pwnew (pwnew) wrote,

Smoke and Mirrors

very light/no plot/simple scenes
inspired by cecil-lulu's lovely
translations of a homin fanaccount.


Smoke and mirrors.

That’s all fame was.

Smoke and mirrors.


Yunho gratefully accepts the staff member’s offer of juice with a tightlipped grin. Changmin peeks at him from the corner of his eye. He can read the wrinkles around Yunho’s eyes, the dark shadows that deepen as the older man reaches out a pale hand to accept the drink with a gleaming, plastic smile.

As soon as the staff member leaves the room, Changmin reaches over his Hyung’s legs to grab the water he’d purchased previously from his bag at Yunho’s feet, and gently takes the juice bottle from his grasp.

Changmin picks up the water-bottle and uncaps it, pouring the liquid into a empty paper cup at his side. He leans over Yunho’s side again to place it on the table in front of the older man.

Yunho blinks blearily at the cup and drinks unhurriedly, trying not to spill down the side this time. It drives Changmin crazy. And Changdola’s too tired at the moment, to be properly angry with him over such things.

Yunho leans further back in his chair, wriggling to get comfortable, a light frown on his lips. Changmin pulls the plush travel pillow from his own back and taps Yunho’s shoulder lightly. Yunho gives him a side-eyed glance. Changmin meets his eyes and jerks his head up once, a hand coming to rest on the older man’s shoulder.

Yunho leans up obediently so Changmin can place the pillow in the gap between his lower back and the sofa chair. Yunho leans back with a grateful sigh and snuggles further into his seat, the picture of contentment.

“Did you bring your lyric packet?” Changmin asks, pouring himself a cup of water, and taking a sip.

“It’s in my bag.” Yunho mutters. He curls his fingers at the pile of personal items in the opposite corner along the wall. He snuffles a little and drops his head back into his arms, tucking his legs up into the chair beside him.

Changmin glances down at him. He raises his brow. “No need to rush.”

The older man’s got his head buried in his arms as he droops against the armrest, his bright red curls brushing Changmin’s thigh. He looks about four years old and forty at the same time.

“The black bag?” Changmin murmurs, pushing himself off the sofa by his knees. He scans the vacant rest room, and wanders over to the mess of black bags; most of which belong to the varied members of the concert staff.

He manages to sort through a few of the bags and picks out Yunho’s custom leather backpack from among the pile, undoes the zip and plucks the thick stack of multi-stapled papers from within. Changmin almost drops them, surprised at the weight. It’s quite heavier than his own packet. His startled eyes are drawn to the untidy scrawls on the top page of lyrics, and he shifts his weight to his other leg, flipping through the stack. Yunho has scribbled something or other; a doodle, reminder, “fix” on almost every page, easily doubling the sheet count.

Changmin wanders back over to the sofa, expression soft and lips pursed. He cards his hand through Yunho’s strawberry locks, with a sigh. “Alright, time for rehearsals.”

Yunho swallows down his sleepiness and nods wearily, stretching his arms in the air like a waking puppy. He gets to his feet, but wobbles forward a few steps; having stood up too suddenly.

Changmin automatically moves to meet him, and places a steadying hand at the other’s lower back. Yunho leans into him and they leave the room together, Changmin guiding the older, placing him slightly in front of himself.

Changmin has to stop on the way to the main stage when a cough tickles his throat, and he has to take his hand from Yunho’s waist to cover the harsh discordance.

“How much sleep did you get last night Changminnie?” Yunho’s concern is obvious. Changmin feels admonished and proud at the same time. Chided by the reminder that he shouldn’t have stayed up so late playing around with Kyuhyun, but satisfied that Yunho had noticed his weakened form and was bothered over it.

Yunho cocks his hip and rests a hand there, using the other to pat Changmin’s back gently. Changmin swallows the coughs and turns his head to the side as the last few scrape at his throat. His esophagus burns but the warm hand at his back is soothing.

“Almost five hours,” Changmin finally gets out, clearing his throat.

Yunho gives him a few more pats, then kneads the area, leading Changmin to groan softly as his tight muscles are forced to loosen. Yunho trails down his arm until he reaches his wrist, where his fingers touch briefly before swinging back to his side as they continue to the rehearsals hall. Changmin shifts an inch closer at the loss of contact.

“That’s good, definitely better than yesterday. During my solo rehearsals, go to the rest room and relax, try to take a nap if you can.” Yunho suggests, glancing at him once.

The bleach white walls of the tunnel-like, narrow halls running throughout the Saitama Super Arena create spots in Changmin’s vision. He looks down to blink through the flashes in his vision. Yunho shifts forward a little so his shoulder blocks most of the left white wall.

“That sounds good,” Changmin agrees, his voice quiet but attentive. He’s not exactly going to fight the man when he’s basically scheduling time for Changmin to have some rest. “You can do the same during mine.”

The decorations and backdrops for TVXQ’s Time Tour are amazing and right on point as always. Changmin admires the towering screens that would be reflecting their heavily made up faces and flashy stage costumes later that night. Yunho comes up beside him and tilts his head back as well, so far, Changmin wonders if his ears will soon touch his back.

“Waaaah, they’ve really outdone themselves this time,” Yunho comments, drawing his words out in subdued awe.

“It’s proficient,” Changmin agrees. He glances to his lower right. Yunho isn’t wearing lifts at the moment. It surprises Changmin how much he has to look down theses days.

“Changminnie, I’m excited.” Yunho beams up at him. He doesn’t seem to notice the height difference, or just doesn’t care. His bright, fire-red locks seem to add a spark to his half-lidded eyes.

Changmin feels a flame in his chest ignite at the words, and he smiles gently back, his own tired eyes going lopsided, as one side of his lips arches higher than the other.

“What should we have for dinner, Changdola?”

They’re waiting for the schedule van to pick them up to bring them to their hostel for rest before the evening concert. It’s cold and Changmin shifts closer to Yunho, who blows lightly on hands, rubbing them together rapidly to gather warmth in the chilled digits.

“Ramen. And beer,” Changmin demands, a shiver rolling down his spine.

Again? Yunho hesitates and bites his lower lip, his eyes forming little half-moons. “Sounds delicious,” Yunho says innocently.

Changmin knows better.

“Yah, yah~” Changmin yawns, peeking at the other with one eye. He covers the action with a hand, squinting down the dark road lined with cherry trees. Admiring the blossoms, he’s relieved to see his vision is much clearer after his late-afternoon nap. “We can order those little strawberry cake things too, from that one place you liked that we went to yesterday.” He licks his lips, ready to sink his teeth into a thick piece of pork and taste the salty miso on his tongue.

Yunho hops lightly on his feet as the van driven by their shared manager finally pulls up beside them. Changmin smiles fondly to himself, knowing he’s won the daily battle of dinner, and shifts to crack his aching back. He doesn’t know where Yunho keeps those little pockets of energy. Maybe his moobs?

He steps closer to the curb and leans forward against Yunho’s back, catching him by a hand at his tummy; rubbing the soft muscle through the orange tour coat. Yunho giggles and leans back into his chest, curling an arm around his neck.

Changmin slumps down slightly to match their heights, so Yunho doesn’t have to stretch his arm uncomfortably. The redhead smells like sweat and face powder. Changmin supposes he isn’t any different.


Mirrors and smoke.

Love couldn’t be just that.

Mirrors and smoke.


a/n: was this silly? too light~? eh~ ^^;

*chuckles at moobs*

Tags: changminxyunho, drabble, fluff, homin
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