To the rhythm of the post-chorus Chanyeol rises from the bench and steadily moves towards the dance floor, pausing at last in front of Sehun. The lights wash over them, yet this time the elder doesn't shut his eyes. He looks head on into the brilliance, ready to be burned and blinded by it. "But one would have to be a stupid little creature to realise," he quotes at the Sehun, his speech overriding his lines…  

The sound of it snaps Baekhyun out of his own absorption: the sinewy denim-clad thigh that barely brushes his, the daily-widening shoulder that grazes his irremediably slight one, the cuts and curvature of the catlike visage that faces the screen in seeming disinterest but actual engagement. Why is it he feels that thigh, that shoulder, that gaze with ten times the keenness he does the arm of his lover that's wrapped about his neck? The right side of his lank bo

As he goes, the song – Lana Del Rey's West Coast – draws to an end and a momentary silence settles on the house, though in his barraged ears it still reverberates. No sooner does he take the first step than the tune starts afresh, louder now, as he draws nearer the source of its playing. His face further contorted, he covers his ears and continues his climb. It's his own room, he's certain, that's the epicentre of this unnatural disaster, and since it

They study each other a time, the time it takes Kyungsoo to redo his divisions. Past, present, risks, rewards, duties, desires, their members, their future, his plans, he calculates and recalculates, but the figures won’t add up. It’s all such a hopeless mess. In 2015 I hope EXO and the people around me will be happy, wasn’t that what he wished for himself as he cut through that cloyingly sweet birthday cake? In 2015...and now it’s over. What is hiappiness? He

It's the heat that does it, the heat and the weight. It trickles down his temples, encumbers his chest. Groggily he undoes his eyes to find both boys where he left them, Sehun to his right, Jongin to his left. What is this? His eyes dart from end to end, panic building up his body as wakefulness whets his senses. I can't move. Didn't I tell them five minutes? It must have been longer than that...

  Minseok swallows hard. Sehun’s speech makes no more sense than does their current state, than does anything that’s happened from the moment their van broke down to the moment Baekhyun and Junmyeon decided that they simply had to follow their manager on his quest to repair it. Clever men? Idiots? Heat reproduction? Is this some elaborate mind-game to see if he can drive me crazy once and for all? He wants to

The bed is wide, wide enough to fit both if they huddle together, but this, this is too close...

This is not the first time Baekhyun has disappeared into foreign darkness... Chanyeol never asks where he’s been or what he’s done. He doesn’t want to know – know why he had to go, whom he might have seen, why he can’t breathe when they’re alone together – he can’t afford to…neither of them can. 

What's a drop in an ocean? How unique, how significant can it be? Through a painful lesson, Oh Sehun finds out just that. 

Instinctively he knows he’s lost, that he ought to turn back and ask for help, but the sliver of light emitting from the crack in the seventh door is like a beacon drawing him in. He follows it and opens the flap without thinking... 

Is this love? He doesn't know; he's never felt it before. All he knows is that his body, his mind, the whole of his being are such a tumult of anguish and bliss that he sees no hope of survival...

As he gapes at that arm, blankly, in utter incomprehension, a thought starts to gnaw at the back of his mind – no, not so much a thought as a realisation: this appendage belongs to a man...  

A painful (literally) ChenBaek oneshot. 

*The continuation of What If...   What If... Almost or All     The stage is dark – an island of obscurity amid an ocean of silver lights. Kim Jong In and Oh Sehun stand back to back, their bodies poised, their minds alert. The Dome is a cacophony of invocations – fifty-thousand frenzied follo

What If...       "Can we take five? My waist is killing me," Sehun grunts breathlessly, his face contorting painfully as he collapses onto the wooden floor of the rehearsal hall where he and Jong-In have been hard at practice these three hours. With Tokyo Dome and their Japanese debut drawing nearer by the hour, everyone, from membe

Fast-Forward – Rewind     “Your face is a form of cheating.” Kim Minseok’s bowlike lips curve wryly up at the memory of their maknae’s accusation as he studies his reflection in the mirror of the lavish restroom of the still more extravagant hotel that’s been allotted him and two of his eight group-mates for the day’s photo-ses

Spin the Bottle      So tired… Kyungsoo hangs his head and wrings his eyes as he turns the key in its latch. His fingers work slowly, made sluggish by the nigh on arctic mid-November air. The chill that’s settled suddenly on Seoul has cut short the day’s filming, and for the first time in Kyungsoo’s work-muddled memory he’s gotten an evening to

Rock-Paper-Scissors     Oh, he’s home, Chanyeol concludes as he takes in the image of the living room, black leather jacket, Balmain sunglasses and half emptied bottle of coke scattered like post-its across it. He places his phone on the counter beside the designer shades, sweeps his long fingers over the pelt and smiles. Good taste, uri mak

Birds of a Feather     Musk and lavender, a rich clean scent, at once masculine and delicate. Junmyeon breathes it keenly in, holds it in his lungs, reluctantly releases it. The fragrance is the fusion of them both – a marriage of aromas now entering its fourth year. Slowly he unlocks his eyes and faintly sighs. The face that meets his is peaceful in its sleep, a

Return to Sender      “Even if I seem strong, even if I’m smiling, I spend a lot of time alone,” Byun Baekhyun’s poignant tenor echoes through the sparsely lighted studio in time with the melancholy melody of the tune. The ivories curtsy in compliance as metrically he sweeps pale tapered fingers athwart the keyboard. His eyes are shut, his heart wide open. Of EXO

  Pan's Bridle   If he clenches his teeth hard enough and holds his breath long enough, eventually, it passes. He never takes count but knows instinctively that each episode lasts a few seconds longer than the previous one. There’s no pattern to it, no foreseeing its arrival. It happens at random moments – the angle at which he tilts his head, the pitch at which he laughs, the jutting of his chin as he purses his lips

In Your Eyes     Such small eyes...yet they seem so large...it's odd...scary. Chanyeol shifts uncomfortably in his seat, at once sniffing and pouting as he's wont to do when undecided about something. His ofttimes playful gaze is now unusually intent, scanning, scrutinising. Inside the lavishly furnished office sits a young man whom Chanyeol knows to be ne

Deep Breath     "I'm craving you," a fevered whisper echoes through the vacant hallway, causing Kyungsoo to arrest. His body turns mechanically, spurred by the slowly spreading music and the voice that swells towards him live a wave. "Cut off the discarded thorn-like memories," it urges. "I know; I feel it all. Slowly I realise I am dying." He winces at these words so

The Main Game      The blazing lights overhead momentarily blur, their silver brilliancy dulling into a hazy reddish purple. On screens that serve as mutable backdrops a night-time cityscape is stretched. Nine young men in black and white attire, fitted leather trousers and likewise tailored tops, exchange sardonic glances and confidently assume their positions - f

The Mark      That mark...that little dark dot - dark against the pallor, the heady pallor of his skin. His lips part unconsciously and lightly tremble at the sight. He struggles to avert his gaze, focus on anything and everything but the skin with its impossible pallor, so incitingly interrupted by that solitary spot of dark flesh. Beauty marks