for a second it feels like nothing has changed, nothing is wrong.
Only for a second though. Kibum feels Jinki break apart in his arms, deep sobs wrecking his body. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, so he just holds Jinki close and waits. It feels like a small eternity later when Jinki finally speaks up, carefully. “I’m sorry.”
Kibum doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for so he pulls Jinki up, meets his gaze straight. “Jinki, stop it. Stop it. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t kill anyone.” He knows that Jinki wants so badly to be strong, for him, but in a way it feels suitable it’s now his turn.
“But I should have.”
The whisper is so silent Kibum isn’t certain he even heard correctly, but the look on Jinki’s face is solemn, resigned. He really means it. A million thoughts race through Kibum’s mind, but it all boils down to a single word. “No.”
“No,” Kibum repeats firmly in the wake of Jinki’s confused expression. “You shouldn’t have. Did you see how many they were? If you had shot one the others would’ve butchered you on the spot. You can’t go against a dozen guns with one.”
“But they shot him,” Jinki says, resigned. “They shot him, I should’ve …taken revenge.”
“Jinki, you listen to me!” Fire flashes in Kibum’s eyes and he grabs Jinki’s face between his palms, holding on a bit too tight. It almost hurts but they stay there like frozen, staring at one another. “I already lost two very dear friends. I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. You’re everything.” He fights the pain in his chest at the mere thought of losing the one person he considers practically a part of himself.
Jinki doesn’t say anything, but the unadulterated panic in his eyes starts to fade. He manages a faint smile that, in contrast to the ones before, is genuine. He started this part of his life together with Kibum, and he will stay with him till the end. When Jinki moves in and connects their lips, it says so much more than words ever could. There are countless kisses behind them, in their past, but with this he promises that the future holds even more.
It breaks the floodgates and soon it’s only skin on skin, fevered touches anywhere they can reach.
-
The slide of Jinki’s cock inside of him still makes Kibum tense, a breathy curse spilling from him. There’s too little lubrication, too much haste, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not right now. He needs all of it, this whole intense stretch that makes him feel like the world isn’t crashing down after all.
Jinki breathes butterfly kisses on Kibum’s collarbones, ever so gentle, as he even now tries to make sure he isn’t hurting him. As an answer Kibum lifts his hips, changes the angle in which their bodies join, and it makes them both release a throaty moan. Unable to hold back, Jinki thrusts forward once, twice, burying himself in as deep as humanly possible.
The pressure within makes Kibum’s head spin, and for once he doesn’t think. There is nothing in his world but the coupling, the contrast between sharp snaps of hips and the feathery brush of fingertips on his cheek. Jinki is everywhere around him, inside of him, over him, as if sheltering him from the rest of the world.
Kibum’s thighs are trembling from the effort so he wraps his legs around Jinki’s waist, the movement guiding him even closer. “J-jinki,” he gasps, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. Overwhelmed, he vaguely thinks he has never in his life been this full, this close to another human being, not even to Jinki.
The illusion fades when they shatter against one another. Through the haze Kibum feels Jinki twine their fingers together and he squeezes, he clings on.
Right then, right there, he decides he will never let go.
By this point they have nothing to lose.
---
(1800 words)
this was just one of those things that possessed my soul until I wrote it down, you know? I was listening to this (love the song ;~;) and the next thing I knew I was typing like a maniac. I wanted to make it a long epic au but then, I am not good with long and epic so this is what I settled on. if it’s interesting to others, too, I might expand it into a longer fic once? but idk. /shuts up