gabberwok

switching to another lj!

gabberwok — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 22:59:30 GMT

I'm moving to another Livejournal account; this one just feels old and gross- like I didn't start off right.
I want to start on a clean slate!

everside

:)

roses are red (chapter 2)

gabberwok — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 19:47:10 GMT

title: roses are red
pairing: eunsung/xueyang
rating: g
summary: Someone has been sending Ensheng roses in all sorts of colours. He doesn't know who it is...well, on the surface, he doesn't.

roses are red: chapter 2

We were late to dance practice. It wasn't surprising, considering Yuan had arrived there on time-- he was usually always late, but he had left maybe about 7 minutes earlier than me, resulting in perfect timing.

Xueyang and I? Not so much.

The dance teacher made us each do 20 push-ups as punishment, and after we finished, we also had to do exercises with the rest of the group to warm up.

Yuan caught my eye and grinned triumphantly; I stuck my tongue out at him.

After, that, we did a quick run through of all of our old dances- Grandness Equal To Heaven, Cotton Candy, Arrival, Sweet Heart, Star-Studded Sky, Spotlight, and Love Live. As we danced to Love Live, my mind drifted off to the lyrics I had written.

A charming person's trademark smirk,

Someone in motion with graceful electrifying eyes,

An elegant prince full of courage,

A man next to you full of intimacy.

That was one of the few times I opened the little box inside myself and let some of the contents pour out into my lyrics.

My Chinese teacher, while helping me translate the Korean lyrics into Chinese, had thought they were amusingly corny. "There's no one this perfect," she had laughed. "Charming, graceful, elegant, brave. Did you get your inspiration from a fairy tale?"

"No," I had replied. "I didn't."

"Xiao Wu!" the dance teacher called out, clapping his hands together.

I snapped out of my reverie. "Yes?"

"Pay more attention, will you? Your moves are at least a beat a behind everyone else's. Ten push-ups!"

I suppressed a groan and got down on the ground. "Yes sir!"

I could hear Yuan chuckling in the background, and I made a mental note to bother him when we were back in our apartment.

Xueyang approached me after practice. "Do..." he started, a little breathless. "Do you want to eat lunch at my apartment today?" he asked. Then he half-buried his flushed face in his towel.

A part of me thought he was flustered and was hiding it. The more logical part of me thought it was just because he was drenched in sweat and was wiping it away. Which was, well, true. He had pushed himself ridiculously hard today, so it looked like had taken a shower when he actually needed to take one.

"Sure," I replied. It was rare that he'd invite someone. He wasn't the person who usually took the initiative; most of the time it was me or the others who would ask him to do something with us. I supposed he was just feeling friendly today. That made me sort of happy.

Xueyang being friendly to me made me happy? Really?

Suddenly embarrassed, I blurted out the first thing I could think of, "You're all sweaty." Thank goodness I was already red-faced from dance practice-- that way he wouldn't be able to tell I was blushing.

He gave me an odd look (like he usually did, since I always seemed to say the strangest things when he was around for no reason at all), but he was smiling faintly. "Ensheng, there's this thing called a towel, which I'm using.."

"Well, I don't sweat as much as you do," I protested weakly.

Frankly, I had no idea what I was doing. My body was on auto-pilot.

"Why are we even talking about this?" He seemed to be amused.

"I don't know." I shrugged, feeling even more embarrassed, but there was an idiotic grin on my face.

He laughed. "Weirdo."

"Huh?"

"Weirdo," he repeated.

"What does that mean?" I asked as I made sure to memorize the word. I tested out the new tones on my tongue. "Weiiiiiiiiirddddddooooo."

He laughed again and took a final gulp from his water bottle, emptying it. "Strange person. But for you, it's in a good way, I guess."

That was when my mind stuttered to a stop. Wait, what?

"What--" I started, but he was walking away to the water fountain to refill the bottle.

Clackety-clackety-clackety-clack, the box went.

I stared at his back, completely baffled.

We met up after showering and walked to his apartment together. By the time we got there, our pants were sopping wet with melted snow. He had shoved me into the snow bank, and in retaliation, I had pushed him into the slushy streets. "Ensheng, I hate you," he had yelled at me, smiling.

"I hate you too," I had yelled back, and he had snuck his arm around my shoulder and hugged me close. I kicked him.

The apartment was clean, as if he had been planning the lunch a while beforehand-- usually, there was sheet music everywhere and several violins or guitars on the couch and on the carpet. Most of the music had been put away, it seemed, and the instruments had been put into their cases, which made more space.

I made myself at home in his living room, poking around at the neat piles of music. They were on normal white computer paper, different from earlier this morning.

Afterwards, he called me into the kitchen for lunch. It was my favorite, Sichuan food (I love ma la), so I wolfed it down with gusto. Xueyang had to refill my cup several times with more water.

Well, since I ate so quickly, the lunch was really short. It still left me feeling oddly giddy though, and I practically skipped back to the apartment in a most unmanly way.

I set all of my stuff onto the floor, sinking into a chair with a ma la-flavoured burp. Yuan hit me lightly as he walked past and said, "Have more manners!"

One flower was drooping a little-- the first, the white rose. I fingered its petals, staring at it for a moment, and then I remembered I was going to annoy Yuan to get back at him laughing at me earlier. I skipped down the hallway to his room and quietly crept in. I was just about to pounce on his shoulder when I realized that he was writing a letter. Grandma, it said at the top of the page. But what struck me most was that it was on heavy cream paper, like the rose notes.

Was I just imagining things? I didn't know.

I pulled back without a word. Just who was sending me these roses and writing these notes? It seemed less and less like a stalker fangirl and more and more like..someone from Top Combine.

Yuan had been really enthusiastic about the roses, after all.

I walked to my room, where I played my PSP for a while. "Pata pata pata pon!" it chanted, the little black Patapons on the screen dancing wildly.

Weirdly enough, the rhythm made me feel sleepy, so I dropped off to sleep, my thoughts full of Xueyang and roses and heavy cream paper and Yuan and Patapons.

-------------
Haha. Sorry about being a little late with the chapter. My friend who reads over all the chapters had a few problems with her internet (I'm at boarding school, so I can't just show it to her at school or something), so she couldn't read it until today..
I will try to get the last chapter in time for Valentine's Day! >:)

This is a short little multi-chapter fic, btw, so it shouldn't take much longer to finish.

And..the last chapter: I'll post some pictures too. I had had this idea for a while, so I doodled a picture, and then I also doodled a picture for Valentine's Day. I don't have a scanner here, but I do have a camera. :D

roses are red (chapter 1)

gabberwok — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 00:59:01 GMT

title: roses are red
pairing: eunsung/xueyang
rating: g
summary: Someone has been sending Ensheng roses in all sorts of colours. He doesn't know who it is...well, on the surface, he doesn't.

roses are red: chapter 1

Yuan had told me about the new one a little while ago, when he was leaving for dance practice in an attempt to get there early for once. "It's a yellow one this time," he had called out as he stomped his feet into his worn out sneakers.

I tucked the new one into the glass vase on the counter. Now it was completely full-- full of roses. The first one was white. The second was pink. The third was orange, and the fourth was a darker pink. The fifth was an orange-red rose. And today, the sixth rose, yellow like sunshine.

The note said in neat, elegant handwriting on heavy cream paper, "In a week, you will get a red rose."

One rose per day, left outside the door with my name written on a tag attached to the stem, and a note.

The notes never said anything remotely romantic other than a few smiley faces here and there. They were straight-forward and never failed to include the colour of the next rose to be sent.

Maybe the most romantic one had been that one day last week when I had had training session after training session after training session: "Good luck today; you'll be fine even if you're a little tired! Jiayou! You will get a white rose tomorrow."

I had been determined to shrug this whole rose thing off when it had first started. I wasn't allowed to date, first of all. Second of all, I had no idea who it was, and I didn't want to experience the pain of wondering endlessly, who was this? Why couldn't they just tell me so they could save me all of this agony?

I was even a little angry. Why were they being so..chicken? It would've been a much better choice if they had just straight-out told me; then I could deal with it much more easily. I would know who they were. I would be able to talk to them.

But when I got that message, it really rattled me.

Whoever was doing this knew. They knew my personal schedule, so they were either a crazy stalker fangirl (or even possibly a fanboy) or someone close to me. It was no use anyways. Like I said before, I wasn't allowed to date.

I was scared to think it was someone from the group, but secretly, deep down inside, there was something in me that wanted to think it was one of the members. As for who, I knew, but I never dared to tell. I wouldn't even tell myself; I kept it locked away in a little box. Once in a while, I'd open it ever so slightly and let a little wisp of it out.

Meanwhile, the clock flashed impatiently. 9:19 AM.

With a sigh, I left the apartment for the weekly dance practice. On the way, I passed by the local flower shop. In the window were flowers upon flowers upon flowers, every single kind you could imagine. But even so, there were, most of all, roses.

Well, of course. It was getting closer to Valentine's Day. It was already February 4th. Not to mention, it was getting cold too. I realized I had forgotten my scarf back at the apartment. I exhaled out in a large puff, and it looked like smoke in the chilly air.

I stopped to stare in the window for a while, zipping my coat right up to the top in an attempt to cover my exposed neck. Roses upon roses upon roses, in every colour. The girl who was arranging them in the buckets looked back at me through the window, and I ducked my head in embarrassment and nearly ran off.

Whoops. I hadn't intended to stare at her.

I hadn't been watching where I was going as I ran, so I naturally bumped into someone. "I'm sorry--" I started, and then I noticed who I had bumped into. "Xueyang? You're running late too?" Then I finally realized his sheet music was now all over the snowy sidewalk. I bent down to pick them up, but there was snow all over them. "Oh, sorry.."

"It's alright," he said. "I used thicker paper, so they'll be fine." He began to put them back in order. "I kind of lost track of time. What about you, Ensheng?"

As I handed him back his sheet music, it came to my attention that it was the same heavy cream paper the notes were on. At least, it seemed like it. I couldn't be sure.

The little box's lock began to rattle wildly; it was trying to get open.

"Oh, I was looking at the flower shop," I replied easily, and we quickened our pace to a brisk walk. 9:25 AM, my watch glared back up at me. "They put out a lot of new flowers today."

"Roses?"

"Yep," I said. "Do you like roses?" As I asked this, I already knew that it was another one of our colorless conversations, bland as rice-- everyone saw each other too much to really be able to have something interesting to say each time that would make us laugh.

But they were essential. To me, at least. I liked it when I talked with Xueyang. He didn't talk much (which was why the manager yelled at him all the time to be less quiet on shows, although I really just liked him the way he was), so talking a little with me made me feel at least a little more…special.

I liked to think I was Xueyang's closest friend in Top Combine. I meant, the typical reserved guy and then his more outgoing friend. Sort of. I was more outgoing in Korean, but I was learning more Mandarin and gradually easing into it.

"I do," he agreed slowly, finally snapping his folder shut. "What time is it?"

"9:27!" I chirped.

We raced down the sidewalk towards the studio. I wonder what the people on that sidewalk thought about us-- two boys running through Beijing's snow like bats out of hell, dyed blonde and brown hair whipping in the wind.

-------------------------
This is being written in honour of Valentine's Day. <3
I'm hoping to finish it by Valentine's Day, but if I go a little over, please forgive me- school is really busy, and it's hard to find significant chunks of time where I can actually plunk down, focus, and write.

Enjoy! :D

musicmusicmusicmusic

gabberwok — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 20:09:36 GMT

WHY IS SAID THE WHALE SO GOOD.
WHY ARE THEIR SONGS SO ADDICTIVE.
WHY CAN'T I STOP LISTENING TO THEM.

National pride! Go Canada!

I need a poster of them.

♥

gabberwok — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 18:43:50 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtYFEhi4k0Q

The beginning is so cute. ;_;
Zhoucheng: Everyone sing with us, okay? (And they really all did, which was even more heartwarming. And all the hugging at the end!)
Audience: OKAY!
Zhoucheng: Did everyone eat yet?
Audience: NO!
Zhoucheng: Afterwards let's eat together, okay?
Audience: OKAY!
Zhoucheng: Zhang Yuan will treat us.
Audience: OKAY!
Zhang Yuan: (mutters) Wants me to treat again..

And, MA XUEYANG ON THE GUITAR. ♥
AND THE END. Oh my gosh. Zhang Yuan sang, "You are the Ma Xueyang of my heart~" instead of 'cotton candy'.

Socks

gabberwok — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 01:28:18 GMT

Title: socks
Rating: g
Pairing: ensheng/xueyang
Summary: So Ensheng's lost his socks..
Note: Really old. Like nearly ancient. Archaic. But I just finished it today, so if the first and second halves of the story don't quite match up, it's because of that.

"YUAN-GE, WHERE ARE MY SOCKS?!" Ensheng wailed.

The distress call rang through the small apartment, where Top Combine lived together like sardines in a can. It was jam-packed, with hardly any space to walk around lest some accidentally steps on Xueyang's beloved sheet music or discovers one of Zhoucheng's many hand mirrors lying around. Or maybe Ensheng's socks. Which, by the way, were badly in need of washing. The nasty socks had been lost for a week, and Li Mao, being one of the most organized members ("Cleanliness is next to godliness!"), was worried that they might fester and grow some sort of toxic fungus.

And then they'd all die. Or whatever Li Mao said.

Yuan sighed, with a phone to his ear. "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" he said. "I'm talking to Su Xing!"

Ensheng stuck his tongue out at him. Yuan huffed. "I won't ever wash your socks again!"

He pouted, and he began to look for his socks in the refrigerator, just as Zhoucheng walked into the kitchen. Looking up from the fridge, Ensheng innocently asked, "Did you see my socks? They're my last and favourite pair, so I really need to find them. Because I lost all the other ones."

"No." There was a pause as Zhoucheng, with a strange expression on his face, watched him riffle through the food. "Why the hell are you looking in the fridge for your socks?"

"Wasn't that where Xueyang found his tuner yesterday?" piped up Mao, who was passing by the kitchen. "He found it in the vegetables."

"Vegetables," repeated Zhoucheng under his breath, and he rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen. Mao smiled apologetically and walked away with him, wishing Ensheng luck in finding his beloved socks.

He sighed and continued to search the fridge.

"Still haven't found your socks?" Yuan asked as Ensheng went through the cabinet the fourth time.

He shook his head dejectedly.

The leader patted him on the back in an effort to comfort him. "It's alright. You'll find it," he said. "Maybe Xueyang will know when he comes back."

"Where did he go today anyway?" Ensheng asked.

"Oh, he went to buy a new tuner since his broke yesterday."

"Didn't he just find it yesterday? Mao-ge said so."

"Yup, but it broke."

"Oh."

As soon as Ensheng closed the cabinet, the door to the apartment clicked open, and Xueyang walked in holding a large bag. Yuan looked at him quizzically- didn't he only go to buy a new tuner?

Xueyang set the huge bag down. "Hey," he greeted them tiredly. "Is there any dinner yet?"

Mao poked his head around the corner. "Nope, we were waiting for you," he said cheerily. "You're the cook for today."

"What's Xiao Wu doing?" Xueyang asked. Ensheng was now on his hands and knees, looking under the sofas for the third time since this morning.

He mumbled, "Socks."

Zhoucheng walked into the room. "Today, I saw him looking through the fridge. The fridge! Honestly." He threw his hands up into the air. "You guys are just absolutely ridiculous."

Xueyang laughed nervously and kicked the bag over to Ensheng. The maknae sat on the floor and opened it like a child would open a Christmas present, and once he did, he gasped and threw his arms around Xueyang. "SOCKS!"

"Socks," Xueyang said, amending Ensheng's faulty pronunciation.

"Socks." The golden mop of hair bobbed up and down as he carefully registered what his gege said. "Where were they?"

"You left them in the hallway and they got thrown away or something. So I, um, bought you so many that you'd probably have enough to last a lifetime."

"Xuebi-"

"Xueyang," he corrected.

Ensheng squeezed the life out of his gege again and crowed, "Xueyang-ge, you're the best person in the entire world and I love you."

"You owe me money.."

"Nevermind, I hate you!"

你的嘴!

gabberwok — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 14:48:37 GMT

I just discovered this song called Ni De Zui (Your Mouth) by Jin Sha. It's surprisingly catchy, and for some reason, it's sticking in my head..

Although it seems like the rest of her album is all slow ballad-ish songs, or those epic songs. But this one's pretty cool. It's composed by Vae, that guy who isn't under a record company but makes his own music.
And also, I'M SUPER EXCITED. Top Combine's TTXS episode is being broadcasted tomorrow (EDIT: this Friday!), and that means I can listen to their new song, Zhu Jue! And see their new dance! And their other new song, Zai Lu Shang!
AIPWRJEOFKUAR9IJWOE90UIJORWASKLUJROWIAEFDKLS

EDIT 2:
So Hunan TV broadcasted another group's episode.
And so TC's episode is postponed, once again....
._____.

16. antique

gabberwok — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 23:06:38 GMT

Title: antique
Rating: g
Pairing: ensheng/xueyang, one-sided zhoucheng/ensheng
Summary: Ensheng can't be happy anymore with someone else, even when Xueyang tells him to be.
Note: This is a pretty cliched piece that I'm not very happy with. The writing style is also a little funny-sounding to me. But it was lingering on my computer and it was finished, so I decided to put it up in the end. Enjoy!

He squatted down in front of the small makeshift grave, a round, smooth white stone. "I'm not happy," he whispered to it, and he closed his eyes.

"Ensheng, where are you?" he heard Zhoucheng call out.

He placed his hands on the stone and chose to ignore him, until Zhoucheng came crashing through the wild plants. "Did you hear me?" he asked.

"No," Ensheng murmured.

"You're here again?" Zhoucheng sighed, and all he got in reply was a small nod. "You need to move on..you have me." His voice was desperate, pleading. And Ensheng knew himself that he should move on.

After all, Xueyang had told him he had to be happy. Wasn't this why he was going through all of this trouble, staying with Zhoucheng?

Not that there was any problem with him. He was very attractive, of course, and he was pleasant company. He was also kind- he was far too kind to Ensheng. He should've left Ensheng a long time ago, but still, he kept on forgiving.

Zhoucheng wordlessly held out his hand, and Ensheng took it, standing up.

It was almost two years ago.

"Sir, could I happen to interest you with this doll?" the antique shopkeeper said, fingering his snow-white mustache. He held out a beautifully-carved wooden box and carefully opened the top with a creak on the counter.

in it lay a male doll resting on a bed of dark red velvet with its eyes closed. He had lovely cream porcelain skin with a red dusting on his cheeks, and his chocolate brown hair was soft and feathery. He was dressed in a fancy black old-fashioned suit.

"He's beautiful," Ensheng whispered, touching the doll's cheek tentatively. It felt smooth and cool under his hand.

The shopkeeper agreed heartily, glad to find something that his customer was finally somewhat interested in. "His name is Ma Xueyang- simply a work of art. He was made by an obscure dollmaker. He wasn't very well-known, since he only made a few dolls in his whole lifetime. Those dolls were sloppily made; this was his only masterpiece," he explained. "I'll give him to you for eight hundred dollars."

"Eight hundred!" That was quite a bit of money.

The shopkeeper tutted. "He's hand-made, and he's quite old too. Plus he's been kept in very good condition. It was recently restored and sold to me," he said. He gently closed the wooden box and clicked its golden clasps together.

"How about seven hundred?" asked Ensheng.

"Seven-fifty, good sir. No lower than that," the shopkeeper said. "I need enough money to keep this shop going, you know!" He laughed, and Ensheng softened a little. He really quite liked this antique store; it had all sorts of fun little knick-knacks and things.

"Alright," he replied with a sigh, and he paid the old man, who thanked him cheerfully. The elderly man whistled a merry tune as he carefully bagged the doll box, and he handed it to the other.

"Have a good day!" he called out, and Ensheng took the bag with a wave, walking out of the antique shop.

He drove back to his house. When he arrived, he took his doll up to his room and carefully lifted it out of its box, placing it on his silk bed sheets.

Underneath where its body had been, he found a small golden key. Now what would that be for, he wondered?

He cradled the doll, running his fingers through the doll's soft hair. "Ma Xueyang," he whispered to it. "What a pretty name. It suits you." He almost laughed out loud; he was talking to a doll! A doll, of all things. He must be the equivalent of the crazy cat lady down the road, but instead, he was a crazy doll man.

He then tried to pry open its long-lashed eyes, but they seemed to be stuck. He frowned. Did the old man sell him a defective product? He tried to move its eyelids again, but again, they would not budge.

The key! He picked up the tiny golden key in his fingers, and he slowly undressed the doll's upper torso. In the back, there was a small keyhole, and he smiled, inserting the key into it. With a click, he turned it. He pulled the key out, placing it back in the wooden box, and he dressed the doll in its elegant clothing again.

Suddenly, it began to warm up considerably, and he tensed and put it on the bed. He moved backwards.

The lovely doll opened its eyes and sat up.

Ensheng's breath literally hitched. Ma Xueyang had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen in his life. They were a dark, rich brown, and they were shaped in a most appealing rounded way, framed with long black eyelashes. The doll locked gazes with Ensheng, and he tensed a bit more.

"Are you…." the doll started, his voice resonating in his tiny chest. "Are you my master?"

"Master?" Ensheng echoed. This is all just a dream, he told himself.

"Owner?" he pushed.

"Yes," Ensheng said. "I am, I guess." He decided to play along with this dream; after all, it was just a dream. What harm would it do?

The doll seemed satisfied and hopped off of the bed, tottering towards him. He scooted back a little, but the doll grabbed him and held him firm with a surprisingly steely grip. Xueyang touched his warm, hard porcelain forehead to Ensheng's briefly before pulling back.

"I'll fulfill all your wishes," he whispered. "I can fulfill all of them, except, of course, things that go against the rules."

"What are you?" asked Ensheng softly.

"I'm a doll named Ma Xueyang," replied Xueyang, blinking his exquisite eyes. "Created to fulfill my master's wishes. The first one was Liu Zhoucheng; he created me with all of his heart and soul." He seemed to be gauging Ensheng's response to all of this, watching closely with those oddly intelligent eyes.

"What happens if I die?"

"You die; I lose a master and move on."

"You wouldn't care at all?"

"I don't know. Would you want me to care?"

"I can't force you to have emotions. They come on their own," Ensheng said.

Xueyang shrugged. "Perhaps they do not come to me. What do you want me to do now, Master?"

He frowned and said, "Just call me Ensheng."

"As you wish." The doll made a sweeping bow that made his silky brown hair fall in tufts across his eyes.

"And you don't need to bow," Ensheng added.

And Xueyang simply repeated, "As you wish."

As the days passed, Ensheng ended up with little red half-moons all over his arms. He had been pinching himself, attempting to wake up from the "dream", until he finally accepted that it was not a dream and that everything was true. However, he tried to hold back from making wishes. The few he did make were trivial things like, "I wish I could have a chocolate bar right now", or "I wish that my bed was made."

Wishes made him feel guilty. He wondered if there was a price for them, like some kind of terrible karma that would creep up on him later on. He had asked Xueyang if there was, and the response he got was no- but he still didn't feel quite right about it.

He also didn't want the doll to be his servant; he wanted to be friends. He liked the doll a lot, and he wanted Xueyang to hold him in high regards- not because he was his master, but because Xueyang genuinely liked him, like a friend. And friends don't order other friends around.

A knock came from the door. "Xueyang, is that you?" he asked, getting up from his bed.

"Yes. May I come in?"

"Of course!"

The door creaked open, and from behind it emerged Xueyang.

However, now he was human-sized, about the same size and looked the same age as the other, whose mouth hung open.

Naturally, the beauty he had had as a small doll had been blown up. His eyes were still terribly beautiful, his skin milk-white, his hair light and feathery. But he was a good height, around the same as Ensheng, and his face was not as small and childishly angelic. His face was handsomer and older now.

He seemed a tad nervous, which was strange for him. He was usually emotionless. In fact, he seemed so emotionless to the point where sometimes Ensheng thought Xueyang could simply just not have any feelings. "I," started Xueyang. "I wanted to be more useful to you, and I thought you were just holding back because I was a doll. That if I were more human-like, you'd loosen up a little and start making more wishes- making them more naturally, like requests," he explained. He walked a little closer to the bed, and he politely dipped his head.

There was a long pause as Ensheng continued to gawk at him.

"..Have you had enough?" asked the doll.

He blushed when he realized that he had been staring. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean.."

"No, it's fine," Xueyang said. "Whatever pleases you, do it. If you're happy, I'll be happy."

Ensheng sighed and quietly asked, "Will you really? Do you actually have feelings of your own?"

"I do have feelings, but I just do not show them a lot. And yes, I'll be happy..why do you doubt that?" Xueyang said, sitting beside his master on the bed.

"I wonder if you're just saying that because you need to."

"I am not," the doll replied.

"How would I know?"

"You are very persistent about my feelings, aren't you?" Xueyang said, and his perfect doll lips twitched upwards. "You're maybe the nicest master I've had. I don't mind granting wishes, serving you; it's part of my nature. I could pretty much do anything for you, as long as you're happy. If you want, I could be your pet. Or a substitute for a sibling or parent. A friend- would you like to be friends?"

Ensheng looked surprised at first, but then he broke out into a grin and laughed. "Yes!" And he leaned forward and hugged Xueyang.

However, he failed to notice the doll's mournful smile.

Time flew like the wind. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed, until it had been exactly one year. By then, Ensheng and Xueyang had grown very close. They made food together, although Xueyang couldn't eat it. They had a designated cleaning day where they would work until the house was immaculate. They watched movies together, did nearly everything together. Sometimes, they even slept in the same bed.

Ensheng told his closest friends about Xueyang, the doll, and surprisingly enough, they believed him and even met Xueyang. They were his best friends, Li Mao, Liu Zhoucheng, and Zhang Yuan, next to Xueyang, of course.

The clock struck 12, and the bells began to toll, once, twice, thrice, until there had been twelve peals of bright, ringing sound.

Today was the anniversary of the day he had been discovered by Ensheng.

Today was also the day he would cease to exist.

"So, I was saying, my friend Mao was- Xueyang?" Ensheng broke off, alarmed, for the doll's skin began to chip in places. "What's going on?"

Xueyang smiled forlornly, and his eyes sparkled. "Sorry. I didn't tell you that I would disappear in a year," he whispered.

The other was dumbfounded, and he took Xueyang's hand, now a sorry state, with his fingers slowly cracking and crumbling.

"I-I," started the doll, and his forever-steady voice shook. "I got close to you. As friends, it was already pushing the limit. But I fell in love. I broke the rules." His whole body gave a racking shudder, and one of his hands fell to pieces. "And I'm really sorry, for not telling you. I'm sorry for ruining it all."

"The wishes still work, don't they?" Ensheng asked, and his eyes began to mist over. Xueyang did not reply. "I wish you were human. I wish you were free from all of this. I want you to not disappear, that you'd stay, even just a little longer," he blurted, and suddenly, wishes began to babble from his mouth like a river of water.

The doll laughed a heartbreaking laugh. "I told you before, that wishes against the rules wouldn't work. I can't grant those."

"Then-"

Xueyang leaned forwards and missed Ensheng's mouth, pressing a light, chilly kiss to the corner of his lips. "Ensheng, you have to be happy with someone else.."

And then he crumbled into dust and perished.

It was not until Xueyang disappeared that Ensheng realized he had loved the doll in his own way. He felt the hole the doll left behind. He had been constantly pushing the feelings away, pushing them away so thoroughly that he had managed to somehow trick himself into thinking he only liked him as a friend.

Perhaps it was the fact Xueyang was a doll and not a 'human'. Perhaps it was because he was too immature back then for that kind of a relationship.

Then Zhoucheng had come in. It was such a mess- after the doll disappeared and Ensheng had buried his dusty little remains in a field of flowers, Zhoucheng stepped up and confessed to him.

"Ensheng, you have to be happy with someone else.."

He accepted his confession.

"Can you stop coming back to the grave so much?" asked Zhoucheng quietly, intertwining his fingers with Ensheng's. "It's just..it's so.." He struggled to find words to say it with.

"No," Ensheng said, smiling at him. "I understand."

Suddenly, Ensheng felt a terrible urge to tell the other that he wasn't happy, that he couldn't possibly continue with this fake relationship. "Zhoucheng, I-" he started, but then he locked gazes with Zhoucheng.

And he couldn't. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away.

"No," Zhoucheng whispered to him. "I understand."

But even so, he held onto Ensheng's hand a little tighter.

lovelovelovelovelove

gabberwok — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 23:58:11 GMT

I was listening to M.I.C.'s new songs today, and they are awesome. Especially 这次,真的是你不对- that was the best song, personally. I kinda wish that was their single instead of Rockstar...Rockstar was kind of ehhhhhh.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THEIR ALBUM TO COME OUT. Once it does, I'm asking my friend who's going back to China for break to get me their Rockstar EP.
And lol, I love how their name is Made In China (M.I.C.).

这次,真的是你不对:

And I'm listening to Eric Zak's Chasing the Caribou. I like to listen to it; it's really neat-sounding. You can just imagine it, running through the forest and chasing the caribou..haha..at least, I can. It's amazing.

Chasing the Caribou:

writing a new fic + others

gabberwok — Mon, 04 Oct 2010 15:33:39 GMT

I'm writing a new story- it's for the prompt for Ensheng: roses are red (and always will be)
I've also started just about a million other little stories too. There's the prompt for Xueyang, antique, that I started, and the prompt for Xueyang and Mao, strings. There's also another story being planned out, and I'm finishing up an old fic I had written a long time ago but never finished. It's a Xuehan story (Ma Xueyang + Liu Meihan).

I'm also planning out the rest of The Night Train.
The Night Train was kind of inspired by all those stories of people going to other worlds. It's on TCP right now, just to test it. I might change it and put it up here one day, but that will take a while.

The story, still untitled:

He was sitting all alone at the table, drinking from a glass of water and reading the local newspaper.

She walked up to him, cheeks ablaze, and she firmly said, "I like you."

He spat out his water.

1. the beginning of it all

Yuanxi grinned at the other girl over her cup of steaming coffee. "Meihan, guess what," she said, smiling. "I got a part-time job at that cafe, and I've been working there for a week so far!"

Meihan stirred her honey tea with a spoon and took a sip. "You mean the cafe near the flower shop where Xuanjing works?" she asked, and her friend nodded excitedly. "Oh, that's nice." She wasn't really interested; there was nothing special about the cafe. It was like any other- nice floral print wallpaper, good food and drink, warm atmosphere, charming furniture. Same old, same old.

"Okay, so I know there's nothing really special about it. You don't have to be so obvious- hey don't make that face," for the other had scrunched up her face in protest, "It's just that I can read you like an open book." To this, Meihan made another funny pouting face, and Yuanxi laughed and pulled her best friend's cheeks. "Anyways, about the cafe. Of course, it's nice, it's normal. But!"

She echoed Yuanxi. "But?"

"There's this guy that I think you should see. He comes everyday at 8 in the morning," she giggled. "He's- oh, Meihan, you have just got to see him."

2. is there such thing as unconscious love at first sight?

True to Yuanxi's word, he was sitting at the table by the window with a book and a cup of tea. By the cashier, Meihan fidgeted; she felt like a stalker as she watched him, waiting for Yuanxi to finish putting her uniform on.

Meihan whispered, "Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here?"

"What? Can you help me tie this?" Her friend turned her back to her, pointing to the straps in the back of the apron. "Of course! I already talked with the manager, and he's fine with it, just as long as you don't stay for too long. And you don't do it again."

She continued to watch him, even as she tied the apron straps together, and she admired him- the way he delicately sipped his tea, the way he flipped the pages, the way he sat, the way his chestnut brown hair fell into his eyes just a bit. She wouldn't admit it to Yuanxi, or to anyone, for that matter, but she really wanted to get to know this person. There was something about him that pulled her in.

She could almost see herself walking up to him and saying, "Hi, I'm Liu Meihan, and I really want to talk to you." And he would smile, and they'd happily chat and laugh over some tea and pastries.

If only she wasn't so shy.

3. because if there is..

After that day, Meihan began to daydream.

She would sometimes fantasize about going into that cafe to get a better look at his face. She wondered what his face looked like. Maybe he was really unattractive. Maybe he had lots of lines and wrinkles in his face. Maybe his healthy-looking brown hair, upon closer inspection, was really thin and scraggly. Maybe he had a bad case of acne. Would he have yellow teeth? Bushy eyebrows? What about his eyes, or his nose? Or his lips?

"Meihan!" Zara's worried voice shook her and brought her back to reality.

She blinked, disoriented. "Hm, what?"

Zara asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing," she answered dreamily. "Nothing at all."

The next morning, she decided to go to the cafe. It was a Saturday, which meant that Yuanxi was off today- Meihan had unwittingly memorized which days her friend wouldn't be working.

He was sitting in the same spot as last time, slowly picking away at a cake while reading a different book. She nervously took a seat at the table behind his and ordered some coffee, and she read the newspaper, although it was more like pretending. She found herself reading the first line over and over again; she couldn't seem to extract any meaning.

"Good morning, Xueyang-ge!" a heavily accented voice greeted cheerfully. Meihan stiffened and snuck a glance. A young male with a dark brown mushroom cut and a big smile had just walked in, and he sat down at his table- as she had now come to call it.

Xueyang.

THe name washed over her in a wave of warmth. Xueyang. Everything about him seemed to become clear with the discovery of his name; his identity stamped itself in her mind. This face is Xueyang's face. These fingers are Xueyang's fingers. These eyes are Xueyang's eyes.

She rested her chin on her hand and looked out the window. She saw herself walking up to him in the cafe. "Hi, Xueyang," she'd say. "How's your day going?"

"Great," he'd reply with a smile that was just slightly crooked. Her favorite smile. How she even knew that it was her favorite smile when she hadn't even seen it was a mystery. "Because you came to see me."

"Really!" she'd say, grinning in spite of herself, and she would smack him lightly on the arm, like those playful couples she saw everywhere on the streets.

And then her pleasant daydream was shattered. "Morning, Xiao Wu," Xueyang said, his voice surprisingly deep. "Why are you here?"

She held the newspaper closer to her face, as if she was reading a very in-depth article, but she watched them out of the corner of here eye. "To visit my favorite gege!" Xiao Wu chimed.

At this, Xueyang laughed a soft, tinkly sort of laugh. Meihan thought it was the most brilliant laugh she had ever heard, and her lips twitched up, carefully hidden behind the newspaper.

"Come and sit down. But you have to pay," he said, using his foot to push the chair opposite of him out.

She continued to pretend to read the article while secretly eavesdropping. I wonder what he does after leaving the cafe, she thought. Maybe I could..no, wait, wait, back up!

She mentally slapped herself- she was just like a stalker now, watching him and listening to his conversations. And even thinking about following him after he left the cafe! No, she told herself. I'm not a stalker, and I won't follow him to his house or anything. I'm alright with just watching him.

Her mind, however, tacked on a little, "For now" to that thought. She blushed furiously and chose to ignore it, instead focusing on Xiao Wu and Xueyang's friendly bantering.

That day, she went home for lunch with an extra bounce in her step.

4. then I'm head over heels in love

"Meihan, you haven't visited me at all in the cafe for the past week!" Yuanxi complained with a slight pout thrown in for good measure. She had invited her best friend out again for coffee to have a nice long chat with her.

"Well," Meihan started after taking a sip of the Chai tea she had ordered, and she struggled to finish. She wasn't sure how to tell the other girl why she didn't go see her. How was she supposed to tell her, "Oh, you know, I didn't want you trying to nose around in my private little crush, so I purposely came on days when you were off so I could watch him in silence"? "Well, the cafe didn't really have anything interesting..so," she finished, attempting to say it as coolly as possible.

Yuanxi watched her with an unwavering gaze. She immediately thought back to their previous coffee meeting. "It's just that I can read you like an open book."

"I thought the guy was kind of interesting?"

Bingo. Meihan froze up, and a wild blush spread on her face.

Her friend smiled. "Spill the beans."

A big slice of mango cake and another cup of tea afterwards, Yuanxi had heard everything she wanted to hear.

Meanwhile, the other was sulking and was trying to hide her flaming face behind the cup of tea. She looked like as if she could crawl into a hole and hide there forever from the humiliation she was suffering. Her friend had wrung her out like a washcloth, squeezing every drop of what happened out.

"I think you should try confessing," Yuanxi said casually, her chin propped up on her hand. "You're head over heels in love with him."

Meihan shook her head wildly. How embarrassing would that be, she thought, if she were to confess? "He doesn't even know I exist!"

"All this stalking and fantasizing gone to waste? I think not. Besides, Meihan," Yuanxi said, with a long pause for dramatic effect. "Won't you wonder what he'd do if you did confess? And what if he accepted your confession?"

Her friend had a remarkable way of putting ideas into people's heads. "There's no way he'd accept. It's from a total stranger."

"What if he turned it down but got to know you first instead? Honestly. Think!"

5. confession impression

Meihan walked her eleventh circle as she paced around nervously on the sidewalk. Today, she thought. I need to say it today. I will. She paced another anxious circle before walking towards the cafe door. She counted her steps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

Eight. She looked up, took a shuddering breath, and pushed the door open.

He was sitting all alone at the table, drinking from a glass of water and reading the local newspaper.

She walked up to him, cheeks ablaze, and she firmly said, "I like you."

He spat out his water.

Meihan felt tears blurring her eyesight. What was she thinking? Damn Li Yuanxi and her schemes! She felt like she could die on the spot, wilting under his gaze. What a shame, she thought. First time he ever lays eyes on me, and I died.

It made her want to cry even more. She was blinking furiously now, trying to keep the tears back.

"I..don't know you though," he said awkwardly, wiping his mouth.

"I know," she choked out, and the salty tears started flowing, rolling, dripping down her nose and cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to run (or die!), but her legs were rooted to the floor. She couldn't budge an inch.

Xueyang wordlessly gave her a handkerchief from his pocket. She gratefully accepted it and buried her burning face in the cloth. It smelled like a pleasant mix between laundry detergent and wood. "Um..do you want to sit?" he asked, using his foot to push the chair across from him out. He offered her an awkward smile to make her feel better.

Meihan sunk into the wooden chair. Although she tried as hard as she could to hold them back, she still let out some shaky gulping sobs. "I'm sorry for," she hiccuped, and she continued, "for your handkerchief."

"It's okay," was what Xueyang simply said. He didn't really care much for his handkerchief; he had a bunch more at home. There was a pause as he debated what to say next.

It was almost funny, he thought. This short girl, crying her heart out in his handkerchief after suddenly confessing to him, and he had never met her in his life at all.

She inhaled and exhaled slowly for a long while, taking deep breaths to stabilize herself. "My name's, um, Liu Meihan," she finally said, wiping the last of her tears away. "And I know your name. It's Xueyang."

He blinked at her, not seeming to be able to form any words. His name? How did she know his name?

As if she could read his mind, she added, "I saw you in the cafe, and there was someone else who sat with you and said your name. Well..um, it's just I came to the cafe a lot, and so did you, and that's how.." She trailed off uncertainly, stealing a glance.

"Do you want to start over?" he said gently. He felt like he ought to give her a chance, at least. He already gave her his handkerchief, and telling him she liked him must've taken quite a bit out of her.

His mind wandered to when his friends often told him he was too kind for his own good. Sometimes, he couldn't just leave someone alone- like Xiao Wu. Xiao Wu didn't know a word of Chinese that time Xueyang found him and was hopelessly lost. Xueyang had helped him around the town, and at the encouraging of Yuan, he offered him a place to stay. Soon after that, he was doubling as an unofficial Chinese teacher and a best friend. Plus he had someone to share rent with.

"Yes!" she blurted, and she felt embarrassed over how eagerly she had replied. She quickly amended it. "I mean, yes, I'd really like to; I'm sorry for being such a bother.."

"Oh, no, it's fine," he replied automatically, still a bit dazed. "I'm Ma Xueyang." He held out his hand for a hand-shake, and she nervously took it.

It felt like her daydreams that she often had. The ones where she talked with him, and they smiled and laughed and did all sorts of friendly things. She smiled a little, despite the sorry state she was in, sitting before her crush.

"I'm Liu Meihan," she greeted.

And then right after, she hiccuped.

It was all so strange and adorable that he let out a light chuckle, and Meihan felt like she could've died. Again. But in a good way; the way where you're so unbelievably happy where you just want to jump out of a window and go splat on the pavement.

"So..how did you like me? I'm curious," he admitted, working to keep his voice under control. He wasn't simply just curious; he was overflowing with it. I bet no one else will ever be able to hear something like this- how someone ended up liking you.

"The thing is, I have a friend who works here. And she told me about you," she started off, her voice small. "She told me to come see you, so I did." She hiccuped again, and he smiled. Feeling encouraged, she went on. "And I really wanted to talk to you. So I kept on coming, when she wasn't working, of course- and I guess I slowly started to like you. I admired you at first, the way you would do things. Then when I got a little closer, it was your looks, and how you treated your friend who came in. I couldn't keep it a secret forever though. My friend found out, and she told me that I should..confess..and well, I just couldn't stand it, just watching you forever. I felt like a guilty stalker. So…I did."

Meihan took a huge breath. What would be his response to all of this, she wondered? Disgusted? Scared?

He bit his lip, mulling over what she had just said. She had been watching him for days, and that sort of freaked him out a little. But wouldn't any person with a crush on someone want to be close to them? And he was already feeling rather good about being liked by a girl. And a rather pretty girl, no less!

Pretty girl. He bit his lip even harder.

"I..just don't know what to say," he said finally, after a long pause. "It's just really-"

"Weird for someone you haven't met to confess?" she finished.

"Exactly!" Xueyang said, and then he suddenly felt bad because it felt like he was calling her weird. Which wasn't true. She seemed very honest- honest enough to confess to a stranger! "I mean, just the idea of it. You're really nice; you're not weird at all."

"Thank you," she croaked. "Um..can we meet up again? Maybe tomorrow?" she asked hopefully. "I'm a big mess right now, and this is a really big shock to you, and I ruined your handkerchief..and I really like you still, even though I've never talked to you before." She bowed her head, as her eyes had became all shiny with tears again.

"Then what time tomorrow? I don't really have anything to do, so any time is good for me. And you can keep that handkerchief. I still have more." He smiled his crooked smile as she shook her head.

"No, I'll wash it for you," she responded shyly. "I, well, have to do laundry today anyways.."

And once again, she hiccuped.

He laughed. "Okay, you do that." He gathered up the soggy newspaper into a small bundle, and he got up. "Is 8 in the morning okay for you?" he asked.

"Definitely!"
----------------

And..that's it! I'll probably be editing it more, but that's pretty much a big chunk of it. :)

9. hero worship

gabberwok — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 21:04:13 GMT

Title: hero worship
Rating: g
Pairing: slight ensheng/xueyang
Summary: Ensheng is Xueyang's hero.

Xueyang sits on his bed, with his knees drawn up to his chest, and he is thinking about anything he can think of. It's this kind of random thinking that allows his mind to still remain sane under all of the pressure- singing, dancing, how to act on stage, and writing songs before a deadline.

He almost laughs. A deadline for writing songs! There should be no such thing; songs take love to be written. They come as they please, when inspiration decides to bestow itself upon you, just like painting a canvas. The artist gets a sudden strike of inspiration and decides to paint something.

Deadlines just take all of the enjoyment out of song-writing.

He rolls around in his sheets, pressing his nose to his knees. But even if he thinks all of this, it's not like anything will happen to change it. He sighs.

Thank goodness for Jin Ensheng. Ensheng's his favorite person in Top Combine- second to only Yuan, because Yuan loves music just as much as he does. Ensheng helps him out, gives him ideas, supports him; he makes Xueyang forget how tough his work is by teasing him.

And Ensheng is also his inspiration. He worked so hard to join the group, and he worked even harder to learn Chinese and to improve his performing. And joining Tian Tian Xiang Shang! Xueyang remembers how amazed he was the first time he turned on the TV and saw him hosting with the others, translating Korean into broken Chinese.

Heroes help others. They also serve as role models; they do great things.

Ensheng is his hero.

Xueyang unfurls himself to lie splayed out on the bed, and he decides to take a nap.

The door to his room creaks open, and he doesn't have to open his eyes to know who it is when a warm body lies down on his stomach with a soft giggle.

"Hey, Ensheng," he says, smiling.

starting the 20 Fic Challenge!

gabberwok — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 20:42:59 GMT

I'm going to attempt to finish this challenge ..hopefully.

☆★ love live 20 fic challenge ★☆
1。yuan / mao - beautiful girls 2。 yuan / xueyang - things in common 3。 yuan / zhoucheng - cross-dressing 4。 yuan / ensheng - stuck in the rain 5。 mao / xueyang - strings 6。 mao / zhoucheng - teasing 7。 mao / ensheng - afternoon naps 8。 xueyang / zhoucheng - coffee house 9。 xueyang / ensheng - hero worship 10。 zhoucheng / ensheng - the art of cute	11。 ot3 \| yuan/zhoucheng/mao - wandering 12。 ot3 \| mao/xueyang/ensheng - look what i can do 13。 ot5 - repeating past mistakes 14。 yuan - trying too hard 15。 mao - never living this down 16。 xueyang - antique 17。 zhoucheng - burning the dance floor 18。 ensheng - roses are red (and always will be) 19。 writer's choice - drunk last night 20。 writer's choice - writer's choice