Any Way The Wind Blows
Any Way The Wind Blows
acrosstherug
SHINee | Onew/Taemin | pg | 800 words give or take.
I never wanted any credit for the way you feel. I just want you to know.
title from Bohemian Rhapsody.
When they wash the dishes, Jinki stands by the side; in front of the cupboards. He stands next to Taemin, who stands next to Minho who stands in front of the sink. The dirty dishes pile high to their right, leftovers already scrapped off by the other two.
Minho works diligently, intensely; each swipe across the porcelain deliberate. He stares intently at the streaming jets of water, at the swirls of sauce and soap bubbles sloshing at the sides. His hands move in routine and he says nothing, content with just the sound of rushing water and the clink of ceramic. He talks, but only sometimes, letting the rise and fall of Taemin’s breathing and Jinki’s stifled giggles make up for his silence.
Taemin knocks shoulders with him sometimes just to get a reaction, and he’ll smile just to satisfy the younger boy. Jinki from the other side will notice and he’ll start to giggle, not bringing up the lack of dry dishes coming his way, content with letting the maknaes fool around.
Taemin wipes a bit too quickly, too rushed. The bowl would still hold water and the chopsticks are more wet than damp. He’s too excited, too impatient to wait for Minho’s deliberate and routine washing “ten scrubs on the front, left, right, back and then ten all around; believe me I counted.” He wants to play games with Jonghyun hyung, finish reading his comic in bed with fruits Key hyung prepared for him. His hand brushes Jinki’s sometimes, a shared sentiment, because Jinki waits too.
Jinki waits to be in the center, because he never is. Their leader by name and status, but unless they spoke about it, nobody knew. Or nobody cared enough to. His voice is second to Jonghyun’s, his dancing nothing spectacular like Taemin or Key. He wonders if he could rival Minho’s charisma, quickly batting away the ridiculous notion. They all have their charms, and he has his Condition.
Jinki’s not a jealous person by nature; it’s not something he’s used to. But he cannot stop the little trickle that creeps up from the shadows of his mind, the one that wonders if he’s merely a scapegoat for everything imperfect in the idol industry. He pushes it away decisively; making sure his every smile was as sincere as the last one. Jinki will feel but he won’t react.
Instead, he stands at the very end, the responsible one that arranges all their cutleries and bowls. “Why can’t I wash the dishes?” “You’ll break everything and then we’ll have to eat takeout.” He doesn’t mind though, takeout doesn’t sound so bad. But Jonghyun speaks the truth sometimes, and he would like to spare himself from the wrath of his mother who comes over and checks up on them. Jinki leans against the counter, watching as Minho go over the same plate for the third time. Taemin sighs, loud and exaggerated, not really angry but merely showing off. Minho just smirks before carefully, and unnecessarily slow, passing the plate to their youngest. It’s his way of joking around and the others let him.
Taemin rushes by this one, already tapping his feet by the time Minho starts on his next plate. Jinki slows down a little bit, letting his mind wander and his hand move robotically over the plate. Without realising it, his gaze strays to Taemin who’s fidgeting endlessly with the hem of his shirt and the damp dishtowel. He watches, feeling a surge of something happy in his chest, as the youngest starts to twirl the cloth on his finger and imitate a flying saucer.
Taemin sees Jinki watching and sends one of his disarming smiles to his hyung, bright and carefree but rueful and all sorts of mature. Immediately, Jinki feels himself blushing, from his toes all the way to the roots of his hair. He grins in return, baring his teeth and letting his eyes turn into smiling crescents. They stay like that for a while, watching each other, eyes smiling and the tips of their ears red. Words like arrows fly between them, striking hearts and sending sparks. Taemin looks away first, a tinier, but infinitely more beautiful smile gracing his lips. Jinki hears the blood rushing past his ears, hears the thumping of his heart like a bass drum.
Taemin looks up again, a different kind of shine in his eyes; one that makes Jinki inhale sharply and lose all form of coherency.
And suddenly, Jinki doesn’t mind standing at the end for now.
author's tag? o.o
acrosstherugSHINee | Onew/Taemin | pg | 800 words give or take.
I never wanted any credit for the way you feel. I just want you to know.
title from Bohemian Rhapsody.
When they wash the dishes, Jinki stands by the side; in front of the cupboards. He stands next to Taemin, who stands next to Minho who stands in front of the sink. The dirty dishes pile high to their right, leftovers already scrapped off by the other two.
Minho works diligently, intensely; each swipe across the porcelain deliberate. He stares intently at the streaming jets of water, at the swirls of sauce and soap bubbles sloshing at the sides. His hands move in routine and he says nothing, content with just the sound of rushing water and the clink of ceramic. He talks, but only sometimes, letting the rise and fall of Taemin’s breathing and Jinki’s stifled giggles make up for his silence.
Taemin knocks shoulders with him sometimes just to get a reaction, and he’ll smile just to satisfy the younger boy. Jinki from the other side will notice and he’ll start to giggle, not bringing up the lack of dry dishes coming his way, content with letting the maknaes fool around.
Taemin wipes a bit too quickly, too rushed. The bowl would still hold water and the chopsticks are more wet than damp. He’s too excited, too impatient to wait for Minho’s deliberate and routine washing “ten scrubs on the front, left, right, back and then ten all around; believe me I counted.” He wants to play games with Jonghyun hyung, finish reading his comic in bed with fruits Key hyung prepared for him. His hand brushes Jinki’s sometimes, a shared sentiment, because Jinki waits too.
Jinki waits to be in the center, because he never is. Their leader by name and status, but unless they spoke about it, nobody knew. Or nobody cared enough to. His voice is second to Jonghyun’s, his dancing nothing spectacular like Taemin or Key. He wonders if he could rival Minho’s charisma, quickly batting away the ridiculous notion. They all have their charms, and he has his Condition.
Jinki’s not a jealous person by nature; it’s not something he’s used to. But he cannot stop the little trickle that creeps up from the shadows of his mind, the one that wonders if he’s merely a scapegoat for everything imperfect in the idol industry. He pushes it away decisively; making sure his every smile was as sincere as the last one. Jinki will feel but he won’t react.
Instead, he stands at the very end, the responsible one that arranges all their cutleries and bowls. “Why can’t I wash the dishes?” “You’ll break everything and then we’ll have to eat takeout.” He doesn’t mind though, takeout doesn’t sound so bad. But Jonghyun speaks the truth sometimes, and he would like to spare himself from the wrath of his mother who comes over and checks up on them. Jinki leans against the counter, watching as Minho go over the same plate for the third time. Taemin sighs, loud and exaggerated, not really angry but merely showing off. Minho just smirks before carefully, and unnecessarily slow, passing the plate to their youngest. It’s his way of joking around and the others let him.
Taemin rushes by this one, already tapping his feet by the time Minho starts on his next plate. Jinki slows down a little bit, letting his mind wander and his hand move robotically over the plate. Without realising it, his gaze strays to Taemin who’s fidgeting endlessly with the hem of his shirt and the damp dishtowel. He watches, feeling a surge of something happy in his chest, as the youngest starts to twirl the cloth on his finger and imitate a flying saucer.
Taemin sees Jinki watching and sends one of his disarming smiles to his hyung, bright and carefree but rueful and all sorts of mature. Immediately, Jinki feels himself blushing, from his toes all the way to the roots of his hair. He grins in return, baring his teeth and letting his eyes turn into smiling crescents. They stay like that for a while, watching each other, eyes smiling and the tips of their ears red. Words like arrows fly between them, striking hearts and sending sparks. Taemin looks away first, a tinier, but infinitely more beautiful smile gracing his lips. Jinki hears the blood rushing past his ears, hears the thumping of his heart like a bass drum.
Taemin looks up again, a different kind of shine in his eyes; one that makes Jinki inhale sharply and lose all form of coherency.
And suddenly, Jinki doesn’t mind standing at the end for now.
author's tag? o.o