#ccxhowon

Kiss: I’ll write our characters sharing a kiss, it can beinnocent or passionate.

Sometimes the hatred burnt sofierce in Sungjong’s chest that he honestly wanted to punch Howon. Or that washow it’d been at first. It had been a long time since Sungjong wanted to breakone of Howon’s limbs, and in that moment, though he was so incredibly annoyedby the man, he wanted nothing more than to kiss the stupid smirk off his face.

Baking with him had been a badidea, because now Sungjong was left with flour all over his cheeks, and a smugHowon chuckling at Sungjong’s murderous expression. The least he could do waswhack Howon’s wrists with his wooden spoon, which was seconds later tugged fromhis grip. Whining, he slapped at the elders’ bicep and found himself poutingangrily, losing the will to hit him and slowly giving in to the attraction hefelt.

He hated Howon’s stupid, perfectface.

Next thing he knew his armslifted to wind tightly around Howon’s neck, pulling him in roughly as if thespace between them offended him – which in a way it did. Lips meeting theelders Sungjong growled weakly, nipping on his plush lower lip as he weakenedand melted against the shorter male.

The kiss shifted from angry andhard, all tongue and teeth, to a gentler kiss, slow and tender, relishing inthe feel of each other’s lips, tasting the familiar breath on their tongues. Asmuch as Sungjong hated Howon, he loved him more.

Sleep: I’ll write a drabble of my character snuggling in bedwith yours.

Rain pattered against the window,the sky dark and the lights in Sungjong’s apartment dimmed, creating the certainsense of homeliness and comfort that sometimes Sungjong’s tidy apartmentlacked. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom, eyes holding a twinkle of warmfondness as they lay on the figure in his bed.

With slow footsteps he made hisway over, sliding under the covers on the unoccupied side, only to shift closerto Howon a second later, curling into his pleasant warmth, arms curling upbetween their chests as his head came to rest on the pillow beside the elders.He was cold, feet frozen almost to the point he couldn’t feel his toes, butHowon seemed to emit an ungodly amount of heat, warming him as his thin legstangled with the cards muscular ones.

“You cold?” It was an obviousquestion, which grated on Sungjong’s nerves – probably because of the cold. Itmade him irritable.

“What do you think?” He snapped,still shifting closer until every inch of his body was pressed flush againstHowon’s. Tilting his head, he nuzzled his nose into the side of Howon’s neck,breathing in the familiar scent that so easily relaxed him. It was crazy howone second Howon could have him ready to smack him upside the head, and thenext wanting to curl around him and never let go.

Pet: I’ll write a drabble of my character buying yours apet.

Cats were the best animals, inSungjong’s opinion. They were independent, so you didn’t need to be around allthe time to keep them company. They were generally pretty clean, and onlyreally required foot and a litter box. Sungjong’s own kitten Duchess was one ofthe best things to ever happen to him, and he liked to think of her as hischild.

Which was why when Howon’sbirthday arrived Sungjong had already had his idea for his present. Howon meanta lot to Sungjong, and he wanted to get him something that would remind him ofSungjong every time he saw it. Already having acquired the knowledge that Howonliked animals Sungjong went about buying the supplies, and then the littlefeline. A fluffy brown thing that reminded Sungjong of Howon for some reason.

So when the time came and hehanded the box tentatively to the elder, a nervous smile on his lips, he heldhis breath as he opened the box – he just hoped he liked it.

Mourn: I’ll write a drabble of my character mourning yours.

Numb. Every inch of him had feltnumb since the instant pain after he heard the news. Standing in his bedroom heremembered all the memories they’d made in here. The time Sungjong pushed Howonso hard he fell right over the bed and Sungjong found himself trying toapologise through his laughter. Or the time Sungjong fell asleep with his headin Howon’s lap as they watched movies on his laptop. All the times they’d spentso peacefully enjoying each other’s company seemed to cling to the very air inthe room, suffocating Sungjong as it screamed and cackled at his loss.

His heart hurt. So rarely did hefind people he could get close to, could let his guard down with, couldtolerate enough to want to spend both day and night with them. But now he wasgone and he’d left a gaping hole in Sungjong’s life. Where Howon should’vebeen, held gently in his heart, cherished like the amazing person he was, nowremained nothing but an abyss of pain that Sungjong didn’t know how to getpast.

Curling up in the bed that stillsmelt like him, wearing a shirt that still hung in his closet, as if he wouldreturn in a few minutes, as if he’d never even been gone, Sungjong foundhimself starting to cry for what felt like the millionth time. Clutching apillow to his chest he let himself break at the loss, let himself feel thepain, let himself accept that Howon was gone, and that he didn’t think he’dever be the same again.

Kill: I’ll write an angst drabble of my character violentlykilling yours.

He’d seen the mist that clungaround the card only from the back when he’d jumped into the fight, helping therookie who seemed to be losing. He’d nothing better to do, and letting a rookiedie seemed almost too cruel for Lee Sungjong – no matter how much they irkedhim. He’d shot twice, once from each pistol, aiming right for the upper leftside of the cards broad back, and shoved his weapons back into their holstersas he watched the figure drop to its knees, shifting back to its human form.

That was when his heart stopped,breath catching in his throat at the sight of the figure he could recognise soeasily just from the back – his broad, perfect back now married with two bloodygunshot wounds. Frantic footsteps carried him to the cards side within secondsand his fears were confirmed as he took in Howon’s profile, his chest risingand falling in quick puffs.

A weak whimper left Sungjong’slips as he dropped to his knees in front of him, a hand lifting to brush sweatdrenched hair from Howon’s forehead. “I’m sorry- … Howonie please… You can’tdie.”

Howon didn’t reply, but simplylifted both hands to take one of Sungjong’s between them, a soft smile on hislips as if to say ‘it’s okay’, even though Sungjong knew it wasn’t, not at all.He could see the life draining from him, but only until his vision blurred andhe burst into tears, incoherently and weakly shouting about how Howon couldn’tdie, how he wasn’t allowed.

It was futile. His body fellforward, limp, into Sungjong’s arms, and slowly shrunk, and faded, until allthat as left was a single card on the ground in front of Sungjong, ‘The Marionette’printed in beautiful lettering on the back.

Pool: I’ll write a drabble of our characters swimmingtogether.

Sungjong’s heart was racing as heclutched onto the edge of the pool, breathing erratic, despite the strong handsholding his hips from behind.

“It’ll be fine, firefly, I’ve gotyou.”

Sungjong merely whimpered inresponse. He wanted to scramble out of the water and run as fast as he couldaway from the pool, but he was too afraid to even move his hands from where hewas clutching so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“Just put your feet down, you canstand easily here.” Howon only received a single shake of Sungjong’s head inreturn. But to shut him up Sungjong hesitantly let one hand slide from the edgeof the pool, only to, fast as lightening, spin where he was and wind his armsand legs around Howon, whining into his shoulder, the sound muffled.

“I wanna get out…” He mumbled,already trembling as he looked at the rest of the pool over Howon’s shoulder.

It’s been a week.  A week of being confined to a hospital room. A week of being treated for his injuries and therapy. A week since that happened.  Woohyun had thought it was all a dream, a nightmare, anything really as long as it couldn’t have been real. But the reality of it all had been like a harsh slap to his face. But compared to how he had dealt with it when he first woke-up, he thinks he’s doing quite well. Atleast that’s what he says to himself, trying to ignore the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue whenever he says “I’m doing fine”.  It’s been a week and today he’s going home. There’s nothing else to prevent him from doing so, they’ve already treated his right eye and all the other cuts and bruises.There’s only his broken ankle left , which would heal in a couple more weeks, a recovery that would be spent outside the hospital room.  The only reason he’s still here is because he’s waiting for his best friend to arrive, the doctors saying it would be better if he had someone to help him out of the hospital. And right on cue, the door to the room swings open, Hoya striding in making Woohyun flash a small smile in his direction.  “Hey, thanks for coming Hoya.”   

To be a model one needed to be fit. You needed to have a toned body even if just to a minor level. You needed to not be soft in some places and bony in others. But it just so happened that that was exactly what Sungjong was - bony but also soft. It wasn’t what scouters looked for, even though he knew he had the face for it, he worried that his body wasn’t up to scratch. That was why he’d made the decision to ask for help, and it hadn’t taken long to figure out who to ask.

The one person he knew who stood out with their chiselled body, toned arms and calves, was Lee Howon, someone who both infuriated Sungjong, and made him comfortable as well. He both wanted to hate, and like the man, and ever since he’d met him and almost ruined an outfit Sungjong wouldn’t have minded ruining (Howon had a questionable fashion sense in Sungjong’s eyes), he’d been torn between how to feel about him.

He was almost the exact opposite of Sungjong in many ways. He seemed kind, while Sungjong was snippy to those he didn’t know very well, he was short and built well, while Sungjong was tall and stick-like. Howon was sexy, while Sungjong was pretty. So Sungjong wasn’t sure whether that warranted him being hated, or liked immensely - they do say that opposites attract, but so far Sungjong hadn’t seen much of that.

Dressed for the occasion he was clad in loose grey sweats which he only ever wore inside, a simple white t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. As much as the fashion decision pained him, it was simple enough to be nondescript, so he’d not catch any unwanted attention while dressed like, in his opinion, a slob.

Grabbing his phone from his little backpack he hurriedly texted Howon that he was on his way to the gym they’d agreed to meet at, and would expect him to be there on time, or Sungjong would leave - he wasn’t too happy about this whole idea, but it was necessary, and his own in the first place. So heading out and shoving his phone into the backpack he felt his shoulders hang in despair at the thought of the sweating and pain that was to come.