Wind
Title: Wind
Pairing: Yunho/Jaejoong
Rating: PG (I know. Crazy huh?)
Disclaimer: They are not mine even in the deepest reaches of my soul.
Summary: Jaejoong meets the Wind.
A/N: Don't know where this came from. This fic is NOT based on the lyrics to this song, just the music and Jaejoong's voice.
He remembers the first time he felt the Wind blow.
---
Jaejoong stood at the edge of the meadow, watching the swaths of long, thick grass blow in patterns under the Wind’s power. He stepped into the Wind, hair billowing behind him, and walked into the middle of the grass. The tops tickled his chin. He held out his arm, bending towards the Wind, eyes shut. Lips open.
The Wind stopped.
“Who are you?”
Jaejoong frowned and turned around. A boy stood behind him, one that was older than him, taller, too. He had spiky brown hair that was tossed about, but still standing up. Like it had been styled before the Wind caught it. The boy ran his hands over the tops of the grass, smiling as they curled away from him.
“I’m Jaejoong. Who are you?” He smiled.
The boy frowned. “I am the Wind.”
Jaejoong laughed. “What a thing to say. How can you be the Wind?”
“I am,” the boy said and stepped forward again.
A gust of Wind smacked into Jaejoong. He smiled and shut his eyes. It was warm and smelled of nutmeg and allspice. “I like the Wind,” Jaejoong whispered.
The breeze faltered. “You do?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
When the older boy did not answer, Jaejoong opened his eyes. He was still frowning, his lower lip protruding so far into a pout that it made Jaejoong smile again. The boy was really cute. Jaejoong wanted to hug him.
“You can’t like me. You don’t know me.”
Jaejoong smiled again. “What’s your name?”
“I told you. I am the Wind, and I like shaking the petals off flowers.”
“That isn’t very nice.”
“I like to see them flutter to the ground. It’s pretty.”
“Wait until Autumn and shake the leaves from the trees. That’s pretty, too.”
The boy opened his mouth to reply, but Jaejoong’s name was shouted across the meadow and he spun around, spotting one of his older sisters waving at him and telling him to come home. His hair blew in his face, and Jaejoong spun around to say goodbye to the boy. But he was gone.
Wind swirled around him, and for a moment Jaejoong felt like a pair of arms encircled him tightly.
---
Jaejoong feels the Wind often, and now recognizes it based on the smell of nutmeg and allspice that blows across his face. Followed by the arms that wrap around his waist.
---
“Oh, it’s you again,” the boy said as he landed lightly on the roof.
Jaejoong turned around, gaping because he hadn’t seen the boy for years and thought he was only something he made up when he was six years old and because the boy had just landed on the roof, in front of him, sort of like he jumped.
“How ... how did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“The roof is high. How did you get up here?”
“I am the Wind.”
And Jaejoong noticed that the powerful Wind that had been blowing only moments before was gone. Rain painted his cheeks in shimmering drops. They did not land on the boy.
Teenager now, Jaejoong thought, head tilted as he examined the lanky arms and legs, the still wild but longer spiky hair. He wore gray clothes that looked like the blue dye had faded from them a long time ago. They reminded him of storm clouds along the skyline.
Lightning flashed around him, followed closely by thunder. The rain fell in thicker drops.
“You should go inside,” the boy said. “It isn’t safe.”
Jaejoong nodded at another crack of thunder. He stood up, balancing carefully on the slick shingles. He turned to tell the boy to come with him. Lightning blinded him. His foot slipped. His arms flailed. And he fell. The boy swirled out of Jaejoong’s vision and everything toppled around. Arms wrapped around him and he slowed, just enough, landing on the wet dirt, hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
“Jaejoong!” his sister shouted. “Oh my god, Jaejoong, we heard you scream. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?”
Jaejoong turned to face the ring of worried faces. A soft breeze caressed his cheek and he smiled. “I’m fine. The Wind saved me.”
---
His mother and sisters called it a miracle. He has stopped saying it was the Wind. They do not believe as he does. It is difficult to find anyone who believes.
---
Jaejoong dangled his feet from the perch on his tree branch that arched over the creek. The Wind blew and leaves scattered and skittered over the top of the water. If Jaejoong looked closely, he could see the boy running behind the leaves, his feet splashing and twisting up footprints in the water.
Sometimes he heard the boy laugh.
But again it was years until Jaejoong saw him properly again.
And in the meadow. It was the only place Jaejoong felt at peace. He ran from his father’s wrath and his mother’s expectations and his sister’s judgement.
Jaejoong was sixteen, prettier than his sisters, softer, calmer. His parents had a girl ready to marry him within the next two years. But Jaejoong thought her soul was ugly; she thought only of her looks, her clothes, her hair. She laughed when he spoke of the Wind. She laughed when he spoke of music and poetry and dancing. Those are the pastimes of a woman. You must not do such things after we are married.
Jaejoong went to the middle of the meadow and lay on his back, watching the grass blow in the Wind and paint green lines upon the blue sky. Clouds billowed and moved across the sky. Jaejoong watched and smiled.
Nutmeg filtered through the Wind. Jaejoong inhaled deeply eyes shut and the Wind stopped.
Jaejoong was not surprised when the boy who was more of a man now sat beside him in the grass. He ran his fingers through the strands and then shivered.
Jaejoong wondered if he would shiver too if the Wind touched him.
“Hi,” Jaejoong said finally.
The man smiled down at him. He was still so very handsome, grown into his height with longer hair pulled back in a tie, but still a mess. And Jaejoong gave in, sat up and reached for him. The man pulled back, but not quickly enough and Jaejoong pulled the leather band from his hair. He ran his fingers through the soft hair, surprised when they moved freely without snagging on tangles.
He shut his eyes and shivered.
“What is your name?” Jaejoong whispered. “I only call you the Wind in my mind.”
“I am the Wind.”
Jaejoong frowned, tugging on his hair harshly. He did not realize that he had practically climbed into the other’s lap to continue brushing his hair.
“That is not a name,” Jaejoong said.
“It is who I am.”
“It is only what defines you.”
“And what defines you, Jaejoong?”
Jaejoong smiled. “Music.”
He swallowed deeply. “Yunho. My ... my name is Yunho.”
Jaejoong’s smile widened and he leaned forward and breathed the name just shy of Yunho’s lips.
“Thank you for saving me, Yunho,” Jaejoong whispered.
Yunho swallowed again. “I am not allowed ... I was punished for that.”
Jaejoong frowned. “Then you should have let me fall.”
“You would have died.”
“It was my own fault for escaping to a place to feel the Wind and Rain upon my face. Do you know the Rain?”
Yunho nodded. “Of course, I know the Rain.”
Jaejoong smiled and, finally satisfied with the wildness of Yunho’s hair, he replaced the leather tie. He brushed his fingers over Yunho’s cheek and then sighed. Falling back, he kept only his legs touching Yunho’s twisted up and around his knees. He stared at the moving clouds.
“Why are you with me and yet the clouds still move?”
“I am not yet strong enough to carry the clouds. One day.”
Jaejoong frowned. “Is that your destiny?”
“Yes.”
“But if you are all the way up there, then I will never see you again.”
Yunho moved and lay beside him. The long end of his hair brushed against Jaejoong’s face and he inhaled the spicy scent of nutmeg. Yunho brushed it away, tickling Jaejoong’s skin with a soft breeze.
“I will see you,” Yunho said. “You shine brighter than the Sun who has heard me say such a thing and will demand that I be punished again.”
Jaejoong smiled. “They punish love?”
“Love will be the one that speaks in my defence. But how do you speak of love when you do not know me?”
Jaejoong lifted his arms and wrapped them around his neck. “I know what defines you, that is how I know. The feel of the Wind, of you upon my skin, is enough. But you smile and laugh as you run about the earth. You do what you do because it is part of you, not because it is required of you.”
Yunho shook his head. “I am required to run across the fields and blow through the treetops.”
“Yes, but you still love it.”
Yunho smiled at that. “I do. And I am assuming from these words that you love me? How is that, when the Wind is not what defines you?”
“Do you not make music as you blow through the trees, as the grass whistles at your touch, the water jumps and splashes at your feet? And do I not need Wind, breath, air to make a flute play, to sing a song, to carry the sounds of music to those who must hear it?”
“We are connected.”
Jaejoong nodded. “We always have been.”
Yunho leaned down and pressed their lips together. His hitch of breath blew up and around them, growing to a swirling storm of want. Jaejoong buried his hands into Yunho’s hair, destroying the work he had done, and pulled their bodies closer with a leg over his hip. Their tongues followed the storm, spinning and twisting together.
But as always, their time was cut short by the shouting of Jaejoong’s father.
Yunho reluctantly pulled away. “I will see you again. I’m not strong yet.”
Jaejoong ran his hands over Yunho’s broad shoulders. “You are. You are the strength that keeps me going.”
The shouting grew louder.
“You must go. Run south. I will protect you.”
Jaejoong nodded and accepted another kiss. He watched love fade into a whisper of hands on his skin, a blush of breeze upon his lips. He smiled and stood quickly, he ran south and felt the strength of the Wind behind him.
---
Wind dances with him, carrying his music through streets and windows, drawing people to the courtyard to hear him play and toss a few coins into his flute case so he can eat that day.
---
Jaejoong feared that Yunho would not find him. But he left anyway. He carried only a bag of clothes and food, and his flute, limping as quickly as possible. Discovery was still an ending, especially with how bright the Moon shone in the sky.
He stopped, knowing he was still in view of his childhood home. He lifted his head and, whispering, he begged, “Brightest Moon, your light is always welcome, but please, move the Shadows, hide me yet light my way.”
Light shifted and he glanced behind him, seeing darkness where his house once stood.
“Thank you, gracious Ones.”
He continued away, among the bright forests, along the rutted road, through cold streams, and over stone bridges. The Moon watched over him until dusk and the Darkness took over, enveloping him in the chill before dawn.
He whimpered desperately when the Wind twisted around him and nutmeg filled the air. A moment later, fingers tangled with his.
“I came as quickly as I could,” Yunho whispered, his breath actually labored.
Jaejoong smiled and collapsed into his arms. “You found me.”
“Of course. I will always find you. You’re injured.”
“I’m okay.”
“I wish I could carry you away. I am not strong enough.”
“You are strong enough to steady me and that is all I need.”
The Sun rose later in the day. The Clouds covered the brightness with gray. The Rain destroyed their footsteps. But the Wind did not blow.
The Wind kissed and loved Jaejoong in the abandoned barn that became their paradise for the day.
---
Jaejoong’s voice is still pure though his hands are too gnarled to play his flute. He cannot smell as well as he used to.
He sings for children and women. He sings for the Wind that blows through his hair and caresses his skin. He stands at his window and smiles as the Wind flutters into the room.
Arms wrap softly around his waist. “I am strong enough if you are willing.”
Jaejoong leans against the broad chest that has always supported him for so many years. He does not need to say yes because the Wind knows.
Everything is light and nothing hurts. He sinks into the folds of love and lets himself be lifted into the night to dance and sing among the Stars.
Voices greet him and laughter trickles through the breeze on his skin.
“I knew they would like you,” Yunho says.
Jaejoong is still doubtful, but Yunho kisses him even as they travel up into the sky, the Wind blowing away the years on his face. And once again, all he smells is nutmeg.
“Do not worry, my beautiful love. Everyone loves Music.”
.
Pairing: Yunho/Jaejoong
Rating: PG (I know. Crazy huh?)
Disclaimer: They are not mine even in the deepest reaches of my soul.
Summary: Jaejoong meets the Wind.
A/N: Don't know where this came from. This fic is NOT based on the lyrics to this song, just the music and Jaejoong's voice.
Click to viewHe remembers the first time he felt the Wind blow.
---
Jaejoong stood at the edge of the meadow, watching the swaths of long, thick grass blow in patterns under the Wind’s power. He stepped into the Wind, hair billowing behind him, and walked into the middle of the grass. The tops tickled his chin. He held out his arm, bending towards the Wind, eyes shut. Lips open.
The Wind stopped.
“Who are you?”
Jaejoong frowned and turned around. A boy stood behind him, one that was older than him, taller, too. He had spiky brown hair that was tossed about, but still standing up. Like it had been styled before the Wind caught it. The boy ran his hands over the tops of the grass, smiling as they curled away from him.
“I’m Jaejoong. Who are you?” He smiled.
The boy frowned. “I am the Wind.”
Jaejoong laughed. “What a thing to say. How can you be the Wind?”
“I am,” the boy said and stepped forward again.
A gust of Wind smacked into Jaejoong. He smiled and shut his eyes. It was warm and smelled of nutmeg and allspice. “I like the Wind,” Jaejoong whispered.
The breeze faltered. “You do?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
When the older boy did not answer, Jaejoong opened his eyes. He was still frowning, his lower lip protruding so far into a pout that it made Jaejoong smile again. The boy was really cute. Jaejoong wanted to hug him.
“You can’t like me. You don’t know me.”
Jaejoong smiled again. “What’s your name?”
“I told you. I am the Wind, and I like shaking the petals off flowers.”
“That isn’t very nice.”
“I like to see them flutter to the ground. It’s pretty.”
“Wait until Autumn and shake the leaves from the trees. That’s pretty, too.”
The boy opened his mouth to reply, but Jaejoong’s name was shouted across the meadow and he spun around, spotting one of his older sisters waving at him and telling him to come home. His hair blew in his face, and Jaejoong spun around to say goodbye to the boy. But he was gone.
Wind swirled around him, and for a moment Jaejoong felt like a pair of arms encircled him tightly.
---
Jaejoong feels the Wind often, and now recognizes it based on the smell of nutmeg and allspice that blows across his face. Followed by the arms that wrap around his waist.
---
“Oh, it’s you again,” the boy said as he landed lightly on the roof.
Jaejoong turned around, gaping because he hadn’t seen the boy for years and thought he was only something he made up when he was six years old and because the boy had just landed on the roof, in front of him, sort of like he jumped.
“How ... how did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“The roof is high. How did you get up here?”
“I am the Wind.”
And Jaejoong noticed that the powerful Wind that had been blowing only moments before was gone. Rain painted his cheeks in shimmering drops. They did not land on the boy.
Teenager now, Jaejoong thought, head tilted as he examined the lanky arms and legs, the still wild but longer spiky hair. He wore gray clothes that looked like the blue dye had faded from them a long time ago. They reminded him of storm clouds along the skyline.
Lightning flashed around him, followed closely by thunder. The rain fell in thicker drops.
“You should go inside,” the boy said. “It isn’t safe.”
Jaejoong nodded at another crack of thunder. He stood up, balancing carefully on the slick shingles. He turned to tell the boy to come with him. Lightning blinded him. His foot slipped. His arms flailed. And he fell. The boy swirled out of Jaejoong’s vision and everything toppled around. Arms wrapped around him and he slowed, just enough, landing on the wet dirt, hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
“Jaejoong!” his sister shouted. “Oh my god, Jaejoong, we heard you scream. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?”
Jaejoong turned to face the ring of worried faces. A soft breeze caressed his cheek and he smiled. “I’m fine. The Wind saved me.”
---
His mother and sisters called it a miracle. He has stopped saying it was the Wind. They do not believe as he does. It is difficult to find anyone who believes.
---
Jaejoong dangled his feet from the perch on his tree branch that arched over the creek. The Wind blew and leaves scattered and skittered over the top of the water. If Jaejoong looked closely, he could see the boy running behind the leaves, his feet splashing and twisting up footprints in the water.
Sometimes he heard the boy laugh.
But again it was years until Jaejoong saw him properly again.
And in the meadow. It was the only place Jaejoong felt at peace. He ran from his father’s wrath and his mother’s expectations and his sister’s judgement.
Jaejoong was sixteen, prettier than his sisters, softer, calmer. His parents had a girl ready to marry him within the next two years. But Jaejoong thought her soul was ugly; she thought only of her looks, her clothes, her hair. She laughed when he spoke of the Wind. She laughed when he spoke of music and poetry and dancing. Those are the pastimes of a woman. You must not do such things after we are married.
Jaejoong went to the middle of the meadow and lay on his back, watching the grass blow in the Wind and paint green lines upon the blue sky. Clouds billowed and moved across the sky. Jaejoong watched and smiled.
Nutmeg filtered through the Wind. Jaejoong inhaled deeply eyes shut and the Wind stopped.
Jaejoong was not surprised when the boy who was more of a man now sat beside him in the grass. He ran his fingers through the strands and then shivered.
Jaejoong wondered if he would shiver too if the Wind touched him.
“Hi,” Jaejoong said finally.
The man smiled down at him. He was still so very handsome, grown into his height with longer hair pulled back in a tie, but still a mess. And Jaejoong gave in, sat up and reached for him. The man pulled back, but not quickly enough and Jaejoong pulled the leather band from his hair. He ran his fingers through the soft hair, surprised when they moved freely without snagging on tangles.
He shut his eyes and shivered.
“What is your name?” Jaejoong whispered. “I only call you the Wind in my mind.”
“I am the Wind.”
Jaejoong frowned, tugging on his hair harshly. He did not realize that he had practically climbed into the other’s lap to continue brushing his hair.
“That is not a name,” Jaejoong said.
“It is who I am.”
“It is only what defines you.”
“And what defines you, Jaejoong?”
Jaejoong smiled. “Music.”
He swallowed deeply. “Yunho. My ... my name is Yunho.”
Jaejoong’s smile widened and he leaned forward and breathed the name just shy of Yunho’s lips.
“Thank you for saving me, Yunho,” Jaejoong whispered.
Yunho swallowed again. “I am not allowed ... I was punished for that.”
Jaejoong frowned. “Then you should have let me fall.”
“You would have died.”
“It was my own fault for escaping to a place to feel the Wind and Rain upon my face. Do you know the Rain?”
Yunho nodded. “Of course, I know the Rain.”
Jaejoong smiled and, finally satisfied with the wildness of Yunho’s hair, he replaced the leather tie. He brushed his fingers over Yunho’s cheek and then sighed. Falling back, he kept only his legs touching Yunho’s twisted up and around his knees. He stared at the moving clouds.
“Why are you with me and yet the clouds still move?”
“I am not yet strong enough to carry the clouds. One day.”
Jaejoong frowned. “Is that your destiny?”
“Yes.”
“But if you are all the way up there, then I will never see you again.”
Yunho moved and lay beside him. The long end of his hair brushed against Jaejoong’s face and he inhaled the spicy scent of nutmeg. Yunho brushed it away, tickling Jaejoong’s skin with a soft breeze.
“I will see you,” Yunho said. “You shine brighter than the Sun who has heard me say such a thing and will demand that I be punished again.”
Jaejoong smiled. “They punish love?”
“Love will be the one that speaks in my defence. But how do you speak of love when you do not know me?”
Jaejoong lifted his arms and wrapped them around his neck. “I know what defines you, that is how I know. The feel of the Wind, of you upon my skin, is enough. But you smile and laugh as you run about the earth. You do what you do because it is part of you, not because it is required of you.”
Yunho shook his head. “I am required to run across the fields and blow through the treetops.”
“Yes, but you still love it.”
Yunho smiled at that. “I do. And I am assuming from these words that you love me? How is that, when the Wind is not what defines you?”
“Do you not make music as you blow through the trees, as the grass whistles at your touch, the water jumps and splashes at your feet? And do I not need Wind, breath, air to make a flute play, to sing a song, to carry the sounds of music to those who must hear it?”
“We are connected.”
Jaejoong nodded. “We always have been.”
Yunho leaned down and pressed their lips together. His hitch of breath blew up and around them, growing to a swirling storm of want. Jaejoong buried his hands into Yunho’s hair, destroying the work he had done, and pulled their bodies closer with a leg over his hip. Their tongues followed the storm, spinning and twisting together.
But as always, their time was cut short by the shouting of Jaejoong’s father.
Yunho reluctantly pulled away. “I will see you again. I’m not strong yet.”
Jaejoong ran his hands over Yunho’s broad shoulders. “You are. You are the strength that keeps me going.”
The shouting grew louder.
“You must go. Run south. I will protect you.”
Jaejoong nodded and accepted another kiss. He watched love fade into a whisper of hands on his skin, a blush of breeze upon his lips. He smiled and stood quickly, he ran south and felt the strength of the Wind behind him.
---
Wind dances with him, carrying his music through streets and windows, drawing people to the courtyard to hear him play and toss a few coins into his flute case so he can eat that day.
---
Jaejoong feared that Yunho would not find him. But he left anyway. He carried only a bag of clothes and food, and his flute, limping as quickly as possible. Discovery was still an ending, especially with how bright the Moon shone in the sky.
He stopped, knowing he was still in view of his childhood home. He lifted his head and, whispering, he begged, “Brightest Moon, your light is always welcome, but please, move the Shadows, hide me yet light my way.”
Light shifted and he glanced behind him, seeing darkness where his house once stood.
“Thank you, gracious Ones.”
He continued away, among the bright forests, along the rutted road, through cold streams, and over stone bridges. The Moon watched over him until dusk and the Darkness took over, enveloping him in the chill before dawn.
He whimpered desperately when the Wind twisted around him and nutmeg filled the air. A moment later, fingers tangled with his.
“I came as quickly as I could,” Yunho whispered, his breath actually labored.
Jaejoong smiled and collapsed into his arms. “You found me.”
“Of course. I will always find you. You’re injured.”
“I’m okay.”
“I wish I could carry you away. I am not strong enough.”
“You are strong enough to steady me and that is all I need.”
The Sun rose later in the day. The Clouds covered the brightness with gray. The Rain destroyed their footsteps. But the Wind did not blow.
The Wind kissed and loved Jaejoong in the abandoned barn that became their paradise for the day.
---
Jaejoong’s voice is still pure though his hands are too gnarled to play his flute. He cannot smell as well as he used to.
He sings for children and women. He sings for the Wind that blows through his hair and caresses his skin. He stands at his window and smiles as the Wind flutters into the room.
Arms wrap softly around his waist. “I am strong enough if you are willing.”
Jaejoong leans against the broad chest that has always supported him for so many years. He does not need to say yes because the Wind knows.
Everything is light and nothing hurts. He sinks into the folds of love and lets himself be lifted into the night to dance and sing among the Stars.
Voices greet him and laughter trickles through the breeze on his skin.
“I knew they would like you,” Yunho says.
Jaejoong is still doubtful, but Yunho kisses him even as they travel up into the sky, the Wind blowing away the years on his face. And once again, all he smells is nutmeg.
“Do not worry, my beautiful love. Everyone loves Music.”
.