drabble seventeen; henry-type

genre: fluff

description: Amber has a type.

preview:

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a thing for blonde, Asian Canadian boys who are multilingual,” Sulli commented, casually flipping through a magazine.

“What?” Amber asked, looking up at Sulli and placing the basketball she’d been twirling on her finger in her lap. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Amber,” Sulli said, throwing a look at the elder. “Henry, Kris...they’re both blonde right now, both from Canada, and they both speak a bajillion languages. Are you sure you don’t like at least one of them?”

Amber flushes red. She can think of one person she likes, and maybe he’s on the list, but there was no way she was saying a word about that.

Amber doesn’t talk boys.

Okay no, sometimes she talks boys. She talks John Cena, because wow is he fine. But otherwise, she doesn’t talk boys unless she’s actually, you know, talking to them.

Sulli, though, she talks boys. A lot. Most of the time, Amber’s lucky enough to avoid the conversation and Sulli will have her chats with Krystal and Victoria, or sometimes Luna, and Amber won’t have to suffer the embarrassment of admitting that yes, Minseok was kind of cute when he was puffing his cheeks up and acting like a hamster.

(Amber momentarily has a thought that Henry was cute like that too, but she quickly forgets it.)

In any case, Amber is not so lucky today, because Sulli is interested, particularly, in having this conversation with her.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a thing for blonde, Asian-Canadian boys who are multilingual,” Sulli comments, casually flipping through a magazine.

“What?” Amber asks, looking up at Sulli and placing the basketball she’d been twirling on her finger in her lap. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Amber,” Sulli says, throwing a look at her. “Henry, Kris...they’re both blonde right now, both from Canada, and they both speak like a bajillion languages. Are you sure you don’t like at least one of them?”

Amber flushes red. She can think of one person she likes, and maybe he’s on the list, but there was no way she was saying a word about that.

“Four,” is what she responds instead, and Sulli looks momentarily confused. “They speak four languages,” Amber explains, and Sulli groans, putting the magazine over her face.

“Not the point, hyung,” she complains, and Amber just shrugs, picking up her basketball and walking away before Sulli can attack her with more of her boy-crush-suspicions.

Besides, Henry’s hair isn’t always blonde.

“She thinks I have a type,” Amber blurts out one day to Suho, who looks at a complete loss. If there’s anyone worse at girl-talk than Amber, it would have to be Suho, which is precisely why she’s talking to him about it. Suho understands about negative three percent of what she’s saying, but he’s a good friend and the way he pats her shoulder awkwardly in hopes of consolidating her is good enough for Amber.

“I do not have a type,” Amber continues, huffing. “It’s not my fault they’re both from the same country. And half the languages they speak are just because of their parents! It’s just coincidence. I know Chinese too. And if I’d bothered to learn Cantonese, I’d be qua...quad...quad--”

“Quadrilingual?” Suho offers helpfully, and Amber wonders if maybe Suho does have the slightest idea about what she’s talking about.

“Yeah. That,” she mutters, and Suho smiles at her and does his little arm-pat thing that he always does.

“It’s okay, Amber,” he smiles cheerfully. “I don’t think Henry qualifies as a type anyway.”

Amber gapes at him, and when he leaves her to go to practice a few minutes later, Amber wonders if maybe she should reconsider Suho’s abilities to understand girl-talk.

The worst part about this whole “type” thing, though, is when Henry finds out about it.

He’s so smug, like he has absolutely no doubt in his mind that Amber prefers him over Kris, and Amber is so close to jumping on Kris just to prove him wrong and wipe that stupid smirk off Henry’s stupidly attractive face.

“I’m your type, then?” He grins, and Amber narrows her eyes at him dangerously, but that smile doesn’t go away even after she hits him hard in the shoulder and stalks away, ears bright red. “You didn’t deny it!” he yells down the hallway, and she wants to scream and bury herself in a hole.

Henry is not a type, and even if he was, he would so not be her type. At all.

As it turns out, Henry follows her down the hallway, slinging an arm around her shoulder, his grin so wide that she’d love nothing more than to smack it off his face. Lovingly. And when she shrugs his arm off her shoulders, she pretends that it doesn’t bother her that he grabs her by the waist instead, pulling her back flush to his chest and goddamn him because she can smell his cologne and it’s much nicer than she last remembers.

“It’s okay Amber,” he teases, tucking his chin on her shoulder. Her heart rate speeds up a little, and he says, “You’re my type too, Amber. Weird and-- ow!”

She elbows him, hard, in the stomach, and he whimpers when she threatens to stomp on his foot for good measure.

He pouts at her, and Amber hates that her cheeks turn pink at the sight, and she sighs, doing that same awkward arm-pat thing that Suho does. “Sorry,” she apologizes, and Henry brightens a little.

“But you’re not my type. Like, at all.”

( Henry likes to make fun of her a few years later when he has her pinned to the couch, kissing her breathless.

“I am so your type,” he grins, and Amber notices that he still has that stupid grin on his stupid attractive face, and she blames Sulli for making Henry a type in the first place, because goddammit, he is her type, and like hell if she was ever going to admit it to him. )

oh dear i haven’t updated in forever have i

i’m really sorry DDD: school happened and ashdujkashdfijkasd

i was supposed to update for both of their birthdays but that didn’t happen and now i feel bad DD:

this drabble isn’t that good pLEASE FORGIVE ME

/crawls sadly back into cave