Pull
Oneshot
Frantic. Heart racing, palms sweating. Anxious. It wasn’t normal for him to feel this way, for his palms to sweat, cold beads forming on his forehead. He was confident, ambitious and flamboyant. Win, that word was a motto to him. And that was all he ever did. But somehow, things never always go his way.
“Where is she?” He asked.
The answer, it seemed, he had already knew. He just wanted to listen to the truth. And sometimes, truths hurt.
“Sick,” Nicole replied, “Tuomas is taking care of her.”
It was as if his voice wasn’t evidence enough that he wanted her, how much he longed for her. Silence. The journey back home was a quiet one. The normal, talkative, high-strung vocalist of Super Junior could care less what the other members of the band had to say- what his company were saying.
Somehow, not being yourself in a band of thirteen didn’t matter much. Because when you wanted peace and quiet, the rest of them shy away from you. They’re congregated amongst themselves, sometimes whispering loud enough for others to hear. Intentionally. And that he liked. He liked how nobody cared. How he was on his own, even in a band of brothers.
Kim Heechul wandered the landing that night. A soft, bitter cough caught his attention. He turned around, coming face to face with Caelyn Wingate. A smile, which was all he could manage.
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you guys up just now.” She spoke, her voice groggy from the sickness she’d contracted from her trip to Japan. She blames Nino for it, and will never live it down.
He shook his head softly. Yes, somehow he wanted to tear his head off and scream to her, how he really felt- how she made him feel. But he knew what it took, he knew she wasn’t in his league, she’ll never see him in a different light. Because he is Kim Heechul.
Kim Heechul, known to many, was a well rounded, to-the-point and sophisticated young man. He doesn’t fall to face defeat; defeat doesn’t faze him because he knew not the meaning of it. He didn’t have to deal with it, nor did he want to- and wouldn’t choose now to be the best of times.
“I heard the concert was a success, well done.”
It was those little comments, gestures she made that made him turn cold inside. He’ll feel like he’d never felt before. It surprised him, the jelly-like warmth that’ll form inside him every time he heard her speak. It was comfort, love, family. And somehow, he wanted more.
“Thank you.” Those were the only words that he could muster. That fake smile on his lips seems to fade away, his face paled. Maybe it’ll be alright. It’ll be just fine if he told the truth, if he let her know his feelings. Because it was hell inside for him. It was hell how he had to look at every single moment of the fingers of another man lacing her bare skin, how he’d caress her in the night, how they’d look into each others eyes so passionately that it made him flinch. It hurt.
But of course, Korean boys were nothing compared to Finnish maestros.
Heechul was going to put his foot down. He’ll say something. But as he did, a soft knock on the glass door interrupted their non-existence conversation.
A man, 6’3 in height, rough curly locks running down the sides of his cheek, his chiseled good looks enhanced with the thin goatee that seemed to become the off-focus of his pale features. Tuomas Holopainen offered a greeting to him, raising his hand from the other side of the room. Heechul smiled once again. He wasn’t sincere with his greeting.
She turned back and he saw how genuine her feelings towards the Finnish maestro really were. Her eyes glimmered, her face lit up. He saw how she loved him. And somehow, that contented Kim Heechul.
And he let go.
“Where is she?” He asked.
The answer, it seemed, he had already knew. He just wanted to listen to the truth. And sometimes, truths hurt.
“Sick,” Nicole replied, “Tuomas is taking care of her.”
It was as if his voice wasn’t evidence enough that he wanted her, how much he longed for her. Silence. The journey back home was a quiet one. The normal, talkative, high-strung vocalist of Super Junior could care less what the other members of the band had to say- what his company were saying.
Somehow, not being yourself in a band of thirteen didn’t matter much. Because when you wanted peace and quiet, the rest of them shy away from you. They’re congregated amongst themselves, sometimes whispering loud enough for others to hear. Intentionally. And that he liked. He liked how nobody cared. How he was on his own, even in a band of brothers.
Kim Heechul wandered the landing that night. A soft, bitter cough caught his attention. He turned around, coming face to face with Caelyn Wingate. A smile, which was all he could manage.
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you guys up just now.” She spoke, her voice groggy from the sickness she’d contracted from her trip to Japan. She blames Nino for it, and will never live it down.
He shook his head softly. Yes, somehow he wanted to tear his head off and scream to her, how he really felt- how she made him feel. But he knew what it took, he knew she wasn’t in his league, she’ll never see him in a different light. Because he is Kim Heechul.
Kim Heechul, known to many, was a well rounded, to-the-point and sophisticated young man. He doesn’t fall to face defeat; defeat doesn’t faze him because he knew not the meaning of it. He didn’t have to deal with it, nor did he want to- and wouldn’t choose now to be the best of times.
“I heard the concert was a success, well done.”
It was those little comments, gestures she made that made him turn cold inside. He’ll feel like he’d never felt before. It surprised him, the jelly-like warmth that’ll form inside him every time he heard her speak. It was comfort, love, family. And somehow, he wanted more.
“Thank you.” Those were the only words that he could muster. That fake smile on his lips seems to fade away, his face paled. Maybe it’ll be alright. It’ll be just fine if he told the truth, if he let her know his feelings. Because it was hell inside for him. It was hell how he had to look at every single moment of the fingers of another man lacing her bare skin, how he’d caress her in the night, how they’d look into each others eyes so passionately that it made him flinch. It hurt.
But of course, Korean boys were nothing compared to Finnish maestros.
Heechul was going to put his foot down. He’ll say something. But as he did, a soft knock on the glass door interrupted their non-existence conversation.
A man, 6’3 in height, rough curly locks running down the sides of his cheek, his chiseled good looks enhanced with the thin goatee that seemed to become the off-focus of his pale features. Tuomas Holopainen offered a greeting to him, raising his hand from the other side of the room. Heechul smiled once again. He wasn’t sincere with his greeting.
She turned back and he saw how genuine her feelings towards the Finnish maestro really were. Her eyes glimmered, her face lit up. He saw how she loved him. And somehow, that contented Kim Heechul.
And he let go.