gchat flashfic. 10 minutes, 423 words. pg-13. sungmin/zhou mi (or sungmin + zhou mi. YMMV). prompt:
_harmlessthings : wait can i convince you to write mimin then :D or qt sungmin/zhou mi shenanigans
canttakeabreath : omg waylt
canttakeabreath : ....maybe.
Sungmin thinks that Zhou Mi is the friend that you need, but don't particularly want. He's the one who laughs at your jokes (especially the ones that aren't funny) but will laugh equally hard at Kyuhyun's, or Donghae's. He doesn't play favorites--he's fair and kind to a fault. But when Sungmin finds himself locked in his room for the fourth (fifth? sixth?) night with a bottle of a wine and a head fuzzy with thoughts, Zhou Mi is the one who figures out how to jiggle the doorknob until it unlatches and slips in, quiet, perfect teeth biting into his lip.
He doesn't ask if Sungmin's okay. If it's easy being in China with a chest full of things to say and too few words to piece all of his feelings together. It'd be a silly question; Zhou Mi remembers being in Korea, but Zhou Mi has always worked harder and more furiously than anyone else, studying Korean late into the night, and picking up English on the side. Singing until his voice is too hoarse to hit any of the high notes and insisting that it's fine even an hour into practice when everyone hears that Zhou Mi's not quite at full timbre.
Sungmin just half-shrugs and moves over when Zhou Mi nudges at him with a foot. "It'll be okay," he says after a moment. Zhou Mi doesn't say it like it promise, not like Donghae would, not like Han Geng had (with unconcealed confusion in his eyes, because it's China, guys. How couldn't you fall in love with China?). Zhou Mi says it flippantly, like it's something preordained, established, a truth of the universe.
"I'll teach you. We'll start from the beginning."
There’s a bit too much wine muddling his head but he shrugs and tries to copy the way Zhou Mi mouths at his syllables, copying the intonation and musicality almost to a fault. But it’s hard to remember everything--to keep the shapes in his mind and call them up immediately, on command, as soon as he needs them.
“You can do this. You’ll get better.
“I hope so.” I’m lonely. Let me go home.
And Zhou Mi is the best sort of friend because he understands what Sungmin does not want to say, leaning forward, and ruffling his hair, mouth close to Sungmin’s ear.
“Your pronunciation isn’t half bad.”
And kisses him.
guys it actually takes me longer to post/format this shit than write it. also, for the record, i do not crosspost/edit flashfic. what you see is what you get.