staygame (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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merryfuture2023-07-12 01:31 pm
staygame) wrote in merryfuture2023-07-12 01:31 pm
Entry tags:
the shipper: bonded over broken bones (2020)
bonded over broken bones (ao3 link, see original work for author's notes) | the shipper, way/kim, teen, 1.1k words
tags: alternate universe - canon divergence, los angeles, living together, everybody lives, no archive warnings apply
---
If Way's being honest, LA kind of sucks. The traffic is just as bad as Bangkok and there are no motorbike taxis to get around it, their apartment doesn't have air conditioning, and they haven't found a Thai restaurant that makes food they like as much as the street stalls back home. Way's brain hurts from deciphering English and he still can't figure out the washing machine in the basement of their building.
On the other hand, LA has Kim, who doesn't mind kissing Way when they're both sprawled out and sweating on the living room floor, and beaches, and amazing tacos, so maybe it's not all bad.
"Seriously, these tacos," Way says, shoveling the last bite of a beef tongue taco into his mouth, several diced onions falling to the table in the process. "So good."
Kim levels him a glare. "Are you done? You won lunch, not lunch and dinner. I'm not made of money."
"Ask your parents for more," Way says as he wipes salsa from his chin. "You know they're still feeling generous from the whole near-death experience thing."
"I'm not going to ask my parents for more money so you can eat more," Kim says. He throws an onion at Way. It bounces off of Way's shoulder and falls to the ground.
"You're littering," Way says. Kim kicks him under the table.
Dating Kim isn't all that different from being Kim's best friend. They still make dumb bets—race you to the end of the block, bet I can carry more groceries than you, winner picks up the bill, let's see who can come first—and Kim still makes them study together, his thick engineering textbooks spread out next to Way's resource management homework on the coffee table. The only difference is that now, Way can lean over and kiss Kim's cheek whenever he wants.
Then sometimes, Kim will tilt his head and catch Way's mouth with his own, and Way will abandon his homework to push Kim back onto his back, and Kim will slide highlighter-stained fingers under the hem of Way's shirt.
Other times, Kim will shoo Way back to his side of the table and complain, "I have an exam in a week."
Way hadn't wanted things to change when he'd confessed—not the first time with Pan's panicked expression staring back at him, or the second time, in Kim's hospital room, when he'd woken up in the right body with the right soul. He'd just known, ever since the accident, that he wanted to be with Kim for the rest of his life.
He would've gone to Tokyo. He would've gone to Mars if that's what Kim wanted. But Kim, who operated his newly-reinhabited body with all the grace of a baby deer, hadn't argued when his dart landed squarely off-center. He'd looked at Way, shrugging.
"I could use some sunshine," he said.
There were sappy thoughts in Way's head about Kim's smile and the warmth of the sun, but he was a man of actions, not one of words. He'd wound his arms around Kim's neck and pulled him in for a hug.
"What was it like?"
"What was what like?" Kim asks.
They're in bed, lying on top of the covers instead of under them because their puny window unit is doing little to help with the September heat wave.
"You know, when you were—" Way drags a thumb across his throat and makes a choked noise. "You know, dead."
Kim sets his phone down on his chest. "I don't know," he says with a little musing hum. "I don't remember all that much. I know it was a while in real life, but for me it felt only like a few minutes. I just remember thinking that I really, really didn't want to die."
Way finds Kim's hand on the bed, squeezing it. "Why?"
"I remember I was a total asshole to my brother that morning and I wanted to apologize. I wanted to see my parents again." Kim rolls over so that he's looking at Way, their hands still clasped between them. "And I wanted to see you again."
Way grins, something in his chest going mushy. The boys at their school had made fun of each other for being whipped, for liking their girlfriends too much, but Way likes this stuff. The staring into each other's eyes, the head resting on a shoulder during bus rides, the Line messages that say i'll see u when u get home <3. The being in love stuff.
"I'm glad you didn't die," Way says.
"Who else would save you from getting your ass kicked?"
"Oh?" Way asks, raising an eyebrow. "You want to talk about ass kicking?"
It's too hot to playfight, but Way climbs on top of Kim anyway.
Kim is Facetiming with Khet when Way gets back from his jog. He settles down on the floor next to Kim's legs, rubbing his sweaty forehead against Kim's knee just to annoy him.
"Still a barbarian, I see," Khet says.
"Hello to you too," Way says, giving an exaggerated eye roll to the screen. "Charming as ever."
Kim looks between them. "Should I give you two some privacy?" he asks.
"This is just how we express our mutual respect," Way says. He pretends to scratch his face with his middle finger. Khet smiles back sweetly.
Way listens to them talk for a while. Kim tells his brother about the group of Thai engineering students who've taken him under his wing and the Isaan style restaurant in a run-down strip mall they tried the other day that had the best som tum they've had in LA. Khet talks about his hair salon mentor and how things have been since their parents moved home. Way leans back to watch Kim smile, open-mouthed and full of affection. It's hard to imagine a time when they pretended not to know each other.
"Pan says hi, by the way," Khet says. "Soda said something weird. I'm not going to repeat it."
"See you next week," Kim says. Way waves goodbye.
Kim sets his phone down. With his hands free, Kim slides his fingers under Way's chin, tilting his head up until they're looking at each other.
"I need to shower," Way says.
"I don't care," Kim says, leaning down to kiss Way. The angle is awkward, but it's sweet.
They kiss long enough for Way to develop a crick in his neck. He pulls away, massaging under his jaw. "Hey," he says. "You're happy here, right?"
Way gives him a confused look. "Yeah, why?"
"You're not homesick, right?"
Kim flicks him on the forehead. "You're my home, dumbass."
tags: alternate universe - canon divergence, los angeles, living together, everybody lives, no archive warnings apply
---
If Way's being honest, LA kind of sucks. The traffic is just as bad as Bangkok and there are no motorbike taxis to get around it, their apartment doesn't have air conditioning, and they haven't found a Thai restaurant that makes food they like as much as the street stalls back home. Way's brain hurts from deciphering English and he still can't figure out the washing machine in the basement of their building.
On the other hand, LA has Kim, who doesn't mind kissing Way when they're both sprawled out and sweating on the living room floor, and beaches, and amazing tacos, so maybe it's not all bad.
"Seriously, these tacos," Way says, shoveling the last bite of a beef tongue taco into his mouth, several diced onions falling to the table in the process. "So good."
Kim levels him a glare. "Are you done? You won lunch, not lunch and dinner. I'm not made of money."
"Ask your parents for more," Way says as he wipes salsa from his chin. "You know they're still feeling generous from the whole near-death experience thing."
"I'm not going to ask my parents for more money so you can eat more," Kim says. He throws an onion at Way. It bounces off of Way's shoulder and falls to the ground.
"You're littering," Way says. Kim kicks him under the table.
Dating Kim isn't all that different from being Kim's best friend. They still make dumb bets—race you to the end of the block, bet I can carry more groceries than you, winner picks up the bill, let's see who can come first—and Kim still makes them study together, his thick engineering textbooks spread out next to Way's resource management homework on the coffee table. The only difference is that now, Way can lean over and kiss Kim's cheek whenever he wants.
Then sometimes, Kim will tilt his head and catch Way's mouth with his own, and Way will abandon his homework to push Kim back onto his back, and Kim will slide highlighter-stained fingers under the hem of Way's shirt.
Other times, Kim will shoo Way back to his side of the table and complain, "I have an exam in a week."
Way hadn't wanted things to change when he'd confessed—not the first time with Pan's panicked expression staring back at him, or the second time, in Kim's hospital room, when he'd woken up in the right body with the right soul. He'd just known, ever since the accident, that he wanted to be with Kim for the rest of his life.
He would've gone to Tokyo. He would've gone to Mars if that's what Kim wanted. But Kim, who operated his newly-reinhabited body with all the grace of a baby deer, hadn't argued when his dart landed squarely off-center. He'd looked at Way, shrugging.
"I could use some sunshine," he said.
There were sappy thoughts in Way's head about Kim's smile and the warmth of the sun, but he was a man of actions, not one of words. He'd wound his arms around Kim's neck and pulled him in for a hug.
"What was it like?"
"What was what like?" Kim asks.
They're in bed, lying on top of the covers instead of under them because their puny window unit is doing little to help with the September heat wave.
"You know, when you were—" Way drags a thumb across his throat and makes a choked noise. "You know, dead."
Kim sets his phone down on his chest. "I don't know," he says with a little musing hum. "I don't remember all that much. I know it was a while in real life, but for me it felt only like a few minutes. I just remember thinking that I really, really didn't want to die."
Way finds Kim's hand on the bed, squeezing it. "Why?"
"I remember I was a total asshole to my brother that morning and I wanted to apologize. I wanted to see my parents again." Kim rolls over so that he's looking at Way, their hands still clasped between them. "And I wanted to see you again."
Way grins, something in his chest going mushy. The boys at their school had made fun of each other for being whipped, for liking their girlfriends too much, but Way likes this stuff. The staring into each other's eyes, the head resting on a shoulder during bus rides, the Line messages that say i'll see u when u get home <3. The being in love stuff.
"I'm glad you didn't die," Way says.
"Who else would save you from getting your ass kicked?"
"Oh?" Way asks, raising an eyebrow. "You want to talk about ass kicking?"
It's too hot to playfight, but Way climbs on top of Kim anyway.
Kim is Facetiming with Khet when Way gets back from his jog. He settles down on the floor next to Kim's legs, rubbing his sweaty forehead against Kim's knee just to annoy him.
"Still a barbarian, I see," Khet says.
"Hello to you too," Way says, giving an exaggerated eye roll to the screen. "Charming as ever."
Kim looks between them. "Should I give you two some privacy?" he asks.
"This is just how we express our mutual respect," Way says. He pretends to scratch his face with his middle finger. Khet smiles back sweetly.
Way listens to them talk for a while. Kim tells his brother about the group of Thai engineering students who've taken him under his wing and the Isaan style restaurant in a run-down strip mall they tried the other day that had the best som tum they've had in LA. Khet talks about his hair salon mentor and how things have been since their parents moved home. Way leans back to watch Kim smile, open-mouthed and full of affection. It's hard to imagine a time when they pretended not to know each other.
"Pan says hi, by the way," Khet says. "Soda said something weird. I'm not going to repeat it."
"See you next week," Kim says. Way waves goodbye.
Kim sets his phone down. With his hands free, Kim slides his fingers under Way's chin, tilting his head up until they're looking at each other.
"I need to shower," Way says.
"I don't care," Kim says, leaning down to kiss Way. The angle is awkward, but it's sweet.
They kiss long enough for Way to develop a crick in his neck. He pulls away, massaging under his jaw. "Hey," he says. "You're happy here, right?"
Way gives him a confused look. "Yeah, why?"
"You're not homesick, right?"
Kim flicks him on the forehead. "You're my home, dumbass."