the best mistakes
ft_lovesick crossover contest entry
yoochun/jonghoon
fluff
g
2699 words
It’d all been a mistake, of course, Honggi and all his far flung connections be dammed to hell. A mistake that Jonghoon had agreed to “chaperone” (“Cockblock,” Minhwan had said in a loud whisper to Jaejin and Jonghoon managed to cuff him upside of the head before heading out) for the night, a mistake that he had even considered willingly going anywhere within a one mile radius of the wild haired boyman explosion that was Kim Heechul.
“Dongsaeng! We started the party without you!”
The door to the nondescript seventeenth floor apartment swings open with a drunken sort of force, Honggi sidestepping it in time with an easy laugh that masks the fact that Heechul, with all the consideration of a lawn mower towards daisies, had narrowly missed making the door and Honggi’s face very good acquaintances. Jonghoon doesn’t think this is a good idea at all.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You don’t think,” Honggi says cheerfully, “And it’s Christmas eve, you shouldn’t anyways.”
There appears to be some sort of….gathering (orgy. rave. sober people anonymous meeting, suggests Jonghoon’s common sense with a helpful air) going on inside, various people from various bands doing various things that wouldn’t be half legal in various places. Honggi is smiling wide enough to split his face in half, leaving Jonghoon quite lost at the receiving area with a drink in his hand. He sips at it and the alcohol tastes slightly comforting, slipping bitter down his throat.
“New?”
“Uhm.”
Kim Jaejoong, dongbangshinki member, quite possibly piss drunk out of his mind, comments his common sense and Jonghoon barely has time to extend his hand before Jaejoong grabs it, pushes another drink into Jonghoon’s free hand with a loopy grin.
“Wonderful! I love new coat stands!”
He totters away laughing and quite, quite shirtless, white button down deposited over Jonghoon’s head. Somewhere beyond the curtain of previously Jaejoong-owned cotton, Jonghoon can see vague shapes starting to do things that should remain vague. It feels like a good idea to keep the shirt, at least for now.
“Nice impersonation you’re doing there. Drink holder?”
“Coat stand,” says Jonghoon a bit forlornly and there’s a laugh, blissfully steady hands tugging the shirt off Jonghoon and handing it to him for safekeeping (“God knows where I’ll be in the morning, you’d better take it”). It leaves static in his hair, strands sticking up that make the stranger laugh even harder.
“Jonghoon, amirite? Jaejoong only embarrasses himself in front of people he has good first impressions of, forgive the man.”
“…ah.”
It’s another mistake, following a certain Park Yoochun out onto the balcony in the bitter cold, clutching Kim Jaejoong’s discarded shirt in one hand and the former holding his other.
“Because they steal young virgins away here, for their pagan sacrifices,” explains Yoochun and leads them through people dancing in the hallway, Honggi spotting them from across the room. He waves wildly, yells “Use protection!” at the top of his voice in their general direction. Jonghoon pretends not to know him.
They reach the balcony in one piece, albeit the fact that Jonghoon has now somehow gained a top hat and Yoochun, a pink feather boa. Out here, the sharp sting of cold night air is oddly comforting, a welcome change from the heated, alcohol infused daze of the apartment. Jonghoon sits opposite Yoochun who has to draw everlong legs away to make space, one end of his feather boa dangling precariously out over a seventeen storey drop.
“I think I should warn you, I’m quite drunk,” he says with an offbeat sort of solemnity. “Mind if I smoke?”
Jonghoon shakes his head, unsure if it’s because it’s from his unbelief or nonchalance. A cigarette is lit. Yoochun exhales.
“So. Honggi’s fault, right? You don’t look like the kind-…”
“To spend Christmas eve out on the balcony of someone’s apartment with a complete stranger who’s drunk?”
“Precisely. And for the record, I don’t think we’re strangers.” Yoochun tilts his head at him, wraps the boa tighter around him for warmth. “Are we?”
The novelty of the cold is starting to wear off, late December chill setting into their bones and Jonghoon decides to make use of Jaejoong’s shirt, shrugging it over his shoulder, shawl-like.
“Given the fact that I have your band member’s shirt and am currently using it as a warm thing…”
“So that’s a no then.” The other man looks genuinely pleased and Jonghoon is starting to wonder how drunk he actually is, clear eyes and steady hands not exactly something to trust too much on a night that has five Super Junior members playing strip poker one wall away.
Smoke drifts lazy into the air and Jonghoon fumbles with his top hat, turning it round in his hands. The awkwardness comes a little too naturally for his liking at times like this but Yoochun doesn’t seem to mind, chain smoking and getting their legs tangled together when he tries to stand.
“Fireworks,” he explains calmly and Jonghoon takes the hand offered to him, the other man pulling him up with a lazy ease that comes from being out too long in the cold with too many vices happening at once. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
Jonghoon is sure the following is a mistake too but replaying it over and over again later, it doesn’t…really…(you’re crazy, reminds an all too familiar voice)
Under the shower of falling faux flames, Yoochun kisses him, sloppy and tasting like ash, alcohol, all tongue and teeth knocking together. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before and…
And it feels utterly amazing.
“Um,” says Jonghoon afterwards and Yoochun pulls him back down to sit, show over. It’s 12:04am on Christmas Day and he’s sitting on the balcony with Park Yoochun, Kim Jaejoong’s shirt draped around his shoulders for warmth and Park Yoochun has just kissed him. Merry Christmas to you too.
“I think I should be sorry but I’m far too drunk,” explains Yoochun. “Maybe in the morning.”
“Okay,” is all Jonghoon can manage out, not really in a position to disagree and somewhere beyond the wall at his back, Hankyung is cursing something awful in Chinese, having lost the game and his underwear.
-
The next morning, Honggi is in bed till noon with the grandmother of all hang overs thumping around in his cranium. Jonghoon thinks it’s a bit un-bandleader-ish to feel a childish sort of glee at his fellow member’s suffering but given the fact he had to explain to Seunghyun why he had woken up this morning clutching another man’s shirt, it’s quite justifiable.
“Are you going to return it?”
“What?”
“Shirt. Return.” Seunghyun has that patient, I-can’t-believe-I-deal-with-this-every-day look about him. “Unless, y’know. Sentimental reasons or something. It’s an Armani.”
“I don’t have sentimental feelings towards items of clothing.” Jonghoon fingers the material thoughtfully. “Not even Armani.” You liar, hisses his sub consciousness.
(Last night, Yoochun’s feather boa had failed him around 12:10am, Jonghoon helpfully suggesting that they go inside.
“Or we can share that warm thing,” Yoochun countered with all the wisdom of a person under the influence of alcohol.
They had shared the warm thing.)
“Hyung?”
Jonghoon quickly drops the shirt, still smelling like an odd mixture of Jaejoong and Yoochun, cologne and forbidden things.
“I don’t have sentimental reasons,” he snaps and Minhwan raises an eyebrow from his post at the doorway.
“Ohkaaay. But you still haven’t told me what’s for lunch.”
“…we’re going out. But I need to do the laundry first.”
-
After lunch at a discreet little back alley place, Jonghoon leaves it to Jaejin to get the rest of the group back home in one piece. “No detours, no stops, no letting Honggi out of your sight, no more than three ice creams for Minhwan,” he reminds for the nth time and Jaejin barely looks up from his battered copy of Obama’s biography, waves him away.
“Go do your super secret duty already.”
Honggi is asleep and half drooling on the table.
“And no word of this to anyone,” Jonghoon finishes in a low voice before taking off, guided by nothing but a crumpled Naver printout and a strange, not too bad feeling he can’t really unravel yet.
-
Dongbangshinki sunbaenims live in an area not too much different from his own, albeit a little more upscale and a little classier. No one he meets on the way up even casts him a second look, already far too used to having pretty boys riding the elevators with them. “Merry Christmas,” he says politely to a passing ahjumma.
Ringing the doorbell, Jonghoon wants the voice in his head to just shut up for a moment, constant one sided bickering not doing any good to help his fraying nerves.
(this is a mistake and you know it, it’s just a shirt, you don’t even want to see Jaejoong for god’s sake, he can afford to lose a shirt. But it’s Armani. But it’s Kim
Jaejoong. He can afford five thousand and still have enough cash left over to buy a car. But. But. But you’re just insane. Yoochun. Oh shit.)
The door opens with more grace than the night before, swinging outwards with the calculated hesitance that comes with being mobbed by fangirls even when buying an umbrella from the convenience store down the road.
“Shirt,” blathers Jonghoon with reckless abandon. “Jaejoong’s, return. I had it last night, I swear it’s not what it looks like and I washed it? Is Yoochun here? And I ironed it but it’s not too neat. Sorry. Oh and Merry Christmas.”
It’s a depressing onslaught of word vomit and (Junsu, the one who’s milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, contributes his brain unhelpfully, going with the word vomit theme) Junsu stares at him for a moment before breaking into a smile that makes Jonghoon smile back nervously.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Uh.”
“Yoochun?” reminds Junsu and Jonghoon steps into a stranger’s apartment not really knowing why he’s there to begin with for the second time in as many days.
-
“We’ve got ourselves a new Christmas present~” Junsu sings to announce his arrival and Jonghoon finds himself shepherded into the living room where 3/5 of dongbangshinki is sprawled, watching what appears to be Christmas specials on the TV. There’s a skimpily clad girl doing something to a candy cane and Changmin quickly switches channels, sheepish.
“Coat stand!” Jaejoong greets him happily from the couch and Yunho casts an apologetic “Merry Christmas, I’m sorry about our resident village idiot,” look at him. Jonghoon hands him the shirt with a soft “It’s not too neat,”.
“s’okay, dongsaeng-ah; that’s some good ironing you’ve done. Yoochun’s over in the kitchen, nursing a hang over the size of Texas. Which is pretty damn big.”
“Oh then I’ll just get-…”
“Going to the kitchen,” finishes Junsu and Jonghoon has this sinking feeling that Yoochun doesn’t keep secrets too well when he’s drunk. Not that any of it was a secret to begin with but-
“Jonghoon!”
“Hi.”
Yoochun pours him a warm cup of tea (“Nasty stuff but there’s all there is to drink, we finished everything worth finishing last night. Sorry. Sugar?”) and sits him down in the chair next to him, elbows bumping when he sits as well.
“So, you came to find out if I’m sorry?”
“…excuse me?”
“For last night,” Yoochun says in a conversational tone before pausing thoughtfully, getting up. There’s the sound of rushed scuffling and helpless giggles from the direction of the living room.
“Excuse me for a moment, I need to go make sure none of my band members can ever procreate again. There’s edible, nibbly stuff in the fridge, I won’t be more than a minute.”
Yoochun leaves Jonghoon at the table with a smile and through the slowly dawning, flabbergasted realization that he’s sitting at Park Yoochun’s kitchen table on Christmas day, Jonghoon can hear muffled “Yah!”s from the living room, punctuated by “Fucking eavesdropping bastards!” and “Get laid already, Park!”.
He’s sitting at Park Yoochun’s kitchen table on Christmas day and outside, dongbangshinki is getting murdered. Jonghoon sips his nasty tasting tea and waits for Yoochun to get back to continue this madness.
-
Later, the both of them ushered out by a devious looking Yunho and Jaejoong, Yoochun picks up the threads of their half conversation. Somehow gets Jonghoon to hold on to his arm when they cross a slippery patch of frost on the sidewalk.
“About last night.”
“Ah…”
Jonghoon exhales and his breath chills in the air, translucent for a moment. Yoochun is studying something interesting about his shoes, sidewalk.
“About last night. Well technically it’s already afternoon but for the record, I don’t think I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
Yoochun sighs.
“Fond of few words, aren’t you?”
“Coat stands tend to be,” Jonghoon says and Yoochun laughs, even though it’s not funny in the slightest. The knot in Jonghoon’s heart unravels a little.
“We’re having something in a few days. On the account that we’ve taken to the tradition of celebrating yet another year of no sleep, full schedules and too little time and all that. We’re missing a coat hanger. You know of any? Bring five if you can.”
Jonghoon can feel himself twitch involuntarily at the thought of a repetition of last night, an odd mixture of horror and warm, fluttering excitement.
“I’ll try to keep Jaejoong clothed,” Yoochun says hopefully.
“What time?”
-
“We’re what?”
“Oh oh oh dongbangshinki sunbaenims are so awesome!”
“Urghh.”
“Go back to bed, Honggi.”
“Mmgph.”
“DONG BANG SHIN KI!!”
“Jaejin I told you not to give Minhwan more than three ice creams.”
“Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“KSADJNKJ DONG BANG SHIN KI~”
-
New Years Eve. Seunghyun, Yunho, Minhwan and Junsu are playing Mario Kart on someone’s Wii, Changmin talking world politics with Jaejin in some lone corner. Honggi learning the art of drink mixing from Jaejoong who insists on taste testing every single one, Honggi not objecting in the slightest.
“You play?”
Yoochun has pulled the both of them into his shared workroom, Jonghoon currently seated on Yunho’s swirly chair watching Yoochun pick up an acoustic guitar from its usually neglected stand.
“Not as good as you of course.”
Jonghoon blushes a shade of pink and settles the acoustic on his lap, runs through a fast tuning check. The threads in his heart are on the verge of strangling him now, twining slow around arteries and vessels. It’s too warm in the room for it to feel like winter.
“Teach me something.”
“Now?”
“Preferably.”
Yoochun accepts the guitar back from Jonghoon and lets the later form the chord for him, moving fingers, pressing notes into place. A G variation that Yoochun can’t name, Jonghoon telling him softly to hold it as he plucks music out of the air.
“And then?”
“Like this.”
Jonghoon is biting on his lower lip as he rearranges Yoochun’s fingers, hand lingering a little too long but Yoochun doesn’t mind, even considers fumbling to have it done all over again, slower.
“What if I’m not drunk and I’m quite sure I won’t be sorry in the morning,” Jonghoon says all of a sudden in the middle of a D7 chord and Yoochun presses the pads of his fingers deeper into the strings, knee jerk reaction that gives the melody he’s been aimlessly playing a suddenly fuller sound.
“That sounds so much better, by the way,” Jonghoon continues on, well aware that he’s not too subtle in the fine art of subject changing. Yoochun doesn’t seem to mind because he bends over and kisses Jonghoon on the cheek, the other man frozen for a moment before relaxing, last notes of a still untitled song hanging in the
air.
“Then go ahead, by all means.”
It takes a while but Jonghoon strays from chords, major and minor to songs and lingering touches and possibly something else. A mistake, perhaps, but that’s what falling in love is all about.
[fin]
A/N- Uhm. Yeahh. Dies so I forgot to crosspost this till today .___. fail, utter fail. First FTI fic? :D Huge huge thank you to
oldwillow_brook and takeshikei for beta-ing! Voting is open over ft_lovesick :D
yoochun/jonghoon
fluff
g
2699 words
It’d all been a mistake, of course, Honggi and all his far flung connections be dammed to hell. A mistake that Jonghoon had agreed to “chaperone” (“Cockblock,” Minhwan had said in a loud whisper to Jaejin and Jonghoon managed to cuff him upside of the head before heading out) for the night, a mistake that he had even considered willingly going anywhere within a one mile radius of the wild haired boyman explosion that was Kim Heechul.
“Dongsaeng! We started the party without you!”
The door to the nondescript seventeenth floor apartment swings open with a drunken sort of force, Honggi sidestepping it in time with an easy laugh that masks the fact that Heechul, with all the consideration of a lawn mower towards daisies, had narrowly missed making the door and Honggi’s face very good acquaintances. Jonghoon doesn’t think this is a good idea at all.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You don’t think,” Honggi says cheerfully, “And it’s Christmas eve, you shouldn’t anyways.”
There appears to be some sort of….gathering (orgy. rave. sober people anonymous meeting, suggests Jonghoon’s common sense with a helpful air) going on inside, various people from various bands doing various things that wouldn’t be half legal in various places. Honggi is smiling wide enough to split his face in half, leaving Jonghoon quite lost at the receiving area with a drink in his hand. He sips at it and the alcohol tastes slightly comforting, slipping bitter down his throat.
“New?”
“Uhm.”
Kim Jaejoong, dongbangshinki member, quite possibly piss drunk out of his mind, comments his common sense and Jonghoon barely has time to extend his hand before Jaejoong grabs it, pushes another drink into Jonghoon’s free hand with a loopy grin.
“Wonderful! I love new coat stands!”
He totters away laughing and quite, quite shirtless, white button down deposited over Jonghoon’s head. Somewhere beyond the curtain of previously Jaejoong-owned cotton, Jonghoon can see vague shapes starting to do things that should remain vague. It feels like a good idea to keep the shirt, at least for now.
“Nice impersonation you’re doing there. Drink holder?”
“Coat stand,” says Jonghoon a bit forlornly and there’s a laugh, blissfully steady hands tugging the shirt off Jonghoon and handing it to him for safekeeping (“God knows where I’ll be in the morning, you’d better take it”). It leaves static in his hair, strands sticking up that make the stranger laugh even harder.
“Jonghoon, amirite? Jaejoong only embarrasses himself in front of people he has good first impressions of, forgive the man.”
“…ah.”
It’s another mistake, following a certain Park Yoochun out onto the balcony in the bitter cold, clutching Kim Jaejoong’s discarded shirt in one hand and the former holding his other.
“Because they steal young virgins away here, for their pagan sacrifices,” explains Yoochun and leads them through people dancing in the hallway, Honggi spotting them from across the room. He waves wildly, yells “Use protection!” at the top of his voice in their general direction. Jonghoon pretends not to know him.
They reach the balcony in one piece, albeit the fact that Jonghoon has now somehow gained a top hat and Yoochun, a pink feather boa. Out here, the sharp sting of cold night air is oddly comforting, a welcome change from the heated, alcohol infused daze of the apartment. Jonghoon sits opposite Yoochun who has to draw everlong legs away to make space, one end of his feather boa dangling precariously out over a seventeen storey drop.
“I think I should warn you, I’m quite drunk,” he says with an offbeat sort of solemnity. “Mind if I smoke?”
Jonghoon shakes his head, unsure if it’s because it’s from his unbelief or nonchalance. A cigarette is lit. Yoochun exhales.
“So. Honggi’s fault, right? You don’t look like the kind-…”
“To spend Christmas eve out on the balcony of someone’s apartment with a complete stranger who’s drunk?”
“Precisely. And for the record, I don’t think we’re strangers.” Yoochun tilts his head at him, wraps the boa tighter around him for warmth. “Are we?”
The novelty of the cold is starting to wear off, late December chill setting into their bones and Jonghoon decides to make use of Jaejoong’s shirt, shrugging it over his shoulder, shawl-like.
“Given the fact that I have your band member’s shirt and am currently using it as a warm thing…”
“So that’s a no then.” The other man looks genuinely pleased and Jonghoon is starting to wonder how drunk he actually is, clear eyes and steady hands not exactly something to trust too much on a night that has five Super Junior members playing strip poker one wall away.
Smoke drifts lazy into the air and Jonghoon fumbles with his top hat, turning it round in his hands. The awkwardness comes a little too naturally for his liking at times like this but Yoochun doesn’t seem to mind, chain smoking and getting their legs tangled together when he tries to stand.
“Fireworks,” he explains calmly and Jonghoon takes the hand offered to him, the other man pulling him up with a lazy ease that comes from being out too long in the cold with too many vices happening at once. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
Jonghoon is sure the following is a mistake too but replaying it over and over again later, it doesn’t…really…(you’re crazy, reminds an all too familiar voice)
Under the shower of falling faux flames, Yoochun kisses him, sloppy and tasting like ash, alcohol, all tongue and teeth knocking together. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before and…
And it feels utterly amazing.
“Um,” says Jonghoon afterwards and Yoochun pulls him back down to sit, show over. It’s 12:04am on Christmas Day and he’s sitting on the balcony with Park Yoochun, Kim Jaejoong’s shirt draped around his shoulders for warmth and Park Yoochun has just kissed him. Merry Christmas to you too.
“I think I should be sorry but I’m far too drunk,” explains Yoochun. “Maybe in the morning.”
“Okay,” is all Jonghoon can manage out, not really in a position to disagree and somewhere beyond the wall at his back, Hankyung is cursing something awful in Chinese, having lost the game and his underwear.
-
The next morning, Honggi is in bed till noon with the grandmother of all hang overs thumping around in his cranium. Jonghoon thinks it’s a bit un-bandleader-ish to feel a childish sort of glee at his fellow member’s suffering but given the fact he had to explain to Seunghyun why he had woken up this morning clutching another man’s shirt, it’s quite justifiable.
“Are you going to return it?”
“What?”
“Shirt. Return.” Seunghyun has that patient, I-can’t-believe-I-deal-with-this-every-day look about him. “Unless, y’know. Sentimental reasons or something. It’s an Armani.”
“I don’t have sentimental feelings towards items of clothing.” Jonghoon fingers the material thoughtfully. “Not even Armani.” You liar, hisses his sub consciousness.
(Last night, Yoochun’s feather boa had failed him around 12:10am, Jonghoon helpfully suggesting that they go inside.
“Or we can share that warm thing,” Yoochun countered with all the wisdom of a person under the influence of alcohol.
They had shared the warm thing.)
“Hyung?”
Jonghoon quickly drops the shirt, still smelling like an odd mixture of Jaejoong and Yoochun, cologne and forbidden things.
“I don’t have sentimental reasons,” he snaps and Minhwan raises an eyebrow from his post at the doorway.
“Ohkaaay. But you still haven’t told me what’s for lunch.”
“…we’re going out. But I need to do the laundry first.”
-
After lunch at a discreet little back alley place, Jonghoon leaves it to Jaejin to get the rest of the group back home in one piece. “No detours, no stops, no letting Honggi out of your sight, no more than three ice creams for Minhwan,” he reminds for the nth time and Jaejin barely looks up from his battered copy of Obama’s biography, waves him away.
“Go do your super secret duty already.”
Honggi is asleep and half drooling on the table.
“And no word of this to anyone,” Jonghoon finishes in a low voice before taking off, guided by nothing but a crumpled Naver printout and a strange, not too bad feeling he can’t really unravel yet.
-
Dongbangshinki sunbaenims live in an area not too much different from his own, albeit a little more upscale and a little classier. No one he meets on the way up even casts him a second look, already far too used to having pretty boys riding the elevators with them. “Merry Christmas,” he says politely to a passing ahjumma.
Ringing the doorbell, Jonghoon wants the voice in his head to just shut up for a moment, constant one sided bickering not doing any good to help his fraying nerves.
(this is a mistake and you know it, it’s just a shirt, you don’t even want to see Jaejoong for god’s sake, he can afford to lose a shirt. But it’s Armani. But it’s Kim
Jaejoong. He can afford five thousand and still have enough cash left over to buy a car. But. But. But you’re just insane. Yoochun. Oh shit.)
The door opens with more grace than the night before, swinging outwards with the calculated hesitance that comes with being mobbed by fangirls even when buying an umbrella from the convenience store down the road.
“Shirt,” blathers Jonghoon with reckless abandon. “Jaejoong’s, return. I had it last night, I swear it’s not what it looks like and I washed it? Is Yoochun here? And I ironed it but it’s not too neat. Sorry. Oh and Merry Christmas.”
It’s a depressing onslaught of word vomit and (Junsu, the one who’s milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, contributes his brain unhelpfully, going with the word vomit theme) Junsu stares at him for a moment before breaking into a smile that makes Jonghoon smile back nervously.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Uh.”
“Yoochun?” reminds Junsu and Jonghoon steps into a stranger’s apartment not really knowing why he’s there to begin with for the second time in as many days.
-
“We’ve got ourselves a new Christmas present~” Junsu sings to announce his arrival and Jonghoon finds himself shepherded into the living room where 3/5 of dongbangshinki is sprawled, watching what appears to be Christmas specials on the TV. There’s a skimpily clad girl doing something to a candy cane and Changmin quickly switches channels, sheepish.
“Coat stand!” Jaejoong greets him happily from the couch and Yunho casts an apologetic “Merry Christmas, I’m sorry about our resident village idiot,” look at him. Jonghoon hands him the shirt with a soft “It’s not too neat,”.
“s’okay, dongsaeng-ah; that’s some good ironing you’ve done. Yoochun’s over in the kitchen, nursing a hang over the size of Texas. Which is pretty damn big.”
“Oh then I’ll just get-…”
“Going to the kitchen,” finishes Junsu and Jonghoon has this sinking feeling that Yoochun doesn’t keep secrets too well when he’s drunk. Not that any of it was a secret to begin with but-
“Jonghoon!”
“Hi.”
Yoochun pours him a warm cup of tea (“Nasty stuff but there’s all there is to drink, we finished everything worth finishing last night. Sorry. Sugar?”) and sits him down in the chair next to him, elbows bumping when he sits as well.
“So, you came to find out if I’m sorry?”
“…excuse me?”
“For last night,” Yoochun says in a conversational tone before pausing thoughtfully, getting up. There’s the sound of rushed scuffling and helpless giggles from the direction of the living room.
“Excuse me for a moment, I need to go make sure none of my band members can ever procreate again. There’s edible, nibbly stuff in the fridge, I won’t be more than a minute.”
Yoochun leaves Jonghoon at the table with a smile and through the slowly dawning, flabbergasted realization that he’s sitting at Park Yoochun’s kitchen table on Christmas day, Jonghoon can hear muffled “Yah!”s from the living room, punctuated by “Fucking eavesdropping bastards!” and “Get laid already, Park!”.
He’s sitting at Park Yoochun’s kitchen table on Christmas day and outside, dongbangshinki is getting murdered. Jonghoon sips his nasty tasting tea and waits for Yoochun to get back to continue this madness.
-
Later, the both of them ushered out by a devious looking Yunho and Jaejoong, Yoochun picks up the threads of their half conversation. Somehow gets Jonghoon to hold on to his arm when they cross a slippery patch of frost on the sidewalk.
“About last night.”
“Ah…”
Jonghoon exhales and his breath chills in the air, translucent for a moment. Yoochun is studying something interesting about his shoes, sidewalk.
“About last night. Well technically it’s already afternoon but for the record, I don’t think I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
Yoochun sighs.
“Fond of few words, aren’t you?”
“Coat stands tend to be,” Jonghoon says and Yoochun laughs, even though it’s not funny in the slightest. The knot in Jonghoon’s heart unravels a little.
“We’re having something in a few days. On the account that we’ve taken to the tradition of celebrating yet another year of no sleep, full schedules and too little time and all that. We’re missing a coat hanger. You know of any? Bring five if you can.”
Jonghoon can feel himself twitch involuntarily at the thought of a repetition of last night, an odd mixture of horror and warm, fluttering excitement.
“I’ll try to keep Jaejoong clothed,” Yoochun says hopefully.
“What time?”
-
“We’re what?”
“Oh oh oh dongbangshinki sunbaenims are so awesome!”
“Urghh.”
“Go back to bed, Honggi.”
“Mmgph.”
“DONG BANG SHIN KI!!”
“Jaejin I told you not to give Minhwan more than three ice creams.”
“Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“KSADJNKJ DONG BANG SHIN KI~”
-
New Years Eve. Seunghyun, Yunho, Minhwan and Junsu are playing Mario Kart on someone’s Wii, Changmin talking world politics with Jaejin in some lone corner. Honggi learning the art of drink mixing from Jaejoong who insists on taste testing every single one, Honggi not objecting in the slightest.
“You play?”
Yoochun has pulled the both of them into his shared workroom, Jonghoon currently seated on Yunho’s swirly chair watching Yoochun pick up an acoustic guitar from its usually neglected stand.
“Not as good as you of course.”
Jonghoon blushes a shade of pink and settles the acoustic on his lap, runs through a fast tuning check. The threads in his heart are on the verge of strangling him now, twining slow around arteries and vessels. It’s too warm in the room for it to feel like winter.
“Teach me something.”
“Now?”
“Preferably.”
Yoochun accepts the guitar back from Jonghoon and lets the later form the chord for him, moving fingers, pressing notes into place. A G variation that Yoochun can’t name, Jonghoon telling him softly to hold it as he plucks music out of the air.
“And then?”
“Like this.”
Jonghoon is biting on his lower lip as he rearranges Yoochun’s fingers, hand lingering a little too long but Yoochun doesn’t mind, even considers fumbling to have it done all over again, slower.
“What if I’m not drunk and I’m quite sure I won’t be sorry in the morning,” Jonghoon says all of a sudden in the middle of a D7 chord and Yoochun presses the pads of his fingers deeper into the strings, knee jerk reaction that gives the melody he’s been aimlessly playing a suddenly fuller sound.
“That sounds so much better, by the way,” Jonghoon continues on, well aware that he’s not too subtle in the fine art of subject changing. Yoochun doesn’t seem to mind because he bends over and kisses Jonghoon on the cheek, the other man frozen for a moment before relaxing, last notes of a still untitled song hanging in the
air.
“Then go ahead, by all means.”
It takes a while but Jonghoon strays from chords, major and minor to songs and lingering touches and possibly something else. A mistake, perhaps, but that’s what falling in love is all about.
[fin]
A/N- Uhm. Yeahh. Dies so I forgot to crosspost this till today .___. fail, utter fail. First FTI fic? :D Huge huge thank you to
oldwillow_brook and takeshikei for beta-ing! Voting is open over ft_lovesick :D