three cpop drabbles

[qiguai]

These were written for a challenge I posted on my personal journal. Each drabble is inspired by lyrics by Taiwanese musician Yen-J. The lyrics and song title can be found before each drabble.

liking the genius
cpop, hong ren/yan jue, 601w, g

I am dead set on loving you With you, I don't care about anyone else "What is love?" You ask me I think I got it! It's going to eat curry with you; That's how I'll answer I am dead set on loving you With you, I don't care about anyone else "What is love?" Again, I think I got it! It's being with you, waiting, sitting, lying, and embracing at home -- "Love is Curry" Hong Ren is ninety-nine point nine percent sure that Yan Jue is completely and unquestionably straight, but hey, can't blame a man for trying. "I didn't know you were serious," Yan Jue says when Hong Ren arrives, completely unexpected and at ten o'clock at night. Hong Ren shrugs and smiles gratefully when Yan Jue invites him in. He just knew Yan Jue would be too polite to turn him away. The small apartment is a wreck. A guitar lies abandoned on the couch among a scattering of music sheets. "I'll clear you a seat," Yan Jue apologizes offhandedly, knocking an old skateboard off of an armchair and picking up the odds and ends hiding beneath it. Hong Ren sets the bag of take out on the cluttered coffee table and makes himself at home, marveling at the scenery. He had imagined that Yan Jue's place would be messy, but this is something else. Meanwhile Yan Jue picks his way through piles of books and cds to find his place back on the couch with the guitar. He sits right on top of the music sheets. "They're trash anyway," he sighs when Hong Ren gives him a questioning look. "You like curry, right?" Hong Ren asks with a smirk, and Yan Jue laughs. "I seriously had no clue you would actually come," he replies, but begins to dig out the containers of food with enough enthusiasm that the tiny inkling of guilt Hong Ren felt earlier vanishes. Yan Jue hands him a container and immediately digs into his own and the greedy way the man eats brings a small smile to Hong Ren's face. Hong Ren, to put it as simply as he can, really likes being around Yan Jue. From the first time they'd spoken on the phone to being on 100% Entertainment together, the one time they've ever met in person prior to tonight, he knew he liked him. He likes that Yan Jue is obviously uncomfortable nor is he pleased at being dropped in on, but he doesn't dare say so. He likes that he can tell right away that Yan Jue probably hasn't eaten all day because he shovels the food into his mouth at such a rate he must not even taste it. He likes the slow, awkward conversation Yan Jue attempts, which ends up coming back to his music time and time again despite several attempts at talking about something else. Music is the number one thing on Yan Jue's mind at all times and Hong Ren wouldn't have it any other way, even if music is the last thing on his. He asks Yan Jue to play him the song he's been working on and gives a little bit of advice-- not so much that Yan Jue will feel offended, but enough that he'll appear at least interested. Guitar still in hand, Yan Jue plucks away randomly and hums to himself as if Hong Ren weren't there. "I hope you don't mind if I stop by again sometime." Yan Jue seems to consider it. Surely he would mind if Hong Ren stopped by during another production period, his face clearly says, but he doesn't want to say it out loud. He gives Hong Ren a quick, shy glance and then shrugs. "No, it's okay." As he heads for the door, Hong Ren wonders how Yan Jue would react if he were hugged. He looks back and Yan Jue is already off in his own world, scowling over a sheet of music and tapping his foot to some beat in his head. He smiles. Another time, maybe.

me, alone
cpop, bobo, 382w, pg

I'm not allowed to look back at past happiness Causing me to be so travel-worn I can only say... I didn't give enough love, I didn't give enough, I didn't give enough love So you left I didn't give enough love, I didn't give enough, I didn't give enough love So you left me -- "I Didn't Give Enough" The police think he's crazy, and Xinbo is starting to believe them. His palms are sweaty as he sits in the metal chair, a bright light shining in his sleep-deprived eyes. Two policemen are chatting to the side while a third keeps a watchful eye on Xinbo. Not that he can go anywhere, handcuffed to the back of the chair as he is. He blinks and feels his eyes water in the harsh light. Two hours ago, he remembers police barging into his homet, grabbing him by either arm and shoving him into handcuffs. He remembers ducking into their car and the thirty minute ride back to the station. He remembers the hour of questioning which followed, and the bitter-tasting cup of coffee that allowed him to have ten minutes ago before they all took a break. Every detail and word spoken is crystal clear. Everything before those events, though, is a blank. Well, not everything: he knows that he is Fu Xinbo, a wealthy lawyer who owns an ritzy condo with a lovely oak door which the police earlier broke down, who has a boyfriend named Jing Boran, whom, for whatever reason, the police are refusing the call no matter how many times Xinbo gives them the phone number. Whatever they think Xinbo did, Boran can refute, he just knows it. But the police just frown more and more and shake their heads when he continues saying Boran's name, like they already know, like they know Boran won't be of any help, like Boran isn't-- Boran is furious, screaming, throwing things, and Xinbo is watching. Xinbo has to dodge as a plate flies across the dinning room, just missing his head. Boran just keeps screaming and screaming, and Xinbo tells him to stop, because he'll worry the neighbors and he'd rather not deal with that right now. That's when Boran gets very quiet, eyes burning with unshed tears and hands balled in fists. A bitter half-smile twitches on his lips as he roughly wipes his eyes. "You never loved me enough," a voice that drips with malice and rage says, and then-- And then-- Xinbo swallows hard, his hands jerking involuntarily in their cuffs. And then he doesn't know, but one thing is certain: Boran isn't here, and it's Xinbo's fault.

who will be my lifesaver?
cpop, xiao gui/show luo, 257w, g

Being "popular" means sounding good It has nothing to do with the song's difficulty Being "popular" means being listenable It has nothing to do with the song's difficulty -- "Lifesaver" All Hong Sheng wants to know is why it's so hard for him to feel happy for his best friend. Why it's impossible to conjure up a genuine smile as his album sales sky rocket within the first week and his music video gets thousands of views on youtube by the hour. Somewhere beneath his frown, he knows he feels happy, but the feeling is buried too deeply to counter the guilt. He goes through the motions of his day on auto-pilot, the entire time wondering, why can't it be me? A signed copy Zhi Xiang's album sits on his chair when he arrives to prepare for 100% Entertainment. As he stares, he tries to remember all the work, the impossibly late nights, sweat and hungry days that went into it, but he sees are sales figures spinning crazily out of control before his eyes. The numbers only stop when something smacks him on the back of the head. "Wake up," Zhi Xiang yawns loudly as he shoves around. "Stop admiring my beautiful face." Grabbing the album, he runs his fingers along the image of his face and mimics the stoic, dramatic expression. Hong Sheng hears himself laugh and is relieved to feel himself smile as well. "Thanks," he replies, but it's too short and dry. Zhi Xiang eyes him carefully with a frown. To Hong Sheng's relief, a make-up artist calls his friend away before the interrogation can continue. But, alone again with the album now resting in his hands, all Hong Sheng can do is compare. * lovelyable, I AM SO SORRY THIS TURNED OUT SO SHORT. I am epically bad at writing these two, but giving them a shot was a fun experience. Maybe I'll do better at writing happier prompts for them. :) Calling them by their real names was also awkward as hell, lol.