. (314159) wrote in jaehoch_fic,

Round 1, Challenge #4: "pondering the possibilities"

Title: pondering the possibilities
Rating: PG
Word Count: 728
Summary: AU. Three random moments in the life of.
Warnings: None.


You can't help but think that Kim JaeJoong is the crazy one in class, with his wide eyes and his bark like laughter and his multi coloured nails. He wears a huge mass of bangles and beads around his wrists, talks so fast nobody understands him, and every time you see him he has different coloured hair. You don't think much of him, only vaguely remember his name, and for the most part you ignore his existence-

“That's not right.”

It seems to you to be fate, then, that you'd be put in the same group for class. JaeJoong has an unnerving way of staring at you with his big eyes that has you squirming in discomfort. He jabs a thin finger at his jotter and grins.

“Yes,” You retaliate, sliding your working over to his side of the table and trying to ignore the feeling that he might eat you if you say anything to him, “It is.”

JaeJoong watches the paper float across to him with a strange little smile. He looks up at you, grins wickedly, and bounds up from the other side of the table to perch precariously to your right.

“Here,” he says, leaning over and clipping something into your hair, “Have a Barrett.” and then he bounces away to do whatever it is Kim JaeJoong does at lunch time. You shake your head weakly, ponder the mysteriousness of said strange individual, and think that maybe he's not too bad.

(After all - Kim JaeJoong: crazy but charming.)

- - - - -

JaeJoong somehow ropes you into helping him practise his hairdressing skills. He smiles winningly at you, somehow manages to beg without it actually looking like begging. “I need the practise,” he whines, tugs at your school shirt until it's crinkled harshly on one side, “And you have hair to spare!”

It doesn't take long for you to give in, but now you're beginning to wonder whether letting JaeJoong near your head with scissors was such a good idea. He's dangerous, after all. With or without sharp, pointy objects.

“This might hurt,” JaeJoong whispers, nips at your ear with his teeth as you squirm away from his giggling, nearly run into the bath, and then he mutters, “Only kidding,” in a voice that you're not too sure you like. He drowns your hair in water, and you can feel it seep through your clothes, dribble down the back of your collar in rivets, and glare balefully up at JaeJoong even if he can't see you.

“Whoops,” JaeJoong utters, already gleefully tugging at your clothes even as you attempt to pull a bottle of shampoo down off of the too high shelves, “You're just going to have to take them off.”

(“This was your idea all along, wasn't it?” You ask JaeJoong, untangling your hands from his sweaty hair to stroke a hand down his spine.

“Of course not!” JaeJoong gasps, scandalised, impish grin soon blooming to the surface, “But, still, this is just as nice.”)

- - - - -


You eat oranges by the river side, damp grass underneath your fingertips, JaeJoong at your side. He throws an orange in the air, watches it soar into the blue sky with eyes that speak of a childish joy. The river roars, its shallow depths attempting to lap at your bare feet, missing by mere inches. You stretch your feet out and feel it tickle the very tips of your toes.

“YooChun told me something yesterday,” JaeJoong says, suddenly, fingers tearing at the fruit until strands of orange peel fall down to the grass to his side, “Although, technically -”

You lean back onto the grass, watch JaeJoong pop a piece of orange into his mouth and chew carefully, big eyes glancing down to watch you watch him. He continues with his story, words pouring out of his mouth in a never ending stream of lilted syllables and half mumbled thoughts, his smile lighting up his whole face in that way that only JaeJoong can seem to do. You let your eyes drift shut, his voice a melody even when he isn't singing. Just as you're about to fall asleep, JaeJoong kisses you, sweetly, softly, the tang of oranges on his lips, a half finished story hanging in the air around you.

He pulls back, leans against your shoulder, and you can tell he's smiling even when you can't see his face.
Tags: round 1: c#4
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