DBSK Big Bang

dbskbigbang_fic @ 2009-04-02T18:06:00

2009-04-02T23:07:36Z

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thevignette: Change (1/2)

2009-04-01T02:28:21Z

Title: Change
Author: thevignette
Pairings: Yoochun/Changmin, Junsu/Changmin, Yunho/Jaejoong
Rating: R
Summary: One night spent in a 24/7 diner marks new beginnings for Changmin. The appearances of Yoochun, Jaejoong, Yunho and Junsu change Changmin's life of mundane normalcy as he finds himself rooted into the heart of a love triangle, and learning about what love really is.
Word count: 11 234
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: Thank you to my beta, cmere, who is a star ♥ Being not very good with deadlines, I ended up rushing this out, but I tried my best and hope I haven't disappointed anyone :D

Prologue

Changmin sits in a 24-hour diner, half a cup of coffee in front of him, stagnant and cold.

It is nearly midnight. The roads outside are still crowded, but Changmin knows that in an hour or so, emptiness will settle in like a chilly breeze, sweeping through the streets.

Changmin is not the only customer in the diner. Two tables away, there is a young man, probably around Changmin's age, bent over his plate, shovelling food into his mouth at top speed.

Changmin stares down at his coffee and wonders if he should order something else, even though he isn't hungry at all.

Another young man occupies another corner of the restaurant - slender and pale-skinned. His collarbones stick out from his body and the black shirt he is wearing clings to his frame. He is staring intently at his cellphone, fingers moving rapidly across the keypad. His food lies half-eaten in front of him, a greasy mess of scrambled eggs and sausages.

Looking at the oily plate, Changmin promptly decides against ordering something else. He props his feet up on the seat across from him, slouching down in his seat and opening the book he has brought with him.

He is not a big lover of books. Changmin reads because time passes faster when he does, and there is no better alternative, especially when it is barely midnight, and there are many hours to have to crawl past before morning comes. He has a part-time job at the library, which also means that he has convenient access to many books, and Changmin is someone who takes advantage of whatever privileges he is offered.

Changmin is waiting for the night to pass – but it is not because Changmin has nowhere to stay for the night. He has a house to go home to. He lives by himself in a small apartment about a fifteen minute walk away, but tonight, he does not feel like going home. Sitting here in the diner, he can pretend that he is not just a common university student, leading a boring lonely life. He can pretend that he has run away from home (part of it is true, he tells himself, he is so far away from home), or he is waiting for someone (even though there is no one for him to meet). He can pretend to be so many things.

He looks up from his reading when he hears the door swing open and shut. A group of girls walks in - young girls, probably just out of high school, wearing short skirts and high heels, giggling as they look through the menu.

Youthfulness clings cloyingly to their skin like sweet perfume. They make a lot of noise, and Changmin watches them from behind his book with mild irritation. They order their drinks, and leave, silence descending over the restaurant once more.

Silence dominates the place, but once in a while, there are the little sounds - the noise of plates clanging together from the kitchen, the soft click of cutlery against ceramic as the young man two tables away gobbles his food down enthusiastically, and the whisper of paper as Changmin turns a page.

The next time Changmin looks up, it is already past twelve. The date has changed without Changmin realising. He blinks, puts his book aside and drains the rest of his coffee. Two tables away, the young man has three empty plates in front of him, and he is peering into his wallet with a mildly distressed look on his face.

At the other corner, the young man who had been furiously typing on his phone is still staring at the phone, but he is no longer typing. He looks like he is waiting for a reply. His feet under the table are tapping out an erratic rhythm as he stares at the empty air in front of him, as though he is looking at something Changmin cannot see.

Someone slides into the seat across from him. Startled, Changmin jerks his head around, wide-eyed.

The young man from two tables away. "Hi," he says with an uncomfortable smile.

Changmin stares at him blankly. He cannot recall ever seeing this young man anywhere before - he is certain that they are strangers.

"Sorry for intruding," the young man says awkwardly. "But can you possibly lend me some money?"

Changmin glances over at the other table, at the three empty plates, and then back at the young man. "Why?"

"I ordered too much," the young man answers sheepishly. "I only have enough to pay for one plate." He holds out his fist and shows Changmin the money that he is clutching, a few crumpled bills and a small hill of coins.

Changmin thinks about the request for a moment. The young man looks honest enough; in addition, he is reasonably well-dressed and there is an expectant look on his face. Grudgingly, Changmin reaches into his pocket and slides some money across the table.

"I'll definitely return this to you," the young man says firmly, taking the money from Changmin. "I promise."

"I'll be here until morning," Changmin says, cutting him off.

The young man pauses. "I'll come back here by eight in the morning and return you the money," he says politely, taking Changmin's hint. "Definitely," he adds, for good measure, before standing up and walking to the counter.

Changmin returns to his book, and by the time he looks up, the young man is gone. Other than the man with his cellphone, he is the only customer in the restaurant. The man with the cellphone is still waiting for his reply.

Eventually, Changmin does fall asleep, slumped on the table, an arm tucked under his face. When he wakes, the clock reads six in the morning.

He sits up and looks around. He is finally the only one left.

He stands up, stretches and orders another coffee.

Two refills and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast later, it is eight-forty, and the young man who owes Changmin money is nowhere to be seen. Changmin stares balefully into the bottom of his cup, glances at his watch, and then at the door.

He pours what's left in his cup onto the empty plate, watches the brown liquid drip onto the ceramic, mixing with oily grease. He sets the cup back on the table and stands up, pays for his food and walks out, feeling cheated and resigned.

The people around him, even the ones who barely know him, always end up never coming back.

ONE

The diner was the beginning - the insignificant flap of a butterfly’s wings that would eventually lead to a hurricane responsible for turning Changmin’s life upside down.

After leaving the diner, Changmin goes home, takes a shower and goes for a lecture at his university in the afternoon. He sits through lectures, only half-listening, his mind always wandering somewhere else where his body cannot follow.

In the evening, Changmin meets Yoochun.

The café that Changmin frequents for quick simple meals is uncommonly crowded, and Changmin ends up sharing a table with Yoochun. They end up chatting through the meal, and after dinner, they wander to the park and find a patch of grass to sit on. Yoochun has a way of talking that draws Changmin in, has him hanging onto every word. He also happens to be one of the rare people that Changmin actually wants to talk to, wants to open up to.

Yoochun is an aspiring song-writer who makes a living by playing the piano in various high-class restaurants and lounge bars. Yoochun carries an air of mystery around him that Changmin cannot help but be drawn to.

"Listen to this," Yoochun urges, untangling his earphones and thrusting one towards Changmin earnestly. "It's only halfway done," he says. "But I have a feeling this one is going to turn out great." There's a light in his eyes that makes Changmin want to smile along with him.

Changmin cocks his head and listens intently to the recording of Yoochun's work-in-progress. The melody is beautiful - Yoochun is undeniably talented, but the song sounds unpolished and fragmented. It lacks the professional finish that it needs for it to be able to sell. Still, there is something arresting about Yoochun's songs - it leaves something lingering in your heart. Changmin has a feeling that Yoochun will be very successful one day. And he can’t help but think he wants to be around to see that day – can’t help but think that he wants to be by Yoochun’s side, to witness the process.

"It's difficult," Yoochun says, leaning backwards and tilting his face towards the sky, where the sun is setting, leaving behind a rosy blush. "Trying to sell a song. I never thought it'd be so hard."

There is a long silence, and Changmin just keeps looking at Yoochun, completely captivated.

Suddenly, Yoochun turns around and their eyes meet. Changmin’s heart stutters like a song skipping on a broken record player, stuck on one high climatic note that keeps replaying over and over again.

"You know something?" Yoochun says, carefully looping his earphones around his music player. "I think we were meant to meet. I can feel it."

And then Yoochun smiles - his smile reminds Changmin of the bright glinting edge of a knife (cutting a clean swath through Changmin’s heart). "I want to take you somewhere," Yoochun says, and as though they have known each other all their lives, he grabs hold of Changmin’s hand and pulls him to his feet.

"I work here, on weekends," Yoochun explains, pushing the door open. The bar Yoochun has brought him to is not big or anything fancy, but it is relatively packed. Changmin loves it. It is one of those rare places where he does not feel out of place. "On weekdays, my friend sings instead. You should hear him sing, his voice is out of this world," Yoochun says, punctuating the claim with an enthusiastic thumbs-up and a grin.

Changmin raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He lets his suspicion come through in his voice.

Yoochun glances over at the small stage, where a microphone stand and a keyboard have been set up. "He’ll be out soon." He keeps a firm hold on Changmin's wrist as he weaves through the crowd, towards the bar. "Let's get drinks first," he says, and the smile on his face makes it obvious that Yoochun is a big fan of alcohol.

Changmin is ordering his drink when he hears someone playing a few chords experimentally on the keyboard. Yoochun nudges him, and Changmin spins around on the stool until he's facing the small stage, where someone starts to play the beginnings of a song he has never heard before.

He blinks several times, tilts his head to the side and tries as hard as he can to recall where he has seen this man before.

The man playing the keyboard is thin, and has big electrifying eyes. And then he starts to sing. In that moment, Changmin understands what Yoochun means.

It is magical. Changmin cannot tear his eyes away. His voice is soothing and Changmin thinks that he can fall asleep listening to this, and dream the sweetest dreams - except the question of where have I seen him before nags at him like an itch, keeping him from fully enjoying the performance.

It only hits him when the second song ends, and the man takes his cellphone out of his pocket to check for messages. The phone.

The diner.

As though the man senses Changmin's little epiphany, he looks up and across the room, right at Changmin, and his gaze slides sideways to settle on Yoochun. He slides the cellphone back into his pocket and makes his way through the crowd, stopping in front of the both of them.

"Yoochun," he says, and they exchange smiles. Before Yoochun can say anything, the man turns to Changmin and says, "I've seen you before."

His smile is as electrifying as his eyes are.

"I know," Changmin answers.

"You know him?" Yoochun asks, looking from Changmin to his friend and then back again, surprised.

"We've seen each other before, but we don't know each other," Yoochun's friend answers. He introduces himself, holding out a hand. "I'm Jaejoong," he says. "I work here, as you can tell."

"I'm Changmin." Changmin returns the favour, and shakes the offered hand. "Actually, I only just met Yoochun today - "

"Regardless," Yoochun interrupts him. "Even though we just met, I have a feeling I already know you well enough to foresee that you and Jaejoong will get along superbly."

"Yoochun and I, we've known each other for a long time," Jaejoong says.

"Not that long, actually," Yoochun adds. "Just about two years."

"Two years is a long time," Jaejoong says, in all seriousness.

Changmin doesn't quite know how to react, but suddenly he understands what Yoochun means when he said that they were meant to meet. I've been waiting for this, Changmin thinks, until now.

Somehow along the way, Jaejoong takes it upon himself to watch out for Changmin, as though Changmin has become his responsibility. Yoochun makes fun of Changmin; you bring out his maternal instincts, he says and Changmin pretends to complain about it but he has never had someone look after him like this, and it secretly delights him.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Jaejoong says one day, out of the blue. His cheeks are pink and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, like a nervous schoolboy. "He's someone special," he says and waits for a reaction.

Changmin blinks. "Okay," he says, having no idea why Jaejoong is behaving strangely. Jaejoong brings him to a cosy Japanese restaurant that Changmin has never been to, and the entire time, Jaejoong fidgets in his chair and chatters about mindless things.

"Who is it you want me to meet?" Changmin asks curiously, after sitting through ten minutes of Jaejoong’s fidgeting.

"He's a friend," Jaejoong says, but the flush on his face tells Changmin otherwise.

Yunho is the most handsome man Changmin has ever seen. When he walks into the restaurant, he carries a presence around him that is hard not to notice. He is tall, not as tall as Changmin, but still tall enough tower over everyone else.

Jaejoong smiles so hard when Yunho sits down Changmin cannot help but wonder if the corners of his lips are going to stretch all the way to his ears.

"This is Yunho," Jaejoong tells Changmin. "Yunho, this is Changmin."

"I've heard about you," Yunho says with a warm smile.

Changmin's heart hammers in his chest and he is certain that if he met Yunho somewhere else, and not as Jaejoong's significant other, he would have fallen. Just like that.

There is a fire in Jaejoong's eyes and a glow on his face that makes Changmin want to fall in love, just to see if he wears the head-over-heels look as well as Jaejoong does.

Changmin recognizes the sour taste the wells up in the back of his throat as a mix of envy and jealousy, and swallows hard to push the feelings away.

Over lunch, the three of them make small talk.

Yunho is choreographer, and when he names a major entertainment agency he works for, Changmin's jaw drops. "You must be really good," Changmin says, impressed.

Yunho laughs in embarrassment and opens his mouth to reply, but is quickly interrupted by Jaejoong, who grabs onto his arm, eyes suddenly two times wider.

"Yunho," Jaejoong says urgently. "The tickets. You promised. Please don't tell me you forgot." Seeing the confused look on Changmin's face, Jaejoong turns to face him. "There's this amazing singer who belongs to the same company and I begged Yunho to use his connections to get tickets to his concert. He's really, really good. I've heard him sing before, and trust me, he's amazing."

Grinning, Yunho produces a pair of tickets from his pocket and Jaejoong claps his hands together gleefully in child-like manner.

"Take Changmin with you," Yunho says, surrendering the tickets to a beaming Jaejoong. “I’ll be busy.”

Changmin wants to decline. Crowded places do not agree with him, and being in a concert hall packed with screaming fans is not how Changmin wants to spend a Friday night.

"Ask Yoochun instead," Changmin suggests, but Jaejoong ignores him and announces loudly that this Friday night, he is taking Changmin out.

When Yoochun calls Changmin after lunch, and asks Changmin if he is free on Friday night to watch a movie, Jaejoong snatches the phone and informs Yoochun loudly that Changmin already has somewhere to be.

"You're not going to regret it," Jaejoong tells Changmin after hanging up on a bemused Yoochun. "I promise."

Changmin is not so certain, but Jaejoong looks so happy and excited that Changmin does not have the heart to decline, and he resigns himself to a painful Friday night.

Changmin yawns as the light floods the stage. The girl in front of him throws her hands into the air, shrieking wildly, and Changmin has to tilt his head to the side to be able to see the stage. He is sure that in five minutes, his neck is going to start aching and his eardrums will have popped.

"He's really good," Jaejoong tells Changmin earnestly, the sixth time since they sat down.

Changmin wonders what he is doing in this crowded place, packed with adoring fangirls, on a Friday night (when he could have been somewhere else - like watching a movie with Yoochun), waiting for some pretty boy to come on stage and sing. Next to him Jaejoong throws him an exasperated look.

"Stop making that miserable face," Jaejoong says.

"I'm not," Changmin says sullenly, the miserable look not budging from his face at all.

Jaejoong looks like he has a good retort ready when music starts playing. Distracted, Jaejoong looks away and promptly sucks in a breath dramatically. "Oh my God, he's here, he's here - " Jaejoong elbows Changmin hard to get his attention and points violently towards the stage.

Changmin turns back to stare at the stage and squints at the small figure walking to the centre. He gives up and glances at the large screen instead. He does a double-take, staring at the face on the bright screen.

The guy from the diner.

Who took his money, promised to come back in the morning to return it and didn't.

Changmin had given up his Friday night to watch him? He swears loudly, earning himself a disapproving look from Jaejoong.

The idiot from diner starts to sing and Changmin sits back to glare at the screen, resigned to the fact that he is stuck here for the rest of the night.

After two and half songs, Changmin is forced to admit that the idiot is actually good. His singing tugs at heartstrings, and next to him, Jaejoong has his eyes closed, swaying to the music. That idiot's pitch never falls, and Changmin thinks that this is the most beautiful thing he has heard in ages.

Still, he decides, crossing his arms, great singing does not excuse anyone from borrowing money and not returning it. The thought slips from his grasp, as that idiot hits a note that leaves Changmin breathless and when he can finally breathe normally again, Changmin realises that somehow, within that short span of time, he has lost his heart.

"You're insane," Jaejoong says, shouting after Changmin, who is determinedly walking towards the stage.

"I need to see that idiot," Changmin shouts back.

"He has a name, his name is Kim Junsu," Changmin hears Jaejoong saying, sounding exasperated. "And you're out of your mind! He's not going to see you, for heaven's sake - "

Changmin storms around, looking for some kind of door that leads backstage. He spies a door that has a notice that says STAFF ONLY, and yanks it open.

"You're not allowed in here," a member of staff tells Jaejoong as he follows Changmin through the door.

"I know," Jaejoong snarls at him. "Tell that maniac in front of me that!" Jaejoong shoves the fellow out of the way and races after Changmin. Jaejoong manages three steps and then someone grabs him and starts to haul him out of the place forcefully.

"Shim Changmin," Jaejoong shrieks.

Changmin turns around to see Jaejoong being thrown out, looking enraged, and he winces. Jaejoong is probably swearing about how he is never going to take Changmin anywhere ever again.

He taps a random staff member on the shoulder and flashes him a polite smile. "Sorry, do you know where I might find Kim Junsu?"

"Who are you?" the man says, startled, giving Changmin a wary once-over.

"Why don't you just tell me where he is?" Changmin suggests brightly, smiling even more widely.

As it turns out, the man does not need to tell Changmin anything, because two seconds later, Changmin spots Kim Junsu walking down the corridor, towelling his hair dry and laughing loudly. Changmin thinks that Kim Junsu will not be looking so happy very soon, considering the fact that Changmin is in a foul mood and wants to loop that towel around the idiot’s neck and yank.

Changmin marches up to him and feels accomplished when recognition flashes across Kim Junsu’s face.

"Hi," Changmin says, wiping any trace of a smile off his face.

"It's you!" Kim Junsu says, and breaks into a massive grin. "You came to watch me perform?"

"Yes, but only because I had nothing else to do," Changmin answers calmly.

The smile on Kim Junsu's face falters. "Right," he says after a pause.

"You didn't come back in the morning." Changmin decides to get straight to the point.

The smile vanishes completely and Kim Junsu looks guilty. "Look, I can explain," he starts. "And I'll definitely return the money to you. I can even return it now - wait -" He thrusts his hands into his pockets, and fumbles with his wallet.

"It wasn't a lot of money," Changmin says, getting angrier by the second. "I'd have forgotten about it if I didn't see you today. I'd have treated it as an act of charity - maybe you really needed the money. Maybe you were really hard up for cash. I would have forgotten about it, but today, I'm dragged here by my friend to watch some next big thing and it's you - "

"I said I can explain," Kim Junsu interrupts, visibly flustered. He pushes money into Changmin's hands - double the amount that Changmin had lent him. "I'm returning you double, okay, I'm really sorry about not going back in the morning - "

Changmin loosens his grip, lets the money flutter onto the floor. “I don't need your charity," Changmin says, his face burning with heat.

"At least take the money I owe you," Kim Junsu says, looking twice as embarrassed. "I'm really sorry."

"Tell me something," Changmin says. "Did you only recall this when I walked up to you just now?"

Kim Junsu opens and closes his mouth. He seems to be having some sort of internal battle with himself, but after a few seconds, he lowers his head guiltily in an unmistakeable nod.

"You're unbelievable," Changmin says in disgust, turns around, and walks out. He knows that he's overreacting. He knows that he is being unreasonable. People make mistakes, people forget things, and Changmin is a forgiving person. Yet, somehow, Changmin can't let this go.

He can't.

Maybe it is because it hurts. It hurts to know that Kim Junsu (who took Changmin's emotions on a roller-coaster ride, whose performance Changmin wants to watch, over and over again) found it so easy to forget about Changmin, when Changmin -

Changmin will never forget him.

TWO

Two weeks later, Changmin moves out of the small apartment he has been renting and into the apartment Yoochun and Jaejoong are sharing. He has his part-time job working at the local library, and with some financial support from his parents, it is not like he is having a hard time paying the rent for his old apartment, but splitting rent with two other people means that he will have spare cash for other things.

The apartment has three rooms. Yoochun and Jaejoong have one room each, but the third is too small to be used as a bedroom. It is mostly filled with musical equipment and various instruments.

"We can share," Yoochun had offered when they were having a discussion about where Changmin would sleep, and for some strange reason, Changmin felt as though his entire body was charged with electricity when he nodded and agreed.

The first night Changmin moves in, Yoochun kisses him.

Changmin was unfolding the blanket when he heard Yoochun sitting down next to him on the bed. Turning around, Yoochun just grabbed his chin and pushed their mouths together.

After the kiss, Yoochun says goodnight, crawls into his own bed, leaving Changmin's thoughts and feelings in one tangled mess. When he wakes up in the morning, Yoochun is still asleep, his legs tangled in his blanket, his mouth slightly open.

Changmin's heart races like a runaway horse, and he spends a good ten minutes just lying on his bed, staring at Yoochun. If he stretches out his hand, he can touch Yoochun. He can still feel the burn of Yoochun's lips on his, the heat of Yoochun's fingers on his chin, and he can't help but think is this love?

Frustrated and confused, Changmin gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom. Halfway through brushing his teeth, someone walks in.

Changmin lifts his head and meets Yoochun's eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

"Morning," Yoochun says sleepily.

Mouth full of bubbles, Changmin makes a noise in return and Yoochun laughs.

Changmin gargles and spits, his entire body tense as he is uncomfortably aware of Yoochun watching his every move.

When he is done, Yoochun nudges him sideways and takes over the sink, picking up his toothbrush. Changmin reaches for a comb and starts to brush his hair, working through the mess.

Their eyes keep meeting through the reflection.

Changmin's heart feels as though it is going barge its way out of his chest any second. When Yoochun is done with brushing his teeth, he turns around casually and shuts the door, sliding the lock into place.

The second kiss happens, slow and gentle, Yoochun's hands on either side of Changmin's face, fingers spread apart like flower petals unfurling into full bloom, holding him tight. The comb Changmin is holding drops, unfortunately, into the toilet bowl, but neither of them could care less.

Yoochun breaks the kiss and looks intently into Changmin’s eyes for several long moments. “Are you going to run away?” he asks, and Changmin shakes his head.

“Good,” Yoochun says with satisfaction, and then he shoves Changmin backwards, until his back hits a wall. When he kisses Changmin again, it is hard and urgent. He rocks against Changmin, an addictive rhythm as his hands slide to Changmin’s hips. Changmin moans out loud and Yoochun bites down on his shoulder.

Someone knocks on the door. “Whoever is in there,” Jaejoong shouts. “Get out of there now. I need to go!”

“Fuck,” Yoochun says, reluctantly drawing away, unlocking the door and then pushing his way out. Jaejoong walks in and stares at Changmin, leaning against the wall, his clothes in disarray and his hair a mess.

His gaze settles on Changmin’s kiss-swollen lips. “Good morning,” he says calmly, as though he has not noticed a thing.

“Good morning,” Changmin echoes distantly before dashing out of the bathroom, feeling as though he has walked right into a maze from which there is no exit.

Changmin goes to work at the library, feeling rattled and confused. His co-worker asks him if he is sick, and Changmin shakes his head dazedly, sitting down at the counter. The library is relatively empty and Changmin passes the time by reading a book.

Once in a while, people will approach the counter to ask for help and all Changmin has to do is answer the questions that he can. Those that he cannot answer he directs to his more experienced co-worker.

"May I help you?" Changmin says, looking up from the book he is reading as a shadow falls across the library counter. The smile on his face freezes and then fades away.

Kim Junsu's jaw drops open.

"You," Changmin says, finding his voice first. How did you find me? he wants to ask. You stalker, he thinks balefully.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Kim Junsu says faintly.

Changmin wants to ignore him, but he will probably be fired if he is caught, so he settles for a polite icy tone instead. "How may I help you?" he asks flatly.

Kim Junsu shakes his head. "I can't remember what I wanted to ask," he says. "Look." He rests his elbows on the counter and leans closer towards Changmin.

Changmin makes it a point to move backwards and away from him.

"I'm sorry about what happened the last time - let me redeem myself," Kim Junsu says quietly. "At least let me buy you a drink."

Changmin crosses his arms. Kim Junsu squeezes his eyes shut and claps his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Give me a chance," he says imploringly and against his will, Changmin makes a strangled noise in response.

Kim Junsu seems to take the strange sound as a yes, and he opens his eyes in delight, breaking into a smile as bright as the afternoon sun. "Thank you so much," he says.

"Wait," Changmin says, standing up hastily. "I get to pick the place."

"Anything you want," Kim Junsu says, still grinning.

Changmin glances at his watch. "I get off work in two hours. I'll see you back here in two hours," he says, and meets Junsu's eyes with a challenging look on his face. If you don't come back this time, he thinks, and watches embarrassment flits across Junsu's face as though he can read Changmin's mind.

"I'll be back in two hours," Junsu promises, and flashes Changmin another grin before running out the front door, coming and going like a hurricane.

Changmin thinks of Yoochun, and recalls Junsu's smile, and drops his head into his hands. I don't need this now, he decides, and calls Jaejoong to tell him he had better be at work today, because someone special will be going to watch him perform.

True to his promise, Junsu turns up two hours later.

“Let’s go,” Changmin says when he sees Junsu.

When Changmin turns up at the bar with Junsu, Jaejoong shrieks with excitement. He drags Junsu to a corner, his mouth moving nonstop and Junsu looking a little confused, but mostly amused.

“Who’s that?” Yoochun asks, inclining his head towards Junsu after coming up to Changmin and handing one of the two glasses of cocktails he is holding.

“Alcohol before dinner?” Changmin asks, taking the glass offered.

“Who cares?” Yoochun shrugs, drinking from his glass and urging Changmin to do the same. They walk over to join Junsu and Jaejoong.

“And this is?” Junsu asks, interrupting Jaejoong’s stream of talk, looking at Yoochun and smiling.

Yoochun drapes a possessive arm over Changmin’s shoulders and grins. “Changmin’s boyfriend,” he announces.

“He’s just joking,” Changmin tells Junsu, embarrassment making a blush rise to his cheeks. Yoochun laughs at his response.

While Jaejoong takes the stage, Yoochun and Junsu start a deep conversation about music that Changmin does not understand. He sits on the bar stool, sipping his cocktail and listening to Jaejoong sing instead.

Halfway through Jaejoong’s third song, Junsu stands up. “I have to go,” he says apologetically. “I have a schedule tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Changmin says, handing his glass over to Yoochun. “I’ll just be a minute,” he tells Yoochun, who nods. As Changmin leaves, he sees a woman approach Yoochun, smiling suggestively. He wonders if there will be a day when this will not happen, and he wishes half-heartedly that Yoochun would be a little less attractive to men and women alike.

Outside, Changmin turns to Junsu. “There’s one thing you can do to redeem yourself,” he says.

Junsu raises an eyebrow.

“You know that Yoochun writes songs, right?” Changmin says, and Junsu nods. “He’s been trying to sell a song for ages. If you would recommend him, or just listen to some of his songs - ”

“I will,” Junsu interrupts and smiles. “Don’t worry about it. If he really is good, it won’t be a problem.”

Changmin smiles back. “Thank you.”

“Is he really your boyfriend?” Junsu asks curiously.

Changmin hesitates before shaking his head.

“Then can I see you again?” Junsu asks, still smiling. “Or will I be slaughtered for even suggesting it?”

“I’ll consider it,” Changmin says sagely. Junsu’s smile is contagious.

“Changmin,” someone calls, and it is Yoochun, who is holding the door open behind him. “Want to go for dinner?” Yoochun asks brightly.

“Okay,” Changmin says and when he turns back to say goodbye to Junsu, Junsu is already walking away. Changmin stares at Junsu’s retreating back for a few moments, and then turns around to face Yoochun. “Let’s go,” he says, slipping his hand into the familiar warmth of Yoochun’s.

Three days later, it is about four in the afternoon when Yoochun calls Changmin at work. The library is mostly empty, save for a handful of students and three or four other people browsing at the shelves.

"When do you get off from your date with the Dewey Decimal system?" Yoochun says the moment Changmin picks up, without even waiting for Changmin to say hello.

"I get off work at five-thirty," Changmin answers.

"I'll come by and pick you up," Yoochun says, and there's a smile in his voice. "I'm taking you out to dinner."

"You're joking," Changmin laughs, spinning around in his chair, until he sees his co-worker glance disapprovingly at him. “When do you ever pay for dinner?”

"I'm not joking," Yoochun insists. "I sold it," he says, sounding accomplished. "A song.” And then he names Junsu’s company. “And they even hinted at wanting to work with me more in the future,” he adds proudly.

“That’s great,” Changmin says. “Do I get to pick a place?”

“No,” Yoochun says, laughing. “You’ll just pick some ridiculously expensive place on purpose.”

After hanging up, Changmin returns to his book, still smiling. He wonders if that fact that he is looking forward to dinner means something about how he really feels about Yoochun.

At five o’clock, his phone rings again. It is a number that he does not recognize.

"Can we meet?" Junsu's voice.

"I'm actually busy tonight," Changmin says, holding the phone to his ear using his shoulder as he rearranges the stationery in front of him.

"I need to see you."

"What about tomorrow? Yoochun is taking me out to dinner later, your company bought his song - "

"I know," Junsu interrupts him. Changmin frowns when he hears Junsu's noisy breathing.

"Junsu? Are you okay?"

"Please," Junsu says.

"Where are you now?" Changmin says, checking his watch. "I can spare fifteen minutes."

Thankfully, Junsu is not far away from the library. Changmin requests to get off work early from his co-worker, who agrees to cover for him. He contemplates whether he should call Yoochun and tell him about what is going on but decides against it.

When he finds Junsu, he is staring blankly into space, looking as though the world has ended. Changmin sits down next to him, and waits for Junsu to start talking.

"She broke up with me," Junsu says after a few seconds of silence.

Changmin blinks. “What?”

He hadn’t been expecting this. He bites down on his lower lip and desperately tries to come up with an appropriate response, but the only thought ringing through his mind is - he likes girls, Shim Changmin, he likes girls, you idiot..

Junsu continues talking, even though Changmin has not the faintest idea what Junsu is going on about, completely preoccupied with his own wild thoughts. "I rarely get off-days, you know, and today I got some free time so I wanted to meet her. I thought she'd be happy to see me. I mean, it's been so long, but she didn't look happy at all when I surprised her at her house. She let me in, made me coffee, but it was all wrong. I knew something was wrong. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, or something, but she wouldn't let me." Junsu draws a long shuddering breath.

Changmin is only half-listening. The other half of his attention is devoted to the part of his mind saying, he likes girls, so you get your mind out of the gutter, Shim Changmin, because he will never be attracted to you the way you are to him -

"She told me, sometimes I wish I wasn't your fan when we met," Junsu says quietly. "She said, maybe then you wouldn't take me for granted. I said, I never take you for granted, but she just smiled sadly at me. I told her, I just don't have enough time. I told her I was sorry and I promise to find more time for her, but she just kept smiling sadly and shaking her head. I asked for one more chance, to fix things, but then she said - she said what hurt the most. She said, Junsu, I'm not good enough for you."

Changmin watches helplessly as Junsu starts to cry. The other part of him that had been thinking about other inappropriate things finally falls silent, leaving Changmin feeling wretched and awkward.

“Hey,” Changmin says, patting him on the back awkwardly. “It’s okay.” He presses his lips together and then tries again. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.” The moment the words leave his lips, Changmin feels his ears burn with embarrassment.

Junsu cries for a few minutes, and Changmin just sits there, not knowing what to do. Nobody ever taught him how to deal with such situations.

Finally, Junsu draws in a long, noisy breath and sits up, wiping his face on his sleeve. “You have to go off now, right?” he asks Changmin, without looking up from the floor.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Changmin asks cautiously.

“I’ll be okay,” Junsu says.

Changmin chews on the inside of his cheek. “I’ll call you again tonight?” he suggests.

Junsu nods, and gets to his feet. He shoves Changmin forward. “Get going,” he says thickly. “Or you’ll be late.”

Changmin makes it back to the front steps of the library half a minute before Yoochun arrives.

“Why are you sweating?” Yoochun asks, staring quizzically at the beads of perspiration on Changmin’s forehead.

“I have no idea,” Changmin says, the taste of the lie metallic and bitter in the back of his throat.

Later, when they kiss, Changmin wonders if Yoochun can taste it. He wonders what Yoochun would think. After Yoochun falls asleep, Changmin walks into the kitchen and dials Junsu’s number.

“I’m taking you with me,” Junsu says, the moment he picks up.

“What?”

“On holiday,” Junsu says, sounding perfectly normal and not the crying wreck that Changmin was preparing to deal with.

“What?” Changmin says, completely lost.

“I need a break. I’ve already asked for two days off, and it’s nothing big, not overseas or anything – I booked a room in a hotel and I just want to get away for a while,” Junsu says, sounding fifty times happier than he was in the evening. “You can come, right?”

“You’re out of your mind,” Changmin informs him seriously.

“It’s tomorrow,” Junsu adds helpfully.

“You are,” Changmin repeats. “Out of your mind.”

“Don’t be like that, it’s only two nights,” Junsu says. “We’ll just be lazing around, and having a good time… unless you have anything important on for the next few days?”

“I don’t,” Changmin admits grudgingly. “But - ”

“No buts,” Junsu declares. “Pack a bag and I’ll pick you up at eight in the morning tomorrow. Give me your address.”

Feeling cornered, Changmin obediently recites his address. Once he is done, Junsu says “goodnight, sweet dreams, see you tomorrow” all in one breath and hangs up.

Changmin tip-toes around the bedroom where Yoochun is fast asleep, groping around in the dark for clothes and toiletries, throwing them into his bag. When he leaves the next morning, Yoochun is still asleep.

Changmin leaves a note saying that an emergency has come up back at home, and he will be gone for three days.

This lie tastes worse than the previous one, but when Changmin gets into Junsu’s car, Junsu has a wide smile on his face, and he is wearing the ugliest shirt Changmin has ever seen, and just like that, the guilt disappears.

Junsu spends most of the morning and early afternoon sleeping on the hotel bed, leaving Changmin to roam around. Changmin finds the pool and the gym. He takes a long bath, and dozes off on the bed next to Junsu while watching television.

When he wakes up, it is already four. He is starving. He turns sideways and hits Junsu mercilessly until Junsu opens his eyes.

“What?” Junsu moans, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head.

“I’m hungry. We should have a huge dinner to make up for the lunch we missed,” Changmin insists, mustering his strength and tugging the blanket off Junsu. Junsu sits up and glares at him.

“I hate you,” Junsu says sullenly.

“I hate you too,” Changmin responds, dragging Junsu out of the room.

The first night, they have dinner, and only fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning after an entire night of watching movies that Junsu rented. The next day, they laze around in the room, both of them spending an hour each in the bathtub, ordering room service, and they only leave the room in the evening to get dinner at a nearby restaurant.

Changmin has never had so much fun bickering with another person, and twice, he catches himself staring at Junsu with his heart beating in his throat, in danger of escaping out of his control.

The two of them wander the streets after dinner, arguing about everything and anything, laughing and hitting each other.

A playful fight - at least that was what it started out as. The two of them, coming back to the hotel and chasing each other around the pool in the middle of the night.

Changmin has not felt so carefree in months. He shouts Junsu's name, and Junsu turns around, the distinct sound of his laughter permeating the cool night air.

"Be quiet," Junsu hisses, still smiling. "You don't want to be caught and thrown back into our room, do you?"

Changmin reaches forward, closes his fingers around the back of Junsu's t-shirt and pulls. Junsu yelps softly, his entire weight thrown backwards into Changmin. There is a moment when the both of them struggle for balance, and Changmin catches sight of Junsu's panicked expression. Just when Changmin opens his mouth to laugh, he is in the water, sputtering and choking.

He rises up to the surface, wiping the water out of his eyes, and finds himself face to face with Junsu.

Junsu blinks as water streams down his face. His hair is plastered to his head and his cheeks are flushed.

Changmin cannot help but notice the way Junsu's now transparent shirt clings to his body, and suddenly, he isn't shivering from the cold any more. A hot flush works its way from his neck to his face, and Changmin's heart is beating so loudly that he is certain Junsu can hear it.

Desire swells inside Changmin like a balloon, and he has never wanted so much in his entire life.

Junsu is scant inches away. So close, Changmin thinks dizzily. He wants to kiss Junsu, and he has to curl his hands into tight fists to cling onto whatever self-control he still has left.

You will scare the hell out of him, Changmin tells himself sternly. Junsu doesn't like you this way. He treats you like a friend. A friend.

And then Junsu ruins everything by tilting his head slightly, shaking the water out of his ears, giving Changmin a close-up view of his jaw and the line of his throat. Changmin's stomach clenches and he wonders if his mouth is hanging open as Junsu swallows, his throat working.

"Junsu," Changmin whimpers, and it comes out in a strangled gasp. Fuck it all, Changmin thinks, I can't handle this any more. I'll come up with an excuse - I nearly drowned and the water went into my head. I swallowed too much chlorine and went crazy -

Changmin is saved the trouble of thinking up an excuse, because half a second later, Junsu is taking Changmin's face between his hands and pressing their mouths together.

Changmin kisses back, letting his hands wander to the back of Junsu's neck, his shoulders, his back.

Junsu grabs Changmin's hips underwater, and grinds against him.

Changmin's toes curl. He’s caught fire, and he has no intention of escaping.

"Changmin," Junsu says in between kisses. The sound of his name from Junsu's lips, raspy and breathless, makes Changmin moan. "Can I - please -"

Changmin nods, his mouth refusing to cooperate, completely incapable of forming words.

Their movements are sluggish in the water and Changmin sees irritation and impatience flit across Junsu's face. Junsu's grip on Changmin tightens, definitely going to leave bruises, and Changmin yelps as Junsu lifts him out of the water, onto the edge of the pool.

Junsu climbs out, dripping wet, pressing Changmin onto the ground and straddling him with ease.

The cold wind blowing across his wet skin makes Changmin break out in gooseflesh, and he is feeling so many things at once he is amazed he's still conscious - the cold from the slippery tiles beneath his back, warmth as Junsu's breath ghosts across his skin, and a fresh wave of desire as Junsu rocks against him.

"Junsu, Junsu," Changmin says, a mindless chant. His feet are dangling in the water, and he suddenly realises that they are lying beside a pool, and anyone can look out of a window and spot them.

Changmin sits up abruptly, and Junsu grabs onto Changmin, nearly falling backwards into the pool.

"What're you doing?" Junsu asks, trying to push him back down.

"Not here," Changmin says firmly.

Junsu thinks about, and gets onto his feet, pulling Changmin up with him. "Okay," Junsu agrees. "Back to the room."

Changmin trips after Junsu, who does not slow down for even a second until they are in their room. Junsu locks the door behind him.

Changmin knows that Junsu is reconsidering what they are about to do, and fear ripples up his spine - terrified that Junsu may change his mind and not want him anymore.

When Junsu finally kisses him, Changmin can taste his uncertainty. He wants to tell Junsu, it's okay, I love you, but he doesn't know how to say it without ruining the moment, so he reassures Junsu by brushing his thumbs gently across the skin under Junsu's eyes and hopes he understands.

"Junsu. Please," Changmin says. "Please," the only word that Changmin knows how to say.

Changmin has never realised how heavy and how solid Junsu is, until he is pressing Changmin into the bed, leaning forward into the curve of Changmin's back, licking the space between Changmin's spine and shoulder blade.

"God, too slow," Changmin chokes out, his hands making fists in the sheets.

Junsu's laugh is breathless. "Changmin," he says, and he sounds like he's about to cry. "Wait. Changmin. I - there's something I should - I - I like you. I like you even though I shouldn't. And I think about you all the time. And I even like it when you're being a pain, and being mean, and making fun of me. Damn it, I like your stupid adorable mismatched eyes when you’re smiling, and I - "

“Shut up,” Changmin says, and he tries his best not to cry. “Shut up, you idiot.”

Junsu draws in a long shuddering breath, burying his head into Changmin’s neck. “Can I?” he whispers.

“Yes,” Changmin whispers back. “Yes,” he repeats.

When Junsu eases into him for the first time, Changmin feels a painful stretch and starts to cry uncontrollably. It is awkward and sticky, and it hurts, but Junsu is kissing him all over, and whispering sweet, lovely, dirty things in his ears, and suddenly the pain fades into a dull throb and amazing sensations rock through Changmin’s body in time to the roll of Junsu’s hips.

It is over too fast, and Changmin has no time to gather his composure - he is sure that he looks terrible, tear tracks on his face and red-eyed. Junsu smiles at him, panting.

“Thank you,” he mouths.

On the table, his phone vibrates. Changmin crawls over, picks up his phone. It is a message from Yoochun, saying that he hopes that everything is fine, and I miss you, come home soon. Changmin starts to cry again.

Junsu rolls over and holds him. “I know you lied to me,” Junsu says, listening to Changmin cry. “About you and Yoochun.” Junsu hums in his throat soothingly, rubbing circles on Changmin’s back. “Changmin,” he says gently. “If you want, let’s just pretend tonight never happened.”

Changmin does not answer and Junsu says, “It’s my fault.”

Changmin shakes his head. “It’s not your fault,” he tells Junsu. “I’m okay,” he says, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.” He removes Junsu’s arm from around him, pulls the blanket over his naked body and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Oh, Changmin,” he hears Junsu say. He pretends to be asleep as Junsu moves around the room, picking up clothes and going to the bathroom. When Junsu finally turns the lights off and crawls into bed, Changmin opens his eyes and stares at the darkness all around him until sleep claims him.

Part 2

thevignette: Change (2/2)

2009-04-01T02:19:15Z

THREE

The next day, Changmin goes back home, and when Yoochun leans forward to give him a kiss, welcoming him back, Changmin pushes him away. “No,” he says.

Yoochun stares at him. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Changmin says. “I don’t know.”

For the first time since they met, they fight. Later, Changmin cannot even recall what it was about, but they end up screaming at each other, throwing things at each other, and finally, Changmin tells Yoochun, “Let’s just stop.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Yoochun asks furiously.

“Yes, yes,” Changmin shouts back spitefully. “Are you happy now?”

Yoochun gapes at him like a fish out of water, and Changmin cannot bear to look at him, look at the hurt dancing in Yoochun’s eyes, so he does the only thing he can do.

He leaves.

When Changmin does not go back home, Jaejoong calls him, worried and concerned.

“I can’t go back there,” Changmin says. “Not after I did what I did to Yoochun.”

“Come home,” Jaejoong says firmly.

“I can’t,” Changmin repeats. He sleeps in a motel that night, breathing loneliness into his lungs. Is this how it was before they came into my life? Changmin thinks distantly, before slipping into sleep, because he can’t remember a time when he felt so alone.

The next day, while Yoochun is at work, Changmin goes back to the apartment and packs as much of his belongings as he can and takes them with him. He spends the day looking for a place to stay and finds a room to rent in an apartment complex near the library.

A week later, Junsu finally calls Changmin. He gives Changmin an address and tells Changmin to visit him. “There’re a lot of things I need to tell you,” he says.

The view from Junsu's apartment is phenomenal – it is the first thing Changmin notices when he steps in. Junsu hands a cold glass of water to Changmin, and offers him cookies, playing the good host.

"I've been so busy recently," Junsu says. "It's unbelievable, what with recording for the new album, and meetings..." he trails off, hands gesticulating vaguely.

"I don't know if anyone said anything," Changmin says suddenly. "But I broke up with Yoochun last week."

Junsu stares at him, his mouth falling open in an almost comical manner. "What?" he says. "Are you serious? Wait - why?"

"Why?" Changmin repeats, raising his voice. "Why do I need to answer that question? Do you have to make me say it? Do I have to tell you that it's because I like you? Because I love you? That even though I wish I didn't, I still fell in love with you."

"Changmin," Junsu says and there are tears in his eyes. "Changmin, oh God, Changmin, I was going to tell you today. I - I'm going to Japan. I will be gone for a really long time," he says, looking wretched and stricken. "I'm sorry."

I can't be with you. Changmin knows that is what Junsu is trying to say.

"You're going to Japan," Changmin repeats.

He hears Junsu explaining, hears something about company decision, hears I don’t have a choice, but his brain does not process a single word.

Silently, he pushes the glass of water he is holding into Junsu’s hands, turns around and leaves.

Junsu does not come after him.

Junsu must have told Jaejoong about what happened because Jaejoong calls Changmin nonstop. When Changmin picks up, Jaejoong begs him to come home, his voice hoarse with worry.

“I’m not going back,” Changmin says patiently.

“Yoochun isn’t mad at you,” Jaejoong claims.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going back,” Changmin says, and he knows he is breaking Jaejoong’s heart. “Can we please not talk about this anymore? Tell me about Yunho.”

He listens to Jaejoong ramble on and on about Yunho, Jaejoong’s excited chatter eventually fading into background noise, and staring out of the window, Changmin watches his loneliness extend like shadows in the evening, stretching his pain longer and longer.

Sometimes Junsu calls. Changmin rejects all of them, because he has no idea how to face Junsu. A mix of emotions curdle in his stomach whenever Junsu is mentioned, whenever he walks into a shop and hears Junsu’s voice playing over the sound system, whenever he walks past a CD shop and sees Junsu’s face on the cover of his album. There is shame, disappointment, anger, and it makes Changmin sick.

Yunho is the only person Changmin is willing to meet. He does not want to see Jaejoong, because seeing Jaejoong will remind Changmin of Yoochun, and open up fresh wounds where old ones have not healed. Changmin makes Yunho promise never to mention their meetings to Jaejoong or Yoochun.

Most of the time, they meet for meals, and during those few hours, they listen to each other talk.

“You know,” Yunho tells Changmin, one and a half months since Changmin moved out, “Yoochun is really not mad at you.”

“How do you know?” Changmin says, poking his chopsticks at his food listlessly.

“Of course I know,” Yunho says, smiling. “He misses you, but he won’t say it. He pretends he’s okay, and goes out to meet men and women, but - ”

Changmin drops his chopsticks.

Yunho’s face freezes as he suddenly realises what he just said. “Oh God,” he says. “Changmin, I have to explain that.”

Changmin shakes his head. “It’s okay. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be out meeting new people.”

“No,” Yunho insists. “Listen to me.”

When Changmin does not meet his eyes, Yunho reaches across the table to tug at Changmin’s hand. “Listen to me,” Yunho says sternly. “Yoochun meets these men and women, but nothing has ever happened. Yoochun always pushes them away.”

Changmin does not reply. He picks up his chopsticks and silently resumes eating.

Yunho sags backwards in his seat. “Changmin,” he says, and when Changmin does not respond, he changes the subject. “I’ve been talking to Junsu.”

Changmin pauses with the chopsticks in his mouth for a second, and then pretends nothing is wrong.

“Changmin, don’t be like this,” Yunho says.

Changmin puts the chopsticks down and stares at his half-eaten noodles. “I’m sorry,” he says, standing up. “I can’t eat anymore.”

Yunho grabs his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Yunho, I’ll be alright,” Changmin says. “I promise you.” He squeezes Yunho’s hand, wanting to get that pained look off Yunho’s face. “I promise you that I will sort my thoughts out and call one of them to talk things over.”

Changmin goes back home, sits on his bed and takes out of all of the memories he has been trying to forget, one by one, letting them fill the room.

Late evening, his phone rings. Junsu, Changmin stares at the name blinking on the screen. He bites down on his lower lip until he tastes blood, and with a jolt of courage that he never had, Changmin picks up.

“Hello?” Junsu says cautiously.

“It’s me,” Changmin says.

“I’m so glad you picked up,” Junsu says quickly, as though he is afraid that any moment, Changmin may just hang up on him. “How are you? I hope you’re doing okay. I’ve been talking to Yunho, and he’s been updating me with how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine,” Changmin answers. “You?”

“Me?” Junsu echoes. “I’m doing alright. My Japanese is terrible, so there have been some problems here and there. Recording is going well - I think my first single will probably be released sometime next month. You’ll definitely get a copy, I promise.”

Changmin listens to Junsu ramble on, and he starts to smile. “Junsu,” he interrupts.

“What?” Junsu says, sounding a little breathless.

“I’m going to let you go,” Changmin says.

A few beats of silence, and then a long sigh from Junsu. “Changmin,” Junsu says gently. “Tell that to Yoochun.”

“I don’t know how,” Changmin confesses.

“Tell him you love him,” Junsu says.

“It’s not so simple.”

“It is that simple,” Junsu insists. “Changmin, you have to tell him.”

“You don’t understand,” Changmin says, pressing the phone tightly against his ear, trying to pull Junsu closer. “Yoochun and I, we’ve never really been in a relationship. Whatever was between the two of us, we’ve never put a name to it, never defined it. It’s like trying to fix something that never existed in the first place.”

“I don’t want to hear any of that,” Junsu snaps. “Changmin, I just want to know if you love him.”

“Love him?” Changmin repeats, the words rising from his throat violently, choking him. “How could I not?”

“That is the only thing you need to know,” Junsu says. “That you love him. And that’s the only thing that Yoochun needs to know.”

“Junsu,” Changmin says, turning his gaze up towards the ceiling, imagines a sky full of stars. “Did you love me?”

“You silly boy,” Junsu says, and Changmin can hear the smile in his voice. “I love you, exactly the way you love me, but the two of us, we are just not meant to be.”

“Not meant to be.” Changmin tries the words in his mouth.

“You know,” Junsu says, “if you don’t tell Yoochun, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I need time,” Changmin says. “I need more time.”

“Okay,” Junsu says. “You can have all the time you want, but no one can guarantee that when you’re finally ready, he’ll still be there, waiting for you.”

As though getting back at Changmin for all the times he rejected his calls, Junsu hangs up on Changmin, leaving him with only the monotonous dial tone for company.

Two weeks after the phone call with Junsu, Yoochun calls.

“Are you still working at the library?” he asks when Changmin picks up, as though nothing has changed.

Hearing Yoochun’s voice after so long is a shock to his system. Changmin nearly drops the phone. It is a few seconds before Changmin collects himself enough to answer yes.

“What time to you get off work tomorrow?” Yoochun asks.

“I’m not working tomorrow,” Changmin says faintly.

“Oh,” Yoochun says. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Come by the bar tomorrow night, alright?”

Changmin wants to say no. He doesn’t think that he can bear to face Yoochun again. He still cannot forget the look on Yoochun’s face when he found out about Junsu. Shame rolls through Changmin in waves, and he opens his mouth to make up an excuse.

“If you don’t come,” Yoochun says before Changmin can speak, “Jaejoong will personally slaughter you.”

“Yoochun,” Changmin says quietly.

“Changmin,” Yoochun responds, and the silence between them widens.

Changmin listens to Yoochun breathe on the other end, and suddenly, suddenly, it hits Changmin how much he really loves this man.

“Changmin,” Yoochun says hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?”

Where am I right now? Changmin thinks as his brain turns into a foggy haze. “I don’t know,” he says blankly, and even to himself his voice sounds distant and faint. He shakes his head to clear his hazy thoughts. “Um,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m at the library. I’m not working though, I’m doing research for a paper,” he rambles, trying to pretend that hearing Yoochun’s voice is not affecting him as much as it actually does.

There is some noise on the other end, as though Yoochun is fumbling with his phone. “Changmin,” he hears Yoochun say, a little breathless. “Give me five minutes.”

There is more noise and then the beep of the dial tone signalling that Yoochun has hung up. Changmin stares at his phone and then at the books spread out before him and doubts that he can get any more work done. Slowly, he gathers all the books and papers lying on the table, and he is walking down the front steps of the library, cradling a stack of books in his arms, when Yoochun skids into view in front of him.

Yoochun is flushed and sweating, looking as though he has run a long way.

Seeing Yoochun hits Changmin even harder than hearing his voice.

I forget how beautiful you look, Changmin thinks, stopping on the steps and staring down at Yoochun. “What are you doing here?” he says.

The evening sun is setting in the distance and the homebound birds screech loudly overhead. Yoochun tugs at his clothes and gnaws at his lower lip.

Changmin takes one step forward and then cannot find any more strength in him to move any closer.

Yoochun has always been the brave one between the two of them. Changmin holds his breath.

There is long moment where the both of them just stand in their respective places, Changmin halfway down the steps and Yoochun on the pavement, staring at each other. And then Yoochun bursts into motion, racing up the stairs and gathering Changmin into his arms forcefully.

All the books Changmin is carrying tumble out of his arms and onto the ground, and Changmin makes a small noise of shock as Yoochun kisses him violently.

Changmin jerks backwards with such force that he ends up falling backwards and sitting down on the steps breathlessly.

Yoochun stares down at Changmin, sprawled on the steps with books strewn around him and starts to laugh. “Get up, you idiot,” Yoochun says, bending down to pick up the books, and there is a brilliant smile on his face.

“It has been two and a half months,” Changmin blurts out.

Yoochun tilts his head sideways. “Yes,” he agrees. He hands the books to Changmin and then waits for Changmin to clumsily get back to his feet. “Junsu called me from Japan.”

Changmin inhales sharply and then finds that he cannot exhale at all.

“He told me I should give you another chance,” Yoochun says. “He said, Changmin may have loved me, but you’re the one he is in love with.”

Changmin thinks he is going to drop his books all over again. He clings onto them for dear life, because he refuses to embarrass himself again. “I made a mistake,” Changmin says, because, really, what else is there left to say?

Yoochun looks surprised at the sudden declaration. “What?”

“I made a mistake,” Changmin repeats, holding onto his books so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I shouldn’t have broken up with you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I - ” He takes a deep breath. “I loved Junsu, I really did. And then he left, and the entire time I was alone, it wasn’t him that I missed the most. It was you.”

Yoochun just looks at him silently, a contemplative look on his face

Forgive me, Changmin thinks as hard as he can, hoping that the thought gets through to Yoochun. Forgive me. I love you.

“Changmin,” Yoochun says at last, his voice low and soft. “When are you moving back in?”

And then, just like the first time they met, Yoochun takes Changmin’s hand as though they have known each other forever.

“Are you happy?” Junsu asks when he calls during a break between recording sessions.

“I’m happy,” Changmin says, and hearing Junsu’s voice still brings a smile to his face. “Are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Junsu says honestly, and Changmin can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Does that mean you’re coming back to Korea?” Changmin asks. “If you are, I feel obliged to tell you that even if you do, you’ve lost your chance. I’m already attached.”

Yoochun grins from across the room, his fingers skipping across piano keys. “Tell him if he convinces his company to use more of my songs, I’ll consider forgiving him for seducing my boyfriend.”

“I heard that,” Junsu shouts into the phone. “Punch your boyfriend on my behalf, Changmin, he’s a jerk.”

“Shim Changmin does not deliver punches, only kisses,” Changmin says seriously. “If you’d like to send Yoochun a kiss, I’ll be happy to deliver.”

“And you are a jerk too,” Junsu informs him.

“I love you too,” Changmin sings into the receiver.

“You love me more,” Yoochun adds quickly, a challenging look in his eyes.

“I love you more,” Changmin agrees, letting the phone fall onto the sofa as Yoochun abandons the piano and moves towards Changmin, wearing a heart-stopping smile.

"You know how sometimes, we fall in love with the wrong person?" Yoochun says. Changmin looks up; Yoochun's eyes are like storm clouds.

"Yeah?" Changmin answers, and thinks, oh God, he's going to break my heart now. And his second thought is, not today, please just not today, it's my birthday.

Yoochun takes Changmin's hand, threading their fingers together tightly. Changmin stares down at their linked hands and thinks that there is something that he should understand that he hasn't yet.

"Well, I think this time is an exception," Yoochun says, and Changmin’s jaw nearly drops at the cheesiness of it all, except inside, his heart is singing and outside, he is glowing.

Changmin thinks – no, he knows – that the happiest days of his life start from now.

Art Post

Art: Change

2009-04-01T02:16:04Z

Artist: yamapea; colored by reallycorking
Fic: Change
Rating: One worksafe
Artist's Note: A million and one thanks to reallycorking for all of her help and encouragement with this.

Please leave all comments for the artists here!

springtides: the gravity of our hearts.

2009-03-30T22:26:51Z

Title: the gravity of our hearts.
Author: spinintriangles -> springtides
Pairings: Yunho/Jaejoong, Yoochun/Junsu
Rating: PG13
Summary: From the very beginning, he’s a boy with a heart made of fire, an accident waiting to happen. His eyes say: give me your heart and I will burn it for you.
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Word count: 10 105

From the very beginning, he’s a boy with a name and a heart made of fire, an accident waiting to happen. There’s gasoline in his veins and his fingers aren’t fingers, they’re matchsticks, and he is the one spark that razes the city to the ground.

His eyes say: give me your heart and I will burn it for you.

One.

The first time isn’t really the first time, because Jaejoong’s been doing this for so long that it’s a part of himself, but this is the first time he does it without ever meaning to. He’s about to say, ‘i’ve missed you,’ or ‘it’s been a while’ or anything, anything at all, but he’s just met Yunho and it’s enough to turn his soul inside-out.

There’s a sound of steel rivets screaming loose, glass windows blowing outwards like fireworks before the force of the gas tank igniting throws the frame right into the air. When it comes back to earth it’s not a car anymore, it’s a carbonized skeleton collapsed in on itself. There’s a taste of smoke sticking to Jaejoong’s lips, and all he’s thinking is, not again. The needle is stuck in the groove of the record and it’s not coming back out. It’s playing the same song.

It’s two minutes past five. Thirty seconds ago, the street had been an average not-yet-autumn kind of street, the trees on the sidewalk just beginning to stain with russet and letting their leaves go. Businessmen dodge college students on bicycles and Yunho has just stumbled over his untied shoelaces and bumped into Jaejoong; they’re both full of sorrys for a moment before Jaejoong looks up and he says ‘Hey, aren’t you-’ before he catches himself. He knows this boy, knows the way he holds his shoulders like he is completely at ease with the world and the way his lips curve. It’s pulling him away from his comfort zone and into a place that he doesn’t know but will.

It’s two minutes past five, and Jaejoong is staring at the car wreck, watching pieces of upholstery float upwards, glowing red. The rubber tires are seeping in the asphalt and ripples of heat shudder in the dusty air.

‘Nice work,’ Yunho says, just as the driver’s door of the Cadillac twists off its hinges and tumbles to the ground with a crash that makes a group of teenage girls nearby squeal. The metal goes scattering across the asphalt like a handful of dice.

Jaejoong’s still watching the wreck, nonchalant, phone still in hand.

‘You’re bleeding,’ Yunho says, and Jaejoong pulls his eyes away from the fire to meet Yunho’s only to look away, heart skipping a beat. When he reaches up to touch his cheek his fingers come away sticky, blood clinging to the skin. His vision is clearing like a camera focusing, lenses flickering. The car is still burning just meters away. They’re the only two people on the street still standing, and the wreck is as natural as breathing, but the distance between them isn’t.

‘Listen,’ Yunho says. There’s a siren in the distance. People are starting to pull out their cell phones and snap pictures. ‘How about we get a coffee.’

They go to a tiny place that’s halfway between a café and a restaurant. There is a miniature chef standing in front with round spectacles and a moustache holding a sign reading BEST STEAK IN TOWN! in pink chalk. It’s too warm inside, the air-conditioning turned up too high. Jaejoong’s feeling the awkwardness that always comes with meeting new people, but this isn’t someone new, this is Yunho. He can’t stop stealing glances of him, hungry for reassurance that the boy beside him is real. They sit opposite each other in a little booth with worn red seats and a table that looks like it has been recently vacated and wiped down in a hurry, wet smudges drying before their eyes. The sole waitress has hot pink hair and too much make-up on, eyeliner heavy and mascara clotting on her lashes. Yunho slips into the seat opposite Jaejoong, resting his elbows on the tabletop. The waitress twirls a strand of pink around her finger nervously, staring at the blood on Jaejoong’s face until he smiles at her and she forces one back in response. Yunho asks for two coffees and she totters away to get them, her stilettoed footsteps like gunshots.

Jaejoong peers into his reflection in the glass of the shop window, dabbing at the blood with a napkin. At the same time he’s looking at Yunho out of the corner of his eye, already beginning to forget what the younger Yunho had looked like, displacing his memories. ‘I think some glass from that car hit me.’

‘Your own fault,’ Yunho says, dry. ‘You’ve missed a spot. There.’

The cut is horizontal, just above his cheekbone, open and red inside, the blue of bruised plums around the outside edges. Half an inch higher and it would have performed a dissection to his eye, a miniature glass scientist carving through the retina with his miniature glass fingertip. Jaejoong turns away from the window just as the waitress brings them their coffee. It’s lukewarm and too strong, but Yunho drinks half of his in one go. Jaejoong’s toying with a packet of sugar, not touching his cup. Where have you been, Jaejoong wants to say. What are you doing here? Where does this leave us, he wants to say.

Yunho says, ‘Your self-control doesn’t seem to have improved.’

Jaejoong’s napkin immediately catches fire, and he uses his saucer to squash out the flames before the waitress can notice. Yunho hasn’t moved, eyes watching him in amusement and the corners of his mouth curled up. Jaejoong’s seeing double, a younger Yunho superimposed over this one. He can feel every cell in his body and gravity weighing him down, dragging at his wrists. It’s subtle enough that you wouldn’t notice it until someone says, hey, what’s that? And then you do, and you wish they hadn’t told you.

‘Like I said,’ Yunho says, and Jaejoong’s hands are fisting, nails pressed into his palms. ‘I’m not going to learn how to,’ he says. ‘You couldn’t teach me last time either.’

Yunho laughs, softly. Outside, the sun wears down the sky. Jaejoong’s trying not to think about younger years when he says, ‘I can’t do it, Yunho.’

‘I didn’t ask you to,’ Yunho says.

Jaejoong takes a moment but not a breath, feels his lungs ache in absence. ‘Sorry,’ he says, and it’s too small to hold all of his apologies. It’s been too long. They’re not the same people.

‘Me too,’ Yunho says, and Jaejoong’s taken off guard. Yunho’s never been one for saying sorry even if he was wrong, never let himself be the one to be taken apart. Jaejoong looks down at his hands. They’re not clenched anymore, red marks showing up angry against his skin. His watch is too big for him and it’s slipped so that it’s on the wrong side of his wrist, and Jaejoong realizes that the only train home tonight is leaving in five minutes. He stands up, saying, ‘I have to go.’

Yunho’s unreadable, but he always has been, and he says, ‘See you,’ as if they might meet again, and Jaejoong’s taken one step away when Yunho grabs his hand and pushes a piece of paper into it. Jaejoong feels the edges crumple, curled into his fingers. ‘Just in case,’ Yunho says. Jaejoong doesn’t ask.

It’s not until he’s on the train that he reads it; and it’s a phone number, the handwriting as familiar to Jaejoong as his own. He doesn’t need to look closer to know that the numbers aren’t penned, but burned into the paper.

The second time is an accident, again. Jaejoong’s been doing this ever since he was a child, but most of the time it’s just scorch marks left in the shape of his hand when he presses down too hard onto something, window glass overheating and cracking. Sometimes he’ll be angry, frightened, surprised, and the nearest sheaf of paper will burst into flames, or when he’s tired and stumbling home half-asleep, miss the light switch and drop to his knees only to realize that the carpet under his palms is burning. Sometimes he’ll be laughing at a joke he’s just heard on the radio, or wishing he was somewhere or someone else, and there’ll be a crack as the bracelet he’s wearing melts right off his wrist. He never burns if it’s his own, never scars, never even feels the fire even if he puts his hand in it, but if he switches a fire onto the gas stove and tries touching it, it will give him second degree burns that are always worth a trip to the hospital; not that he ever goes, because his medicine cupboard is always equipped with burn salve and bandages. They’re not there for himself, usually- they’re there if he hurts someone else, and he has, too many times to count.

He knows how to stop once he’s begun, but he doesn’t know how to do it pre-blaze. Yunho had gotten halfway to teaching him, but then that was only because Yunho wanted to know exactly when and where they would go about the burnings. Jaejoong doesn’t like watching television anymore because the channels always seem to be picking up stories about fires, cars and boats and shop items, like the whole city is beginning to turn to smoke.

Jaejoong has only been in Seoul for three, or two months. He still can’t get used to the skyscrapers and the way they seem to touch the clouds, and the hundreds of thousands of planes going past and the way the pavement rumbles when a train worms away underground. He thinks that with all this radiation from computers and dirty smog coming through the space between window and frame and car exhaust he might as well go back to making his way through half a cigarette packet a day.

The second time, Jaejoong is thinking about Yunho without meaning to, without wanting to. He’s memorized Yunho’s phone number the way you will remember anything if you look at it for long enough. He can recite it without thinking now, as though it is a favorite song from his childhood that he has listened to a thousand times, his mouth forming the numbers without him realizing until he hears himself saying them and when he does, he stops himself but five minutes later he’s doing it again.

He hasn’t called Yunho, and he thinks that he never will, but he hasn’t thrown the number out either. It’s still in the pocket of his jacket, which has been hanging over a chair ever since Jaejoong had dropped it there three days ago, sleeves empty and cuffs fading in color from too many washes.

The microwave pings. Jaejoong can smell the kimchi, filtered through the door. His mother had made him bring home two jars of it the last time he visited her. ‘You look skinny,’ she said. ‘You’re going to waste away and no girl will ever date you.’ His mother had never liked Yunho, he remembers- his father even less. ‘Stop bringing that boy home,’ he’d said, frowning at Jaejoong over his morning newspaper; ‘he’s a bad influence.’ And maybe Yunho was, always showing Jaejoong his newest haunts. Jaejoong always came back with soot in his hair, dirt on his knees and under his fingernails, and his parents didn’t approve, they didn’t like him running through the streets with that Jung Yunho, but no matter what they said, Jaejoong still went every time Yunho asked.

After dinner Jaejoong watches a black-and-white movie until he falls asleep on the couch, but the next day he wakes up to find that the whole apartment is on fire. He pushes himself up, throwing a monstrous shadow across the walls. There are flames running along the edge of the carpet, edging up the peeling wallpaper. ‘Shit,’ he says, and then, ‘Stop that.’

The fire snuffs out like a giant had breathed on it. Jaejoong drags a hand over his eyes and through his hair, mouth sour.

This happens half a dozen times, before Jaejoong doesn’t wake up in time and the fire alarm goes off; the entire building scrambles out in their dressing gowns, and Jaejoong ends up having to go into the hallway to get the fire extinguisher. Half of his rooms get covered in foam and Jaejoong has to answer a hundred questions explaining that no, he had no idea how the fire started, he was asleep like most people are at three a.m. in the morning. He calls Yunho just as the sun starts to rise.

Yunho’s bad at the customer service. He says, ‘First things first,’ and takes Jaejoong to meet the rest of the crew. Once it had just been them, two boys made of fire, but now there’s two more. Yunho doesn’t tell Jaejoong what their names are. Jaejoong’s expecting secret hideouts and mafia dealings but Yunho just takes him down to the Han River. They catch a bus and Yunho seems to know the driver, grinning and saying, ‘This is my friend Jaejoong! Say hi, Jae.’

They’re still keeping their distance, Jaejoong subdued, not wanting to admit that he needs Yunho’s help and at the same time not wanting to think about how things would be without Yunho around. Yunho’s casual, nonchalant, and if Jaejoong doesn’t think and just lets himself feel, he could believe that they’re still the best friends they were.

The Han River stings Jaejoong’s eyes when they first get there: sunlight shines from the rim of every wave like they are scales of a serpent, overlapping. There are two boys sitting shoulder to shoulder at the end of the pier. Both of them are holding rods, and there are a couple of round fishless buckets of water nearby. A shirt printed with all the initials of the Beatles members floats in one of them, polyester, silent. Their ages are indeterminable from behind. They don’t turn around until Yunho says, ‘Hey.’

The one still wearing his shirt scoots around at the sound of Yunho’s voice, smiling charmingly up at them. He looks like he could still be in high school, mouth curved in a laughing kind of way, hair home-dyed brown. The other is older, quieter, collarbones showing up white. He looks like a poet or someone that would always keep his own secrets to himself, clandestine but hard to forget.

‘This is the new kid,’ Yunho says. His hand is on Jaejoong’s shoulder, every finger bone outlined, hot enough to scald Jaejoong if he pressed down any harder, but there’s something reassuring about the touch. Two fire-boys. ‘New kid, this is Junsu and this is Yoochun.’

Junsu gets up, dusting off his shorts. His knees are sunburned red, his cheekbones defined under his skin and a smudge of white zinc above his eyebrow. ‘Hi new kid,’ he says, sticking out his hand. Jaejoong takes it, shakes it twice; Junsu feels just like Yunho, spark-bright. His hands are wet from the water, trickles of it looping around his wrist and the sunlight glancing off the moisture like a bracelet of embers. ‘Come to watch the show?’

‘What show?’ Jaejoong has a feeling he already knows, but he’s asking anyway.

‘What’s your name?’ Junsu responds. Yoochun has picked up a pair of binoculars and is peering through the lenses up at them, eyes magnified into blowfly proportions.

‘Jaejoong.’

‘Pretty,’ Junsu says. ‘Welcome to our show. It won’t be long before the curtains go up. Have a seat, eat some popcorn, and if you catch a fish then you will be hailed as the star. This is our third screening and we haven’t yet caught anything unless you count the crab that Yoochun found in his shoe.’

Jaejoong sits between Yoochun and Yunho, dipping his feet into the water and kicking at the waves. The foam is off-white, riding over the water. There is a flock of gulls sitting on the water like a fleet miniature boats. Jaejoong can see a scrap of horizon from behind a small boat that’s just coming in from round the curve of the river. Beside him, Yoochun says, ‘Jaejoong is a nice name.’

‘Thanks,’ Jaejoong says, looking up- Yoochun grins at him and hands him his rod. ‘Maybe you’ll have a talent for catching fish,’ he says.

‘Hey!’ Junsu says, sitting up straight and peering at the water. ‘I’ve got a bite!’

He awkwardly starts reeling the line in, going too fast and laughing all the while, and when he gives a tug they see the fish for a second, flopping into the air at the other end, before it drops away and disappears into the depths of the water. Junsu shouts, ‘Bye fish,’ and waves, and Yoochun says, ‘Your dolphin laugh is going to scare away the rest of them’ before adding, ‘It’s here.’ He’s pointing at a ship that’s just coming into the bay, nosing through the waves, pulled along by the boat Jaejoong had seen earlier.

Junsu forgets the fish immediately, snatching up the binoculars and looking through them. ‘Too far away,’ he says speculatively.

‘Actually,’ says Yoochun, and there’s a crack kind of noise as the deck near the front of the ship goes up in flames. A siren starts screaming, sound rolling across to them and stabbing at Jaejoong’s ears. It’s still too far away to see the sailors on board. Junsu says, ‘Show off,’ and Yoochun says, ‘You’re welcome.’ Yunho nudges Jaejoong with his shoulder and says, ‘Don’t look so worried, it’s only small.’

‘Anything smaller than a bonfire is small in your dictionary,’ Jaejoong says, absently picking at an empty oyster shell stuck to the side of the plank he’s sitting on. Something near his fingernail ignites; the shell peels away from the wood, half-molten, and Jaejoong catches it before it tumbles away. It rolls into the hollow of his palm as he holds it up to the sun, watching the light glimmer across the inside of the shell, glazed purple. There’s still a lick of flame eating at the shell’s edges.

‘It’s nothing,’ Yunho says. ‘They’ll have it out in a minute. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, you know.’

Jaejoong just drops the shell into the water ripples and watches the flames go out. He doesn’t say, car accidents don’t always happen with first-time drivers.

(This is an old argument. Yunho said, it can’t be that hard! And Jaejoong tried to put the flames out with shaking hands. So far the fires just start, and they won’t end if Jaejoong wishes them to even if Yunho can control both. It’s like dyslexia, Jaejoong said once; it just doesn’t stick with me. But Yunho’s not a patient boy, the way most boys are, when they’re sixteen and even more so when they can do things that you cannot.

It’s after the first fight of many that Jaejoong runs away. He’s done this before, when he was fourteen and his parents were fighting and there was china all over the floor in the kitchen where someone had thrown a mug (Jaejoong’s birthday present from his uncle) and a stain on the wallpaper shaped like a broken heart, tealeaves clinging to it like they didn’t dare fall to the floor. Jaejoong’s dog had managed to dig out from under the fence a week ago and a man had come to the house saying that he was so sorry but he had hit the labrador when it had run across the road and he had taken it to the vet as fast as he could, but.

He was middle-aged, hair going the gray of cigarette ash and mouth turned down at the corners by the beginnings of wrinkles. He’d worn a suit and a blue tie and expensive shoes that were now worn down from days of going to and from his office job and sad brown eyes. He tried to give Jaejoong an envelope that could only have held money but Jaejoong had made him take it back and the man eventually left. The next day Jaejoong had come home and there was a bunch of white lilies on the doorstep, tied together by their stems, their faces wide open.

And one week later Jaejoong had taken the next train out of the city. He didn’t know where either of his parents had gone, but his mother had left a note on the fridge reading: Home soon. The letters were rushed and the ink smeared and the corner of the paper was wrinkled and slightly torn from where she had ripped it from her planner. Jaejoong had taken one look at it and gone to his room and pushed some clothes into a bag and taken his wallet and walked out of the house. He didn’t lock the door.

The station had been quiet when he’d got there. There was a train sitting dormant on one platform and the driver had been taking a break, sitting on a bench and reading the newspaper with one leg crossed over the other. He’d looked up when Jaejoong had come up the stairs, raising his eyebrows and saying, ‘This train goes to Incheon in three minutes,’ and Jaejoong had said, ‘Okay,’ and found a seat in the nearest carriage, his bag next to him. The three minutes was more like fifteen and in that time and old lady with tired feet and a tired mother with three kids all asking for candy had come into the same carriage before a whistle blew outside and the doors slid shut and the train lurched forwards.

Jaejoong had watched the scenery go past, trees and buildings and streets and cars and shopfronts. He’d tried to count the number of people he had seen and wondered if it would be possible to have met all of the six billion people on the face of the planet in one lifetime and thinking of foreign places like America and its big loud cities and tall Paris and places where he could just be him and stop trying to be someone else.

The train went underground, and there were just occasional flashes of tunnel lights, the train’s speed roaring through the window and Jaejoong closes it to muffle the noise, but every other window in the carriage is open so it didn’t make much of a difference. When he finally arrived in Incheon, it was the same as he remembers, smoggy and unfamiliar and the buildings looking like they were pushing up out of the ground like overgrown plants. Jaejoong could hear aeroplanes going overhead but he couldn’t see any of them through the heavy clouds. The traffic was heavy, fifty percent exhaust and fifty percent vehicle. There were semi-trailers between the white lane lines and taxi cabs waiting impatiently before red lights. Jaejoong didn’t know where to go from here, knowing he should be somewhere else but not wanting to be anywhere but here.

He passed a street vendor selling tteokbokki and he bought some, hot enough to scald his tongue. The lady running the stall asked him if he’d like to buy some bird seed- he asked what for and she pointed at the end of the road. ‘There is a park, down there,’ she said. ‘Next to the sea. Lots of pigeons and seagulls to feed.’

Jaejoong bought a plastic bag of it, and the park was further away than the lady made it sound, but it was easy to find and there were more birds than he expected- flocks and flocks, some in the trees and some on the ground, all of them in every shade between white and gray. Jaejoong made a circuit of the park, strewing seed, and soon there was a line of birds stretching out behind him and he pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture. It’s not good quality but when he looks at the picture later on, his memory fills in all the spaces where the pixels have dissolved the color information; a hundred birds in a haphazard queue, the overcast sky, the buildings going in and out of focus between the trees and the damp grass.

At six pm, Jaejoong was still there, blinking up what he can see of the sky, laid out in the long wet grass and trying to see past the clouds. Stars blink back, a million light years away, and all Jaejoong is thinking about is how hard it must be to make just one star.

Later Yunho calls him. He doesn’t say hey or how are you or anything even close, just ‘where are you?’ and Jaejoong thinks of lying but says, ‘Incheon’ and Yunho says, ‘Incheon?’, like it’s equivalent to the moon or Jupiter. And Jaejoong says, ‘Incheon.’ Yunho says, ‘You’re a long way from home.’

‘Come and get me,’ Jaejoong says, and he’s ten percent joking and ninety percent hoping that he would, and Yunho says, ‘Okay.’

First of many. Later Yunho says, I can’t do this anymore, and Jaejoong says, it’s not my fault. It’s not his fault but they don’t end up meeting each other for the next two years, and in that time he doesn’t ever forget.)

At first they’re just acquaintances, accomplices that set fires and put them out. Neither of them talk about the past, not even Yunho, although Jaejoong can still remember when he picked up every tiny thing and looked at it from every angle and let it be if he liked it and turned it to ashes if he didn’t. Sometimes Yunho calls, says, hey, do you want to-? And Jaejoong says, okay, come pick me up and Yunho will drive up in twenty minutes. Other times, it’s Jaejoong who calls, but it’s always Yunho who comes to him.

They drive out to the forests, long dry distances, the city melting into the horizon behind them. Yunho likes to follow the angles of the coast, till they find a place where the trees are tallest and civilization is furthest. Humans are trespassers here, and Yunho looks less of a person and more of a woodland creature when he’s standing in the space between light and shadow. Jaejoong sees a wolf when he looks at him, filtered through the trees, all watchful eyes and concealed teeth.

Jaejoong’s wearing frayed jeans and an old shirt that’s too thin for this weather, the cold setting into his skin. He sticks his fingers into his pockets, shivering. Yunho has combat boots on and a long coat, There are singe marks near the cuffs. When he stops walking, Jaejoong does too, leaning against a tree, beneath its birch arms and gray leaves, watching Yunho.

The air is kind of still, the way it seems to hold onto time and seconds. Jaejoong thinks, we could be the only two people in the world. Yunho has his hands in his pockets, eyes half-closed, half-open, lashes long. He doesn’t look like he is breathing. Jaejoong is remembering Dali and melting clocks spread out under a dying star. This is not a painting.

When Yunho moves, it’s to raise his hand and Jaejoong doesn’t recognize the object in it until Yunho fires.

Pigeons startle away, wings swirling. Jaejoong is backed up against the birch, wide-eyed, a deer after the headlights have gone right over it. His voice comes out hoarse, shaking all the way down his throat and spine. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘I’m not sure how we’d test that,’ Yunho says, putting the pistol away. ‘What do you say to some back burning? I should get paid to do this.’

‘You pyromaniac,’ Jaejoong says, letting his head fall back. The bark scratches against his hair, presses up against his shoulder blades.

‘Fellow pyromaniac,’ Yunho corrects. ‘We are compatriots of the land of pyromaniacs.’

‘Speak for yourself. You could have told me you were going to do something like that.’

‘It’s April Fool’s Day, idiot.’

The grass Yunho is standing on lights up with a crackle and burns at his leather soles. He says, ‘Fuck you Jaejoong’ and stamps out the flames, singeing the hems of his trousers. ‘April Fool,’ Jaejoong says with a grin and a laugh, and Yunho says, ‘Very funny,’ but he’s laughing too.

They burn small things at first, up close and personal. It gets easier, Yunho says, and it does. It’s not as hard as Jaejoong remembers, but there’s moments when there is a sensation beneath his rings like a fresh burn, skin peeling away, quick like a breath on wintered glass that blooms smoke white for a second before fading. Other times it’s like opening a wound in your heart and someone sticking their fingers straight into it, and air is only a redundant concept.

Sometimes it’s easier and sometimes Jaejoong wants to run into the ocean and sink away under the water but most of the time he just sets things like piles of sticks and trashcans full of newspapers and Yunho’s hair aflame. Jaejoong doesn’t like staying so close to whatever he’s burning, when he can feel the heat on his face and see it rippling through the air like snakes but later they’re climbing apartment blocks via rusty fire escapes and looking down at the streets below, daring each other to lean out further and make spot fires just by looking. Yunho once stands on the railing with his arms out for balance and feet set apart and Jaejoong thinks that if Yunho fell now he wouldn’t know if it was intentional or not- then Yunho does jump, but backwards, and when he lands it’s with a splash of sparks that go skittering across the rooftop, sunbright. Jaejoong wants to say something but he doesn’t know what, so he burns a stray leaf of paper as it goes tumbling down the street below and the two of them lean on the railing and watch, shoulders bumping and unsaid words turning to ashes between them.

Jaejoong’s tired today, like his bones are wearing right out from inside him. They haven’t even been doing much, just walking like strays through the city, setting little fires, so small that no one would take any notice, just streaks of charred fabric in clothes stores and melted tar on forgotten alleyways and that near-invisible handprint on a window where the glass has melted around someone’s fingers. They share earphones on the subway when they head home, Yunho going with Jaejoong because he’s left his car outside Jaejoong’s apartment building. They play foreign songs on repeat to the beat of the train wheels going over every section of track, looping tunes from the 60s, 70s, making their way up to the present and humming the future, Yunho’s breath against that space of skin where Jaejoong’s jaw meets his throat. Jaejoong thinks that he should be anxious about this proximity, but he’s not, and vaguely he thinks that maybe they’re okay right now, back to being best friends.

Yunho eventually runs out of ideas for new songs, and takes to makes stupid jokes about burning music and they step on each other’s feet and Jaejoong goes scrolling through Yunho’s iPod and renaming all of his albums and renaming the iPod itself so that it’s called ‘JAEJOONG WAS HERE’ like tiny glowing graffiti. They miss their stop and keep going because Yunho says that when they get to the end of the line they’ll turn back eventually, but the end of the line turns out to be an hour away and they just keep going until Jaejoong falls asleep and accidentally ignites Yunho’s hair when his head lolls onto his shoulder.

Later they’re just meeting up in coffee shops, in parks, in CD stores. They don’t burn anything tangible, just resolutions and the familiarity of being just friends because they’re not, not really, or at least Jaejoong thinks so. It’s a kind of love, but Jaejoong’s mind is still catching up to his heart.

Jaejoong meets Yunho by mistake in the laundromat two blocks down. Jaejoong’s there getting his clothes washed, legs bent so that his knees are almost touching the floor, dropping his last quarter into the machine. It rumbles in response, its familiar thank you for feeding me your change. Jaejoong watches his clothes go round and round, wondering what it might be like if he were his varsity sweater and getting thrown around like that. But clothes always come down soft, so it wouldn’t matter at all, he supposes, getting to his feet. There is a girl to his right doing sudoku puzzles with a purple pen, perched on top of her washing machine. She has small pretty hands and long legs crossed at the ankles, and Jaejoong thinks that she looks a little familiar. He says, ‘Yoona?’ and she looks up, pen still poised, eyebrows raised as she remembers and says, ‘Oh- Jaejoong?’

‘How come I wasn’t invited to the reunion?’ Yunho’s voice says, and Jaejoong turns around to come face to face with him. ‘Hey Yoona,’ Yunho says, looking over Jaejoong’s head. ‘Hey Jae,’ he says, patting Jaejoong’s hair. ‘Why didn’t you say you knew Yoona?’

‘You didn’t ask,’ Jaejoong says snippily, leaning against a washing machine.

‘Oppa is stupid,’ Yoona says, swinging her legs so that they catch Yunho’s knees. ‘Excuse my big ugly no-good wet blanket brother,’ she tells Jaejoong sweetly.

‘I’m under such heavy fire. How do you know my delightful younger sister?’ Yunho plucks Yoona’s pen from her hand and uses it to draw a sloppy smiley face onto her palm.

‘Old classmates,’ Jaejoong says, as Yunho begins sketching spaghetti hair around the face.

Yoona’s washing machine whirs to a stop and pings. ‘Out of the way,’ she commands Yunho. ‘Before I singe your dresses again?’ he says. Yoona glances at Jaejoong, looking nervous for the first time.

‘It’s okay,’ Yunho says, opening up her washing machine for her. ‘He’s the same.’

‘Get away from my clothes,’ she says immediately. ‘Both of you.’

‘The volatile substances will be getting away now,’ Yunho announces, grabs Jaejoong’s wrist and steers him out of the laundromat. ‘She can be quite vicious,’ he tells Jaejoong, once they’re outside. ‘I put just the tiniest, tiniest burn on her prom dress and she almost stabbed my eyes out with a fork and ate them. Pretty on the outside but very nasty on the inside.’

‘Isn’t that us?’ Jaejoong says, kicking a piece of stone so that it skitters across the pavement and off the curbside, rolling in the dirty gutter. ‘Normal on the outside and not normal on the inside.’

Yunho snaps his fingers in front of Jaejoong’s eyes; there’s a flicker of flame, and Yunho leans in, blows it out so that it just barely scorches Jaejoong’s cheeks. There’s a responding stir in his chest, nestled in his flesh, between the plasma and glucose and platelets and blood cells, an ache, a momentary lull in conversation when he rubs his collarbone, because it’s so distant that he could be imagining it, like the fire is drawing his soul right from his body. Then Yunho smiles at him, bright as bonfires, and Jaejoong has forgotten the feeling.

One week. The air tastes like winter and not-yet rain. Clouds huddle gray and wet in the sky, swollen with water and Jaejoong can feel the damp of them getting under his nails. He pulls his fingers into his sleeves as far as they can go. He needs a new jacket, he thinks, leaning back into the signpost. He’s standing at bus stop waiting for the 72; it’s ten minutes late and counting, but Jaejoong’s never known it to be on time. He runs his eyes over the other people at the stop: there are a couple of girls with tall boots and full pink lips, cooing over a fashion magazine, and a businessman sitting on the sole bench with a laptop balanced on his knees and eyes squinting at the screen nearsightedly. Jaejoong feels like someone is watching him, and when he turns around to look across the street, he sees Yunho outlined against the whitewashed brick wall opposite, moving his thumb like he’s flicking a cigarette lighter on and off, a spark appearing and disappearing over his fist. Jaejoong knows his hand is empty. He mouths, what do you think you’re doing? And Yunho smiles at him just as there is a hiss from behind him and Jaejoong turns his head in time to see the businessman’s laptop crash to the ground, spitting flames and smoke. Jaejoong’s not hearing anything but the wind in his hair as he looks back across the street, but Yunho’s not there anymore.

Three days after this incident, Jaejoong says to Yunho, eyes on a paradise bird, ‘Why did you do that the other day?’

‘Do what?’ Yunho says. They’re in the zoo, by the covered aviaries. Yunho’s sitting on the bench with his legs stretched out in front of him, and Jaejoong has his crossed. The bird is upside-down, violet-green tail feathers splayed like the fingers of an open hand.

Jaejoong just waits, still watching the bird flit from branch to branch to cage bar to branch, as if it’s not satisfied with any of this space. The zoo is full of the trapped. The bird is sitting on the floor of the cage now, and it almost seems to be looking back at him with one gold eye.

‘It was my old landlord,’ Yunho says presently, twisting the paper entry bracelet around his wrist. ‘He kicked me out two months ago and didn’t bother to give a reason. It was also a crap, exorbitant apartment and he wouldn’t let me keep pets.’

‘You don’t have any pets,’ Jaejoong says.

‘Too right I don’t,’ Yunho says.

‘Okay,’ Jaejoong says. The bird is still staring at him and it’s more unsettling than curious now. ‘Do you want to go see the dolphins?’

A month and they meet Changmin. He’s younger than all of them, younger than even Junsu, and they don’t go to the same high school but, as Junsu says, it’s a good thing because Changmin had burnt down half of his school during a science experiment. He’s tall enough to pass for a college student but he says he’s only sixteen. Yoochun picked him up after playing detective and snooping around the school after it had inexplicably turned to cinders, and Changmin is more excited than anything else when Yunho gives him the low down. ‘Are you for real,’ he keeps saying. ‘I’m pyrokinetic.’

He keeps accidentally-on-purpose setting things on fire and putting them out again and even when he is asking Yunho if he can light his cigarette for him or burning Junsu’s English essays or turning Yoochun’s lunch to charcoal or apologizing to Jaejoong for singeing his shirt, Jaejoong thinks of deer, thin-legged and doe-eyed. His hair is too long for him and his trousers too short and his girlfriend’s name is Tiffany and she is louder than he is, her smile blinding. She keeps asking Changmin to do fire tricks for her but he keeps burning the wrong things, but it’s okay, because they’d all been there. Jaejoong was six when he’d more or less set fire to the roof of his house, and after that it had just been a gathering collection of similar incidents. Then Yunho had turned up and said: why, can’t you control it? No, Jaejoong had retorted, can you? And Yunho could. Maybe it’s different for everyone, Yunho had said, and Jaejoong had only shrugged. Later it didn’t matter, because Jaejoong just didn’t like doing it anymore.

Two weeks and it’s Christmas. It’s snowing and Jaejoong is sitting in the driver’s seat of Yunho’s car, keys in the ignition but the engine not running. Yunho says: ‘Are you going to drive or not?’

And Jaejoong says, ‘Yeah.’ He feels charged up with energy today, but he doesn’t know how to use any of it. He thinks that if he starts driving now he’ll burn the road so badly that they’ll fall straight into the core of the earth and if they are lucky they will fall out the other side, punch a whole straight through Brazil and drop into orbit. He thinks that maybe, he could kiss Yunho right now and it would be okay, but just as he thinks this, Yunho shifts, leaning forwards to twist at the radio dials and Jaejoong sighs, leans back into the seat. It’s shaped like Yunho’s back, and Jaejoong feels like an imposter, shoulders not wide enough, spine not long enough. Yunho is getting more static than song, just fragments of tired commercials and new music, a voice saying, ‘until we-’ before Yunho snaps a cassette into sound; it’s one of those old ballet songs that everyone has heard but no one ever knows the name. Jaejoong’s cousin’s name is Sooyoung and she is ten this year. Jaejoong drove her to her dance lessons every Tuesday night for three years and sat on the side watching her and telling her that she was the star of the show even when she fell on stage. Sooyoung has the biggest smile of anyone Jaejoong has ever seen and she’ll be there tonight, and all his cousins and family. The dashboard clock reads ten past seven.

Jaejoong takes a deep breath. There’s a stab of alarm somewhere in his chest, hurt, angry inside him like drinking water just as it comes to the boil, and a nearby bush sparks into light; it only burns for a second before the fire goes out. Yunho says, ‘Be careful.’

‘I know,’ Jaejoong says, and starts up the engine.

The snow makes it hard to see and hard to drive and the cold goes right into Jaejoong’s bones. He says, ‘I hate winter.’

Yunho doesn’t say anything, just puts his feet up onto the dashboard, shoe soles pressed against the windscreen. The defrost doesn’t seem to be working, and Jaejoong can see his breath coming out as though he’s a zephyr and making clouds out of thin air. There’s a plastic sun with a cheery face swinging from the rearview mirror, and it glows orange under the passing streetlights. Yunho says, ‘I wish it were summer,’ then adds, ‘Have a good Christmas dinner.’

It’s Jaejoong’s aunt who answers the door. She’s young for a parent, and tonight she has red and green streaks in her hair and little gold bells tinkling off her ears. ‘Jaejoong!’ she says, greeting him with a hug. She smells like perfume and flowers and home. ‘Just in time. How are you? I hope you’re up for babysitting.’

The house is covered with messy paper chains that don’t seem to follow the usual Christmas color schemes and Jaejoong suspects that someone let Sooyoung and Yuri and Eunhye run away with their purple and pink creativity. He lets his aunt drag him to the kitchen, where everyone is busy cooking, taking it in turns to say, ‘Hi Jaejoong, can you watch the kids?’ in varying tones of voice and choice of words. His mother kisses both his cheeks and pats his cheeks with her floury fingers before sending him off to the living room, saying, ‘Dinner will be ready in half an hour.’

Sungmin is playing Guitar Hero with Jungmin in front of the TV, both of them standing too close to the screen, whilst Heechul lies around in all his thirteen-year-old glory draped over a couch and reading what looks like a teenage girl magazine out loud to his sisters.

‘Take me to your leader,’ Jaejoong says, in way of greeting. Sooyoung looks up, jumps to her feet and grabs him around the middle, saying something that sounded like ‘I missed you oppa’. Her arms are only barely long enough to reach all the way around him, and even then her chin digs into his stomach. When she lets go, she’s smiling like she knows a big secret that’s about to be revealed and Jaejoong is about to ask her why she’s looking so happy when Yuri creeps up from behind Jaejoong to pounce onto his back and Eunhye throws a cushion at his head. Heechul nods in approval and says, ‘I’m gathering my army, Jaejoong. Just remember to buy me a compact mirror and some new earrings for my birthday or I’ll unleash my soldiers.

Sooyoung grins, ‘Oppa, Heechul says he’s going to show me how to paint my nails.’

Yuri shrieks, ‘He did mine for me,’ and Eunhye says, ‘Mine are better,’ and both of them are holding their hands out to Jaejoong. Yuri’s are rainbow and Eunhye’s are alternated pink and white. ‘I am a nail polish extraordinaire,’ Heechul says, lifting his hands up as well, and his are all painted a different shade of blue, varying from navy to cloud-pale. ‘Who knew these magazines could be so useful?’

Jaejoong’s about to say something tactful about how they all look very pretty when Jungmin screams, ‘Shit,’ and throws his guitar controller at Sungmin. ‘You always beat me.’

‘And you shouldn’t be such a sore loser,’ Sungmin retorts.

Jungmin says, ‘I hate you Sungmin,’ to which Sungmin replies, ‘Likewise. Rematch?’ And Jungmin says, ‘I’m definitely winning this time.’

He loses, predictably, and makes Sungmin play Mortal Kombat, which Sungmin loses, predictably, in a great shower of blood and gore throughout which Heechul makes retching noises. In between switching discs they do look up and say ‘Hi hyung!’ to Jaejoong, but then the game boots up and they are fixated with putting all their energy into kicking each other into a messy digital death.

‘How have you been oppa,’ Sooyoung asks Jaejoong, as she paints his nails purple. ‘I hope you’ve been good.’

Jaejoong thinks about Yunho for a second, then says, ‘When am I not good?’

Sooyoung giggles and ends up getting more polish onto Jaejoong’s cuticles than his nails.

Over dinner there is a lot of champagne and orange juice passed around, and Jungmin steals some of his mother’s when she’s not looking but gets violently sick halfway through the turkey and for ten minutes afterwards everyone tries to ignore the sounds of him throwing up in the bathroom. Sungmin unhelpfully stands outside the door and laughs at him for the entire ten minutes but when Jungmin comes out, he opened the door outwards and hit Sungmin with it, which effectively shut him up.

There is an awkward moment when Jaejoong’s mother asks, ‘How are you and Taeyeon?’ and Jaejoong chokes on his piece of turkey and Heechul happily beats him on the back harder than needed. ‘Um,’ he says, ‘we broke up six months ago.’

His uncle says, ‘That’s a shame,’ just as his mother says, ‘Personally I think it’s because he doesn’t eat enough. Girls don’t like skinny men. Or the ones that burn their house down,’ she adds.

‘I’m getting better,’ Jaejoong says, in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner. ‘It’s not so spontaneous anymore.’

‘Does that mean you can cook?’ she asks. ‘Girls don’t like men that can’t cook.’

Yunho calls him after dinner, when Jaejoong is teaching Sooyoung how to play We Wish You a Merry Christmas on the piano. She sits on his lap and she giggles at random intervals, turning her head so that her hair tickles Jaejoong’s chin. Whilst she plays the first couple of bars, she tells him about the kitten they had found the other day and how they will put up found posters and how she will make these with lots of pink and purple paper because they are her favorite colors. ‘Come see the kitty,’ she says, jumping off Jaejoong’s knees. ‘But you haven’t finished the song,’ he says. ‘It’s waiting for you to get to the end.’

Sooyoung chews her lip. ‘If I finish it, we can go see the kitty, right?’

‘Right,’ Jaejoong tells her, and she climbs back onto his knees. She plays the song through, fumbling some parts and humming the lyrics and the moment she is done she gets up, takes a bow, accepts Jaejoong’s applause and she says, ‘Now we can go see the kitty?’ and before Jaejoong can answer, his phone rings.

It’s Yunho and when Jaejoong picks up, he can hear background noises that sound like Yunho is in a bar, all loud voices and clinking glasses. Yunho says something and Jaejoong says, ‘What?’ and Yunho says again, ‘I kind of wish you were here. Or me where you are.’

‘Oh,’ Jaejoong says. There’s a pause, and Yunho says, ‘You missed your cue.’ Jaejoong is about to reply when Yunho adds, ‘Merry Christmas!’ and hangs up.

Sooyoung is tugging on his sleeve. ‘Hey oppa,’ she whispers, conspirator. ‘Is Yunho oppa your boyfriend.’ She pronounces the word ‘boyfriend’ like it’s the most important word in the world. And maybe, Jaejoong thinks dryly, it is, in the world of Sooyoung, if she’s been exposed to Heechul’s girl magazines.

He says, ‘Maybe.’

Sooyoung beams up at him. Her dimples are high in her cheeks, Jaejoong realizes. She says, ‘I’ll dance at your wedding, okay?’ and drags him off to see the kitten, which is being housed in the laundry. They spend most of their night in there, playing with the cat until it falls asleep in Sooyoung’s lap, and Sooyoung falls asleep on Jaejoong’s shoulder. He gets caught between sleep and awake for an hour or more, standing in a hallway with only two doors that don’t open for him, and when he does dream, it’s about Yunho and he’s drowning.

On New Years Eve, they climb an apartment building. It’s still halfway in the construction stage, just unpainted surfaces and loose gravel, concrete walls. No windows and the sense of ghosts lurking behind corners, but there’s five of them, all with fire running through their veins and Jaejoong’s thinking about how easy it is to control himself these days.

There’s five minutes to the fireworks. Junsu is counting backwards so that the first explosion will be synced with his zero, and Changmin is counting upwards so that they’ll be synced to his three hundred. Yoochun calls them geeks and lies on the ground with his head on Junsu’s lap. Jaejoong is sitting on the railing, legs off the edge, Yunho’s left glove on his hand. It’s slightly too big for him, too much length in the fingers, but it’s warm, and Yunho’s shoulder is against his, channeling heat through the contact. Jaejoong can barely feel the earth and its gravity, and it feels like Yunho’s the only thing keeping him here.

Junsu says ‘ten!’ just as Changmin says, ‘two hundred and ninety!’ Jaejoong touches Yunho’s wrist with his bare fingers, pallid. He’d once read a story as a child about someone that you could trust to the end of the universe. Dying stars couldn’t erase this, it said. Jaejoong can hear Yunho’s heartbeat, and he can still hear it when the first firework goes off.

‘Happy New Year,’ Yunho says, and Jaejoong’s hand tightens in his.

Afterwards, Yunho says he’ll take Jaejoong home. The quiet of the streets is strange after the fireworks, and Jaejoong’s still running them through his head, his pulse still expecting a jump and a thud as the next explosion goes off. It’s cold, and Jaejoong is looking at his own reflection in the passenger mirror. He can barely feel his feet in his shoes and he knows that his body temperature is meant to be higher than this, and there’s just a sense of the cold and Yunho in the car with him, side by side. The engine is rumbling gently, gas tank almost empty, and they’re still thirty miles from home. They’re not going anywhere, paused in a standstill in the middle of a street Jaejoong doesn’t recognize, lit up with the headlights. The dashboard clock ticks as the numbers change to one a.m. just as Yunho says, ‘Jaejoong,’ and Jaejoong turns his head to look at him. Yunho’s got both hands on the steering wheel, one gloved, one not, but then the bare one is on Jaejoong’s shoulder, pulling them together and there’s a flicker of flame that goes right through his body and into Jaejoong’s when he kisses him.

It’s like being set on fire, all at once.

They go to the beach on the first of March. Yunho calls it an expedition. Jaejoong calls it time in the sun. Winter has ended early this year, he says. We need our Vitamin D.

They take Yunho’s car, but Yoochun drives because Yunho says he doesn’t want to. When they leave, it’s 6.32 a.m. and the city’s still asleep. Jaejoong takes the middle of the backseat, Changmin behind Yoochun and Yunho on Jaejoong’s right. Yoochun plays the radio obnoxiously loud and Junsu changes the station every song. They get onto the highway just as the sun starts to rise from behind them, reflecting off the cars in front of them. They take it slow until they get onto the freeway, which is when Yoochun revs the car into going ten miles over the speed limit, weaving in and out of lanes. Junsu stops playing with the radio and starts on Mario Kart instead. Changmin is dozing, head lolling every time Yoochun changes lanes. Yunho is amusing himself with a box of tissues, turning them one by one to ash. Jaejoong can’t stop drinking in the sight of all of the passing scenery.

‘Anyone hungry?’ Yoochun asks, at ten.

‘Starving,’ Yunho says. ‘I could eat a cow. Or three.’

Changmin mumbles something that sounds like ‘McDonalds’ and Yoochun sighs. ‘Junk food junkie.’

They go by the drive-thru and Yoochun digs a few dollars out of the glovebox and talks to the service girl for too long. She lets them have extra fries for no extra charge and Yoochun waves at her as they leave and Jaejoong knows she laughs without hearing it. ‘Player,’ he says.

‘Free fries,’ Yoochun replies.

They pull off the highway and to the side of a road. Yoochun cuts the engine and the car rattles to a stop.

‘Where to next?’ Junsu asks, around a mouthful of burger. He has a map spread out all over the front seats, green fields and blue waters and brown unfamiliar lands.

‘Leave the navigating to Captain Yoochun,’ says Yoochun. ‘You’ll probably lead us into a ditch or off a cliff or into a city taken over by zombies.’

‘I’m a Mario Kart pro,’ Junsu argues. ‘All you ever play is Playboy Mansion.’

‘Driving is not a game,’ Yoochun says solidly, and after lunch he proceeds to drive them in the wrong direction for half an hour before Changmin says, ‘Hey, aren’t we going towards Seoul?’ To which Yoochun replies, ‘Oh crap.’ And Jaejoong interjects, ‘Loser.’

Yoochun’s half cousin’s best friend’s uncle owns this house, with its own private beach spread out in front of it. Jaejoong doesn’t want to know how much all of this costs, but when they dump their bags in the house and get onto the sand, the first thing Junsu does is find a crab and drop it down Jaejoong’s shirt so he doesn’t get an opportunity to even think about it anyway.

Yoochun collects seashells and builds castles out of sand that crumble before he is even halfway finished but he keeps on building them, a whole city of bucket buildings. Junsu helps him dig an enormous moat but when they try to fill it with water it just seeps between the grains and leaves them wet and heavy. Changmin runs around building miniature bonfires on the sand, and when he remembers that glass is made of sand, he tries to make some but all he ends up doing is making lots of sparks that look like tiny fireworks.

Yunho stands in the water thigh-deep, facing the horizon. His hair is wet but Jaejoong can’t remember seeing him dive under the waves, and when he goes out to stand by him, the water comes almost up to his waist in an endless crash of salt and sea. His feet are sunk up to the ankles in clean sand, and the ocean feels like it’s drawing Jaejoong under. Yunho doesn’t seem to notice he’s there till he touches his wrist underwater, and when he turns to look at him it’s like he’s seeing straight through him before his eyes focus and he smiles and says, ‘What do you think would happen if-’ and there’s a glow of warmth blossoming from his skin and when he takes Jaejoong’s hand, there’s a hiss, a flash, a moment where all the water surrounding their fingers evaporates, but the empty space is crashed through again when the next wave arrives and when they laugh it’s long and loud and Jaejoong can’t think of any place that he would rather be.

They have a barbeque on the beach for dinner. Yoochun and Junsu went to the local convenience store just before sunset and came back with frozen pork ribs and vegetables and Changmin is given the job of skewering these, whilst Yunho has to fix the barbeque so that it won’t turn into a bonfire every time they turn it on. Jaejoong sits on the sand and watches, snapping photos with Junsu’s Polaroid camera and weighing each fresh one down with a seashell. By the time Yunho has figured out that the barbeque comes alight so easily because it’s more or less doused in lighter oil, there are a dozen photos pinned down against the sand, showing Yunho on his knees peering beneath the machine, setting it on fire, setting it on fire, putting the fire out with a snap of his fingers and setting it on fire again before there’s a photo of him waving at the camera, mouth open in a laugh and his eyes creased and the wind carding through his hair and blowing it around his face, frozen in time.

Changmin tries to light up the beach with candles that he found in the beach house but they keep going out, no matter how much he tries- he gives up and roots around in the space underneath the house where Yoochun says that there are lanterns and drags out six, all rust and cracked glass, but they work fine, shining bright as the stars. They eat with their fingers, sitting in the sand, one lantern to each and one in the middle of their circle. ‘Some campfire,’ Yoochun says, and Junsu says, ‘I’ll show you campfire,’ and these’s a bang as the centre lantern explodes. There’s a pile of black when it burns out and they pile driftwood onto it to make a bonfire, moving so that they sit in a half circle because the wind blew the smoke into Yunho’s and Changmin’s eyes. Yunho’s now sitting against Jaejoong, and he could be leaning on Jaejoong’s shoulder or it could be the other way around and neither of them are quite sure of which way it is but they don’t care. Yoochun gets bored later and says, ‘One sec,’ and walks off into the shadows, only to return ten seconds later by taking a running dive in to Junsu, who knocks into Jaejoong and all three of them tumble into the fire; they roll out in a tangle of limbs and fire and scattering embers, shrieking half in surprise and half with laughter and Junsu rolls around on the sand trying to put the flames out whilst Changmin rolls around on the sand trying to stop laughing. Jaejoong’s clothes are still on fire and he has enough time to say ‘You owe me a new shirt-’ to Yoochun before Yunho grabs him by the wrist to drag him headfirst into the ocean.

They’re both submerged for a second of airlessness and Jaejoong catches sight of Yunho’s face through the layers of water before their heads break the waves, gasping for oxygen. They float for a minute, tasting the salt and their proximity and the distance to the sky and satellites and not looking at each other, just drifting. Then Yunho pulls Jaejoong from the sea by the fingers, hand, wrist, heart, burning bright, and they are like two mermaids coming to land with new feet and no voices to sing with.

But this is love. It doesn’t need a song.

Art Post

Art: the gravity of our hearts.

2009-03-30T22:26:05Z

Artist: reallycorking
Fic: the gravity of our hearts.
Rating: One worksafe

Please leave all comments for the artist here!

Mod note: We may have one more piece of art coming in for this fic that is not yet available due to technical difficulties! Please check back for an edit.

illuminations: A man once said. (1/2)

2009-03-28T03:40:35Z

Title: A man once said.
Author: illuminations
Pairing: Jaejoong/Junsu
Rating: NC17
Summary: The story of Jaejoong and those he loves.
Word count: 14,951
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to thevirginia for the awesome beta as well as providing me with the best source of Junsu inspiration I could've ever asked for. :D

I read once, "Secrets are things we give to others to keep for us." At the time, I was gullible and it made sense enough, but now I think it's really not the entire truth, is it? There exist secrets that are never told while some, when finally revealed, are not meant to be hidden away by the new owner, but to be shared. Some secrets – kept in hibernation long enough – can no longer be called secrets. They are stories.

Winter, 2041

It was the Sunday before New Year's when Eunae came downstairs to the kitchen where her father was making breakfast, her favorite – kimchi soup and leftover galbi from the night before. The first thing she said was good morning, the next, "Daddy, tell me something."

Her father turned off the stove and poured the soup into a large bowl, then moved the reheated galbi onto a plate. Carrying both carefully, he sat down across from Eunae and smiled at her. "Something."

Eunae pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head. "Daddy, you're impossible."

Laughing, her father picked up his chopsticks and placed some galbi atop Eunae's bowl of rice. "Maybe," he says. "What's this for?"

"Senior capstone project," Eunae said, tearing off half the galbi in one bite. "I need to write a novella but I've been thinking for two weeks and nothing's inspired me yet. I'm getting desperate."

"And you trust your old man to save you from failing higher education?"

"I trust you to be not boring."

Her father laughed. "Okay. Is this considered plagiarism?"

Eunae shook her head. "It's called fatherly love!" She swung her legs underneath the table. "Come on, don't you have any grand romances you're itching to tell? How did you meet mom? Something."

"You already know how I met her."

Eunae sighed and gave her father a look. "You told me two sentences worth when I was thirteen."

"Did your Uncle Changmin teach you to make that face at me?"

"Well, he is the best role model I have," Eunae said, then added quickly, "After you, of course." Following Jaejoong's skeptical nod, she said, "My professor told us everyone has a secret and that those secrets make the best stories. My biggest secret is that I always knew it was you giving me presents instead of Santa, but that would make a lousy story so I need someone else's secrets."

Her father pointed his chopsticks at her. "You never believed in Santa?!"

"Uncle Changmin doesn't believe in lying to me," she said dismissively, then leaned forward. "Dad, stop stalling!"

Sighing in defeat, her father put his chopsticks down and sat back. "You want to write something romantic?" he said after a few seconds.

Eunae perked up. "Do you have something romantic for me?"

"Kind of romantic. Kind of horrible." Her father looked at her steadily. "Have you ever wanted to ask me why your mother and I divorced?"

Blinking back, Eunae found herself startled once more at her father's bluntness. Despite having experienced it her entire life, she's never gotten used to it. "Um. Yeah. I have." This wasn't what she had expected coming into it, thought her father would tell her another anecdote about interesting groupies.

Her father's mouth twisted to the side and she could feel the tension emanating from him. "I cheated on her."

Eunae froze, understanding the words but, somehow, unable to process their meaning.

"Finish your breakfast," her father murmured. "We'll talk after."

Spring, 2014

Jaejoong wakes up from his makeshift bed on the living room floor and the first thing he sees is Yoochun sprawled on the couch, still in his day clothes. The second thing he sees is Yunho standing on the other side of the couch, mouth pressed together tightly. It could only mean one thing – another fight between Yoochun and Junsu.

"Again?" he says, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. Yunho sighs and nods.

"You didn't hear them last night?"

"I'm getting old, Yunho. Once I'm out, I'm out." Cracking his back, Jaejoong stands up and takes his blanket, then covers Yoochun up with it. "It's been happening more than usual lately, right? I'm not imagining it."

Yunho shakes his head. "No, they're getting worse."

Jaejoong groans, then twists his mouth. "We just came back from vacation. How can they be sick of each other already?" he says, glancing up at Yunho. "What were they being stupid about this time?"

Yunho rubs the bridge of his nose. "Don't know, don't remember" he says eventually, looking every bit his age and then some. "I have no fucking clue at all, but I'm tired of it and so is management. When Yoochun wakes up, you tell him that. I'll take Junsu."

"What do you want them to do?"

"I don't know – anything," Yunho says, walking by Jaejoong to get to the kitchen. "Get some maturity and responsibility."

Watching with a mixture of sadness and resignation, Jaejoong stays there next to Yoochun until his bladder refuses to be ignored anymore and he escapes to the bathroom. He imagines all the ways Yoochun will take the inevitable conversation badly.

Maybe he can sneak into Changmin's liquor cabinet beforehand.

Changmin is still as protective of his possessions as he was ten years ago and his liquor cabinet proves to be fucking Jaejoong-proof, or at least, that's the reasoning Jaejoong makes up when he fails at cracking the lock for the umpteenth time. He considers going to Changmin directly, because he's sure even the youngest would be sympathetic towards his current situation, but before he even takes one step to leave the room, Yoochun walks into the kitchen.

"Yunho-hyung said you had something you wanted to tell me."

Jaejoong's mouth twitches and he thinks, fuck you, Yunho, and hopes the other can sense the mental middle finger being sent his way.

"Uh, yeah." Jaejoong's hands gesture in the air awkwardly before he busies them with the cupboards, and says, "Sit down, I'll make some tea."

The silence of waiting for water to boil gives Jaejoong a chance to collect his thoughts, but then Yoochun's voice breaks through with, "Gonna give me a hint, hyung?" and everything goes to hell again.

Turning around, Jaejoong leans against the counter, fingers tapping out of rhythm against his arm. "You," he starts, locking eyes with Yoochun. "This morning, you were on the couch again." He can physically see Yoochun begin to close up again, eyes growing distant in the way that Jaejoong hates even more than when Yoochun is completely consumed by his frustrations and disappointments.

"So?"

Jaejoong tries to figure out what he's trying to say exactly, what this conversation is for. "So. We haven't even been back a week. You guys had a break from each other for two."

"And we have it under control, hyung, thanks for being so concerned." Nothing really gets through to Yoochun once he decided to be stubborn.

"You sleep on the couch so much it's like you're rooming with me again instead of Junsu," Jaejoong says, crossing his arms. "That's called under control?"

"Doesn't matter, hyung. We're working on it." Yoochun's hands ball into fists on the tabletop. "It's no one's problem but ours."

"It's everyone's problem!" Jaejoong sighs, lowering his voice again and speaking slower. "Look. Yunho says management is getting… impatient." Yoochun doesn't say anything. "Don't wait until you don't have control anymore and then want to do something about it."

The hard look Yoochun gives him makes Jaejoong uneasy, and he drops his gaze to the floor, toeing at the tiles. "Is this like an intervention or something?"

Jaejoong's foot continues moving back and forth. "We just care, Yoochun-ah. That's all." He inhales and holds. "You and Junsu didn't used to be like this."

Somehow, Yoochun's silence gets even quieter and Jaejoong's entire body jerks when the kettle starts whistling. As Jaejoong turns the stove off, Yoochun stands up and says, "Sorry, hyung. Don't think I feel like tea after all," then leaves quickly.

It's the first time when Jaejoong's fear of everything ending in the blink of an eye isn't simply a nagging paranoia or the result of having too much time on his hands. This time, the possibility of the unfixable manifests itself as something heavy and suffocating settling deep in his gut.

Yunho's always been the person he goes to for reassurance, but the regular words of comfort don't come when Jaejoong next sees him. And in that moment, there's nothing Jaejoong wants more than the ability to live life backwards.

The rest of the week has everyone walking on eggshells and time is mostly filled by silence. Changmin, who didn't witness either of the talks, ends up feeding on the tension. He grows more and more irritable and yells at everyone during dinner one night, throwing his bowl into the sink, shattering it, before stalking back to his room. He stays there for two days and Jaejoong compliantly delivers Changmin's meals to him, knowing none of them had any right to be upset at his behavior.

Yunho approaches Jaejoong on the second day of Changmin's self-imposed isolation, saying things like "give up", "nothing we can do", and "ten years is a long time."

Jaejoong doesn't stay and listen.

He manages to get Yoochun and Junsu into the work room the next day at the same time, ignoring Yoochun's annoyance with him for continuing to push the issue and Junsu's obvious discomfort for the same reason.

"Will you be better if we all quit?" he says before they even sit down. "If you tell me that it's this – this life and this industry that's making you two fall apart, I'll go to management right now and tell them we're done. But I'm not giving this up if you can't guarantee that. This is my life too."

Neither Yoochun nor Junsu make eye contact with him or say anything at first. Only when Jaejoong's nearing the end of his patience does Junsu murmur to Yoochun, "Maybe we need a longer break." It's nothing like a guarantee, but Jaejoong still feels like he's suddenly able to breathe better.

"Would that help?" Jaejoong says, not bothering to tone down the obvious hope in his voice. Junsu glances at him and Jaejoong feels a little bit like shit because Junsu clearly looks like he's beating himself up over this. "I want you two to be okay most of all. I promise."

"Hyung, you've always wanted to try going solo, haven't you?"

"Yoochun!" Junsu hisses.

Jaejoong gets why Yoochun's being like this. He learned and memorized Yoochun's defense mechanisms years ago, but being subject to them is still unnerving. "Yeah," he says tersely, "but I'll do it when I want to and think it's right for me, not because you're giving me no other choice."

Yoochun seems to feel bad about his comment, sighing as he musses up his hair. "How much longer are you talking about?" he finally says, quietly and not sounding entirely convinced, but it's something.

Junsu looks uneasy as he answers, or rather doesn't, mouth opening and closing without saying anything.

"Are you second guessing now?" Yoochun says, picking at his shirt. Junsu shakes his head.

Jaejoong just feels awkward now and clears his throat equally so. "You guys should. Talk." He starts shuffling towards the door. "Just, let me or Yunho know or something. What you decide." Not waiting for an answer, he slips out quietly and leans against the wall. When a few minutes pass and everything is still calm, he heads down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

He needs a nap on a real bed badly.

It turns out when Junsu had said break, he meant from the relationship as well as group activities.

"It's for a month," Junsu tells the rest of them the next day. Yoochun says, "By the end, we'll either have figured out what we're doing wrong or we'll be happier."

Jaejoong doesn't know how well this is going to work, but Changmin starts eating with them again, so he figures there has to be something to believe in, even if he doesn't know what it is.

After things have been finalized and approved with management, Yoochun buys a ticket to Thailand. No one knows how he's going to communicate with anyone there let alone what he's going to do, but Yoochun starts to look forward to his trip so they let him do what he wants.

The day before Yoochun leaves, Yunho and Changmin help with Yunho asking if he's remembered enough socks and underwear while Changmin pitches in by suggesting a packing list of porn magazines and a Thai-Korean book of pick up lines.

Jaejoong lets them be and goes to find Junsu instead. For all his talk, Jaejoong knows that he's not that much older than everyone else and he doesn't really possess any extra life wisdom to offer; but he's still the oldest and as a hyung, he can't rest easy unless he knows everyone's okay.

He finds Junsu in the living room playing Super Mario Brothers. Sitting down next to him, Jaejoong keeps silent until Junsu finishes the level and saves the game.

"I'm fine, hyung."

Jaejoong blinks and rewinds the past minute in his head to make sure that he didn't actually say anything and just not realized he had. "Fine-fine or I'm not really fine, I just want you to leave me alone-fine?" he says after ascertaining that he's not experiencing selective memory loss.

Junsu looks at him with an expression Jaejoong can't read, yet it still has a way of making him feel smaller and smaller. "Somewhere in the middle."

"Oh." Jaejoong draws his knees up and rests his chin on top. "Would you say it's leaning towards one more than the other?"

Shoving at Jaejoong's shoulder, Junsu pushes him over before turning back to the game and moving onto the next level. "You can stay, hyung," Junsu says a little bit later, eyes focused on the screen as he makes Mario jump on three turtle shells in a row.

Still sprawled out on the floor, Jaejoong smiles and maneuvers until his feet are in Junsu's lap, not for any purpose other than to be a brat. He spends the rest of the afternoon watching Junsu beat up badass turtles and drifting in and out of sleep.

While the break is mainly for Junsu and Yoochun, the other three can't help but benefit from it as well. A giant package that came for Changmin the second day after Yoochun left turned out to be 25 books ranging from fiction to non-fiction to poetry and one smutty romance novel that Jaejoong wanted to laugh at him for but didn't in fear of getting pummeled. Yunho signs up for a kickboxing class a friend of his teaches while spending the rest of the time at the SME training building with Heechul. From the way Yunho grumbles about the latter at dinner, Jaejoong figures Heechul still enjoys teasing Yunho and making on-lookers mistake them for a real couple.

Jaejoong, on the other hand, doesn't have any big ventures planned. Sometimes he spends hours in the work room when his fingers are restless, other times he's in the kitchen learning new recipes and while Changmin reads at the dining table, providing easy access for taste tests. One day, he spends all afternoon out on their balcony, people-watching. It's the life he sometimes wished he had in the past, and he feels bad that he's getting it at the expense of others but he figures it'd be equally rude to waste the opportunity.

Yoochun's been gone for about a week when Jaejoong gets woken up in the middle of the night by noises coming from the kitchen. He spends half a second each on thinking it's a burglar, a rat, or Yoochun, but then he remembers that Yoochun isn't here, and somehow that nullifies the other two as well. Forcing himself to get up, Jaejoong stumbles to the kitchen doorway with the blanket wrapped haphazardly around him and blinks blearily at the figure currently raiding the fridge.

Damn it, he thinks. Glasses. He conveniently forgot to put those on first.

"Who are you and why are you eating my food?" he says, leaning heavily against the wall and trying to fight gravity so, if it is actually a burglar, he can attack easily instead of sliding down onto his ass.

"Just me, hyung."

"You're not a burglar, Junsu."

Junsu appears from behind the door of the fridge with a jar of jjajangmyeon sauce in his hand. "Do we have any rice leftover?"

Jaejoong points at the rice cooker on the counter and could leave it there, but ends up walking over himself, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard along the way. As he scoops some rice for Junsu, he says, "Midnight snacks aren't usually your thing, are they?"

"Hunger's my thing."

The rice goes into the microwave and Jaejoong faces Junsu again as it works its radiation magic. Junsu's sitting at the kitchen table now, spinning the jar in his hand. Or, at least, that's what Jaejoong thinks he's doing anyway – neither of them have bothered to turn on the lights as of yet.

Thirty seconds, Jaejoong realizes, is a fairly long time when two people are sitting in a room in the dark and not talking when they usually would be. Finally the microwave's timer beeps and Jaejoong brings the bowl over to Junsu, sliding it across the table as he sits down. He watches as Junsu spoons out and covers the top of the rice with the jjajangmyeon sauce, then mashes it all together until it's a mass of brown.

Though it's simple and might even look unappetizing, Jaejoong recognizes comfort food when he sees it. He's made more than enough for himself and the others over the past ten years.

Pulling his blanket in tighter, Jaejoong says, "You'll tell me when I can be nosy, right?"

"Hyung," Junsu says around a mouthful of rice, "do you know when the last time you asked me for permission to be nosy was?"

"I always ask permission," Jaejoong lies blatantly.

Junsu smiles a little though. "It was a month after you first met me because you heard my mom had been Miss Korea and wanted to know if she was hot."

Jaejoong's cheeks flush because Junsu's mother has taken care of all of them since then and now that thought is just awkward. "Is there a reason behind embarrassing me at 3am by pointing out my tendency of being attracted to older women?"

Junsu holds out a spoonful of rice that Jaejoong eats without a beat's pause. "The point is you've never been the type to ask people if it's okay that you shove yourself into their business. You just do it instead." Jaejoong frowns because it's true. Junsu sighs. "But if you really insist…you can be nosy whenever you want."

Stretching his arms out on the table, Jaejoong lays his head on them and closes his eyes. "What happened?"

Junsu laughs quietly and Jaejoong can imagine the look Junsu has on, the one he always made when he didn't want to tell everything and attempted to find a way in which to accomplish that without the other person catching on. "Life happened."

"Don't use deep, philosophical reasoning on me when you know I can't handle it," Jaejoong says, pouting against the inside of his elbow.

"Being honest," Junsu says. Just when Jaejoong thinks that's all he's going to get, Junsu continues. "This last year or so, I don't think I had any idea why we even bothered. It just felt more and more like a job. That I didn't like."

Jaejoong's hesitant to speak, but his curiosity takes priority. "You don't like him anymore?"

Junsu sighs and Jaejoong hears the sound of the bowl being shoved away. When he talks, Junsu sounds a bit guilty. "I still love him. Of course I do. I just – I don't know."

"It's okay."

There's wry laughter from Junsu. "It's not, but thanks anyway, hyung."

"Do you think it'll be better, after he comes back?" Jaejoong says, sitting up enough to prop his chin up with a hand. Junsu is silent for a long while, but he waits.

"I'm afraid that this will prove we were at our best when we were just friends," Junsu says eventually, quiet. "That we never should've taken the step and become a thing."

"You guys are really awesome as a thing too," Jaejoong says, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

Junsu shakes his head, laughing sharp and breathily. "We were really awesome at making fun of each other and being stupid together. We suck at everything else." He looks over at Jaejoong. "You know, until you made us last week, we had never had a real talk. We were either too proud or just didn't know how to. Never grew up from yelling."

"You can learn," Jaejoong says.

"That's assuming we'll even try again. He could come back and say that we're just better off being friends."

"What do you want him to say?"

Junsu shrugs. "Don't really know," he says, picking at the edge of the table. "I'm not sure if it even matters."

Having no suitable response for that, Jaejoong leans over and wraps half his blanket around Junsu's shoulders to try and rid the feeling of being useless.

The next two nights are eventless, but on the third, Jaejoong is woken up again by rustling, blinking a few times before he realizes it's Junsu on the couch.

"Junsu-yah?"

"Sorry, hyung. Go back to sleep."

Jaejoong sits up instead. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine. Just… wanted to sleep somewhere else. That's all." Junsu turns and faces the back of the couch. "Really. 'Night, hyung."

Jaejoong watches Junsu's back for a while, then decides to let it go. "'Night, Junsu."

The night after that, Junsu's already in his pajamas and sitting on the couch when Jaejoong returns from the bathroom. He doesn't say anything to Junsu, going about his usual routine silently, even turning the lights off though Junsu hasn't moved from his spot.

It's only after Jaejoong's settled under the covers with his eyes closed that Junsu says, "I miss him."

"He's coming back," Jaejoong says.

"He could decide that he's happier without being attached."

"Junsu." Jaejoong opens his eyes and looks over. "I love you, but you're being stupid." Junsu nods blankly, but Jaejoong knows he's thinking about more could and what-ifs. Sighing, Jaejoong lifts the side of his blanket up. "Come here."

"Hyung?"

"Just come on." Junsu crawls down onto the floor, his own blankets trailing behind him. After he lies down, Jaejoong says, "How did you two sleep?"

"What?"

"You and Yoochun. You did sleep together, didn't you?" When Junsu still makes noises of uncertainty and confusion instead of giving Jaejoong a real answer, Jaejoong simply pushes Junsu onto his side and presses up behind him, arm draped over Junsu's stomach. "Like this?"

Junsu squirms uncomfortably. "Hyung, what are you doing?"

"You're really shitty at sleeping alone, aren't you?" Jaejoong says, fluffing up the pillow with his other hand and shoving it under their heads. "Even your prettiness isn't enough to go up against baggy eyes. Get some real rest."

It's only when Jaejoong's already half-asleep that he feels Junsu relax against him and a hand tentatively touch the one he has on Junsu's stomach.

It becomes something Jaejoong expects every night after that. Sometimes Junsu is there waiting; sometimes Jaejoong's already been asleep for an hour before he's woken up momentarily by Junsu's body curling up next to him.

Everything's smooth sailing until a few mornings later when Jaejoong wakes up to Junsu's face pressed against his chest, Junsu's hand underneath his shirt, their legs tangled together, and Jaejoong's erection somewhere in the midst of all of it. But even then, Jaejoong's fully prepared to lie and make up excuses for himself.

It's when he looks up and sees Changmin standing over them and hears Changmin say, "You know you're not Yoochun-hyung, right?" that Jaejoong knows he has a problem he can't fabricate away.

"You can't tell Yunho. Or Yoochun. Or Junsu." Yunho's out again and Jaejoong is pacing around in his and Changmin's room while Changmin sits at his desk, watching in amusement. "You definitely cannot tell Junsu. Or Yoochun. Or Yunho." Jaejoong stops and stares at Changmin. "Actually, can I just wipe your memory completely?"

Changmin holds his arms out. "You are certainly welcome to try. Though between you and me, I doubt you'll succeed."

Jaejoong collapses dramatically face down onto Changmin's bed. "I hate my life."

"Are you talking to me or my mattress?"

Rolling over, Jaejoong tries again. "I hate you. And myself. This could totally be a fluke, right?"

"The feeling is mutual, I agree completely, and yes, it could, but it probably isn't." Changmin leans over until he's in Jaejoong's peripheral view. "Hyung, have you been checking me out all these years too?"

Jaejoong sputters. "I haven't been checking anyone out! I like girls. I love girls. And I love having sex with them!"

"So you've just been tricked by the womanly curves of Junsu-hyung's body."

"Yes." Jaejoong blinks. "I mean, no! Fuck you."

Changmin chuckles. "Sorry, hyung. I don't swing that way." Groaning, Jaejoong grabs a nearby pillow and tries to suffocate himself as Changmin's laughter dies down. "But seriously. You're not just playing a joke, are you?"

Jaejoong moves the pillow down and hugs it to his chest. "I got turned on by a man this morning, Changmin. You have no idea how far from joking I am right now." He throws the pillow away again and covers his face. "Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck am I doing," he says quietly, feeling like he did the night they debuted, except fifty times worse, as if he's about to throw up his stomach along with everything in it.

"Maybe you just haven't gotten laid in a while," Changmin says, and Jaejoong can tell he's actually trying to be helpful.

"I jerk off, like, every other day."

Changmin makes a gagging noise. "Hyung! Come on. I don't need visuals like that!" Jaejoong doesn't try to look apologetic. Neither of them say anything for a while, then Changmin prods Jaejoong's leg with his foot. "So what are you going to do tonight?"

It's something Jaejoong doesn't even want to think about. "There'll be a pillow between us at all times."

"… If you take mine to use, I'll kill you."

Junsu isn't there yet that night so Jaejoong puts the pillow (that isn't Changmin's) on his left where Junsu sleeps. Then he lies back and not-sleeps as he waits for Junsu to show. The other comes shuffling in not long after, and Jaejoong finds himself holding his breath as he tries to be inconspicuous in watching Junsu out the corner of his eye.

After Junsu lies down and settles in comfortably, there's a slight pause and then, "Hyung. Is there a pillow under here?"

Jaejoong contemplates feigning ignorance about who Junsu is talking to, but decides he's lost enough dignity in one 24-hour period. "Yes?"

"Why?"

"Um. It's… for you?"

Junsu reaches under the covers and wrestles the pillow out, looking at it and then at Jaejoong. "This thing's huge."

"It's fluffy," Jaejoong says. "Fluffy is comfortable."

"You're really thoughtful, hyung," Junsu says, discarding the pillow behind him at the same time Jaejoong tries to will it back with his mind. "But I barely even use yours." After that, Junsu rolls over and scoots back, spooning up against Jaejoong. If that wasn't bad enough, he grabs Jaejoong's hand too and tugs Jaejoong's arm around his waist.

It's fairly obvious to Jaejoong that he's just not going to get any sleep tonight.

"Hyung?"

"Yeah?" Jaejoong says, keeping his body very, very still.

"Thanks. You know. For doing this for me and not letting it get weird or awkward," Junsu says, squeezing Jaejoong's hand lightly.

Half of Jaejoong is melting at Junsu's sincerity while the other half is chastising himself for being the worst friend of the millennium. "Don't worry about it."

Hours later, when Junsu turns in his sleep and wraps his limbs around Jaejoong, Jaejoong has to accept that this isn't a phase or sympathy pains. That somehow, after ten years of being around Junsu and feeling nothing more than brotherly love, suddenly the thing he wants most in his life is to know what kissing Junsu would be like.

When Changmin walks into the kitchen the next morning to Jaejoong nursing a coffee – extra bitter – at the counter, he says, "Good morning, hyung."

To which Jaejoong replies with, "I'm so fucking screwed."

"Please direct me to the nearest source of food first. Then we'll talk." Jaejoong waves vaguely to the opened containers of jjigae from their usual delivery restaurant. After Changmin has his fifty pounds of foot in front of him, he opens with, "So how did your pillow mission go?"

"Junsu sucks like a sucking thing," Jaejoong says, huffing. It takes a bit of Changmin's prolonged silence for him to look up and realize that Changmin's staring at him in a mixture of horror and amazement. Then he connects the dots and proceeds to flail. A lot. "Oh my god, no! I didn't mean it like that! It's nothing like that!"

"So what happened?"

"He went all serious and said thank you."

Changmin swallows before saying, "He's said thank you to you before."

Jaejoong gnaws on the rim of his mug. "He's never said it while I, you know. Liked him."

"Hyung." Changmin sits up and looks at Jaejoong pointedly. "You were still straight last week. I mean, presumably, you still are straight. So how can you even say that and take yourself seriously?" Jaejoong mumbles something. "What?"

Jaejoong takes a deep breath and holds it. "Imaybealittlebitwantedtokisshimlastnight."

Changmin does the staring thing again, then goes back to eating as if all was normal. Except for when he says, "Oh yeah. You're totally screwed."

Jaejoong puts his mouth and nose into his cup and tries to drown himself.

The thing is, Jaejoong thinks, it wouldn't be so bad if either Junsu or he had something to do away from the apartment. As it stands, it's usually the opposite with Changmin and Yunho constantly being out, so Jaejoong's always with Junsu. Alone. By themselves. Most of the time, Jaejoong can sneak away under the guise of writing music, and Junsu still prefers to spend his free time playing video games or talking to his brother or both at the same time.

But sometimes Junsu will grow bored of games and his brother will have other things to tend to, so he wanders into the kitchen where Jaejoong is and where Jaejoong can't leave because he's cooking and because stopping would mean burning the house down.

Today's one of those days. As Jaejoong washes the rice in the sink, he hears the TV turn off in the living room and silence suddenly fill the apartment instead. He counts back from five in his head and the moment he turns to place the washed rice back in the cooker, Junsu walks in with a bouncy ball in his hand.

"If you bounce that into my food, Kim Junsu, I will hurt you."

Junsu immediately tucks the ball behind his back and puts on an insulted face. "Hyungs aren't supposed to abuse their dongsaengs."

"Dongsaengs that are almost 30 years old shouldn't require threatening anymore," Jaejoong says, getting out another pot and placing it on the stove.

"You're mean," Junsu says. "I'm hungry."

Sighing, Jaejoong picks up a piece of carrot from the mix of ingredients he has carefully laid out in front of him. Holding it over his shoulder, his other hand starts grabbing piles and tossing vegetables into the pot. He freezes between the mushrooms and peppers when he feels something damp skim over the top of his fingertip.

Junsu giggles. "Tastes good, hyung."

It's like his shoulder is a pivot as he spins around and his finger ends up still pointing at Junsu – specifically, Junsu's mouth. His own mouth starts moving, but the sound is a bit delayed and when it does come out, it almost doesn't make sense at all. "You – I – Don't – My finger is not for eating!"

Junsu just laughs again and comes over, peeking into the pot. "Jjigae?" he says, picking up the chopsticks and mixing the ingredients around. "Did you put extra chili in it again?"

Jaejoong's calmed somewhat by now. "I didn't, you big baby." Junsu sticks his tongue out in retaliation and Jaejoong grabs a nearby pepper, holding it over Junsu's mouth precariously.

Junsu shirks back immediately. "Hyung!" he says, horrified. "That's uncalled for!"

"Stop mixing up my jjigae," Jaejoong says, putting the pepper back down to slap the back of Junsu's hand instead. "You're as bad as Yunho."

"That's even more uncalled for."

The rest of the ingredients get added and soon it's bubbling away on its own, leaving Jaejoong with nothing to do but turn and look at Junsu awkwardly. It's a little better when Junsu moves first, prodding Jaejoong in the stomach.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," Junsu says, smiling as if he's just invented the best joke in the world.

Later, it will be unclear to Jaejoong why he did what he's going to do. Later, he'll freak out every five minutes and run to Changmin for refuge. But now, right this second, he can't stop staring at Junsu's grin, eyes tracing the outline of Junsu's mouth over and over.

At least, until he gets his head functioning again and realizes that somehow, Junsu has moved about a foot closer.

"Hyung?"

Or, Jaejoong supposes, it could be entirely possible that he was the one that moved. In which case, he thinks that perhaps he should make up a good excuse for doing so and soon, especially since Junsu is looking at him suspiciously, the smile no longer there.

Despite all that, the best he can come up with is still: "Uhhh." But mostly, he doesn't think he understands why Junsu doesn't look perturbed or uncomfortable yet with Jaejoong practically breathing the same air as him.

"Do you want to kiss me or something?"

Those words are what jerks Jaejoong away, and he nearly upsets the pot behind him if not for Junsu's sharp warning, twisting his body at the last second to avoid giving himself second-degree burns. Something grabs his arm and he latches onto it, but it turns out Junsu doesn't have a good grasp on his balance either and they both end up toppling gracelessly to the floor.

The first thing Jaejoong feels is throbbing pain all the way from his head to his lower back. When that dulls enough, the second thing he feels is the weight on top of him, most noticeably being how warm and soft it is. "Junsu, is that you?" he says slowly, all the while wishing the answer will be no.

"I think so," Junsu groans, and he shifts, popping into Jaejoong's view. "Are you okay, hyung?"

Jaejoong swallows. "Uh huh." Maybe Junsu hasn't gotten up because he did get hurt. Or maybe it's because Jaejoong is trapping one of his limbs, but he doesn't really feel anything underneath him, so that's probably not true.

Junsu wriggles around some more, making Jaejoong think he's going to get off, but instead, he maneuvers himself so he's fully on top of Jaejoong, arms crossed on Jaejoong's chest. "You didn't answer my question."

"What?" Jaejoong says as he attempts to ignore the way Junsu's foot shakes against his, but failing completely.

"My question!" Junsu says, and Jaejoong just cannot stop staring at his mouth.

"I don't remember –" "I can ask it again." "—my answer."

Junsu stares at Jaejoong skeptically. "You're lying. And weird. A lying weirdo."

Jaejoong's mouth acts on its own. "I'm straight."

"Is that supposed to be your answer?"

"…Yeah?"

Smiling, Junsu gets up and stands over Jaejoong, one foot on either side of Jaejoong's shoulders. Jaejoong expects him to do something horrible, or perhaps call Jaejoong out on his claim, but Junsu just snorts and steps off completely, calling over his shoulder as he leaves the kitchen, "Don't put any more chili in!"

Jaejoong stays lying on the floor for an entire five minutes after that, the same amount of time it takes for the imprint of Junsu's warmth to finally leave his skin.

Jaejoong's almost scared to go to bed that night, wondering if Junsu's just been biding his time and waiting to strike when Jaejoong is most vulnerable. Though this, really, had been any time since the kitchen incident and even Yunho had caught on and noticed his nerves.

However, to his surprise, when Junsu gets under the covers next to him, there's a space between them that's never been there before. It gets even stranger when Junsu says good night and promptly closes his eyes – no hugging Jaejoong's arm, no using Jaejoong's chest as a pillow.

Jaejoong's mind is going a million miles a minute as he tries to figure out what's going on. Maybe Junsu thinks he's homophobic and hates him now and is here because he doesn't want to cause more tension but doesn't really want to be, and maybe Jaejoong should bring it up instead of letting Junsu think that he hates man-on-man action or maybe – maybe he should let Junsu hold his hand like he is.

Backtracking, Jaejoong lifts up the covers and stares, confirming that, yes, Junsu's hand is definitely grasping his. When he looks back up again, he meets Junsu's mischievous grin and nearly has a heart attack. "What are you doing?" he whispers, as if their conversations are being bugged.

"Nothing? Just lying here. What about you?"

"You're holding my hand!"

Junsu pretends to be confused. "I've held your hand before, hyung. What's wrong with doing it now?" Jaejoong sputters, mostly because he doesn't have a decent answer for that. Junsu just turns to giggling. "Hyung. Did you know that having sex with a guy is practically the same as doing it with a girl? I mean I guess there's only one hole, but do you really need more than that? Have you ever wanted to use more tha—"

"Junsu!"

Smiling serenely, Junsu scoots close enough that Jaejoong can feel their breaths mix, and it's all Jaejoong can do to pry his attention away from that and listen to Junsu instead. "Do I make you wonder a little bit?"

Jaejoong feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton down his throat. "Wonder what?" he croaks.

"How different or similar it really is?"

The situation is too real for him and Jaejoong tugs his hand away, but Junsu just tightens his grip. "Junsu, that's enough. Go to bed."

"It's okay," Junsu says.

Jaejoong laughs forcibly. "What you're suggesting is the complete opposite of okay."

"What am I suggesting?"

"Yoochun's my best friend!" Jaejoong tries detaching his hand again, but doesn't get further than last time.

Junsu's expression slips into something more serious. "I know. And right now, he's technically my ex-boyfriend. If you really want to, hyung, it's okay with me."

"You're telling me it's okay to break some best friend honor code."

Junsu rolls his eyes. "We're not girls."

"You know if Yoochun were here and hearing this, he'd be pretty upset," Jaejoong says. "You can't really say all that and mean it."

Looking away briefly, Junsu sighs and twists his mouth. "It's not like we didn't talk about this," he says, messing up his hair with his other hand. "I said it was okay if he did stuff with someone else while he was gone. He said the same."

"I don't think he was thinking of me as that someone else when he said that."

"Not everyone is as okay with having one-night stands as he is."

Jaejoong feels like he's going to throw up. Junsu clearly notices, because he gets even closer, brow furrowed as he touches Jaejoong's face. The second he does, Jaejoong's head falls forward onto Junsu's chest and he breathes in shakily, managing to hold it for a second or two before letting it out audibly.

"Hyung?"

"You're being serious with me," Jaejoong says, now doing the opposite and squeezing Junsu's hand hard. "You're actually… propositioning me." He can feel Junsu smile against the top of his head.

"You've been taking care of me a lot," Junsu says. "And you don't ask a lot of questions, not because you're making yourself hold back, but you know it's not necessary right now. It's been really nice."

Jaejoong laughs nervously. "I've already said to Changmin that I like girls."

Junsu snorts. "Are you telling me that after ten years of being around mostly guys, you still really care about what gender you're sleeping with?"

"God, Junsu," Jaejoong says, rubbing at his face. "Only you would make me start questioning my sexuality when I'm almost 30 years old."

"It's never too late to start thinking about cock," Junsu says brightly.

"Ohhhh god, okay," Jaejoong groans, moving away and laying his head back on the pillow. "I'm sleeping on this and you're going to stop talking about dicks in a sexual manner."

Giggling, Junsu cuddles up to Jaejoong's shoulder. "Fine. I bet you're going to dream about them anyway."

Jaejoong doesn't feel bad at all about pummeling Junsu with the pillow to shut him up.

Fortunately, Junsu doesn't make any sexual remarks or says anything out of the ordinary the next day, which Jaejoong is grateful for because the last thing he needs is for Changmin to gain more material and Yunho to become the embodiment of worry.

Finally, after dinner, Jaejoong finds himself in the living room while Junsu yells into his headset at his brother about an enemy around the corner while he stabs at the controller and shoots at his own ugly, mutant thing. One day, Jaejoong thinks, he'll figure out the attraction of shooting at aliens. Maybe when they actually invade Earth.

Grabbing a cushion, Jaejoong lies down, intending to wait patiently for Junsu to be done. Except the next time he opens his eyes, there's no more sounds of guns shooting and instead of a view of Junsu's back, he's met with Junsu's grin right above his face. "Morning, sunshine."

Jaejoong rubs at his eyes and cranes his head back to look out the window at the moon peeking behind a spotty cloud. "It's not morning."

"Oh well," Junsu says, and promptly crawls onto the couch to straddle Jaejoong. This wakes up Jaejoong faster than anything short of fire. "Did you need me?"

"Yes, but I don't think it was to make you sit on me," Jaejoong says.

"And only what you think." Junsu leans down, close enough that Jaejoong can count each lash, feel each breath, see every crack in Junsu's chapped lips. Close enough to kiss. "Had to sleep on it twice?"

"What?" Jaejoong says with some effort. "Oh. Um. No. Just. Was waiting. Did you eat an apple?"

Junsu laughs and Jaejoong thinks about just how unfair it is that Junsu was given the fullest pair of lips he's ever seen. "With peanut butter."

Jaejoong's laugh carries a little bit more insanity and disbelief. "Is this flirting? Are we flirting? Oh my god."

"Hyung, you think too much. This is just for fun. Come on, you haven't had a girlfriend for ages."

"That's just insulting," Jaejoong says, pinching Junsu's thigh and feeling a little bit of satisfaction when Junsu yelps and pouts. "Though true." A beat passes. Biting down on his lip, Jaejoong moves his hand up and settles it on Junsu's waist lightly, almost not touching at all. "You know most of the crazy things I've done. I think this is going to take the cake."

Junsu smiles and leans down until his forehead touches Jaejoong's. "Should I feel honored? I feel honored." His breath fans over Jaejoong's mouth and the sensation immediately attracts Jaejoong's gaze downwards, where he stares openly. Junsu's smile grows wider. "Are you going to jump in or should I push you?"

Jaejoong swallows and fists Junsu's shirt. He murmurs, "Meet you in the middle?"

And he's not sure what meeting in the middle is supposed to feel like, but this is what he does know: Junsu's mouth is soft yet still scratchy, and warm and full, and the way he kisses makes Jaejoong think of the first girl he ever (willingly) kissed – something new and exciting, and Jaejoong's not entirely sure that it has anything to do with Junsu's existence as a guy.

At first, it's mostly Junsu kissing him, mouth moving carefully as if testing the way Jaejoong's fits against his, and when he does figure it out, it's evident in the way the kiss grows firmer, coaxing Jaejoong to respond. Jaejoong does, hesitantly, fingers still wrapped tight in Junsu's shirt, hardly even breathing because that would be too much multi-tasking for him to handle right now.

In the back of his mind, Jaejoong thinks about what Changmin said again, that he's not Yoochun, and he wonders if Junsu knows this too or if it makes no difference who he happens to be kissing. His brain transitions into wondering what Junsu thinks about when he kisses Yoochun and if Junsu weren't so focused on his lower lip, he'd ask what Junsu's thinking now.

Seconds later, when Junsu's tongue grazes along his lip, wetting it, Jaejoong decides he doesn't want to know.

He just wants more.

Part 2

illuminations: A man once said. (2/2)

2009-03-28T03:38:52Z

Jaejoong expects it to be awkward the next day, but it turns out that instead of feeling embarrassed every time he sees Junsu and thinking of all the kissing they did the night before, he just feels kind of happy giddy instead. Of course, that is all before Changmin gets a good look at his face and it's too late for him to remember that when he's not on-guard, he can be read like a one-page picture book.

His natural instinct is to try and escape but Changmin's extra eight cm of height corners him in the hallway.

"What did you do?"

Jaejoong sputters. "Nothing! Everything's fine. It's great and awesome." He's never been more aware of how shitty a liar he is.

"That was one too many," Changmin says, crossing his arms and effectively looking even more intimidating. Jaejoong has to remind himself that he's the older one and therefore in possession of seniority rights.

"I don't have to tell you," Jaejoong says unconvincingly. Changmin's eyes narrow dangerously and he snaps like a twig. "Oh my god, we kissed, okay? Lay off the third degree, you're not my mom!"

Changmin's expression settles somewhere between shocked, disbelief, and a strange sort of fascination. "You mean on the cheek."

Jaejoong purses his lips, eyes resolutely focused on the ground. "… Near the cheek." It was practically the same thing, Jaejoong figures, but Changmin rubs his temples like a father dealing with a stupid son, which he doesn't quite understand.

"You made out with Junsu-hyung. Even though he's with Yoochun-hyung."

"Technically, they're exes," Jaejoong says, echoing Junsu's words rather than trying to come up with his own argument.

"You're supposed to be Yoochun-hyung's best friend."

"It's not like Junsu's a girl!"

Changmin sighs. "No. It's just Junsu and Yoochun."

Jaejoong digs his toes into the carpet and slides his hands behind his waist, palms pressed against the wall as he leans back. "Nothing's going to happen," he says. "Yoochun gets to go on a vacation practically, but you know how Junsu is. He's only good at talking about what he wants, never what he needs."

"And what he needs is some fling with another group member?"

"Will you stop talking about it like we're committing adultery?" Jaejoong says, half-annoyed and half-frustrated. "I didn't force him into it. I mean, he was the one putting the moves on me." He can see Changmin physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"Fine, okay," Changmin says, holding his hands up. "Do what you want. Just tell me this; what are you going to do when Junsu-hyung doesn't need you for comfort anymore?"

Jaejoong furrows his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?" He doesn't want to say for sure, but Changmin almost looks sorry for him.

"It means you know how you are, hyung."

Junsu's childlike demeanor shows that night when he's in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms by ten, playing video games again. Jaejoong's washing dishes in the kitchen, the act mechanical enough that it gives him too much time to think, and he thinks about what Changmin had said, but thinks about Junsu's mouth and the way Junsu's weight felt against him more.

When Jaejoong finishes up fifteen minutes later and turns off the water, the sound of computer-generated gunfire stops too; and when Jaejoong finally goes into the living room, Junsu scurries over and tugs him over to the couch, shoving at him to sit down. The next thing he knows, Junsu is on his lap much like he was last night. There's a tiny grin pulling at Junsu's mouth, but the smile is much more evident in his eyes.

"You're weird," Junsu says. Not do you want to make out again or even hey, sexy.

"What?"

"You were fine this morning, but then you started avoiding me," Junsu says. He prods Jaejoong's chest. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I haven't been avoiding you," Jaejoong says, lying through his teeth. It's not something he's ever been good at.

Junsu hums, tapping his own chin, then leans in and cups Jaejoong's face with both hands, squishing his cheeks together. "You made a mistake last night. Am I right?"

"I never said that."

"You think really loud," Junsu says, sitting back and crossing his arms.

"Well, I didn't think that," Jaejoong says, almost with an air of annoyance.

"Okay," Junsu nods. "Okay." Jaejoong doesn't know what Junsu means by that, so he just sits and waits; at least, until Junsu leans forward again, this time only stopping when his nose runs into Jaejoong's. "So what are you thinking? That you want to do it again?"

It's a yes or no question, implying that it's simple, but if Jaejoong says yes, he'd be lying because it's, in fact, not what he's thinking. On the other hand, if he says no, it may seem like he doesn't want to do it again because he didn't like it to begin with, and that's also a lie. "Is it weird for you?"

The way Junsu blinks blankly tells Jaejoong that he caught the other off guard, enough that Junsu draws away again to stare at him curiously. "Weird in what way?"

"In the way that we've known each other for years, I liking girls and you liking Yoochun, yet last night happened really easily," Jaejoong says. It's here that he realizes his hands have found their way to the hem of Junsu's shirt, wrapping and twisting it around his finger absently. Taking them away now would be awkward, so he just keeps them as they are. He laughs softly, and only a hint of nervousness filters through when he says, "I've always thought that most of the time, you were just tolerating me."

"That's really stupid."

"Yeah." Jaejoong nods, still staring down at his hands as his fingers skitter back and forth along the edge of Junsu's t-shirt. "Guess Yoochun's just always been in the middle." He looks up. "Actually, everyone's been in the middle."

Junsu twists his mouth, sighing. "You think too much, too," he says. "You think too much and too loud." He pauses. "And too stupid."

Jaejoong laughs a little. "That makes no sense."

"Well, now you know how I feel." That makes Jaejoong smile a little more.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"Hyung," Junsu says, pressing his palms to Jaejoong's cheeks and squishing them, "what did I just say about how much thinking you do?"

"You're the person who spends ten minutes wondering what his bracelet is made out of on a daily basis."

Junsu pouts. "Shut up. That's called a healthy curiosity."

Jaejoong smiles and grasps Junsu's wrist, his thumb rubbing Junsu's pulse point. "You also make me feel like I'm going through a midlife crisis."

"Well, you are really old," Junsu smiles, then tucks Jaejoong's hair behind his ear. "So."

Jaejoong's breathing slows slightly. "So."

Junsu moves back in until he's close enough that his words are part puffs of air against Jaejoong's lips. "Do you want to kiss me or something?"

"… Yeah, I do."

Each and every one of Junsu's kisses from last night is still fresh in Jaejoong's mind, and yet as Junsu's mouth moves over his now he's sure that this one somehow different from all of those. He can't figure out how, but it makes his fingers press harder into Junsu's waist and his mouth open more – makes him gain courage and be the first one to slide his tongue out and brush it over Junsu's lips.

Junsu giggles in the middle of it and if it weren't for the other's hands gripping his shoulders tightly, Jaejoong would pull away offended. As it is, he figures it makes all the sense in the world for Junsu to be a giggler even when making out.

But five minutes later Junsu is panting against Jaejoong's mouth as well as rocking their hips together and Jaejoong's brain begins malfunctioning. Kissing's great – kissing's something people do with strangers all the time; but kissing and everything else are two completely different levels of messing around and he feels mildly panicked even as he starts reacting to the friction Junsu's hips provide. Especially when he starts reacting.

When they finally part to breathe, Jaejoong squeezes Junsu's hipbones and stills him. Rhythm broken, Junsu's eyes blink open and he says, "What?"

"We're really going to do… this?"

"Is it a big deal?"

Jaejoong's natural and immediate reaction is to practically scream that it's a big deal, but Junsu's already fighting his hold, squirming in his lap again, so his words come out strangled and not nearly as firm as he intended them to be.

"It's fine," Junsu says, mouthing along Jaejoong's jaw, tongue darting out occasionally to lick at the skin. "Just pretend I'm a girl."

Jaejoong's about to say "none of the girls I've ever been with have possessed a penis" but he gets sidetracked once more when Junsu slides off and onto his knees on the floor, hands pushing Jaejoong's own legs apart.

There's something mildly disturbing about having your band mate undo your pants with a smile on their face like they're at a candy shop, enough that Jaejoong feels his hard-on start to wane a little, and for a moment he considers telling Junsu to stop because if there's no erection, there's no reason for a blowjob.

It's an extremely brief moment – the first swipe of Junsu's tongue gives Jaejoong's body all the reason to stay aroused.

Junsu has the nerve to chuckle when Jaejoong sucks in a breath sharply. "See? Same as a girl."

Letting his head fall back against the sofa, Jaejoong starts comparing Junsu to all the girlfriends he's had, or at least the ones that have bothered to go down on him. He measures the softness of Junsu's lips, the firmness of his sucking – how many flicks of the tongue Junsu likes to do before swallowing half of Jaejoong into his mouth. That's the point where it becomes questionable whether he's really doing this for the sake of comparison or just to keep from coming embarrassingly quick.

Junsu doesn't seem to care either way because he reaches for Jaejoong's wrist and tugs on it until Jaejoong's hand is curled snug around the back of Junsu's head. Junsu's hair is soft and Jaejoong's fingers automatically sink into it, fisting until he's giving Junsu some resistance as the other bobs his head up and down.

When Junsu focuses his attention lower, the flat of his tongue dragging over the loose skin of Jaejoong's balls, Jaejoong's eyes go out of focus for a second and he curses softly, legs spreading farther apart on instinct. It isn't until Junsu's mouth is back on his length does he find the will to look down. He regrets the decision immediately because Junsu's waiting and their eyes lock as Junsu's lips close around the tip, and even though Junsu sucks gently, it forces Jaejoong that much closer to the edge.

He gives a warning sound, though doesn't know why, because the last thing he wants is for Junsu to stop. But Junsu seems to get the message anyway and slides his lips down as far as they'll go, letting a hand make up for what can't fit. His thighs tense as Junsu sucks and hums and he alternates between tugging on and smoothing his hand through Junsu's hair.

Even though Jaejoong feels his orgasm creep up on him steadily, he doesn't expect the press of Junsu's thumb right below his sac that sends a jolt up his spine and a slow, steady warmth through him afterward. Coupled with a few more calculated licks, it's what sends Jaejoong over and he spills into Junsu's mouth with a quiet, slightly strangled groan, hand tightening in Junsu's hair.

Just when he gets most of his breath back, Junsu pushes up and sits down next to him, drawing him into a simple, easy kiss – no tongue, just the soft press of lips over and over again. It takes a few seconds of this for Jaejoong to realize that Junsu isn't making any move to ask for more, and he pulls away to stare questioningly at him.

Junsu smiles back as his hand slides up and down Jaejoong's side. "Yes?"

"Shouldn't I, um, you know, return the favor?"

Chuckling, Junsu says, "If you insist." Then he sits back and pulls one of Jaejoong's hands onto his thigh in one movement.

Jaejoong feels his mouth go dry but he refuses to balk, and not simply for reasons of fairness. This has become something he wants to do. He shifts so he's sitting sideways, hand massaging Junsu's leg slowly. The outline of Junsu's erection is clearly visible and it strikes Jaejoong suddenly: "…You're not wearing any underwear!"

Laughing louder, Junsu kisses Jaejoong's cheek. "It makes things easier, but not so much that my pants are going to take themselves off."

Flushing slightly, Jaejoong reaches with mostly steady hands and curls his fingers underneath the waistband, pulling. It's definitely easier, the sweats tugging down the second Junsu raises his hips high enough, and Jaejoong leaves them bunched just above Junsu's knees.

Then his mind goes blank.

"Just use your hand," Junsu says. "It's more than fine."

Nodding, Jaejoong can only do as told, and he holds his breath as he moves his hand up and wraps it around Junsu's length loosely, tentative.

Junsu groans. "You're a bastard if you're just going to tease and do that."

Somehow, being called a bastard relaxes Jaejoong and he laughs softly before tightening his hand and giving a slow, firm stroke. The more satisfied groan Junsu supplies this time increases his confidence and he builds a steady pace, squeezing and twisting his wrist every few strokes.

Somewhere in the middle, Jaejoong turns Junsu's face towards his and seeks out more kisses, pausing when the other starts giggling. Giggling during a handjob is generally not standard protocol, so he glances down at his hand, automatically assuming that's the issue. "What?"

Junsu tips his head back up. "You're a real kisser, aren't you?" he murmurs against Jaejoong's mouth, breathing in deep when Jaejoong speeds his hand up.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

Junsu laughs again, twisting his hand in Jaejoong's shirt and pulling him close. "No. Now shut up and keep doing it."

Of course Jaejoong does. He kisses Junsu hard and fast and wet, soft and slow and careful, muffling Junsu's moans as he works his hand faster, addicted to the way Junsu moves underneath him. It doesn't take much longer until Junsu is murmuring Jaejoong's name, hips jerking up in a way that Jaejoong recognizes easily.

He rests his forehead against Junsu's temple, murmuring encouragement, and when Junsu comes seconds later, he can't resist looking down to watch as some gets on Junsu's shirt while the rest pools on his hand.

After a few more strokes, he takes his hand away and leans back to grab some tissues from the side table, but Junsu stops him mid-stretch and pulls him back by the wrist. Jaejoong watches with his breath held as Junsu licks everything up instead, at one point sucking Jaejoong's thumb into his mouth briefly. He's still staring incredulously when Junsu finishes and smiles brightly at him as if that didn't just happen.

"Hyung, you're going to start drooling," Junsu says, laughing as he covers Jaejoong's mouth with his hand.

Gathering his wits again, Jaejoong uses the opportunity to grab Junsu's elbow and pull him close until they both fall back onto the couch. Junsu's giggling continuously again, but Jaejoong simply kisses through them until they gradually disappear.

He pretends it doesn't mean anything when he thinks, just for a moment, that he could get used to this.

The day Yoochun is supposed to return, Jaejoong wakes up and doesn't remember it until halfway through breakfast when Changmin asks what time Yoochun's expected arrival is. Jaejoong chokes on his rice and looks pointedly at Changmin while Yunho slaps him on the back. On his other side, Junsu is silent and Jaejoong isn't sure he's ready to know for what reason that is.

They bump into each other two hours later when Jaejoong's on his way to the workroom and Junsu comes out of the bathroom. Jaejoong wants to keep on avoiding the potential issue, but being physically unable to stay quiet about important things, he grabs Junsu's arm and prevents both of them from leaving.

Jaejoong opens his mouth but Junsu speaks first, says, "It was really fun. Thanks."

It shouldn't feel like a punch to his gut, because Jaejoong had been in the know all along, but it does anyway. It's just enough to make him let go of Junsu immediately. "Good," he says. "That's, um, what I wanted to hear." He moves to walk away again, but only manages to turn in a circle. "Hey."

Junsu looks up, face unreadable, though questioning.

Jaejoong waves his hand in the air, then drops it to his side. "Just. Talk to each other. Okay?"

They stare at each other for a second longer before Jaejoong turns again and walks, and keeps walking.

Things are a little bumpy the first week or so after Yoochun's back with them, but old habits die hard and they settle back into their respective roles. Yoochun and Junsu are already back to watching horror movies together at night by the second week, and Jaejoong takes refuge in Yunho and Changmin's room when their pseudo-dates run late.

Changmin tries to start small talk with him sometimes, but Jaejoong brushes him off more often than not, knowing all too well that there was no such thing as small talk with him.

It's not that Jaejoong's entire life has been turned upside down because he's slept with a man, nor is it because that man was another member. He thinks it's more like everything and everyone else is moving forward while he's stuck in this place that he doesn't recognize and doesn't know how to escape out of.

Even Yunho starts to notice how off he is, which is usually Jaejoong's sign that he really needs to get his act together. But as time goes on and seeing Junsu with Yoochun starts bothering him more and more for reasons he can't yet put words to, it starts to become obvious.

Jaejoong's head over heels for his best friend's guy.

This time, Jaejoong is all set for avoidance and denial, but when it comes time to use it, he falters.

"Yunho says you're acting as if you like me."

"Why are you listening to him?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes."

Jaejoong often thinks about what would've happened if he said no.

It's a surprise to everyone but Jaejoong when Junsu announces that he wants to go solo. The second the words leave Junsu, Jaejoong knows it's already been decided. He doesn't fight it like the other three do, doesn't even care that it makes him even more obvious to Yunho and Changmin while it just makes Yoochun angry at him.

Though Jaejoong accepts the situation, it's still surreal when they announce a last tour, and after years of ignoring gossip blogs, he can't seem to do anything but sit in front of his computer and read comments from angry fans. He doesn't care about the ones that talk about him; but the ones slamming Junsu make him want to throw his computer against the wall.

It's mostly guilt, he thinks. Guilt over the fact that this is actually his fault, but he knows he'll never have the balls to admit why.

Summer, 2021

"Sooyeon-ah!" Jaejoong calls downstairs, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "Where's my blue tie with the… things and the other things!"

"I just washed it yesterday! It's still in the laundry room."

Jaejoong shuts his dresser, but not before grabbing a pair of socks, making sure they're actually the same color this time instead of one black and one blue. Then he goes downstairs and heads to the living where his daughter, Eunae, is sitting on the floor, attention split between the blocks in front of her and the cartoons on TV.

He plops down next to her as she greets him with a chipper, "Dada!", and kisses the top of her head while he starts tugging on his socks. After, he plays with her until Sooyeon calls him for breakfast, giving her a messier kiss on the forehead when he stands up, smiling wide when it earns him a high-pitched giggle.

When Jaejoong walks into the kitchen, Sooyeon whistles and says, "Someone looks handsome today."

Jaejoong kisses her on the cheek before sitting down at the table. "I feel like I'm being choked and I don't even have the tie on yet."

"Meeting?" she says, disappearing into the laundry room.

Jaejoong nods vaguely as he starts eating. "New artist. No idea who he is, but supposedly we're going to get along great." Sooyeon comes back with Jaejoong's blue tie in hand and walks over, putting it on for him.

"You'll do fine, dear," she says, smiling brightly as she purposely over-tightens the tie before adjusting it properly.

Jaejoong glares half-heartedly. "I'm so lucky to have such a lovely wife."

Sooyeon laughs. "And just like a good wife, I'm going to take your daughter out shopping later along with your credit card."

"I thought I married someone who already has a well-paying job photographing half-nude male models."

"You did," Sooyeon says, patting Jaejoong's shoulders. "But she has no naked men to take pictures of today, so the therapeutic effects of shopping are needed."

Jaejoong turns his head and kisses her softly. "One, that doesn't explain why you have to use my money and two, you're going to make me jealous one day," he says right as he catches a glance of the clock. He swears sharply and stands up, darting to the front door. "Don't spend more than a thousand!" he says, pulling his shoes on.

Sooyeon waves from the kitchen's doorway. "Five thousand minimum – have a great day!"

When Jaejoong arrives at the studio offices, he rushes to the meeting room and stands outside for a few seconds, trying to slow his breathing and look composed. It doesn't work and he's already five minutes late, so he decides screw it, and walks in.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Kim Jaejoong, can I offer you any—"

His throat goes dry.

It surprises Jaejoong how unchanged Junsu looks even after five years.

His manager and Junsu's both look fairly pleased with themselves. Jaejoong can't bring himself to be angry, not when they didn't know and still don't know because he's grown even more closed off since the break up. He just barely remembers to smile when his manager leans over and says, "Never thought you'd get to work with one of them again, did you?" Jaejoong nods, though most likely not agreeing for the same reason.

He sits through Junsu's manager's proposal quietly, concentrating more than he needs to on the other's words just so he can keep him eyes from drifting over to Junsu, to figure out where Junsu wants to be right now.

"We're not here because you guys were in Dong Bang Shin Ki together," Junsu's manager says. "We've listened to your stuff and it's great, exactly the sound we're looking for for this album."

It's clear that the other man had come expecting Jaejoong to jump at the opportunity, and Jaejoong almost feels bad when he doesn't answer immediately and Junsu's manager's expression falters slightly. Then he realizes that he had been told 'we' – meaning Junsu knew coming in that he was going to see Jaejoong.

That changes everything and Jaejoong is suddenly using speculation as justification when he takes a deep breath and answers yes.

They set up a meeting between just him and Junsu and the morning of, Jaejoong wakes up feeling like he's a teenager again and has no idea how to control any of his feelings. His doubts grow more and more serious as the morning goes on and Jaejoong starts to strongly consider calling to cancel, but then he realizes that Junsu is probably on his way and there's nothing he can do now, except perhaps be ruder than rude and shut the door on Junsu's face when the other gets here.

He wonders what in the hell made him think it was okay to use his own house as the meeting location.

Jaejoong's sitting on the couch when the doorbell rings and he stares at the door for a few seconds, getting up only when the doorbell sounds again. He manages not to shit his pants when he opens it and sees Junsu on the other side. The first thing he notices is that Junsu's wearing a shirt Jaejoong gave him eons ago.

"Hey."

Jaejoong blinks, then steps back. "Hey. Come in." After Junsu walks inside, he closes the door and says, smoother than he expected, "My studio's down that hall." He lets Junsu go first while he grabs drinks from the kitchen, debating longer than necessary on whether to grab water or beer. Beer might make it seem like he's trying to pull something when he's not, but water will just make it obvious that he's trying too hard to make Junsu believe that he's not pulling something.

He goes for the beer.

Junsu's sitting at the soundboard when Jaejoong finally makes his way to the studio, seemingly intent on reading every control. "Um, do you like this kind?" Jaejoong says, holding out the bottle of beer when Junsu spins around. "I have others if it isn't."

Junsu takes it with a smile. Their fingers don't brush. "It's fine," he says, turning back around and running his hand along edge of the console. "This is really nice. How much did it cost?"

"A lot. But I haven't found anything it can't do yet, so it's been proving its worth," Jaejoong says, moving to sit on the nearby couch. Junsu looks over the mixing board some more, then joins him.

"How've you been?"

Jaejoong turns the bottle in his hand. "Good. You? You're, um, still with Yoochun, right?" Junsu nods. "That's nice. No more fights then?"

"Not as bad as before. We talk," Junsu says. Jaejoong doesn't reply with anything for that besides a smile and a few beats crawl by before Junsu speaks again. "You got married?"

It's not that his marriage isn't something Jaejoong wants to talk about, but the fact that it's Junsu mentioning his wife and meshing together his past and present even more that makes him feel like maybe being here means he's digging his own grave. "Yeah," Jaejoong says. "A few years ago." He sees Junsu catch sight of a picture behind him and feels his stomach roll around even more.

"You have children too," Junsu says, sounding incredulous almost, and he stands up to go look at the photo up close. It's one of many in their house that Sooyeon took. This one is a simple black and white picture, a close-up of Jaejoong kissing Eunae's cheek on her first birthday – and much too intimate for Jaejoong to feel comfortable about Junsu seeing.

"Just one daughter," Jaejoong says, going over and standing a casual distance behind Junsu awkwardly. "That was a year ago. She's two now. Her name's Eunae."

Junsu looks at the photo for a while longer, then speaks without turning around. "Did you hate me that much for ruining the group?"

Jaejoong is more than confused. "What?"

"I kind of already knew you had a daughter," Junsu says quietly. "But only because someone – a stranger practically – said to me she wished she could see your baby and how cute she must be." Junsu finally looks at Jaejoong, who can barely keep eye contact. "I had to pretend that I had known for ages already about your family, make up stuff about how sweet your daughter was and how happy you and your wife were when actually, I really had just found out from them that your family even existed."

Jaejoong feels his throat close up and he looks off to the side as he gnaws on the inside of his cheek.

"Really – do you hate me? Is that why you just, disappeared and didn't bother letting me know how you were, how your life was going, ever?" Jaejoong can see Junsu wring the bottom of his shirt, knuckles white. "Do you know how hard I had to try to get both companies to keep it a secret from you that it was me coming last week? I thought that if you knew, you would reject immediately, and then when you were late, I figured had to have found out and refused to come. But then you walked in and god, hyung, it's been years since I've even seen you – do you get that?"

The honorific makes Jaejoong raise his head and he looks at Junsu apologetically. "I don't hate you," he says, and it's like pushing a boulder up a near-vertical incline. Junsu seems to sense that too, though he's sure Junsu will interpret it the wrong way, and that's what happens.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here," Junsu says. "Even if you don't hate me, this is still obviously the last thing you want." Pushing past Jaejoong, he leaves the room.

Jaejoong's brain malfunctions for the entire ten seconds it takes for him to realize that Junsu is probably putting on his shoes right now, completely intent on leaving his house and making this the last time he'll ever see Junsu.

Whipping around, Jaejoong rushes out and gets to the foyer just as Junsu's hand closes around the handle. He slams his hand against the door at the same time he grabs Junsu's shoulder and spins him, shoving Junsu against the wall.

"H-hyung?" Junsu is wide-eyed while Jaejoong breathes heavily through his nose, staring back just as unsure.

Jaejoong tips his head forward and lets it fall onto Junsu's shoulder. He swallows. "I missed you," he says. "Stay a little longer." The relief he feels when Junsu's arms circle around him is immediate and obvious.

"You're an ass," Junsu says.

"So are you."

They end up in the guest room; it's both closer and makes them feel less guilty at the moment for what they're going to do. It seems they mutually agreed somewhere between the foyer and there to not mention other people. For Jaejoong, it's because he's unable to say no to the need that's stayed with him all these years.

Jaejoong has Junsu up against the door again, head once more on Junsu's shoulder, but this time his mouth is also attached to Junsu's throat, sucking and biting and feeling Junsu's moans vibrate against his lips. He parts just long enough to rid Junsu of his shirt, then tugs and shoves Junsu onto the bed before crawling on top and letting his mouth go to town, dragging his lips down Junsu's chest.

"Oh, Jesus, fuck," Junsu breathes, both hands slipping into Jaejoong's hair. Jaejoong grins, moving his mouth to the side and drawing Junsu's nipple between his lips. He sucks and tongues at it until it grows hard, then repeats the same process on the other, moaning softly against Junsu's skin when his hair is tugged.

Surging back up, Jaejoong finds the grace to pull his shirt off right before he catches Junsu's mouth in a heated and messy kiss, forcing his tongue past teeth to lick at the roof of Junsu's mouth. His back arches immediately when Junsu's palms skim down his chest and then up his sides, and he almost feels embarrassed about how the touch goes straight to his cock.

Breaking the kiss, Jaejoong presses his hips down, grinding them with Junsu's as he pants openly against Junsu's mouth. It helps a lot when Junsu hitches his legs up, but he falters when Junsu cups his face with both hands and says breathily, "Hyung, will you fuck me?"

The part of him that's thinking with his dick says yes immediately. The tiny part of him that still holds some rationality wonders how Junsu always manages to push him past where he thinks his limits should be.

"Stuff – um – condoms," Jaejoong mumbles. "They're upstairs."

Junsu smiles and licks at Jaejoong's lips. "Go get it."

Jaejoong swallows, then nods, and detaches from Junsu. He pauses at the door to look back briefly, as if to double-check that Junsu actually wants this and isn't running away instead, but all Junsu does is shoo Jaejoong with one hand while he starts unbuttoning his pants using the other.

Upstairs Jaejoong grabs a condom and lube from the nightstand, resolutely ignoring the picture of him and his wife perched in front of him. He knows this is going to be a one-time thing and, most of all, knows how much he wants it. He tells himself that's enough.

When he returns to the guest room, Junsu is already fully naked. More than that, he's fully naked and touching himself, smiling lazily at Jaejoong as he walks in. Pressing one knee against the edge of the mattress, Jaejoong drops the condom and lube onto the mattress before curling his arms under Junsu's thighs and pulling him down sharply. Junsu squeaks in surprise, a noise that has always and still makes Jaejoong smile.

But Jaejoong wants to hear other things and makes it known by batting Junsu's hand away and taking a tentative lick at the tip of Junsu's cock before he can chicken out. The taste isn't extremely distinct, but the way Junsu sounds is the opposite, so Jaejoong closes his lips around Junsu and sucks carefully, spurred on by every moan and whine Junsu gives him.

He's worked up to getting half of Junsu's length in his mouth when Junsu presses the bottle of lube into Jaejoong's hand. "No more foreplay?" he says, half-teasing, though he's already pouring some lube into his palm.

"Seven years of it is enough," Junsu says, and Jaejoong stares at him for a second just to make sure he's getting what Junsu's really saying. Junsu smiles, touching Jaejoong's knee. "You're dripping on the bed."

Unaware that he had let his hand tip, Jaejoong swears at the large wet spot forming on the thigh of his pants. Junsu sits up a little and steals his attention, kissing Jaejoong softly while wrapping his fingers around Jaejoong's wrist to push it down between his legs.

"You don't need directions, right?" Junsu says with a playful grin, humming softly when Jaejoong's fingers touch skin.

"Seven years of research," Jaejoong tries to joke back, but he knows his nervousness is obvious. Junsu lies back down, situating a pillow behind his head, then holds up three fingers. Jaejoong looks down at his hand. "Is that going to fit?"

Junsu is silent for a moment, then laughs loudly. "It better, hyung," he says once he calms. "If it doesn't, I don't know how you will."

It takes a while for Jaejoong's blush to go away. In fact, it's not until he's sliding his middle finger in and out of Junsu slowly and completely distracted by the way Junsu's hips press down onto him that he stops feeling embarrassed. By the time he's finally sliding in the third finger, he's breathing heavier than Junsu and completely aware of his very hard cock pressing against the rough fabric of his jeans.

"Hyung," Junsu groans a minute or two later, arching his back. "Oh my god, stop. Just put it in."

"Are you sure?" Jaejoong's not sure the sound Junsu makes isn't a growl.

"Take off your fucking pants."

At that point, Jaejoong trusts Junsu way more than his own judgment and slips his fingers out carefully. Then he all but rips his pants off, tearing the condom packet open with his teeth while his boxers are still hanging onto his right ankle. The condom's barely on when Junsu's hand appears and slicks his cock, stroking firmly three times. Jaejoong tells himself he's not fifteen years old.

Lining himself up against Junsu, Jaejoong leans down and rests his forehead against Junsu's, breathing in deeply. As he pushes in, Junsu's arms come up and wrap around his shoulders, and for what seems like an agonizingly long time they simply breathe against one another, Jaejoong pausing halfway in to let them both adjust.

When his hips finally touch the backs of Junsu's thighs, Jaejoong lets out a shaky breath, teeth biting down on his lower lip. Junsu's tighter than he expected and he seriously starts to question how long he'll be able to last.

"Move, hyung," Junsu says, squeezing around him. Jaejoong lets out a quiet noise before pulling out, then slides back in one smooth thrust, moaning at the friction. He's definitely not going to last.

There's nothing fancy about their movements. Jaejoong holds onto Junsu's hands, pressing them into the mattress above Junsu's head while he kisses Junsu softly with every thrust; Junsu kisses back each time, feet pushing against the bed so he can rock back. Despite their earlier urgency, they've slowed to a pace that seems to almost grow slower in rhythm as time drags.

Eventually Jaejoong lets go of a hand to slide it down and wrap it around Junsu's cock, stroking in sync with his thrusts. Junsu moans and tilts his head back, allowing Jaejoong room to lick and suck at the soft skin below his jaw. When Junsu starts squeezing around him in pulses, Jaejoong groans and fucks Junsu faster and harder, shifting and thrusting at a different angle.

It seems like the right move because Junsu's moans get louder and his hips snap down, forcing Jaejoong deeper.

Jaejoong wants Junsu to come first, to see him unravel, so he fists Junsu tighter and speeds up his strokes, flicking his thumb over the head. It makes Junsu drag his nails down Jaejoong's back and clings tighter, legs wrapping around Jaejoong's waist.

"Fuck, hyung!"

Groaning, Jaejoong pushes Junsu's legs back and thrusts sharply, trying to ignore that familiar tightening in his stomach. "Come on," he murmurs, angling his hips again while he twists his hand sharply on Junsu.

Seconds later, Junsu comes with a cut-off groan, spilling onto Jaejoong's hand. Jaejoong keeps fucking him, even as Junsu tightens unbearably around him, for the moment completely focused on the expression on Junsu's face. When he can't hold off any longer, Jaejoong drops his head onto the bed right above Junsu's shoulder, panting loudly as his thrusts fall out of rhythm.

He comes when Junsu bites down on his shoulder, hips snapping one more time as he buries himself inside Junsu, mouth parted and breath held.

They're silent long after they calm, unmoving except for Junsu's fingers that stroke at the small of Jaejoong's back. When Jaejoong finally moves, he cleans them off quietly and, before lying back down, sets the alarm.

Junsu turns onto his side and Jaejoong presses up behind him, and for some reason, it hurts a little when he finds that Junsu still fits perfectly against him.

"Hyung?" Junsu says quietly when Jaejoong kisses the nape of his neck. Jaejoong doesn't answer, instead hugging Junsu tighter. When Junsu falls asleep a while later, his mouth is still brushed up against Junsu's skin.

Jaejoong doesn't move until nearly two hours pass, switching off the alarm before it sounds and kissing Junsu awake instead.

There's no apparent reason for why Jaejoong confesses to sleeping with someone else. Sooyeon is settled beneath the covers, reading before bed, and he finds himself blurting it out before even realizing what he's doing. She doesn't get angry until Jaejoong tells her it wasn't another woman.

Two weeks later, Sooyeon calls him from her sister's and asks how much he still wants to try. He answers honestly.

Their conversation doesn't last long and after she hangs up, Jaejoong dials Junsu's number.

"Is it okay if I love you?"

Winter, 2041

Eunae never remembered a time when her parents, albeit divorced, didn't get along, or when she didn't talk to all of her unofficial uncles frequently. Standing at the stairs, she watched her father greet guests at his New Year's party, spotting her mother and stepfather on one side of the room talking animatedly with another family friend.

She saw some other familiar faces and smiled, going over to say hello.

"Where's Jaehee?" she asked her Uncle Changmin, looking around, and answered her own question by spotting Uncle Changmin's son on the couch. He was playing on his Nintendo and his hood was drawn up, but she could still see the scowl present on his face. "Um. Is he all right?"

"Like father, like son," came from behind her and Eunae spun around to hug her Uncle Yunho.

"You don't know what you're talking about, hyung. I was an angel." As her Uncle Yunho busted out in laughter, Eunae couldn't help but giggle too, especially having heard countless stories about her Uncle Changmin's rare, but volatile, moodiness.

The doorbell rang again over the hum of multiple conversations and Eunae craned her head to see who it would be. The second she spotted the familiar hair, she excused herself and moved back to the stairs where she could see better.

The other thing that she's always known was that Uncle Junsu and Uncle Yoochun were together. Her father never hid that fact from her and she never questioned it. But now she watched with the new knowledge that her father had loved Uncle Junsu before her mother even came along, wondered how obvious it would be.

Uncle Yoochun stepped inside first, immediately giving her father a big hug that made her father laugh as he returned it. They talked for a few seconds, and then Uncle Yoochun left, already waving at another familiar face. And then it was him.

There was nothing particularly special, no sneaked kisses or prolonged stares. The only thing Eunae caught was the way her father touched his hand first, then hugged him tight, maybe holding on for half a second longer than with Uncle Yoochun. They talked for a bit too, and then Uncle Yoochun came back, laughing, and pulled him away.

It's like her father expected her to be watching, though Eunae figured they both knew it would be odd if she wasn't. Of course she had felt many things after her father told his story, anger being one of them. But right now, as her father blew her a kiss, she could only smile half-heartedly back.

---

Ten minutes before midnight, Jaejoong sneaks away from the crowd and heads upstairs to his bedroom. He grabs the half empty pack of cigarettes from the nightstand before stepping out on the balcony.

He's taking his first drag when the balcony door opens again, and blowing it out when Junsu steps into view beside him.

"Did you ever try to quit?" Junsu says, only half-teasing.

Jaejoong smiles wryly and brings the cigarette up to his lips again. "I told Eunae about us," he says, the smoke coming out with his words. "Or you, really."

"Oh."

"She doesn't hate you."

Junsu nods.

Taking a few more drags, Jaejoong then puts out the cigarette against the railing, tossing it out onto his lawn after. "Do you ever wonder about what could've been?"

"No. Do you?"

Jaejoong smiles and shakes his head, then leans it on Junsu's shoulder. "But I bet we would've been great." Junsu kisses the top of his hair and he closes his eyes.

When the noise from downstairs grows louder, Jaejoong moves again, lifting his head and squeezing Junsu's hand. "Minute left," he says. "Don't be late."

Jaejoong holds on as long as he can, but doesn't watch as Junsu disappears back inside.

Art Post

Art: A man once said.

2009-03-28T03:37:44Z

Artist: longleggedgit
Fic: A man once said.
Rating: One worksafe

Please leave all comments for the artist here!

orionsroad: meet you there (At the End of the World) (1/2)

2009-03-26T20:56:20Z

Title: meet you there (At the End of the World)
Author: orionsroad
Pairing(s): Yunho/Jaejoong, Jaejoong/Changmin, friendship-ot5
Rating: R
Summary: It's odd, the things you find when there's nothing to lose and no agenda to follow. Five young men find each other at the end of the world, and figure out how to live through the last days of humanity.
Warnings: Apocalyptic setting, minor drug use, alcohol.
Word count: 11 414
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: Thanks to my fabulous betas, bellasaurus & tatsunotoshi - I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks also to all the encouraging words of my flist!

Text in blue italics indicates English spoken words.

meet you there (At the End of the World)

Yunho met him in a club, one so very similar to every other he’d been in during the blur of day and night that the last few days had come to. The music was loud and fast and strong, and the sweaty bodies inside the small packed room writhed with the beat. Lights flashed, like an epileptic fit onto slick bodies and wild eyes. A momentary flash briefly lit one out face out of the mess, catching Yunho’s eyes; he found him there, in a blinding kaleidoscope of shining white. It only lasted a half second or two, before the strobe moved on and highlighted another pale face. But Yunho’s eyes did not move with it.

He was just one of them, one of the crowd; a sweaty, frantic body just like any other. But Yunho had noticed him. Seen him amongst all others and was able to find him there amongst that mass. Because despite how he was so perfectly unmemorable, he’d smiled at Yunho in that half second. A smile; tired, weary, broken and so far from unremarkable.

Yunho found him in the middle of the dance floor, and he came easily into his arms, unquestioning. They danced, the press of their bodies so startlingly real and solid, even as they were swallowed by the heady, heavy beats and the writhing mass of tragic, make-believe creatures around them. Jaejoong moved against him, a solid heated body, and his dark eyes glinted black in the dim light of the club.

“I’m Yunho,” he said eventually, almost shouting against the music. He didn’t know why he bothered, didn’t know if his partner gave a damn what his name was. Or that he could even hear. Or understand, for that matter. The boy smiled up at him though, white teeth bright in the dimness. The hot kiss of his breath against Yunho’s neck as he leant in made him shudder slightly.

The boy kissed him once there, then stepped back slightly, as much as the small room in which they moved would allow, and held up a hand. A small round white pill lay on his finger. His eyes met Yunho’s as his pink tongue left its cavern and the pill was pressed to the tip, balancing there. Eyes still locked, he moved back into Yunho’s arms, head tilted in invitation. Yunho didn’t think as he enveloped the other young man, the scent of sex and sweat heavy between them as their lips met. He’d never done drugs before, but now seemed to be a good time to start.

The beat of the room reverberated around him, inside him, a cornucopia of sound and colour. His eyes slid shut, better to feel the slick slide of Jaejoong’s tongue. The little white pill went down as Jaejoong allowed him to swallow, kissing him again as the world spun away.

“Jaejoong.” He heard, as the lights rosetted into fireworks, exploding in his eyes, his mind. Warmth ran up through his stomach and he felt Jaejoong melt into him.

“My name’s Jaejoong.”

He woke up in a room, on a bed. His mind shook, dizzy and nauseated as he opened his eyes to the cracked ceiling and dirty off-white paint. He hadn’t woken up to a familiar ceiling in weeks. There was a body on him, beside him, and Yunho remembered the slick undulations of it moving against him in the darkness. Except the memory was too vivid, too broken and too overwhelming. The body sighed against his chest and Yunho fell back into oblivion.

The next time Yunho woke up, it was with a dull headache. There was a dusky, dull light filtering in through the shaded windows, signalling some form of daylight… most likely dusk. He blinked, eyes gummed and strained from sleep and the other activities of the evening before. It was all a blur, a blur of bright, bright lights and a shining angel who rode him to heaven before the world faded away.

Looking blearily down beside him, he found not an angel but a worn, skinny young man, whose face was slack with sleep but undeniably exhausted. But then again, who wasn’t these days? Even if there were nothing real to do, the worry alone aged and tired you like nothing else.

The dark-ringed eyelids fluttered slightly in sleep, a frown pulling across the young man’s face. He was some sort of pretty, Yunho thought to himself briefly. Some sort of pretty… a thought Yunho knew he’d never have had before about a guy.

Broad shoulders defied any idea of a woman, the sharp angles down to the tapered waist and bare buttocks showing not an ounce of softness. He was petite, wiry, smooth and pale… but very much a young man. A young man he’d taken to bed, not even knowing his name.

“Jaejoong. My name’s Jaejoong.”

Huh. So maybe he did have a name after all. Not that it mattered.

With that in mind, Yunho carefully sat up, sprawling Jaejoong across the bed. He made a face in protest in his sleep, curling up slightly at the change in position and the lack of Yunho’s warmth.

Yunho paid him no mind however, moving to swing his legs down onto the cool floor of the room. A corner of the sheet pooled over one leg, offering some sort of dignity against his nakedness, which Yunho saw as ironic. For a moment, he couldn’t move, the strange spinning in his head rendering him immobile. Instead, he sat, arms resting on his knees as he lent forward slowly, and thought. He tried to capture the memory last night, tried to grasp hold of the fleeting images and feelings. He saw a flash of Jaejoong turning back to look at him, hand enclosing his own while he was lead onwards. He recalled the feeling of euphoria (faked but felt), the lightness, the feeling of not having a care in the world.

It was odd, that feeling. He thought he might like to have that again. Then he snorted, because it was something they’d all have… soon enough, soon enough.

As he contemplated the floorboards, fragmented memories fluttering around in his mind, he heard the sheets rustle from behind him and felt the dip of the mattress as it moved under him. There was nearly no surprise when a warm hand touched his shoulder.

“Stay?” Jaejoong asked, staring at one of the many cracks that riddled the walls. “I don’t want to be alone.” The light touch on his back solidified into a hand held against his back, and Yunho wondered how hard it would be to reach out and touch some one.

Yunho paused, turning slightly to look at the pale shoulders and dark messy hair and seeing someone just alone and lost as he was. “No. I don’t think any of us do,” he said eventually, and leaned back into the touch slightly, staring out the window as Jae’s hands slid up his back and his head rested on the rise of his shoulder blades.

They stayed like that until the light was gone, finding comfort again in the dark.

Yunho stayed with Jaejoong. Partially because Jaejoong was warm and beautiful, but mostly because he was there and it was better then being alone. He had wondered, previously, wandering the city, if the whole mess at the airport in Seoul had been worth anything. Wondered if being here in a strange, alien city alive and alone was better then being back there and dead. After all, it had been pretty obvious after the first week that the scientists in Australia were not going to make some miraculous breakthrough; that they were all in for the same fate. Eventually.

So being with someone else was… nice. Jaejoong was odd and whimsical and Yunho was pretty sure that if he’d met him at any other time he’d have thought him weird and kept away. He was chaotic and carefree, a polar opposite to Yunho’s own controlled view of the world. In any other situation, Yunho would have hated that and the edge of wildness that seemed to hover constantly around the boy. But somehow, in the here and now that they faced, Jaejoong was charming and fey and something to hold onto.

They didn’t go back to the club - that particular one, or any other. There seemed to be no point anymore. Instead, they wandered the city by day, watching the sky searching for clouds on the horizon. Some days, they went down past the high rise buildings and to the bridge, sitting on the grass and looking out over a sparkling, beautiful bay that came straight out of a tourist brochure. It was odd, being there and seeing that and it felt somewhat discomforting to be just sitting there nonchalantly, enjoying the view and the sunshine. Like they should be doing something more, doing something worthwhile. But Yunho couldn’t think of anything, and the heavy feeling didn’t stop Jaejoong from rolling them over and kissing him.

His kiss was warm and beautiful too, and Yunho held him tightly, filled with the scent of sunshine and grass and the sea breeze. Yunho thought that perhaps this was just as worthwhile as anything else, and kissed him back.

Yunho remembered, back before, all those books he’d seen in shops. ‘40 Places to Visit Before You Die’; ‘100 Things to Do to Really Live’. Yunho wondered how many people actually bought them, and how many of those people actually accomplished any of the things in the books.

He wondered now, if people were still trying to tick off those lists. He wondered if the pressure of knowing they didn’t have any more time left to procrastinate created motivation or apathy. It wasn’t like you could head over to Egypt and see the Great Pyramids anymore anyway. But he supposed that if you were determined… there were still things to be done.

It seemed like those determined people had gone off to complete their lists however, leaving the city full of aimless, apathetic people. You could see them drifting through the streets, either revelling in the freedom or already half dead in their despair.

Even as they were walking, there was a man kneeling on the corner of King and George, beside the empty skeleton of glass and steel that had probably bustled once with technophiles looking for a hit of cool that the little Apple icon brought. This man though was praying for sunshine and never-ending cloudless days rather then a pocket full of music. And a part of Yunho wondered if there was anyone around to listen to him anymore.

Yunho saw him, saw them all, but tried to ignore the evidence of his eyes. Play pretend. Jaejoong’s hand was in his, the pair of them walking close (too close) together. Nobody cared though. Not there in Sydney; not there in that moment when there were plenty of other things to worry about, to hate about. There was no time for redemption anyway and the preachers were having a hard enough time trying to save their own souls and the clamouring masses of those who already believed.

Even when Yunho tried his very hardest, he could not make believe that he was exploring Sydney as a tourist, that Jaejoong was his boyfriend, that they were happy in love and that everything was perfect.

He thought that perhaps Jaejoong could imagine harder then he could. That he could see the world he wanted to see and not the old, grey buildings and empty glass walls with half-people wandering around trying to put meaning into their all-too-short lives. Jaejoong was the sort who dreamed hard – Yunho knew that much. He watched the other boy as he stared into space, his eyes far away and expression blank as he watched the world and saw something else.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, when he couldn’t bear his own thoughts anymore. Jaejoong turned to look at him, and Yunho thought he was beautiful.

“I was wondering if there was anyone else left.” The words were like a cold shower of water, and Yunho felt himself jolt. The dark eyes holding his didn’t flinch however, and Yunho wondered who Jaejoong had lost. He’d tried to stop himself thinking about it, thinking about his mother, his sister and father, just lying down and dying. Tried not to think about that call from his mother, the promises she’d made him make. Tried not to think of cities, countries, full of silence and stillness. Tried not to scream.

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing until Jaejoong kissed him. He choked and broke away to gasp for air, his eyes wide and mind even more scattered then before. Jaejoong was still looking at him, wide deep eyes a pool of nothingness, and Yunho wanted, so very much wanted to smash his face in for his indifference.

And then Jaejoong was walking away, hand slipping from Yunho’s. His footsteps were steady, but and Yunho drew in deep breaths, he saw the way the other man’s fist trembled with how tight Jaejoong was clenching it. He saw the rigidity of Jaejoong’s neck under his soft hair, saw the stiff set of his shoulders.

Abruptly, the anger left him, leaving him feeling drained and empty.

The anger wouldn’t do anything, nor the tears, nor the praying.

There was only today. No past, no future… just now. As long as he kept thinking that, then it would be okay.

He took in a deep breath, holding it until his lungs were ready to burst, before letting it out and jogging after Jaejoong.

The other boy didn’t look at him when he caught up, but his shoulders relaxed slightly and when Yunho’s hand bumped against his own, he let his fingers curl into the tentative embrace.

There was only today.

“I want a drink,” Jaejoong had said, quite abruptly, as they were walking down the street in the middle of the night. Yunho raised an eyebrow at the non sequitur, but shrugged.

“We’ll go to a club then,” he agreed amicably after a moment, starting to wonder what was closest. Jaejoong shook his head though, with wide movements of his head that made him look disturbingly child-like.

“No. Not from a club,” Jaejoong said, and looked over the road. Yunho followed his gaze, coming to rest on the dark shop front of a liquor store not so far from them. His expression took on a worried edge – he could see where Jaejoong was going with this.

“It’s closed, Jae.”

“Yeah. So the owner’s probably gone,” Jaejoong reasoned, with perfect Jaejoong certainty.

“Why can’t we just go to a club?” Yunho near whined, even as he was pulled across the road by a firm tugging grip on his hand. He flowed docilely, because he knew the answer to his own (rhetorical, really) question.

The clubs were depressing. Full of manic, desperate people, looking for a fix, for a way out that, in reality, took them nowhere at all. In all honesty, he wondered why most of the people even pretended to keep going. The increasingly more eclectic mixes of alcohol and drugs openly on offer in most of the places seemed to be a thinly veiled excuse for an easy exit. No wait involved.

Yunho wasn’t even sure what Jaejoong was planning to do, or even if Jaejoong was sure what he was planning to do.

It turned out it didn’t matter much. Just as they were approaching the shop front, an alarm went off, sound blaring over the street. Yunho jumped back in shock and doubly alarmed when the glass window front exploded and some guys hopped over the shards. A few more were coming out the door. They were all young, about his and Jaejoong’s age, and they were all carrying liquor bottles.

Jaejoong ran forward towards the broken window, making Yunho’s heart jump with shock and a twinge of fear.

“Jaejoong!” He yelled, uselessly. Jaejoong didn’t look back, instead leaning over the jaggard remains of the window and grabbing some of the displaced display bottles nearby that weren’t covered in glass.

“Fuck!” he swore, running over to drag Jaejoong back and get him away. Instead, he got an arm full of bottles, and Jaejoong’s bright face laughing at him. Someone else suddenly hurtled through the window, a hand protecting his head as he stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He had two bottles tucked under one arm and another in his hand, a hoodie pulled low over his head.

He looked up momentarily, saw them and flashed a grin.
“Run,” he told them in accented English, before shooting off himself. They soon saw the reason for it, a heavy set man thundering through the store right in their direction.

Yunho’s heart was pumping madly, and he nearly dropped the bottles as Jaejoong shoved his shoulder and forced him into action.

“Come on!”

And then they were off, following the hooded boy as he darted down the street.

The owner came out of the shop behind them, swinging a bat and screaming obscenities.

No one stopped them though, as they ran away and disappeared into a dark, small street. Nobody seemed to care about them, or the shop keeper. Some people watched, silently, as they ran by, crossing streets and turning corners, ducking through dull, empty buildings that all looked the same. The sameness of the huge office buildings and dark shop fronts made it impossible for Yunho to figure out where they were, even if he had time to really look around and get his bearings. He’d never been one for directions, anyway. Not that it much mattered now. Jaejoong was running along beside him, face bright and eyes shining, and that was enough.

They kept moving, slowing as they got further and further from the shop without any sign of pursuit.

“Do you know where we are?” Yunho asked Jaejoong somewhat breathlessly.

“Near Korea town,” came the answer, but not from Jaejoong. They both turned to look at the hooded figure walking a little in front of them. The boy stopped, and turned around to face them. “We’re not far from George Street. You guys are Korean, right?”

“Yes,” Yunho replied, when Jaejoong remained quiet, staring at their hooded companion. The guy’s Korean was a little stilted too, like he was rusty speaking it but knew what he was trying to say.

“You come in on the planes?” the boy asked, and Yunho nodded.

“Yeah. One of the last ones. You?”

“Nah. Been here for a couple of years. I was meant to be doing my university studies here.” The boy snorted dismissively. “So much for that, eh?”

“Yeah,” Yunho said again, weakly. It was weird, finding someone else. Not that there weren’t many Koreans about, but Yunho hadn’t really spoken to many except for Jaejoong. “I’m Yunho,” he said after a moment. The boy smiled at him, and shook back his hoodie. Underneath was an expressive face that was, at the time, looking a little haggard. He was quite Korean-looking, and his hair was a mess that was better off hidden under the hoodie, but he looked like he might be a friendly guy. Someone Yunho thought he would get along with.

“Yoochun,” the boy said, and then looked to Jaejoong with a question in his eyes. Jaejoong just looked back at him, blankly.

Yunho nudged him in the side a little, but it failed to bring out Jaejoong’s voice. Instead, there was the clinking of shifting bottles, and Jaejoong’s hand threaded around Yunho’s armvtentatively. Yunho didn’t miss the way that Yoochun’s eyes darted down to the grip and then back up to his face, a different question in his eyes.

“Like that, is it?” he asked, but Yunho didn’t dignify it with an answer.

“This is Jaejoong,” Yunho said instead.

“Hello,” Jaejoong finally said. “I think you need a haircut.”

Yoochun just stared at him, and Yunho blinked in confusion.

The awkward silence broke, Yoochun’s laughter filling the air between them. And slowly, Jaejoong smiled back at him.

The Botanical Gardens were a good place to drink, Jaejoong thought, fuzzily.

Between the three of them, they’d had two bottles of vodka (one was some sort of berry flavoured vodka though), two sake bottles, two bottles of red wine and one bottle of expensive-looking bubbly. The alcohol had eased the way, and they’d talked and drunk their way through the night.

They were laid out on the grass, under some trees with a sort of balmy breeze washing over them and making the leaves shift to let the stars through. Jaejoong found them pretty, staring at them through his fingers.

“Sing louder,” Yoochun said. “Your voice is… nice.” It was the best word Yoochun could come up with, words all sort of muddling and meshing together in his mind.

Jaejoong rolled over, pressing himself up onto his elbows to stare blankly at the other boy.

“I wussnt,” Jaejoong denied, fairly sure he hadn’t been uttering a word. Yoochun shook his head though, making broad beckoning gestures.

“Were. Sing s’more!”

Jaejoong shrugged, and began to sing. It was something old and slow, that he remembered his parents listening to. He couldn’t remember half the words though, so he made them up. Yoochun didn’t seem to mind, swaying from side to side with his eyes closed, sake bottle still in hand.

Yoochun was fun, Jaejoong decided. He was amusing and he made funny faces and he got Jaejoong in a way that the older boy found rather miraculous. And he could drink as well as Jaejoong… which was substantially more then Yunho.

Jaejoong rolled himself over again to look at Yunho, his expression softening at the sight of the intoxicated man, passed out leaning against a tree with rosy red cheeks. Jaejoong wanted to kiss him, bite his plump lower lip. He wanted to crawl back into his lap and share a kiss of alcohol and daring with him. He wanted to eat him up, take him inside, so he wouldn’t ever be alone again.

The singing faltered, and stopped, leaving them in silence. Jaejoong closed his eyes, mind already drifting away when he heart the soft snuffling.

Blinking himself awake, he saw that the noise didn’t come from the sleeping Yunho, but from Yoochun.

The boy’s head was hung low, and the bottle had been discarded, his hands instead wrapped around his knees. His shoulders were shaking slightly, and Jaejoong realised he was crying.

Biting his lip, Jaejoong struggled up to his hands and knees and moved towards him, not knowing what to say but unable to just leave Yoochun be. He flopped beside Yoochun, and touched his arm lightly.

“I miss my mum.” The words were quiet, and somewhat wet, and Jaejoong’s teeth near cut through his lip as he wrapped his arms around Yoochun, cocooning him from one side and letting him sob into his shirt. Yoochun smelt of smoke and alcohol and loneliness and tears.

They decided to climb the Harbour Bridge. Or rather, Jaejoong decided and Yunho didn’t say no. It wasn’t like they had anything else to do. Yoochun had left them in the pale light of dawn, the three of them saying almost cheerful farewells, with a promise to meet again in two days. There was someone Yoochun had to find, he’d said. Yunho wasn’t sure to be glad or not at the prospect of people other then Jaejoong.

“Shouldn’t we be wearing harnesses?” Yunho asked, as Jaejoong wrestled with the lock on the gate. There were barbed wires and notices everywhere for people not to enter unaccompanied.

Jaejoong looked up at him from the corner of his eye for a moment before focusing back on the heavy lock. After a while, they walked all the way down to the train station at the end of the bridge and stole a long metal pipe, which, while its original use was unknown, did well at smashing off the lock.

The bridge was taller then it looked. The stairs just kept going, up and up, and Yunho felt himself get dizzy as he looked up through the maze of grey steel to the top. It seemed like it took an age to get there, but then once there, Yunho lost his breath.

The walkway was tiny, narrow and somewhat terrifying, but neither of them seemed to mind, eyes set instead on the majestic view stretched below them. Jaejoong’s fingers curled around the railing in a death grip as he leant forward, hair whipped back by the wind and eyes closed to feel the sunshine.

Yunho grabbed him, pulling him back upright, alarmed by the other’s careless abandon but at the same time knowing he wanted to do the exact same thing.

Wordlessly, they began to climb again, following the arch up to its pinnacle, until they were flying high above the water and the city, until they were above the birds that circled the bay.

“I always wanted to come here. Before, you know,” Yunho breathed as he stared down at the Opera House and the sparkling blue ocean that moved and flowed calmly. The ferries had stopped, the boats gone or left moored in the docks, leaving the water undisturbed and pristine.

Jaejoong lent out again, playing with gravity as he raised his arms to the wind. He wondered if this was what it would be like to fly.

The thought of falling never crossed his mind.

When they met up with Yoochun again a day later, he had another boy with him.

He was stocky, about Jaejoong’s height, with dyed brown hair that flopped over one half of his face. His face looked quite sharp and serious, mainly because of his small, assessing eyes. Something about him hinted at someone who had once laughed a lot, loudly and freely. It looked like he hadn’t done so in a while though.

“This is Junsu,” Yoochun introduced him.

“Hello,” Jaejoong said. Junsu just nodded in acknowledgement, eyes checking over them in the same way they were assessing him.

And that was how Junsu joined them; four boys in the world.

It was some time past dark (hours had lost their significance days and days ago) and they were in the middle of Hyde Park, just wandering. They weren’t the only group of people there… it was as good a place as any to be.

It was a little muggy, and Jaejoong could feel his shirt sticking to his skin a little. He hoped it didn’t get any more humid. Humidity meant moisture, and, eventually, rain.

His mind shied away from that thought, and he let his eyes wander to distract himself.

They stopped by the fountain, Yoochun telling some complicated story about music and dreams and the Conservatorium of Music that lay like a castle on the rise not so far away. It was interesting, but Jaejoong didn’t want to hear about broken dreams anymore. So he had stopped listening, leaving Yunho and Junsu to follow the thread of Yoochun’s story. Instead, he looked at the people around them, watching them move around together and watched their expressions. He tried to imagine what they were thinking.

There was a boy, lanky and slightly awkward looking, sitting alone on the fountain not far from them. He was perched on the cool grey stone, a book held in his hands. His eyes were firmly planted on its pages, but Jaejoong couldn’t help but notice how his face twitched, and how his lips pressed together as Yoochun spoke, his eyes darting sideways.

Without really thinking about it, Jaejoong drifted away from the still talking group, and towards the boy.

“Are you Korean?” he asked, standing before the boy and looking down at him. He could see, dimly, that the book the boy was reading had an English title. But he was sure the boy understood him, had understood what Yoochun had been saying. So he stood there and waited until the boy answered him.

“Yes,” the boy said slowly, looking at him warily. Even his eyes were guarded, and Jaejoong wondered why he looked so old, why he seemed so still. Jaejoong wasn’t used to stillness – he liked movement and action and feeling.

But the boy was alone, and reading a book in the middle of the night in a park. And Jaejoong saw something in him that somehow reminded him of himself.

So he sat down beside the boy and cocked his head.

“I’m Jaejoong,” he said. “What are you reading?”

“Changmin,” the boy said shortly, still looking wary. “And I’m reading Peter Kropotkin, ‘Mutual Aid, a Factor of Evolution’.”

“Oh,” was all Jaejoong could think to say. Changmin studied him, like he was looking at an ant, and then somehow relaxed, like Jaejoong not knowing who Peter Kropotkin was made him safe.

“He argues that mutual cooperation is as important for evolution as strife and competition,” Changmin explained.

“Oh,” said Jaejoong again, and thought about explosions of gas in the air and scientists in secret rooms making steam that would make a person lie down and die. “I think he has a point.”

“So do I.”

Three hours later, when Yunho lead them back towards the abandoned apartments where they were sleeping, they had another new addition He brought with him a backpack full of books and a head full of theories.

“Let’s leave.” It was a very decisive statement, and they all turned to look at him. Jaejoong stared back, gaze curiously blank.

“Why?” Yoochun asked, brows furrowed together.

“What is there here to stay for?” Jaejoong replied, blunt and to the point. It was perhaps a shock to find that they had no answer for his question either, and Yunho thought about the way they kept moving about the same areas of the city, over and over. He thought about the other, zombie-like, aimless, people that wandered the city.

“Okay.” The world felt like a bit of release, a bit of relief.

Changmin shrugged, holding his book close to his chest as he studied the others. Yoochun let out a little, brittle laugh.

“Yeah, okay. Why not?” he said, and jumped off the railing he’d been sitting on. Junsu didn’t say anything, but that was as good as a yes.

“We need a car…” Yoochun said after a moment, and Jaejoong bobbed his head.

“You know how to jack one?” Changmin asked, eyebrow raised as he looked around at them. Yoochun scratched his head.

“I’ve seen it in movies?” he offered tentatively. Jaejoong laughed, a short, biting sound that was oddly carefree. Yunho found himself smiling.

A little while later, when they found the right building, the right door and crept in guiltily to smash open the key cabinet of a valet parking place, Junsu turned to Changmin with wide eyes and told him it was the most illegal thing he’d ever done.

They drove through the high rise buildings, got lost in the exits and finally made their way over the Harbour Bridge. It was large and empty, and as Junsu hung out the rear window, wind blowing his hair back, Jaejoong looked at Yoochun in the rear view mirror.

“It used to be full all the time,” the younger man said, and then looked out the window as the metal bars blurred past them.

Jaejoong made no answer, eyes fixing back on the road. After a moment, he reached forward and turned the CD player on. He began to hum lightly to the music, sliding his window down too and resting his elbow on the door.

Changmin read the signs as they whizzed past, telling Jaejoong in vague instructions where they should be headed. But really, they were heading nowhere and Jaejoong made up the way as he went along.

It was odd, going through the suburbs: all the neat houses with their pretty gardens and picket fences. They weren’t like the houses in Korea, or the apartments of Sydney city, and it gave them the shivers to look at the empty husks that used to be homes. Almost as much as seeing the families and people who were still there, living like it was just another day.

They drove and drove and drove and Jaejoong chose a random exit that lead north and saw them shooting down a freeway, surrounded by bush and wind and the echoing silence that was the open road.

“No meat?”Yoochun asked, looking over the sparse contents of the so-called ‘supermarket’ they’d stopped at. It was probably the only such place in the small town, but it felt like a hollow, deserted shell. The empty aisles and picked-over shelves were eerie. The lone guy in the store, the owner perhaps (for why else would he still be there?) just smirked at them, shaking his head.

“Yeah, right. Go catch yourself a cow, mate. We aint been getting anything new for the last week.” His voice was gruff and gravelly, like he’d swallowed a cheese grater. It suited him, and Yunho lost track of what they were saying, staring at the brawny, weather-beaten man.

He didn’t know how long it had been when Yoochun and Changmin came back, Changmin carrying a cloth sack that looked heavy.

“Cans,” the boy grunted.

“Not much else here,” Yoochun added. “Nothing’s moving anymore, and cans will keep.”

Yunho nodded, shrugged, and stuck a hand out, wordlessly offering to carry the bag. Changmin glared at him slightly before striding off, leaving Yunho to shrug again and trail after him, Yoochun at his side.

Outside, cars and trucks filled the lot, making them pause in surprise. It had been empty when they’d driven in. Now though, people were milling around the new vehicles in a group, and their car seemed isolated and out of place, parked off to one side. They could see Jaejoong and Junsu, watching the people while leaning on the doors of the car.

Changmin dumped the bag in the boot with a grunt, nestling it into a bed of heavy books. Jaejoong wandered over, one eye still on the mass of people over the way.

“Who are they?” Changmin asked. Jaejoong shook his head.

“I don’t know. They’re speaking English,” he said by way of explanation. “They look like they know where they’re going,” he added after a moment.

Changmin looked at the people, and saw what Jaejoong meant. They weren’t lost or aimless like most people. They had the presence of purpose around them, like there was somewhere they needed to go, something they needed to accomplish. It was more then most people had these days. It was curious.

“I want to talk to them,” Changmin decided after a moment.

A hand came down on Jaejoong’s shoulder, uncomfortably warm in the bright sunlight. He looked up to see Yunho standing beside him, looking at Changmin.

“I’ll come with you,” Yunho said.

And so they went, ambling across to the group with their hands in their pockets, eyes squinting against the sun.

Part 2

orionsroad: meet you there (At the End of the World) (2/2)

2009-03-26T20:52:00Z

“They’re going inland,” Yunho said when they came back. The people were milling, loading stuff – supplies – into their cars and trucks, a fierce determination around them. Instinct. Survival of the fittest, or those that cared enough. “They figure they can outstay the rain there. Do you want to go with them?” Outback Australia wasn’t the Sahara, but it was just as unforgiving, and there would not be a cloud in the sky there.

Jaejoong looked out over Yunho’s shoulder to the people. Looked at the way their faces were set with grim resolve, the way they carried their hope on their sleeves. His focus moved back to Yunho, and he saw something else there.

A willingness to follow him.

Jaejoong could see, right there in Yunho’s face that Yunho would go wherever he decided to go. And he knew just as instinctively that the others would fall in line after that. Shifting his weight to one hand, Jaejoong reached up to cup Yunho’s cheek, touching him fondly.

Why didn’t I meet him earlier, have more time? A part of him asked, but he knew it to be a futile, useless question. It was luck he found Yunho when he did, and besides, there was nothing more he could do about past regrets.

“No,” he said, and skimmed the pad of his thumb over Yunho’s cheekbone. Yunho nodded, ever so slightly, accepting. He never asked why, but Jaejoong supplied the reason anyway. “A hole in the desert somewhere… living for hope and fear. No…” He paused, eyes turning to the roadside and the dry, wilted bushes there. “We fucked ourselves over. It’s time to move on.”

Yunho and Changmin waved to the people as they drove past with Yoochun at the wheel. They were heading in opposite directions, one way to hope of life, the other to the hope of living. Yunho was not sure he knew which way was which.

They kept driving north, a long stretch of highway surrounded by blackened bush and signs for brumbies. Jaejoong looked out the window, watching the silver gum trees fly past and fancied he could see the silvery shadows of horses galloping through them.

“Look, bananas.” Junsu’s statement was somewhat full of wonder, and all of them turned to look out the window, even Yoochun who was driving. They’d seen pastures, seen cows and sheep and horses, seen the animals roaming around their closed off pastures like there wasn’t a worry in the world. For them though, there probably wasn’t. So long as there was grass on the ground and water in their ponds, they didn’t care about what problems the world had. They’d just been something to look at for the five boys in a car on a long, empty road.

But bananas were different.

It didn’t take much, just a few significant looks shared around the car, and then they were pulled over beside the fence, the five of them clambering out.

None of them could say they had any fruit picking experience, but it wasn’t exactly rocket science.

Changmin emptied his backpack, and they picked bananas. It took a bit of effort and creative force to hoist one of them up towards the leafy tops of the trees. It was Yoochun that went up first, deemed to be the lightest of them all. He struggled for balance, and then came up against the other obstacle of pest control. The large bunch of very ripe (perhaps too ripe) looking fruits was protected by a plastic net of some sort. Frowning, and wobbling on his groaning support, he managed to pull it open and off, and loose a large bunch of bananas.

Junsu went up next, after they’d found a suitable (short) tree. He had slightly more difficulty with the net, and fell once, before getting the bunch down. They moved forward again, working on another tree when Jaejoong abruptly stopped pulling his weight (or rather, holding Yoochun’s weight), causing the picking to pause as Yoochun cursed at him and rubbed his head.

Jaejoong wasn’t paying attention however, Yunho either, the pair of them staring off to the right. The others turned to look, and found a farmer standing not too far off, on the porch of a small house next to a dirt road that marked the end of the banana field.

His name was Dan, he told Changmin, and they were welcome to take as many bananas as they liked.

“’S not like anyone else’s gonna be eating them. So go righttahead boys.”

He helped them pull down another bunch, and using his large, long clippers was a lot easier then balancing Junsu on someone’s shoulders. Dan didn’t ask them where they were from as they carried the bananas back to the car, or where they were going. Didn’t say much at all, really.

Before they left, he gave them a small box of oranges, large and round and ripe.

Junsu watched him from the window of the car as they pulled away. The man’s lone figure raised his hand in a farewell gesture, before he was enveloped by dust and the strong sunshine.

The house was big. Glass and white painted wood, it was no doubt the remnant of some rich magnate, who would have used it to get away from it all. It stood up on the short cliff over the beach they’d pulled up at, the structure gleaming in the light as they squinted up at it. It was like some magical, shining castle, just waiting for the fairytale to begin.

Jaejoong’s toes curled into the sand and he studied the surroundings as Junsu and Changmin began to climb up the small path to the house, scrabbling over stones and pulling at shrubs. It had been a long time since the path had been used.

They left their car on the opposite rise, abandoned.

Getting rid of the alarms was easily done, prizing the contraptions from the wall and yanking out the wires. It wasn’t as if the police would be out to see who disturbed this lost sanctum – this place was forgotten by the world, too busy with its own problems to care anymore.

They walked through the wooden-panelled hallway and out into a sweeping room of white and timber. It was simple and clean and the most serene room Yunho had ever seen. He wondered if the owner had appreciated it, had spent time here and relaxed here and valued it for the haven it was.

Yoochun walked out to the balcony, twisting the locks before throwing open the wide glass doors and letting the sea breeze sweep through the empty rooms.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaejoong whispered, stepping out and over the stained wooden boards to look out over the vast ocean. Yoochun made some sort of noise, perhaps derisive, perhaps not, and leant forward to rest his chin on his folded arms.

They sprawled through the house, claiming it as their own. It was beautiful and the kind of thing they’d only ever seen on TV… they felt like liars pretending to live there, but in the end, wasn’t that what they were? It was easy to stay there though, like entering a limbo where the days and nights merged together and time had no meaning anymore. Where they weren’t just waiting anymore.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Junsu said, lying across the soft white rug and scrunching his fingers into the luxurious fabric.

“What is?” Changmin asked, eyeing the older boy lazily.

“This place. All of the work and sacrifice to find and create this little piece of heaven… and it’ll all be put to waste.” He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just sad.”

Changmin was silent for a long while, and Junsu had almost fallen asleep when he replied.

“This place will still be here. It will survive, for a while at least. It’s just that there will be no one left to enjoy it.” Junsu looked up at him, meeting the studious young man’s eyes, and wished that he’d fallen asleep and missed those softly spoken words.

Suddenly it felt like the whole thing was crashing down on him and all the things he didn’t want to think about welled up in his mind, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He had to bite his lip, look away, to stop Changmin from seeing the dampness that collected in his eyes.

“Don’t –” Changmin began, feeling guilty for being too honest with his thoughts. It wasn’t like any of them needed any reminding. But he faltered after that first word. He was clumsy with soft words and didn’t know what to say to make it better again.

“I… I have a twin. Junho. My hyung. He was in America when the gas was dropped. He was about to start University in California. His dream, not mine, so I never thought about going.” And then his breath hitched and he stop again, collecting himself. Changmin remained silent, still, letting him release because there wasn’t much else he could do. He already knew how the story ended, and Changmin thought of his own sister, trapped in an apartment in Korea until her body rotted.

“I saw it on the news, you know? I saw the satellite pictures they got, saw all the bodies… just… lying there.” He swallowed, hard. “It was horrific. I remember just going blank for a while, and then my mother crying and crying . And I knew, I knew Junho was dead and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.” Junsu turned his head, burying it into the rug for a moment before restlessly rolling over, hand hiding his face from the light and Changmin.

“I don’t know. Everything… it all just seemed jumbled up. All I could think about was Junho, but then they started to realise it wasn’t going away… that it was going to move with the weather. The woman next door started screaming, and Dad was throwing us in the car to go to the airport.”

There wasn’t any need to continue, and Changmin could imagine what had happened after that. They’d heard about the utter chaos at the airports, the panicked crowds acting like so many scared sheep, ready to trample and push whoever they needed to in order to find a way out. Not that it mattered much in the end. A few more weeks, that was all.

Changmin felt the memories and the silence between them creep down his back, making his hair stand on end. Useless words itched at his throat, and he found a few of them spilling out unbidden.

“At least it was painless,” he said. Junsu moved his hand slightly, looking up at Changmin with one eye for a while. The sheen in his eyes was gone; the release of talking about it, of saying Junho’s name aloud taking out some of the pain and replacing it instead with weariness and some kind of acceptance.

“At least it will be,” Junsu agreed.

There was a radio in the house. Actually, it would have been insulting to call the huge entertainment system set up a mere ‘radio’, but somewhere behind the slick, sleek interface was the dinky regular parts of a radio. There wasn’t much to listen to on it, hadn’t been for some time with all the stations slowly slipping from the air as one by one they gave up. One or two remained however, and there was some guy in Sydney still broadcasting. Yunho couldn’t really say how he kept the relay up and going so far out of the city, but in the end it didn’t really matter how he did it.

The guy’s name was Tee Taylor. Or at least that’s what he called himself. It sounded like a daft name, but then again people called their kids daft things.

Tee played music sometimes, often weird old stuff from the 50s or something. It was nothing that any of them recognized at least, but it left them feeling odd and displaced. The newer songs, the ones that they knew from hearing on the radio in times past when they were normal and things were just the way they were meant to be - to those they sometimes sung along.

Junsu could sing, they found out. He had a beautiful, unique voice that soared. He and Jaejoong harmonized, their voices melding effortlessly, and Yunho wondered aloud if either of them had ever considered being singers.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve always loved singing. I might have tried out for one of the entertainment companies. But they are so hard to get into.” Junsu stopped abruptly there, face screwing up as he remembers that it wasn’t ‘are’ anymore, but ‘were’ instead, and knew that it was just another dream unfulfilled.

“I left home when I was fourteen,” Jaejoong told them, voice coming into being unexpectedly. They all looked at him, but he was staring out the window with that glassy-eyed look that meant he was somewhere else entirely. “I wanted to be a singer. That’s how I got to Seoul.” It’s no wonder then that he doesn’t even have high school English, Yunho thought to himself inanely. He wondered what had happened in Seoul to make Jaejoong stop wanting to sing. Because the idea that he hadn’t been able to make it seemed silly; Jaejoong probably would have done whatever it took.

After that, nobody spoke for a while, the sound of the music filling the room and sounding wildly inappropriate.

Despite the mixed feelings evoked by the variety of music that Tee selected, they perhaps felt the most odd when Tee just talked. They were out in the middle of no where, and the disembodied voice of Tee was like a reminder that there were actually other people still out there.

A reminder that they weren’t alone at the end of the world.

Changmin found Jaejoong in the kitchen, cutting up pieces of orange. His lips and fingers were stained with the juice, and he looked so perfectly normal that Changmin felt like crying. Instead, he came up behind the older man and wrapped his arms around Jaejoong’s waist, like he’d seen Yunho do before. Jaejoong paused in his movements for a moment, before continuing. He hummed as he cut, and Changmin could feel and hear the deep vibrations as he pressed his cheek to Jaejoong’s back, the sound somehow reassuring. He closed his eyes, and imagined that this was the world.

The peace was disturbed as Jaejoong’s fingers stilled, the knife resting, immobile, on the cutting board. He leant against the bench for a while, feeling Changmin’s solid weight against his back, feeling the warmth of the taller boy and staring out the wide windows to the sea. There were no signs of clouds. Not yet, not yet.

He turned, eventually, catching Changmin in his arms and pressing a piece of orange to the lips of the other. Changmin opened his eyes and took the offering, lips curling around Jaejoong’s fingers as well as the fruit.

“Please…” he murmured, ripe explosions of orange filling his mouth, sliding down his throat. “Please…”

And then Jaejoong’s lips were against his, a rush of something warm shooting up his spine at the contact.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt so much from a kiss before, had ever felt someone’s skin with the intensity and focus that he now touched Jaejoong with. It was a hunger, a deep desire that roared to life from a place he hadn’t known had existed inside him.

A desire to know this. To be touched. To be known. To be loved. By anyone. Just once.

He couldn’t stop, even as he felt himself devouring Jaejoong in any way he could find possible. The slices of orange scattered and fell to the ground, a different sort of offering laid out over the cool marble.

There were no words between them as Jaejoong threaded his fingers though Changmin’s hair, guiding him slowly to all the things Changmin wanted to experience, steady fingers and sure hands acting like a lifeline.

His skin was smooth, soft and pliable as Changmin’s fingers clutched at every part of him, pulling at the soft fabrics that covered Jaejoong’s body, clumsy but reverent in his actions.

It was messy and off kilter, desperate and sad and sweet, but it was beautiful. And after, when Changmin cried, Jaejoong just held him.

Hours later, Yunho found them on the kitchen floor, hiding from the rays of sun behind the kitchen island. They were both half naked, with Changmin lying on Jaejoong’s chest as the elder ran his fingers through his hair.

For a long while Yunho just looked down at them silently, watching the movement of Jaejoong’s hand and recalling the feeling of that same hand moving through his own hair.

The shuffle of his feet on tiles made Jaejoong look up at him. The young man’s wide, dark eyes held no guilt, nor any real surprise at Yunho’s presence. Under his calm, steady gaze any recriminations Yunho felt surfacing slowly faded. His eyes flickered down to Changmin’s peaceful face, blotchy cheeks and damp lashes pulling away the world-weary cynicism that had hung over the young man like a protective shroud ever since they’d met. Without it, all Yunho saw was a boy; a boy who was just as lost as they all were.

Sighing, Yunho found himself sliding down against the side of the island, coming to sit beside Jaejoong on his other side.

“Can I cry too?” Yunho asked. Changmin snorted, and then snuffled, and then laughed. He pulled himself upwards and off Jaejoong, resting back against the island as well.

Jaejoong let him go, and turned to Yunho. His face held none of the mirth Changmin’s did, and he put his hand on top of Yunho’s on the other’s knee.

“If you want,” he said. Yunho’s hand turned over, lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.” Jaejoong added quietly, eyes moving from his left to his right and back again between the two proud young men on either side of him.

“Yeah?” Yunho half asked, half stated. He felt Jaejoong squeeze his hand, and he returned the pressure.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never cried,” Changmin remarked, examining the cupboard door in front of him.

Jaejoong’s lips tilted up slightly, and his head fell back to rest against the polished marble. His free hand came down on Changmin’s knee, patting it. Both Changmin and Yunho watched as his eyes slid closed, his chest rising and falling in a contented sigh.

“For a while now, I’ve haven’t felt the need to.”

Sometimes, they watched movies.

The movies didn’t have subtitles, of course. Well, some had German or French ones, but they were of even less use to them. But they watched them anyway, laid sprawled across each other on the couch and rug. They watched in silence. Neither of the English speakers tried to explain what was going on, and none of the others asked for an explanation. Jaejoong stretched, hugging Yunho’s leg close as he rubbed his cheek into the soft cotton of Yunho’s pants, and wondered if this was somehow profane. If watching movies while waiting for the world to end was wonderfully ironical or just plain stupid.

But… it was… nice. Just to be.

It was nice, to be with others. To be able to lie with his head in Yunho’s lap, to absently touch Changmin’s hair, to nudge Junsu’s shoulder with his foot, or pretend to step on Yoochun’s stomach as he brought back banana’s for them to eat.

It was nice, to be able to forget, for a moment, and just be carefree.

It was nice, to wander down the craggy path to the beach, slipping and sliding, grabbing each other for balance and tumbling out onto the shore.

It was nice, to run after Yoochun, tackling him from behind and tumbling them both into the sand. It was nice, to hear Junsu’s war cry and Changmin’s cry of surprise as he was splashed with salty water. It was nice, to play with the waves and each other, to fall back into the ocean and squint up at the sky to just see clear, brilliant blue without wondering when the clouds would come.

It was nice, to have two arms to circle his waist, to feel warmth at his back and know there was someone there, that the rumble of momentary contentment that came from that chest was not at all faked.

It was nice to just be, to enjoy and to forget for a while.

“What’s one thing you love to do?” Yunho had asked them all, one morning.

“What is this, 20 questions?” Changmin said back, rolling his eyes. Yoochun smacked the back of his head.

“Soccer,” Junsu piped up, before Yoochun got a chance to retort verbally, cutting off the impending squabble. “I love to play soccer.”

Jaejoong nods, thoughtfully, as if he’d known all along. Yunho looks at him then, eyebrow raised.

“I always enjoyed cooking. And singing.” The odd concoctions that Jaejoong had been creating for them from canned goods somewhat made sense with the answer, but, well, it had been nice to have one among them that could actually boil water.

“Composing music,” was Yoochun’s answer, sounding wistful. He’d said as much, not so long ago, while talking about dreams that never were. “The one thing I wished I could have done – made a song for someone to sing.”

They all turn to look at Changmin, who sighed. “I like watching people.” He got a few odd looks, and shrugged. “I like thinking about who they might be, what they’re doing, what they’re thinking,” he explained.

“What about you?” Jaejoong asked Yunho, leaning on his shoulder and looking at Yunho sideways. Yunho smiled a little, leaning back against the other boy.

“Dancing,” he said, and Jaejoong could hear the love in his voice.

That evening, Jaejoong pulled all the paper he could find in the house into the kitchen and sat at the island there with a look of determination, a roll of masking tape and a black marker.

The next morning, Junsu woke up when someone hit him in the face with something light but kind of hard. He found a lumpy, yellowish ‘soccer ball’ with designs in black marker on it rolling beside his bed and Jaejoong standing over him with a smile.

They played soccer on the beach all morning, before coming back to the house where Jaejoong set to making an ill-conceived feast while Yoochun sat in the kitchen, keeping him company and scribbling on left over scraps of paper.

After lunch, Jaejoong and Junsu sat down to decipher the scribbles, and after a lot of false starts and some laughing, they sang a song that Jaejoong gave the title, ‘Love, goodbye love.’ And then they sang it again, with Changmin and Yunho joining in at the chorus, and Yoochun began to cry.

That night, when they got sick of the radio and Tee and the world, they put on CDs from the rack beside the entertainment system. Junsu found an older compilation CD of dance songs from the early ‘90s, and Jaejoong shoved Yunho up from the couch.

Yunho danced with control, just like Jaejoong thought he would. But he was beautiful when he danced, and his face came alive.

After a few songs, Junsu joined him, dancing around the living room, bare toes curling into the plush carpet as his hips twisted and his body swayed.

Yoochun got up after a song, taking one of Junsu’s outstretched hands and dancing around him. He couldn’t dance as well as Junsu, but it didn’t matter. And then Yunho slowed his movements, and reached down to pull Jaejoong up. Jaejoong protested all the way, insecure without a crowded push of bodies around him. He tried to run away from Yunho’s hands as he pulled Jaejoong close and forced him to dance but in the end he surrendered, and Yunho grinned in satisfaction as Jaejoong moved somewhat clumsily beside him.

Changmin watched them as they danced, his foot tapping to the beat absently, and smiled.

Yunho woke up to dim moonlight and found that Jaejoong wasn’t there. The floorboards felt cool under his feet as he slipped out of the room and down the stairs, trying not to make them creak.

Even before he got down to the bottom, he could see Jaejoong, a dark silhouette outlined against the wide glass doors, staring out to sea. He had one hand up on the cool pane, like he was trying to touch the sky.

Jaejoong didn’t turn as Yunho approached, and Yunho hung back for a while, watching him. He wanted to reach out and touch Jaejoong but for some reason he was hesitant.

How long have I know this man? He thought to himself suddenly. It’s not something he’d really thought about much. The fact that he was in a house with four other boys he doesn’t really know, trying to live until the end of the world. He’s kissed Jaejoong, held him, fucked him, eaten with him, danced with him… but did any of that mean anything?

“It’s a full moon.” The words startled him, so loud and stark in the darkness. His eyes automatically flicked to look beyond Jaejoong’s figure, and he looked out to see the moon and its watery reflection.

“So it is,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Jaejoong said after some time in silence. Yunho just nodded, and so the shorter boy took his hand and led him out through the doors and down the little path which was even harder to navigate by night then it is by day. He led him down to the edge of the water, until the waves tickled their toes.

The moon was somehow bigger then it had seemed from inside, hanging up in the midnight sky like a lantern.

Jaejoong looked good by moonlight. It picked up his most handsome features, made him glow like some sort of fey creature. This is what happens in movies, Yunho thought to himself absently as he stared at the other boy, unable to look away. There was something stuck in his throat, and he wondered if it might be his heart.

And then Jaejoong turned to look at him, giving him a smile that was all too human.

“Come on,” Jaejoong told him, and turned to walk down the edge of the waves.

Jaejoong seemed to be content to walk in silence, small waves lapping at their feet as they stepped over shells and washed up seaweed. Their hands were still comfortably entwined, and it made Yunho’s insides feel funny at how right this all seemed and how stupid that he’d never got to feel this way before.

They walked all the way down to the large dark rocks that decorated the edge of the beach, leading up to a craggy, bush-covered cliff.

Jaejoong scrambled up the side of a rock, Yunho lending his hand for balance and hoping that their feet wouldn’t be shredded on the slick rocks or tenacious barnacles that hung to the hidden crags. Yunho followed him up though, never thinking to do otherwise, and settled himself on the rock behind Jaejoong, wrapping his arms around the boy once more.

“I’m not afraid anymore,” Jaejoong said, quietly. Yunho’s brow furrowed and he pulled Jaejoong against him tighter, like he could protect him from the future.

“Were you ever afraid?” he asked, wondering. Yunho couldn’t remember ever seeing anything in Jaejoong that showed that he was scared, or even that he wanted to run away from it all. Jaejoong had always seemed so calm and accepting of their fates.

“Of course.” Jaejoong seemed surprised at his question. “I’ve been afraid since the day they told us about the gas, about the water. I was terrified in Seoul. When Youngmi shoved me into the plane, I was shaking, I was so afraid.” Yunho felt him take a deep breath, felt him push back into the embrace. “When I was on the plane… I was angry. I was angry at them for their stupidity, for their carelessness, for their war-mongering, for their god complex and their need to control everything. I hated them all but I knew they were dead already and that there was no going back.”

They were silent for a while, looking out at the water and thinking separate thoughts.

“There was a woman in the airport, when I arrived. She kept saying we deserved it, that we were getting what was coming to us, and it was God’s will that we died.” He paused for a few moments, remembering that day, when he’d felt most afraid, most lost. “After a while, a man hit her. Right across the face. He told her to shut up, that she was a lunatic. People were staring at them, and I remember wondering which of them was right.”

Jaejoong snorted. “Does it matter?”

“No… I suppose not.” Yunho hadn’t really thought about it like that. But then again, not much in general seemed to matter anymore.

“I guess that’s why I’m not afraid. In the end, dying isn’t the hard part. It’s the living that’s the worst.”

Yunho didn’t have anything to say to that.

“I’m glad I’m here. With you.” The words were sure and though they startled Yunho, he felt something in himself warm at them. Jaejoong’s hand came up to encase his own on the slim waist, freeing himself momentarily so as to allow himself to shift and turn around. They stared at each other for a while, and Yunho felt himself relax, really relax, in their embrace.

“I wish – “ Yunho began, voice full of longing. Jaejoong stopped him though; a finger to his lips as he leaned forward, their faces only an inch apart.

“Don’t.” It was a command, and Yunho felt the words die on his lips, only to be swallowed by Jaejoong’s as they pressed against his own.

“Don’t wish. There’s no more time for wishing,” the pale boy whispered against him.

As their lips met again, Yunho wished he could say he was wrong.

+ + +

It could have been days, weeks, months, they didn’t know, time moving like sticky molasses when they had themselves and the air and the beach. But eventually, like they knew it would, it came.

It was Junsu who saw them.

They were standing in the kitchen, sitting and leaning around the island there as they talked and laughed when he came in and stood in the doorway. At first, they didn’t notice, but one by one they stopped talking and turned to look at him.

Yunho moved slightly, as if to go to Junsu, opened his mouth to ask ‘What’s wrong?’, but then he stopped. They could all see it in his face.

“They’re coming,” he said, and his eyes were wild, scared.

They moved out of the kitchen, Yoochun catching Junsu’s hand and squeezing it, hard. Moving towards the balcony, they could see them as well through the large windows. Far out to sea, black clouds rolling on the horizon.

For a while, they just stood there, watching the sky wordlessly as the reality of it sunk in.

It seemed like a very short age before the silence was broken by Jaejoong, who took a deep breath and looked around at them all.

“Time to go,” he said with a calm acceptance that made Yunho’s breath catch with pride and awe. He wanted to grab hold of Jaejoong, hold him so tight that they’d merge, that they’d become something better; something that could survive this.

But reality was a bitter thing, and instead Yunho took in his own deep breath and nodded.

It was with quiet, minimal words that they left the house, dressed as they were and with bare feet and clasped hands.

The path down to the beach was not as difficult this time, and they found themselves on the fine white sand all too soon.

Yunho’s heart was thundering, ears ringing with the sound of it. Everything seemed to still however when Jaejoong’s hand touched his, and he saw the warm smile of the boy beside him. It’s alright, his face said, and Yunho nearly believed it.

Yunho thought, perhaps, that without Jaejoong, he would have lost his nerve. Run screaming, as if he could escape, as if there were somewhere he could run to. Looking around at the others, he thought they would do the same, and realised that being together meant so much more then not being alone.

It was strength, to follow them down to the edge of the water, to look around at each other and know that this was it. Changmin huffed out a breath, and as one they began to find a spot in the sand, entwining themselves together and settling in to watch the haze of the sunset lengthen and the dark thunderous clouds rolling in.

And there they stayed, on the beach, together, waiting for the rain.

Art Post

Art: meet you there (At the End of the World)

2009-03-26T20:49:09Z

Artist: reallycorking
Fic: meet you there (At the End of the World)
Rating: one nws, one worksafe

Please leave all comments for the artist here!

yamapea: Curves (1/2)

2009-03-25T22:22:05Z

Title: Curves
Author: yamapea
Pairing(s): Yoochun/Jaejoong, Yunho/Junsu/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Through mysterious circumstances, the members are transformed into women, and Yoochun and Jaejoong can't keep their hands off of each other.
Warnings: genderswitch, lesbian sex, sex in public places
Word count: 11,092
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: A million thanks to illuminations for the competitive spirit that helped me to finish this on time, to cmere for the encouragement, support, badgering and betaing, to spurious for the sweet last minute beta, and to reallycorking for reassuring me. :x

"Curve: The loveliest distance between two points." ~ Mae West

Yoochun wakes up to his cell phone ringing.

It's shoved under his pillow, squashed under his arm; stuck where he'd left it when he fell asleep talking to Yunho about touring dates the night before. It takes him a minute to realize that that's where the "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" is coming from, and he groans as he extracts it, presses it up against his face.

"Hello?" he mumbles, groggily.

"Yoochun?" a voice whispers, and Yoochun is too sleepy to be creeped out.

"What?" he says, and then: "Who is this?"

"Listen," a voice he now recognizes as Junsu's says, "have you… touched yourself… this morning?"

Jaejoong shifts in his bed across the room, pushing himself dangerously close to tumbling over the edge and onto the floor, and Yoochun blinks as he watches him with concern.

"Mm what?" he says into the phone. He must be still dreaming, he thinks. Jaejoong looks even more womanly than normal. There's something about the way his t-shirt is falling, the way he's stretched out on the bed, that makes him look like he has breasts.

"Changmin won't leave the bathroom," Junsu whispers. "I don't know what to do."

"Won't leave the…" Yoochun grumbles, still trying to piece together the strange parts of the morning so far, blinking and rubbing his eyes as he gives Jaejoong another glance. "Why are you calling me?"

"Yoochun, look in the mirror," Junsu says, a touch of irritation in his voice now.

Groaning a little, Yoochun reaches over, fumbling for the mirror in his bedside drawer. He can't imagine what this is about, why he has to look in the mirror first thing in the morning, what could be so—

He glances in the mirror; he looks every bit as groggy as he feels. There's nothing remarkable there, no horrible sudden disfigurement (though his new hairstyle is making his hair stand up in strange new ways), but he's just noticed something else. There's something… strange about the way his chest feels against the mattress, under the weight of his body, as he stretches across his bed.

Yoochun has breasts.

He feels a horrible, gut-wrenching fear as he drops his cell phone and slides his hand down, between his body and the mattress, slips his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, and finds that his worst fears have come true. Yoochun starts to cry.

*

Yoochun has gone from groggy to frantic in a few minutes, and now he's sitting up, pressing his palms against his chest, feeling his breasts, the soft weight and swell of them heavy in his hands. He can hear Junsu's voice coming out of his phone still, tiny and anxious, but tears are rolling steadily down his face and he can't stop touching himself, feeling the tender curves and angles of his new body.

"Ehh… Yoochun?"

He hears Jaejoong stirring across the room, sleepily mumbling his name as he starts to wake up, starts to wonder why his roommate is sobbing in bed. And then there's a choked shriek of realization, and Yoochun cries harder, knows that Jaejoong thinks he looks like a freak, because he is one! He's grown breasts overnight, he's lost his penis, and he looks like some sort of weird manly girl, and now Jaejoong won't want to stay in his room anymore, and he'll get kicked out of the band, and—

"Oh my god," Jaejoong says, in a whispered, awestruck voice. "I'm… I'm a girl…"

Yoochun glances in his roommate's direction, hurriedly swiping the back of his hand across his face, and sees that Jaejoong is now shirtless and in a similar position—lying on his back, cupping his breasts as he experimentally lets them fall a little to the sides before pushing them together again. He doesn't look terribly upset, though. If anything, Jaejoong just looks curious.

"…Jaejoong?" Yoochun says, quietly, as he crosses his arms over his chest. It's awkward, trying to pretend that he doesn't suddenly have breasts, and he doesn't even know how noticeable they are.

"Yoochun!" Jaejoong says, looking up in surprise, his hands stilling on his breasts. He's blushing a little, and looks away again almost immediately. "What do you think?"

As Yoochun stares at his roommate, watches Jaejoong fondling himself, he can't help but admire how soft and full his breasts look. They're bigger than Yoochun's, larger and rounder somehow, and Yoochun finds it all strangely hot.

Jaejoong shifts his hands, pushing his breasts together to show off his cleavage and frowning a little. "How do you think this happened?"

Before Yoochun has a chance to respond, or even think about formulating a response to that question, the door bursts open with a hurried, useless knock.

Yunho is standing on the threshold, his fist still resting against the door, wearing a strangely bulky sweatshirt for the warmth of their apartment, a tight, uncomfortable look of disapproval on his face.

*

"We have to figure out what to do," Yunho says, nervously pacing.

The other members are all seated around the kitchen table. Changmin, having only recently come out of the bathroom after the members repeatedly assured him that they were all probably much uglier girls than he was, is hugging his knees to his chest, staring at the wall across from him. His eyes are a little red-rimmed, and Yoochun wonders if he should try to comfort him.

Jaejoong looks a little less phased than everyone else, and keeps trying to casually fondle his breasts when he thinks no one is looking. Yoochun thinks that's a little inappropriate, but is somehow unsurprised.

Junsu is staring dejectedly at a women's soccer magazine, as if he's considering a new career.

And that, that is what makes Yoochun's breath catch in his throat, the thought of this all coming to an end, the thought that suddenly all of their lives are over, that they'll no longer be DBSK, that they'll no longer be… like this, like a family.

"Yoochun?" Yunho says loudly, and Yoochun realizes he's been talking this whole time.

Hurriedly, he swipes a hand across his eyes and blinks up at him, as Yunho hunches his shoulders a little in the bulky sweatshirt, trying his hardest to hide the breasts. It's useless though—they're obvious, just like everyone's voices are so obviously girly, just like all of them have soft, slender legs and arms and fingers, just like everyone suddenly has rounder hips and smaller shoulders and other things that are impossible to hide.

"I'm sorry," Yoochun says quietly. "I wasn't listening."

Yunho's face falls a little and he sighs.

"I was just trying to figure out what we should do until our manager gets back. Thank god we don't have any performances or anything for the next few days, but then what? We don't even know if we can still sing, or dance, or—"

"Center of gravity is probably really different," Changmin says, quietly. Everyone glances at him in surprise. He's still staring at the wall, as if he's not talking to any of them.

"He's right," Yunho says, clearing his throat. He's watching Changmin thoughtfully. "I guess we'll just have to wait for our manager to get back and then—"

"Can we get some clothes?" Jaejoong says, and everyone turns a little to stare at him.

"Clothes?" Yunho says, looking a little incredulous.

Jaejoong flushes. "I just feel like there are certain… things we'll need, you know, for… you know, Yunho."

"What do you—oh… like bras?" Yunho says uncomfortably.

Junsu looks up from his magazine at that, a blush stealing across his face. "Are we going to have to go in one of those lingerie stores?"

"We're not getting lingerie," Changmin says, having finally looked away from the wall to stare at Junsu in horror. "Seriously, no."

"It might be a good idea," Yoochun says softly. "And clothes. We can't exactly wear our old clothes. We'll… stretch them out…"

There's a pause as the members consider this.

"Okay," Yunho says calmly. "We should probably get some clothes. We'll have to make sure no one recognizes us, though."

Changmin still looks unhappy as the members head for their rooms, but Junsu is chattering about disguises as Jaejoong whispers to Yoochun about bras, and it seems like DBSK is just going on an exciting adventure, and not preparing for a bizarre life as women.

*

Yoochun is a little skeptical about their disguises now that they're in public. When they'd been getting dressed, it had seemed like a good idea to put on bulky sweatshirts and jackets, to help hide their new bodies, but it's the middle of summer, and it's not exactly cold. Also, they're all wearing dark, oversized sunglasses, which isn't exactly normal behavior once they're actually inside the Women's Secret store. People are sort of staring.

Jaejoong had a little too much fun with his disguise, and can't seem to stop flipping the long blonde hair from the wig he'd dug out of their closet. Yoochun thinks maybe it was part of a skit or something, once. He's starting to wish they hadn't found it—Jaejoong has mentioned blondes having more fun about three times already.

"Um," a salesgirl says, approaching them nervously as they stand gawking at the store around them. "Can I help you?"

Junsu is so red he looks like he might either faint or burst into nervous laughter and Changmin is scowling at a rack of bras across from them like they're personally insulting. Jaejoong smiles and flips a strand of long blonde hair over his shoulder. Yunho offers the salesgirl a tight, apologetic smile.

"We need… some… um… well, I don't think we know what size…"

She's staring at him, her nervously polite smile faltering a little with every word. "What is it you're… looking for?"

"We want to try on bras!" Jaejoong volunteers, helpfully. Yunho shifts uncomfortably. The girl raises her eyebrows and lets her gaze sweep over the members. Yoochun notices her gaze dipping to each of their chests, and Junsu must too, because he nervously hugs himself.

Yoochun clears his throat. "We had an… accident," he says slowly. "Our things were lost…"

The salesgirl's expression instantly changes from suspicious to sympathetic, and Yoochun feels sort of horrific about the lie.

"Well," she says, clasping her hands together. "We'll just have to get you all into dressing rooms right away. We'll get you fitted and all taken care of."

"Fitted?" Junsu whispers, horrified, but the salesgirl takes no notice as she leads them to the curtained off rooms in the back of the store.

*

"I like the one with fringe," Jaejoong says, elbowing Yoochun a little as he picks up a bra from the sales rack. It's black, with quite a lot of feathers hanging off of it like fringe, as if it was meant to be strapped onto a boot instead of a pair of breasts.

Across the store, Junsu has his hand over his eyes as he tries to blindly pick out a lacy white bra. Yunho is laughing as he tries to help him, and Junsu keeps peeking through his fingers and gasping. Changmin is nowhere to be found—he had his fitting first, and Yoochun suspects that he's already fled the store. As soon as everyone finished their fittings, there had been a little comparative competition, and Changmin hadn't bothered to stick around to see who was the biggest.

"Come on," Jaejoong says. "Let's go try them on."

He thrusts a sheer, lacy pink thing in Yoochun's hand, and tugs on his other hand, leading him to the curtained rooms.

"Oh," the salesgirl says when they reach the back. She's paused outside of one of the curtains, eyeing them with some concern. "There's only one room open right now… You could share?"

Yoochun is about to say that he doesn't mind waiting, but Jaejoong doesn't ever drop his hand, just tugs him into the little curtained off space ahead of them, grinning at him once they're inside.

The dressing room is barely large enough for one person, and with the two of them in there, Yoochun isn't sure how they're supposed to move. This doesn't seem to bother Jaejoong though—he's already tugging his sweatshirt up over his head, elbows knocking against the walls of the dressing room as he pulls off his ridiculous wig along with his shirt.

Yoochun's standing very still, clutching the pink lace thing against his chest as he tries to look everywhere but at the now shirtless Jaejoong, tries to not stare at his breasts, tries to not watch the way they bounce and shift as he moves, tossing his sweatshirt and wig on the floor. He tries very hard.

"Yoochun," Jaejoong says, stepping forward, the cowgirl bra in his hand and a puzzled look on his face. There's really no room for him to step, though, and suddenly his breasts are brushing up against Yoochun's hands. Yoochun shifts uncomfortably and swallows.

"What?"

Jaejoong's mouth is open in a tiny circle of surprise, like maybe he hadn't realized what it would feel like to have his roommate's hands brush up against his breasts, or maybe it's something else and Yoochun is the only one who can't stop thinking about it. Whatever the case, the expression vanishes after a moment, and he gestures with the cowgirl bra, still on its hanger.

"I can't figure out this hanger, can you help?"

Yoochun lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and with shaky fingers he passes his bra to Jaejoong as he starts to examine the hanger. It's a normal hanger, and Yoochun doesn't quite get what Jaejoong was confused about, but he's glad to be able to focus on something other than Jaejoong's breasts. After a moment, he's passing the hanger and the bra back to Jaejoong, who is giving him a strange smile.

"Now you," Jaejoong says, smiling wider.

"Now I…" Yoochun starts, but then he realizes what Jaejoong means. Now he's supposed to strip, too. Now he's supposed to take off his sweatshirt so that Jaejoong can stare at his chest too, so that they can try on these ridiculous bras.

Yoochun shifts a little as he tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, tries not to think about the fact that Jaejoong is watching him as he pulls it up and over the breasts that he hasn't let anyone else see, and over his head. When he drops his sweatshirt to the ground, he expects to see Jaejoong busily putting on his bra, but instead he finds him staring, that same strange little expression of wonder on his flushed face.

Yoochun moves to cover himself, but Jaejoong reaches out, stops him. "Don't," he whispers softly. "You're beautiful."

Something about that makes Yoochun's throat a little tight, like he might cry, and he can't figure out why, but he shrugs, blushing furiously. "We should try these on," he croaks, awkwardly gesturing to the bras in Jaejoong's hands and fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

Jaejoong smiles, holding up the pink thing that he has somehow managed to pry off of its hanger. "You first!"

Yoochun holds out his hand for the bra, but Jaejoong hesitates, blushing. "Can I…?"

He nods, of course, because what can he say to that? Jaejoong wants to put his bra on for him, and it's a hard request to argue with. Yoochun has never exactly put on a bra before; it's not like he knows where any of those hooks and things in the back go, anyway.

Yoochun turns around, and Jaejoong steps up behind him, sliding his arms around Yoochun's waist to dangle the pink thing in front of him. He can feel Jaejoong's breasts pressing against his back, soft and warm, can feel Jaejoong's nipples hard against his skin, and he has to take a deep breath as Jaejoong drags the lace up, starts trying to wrap it around his breasts.

He feels like if he were still a guy he'd be hard by now, the way Jaejoong is rubbing the lace across his breasts, like he's cupping them through the material, fingers brushing over Yoochun's nipples until they're pert and hard against Jaejoong's palms through the lace. He feels weirdly like he needs to squeeze his thighs together. And suddenly he can feel Jaejoong's breath against his neck, in short little puffs of air that make him wonder if Jaejoong feels the same way.

Against his better judgment, he shifts, turning his head to ask him how it's going, and now Jaejoong's breathing against his ear as he gropes him, hands definitely squeezing his tits now, not trying to put anything on, and that is definitely not helping anything.

"Jaejoong—" he says, breathlessly, and then the bra is forgotten and Jaejoong is half-pulling, half-pushing on him to turn him around, not satisfied until he's pulled Yoochun up against him, their tits brushing as Jaejoong crushes his mouth against Yoochun's.

For a moment, Yoochun forgets all about the bras, and the dressing room, and the store, and everything except the way Jaejoong's mouth feels against his, how soft and warm and wet his lips are, the way Jaejoong's palms feel as they slide down his sides and around his waist, how soft and hard and safe and scary this is, all at once. And then there's a voice on the other side of the curtain.

"Are you two alright in there?" the salesgirl asks, and they break apart, flushed and embarrassed and awkward as they mumble that everything is fine, that they don't need any help.

They leave the store a few minutes later, after buying two plain white cotton bras that Yunho handed them as they left the dressing room. Yoochun buys the pink bra when no one is looking, and sneaks it into his bag.

Changmin is waiting for them just outside of the store, looking much less annoyed and clutching two department store bags full of clothing.

Yunho raises an eyebrow. "Find something you liked?"

Changmin blushes a little. "I just looked good in everything I tried on."

Junsu laughs at that, and as they make their way back out to the car, no one seems to notice the distance Yoochun and Jaejoong are putting between each other, how they won't talk to or look at one another. Yoochun starts to wonder if he's just lost a best friend.

*

Yoochun goes to bed early that night, pretending to have a headache as Yunho tries to track down their manager.

"Goodnight," he says, waving vaguely, and Junsu is the only one who really moves to say goodnight. He jumps up from his spot on the couch, slinging his arms around Yoochun in a silly, exaggerated hug, and Yoochun awkwardly pats his back.

"Goodnight, beautiful girl," Junsu says, laughing.

As he pulls away, Yoochun catches Jaejoong watching them, a little frown on his face. It's gone after a second though, and then his attention is back on the magazine in front of him. Yoochun wonders if he imagined the whole thing, and he shuffles back to their room alone.

"Hey," Yunho calls after him, his hand over the mouthpiece of his cell phone. "I'll call you if I find out anything."

Yoochun glances back at him and Yunho smiles. It's a weird little private joke between them lately, that Yunho will call him instead of walking the 30 feet to his and Jaejoong's room at night. Yoochun can't even really remember how it started anymore, but it doesn't really matter.

He turns again, willing himself not to look at Jaejoong this time, and lets himself into their room.

He doesn't know what to do when he gets there. He tries sleeping at first, but just ends up lying awake in bed, thinking about pink lace and a cramped dressing room, and it's too much, too hard. It leaves him feeling a weird mixture of horny and depressed, and he can't exactly go to sleep like that. He decides to take a shower.

It's awkward, walking down the hallway in his pajama pants and t-shirt, awkward to think about how exposed he feels, with his naked breasts under the thin cotton. He's clutching a towel to his chest as he passes the living room, but he still feels their eyes on him, still feels like everyone can see his breasts bouncing along through his shirt, and it's weirdly uncomfortable.

It takes the shower a minute to warm up, but it's nice and hot when he steps under the water. He closes his eyes as he lets it wash over him, feels it stream down over his new body. He thinks about the day, about watching Jaejoong in the morning, the way he was touching his breasts and feeling them in his hands, and suddenly he's thinking about Jaejoong's hands on his breasts, through pink lace. He thinks about the way his fingers felt, about how warm his palms were, about the feel of Jaejoong's body behind his, against his.

He starts touching himself without really thinking about it.

He's thinking about Jaejoong's hands when he slides his palms across his chest, feels how slick his breasts are under the hot water. He's thinking about Jaejoong's breath against his ear when he slides a hand between his legs, thinks about kissing his lips as he slides his fingers against his clit. He imagines that it's Jaejoong's fingers sliding up against him, dipping inside of him, wet from the water and himself. He thinks about fucking his best friend in the shower as he brings himself off under the water, becomes a shaking, gasping, weak-kneed wet mess.

His legs are shaky when he walks back down the hallway in slightly damp pajamas, hugging his wet towel to his chest and hoping that no one will guess that he just masturbated in the shower. When he passes the living room, though, it's just Changmin immersed in a boring-looking book and Yunho sitting in front of a phonebook, looking very stressed. Junsu must have already gone to bed. And Jaejoong must have gone to bed, too.

Yoochun's stomach does a weird flip-flop at that, and he can't tell if he's feeling excitement or dread at the thought of going back to their room.

Jaejoong is sitting on his bed when Yoochun opens the door, not even pretending to be sleepy.

"Hey," he says, eyes wide and nervous. He licks his lips and Yoochun's hand sort of shakes as he closes the door. He imagines Jaejoong saying all sorts of things, saying that this afternoon shouldn't have happened, that he's not sure why it did except that it's confusing for Yoochun to suddenly be a girl, and maybe that's all, that's it, that suddenly he was with a half-naked girl and what else was there to do?

"Hey," Yoochun says slowly, and he doesn't move from the door, doesn't even step towards his bed, just watches Jaejoong.

Jaejoong looks uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than Yoochun can ever remember seeing him when they're alone together. There's a long, silent pause before either of them speaks, and when they do it's at the same time.

"Yoochun, I—"

"I'm sorry about—"

They pause and laugh, and Yoochun ducks his head a little, running a hand through his wet hair as he hangs up his towel. "You go first," he says.

"I didn't mean to… Earlier, I didn't mean for things to…"

Yoochun's heart drops, but he doesn't know why. He should be glad that they're talking, that things will be normal again after all, but he just feels disappointed. He almost feels rejected, which seems ridiculous.

"Oh, I know," he says, even though he didn't. "Same here. It shouldn't have happened."

Yoochun crosses the room and crawls into bed without saying anything else. He can feel Jaejoong's eyes on him the whole time, watching him as he pulls the covers up around him, as he turns off his bedside lamp and stares up at the ceiling.

"Goodnight," Yoochun says, and he closes his eyes against the tears as he pretends to fall asleep.

"Goodnight," Jaejoong says quietly.

*

"No one knows where he is," Yunho says, pacing the kitchen at breakfast the next morning.

Yoochun is watching him thoughtfully over his coffee cup. Changmin and Jaejoong are still sleeping, and Junsu is rummaging in the refrigerator.

"Do you think he's okay?" Yoochun asks, thoughtfully.

Yunho shrugs. "I've called our production company. I've called his sister. I've called everyone I can think of, and no one knows where he is. His phone has been off for the last two days. I'm starting to get worried."

"Hey," Junsu says, from inside the fridge. "Wasn't he supposed to be in Tokyo, working out that Japanese record they want us to do?"

"Yeah," Yunho says, "but I can't reach him at the hotel. I'm starting to get really worried."

"Maybe his phone died and he forgot his charger or something," Yoochun says, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach. He's starting to worry now, too. What if something happened?

"Morning," Jaejoong says, shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn. He smiles and slumps against Yunho in a weird half-hug, and Yunho smiles a little in spite of himself, patting him awkwardly on the head.

Yoochun can't figure out why it makes him feel annoyed, but it does.

"Morning!" Junsu says, kicking the refrigerator door closed behind him. His arms are loaded with eggs and cheese and vegetables, and he's smiling, like he's excited about cooking. "Omelets today! Super healthy Western-style breakfast."

He sets all the ingredients out like he's preparing a small feast, and Yoochun smiles a little at the scene. He doesn't realize Changmin has stumbled into the kitchen until he hears his objection. "Is that really necessary?"

Junsu only grins at him, half-dancing his way across the kitchen to throw his arms around Changmin. "Good morning, sunshine," he says, still smiling.

Everyone laughs, except Changmin.

Jaejoong extracts himself from Yunho and makes his way to the breakfast table, taking the seat beside Yoochun as if nothing is different, nothing is wrong. Soon Changmin and Yunho join them, and it's only Junsu in the kitchen, slaving away over the stove.

"So it looks like this wasn't just a one day thing," Yunho says, cupping his breasts in explanation. "We should probably figure out what we're doing."

There's a pause, and everyone looks a little less cheerful at the reminder. It's not like they can really stay in the public eye like this—who would ever believe that they just woke up this way one day? It still didn't seem possible, even to them.

"I'm sure when our manager gets back, he'll know what to do," Yoochun says. "We'll figure it out."

"Hey!" Junsu calls from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready!"

Yoochun jumps up from the table, never once meeting Jaejoong's gaze as he makes his way to the kitchen to help with carrying out the plates.

*

Yoochun is the first to excuse himself from breakfast, but Jaejoong is right behind him when he reaches their room.

"Oh," Yoochun says as he closes the door. "I didn't realize you were already done."

Jaejoong pauses, and gives Yoochun the sort of smile he tends to give fans. It makes Yoochun's chest hurt a little bit.

"I finished right after you."

That doesn't seem all that likely to Yoochun, seeing as Jaejoong still had half of his omelet leftover when Yoochun stood up, and he hates to think about how Junsu would feel about members not finishing the omelets he worked so hard on, but he doesn't say anything except "oh".

"We should get dressed, huh?" Jaejoong says, and Yoochun nods, watches dumbly as Jaejoong crosses the room to their closet. He pulls out two pairs of sweatpants and two t-shirts and tosses one set at Yoochun.

"Practice soon," Jaejoong says, like it needs an explanation, and Yoochun wonders if he had looked confused.

"Right," he says.

He pretends to be focused on getting changed, but just when he's taken his t-shirt off, he catches sight of Jaejoong, topless and fumbling with his new bra. It's one of the white cotton ones that Yunho picked out for them, and Jaejoong doesn't seem to know how to go about putting it on himself.

Yoochun swallows. "Do you need help?"

There's a pause where Jaejoong isn't looking at him and it makes Yoochun want to disappear, but then he's blushing over his shoulder at him, smiling and saying "yes," and Yoochun is beside him before he remembers crossing the room.

Jaejoong slides his arms through the straps, and Yoochun pointedly steps behind him so he won't have a chance to slip up and look at Jaejoong's breasts. It makes sense, though, he thinks. He's supposed to be helping with all of those hooks and things anyway.

"Is it… on and everything?" he asks nervously, almost afraid to touch the cotton, afraid of what he'll do when his fingers are sliding across Jaejoong's back. He doesn't trust himself.

"I… I think so," Jaejoong says, and his voice sounds weird, like he's breathing hard or something, and Yoochun doesn't quite understand why. "Can you… check?"

Yoochun is pretty sure the bottom of his stomach has fallen out. "Check?" he echoes, feeling very far away from all of this. "Do you want me to…?"

"Please," Jaejoong whispers, and just like that it's decided. It's ridiculous to think that Yoochun could ever say no to him.

He slides his arms around Jaejoong's stomach and moves his hands up, over his torso. He knows that he shouldn't, and when his fingers first slide across the soft cotton he knows he's made a mistake, but suddenly Jaejoong's soft, full, round breasts are in his hands, and Yoochun is breathless, hot and wet, and he can feel it all at once.

He can feel Jaejoong's nipples under his palms through the cotton, can feel the weight of his breasts and the warmth of them, and he knows he's made a terrible mistake when he squeezes his thighs together, when he brushes his thumbs across Jaejoong's nipples, when his breath comes out in little short bursts against Jaejoong's neck.

"No," he whispers, and Jaejoong tilts his head, so that he's breathing right up against his ear. "No, I think it's… perfect."

Jaejoong moves fast then, and suddenly, he has Yoochun pressed against the door of the closet, one knee shoved between his legs, and he's kissing him again, as his bra starts to fall off, straps sliding up his arms, the cotton trapped between them.

Yoochun can feel that he's wet, feels desperately like he needs Jaejoong to shove his thigh more firmly up against him, like nothing in the world would be better than Jaejoong's mouth and hands and body against his. Jaejoong shoves his tongue into Yoochun's mouth, and he almost loses it, rocking his hips forward hard, forcing Jaejoong's thigh more firmly up against his crotch. He wonders if it's possible to feel how wet he is through his pajama bottoms.

Jaejoong makes a small noise as Yoochun starts really kissing him back, as he threads his fingers in Jaejoong's hair, pulling him closer, fumbling with the stupid little cotton bra with his other hand. He doesn't know why they ever bothered trying to put it on in the first place, and Jaejoong's tits are so—so round and so—

"Hey," Yunho says, swinging the door open with a formal, useless knock, and just like that they pull apart, start pretending like nothing happened, but Yoochun can tell from his expression that Yunho saw something.

He's standing in the doorway, gaping at the both of them, one fist still raised against the door. "Um," he says. "I just… thought… It's almost time to… leave."

"Right," Jaejoong says, and Yoochun is glad, because he doesn't think he could talk right now if his life depended on it. "We'll be right there."

Yunho nods his head, still looking dazed, and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

"You should probably lock it next time!" he yells through the wood.

Jaejoong manages to get his bra put on by himself then, and they finish dressing in silence. Yoochun thinks it's probably amazing, the way they can share such a small space and avoid even looking at each other.

*

Part 2

yamapea: Curves (2/2)

2009-03-25T22:09:55Z

Changmin was right about the whole center of gravity thing.

So far, Yunho's sweeping, larger-than-life dance moves have earned him five tumbles on the studio floor, and he's since given up practicing all together. Everyone has had their falls, though—Yoochun has been a little slower on every move, as he fights to keep his balance and figure out where he's supposed to land, and he's still taken a few falls. Jaejoong seems to keep falling forward on his landings, and Changmin is much stiffer and slower than Yoochun has ever seen him.

Only Junsu seems unaffected by the change, twirling around like his body is exactly the same as it was two days ago, as if he hasn't suddenly sprouted breasts and large hips, as if he's still just a skinny little pop idol boy. He looks like a ballerina.

Everyone is sort of disgusted with Junsu.

At the moment, they're all gathered in a corner of the studio watching Jaejoong as he attempts his moves to Mirotic in slow motion. He's getting better at some parts of the routine, though Yoochun can tell he's close to losing it with how bad he suddenly is at other parts, and everyone is still watching him when Yunho's phone rings.

"Hello….? MANAGER!" Yunho practically shrieks with delighted relief.

"We've been so worried, we thought—"

"Yes, well, no, it's hard to explain over the—"

"Well, I don't think we can, it's hard to—"

"Oh—okay, two days?"

Everyone is so intent on eavesdropping on the phone call that no one else is watching Jaejoong anymore, and Yoochun is the only one who sees him fall. He watches as Jaejoong's feet slide out from underneath him, and then he's falling, landing hard on his back.

Without really pausing, Yoochun's on his feet, and then he's beside Jaejoong, and Yunho's voice is a blur in the background as he bends over him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, which is dumb, because it wasn't much of a fall, but Jaejoong's still not moving and there's this part of him that worries that something is horribly wrong, that Jaejoong is hurt. "Can you move?"

Jaejoong smiles and then laughs as he sits up, shaking it off. "Just embarrassed," he says, but the smile he gives Yoochun as he stands makes him blush, and he's the embarrassed one then.

"Good news," Yunho says loudly.

Yoochun turns around and sees that he's addressing everyone, cradling his phone against his chest, though he's shooting Yoochun and Jaejoong meaningful glances.

"He's okay. His battery died, just like you thought… He'll be back the day after tomorrow."

"Did you tell him about—" Jaejoong breaks off, and without even turning around to look at him, Yoochun can tell he's embarrassed.

"No," Yunho says. "He was on a payphone. There wasn’t time."

Changmin sort of laughs at that, and Yunho frowns at him.

"Just... imagine what he'll think when comes home," Changmin says. "To a house full of women."

"Yeah," Yunho says darkly. "I know."

Yoochun wonders what will happen in two days, when their manager finds out his stars are all girls. He wonders what will happen to them then, what sort of destiny they'll have, where they'll all be two days from now.

He can tell, by the expressions on everyone's faces, that they're all wondering the same thing.

*

It's been a quiet night. After practice, the members opted for take-out, and after a near-silent and sort of depressing dinner, they all went to their rooms to think about what the next two days might bring them.

Yoochun is lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, a magazine open in his lap, thinking about what's going to happen to him the day after tomorrow. He can't imagine leaving DBSK, can't imagine being without the members or the music or the performances. He thinks he needs it. The thought of being separate from them for the rest of his life is too painful to consider.

Especially Jaejoong.

Jaejoong, who stayed with him in the hospital that one time when no one else would. Jaejoong, who sleeps in his room every night. Jaejoong, who is the only person who really understands him, who he can really be himself with.

Jaejoong, who is the only person he really wants.

"Hey," Jaejoong says, across the room. "Yoochun?"

"Yeah," Yoochun says quietly.

There's a pause then, and Yoochun worries that he sounded unwelcoming or something.

"What's up?" he says, softly, invitingly.

"Can I…"

There's another pause, and Yoochun feels a little funny as he tries to imagine what Jaejoong could be asking. Would this be like the other night? Hadn't Jaejoong said that it was all a mistake? Or had that been Yoochun?

"Can you what?" he almost whispers, half-afraid of what the answer will be.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Jaejoong says, all in a rush.

Yoochun isn't sure he's heard him right, is terrified he hasn't, and he's afraid to answer wrong either way. "Can you… sleep with me?" he asks, tentatively.

"Ah," Jaejoong says quickly. "Is it weird? I just thought… I don't know if… The day after tomorrow, we might not be… I just…"

"Of course you can," Yoochun says, pulling the magazine from his lap and dropping it on his bedside table. "Come here."

There's a rustling noise followed by a thud, and then Jaejoong is there, warm and clumsy as he climbs over Yoochun and tugs on his covers, sliding underneath them as if it's completely normal. Jaejoong's knees knock against Yoochun's as he settles himself beside him, and Yoochun turns on his side, facing Jaejoong to save space.

Yoochun's bed isn't exactly intended for two people, and he thinks they'll probably have to sleep side-by-side in a very literal sense in order to keep from falling out of bed tonight, but he's happy about it.

They're facing each other now, sharing the same pillow, and Yoochun can feel Jaejoong's breath on his throat. He shifts a little, trying not to either fall off of the bed or touch Jaejoong too much.

"I'll miss you," Jaejoong says, and Yoochun's throat feels tight all of a sudden at the thought of not seeing him every minute of every day like this, at the idea of not being able to lie awake a few feet away from him every night, at the thought of not having Jaejoong beside him when he needs him. He can't imagine it.

"I—" Yoochun starts, but there's a horrible feeling in his chest and throat that makes him think he won't be able to finish without sobbing, and then he's shifting closer to Jaejoong, finding his face in the dark, and he's kissing him, against his best judgment

Jaejoong responds, though. He kisses him back without pause, and for a moment it's just as innocent as that—the two of them lying beside each other, kissing a quiet little soft goodbye in the dark.

And then they shift.

Jaejoong moves closer, presses his knee against Yoochun's thighs, probably just because of the space, and of course Yoochun moves, opens his thighs a little and then he's moving against Jaejoong's thigh as they kiss. Yoochun shifts his hands from where they're resting awkwardly between and underneath them, moves to touch Jaejoong, skating his fingers up his thigh and over his hip, feeling the smooth, naked skin of his waist as his hand sneaks under Jaejoong's t-shirt, and then he's feeling the warm weight of Jaejoong's breasts under his palms.

Jaejoong gasps a little against his mouth, and Yoochun freezes, suddenly afraid. What if he's just fucked everything up? What if this was supposed to be innocent and friendly and he's just—

"I want you," he whispers into Yoochun's mouth, and the last shred of self-restraint Yoochun had is gone.

He shifts, moving out from the tangled mess of their limbs to straddle Jaejoong, and peels off his t-shirt before looking down at his roommate, his best friend, the girl he's about to fuck, somehow, that's lying beneath him and licking his lips like he's about to have dessert or something.

Jaejoong struggles and shifts underneath him as he writhes his way out of his t-shirt, and with every movement of his hips, he rocks his pelvis up against Yoochun's, until he's gasping, and Jaejoong is topless beneath him.

"Please," Jaejoong says, biting his lip a little, and Yoochun plants his hands on either side of him as he leans forward over him. He pauses, mouth poised over a perfect, hard little nipple, and he wants nothing more than to roll his tongue against it, to make Jaejoong feel at least a little of the insane need he's felt the last two days, but he's afraid.

Yoochun glances up at his roommate, a breath away from sucking on his tits, and Jaejoong makes a little moaning sound as he tangles his fingers in Yoochun's hair. That's all it takes, really. Yoochun ducks his head, swipes his tongue across Jaejoong's pert little nipple, and feels him squirm underneath him as he sucks and swirls his tongue against Jaejoong's perfect tits.

"Fuck," Yoochun gasps a little, kissing his way down Jaejoong's stomach as Jaejoong tugs on his hair. "You're so hot."

It's weird saying these things to Jaejoong, weird because he keeps expecting him to burst into laughter or something and he doesn't. Jaejoong never laughs at him for his weird, throaty, embarrassing admissions; he just moans and tightens his grip on Yoochun's hair as Yoochun toys with the waistline of his pajamas. Yoochun's not really sure if he should keep going—it seems like, for some reason, fucking around with each other's boobs is one thing, but when you start messing with… well… this is where things could go too far, and Yoochun's not sure if he's ready to push that line with Jaejoong.

"Yoochun," Jaejoong says suddenly, softly, and his fingers slip from their grip in his hair to caress his cheek. "Please."

Yoochun stops his hesitation then, as he moves a hand down over Jaejoong's pajamas, experimentally sliding his fingers over Jaejoong's pajama-clad thigh.

"Is this okay?" he breathes, kissing a weird little line across Jaejoong's lower stomach, his hand pausing on Jaejoong's upper thigh.

"Yes," Jaejoong says, almost before he finishes asking. "Please."

As if to emphasize his point, he shifts his hips up, moves his hips toward Yoochun's hand. Yoochun moans a little, involuntarily, and lets his hand shift, slides it up further, until he's feeling the hot, hard angle of Jaejoong's pussy through his thin cotton pajama bottoms.

Jaejoong makes a small, choked sound as Yoochun rubs his fingers against him, through his pajamas, and then he's breathless and shifting. "Kiss me," he whispers, and Yoochun doesn't think about disobeying as he moves up and over him, fingers still shifting against warm, damp cotton as he presses his lips against Jaejoong's.

Jaejoong moans into his mouth, and then they're rolling, and Jaejoong is pinning him to the bed, kissing him short, desperate movements as he tries to take off his pants and keep kissing Yoochun at the same time.

Yoochun laughs and tells him it's okay, that he can take a minute to get them off, and then Jaejoong sets to work on getting Yoochun's pants off, too. It's awkward and clumsy and difficult, balancing the two of them on such a tiny bed, but it's easier now that Jaejoong is perched on top of him, even if he's embarrassing Yoochun with the way Jaejoong's staring down at his body.

"Beautiful," Jaejoong mumbles, and before Yoochun can object, or even bother to be embarrassed about it, Jaejoong is kissing him, mouth warm and wet against his as he shifts his naked body against Yoochun's. Yoochun isn't sure how much more he can take, but he is sure that Jaejoong can feel how wet he is, that he can feel how much Yoochun wants him with every shift of Jaejoong's body against his. And then Jaejoong's mouth leaves him, and he shifts away from him, and Yoochun almost worries that he's fucked it all up somehow, or that Jaejoong has come to his senses, that this is all over.

Jaejoong's lips move down along his jawline, and then his mouth is skating across his throat, pausing to bite and suck at his neck, just below his ear, and then he's licking lines along Yoochun's collarbones, and Yoochun feels like he might burst.

"Please," he hears himself saying, but he doesn't know what he's asking for, really, what more he could even handle right now. Jaejoong seems to know, though.

His mouth moves past Yoochun's collarbones, down over his chest, pausing at each breast to lick and suck in turn, rolling Yoochun's nipples against his tongue, grazing them ever so slightly with his teeth before he moves on, and Yoochun is practically squeaking, his fingers tangled in Jaejoong's hair as he reaches Yoochun's hipbone.

Yoochun sighs a little as Jaejoong kisses them each in turn, pressing his lips against Yoochun's skin in tender little soft wet kisses that leave his skin tingling as they trail down and in, as Yoochun feels Jaejoong kissing his way to Yoochun's brand new pussy.

Yoochun is practically shaking by the time Jaejoong reaches it, and he pauses, breath hot and moist against Yoochun's clit. "Is this okay?"

Yoochun thinks this must be a cruel joke. "Please," he tries to say again, but he's not sure he even makes any noise.

Regardless, Jaejoong seems to understand, and a moment later, there's the soft, wet, warm feel of a tongue against his clit, as Jaejoong buries his face in Yoochun's cunt, sliding his tongue against and inside of him, tasting him in a way that no one ever has.

Yoochun comes faster than he has ever come before. It's much more intense than the shower, much more intense than anytime he's ever gotten off as a guy, and he's shaking, convulsing with the aftershocks for what feels like forever. Jaejoong never moves his mouth, just kisses and sucks and fucks him with his tongue throughout all of it, until Yoochun can hardly move.

*

It seems late, suddenly, when Yoochun opens his eyes. He thinks he must have fallen asleep, all tangled up with Jaejoong, but he doesn't really remember it. He blinks against the darkness and finds Jaejoong watching him, a strange little sad, pensive expression on his face.

"Hey," he says softly, and Jaejoong blinks, like he hadn't expected Yoochun to be awake for a while.

"Hey," he says, and his tone is unreadable.

"Did I fall asleep?" Yoochun asks, although he already feels like he knows. He hadn't meant to, though, not at all. He wanted every minute of this first night with Jaejoong. Of what might be the last night with him.

Jaejoong shrugs and looks down, at the pillow. It's impossible to really read expressions in the dark like this, and Yoochun is instantly worried. "Hey," he says quietly, as groggy memories start returning. "I've never… felt like that before."

There's a horrible pause, then.

"Me either," Jaejoong says softly.

Yoochun leans forward, kisses him before Jaejoong has a chance to say anything else. They stay like that for a while, side by side, kissing in quiet little friendly movements, lips and forehead and noses bumping clumsily as they tangle their fingers together, and then Jaejoong drags their hands to his stomach, lets Yoochun's fingers brush across his skin.

Yoochun lets his fingers drop as they kiss a little deeper, sliding his fingers down over Jaejoong's hip as he sucks on Yoochun's lower lip, dragging his thumb up across Jaejoong's thigh as he slides his tongue into his mouth.

When he first slides his fingers up against Jaejoong's cunt, first feels his hard, slick little clit bump up against his fingers, he's already fucking Jaejoong's mouth with his tongue. When he starts sliding his fingers inside Jaejoong, starts fucking him with his tongue and his fingers at once, Jaejoong is rocking forward onto them, moaning into his mouth in a way that makes Yoochun feel like he could come all over again.

Jaejoong does, a minute later, just when Yoochun's wrist is starting to ache. He feels him tightening all around his fingers, feels his body go rigid and quiet against him, and his mouth stops moving for a moment. Suddenly all Yoochun feels and hears are the gasps Jaejoong is letting out, the spasms around his fingers, and then everything is still.

"I love you," Jaejoong says, and then he's curling up beside Yoochun. Yoochun's fingers slide easily out of him, and Jaejoong is already falling asleep tucked up beside him as Yoochun watches him, wonders how he could ever let go of this.

*

The first thing Yoochun notices when he wakes up is that his breasts are gone. This part is especially noticeable because Jaejoong's arm is slung across his chest, and there's no interference of any sort with this position.

The second thing he notices is that his light is still on. It's then, when he's staring blearily at his bedside lamp, sliding his hand down, under the covers and over his naked body, that he realizes he's officially not a girl anymore.

"Jaejoong," he grumbles, half-pleased and half-disappointed that his not-so-girly voice has returned. "Jaejoong, I have to get up."

Jaejoong stretches a little beside him, making weirdly cute noises as he slides his body up against Yoochun. And that's when Yoochun feels it, feels the hard, sharp, flat angles of Jaejoong's chest and stomach, and when Jaejoong rocks his hips against Yoochun, he feels something else.

"Jaejoong," he whispers, starting to feel a little panicked.

Jaejoong yawns as he moves closer, curling up against Yoochun like a cat, until his head is resting on Yoochun's shoulder. He blinks sleepily up at him and smiles.

"Morning," he says, and for a moment Yoochun's panic subsides a little. Just a moment.

"Jaejoong, we're… We're not girls anymore."

Jaejoong seems to experience several reactions at once. At first he laughs, like Yoochun is just making a joke, talking about what happened last night and not the fact that they're now two naked men. The truth seems to occur to him a moment later, when he shifts against Yoochun, really feels Yoochun's body against him for the first time this morning.

It's then that Jaejoong looks panicked, and he freezes beside Yoochun, clutching his pillow like it's a life saver.

"We're… us again?" Jaejoong asks, but he doesn't look at all happy about it, not the way that Yoochun thinks he probably should.

"Yeah," Yoochun says, and there's a pause as they consider that. "We should go see if the others are… too."

"Yeah," Jaejoong says, and he's the first to stumble out of bed, piecing together his sleeping outfit as he goes. Yoochun watches as Jaejoong plucks his t-shirt from where it landed, half-behind the bed, and he tosses his pajama bottoms down from where they spent the night, shoved half under Yoochun, against the wall.

Then it's Yoochun's turn and Jaejoong laughs as he tries to dress himself without getting out from under the covers. Yoochun blushes, but he woke up half-hard, and he's not really sure how Jaejoong would react if he knew, if he saw. He's not sure how he'd want Jaejoong to react.

Yoochun leans over the edge of the bed and pulls his t-shirt from where it's wedged between the bed and the bedside table, and definitely stretched out from his breasts, and then he glances around him, searching for his pants.

He finds them, half under the bed, and after an awkward moment of dressing while Jaejoong watches him, they emerge from their room together.

Everyone else is awake already, chatting over rice and soup about the future. It doesn't take much time to realize that everyone else still has their womanly bodies, and Yoochun pauses awkwardly in the doorway.

Yunho is the first to look up as Jaejoong steps past Yoochun and into the kitchen. He smiles and waves, and Yunho drops his spoon.

"What?" he says, sounding incredulous. "You two? How? Why?"

Jaejoong shrugs, blushing, and Yoochun steps up beside him, feeling weirdly like he should cross his arms over his chest.

There's a clattering of dishes and silverware as everyone gets up from the table for a closer inspection, and a moment later Yoochun and Jaejoong are surrounded by their bandmates, feeling like a couple of science experiments or something.

"Seriously," Changmin says. "What did you two do?"

Yoochun and Jaejoong exchange a look. Jaejoong is already turning a little red at the thought of answering that.

*

"This is the worst idea any of you have ever had," Changmin says, staring at the ceiling.

In one of the most awkward moments of his life, Yoochun had explained, in vague terms, what had happened the night before. He didn't think he'd ever seen Junsu blush so hard, and now Changmin refuses to look at either of them. Yunho, though, had been thoughtfully considering the information for a few minutes before he decided that sex was the key to undoing the womanly transformation.

There had been a mixed reaction to this conclusion, and ultimately the idea of a threesome presented itself.

"Would you rather stay a woman forever?" Yunho asks, and Changmin sighs.

Junsu is silent throughout the entire discussion, staring fixatedly at his women's soccer magazine, though he never once turns the page.

"Junsu?" Yunho says, softly. "What do you think?"

Junsu is blushing like he might just burst, and Yoochun slides a little closer to him on the couch, stretching an arm across his shoulders. Junsu glances up at him with a nervous smile, and Yoochun smiles back.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, and Junsu just nods. "You don't have to do this—"

"No," Junsu says, glancing down at the magazine again. "No, it's okay. I want to."

He sort of chokes on the last part, and Yoochun isn't sure he really means it until he looks up again, glancing at first Yunho and then Changmin.

"I would rather it be… you know, with you guys."

Junsu smiles again, and it looks a little more genuine this time, though just as afraid. Yunho smiles, and Changmin tears his gaze away from the ceiling to smile a little at Junsu too.

"This is completely ridiculous," Changmin says.

*

Yoochun is not entirely sure he should be here for this. Actually, he's pretty sure that he shouldn't.

Yoochun and Jaejoong had helped them push Yunho's bed up against Changmin's, trying to make a bed large enough for the three of them, and then they'd gotten to talking, and now Yoochun's not sure what he's supposed to do—if this is going to be some weird voyeur thing, if he's supposed to just watch his bandmates have sex while he and Jaejoong stand awkwardly beside them.

Yunho and Changmin are sitting on the giant bed. Yunho is looking focused and serious, wearing some practical white lace bra that he claims minimizes his boobs, and Changmin is looking annoyed and bored, pretending not to notice that he's wearing a little silk negligee thing that Yoochun is sure he didn't own before yesterday. Junsu is still lingering to the side a little in his pajamas, paused between Yoochun and Jaejoong, holding Jaejoong's hand and laughing in little nervous fits.

Yoochun reaches out, touches his side a little, and mumbles something comforting, like "it'll be okay", and then Junsu surprises him, kisses him in a soft little chaste movement that ends with a smile against Yoochun's mouth.

"Thank you," Junsu says, and then Yunho is pulling him up onto the bed and he's dropping Jaejoong's hand.

Yoochun glances at Jaejoong, and catches him watching Yoochun, smiling a little.

"This is weird, right?" Yoochun says, glancing back at the bed, where Changmin is kissing Junsu's neck while Yunho kisses his mouth.

"Yeah," Jaejoong says, sounding a little breathless.

From this angle, Yoochun can see that Yunho is shoving his tongue in Junsu's mouth, that Changmin has wrapped his arms around Junsu's waist and is sliding a hand under the waistband of his pajama pants. Yoochun is starting to feel a little weird.

"It's late, right," Yoochun says, not exactly breaking his gaze from the scene on the bed.

"Right," Jaejoong says, sounding equally distracted.

Yoochun clears his throat and mumbles about going to bed. Junsu makes a noise that could either be an attempt at goodnight or a stifled moan, and then Yoochun's tugging on Jaejoong's hand, leading him back to their room.

*

It's late, but neither of them are asleep. Yoochun doesn't know how he knows, but something about the sound of Jaejoong's breathing makes him sure that he's still awake. He feels like he should say something, but he's not sure what there is to say.

Luckily, it's Jaejoong who breaks the silence.

"Do you think if we… do you think we'd become girls again?"

Yoochun pauses, his breath catches in his throat as he tries to figure out how to answer that. Part of him wonders if they would, too, and part of him is okay with that. Another part of him doesn't care at all.

"Do you want to?" he says finally.

"No," Jaejoong says.

Yoochun feels like he can't really breathe. "Oh," he says, trying not to sound disappointed and probably failing.

"I still want you, though," Jaejoong says, soft and embarrassed.

Yoochun doesn't answer right away, tries to let his heartbeat return to normal before he opens his mouth. "Come here," he says, and his voice is weirdly low and gravelly.

Jaejoong doesn't object or pause, just shoves back his covers and crosses the room to Yoochun's bed, where Yoochun is already holding the covers back for him to climb underneath.

Jaejoong is all sharp angles now, as he wedges his way in beside Yoochun, but it's familiar and it's Jaejoong, and Yoochun couldn't be happier. He can just make out Jaejoong's features in the dark, a few breaths away from him, and he can't really help himself—he brushes his knuckles across Jaejoong's cheek, desperate to touch him but also afraid. Jaejoong closes his eyes.

"I love you," Yoochun says softly, feeling a little like his heart might burst.

Jaejoong kisses him then, and Yoochun doesn't really care what happens tomorrow, how they'll wake up and what they'll look like, so long as he stays like this, all tangled up with Jaejoong.

*

They think that they've done a good job of hiding any sign that they were ever women when their manager arrives home. They've thrown out the bras and the book on menstruation that they'd found in Changmin's things, packed up all of the womanly clothes as if they were from skits and have, for the most part, pretended as if this never happened.

Their manager calls them into a meeting about ten minutes after he's finished unpacking, though, and Yoochun is already starting to worry that he's found out. He's not sure why that worries him, except that it might lead to some weird medical tests or something, and maybe they won't be allowed to be a band anymore.

He looks stern as he stands in front of them, his hands behind his back. He looks almost angry, and Yoochun is apprehensive.

"Who can explain why I found this—"

With a flourish, the manager pulls out a familiar lacy pink bra. Yoochun's stomach flips over, and he feels Jaejoong's eyes on him all of a sudden.

"—in the laundry room?"

There's a horrible silence. Yoochun refuses to look at anyone, just stares at the little scrap of pink lace that he'd washed so tenderly, hung up to dry and forgotten all about.

Yunho tries to save the day.

"Manager—"

"Do I have to remind you boys about having girls over? The press is all over, you know, if anyone sees girls coming or leaving here, it will be—"

"Manager, it's mine," Jaejoong says.

Yoochun turns slowly, feeling flushed with embarrassment still as he tears his gaze away from the little pink bra, to stare at Jaejoong.

"…yours?" the manager asks, incredulously. "Jaejoong, why do you have a… why are you wearing women's lingerie?"

Everyone bursts out laughing at that, and even the manager smiles a little, but not the way the members are smiling at each other. It's like their secret now, some small private joke and memory that will always make them a stronger unit. A better family.

*

They only have half an hour before they're supposed to be on stage again, and this is a really horrible idea, but Jaejoong has been licking his lips at Yoochun all day, making obscene gestures and things when no one else is looking, and it's just really not fair.

So that's why they're stumbling out to the van in hoodies and sunglasses, hurriedly pulling back the door so they can climb into the tiny, cramped, uncomfortable van together. Yoochun isn't even sure how this will work. It's really too small, too confined a space for them to do anything except sit side by side and kiss each other, or something, and Yoochun is sure that will just make things worse for him later.

"How should—" he starts to ask, but Jaejoong is already moving, planting his knees on either side of Yoochun's hips until he's straddling him on the seat. Yoochun swallows, rests his hands gently on Jaejoong's hips, and licks his lips.

Jaejoong is breathing hard, and Yoochun isn't sure if it's the effort of the position, or something else, but he's already having trouble concentrating when Jaejoong leans forward, brushes his lips against Yoochun's.

It's stupid and chaste and teasing, and Jaejoong is practically laughing against his mouth as Yoochun shifts up, desperate to kiss and touch and feel him.

Jaejoong gives in then, sucks on his lower lip as he reaches between them, slides his palm over Yoochun's jeans, presses it against his obvious hard-on and up, where his fingers linger on Yoochun's fly.

Yoochun moans a little into his mouth, and it's embarrassing, but Jaejoong just shoves his tongue into his mouth as he tugs on Yoochun's jeans, tries desperately to get his hand inside of them. Yoochun moves his hands up, under Jaejoong's t-shirt as he kisses him, sliding his palms against Jaejoong's sides and stomach, marveling at how smooth and soft his skin still is as he drops his fingers to Jaejoong's fly.

Jaejoong makes a small noise into his mouth as he works Yoochun's fly open, and Yoochun nearly gasps at the feel of Jaejoong's fingers as they pause against his boxers, tracing the outline of his cock through the soft cotton. Yoochun hooks his fingers into Jaejoong's jeans, tugging them down with one hand, as he drops his other hand down over Jaejoong's ass, and then Jaejoong's gripping him in earnest, trying to just get him off through his boxers.

Jaejoong's cock is hot and heavy in his hand and Yoochun feels awkward about the way he jerks his hand, bumping it up against Jaejoong's stomach with every move, but Jaejoong is still fisting his cock through the cotton, and the kisses are getting sloppier, more hurried, less precise. As Jaejoong's cock slides in and out of his fist, Jaejoong bites down on his lower lip, and as he feels himself coming, all over his shorts and himself and Jaejoong's hand, he lets out an embarrassing, uncontrolled moan, still jerking his fist awkwardly around Jaejoong's cock.

Jaejoong doesn't last much longer—a moment later he's gasping and slumping against Yoochun, and that's when it happens.

There's a terrible crash as the van seat falls forward, and suddenly they're on the floor, but not on the floor, because they're still sort of half in the van seat. They lie there for a moment like that, breathing heavily and exchanging terrified gazes, and it's from this horizontal position that Jaejoong spots the letter.

"What's that?" he asks, reaching across the van floor to tug at a pink envelope shoved underneath the manager's seat.

Yoochun is pretty sure they shouldn't open it—it's addressed to the manager, and it's probably none of their business, but Jaejoong is already letting the contents fall into his hands.

Inside the envelope are pictures of all of the members, along with a letter scrawled in angry red ink. It's from an anti-fan, he can tell almost immediately, and the letter informs the manager of its author's intention to use voodoo on the boys, to make them…

"…women," Jaejoong whispers, staring at the last few angry red characters on the page. He glances up at Yoochun, his eyes wide and shocked. "Do you think…?"

Yoochun doesn't really know what to think, but part of him doesn't care. He'll never tell anyone, but he's sort of grateful for the whole experience. He's not sure if they would ever have had this, otherwise.

It's then that Yoochun catches a glimpse of the van's clock, and realizes that they have exactly fifteen minutes to get cleaned up and back onstage. He hopes no one has been looking for them.

"We have to go," he says, as they struggle to extract themselves from the van seat and each other. "We'll figure it out later."

Jaejoong pockets the letter quietly, and a moment later, as they're stumbling out of the van, pulling up their hoods and pushing their sunglasses back on, Jaejoong takes Yoochun's hand, out in the sunlight.

Yoochun can't say what it is about that that makes him feel so happy, but he spends the rest of the day smiling.

Art Post

Art: Curves

2009-03-25T22:08:10Z

Artist: trubbleclef
Fic: Curves
Rating: NWS

Artist: reallycorking
Fic: Curves
Rating: NWS

Please leave all comments for the artists here!

imie_schweetzel: Forever; and One Day (1/2)

2009-03-25T00:12:36Z

Title: Forever; and One Day
Author: imie youngwoong/imie_schweetzel
Pairing(s): Yunho/Jaejoong (main), Yoochun/Junsu (side)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yunho was a lost soul, until he met a beautiful stranger at the train station. What could have been a chance meeting turned out to be the start of the greatest love he had ever had – blood and tears combined.
Warnings: AU, slash, major angst
Word count: 16,520 words
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: hugs and kisses to my lovely beta, sacchlovedbsk. thank you so much wubby :)

Do you still remember? How we used to be
Feeling together, believe in whatever
My love has said to me
Both of us were dreamers, young love in the sun
Felt like my savior, my spirit I gave you
We’d only just begun

Hasta manana,
Always be mine.

- Viva Forever; Spice Girls

--

You know people always say that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you are about to take that last breath – everything comes just the second before it all ends and you embark on that one last journey you ever take.

I am seeing it now – and no, I am not dying. But I am having that moment and it is filling me with such heavy emotions, the weight of everything that had happened immense and unforgettable.

He was not my first love, but he is my last, the one that I will never forget for the rest of my life. He is my everlasting love, always young and always mine.

This is my story – our story. By the time you reach the end, I could only hope you will know that there is no one to blame. Love does not punish - it understands.

--

He was beautiful, a stranger that I saw in a second and remember forever. The way we met was uncommon, but it had always been that way between us. Everything was never common, just different – extraordinary.

It was a humid hot May afternoon, the kind of day where you just want to be inside and put your air-conditioner on full blast. But I was not inside, I was waiting for the train in that uncomfortable weather, Seoul bustling busy as usual. People walked past me towards something or somebody, and there I was, standing in the crowd not knowing where to go and who to turn to.

My life sort of ended that day when the news of my girlfriend’s suicide reached my side. I did not cry, not because I was not sad, but because it had been a full-on dramatic blow that robbed me of words and thoughts. There were anger and loneliness and confusion in me; I did not know what to feel but the feeling of betrayal echoed the strongest. We had been a couple since high school, and God, the thought that I will never see Hyejin again after that undid me in lots of way.

I had wanted to die with her.

Unconsciously, I had stepped forward, just a step more and I will fall onto the rail – the noisy rattling of the old train wheels paled in comparison with the loud hammering of my blood in my ears. I was sure that this was not the end that I want, but my body was not mine then, disappointment taking hold of all sanity left in me.

I was so mad at Hyejin for daring to leave me, without as much as a warning.

Just a step more and I will feel whole again, that was all I was thinking of when I put my life in the pulling force of gravity – only to feel a strong hand gripped my upper arm and pulled me from the edge, before that same hand turned me on my heels till I collided against a hard chest.

He was slightly shorter and not much smaller than me, but the quiet anger I have seen in his eyes could have blaze me afire without a single doubt.

“Is the person you want to die for really worth it? Think. If not, live and take revenge. Do something. Don’t be a coward and die. It wouldn’t solve anything.”

His voice was rough, and while he was prettier than common men, it fitted him perfectly.

I looked at him and I was sure he knew what I was thinking because he sighed knowingly. I let him held my hand as he walked us out of the station, towards some place. His grip never loosened, and I never let him go. Ever since then.

I was rational and composed all my life, my friends would have tell you that if you had asked them – but with him, all my control flew out of the window. An hour after I met him, I was already on top of him, pumping myself in and out of him, crying and panting and living again. He opened and bloomed under me, and Hyejin left my heart and my mind – while he immediately filled her place.

I did not even know his name then.

--

That same night, we were out eating at a ramyun stall and I finally learned his name. He was Kim Jaejoong, once a part-time model and now a full-time photographer, aged 26 (we were of the same age), and born in Gongju. He had a mother and no father since he was nine, and was the youngest and the only boy in his family of ten. His sisters were all married before he finished high school and he never keep in touch with any of them except one who was living in Los Angeles with her American husband. He studied in France for four years, went backpacking across Europe for a year, loved his coffee black, and had always been a homosexual. I had smiled, shy – he was confident and unconscious of his enigmatic aura and I had felt clumsy and inept beside him. It was like I was short of everything, of a life interesting enough to be worth living, and here with me was a man full of those things I had just find myself having nothing of.

“Relax, Yunho. You look so tense.”

“I don’t know how to behave around you…I- It’s not how I usually-“

“-Just be yourself, Yunho. I like you as you are.”

He smiled and fuck, he was damn gorgeous. A lump formed in my throat at his admonition – he likes me? - and I blushed. There were freckles of guilt when fleeting thoughts of Hyejin came to mind, but then I remembered she was not here anymore. She had left me, and I had found Kim Jaejoong. He smiled and the world around cease to exist, and I continued to be a puddle of nothingness slobbering at this angel-like creature’s feet, begging to be loved by those gentle smiles and even gentler hands.

Not my fault that I fell in love with this man on first sight, was it?

Jaejoong drank his soju with ease, gulping down the bitter liquid like it was plain water. I chanced a look at him and saw icy cold hardness etched on his face, a different persona compared to who I was with minutes ago on his perfumed bed. He was nothing but control and charisma outside of bed, a presence you can’t help but notice and admire. On bed, he was a burst of porcelain beauty, pale skin and blood-red lips, vulnerable and needy, gasping breaths and keening mewls, wanting to satisfy me and to mend me. I could not help but to drown in his charms – both personas intrigued me endlessly. If I thought about it now, the speed in which I fell in love with him was quite surreal, no matter how beautiful Jaejoong was at that time. But it does not matter, because ultimately I had fallen and he caught me in his nest, cradling me on his chest and warming my insides.

Kim Jaejoong had saved me.

We ate seafood ramyun and emptied shared bottles of soju, and later went back to his place to crawl into each other’s skins again and again. I remember how thirsty I was for his love and attention then, almost weeping with desperation as he slowly kissed me from one end to another, always insisting to taste me everywhere and anywhere. We had made love gently and deliberately, and I had felt his skin merged with mine, his scent mixed with mine, and his soul mated with mine.

When the lights of reality finally hit me square in the face, it was already day three, and I was sprawled lazily on Jaejoong’s bed, with him on top of me breathing so peacefully, both of us a little bit sweaty and very much naked.

I had wept. Hyejin used to sleep like this with me – I told him – and he gritted his teeth and said he can make me forget. I refused to let him do that, refused to let myself use him more than I already have - this is wrong, Jae - but then he started kissing my pain away, his tongue burning a scorching trail down my body and all retorts died before I could think of another. Jaejoong made me forget the world, made me forget that my girlfriend just threw herself off a building, made me forget that I still have a job to go to and parents to take care of, made me forget that I had to make a call to Junsu before he freaks out, made me forget that Changmin will come back from America some day next week, and made me forget that I had a fish in my apartment and it had not been fed for three days.

Jaejoong made me forget that I was Jung Yunho – a common salaryman who has a dead girlfriend, parents, friends and a fish; a pathetic excuse of a man whose life ended and began in a span of a day.

“You are so beautiful, Yunho-ya…so, so beautiful.” He mouthed from somewhere around my groin, voice muffled as I screamed his name out loud - Kim Jaejoong, Kim Jaejoong, Kim…Jae…joong – ahhhh!

With him, I was simply beautiful.

--

If only life let me go that easily. Reality has a way to catch you unguarded, with thoughts of things you need to do and ought to do, and reminders of who you are and what will happen if you do what you do. It was inevitable that by day four that I started to feel nervous and edgy, because I was scared that Jaejoong will get tired of my vine-gripped existence in his life. He noticed that how tensed I was when I was too distracted to respond to his kisses, and suggested that I go back to my place to sort things out, to get my thoughts and feelings organized.

“You can come back here when you’re done with things, Yunho-ya. There’s a key on the table with the green keychain…it’s yours now.”

A pregnant pause, silent but deafening.

“It has always been yours.”

Jaejoong had said this while leaning against the doorframe and watching me put on my clothes, his gaze intense and almost suffocating. I could not look at him, he was gorgeous and if I look I would want to make love to him again, and I was sure it was not good for him to be made love to so many times. He could have felt so sore down below.

I felt sad as my clothes hid me little by little from him – as if there was a barrier that I had erected between us. I glanced at him, saw his unsmiling eyes glimmered with invisible tears and I finally could not take it anymore and turned to kiss him breathless. He was almost tearful as he clung to my arms, his bare skin rubbing against my rough denim and I remember feeling insanely jealous at a piece of clothing.

“I’ll be back, Jaejoong…I promise.”

He nodded and smiled, and I fell in love again.

--

I did not go back to my place until day six.

Junsu was already there, sleeping on my couch. He had yelled at me for making him worried sick, and shoved a warning memo from our company which I binned after I read it. Quickly, I made a call to my boss, asking him for a much-needed holiday – I deserved it after all the holidays I had foregone these past years, but he said I had used all of it from the six days that I was absent from work. I cursed under my breath and he heard, and it was no surprise that less than a minute later, I was jobless.

I had laughed when I finally put my phone down, and Junsu’s mouth was agape, shocked.

“What the hell were you thinking??”

“Nothing. It slipped off my tongue.”

Junsu grumbled and frown for a few seconds, and then he sighed and took one of my hands in his. There were dark smudges under his eyes; clearly he had not been sleeping well for days.

“Yunho…stop doing this to yourself. I’m sorry about what happened to Hyejin…but things will get better, Yun. It always does.”

I smiled at Junsu, kissing his tired eyes once. I was sorry that I made Junsu worry for me, but really, there was nothing to be worried of. I felt no pain anymore, not for her at the very least. In my mind and in my heart then there was only Kim Jaejoong, my sweet lovely Kim Jaejoong, and he was waiting for me.

“It already does, Su.”

Junsu had hugged me close and wept. I did not know why he did, but I held him as he broke into tears in my arms, and I felt like he was the one more saddened by Hyejin’s death than I was. Maybe he did, now that I think of it, Hyejin had always been his best friend too; Hyejin, Junsu, Changmin and I – the four of us on a cloud of our own painting a future that we often dreamt and talked about. Hyejin lived in Junsu’s memories as much as she had lived in mine – but that’s all there was to her – a memory. She left and I could not even bother to want to remember her. Bitter? Maybe. I realized then that I do not deal with being the one left behind so easily.

I went into the room that I had shared with Hyejin, and I remember feeling nothing when I saw our picture on the table. My goldfish was still alive, thanks to Junsu who probably had been the one to save the poor neglected creature. I went to the balcony, opened the door and stood outside, trying to extend my neck to see if I could spot Jaejoong’s apartment complex from my house. I chuckled when I realized I could not have seen the building, Jaejoong lived in the middle of the city while my place was at the quieter part of the town. All I could see was a school field, some trees, children running, fighting and laughing, and the old radio station where Hyejin, Junsu, Changmin and I used to climb to its rooftop and sang our hearts out.

I let Junsu made me coffee as I packed some stuffs – the basics, several pair of shirts and pants (I never knew then I would have no use of so much clothes with Jaejoong), my favorite pajama boxer and some of my briefs. Half cup of Junsu’s too-sweet coffee and several minutes later, I was back on the road, one hand clutching my duffel bag and another hand carrying my small fish bowl.

--

I went to visit my parents next. Freshly showered and shaven, I looked every bit like the son they have always been proud of, so I was confused when my mother had cried dejectedly when she saw me at the door – not a word uttered upon seeing her only son. She knew about what happened to Hyejin, probably from Junsu, and she was clearly devastated. My father was silent, but I saw his quivering lips and the quiet accusation in his eyes; it was not hard to sense that he blamed me for her suicide. Hyejin was as much their child as I was, and they loved her because she had always been the one who were supposed to be in my future, bearing my name and my unborn babies.

“I didn’t kill her, Appa. She killed herself.”

I defended myself. My mother was crying softly behind me when my father looked up, disgusted.

“You have no remorse.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“She was hurting, Yunho. You never listen, did you? She told us, and she told you, but you never listen.”

My lips tightened as I heard this. I had come home to find solace in my parents, but even they had wanted to throw me further into the depressing darkness for something I had no hand in doing.

“I shouldn’t have come back. Not for this. She left me, Appa. I didn’t do this to her, she did.”

He had never hurt me once in my entire life, and that day, my father slapped me hard until I stumbled back and fell to the floor. He was one foot shorter, yet his callous hand had the weight of experience and disappointment in it; and I could probably chipped a tooth if he continues to pounce had my mother not intervened and put herself between two raging Jung’s men.

“I am ashamed of you, Yunho! You hurt her and not even man enough to admit you did!”

“I didn’t! If she’s hurt, I would have known!”

“Did you listen to her? You didn’t, did you?! She came here crying about you and you tell me you would have known if she was hurt? God what have I done to have a child so heartless…”

I was confused by my father’s words. I can’t remember anything about Hyejin hurting and crying. I would have remembered it if she had said anything, I always did. My father was not making any sense, and I was tired of being the one who always disappoint. They said they loved both of us, but I wondered why it was enough to feel pity for her departure but not enough to feel a wee bit of empathy for me. I had always known I was only the side bit to make way for her existence anyway – they have always wanted a pretty daughter, not a pretty son.

Later, I went back to Jaejoong’s place without eating dinner. My mother packed me kimchi jjigae enough to stuff me up for days, but when I got to his place, I smelled that he was making the same thing and I did not even falter for a single second when I threw the pack quietly into a bin outside the apartment.

He kissed me desperately when I opened the door and we made love on the kitchen table, his feet dangling from the side and I never want to eat anything else that does not have Jaejoong’s taste in it from that moment forward.

He flavored my life.

--

Changmin came back from America and called me the minute he stepped off the plane at Incheon Airport. Of course I had not known this because I was already living at Jaejoong’s place, but Junsu told me about his voice message when I came back to pack more of my stuffs to bring to my new home.

“Changmin is back, Yun.”

“Oh.”

That was my reply when Junsu had told me the news. I could not explain the sudden lack of enthusiastic response; this was my little brother we are talking about, the closest person I have to be a little brother at the very least. We grew up together; his family was my neighbor since as long as I could remember. Being the only child in our families, we seek one another for company. He was always trailing me everywhere, and I am proud to say I had taught him most of the things that he could not have learned in class, and vice versa. We climbed trees and explored the abandoned sewer, made kites from textbook pages and scrapped our knees trying to fly them, and ate wild berries and suffered from itchy lips together for a week. Our mothers treated us like we were brothers, and we were always in each other’s home, sleeping over and laughing at secret jokes past our bedtime. We were so close, Changmin my little brother and I, even when his parents divorced and he moved away with his mother and I moved into my own apartment when I got into college. Changmin used to come to my place after school and bothered me with his homework, and so I had missed him when he finally got the chance to go and study abroad. Separated and far from each other, that had never deter me from believing that I could always fall back to this brotherhood.

I made a note to call him later, making excuses that he must have been exhausted from the long journey and needed time to recuperate. Junsu had eyed me suspiciously, and asked where I was staying at. I told him I was staying at a cheap motel, needing some time to get away from my own apartment and all the bits of Hyejin still living everywhere in it. Another excuse made and rolled easily off my tongue.

“You could stay at my place, Yun.”

“No. I need this time away…from things or people that remind me of her.”

Junsu looked hurt by my words. He turned his back to me and picked a picture frame from the bookshelf. It was the three of us during a Halloween party back when we were in college - Junsu was a vampire, I was a tiger and Hyejin was a cat. Junsu showed the picture frame to me and smiled a little sad smile, all the while brushing the dusts that had found their place on the frame.

“I’ll look over this place, okay? Have your time and come back fresh-“

“Junsu-ya..”

“-I miss my best friend.”

I walked off the short distance between us and hugged him. I never meant to hurt him, but I also did not want to be here any second longer. As quickly as I can, I grabbed the stuffs that I had wanted to take – my important letters and files, a Disney plush toy that has been with me for ages, and all of my briefs and boxers. The air in the apartment pressed so painfully in my lungs, and I found it hard to breathe properly. Hyejin was still here somehow, I could feel her haunting the bed, the shower and the kitchen, hovering around the laundry and the balcony, trying to make her way back into my heart, and I could not stand it. She was not going to leave me as easily as she had thrown herself off the building.

“Su-ah, can you lease out this place? I don’t think I’ll be coming back here anymore, except to pack the rest of my things.”

“Where are you going to stay after I do that? You can’t stay in a motel forever. You don’t even have a job!”, Junsu’s voice was rushed and worried. I just shrugged, knowing well Jaejoong was there for me.

“I’ll find myself a place and a job. Don’t worry. Can you help me this once, Su?”

Junsu nodded hesitantly, his frown creasing deeper upon his forehead as he looked around the apartment, probably thinking what he had done in the past life to be burdened by this crazy friend of his.

“I’m sorry for everything, Junsu-ya. Thank you so much for your help, I do owe you a lot. But I really must go now.”

--

Jagged breaths and shorted moans, I knew I would treasure each and every slither of Jaejoong’s desire that I ever had the chance to cup in my hands, under me and on top of me, till the day I perish. Pleasure was nothing before I touched him, every sensations climbing their way to new heights as his hands roamed on my skin, and his kisses drugged me into oblivion of everything else. Jaejoong was an expert at making me scream, I remember shifting and molding to his planes, curves and twisting limbs as I struggled to get closer, to bury deeper in our passions for each other. He made me ache with a prickly sweet sickness and cure me of it, he made want to die and live in his soul.

Jaejoong had this habit of biting upon the skin of my neck until it reddened from his sharp teeth. Sometimes, it bordered on drawing blood, and I had to stop my sweet vampire from drinking from me more than he already was. He would laugh, cheerful and loud, and tickled my sides till I fall victim to his merciless fingers, gasping for breaths as I guffawed to rival him.

“I love you, Yunho-ya…”

He said this as we tried to chase oxygen into our lungs, my body half-sprawled on top of his. I was holding his hands above his head and breathing in his scent, our mouths inches from one another and heaving chests plastered with sweats and the feels of each other. I remember his eyes had bled dark onyx, the color of want and fervor. But I also saw something else there, something red and fiery, something that I had never seen before in anyone else’s beside Jaejoong’s.

Passion and love mixed deliriously as he stared deep into my eyes, and I felt a choking lump in my throat – I was overwhelmed. He cared for me. He loved me. I was a stranger to pure love that when I saw one, I almost kneel down in humble gratitude for the chance to see it. Jaejoong’s lips quivered as seconds passed by without my answer.

“Do you not love me, Yunho-ya?”

He asked quietly as I was lost in reverie over the splendor I had found in my arms. I saw the glint of insecurity flickering in his eyes and immediately I burned. I kissed him half a second after, wanting to turn into ashes with a taste of Kim Jaejoong in my being.

“Of course I love you, Jaejoong. I love you. I’ve never love or is loved as thoroughly as I do with you.”

He smiled with his swollen lips, and my heart soared, proud of us and our love.

“I will always love you, Yunho-ya…will always love you.”

I kissed my way down his heated body. It was almost two weeks since we met that day at the train station and we had made love so many times since then, but I was as infatuated by his beautiful body as I had been the first few times we had mated. His skin would color a deep shade of pink as I lick and suck, and then I would feel ripples of tremors and pleasure course through him as I bite and soothe the reddened skin with my cold tongue. He had squirmed impatiently as I touched him, his hands darting everywhere to grab me, but I told him to wait for me, to wait as I brought us both to the very edge where he would then beg to take a plunge into that dark blissful abyss with me, for me.

“Ahh…Unn…Nghh..”

Every times Jaejoong panted, a surge of glory ran through me, and I felt myself getting hardened just by listening to him. He bit my hand that was holding him still; too beleaguered by the onslaught of sensations I was putting him through to keep still underneath me.

“Let me touch, Yunho-ya…”

“Not yet. Not- umm- yet.”

“I-ahh! I want- unhh- please! I want to make you feel!”

“You already did, baby…see for yourself.”

I turned so that he could see what he had done to me without even a slightest touch of his finger. I love the way his eyes widened when he saw my cock, a throbbing and weeping length of desire that ached to bury itself in his warmth. Jaejoong reached a hand out, and this time I let him do as he pleased. He thumbed the sensitive head and I hissed, and suddenly the roles were reversed. My hands and limbs became lax, and I was a slave begging for my master’s good favor. He continued fisting me out of coherent thoughts, making me moaned his name until I came dreamy-white all over his chest and neck. He kissed my turgid cock one last time before licking it clean, and I groaned out the rest of my orgasm into a second full-bodied spurt into his mouth.

“You are beautiful like this, my Yunho-ya…so, so beautiful. I love you so much.”

Jaejoong spoke slowly as if enunciating every feeling he felt into the words uttered, and I wanted to weep from the sheer joy. I turned and pulled him up on top of me, feeling him slithered like a devilish snake on my burning skin, and I kissed him deeply, tasting myself on his tongue. He licked my face like a kitten would to milk, and I chuckled, amused and warmed by his attention.

In our bed he was my Jaejoong, a soul chained to my own, and I had wanted nothing more than his love for me at that moment. I knew then that my happiness would only come in the shape of Jaejoong in the future.

I had wanted nothing else.

--

A week after, I called Changmin and he was beyond elated when he heard my voice. I was bombarded by his questions, my ever curious little brother, and I answered vaguely to each one of them. He was not convinced of course, and insisted that we met. I agreed and told Jaejoong this as he cleaned his camera, eyes not looking at me but he nodded as I arranged my words into careful sentences.

“Go and come back soon…”, I smiled and nodded, but he was not finished, “…And don’t fall in love with Shim Changmin.”

I had laughed at his misplaced jealousy and shuffled his hair. He was not amused, his lips tight and eyes wary, but I pouted and made silly faces until I coaxed a thin smile to appear on his cherry lips.

Changmin and I met at a quiet Japanese restaurant that he liked since high school. Tea leaf steeping in our pot and perfuming the air, we discussed about his life, and I remember trying to maneuver out of discussing mine. Changmin was nothing but sharp, and he made me wince when he asked out loud about Hyejin – with Changmin there was no beating around the bushes like many would have attempted or preferred.

“I’m sorry, hyung, but I need to know. Why did Hyejin-noona kill herself? Did she leave any note?”

I poured an over-steeped tea into our cups and shook my head. “No note. Apparently she had gone to my parents complaining about not being happy with me, but that’s it. I didn’t even remember her saying anything of the sorts to me before, so really Min-ah…I don’t know why she did what she did. And I don’t think knowing about it now would make any difference. She did what she did with a conscious mind, and I had no choice or chance to stop it.”

Changmin touched my hand for a second and withdrew when he realized I could feel his hand trembling, “Hyung-ah…are you really okay? Junsu-hyung said you were a wreck when he saw you, and that you asked him to lease out your apartment…He also said that you were fired from your job.”

I smiled genuinely, pushing my glasses further up my nose and nodding, “I’m okay, really. About the job, I’m working on it. I need a vacation anyway. Don’t listen to Junsu, Min-ah. You know he likes to make a drama out of every little thing.”

“So where are you staying now?”

“At a friend’s.”

“A friend? Someone we know?”

I shook my head. “No, not someone you or Junsu know.”

Changmin eyed me in the same way Junsu did when I told him I was staying at a motel. I did not know why I had felt the need to hide Jaejoong from my closest friends, but my instinct told me that they do not need such information, and if they know, they will probably ask me to stop seeing Jaejoong or dig into his profiles without my knowledge. I did not want them to hurt Jaejoong, because I was scared I would be forced to choose between him and them - and that I would not even blink when I take my pick.

I love Changmin my little brother and Junsu my best friend, but no one could compare to my love for Jaejoong my lover and my soul.

--

I had never felt as liberated as I had felt when I was with Jaejoong. I love watching him move, on our bed and outside of it. It was as if he danced for me, light feet merely touching the ground because his wings had been clipped and torn apart by angry souls jealous of his beauty. I saw him walk in front of me and I had to chew on the inside of my mouth to stop myself from drawing him near, but then he looked back and winked and my control snapped like a twig crushed under heavy feet. I just had to drag him near, pull him into my embrace and keep him there for as long as it needed to brandish his existence into my skin. Jaejoong would purr like a well-fed kitten when I cuddled him like that, protective of him, a human armor that would fight and die for him. I did not want to share him with anyone else.

When he worked, his face would transform, his beauty taking a different aura altogether; cold, aloof and mysterious. I felt pride swelled in my chest when I looked at the creases furrowed between his brows as he looked through the brown films of pictures he had taken before he met me. If I squinted I could almost make out the outline of hands clasping, feet walking side by side, and bodies in an embrace, but I could see no faces on the shiny film. Dressed in my shirt and his brief, he would sit on the couch with one knee propped against his chest and me peering up at him, studying him as he studied his photos, one of his hands brushing my hair and massaging my itchy scalp. Contented and spoiled to the brim by his love, I moaned into his stomach, wishing that what I had then would never end. I could not even think of a day without Jaejoong by my side, near me to hold and to touch.

“Jaejoong-ah.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s take pictures together, you and I. I want to have you and me forever…I want to see you with me forever.”

Jaejoong looked down at me, eyes so pretty under the long lashes that were fanning his cheeks as he touched my face, fingers brushing the scars and minute details of my features. I felt ridiculously beautiful then, he was holding me as if I was fragile crystal that would break under the power of his touch. His fingers were warm against my skin, and I smiled at him, waiting patiently for his answer. He could not have denied me my wish, could he?

“I’ll take pictures of you if you want to, Yunho-ya. But none of me. I…want to be remembered as you remember me. If you choose to remember me as an ugly creature with missing tooth and balding head, furs patched in places and tail burnt from accident, then let me be. I’d be that imperfect ugly creature for you, Yunho-ya. Remember me in your mind, because what can be captured by pictures were temporary, tangible moments that you’d cease to appreciate once you forget the warmth and let others taint your memories of me. I want my touches to scorch you even after I am not here anymore, my smiles to freeze you even when you could not really see it, not a mere photograph that show you a cold portrayal of who I am, a snapshot of my love for you that in truth, runs deeper and longer than time. See me now, and remember me as I am…as you want me to be…as I want you to, Yunho-ya.”

“Don’t ever leave me.” My voice sounded choked, unlike me but very much me. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t. I live here, on you and under you, inside of you and all over you, holding you and being held by you. Always together, forever and one day.”

A hot trail of tears left my eye, and he thumbed it, catching the salty moisture on his finger. He sucked it clean from his thumb, taking my sorrow inside him, and he smiled, his own eyes glassy and I could almost see his bare soul behind the warmth of his gaze. Hair tumbled down across one brow, skin flushed from the heat of the end of summer; my Jaejoong looked the handsomest ever.

That was the way I had always remember him, beautiful and honest and giving. My heart breaks as I talk about him now, but he lives like that in my mind, moving pictures of dainty loveliness – always perfect, warm and unblemished. I want to always be able to remember him this way.

--

Humans dream and want. And when they do, they forget the promises and principles they have build for themselves, stumbling over their own failure to not dream things and want things. It is pitiful really, because in the end we have no control over what we do, our souls itching to be free while we put a chain of rules to them – which ends up with us throwing our souls into the open after the struggle. And then comes the regret.

I am a human too, and a weak one at that. Despite my pledge that I would want nothing but Jaejoong, I was plagued by the want to live in the world I have lived before. It was the place where I had ran away from, but it was also the place where my whole life before Jaejoong had been built. As much as I wanted to forget, there were things and people I could not ignore because of the special places they held in my heart. The said people include Changmin and Junsu. I simply missed them.

Jaejoong and I were lounging on the couch watching the old Disney cartoons when I mentioned about Changmin. He was lying with his head on my chest, body pinned in between my legs. The day was a bit chilly because of last night’s rain, and he was all fluffed out comfortable in his boxer and oversized jumper as he cuddled close to me.

“Jaejoong-ah.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to go and see my friends.”

“You’ve seen them before. It’s that Kim Junsu and Shim Changmin, no?”

“Yes, but I kind of miss them. Since Changmin came home, I only met him once.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Hmm.”

I was getting irritated. “What do you mean by ‘hmm’?”

He pushed himself up, staring at me behind the curtain of his bangs. He was not pleased, I could tell from the icy gaze. My heart stopped beating for a full second.

“What do you want me to say?”

I huffed, suddenly angered by his cold reply.

“I don’t really need to ask for your permission, you know. It’s just that I thought you would want to know that I’m going to go and meet my friends.”

His lips stretched into a thin-lipped smirk, expression unreadable. My stomach churned and my insides knotted.

“Well, I don’t really want to know. You can do whatever you want. It’s not like I could have stop you.”

I bit my lower lips, I hate arguing with him. Jaejoong could say the most hurtful things, his blunt honesty an unwelcome weapon that easily knocked me off my feet and I was defeated, whipped by the strong hold his words had on me.

“You know it’s not that, baby-“

“Don’t ‘baby’ me!”

“Why are you yelling at me?!”

“Why are you yelling at me??!!”, he asked in a hissing shout, moving to get away from me. I grabbed his elbow and he twisted free, almost making me fall out of the couch from his harshness.

“Jaejoong baby please-”

“I’m going to make some tea.” He cut me off and padded to the kitchen, disappearing from my sight. I did not hear any sound coming from the kitchen, not even the anticipated sound of running water pouring into the kettle if he was really going to brew tea. Seconds passed and still there was no sound. Then I heard metal clinked with the tile counter and I panicked for reasons I did not even know. Jumping up, I ran to the kitchen and I was glad I was quick to do so when I saw him at the sink, just about to cut his veins open.

“What the hell are you trying to do?!”

I yelled as I knocked the knife from his hand, the sharp blade precariously falling near my own feet. His face was downcast as he trembled visibly, and I pulled him into my arms - my broken insecure kitten and a fool in love.

“Stupid! It’s you who told me that dying would not solve anything! Take revenge! Do something! You said that to me!”

“But it is for you, Yunho-ya! You’re worth dying for!”

“Don’t say that! How could you say that! You promised never to leave me and now you tried to do this…”

Jaejoong cried and clutched to my chest, burrowing his face into the crook of my neck. His body shook as he continued raining my shirt with his tears, mouthing repeated ‘sorry’s on the knitted threads.

I felt tears pricked behind my eyes as I held him. This was the person I had come to love more than life itself, and he was making attempt at leaving me. How would I survive another lover killing themselves because of me?

“Why did you do this to me, Jae…” My heart was broken, shattered to jagged pieces that pierced into my insides. I felt like puking, but I was not angry at Jaejoong. My mind was blurry and hazy, knowing nothing and thinking of everything.

Jaejoong’s answer was muffled against my chest, voice small and unsure, “I thought…you don’t want me anymore. You love Shim Changmin…and Kim Junsu…”

A ragged sigh tore out from my mouth, God, how could he be so - “Stupid. They are my friends, my brothers.”

“Who am I to you, Yunho-ya?”

“A lover. You are my lover…my heart, my soul, my life. You are everything that make me and break me. My Jaejoong. My foolish and stupid Kim Jaejoong, because he tried to hurt himself and he hurts me by even thinking about it.”

“I’m really sorry, Yunho-ya…I’m really sorry.” He sobbed brokenly, face flushed and I felt him shrunk into a tiny ball of shivering mess as I held him tight and rocked him gently against me.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay…it’s okay.”

“I want…to be all there is for you, Yunho-ya.”

“Baby-”

“You’re my everything, Yunho-ya…my everything. I can’t live without you. I can’t…I can’t let you go. I can’t.”

I sighed and kissed his hair. Jaejoong clung harder than anyone I have ever met, but I did not feel the sharpness of his claws at that time. For me, it was utterly endearing – almost adorable even. The fact that I had become his sole attention point, the centre of his universe, made me want to burst and turn into a star so I could shine on him forever.

“Jaejoong baby, you’re all there is for me, to me. But Changmin and Junsu are important to me too. I can’t dismiss them from my life just like that.”

“But you did that to your parents. Why can’t you do it with them?”

My lips tightened at the mention of the ghosts of the parents that I used to have. I held Jaejoong tighter, and he yelped as my arms welted around him – punishment of a sort and also a way to make him understand, see reason.

“My parents do not love me. Maybe they did once, but they stopped loving me at some point, probably when they realized I wasn’t really cut out the way they had try to mold me and I was more a disappointment to them than I was a son. Changmin and Junsu love me, Jaejoong-ah. They were there when I fell from my bike and skinned my knee, they were there the first time I was rejected by a girl, and also there when I nearly ran away from home after my dad told me my exam result was not good enough. They have also been there when I successfully ride a kilometer on my bike, when I got myself a girlfriend and when I finally passed college entrance exam. Because they were always there, I want them to be able to see how much I have come to love you, how much you have changed me and made me happy…because if anything, I love you more than I have ever love anyone, and they ought to witness that because they are my best of friends, my brothers. Do you get me, baby?”

Jaejoong shivered, but I felt him nodding slightly to my question. He heaved himself up, and I caught him against me. He whispered a heartfelt final ‘sorry’ into my ear, and I nodded, forgave.

“Take me to our bed, please. I want you to make love to me, the way that only you could do and know how. I need to make you mine again, just to stop this crazy thought I’m having in my head about you running away with someone else and leaving me here nursing my wound.”

“I won’t ever hurt you, won’t ever leave you.”

“Please make me yours again, make us ours again. Please.”

I acquiesced and scooped him up, his legs winding tightly around my waist as I waddled to our room. We never made it there, the couch seemingly ready for the business we had in minds. I shed him off his clothes with extra tenderness, as if he was a delicate flower I was afraid would wither if I was as much as touch him a bit too hard. Our lovemaking was gentle unlike our usual frenzied fervors, and I cherished this man I had found, my own broken rag-doll that had wanted nothing else but my love. As he took me deep inside him, feeling me pounced against his frazzled nerves, I saw him cried into his release and my heart clutched in razor-sharp barbwires - I had hurt my Jaejoong.

Kissing his temple, I swore to myself that I would mend him as much as he had mended me. He pulled me out of the murky water of my depression when I was about to drown and showed me rainbows of hope, and how could I repay him by making him cried and worried. I could have bludgeoned myself to death by the mere thought, but I knew if I do that I would only hurt him further, which was really a double-edged sword because it will kill me too.

Beneath my love-wrecked mind, I could still sense a curiosity lurking dangerously. There were missing puzzles in our lives; I did not know anything about Jaejoong’s past while he had known almost all of mine. I wanted to love him as thoroughly as I could, and I thought I should ask him more of it later. Why was he insecure, why was he afraid of me leaving him, why did he love so intensely – there were so many questions I had no answer to and was eager to find out.

I never thought my curiosity would bring to me to what I know now.

Part 2

imie_schweetzel: Forever; and One Day (2/2)

2009-03-25T00:07:21Z

I met Changmin again at the same Japanese restaurant, but we were four this time, as Junsu joined us unannounced with his friend – a journalist named Park Yoochun. I was sort of wary by the presence of a stranger in our close knit clique, but Yoochun was all warm smiles and courteous words, that it was impossible to stay elusive from his charm. Junsu probably had fallen hard for this guy too, giving that he was laughing coyly and touching Mr. Park with translucent motives that smelled suspiciously of attention, desire and probably love. I smiled at them both, warm fire burling in the pit of my stomach as I missed my lover in our home.

All the time I was gazing at the two probable lovers, Changmin was staring at me from my side. He leaned in and whispered quietly beneath the noise of the restaurant, sentences strung out of concern and care for my being. I looked at him and patted his hand.

“I’m okay, Changmin-ah.”

“Sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Hyung.”

“Yes Min?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Do you miss her? Hyejin-noona I mean?”

It had been so long since anyone mentioned her name, and I admit I had struggled a little bit to put a face to that seemingly familiar name. Licking my dry lips when I finally succeeded, I shrugged at Changmin, not really answering his question. Junsu and Yoochun stopped talking upon hearing Changmin’s question, and now the three of them were looking at me as if I was a specimen under a lab’s microscope. Silence ensued after my reaction, as everyone waited in batted breaths.

Yoochun was the one who broke the uncomfortable quiet. He gestured for the waiter to come over and refilled our tea pot, almost empty between our four cups. Smiling in gratitude for his tact, I decided to steer our conversation away from the topic of Hyejin.

“Junsu, Changmin…I was thinking…if you have any free time on Saturday, I want to invite you guys to my new house…and meet my partner….my boyfriend.” I blushed suddenly, my cheeks heating as the confession tumbled out of my lips. Junsu’s eyes twinkled, and I swear I had seen Changmin sneered a bit, when they heard the word I had uttered.

“Finally admitting it, huh?”, Junsu said, small lips grinning. I rubbed the back of my neck, relieved and shy. They have always known who I prefer – and I was glad I finally came out of my shell.

“A friend. Tch. I knew it. So who is he?”, Changmin poked my side playfully. I saw Yoochun’s eyes crinkled by the turn of events at the table, the tightness of earlier exchange upturned into a start of a teasing fiesta.

“You guys probably don’t know him-“

“Hyung!”

“Just tell us, Yun! We might have known him! Don’t underestimate our networking!”

I laughed, amused by their excitement. Jaejoong’s face filled my mind, and my heart warmed, happy.

“His name is Kim Jaejoong. You’re right, you guys might have known him, he’s a photographer…and he used to model before.”

Junsu whistled, “Wohoo, a photographer and a model. He must be gorgeous!”

I smiled at Junsu and Changmin, but I caught Yoochun’s brows furrowed a little when I mentioned Jaejoong’s name. Immediately I regretted coming clean about it, because I knew Yoochun had a knowledge that would ruin something. Anything.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but did you say Kim Jaejoong?” his question confirmed my suspicion. I grimaced inside.

“Umm, yes…why?” I did not really mean to ask that question, but by now Junsu and Changmin had slowed down and took interest, and it was the only plausible reply. I waited as the event turned again.

Just as suddenly, Yoochun’s eyes warmed, his smile returning into a full blown proud grin on his lips. Junsu relaxed and Changmin sipped his tea, but my heart was thumping nervously against my ribs, thump thump thump-

“I was just wondering if I could meet him, Yunho-shi. You said he’s a photographer, no? I think I’ve heard about his wonderful works, from galleries that I’ve written about before, and I’d love to meet the artiste in person. That’s…if you don’t mind.”

I could have said yes I do mind and no you are not meeting my lover, but there was something inside of me that told me to say otherwise because it felt good actually to know that someone beside me know Jaejoong. It made him real for me, not just a dream I created in my loneliness like I suspected him to be sometimes – being too perfect as he was. He was a real being who was known by others, and like every other moment when I thought about him, I felt pride flooding my senses, and I smiled to Park Yoochun, saying yes please do come over.

--

Jaejoong was always a bundle of surprises, and I was kept at the wake of my senses all the time because I could never really gauge what he wanted to do or what he wanted to say. Most of the time, he would shock me by revealing a hint of the many hidden sides of himself that I had never known before, and my life was the most exciting when I was with him. He was adorably cheeky when teased, tauntingly cocky when challenged, deathly cold when angered, flamingly hot when aroused, and comfortably warm when cuddled close to my heart. I still remember the different ways his eyes would look at me; but always fiery, deep, needy and with this pressuring intensity that I had never found in anyone else’s gaze. When he touched me, he would make sure that I feel it, even when I was deep in my sleep I could still feel him coaxing his touches into my senses, making me aware of his existence near me, beside me, around me. It was as if he wanted to remind me that I was his; and that even when I was drowsy with sleep and mindless dreams, he was there cradling me in my soul and I was still very much his.

But there were moments when I was scared by this lavish attention he gave me. I felt smothered by his love on those rare times. Every time I breathed, I inhaled him deep into my lungs and he pressed hard until it ached. I wanted him to always stay, but I also wanted more, of which I did not know what. There were truth in the ways we connected with each other in kisses and touches, but when I spoke to him and tried to pry into his thoughts, he would shut me out, closing the gates to his past life by distracting me away, arousing me until my eyes burned hot red with only desire and want for him. I was never really good with my lovers (I only had two before Jaejoong; one was my first girlfriend in middle school, a transferred student from China named Xiao Wei whose face I could barely remember; and the second was Hyejin, dead and almost forgotten), because it was either I was too caught up with my own thoughts and things to care (like I did with mentioned ex-girlfriends) or too attentive till it gave my brain an itch that could not be rubbed out (like what I felt with Jaejoong). Not until I knew all of Jaejoong’s past (which I knew the basic but not enough) I was besieged with this tedious yearning; wanting all of him and nothing less. I was overcome by this unhealthy greed for him, and while I knew that I was digging my own hell by continuing to ponder about it further, I could not stop. Even as deep as I had loved Jaejoong, my mind had seemingly found ways to doubt my heart.

“Jaejoong-ah.”

“Hmm?”

“Am I your lover?”

“You know you’re more than a lover, Yunho-ya…you’re everything. My everything.”

I squabbled with my own thoughts, now that I had established my position in his heart and paved way for my curiosity to launch its missile, all I had to do was push the button and fire. I held Jaejoong’s hand, looking deep into his widened eyes. He looked most adorable like this, and my whole body tensed, afraid.

“Is there anything about you that I should know?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…like your past. I have told you mine, and I think I deserve to know yours as well. I want to know what made you as you are, and all the things that were colored by your touches. I want to know what happened to you before you met me, baby…who you loved and who had loved you…I’m sorry I sounded pushy, but I need to know. Please tell me?”

“I am made by you, I had never loved or have been loved by anyone but you, and my touches only know how to sketch and paint on your skin.”

“Jae-“

“-It’s the truth. Now let’s go back to bed, I’m-”

“-I’m wondering why whenever we talk about your past, you would try to change the subject?”

I turned my back to him, trying to stay firm and insistent. Not looking into his eyes, I could at least fend off the innocence that I knew could have easily radiated from them, which would melt me and cause my defeat in record time. Jaejoong came near, hugging me from behind, his lips brushing softly against the downy skin of my nape. I felt the steady thump of his heartbeat against my back, pebbly nipples rubbing wants unto my seared skin. I shuddered and closed my eyes, willing my body to stop responding to his loving caress for once.

“Jaejoong-ah...please.”

“Please what, Yunho-ya? I’m more than please to give you pleasure.”

His hand wandered down my stomach, expert fingers tracing circles of sweetest sins on my taut muscles. I cupped his hand still, not wanting to be further distracted by this ploy of his that was becoming too familiar not to notice.

“Don’t try to distract me from our discussion, Jaejoong.”

His kisses stopped briefly, “I’m not. You’re the one being a distraction. Don’t expect me to talk with you looking like that…sexy, naked, totally irresistible…and on my bed…our bed. You overestimate my control, Yunho-ya.”

I chose to overlook the seduction webbed unabashedly in his voice. I turned around sharply, locking eyes with him for a second, before peeling his arms off my body gently and pulling out of his embrace.

“I feel like I don’t know you enough, beside your work and what you told me when we met. My lover is Kim Jaejoong, but who is he? The man who said he loves me but does not trust me with his past? I…I feel like I am holding an unsolved puzzle, one where my part is attached, and your part is missing...scattered pieces that you are unwilling to share to complete us.” My sorrow was laden in my words, and I did not even try to hide it. I heard Jaejoong moved about, stepping out of the bed and walking towards the window. He seemed to think quietly for a while, and I stared at his back, his strong beautiful back, and saw him trembling a little but not much. He was confident and at ease, never once faltering and I did not think he was lying when he told me what was on his mind.

“My past is not important, Yunho-ya. What’s important is us…now, and our future together. Isn’t it enough that we love like this? I did not ask about your past, you told me about it yourself and I was listening to you with my mind open because you needed me to be that for you…to listen and to understand. There is a reason they were called the pasts, Yunho-ya…they were things we don’t need anymore now that we have each other. I refused to let them haunt our life. Truthfully, I don’t want to tarnish this beautiful thing we have by showing you ugly scars of my past. There are things…that I don’t want to dwell on, Yunho-ya…things that hurt me when I even as much as think about it. Do you want me to hurt, Yunho-ya? If you do, then feel free to open the wound in my heart that has already been stitched shut and healed by you…”, he said this in a gentle voice, back turned towards me as he looked at the dawning sun. All the while, I steadily bled with guilt behind him.

“I love you too much to deny you what you want.”

How could I push through when Jaejoong had said that? I would be a bad lover for wanting him to remember things he did not want to remember, but God, the itch stayed and never failed to remind me of its existence. I kept hearing my thoughts in tiny, malicious vermin-y voice, telling me that I knew almost nothing about Jaejoong than what he chose to tell me, which was not much to begin with.

I wanted to know about his past lovers, because it was only fair that I knew about them since I already told him everything about my own – even my first crush when I was merely a sniffling crybaby at six. I wanted to know how he knew he liked men, was it because he met a beautiful man at a train station and fell in love at first sight like I did? I wanted to know what had hurt him, was it his family? Friends? Lovers? I wanted to know where he got the long scar he had mapped on the back of his thigh, a pretty stitched up skin that was always cool when touched, and felt softer than the rest of his body. I wanted to know more about his dreams, what he wanted to achieve most when he was growing up, what were his fears and nightmares, and what had made him laugh and smile. Every time I trailed a finger down his strong back, I saw hardships sewn in his each strands of muscles and sinews, and the arch of his backbone reminded me of a life full of adventures he had never told me before. At night, as I held him close in my arms, I wondered about that one year when he trudged across Europe – what did he sees, who was he with, did he hurt his heart then and never recovers?

I never asked him about his past again after that one time, vowing to myself that I should kick out this sick obsession I had of wanting to know everything about someone who loves me for all that I am. I was the broken-legged puppy Jaejoong had fetched at the train station, treated with care and spoiled with love, and allowed to roam his place and his body on my whims – and I had no further right to overstep my welcome in his heart. He loved me despite my shortcomings, I was jobless and a useless man who had lost faith in people who demanded but did not understand – but he made me trusted him. While he kept me balancing precariously at the edge of danger and sanity, he also stood by me with his hands held out, ready to catch me if ever I fall. And now when all I ever wanted was within my reach, I was searching for ways to ruin it by venturing into doubt.

Tsk, Jung Yunho. You never learn.

--

Saturday came and found the five of us in my new home - Jaejoong’s apartment. Changmin, Junsu and Park Yoochun came in a car, bringing expensive red wine and condiments to be shared among us. Jaejoong and I managed to cook simple Western meal; grilled steak, potato salads and Jaejoong’s secret sauce – which smelled like shoyu mixed with some hot pepper paste, beef stock and a huge dose of lime. He laughed when I tried to guess the ingredient, and told me to try harder next time. I pouted exaggeratedly, childish when I was with him. He brought out the silly in me easier than anyone could ever do in my entire life.

We were dressed in simple jeans and t-shirts as we welcomed our guests. Jaejoong was a fine host, polite and knowing exactly when and what to say to my friends. The moment we opened our front door, my eyes never leave Park Yoochun’s face, in case I saw a flickering of something dangerous that I should be wary of in there. But he was sunshiny smiles as I had seen him the first time, even more so now that he realized that my Kim Jaejoong was really the Kim Jaejoong whose works he had admired. Jaejoong blushed bashfully when Yoochun praised his work out loud, and I held him close as he laughed into his hand, a gesture I found too endearing to be shared with anyone.

Changmin looked around the place like an inspector, watching every framed picture and every small ornament adorning the walls and the shelves. I saw him trying to find something, maybe a picture of us, but I was distracted by Junsu’s high-pitched squeal when he saw a black and white picture of two boys holding hands, face hidden but smiles apparent from the upturn of their chubby cheeks, following a deserted trail smartened by leaves and twigs. Junsu had always been weak against anything cute, and two boys holding hands? That was the ultimate blow for him.

“You took that picture, Jaejoong-shi? It’s so cute! Awwww…”, Junsu cooed at the picture, a hand clutched dramatically at his heart. Both Yoochun and I laughed as Jaejoong grinned quietly, because Junsu was really a picture of cuteness himself.

“Hyung, can I use the toilet?”, Changmin asked me before we started our dinner. I showed him the way to the toilet, not really thinking of anything as I acted like a gracious host. Jaejoong, Junsu and Yoochun were busying themselves in the kitchen, and I heard the cheery buzz of their conversation from the hallway as I made my way back to them. I remember feeling contented by this group of people that were in my life; and if I were to live just with this 4 other people, I would be utterly grateful and blessed.

Yoochun helped Jaejoong set up the table, as Junsu and I talked about a job interview I had been called for at a law firm nearby. Junsu was proud that I had seemingly found my steps again, and was genuinely happy for me. I gestured at my smiling Jaejoong and said to Junsu – Jaejoong was the one who saved me and helped me get back on my feet, he loves me, Junsu-ya, he really loves me – and he said he could see it even if I did not speak it out loud.

Changmin came back when we were ready to start our dinner, his face a little pale but I had suspected nothing then when he complained of having a bit of a stomachache. We ate and drank in jolly atmosphere, Junsu cracking silly jokes and I learned that night that he and Yoochun was indeed a couple since a week ago. The dinner went smoothly, despite Jaejoong tipping the sauce bowl accidentally, Junsu drinking too much wine and Changmin not looking very well. Jaejoong had smiled sweetly to my friends all through the dinner, and he held me close all night, one hand always clinging on my arm, a possessive lover who was proud of me and of us.

So I was surprised that after we bid them goodbyes at our front door, Jaejoong’s face turned tight, his smiles disappearing as he hurriedly cleaned the table and the kitchen, refusing my help and avoiding my touches. I asked him what was wrong, but he said nothing and continued rushing about the place. I remember standing in the middle of our living room confused and almost crying, because I had felt like I was the one who had caused this abrupt change of mood in my lover.

“Shim Changmin hates me.”

Jaejoong said this with contempt when I confronted him later in our bedroom. We were changing out of our jeans and shirts when I pulled him close, and forced him to tell me what was bothering his mind. I was shock by his admonition, because I had not sensed anything of the sort going on tonight. If anything, Changmin was a little under the weather and not really his talkative self, but anyone could have understood that.

“Min is a bit sick. You could see that. He doesn’t hate you.”

“He hates me. And he loves you. I don’t think I like him very much, Yunho-ya. No, actually I don’t think I like him at all. Can we not invite him here again later? If possible, can you not see him again after this?”

I was stunned and did not know what to say. This was what I was afraid of – who should I choose, my little brother or my lover?

I grumbled and sighed, turning away from Jaejoong. He was being absurd, and absolutely out of his mind. Men always choose friendship over love – he should know this because he is a man too. Why was he making me do this?

“Don’t make me choose between you and him, Jaejoong-ah. Changmin is my little brother and my best friend – and you are being ridiculous. He likes you just as much as Junsu and Yoochun do.”

“He doesn’t have a partner.”

“What does that have anything to do with him hating you? I can’t see the connection here.”

“He hates me because I took you away from him. I saw it, he faked his smiles and the way he looked at me told me he doesn’t trust me with you.”

“You’re imagining things-“

“-I’m not imagining anything! I saw it!”

“Well I saw nothing of those. Yes, he was slightly quiet tonight, but he’s sick! Cut him some slack, Jaejoong-ah.”

Jaejoong snorted, cynical. “I don’t think he was really sick. He’s not that good an actor, you know.”

“He had a stomachache! We saw how he looked after he came out of the toilet.”

“Yeah, after he came out of our bathroom and not the guest toilet. I wonder what he did in there.”

“What do you mean? Seriously, I’m lost here. Giving you a look, acting sick and using our toilet? You keep saying things that doesn’t happen.”

“I smelled the soap he used after he came out of the toilet – it’s vanilla. I put lavender-scented soap in the guest toilet, and vanilla in ours. Care to explain why he went snooping around our bathroom if he didn’t have anything but doubt and hate on his mind? He’s an impolite guest, and I don’t like him. That’s the end of this discussion, Yunho. If you are still adamant about befriending him, then do so. But you have to know that I hate it if you do so…but I let you make the choice because I love you and I want you to decide on what ever makes you happy.”

I was silent as Jaejoong moved around picking our shed clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin, and just stared after him as he went into our bathroom to clean up for bed. He was already in bed and waiting when I finally came to my senses, and I crawled into his embrace muted and not knowing what to believe and think. In my mind there was a battle going on – did Changmin really do all those things Jaejoong said, and why did he do it. No explanation seemed to satisfy me at the moment, but I knew I had made up my mind about who to pick.

“I’ll ask Changmin if he really did those things and why. It’s only fair…before I stop seeing him.” I said quietly to Jaejoong as I laid on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. He did not caress me to sleep that night, probably still angry that I was giving Changmin a chance to explain. But he had said nothing to let me know what was going on in his mind, dozing off to a peaceful slumber clasping me close to his body.

I lied awake for several hours after he had slept. I realized now that was probably the only night that we did not make love till we slept exhausted from tasting and tiring each other out.

--

I was surprised when Junsu called me two days later, telling me that Changmin had been admitted into the hospital. Jaejoong was out for work since morning, and he will be back by afternoon, so I left him a note on the dining table and rushed to go and see Changmin.

When I arrived at the hospital, Junsu and Yoochun were already there. Changmin was still in the operation theatre, fighting for his life. Junsu’s eyes were tired and a bit swollen, after-effect of crying perhaps. Yoochun had to fill me in on the situation because Junsu was in no condition to talk coherently.

Changmin was poisoned. The deathly dose had been ingested, and had traveled along his blood, silently killing his body - burning his insides and mutilating his senses. Changmin himself did not realize he was poisoned until he puked bluish blood this morning, though he did say he had had bad stomachache since the night of the dinner. Luckily Junsu was nearby when Changmin called him on his mobile, weak and nearly passing out. When Junsu found him, his eyes had dilated, whites overtaking the blacks, and he was gasping like he was drowning in the water. He fainted on the way to the hospital, energy drained and pale as death.

“The doctors said they would pump out the remaining poison from his stomach, but they said it was too late to do anything about those that had traveled elsewhere on his body. If he makes it past this critical stage, he might still have several permanent damages to his internal organs. They are also not sure of what kind of poison had been administered into his body, but they said it had to be the kind where it needs to be digested to take effect. We have to wait until Min wakes up and ask him how the poison got in there.”

Junsu was crying by the time Yoochun finished explaining, and he had to excuse himself to douche his face with some water. Yoochun’s words brought me back to the dinner we had last two nights and the way Jaejoong reacted to Changmin, and I can’t helped but thought maybe…maybe. I did not want to think like that, but I had sensed something bad, something illogical and unthinkable. Bile rose to my throat and I had to run to the toilet where I emptied my stomach of all the food I ate that morning.

I waited with Junsu and Yoochun until Changmin finally came out of the operation theater and was admitted to the intensive care unit. He was in coma, and all the years I had seen him, he looked most like an innocent child at that moment when he laid on the hospital bed – his snarky comments and curious honesty all silenced by the tubes running out his mouth and his veins, face white like a ghost. Before I even knew it, I was crying like a little boy for my brother who I had loved since as long as I had known him, now hovering between life and death.

Jaejoong came to the hospital minutes before the visit time was over, and he did not even go into Changmin’s room. He waited for me outside of Changmin’s room, his face cold and grim. When he looked at my tear-streaked face, his face became grimmer and I saw his lips tightened as he said, “Let’s go home.”

My bad feeling did not go away, but instead it escalated, growing horns and claws and torturing me more as each second passed by.

--

Every time I made love with Jaejoong, it was never the same feeling – it was always new, different and better than before. Jaejoong knew where and when and how to touch, and I was on fire each time he did, because if anything, Jaejoong’s passion burned hottest and I was a willing victim to his scorching ardor. I love the way he moaned my name out loud when he took me deep inside him, as if he was desperate to feel me in his soul and keep me there.

After we got back from the hospital, we had made love all through the night – because Jaejoong did not want me to worry about Changmin. He was unwavering in his quest, exciting me in all ways possible, and making me forget everything the way only he could do. I was lost in the ocean of love made from our sweats and semen, and he brought me up to the sky, where I burst and died wanting nothing else to hold me but him. Jaejoong never let me go, always there to hold me as I shook with the violent tremors of passion he had invoked. I believed I hurt him several times that night, because there was not really any break between the times that he took me in him, but even if I did, he did not tell me anything. He gave me love and accepted the pain I had returned to him willingly and gratefully, and I loved him more with each moment passed.

I remember that because of it, guilt was there poking me from the side when I woke up the next day – because I was still very much suspicious of Jaejoong because of what had happened to Changmin. Jaejoong was a selfless giver, loving me to the fullest and wanting nothing more than to give me happiness, but could someone as perfect as Jaejoong be as cruel and poisoned my little brother? I had this doubt in me, because as far as I knew, Changmin was a good person with no real enemies. He was a good son and a good friend, strangely honest but always good-intentioned, and he thought more of others than he thought of himself. He was a bit like Jaejoong when I think about it – it was like Jaejoong and Changmin shared a streak of personality that could link them together. They were both stubborn in their own ways; when Changmin demanded truth he will make sure he gets it, and when Jaejoong wanted to conceal his secrets, he goes a long way to ensure it was kept hidden and forgotten.

--

Changmin was still in coma three days later, when Yoochun called me and asked me to meet him at the same Japanese restaurant – and I agreed when he asked me to keep it a secret from Jaejoong. I told Jaejoong that I was going for my job interview, a half-lie because I did had an interview in the morning, but I had purposely left out the part where I was going to meet Yoochun.

Yoochun’s face was serious when I found him sitting at the furthest and most secluded table in the restaurant. It was only the two of us this time, Junsu was off for work at this time of the day. He was holding a brown envelope, which he held close to his chest as if it contained something too important – a secret that could bring trouble for people.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this, but if anything, I think you deserve to know it the most.” Yoochun said this as he pushed the envelope towards me, gesturing me to open it. With a heavy heart and much burdened mind, I tossed out all the documents inside and spread them on the table. I looked through Changmin’s medical report first, because I was more worried about his condition than anything else.

He was poisoned by acetic acid – Yoochun told me it was of a nearly lethal dose that could have spelled death if administered just a tiny bit more. He also told me that acetic acid was usually harmless when it was diluted in a lower percentage, such as the usual vinegar we used for cooking, but the one Changmin had ingested was too high in its concentration and acidity that it became a life-threatening poison.

I nodded as Yoochun explained, but my mind was reeling – what was the connection between this information and Jaejoong? Yoochun seemed to know what I was thinking, thus he showed me the foreign newspaper clips, side news that no one really reads. It was written in French and English, but I had easily spotted Jaejoong’s name among the alien words. My heart was going through the loops at this point.

“They were reports on a suicide case in Paris that happened 5 years ago. The man who died was Tristan Benoit, a French man aged 24…and guess how he died?”, Yoochun asked, and I knew the answer even before he asked me about it.

“Acetic acid.” I said, voice small but sure. Yoochun nodded curtly and sipped his tea before he continued.

“He died by swallowing undiluted stop bath – a chemical solution used in developing photographs. It contained quite a high percentage of acetic acid, and it caused his internal organs irreparable damage. I am yet to be to be sure if it had anything to do with Changmin’s case, but I had a feeling that it does. If you haven’t guessed it by now, Jaejoong was the dead man’s lover. He committed suicide after he broke up with Jaejoong, and the French police believed he did so because he was heartbroken. There was a note left on his bed, begging Jaejoong to come back to him. The report said Jaejoong was not in Paris at the time of the incident…it was said that he was in Auvergne on a photography trip with a friend…not a very strong alibi if you ask me.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate here, Yoochun-shi.”, I turned formal suddenly, alarmed at the way Yoochun was trying to connect Jaejoong’s ex-lover’s suicide with Changmin’s poisoning. In my mind, I was already half-way bought by his quietly proposed theory, but my heart was not willing to accept it as easily. It was screaming no no no this could not be happening but it was weeping too, because it knew that there was that possibility.

Yoochun took another long sip of his tea, his eyes staring straight at me, full of sorrow and desperate to make me understand.

“When you told me his name for the first time, I thought I had heard it before – but not from the galleries as I had mentioned to you. When I was an apprentice in the publishing company, I was told to sort out our foreign news files with some other apprentices. Because I was the only one who was affluent in French, they told me to work on news from that country. I remember getting caught up with these particular news clips because they had featured a Korean – a gay one too. I forgot about it after, but when you mentioned his name at that time, I was reminded. I went to search our company’s archive and spent my entire Thursday for it, and when I finally found it, I did not know what to say or do. I didn’t tell Junsu about it, because I know he would freak out and he would think that I was being over-curious and crazy. But I had worked in this news business for quite some time, Yunho-shi, and when my danger sense tingled, it was hard to ignore it. When Junsu and Changmin came to pick me up at my place on our way to your apartment – Changmin had accidentally seen these newspaper clips that I had carelessly left on my working table. He was curious, and had asked me about it as Junsu packed the things to be brought to your place later. I told him not to do anything about it, but apparently he did some spying around and found this in your medicine cabinet.”

Yoochun pulled out a blue pill in a plastic case from his jacket pocket– and I looked at him, puzzled.

“It’s Jaejoong’s anemia med.”

“No, it’s not really anemia pill, it’s an antidepressant – and a strong one too. Changmin found it and gave it to me after we left your house, and I sent it to the lab to find out what it was. Do you know why he takes this pill?”

I shook my head. God, it was all too much to take in one go, and my stomach churned as if I was going on a terrifying roller-coaster ride. Jaejoong’s sweet smiles flashed at the back of my retinas, and my head spun – this could not be happening. Was Yoochun trying to tell me that my lover was a psychotic man who tried to kill my best friend?

Yoochun clasped my hand tight, and I knew he understood what I was feeling at that moment. My eyes stung, I wanted to cry but my throat was closing and I could not breath, there was so much going on but all I can think of then was Jaejoong and how sweet and perfect he was – my Jaejoong, my lover, my life. This must be a joke, a sick joke invented to play with my mind and I hoped that it came to end soon, because it was really not funny and it had started to hurt really, really bad.

“I haven’t told anyone about this, not even Junsu. I wanted to tell you first, because I think you need to be extra careful from now on, even when you still could not believe what I have told you. We do need stronger evidence before we could link Jaejoong to Changmin’s case…and for your sake, Yunho, I hope Changmin and I are wrong and this was all just an unfortunate coincidence. But before that, we have to treat this as it is – a grounded suspicion. Changmin needed you to be level-headed this time and not to just follow your heart…he did risk his life to save yours.”

Yoochun’s words rang loudly in my ears as I walked back to my apartment, those photocopied newspaper clips hidden in the many pockets of my briefcase. Jaejoong was already home when I walked through the front door, all warm smiles and warmer hugs as he clung to me, wanting to know how my interview went. I had to lie through my story because I seriously could not remember anything before my conversation with Yoochun.

“Yunho-ya, let’s take a bath together. I prepared hot water for you, and mixed in your favorite vanilla-scented bath salts. You must be feeling tired from all the waiting, no?” Jaejoong said to me softly, hands expertly kneading my tensed muscle. He was right, I was extremely exhausted, but not from any waiting. Instead, I was burnt out from the thoughts running through my mind – all I wanted was for Jaejoong to make me forget all that Yoochun had told me earlier; to pretend that Changmin was not in a hospital and that my Jaejoong was not a man with a dangerous mind and a tendency to kill.

I let Jaejoong undressed me and led me to our bathroom. As I stepped into the lukewarm water, my eyes could not stop but stare at the medicine cabinet, where I knew Jaejoong stored most of his things – and his light blue antidepressant pills. I felt him slithered in next to me in the medium-sized bathtub, his soft naked skin rubbing against mine, his arms winding comfortably to envelope me in his embrace. He kissed my jaw and ear, soothing and slightly drowsing, and I closed my eyes, willing my mind to stop working and worrying. Jaejoong could not have hurt me, couldn’t he?

“I love you, Yunho-ya…I love you so much. I will make you happy…so happy you’d want nothing else but me…nothing else but us. My Yunho-ya…my forever and one day.”

He whispered this as I fell deeper into sleep, and in my unconsciousness, something grew and rose in me – a strong willful voice that urged for the truth.

--

The next few days after my meeting with Yoochun were the hardest I had been through all my life. I was kept in alert mode at all times, and it hurt as I acted and hid things from Jaejoong in my quest to find the truth. It was not easy for me to do so, since he was always around, just loving me like usual. Those few hours when he had to run to his studio to get things were my only chance to do my investigation, and I remember seriously debating whether I should really go on with it.

All the while I was living in Jaejoong’s apartment, this was the first time I had dug through his personal things. I had found nothing suspicious in his closet and bookshelves, and I was nearly frustrated as the time ran short before he came back. I sat on the bed as I stared at the clock ticking by, almost giving up and partly relieved that I had still not found evidence to this wayward side of my lover.

Suddenly a thought struck me and before I knew it, I was pulling the mattress off the bed. My eyes widened at what I saw – I could spot some of the newspaper clips similar to those that Yoochun had shown me and few others, and some pictures. I knelt down as I looked at those photos; there was one with young Jaejoong whose face was as beautiful as he was now, embraced by a handsome guy with blond hair and a warm smile. His hair was slightly longer then, and he almost looked like a girl – had I not known better. Then I saw a paper with messy handwritings, repeatedly writing the same sentence over and over again – as if the writer was trying to emulate someone else’s penning style. I nearly cried when I realized what it was – it was Jaejoong trying to copy his lover’s handwriting for a suicide note that shifted the blame away from him. I saw another photo through my hazy eyes; a family picture where the father’s face was scratched out. I looked through the scattered yellowish news clips and I cried brokenly upon reading one dated the earliest – about a man who had killed himself after he was sentenced to a life-time imprisonment for abusing his wife and raping his children; 8 girls and a young boy, their names unrevealed.

It was my Jaejoong. Oh God.

I cried my heart out for a good several minutes – before I gathered all the things and stored them in my briefcase, and carefully made the bed as before. I knew what to do then, and no, there was no way I could hate Jaejoong. Nothing could have changed my love, not even the fact that Jaejoong was mentally and physically dangerous.

My Jaejoong had saved me once. Now it was time for me to save him.

--

Changmin woke up two weeks after he was admitted, muted for life. I told him what happened to Jaejoong and what I was going to do, and he cried silently, giving me encouragement through his eyes. I knew I could always fall back on our brotherhood and I was so grateful that he did not hate me for failing to hate Jaejoong. Deep inside, I knew he was not angered by what Jaejoong had done to him; there were so many scars in Jaejoong’s past that had been harder to fathom and if there was anyone who could understand him, it was my little brother Changmin.

I told Yoochun and Junsu about my plan next. Junsu was unsurprisingly shocked by this revelation, after all he was the only one who had not been in the knowing as all of these happened. Always the kind-hearted soul, Junsu was quick to forgive Jaejoong, but not before telling me that Jaejoong needed to get help and be rescued from himself, before he harmed anyone else, especially me.

When I faced Jaejoong that rainy August afternoon, my heart was determined, mind set on doing what it had been planning on these past few days. The staffs from the mental hospital stood in guard outside of the apartment as I talked to Jaejoong. He was calm when I confronted him about Changmin, but his eyes had widened considerably when I mentioned about Tristan Benoit, his former lover. He finally crumbled to the floor as I gently spoke to him, my voice holding nothing but love and compassion for this broken angel sprawled in front of me.

“I know what you had done, Jaejoong-ah…to both Tristan and Changmin. I’m not asking you to admit it, but I just want you to know that I understand why you did what you did, even though it was not the right thing to do. I’m sorry I had to go and poke into your past without your permission to find that understanding, but I’m glad I did because I love you more now that I know all of your stories, of the origin of the scars you had embedded in your heart and wrapped in your mind. No one hates you, Jaejoong…Yoochun, Junsu and even Changmin do not hate you. You’re hurt, and all you wanted was someone to love you. That’s why I am here. Don’t be afraid, baby…”

Jaejoong sobbed and laughed at the same time, and I was truly scared for the first time since I met him. He rocked his body gently, holding his knees close to his chest as he cried out loud, gaze darting everywhere but not focusing.

“You will leave me! They all left me! Ma left me when Pa beat me to pulp, and Pa left me when he was done using me! My sisters left me because I was a burden, and Tristan left me because he found someone more worthy than me! You will leave me too, because you love Changmin and Yoochun and Junsu, and because they are all pretty people with good hearts and good pasts and I was nothing but a worthless dirt who had killed people! I might have killed your Hyejin too, if she had not killed herself before I found you! Hahaha! You will leave me now, right? You will leave me and I will have to kill you because I can’t let you go! I will have to kill you, Yunho-ya…I don’t want to, but I’d have to…I don’t want to kill you, Yunho-ya…please don’t make me kill you…you’re my everything, Yunho-ya…my everything…I can’t…I will die if I let you go…I will die…please don’t leave me, Yunho-ya…I will die…there is no one else now…no Pa, no Ma, no sisters, no Tristan…please don’t leave me…there is only you Yunho-ya…I will die if you go…only you…forever and always, only you…only you…don’t leave me…I have only you…”

He was sobbing brokenly by the end of his rambling, and I could not help but to hold him close to my chest, letting his tears drowned my shirt front for the last time. I had to do this, it was what Jaejoong needed. Long overdue and too much ugly suffering buried under his pretty mask, Jaejoong would finally get what he wanted, what he deserved. I held him and kissed him softly, not scared of this man and his insanity.

The hospital staffs rushed in at my signal. Bounded and tearful, he was still my Jaejoong, beautiful and mine.

--

I look at Jaejoong now and see an exquisite serenity that I had not seen before. We are older now, age eating our lives and giving us nothing but bittersweet memories. He is at peace now, finally resting with no more monsters raging in his head telling him that he is not worth the love or the respect. I keep loving him till the end, I was by his side as he battled the angry ghosts living inside of him since he was a child, and I was also there to witness when he made the first step to recognize people and the love that they could give him, apologizing earnestly for the mistakes he had made and the hurt he had caused.

I amended my relationship with my parents long ago, and I am no longer mad at them for the things they had consciously or unconsciously done to me. Despite their flaws, they had genuinely loved me, and had willingly accepted me back. Jaejoong made me see that love was truly a precious thing – I could have end up like him if not for the love that my parents had bestowed upon me.

I visited Hyejin’s grave for the first and only time years back, wishing that she too found the peace she needed. I could have loved her better, but no, not as deep as I have loved Jaejoong. What ever happened, there is no hate for her, just a wishful thinking that I would find her trotting the street with a child clinging to her hand one day, where she was never really in my life and never really my once-lover.

Changmin is making progress with his speech; if he tried hard he could be heard mouthing few syllables of easy words. He is a successful businessman despite his physical deficiency – and I am grateful that my little brother is able to lead a fairly normal life even after what happened. Junsu married Yoochun a year after the incident, at this same church where I am standing now. They have an adorable adopted son; a cheerful, sunshiny boy with black hair and an even blacker eyes – a spitting image of young Jaejoong had he led a happier childhood.

I cry now because our story is nearing its ending, and I have to part with my lover soon. It had been a rough ride, my love, a sad and happy love story but nothing of regret. I am glad that your path and mine had crossed – and I love you, Kim Jaejoong, for you had saved me and made me appreciate life and love once more.

Thank you. Thank you so very much.

Till then, and may our paths cross again.

--

Yes I still remember, every whispered word
The touch of your skin, giving life from within
Like a love song that I’d heard
Slipping through our fingers, like the sands of time
Promises made, every memory saved
Has reflections in my mind

Hasta manana
Always be mine.
- Viva Forever; Spice Girls

Art Post

Art: Forever; and One Day

2009-03-25T00:00:48Z

Artist: zerotrigeal
Fic: Forever; and One Day
Ratings: One worksafe and one semi-nws

Please leave all comments for the artist here!

dreaminthepast: Small Triumphs of War

2009-03-24T00:22:44Z

Title: mikroi kratoi tou polyemou: Small Triumphs of War
Author: Sev-chu
Pairing(s): YunJae, YooMin, SuMin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Archidamus Yunho, Co-King of Sparta is fighting against a dangerous rebellion while his priest Agis Changmin fights a violent past and nightmares he can't control. But what will happen when two outsiders are thrown into their world and they are forced to put their lives in the hands of these others?
Warnings: Violence
Word count: 21,270
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: Beta'd by yaoi_hoshi and dahchi If you would like to learn more about Ancient Sparta or something just isn't quite clear please feel free to check out my 'research / resource post' here.

Part 1

Bare feet brush along the tiger skin rug, its soft fur warming cold feet as Junsu paces in front of the hearth. The fire spits, sending a faint glow through the room as the heat radiates out to warm the cold bricks of the bedroom. He runs a hand through his spiky, jet-black hair. He should be used to the cold, welcome it, because he is Spartan after all, but there’s something about the heat that he likes better. Junsu likes how it folds him in and holds him close, like when he has a lover in his bed. He likes to watch the pop and crackle of the wood, likes to see the sparks float up towards the ceiling, even as a soft rustle of sheets draws his attention back to the sleeping platform behind him. Looking back Junsu watches the man wrapped in his linen sheets stir, but he doesn’t wake, so the king turns his attention back to the fire instead.

It bothers him that he’s unable to sleep, that there’s something just not right and no amount of pleasure will rid him of it. His heart feels empty, and he realizes that he misses Yunho, the other king - more like a brother to him than just his co-ruler; the thought of the older man’s kindness and gentle smile warms Junsu’s heart. Perhaps another letter, Junsu thinks, sitting down at the heavy wooden desk. It’s been weeks since he’s written to the other man, not wanted to be a bother while the other king is on campaign. He tries to keep his messages short, but it never feels like enough.

The desk, an heirloom from his father, is stained dark under his fingertips, the recently polished surface smooth to the touch. Pulling a scroll and writing stylus from the tiny shelf beside him, Junsu can feel the surface of the paper prickling the soft skin. Without thinking about what he’s going to write, he dips the stylus in ink, beginning to scribble letters onto the material.

Dearest Archidamus Yunho, co-regent of Sparta,

Things have been moving slowly since you left with the men who could still fight. Even though we have rebuilt significantly, we still have many buildings left to fix. There are also many funeral rituals which still need to be observed. I will soon have to hold a sacrifice and pray that Poseidon will accept our offerings and supplication for the wrongs we have caused him.
I miss you terribly, and even if my bed is never empty I think my stomach always is, because it’s hard to eat without you nearby. I hope that you are winning against those despicable slaves, promise me you won’t get a spear in the eye, or your ass, and don’t be too hard on the Athenians, it’s not their fault they're weak.
Come back safely and swiftly, I always feel vulnerable when you’re not here.

With love and affection
Pleistanax Junsu, super co-regent of Sparta.

Yunho puts the letter down, scrubbing his hands over his face roughly before slumping back onto the chair he is sitting on. Closing his eyes, the Spartan king tries to push everything out of his mind, the overwhelming severity of the situation he has found himself in, as well as the din of the war camp just outside his tent flap.

Situated at the far end of the camp, Yunho’s tent is small and frugal, just like everyone else’s. It is plain on the outside, a door cut for easy access but no windows, its only defining feature a purple flag at its point instead of the Spartan red to indicate his status. Inside there is a small sleeping place across from the chair he now occupies, the heavy blanket resting over the matting doubling as his fighting cloak. Blood red in colour, it matches and represents the blood coursing through his body: Spartan blood. There’s a small desk on the opposite side where a short lamp emits a flickering light and beside it, laying over the trunk his father had given him when he had become a man, sits Yunho’s armour, shining polished bronze.

Outside the camp bustles with people preparing the mid-afternoon meal he'll soon have to attend, his clan expecting his arrival and participation; something he should probably be leaving for right now.

Standing up, Yunho places his letter on the desk before grabbing his cloak off the bed and swinging it around his shoulders, not caring to feel the bite of the wind on his skin. The sun hits his face as he exits, forcing him to squint before he begins to stroll towards the large dining circle only a few meters away. The mud squishes under Yunho’s feet as he walks, and he watches it with an idle fascination until the sound of a trumpet almost makes him jump; one of the scouts is running towards him, eyes wide, almost frantic.

The Athenian mercenaries are here, your highness, their leader wishes to speak with you,” the man pants, waiting for Yunho’s instructions.

Very well then, send him to the dining area; I’ll meet with him there,” he instructs, feeling the dread washing back over him. He has done everything in his power to avoid seeking help from the Athenians. They're a vain, arrogant ally whose intentions he's leery of, and they leave him with an unsettling feeling in his stomach. In the end he had no choice, though: their Spartan numbers are too weak, too many men of military age have died in the earthquake and he needs the help. He just won’t admit it to anyone.

He continues on his way to the large area that serves as their dining space. Yunho walks through, greeting those of his clan with a firm handshake; a warm fire rages in the centre, large chunks of meat hanging from spits over it, and their smell wafts through the air. Off to the side he can see one of his generals standing beside the Athenian, their backs turned to him as he closes the distance.

Yunho watches as the man turns to face him, feeling almost as if time were coming to a halt. His fair hair sparkles in the light of the fire, and Yunho almost trips over his feet. He's so beautiful, his mind screams, a striking sight in his fitted armour; well defined muscles cord up his arms into broad shoulders and a thick chest. His waist is trim; his whole physique exuding masculinity, but Yunho can see his nature reflected in his face. High cheekbones accentuate his beauty, full lips that seem to want to do nothing but make a sexy pout and eyes Yunho has never seen before, a wash of blue over black. His heart seems to stop in his chest as though he was dying, and in that moment he knows that he has to have this man, all of him. It’s embarrassing, how strong the need to be with him is, and Yunho is almost disgusted with himself. He has been taught that engaging in pleasure for pleasure’s sake is wrong, below his status as a Spartan. He should feel affection for him, not want to take him like a trained pedika.

Archidamus Yunho, co-regent of Sparta. Welcome to my camp,” Yunho smiles, hoping to hide the reddening of his cheeks by extending his hand.

Pericles Jaejoong, leader of the Athenian mercenaries. No need for welcomes, we’re not staying long,” he says curtly, and he turns on his heel leaving Yunho to stand alone.

…. …..

Flat dusty land stretches out ahead in a vast terrain as sandaled feet trip over one another, a weathered scroll falling from long slender fingers to the ground. The scroll rolls on the dirt until it comes to a halt, stopping gently against a collection of small pebbles. Its owner trips again, cursing under his breath until he reaches the scroll, bending down to pick it up only to have soft fingers meet his own, skin brushing skin before one set shies away.

You dropped this,” the man says, quiet voice and unsure tone. He stands close, gently wiping dust from the parchment as he looks at the ground, eyes avoiding contact as he hands the scroll over. Their fingers touch again subtly, dark skin brushing against lighter while the scroll is passed between them.

Thank you… I’m sorry, have we met before? You seem familiar.”

The other man gives him a quizzical gaze, collecting the scroll into his hand with the other scrolls he’s carrying. He watches the other fidget in-front of him, slender fingers kneading into his cloak.

No, I don’t think so. I would have remembered someone as beautiful as you.”

The remark earns him a raised eyebrow and a warm blush.

My name is Brasidas Yoochun, flute player for the Spartan army,” the man introduces himself, pointing over to his instrument sitting on a nearby tree stump.

Yoochun receives a smile and shining recognition as the other man shifts his weight, almost dropping another scroll.

“I'm Agis Changmin; prophecies, divination and sacrifices…” he trails off, watching the other man’s eyes grow wide. Their chocolate depths turn scared and he starts to take slow measured steps backwards, making sure not to stumble over anything that will impede his escape.

“I’m sorry, I have to go…I can’t,” the man named Yoochun shakes his head, black hair tussling as he turns, trying to distance himself from Changmin. He walks away swiftly, making sure to gather his flute into his hands before he walks, almost runs back in the direction of the camp. Changmin watches him go, eyes following the beautiful man until he can no longer see him.

“Seriously, it’s not that weird,” Changmin mumbles under his breath, rubbing at his temple with his free hand. Sighing dejectedly, he checks all of the scrolls, making sure he isn’t missing any for his meeting with Yunho before he turns back, walking through the camp towards the king’s living tent.
Terms: Pedika: a male concubine or ‘sex boy’ Helot: Spartan Slave. Perioicoi: a specific social group, like a second class citizen.

Part 2

It’s been almost a week since he and his troops have entered the Spartan camp, and it’s been a week of secretive meetings that didn’t include him, of cryptic glances and back-door discussions that are leaving Jaejoong feeling very leery of the whole situation. Everyone knows that the Spartans can’t be trusted, and this only proves it further. It had taken this long to call for him, for the Athenians, no wonder they had yet to put down the revolt.

Yunho had sent a page for him earlier in the morning, asking that they meet after the afternoon meal, and he would take every security precaution he could. His first meeting with the king, although brief, had been unsettling, the look in the ruler's eyes putting him on edge. There was something in the glint of the other man’s eyes that sent a strong shiver down his spine, and he had yet to decide if it was good or bad.

He tries to push the thoughts out of his head, tucking the small dagger inside his arm-guard where no one can see it before stepping out of his tent. The air outside is just as restless as the camp: the overcast sky hints at rain and the wind shakes the trees around him.

The cold metal lying against his skin is his only source of comfort; there is no telling what the Spartan king is planning, but if it's Jaejoong’s death he isn't going down without a fight, without taking the king with him to meet Hades.

Shifting his gaze to scan the camp in front of him, Jaejoong starts off towards Yunho’s tent, hoping not to run into any unforeseen problems during his meeting with the king.

…. …

Full voluptuous notes float along the breeze, rolling softly through the barrier of his tent to whisper against Changmin’s ear. The sound meanders along his subconscious, begging to be followed, and the priest finds that, like a vision, he can’t pull away from it, that he needs to know what is producing such intoxicating sounds. Changmin grabs his cloak before he steps out into the cooling afternoon, following the sound as it takes him out of the camp to the outskirts where the lower-classed perioicoi are staying. He hopes the melody will bring him to Yoochun; the musician’s soulful eyes left a lasting impression on him. His quiet, fragile demeanour makes Changmin want to hold him tight, and he lets his mind wander to Yoochun’s smooth skin and broad shoulders. Distracted, he misses the large stones in his path, falling helplessly to the ground, limbs flying in every direction.

A strangled cry catches in the air as he falls, tender hands grabbing for him but unable to break his fall. Yoochun holds onto him tightly, his arms wrapped around Changmin’s waist as they land sprawled over the full length of the musician’s body, knocking the wind out of both of them in the process.

Changmin quickly starts spouting apologies, an endless stream of words as Yoochun squirms out from underneath the priest, quickly turning away to hid his reaction from Changmin. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of such a prestigious man, but he can feel his cheeks blush red at the feeling of the other man so close to him and he's ashamed by his lack of self control. He can hear the other man slowly pulling himself up behind him, and he tries to gather himself as he dusts off his cloak.

Long digits pick up the small instrument that lies on the ground near his feet. Its polished wooden material glitters in the mid-day sun and Changmin thinks about how precious an object it is to the other man regardless of the instrument’s inexpensive material, making it a prized possession. He turns it over in his hand before he holds it out, lightly tapping Yoochun on the shoulder until the other man turns to collect it.

The musician grabs for it quickly, before taking a step backwards, as if Changmin’s skin could burn him; the action frustrates Changmin, makes him angry that the other man will not accept his friendship.

“Why are you so scared of me?”

“I’m not scared of you, I’m scared of them. I shouldn’t be seen with you.”

Yoochun hugs his instrument close to his chest until he feels silly, and lets his hands drop to his sides.

“That’s absurd…”

“It’s the truth,” Yoochun says, cutting off anything else he was going to say. The musician’s eyes are focused, even if he looks like he might cry, and Changmin suddenly realizes how fragile the man really is.

“Fine then.” It sounds terse the moment Changmin says it, and he wishes he could take it back. “I guess I’ll … thank you for breaking my fall,” he tries to finish, and it’s just awkward and he wishes he were somewhere else, not staring at the beautiful man in-front of him.

Yoochun only nods as Changmin slides away. He feels defeated as he watches the priest quickly exit back towards the centre of the camp where all the more prominent tents are. He can feel the tears sting his eyes as he curses all of the times he’s wanted something he can’t have. But nothing compares to this, to the longing he feels, and he wishes he could understand why he feels this way, tries to understand why the new melody comes so easily as he picks up his flute to continue playing.

… …

Yunho almost jumps as the cold air from outside skitters across his bare skin, but it’s not unwelcome. Paying no attention to the cause of the temperature change, he circles the table in front of him, drawing his eyes along the map rolled out on its surface, its symbols outlining the rugged terrain that makes up Mount Ithome and its surrounding area. If he could just find a good plan of attack they would be able to uproot the helots and make it home before the winter months force them to abandon their position.
"You're not going to just stand there, are you?" he asks, directing his question at Jaejoong. Yunho tries to keep his head down, not wanting to meet Jaejoong’s beautiful eyes. He still feels unsettled from their meeting five days ago, the Athenian’s beauty just as poignant in the daylight as it was by the wash of the fire.
Jaejoong stands just inside the doorway with his cloak wrapped snugly around him; even with the tent flap having fallen back to re-establish its barrier against the cold of the outside he still looks frozen. His eyes are wide in shock as he takes in the Spartan king, the light from the small lamp to his side playing across Yunho's bare skin, creating lights and shadows along the toned flesh. The man stands nearly naked, unashamed, and Jaejoong would call him a barbarian if it wasn't for his royal pedigree.
"Shouldn't you put some clothes on?" the Athenian asks, his tone as cold as the air around them. He approaches the table, taking in Yunho's sweeping fingers as the king draws stratagems along the map. He finds the king's nudity distracting, his mind focusing on the large expanse of tanned skin and the interplay of muscles as the man shifts.
"This is Sparta, we have no need for clothes. Unlike Athenians we are taught from birth to be strong against the elements and physical exhaustion. My generals tell me you have siege equipment, is this true?" Yunho asks, trying to busy his mind with work as he moves closer to Jaejoong, ignoring the other man's discomfort towards his unclothed state.

"We do." Jaejoong frowns, looking over the map set out in front of him and trying to ignore the king's disregard for modesty.
"Is this the ridge of the mountain?" Jaejoong points to a long wavering line, reaching across Yunho to get there. The alabaster skin of his arm brushes against Yunho's and the king has to bit back the way it makes him feel inside: like he’s on fire from the inside out and his skin itches. 'So much for awkward,' he thinks.
"Yes, and we believe the helots are hiding here," Yunho's finger directs Jaejoong's attention to a large circle just above the ridge, his hand sliding around, and skin brushes against skin again.
"Then the siege equipment should be placed here, here and here," Jaejoong bites his lip as he gives scrutiny to the map, picking up Yunho's hand to place it at the first spots he had indicated before pointing out the other two with his own hands as Yunho nods. He refuses to pay attention to his brain or the images it conjures at seeing the Athenian chewing on his bottom lip, making it red and swollen.

"What are these marks for?"
The Athenian skirts behind him, catching his fingers against Yunho’s hip when they're about to collide, and the skin along Yunho's body sizzles. He blinks, confused by Jaejoong’s sudden change of attitude towards him. Perhaps the Athenian isn’t as close minded as Yunho thinks he is, that he may have a chance with Jaejoong after all. He watches the other man continue to scrutinize the map, tries not to let his mind think about how Jaejoong would feel close to him, under him.
"They are places that we’ve encountered guerrilla attacks. I've lost close to ten men.”
Jaejoong nods, still refusing to look directly at the other until he feels his hand being gathered into Yunho's one and moved across the map.
"What if we put the siege towers here, here and here?" Yunho suggests, setting Jaejoong's hand down on the map like before, unaware of the scathing glare the Athenian is giving him. “Or what if we just tunnel under all of it?”
"Don't touch me," Jaejoong grits out, pulling entirely away from the table.
"What?" Yunho blinks, confused.
"I said don't touch me, or I'll slit your throat." Jaejoong narrows his eyes like a wild cat about to attack, and he takes a step towards the door.
"You touched me!" Yunho almost laughs at how ridiculous the situation is; he has no idea why Jaejoong is acting this way.
"I did not. I was indicating strategic position, you and your immodesty are trying to seduce me."
This time Yunho really does laugh at him, he can't stop himself.
"My siege equipment is of little use in this situation, I will not endanger my men blindly. Let us either engage the enemy or we're going home," Jaejoong says coldly, pushing his way out of the door and leaving Yunho to shake his head in confusion.
Yunho had no idea Jaejoong was going to be so eccentric, and it makes him want the other man even more. He wants to unwrap the enigma that is the Athenian mercenary general, crawl into him and find out who he truly is. He’s starting to fall for Jaejoong, and Yunho worries what will happen if Jaejoong rejects him. Will he be able to just forget the man who appears to be ruining his battle plans at every turn?
Yunho shakes his head; hoping to clear the cobwebs; he needs to talk to Changmin, and a letter to Junsu wouldn't hurt either.

Part 3

Soft lips trace along the slender length of the King’s finger before the digit is surrounded by warm moistness, tongue laving at the pad. “Your Highness, please touch me.”

Junsu smiles; it has been far too long since he’s had the time to enjoy his private life, soft suggestive kisses drawing the new Paige into his sheets. The man’s creamy skin was like the finest textile under his lips, the sounds Junsu pulled from him exquisite.

Without turning his attention from the scroll in his hands the King trails his wet finger down the man’s back, skipping over the notches in his spine until he is able to drag along the cleft of the man’s ass, thumb teasing at the entrance.

The Paige moans, rolling his hips and pushing up into Junsu’s thumb until it slips inside his body, already slick from their last passionate encounter.

“So needy,” Junsu coos as his eyes skim the paper he’s holding.

Dearest Pleistanax Junsu co-regent of Sparta,

Things have been moving along very slowly. We have yet to establish a defensive perimeter around the slaves. Changmin has been seeing bad omens for the past seven days now and I hope things will start to improve. If they don’t I fear the Athenian mercenaries will leave us.
From my meeting with their general I have learned that their siege equipment we have been highly anticipating for so long is of no use to us. The terrain is too narrow and the risk is too great from guerrilla attacks. I haven’t been this disheartened in a very long time; but enough of all these depressing things.

“Your Highness,” the Paige cries out, teasing fingers toying with him as he buries his head into folded arms, fingers digging into the sheets.

Junsu takes a minute to stop reading, eyes roaming over the Paige’s naked body. It glistens with sweat even in the cold of his bedroom, ragged breaths filling his ears. His fingers rock in and out, just enough to keep the man on edge, but not enough to push him over. It’s something he’s perfected, except the pitch of the moan is different, the skin not quite what he’s used to.

“Patience.”

It’s all he ever says, except the usual argument never comes, a weak whimper given to him instead as he returns to the rest of Yunho’s letter.

My dear friend, I seek your advice.
The Athenian general plagues my sleep. He is beautiful like the stars, but as unpredictable as the sea. I need your advice on how to win his heart because he has already won mine.
I hope your answer reaches me swiftly, but until then I am going to ask him to eat with our clan.
Do not fear you will always have my love.

Archidamus Yunho marvellous co-regent of Sparta

Junsu’s eyes skim the last splash of colour before the parchment flutters quietly to the floor; cries of pleasure fill the room.

… …

The Paige appeared at his tent over an hour ago, the tiny scroll in his hand politely summoning Jaejoong to dinner with the king’s clan. He had sent the Paige away without an answer, saying that the king would find out sooner or later, but now, as the Athenian paces the length of his living quarters, he is still unsure whether it is a good idea to attend.

Jaejoong sits down on his sitting stool to try and think. He doesn’t understand why the Spartan king is so interested in him; he has been hired to fight slaves, not be the man’s dinner date. He is angry at Yunho’s overly forward perusal of his friendship, of what he knows in the back of his mind is the other man’s perusal of his body.

Growing up inside the Athenian polis Jaejoong had learned at an early age that it was unacceptable for grown men to spend intimate time together, and although in his travels he had come to learn that this was not a shared view throughout the Peloponnesus he still couldn’t leave his morals behind.

But the other side of his mind was terribly confused. Seeing the ruler nearly naked had shaken a feeling inside of Jaejoong that he hadn’t felt since his youth, a feeling he had long since buried under rigorous military training and anger. He scrubs his hands over his face, unaccustomed to the confused feeling in his head as he looks out of the open tent flap into the camp. His stomach complains loudly, mutinying over his brain.

He collects his cape. He’ll give in to Yunho’s demands, but just this once, and only because he’s hungry.

… …

The large group of Spartans gathers around a small cooking pit, meat sizzling on long spits over roasting coals and the occasional flame. The setting sun makes a colourful backdrop to the dinner meal, its collection of pinks and purples sitting on top of the bright red sun as it falls from the sky. Yunho stands at the far end of the group, huddled into a small circle of men as they discuss the next day’s activities and possible battle plans, until his focus is shifted to the murmuring of men behind him.

He turns his body around to find the source of the commotion, and watches the Athenian mercenary general stalk towards him, cape fluttering behind him in the gentle night breeze. 'So he’s finally letting his guard down a little,' Yunho thinks, smiling secretly as he excuses himself from the circle of men to meet Jaejoong half way, trying to not let the smile get too big.

“I’m glad you could join me for dinner.”

“I was hungry, so don’t get any ideas,” Jaejoong replies coolly following Yunho back to the circle of men he had just come from, coming to stand almost hip to hip with the king.

It isn’t long before the meat is being passed around with large hunks of bread and cheese. A young boy comes along not soon after with a cup of mixed-wine, while Jaejoong laughs at Yunho’s conversation, hand covering his mouth coyly.

Off to the side Jaejoong’s ears pick up another conversation coming from a smaller circle of men, their voices getting louder as their conversation becomes heated. Yunho hears it too, and he turns out of the circle to join Jaejoong in watching the situation unfold. The Athenian hears his name and he turns to Yunho, who nods in his direction, and they begin to walk towards the group of huddled men.

“Is there a problem, Spartan?”

One of the men turns towards Yunho’s voice; he's as tall as the king, matching him eye to eye, but he is larger, thick like a tree, with bulging muscles.

“Yeah, I think there is,” the man answers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He reeks of alcohol, the grease from the meat smeared over his tunic to match the dirt and blood caked under his fingernails.

“Your Highness,” he adds as an afterthought.

“And what might that problem be soldier?” Yunho’s voice grates, his hand moving to sit cautiously over the hilt of his sword.

“We don’t like the company you keep; scheming, weak, effeminate Athenians.”

“Care to say that again?” Jaejoong growls, drawing his sword. The light glitters along the metal, reflecting the glint of murderous rage in his eyes, and Yunho takes a step backwards: this is not his fight. A split-second flash of hesitation draws across the man’s eyes and that’s all that Jaejoong needs to swing his sword up, letting the tip rest against the Spartan’s throat.

“Perhaps we should re-evaluate your perspective on inter-polis relations?”

He takes a step backwards and the other man draws his sword, swinging it wildly in the air as he lets a war cry explode from his lungs. The Spartan’s first attack is a high slash cutting across the air at chest level that causes Jaejoong to jump backwards, throwing his sword up to meet a hasty counter attack. He pivots, his sword connecting with the Spartan’s as they push at each other trying to gain ground.

There are cheers from both sides as the clan starts to realize what’s going on; Yunho finds he is being drawn into it, hoping that Jaejoong will come out triumphant or at least keep his honour intact.

The hacks and slashes continue as Jaejoong tries to gain the upper hand, a wide foot sweep unable to bring the larger man down to the dirt. Their swords meet for the second time and he can smell the Spartan’s inebriated breath. Jaejoong finds his balance easily, bringing a foot up into the other man’s chest before pushing with every ounce of strength he has; it's just enough to push the man backwards and sending him to hit the ground with a cry of disbelief. Half the crowd cheers, hands rising in the air as Jaejoong takes his victory, knee pushed into the man’s chest as he sets the tip of his sword at the man’s throat for the second time.

“Perhaps next time you’ll choose your words more wisely,” Jaejoong says, and the warning isn’t just for the man lying prone on the ground, but for everyone crowding around as Jaejoong’s feral eyes scan the throng of people. He throws the other man’s sword away from his reach before standing up, almost coming nose to nose with Yunho.

“I will see you tomorrow to discuss our plans for battle, good night.”

Jaejoong’s cape flutters behind him as he storms away towards the cluster of Athenian tents.

…
Situated on the other side of the camp, small roasting fires dimple the landscape as they slowly cook strips of meat, soups and a variety of other edible creations. Changmin sits on a large cratered rock, watching the flames jump high into the air as his mouth waters, waiting for the food to be finished cooking. Although he has been accepted into the clan of men around him, no one really bothers to speak to him. He is the outsider here, his occupation and experiences keeping him at an arm’s length from everyone.

The pot begins to boil, indicating that the soup is ready, tiny bubbles popping over its surface while the meat emits a smoky aroma. Changmin pours a generous amount into his bowl, resting the sticks of meat over top. He won’t eat here, he hardly ever does; he will instead return to his tent to contemplate tomorrow’s activities and perhaps some new literature until it's time for bed.

He’s been along the path to his tent often enough that he could walk it with his eyes closed, or in the dark like he’s doing now. But tonight is different, tonight the figure in his path is unforeseen and he doesn’t realize Yoochun is sitting there until they are only a few meters apart.

“And here I was beginning to think I was the only misfit living in this camp.”

“You’re forgetting the Athenians camped along the perimeter,” Yoochun answers, and Changmin has to laugh.

He takes a seat beside the musician, hoping that he won’t run away again, and places his dinner between them. Changmin takes one of the sticks of meat from its resting place over the bowl and offers it to Yoochun; their fingers brush as the other man reaches out to take it, a look of hesitation in his eyes, but all Changmin can feel is the soft power in Yoochun’s hand.

“It’s ok, let’s share a meal; pretend we belong.”

“I shouldn’t…”

“I don’t care,” Changmin cuts him off. “I never cared. You know, I wasn’t always like this. A stronger man saved me once.”

It’s barely a whisper, but the power of the statement is reflected in Changmin’s eyes. He has never told anyone before about his past, about who he was, but somehow he feels that it's time.

Yoochun just watches him, chewing on a chunk of meat, waiting for Changmin to continue. There is no need for him to say anything, this isn’t that kind of conversation; he just needs to understand.

“When I was a child my family was very poor, we lived in one of the small perioicoi villages to the south. Once a month we would come into the main polis to sell crops and materials and I would visit the temple. On my way back one day as I passed through the Agora there was commotion at one of the fruit stands, and a boy a few years older than I was ran past me and knocked me to the ground.” Changmin stops, looking up at Yoochun who stares back, immersed in the story as he chews slowly.

“The man at the stand was convinced that I was the one who had stolen the fruit and began to beat me. I have never felt so much pain in all of my life, but I refused to cry out. When he was finished I couldn’t move, I could only watch as the people walked past me, content to let me die.”

“But you didn’t,” Yoochun breathes.

“No, I didn’t. All I can remember are gentle hands laying me on a soft bed and him saying 'I know you didn’t do it, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.'”

“It was the king, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Changmin looks right at Yoochun, the man’s eyes sparkling under the stars.

“Yunho saved my life and gave me a new one. It doesn’t matter who you are, only that you have a big enough heart to love.”

Changmin leans forward slowly until Yoochun’s satiny lips are touching his own. The kiss remains innocent, but Yoochun drags his tongue along the seer’s bottom lip boldly, hoping to imprint the way he tastes into his soul. Changmin pulls away all too quickly, gathering his half of their meal back into his hands.

“Goodnight Yoochun, may Morpheus bring you pleasant dreams.”

Terms: Polis: A Greek city state Morpheus: The Greek god of dreams.

Part 4

Cold morning air flutters through Yunho’s tent while he moves restlessly around his desk, hands running over the map; he has been up for hours mapping terrain and crossing off known enemy locations with large red circles. Changmin and Jaejoong linger silently near by, both men having been called to his tent at dawn. The heavy sun is just cresting the mountains, brilliant golds and oranges washing across the sky.

He has called them to hear their reports and to discuss battle plans and predictions; even Yunho feels they have been sitting too long, and that it's time to fight or risk the security of their base camp. Scout reports have been indicating that the guerrilla attacks are getting closer, bolder, and that makes them vulnerable.

Changmin sits on Yunho’s stool, a light robe draped over his body as he rests his chin on his knees. He had been up for hours before Yunho had sent the Paige to collect him, making his morning sacrifices to the gods, reading liver and entrails for the day’s predictions. Yunho smiles in his direction and nervously watches Jaejoong pace the room, heavy cape tied tightly around his shoulders, flipping his dagger from tip to hilt and back again.

“Are you sure he’s… sane?” Changmin mouths to Yunho.

“Promise,” Yunho mouths back, standing to look between Jaejoong and Changmin to make sure he has their full attention.

“Have you read omens for this morning, Changmin?”

He can see Jaejoong shake his head out of the corner of his eye, the Athenian not at all accustomed to Spartan military tactic and religious observances.

“I did, and they are favourable. But honestly Yunho, I have a really bad feeling about this whole thing. I…”

”No one cares about your feelings or what you have to say,” Jaejoong speaks up, throwing his dagger into the dirt floor. It wobbles back and forth and Changmin’s eyes follow it, glazed in apprehension and slight fear.

“We must appease the gods and fight. It’s the only way to win!”

“You’d be wise to watch how you speak to my friends, Athenian,” Yunho growls. He stands still, staring down the other man across the room, and Changmin can see Yunho trying to hold his tongue in check, his need to protect the Seer outweighing his need for diplomacy.

“I’ve killed men for less.”

Jaejoong snarls back, mumbling something under his breath that Yunho can’t quite catch - and he doesn’t think he wants to.

Changmin stares at the floor, not quite sure if he should continue talking for fear of reproach from the Athenian again, but when he looks up Yunho’s eyes compel him to continue. The king will protect him, he always has.

“The omens have told me that tomorrow would be the best day to engage the enemy. We will be blessed tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Changmin. That will give us today to plan.” Yunho smiles, waving Jaejoong towards the table to begin plotting out their strategy.

Jaejoong comes to stand beside the king until they are almost touching shoulder to shoulder. They exchange a few words as Yunho begins to point to places on the map, Jaejoong occasionally shaking his head and moving Yunho’s hand to a place he prefers.

Changmin thinks it’s odd that the Athenian, for all of his vocal disdain of the Spartans and their ways, is so keen to be in Yunho’s personal space, so forward with his touch. But the touches seem to go unnoticed by the king, his ever shifting body moving from one place to another as his brain tries to extrapolate for every counter-attack that could be made against them. 'Has he thought about it?' Changmin wonders. It had been so long since Yunho had taken a lover, preferring to drown himself in maps and battle tactics. Jaejoong would be a good match for him, his anger tempered by Yunho’s softness.

“If I may add something else,” Changmin finally speaks up, a pause in their scheming allowing him to jump in; Yunho nods for the Seer to speak his mind.

“I had the most unsettling dream last night. I haven’t had time to reflect on it but it scared me, Yunho. I think something bad is going to happen. Please be careful.”

The king looks directly at him, and their eyes lock before he nods his head. He has never challenged Changmin’s visions and he’s not about to.

“If you need me, please call. I will see you later.” And with that Changmin slips out of the tent into the bright morning sun.

“You trust him too much,” Jaejoong speaks as soon as Changmin is gone, looking straight at Yunho.

“He is never wrong. He is the wisest person I know. I love him like a brother.”

Jaejoong’s only answer is a grunt of almost-distain, his eyes shifting to a large swath of land Yunho has labelled with a rather large A. The terrain he has chosen for Jaejoong’s army is rocky and steep, but they have decided that it would be the best place for the Athenian archers to take position while the rest of Jaejoong’s force takes the path up the mountain. They do, however, face the biggest threat of guerrilla attacks, so they must be extra cautious.

“So, I was thinking,” Yunho sidesteps, beginning to add another circle to the map, this time adding a large S. The Spartan attack will take the opposite side of the hill; the terrain is less rocky and steep but it skirts in-front of the helot fortifications, making it the more dangerous of the two paths. Joining the two circles with a straight line Yunho finishes the plan by joining the two circles with a straight line, marking his earlier agreement to meet the general at a high point when they have sounded the victory.

“Would you come to dine with me again tonight?”

“And be subject to another round of insults and having to prove myself with the point of my sword? No, thank you. I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove myself to people. I hate repeating myself. If you need so terribly to dine with me, I will prepare something. Now if all our plans for tomorrow’s battle are prepared, I need to inform my troops.”

By the time Yunho stops staring Jaejoong has already turned away from him and is about to walk towards the door. He has had no time to defend himself or the rest of his men for the confrontation that occurred the night before, nor spoken a word in regards to Jaejoong’s dinner invitation. The Athenian, he thinks, has a knack for making him feel like he has been tossed out of his skin, a strange mix of servant and religious follower.

He has never felt so confused in all his life.

Yunho grabs quickly for Jaejoong’s shoulder, spinning the other man back around so that their eyes meet. Jaejoong’s eyes glint blue as a look of confusion crosses his face, but before he can snap at Yunho for ruining his exit the King’s lips make contact with his own, pressing firmly. For a minute Jaejoong forgets why he is angry, forgets the colour of the sky as the other man’s hand cups the back of his neck.

Yunho’s lips are softer than Jaejoong had imagined and he can’t help but kiss back. The king’s tongue makes a pass along Jaejoong’s bottom lip, seeking entrance to his mouth, but instead of accepting the Athenian pushes him away, shoving Yunho backwards and knocking him into the map table.

“How dare you!” Jaejoong screams, reaching for the dagger on the floor. “I should kill you where you stand for trying to drag me into the depravity of your world,” Jaejoong growls, stalking towards the door as Yunho stares. He doesn’t dare say anything, knows he shouldn’t have kissed the Athenian, but he had to do something. The feelings he’s been having for man are eating him up inside, each touch pushing him further towards the cliff until all he can do is fall while he watches Jaejoong burst through the door out into the morning sun.

… …

Food, all Changmin can think about is food. His stomach growls in protest for having to miss breakfast to attend the meeting with Yunho and Jaejoong, rumbling unhappily at the amount of time it's taking him to return to his tent. 'Perhaps some thick gruel and bread will make an apt peace offering,' Changmin thinks as he walks towards his tent. He had left the pot on a simmering coal fire to cook, the fragrant aroma begging him not to leave as the door flap was closing behind him.

His mind floats back to Yoochun to stave off the hunger pains, the way the other man’s lips tasted dappled in meat grease. His kiss was strong, capable lips used to playing a musical instrument, and Changmin thinks briefly how those lips would play him. He shakes his head; that’s Junsu talking, the King’s panache for pleasure spilling over into his brain, but he has to admit that Junsu never disappointed. Part of him feels bad for pursuing Yoochun, but the King has never announced his loyalties, and Changmin refuses to believe that Junsu has sought no other in his absence. It just wasn’t his way, even if there was love between them.

Pushing his thoughts of the older man away Changmin searches the field beside him as he walks. Long blades of grass bend in the gentle wind, their yellowing colour showing their readiness for the cooler winter season. As Changmin’s eyes continue to take in the rolling hill a contrasting strip of colour draws his eye to the centre of the grassy square, nagging at him as he continues to walk until he finally decides to veer from his path to investigate.

The Seer’s stomach grumbles in complaint as he walks away from his tent and food, and he hushes it quickly, pulling his robe up so that he doesn’t catch the hem on the bramble sticking up in random spots in awkward directions. He's almost reached the source of the weirdly coloured patch when he manages to get caught on a taller stalk of vegetation, falling forward and landing on all fours over the colour variation; which just happens to be Yoochun.

Lips touch his as Yoochun smiles, eyes twinkling. “I’m really starting to like you falling into my world,” he laughs as Changmin stares down at him. The musician pulls the man on top of him into the short grass, kissing Changmin one more time for good measure.

“I heard we’re going to fight tomorrow.”

“The omens are favourable, the King and the Athenian general are meeting right now,” Changmin says, rolling onto his back to look at the sky.

Fluffy white clouds play across the brilliant blue, making shapes and textures to trip the imagination.

“Don't you think that one looks like a sheep?” Yoochun asks as if stealing his thought, his hand coming out to tangle in Changmin’s, pulling it onto his chest. It’s a sweet gesture, Changmin thinks. It’s warm and comfortable.

“It does, they are all fluffy, like sheep. It’s so calm without any birds in the sky, like the calm before the storm. What I wouldn’t give for a flock of peacefully flying birds.”

“Prophecies with birds? That seems odd,” Yoochun giggles, turning his head towards Changmin.

“It’s not odd, it’s rather simple,” the Seer shrugs pointing to the horizon as it slowly becomes cloudless. Yoochun’s eyes follow the movement of Changmin’s hand as he tries to explain the art of forecasting birds, and what each formation and flight variation can mean. He goes over the more dense meanings slowly, the other man nodding after each point, making movements with his hands to demonstrate the flights that birds take. Yoochun laughs as Changmin’s hand-bird makes a dive, his squawking added in for effect.

“That’s awfully intense. How do you know all this, is there a scroll somewhere?”

“Yes,” Changmin says flatly, lowering his arms and completely missing the joke until Yoochun begins to laugh. He rolls towards the Seer, laughing even more when he sees the look of confusion on Changmin’s face, clutches his sides to ease the pain from laughing too hard.

“Very funny Yoochun, very funny.”

“I think so.”

Changmin sticks out his tongue before his features take on an indignant tone, arms crossing over his chest. “Did you see something?”

“No, what?” Yoochun comments lazily, pulling at Changmin’s hand until it is back in his own, eyes falling closed in the warm sun.

“I thought I saw something, someone, over there.”

“I think you’re imagining things. It was probably just a rabbit or some other small animal. There are sentries everywhere, the camp is very secure.” The musician’s eyes remain closed as he shifts closer to the other man, pressing their bodies together. The idea of having the other man’s body against his is beginning to sink deeply into his brain, that perhaps just this once he can let himself have what he wants; that even if it isn’t forever he can take a chance with Changmin and not have to worry about getting trampled on in the process. The realization washes over Yoochun like the gentle waves of the sea, calming the nerves he always seemed to have around the other man.

“Yoochun?”

“Yes?”

“This is nice, I’m glad I fell over you.”

… …

A pair of eyes scan across the field through the long grass, brown on black as they dart back and forth taking in the surroundings feverishly. The sun reflects off the bronze point of the throwing lance as the crouching figure lifts up on the balls of its feet before it resettles low into the grass; these men aren’t the target, they aren’t the king. They don’t even appear to be anyone important, just two commoners sharing something. But that doesn’t mean they are any less valuable: the awkwardly tall one seems to know a great deal about the armies' tactical plans, and what was a mission to assassinate the king has just turned into an intelligence gathering excursion.

The eyes draw higher as the ghost begins to move, skimming through the grass into the forest beyond.

Terms: Augury: Gaining prophecies from watching the flight of birds.

Part 5

Junsu throws another log on the fire as he paces along the tiger skin rug. The air is cold in his bedchamber, the fire too long neglected in favor of more stimulating activities. He looks out the window to see the twinkling stars, each one shining overhead so that he can pick out each constellations, and he wonders if Yunho can see the same ones.

His day has been a non-stop stream of problems and people that never seemed to end. It had all started when the engineers for the new building project had arrived to report that materials and workers were behind schedule. His day had gone steadily downhill from there; his visit to the temple had been shadowed by continuing speculation that Poseidon was not yet appeased by their continued offerings and that more tremors were to come as the earth-shaker vented his rage. They had even gone so far as to suggest calling off the suppression of the revolt and letting the slaves go free. He had been so struck by the suggestion that he had made his prayers quickly and left. It was not his decision alone to make anyway, and the council would have his head over it.

Pulling away from his thoughts Junsu runs his fingers over the desk and reaches for a piece of parchment, wanting to take the time to respond to the letter he had received from Yunho. He sits down on the stool, moving slowly as the furniture creaks in protest. He’s not quite sure how to answer Yunho’s request for love advice, most of the time he just stumbles through it. A soft pain trickles through his heart as his mind skips to Changmin, his one constant. Perhaps he should start there, and picking up the writing stylus he begins to jot down words.

Dearest Archidamus Yunho, co-regent of Sparta,

I am sorry I have not replied to you sooner, it has been some time since I last received your letter but it has been very busy here. The end of the harvest season is always a strain on my patience and organizational skills, and I hate that this season always brings back memories of unhappy times. How is Changmin? I hope he is not having nightmares without me there to soothe them away. I can’t lie to you that I don’t miss him, the warmness of him beside me on cold nights, chasing away his demons with warm hands and soft lips.
But enough of my sadness, you have requested my advice!
Your Athenian sounds like a handful, I like him already. It’s been so long since you’ve let someone love you Yunho, don’t let this man slip through your fingers. My advice to you would be to be patient, keep coaxing until you’ve chipped away his hardened exterior. Once you find a way to make him smile he’ll become yours, I can feel it.
I hope you are able to find some calm in my useless babble.
Bring everyone safely home soon.

Pleistanax Junsu, magnificent co-regent of Sparta.

A soft moan draws Junsu’s attention as he signs his name at the bottom; his eyes turn to scan along the sleeping platform, taking in the dark wrinkled sheets, some of the heavier ones piled up at the edge of the bed. Junsu watches as the Paige fusses in his sleep until one of his legs slips loose, the sheet slipping back until he can see the smattering of white up his inner thigh. Junsu walks over to the platform to sooth him, gathering him back under the fabric before sliding in beside him. It’s easier than with Changmin, whose nightmares have given him more than one black eye.

Junsu starts to sing a Pian out of habit, it being the one thing he’s found that quiets his gentle Changmin. The Paige turns towards the sound of Junsu’s voice, fitting close to his side, so the King closes his eyes and falls back into sleep.

….

“Patience,” Junsu whispers along the shell of your ear, sucking your earlobe into his mouth.

You lie on your back, spread out like a banquet, and Junsu is treating you like one. His mouth tastes your body, licking the fine downy trail below your navel, chewing around the indented skin.

“I have no patience left, get on with it,” you pant, frustrated, but the King only giggles, warm huffs of breath ghosting along your chest before he sucks a peaked nipple into his mouth.

You growl; it’s a feint, because two oiled coated fingers are being pushed into your body, and you arch off the bed. Junsu isn’t finished yet; he's tipping your head back with his free hand, saliva lingering on your throat as he licks up the long column of your neck before drinking from your lips.

“Ready?” he murmurs, and you nod. You’ve been ready since he breathed ‘sex’ into your ear at midday, and now the stars are lining the sky.

He moves away only to push in and you can’t keep the noises from tumbling out of your mouth. Junsu pushes slowly, gently, because he never wants to hurt you.

You can feel him moving inside of you, filling you up just before he does that thing with his hips that makes you scream his name, curl your toes into the sheets.

The world stops around you and your eyes fly open, curses dangling on your tongue as Junsu shifts, rolls across the bed until you’re perched on top of him. You fold your legs underneath you, sitting up to look into his eyes, kissing away the playfulness of his smile.

He slips in deeper and you retaliate, dragging your hands down his chest and leaving white marks on his skin; causing him to release a nasally whine.

“Gods, Changmin.”

“Yes, so good,” you encourage him, circling your hips. Two can play this game.

Junsu’s hands are pressing at your lower back as he bucks his hips up into you. He’s had you on the edge too long and you feel yourself fall, orgasm overtaking you as you plummet back to earth. The King rolls again, bringing you through your release and into his own.

Your eyes flutter open to watch Junsu’s expression, but as soon as you focus on him his profile changes, morphs into someone else, someone unrecognizable. The scene changes instantly, trees shooting up all around you, and you can feel mud soaking into your clothing; except when you look down it’s not mud, but blood, and a searing pain you thought you’d never have to feel again shoots through you as the man above pierces your skin with his blade.

You scream until you can taste the coppery bite of blood, trying to dislodge the man sitting on top of you, but everything is going hazy.

Finally the weight of the other man lifts, a glint of metal catching your eye. It takes all the power you have to turn your head, eyes focusing on the small metal object just outside of your reach.
…

Changmin sits bolt upright, lungs fighting for air as a cold, clammy sweat slides down his back. Real, it had been too real. He can still feel the pain from the sword wounds and he runs his hands over his body just to make sure.

He reaches for the jug of water, taking a long gulp of the cold liquid and then pouring some into his hands to apply them to his cheeks. He grabs for his robe, throwing the heavy material around his shoulders before he steps out of the tent. He can see the morning sun just about to peak over the horizon, tries to think about how beautiful it looks before his body shudders. He can’t shake the cold feeling, the feeling of death wrapped tight around him.

Changmin closes his eyes, trying to focus on the meaning of the dream. It had been amazing at first, sharing passion with someone he cared for, but then it had all gone so wrong. And what about the object he was trying so hard to see?

Pushing back all of his thoughts, Changmin tries to focus on that one image, trying desperately to see it, concentrating until finally it starts to take shape. He almost doubles over with panic, the tiny metal instrument forming in his mind tinged in a backdrop of red, and before he can even produce another rational thought he is running full speed in the direction of the outlying tents.

…
Cold air circulates through Yoochun’s tiny tent as the sun trips along his meagre belongings. He stands in the centre, slowly gathering everything he needs to fight inside his tiny satchel, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

The shadow falls along the floor is curious, and Yoochun turns to see who has ventured out into the fringes of the camp to find him. Surely it is not the King; the battle isn’t set to start for another three or four hands of time. He would not be the one summoned first, the three other flutists had spent more time in battle than he has and are therefore the main leaders of the advancement.

“Changmin,” Yoochun greets, stepping forward to gather the young man into his arms, but Changmin doesn’t hug back and he can feel something isn’t right. The Seer is rigid in his arms except for the heaving of his chest, cold and clammy skin touching his own; and when Yoochun steps back slightly he can see Changmin shaking.

“Changmin, what’s wrong?”

But he just stands there, eyes glassed over, shaking his head. “No. No, you can’t.”

“I can’t what Changmin? Please, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.” Yoochun’s voice is becoming frantic as he reaches for the Seer, spinning him slowly until he is able to deposit Changmin on his blankets while standing to face him.

“You can’t die!” the younger man finally shrieks, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I had a vision, you were, there was blood everywhere. It hurt so much, Yoochun. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Shhhh,” Yoochun sooths, lips feathering a kiss across the younger man’s. “It will be fine. It was just a dream.”

“It’s never just a dream,” Changmin growls, body beginning to shake again and he buries his hands into Yoochun’s cape. His fingers brush against the skin of Yoochun’s sides, trailing down to the jut of hipbone until he can join them behind the musician’s back. “Please don’t leave me.”

Yoochun gasps as Changmin’s lips meet with the velvety skin of his stomach, robe falling open to expose his nakedness underneath. Saliva glistens on his skin by the time Changmin pulls away, large eyes staring upwards.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, I’m supposed to meet up with the army soon.”

“Please.” He’s begging, a point Junsu never lets him get to, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Make it go away.”

And Yoochun is kneeling on the dirt floor, lips collecting the salty tears from Changmin’s cheeks, sharing it with the other as they meet in a kiss. “I don’t know how.”

“Yes you do.”

Changmin leans forwards, pressing their lips together again and Yoochun kisses back, toying with the Seer’s pout until he’s allowed access. He lets his tongue sweep slowly across the younger man’s palate, not fighting back when Changmin pushes the blood red fabric from his shoulders even if his skin prickles against the cold.

After climbing over Changmin to the other side of the blankets he pushes the younger man down gently, adept fingers taking the clasps from his robe to reveal Changmin’s sun-kissed skin. Trying not to stare awkwardly, Yoochun busies his brain by trailing his fingertips down the centre of the Seer’s chest, a thumb teasing the dip of his navel. Yoochun’s eyes skim over Changmin’s body as he whimpers, taking in the white scars criss-crossing his skin and marring the perfection that still lies behind them. It makes Yoochun’s heart hurt and he wants to cry for the other man, for the pain he had to endure.

There is hesitation in the touch, causing Changmin to open his eyes; he sees Yoochun pause, his fingers hesitating over tarnished skin. “You won’t hurt me. It’s not painful anymore.”

Yoochun nods, sucking on his bottom lip before he presses them to a jagged mark along Changmin's pectoral muscle, following it until he can engulf a peaked nipple into his mouth. A tiny jar is pressed into his hand and Changmin fidgets, letting his eyes fall shut when Yoochun groans, a product of the young man sensually spreading his legs wide. “Need you inside me, please don’t make me wait.”

The musician prepares him as quickly as he can while Changmin rocks his head back and forth, the short spiky black hair that frames his face sticking up along the blanket.
The Seer ponders if this is how the man’s flute feels, being played by a master.

He lets his voice carry them like Yoochun’s music carries the army until finally the engagement begins, Yoochun pressing deep within the Seer’s body.

Arching his back at the pleasure scorching away the nightmare Changmin dapples his fingertips along Yoochun’s spine and up his back, until he can bury them in the musician’s shaggy black hair. He lets his eyes flutter close over the feeling of the other man pushing in and pulling out of his body, gasping every time Yoochun brushes across his prostate.

“Ahhh Yoochun, h-harder,” Changmin pants, chest heaving under the older man as his lungs fight for air.

Yoochun complies, licking the sweat that's beginning to pool in the crux of the Seer’s neck. He snakes his hand in-between them until he can brush his fingertips along the other man’s erection, chasing the wet drop of liquid at its head and eliciting a scream from the younger man.

“Oh gods,” the Seer cries, sinking his teeth into Yoochun’s shoulder as the musician hits across his prostate again, “I… coming.”

His whole body shudders as the orgasm rips through him; tight muscles clamp around Yoochun as he continues to thrust into the Seer’s body, Changmin quickly becoming pliant underneath him. He coaxes Changmin through it, falling into his own orgasm soon after.

Yoochun watches Changmin’s eyes begin to clear and shortly after the Seer returns to himself, digging his nose into the older man’s shoulder. He begins to move off of the younger man, but hands skim down his back, nails digging into the firm globes of his ass.

“Don’t leave me yet,” he pleads, and Yoochun acquiesces, shifting his body so that he’s only partially lying on top of Changmin.

He can hear the din of soldiers gathering on the opposite side of the camp, their extravagant numbers overpowering the landscape. 'I should be there,' Yoochun thinks; the army needs him, but one look down at the sleepy man lying with him and he knows that Changmin needs him more; and if it just so happens to save his life, why fight it? Closing his eyes to match the young Seer’s, Yoochun forgets about his flute and cape lying on the floor, forgets about everything except pulling the blanket up to cover both of their bodies from the morning chill.

Terms: Pian: a Spartan war song sung as the army marches into battle

Part 2

kallistei: a light that's always on

2009-03-21T01:15:28Z

Title: a light that's always on
Author: Shay (kallistei)
Pairing: Yoochun/Changmin
Rating: Explicit
Summary: This is what it takes to save the world: three hunters, a demon and an angel. AU, vaguely inspired by Supernatural.
Word count: 12,000
Author's Notes: Thanks to ranalore and sleepish for betaing, as well as everyone else who looked this over in its various stages of completeness.

Prologue

The night before Changmin leaves for college, Yoochun drives up to Changmin's house and spends an hour sitting in his car, trying to work up the courage to get out and walk to the front door. It's only the thought that Changmin probably thinks he's got a stalker by now that makes Yoochun pick up his phone eventually. When Changmin answers, Yoochun says, "Hey, open your door? Wanna steal you for a bit."

Yoochun knows Changmin's parents don't like him, that they think he's just the mechanic's kid from down the street who disappears for odd periods of time and leaves their son fretting until he gets back. Worse, sometimes Yoochun takes their son with him, and then their good son comes back with strange scrapes and bruises, though when they ask if Changmin got in a fight, his only answer is, "Not exactly."

The almost-brooding's cut off when Changmin's door opens, and he watches the interaction under the porch light, Changmin's mother's face clearly saying, 'you have to finish your packing', Changmin's waving hands answering, 'I'll just be a minute, it'll get done, I promise.' Then Changmin's trotting down the stairs to the street, giant grin on his face that fades as he pokes his head through the rolled down window and says, perfectly serious but for the crinkle of his eyes, "Thought you were a stalker, you freak, parking outside my house and just staring like that."

Yoochun laughs, reaching over to swat lightly at Changmin's cheek. "Just get in the car, smartass. Got places to go, things to see."

"You are not taking me anywhere!" Changmin says as he slides into the passenger seat. "No expeditions. No adventures. My mom will kill me if I don't finish packing."

"Kind of rhetorical. Today," Yoochun replies, sneaking his hand onto Changmin's knee. Changmin looks down at it with a raised eyebrow, but lets it stay there, which is more than enough for Yoochun. "I'll bring you back before midnight, Cinderella. Don't want you to turn into a pumpkin."

Changmin just blinks at him for a second, then says, "Cinderella doesn't turn into a pumpkin, you twit."

"I know that!" Yoochun says. "Geez. You're hopeless." He takes his hand away from Changmin's knee to put the car into gear. "And I was gonna do something nice for you too, since you're leaving me forever and all."

He startles when one of Changmin's hands lands on his thigh, looking over at Changmin questioningly. "Not forever," Changmin says seriously. "It's just college."

Yoochun nods. "Yeah, I know. Was kidding," he says lightly. Except he wasn't, really. He knows as well as Changmin's parents do that Changmin's too good for him. "But you never know. I might get killed without you to watch my back."

"You manage without me half the time anyway," Changmin points out, thumb rubbing slow circles against the outside of Yoochun's thigh, Changmin's hand bleeding warmth into his skin even through his jeans. "And I'll be back. Promise."

"Okay," Yoochun says quietly, smiling over at Changmin. "You better not do anything stupid without me to watch your back, either."

"I will pretend to be completely normal," Changmin replies, deadpan, and Yoochun bursts out laughing.

"Yeah, good luck with that, alien boy."

Changmin's hand tightens on his leg, suddenly a lot less like comforting and more like threatening. "I can break you with my mind," Changmin reminds, but Yoochun just laughs at him again.

"I'd like to see you try," he says easily, taking a hand off the wheel to put it over Changmin's. "You love me way too much."

Changmin says, "Yeah right," but the way he turns his hand over to squeeze Yoochun's makes the words meaningless.

Yoochun returns the squeeze, turning his eyes back to the road until Changmin says, thoughtful, "Think I recognise this road."

"You damn well should," Yoochun says, smiling. "Almost there. Haven't been here in a while, right?"

"Too long," Changmin replies quietly. "I'd been wondering why."

Yoochun pulls the car off the road at last and puts it into park, leaning over to kiss the corner of Changmin's mouth. "Time never seemed right," he says, almost an apology, before he opens the door and gets out. Changmin follows him, and Yoochun walks around to join him, patting the car's hood lightly before he holds out a hand to Changmin. Lacing their fingers together, Yoochun tugs Changmin towards a barely-visible trail through the grass at the side of the road.

Ten minutes away from the road, the ground dips into a huge, shallow bowl surrounded by trees, full of tall grass and the last of the summer's wildflowers. Walking down into the field, it's as if the rest of the world beyond it ceases to exist. This is where Yoochun kissed Changmin for the first time, the summer after Yoochun turned seventeen and they discovered what was really out there.

"Romantic," Changmin accuses, laughing, as Yoochun pulls him down to the ground. They sprawl out in the grass the way they'd done when they were kids and discovered this place for the first time, counting stars and inventing constellations while Yoochun's father lied to Changmin's parents for them.

Yoochun turns on his side towards Changmin, watching the stars reflected in Changmin's dark eyes. "Gonna miss you," he says, soft.

"Come visit," Changmin answers easily, touching Yoochun's face with a gentle hand. "I'll keep my door open for you."

This has become a little too serious for Yoochun's tastes. "Booty call?" he asks, putting on his best leer.

"... you're hopeless," Changmin says, laughing, the careful touch turning to a shove to Yoochun's shoulder that Yoochun goes with, flopping onto his back again with a wounded expression that Changmin ignores ostentatiously.

"Hey, Changmin?" Yoochun says after a minute of comfortable silence, sitting up again.

Changmin sounds miles away when he answers, and Yoochun sort of hates it. Always has, even before he knew Changmin was leaving him. "Yeah?"

He reaches a hand up to fiddle with the cord strung around his neck. "Wanted to give you something."

"Kind of sudden for a proposal," Changmin teases lightly, but he's sitting up too, and there's something like concern in his eyes.

Yoochun ignores the tease in favour of pulling his necklace off, thumbing the amulet hung at the center of the cord. "You can't give me that," Changmin says, wide-eyed, even before Yoochun speaks. "Your mother-"

"I'm lending it to you," Yoochun answers easily. "Have to keep it safe for me." And maybe it'll keep Changmin safe too, the way it's always done for him.

That earns him a long, intent stare before Changmin nods slowly. "Okay. I'll bring it back to you, I promise."

"With your degree," Yoochun says, leaning forward to drop it over Changmin's head. "It's yours 'til then." He leans back again to watch the stars once more, reaching out to bring Changmin with him. Changmin falls asleep not long after, breathing against his shoulder. Yoochun knows he should wake Changmin, that Changmin's parents are going to give them both hell already for being out this long.

He doesn't, though, just watching Changmin sleep until the fireflies come out and Changmin wakes up of his own accord, sleepy and content enough not to yell. Instead he curls himself in against Yoochun for a lazy kiss, then says, "Take me home, Yoochun. And you'd damn well better help me finish packing, for abducting me this long."

Yoochun laughs like he hasn't been wanting the excuse to stay close to Changmin, and says, "Sure."

Changmin pushes himself to his feet, then holds out his hands, saying, "My turn to steal you now?"

Yoochun smiles and takes them. "You never needed to."

Part I

Yoochun's not sure just what it is that makes him pick that particular weekend to visit Changmin. The last couple of years since Changmin went away to college haven't been as bad as he had feared after all. They've managed with phone calls and weekend visits and, of course, Changmin comes home for his holidays. No matter the crisis, they've had at least one day together every couple of months, and spoken on the phone at least a couple of times a week. It's been enough to keep them going.

In fact, Changmin was home just a couple of weeks before, so Yoochun can't tell why he has this sudden need to see him. He just knows that he does, and finds himself on the road out of town on Friday night without really knowing when he decided to go.

He pulls up outside the house Changmin rents with a couple of friends, and that's when he really knows something's wrong, because the light behind Changmin's curtains flickers strangely - firelight, not electricity, and that's enough to get Yoochun slamming the car into park and hurtling out of his door even before the smell of sulphur hits his nose, telling him that a demon's been here and kicking his fear up another notch. "Changmin!" he yells as he tumbles through the front door (unlocked, why's it unlocked?) and takes the stairs two at a time. There's no reply, but he's got no time to give in to the near-choking terror rising in his throat. He's got to find Changmin.

Yoochun coughs and sputters when he pushes Changmin's door open and the smoke and the sulphur-stench double, but Changmin's in there, he knows it, so he charges in anyway, Changmin's name on his lips again in pure relief at the sight of him, alive, still alive and in one piece. "You idiot," Yoochun yells as he grabs Changmin by the shoulders and wrestles him towards the door despite the way he's almost dead weight in Yoochun's hands. "Promised you weren't going to do anything."

Changmin doesn't reply, his gaze fixed on the flaming figures on his ceiling until Yoochun drags him out of the room and his eyes snap suddenly into focus. "There was-" he starts, but Yoochun cuts him off.

"No time, we've gotta get out of here," Yoochun says, and Changmin lets Yoochun guide them both out of the house. They stumble onto the lawn, and practically into the arms of a figure Yoochun recognises even with smoke-blurred eyes.

"Yunho!" Yoochun exclaims, blinking up at him, arm still tight around Changmin's waist, both of them swaying precariously.

Yunho reaches out to steady them, frowning. "What're you doing here?" he asks.

"Could ask the same," Yoochun mutters, letting Yunho take some of their weight as they turn towards the cars, sirens starting to sound in the distance. He's not waiting for an answer, though, more worried about the way Changmin hasn't said a word, the way he's turning more and more limp in the circle of Yoochun's arm.

Luckily Yunho seems to realise that, taking a little more of Changmin's weight and moving a bit faster, until Yoochun can tug the passenger-side door of his car open and push Changmin in. Once Changmin's safely in the seat, Yoochun looks at him for a moment, knows it's with blatant worry that Changmin would berate him for if he was in any state to. Then he turns back to Yunho, keeping one hand on Changmin's shoulder just for the contact, and asks, "So? Last I heard you were working a job in. Alaska, or something."

"That was six months ago," Yunho points out, reaching to pull Yoochun into a hug that Yoochun returns easily, one-armed. Yunho's a friend, someone he trusts to watch their backs even if they don't see each other for months at a time. He's one of them. "Been back for a while now," Yunho continues. "But, yeah, a couple of weeks ago, there started to be some buzz about demonic omens down here, so I thought I'd come check them out. Didn't expect to find the pair of you here too, though." The air still stinks of sulphur, and Yoochun knows Yunho doesn't mean just the physical 'here'.

"Don't think either of us expected - that," Yoochun says with an eloquent gesture to where the flames are starting to get a real hold on the house.

Yunho's about to answer when the fire engines pull up, though Yoochun's attention is more drawn by the way Changmin's starting to shift under his hand. "You can fill me in later," Yunho says, instead of whatever question he was going to ask, and Yoochun nods.

"Hey," he says, turning back to Changmin, and ducking to look at him more closely. He breathes a sigh of relief when Changmin gets out a hoarse, rasping, "Hey," in return.

"You look like shit," Yoochun says helpfully, and he's even more encouraged when Changmin takes a weak swipe at him.

**

It takes a while to sort things out once the fire engines arrive, and Yoochun hovers behind Changmin while Changmin talks to the police and the firemen and tries to hold himself together with annoyed glances in Yoochun's direction. When Changmin starts swaying on his feet again, Yoochun says, "That's enough," wrapping his arm around Changmin's shoulders and steering him away with promises to the policemen that no, of course they won't leave town and this is where they'll be staying. For once, he actually means it. There's Yunho to talk to, and they've got to figure out why a demon would come to visit Changmin. The mere idea of it makes his stomach lurch with fear. He slides a quick glance at Changmin, who'd fallen asleep in the passenger seat the moment Yoochun'd started the car, then turns his attention back to the road.

Yoochun shakes Changmin awake once they reach the motel Yunho'd said he was staying at, and Yoochun's checked them in. "We're here," he says quietly, tugging Changmin out of the car and avoiding his flailing, just-woken limbs. Yoochun pulls Changmin into the room, one arm around Changmin's waist and the other clutching his duffel - he still doesn't know what possessed him to grab a set of Changmin's clothes from his wardrobe too when he left home, but he's really glad he did, now.

Inside the room, Yoochun helps wrestle Changmin out of his smoke-reeking clothes, stripping him down to his boxers. He pauses just long enough to touch the amulet lying against Changmin's chest and steal a simple, reassuring kiss, then nudges Changmin back onto the bed, pulling off his own clothes before he curls up next to Changmin, hoping skin to skin will comfort Changmin as much as it does him. "What happened?" he asks quietly, head laid against Changmin's shoulder for the reassurance of feeling Changmin's chest rise and fall under it.

"Don't really know," Changmin says, equally quiet. "Just got home from the library, went up to my room and... there they were." There's a quiet sort of horror in Changmin's voice that makes Yoochun tighten the arm he's draped over Changmin's chest. For all they've seen, before, it's never been someone they knew, and Yoochun can only imagine what it must be like for Changmin.

"Changmin," he murmurs, doesn't know what else to say but that. Changmin's hand comes up to close over his wrist, the touch telling him that Changmin's lost too.

Yoochun leans over to kiss Changmin's throat, mouth lingering against Changmin's skin. "Sleep," he says quietly. "It'll be better in the morning."

He waits until he's sure Changmin's properly asleep to work himself carefully out of Changmin's arms, breath held when Changmin shifts instinctively towards him, and digs the bag of salt out of his duffel to lay a line in front of every door and window in the room.

Then he curls himself back against Changmin and lets himself fall into a restless, fragmented sleep.

**

Yoochun wakes up with a start, not sure what'd woken him until he lifts his head and realises that Changmin's eyes are open, that Changmin's staring at the ceiling but Yoochun doesn't think Changmin's seeing the plain, stippled plaster at all. He pushes himself up, into Changmin's line of sight. "Don't think about it," he says quietly. Changmin's eyes aren't focusing on him, though, so Yoochun leans a little closer. "Hey, look at me," he says, a touch more sharply, then waits for the slow shudder as Changmin's body relaxes under his, as Changmin's eyes fix on him and he takes a gasping breath.

"I dreamed-" Changmin starts, then whispers, "It was real, wasn't it?"

Yoochun doesn't know what to say to that, just nods silently, then finds, "I'm sorry," falling from his lips.

Changmin ignores it, says, "Yoochun," instead, soft, with something in the sound of it that sets a sharp ache flaring in Yoochun's chest.

Yoochun whispers Changmin's name in reply, the word lost when Changmin leans up the little bit needed to kiss him, not the gentle brush Yoochun'd expected, but something that turns hard and hungry before he quite knows what's going on. He leans back, says Changmin's name again, questioning.

"I-" Changmin says, looking at Yoochun with eyes so wide and dark that Yoochun doesn't know how to deal with it. "Please," Changmin continues, instead of finishing his sentence, and Yoochun nods mutely, leaning back in to kiss Changmin, soft and reassuring but deepening fast. Changmin makes a tiny, relieved noise and Yoochun knows he's made the right call.

With Changmin almost naked already, it's the easiest thing in the world for Yoochun to slide his hand down Changmin's chest, slowly, savouring the familiar texture of Changmin's skin that he almost lost. He makes a quiet noise of his own when Changmin's hands find their way under the waist of his boxers to cup his ass, warm and possessive, pulling him down into the cradle of Changmin's hips. Yoochun slides his own hand into Changmin's boxers, curling snug around Changmin's cock, murmuring Changmin's name at the heat and weight of it in his hand. He doesn't think either of them are in the mood for slow and teasing today, and instead he sets an easy rhythm from the start, rocking down into Changmin to build pleasure for them both.

Changmin doesn't seem to want to stop kissing him, mouth pressing hard and needy against Yoochun's between gasps of air, hips shifting against Yoochun's hand. Yoochun's not making any effort to stop him, returning the kisses with near-equal hunger as he strokes Changmin's cock, hissing against Changmin's mouth when Changmin's nails dig into his skin and make him shudder at the way it redoubles the heat working through him.

Yoochun tightens his hand, twisting on every upstroke, the edge of his thumbnail catching against the slit of Changmin's cock when one of Changmin's hands slides around to mirror the touch. "Changmin," he gasps, the sound lost under the way Changmin cries out. Yoochun can feel how close Changmin is in the way Changmin's body tenses under his, the feeling of it so well-known, and he tries every trick he knows to have Changmin give in to the pleasure of it, to make him forget everything but this.

It takes just a couple more strokes before Changmin's coming under him, rush of heat against his palm as Changmin cries out again, wordless. Changmin's hand doesn't stop moving on him, and Yoochun rocks down into it, the way Changmin looks with his face open with pleasure enough to make Yoochun give in to the sensation, his own climax washing over him. He sags against Changmin, after, tucking his head into the crook of Changmin's neck as he eases his hand out of Changmin's boxers.

"Thank you," Changmin whispers, voice soft and a little ragged around the edges. Yoochun doesn't dignify that with a response immediately, kissing Changmin's skin instead before he reaches to the nightstand, wiping his sticky hand off so he can cuddle in again.

"Don't be an idiot," Yoochun says at last in his best Changmin-voice, and then, "Go back to sleep." He sleeps better this time around, and hopes Changmin does too.

**

In the morning Yunho tells them about the yellow-eyed demon who his father had started hunting 20 years ago, the demon who'd killed his father. Then, with refilled coffee cups in front of them, Changmin tells Yunho about the fire he found out his real parents died in.

"You're one of them," Yunho says wide-eyed, more wonder than horror in his stare. Neither Yoochun nor Changmin really understands what he's talking about until Yunho tells them more about the demon's chosen ones, the psychics that the demon seems to follow almost from birth, though no-one knows why.

Changmin just says, "Guess I am," and proves it by pulling the water jug across the table to him without lifting a finger, the power he'd learnt to use the first time he'd saved Yoochun's life.

"Think three can do better than one?" Yoochun asks, sliding a hand into Changmin's under the table and squeezing even as he raises an eyebrow at Yunho. He's relieved when Changmin squeezes back, echoing the question with a look.

"Hope so," Yunho says, nodding. "I owe that bastard, but I'm pretty sure I can't do it alone."

Yoochun smiles across the table at Yunho, nodding, then finds a real laugh when Changmin says quietly, "One for all?"

"All for one," Yoochun replies, nodding again, and putting his free hand over Yunho's in the middle of the table, his smile widening when Changmin's hand lands on top of his.

**

All the other bad things in the world don't just go away because they've got this new problem, though. There are still vampires and werewolves and shapeshifters, and once a family of plain, ordinary humans worse than all those nightmares put together. Yoochun breaks his arm escaping from them, Yunho nearly drowns saving a child from a vengeful ghost, and Changmin walks through it all nearly unscathed. Yoochun can see the way the guilt of it eats at Changmin, the way it never did before. It's obvious in the way Changmin barely leaves Yunho's bedside for the two weeks Yunho spends in hospital, the way Changmin keeps trying to do things for Yoochun even when his arm's long healed. But no matter how hard Yoochun thinks, he can never quite seem to come up with the right words. "It's not your fault," doesn't seem to work any more, neither does reminding Changmin that he's not the reason they're hurt. Yoochun's almost at his wits' end with it, and the jobs don't stop coming, every moment between them filled with trying to trace the yellow-eyed demon and find a weapon that they can use against him.

Even with Yunho's father's research, it takes them over three months just to track down something that has a chance of killing a demon. It's three months where Changmin seems perfectly all right for weeks at a time, then all at once Yoochun will realise he's been talking for ten minutes and Changmin hasn't said a word, and when he looks over Changmin will be wearing that faraway face that Yoochun hates so much. He hates it even more now that he knows it means Changmin's thinking about the burning house again, and the friends who died for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes Yoochun can distract Changmin, and sometimes he can't; he doesn't like it one bit, either way. He likes even less the way Changmin looks after calling his parents, and he doesn't know if he should be relieved or not that the calls get further and further apart.

In the end, the weapon they find isn't even the one they'd been looking for - they'd been tracking stories of a gun that Samuel Colt had forged a century and a half ago, but the leads turned cold, and eventually they found the gun, with no bullets and no way to make more. That day, it was Changmin who insisted there had to be some other way, something that would still work. Some way to make more bullets, some other weapon - if there's this, he'd argued, surely there must be more. Yunho and Yoochun had let Changmin persuade them, but they hadn't thought it would be soon, if ever. Then, barely three days after, they find themselves cornered by seven demons. And not just any demons - the seven deadly sins, Lust and Wrath and Gluttony and all the rest come to horrific life.

Yoochun looks into Pride's eyes, hearing the other six coming towards them, and thinks for just one second, 'This is it. Our luck's finally run out.' Then there's a knife appearing through Pride's chest, a horrible static crackle coming from his throat and Yoochun thinks it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard because even though he's never seen a demon die before he thinks this is what it must look like.

The knife's held snug in the hand of a slim man, shorter than any of them, nothing very imposing at all. Yoochun barely registers pale skin and dark eyes - a little too dark, maybe? - before Changmin's grabbing his hand and saying, "Come on, Yoochun. Run!"

**

His name is Junsu, and he's a demon. Yoochun's pretty sure that makes him essentially untrustworthy. But Junsu claims to be on their side and Changmin won't let Yoochun just take the knife because of that. Even Yunho seems willing to give Junsu the benefit of the doubt on the grounds that he saved their life when he didn't have to.

Yoochun doesn't say anything about how much he doesn't like the way Changmin looks at Junsu, and the way Junsu looks back. He knows it'll just make him sound like a jealous boyfriend and he's not, he tells himself. He's just worried - afraid, his brain interjects - worried about what Junsu's got planned for Changmin, and the way Changmin seems almost willing to listen to him, the way Changmin doesn't seem to care that he's a demon.

"It's not like I'm not... something, myself," Changmin points out, when Yoochun tries to talk to him about it.

Yoochun looks back at Changmin, wide-eyed, shaking his head automatically. "That's different," he says, reaching out to put a hand on Changmin's arm. Changmin shrugs it off. He's never done that before, and Yoochun's heart lurches sickeningly in his chest.

"Not as different as you think, Yoochun," Changmin says, looking back at Yoochun. "I think he really wants to help. I think he can teach me."

Yoochun bites his lip on all the other things he wants to say. He can't say them when Changmin's looking at him like that, like Changmin's suddenly seeing a part of Yoochun that's completely incomprehensible to him. Instead, Yoochun drops his eyes, can't help but catch the glint of light from the amulet he'd given Changmin the day before Changmin went to college, to keep him safe. It still hadn't stopped the demon coming for Changmin. He hadn't stopped that, so maybe this is all his own fault anyway.

He's too lost in his own thoughts to notice Changmin reaching for him, and startles when Changmin's hand lands on his shoulder, eyes lifting automatically. "I'm sorry," Changmin says quietly, and Yoochun wants to believe him so much. "I just. I wish you'd be okay with this. I want to find out what I can do. Want to find out if I can help people better, if I can figure out a way to stop him."

Yoochun hesitates, can't bring himself to say no when Changmin's eyes are pleading with him to understand, but he can't pretend that he's okay with it. He can't tell Changmin to go and learn how to use powers that a demon gave him, from another demon, even if those powers have saved his life a couple of times.

"There's got to be another way," he says, shaking his head. "Isn't that what you said when we found the gun? And now there's the knife. We'll find something, Changmin."

"Maybe this is the other way," Changmin says. "Maybe this is the only way."

They're going in circles, and Yoochun can't think of anything else to do. "Be careful," he says softly, as close as he'll get to acceptance.

"It'll be okay," Changmin says, soft and certain, and Yoochun wants to believe him so much. "Trust me, okay?"

Yoochun nods at that, reluctant, because he does trust Changmin, with his life and everything else, but they all know how tricky demons are, and he doesn't trust Junsu at all.

Changmin reaches for him again, draws him in, and Yoochun goes with it, arms sliding around Changmin's waist as he tucks himself against Changmin. "I promise," Changmin murmurs, just before he leans down to kiss Yoochun gently. "I won't let anything happen."

**

That's how things are for another four months, Changmin learning to move objects with his mind and other things that Yoochun doesn't ask too much about, because if he knows, he might have to try to stop him. Yoochun spends more time with Yunho while Changmin's with Junsu, to keep himself from going crazy thinking about it.

Once, while they're burying the body that used to house another demon that wouldn't tell them what they needed to know, Yoochun says, almost to himself, "Don't know if I'm doing the right thing, Yunho." He doesn't look up, doesn't even acknowledge that he's said the words.

There's a pause, long enough that Yoochun's not sure that Yunho even heard him, and the sound of Yunho's spade cutting into the ground doesn't falter. Then Yunho says, "It's not your choice," almost as quiet as Yoochun has been.

Yoochun looks up at that, startled. "What?"

"It's his," Yunho says, catching Yoochun's eyes. "Can't make it for him."

"I know," Yoochun says, knowing Yunho has a point and hating to admit it all the same. "But I just."

Yunho nods, sympathy obvious, and pulls Yoochun into a hug when the job's done. Yoochun lets himself curl into Yunho and take a little comfort in the way Yunho is solid and warm and feels nothing like Changmin for all that they're almost the same height, trying not to think about Changmin and whoever used to own the body that Junsu's in.

**

Yoochun kisses Changmin hello and goodbye, still, but they haven't done more than that in weeks, both of them exhausted when they crawl into bed, too tired for more than just curling into each other. Yoochun thinks he's grateful that at least they still do that, that Changmin hasn't given him up entirely for Junsu's company.

Then one night, between jobs, Yoochun goes out with Yunho and lets himself drink too much, then a little more, enough that he feels floaty and disconnected, not entirely himself. Enough that the worry and the ache of knowing what Changmin's probably doing right now fades a little. He flirts outrageously with the girl behind the bar, the dark-haired businesswoman at the corner table, the man who buys him his eighth drink - or tenth, but who's counting? Anyone, in fact, who'll stay still long enough.

But it's Yunho he kisses in the alley behind the bar, pushing him up against the wall and pressing their mouths together hard and demanding. Yunho lets Yoochun kiss him, doesn't fight him off, even lets his tongue slide against Yoochun's when Yoochun presses closer. Afterwards, though, Yunho pushes Yoochun back with hands gentle against his shoulders. Yoochun doesn't recognise the look on Yunho's face until much later, when he's much more sober. "Not like this," Yunho says softly. "If that's what you want, try one of the people in there." Yoochun lets Yunho take him back to the motel instead, the rooms still dark and empty, lets Yunho pour him into bed and tuck the covers around him, gentler than Yoochun had expected.

It'd been sympathy, Yoochun realises in the morning, once the hangover's worn off a bit. Not pity, which he'd been half-afraid it would be, but something he thinks he can accept.

Changmin had come back at some point after Yoochun passed out, Changmin's head beside Yoochun's on the pillow when Yoochun woke up and dashed for the bathroom. Yoochun tries to tell Changmin about what had happened, but Changmin's busy getting dressed to track down another lead, and Yoochun can't seem to get the right words together before he leaves.

**

Once, Yoochun walks into their motel room to find Junsu in there, no sign of Changmin. He's just a beat slow in turning to walk right back out again, and the door slams shut behind him without a hand touching it. The handle won't turn when he reaches for it, and he turns back to Junsu with automatic fear and rage tangled together in his chest, the emotions only sharpening when he sees that Junsu's eyes are black. "What the fuck-" he starts, but Junsu cuts him off.

"Sit down and listen to me," Junsu says, but Yoochun's not about to listen to anything a demon says, especially not a demon that's been taking Changmin from him every day for the last two months.

"I don't have to listen to anything you say," Yoochun says, and he can hear the bitterness in his own voice. "Go tell it to Changmin."

"Changmin doesn't need to hear this," Junsu replies, moving closer, a wave of his hand pressing Yoochun back against the door without any need for a touch. "You do."

Yoochun fumes wildly, but he's pinned, and he sags against the invisible hands holding him after a moment. "Say it, then," he grits out.

"Your prejudice is going to get us all killed," Junsu says, and his voice isn't pulling any punches. "We don't have much time, and if we spend any more of it indulging your stupidity, Changmin's never going to learn what he needs to. He's the only one who's got a chance of killing Azazel, and my knife just isn't going to cut it." He laughs then, at the pun, and the sound is simultaneously compelling and chilling, to Yoochun.

"Demons lie," Yoochun says stubbornly, shaking his head.

"I want to live as much as you do. As much as Changmin does," Junsu says, taking another step closer. "Azazel will kill me for this, for what I've taught him already." Junsu lifts a hand to Yoochun's cheek then, the touch almost gentle, and something about it makes Yoochun shiver, nothing like repulsion. "Help me help him."

Yoochun shakes his head, but Junsu's hand forces his chin up, his eyes meeting Junsu's despite his best efforts. They're not black any more, and there's something human in the back of them, something pleading with Yoochun to understand. Yoochun wants to deny it, but he can't help thinking that maybe it's not the echoes of whoever's body Junsu's in. Maybe it's Junsu.

Junsu says then, like he read Yoochun's mind: "I used to be like you, once."

"Like me?" Yoochun echoes, despite himself.

"Human," Junsu says, quiet. "In love. Enough to sell my soul for them." His eyes are very, very dark, nothing like demon-black, and Yoochun stares for a long moment before Junsu takes a step back suddenly and the force holding him back loosens. Yoochun scrambles for the door, slamming it shut again behind him like it'll keep out all the things that Junsu said, but it's far too late for that.

**

Yoochun tries not to think about it in the week that follows, though he has pretty mixed success, with the way he keeps running into Junsu. He thinks Junsu might just be doing it on purpose, trying to make Yoochun face the things Junsu had said that day. Then, suddenly, it all becomes a moot point anyway.

Azazel's demons and their human leader find them in yet another motel between jobs, on a day that seemed much like any other. Yoochun's cleaning bug-lady slime off his knife while Yunho cleans his guns, Junsu and Changmin in the corner talking about something Yoochun tells himself he doesn't want to know while Junsu puts together spell-pouches that he claims will hide them better.

Then, suddenly, Junsu's and Changmin's heads snap up, half a word out of Changmin's mouth - "Somethi-" - before the night sky outside goes pitch-black, the room's light seeming a feeble flicker in the face of the sudden, unnatural darkness.

"What-" Yoochun starts, before the noise starts, a static screech that Yoochun knows a little too well by now.

"Demons." Junsu says what they're all thinking. What they all already know. "They're here."

Yunho's gun's already back together, Yoochun scrambling for the rocksalt-loaded shotgun that he's taken to keeping in reach for months now. None of it's going to be any use, if there're as many as he thinks, but that doesn't mean they're not going to try their best to send as many of the bastards back to hell as they can.

Yoochun brings the gun up to face the door just as it bursts open, just has time to stare at the young woman in the doorway, to think, 'She's human,', before she waves a hand and swats him and Yunho out of the way as if they're nothing at all.

After that, Yoochun loses track of Changmin a little, can't see him through everything that's going on. Still, he can hear it, can hear Changmin putting Junsu's lessons to good use, the crackles of Junsu's knife getting one more demon out of the fray interspersed with the scream of exorcism, faster than should be possible.

Everything goes very quiet between one breath and the next, Yoochun turning from one demon to face the next to realise - there are none left. Somehow, they've beaten them back. But then he turns a little more and sees the woman - the human - pulling her knife out of Changmin's back, sees the triumphant smile on her face just before Yunho's next bullet takes her square in the chest.

Even before Yoochun flings himself across the room to Changmin, he knows it's too late. He wraps his arms around Changmin all the same, hands tight against the wound in Changmin's back as if he can keep Changmin together with nothing more than that, eyes travelling from Changmin's face to the amulet on Changmin's chest that hasn't stopped this happening to him. "Do something!" Yoochun yells, at Yunho, at Junsu. At anyone, but then Changmin's hand reaches up to touch his cheek lightly. It's like the touch's magnetic, and Yoochun turns back to Changmin's face, whispering Changmin's name.

"Yoochun," Changmin says. "Don't-" Whatever he was going to say, he doesn't get to finish it, his eyes falling shut then and his body going limp in Yoochun's arms.

**

There's a demon who can be summoned to crossroads, if you know how. If you're desperate enough to give your soul up for something you can't get any other way.

Yoochun knows that if Changmin were alive, he'd stop him, he'd tell him that this isn't worth Yoochun's soul, that the demons wouldn't ever let either of them off light - they've done too much damage. But Changmin's not here, Changmin can't say anything anymore, and Yoochun would give anything, do anything, to get him back.

"One month," the demon says, cruel, half-gleeful smile stretching his face into a rictus. Yoochun tries not to think how much it looks like that nameless woman's face after she'd knifed Changmin. He doesn't argue, though, doesn't point out that everyone else who'd made this deal had got a decade with their hearts' desire.

"Okay," Yoochun says. "Changmin lives, and I get one month."

"Can't wait to see you in hell," the demon says, but Yoochun just turns his back and walks away, knows he's just signed away his soul and can't bring himself to care.

**

Changmin shouts and curses when he finds out what Yoochun's done, customary composure shattered beyond recognition. Yoochun lies and says he's got a year, knows that Changmin will try to find a way to break the deal, and that'd mean Changmin will die again. Yoochun knows that makes him a coward, but it's the one thing he knows he can't face. "It's okay," he lies again. "We've got time. We'll figure it out." Yoochun catches the look Changmin casts at Junsu, as close as Changmin ever gets to pleading, but Junsu simply shakes his head and Changmin turns back to drop his head against Yoochun's shoulder with a choked sound in his throat.

Yoochun keeps trying to take new jobs, wants to do as much good as he can in the time he's got left, so much less than the others think. Sometimes, from the looks Junsu gives him, Yoochun wonders if Junsu does know, but he never quite gets around to asking, can't quite think of the words. Yunho and Junsu have taken to disappearing together at odd intervals anyway, and Yoochun wonders if they think the reason's really still a secret. Either way Yunho doesn't seem harmed in any way. In fact, he seems happier, and for that, and for the too-close knowledge of what might have made Junsu become what he is, Yoochun's almost willing to give Junsu the benefit of the doubt.

Changmin, though, takes to spending every day up to his neck in books, looking for a way to save Yoochun. Yoochun wonders if he should be happy that the lessons with Junsu have come to an end, or at least a pause, ever since Junsu said he didn't know a way to save Yoochun. Either way, Changmin doesn't seem willing to accept how things are, any more than he was when they couldn't find a weapon to fight Azazel, and Yoochun's more glad than ever that Changmin doesn't know just how little time he really has. And maybe he regrets, just a little, that Changmin is too caught in his search to spend much time with him, but Yoochun thinks that as long as Changmin's alive, he doesn't need anything else.

**

The day the hellhounds come for Yoochun, it's just him and Changmin, Yunho and Junsu off together again. Yoochun's known they're coming for hours, the way the world sharpens around him a warning he's never felt before but recognises all the same.

When Changmin's head snaps up from his book, eyes going wide, Yoochun knows that the baying he hears isn't just in his head any more. They're almost here. He stands to take the step over to Changmin, can almost see the thoughts flickering through his head - 'They're not supposed to be here!' and 'We're supposed to have more time,' and 'You lied to me.' "I'm sorry," Yoochun breathes, chest feeling tight and eyes prickling at the look of betrayal that settles on Changmin's face. "I had to." He leans down then, kisses Changmin and tries not to think 'last kiss', even though he knows that's how it's going to be.

"You're a bastard," Changmin whispers after, quiet and furious, sadness under it.

"I know," Yoochun says. There's scratching at the door now, and Yoochun speaks faster. "I still had to. Couldn't let you-" He cuts off, wraps his arms around Changmin, one last loving touch before he lifts his hand behind Changmin's back and presses just right, Changmin's eyes widening for a second before they fall shut and he goes limp, unconscious in Yoochun's arms. For once, he's done his research. He knows the hellhounds won't hurt anyone but him, as long as no-one else gets in their way.

Yoochun lowers Changmin to the floor carefully, then stands again, walks over to the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he takes off the protective witch-bag Junsu'd made them all, swallowing as the baying and scratching redoubles. "Come get me, then," he says, and opens the door.

Part 2

skyfever: Caution: Wet Floor

2009-03-19T17:37:39Z

Title: Caution: Wet Floor
Author: Reeza (onew)
Pairing(s): JaeMin, HoSu, HaeChul, JongYu; JaeChun
Rating: PG-16
Summary: The doctor is always in.
Word count: 11,170 words
Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine.
Author's Note: Set in the Philippines, and this is why their names are written as Jaejoong Kim instead of Kim Jaejoong. The idea for this fic was spawned during one fateful night when I was taking a bath and desperately trying to come up with a plot for my fic for dbsk_bigbang. I told myself I'd never write Hospital!AU. The morning after, after having a cup of coffee, I sat down in front of the computer, opened the LJ update page, and typed the middle of this fic. Lo and behold, a story.

Attachments are like cobwebs in your closet,
or mosquitoes that sting quite hard.
Sometimes you don't know why they're there,
sometimes you just want to get rid of them.
Most of the time, you just let them be.

Attachments, attachments.

o1. The prelude to knowing
The wind was a man with a lisp talking about
people who had stabbed him in the back.
I hurried to get home and escape him.
The moon was a child's face squeezed against a screen,
yelling curses down at us.
— Heather O'Neill, Lullabies for Little Criminals

I want to be a doctor.

The thought of being a doctor crossed my mind early, when I was only five. My fifth birthday celebration was the time when all of my relatives were able to come over for the little party, and that was the first time I saw my uncle who was a doctor. He told us about his operations, the little surgeries and the occasional hazards. I didn't understand any of them, but I knew he was a cool guy. So at the age of five, just before my mother tucked me in bed, I told her— "I want to be a doctor." She chuckled, laughed, then bid me good night.

I want to be a doctor.

By the time I was eight, I already knew what a doctor actually was. Funny, though, that when I found out that cutting people's bodies open was part of the job, I wanted to be a doctor all the more. Perhaps I had some morbid fascination with blood and the like. I vaguely remembered my mother being shocked at my newfound penchant for reading medical books when the medical terms there were totally beyond me. I told my mother a second time, "I want to be a doctor." This time, she smiled at me. "Sure, son. Sure."

I want to be a doctor.

I could still recall my relatives laughing at me saying that I wanted to be a doctor on Christmas Eve. I was fifteen then, and they told me to lay my desire to be a doctor to rest since I would probably be better off as an artist. "Honey, you're amazing and all, but it's so much easier to paint than go saving people's lives," the wife of my uncle who was a doctor told me. I remembered shaking my head, telling her, "I don't want something easy. I want a test." And it was probably the statement of the entire night — I told them I wanted a test, something that wasn't easy, when actually being a doctor, everything they did, was still beyond me.

I... still want to be a doctor.

We moved to the Philippines because my dad was doing business with too many Filipinos. It took me a while to adjust. The changes were so abrupt — I was in my last year in senior high school, then we moved to a new country. My plans were totally screwed up, but I had to make do with what I had. So when the time came that I was already looking for a university to study in, I looked for the best medical schools in the country. University of the Philippines seemed the best choice — it was the country's state university, after all. I still submitted my application to other schools, but my mind was set on UP. So when the results from UP were released, I was more than relieved to see my name on the list. "Dreams do come true," I remembered my mother telling me while we were crossing the street to get to the mall — she said she was going to treat me to something special. Dreams do come true, it echoed in my mind. And just before we were about to make it to the street across, a truck rushed past us and I felt myself being pushed to the ledge and — "Mom, mom? Where are y—"

I need to be a doctor.

With the recent death of my mother, I worked hard the moment I entered the university. Never had there been a semester when I got a grade lower than a 2.0. I set a standard for myself — never ever be better; you have to be the best, even at the expense of stepping on other people. Halfway through the second semester, I took notice of this boy in my block who seemed to do just as good as I did. He was as tall as I was (and I was taller than most Filipinos), and he looked like a foreigner, and just like... me. "I'm Junsu. Kim Jun&mdash Ah, I mean Junsu Kim." I spoke to him in Korean, and his eyes widened. "Annyeong," I ended, smiling at my newfound friend (or at least, that was how I wanted our relationship to be). He smiled back. "Annyeong."

I'm going to be a doctor.

Four grueling years of studying after, it felt as if we were practically being thrust into different fields of study. Six months into the med practice of sorts, Junsu and I had mixed up medical terms and materials for internal medicine with surgery, which wasn't entirely far from the internal medicine materials except for a few things (that I swore I could have forgotten somewhere along the way). Then there was graduation, and Junsu and I graduated cum laude. Post Graduate Internship wasn't as easy as it seemed, and it was as if we were mere assistants to the doctors in the hospital we had our internship in more than people who were being trained. To top it all off, we had to study for the licensure exam, which we passed with flying colors. And there it was, right within our reach — the real thing.

I am a doctor.

I am Jaejoong Kim, and this is my dream.
I am Jaejoong Kim, and I am a doctor.

"This," the resident said, opening the door of the room and pointing inside, "is your locker room. You are expected to be here when you are not asked to do anything but still are on duty." The resident adjusted his glasses and Junsu tiptoed behind me, looking over my shoulder. "He's scary," he whispered in my ear, and I tried hard not to laugh. "I am not scary, you kid over there." We stiffened at his statement and some of our fellow interns tried so hard not to laugh. "I'm Yunho Jung, your resident and your master."

"I will be your slave driver, your boss, the one who'll be ordering you around, and your job is to make me happy." He was looking straight at Junsu when one of the interns burst out in laughter. He quickly suppressed it, but he was too late — Dr. Jung was already shooting him a glare. "You, all of you, will do as I say, and all your wrongdoings will reflect in your assessment." I gulped down hard — internship wasn't supposed to be military training, but it seemed more like it; I didn't study medicine to pushed around. "Now I want you to get to know each other for five minutes, then I want every patient on this floor checked. After you've finished, turn in your records. I'll be giving you a new task to work on. Now scoot." And then he left.

"Oh God," an intern gasped and rested his head against the wall as soon as Dr. Jung had left. "That Dr. Jung is creepy. I'm Dong— Aiden, I mean. Yeah, Aiden." I cocked my head just mildly. "You're Korean? I'm Jaejoong, and he's Junsu." He beamed at us. "You, you are, too? Oh!" Then he started jumping up and down, taking Junsu's hand then spinning him around. Two other interns walked up to us — one was so much shorter than the other. "Excuse me," the taller of the two said, and I saw Junsu and Aiden stop in their tracks — I heard a hint of foreign accent in the intern's tone, "You're Korean?" Junsu, Aiden and I nodded. "Oh, hi! I'm Jinki, he's Jonghyun. We're..." I laughed a bit; Junsu chuckled. "Korean, we figured." Aiden was the first to extend his hand to Jinki and Jonghyun. "Nice to meet you!" he said most exuberantly. He then turned around and faced Junsu and I. "You can call me Donghae, if you like, but people normally call me Aiden."

It was the first time I ever called a Korean by his English name.

To say that Aiden was bubbly was an understatement — he was practically a ball of sunshine, even in the presence of Dr. Jung who, we had recently found out, wasn't our resident but was, in fact, an attending. "What, Jung said he was your resident? That bastard— I'm your resident! Oi Jung, Yunho! Come here, you—"

Our resident, Dr. Kim, was quite the amusing one since he was able to order and push Dr. Jung around as if he was Dr. Jung's superior. "What are they saying about you being their resident? What got into your stupid brain that made you take my job?" Dr. Jung sighed and rolled his eyes. "Kim, come down—" "What do you mean calm down? Don't you tell me to—" "Heechul, I had to fill in for you. You weren't around the other day because you were on a vacation — you said so yourself." The disgruntled look on Dr. Kim's face was still there but he seemed a little less miffed than he was before. "Now go talk to your interns. They basically know what to do already, but a second briefing can never hurt. Besides, they haven't introduced themselves to you yet." Dr. Kim frowned and scowled, then turned around just as Dr. Jung did — I was certain I saw Dr. Jung sigh in what seemed to be relief for a moment, though.

"Okay. Order of business. Introduce yourselves. Let's start with... the small guy over there, you," Dr. Kim said, pointing at Jonghyun who was beside Jinki. Jonghyun took a couple of steps forward and cleared his throat. "I'm Jonghyun Kim." Dr. Kim pointed at Jinki, who did as Jonghyun had done earlier. "Jinki Lee, doctor. Glad to be of service." Dr. Kim scoffed and shook his head, then pointed at Aiden who was just beside Junsu. "Aiden Lee," Aiden said, to which Dr. Kim asked if it was his real name because Lee is not an English surname. "Oh no, doctor. I'm Korean. I'm just more... used to being called Aiden." Dr. Kim laughed, then asked Aiden what his Korean name was, and Aiden answered. "Donghae, is it? I'm calling you Donghae. You can't say no. Okay, next?" It was a good thing Junsu was there to introduce himself before I was supposed to because I was giggling. "Junsu Kim, doctor." Dr. Kim raised an eyebrow and frowned. "What, you're also a Kim? Aish, we'll have a problem with that. Okay, you." When it was finally my turn, I took a deep breath and tried suppressing my laughter and I was, for the first time, successful. "Jaejoong Kim. Nice to meet you."

"Okay, okay. Let's get this straight," Dr. Kim said, walking to the left and right, back and forth. "First, you're not calling me Dr. Kim. Call me Dr. Heechul. Or just Heechul, yes. That's just fine. But not Kim, please. We've got enough Kim's to confuse the staff." There was collective laughter and Dr. Kim — Heechul — laughed with us as well. "Now you two, the Kim twins, I'm calling you by your first names. Or maybe... I'll give you nicknames, yes. Let's see..." Just like that, he stopped in his tracks and his eyebrows furrowed — I didn't think he was serious with giving us nicknames but, apparently, he was. "Oh, screw it. I can't think of anything. I'll just call you by your first names." There was an awkward smile on Junsu's lips when I took a glance at him to check his reaction. "First thing's first. You're here to learn, not to be ordered by anyone else, so don't listen to what Jung says." He winked at the end of his statement. "But I will be giving you things to do and you can't say no. I don't want to see you loafing around in your locker room. I want my interns to be always on the go, the cream of the crop, understood? Or else I'll go all Yunho on you." And before we could even react, he laughed, and we couldn't help but follow. Our laughing spree lasted for at least a minute until another doctor came.

"Hey, Heechul. Your interns?" The doctor said, right hand gesturing our bunch. "Yeah. Such cuties, don't you think? Especially this boy, the guy beside the Kim twins. He's Korean but prefers to be called by his English name. He's weird — I love it." I wanted to say that we weren't twins, but well, that was how he wanted to call us. And I also wanted to point out that Heechul had just become one of my favorite people ever. "You're crazy," the doctor said, rolling his eyes while smiling. Heechul nudged him in his side. "Ah, I'm Dr. Shim, by the way. You guys might be working with me sometime soon. I'll see you around, okay?" He waved at us and Heechul and it was weird because I was waving back. And I watched him walk away.

Just after we were briefed on what we were supposed to do for the day, I saw Dr. Shim pass our way. I didn't know how it happened, but he smiled at me when he did. I was brought back to reality when Heechul called my attention. "Jaejoong? Are you listening?" "Ah, yes. I need to go check on the people in the left wing." Heechul nodded and smiled. "Okay, now move your lazy asses and scoot!" I found myself running to where I was supposed to be, but my mind was definitely somewhere else. Perhaps it was because of that that I bumped into someone, and, when I looked up, it was Dr. Shim. "Watch where you're going, kid," he said, ending with a wink. I just gave him a curt nod and an almost inaudible, "Ah, okay."

I didn't know if I was being weird or crazy or something, but there was something stuck in my throat that wasn't exactly a thing. Then I felt my stomach lurch. I figured it was indigestion, so I just shun it away. But it didn't go away. And before knocking on the door of room 311, I stopped, stared at the door knob and sighed.

It sounded silly, but I figured I was attracted to Dr. Shim in a way. Just... in some way that wasn't romantic or something. It was hard to explain.

Oh shit.

After our shift, I told Junsu about it. "Well, he's really cool. Maybe you just... want to be like him? I don't know." Junsu then busied himself with taking his scrub suit off. "Wait, we're talking about Dr. Shim, aren't we? Waaaaait! Jaejoong, don't tell me you're&mdash" "Junsu, tone down your voice, they might—" "B-but Jae, you're—" "I said I'm not sure yet! Just—"

"Hello, kids." Heechul emerged from the door and I clasped my hand on Junsu's mouth. "You're off early. Lucky bunch," he said, uncapping the bottle of water that he had. Heechul didn't look or seem like a doctor — not at all. His hair was dyed red, for starters. And they way he spoke was totally different from how Dr. Jung spoke or any other doctor did. "You're staring, Jaejoong. It's creepy, stop it." I blinked twice and apologized before bowing to him. After that, Junsu and I got our bags, then waved goodbye to him. "I want you here early!" "Yes!"

We hadn't seen Jinki and Jonghyun the whole day because they had something to do in the Pediatrics section, but we saw Aiden during the break. Junsu had started living with me the moment we got in Manila Doctor's Hospital since the condominium unit my father gave me was just nearby. We walked from the hospital to Robinsons Towers. Somewhere in our conversation about liking people and doctors, Junsu had convinced me that I had to get a shrink or something. Or that I should finally get a girl friend. "Remember Marie, that girl from our Math 11 class? You liked her, right?" I had to stop in my tracks for a while to recall who the girl was. "Ah, the one who sucked at Math?" Junsu laughed. "Yeah, that one. You had a crush on her until we graduated, right?" I scoffed. "It was a temporary thing. Besides, she wasn't my type." It was Junsu's turn to stop walking — he gaped at me. "You mean you're absolutely serious that you like Dr. Shim? Oh my God, Jaejoong Kim!" I knew he wouldn't let on, so I just went on my way and heard him running after me. "Hey, wait up!"

"Look, Su, crushes are meant to be like this. You know, just... liking someone." Did I just say I had a crush on Dr. Shim? "So chill, relax. It's not anything serious, and it won't be, okay." Junsu sighed. "Besides, we can't like our fellow doctors. It's... against the rules." Junsu chuckled. "Whoever said you followed the rules?"

Junsu had a point. And he wasn't supposed to have a point.

Sometimes, I wanted to ask myself why I had Junsu as my best friend.

o2. You know that 'L' word?
You gain power by pretending to be weak.
By contrast, you make people feel strong.
You save people by letting them save you.
All you have to do is be fragile and grateful.
Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
— Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

So for the next few days — days after days after days, weeks — I tried as much as possible to avoid Dr. Shim, but fate seemed to find ways to make us meet. Like that one time when Junsu and I were lounging in the locker room. Aiden, who we hadn't been seeing in a while, came and told us that Dr. Shim had asked us to go to the little conference room near the Nurse's Station to have us solve a medical case. So we got up at once and went there but before we got out of the room, Junsu mumbled something along the lines of You don't like him, Jae. You don't. There Junsu Kim was, playing the role of the over-protective best friend, and it was all too amusing.

When we had finally reached the room, we bumped into Dr. Shim who had some papers in his hands. We bowed to him and he opened the door for us. There we saw Aiden, Jinki and Jonghyun, Nikka, one of the interns from the gynecology section, Bernadine who was often assigned in the Emergency Room, and a couple more people who we couldn't recognize. I walked to Aiden and stood just beside him. Aiden leaned in. "There's a weird case, the doctors don't know what to do so they're having us solve it." I chuckled. "Old tactics never grow old, really." We both laughed until we saw Dr. Shim staring at us. He then cleared his throat.

"We've got a very tricky case in our hands. A patient of ours, Guillermo Morales, was admitted here last night because he was having unusually violent tremors from chills. We got a history, and the only thing we got was that he was transporting metal rods from a construction site to a truck yesterday afternoon. He also said he felt a biting pain in his right foot while going home from work. Now, I want you interns to find out what exactly caused the chills and where that biting pain come from." At the end of Dr. Shim's briefing, collective murmuring was heard. Junsu started flipping through his little notebook that contained notes on the cases he's handled so far. I raised my hand. "Yes, Dr. Kim?" I gulped down hard and took a deep breath.

"Doctor, you said he felt a biting pain? And chills? He could have been punctured by something and he took it out by himself. He could have disinfected it with alcohol, but that wouldn't be enough, considering that he works in a construction site. I'm guessing... internal bleeding." The murmuring came to a halt and I saw Dr. Shim blinking twice through his glasses.

"Kim, come with me. You're scrubbing in. Where's... Ah, you, Kim, I mean Junsu. Junsu, am I right? Okay. Bring Dr. Jung to me, stat. Dr. Manalastas, tell Dr. Heechul that we've got this case solved. Good job, everyone."

And just like that, we were out of the room and I was scrubbing in for the first time.

Scrubbing in for the very first time was, to say the very least, amazing. Though I was just there to assist and Dr. Shim only called me once to do the cutting of the flesh, I still felt so accomplished, although at some point I swore I was shaking because all the interns were watching us — me — operate on Mr. Morales.

It was a number 3 screw that punctured him him first. The 40-mm screw punctured him just a bit, but it was deep enough to cause bleeding. Turns out he cleaned it good but didn't notice the other puncture he had that was caused by a 1 1/4 inch nail that, he didn't realize, already dug into his skin. When he got home, he took it out and cleaned it with water and soap, but still— nails that have dug deep into the skin shouldn't be just taken out like that, especially since he was working in a construction site. That caused the internal bleeding, thus the chills. The violent shaking had increased his heart beat and he started palpitating, then he had a heart attack just before we were supposed to start the operation. I was at a loss at first and just stared at the door as they pulled his stretcher inside, but then Dr. Shim called me and I got back to my senses.

So this was what the real thing really was.

The operation ended five hours after. It was pretty fast for an open-heart surgery, actually. And it was a success, which had me feeling accomplished until the end of the week. During the next few days, I scrubbed in on a couple more of Dr. Shim's operations, and Junsu had been constantly asking me about the thing I had for Dr. Shim. I waved him off, told him it was nothing because it was the truth. Or at least that was what I wanted to believe.

See, it was terribly hard to not be attracted to someone as smart and cool as Dr. Shim. For a doctor, he didn't seem too stressed out with his work, and neither did he speak in volumes of medical terms everytime he spoke to us (unlike Dr. Jung who looked too old for his age and seemed to favor Junsu's company when scrubbing in for operations). And he was really accommodating and funny, just like Heechul (who had taken a liking to keeping Aiden around him; he said it was therapeutic, the child-like nature Aiden had. I figured it was just him being too fond of the boy. I wouldn't blame him, though. Aiden was charming and always bubbly — he was a stress reliever.). Besides, I was just attracted and nothing more. Maybe the occasional skipping of a heart beat was freaky, and when it happened more often than the usual it was already frightening.

So I had resolved to distancing myself from Dr. Shim for a while, try scrubbing in for Dr. Jung or Dr. Iñigo, but Dr. Jung was either always too busy or had already assigned Junsu to scrub in in his operations. I got the chance to scrub in for Dr. Iñigo and I swore I'd never do it again. He was definitely worse than Dr. Jung — the man didn't know how talk to someone without having to shout and was always, always ordering people around! After that operation with Dr. Iñigo, I made sure I didn't see him again. Maybe I had fate to blame again, because just as soon as I exited the operating room, I bumped into Dr. Shim.

"Hey there, Kim. Jaejoong. Jaejoong, right? Ahahaha..." The last bit he said had him smiling sheepishly and me just blinking. When our eyes met, we both looked away, and I could've sworn we looked stupid with what we did. I bowed to him, excused myself and walked as fast as I could to where I was supposed to go — Where was I supposed to go, anyway?

Dr. Shim looked ridiculously cute, and I hated it.

Or at least I wished I did.

Jinki and Jonghyun, we found out, were actually interns on Post Graduate Internship, so they weren't exactly practitioners yet. The bad thing about it was that they had to suffer the perennial fate of med school graduates going through Post Graduate Internship — being slaves to the residents and attending. I vaguely remembered one evening off spent laughing over Dr. Jung being such a slave-driver, Dr. Mandapat being a walking sleeping pill because one would always be lulled to sleep by his voice, and about Heechul being best resident ever. It was the first time that we got to spend some time with the two of them because we were always hanging out with Aiden. "Say, do you two live nearby?" Jinki shook his head. "Jonghyun lives in Las Piñas; I live in Quezon City." Junsu's eyes widened. "You mean you commute to the hospital every single day? Aish!" Junsu shook his head. I could see Aiden frowning beside Junsu. "Maybe you guys should get a dorm here or something." My eyes shot up.

"Say, you two, would you like to live with me and Junsu?" Jinki's eyes shot up at my statement. "B-but I— If it's— You don't really have to— I—" I chuckled. "Honestly, it's okay," I replied, smiling at the two of them but more at Jinki because he was cute stuttering like that. Jonghyun looked at him. "Jinki, what do you say?" Jinki was fumbling with the hem of his scrub suit. "I, well— It's fine with me..." Jonghyun's eyes lit up and he faced me, took my hands and held it close to his chest. "Thank you, thank you, Jaejoong! Ah!" Then he started jumping up and down, soon dragging Jinki along with him. Junsu moved closer to me.

"Had I known better, I'd say those two were an item." I giggled and nudged him in his side. "Who knows?" Aiden might've heard me because he suddenly looked at me and shook his head, laughing. But I knew I was right — we could never really tell. We were doctors, people who saved lives, not love gurus or anything close to that. We were yet to fall in love. Whoever in his right mind would want to be attached to someone for the rest of his human life, anyway? Nu-uh, not me.

Or maybe not.

I figured that I wasn't a man of attachments when my father called from his house one morning. It was my birthday the other day, you didn't even call me. I frowned against the mouthpiece of the phone. "I did, dad. You just forgot. You were having your coffee then, remember?" And it was true — I did call him on his birthday and even lowered my pride and went to his house to give him a present. I gave him a woven scarf with checkered prints as the design. He wore it the moment he saw it. One part of me was hurt and the other was cynical — maybe this was his lame attempt at getting me back; I wouldn't fall for that anymore. But then, there was this other part of me that was scared, scared that my father's memory was disintegrating, scared that I was going to possibly lose him to dementia.

It wasn't exactly the best way to start the morning, even when Dr. Shim was thrusting a cup of coffee in front of me.

Wait. Dr. Shim was doing what?

"Best way to start the day, isn't it? Coffee. Haha." His voice drifted off and he was wearing that sheepish smile again. He was giving me coffee, Starbucks coffee, at that. "I hope you like Toffee Nut?" I laughed a little. His sheepish smile turned into an even more awkward smile. "It's sweet." I shook my head, snatched it from his hand. "I know. Just like you." And I walked away before he could even see me smiling.

Maybe I could give that thing called 'attachments' a try.

We seemed to fit well with the people in the hospital, us interns. In a matter of three months, we were working with people with relative ease. I've been assigned to the Emergency Room a couple of times, but Dr. Shim seemed to have a preference for me scrubbing in in this operations. I had no problem with that, of course, as it allowed me to learn more. And naturally, I'd never admit that I enjoyed every single minute of the scrubbing in with him.

It was more than just scrubbing in at times. During off hours and when Dr. Shim didn't have any operations to attend to, there was kissing in the locker room. The first one wasn't planned — perhaps it was more of a 'we were just caught in the moment' kind of thing, but the second one was planned, and we were giggling like idiots when he locked the door behind him and kissed me on the lips. Most of the time, it was just kissing — only just; other times, there was the occasional touching. There was always an air of tension surrounding us, and the more we did it, the more we got addicted to it — it was as if we loved the thrill of getting caught. Stupid, yes, but it worked for us.

He asked me out a couple of times and I always said no — no because I was afraid that we'd get caught, that people will see us, that my fellow interns will think that it was why I've been getting all the favors well in fact it wasn't the reason. So I stayed away from him for a while, again, but he was always chasing me, and there was nowhere I could hide.

"Dr. Shim, stop it." His eyebrows were furrowed and he was holding me by the wrist. "Stop? Why should I stop? You — You also want this!" I looked him in the eye. "But what if they think I've been getting all the favors because of this? What if — What if we get caught? Don't you care about your career, my career? This is the future we're talking about!" He looked away.

"Let them think that. Let them think badly of you. You can't blame them. You're good, you're a natural. They won't kick you out of the hospital just because of that. They know better than to lose a good doctor." I hung my head low, bit my lip. The possible consequences were too overwhelming — my dream was at stake. But Dr. Shim... was right.

"And besides, I like you. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

For some strange reason, that was the only assurance that I needed to hear to make everything right.

The real first time took place in his car just before go out to catch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It was quite unexpected but, then again, we never intended to plan everything. We almost missed the movie and we had to sit through the second showing of the movie because we were too busy with each other during the first screening. It was a good thing there were no kids in the cinema when we watched the movie, else we'd be sued for... things.

And so everything else followed, and breaks in the evening were now more than kissing and just touching. I overheard Jinki asking Junsu why I had been vanishing from the locker room during the breaks in the evening, and why I always looked worn out (but surprisingly attractive) when I returned. I remembered Junsu shooting me a look when I walked in on their conversation. "He's got a lot of things to attend to." Jinki had the saddest look in his eyes when he looked at me after that.

While I enjoyed everything that Dr. Shim and I were doing and what we didn't do, I hadn't exactly figured what it was that we had — attraction, a strange liking for each other, a curse of sorts, whatever. I didn't plan on figuring it out, though, partly because I was scared of what I might come to realize and because I was... just too busy to think about those kinds of things.

But apparently, Dr. Shim had time to think about such.

I called in sick halfway through my shift that day and stayed in the smaller locker room to isolate myself from the others so that they wouldn't get sick. Dr. Shim knocked on the door and came inside with a tray in hand — he brought me soup and Tylenol. "Feeling better?" I smiled a little. "At least the headache's kinda gone."

He sat beside me and watched me as I sipped my soup. He looked funny with his mismatched eyes staring intently at me. "Is anything wrong?" He shook his head, tore his gaze away from me. I finished the soup in around seven minutes, and I stopped midway through drinking my medicine when he asked something.

"Just... Just what is this thing we have? What are we?" I blinked twice, somehow ungrateful that he was asking me the very question that I had been avoiding since the day I found out that I liked him. It made me think — just what were we exactly? Why were we so damn attracted to each other to the point that it's already frustratingly all too perfect for our own good? We weren't in love now, were we?

Were we?

I shook my head, chuckled, rather amused at my realization. I turned to him, smiled, and the confusion written all over his face faded into a smile on his lips when I threw a question back at him.

"You're asking for a definition?"

It was Changmin now, not Dr. Shim. He despised being called Dr. Shim. "It sounds too formal, don't you think?" he told me one time while he was handing me a cup of coffee — we settled for instant coffee this time because we had no energy to run to Starbucks just to grab a cup. We were in the locker room then, and Junsu came in with Jonghyun and Aiden. Dr. Shim — Changmin rose from his seat and quickly prepared to leave. "I... think I'll be leaving now. You interns do your best, okay?" Just as he was about to leave, Jinki arrived. "Hey Hyun, Aiden," he greeted the two, smiling. He gave Junsu a pat on the shoulder and when he saw me, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes then darted from me to Changmin, then back to me. "I'll excuse myself." Then Changmin was out of the room and Jinki was still staring at me. I gulped. Jinki left; Jonghyun followed him. Junsu shook his head then turned to me. "Fix this thing, Kim. Fix this."

Whatever it was, I knew that it was something that, I was afraid, I won't ever be able to mend.

But then I was confused. Why was Jinki acting like that all of a sudden? Why was he getting so worked up on the matter? I tried talking to him one time over breakfast, but he was avoiding me. Junsu walked up to me then. "Just let me know if this is real, okay. I can take Jonghyun and Jinki having a thing for each other but you— You and Dr. Shim— I don't know." Junsu was right; our case was different because I was an intern and Changmin was an attending. "I don't know either." Junsu gave me a weak smile. "When you do, let me know. Let me know."

I was really hellbent on not telling anyone about 'us' or even confirming to anyone what our relationship was — no one, not even Junsu — but I just had to make a fool of myself and slip while I was talking to Junsu. Maybe I was thinking about it too much, or maybe I just felt like telling Junsu then — he was my best friend, after all. Or the closest I could have to a best friend, at least.

"You and Dr. Shim are WHAT?" "Ssssh, Junsu, you're too loud—" "Just what the hell are you talking about? You— You're in a relationship with your attending, Jaejoong Kim!" "I know, okay? So just shut it. Chill." "How can I? Oh my God, Jaejoong, what's gotten into you?"

"Look, I didn't plan on anything happening, okay. It just happened." Junsu shook his head; he was disappointed, frustrated. "Is this why you've been getting all the good things, doing all the scrubbing in? I don't want to think badly of you, okay, but— God, Jaejoong, don't tell me—" All of a sudden, we heard the door close, and on the doorstep stood Jinki, eyes wide, shock written all over his face. Just as quickly, he got out of the room. "What's up with him?" I needed to know why, so I followed him outside and left Junsu shouting after me. "Now what's up with you?"

But I lost Jinki just as soon as I got out of the room.

(He couldn't believe what he just heard. Something was going on between Jaejoong and Dr. Shim. Something, not just any other thing. He ran as fast as he could to the nurse's desk. "Where's Dr. Shim?" "He's preparing for a surgery in ten minutes. Wh—" So he set off for the operating room.

He bumped into Dr. Shim on his way there. "Hey there, Lee. Can I be of service?" He stood there, silent and unwilling to speak, but there was one part of him that really wanted to ask Dr. Shim what was going on between him and Jaejoong. But how would he ask Dr. Shim? Are you together with Jaejoong? Too blunt. What are your intentions toward Jaejoong? Too vague. Do you love Jaejoong? Too much.

"Dr. Shim, are you—" Dr. Shim's eyebrows furrowed and, slowly, his eyes widened. Jinki couldn't continue. Dr. Shim looked away, bit his lower lip then fixed his attention back at Jinki. "Look, you're getting it wrong. It's not as if it's the reason why he's getting all the favors&mdash"

"So you are together," it slipped from Jinki's lips unceremoniously. Right now, he didn't have control over his speech or his mind, moreso his heart. Why was he even getting so worked up about everything? Because it was against the law that doctors get together? Because it was Jaejoong who was involved with Dr. Shim? Because it was Dr. Shim and not him? Why? "No! We're— We're not—" "You like him." They both fell silent and Dr. Shim raised his head, looked at Jinki straight in the eye. "I love him."

That was all he needed to know.)

It didn't take long before I saw Jinki again — he emerged from the doors to the room just beside the operating room, running to the elevator and quickly pressing the down button. Before I could even catch the same elevator with him, he closed the door, and I saw Changmin coming from behind me. "Lee, he—" He didn't need to continue his sentence — I already knew.

I took the stairs down and caught sight of Jinki exiting the hospital, still in his scrub suit. "Jinki! Hey, Jinki, wait up!" He stopped just outside the hospital and had his back on me while I tried explaining to him.

"Look, I don't know why you're so worked up about this but&mdash" He suddenly turned around and I swore his eyes were watering. "I like you. I really do. And I— I just can't get it, why Dr. Shim? It's not right. Why risk your career? Why choose an attending instead of an intern? Why not—" And then he walked up to me, pulled me close and he kissed me fully on the lips. There were probably people staring at us, and they were probably thinking, wondering what the hell we were doing. I couldn't pull away for fear that I might hurt Jinki a little too much, and because he was gripping my arms too tightly. When he parted from me, he was crying, and I reached up to wipe the tears in his eyes but he shook his head.

"I— I'm sorry—" "Sssh. It's okay. We're still good, aren't we? I mean uh.... Jinki, just please, I can't— I'm so sorry. I can still be your friend, can't I?" He smiled weakly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Changmin standing some few meters from us. He smiled before he turned his heel to leave.

(There was no other place to return to, so Jinki thought it was wise to just go back to the locker room and stop crying. He found the locker room abandoned with all the lights out when he got back, and he sat down on one of the benches just beside the door. All of a sudden, the lights flickered on.

"Hey," came a soft voice from beside him. He jerked a bit in surprise. "Ah, Jonghyun. You're here." Jonghyun smiled at him. "I always have been, Jinki." He blinked twice, and something dawned upon him, like a realization, that made him think Jonghyun was right and had always been. He checked his wrist watch — it was nine in the evening and he was sure no one has had dinner yet, what with their tight schedule. A smile crept to his lips.

"Say, Hyun, would you like to go out for dinner?")

Things turned out to be pretty normal the following day, and it was quite amusing to see Jinki and Jonghyun engaging in conversations lengthier than the usual. Junsu was shooting me weird glances occasionally, but as the day came to an end, he seemed to be able to digest the entire scenario that took place last night. What I was worried about, though, was what Changmin thought about what he saw — Jinki kissing me for all the people to see.

I got the chance to talk to him just before I had to scrub in for one of Dr. Jung's operations. "Hey, Changmin, I'm—" He seemed hesitant to look at me at first, but he turned to me with a smile. "Sorry that you kissed Jinki?" I raised an eyebrow — how did he know what I was going to say? "And I—" "Don't really like him. Not that way, at least. Am I correct?"

"Changmin—" He cut me off and placed his index finger on my lips. "It's fine, Jae. Honestly. No worries. Besides, no strings attached, right?" He smiled a bit, but I knew there was one part of him that wasn't exactly smiling. So I hit him lightly on the arm and smiled at him.

"But I'm possessive and demanding."

He hit me right back.

This thing about attachments that I was saying, that I wasn't a man of attachments, maybe that could change. People change, after all. 'No strings attached', remember? Not even to things. And I was human, forever subject to change. Screw them attachments for making life complicated, for getting everything tangled up and tied. Screw them attachments for making me feel this way.

Get a grip, Jaejoong Kim, I always told myself. And I just realized something. I needed to a get a grip because it was exactly what I needed, someone to grip, to hold on to.

Because someone was what I exactly needed.

o3. Webs are webs and there's no undoing them
You were not a mistake.
I made the right choice of
keeping you,
given the information I had
at that time.

During the next few days, I met a couple of people who became part of my life in the hospital. Take, for example, Dr. Manalastas (who asked us, her fellow interns, to please call her by her first name — Nikka — because Dr. Manalastas is just too formal), who turned out to be a very clingy person despite her cold exterior. And there's Dr. Abejuela, too, who's as bouncy as ever ("And please, call me Bernadine!"). Then Dr. Navas and Dr. Dizon, and a couple more whose names I've already forgotten.

And then a patient. Yes, I had a patient who pretty much became part of my life. Perhaps I was attached to him to a certain extent, but not quite. I can only be attached so much.

So that it won't hurt so bad when detaching came into play.

I was assigned to the Emergency Room when I met the said patient. I had just finished attending to a patient who was a victim of a stray bullet when I caught him staring at me. I figured he just wanted to be attended to at once so I walked up to him and asked him what was wrong. He was wearing an awkward smile when he pointed to the engraving on his left arm. It looked more like... squiggles to me. "Think you can make that hurt less?" I laughed sheepishly. "I'll do the best I could, sir." He was staring at me throughout the entire process; it irked me a bit.

"You're pretty good," he said, stretching his arm to see if it was bandaged just fine. "I'll catch you again sometime," he added, winking at me at end of his statement. I gave him a curt nod and walked away, but when I turned around to see if he had already gone off, he was still staring at me. I shook my head.

Attachments, attachments.

Attachments, attachments. I didn't know how to do away with them. The weird thing about it was that this patient, this guy who was supposed to die three days ago because of the tetanus he incurred due to repeatedly hitting himself with a rusty knife — I was making a work of art, okay. Not a fashionable way to die, kid, but you can say it's a brave one. And artsy, too — was alive and kicking and was thanking me for saving his ass. And what was even weirder was that it made me feel great, and that smug look on the patient's face was making my heart beat a little too fast.

He came back a week after, complaining about some internal pain, and I found out he had fallen off his bicycle while going up a mountain. "You're crazy." He chuckled. "Yeah, crazy for you." I was taken aback, yes, but I was more irked, if I may say so myself. "That's a nasty bump on your head you've got." But I had learned to just shrug it all off, even if he was running his fingers through my hair already.

"Jaejoong, eh. Pretty name." I shook my head just mildly. "Now, Mr. Park, if you could just lie down on the bed, I can examine you better." Mr. Park laughed and I did admit that it took me a while to realize that I could've put it in a better way and I was all the more providing him with ways to hit on me; if that was what he was doing, at least, but I was pretty sure about it — Junsu once told me that my gut feeling was the one to be trusted when it came to those kinds of things. "Just be a good boy and lie flat on your back so we can get it done and over with?" He shook his head. I rolled my eyes. "Fire away, baby."

It was a traumatizing experience, but it was kind of fun. Plus, he was good-looking, so who was I to complain?

24 hours later and after all the tests had been done, he was still complaining about the internal pain, and he couldn't quite identify where it was coming from. "Do you think it's something else?" Junsu was fumbling with the hem of his uniform. "I think I have something, but I'm not quite sure yet."

The moment I saw Dr. Jung (those close to him call him Yunho or Yunja; it depended on the degree of closeness), I walked up to him at once and handed him the results of the tests. "Are you sure you checked everything, and twice?" I nodded. He took a second look at the test results in his hands. "That's weird. Maybe this is just a case of muscular pain, but I won't be too sure about that. Get a history. You have, haven't you?" I took a deep breath. "From what I've gathered, he fell off the mountain while riding on his bike. I was thinking he could've gotten a fracture somewhere, but the tests showed nothing. Now, if it was a brain fracture, I—" "I should take care of myself next time, shouldn't&mdash" I shot a glance at Mr. Park. And all of a sudden, my mind went blank.

"Jaejoong! He passed out all of a sudden!"

"Order an MRI, stat! You, other Kim, get more oxygen and don't do anything until I say so! And I want you on this case. If this calls for a surgery, you'll be scrubbing in." My eyes widened; I knew Changmin was the one taking care of this and he had just gone for a while to do a surgery but— "But sir, isn't Chang—" "Dr. Shim is busy. And yes, I'm talking about you, Kim. Yes, you, Junsu," he said, pointing at Junsu. "The MRI, Jaejoong. You don't want a patient dying on you, do you?" I froze for a while, looked at Dr. Jung in the eye. "No, I don't."

"Now go save a life."

Attachments, attachments. Dr. Jung was discussing something with Junsu and the poor boy rushed to my side the moment Dr. Jung had left. He was ranting about how Dr. Jung had been too hard on him these past few days. "I think he hates me." I wanted to laugh and say au contraire, he likes you. From the corner of my eye, I saw Changmin walking to our direction while putting on a new coat. "I heard Yunho took my case. Any idea what he's up to?" I suppressed the laughter threatening to spill from my lips. "Not a clue, unless he's planning to take your job as head of Neurology?" Changmin laughed. "He can't do that. He's a cardiologist. Man's got to check his school records," Changmin said as he shook his head, gave us a wink and walked to where Dr. Jung was. Junsu let out a very faint sound of protest.

"Wish me luck, other Kim. Your man's quite the hothead when it comes to these kinds of things." Junsu smiled a little. Perhaps this was the problem with Dr. Jung — he was too good in too many things that he failed to specialize in just one area. He was a well-rounded doctor, yes, but he's a cardiologist more than a neurologist. That, and he was too uptight. I saw Junsu biting his lower lip just beside me and I had to laugh a little.

Attachments, attachments. How in the world do you do away with them?

Mr. Park didn't die — no, not at once, but he did experience some serious pain. He died three days after, softly and subtly — he didn't even cause a ruckus when he died. It was hard to be the one pulling the plugs, to be the one removing all the contraptions attached to his body. I had never lost a patient before. He wasn't exactly my patient, and I wasn't exactly his attending, but he had me mend his arm and I mended him right — there was some kind of bond formed during that interaction.

Doctors feel bad whenever they lose a patient, so they do everything they could to save people. When they're successful, they are rightfully gratified, but they also owe it to the patients themselves, for having the will to live. In Mr. Park's case, it wasn't that he didn't want to live anymore. He had evidently enjoyed a lot of things prior to getting in an accident, was probably too caught up in the thrills of life that he forgot about himself. When he went to the hospital to have his arm treated, he realized a lot of things. I have to take care of myself next time, I remembered hearing him faintly say just before he passed out. Only then did he realize the value of his own life.

Realizations occur to us in the very end.

"Dr. Kim?" Changmin called out to me from two doors away. "You're needed here." I had a new patient to handle, a new life to save. Just how many times do you get to save people from death? And who was I exactly to go saving people from their illnesses?

Dr. Kim, yes, that's my name. Dr. Jaejoong Kim. And I am a doctor.

The sad thing about doctors, though, was that they can save anyone but themselves and the ones they love. I didn't reckon it was their fault, neither was it the relative's, but it was more of fate's cruel way of telling doctors that sometimes it's not about giving it your all, wanting to save someone. Life was also about luck. Sometimes, you'd get lucky.

But most of the time, you won't.

It came as a shock when Junsu told me that my father was rushed to the hospital. I had just finished scrubbing in at Changmin's surgery when Junsu paged me. "We just finished. Why?" I asked when I reached the lockers to change clothes. Junsu was panicking. "Your dad. Room 310. He's there."

And just like that, I was out of the room.

"What happened?" I asked just as soon as I saw Dr. Jung — I had guessed it had something to do with the heart. "Myocardial infarction. The one that got him here wasn't exactly lethal. It stopped after a while, and I'm not too sure if there will be another one. But in any case, stand by. I want you on this case, Kim." I nodded, tried to take a look at the papers in his hands, but my eyes failed me. Dr. Jung raised an eyebrow. "Just... I just want to know what might happen."

"Well, we can never tell. You know how the heart works." If it was any other day, I would have laughed my heart out right then and there, but the situation totally didn't call for it. "He will be fine, though, if he doesn't have a second attack. Page me if anything happens, Kim." I took a deep sigh. "It means anything can happen, that he's not safe, right?" And Dr. Jung just looked at me, didn't blink or even take a second to breathe. "Just be ready." I tore my eyes from him and looked away, the words ringing in my ears — Just be ready.

"Doctor, the patient!" I sharply turned around and found my father's eyes wide open, and he was gasping for breath. His body was shaking all over, and the shaking had become more turbulent with every passing second. Dr. Jung was telling me something but I couldn't hear him — anything — and I was just there, standing, watching my very strong father shake so hard, so violently that it almost scared me...

To death.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee—

And there I watched him die, slowly but surely. I was a doctor yet I couldn't save him — I couldn't save my father. I was given the responsibility to save the people, yet I could only stay rooted where I had been for five minutes and counting while everyone had rushed to his side. This wasn't in the book — I hadn't read this part of the text yet. I didn't know what to do to save my father. Dr. Jung was yelling at me, telling me to move, but I couldn't — Kim, get a hold of yourself! Jaejoong! He had grabbed me by my shoulders and was shaking me. Junsu took my hand, told me everything was alright. But it wasn't. Nothing would ever be right.

And at that moment, when I was about to give up, someone emerged from the door, bumped against my arm and knocked me back to my senses.

"What are you people doing just standing there? We've got a life to save!"

When I looked at the monitor, my father's heart beat had shot up.

Changmin saved my father.

The moment he entered the room my father was in, he immediately gave out orders. Get this, get that, get him some more oxygen, get him to the operating room because we can't give him an open-heart surgery beside the table. Dr. Jung led the operation, but Changmin was the one giving out the orders. Halfway through the operation, Changmin asked Dr. Jung if he could take over, and he let him. There were harsh words thrown back and forth in the course of the operation, and it was probably the most breath-taking, heart-wrenching operation us interns have ever seen. It was more than that for me, because the man on the operating table was my father, and I scrubbed in. Changmin told me not to, but I had insisted on doing so — he couldn't say no anymore.

I saved my father's life.

It was funny, to a certain extent, that my father had never wanted me to be a doctor. He wanted me to be a lawyer, or a businessman, maybe. But a doctor? No, not ever. My mother was the one who supported my decision to enter med school. And when she died when I was just about to enter university, I swore to myself that I really would be a doctor, a person who could save the ones he loved, not like the doctors on TV who always miss the chance to be the hero to their loved ones.

My life could get cheesier than that, though. And because I was flat broke, the only way to enter med school was to get a job, which was against my father's will. It would have been easy if I asked money from my father — the man's filthy rich — but that was against my principles and he wouldn't give me anyway. Talk about pride. He did see to it that I got a pretty good job, though. I was a barista at Starbucks for some time, then an art director for an advertising agency, and a couple more jobs that I couldn't remember. Some were crazy, and those were the ones that my father didn't know of. But at least I wasn't in debt, and I was living for the most part. So I entered college a year late.

Attachments, attachments. How in the world do you ever get rid of them?

"Give him eight hours, he'll be fine." It was Junsu who had a cup of water on his right hand and my jacket on his left. "Relax, okay? You did great. Now, it's time to rest." I shook my head. "Rest, Jae. When you wake up, he'll be just fine. I'll fill in for you, don't worry." Junsu had a smile on his lips, and now I knew why the doctors had been telling him to be a pedia instead of a surgeon — his charm was the kind that took away all your sadness and worries.

Now I knew why I kept him as a friend, why he was my best friend.

"Catch you when I can," I called out to him before he left the room. He chuckled. "You owe me breakfast, Kim." I smiled and shook my head. "It's on me, then."

Attachments, attachments. They make the world go 'round.

Dr. Jung's face in front of me was the first thing that greeted me when I woke up, and it wasn't exactly the best of things to wake up to. "You're sleeping on your job. Get up." I blinked twice before actually doing what he told me to do. I got up slowly and rubbed my eyes. "Jaejoong," I heard a faint voice come from behind. My eyes widened. I turned around. There my dad was, on the bed, waving weakly at me, smiling. "Hey, sport."

I swore I run past Dr. Jung and hugged my father for the first time in a while.

"Are there any complications?" I was sitting on the chair just beside my father's bed and looked up at Dr. Jung who was scanning some papers in his hands. "None that should be too alarming. Just make sure he eats good food. Healthy food, I mean," Dr. Jung soon quipped before my father could even comment on eating good food. "This isn't something hereditary, and I wouldn't be too alarmed if a third attack comes. That one could be serious." I nodded thoughtfully, letting my mind absorb everything that he was saying. He then turned to my father and smiled a little. "Your kid's more worried than you are, sir. Are you doing fine?" My father nodded, smiled back at him. "He loves to worry. It seems to be his favorite hobby."

While it wasn't exactly flattering to be described as someone who loved to worry, it relieved me a bit that my father was now tolerant of my being a doctor. But I wouldn't bank on that wishful thought too much — right now, I was his son more than a doctor, so maybe if I switched roles, he'd be a little surprised, but I figured I could be a doctor and a son to him at the same time. I stood from where I was, turned to Dr. Jung. "I'll take it from here, doctor." He squinted at me through his glasses, then thrust the papers against my chest. "Don't get too emotional, Dr. Kim. This is your job." I laughed a little and smirked. "You can count on that, Dr. Jung." And then he left.

So there I was, alone in a room with my father for the first time in a long, long while. Consciously alone, at least, since we were the only ones in the room last night but we were both asleep. "Jaejoong," he called out softly while I tried to make myself look busy with reading the test results in my hands. "You'll... make a good doctor." I stopped midway through flipping a page and looked at him in the corner of my eye. "I can feel it. No, I'm sure of it. You'll do just great." I smiled a little, took a deep breath before turning to him. Don't get too emotional, Dr. Kim. And Dr. Jung was right. So I turned around, wore a smile on my lips and set my mind on what I was supposed to do.

"So, Mr. Kim, can I be of service?"

"So, how did it go with your dad?" Junsu asked when we were inside the locker room during our break. "It... was all good." It was the closest I could get to being evasive about the subject. But, then again, Junsu would never let on. "We talked. A little." Junsu inched closer to me and by this time, his face was merely centimeters from mine. "He said I'd make a good doctor and uh—" And all of a sudden, Junsu pulled away, to which I was grateful for. "Oh God, he's finally accepted it!" Then he grabbed me by the wrist, twirled me around the room and I was certain I was already getting lost in our little partying (Junsu seemed more excited and happy than I was) until someone opened the door. "Jaejoong?"

Changmin was probably the first person I wanted to see but couldn't, but only Junsu and I were inside the room so what the hell. I ran to Changmin, launched myself onto him and buried my face in his shoulder. "Thank you. For saving my father." He chuckled softly.

"I can be your hero anytime."

o4. He rose for heroes
Oh this could get messy
But you don't seem to mind
Oh don't go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime
— Hands Clean; Alanis Morissette

Attachments, attachments. It took me a long time before I got over the death of my father. It was hard because I had done everything I could to save him. It was the second time I lost a patient. Ever since, I had sworn to myself that I would never ever let a patient die. I lost a couple along the way, got depressed somewhere along the way. Some of them who survived thanked me, but most of them didn't even bother to take a second look at me. It was my job, after all; I wasn't supposed to ask for anything in return.

In the course of my two years as an intern at Manila Doctor's Hospital, I learned a lot of things. First, you can't expect everyone to appreciate what you do. Second, co-workers were there for a reason — to relieve you of stress and sadness in your darkest hours. In line with that, the third would be that no man would ever be an island. There were some others, but those are the more important ones. And oh, there's this last thing.

At the end of it all, it'll always and forever be about love. Love? Yes, love. Love as in that of a mother for her child, or an employee for his job, an artist for his paintings, a doctor for his patient.

It always boiled down to love. (Attachments, attachments.)

"Jaejoong, faster! We'll miss the movie!" Junsu was waving at me from the Nurse's station. With him were Dr. Jung, Jinki, Jonghyun and Aiden, then Nikka and Bernadine who were running to where they were. ("Sorry, Dr. Iñigo was being a tyrant as usual. Did we miss anything?") I shook my head, closed the door to the locker room behind me and slung my backpack over my shoulder. Just when I was walking to them already, I bumped into Changmin, who was already in his casual clothes. He turned to me, a childish smile on his lips. "Let's go?" I looked at him intently before shaking my head and heaving a sigh, then getting back on my tracks.

Junsu was ranting on and on about how Dr. Jung had just made his life miserable. Dr. Jung was just laughing at him, and the girls were teasing Junsu about it. Jinki and Jonghyun were talking about Dissidia and Just how awesome is the new battle mode? God, it's amazing! Changmin was walking beside me, and he looked at me when he noticed that I was smiling for no apparent reason — for a reason not apparent to him, at least.

Attachments, attachments.

Entirely on a whim, I took Changmin's hand and pulled him closer, to me and to the rest of the gang. I laughed at Junsu for exaggerating every single story he told us, and Changmin laughed along with me. Soon enough, we were all laughing, laughing until we finally decided to not catch the movie ("We haven't bought the tickets yet, anyway." "Your weird decisions come in handy sometimes, Junsu."), until we decided to just go to Starbucks and grab some coffee, drown the night away in a night's worth of talks, laughter and living.

Attachments, attachments.

Can't live with them, can't live without them.

Art Post

blurmeese: trees without leaves

2009-03-18T23:42:21Z

Title: trees without leaves
Author: blurmeese
Pairing(s): yoosu, jaeho, one het pairing I can't name because it'll give the plot away?
Rating: PG15
Summary: old loves, new ghosts.
Warnings: het, character death
Word Count: 14,393
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: a huge huge thank you to Ali (crux_australis) and Bianca (oldwillow_brook) for wading through 45 pages of this :DD ilusm

Yunho is half reading by the window, skimming sentences and skipping words when Jaejoong knocks hesitant, admitting himself in and closing the door behind him before there’s even time for Yunho to mark his page.

“I need to-…” he begins before pausing for a moment, turning back to lock the door almost as an afterthought.

“I need to tell you something.”

An unsettled feel gathers in Jaejoong’s corner of the room and Yunho lays his paperback onto his lap, watches the other man slump hopeless against the door, trying to piece thoughts into words.

Seconds lurch clumsy into a minute, two stretching lazy to three and Jaejoong stares at the floor, the walls, sheets of the bed; makes it seem as if he’d find answers in the pale colored duvet or the right words somewhere in the shades of wallpaper colors dark.

“Jaejoong.”

The sound of his own name somewhat jolts him back into the room and Yunho toys with the cover of his book, running fingertips over broken spines.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asks softly and waits until Jaejoong does, in halting sentences, hushed revelations.

-

“I hate it, I hate it so much,” whispered at the end, bitter tasting and it drains him, every syllable said bringing him a little more closer to his knees until he sits with his back against the door, folding and unfolding his fingers. Steeples falling, rebuilding.

“Yunho, what do we do?”

There is a heartbeat’s worth of silence before the words are out of Yunho’s mouth, a little too fast and a little too loud, regret-tinged breath following after.

“This has nothing to do with us.”

“Define us.”

Jaejoong raises his voice a little, meeting Yunho’s eyes when he looks up from his hands.

“Tell me again how they aren’t us.”

“Leave band politics out of this; how can you even be sure anyways?”

“Can you honestly say you haven’t noticed anything? Nothing at all?” he retorts, skirting round the question.

He starts twining his fingers together again, Yunho watching him, always watching but never doing anything beyond the call of duty.

“Junho is a bad liar, I can’t just do nothing,” he finally says, voice back to something over a whisper and this is Jaejoong at his best, his worst; loyal to a breaking point.

“You’ll have to.”

“And watch it come undone knowing I could have stopped it? It’s not that this has nothing to do with us, it’s just the fact that you don’t want to have anything to do with this.”

“Listen to yourself, Jae-ah. Just listen. You could have stopped it? Nothing is ever just that simple anymore, okay? It’s not just the fact of sitting him down and talking sense to him because at this point and time, do you even know who to lay the blame on?”

“Yoochun loves him,” he hisses back in a reply that’s almost furious, getting up so he can talk without looking up to Yunho; without feeling small and naïve and just so utterly hopeless.

“He loves him so fucking much and you still don’t know who’s at fault here?”

“Is it that simple? Untangling who loves who more and why?”

In the next room, Changmin turns the music up on his headphones to drown out the sound of voices, doors slamming. Jaejoong stalks past the empty rooms and some part of him makes him wait a few seconds at the door; another part of him expecting another set of footsteps to his and a voice saying no, wait Jaejoong. He turns at the silence and Yunho is standing in the corridor to the living room, wordless.

“I’m sorry, I just need to get my thoughts together,” he mumbles in Yunho’s general direction and grasps for the car keys on the table. Yunho watches him leave, a mouthful of unsaid words lodged in his throat.

“I’m sorry, too.”

The door clicks shut and he wonders if Jaejoong heard him. Later, when elevator doors slide open, he’ll push past Yoochun, “No I’m fine,” to a “Do you want me come?”

-

There is the unmistakable click whirr click of a camera from their left when they step into 2am illuminated hotel lobbies, hands untangling to instinctively to shield guilty faces. He swears under his breath and over the haze of adrenaline highs, the tastes of things a few steps down from forbidden, he tells the photographer to kindly back off; something rehearsed about privacy and how if he doesn’t hand the memory card over in five four three two one, he’ll be out of a job at this time tomorrow.

The photographer stares him down, hand tightening over the precious black leather casing.

“No.”

“What do you—”

The other man breaks into a run, taking off in the midst of sleepy eyed tourists waiting to check in at the lobby and Junsu calls a “Wait for me at the car; I’ll meet you there,” over his shoulder before going after the fleeing man, past wide-eyed receptionist and doormen, weaving through a jet-lagged crowd at the entrance.

Damn he thinks in his head and watches the man start to sprint towards the road, camera bag slung over one shoulder.

-

Jaejoong drives unfocused to the sound of his cell buzzing in the shotgun seat, four missed calls, two texts and counting; Changmin probably wanting something from a convenience store, Yunho probably calling to check where he is and when he’ll be back. The fifth one starts up and Jaejoong lets it ring on, cutting into late night Seoul traffic as he takes an exit back into the city.

Hotels, drab business buildings with some of their windows still lighted from the inside spring up on his right and the thin needle of the speedometer forces itself upwards like it always does when he passes commercial areas, road disappearing a little faster under moving metal frames. There’s another text now and the car interior is lighted up for a quarter of a moment, Jaejoong tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the wheel as he contemplates reading it.

Pick up damn you, let me know you’re not lying on some street dying and btw Changmin wants milk

He smiles at the screen, Yunho’s almost sad attempt at pretending to be flippant starting to tug a reply from him and one thumb brushes over the keypad, ask if he wants full cream or

Something darts across the road, goes sprawling before his car and Jaejoong swears out loud, swerves too fast and brakes too slow, crashing through the now seemingly flimsy barrier that separates road from river. For a moment, it holds.

And gives way.

-

It’s true, what they say about not being able to look away from car accidents.

Junsu stands transfixed at the revolving doors, watches in stunned silence as the photographer trips in the middle of the road, car missing the unmoving body by mere inches before spinning out of control. “Oh my god,” comes a whisper from behind him and the car goes under, people trickling out from the hotel at the sound of crunching metal.

“Oh my god.”

-

Dying is more painful, far scarier than he expects and Jaejoong claws at the door and the glass until his hands are bloody, skin of his fingertips broken in a dozen places from too futile, too desperate attempts. Water seeps in from the cracks he makes and one final blow to the driver seat’s window pane lets in an icy flow that takes his breath away, steals air in the form of escaping bubbles that race away when he forgets to not breathe; pushing himself through, past the jagged edges of glass into the murky darkness.

Did I hit him god no don’t let me die, don’t let him die no please did anyone see did

Coherent thought fights to separate itself away from his fading consciousness, fear and the sudden burning in his lungs making him gasp, shiver from the inside out when cold water forces itself down his throat.

don’t let me die don’t let me don’t let

He thrashes and for a moment, for two, four, ten it seems like he doesn’t know which way the surface is, bubbles leading the way far too fast for him to follow.

Yunho, he thinks. Yunho Junsu mother Yoochun father Changmin everyone

Another wave of terror makes him inhale and he finds he can’t stop; a vicious cycle of screaming, breathing, a bitter rush to the end.

don’t let me

Kim Jaejoong dies a hand’s reach away from the surface.

-

Half a city away, Changmin dangles Yunho’s phone by its strap, eating cereal straight from the box.

ask if he wants full cream or

Another handful of frosted cornflakes and it’s odd, the fact that he’s still waiting after a good five minutes for the usual ah damn sorry hit send before I meant to.

“Yah, Yunho, come here a minute.”

-

“Junsu.”

Someone pulls at his elbow and he tears his eyes away from the skid marks, the gaping hole in the metal barrier. Far off in the distance, he thinks he hears the wail of ambulance sirens.

“Junsu we need to go.”

There’s a small crowd gathering at the riverside, the sound of voices shouting, panicky tones that drift ethereal towards them from a road away. The tug on his elbow turns into a firm grasp now and he turns to follow, two backs retreating inconspicuous against the flow of people into the lobby. Later, when they drive past the accident scene in his car, Junsu slows down despite himself and he guesses that they’ve got the body out of the water, paramedics swarming round it like ants to a corpse.

“That poor man,” she says softly before the scene peels away from his window and Junsu mumbles a prayer out of habit; feels the extraordinary urge to call home after just find out who’s still awake, who’s going to be glaring him down when he troops through the door at 3am.

“Watch the road.”

“Sorry.”

The feeling passes and he drives one handed, her hand intertwined with his other.

-

We are sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later.

“Should we be worried?”

“Nah. Come to the store down the road with me for a moment? Eight chances out of ten, he probably won’t even remember the milk.”

“Yoochun?”

“Out on the roof, probably won’t be back before 3am. God, why he can’t compose in a room like the rest of us normal people constantly eludes me.”

-

Arms are lifting him when he comes to, vision blurred to the point where colors merge and shift every few seconds.

“Who should we contact?”

“Oh my god is that really him?”

“Everyone out of the way please, out of the way.”

Trying to breathe hurts, the sound of his own lungs striving far too hard to draw breaths through the oxygen mask scaring him to the point where it makes sense to stop. It hurts, hurts far more than anything he’s ever known, something pulling him away from himself, conscious thought a haze as he tries to grip on to something, anything, the sound of crowd murmurs, the feel of fingers pressed against his wrist.

“We lost the pulse.”

No, he thinks, no I’m right here, I’m still here.

“Time of death, 2.32am.”

He wants to shake the paramedic, yell for him to fucking look at me, I’m alive, I’m alive I-

And it all comes crashing down that no, he isn’t, can’t be. Not when he’s watching them cover his face with the sheet, not when he’s staring down at himself from a viewpoint that feels too wrong.

I’m here. Look at me, I’m here.

No one hears him, feels him when he reaches for them skin and flesh now something more like…

I’m still here.

Something more like smoke and mirrors.

-

You have: 3 new messages. Press 1 to hear the first message.

#1- Is Jaejoong with you? Call me back as soon as you can, I just got something from management and it isn’t good.

#2- Why aren’t any of you picking up? Don’t tell me everyone’s already asleep, I’ll be back soon I swear. Yunho-yah don’t kill me I swear I’ll be able to wake up tomorrow okay?

#3- Call me back right now.

You now have no new messages.

-

Junsu’s cell beeps in its holder and he puts the call on speaker, passenger seat now empty.

“Yeah?”

“Where is everyone? I tried their cells, the house, nothing. Ok that’s not important now, I’m pretty sure it’s nothing but I need to know, where’s Jaejoong?”

His manager’s voice comes out strained through the tinny cell speakers, Junsu stopping for a red light.

“Jaejoong? I’m out now, I have no idea. I tried the house a moment ago and it’s the same, didn’t go for their cells though. Most likely they’ve gone on some exodus to the store for something and forgot to take their phones with them.”

“…you’re right, that’s more likely than-…”

“Than what?”

Junsu lets a nervous suspicion creep into his words and the car behind him honks impatiently, urging him to move.

“Ah it’s nothing really, some fan called the management all hysterical, convinced that one of Dongbangshinki just died in front of her eyes in some horrendous road accident, just wait until Jaejoong hears this.”

There’s a pause here for nervous laughter, sleep tinged and a little too relieved.

“We always get a few of them in a year and-…”

“It’s a road accident, right? He didn’t drown or anything, did he?”

“How’d you know? Heh, the story must’ve been more popular than I thought, according to her, his car went through the barrier and straight into the Han River, apparently swerved to avoid some bozo in the middle of the road, lost control and all that. If you ask me, that’s a tad more detailed than the ones we usually get but…Junsu? Junsu you still there?”

-

Jaejoong stands beside his body, watches the world pass by, through, around him in a haze. The shrill scream of ambulance sirens, the sound of too many people and too many conversations, cameras flashing. He reaches for the white sheet they’ve covered his face with, grasps and tries to just fucking touch but it feels like reaching for sunlight, hand going through like some complicated illusion. A wild thought winds its way past the mayhem and perhaps, perhaps you are the illusion but Jaejoong wills it away; there’ll be time for that soon enough.

A second try, third, sixth, seventh and it takes grit teeth and narrowed eyes for the cloth to materialize for a split second under his fingers before it falls away again, exposing ashen skin to the crowd that Jaejoong turns his face from, breathing hard from the effort of just touching; forcing it. Colors seep slow from his fingertips and he can feel the sour taste of bile rise from the back of his throat, the thought from before coming up with it.

Perhaps you are the illusion

“No, no I’m here,” he whispers to himself and watches them take his body away, harsh floodlights from filming television crews throwing no shadows on the ground where he stands.

Perhaps you are

“No.”

A newscaster walks past him and a sharp floral scent trails after her, last minute perfume for a last minute late night story. He reaches for her jacket and it flutters through his fingers.

Perhaps.

-

He rides in the ambulance, careful not to touch anything, not the metal railing of the bed his body lies on, not the white walls he’s tempted to lean on. Only the spaces where his feet touch the ground feel real enough for now and he takes to sitting cross legged on the floor now, studies the worn sneakers of the lone medical attendant riding in the back with him.

“I like your shoes,” he says softly to the sound of one man’s silence and they go over a bump, the man swearing something about the bloody roads and how he should’ve traded this shift for the next.

He thinks he won’t be able to look when they call his parents, his family, the other members to identify the body but the moment they stumble wordless through the double doors, he’s fixated. Can’t stop watching, memorizing how his mother looks like when she cries, how his sisters break off into tiny huddles in different ends of the room to hold each other because

Perhaps you are an illusion

Yunho clasps a shaky hand on his mother’s shoulder when they pass each other on her way out, him going in with the rest of Dongbangshinki in tow. It’s Yoochun who cries first, as always, Junsu tugging him away from the bedside with wet eyes, Changmin shepherding them out without even so much a glance at the body on the table.

“And then there was one,” Jaejoong whispers close to him and Yunho stands alone, pulls back the covers from his face and touches his hair, the side of his cheek. He closes his eyes and the feeling is gone, flutter of phantom fingers shrinking back when Yunho jerks his hand away almost guiltily.

“Jaejoong,” he says to an empty room and Jaejoong echoes with his name, “Yunho, Yunho,” twofold, twice as loud, twice as hurting because doesn’t it always hurt more to watch and never have rather than to leave and never turn back?

You are an illusion

For a moment, he reaches for Yunho, tries to catch hold and for a moment he half stops, makes as if to turn at the brush of his fingers against his back but it passes and he’s gone; Jaejoong on his knees watching Yunho leave, taking a little of his color away with him.

-

They bury him in the shade of a small grassy hill, a silent car drive away from the little town he used to dream big from, plain wood casket that looks almost forlorn in the sandy hole they’ve lowered it into. There’s an empty seat between Yoochun and Changmin, a handful of wildflowers where he would have sat and their sad little colorful heads droop, slowly wilting in the noonday heat.

Yoochun hides red rimmed eyes behind dark shades but he takes them off soon enough, blinking back tears that mark obvious trails down his cheek in the sunshine. He’s not the only one crying, others having saved enough tears from the wake to hunch with shaking shoulders.

Family members comprising of blank faced sisters, bewildered nieces trying to comprehend the fact that the nice man who used to take pictures with them and do their hair up in messy pony tails won’t ever be coming back. They take up the two foremost rows, Dongbangshinki (“We are, we are,” Changmin tells the rest of them through grit teeth on the very first night and doesn’t let anyone clean up the mess Jaejoong made before he left) pushed back into the third.

“I...I actually had everything written out here.”

Yunho is standing in the front, crumpled sheet of paper making dry, dying sounds as he crushes it in his fist. “A whole eulogy and the works, things I think and I know I should say but...yeah.” He steals a glance at the sad, deformed paper ball he’s created and slips it discreetly into his pocket.

“Words don’t really justify what I want to say.”

Jaejoong has folded himself in front of his chair, legs pulled up to his chin on the dry ground where he can feel the dirt beneath his palms but not the grass, phantom blades of green wavering through his fingers the one time he forgets and tries to pick at them, distractions in the form of little deaths that elude him now.

“...it’s the little things, like standing in formation only to realize we’re one man short, finding his things in our closets, simple things like these that-...”

Frustrating, to reach for something you know you can’t touch and Jaejoong digs his nails into his palm instead, stares at the half moon imprints he leaves. Distractions in the form of temporary tattoos that fade too soon and hurt too little.

“-...and eight years aren’t enough to know a person, barely enough to say we actually had an inkling about what it really meant to know, to love Jaejoong. But we had eight years; at least, we can say we tried. Eight crazy, rollercoaster ride-wild, unforgettable years to skim the surface of him and for that, we’re thankful enough.”

He pauses for a moment, the beginnings of a sad little smile playing at the corners of his lips when he looks over to the one empty seat in the mass of black clad mourners and Jaejoong can feel him look right through him.

It’s the saddest he feels in a long time.

-

There are flowers on the makeshift table in the shade of leafy trees; white blooms he can’t name, stalks of chrysanthemums left over from the ones they border his photo with lying beside a handful of folded letters penned hastily when Junsu had mentioned flip about Heaven’s Postman and how Jaejoong would have gotten a kick out of this. Jaejoong stands in the shadows of trees now, having left the others the moment Changmin started crying quietly above him, tears exchanged for leaves falling every now and then, and they pass right through him like everything else.

It’s doesn’t even have to be discreet when he picks up the first one, no one looking his way as he snatches the topmost from the pile and sinks to his knees behind the table from the exertion, the sight of fleeing colors making him dizzy. He reads to himself over the sound of his own eulogy, Yunho’s words sounding far away enough to feel surreal from where he’s huddled.

I’ll miss you, the first one says simply with Changmin’s name scrawled on the bottom right hand corner and the sight of it brings another wave of nausea, Jaejoong standing to let it fall back on the pile, hands shaky.

“When we first debuted, no one really knew what to do with Jaejoong, the way he’d blurt out things we were all thinking but would never dare to say, the way he did each performance like it was his last.”

There’s something here I don’t think I’ll ever tell anyone else, not even Junho, not Yoochun, not anyone, Junsu’s starts off, and there’s a crossed out sentence after that, messy and done hard enough to make the paper tear, black mark stark and ugly.

Do people in heaven already know everything? They never did find the camera after that, god knows where it is now. Maybe on the river bank, maybe crushed beyond recognition. Is it alright for me to be glad? Because I am and she is too, I don’t think any of us would be able to go through another round of media frenzies. No no, just look at me now, Jae. Talking about simple things like that to you when you’re dead, isn’t it just stupid and me-ish. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being selfish, I’m sorry for being the catalyst in this, I’m sorry I lied but I’m still doing it now.

“Most people, fans, usually, always have the most inaccurate notions when it comes to characterizing each of our roles outside of the industry, but one of the few things they got right was the fact that Jaejoong is, I say is because he’s still alive to us in too many ways to count, Jaejoong is the…the bond, glue, if you will, that holds us all together. Of course, there isn’t a Dongbangshinki anymore now—”

I’m sorry you never got to tell Yoochun what you knew was happening, I’m sorry you kept it to yourself until the very last minute, Yunho can’t look me in the eye some days now, it doesn’t take the guilt away but… but what, it makes me feel better? Makes me want to stop? I can’t, Jae-ah, that’s the worst part, I don’t think I ever will.

An addiction, you should know something about that shouldn’t you? With you and your late night smoke, Yunho always, always nagging you to stop. I’ll miss that. You and Yoochun going up to the roof to compose, sneaking the cigarettes along, did you know I always knew? That something I’ve wanted to say is somewhere up there now, now that I’ve said it, would you ever find it in yourself to forgive me? Because I don’t think I could, myself.

Jaejoong reads it a few times over, a quiet sort of hurt in his almost-heart causing almost-tears to gather in his eyes but they don’t fall, something that tastes like regret, a tinge of bitterness behind it all making him blink them away. Maybe ghosts aren’t supposed to cry for the living, not for themselves, not for anything.

It’s vague, whatever Junsu really wanted to say but there’re enough words to convince Jaejoong that he was right the first time around, making him feel a surge of sadness for Yoochun, for Junsu. For things that should and could’ve been. He looks over to where they’re still sitting, set apart from the rest by one unfilled chair, Junsu leaning over to Yoochun’s shoulder to whisper something about some shared memory Yunho has brought up.

“It’s okay,” Jaejoong says aloud and sets the letter back in its place, voice unheard. Junsu hides a sad smile behind one hand and Yoochun reaches for a hand that’s pulled away too fast.

“It’s okay.”

-

Yoochun’s is straightforward enough, something about him hating Jaejoong for being a stupid bastard and getting himself killed, now he would have to write a tribute as expected and this is going to sound insane, sickly so, but I always thought we would leave together. All five of us, Dongbangshinki to the end. We still are, aren’t we? I’m talking like some deluded fangirl now, I’m sorry, grief does that to a person. Wherever you are, Jaejoong (you’d better be in heaven or I’ll kick you), whoever you might be now (please don’t be reborn as something stupid like Junsu), whatever you’re doing (is the afterlife fun?) now, don’t forget us. Because we sure won’t ever forget you.

“I’m not going to say anything along the lines of how he died living or how we’re here to celebrate his life since Jaejoong would probably hit me in the arm for saying that but I just want everyone here to know that he lived; he lived life, loved it, and I would like to think he loved the people in it as well, with just as much passion as we loved him back.”

When he comes to Yunho’s, he’s not even sure that he wants to read it, the thin sheet of paper suddenly far too heavy in his grasp, but Yunho is finishing up their memories, their old hopes and dreams and he’s going to have to read this now or live (ha.ha.ha. he thinks in a sudden bout of choking dark humor) not ever knowing.

“Yunho-ah, will I regret this?”

Somewhere not too far away, Yunho pauses for a heartbeat too long between sentences, Jaejoong unfolding the letter with unsteady hands. Ghosts aren’t supposed to cry anyway.

I have so many questions left for you, too many for one lifetime to contain but there you go, moving onto the next. Jaejoong Jaejoong Jaejoong, there’s still so many things I want you to promise me, promise me that somehow you’ll still love, still find a way to live because you’ll be living for us both, it feels hard to do that right now.

I love you, how many times will I have to say it before you hear me? You can hear me from up there, right?

“I just hope heaven is still in one piece when the rest of us get there.”

I love you.

Jaejoong finds that ghosts can cry.

-

Jaejoong stands with the rest of them when the pastor in the front tells them to; Let us pray ringing in his ears as he shuffles his feet on the dirt, watching Changmin keep his eyes open as usual. Yunho stares at the ground with his hands clasped loosely, Junsu slipping his own out of Yoochun’s to lace fingers together in a tight inseparable mess of skin and bone that turns his knuckles white.

He puts Yunho’s letter down almost reluctantly on the pile and when it’s all over, Jaejoong stands teetering on the edges of his open grave as they fill it; dirt over hidden regrets, promises, confessions penned down.

Junsu crumples his before he throws it, tear stains making the words run as he does and Yunho adds the forgotten eulogy in his pocket almost as an afterthought, Jaejoong watching with the extraordinary urge to go down there and retrieve it. Changmin is the last to throw his in, paper crane of almost empty writing paper fluttering onto its side before it disappears under another shovelful of soil, him turning his face away when that happens.

-

Later, walking back to the car, someone will breathe look in a half whisper and heads will crane skyward, Yunho crying openly now as they watch pearl-red balloons drift towards the summer clouds, up up and away to wherever freed balloons go.

“They never stop, don’t they?”

“Catch a few for us, Jae-ah.”

Changmin is the one that gathers them together; one last time with Jaejoong’s space left empty in their unusually loose circle.

“Dongbangshinki, hwaiting!” he says softly, the sound of three other voices loud enough to drown his out and make people stop and stare as usual. Jaejoong stands a little to the side, mouthing along to the words, no space for him left now.

-

When they get back, life tries to ease itself into some sort of normality, circles trying to fit in spaces made for squares. Time feels like city traffic; slow, lurching forward in sudden bursts of life, moving even when it feels like everything has come to a standstill.

There’s no need for managers now and there’s more than enough rooms left over for everyone, Yoochun silently claiming their old workroom as his and locking himself inside, composing. Jaejoong follows him inside most days, watches him smoke with the window open and play snippets of sad melodies on their keyboard, lyrical sounding words penned down every now and then.

“Won’t an F sound better?” Jaejoong wants to suggest but Yunho does it for him, Junsu stammering out a suggestion when Yoochun stops him by the door on his way out. “A minor third apart,” he says as Yoochun hums the main theme and shuts the door.

Yunho hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was still alive in too many ways, one of them being his music taste intermingling with their own personal ones until no one can really tell whose is whose. It almost makes Jaejoong smile to hear them saying things he would have said had they been able to hear him, things he would have suggested, and when Yoochun emerges one 3am night with a finished piece and a half empty box of smokes, there’s enough Jaejoong in it to make it sound as if he’d never left.

-

Changmin only nods his approval when Yoochun turns to each of them after the semi-final draft, getting more and more quiet with each day that Jaejoong isn’t there to cook him early morning 4am breakfasts and ask him how the hell he’s supposed to download this mp4 file. There’re hints of unspoken worries on everyone’s faces but there are too many demons to deal with, too many memories to recreate and word out; too many more important things other than a grieving magnae holed up in his room.

“He’ll be fine in a while.”

Yunho voices expectations over a store bought dinner (I could have made something better, thinks Jaejoong almost disdainfully).

“He’ll be alright.”

But by the tail end of two months, Changmin isn’t, sleeping most of the day away, falling into dreamless comfort with his headphones on, music turned loud and staying up through lonely nights at the window, watching Seoul traffic wind itself away from 16 stories up. Junsu goes to sit with him the nights he comes back late (“Talks. Soloing,” he mumbles to Yoochun in half truths and full faced lies), the both of them taking what they can get from this.

“We’re listening, just so you know,” Junsu says and Changmin just nods, face staring out the glass. There’s this tinny sound of bass, guitars, vocals seeping out from Changmin’s ipod and Junsu wonders if he had heard him.

I know.

“Talk to me?”

One hand creeps for another and it feels lifeless in Junsu’s, limp. He squeezes it anyway but it doesn’t feel the same.

-

There should be a sort of sick exhilaration to knowing what the others don’t, hearing secrets meant for one but spoken in a house of four. Junsu calls her every other day, tells her things that make Jaejoong sad for Yoochun, one sided conversations that he sits through for lack of things to do, for Yoochun’s sake some days.

“I haven’t told them yet.”

“When? Soon, I don’t know.”

“Junho found a place.”

“I…I don’t think I can stay here. It’s got nothing to do with him, rest assured but it’s just that…Jaejoong. Everyone else. Facing them, knowing.”

“Of course they don’t know. No one knows.”

A pause while he thinks, biting his bottom lip.

“No. I won’t. Not now at least, what kind of closure will it bring anyway? You won’t either, right?”

“Imagine if they found the camera one day.”

Nervous smile, hint of laughter insincere.

“Near enough, I suppose, living alone is going to be hard for the first few days.”

There is a laugh here now, far from the usual eukyangkyang reserved for five and not four, not one, but Jaejoong doesn’t think he could feel sad for long when Junsu is this happy, eyes lighting up or perhaps that’s just a late afternoon sun illusion.

“Of course you can come over.”

“Yeah. Ok. Ok, I’ll see you then, I can already hear your manager in the background.”

“Go already, scram, you.”

“Have a good stage.”

“I love you.” It comes out far less hesitant than Jaejoong would have expected, the slight pause before it making his heart clench for things that shouldn’t be.

Two rooms and a still unbroken heart away, Yoochun plays one of their sad love songs on the piano.

-

No one really tries to keep things together; nothing much left to keep together anyway after Junsu tells them one morning, Changmin getting up mid-sentence with an unreadable face to go back to sleep, treating it like another bad dream.

“I suppose it’s for the best,” Yunho says slowly and Yoochun stares at the table, the walls, anywhere but at Junsu who sits back straight in his chair, eyes lowered. Yunho waits for an answer from either two before leaving as if nothing happened, as if Junsu hadn’t just told everyone he would be moving out by the end of the week and no, it had nothing to do with Jaejoong.

“Maybe a little,” he lies when Yoochun asks him later, the both of them seated at the kitchen table. Jaejoong stands behind Yunho’s empty seat, tries his hand at guessing conversation flow directions.

“It’s okay.”

“You’re not going to write a song about it, are you?”

Junsu lands a playful punch on Yoochun’s shoulder across the table, standing and almost toppling his coffee when he does.

“Perhaps, I’ll name it The Day I Could Finally Use the Bathroom Without Waiting. It’ll be your first single.”

There is a shred of blessed normality for a moment and it feels like any second now, their managers will walk through the door with Yunho bringing up the rear to yell at them to move move move what part of photo shoot in an hour do you not understand, Changmin slamming doors behind him because yet another download got interrupted.

Junsu’s cell rings and the moment flees, him getting up to take the call someplace where he doesn’t have to hold back so many things at once.

“Do you know?” asks Jaejoong and of course, Yoochun doesn’t reply, just quietly takes Junsu’s coffee mug to the sink to rinse, standing there a few minutes too long for one ceramic mug.

“I would tell you if I could figure out which would hurt less.”

-

Jaejoong follows Yunho around most days, rides in the backseat of his car (a difficult process to master, having to sit with his feet somehow touching the upholstery lest he fall through but he’s got all the time in the world now, doesn’t he?) and plays the silent row of backseat driver, talks to Yunho about his almost-day.

“What do you think of Junsu moving out? Does anyone even know where he’s going?”

The silence is stifling, Yunho tapping a half-hearted rhythm on the steering wheel as he waits for a red light, Jaejoong humming a made up melody to it.

“Where’re we going today?”

Listening to one sided conversations from Junsu makes this sound far easier than it is and Jaejoong lapses into silence, Yunho tuning in to the radio to fill the empty air.

“I like this song.”

“Do you remember who sang it?”

Yunho takes a corner and circles the block for a parking space, Jaejoong pointing out the ones he sees noisily, causing a ruckus in the back that no one can hear and Yunho misses them all the way he usually does, finally slipping into an empty bay after more time than really necessary. It seems like they’re going to pick his younger sister up from school today, no one else free to do it and Yunho having all the time in the world (just like me, thinks Jaejoong with a touch of glee) now that the company is still finalizing their admin positions.

“You really do need me around,” Jaejoong says mock sadly and follows Yunho into the street to wait, talking shadow making one-sided small talk that no one hears.

-

They’re going through Yoochun’s closet together, hunting for lost socks and misplaced shirts that had somehow made their lost, confused ways into the wrong places. There are not-so-neat piles of Junsu’s things in the living room, a growing mound of reclaimed CDs and long lost clothes, creased, forgotten. In the next room, there’s the sound of Yunho’s voice, muffled words through walls as he talks to and not with Changmin, sorting out their own pile of Junsu’s things.

“Why are you really leaving?”

It’s a conversational kind of tone, Yoochun picking out a familiar looking tee from the depths of his cupboard, folding it into a neat square as Junsu picks at the carpet, trying to find the right kind of half truth in its dusty fibers.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he continues on, moving forward to the drawers now, dumping odds and ends onto the floor to shift through. Junsu helps, fingers going out of the way to avoid Yoochun’s.

“It’s not that,” Junsu finally says slowly, hand closing round a faded metal cross that Yoochun had borrowed too many concerts back to count, rusted arms flaking dying-metal flecks as he lifts it up to the light. “It’s not that, Chun-ah. I just don’t know what it really is, myself.” But of course he does, deep down buried beneath nights of fading (rusted, offers his sub consciousness with a hint of self malice tagged onto the ends of the thought, ignored, forgotten) love and hasty kisses to suddenly distant touches, he does know why.

“It’s okay,” Yoochun says again, softer this time and doesn’t mean it.

-

It’s a sunny Thursday when Junsu moves out, boxes of memories pushed across their apartment floor making dry, goodbye kind of noises.

“I don’t want you to go,” is Yoochun’s goodbye to him and this is the part where Junsu is supposed to say ok, I won’t but no one is really going by their roles anymore, Changmin wandering out of his room at ten in the morning only to go back in again at the sight of packed lives dragged away, Yunho standing around just watching another part of himself walking away.

“I really don’t want you to go.”

And this is the part where Junsu should say what if you came with me? but he doesn’t, just says “Come over, okay?” and kisses Yoochun on the neck when no one is looking, no one except a ghost in a lonely corner who turns his face away at the sight, watches the movers tramp in and out the open front door.

Changmin won’t come out of his room so Junsu goes to him instead, sits beside him on the bed for a minute before he figures Changmin isn’t going to say anything unless he does and even then, he can’t be too sure.

“You’ll be okay?”

He waits for a curt if I said no, it won’t change a thing now wouldn’t it? but today is a day of unspoken things, Changmin angling himself ever so slightly away from Junsu when he lays a hand on a on terse shoulder.

“Changmin.”

It’s shrugged off and Junsu takes his hand back, hides the hurt in his eyes by standing to go.

“You’ll call me when you want to talk, right?”

Changmin locks the door after Junsu walks out; can’t bear to watch another person leave.

-

Their apartment is something close to empty now, Jaejoong walking in and out of rooms through walls and closed doors to pass the time. Sometimes he talks to Changmin, a reenactment of past one sided phone conversations eavesdropped on; tells Changmin what he thinks of that new song he’s just listened to, wondering out loud what time Yunho will be back today.

Other times he sits up on the roof with Yoochun, breathing in tasteless cigarette smoke and catching fleeing sheets of torn notebook pages before they float away on smog tinted winds the nights Yoochun falls asleep under the sky, forgets to weigh his thoughts down.

“Careless bugger,” Jaejoong scolds him and topples over and out into open air one autumn twilight while chasing a song about lost love, the world tilting skywards as the painted clouds fall up above him.

He thinks he would have screamed if the air hadn’t ripped itself out of his lungs on the way down, arms flailing and heart thump thump thumping a painful tattoo in his throat. It doesn’t hurt when he hits the ground, like one of those falling dreams where you wake up with a start in your own bed except for the fact that this time around, it’s hard sidewalk asphalt instead of 400 thread count sheets.

Jaejoong lies breathless on his back the very first time around, staring up at the falling sheets of paper and it’s only a cold realization that ghosts can’t die later, watching Yoochun stride out onto the street to rescue runaway lines from the night damp that he finds it in himself to stand, shaky.

“I’m okay,” he tells a turned back and closing door.

-

By the time the trees are starting to lose their leaves, Jaejoong has jumped far too many times to count, taken running leaps off the tallest buildings he can find.

Under starlight, in the rain but nothing can beat taking the stairs to the top floor of anywhere just before first light, standing on the edge and falling spread-eagled back down to a waking world. Amidst fake suicides half-fueled by boredom and something like bad bungee jumps, Jaejoong finds that he’s missing something very important.

He’s doing it alone.

-

Jaejoong tries to memorize the roads Yunho takes to Junsu’s place, staring out the semi-tinted glass at passing signs, people, places. Yoochun fiddles with the radio and something jazz-tinged fills the car, Changmin pausing his iPod when no one is looking (“I saw what you did there,” says Jaejoong without looking away from the window, Changmin’s reflection giving no sign that he had heard) to listen as well.

Junsu’s new apartment is three and a half songs away, Yunho stopping the car and getting out with the others in the middle of some crooning oldie that sticks in Jaejoong’s head the rest of the day.

Little things I should have said and done

It’s on one of the lower floors, #8142 with a cream colored door and nothing to set it apart from the other units.

I just never took the time

“So how’s life alone?”

“Busy; it’s like I only use this place to sleep at night. I hardly see it in the day.”

“Then you could have just slept at our place, y’know.”

Changmin sits on the couch with the rest but doesn’t say a word, just listens to the conversation flow and take in the sparse interior décor - earth tones, whites. Jaejoong doesn’t like sitting on bare floors so he walks instead, pries unnoticed through closed doors and rooms with opened curtains.

Sunlit, happy rooms, the kind with feather queen sized beds with the sheets ruffled, the smell of far too light scents that Junsu would never wear lingering in the still air. Outside, he can hear the sounds of people leaving and he’s just in time to see them out the door, Junsu waving and touching Changmin’s arm on the way out, the latter giving a sad little smile before slipping his sneakers on, leaving.

“Do you miss it?”

There are signs, of course, the way there’s somehow still some of their things in his closet and vice versa; the way Yoochun puts his feet on the coffee table and Junsu gets a kick of out getting to yell at him, Jaejoong’s job passed down, Yunho getting it done back home with just narrowed eyes.

Junsu clears up the small messes left around the living room, a toppled pile of magazines (Yoochun, a wry comment about how by the time they come back the next time, there’ll be enough old newsprint for Junsu to open a street side kiosk), the empty coffee mug (Yunho, black with a dash of sugar) and the one with cold tea, untouched (Changmin, cradling it in his hands until the warmth is gone).

The phone rings and Junsu dumps the magazines in a corner, the mugs in the sink before running to get it.

“Hey.”

“Yeah I left my cell in the room, they came over just now.”

“Mm. Just left.”

“So how was your afternoon?”

A laugh and Jaejoong stares out the eighth storey, squinting against the sun, thinks about how much he misses hearing this bounce off the walls in their quiet, too big apartment these days.

“Of course it was good. You free for dinner tonight?”

“It’s okay, I’m off today. Anytime, anytime will do.”

“8-ish? Ok, there’s this new ddukbokki stall just a street away.”

“Love you too.”

Jaejoong kinda misses these one sided conversations.

-

8.03pm and he’s wandering around an empty living room, watching the city light itself up and airplanes blink steady across the sky. Junsu is out for the previously mentioned ddukbokki and has been for the past five minutes, probably a three minute walk there, five or more to buy it, another three minutes back. There’s another six minutes to go and Jaejoong wishes he’d tagged along but that thought evaporates the moment the doorbell rings, once, twice.

Another five minutes.

Jaejoong thinks he doesn’t really want to know who it is behind that door, the one that used to call Junsu up every night and probably fell asleep with him on the phone the first week after five dwindled to four, the half-cause of four going down to three now. The buzz of electronic door bells gives way to light knocking now, delicate sounding knuckles on painted doors.

“Junsu?”

He steps outside to watch Junsu run helter skelter out from an opening elevator door with a bag of still hot takeaway in one hand; right into Boa’s arms.

Part 2

butterflyweb & rawthorne: All You Can Ever Learn (Is What You Already Know)

2009-03-17T21:24:34Z

Title: All You Can Ever Learn (Is What You Already Know)
Authors: butterflyweb and rawthorne
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Changmin/Junsu
Summary: Changmin makes a discovery about himself.
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Word Count: 10173

Water is still pouring into the sink when he comes to realize that what's been making him itch for months is not stress and it's not a rash. He says the word and watches the face in the mirror open wide, frightened eyes because it makes sense. Of course it makes sense. He's smarter than the rest of the band put together - if one trusts the word of girls who wave glowsticks and sing along to their records - but it's still taken him three months to put an explanation into words.

Well. One word, really.

Gay doesn't need adjectives.

He watches as his face changes, as it pales and lips go bloodless and he doesn't recognize himself anymore. And of course he doesn't, because he's not himself. He's gay.

Sinking to his knees, he bends over the toilet with dry heaves that have nothing to do with the flu or nausea and everything to do with panic. He clutches the rim and the sink and tries not to have a meltdown in the bathroom when he's supposed to be brushing his teeth.

It's not the idea of it that scares him. He's always known he was a little different. He just didn't know how deeply dangerous his difference could be. Images of his face plastered over forums with taunts and accusations attached rise before his eyes. The fans will never accept it. The label will never accept it. He sees himself jobless and notorious for being a sexual deviant and covers his face.

What if they know already? What if they've figured out that the casual touches and the affectionate hugs were more than fanservice? They weren't, but misinterpretation is easy. Making his faint blush after Yunho kissed his cheek into something beyond embarrassment would be child's play, just far less innocent.

His fingers curl against the ceramic bowl as he tries to pull himself together. He's being paranoid. Nobody knows anything. They all do fanservice, it's expected. It's not real. Only for him, maybe it is. Maybe he's been using his friends for his own sick enjoyment and that's the thought that brings up his lunch, heaving into the bowl.

He hates doing this, the sick taste of bile in his mouth, the dizziness that follows soon after. Hates how his throat feels raw like sandpaper and his face is flushed. Hates that he'll be wobbling to his room and Jaejoong will see and worry. It's why he lies a little longer on the cold floor, choking on self-discovery.

Why is this happening to him? Why did he have to realize it? He can't lie to himself, not now, can't pretend that he doesn't know. He presses his hands over his face, trying to get a hold of himself. What if this ruins everything?

It won't. He won't let it. Just like they don't date so they don't spoil their perpetual image of availability, he won't own up to it. Just because he's gay doesn't mean he has to shout it from the rooftops or go to gay bars and be photographed half-naked hanging off some man's muscled arms.

He takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly and then another one. It'll be okay. He can deal with this. Nothing has changed. He won't let anything change.

A knock sounds at the bathroom door.

"Changmin-ah, you in there?"

His head snaps up so fast it's lucky he doesn't crack it against the bathroom sink. Just what he'd need right now: a big bruise or stitches to draw fan attention to him when what he wants most is to disappear into the cream-colored tiles.

"I'll be right out!" he calls out, wincing at the fake reassurance. They know him too well to buy into his lies.

He hears the hesitation, the lack of retreating footsteps. "You sick, Min-ah? I can get Yoochun to make you tea with his coffee."

Protesting will just get him in deeper, so he responds with a 'thanks, hyung,' and puts the seat down, resting his head against the cool ceramic.

He'll brush his teeth again, wash his face and pretend lunch just didn't agree with him. There's a lot that can go wrong in cooking rice. Excuses roll off his tongue in practice, but he knows half of them will stick in his throat when the moment comes and he has to face four pairs of knowing eyes.

One of his lies will stick. One has to.

There's no way he can tell them the truth.

*

It's five minutes after he's come out of the bathroom that he sees his plan crumble like a house of cards, chin trembling when he sees Jaejoong in the kitchen, long legs straddling a bar stool as he pores over a magazine.

"You okay, Changmin-ah?" he asks, eyebrows rising high on his forehead and piercing gaze spearing him open.

Thanks a lot, he thinks and shakes his head mutely. Ignores the mug of tea. Sits at the table and rests his forehead on the flat surface so that he doesn't have to see the shift of strong muscles under a white tee as Jaejoong slips off the stool, doesn't have to see shorts hanging low on a thin waist. Changmin thinks blearily that this is going to be torture. He's aware now. He knows what he wants and here he is sharing an apartment with the four most attractive men in Korea.

He's fucked.

A warm palm comes to rest on his back, comfort transparent in such a small gesture and he stiffens against it because he's not sure he can take that. Can take being this close to Jaejoong and pretending he's not--he doesn't want--

"What's wrong, dongsaeng?"

He wants to throw up again.

"Just my stomach," he mumbles, drawing in a sharp breath, letting it out slow. "Think I'm getting the flu."

It's a flat out lie but Jaejoong takes it, rubbing his back gently. "I'll make you something easy to get down, okay?" It's his way of say he's concerned but doesn't know what to do otherwise.

"No..." he tells him. "No, that's okay." A hand shoots out to clutch at Jaejoong's, only he aims wrong and it knocks him in the thigh again, maybe two inches from his cock. "Shit, sorry--" he makes to apologize quickly, head shooting up from the counter and cheeks coloring.

That's it, he thinks. This is how his hyung will figure it out. And possibly beat him up for coming onto him.

Jaejoong frowns heavily, hand stilling and Changmin feels dizzy.

"Since when have you ever apologized for hitting me, dongsaeng?" the other man teases gently, tugs on his hair a little.

"What's really going on?"

He can't lie to him. Maybe to Yunho and Yoochun. Possibly to Junsu. But not to Jaejoong. He sees through him like he's made of glass.

"Come with me," he rules, taking off from the kitchen and trusting his hyung to follow.

He closes the workroom door behind Jaejoong, glad Su wasn't inside on his computer. Locks it and leans against it, staring resolutely at the floor.

"Min-ah, you're freaking me out a little. What's going on?"

He tries to find the words, the right explanation and the proper tone. He doesn't want to sound happy about it because there's nothing to be happy about, but he's not mournful at the idea. It is what it is and he needs Jaejoong to know so he can help him, so there's one less person he has to lie to in the band.

"I'm gay," he blurts out, voice all but toneless.

Jaejoong's eyes widen and Changmin panics. Claps his hand over his mouth, wanting to disappear, wanting to snatch the words back out of the air and push them down his throat again.

Dark brows are furrowed in confusion as Jaejoong stares at him. "What...no you're not. Wait, what are you talking about?"

He's going to call him a freak. He's going to tell Yunho and their manager and it's going to unravel so fast he'll be out of the group by tomorrow. He sees the future loom and bites on his palm. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Did you just say what I think you just said?" Jaejoong scratches a hand through newly cropped black hair.

"No," Changmin chokes out behind his hand. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, hyung."

Jaejoong looks at him and something must alert him that Changmin is just this side of bursting into tears or hyperventilating and he's coming towards him. Changmin flinches back, afraid he's going to hit him. Punish him for ruining all they've worked for.

But Jaejoong's hands are warm on his arms, strong and certain as he guides him to sit down. "Hey, Changmin. Relax, okay." His voice is quiet. Even. There's no warmth there and Changmin feels his eyes sting at the thought.

He does as told, complying like a good dongsaeng even as his body becomes separate from his mind. One of them is running out the door, leaving behind cold fright.

Jaejoong sighs and he's never seen his hyung so serious before. Not even when Yunho was poisoned. There was anger, then. This is something else. Something he can't catalog away. An alien specimen.

"You think you're gay?" he repeats, voice low, like someone could overhear.

Changmin swallows past the lump in his throat. "I know I'm gay," he whispers. Afraid to meet Jaejoong's eyes. Afraid of what he'll see there. "I promise, hyung, I won't...I won't let it mess anything up. I don't want that, I promise."

"How can you..." Jaejoong cuts himself off, one hand brushing through his hair. "What makes you think that... you know? We've been busy with the album lately. I know it's hard to meet girls and--"

Changmin closes his eyes, ducking his head. Hiding.

"Because...I'm...a-attracted to guys," he whispers, palms sweating as he stumbles over the word. "I don't want to meet girls."

Jaejoong's mouth opens and closes with a wet plop that isn't at all reassuring even as it is familiar. He thinks of telling his hyung that he looks like a fish, but this isn't the time.

"You're attracted to guys," Jaejoong repeats quietly, like trying to make sense of something French and hard to pronounce. "And you don't want to meet girls. Okay..." Nails scratch at the back of his head. "Okay. And you just figured it out now?"

"It just made sense. It clicked, I guess," Changmin mumbles, arms around his abdomen. "Hyung, please, say something. Please."

"Are you..." Jaejoong makes an effort to meet his eyes. "Are you attracted to... me?" It sounds almost nervous.

Changmin's gaze fixes him, lips tightening into a straight line. "I told you, hyung," he starts, mouth twitching into a weak smile. "I'm not into girls."

It's a gamble.

The sharp shove to his shoulder is more welcome than a hug, in present company.

"Dork," Jaejoong tells him, smiling despite himself. "Want me to show you just how much of a girl I am, huh?" And he mock-pulls at his zipper, laughter disappearing into his dimples.

Changmin covers his eyes with one hand. "Ew, no. Have mercy on my virgin eyes."

Another smack to his shoulder, this one followed by a quick, tight hug. "Still my dongsaeng, okay? Even if you obviously have horrible taste." Jaejoong's voice is gentle and the warmth is there again and Changmin clings to it greedily.

Clings to him like a safety buoy, because he needs someone on his side. Someone who isn't his treacherous conscience.

*

It doesn't change much, but maybe it changes everything to not be alone in this. On some level, he figures it's normal. He's lived with these four boys long enough that he can't pick a shirt without their feedback, let alone come to terms with something as huge as this is.

It's not ideal. Jaejoong still feels awkward if he lingers in a hug, if he grabs his hand thoughtlessly when talking and it stings. But he knows his hyung is trying to see everything as the same and it's all Changmin can ask of him.

It's all he can ask of them all, even if they don't realize it. Filming shows becomes an exercise in self-denial and he finds himself reverting to old timidity, lurking in the background while his hyungs take up the stage. And when Junsu turns to him with a bright grin fixed in place and demands spilling from his lips, it's all Changmin can do not to blush.

He's stared at their mouths often enough - and jerked off picturing them on his skin twice as much - to know that Junsu's got the prettiest smile. It becomes a double edged sword, courting it as much as he knows he shouldn't crave it, spending more and more time around his youngest hyung. Junsu doesn't hesitate to climb all over him to get the remote, to beam brightly when Changmin tells a stupid joke.

The normalcy and the approval is addictive.

Because with him, unlike with Jaejoong, Changmin is still Changmin. He's still straight and harmless (unless Junsu takes his popcorn) and that makes it okay for Junsu to fall asleep with his head on his shoulder half-way through a bad horror movie. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yoochun and Jaejoong exchange soft whispers and surreptitious looks in his direction, but for the most part they're undisturbed. If he expects to be dragged away before he molests his hyung, Changmin gets to be sorely disappointed as all the other members file out to their beds in silence - Jaejoong's sharp jab of a finger against his cheek the only exception to the rule.

"Don't let the bed bug bite," he teases in a whisper, pajama pants too low on his hips as he struts past. If Changmin didn't know better, he'd think he does it on purpose.

He takes the remote out of Junsu's grasp, turning down the television a bit. Rests his cheek atop the other man's head, feeling the tickle of soft hair. His shampoo smells like apple cinnamon and Changmin inhales, eyes closed. Tries not to feel guilty.

On screen the little girl in the well kills people and mentally scars the ones who escape her all because she didn't get to go to school. Or something. He finds it hard to follow her adventures in the afterlife when Junsu lies pressed against him. It's not the first time he's found it slightly erotic to be so close to the other man, but it's the first time he dares to call arousal by its name. He's twenty years old. Hormones have stopped ruling him way back in puberty. This is all conscious thought and conscious want.

He shuffles off the couch slowly, one hand holding up Junsu's shoulder.

"Where're you going?" his hyung mutters thickly, displeasure obvious on his face now that he's been deprived of such a comfortable pillow.

"Bathroom break. Be right back," he lies, thankful for the night that hides his blush.

Junsu makes a face at him, but nods sleepily, tucking his feet up under him on the sofa. "'kay. Come back after. Movie's not over." His interest in the last shows as his eyes drift closed once again, angelic in sleep.

Changmin wants to smooth his thumb over warm skin and thinks he might need a cold shower more than a piss.

He pads into the bathroom bare foot and flushed with heat, aware that he's giving in to urges he's kept bottled up for years but unable to stop. With coming to terms with his orientation comes the need to be honest with himself - and if he's honest with himself, he'll admit he's never wanted anything more than to kiss Junsu as he lies there sleeping.

Like it used to happen when he was still a teenager and he first discovered the wonders of internet porn, he feels his cock harden in his pants, discomfort warring with arousal.

"Get a grip," he murmurs, back pressed to the door even as a hand drops between his legs. He's convinced there's something perverted in jerking off to thoughts of his hyungs, but it wouldn't be the first time.

He still remembers their first trip to Japan and hearing Yunho on his side of the room. Leader-ssi thought he was being quiet. So did Yoochun and Jaejoong and Junsu, in the days that followed. It wasn't anything new, then. They've done it since debut - and Changmin thinks he's been listening to them just as long.

What he'd called curiosity and pent up frustration and being in too close quarters all turned out to be a metaphor for wanting. An easy excuse to hide the truth. That each and every time, the sound of them had aroused him.

The flat of his palm presses against him, grinding against his erection until it's almost painful. Shame keeps this from being enjoyable because not only is he gay, he's a complete and utter pervert with no self-control whatsoever. Otherwise he wouldn't be reducing his hyungs to wank-off props.

It colors his cheeks red and his lips bloodless as he bites down, sinking his teeth into already chapped skin until it makes his eyes sting. Pain to overshadow pleasure. Aversion therapy and he can't be this weak. Junsu is his best friend. And that is all. It has to be.

There are footsteps outside the bathroom door, quick and quiet and sock-clad over the floorboards. He freezes mid-motion and listens because this is the second time it's happened and he doesn't want to lie anymore.

A hand tries the doorknob but it doesn't give. At least he had the fortitude to lock himself inside before he gave vent to his perversion.

"Whoever's in there better hurry up," Yunho groans through the wood.

Changmin swallows, tugging the hem of his shirt down over his very obvious erection, back still pressed to the door. His throat works once more, for good measure, hoping his voice will come out normal when he answers back.

"One minute, hyung," he answers, going to the sink and splashing cold water on his face. Tempted to splash it on his fucking crotch as well and wouldn't that be interesting to explain.

When he slips out, Yunho is too busy yawning to notice the way he shuffles quickly out of the light, the way his voice catches on a 'good night'. Alone in his bed, Changmin cries for the first time in years. It's not frustration or joy or fatigue that prompts him, but genuine sorrow. For the first time in years, he has something to mourn.

It's never felt more likely that he'll have to quit the group before he exposes himself to ridicule.

He presses his face into the pillow, blankets drawn over his head, nearly suffocating himself even though he's alone. If he can't hear himself sob, then it's not happening. It wouldn't be the first lie he's told himself.

One hand clutches at the fabric of his t-shirt, just over his heart. Claws at the pain he feels there because he's worked so hard. Twenty four hour schedules between two continents and an unfamiliar language on his tongue, an unfamiliar pillow under his head. Not seeing his sisters, his parents for months at a time, knowing he isn't being the brother, the son, he should be to them. All the things he's sacrificed and why can't he just change?

Why can't he just be normal?

The bed dips with the weight of a foreign body and Changmin freezes.

"Said you'd be right back," a very tired, very groggy Junsu mutters as he burrows under the covers beside him. "There was a scary scene in the movie." It's all the explanation he gives, one arm falling heavily around Changmin's shoulders.

Changmin wants to push him away, he really, truly, honestly does, but instead he clings to the other man like he's his last lifeline. Junsu would never hate him. Junsu doesn't hate anybody. It's like a mantra in his head.

"Su-yah... there's something you need to know." Something he probably needs to know before he spends another second in bed with him. He pushes himself unto his elbows, tears and red eyes obscured by the night. "Something important."

"Did you get a phonecall from a little dead girl?" mutters his hyung, eyes closed and body lax.

Changmin pinches him, hard, because if he's going to ruin his life and their friendship, he'd like a little more attention and a little less humor from the other man.

"I'm serious, Su-yah," he mumbles, the words thick.

"Ow." There's a groan, a sharp slap to his ass in retaliation and then Junsu cracks an eye open. "What is it?" And it's like Jaejoong all over again, except Jaejoong is his friend and he's not sure what Junsu is, but he's more than that.

He's different.

Changmin feels his pulse thud sickly in his ears as he looks into an open face, one he's described as pure and handsome and bright and something twists at the thought that Junsu might never smile at him again.

"Will...will you ever stop being my friend?" he asks, voice hushed. It's low to extract a promise before he dumps his realization on the other man, but this already isn't fair.

Junsu blinks, but for all he's made fun of, he isn't slow. "Changmin..." he breathes and his tone is changed, voice still low but nervous. Like he's expecting the worst. Changmin can't help think he should be.

"Will you?" he presses, eyes stinging again because he's a coward. He's a complete coward.

The hand on his back clenches into his shirt. "Of course not, you idiot. What's gotten into you?"

Why is he doing this? Why is he fucking everything up? Junsu won't forgive him for this. Dong Bang Shin Ki is all he's ever wanted, it's who he is. Junsu won't forgive him. Junsu thinks people like him burn for eternity.

Changmin lets out a sob.

"Min-ah--" And Junsu shifts closer, the arm around his back drawing tighter. "You can tell me, it's okay." He swallows, thick and nervous and Junsu has such a pretty face. Everything is written on it.

Changmin waits to see it turn to rage and whispers: "I'm gay."

There is silence. Stretching until it's an impassable chasm, a yawning black hole between them and Changmin doesn't think he's breathing. His heart gives a sick stutter when fingers close around his arms like claws and shake him.

"Take it back. Right now, Changmin."

I can't, he wants to say, but his words won't come, body turned weak and hopeless in Junsu's grip because this is what he feared. This is what he knew would happen.

Junsu shakes him hard. "Take it back!" His voice rises to a pitch and there's no way the other's won't hear. He just hopes they didn't hear the rest, although it's a matter of time before the news spreads. Shim Changmin is a faggot.

His stomach crawls into his throat.

"I'm sorry," he cries, tears slipping fast down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Junsu, please--"

The light in the hallway turns on abruptly and it shakes his hyung out of his anger long enough to let go. His eyes are fire and he's never seen him so angry before. This is what Junsu's hate must look like, he thinks. This is what his disgust must feel like.

Jaejoong steps through the doorway just as Junsu exits. Their shoulders brush.

"Changmin, what's wrong. What just happened?"

He can't trust himself to speak, hunched over with knees pulled up to his chest, sobbing hard enough to shake his whole body. A warm hand is on his shoulder in seconds and Changmin flinches away violently.

"Don't touch me." His breath hitches. "I'm disgusting."

Jaejoong falls to the bed beside him, because it doesn't take much effort to put two and two together and he must realize... he must know. Changmin gasps for air and thinks this must be what dying feels like. He's dying, right here, in this bed. Tonight.

"Breathe, Min-ah," his hyung tells him in that voice that allows no opposition. "Breathe before you pass out."

Jaejoong pulls him close, fitting Changmin's head again his shoulder, just holding onto him. Every inch the big brother and at least...at least he has...

"What's going on?" Comes a low voice, Yunho standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"Nothing. Go to bed," Jaejoong replies, voice booking no arguments.

And it's only with him, only because it's Jaejoong, that Yunho obeys. Grudgingly, sure, by the sound of his trailing footsteps, but he obeys. Through his sobs, Changmin hears him repeat the same thing to Yoochun.

Junsu doesn't need to be told. Junsu doesn't care.

Junsu very probably hates him.

*

None of them will ever say it, but Jaejoong can at times give a very real credence to his stereotype of band mother. Protective to a fault, he hovers over Changmin relentlessly for the next few days, dealing Junsu a cold glare few would want to be on the receiving end of every time they share the same space.

If his heart wasn't busy breaking itself into small pieces, Changmin would be amused. As it is, he can see the way his days are numbered far into the near future. Can see his voice cracking during concerts because he can't take being ignored by his hyungs.

Can see it beginning with Yoochun, because if Junsu is likely to tell anyone, it's him.

Every time he gets near, Changmin shrinks back. It becomes obvious enough that Yunho ends up taking him aside and asking what's wrong because he's starting to worry him.

Changmin shakes his head quickly, tells him he's tired because he knows better than to tell the truth. Offers him a plastic smile and escapes to dinner when Jaejoong yells that takeout's arrived. Picks idly at black bean noodles, stirring them around his chopsticks and avoiding everyone's eyes. He knows he's losing weight.

Knows he's losing his mind and his voice and that he'll lose them too before this thing inside him has run its course. It eats at him like a disease and he lets it.

He sleeps alone with the door locked more and more. He doesn't offer to do the dishes or make popcorn. He doesn't watch movies with them. He just wants to disappear.

He comes home one evening to find Jaejoong and Junsu locked in a screaming match, his eldest hyung's face bright red with anger, Yunho holding onto his arm. Changmin stands frozen in the middle of the kitchen, guilt eating at his insides. He's doing this to them.

Junsu shouts something about Jaejoong trying to control them and how he has no right and how it's his business who he gets along with and who he doesn't. It sounds like something Changmin would say in jest, maybe when he's stealing Jaejoong's clothes. Maybe when he wants to sleep a little longer and he knows he can't.

But this is no joke and when all eyes turn to him as he enters, he can't help think it's his place to fix it.

"Is everything..."

"Shut up," Junsu grits out at him and it cuts, it cuts so deep because Junsu has always been supportive and a shoulder to cry on and now he hates him.

Jaejoong breaks free of Yunho's hold. "Don't talk to him like that!"

"This is none of your business," Junsu snaps back, fists tight by his sides and eyes narrowed into slits.

Jaejoong's face is cold. "That's hyung to you, dongsaeng. Apologize. Right fucking now."

Junsu fixes him with a dark look, but respect is too deeply ingrained in them all for him to shirk his responsibility. Head bowed, he breathes a shallow 'I'm sorry' that he neither means nor believes. And neither do the rest of them.

"It's okay, Su-yah," Changmin intervenes, gambling his place in the group with that one reassurance. "It's okay. Right, hyung?"

Junsu doesn't look at him, shoulders taut like strung wire, and mutters something under his breath, shouldering past Jaejoong and heading back to their work room. Yunho moves forward to speak quietly with Jaejoong, words like 'you've got to let them work it out' and 'I don't understand' filtering through the space between them.

Changmin sees the questions loom dark and threatening like rain clouds on the horizon and knows they'll be directed at him sooner or later. Frankly, he'd rather it be never, but since that's not a viable option, he picks the lesser of two evils instead. If they notice him disappearing down the hall, no one calls to stop him.

It's in his room, with his forehead pressed against the wood that he feels he can breathe again.

At least until a cough distracts him.

He digs his teeth into his lip, not having to turn to know who it is.

"I'm sorry," Changmin gets out automatically. Sorry for intruding. Wondering if he's apologizing for existing now as well.

"It's your room," Junsu snorts through his nose, the sound angry but tearful at the same time.

Changmin stays pressed close to the door. Fight or flight.

"I hope," he starts, unsteady but determined. "I hope you can forgive me. Someday." It's a blind hope and probably more than a little foolish, but god, he misses him. Them. He wishes he could go back to how it used to be.

To Junsu wrapped around him, clinging while he sleeps.

A hand on his shoulder forces him to turn around from the door. Junsu is there, suddenly too close, too warm, too real and he feels himself shrink back, expecting a blow that won't fall.

"Why?" Junsu hisses, but without venom, his eyes rimmed in red. "Why can't you just be normal?"

Changmin can feel his features crumble when suddenly Junsu is pressing him to the door, pressing his mouth over his and Changmin's stomach is somewhere in his shoes.

It's not a slap or a punch, it's not swearwords mired in hate. It's a kiss mired in anger and is that better? Is that okay? Junsu bruises his lips as he pulls back, vision swimming and eyes red.

Changmin has to remember to breathe, knees locking before he slides to the floor.

He grasps for the door handle, needing something to hold onto, facing Junsu with shock and uncertainty that borders anger, because if this is some new way for Junsu to hurt him, it's low and he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't.

"Why can't I be normal?" Junsu sobs through his fingers, hands against his mouth. "Why..." But he doesn't finish, because his body leans forward and his face is pressed in Changmin's shoulder, tears soaking his shirt.

A fist hits weakly at his chest, Junsu shaking against him and Changmin's arms come up to wrap around him instinctively. Because no matter what happens, he loves him. He can't help himself.

"I had it--I had it under control and then you have to go around shouting it to the world like it's something to be fucking proud of--"

"You, too?" It's all he can think. "You, too?" Him, too?

It's surreal. Impossible. Junsu is shy around girls but he likes them. He shows up in pictures holding hands with them. He talks about them on variety shows and wanks off in bed, in the middle of the night, thinking about girls. Or so Changmin assumes.

There's a hitching breath against his neck.

"I thought it was gone," his hyung sobs softly. "You...you fucking ruined everything..."

His arms slide around Changmin's shoulders, holding on as if for dear life, despite the accusations that spill from his lips.

Changmin holds him tighter, feeling his heart - Junsu's heart - beat fast and nervous because this isn't real. This can't be happening. He can feel relief make its way under his skin even as he rejects it. He can't start thinking that he's not alone, because he is. He'll destroy them both.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs into his hair. "I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't know what to do, I had to tell you--"

Junsu pulls back, still in his arms, still so close. "You can't tell anyone. You ever heard of a gay pop singer?"

Changmin swallows hard, shaking his head. "I wouldn't tell anyone. I don't want anything to happen to the group. I swear, hyung." It's been his life so long he can't imagine it any other way.

"Stupid," Junsu tells him. "You're so stupid." But he doesn't let go. Whatever he thinks of him, he doesn't let go. "You told Jaejoong. You know he'll tell Yunho..." His chin trembles. "And he'll tell Yoochun."

Changmin dares to hold him tighter. Closer.

"Yoochun hyung won't be mad," Changmin murmurs, certain because he has to be. Junsu needs him to be. "He loves you, Su-yah. That won't change."

"You don't know anything," Junsu groans, but his sobs have slowed, his hold lax but not giving way as he hangs off of Changmin's frame. "This could end up so badly for us both. And for them," he whispers against Changmin's cheek. "You realize that, right?"

"I know," Changmin whispers, a hand rubbing gently between Junsu's shoulder blades. "It's all I've thought about. But..." he swallows hard. "We deserve to be happy, too."

Junsu's hands drop to his sides and Changmin feels his breath hitch. This is the moment when pushes him away. This is the moment where he hears the rejection.
"Together?" And Junsu is often pure and often silly, but however innocent, there's more behind the question than naiveté.

Changmin meets his eyes, drawing on the last reserves of his courage because this is too much. Too greedy, but he can't let it slip away.

"Y-yes. Together."

Junsu doesn't say anything. He doesn't smile. He just pulls away and tugs him by the hand until they're sitting and Changmin can feel himself dip into the bed, the mattress threatening to swallow him up.

Fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him onto the sheets.

"We should sleep on it," Junsu decides quietly, shoes and day clothes still on him. He makes no move to undress so neither does Changmin.

Silence falls between them, the anger gone but the uncertainty remaining. What has just happened between them? Changmin worries his bottom lip, watching Junsu's face in the dim light of the room. Can he talk to him about this now? Or was this one time, never to be mentioned again?

Can he touch him?

Can he fall asleep or does Junsu want to say more?

"Can you get the lamp?" his hyung asks softly, hands against his chest where he lies on his side, expression unreadable. Does he really mean to sleep here? It wouldn't be the first time, but after the things they've said, he doesn't know where they stand. If it means anything. If it's just within Junsu's immediate reach.

He waits till he shuts off the light, plunging the room into darkness to ask softly, "Are you still angry with me?"

Holds his breath for the other man's reply.

Hears the smile in his voice when Junsu answers "yes" and rolls over to face the wall. It's not quite back to normal, but it's a start.

*

The morning is awkward. Junsu scrambles off to his room first, sock-clad feet giving light thumps over the bare hallway floors and there's no way the others don't hear. Changmin waits twenty minutes to go shower and his hands are slippery with soap as he takes care of the night's tension. When he sees Junsu as the other man takes his turn, he can't help but blush. On some level, Junsu must know he does it, like he knows about the others. He's not sure if that's alright.

Jaejoong corners him at breakfast, all arched eyebrows and bedhead, arms crossed over his chest. "So is he behaving himself now or do I have to get Junho to come straighten him out?"

Changmin fights off a grin as he shakes his head. "It's okay, hyung. We're okay." It's all he has time to say before Junsu rolls in begging for food and Jaejoong becomes distracted, but it's enough. It settles the ball of anxiety in his stomach, at least for a while.

Yunho puts an arm around his neck and pokes his cheek, telling him he's missed his smile and it's enough to keep it going through the rest of breakfast.

Yoochun is dozing on the couch, remote in his lax hand, not even stirring when Jaejoong steals it and flips to the news. Yunho goes off to get dressed for a morning jog and Changmin is left in the kitchen with Junsu, gathering plates off of the table.

"Do you want to maybe go... shop... today? With me?" he hears himself ask, the words there but not, like someone else is using his mouth for him. It's strange because he's usually a reasoned creature and he likes to make sense when he talks. Jaejoong is the impulsive freak. He likes his hyung but not enough to start copying his ways.

Junsu dumps plates into the sink, letting water run over drying jam. "Sure." His voice is small and his eyes aren't on Changmin, but he doesn't sound angry. Worried, maybe, but not angry.

They've shopped together before. They shop all the time.

It's nothing new.

"I need new shoes," Changmin goes on, trying to justify himself. "And I remember you saying you wanted to check out that new cell phone they've been advertising. We could stop by the electronic store. Pick up lunch, but we don't have to if you're not hungry, I mean, we just had breakfast and everything..." He hopes Junsu will interrupt at some point and put him out of his misery.

The other man turns to him with a grin and it's like the lights are on stage and the music's playing and Changmin just forgot his lines. It wouldn't be the first time.

"That would be nice," he tells him.

Changmin smiles bright and wide until his cheeks hurt, eyes going mismatched. "Great," he replies, trying and failing not to seem too excited. "Just let me know when you want to go."

"Junsu!" a very drowsy, very lazy Yoochun calls from the livingroom. "If you go out, I want ice cream."

It earns an eye roll and a shout. "Yah, what am I? Your maid?"

"Yah, what was it you said, Jaejoong hyung?" Yoochun snaps his fingers, mouth settled in a smirk. "Be a good dongsaeng."

Junsu glares and Changmin laughs and everything feels so ridiculously normal that Changmin almost feels light-headed.

"Guess we should go about now, huh?" Junsu grouches. "Before they decide to send me out to buy crab cakes and caviar, too."

It's apropos and coincidental that Yunho decides to take that moment to return from his jog, clothes sticking to him and lips breaking into a wide grin. "I'd love some crab cakes, Junsu. Thanks."

"Yah!"

Changmin laughs, clapping his hands and running off to finish getting dressed when Junsu shoves at his shoulder. His heart feels full and his body light and he thinks is the first time he's heard his own laugh in weeks.

He meets Junsu by the front door an eternity later, because Junsu is slow when he wants to be and he looks like he actually put thought into his outfit. For some reason, that makes him grin a little and Yoochun whistles and everything is okay. Even if Junsu flips off their hyung.

"Don't push it."

He lets the other man drive because Junsu is a horrible nag if he doesn't and because he'd rather look at him than the road anyway. Fiddling with his seatbelt, Changmin reaches to turn on the radio, not loud enough to discourage conversation if Junsu initiates it.

Watches how the man's fingers curl around the wheel and realizes that he can't stop smiling.

"I'm definitely too nice to them," is how Junsu decides to speak up, pride evident in his voice. "You should mention that next time we do a Couple Talk or something. Tell them I'm your nicest hyung."

Changmin nods. "The nicest. And the most modest. And the hot--" He cuts himself off quickly, . "And the homeliest."

"Yah!" Junsu pinches him hard and with nails and Changmin yelps, giving the other man an injured look.

"I thought you were my nicest hyung?"

"I'm nice," Junsu protests, turning his eyes to the road, "I'm just selective. You can be homely, thank you very much. I'll take hot."

Changmin shakes his head. "Sorry, hyung. Are the fans calling you Model Max?" His tongue moves awkwardly over the English words. "I have hot cornered."

The blush ruins the attempt at arrogant swagger.

Junsu parks a little more abruptly than necessary, fighting to hide a smirk. "Yes," he murmurs over the echo of the door opening in the underground garage. "You do."

Changmin's cheeks burn.

They walk through the mall in sunglasses and ball caps, something Changmin is certain draws more attention to them than it diverts. He walks close to Junsu, their shoulders brushing occasionally, and Changmin has to keep his hands in his pockets to cull the urge to touch him.

It's not the first time he's felt it, this desire to wrap his hand around Junsu's, but he had excuses before. It was fanservice. It was being away from his family too long. This time all he has is the loud thump of his heart in his chest and a flicker of desire every time their gazes meet. He's like a school girl in love, he thinks, and it's not so far from the truth.

He's never wanted anyone like this before.

Changmin keeps his eyes on Junsu the whole time, whether watching his face as he talks or sneaking glances out of his periphreal. He nearly smacks into a couple people in his inattention, but it doesn't dissuade him in the least.

He notices things like the gentle curve of Junsu's ear, the bump of his nose in profile, how soft his lips look...his mind gives him a fleeting memory of how they felt against his and he can feel his ears heat.

They go for shoes first and it's at Junsu's reminder that he recalls he even needs a new pair. It's the part of the purpose of the trip, so Changmin does his best to focus on sizes and shapes and whether he wants something in white or light gray.

It's Junsu's opinion that the gray looks better, so that's what he settles on.

"You're the one who's going to have to wear them," his hyung points out as they step out of the shop. "Or are you just going to let Jaejoong 'borrow' them?"

"What? No way. If he wants shoes, he can buy his own." This pair has the Junsu seal of approval. The thought makes him grin like a fourteen year old.

He bumps shoulders casually with the older man. "Want to go look at phones?"

Junsu nods. "Sure. You can tell me which one fits my personality."

They loiter around the mall for a few hours longer, Junsu ultimately resolving to buy a new phone another day, 'to let the choices sink in', his way of saying he couldn't make up his mind. Headed back with takeout from a Western Fusion restaurant, Changmin listens to Junsu sing absently to himself, drumming his fingers in time and silently labeling their little outing in ways that make him grin shyly when he catches Junsu's eyes.

Yoochun is making ramen in the kitchen when they comeback, Jaejoong sweeping in and dragging Junsu off to set the table amidst the other man's protests. Changmin turns to grin at Yunho only to feel it fade at the man's serious expression.

"Hyung?" he questions, uncertain.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Changmin?" His face is set, brow wrinkling with concern and things that Yunho can't easily put into words. He motions for him to follow into the living room where Yoochun has long vacated the couch.

Changmin flops down without needing to be told. "What's wrong?" And he thinks of course, of course something is wrong. Fate will always find a way to screw him over. Is this the part where Yunho tells him thanks but no thanks, we don't want fags in the group?

Fists clench with the possibility.

"I talked to Jaejoong this afternoon while the two of you were out," Yunho starts, his voice quiet and features almost grim. "He told me some things."

Changmin is going to kill Jaejoong. Punch him right in the mouth and split it open, except he wouldn't dare because for all he knows, Jaejoong is all he has.

"Oh," Changmin mumbles. Doesn't look at Yunho. Waits for the fallout.

"And I wanted to know," Yunho goes on, voice lower, manner more embarrassed than anything else, "if they were true." His eyes rise to meet Changmin's. "Are they?"

It's like asking the Oracle of Delphy, judging by the way he holds his breath and folds his hands into the couch for leverage. Then again, he could be readying a punch instead.

"Depends, hyung. What did Jaejoong say?" He's not offering anything. He knows better now.

Yunho takes a deep breath, as if searching for a tactful way to put it. A way to beautify the deviancy.

"Jaejoong told me that you're...interested in men. Romantically." He winces slightly.

Not sexually. Jaejoong may think it, but he wouldn't put it like that. He's too much the responsible hyung he pretends he's not to hijack Changmin's future. If he spoke up about it, it's because Changmin left him no choice.

"Is that... is that going to be a problem?" he asks, knowing it's a stupid question. Of course it is.

"That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you, Changmin-ah," Yunho admits and Changmin feels his eyes sting. He can't take this. Not again.

"Hyung, I promise, it won't be," he interjects quickly, fingers tight on the edge of the sofa cushion. Making his plea before Yunho can say that he's going to go to their manager, to Lee Soo Man. "I'm a professional, I can do it."

A look of confusion crosses Yunho's features and in the next moment, something like hurt flashes over his features.

"I'm not talking to you now as your leader, Min-ah," he murmurs, voice quiet and firm. "I'm talking to you as your hyung. I'm concerned about you, not the damn job."

Which means what, exactly? He won't tell their manager, but he'll tell their parents?

"Is that really want you want?" Yunho presses. "Are you sure you can be happy... like that?" A hand comes to rub at the back of his neck, like trying to work out mental kinks through the skin. "I'll support you in whatever you decide, but are you sure you've thought this through?"

"It's not..." Changmin takes a breath, pushing his knuckles into the cushion. "It's not a decision, hyung." He meets Yunho's eyes, needing him to understand. "It's not something I'm....trying out or experimenting with." His voice is small. "It's just...me."

Yunho furrows his brow, watching him for a moment. His struggle to find the words is obvious on his face. "I don't want you to get hurt, Min-ah. People with that life...they don't have it easy." A strong jaw tightens. "I don't want you to be alone, not after you've already lost out on so much because of this industry."

"I don't want to be alone either," he breathes, choking over the word because he can still feel Junsu's lips against his. Can still see Jaejoong take his defense when he didn't have to. He's not alone, but he doesn't want Yunho to abandon him even as he realizes he has no right to expect him to be okay with this. "I'll be careful, hyung."

Yunho nods, hesitating before continuing on. "I don't know much about any of this or how to...help, and so I'm kind of lost here." He meets Changmin's eyes, taking one of his hands in his own and nodding again, almost to himself. "Just...be very careful, dongsaeng."

Changmin grasps his hand like it's a lifeline, hanging on because this is more than he thought possible and it's slowly becoming apparent that he doesn't know his hyungs half as well as he should.

"Don't take this wrong way, Min-ah... but I really love you."

He swallows past the lump in his throat, giving in to impulse and leaning over to hug the older man tightly. Probably to the point of cutting off circulation.

"Thank you so much, hyung," he whispers, voice thick with tears of relief.

"You're welcome," Yunho murmurs, speaking against his ear. Hugs him a little tighter. "Let Su know that too, okay?"

"You know?" Of course he does. Yunho knows everything. He just pretends he doesn't for their own good. Because they need to figure things out for themselves. Or something equally corny that Changmin likes to think Yunho learned in leader camp.

"Yes," his hyung nods into his shoulder. "Now let go before I think you have the hots for me."

Changmin laughs but pulls back, wiping quickly at his eyes and smiling at the other man. "Not you, hyung."

Nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Yoochun snort behind him. "Only his junsui Junsu. Honestly, Min-ah. Whatever happened to gay guys having taste?" The older man grins as Changmin gapes a little. "What? Did we need to have a scene? We can have a scene if you'd like."

Yunho's decision to throw a pillow rather than comment is welcome because it knocks the smirk out of those infuriating lips.

"Hey! What was that for?" Yoochun complains, rubbing at his head like the actor he is.

"Giving you your scene," Yunho retorts with a smile on his face, shifting off of the couch. "Aren't you supposed to be cooking?"

Yoochun arches an eyebrow. "Had to come and make sure you weren't hitting on Junsu's man."

Changmin turns bright red at that because he's not and they're not and why does Yoochun think that sort of thing is okay--

"You're a mean bastard," Yunho shoots back, but he's laughing, Changmin can hear it in his voice.

"Not a chance. I'm Cupid. I'm in this for the happy couple."

"Who?" Junsu asks, wandering into the room while munching on something or other. Leans against the wall, expression curious.

Yoochun, damn him, doesn't miss a beat. "You and Changminnie."

Junsu chokes and sputters for breath, one hand knocking against his chest. It's comical even as Changmin feels a pang of sympathy.

"Oh, so it's true!" Yoochun grins wide. "You okay, Su-ah?"

Junsu makes some kind of helpless noise, jumping in his skin as Jaejoong comes up behind him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"Minsu couple hwaiting," Jaejoong tells him with a gentle smile, the kind he never hides, not with them.

Changmin watches Junsu swallow hard, looking around at all of them. He anticipates the hand when it comes to pull him off the sofa, feet following because he wants out of there as badly as Junsu. It's one thing to have supportive hyungs. Quite another to have them playing matchmaker to your burgeoning relationship.

Escape plans always end with them in his room, the door closed behind them and Junsu dragging harsh breaths into his chest.

"They suck!"

Changmin looks at Junsu's affronted features, eyes wide and lips parted in indignance and can't help himself. Leans in to kiss the other boy, mouths pressed together, hands hovering just a milimeter away from cupping Junsu's jaw.

Junsu hesitates a second before giving and when he does, when it's not anger or fear or desperation that prompts him, it's enough to make Changmin's knees go weak and useless. Arms wrap around his back, holding him up when his stance wavers. Junsu kisses like he dances - he pours everything he has into the way he moves and sighs and moans - and Changmin shakes at the thought that this is how he... does other things too.

"You're trembling," Junsu points out helpfully when they break for breath. "What's wrong?"

"You," Changmin blurts out without thinking, hurrying to continue lest Junsu misunderstand him. "You're just so sexy," he breathes, blushing hard when he realizes how dumb he sounds. He's not good at the seduction thing.

But his hyung doesn't begrudge him his utter failure, instead grinning broadly, proud and happy, like he looks after a concert. "Yeah?" he breathes, nipping softly at Changmin's lips. It's only in this room, only between them that he'll play coy like this. Like there's something behind it.

Changmin understands that and more.

"Is it okay?" he asks. "If we're... together?"

Junsu's smile quiets but doesn't disappear. He brushes Changmin's bangs out of his eyes, quiet as he studies his face. "Yeah, Minnie. It's okay."

Later they'll talk it out, figure out the hows and the whats and how to survive what's to come. They'll make promises of discretion, step away from each other to avoid temptation, worry over whether they're strong enough to do this. But for now....there's been enough talk and enough worry and enough fear. For now they're content to enjoy this moment.

Junsu cups the nape of Changmin's neck with his palm, leaning up to kiss him again, a hand settled on his hip. They're unpracticed but eager, lips meeting again and again.

There is a bed and that's handy when the vertical get tough and lying down becomes an attractive option. Somehow Changmin falls first, flat on his back with an over eager Junsu on his lap. Their knees knock together, their hands catch in their shirts and Changmin groans a little when Junsu pulls on his hair, but it's good and heated and he gives in whole-heartedly because he never thought, for a second, that he'd ever have anything like it. Let alone with his hyung.

Fingers find his, pressing one hand to the bed beside his head.

Junsu pulls back to look down at him, lips pink and swollen with the force of their kiss, a flush in his cheeks. He's gorgeous and whoever thinks Jaejoong is the beauty in the group is sorely mistaken.

The flush on his hyung's face deepens and it's then Changmin realizes he's spoken outloud.

"Save it for lyrics, Min-ah," Junsu grumbles softly, but his eyes say he's pleased, as does the twitch at the sides of his mouth. He leans in to kiss a path up Changmin's throat, weight warm and welcome atop him.

"Don't think this is something I want to share with anyone," Changmin breathes. Doesn't mention he can't. He doesn't want to anyway. The way Junsu kisses is private knowledge. The way he feels when he rubs up against him, legs spread and shirt riding up over his chest.

Changmin's free hand traces the ridges in his spine, counting ribs and muscles whose names he can't remember, pressing him close.

He feels the other man's hand at his side, slipping under his shirt and over his stomach. Cool against his heated skin and Changmin feels a shiver run through him.

"Junsu.." he whispers softly against the other man's lips. Liking the taste of his name on his tongue.

His hyung grins devilishly into the line of his jaw, drawing back to look at him. Hair falls into his eyes, mouth kiss-swollen as he bears down on Changmin's waist. "You sound so nice, Min-ah. You have such a nice... voice..." He chokes a little on the words and it's good to hear him suffer the same difficulties he is.

"Just a nice voice, hyung?" he teases breathlessly, squirming a little because fuck, he's hard in his pants from being this close, from the heady knowledge of what Junsu tastes like.

"A nice body... too," Junsu pants, heart thumping in his chest and even if his grin is ear-splitting, at least he shivers like he wants this as much as Changmin does - reassuring, given how he arches up against him, trying to increase the friction.

Changmin needs to kiss him again, sliding his fingers into Junsu's hair and tugging his mouth down, kissing him hard and fleeting, breathing too hard to hold it for long. "Su-yah..."

He can't believe this. Can't believe he gets to have him like this.

"Take off your shirt. Please, hyung."

Junsu scrambles to his haunches, hands shaking as he obeys and it's good timing, because Changmin is panting too hard to fit begging in. His hyung's head catches in the shirt and for a moment it's more hilarious than sexy, but it's okay. It's okay because it's Junsu and once he breaks free - with some help from Changmin, as it happens - he's the one smiling down at him, he's the one leaning over him all warm and beautiful and familiar.

Changmin bares his neck to him, eyes finding the ceiling and hanging to every crack in the imperfect white, like it'll stop him from tumbling over the edge in the most pathetic way possible.

And then Junsu shifts on top of him and Changmin feels his hyung's hard cock digging into his thigh. He thinks he might've stopped breathing in an attempt not to come right then and fucking there.

"Min? Min... Min, do you feel that?" Junsu sounds breathless and scared, voice coming through in short, sharp sentences. "Feel that? That's me... because of... you and..."

Changmin clamps a hand over his mouth in an effort to silence him. Not trusting himself to speak either. Takes Junsu's wrist, bring his hand up to press over the bulge in Changmin's jeans. Meets Junsu's eyes nervously even as he fights not to move instinctively into the touch.

He watches Junsu's throat bob as he swallows and then Junsu is kissing him again, passionate and messy and his hand is rubbing over his erection, friction not enough if it were to come from his own hand. As it is, Changmin whimpers between kisses, clawing at the other man's back as he fights to hold on.

And fails just as quickly.

Moans loudly into the other man's mouth as his hips push forward and his back arches, coming hard in his pants as one hand clutches Junsu's shoulder. Pleasure rushes over him like a wave, leaving him boneless and dazed under the other man, panting for breath.

He's never come harder in his life. He's never been more embarrassed in his life.

With some difficulty, he meets Junsu's eyes through lowered lashes, the muscles in his body relaxing too quickly - taking his high away too quickly.

"Sorry," he breathes, even as he can't find it in him to be remorseful.

"Fuck, don't be," Junsu whispers, touching his cheek. Kissing him hard and even more breathless. "That was so...Changmin....will you...uh... touch me?"

Changmin nods shakily, hand moving slowly even as he wills it to open Junsu's zipper. "Yeah... gods, yeah I want to see you..." Do that. Do what he's heard him do for weeks and months and years, under the covers.

Gets the button undone one-handed, sliding his hand inside Junsu's pants. Breath catching as he feels hot, hard flesh under his fingertips, curling his hand around the other man's length. Junsu makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"Please... please, please, Min-ah, do it... do it, don't s-stop..." He talks non-stop, spine curved as he leans against him and blocks Changmin's view. "Feels so good, Min... so good."

THe words encourage him, moving his fist faster up and down the other man's cock, coaxing him towards orgasm. Wants to feel it. To see it.

"Come on, Su-yah...c-come for me.." Can't believe he's saying the words he's imagined and heard in porn until they've lost all meaning - can't believe he's repeating them to his hyung and that Junsu breathes harder at the sound.

"Oh fuck... Changmin--" Junsu doesn't scream or moan when he comes. He doesn't talk either. His body just goes taut and his lips part, but there is no sound. Just a whispered noise as wetness coats Changmin's palm.

It's his own name.

His heart gives a painful throb in his chest, feeling the hot slick of Junsu's release in his palm. He hides his face against Junsu's neck, drawing in a ragged breath.

"I love you," he whispers.

Junsu laughs against his ear, the sound more of an exhale than anything else. "Idiot. I love you, too." And it's not perfect or squeaky clean or particularly dignified, but he's said the words and he's heard them said back, at least once. At least this one time, he doesn't have to fear who he's become.

Who he's always been.

Art Post

Art: All You Can Ever Learn (Is What You Already Know)

2009-03-17T21:00:24Z

Artist: tamiko_unknown
Fic: All You Can Ever Learn (Is What You Already Know)
Rating: G
Media: Digital art; Open Canvas 1.1, mouse
Artist's Notes: Digital art isn't really my thing.

Please leave all comments for the artist here!

razra_eizel: The Last Ice Creature

2009-03-16T20:11:38Z

Title: The Last Ice Creature
Author: razra_eizel
Pairing: Yunho/Jaejoong
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The members of Sprites, a group of elemental creatures whose duty is to keep the regions safe and balanced, were asked by a Fire creature to rescue the last Ice creature from mad scientists.
Word count: 10,341
Disclaimer: DBSK are their own people under the management of SM Entertainment. The portrayals here are fictional and no money is being made.
Author's Note: beta-ed by anarcissus :D thank you for the help, and sorry for the burden. I hope those who are going to read this will enjoy it. This story is partially inspired by Pokemon.

Chapter One – The Sprites

Two figures walked side by side, trudging over the rough terrains of the desert, their feet sinking into the sand every now and then, and they had to exert extra force to take them out. One stood protectively over the other, while the smaller one hunched forward slightly, his whole body covered with a huge white cloth.

“Is it too hot for you?” the taller one asked in concern as he paused to look at his companion, who was sweating profusely because of the unbearable heat. “You are an Ice creature. I am a Fire creature. If you feel it’s too hot, tell me. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“But we have to pass this route,” the smaller man insisted, pulling the cloth closer to protect himself from the glaring sunlight. “Ji Hoon-ah, I’m okay. Let’s just get out of this place as soon as possible.”

Ji Hoon looked at him and sighed deeply. “Jae-ah, when are you ever going to start listening to me?” he asked exasperatedly, turning Jaejoong around by his shoulders to face him. “We don’t have to rush. We’re only travelers. We go wherever we want, right?”

“I should be alone,” Jaejoong said, his eyes downcast and sorrowful. He bit his lower lip as he remembered what had happened that had caused him to be here. “You shouldn’t have left your clan.”

“Jaejoong-ah,” Ji Hoon called again, lifting Jaejoong’s chin to make him stare right into his eyes. “How many times have I told you that I’m doing this out of my own will? You gave me a reason to fight, Jae. You gave me a reason to live. I think it’s only fair if I dedicate myself to protecting you.”

“But—“

“Staying alive is not a sin, Jae-ah,” Ji Hoon said softly, stroking his hair lovingly, like an older brother would do to his younger sibling. “It is fate’s doing that you are still alive. You must not disappoint your clan or Fate herself.”

“I have disappointed them,” Jaejoong pointed out. “That was why I was exiled. They hated me because I have black hair. Ice creatures have silver hair.”

“It’s not your fault you were born with black hair,” Ji Hoon added, taking Jaejoong’s hand in his. “Fate has planned everything out for you—to save you from the disaster that befell your clan and eliminated them. That was also why the elder gave you the Dragon Stone. He didn’t hate you.”

Jaejoong inhaled sharply and sighed. “I guess you’re right,” he mumbled softly.

“Of course I’m right,” Ji Hoon beamed, and pulled him along. “Now let’s go find somewhere cool for you to rest in. I’m sure there should be an oasis nearby.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Four young men sat in a huge, plain room, heaving and panting, trying to regain their breath. They had just finished an hour worth of training and didn’t feel like doing anything else other than just lazing around, gathering back their lost energy. That, or ask to be fed.

They were the Sprites, known for their great fighting prowess and the stones they possessed. In this world where all creatures were born with a certain element (and sometimes two), only the ones who possessed the stones could assume a monster form that could increase their strength greatly.

“Hey, hyung,” Junsu called as he leaned on the wall, fingering his Dusk Stone which was hanging around his neck. “Do you think we’ll get another mission soon? I’m bored of this training routine. It never helps me much anyway, and I want to go out of this place.”

Yunho looked over at him and shrugged, while also leaning back on a wall. “If you can see it, I’m bored too,” he admitted, then turned to look at the remaining two. “What do you say, Chun, Min? Should we go for a patrol or something tomorrow? You know I can ask Soo Man-shii to let us.”

“That would be nice,” Yoochun agreed, unpacking the lunch provided for them, letting the three have some before he did so. “And it would benefit both us and the citizens. It’s like killing two birds with a stone.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Changmin said nonchalantly as he chewed on his food. “I don’t care as long as I can still eat. I can even stay here all day reading books if I want.”

“But that’s boring,” Junsu huffed crossly, glaring at the youngest. “And you’re boring too. No wonder you two go so well together.”

Yunho laughed slightly, then paused. “I think I heard something,” he said as he quickly got up. He looked out of the window, only to see a figure rushing towards their building, which was located near an oasis in a desert, just because their leader didn’t want to be known.

“Someone’s coming?” Changmin commented as he looked out of the window as well, still chewing on his food. “Now that is a rare happening.”

“I wonder what he is here for,” Yoochun voiced as he watched the man rush and stop in front of the building’s main door, knocking on it furiously. “He looks like he’s in a rush.”

“Maybe we should go check on him,” Yunho suggested, and the three others quickly agreed. They packed their lunch back into the box and walked into the living room where the man was.

They entered the room after knocking a few times to notify the two inside of their presence, and sat down on a long couch reserved for them every time a meeting was held there.

“I am sorry for coming here all of a sudden,” the man apologized as he bowed his head down low. “However, something has just happened and I am in urgent need of help.”

Lee Soo Man looked at him and nodded. “Something happened to an important one?” he asked, and the man nodded. “Very well then, tell us the story.”

“My name is Jung Ji Hoon, and my companion is Kim Jaejoong,” he said, introducing himself. “It happened like this…”

-.-.-.-.-. flashback -.-.-.-.-.

“Whoa, it’s so beautiful!” Jaejoong exclaimed in awe as he looked around the small oasis they finally found after almost an hour of searching. He sat near the lake and scooped up some water to drink. “It’s nice,” he added, smiling at Ji Hoon. “You should take a rest, Ji Hoon-ah.”

“It’s okay, I’ll go around this place for a moment,” Ji Hoon said as he guided Jaejoong to a shaded area and forced him to sit down there. “I’ll be back soon, so don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll go look for something to eat.”

“Why don’t we look together?” Jaejoong frowned as he pursed his lips in unhappiness. He didn’t like being treated like a handicapped person.

“You should rest, it’s been a hard day for you,” Ji Hoon patted his shoulder. “Be a good boy and take a rest, yes? I’ll meet you here in about ten minutes.”

“Fine,” Jaejoong sighed, and leaned back on the trunk of a huge tree. “Don’t take too long.”

“Of course,” Ji Hoon agreed, and walked off to find something to eat. He paused in shock when he heard a muffled scream and felt the temperature decreasing rapidly, feeling even more surprised when the temperature suddenly went back to normal. He quickly ran back to the place where he left Jaejoong, and found no one there.

“Jaejoong-ah!” he shouted, looking around frantically, trying to find any clues as to where he might be, and found footsteps on the sand. He frowned when he saw them.

-.-.-.-.-. end of flashback -.-.-.-.-.

“And that’s why I’m here,” Ji Hoon explained after he calmed down enough, no thanks to the amount of running he had. “I believe he was taken by those mad scientists who have been setting their eyes on him ever since they knew he is the last Ice creature, and that he was exiled because he has black hair.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Junsu asked in confusion.

“Ice creatures are famous for their almost snow-like appearance,” Lee Soo Man explained, and Ji Hoon nodded. “They have pale skin and silver hair. Most of them also have silver eyes, but not all of them do. However, having black hair is considered a curse and bad luck by the clan.”

“The last time there was an Ice creature with black hair, the whole clan was attacked by other clans mercilessly and continuously. After he died during an attack, the attacks stopped and they concluded that it was because of the bad luck he brought,” Ji Hoon added. “That’s why they detest black-haired Ice creatures.”

“So he was exiled from years back,” Soo Man nodded in thought. “He’s lucky to find you. You’re part Fire and Steel, aren’t you? Your clan is known to be the best fighters.”

“Uh… well… I always see myself as lucky to have found him, but I don’t know about him,” Ji Hoon shrugged, and looked at the five. “So, will you help me release him? I can’t possibly go alone. There are too many of them there.”

Soo Man was about to look back and ask Yunho about it when Junsu suddenly screamed out, “Yes! We’ll do it!”

“Eh? Junsu?” Soo Man looked at him in wonder.

“Yes of course we’ll help! Isn’t that why we’re formed? To help people in need?” Junsu asked as he looked at both Soo Man and Yunho. “Plus, it’s time we finally hone our skills with real situations again. I don’t want my skills to go to waste. If I can help someone—anyone—I’ll be glad!”

“Very well,” Soo Man nodded his approval, looking at his four students whom he had trained ever since they could walk. “You four are to go with him to the laboratory where those scientists are keeping his friend, and free him. Report back to me as soon as the mission is finished.”

“Roger that, Sir!” Junsu said excitedly as he saluted Soo Man, and turned to Ji Hoon. “Well, let’s go then! I’m sure the sooner we go, the better it is! After all, we shouldn’t make someone who is in need of help wait for long.”

Ji Hoon looked at him, and nodded approvingly. “Yes, let’s go.”

And they were off to the huge laboratory not far from there, also built near the desert because the head of the laboratory didn’t want the position to be known.

The desert was famous among the locals as a place where many have gotten lost in. It was the perfect place to build something that wasn’t supposed to be known, both existence and whereabouts, because it was so easy to get lost inside the scorching hot desert.

However, to people who had lived in the desert for a long time, the desert was no longer a maze for them. They could tell where buildings were, even if they only looked at it from a distance. The five had used a pair of binoculars to pinpoint the exact location of said laboratory before they went.

“So this is the place,” Yoochun commented as he looked around, and noticed the lack of guards. “Your friend is an Ice creature right? They are strong. Why are there so few guards?”

“Well, yes, he’s strong, and he’s even stronger than most Ice creatures because he possesses the Dragon Stone,” Ji Hoon started, “but he is extremely weak to the heat. That’s why he got caught. Those darned scientists were waiting for him to get weak before they made a move.”

“So you were trekking the desert with him?” Yunho asked as he opened the door as silently as he could, and signaled the four to get in before he closed the door behind him. “You’re right. It’s pretty hot in here.”

“Well, all we have to do is find the room where he is kept, free him from whatever thing is keeping him inside, and beat up those scientists for even wanting to mess with us,” Ji Hoon stated simply.

“Easy to say,” Changmin mumbled, then paused. “What do you mean by “whatever thing is keeping him inside”? Why are you so sure something’s restraining him?”

“Simple, because he’s still inside here,” Ji Hoon shrugged nonchalantly. “He has the ability to reduce the temperature around him to near zero, but he doesn’t use it often, because it drains his energy, especially in an open space. However, this is a closed space so it shouldn’t take a lot of energy from him. There must be something keeping him from using his ability, and escaping this place.”

“I see, that’s reasonable,” Changmin nodded to himself. “Well, I guess we should split up now, but stay connected to each other. Whoever finds him first should keep an eye on him until we beat up the scientists.”

“Roger!” the four quickly agreed, and they went separate ways, exploring the whole laboratory and opening the doors one by one to check if anyone was inside the room.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Yoochun walked through a dark corridor, peering inside windows occasionally to check if anyone was inside, continuing his trip when he saw no one. He was thankful he was going against Fire creatures because he was part Water and Ground.

“Hm, I wonder where he is,” he mumbled to himself, trying to make his footsteps as silent as possible. “Or maybe I should just head towards the room where the head scientist is.”

Suddenly, the alarm sounded very loudly, echoing throughout the whole building. He looked up in surprise, wondering where the noise had come from.

“Intruder alert! Go to the room where we kept the Ice creature!”

Yoochun looked over at a meeting room at the far end of the corridor, and watched soldiers rush out of the room, carrying a small button-like device that was attached to the back of their glove. From the looks of it, he could only guess that it was an artificial stone, made to enhance their powers.

“Humph, how sad,” he mumbled to himself, stretching his limbs to work out the soreness, and sighing in relief after he heard the cricks. “Nothing beats a real stone,” he said to himself, and took out his Water Stone that was dangling around his neck.

“Intruder! Defeat him!” the commander of the soldiers instructed, and the soldiers re-directed their course towards him, raising their hands to attack him with elemental attacks.

“Be thankful I’m buying you time, whoever it is who finds him first,” Yoochun said, and swirls of water surrounded him. Once they disappeared, in place of him was a large blue-furred beast, with sharp fangs and eyes. “Bubble Beam!” he growled, and a torrent of bubbles attacked the soldiers.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“This is unfair,” Changmin grumbled to himself as he walked along the narrow corridor, cursing his bad luck. He was a pure Grass creature, and he was to fight Fire creatures? They must be out of their minds.

He was looking into a particular room, wondering if the scientists had built so many rooms to fool them or slow them down in the process of searching for the correct room, when he heard the alarm going off.

“Ah, someone has found him then,” he said happily to himself, and used his Leaf Stone to transform into a cat-like beast with green fur at the tip of his ears and tail, and yellow fur at the rest.

“I hope they’ll appreciate me buying them time,” he added as he ran along the corridor, using his Grass Knot technique to grow roots and long grasses from small gaps between the walls, effectively making the soldiers who had just rushed out of the room at the back trip all over the place.

Chapter Two – The Ice Creature

Junsu floated down the corridor as he had assumed his monster form right from the start with his Dusk Stone. His monster form was a black ghost-like creature with a huge witch hat, no feet, and flowing robe.

“Hm, this place is surprisingly big,” he mumbled to himself as he floated around, looking from room to room, finding out that none of the rooms he had passed had the lights on. “Maybe I’m just not lucky,” he concluded to himself.

He was about to turn a corner when the alarm suddenly went off above his head. He looked up, wondering what was happening. A door behind him slammed open and soldiers rushed out.

“Intruder! Defeat him!” the commander of the small platoon instructed as he pointed at Junsu who was still happily floating around, looking at them in confusion.

“Ah shoot, I forgot fire attacks can still harm me,” he grumbled to himself and held his witch hat. “Well then, you leave me with no choice,” he said simply, smiling slightly.

A huge white ball suddenly formed between them, separating them until Junsu was almost invisible from the soldiers’ side.

“Shoot!” the commander instructed, and the soldiers raised their hands to shoot out fire balls at the white ball.

“Wrong move,” Junsu said cheerfully as the white ball exploded and filled the whole area with thick fog. “That’s my specialty, Mist Ball. Now, let’s see another of my specialty, Ominous Wind.”

He spun around, his witch hat in hand. Purplish aura started to form around him before exploding, attacking the soldiers with sharp, purple wind blades.

“Sector clear~” he said in a sing-song voice to himself as he floated down the corridor again, continuing his trip around the building, still wondering who got to find the Ice creature first.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ji Hoon rushed down the corridor in a hurry, the only thought filling his head was whether Jaejoong was still safe or not. He knew he had to find him soon, before those darned scientists started to do unimaginable things to him—though not in the perverted way, more like the maniacal way.

“Damn it, where do I go next?” he grunted to himself, and paused when he saw a floor plan in front of him. “Great,” he said, stopping to study the plan. Just then, the alarm went off, and loud noises such as rushed footsteps could be heard from above.

“Intruder! Go to the Ice creature’s room immediately!”

Ji Hoon looked up, then looked at the floor plan again. “Looks like one of them has found him. I’ll just go to the head scientist’s room to take care of him then. I believe they will be able to take care of weak creatures like these,” he said to himself, and tried his best to memorize the path to the main office room, while the alarm was still ringing loudly in the background.

He put the floor plan back to where it was, and used his Sun Stone to take his monster form, a two-legged dark blue-furred beast with metal claws and golden eyes.

“Be prepared to pay for what you have done,” he gritted his teeth, and rushed up the wall, stabbing his claws into it to balance himself occasionally. He also shot fire at the soldiers who were rushing on the connecting bridges, towards the room where they kept Jaejoong, using his Fire Blast technique.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

-.-.-.-.-. flashback -.-.-.-.-.

A young boy sat in a small room, facing the Northern wall which was decorated with ancient art from the time the clan was first founded. He closed his eyes, and waited for the elder to come in.

The door slid open and close, and an old man walked in, clad in a white robe. He sat down in front of the young boy, and cleared his throat.

“Jaejoong,” he called, and the little boy snapped his eyes open. “I suppose you know why I have called you here today. I have asked your parents to notify you.”

“Yes, Chief,” Jaejoong nodded firmly, looking straight back at the elder’s eyes. “I know that I am to be exiled, because I am born with black hair.”

“It was never my intention to cast out someone like you, Jaejoong,” the elder sighed regretfully. “If I could, I would never do that. You know I love you like my own son.”

“Yes, Chief, I do,” Jaejoong smiled at him. “I know that it is your duty to the clan that makes you exile me.”

“Please, Jae,” the elder said as he looked down for a while, and looked back up. “When we are alone, please call me Grandfather,” he requested.

“As you wish, Grandfather,” Jaejoong bowed at him, and he pulled him up.

“Here, I want you to have this,” the elder said as he handed over a small stone. “This is the Dragon Stone. Whoever owns it can transform into a dragon. I know your parents have given you a Dawn Stone, but I want to give you this.”

“But why?” Jaejoong asked in curiosity.

“Because there is no one else who deserves this stone as much as you do,” the elder said, and patted his head lovingly. “Now be a good boy and accept it. It will protect you.”

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Jaejoong bowed at him again, and sat back up. “I will take my leave now,” he announced, and stood up, walking towards the door.

“Jae,” the elder called and he paused at the door. “You will meet good people. Those who don’t see you as bad luck, but see you as a blessing instead. Those… who are willing to lay their lives down to protect you.”

Jaejoong kept silent, and only nodded slightly before he exited, closing the door behind him.

-.-.-.-.-. end of flashback -.-.-.-.-.

Jaejoong lay on a soft white mattress, and groaned softly when his forehead hit something as he was turning around to find a more comfortable position.

“Ouch…” he mumbled in pain as he rubbed his forehead. He didn’t realize a tear had escaped from his eye before he heard a loud clinking sound.

“Oh my,” he said in surprise, and quickly took the white gem that materialized from his tear, putting it inside his coat’s pocket. “I hope they didn’t notice that,” he added to himself, and looked around.

He was kept inside a capsule-like device with wires connecting to it from different power sources. There was no exit, and he guessed he would have to break the glass to get out.

He noticed that it was very warm in the capsule, and he knew for sure it was hotter out there. He looked down at his collar, and nearly shrieked in surprise when he noticed his stones missing.

He raised his hand to summon a blizzard, but it would not form, and that was then when he noticed the existence of a seal, etched onto the glass. The seal prevented him from using any of his powers.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout out loud, asking for help, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want any of the guards to know that he was awake.

“Ji Hoon-ah…” he mumbled sadly, tears starting to stream down from his eyes, and this time he didn’t care even as white gems were starting to collect around his legs. “Where are you? I need you…”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Yunho walked down the corridor slowly, not wanting to raise any suspicion. He was walking past a room with sealed doors when he suddenly heard clinking from the inside. It was faint, but still there.

“Is someone inside?” he asked, loud enough to be heard inside, but not enough to alert the whole building.

“Are you one of the guards?” a voice asked from inside, and Yunho paused.

“Are you Kim Jaejoong?” he asked, and placed his hands on the tightly shut metal doors. “Do you happen to know a man named Jung Ji Hoon?”

“Oh, yes, yes! I am his friend, I am Kim Jaejoong!” the voice from inside sounded almost desperate, and Yunho felt the strong urge to beat up whoever was behind this.

“Stay there, I’ll take you out,” Yunho said, and he melted the doors with his fire. He stepped into the room through the huge gap created on the doors, and approached the device.

“How did you meet Ji Hoon-ah?” Jaejoong asked as he looked up at the man. “Oh, you’re a Fire creature too! Are you from the same clan?”

“No, I’m not,” Yunho said as he squatted in front of Jaejoong so that they were at eye level. “I’m part Fire and Fighting, not Steel like him. He came to our office seeking our help in freeing you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry for burdening you.”

“It’s okay,” Yunho tapped the glass as if he was patting Jaejoong’s head, and smiled reassuringly at him. “We’ll get you out of here very soon. Have you been crying?” he asked, noticing Jaejoong’s reddish eyes, and wondered why there were so many gems inside the device.

“Uhm, they’re my tears,” Jaejoong started uncertainly when he noticed Yunho’s line of sight that ended on the white gems that were scattered all around the mattress.

“Your tears?” Yunho asked in surprise, then his eyes widened and his mouth formed an ‘o’ in comprehension. “I get it. You are an Ice creature. I’ve heard about it.”

“Can you help me out?” Jaejoong asked, his eyes hopeful. “They placed a seal on the glass of this container, and I can’t use my power. Plus, they took my stones away.”

“They did?” Yunho asked in surprise and sudden rage. “Those bastards. Stones should never be taken away from their owners,” he gritted his teeth in anger, and looked at Jaejoong, his gaze softening in an instant. “Of course I will help you. Stay at the corner, and I will break the glass.”

Jaejoong scooted over to the other end of the capsule-like device, and Yunho placed a hand on the surface of the glass. His palm glowed bright for a second before a burst of energy was released from it, shattering the glass into pieces, but none of the pieces reached or harmed Jaejoong.

The alarm suddenly went off above them, and the doors were opened, guards streaming into the room.

“Hey,” Yunho said as he helped Jaejoong out of the container. “Can you fight now?”

“Of course,” Jaejoong said, his eyes shining with sheer determination. “I will show them not to mess with me again,” he added, and huge ice shards formed above them, swiftly embedding themselves on the floor in front of the guards, blocking their entry.

“Great job,” Yunho said as he turned towards the guards, and summoned a huge spinning fire. “Fire Spin,” he chanted, and the fire closed in on each of the guards, burning them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yunho said as he tugged at Jaejoong’s wrist, and pulled him out of the room, “and help the others as I am sure they are now going to beat up the head scientist of this place.”

“Sure,” Jaejoong agreed, and ran alongside Yunho. “After all, I need to claim back my stones.”

Yunho held his Fire Stone, and he suddenly transformed into a huge orange-furred beast, with sharp fangs and fiery eyes. “Get on,” he said, as he motioned for Jaejoong to get on his back.

Jaejoong simply nodded, got on his back, and held on tight as he rushed up the stairs, towards the top of the building, shooting fire at the guards who were in their way.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Yoochun paused in his tracks when he saw a flurry of red and white passing on a bridge opposite from him. “Wow, he’s gotten himself a nice, fair maiden!” he wolf-whistled although he knew Yunho would not be able to hear him.

“Ah, well, then, might as well give chase,” he said, and rerouted his course, towards the top of the building.

He was rushing up the stairs when he met Changmin and Junsu, who also caught sight of Yunho rushing up the stairs with the Ice creature, and decided to give chase.

“Hm, so that was the Ice creature?” Changmin asked as he looked up, not slowing his pace down even if only by a little. “I thought it’s supposed to be a male?”

“Um…” Junsu mumbled to himself in thought as he flew above them, easily keeping up with them. “I think it is a male,” he added, furrowing his brows to get a better look.

“It is?” Yoochun asked as he looked up again, and nodded in agreement. “I guess so.”

“Well, let’s catch up with them now,” Changmin suggested, and they increased their pace even more. “I think that Jung Ji Hoon has gone there before us. We have to catch up with him.”

“To make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid?” Junsu asked as he raised an eyebrow.

“Well, somewhere along that line,” Changmin couldn’t shrug as he was still running, but he didn’t mind. “We all know that he is devoted to Jaejoong, from the way he talks. I don’t want to think what will happen if things go out of hand.”

“He will never hesitate to lay his life down for Jaejoong,” Yoochun commented, and Changmin nodded in agreement. “Something must have happened between them in the past that caused this to happen.”

“I’m sure that is so,” Junsu agreed, and looked up yet again. “Hey, there they are, we only have to speed up slightly, and we’ll catch up with them.”

“Yunho-hyung!” Junsu called as he suddenly appeared beside Jaejoong who didn’t even look surprised to see him. “Oh, wow, you’re not scared of me!”

“Um… should I?” Jaejoong asked uncertainly as he looked at Junsu.

“No, no, you shouldn’t,” Junsu quickly shook his head. “It’s perfectly okay, it’s even better this way. Oh, and Ji Hoon-shii is probably at the top already, so we should give chase as soon as we can. You know, before he can do anything rash.”

“Sure,” Yunho agreed, and sped up even more. He scaled the last flight of stairs, and let Jaejoong get down from him, before Junsu, Yoochun and Changmin joined them at the top floor as well.

“Where is the head scientist’s room?” Junsu asked as he looked around at the many doors on the floor.

“Ji Hoon-ah, where are you?” Jaejoong said softly as he looked at each of the doors for a while before moving on to the next one.

“Do you know which room he is in?” Yunho asked as he padded closer to Jaejoong.

“That one,” Jaejoong pointed a wall, a blank wall without a door. “He’s behind that wall,” he added when Yunho looked at him questioningly. “I’ve been with him for a very long time, and I can tell where he is.”

“I see,” Yunho transformed back to his human form, walked over to the wall, and used Blast Burn to destroy the wall. “Let’s go in then, guys,” he motioned at his three colleagues and Jaejoong, and they got into the room, the main office where the head scientist was.

Chapter Three – The Exiled

Ji Hoon stood inside the room, his fangs bared, fists clenched in anger, although he had shortened his claws first. “What did you say?”

The head scientist looked at him, throwing him a smug look as he smirked, and spoke up, “I captured him to exploit him. Is that so hard to understand?”

“What do you plan to do with him?” Ji Hoon gritted his teeth, glaring at the scientist, although he didn’t attack yet. He would have to wait until there was an opening—until they lowered their defenses.

That, or until he was sure Jaejoong was already safe, rescued by one of the four. He knew one of them had found him, but he didn’t know if they were at a safe place already. The head scientist had a control panel to manage all the explosives implanted inside all rooms, except for the head scientist’s room. If he made the wrong move, and they knew where Jaejoong was, he would endanger the one he swore to protect.

“I need his tears,” the scientist said simply. “I need his tears to fund my research and all. You know how valuable those white gems are. They are worth more than a million each.”

“Of course I know that!” Ji Hoon snapped, and reverted back to his human form. “I was the first to see his tears. I was the one who killed those bastards who wanted him for his tears.”

“Oh, so you are going to kill me too?” the head scientist asked mockingly, sneering at him. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Shut up,” Ji Hoon scoffed, and glared at him even more. “What else are you planning to do with him? I know that is not all,” he added surely, looking straight at the scientist.

“Ah, how smart of you, my little boy,” the scientist snickered in an unpleasant manner. “I will take out some of his DNA sample, and match them with other creatures. I want to make a fusion of Ice creatures with other creatures, and I need him, the last Ice creature.”

“What will you do with those creatures then?” Ji Hoon asked warily, knowing that it would never be for something good.

“Then I would issue an attack on Water creatures, and other creatures whose clans refuse to join up with us,” the scientist was cackling now. “And first, I will start with your clan. Especially you.”

Ji Hoon inhaled sharply, and tried to control his anger. He tried counting to ten, then staring at him. “I will not let you,” he said firmly.

“Oh? Too bad. It’s either you, or him. I guess if you will not let me create those creatures, there will be no need for him,” the scientist mock sighed, his hand hovering above the control panel. “Hm… let’s see… which room should I explode first?”

“Don’t!” Ji Hoon screamed as he almost lunged forward. He stood in place, restraining himself from going over and ripping the scientist’s internal organs out.

He was the first to reach the scientist’s room and meet him there. The scientist had guards with him, and had threatened him with the control panel. That was why he couldn’t do anything to fight him. He couldn’t afford to lose Jaejoong.

-.-.-.-.-. flashback -.-.-.-.-.

Ji Hoon stood on the edge of a cliff that was overlooking a great canyon. He had failed the coming of age ritual, and had disappointed his parents greatly. He was asked to defeat a huge monster in the jungle, and he had succeeded. However, right before the monster died, it killed his partner who was asked to accompany him during the mission.

Letting a companion die was considered a taboo in his clan. Whatever happened, letting a partner die would result in the ultimate punishment—either death penalty or banishment. In his case, he was banished from his own clan.

To prideful Fire and Steel creatures, banishment was the greatest embarrassment, more shameful than death itself. More often than not, the banished creatures would then kill themselves to preserve whatever little pride they had.

He walked closer to the edge, and was about to jump off, when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around his waist firmly, preventing him from moving over the cliff and down towards the ground hundreds of feet below.

“Don’t,” a voice said as he felt a face buried into his back. “Don’t do that,” the voice added, and he froze. It was an angelic voice, so soft, smooth, and almost airy.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice raspy, and he let himself be dragged away from the edge by the pair of pale, smooth arms. “And how do you know I was planning to commit suicide?”

“I am just like you, exiled from my clan. I saw you from a distance, and quickly came here to stop you. I know you are a Fire and Steel creature. They never travel alone, unless they are banished, and prideful creatures like those in your clan do this often—commit suicide to restore pride. You are the first one that I managed to save, however,” the voice explained, and he turned around to see a young man. He had fair skin and black hair that made his paleness even more evident. “I was seen as bad luck. What happened to you?”

“I let a companion die,” Ji Hoon sighed, sitting down on the rocky surface, and the other man smiled at him, patting his back.

“It’s okay,” the man said. “You have plenty of chances to redeem yourself. You don’t have to die to regain your pride. Believe me.”

“You, what is your name?” Ji Hoon asked. “And what type of creature are you?”

“I am Kim Jaejoong, an Ice creature,” Jaejoong said simply, still smiling at him.

“An Ice creature?” Ji Hoon asked in surprise. “When were you exiled?”

“Last year,” Jaejoong said truthfully. “Is there something wrong?”

“The Ice creatures were eliminated three months ago. Their village was destroyed by the lava that came out from the volcano during an eruption. They didn’t have the time to escape,” Ji Hoon narrated slowly, afraid of hurting the fragile young man.

Jaejoong looked at him blankly, and nodded slightly. “I see.”

“Jae—“

“It’s okay,” Jaejoong said softly, shaking his head. “I will not mourn for them. I know they will not want me to do that anyway.”

“Jae,” Ji Hoon said, and pulled the smaller man close to him. “You are so strong. Way stronger than I am. I do not deserve the title of the best fighter. You do.”

Jaejoong chuckled, and buried his face into Ji Hoon’s chest. “Do I? But I am weak. I survived this year with the help of the villagers who felt sympathy for me, for being exiled just because I have black hair. I’m not strong at all.”

“But you are,” Ji Hoon insisted, then paused. “And you are absolutely right. I do not have to kill myself to regain my pride. I have a lot of chances to redeem it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jaejoong said, nodding approvingly at him. “So I guess I’ll see you—“

“I am going to be your protector,” Ji Hoon announced suddenly, and Jaejoong widened his eyes in surprise and disbelief. “I will travel with you, and protect you from whatever that might harm you.”

“You don’t have to!” Jaejoong shook his head frantically. “Why would you want to accompany an exiled Ice creature? You might get bad luck!”

“No, this is my chance to redeem myself,” Ji Hoon said firmly. “I am exiled just like you, and I don’t care about having bad luck. Meeting you here is good luck. I believe you will be my Lady Fortune. Please, take me with you.”

“Um… I guess… if you really want to,” Jaejoong mumbled slightly.

“I will never let you die or suffer,” Ji Hoon stated. “That is my oath.”

-.-.-.-.-. end of flashback -.-.-.-.-.

They met under the most unusual conditions. The exiled saved by another exiled, but that was what made their bond so strong. They had traveled together for almost three years, staying side by side all the time.

He was about to let himself be controlled by the creepy scientist in exchange for Jaejoong’s life, when he suddenly heard the door behind him bang open.

“Ji Hoon-ah!” Jaejoong called as he rushed, and hugged him from behind, burying his face into his back. “Whatever it is that he asks you to do, don’t do it.”

A sense of déjà vu filled him, and he wanted to laugh at the coincidence. “Of course I won’t,” he said, and looked back at the four who had assumed back their human forms gratefully.

“Thank you for saving him,” Ji Hoon said as he bowed slightly at them, and turned back towards the scientist. “Now that he is here, you can’t kill him,” he said angrily. “You will pay for what you have done.”

The five immediately assumed their monster forms again, and started attacking. Junsu trapped guards inside his Shadow Ball, sending them to another dimension. Yoochun used Fissure to create a crack in the floor, make the guards fall down and trap them there as the floor connected back together. Changmin used Frenzy Plant and roots started growing from all over the place, attacking the guards. Yunho used his Fire Spin to create pillars of fire to trap and burn the guards. Ji Hoon used his Blast Burn to incinerate the guards, and Jaejoong used Blizzard to freeze them.

“Jae, why are you still in your human form?” Ji Hoon asked as he skidded to a stop beside Jaejoong, protecting him from the guards that were charging at him.

“They took my stones!” Jaejoong said in panic, his eyes looking everywhere to locate where his stones might be. Ji Hoon looked surprised, and even more angered, as stones were very precious belongings of a creature that were almost like their lives, and should never be taken away from a creature.

“Are those your stones?” Junsu asked as he floated beside Jaejoong, and pointed at the stones hung around the mad scientist’s neck curiously, looking back and forth between Jaejoong and the stones.

“Yes! They are!” Jaejoong said almost in excitement and relief, then looked in distaste at the head scientist who was wearing it as if it was his. “Now, all I have to do is retrieve them.”

“I’ll do that for you,” Junsu smiled widely as he offered, and then he disappeared from sight, reappearing behind the head scientist to unlatch the necklace in a matter of seconds, and take them back to Jaejoong. “Here you go,” he said happily as he handed the stones to him.

“What!? When did that little creature take them from me!?” the scientist panicked when he saw the stones missing, and Jaejoong wearing them around his neck again.

“You must pay for what you have done,” Jaejoong gritted his teeth in anger as he clenched his stones protectively, and both stones shone, along with his eyes that glowed menacingly.

A bright light surrounded him, and in place of him, appeared a white bird-like dragon with black eyes. It flew up high in the main office room, and roared.

“Wow, that’s cool,” Junsu commented as he looked up at the dragon in awe and excitement. Everyone stopped moving to look at it as well.

“He rarely assumes that form. It’s a combination of his Ice and Dragon parts,” Ji Hoon explained. “He usually only assumes his Ice monster form, not his Dragon monster form, or Ice and Dragon monster form. He must be really mad.”

Jaejoong flew up high again, and a ball of energy formed in front of him, ready to strike the head scientist down. However, before he had the chance to do that, a guard had approached the head scientist.

“Sir, the Ice creature has left enough gems inside the device that trapped him. Let’s go out of this place before we get skewered by them,” the guard said, and the head scientist nodded, before they escaped from the room.

Jaejoong watched them go, and flew back down, reverting back to his human form.

“Wow, that was really something,” Yunho praised as he clapped his hands, walking towards Jaejoong, Ji Hoon, and Junsu, followed by Yoochun and Changmin, and smiled charmingly at Jaejoong. “You’re even stronger than Ice creatures and Dragon creatures in general.”

Jaejoong flushed slightly—though at what, the compliment or something else, even Ji Hoon himself couldn’t be so sure, and looked down as he bit his lip. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and shot Yunho a shy smile. “Well, it was thanks to you too we were able to get here on time.”

Ji Hoon looked at Jaejoong blankly, and then a mischievous smile started to form on his face, making Jaejoong almost jump up in shock and wariness. “What? I’m perfectly fine… nothing wrong at all…”

“Uh… sure,” Jaejoong looked uncertainly at him, but then decided to let it pass, because Ji Hoon was also known to have his random moment when he saw something that he thought was cute. This time, he hoped it wasn’t him or related to him.

“By the way, Jae, why were you crying?” Ji Hoon asked in curiosity and confusion as he tugged Jaejoong’s wrist and dragged him off to a corner. “You know you have to tell me, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaejoong sighed, and looked down. “I was… trapped in a device with a seal. I couldn’t break the seal, and I was… I felt… helpless,” he inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“As long as you know that,” Ji Hoon shook his head, then patted Jaejoong’s head. He looked up when he felt a stare—or more like a glare—and wasn’t surprised when he saw who it was. “You know, Jae, I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Eh? What is it?” Jaejoong asked as his interest was piqued.

“Do you like that Yunho guy?” Ji Hoon asked straightforwardly, as he usually did.

“Eh!? What makes you think that!?” Jaejoong asked as he covered his face, which he was sure would have turned a pinkish or reddish hue by now.

“You weren’t the subtlest person on Earth, Jae,” Ji Hoon grinned, and slung an arm around his shoulder. “You were blushing when he smiled at you. I noticed.”

“Um…” Jaejoong lowered his head even more, trying to hide his blush. “Ah~ Ji Hoon-ah, don’t tease me!” he protested as he swatted Ji Hoon’s hand away from his shoulder. “And you shouldn’t poke your nose into another’s personal matters!”

“Ah, so it’s considered a personal matter now?” Ji Hoon teased, his grin getting even wider. “Don’t worry though. You’re like a lucky charm. Everyone is attracted to you.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Jaejoong looked at Ji Hoon suspiciously.

“Of course,” Ji Hoon smiled at him, and patted his head. “Let’s go then. We have to do some things.”

Jaejoong looked at Ji Hoon questioningly, then smiled in understanding. “Okay,” he nodded in agreement, and walked to join up with the other four who were watching them in interest.

Chapter Four – New Sprites

In the living room of the Sprites’ building, seven people were seated on separate couches, each staring at another. Four of them sat on a couch to the left of an armchair, one sat on the armchair, and the rest sat on a couch right to it. Silence hung over them thickly, and they were waiting for someone to break it.

Lee Soo Man stared at the six other people, and finally relented. He cleared his throat, his fist going up to cover his mouth as he did so, and glared at each of the six when they let a relieved look grace their features at that, then looked at him expectantly as they waited for him to speak.

“Well,” he started, looking up at them, “as we can see right now, we have accomplished our mission well, and the Ice creature is safe now. That was a job well done. Congratulations.”

Junsu grinned from ear-to-ear as he scratched the back of his head, trying to hide his embarrassment, while Yunho, Yoochun, and Changmin all raised an eyebrow at him.

“Um, Soo Man-shii,” Jaejoong smiled shyly as he bowed slightly, a light blush appearing across his cheeks, “you can call me just by my name. I do not want to feel like I am an almost extinct creature or something,” he added.

Ji Hoon looked at Jaejoong strangely, raising an eyebrow as well. “Uh… technically you are one, since you’re the last Ice creature, Jae,” he pointed out.

“Anyway,” Jaejoong cleared his throat, pretending he didn’t hear what Ji Hoon had just said while stomping on his food hard. “Let’s just go on with the meeting,” he added with a wide smile while Ji Hoon mourned over his foot.

“Okay…” Soo Man nodded in agreement as he looked at the six almost skeptically, wondering how they had managed to defeat the scientists. He should work on their team work if they were to continue being in a team. “Well, so we have saved Jaejoong-shii from the mad scientists, however clichéd it may sound.”

“Yes, sir,” the four saluted him and sat up straight as they faced him. Ji Hoon nodded at him and Jaejoong bowed at him slightly.

“So what are you going to do now?” Soo man asked as he looked back at Jaejoong and Ji Hoon who were sitting on his right. “Now that you two are back together—“

“We are not in a relationship, by the way,” Ji Hoon interrupted as he looked meaningfully at the four quickly, “Just in case you want to know,” he added with a wink directed at Yunho, and laughed when Jaejoong slapped his arm in embarrassment.

“So, what are you going to do?” Soo Man asked again, trying to ignore the interruption and the banter.

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” Jaejoong sighed slightly, looking at Ji Hoon and the others. “We have been traveling all over the lands with no aim, helping people if they do need our help.”

“Ah, I see,” Soo Man nodded approvingly. “That’s quite a noble intention. As expected from a Fire and Steel creature, and also an Ice creature.”

“Eh?” Jaejoong blinked in confusion at the reason, and looked at Soo Man almost blankly. “What is the connection with being an Ice creature?”

“Ice creatures love peace, and detest wars,” Soo Man said calmly, intertwining his fingers as he propped his chin up on his hands. “They only fight to defend themselves, and to save others.”

“I see,” Jaejoong nodded, and looked down as he held the Dragon Stone. “So that was why the stone was entrusted to Elder…” he mumbled as he replayed the scene in his head. The scene of a young blond-haired man giving the Dragon Stone to the elder of his clan, because he knew it would be in good hands if the Ice clan was the one holding it.

“If it wasn’t given to you, the stone would already be gone,” Soo Man remarked, staring at the yellow-orange stone in Jaejoong’s grasp. “You were born with black hair for a reason. To protect the stone, and continue your clan.”

Jaejoong laughed, and looked down at the floor sadly. “I will never be able to create another pure Ice creature,” he said as he shook his head, looking at Ji Hoon who only looked back at him regretfully. “But I have decided that I will die as the last Ice creature, and that I will keep the stone myself.”

“We won’t let you,” Junsu said firmly, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “I believe there will be enough pure Ice creatures to rebuild your clan if you don’t give up. It might not happen in the next few generations, but I am sure it will happen.”

“As a theory goes, if an Ice and Flying type breeds with an Ice and Steel type, there is a chance of the offspring being a pure Ice creature,” Junsu explained as he stood up and walked around the living room, circling them. “Of course, it won’t do to make you breed with multiple creatures, so I said it might not happen for a few generations.”

“Junsu,” Soo Man reprimanded, and he went back to sit down. “It is not polite to interfere with someone’s personal matters. It is his decision, and you don’t have any right to make him change it.”

“I’m sorry,” Junsu sighed, and bowed at both Soo Man and Jaejoong.

“No it’s okay,” Jaejoong laughed as he waved his hand dismissively at him. “I think you are right. It will do me no good even if I decide to not hand the stone over to anyone, and eliminate the Ice clan from history. I will have to wait for someone who is worthy of the stone’s power, then.”

“That’s good then!” Junsu exclaimed almost excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the mention. “Well, so you’re going to go look for someone to breed with?”

“Junsu!” Yoochun whacked him on his head. “That’s not something you should talk about!”

“Please forgive him,” Changmin said as he bowed at Jaejoong, apologizing on Junsu’s behalf. “He doesn’t think before speaking most of the time.”

“It’s okay,” Jaejoong smiled at them. “I still don’t know what I am going to do after this. I guess I could go back to my old lifestyle, going around the world in an endless journey.”

“Oh!” Junsu exclaimed excitedly as he jumped up and down, and Soo Man had to look at him sternly before he stopped. “You can join us here! We can always use an Ice creature! You can heal by touch, can’t you? I heard all Ice creatures are born with that ability.”

“Ah,” Jaejoong’s mouth formed an ‘o’, then he nodded. “Yes we are, and yes I can,” he confirmed it. “All Ice creatures have either healing abilities or healing moves. They are well-known for their healing properties, just like how the Fire and Steel creatures are famous for being the best fighters.”

Junsu nodded approvingly and grinned widely, turning towards Soo Man. “We can recruit them if they want, right?”

Soo Man looked at Junsu who was looking at him hopefully, and sighed heavily. “Yes we can. If they want to.”

“That’s nice,” Jaejoong smiled at them. “Thank you. We would love to.”

Junsu cheered and jumped up to hug Jaejoong—just because he thought Ji Hoon wasn’t really huggable—and nearly squished him. “Welcome aboard!” he greeted excitedly.

Jaejoong laughed with him, and the others only shook their heads at Junsu’s antics.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ji Hoon and Jaejoong stood in a small office room packed with files and folders. There were shelves everywhere, and information on virtually everything was stored there, including the time when and reason why the Ice clan was eliminated.

It was Soo Man’s office, and they were called there as soon as the four others retired to their own rooms to take a rest and call it a day. Of course, two of them had been given the order to show Jaejoong and Ji Hoon around, but they were allowed to rest until Soo Man was finished.

“Here,” Soo Man said as he placed two rings on the table. “These are Crescent rings. These are handed out to members of Sprites, and we are expecting one more member, because there are seven rings in total. These rings correspond to your spirit energy, and unleash a colored flame. These flames’ uses are not known yet, but I believe we will know soon.”

Jaejoong took a ring presented to him. On it was etched the symbol that meant Sky. It was a type of writing only Ice creatures knew of. He looked at Ji Hoon’s ring, and knew instantly that it was a Cloud ring.

“What is the remaining ring?” Jaejoong asked curiously. “What are the other types of rings?”

Soo Man smiled at him almost proudly. “As expected from an Ice creature,” he nodded approvingly. “The one remaining is the Mist ring. Junsu has the Fog ring, Yoochun has the Lightning ring, Changmin has the Storm ring, and Yunho has the Rain ring.”

“These rings… they represent natural occurrences, don’t they?” Jaejoong asked as he looked at the ring again. “Thank you for entrusting these to us.”

“It’s not a problem,” Soo Man shook his head. “I know for a fact that you two deserve to hold these. Do you know someone who could possibly be the holder of the last ring?”

“Hm, there’s a creature that was also exiled because she wasn’t a pure Ice type. She was part Ice and Flying. I believe she can be a perfect candidate for the Mist ring,” Ji Hoon spoke up. “I met her before I was exiled from my own clan. She’s good at fighting.”

“What is her name, then?” Soo Man asked. “Once the time comes, Sprites will be mobilized to look for her.”

“Kim Yuhan. That is her name,” Ji Hoon said simply. “You should know her, Jae.”

“She’s my little cousin,” Jaejoong said. “So she still lives. That’s a good thing.”

Soo Man nodded at them. “Very well. For now, you should take a rest. We will discuss about this later.”

Jaejoong and Ji Hoon both bowed at him. “Excuse us,” they said, and walked out of the office room.

“Kim Yuhan, eh?” Soo Man said to himself after the two had exited as he looked at the Mist ring. “You should be perfect for the Mist ring.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“This is your room,” Yunho said as he stood in front of a metal door, and turned back to look at Jaejoong. “This panel beside it is to register your fingerprint. The door will only open if it recognizes the fingerprints.”

“I see,” Jaejoong nodded and walked forward, placing his hand on the panel. The machine came alive all of a sudden, and beeped loudly, before it started the scanning process.

Once it was finished, the machine beeped once again, this time not as loud as before, and the door slid open, revealing the interior of a huge apartment-like room.

“Wow, this is my room?” Jaejoong asked in awe as he looked around the room. There were two doors, one leading to the bedroom and the other leading to the bathroom, in the center was a living room, and connected to the living room, only separated by a shelf, was the kitchen and dining room.

“Yes, it is,” Yunho nodded, and walked with Jaejoong around the room, showing him where everything was, starting from kitchen appliances to bathroom supplies.

“Thank you,” Jaejoong bowed at Yunho after the tour was finished. “Thank you for taking us in.”

“Ah…” Yunho paused. “You should thank Soo Man-shii instead. He’s the one in charge of this building.”

“I will,” Jaejoong nodded and smiled at him. “Um… I’ll see you again?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in my room if you need me,” Yunho nodded, and turned towards the door. “You know where it is.”

When the door slid open, Ji Hoon was in front, about to walk in. “Oh, hey Yunho. Do you think you can stay here tonight?” he asked casually as he grinned lazily.

“Huh?” Jaejoong frowned as he walked towards the door as well.

“I can’t stay here tonight, and Jae always has difficulties sleeping in a new place by himself,” Ji Hoon smirked slyly at Jaejoong, which quickly turned into a wide grin when he looked back at Yunho. “I was thinking of accompanying him tonight, but something came up. So, can you?”

“Um…” Yunho narrowed his eyes in confusion and suspicion.

“You don’t want him to cry himself to sleep tonight, do you?” Ji Hoon tried to look as innocent as he could, and looked back at Jaejoong. “And Jaejoong would be glad to have you here, right?”

“I can ask Junsu or—“

“No, I have already asked them, and they said they couldn’t,” Ji Hoon sighed pitifully. “I tried going to your room but there was no one there. I was just about to tell Jae the bad news when I saw you here.”

“But—"

“You still think we’re in a relationship, don’t you?” Ji Hoon looked seriously at Yunho, then sighed. “Jae found me when I was about to kill myself, alright? I have no other feeling towards him other than gratefulness, and the want to protect him from harm whenever possible. That is it. Oi, Jae, say something.”

The two turned to look at him, and Jaejoong almost gulped nervously. “He—he’s right, Yunho-shii,” he looked down at the floor. “We’re like brothers, and nothing more. Although I’m not sure why you would want to know, and why I feel the need to tell you… I… I think I like you.”

Ji Hoon smiled triumphantly and patted himself mentally on the back for a job well done. He stepped back and let the door slide close, leaving the two inside to let them work out everything.

Yunho looked surprised when the door slid close, but quickly reverted his attention back to Jaejoong. “Do you mean what you said?” he asked, slowly walking towards Jaejoong. “Because when you’re feeling thankful to someone, it is very easy to mistake the feeling. It happened once, and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Yunho-shii,” Jaejoong said softly, holding onto his hand. “I am an Ice creature. We are born emotionless, and we are the best at masking what we feel. I know what I feel when I feel it.”

Yunho looked at him and smiled. “I seemed to have forgotten that fact,” he said, leaning down slowly. “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“Why should I?” Jaejoong smiled back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Being cautious is never wrong. Being overly suspicious is wrong.”

Yunho chuckled and mumbled a small thank you. “You know,” he said as he stared down at Jaejoong’s big doe eyes. “I think I like you too.”

Then their lips met in a kiss.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Ji Hoon-shii? Do you know where Yunho is?” Soo Man asked when he walked past him in the corridor. “I can’t seem to repair your door in such a short amount of time. Maybe he can help.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry,” Ji Hoon shook his head and smiled casually. “I will be staying over at his room tonight. I’ve asked him and he’s okay with it.”

Soo Man raised an eyebrow at him, but then nodded. “Well then, if he has said so, you may do so. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Soo Man walked away to his own room. Ji Hoon threw one last look at the door of Jaejoong’s room, before he walked off happily to Yunho’s room.

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