Of Daydreams and Drooling.
Tales Of Teenage Angst
The sun was just about setting the world ablaze as Sungmin slipped in through the front door of Kyuhyun’s house; light filtered in with military precision, cutting up and dissecting white walls with warm orange and rich red hues.
A small jingling sound danced through empty airwaves as he set down the spare house keys he had located underneath the bedazzled wing of Jungsoo’s extremely-overly-flamboyantly decorated garden flamingo. He never quite understood why Jungsoo couldn’t just have invested in a Hawaiian shirt toting garden gnome like his neighbour had – then Sungmin recalled that his neighbour (their joint-neighbour, really) was Kim Heechul and that gnome was probably just a front for all sorts of illegal things; make believe suburbia.
‘Kyuhyun,’ Sungmin called out tunefully, swinging on the stair rail and peering up at Kyuhyun’s bedroom door – before he heard a soft snore (read: demonic roar) and realised that his earlier call had fallen on dead ears.
Sungmin’s eyes eventually located their target, he had fallen asleep somewhere between his osmosis studying and tapping out a reply to Sungmin’s text.
‘ off.’ It had read, plain and simple and tragically Cho Kyuhyun.
‘Oh, well that’s nice,’ Sungmin huffed, deleting the text and glaring in disgust at Kyuhyun; breath heavy and skin painted gold and healthy. Sungmin hoped he got sunburnt.
His stomach released a small growl, and he scrunched his eyes shut tightly – desperately wishing that it was just his digestive system’s way of communicating with Kyuhyun’s lion impersonation and not a message of hunger.
He winced at his idiocy and newly developed insanity as he found his eyes searching for something edible against his will.
After finding a cupboard stocked fill with jars of smooth peanut butter, he had to groan. He’d be better off eating a table leg, or an actual leg. Kyuhyun never really used his legs anyway.
A particularly loud (almost violent, really) snore combined with a thud jolted Sungmin from his thoughts of cannibalism and he turned to face the idiot he called his best friend, his hand had given up supporting his chin and thusly – his face had fallen against the counter (with the cushion of his biology book), arm still waving awkwardly in the air.
Despite mentally be knowledge of this person outside of school, a small smile lit up Sungmin’s features as he noticed Kyuhyun’s open mouth, lips parted and sticky against overly descriptive diagrams of a basic cellular structure.
A small droplet of saliva pooling over mitochondrion later, and Sungmin’s brilliant idea hit. He was quite sure he’d spotted some raisins in his search for substantial, non-Moroccan food (Jungsoo had went through a phase of only cooking Moroccan food (which was really just anything he over spiced (which was everything (ever))) and he was 90% sure that the shrivelled up memories of grapes would bode well in his plan for annoying Kyuhyun.
His suspicions were only further confirmed when he finally located the packet amidst an unnaturally large selection of rigatoni, he briefly spared a thought to wondering if raisins ever expired but shrugged it off when another wave of snoring hit his ears unceremoniously.
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The 172nd raisin landed on Kyuhyun’s bottom lip, balancing precariously, as Sungmin had decided that his game was swiftly losing its appeal. It was one thing that Sungmin had missed as much as he had – but what was worse was that Kyuhyun had slept on. All Sungmin had discovered that was of any use to him was the younger boy’s distinct lack of gag reflexes.
An unfriendly snort of air and the raisin came tumbling down (bringing along its lover and her entire extended (possibly Mexican) family), landing in a small ocean of dribble that had engulfed an illustration of the nucleus in transparency so it blended in with words that were a foggy memory to Sungmin’s mind.
It was in this moment (well, one of many moments in their friendship) that Sungmin had decided that Kyuhyun was actually a disgusting pig and shouldn’t have a nice face if he’s just going to scrunch it up on books and allow it to seep out of every orifice.
Sungmin extended a thin, delicate finger and prodded Kyuhyun’s cheek, his lengthy fingernail painting a crescent shape in the soft skin of his cheek, ‘Kyuhyun, wake up.’
Instead of complying like any rational human should (in Sungmin’s opinion anyway), Kyuhyun just carried on sleeping – and as if to simply irritate Sungmin more silence had decided to radiate and only be broken by the soft plobs of the Mexican raisins being met by their two Swedish cousins.
Now this simply would not suffice, and Sungmin would not take responsibility for what happened next.
Kyuhyun eventually awoke with a jolt (after much prodding on Sungmin’s part, and maybe a light punch (and maybe the punch wasn’t so light) and a soft (read: hard) kick), visions of asphyxia clouding his mind and lungs.
Sungmin had taken a moment after nursing a broken nail to stuff two raisins up Kyuhyun’s nostrils and up until this point – he had not regretted a thing, not even when Kyuhyun had shot said raisins out of his nose and they had narrowly avoided Sungmin’s shoes.
The rest of the saliva soaked raisins were spat out into the sink (and Sungmin could practically hear them screaming in all their different dialects to be saved), and Kyuhyun turned to glare at the shorter male (read: midget-disproportionate-serial-killer-gentleman (Kyuhyun ponders for a moment why he ever decided to link the word gentleman to someone as unclassy as min (he means Sungmin))).
He would have yelled, should have yelled really, but his lung capacity was already at a low to begin with and the oxygen cut off he’d been experiencing for God knows how long hadn’t really helped much – so instead of hurling a mound of hugely catty (and usually unsuccessful) insults at Sungmin – Kyuhyun had opted for the demonic aura approach.
And despite his death glare (which could barely wilt a dead flower) burning (read: throwing fluff) into the older’s brow, Sungmin simply shrugged, ‘Well, you weren’t waking up.’
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‘Sungmin tried to kill me yesterday,’ Kyuhyun stated, running his fingers through tangled hair (and casually trying to extricate them moments later when he realised how unsuccessful the feat was given he had not brushed his hair in a few days).
Hyukjae scoffed, looking over at Kyuhyun (who had only succeeded in getting his fingers further stuck in that mess of a thing he tried to pass off as hair), ‘What method did he use this time?’
‘Death by raisin,’ Sungmin muttered, not looking up from his phone’s screen.
‘Did you anger the raisin Queen?’ Donghae asked, almost in a whisper – concern and curiosity (read: idiocy) buzzing from every pore.
The general consensus was to look deadpan and hope he decided to explain further. Of course, Donghae obliged, ‘You know, the raisin Queen. She’s also the Queen of France. Has big purple poofy hair, does part time work as a loofa.’
‘…France has a male president Donghae.’
Kyuhyun gave a soft cough and rubbed the back of his neck (having finally disentangled his fingers from the brambles of dark locks), trying to give off the impression of being pale and wan in the hopes that a teacher would spot him and send him home.
Hyukjae sighed, flicking Kyuhyun’s throat and standing up, ‘You’re actually an idiot, Kyu. I don’t know why I let you sap away my brain cells.’
‘Probably because I do your homework,’ Kyuhyun had shot back once he had stopped his pitiful coughing bout.
‘You don’t even do your homework, Kyuhyun,’ Sungmin said, shock calculating its way through his face.
‘Whatever, that’s not the point okay. Hyukjae sat on me on – beat me into submission.’
‘… I stood on his foot and he volunteered.’ Hyukjae said in response to the shocked looks.
‘It was when he was going through that whole black scar phase,’ Kyuhyun muttered, ‘Don’t judge me.’
‘Kyuhyun, he’s two grades above you and really, my biggest question here is… if your libels against Hyukjae were true – why would it matter if he sat on you. He weighs less than air.’
‘… Also, why are Hyukjae’s marks so bad?’ Sungmin added quietly in afterthought.
‘MY MARKS ARE PHENOMENAL OKAY, JUST BECAUSE IT’S AN ASIAN FAIL-‘
‘Point of rebellion,’ Kyuhyun whispered, a small smirk (that really just resembled an uncomfortable facial twitch) on his lips.
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‘Hyukjae, if you’re actually letting Kyuhyun do your homework you might actually be dumber than Donghae,’ Sungmin said, following closely after the redhead.
Hyukjae paused in his well-calculated footsteps and looked at Sungmin, grinning, ‘Actually, I do my own homework. I just give it to Donghae. His marks have never been better.’
‘… You know, that says a lot about Donghae. That someone two grades below him is purposefully butchering his homework is upping his marks.’
A/N: Better late and awful than never I suppose?
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