keysmashing my way into history! (chuchama) wrote in miracle______,
keysmashing my way into history!

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I'm Your Number One Fan

Title: I'm Your Number One Fan
By: chuchama
Summary: [Heechul!centric, Second person -- WHY, HELLO, AREN'T I PRESUMPTUOUS THEN?] You went out and ended up meeting your number one fan.
Rating: Uh...Teen...I think.
Genre: Angst, Drama, etc.
A/N: This is what happens when you start writing an Rella centered story while listening to Epik High's 'Fan' over and over and over again.  If you've never seen/heard the awesomeness that is Epik High or want to basically figure out where I'm going with this story, then you should really watch the music video for 'Fan':  But no worries, I'm not going to follow exactly what's going on in this MV; it's more of a basic idea that I got from the video than anything.


You have been having a bad day, and that’s why it happened.  You know that and you wish that you had thought things through instead of doing what you did and ending up here at this point.  But Eeteuk did get sick and had to stay in bed with a cold, putting Kangin in a bad mood, and you, in turn, did pick at Kangin in an attempt to lighten his and your own mood.


You know you should have known better than to pick at an unresponsive Kangin all day long, because you definitely noticed that you were being ignored after every joke and tease.  You’re not stupid after all and there are a lot of people you know better than they know themselves, Kangin – Youngwoon, rather – being one of them, so you had known better.  The way he had only been getting more and more agitated every time you simply opened your mouth had been more than noticeable and you should have stopped, before the jokes and words had become sharper and meaner out of pure spite towards Kangin as you had become more and more frustrated with everybody.


You contemplate now that maybe you had deserved to get yelled at by Kangin and that maybe the other members weren’t as obligated to stand up for you and you had thought they were.  Kangin had some sort of right, that’s for sure, to say horrible things to you and the others had some sort of equal amount of right to let him treat you that way and ignore you when you turned on them for help.  Maybe the hiss of traitors accompanied by much swearing and shouting on your part had been a little too harsh.

(but it's really too late to be thinking about things like that)


It is after dinner, late in the evening, when you get fed up with the angry stiff atmosphere that accompanies you in every room you enter.  So you announce loudly to the empty living room, pulling on your beat up, worn down Converses and a light jacket hanging from your frame, that you are going out to find something fun to do and maybe get drunk and what the fuck are you all going to do about it if you don’t like it? and slam the door as hard as you can behind you.

You go out in the gloomy rainy weather that of you are, of course, blessed with to have this particular night, especially with no umbrella – ugh – and walk as far downtown as you can manage, face downturn and jacket pulled up to avoid people from easily recognizing you.  You go into a little shady bar you come upon to have a drink because you plan on getting completely plastered and shitfaced before going back to the dorm so you’ll have an excuse to act like a huge jerk and exact revenge on whoever is the first person you come across.

You do have a couple drinks before your inhibitions start to wobble a bit, but you’re no lightweight, so you’ve got quite a lot of sense to you still.  But it’s enough alcohol in your system and on your breath to justify talking to a few of the people seated at another table and maybe getting into a pointless and logic-lacking argument with them for no particular reason, truthfully you can't even really remember what the conversation was about in the first place.


But whether it’s the alcohol or your own interpretation of things or whatever, it’s then that things start getting weird because that’s when a girl who looks too clean and like she doesn’t belong in that kind of trashy environment (though, now that you think about it, you realize that you probably didn’t look as though you belonged there either and that’s probably how she found and followed you so easily) comes up to you and tells you that she saw you walking down the street and recognized you as The Kim Heechul and can she have an autograph, please, since she is your number one fan.


Truthfully, you just don’t want to be famous right now, you just want to be left alone to grumble to yourself and get drunk so you can then stumble back to the darkened dorm and collapse on the couch while thinking up ways to maybe half-apologize to Kangin in the morning for being insensitive even though he really shouldn’t expect too much more from you because you’re Heechul and if he can’t handle it then he should know by now that you don’t and won’t act any other way, can't be anybody else, and he'll just have to learn how to deal with it.

No, you tell her, signaling the bartender for another glass of something, I'm not here to sign autographs.


She frowns and grabs onto your arm, shivering as your skin makes contact with her fingers.  Please, she gasps out as she stares down at the appendage she’s desperately holding on to, (looking far too interested in your arm for your own comfort because for heaven’s sake, it’s just an arm, you and she have two of them and they function exactly the same as everyone else’s arms,) at least let me buy you a drink.


…I’m your number one fan.


You want to drink more, that has been the initial plan after all, and you know that you have enough money on you to last you through the night.  But if this girl wants to buy you something to make herself feel better, then you’re not going to refuse.  So you shrug and say fine, whatever, and she beams at your nonchalant behavior like you’ve just said something incredibly witty.

She orders something for you, grinning about how, this'll be your new favorite drink, right?

You roll your eyes and tell her, kid, I don't fucking care.  She just keeps on smiling at you.


When the drink comes, she grabs it, murmuring about a napkin and how you wouldn’t want to hold it, it’s too cold for your hands.  As she runs off across the room with the cup to retrieve a napkin, you sigh and rest your elbows on the bar island, waiting impatiently for her to return.  You find this all very annoying, because love struck fans are sometimes the worst.


She does return after several too long moments, spluttering apologies and hands you your drink and then a whole stack of unneeded napkins.  You give her a smile, because you feel as though she’s worked hard enough to deserve, then down the whole drink in one go.  She oooohs and claps and says that you’re amazing as you wipe your mouth with only one of the many napkins.  You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes again, but say thank you nonetheless.


And then suddenly, for no reason, you feel uncomfortable and out of place here and are filled with an urge to run back to the dorm and shut and lock the door behind you.  You have a sixth sense about a lot of things, so this unnerves you.  You abruptly stand up and she watches you intently, not blinking.

It's creepy.


I have to go, you tell her, tensing at the displeased frown that settles on her features.  Something’s wrong here, you can feel it, and it's something desperately wrong and threatening.


Can I walk with you, she asks, petting your arm and looking up curiously at you, telling you suddenly, you know, you’re taller in person!

You laugh anxiously before saying flatly, no, you can't walk with me, I have to get going.


You turn and resist the impulse to bolt for the door.  Forcing yourself to walk casually out and down the street, you wonder why your heart is beating so fast and why you feel so funny.  And then you distantly hear a small patter of feet from behind you and realize that, even without your permission, this girl is following you.

You don't turn around, don't acknowledge her, just concentrate on getting back to the safe side of town and back to the people you know and need to say sorry to.


There is an odd queasiness in your stomach and you feel a little dizzy when she calls out to you.  Heechul ah, she yells, Heechul ah, I love you!


You blink furiously as the rain falls harder and you’re having trouble seeing because of the water caught in your eyelashes.  Do you have an umbrella, you ask her, because you think that maybe small talk will scare her away or that maybe she’ll take it as a rejection to her confession.


Heechul ah, I’m your number one fan and I love you, she yells, I love you so much!


Suddenly, you can’t see anymore and a numbness washes over your body, but you can still feel your feet shuffling over and across the ground as you continue to walk.  You reach your hands and feel around in the air frantically and realize that you really can't see.


I can’t see, you scream, panicking, breathing ragged as your legs give out to the numbness.  I can’t see, you continue to scream even after you fall to the ground and rainwater on the ground gets into your mouth every time you open it.


I love you, Heechul ah, comes a disturbingly close whisper, the hot breath from the speaker brushing across the skin around your ear.


I can’t see, you gasp out, clawing at the ground.  And then you can’t hear or feel anything either and you don’t remember how to breathe or think.


I’m your number one fan, she whispers.



on to part 2
Tags: pairing: heechul/unspecified, subject: heechul

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