Love, My Love; Cleansing Cream
Genre: Angst, a little drama
Type: Song ficlet
Characters: Jaejoong
Pairings: Jaejoong-centric
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Character-death, mentions of alcohol-abuse and self-mutilation, mild cursing
Synopsis: A broke-up had caused Jaejoong's pride, vanity and stubbornness crumble, along with his heart, mind and soul.
A/N: Original song is 'Cleansing Cream' by Brown Eyed Girls. Eng credits to: pop!gasa.
Love, My Love; Cleansing Cream
It hurts, it hurts - my closed heart - a lot, a lot
Oh my honey, honey baby - what do I do?
The sky's as dark as it could be, heavy clouds covering the last bit of moonlight that would otherwise shine into the completely dark room. Jaejoong blinked, his body too exhausted to do anything else but to lay on the floor. The brunette turned on his back slowly, painfully, eyebrows furrowing together at the light jabs of pain on his arm. He spared a light glance, unable to make out anything in the room in his current state, his other arm reaching over in an attempt to make out what the little things are: shards of broken glass.
Ah. The bottle of wine he had threw across the room in a fit of frustration. He pressed hard on the shards, moaning into the pain. The alcohol in his system is fading and the pain is back, sharp as ever. Jaejoong could feel wetness on where he is pressing, and slowly released his hand, laughing.
Yes. The pain. It hurts so good.
It hurts so good when it's not hurting on the insides.
After playing like crazy all day, I erase my thick makeup
Will I forget by being like this?
Looking quite miserable, on top of my half-erased cheeks
On top of the half-erased lipstick,
The fallen tears melt with the cleansing cream
Blasting music. Bodies, lots of bodies rubbing against each other on the dance floor, decorated with moving, bright lights. Jaejoong lost count of how many glasses he had that day, yet again. He didn't care, his arms wrapped around another man's neck, lips attached to each other in a messy kiss. The stranger had his arms on his back, moving up and down, feeling each and every rippling muscle Jaejoong has. He bucked up without a care that he is dry humping someone in the middle of a crowded gay bar, moaning as the other gripped his slender waist.
And he opened his eyes. He knew he'd always regret it when he open his eyes, his illusions coming to an end, because no matter how drunk he is, he would still be able to differentiate one from his beloved. If he only he kept his eyes closed, his delusions would continue; he would be kissing no one else but him, holding no one else but him, being loved by no one else but him.
Fuck. Jaejoong, pushing the guy away in one rough motion and exited the pub, ignoring the curses and stares sent his way.
After barely making it home, he stumbled into the toilet, struggling to keep himself upright as he grab his cleansing cream. He stopped to stare at the mirror, feeling utterly disgusted with himself. The thick make-up could do little to cover his scars, his dark eye bags, his sunken cheeks. And there he was, after a night of madness, cleaning the make-up caked on his face in a feint attempt to protect his skin for the sake of career.
'Your skin is beautiful Jaejoong-ah, take good care of it.'
Oh the irony, Jaejoong laughs, bottle of cleansing cream thrown into the mirror, shattering it instantly.
He broke down for the umpteenth time, pure tears mixed with little droplets of crimson red.
Why, why, why, unni?
All throughout the night, why can’t I forget him?
Why, why, why, unni?
With my blackened and smeared tears, I can’t forget him
And I stubbornly say, bye, bye
Another night of alcohol and loud music.
Night after night, Jaejoong loses himself in the midst of thumping beats, drowning his sorrows in glass after glass of alcohol.
Night after night of crying, eyeliner smeared with his falling tears.
Yet, it was Jaejoong who decided to walk away, his pride getting the best from him.
He regretted it day after day, seeing his ex-lover at work every single day, looking as hurt as he is now, to becoming brighter with each passing day. And day after day he had to pretend that it doesn't hurt, not one bit; not even when he brought a girl to their dorm, introducing her to them as someone he deemed special. He moved out that very week.
Am I not beautiful enough for you? Am I not perfect enough for you?
He had moved on, but not Jaejoong. How could he, when he had already given all his love to that one and only?
*What do I do, unni? I want to sleep now
But my heart keeps running to him
What to do, unni? I don’t think I can go on like this
Please, can you have a drink with me? I ask of you, unni
Fuck, Jaejoong muttered under his breath when the binds to his room jerked open. Jaejoong groan, half from the splitting headache and the other half from realising that the one who is standing in his very room right now is none other than his sister; the sister that just happens to be his other one and only confident in his relationship and everything else under the sun.
"Jaejoong, wake up. You have to stop all of this, come on."
Jaejoong jerk his hand away, but his sister held on with strength that he never knew was in her petite form.
"Fuck, Jaejoong! What's the meaning of this?!"
The brunette jerked his hand away yet again, hiding them under the blankets, his other hand going to caress the little marks he had made the previous night. "You don't understand, noona. I need this, I-"
And he was a wreckage as he sobbed silently, hiding under the comfort of his blanket. His sister said nothing but to wrap her arms around him, holding her little brother till the sobs stilled.
Have you ever been in love?
Have you ever really loved?
Love - for others it’s so easy
But for me, it’s like an un-erasable tattoo
I empty my glass again
"That's enough for tonight." His sister whispered, and Jaejoong nodded for the sake of doing so, downing the glass in one shot.
He ordered another glass, silencing his sister's protest with a look of despair.
"Noona," Jaejoong slurred, leaning his head on the elder's shoulders, "why, why is love so painful? Isn't love suppose to be happy? I don't understand anymore..."
"Maybe," she started, stopping the brunette from drinking as she continued, albeit a little hesitantly, "maybe it's time for you to move on too."
Jaejoong closed his eyes, mentally shutting out the environment.
For the first time, Jaejoong realised that even his closest noona couldn't understand him, and felt more lonely than ever. How could he forget, how can he ever move on, when he had already tattooed his name on his heart, his mind, his entire soul?
"It's not going to be easy, but try. Please Jaejoong, try, for my sake if you don't for yours."
Today, there was a really great guy who asked me out
But I kept seeing him
I stupidly ran out from that place,
I stupidly couldn’t do anything
What’s the use of pretty makeup?
Jaejoong bit his lip for the umpteenth time of the day, looking at the luxury setting of the dining table. He had been fidgeting the whole while, not liking the setting at all. He tugged at the suffocating buttons, undoing two of them at a go. He would so rather be eating cup ramen while curling up like a ball in the comforts of his home at a long deserved one-day break in his hectic schedule, but his sister just had to drag him out, dolled him up, and send him for a little dinner date with whoever it is.
"Sorry I'm late." The brunette looked up to find himself face to face with a bouquet of roses. "A little gift for my beautiful date, I do hope you love them."
Jaejoong caught himself smiling lightly at the compliments thrown his way. He knew he was beautiful, even though he'd much prefer to be called handsome, he loved to be showered with compliments no matter how superficial they are. He took a whiff at the bouquet before putting it down on the edge of the table.
"I do. It's a first, thank you," he replied, taking in the sight of his date. Tall, pretty gorgeous and quite a gentleman. From the dinner, he'd gather the other is pretty humourous to boot, and owns his own investments. He understand his sister's choice of wanting the very best for her little brother.
But alas he is not him, and Jaejoong would not take another as a substitute.
Not that any would be up to standard anyway.
Why, why, why, unni?
(Why can’t I forget this one guy for all this time
Unintentional memories get erased in the far distance
He already forgot about me)
Why, why, why, unni?
With my blackened and smeared tears, I can’t forget him
And I stubbornly say, bye, bye
Why, why, why
"We need to talk."
The lead singer looked up from his spot, and continued pressing buttons on his phone.
"Jaejoong-ah."
"Hyung."
"Jaejoong-hyung," the younger looked confused, and Jaejoong stared right into his eyes, "You lost the right to address me as such since you walked away. Now if you please, I need-"
Jaejoong stilled, his arm grabbed by the long slick fingers he knew all too well. "Please, we need to talk."
"Why?"
"...I-I know that you've been hurting yourself." Jaejoong cursed, knowing full well who told him that.
"You've hurt me more than these scars ever did," the brunette snapped, snatching his hand away and pulling up the sleeves, long, thin and disgusting red scars graced the otherwise pale, white skin, "so stop pretending you care, it makes me fucking sick."
He rushed out of the room, regretting the momentarily weakness he had in there that implied his true feelings, missing the same look of hurt mirrored on his ex-lover's face.
* What do I do, unni? I want to sleep now
But my heart keeps running to him
What to do, unni? I don’t think I can go on like this
Please, can you have a drink with me? I ask of you, unni
When one glass of wine slowly becomes two bottles of soju, Jaejoong knew that night is pretty much going to be fucked up. He didn't have time to go to a bar, and he knew that the continuous visits will attract more than necessary attention.
He blinked, laying on the wooden flooring, staring into space. The empty house felt larger than normal, his loneliness double with the lack of noisy chattering he otherwise would hear in the dorm he would never return.
Humming a light tune, he started towards his piano in the corner, playing whatever comes to his mind in his semi-dizzy state. Old tunes. Inventing new tunes. And then, as his fingers travel across the black and white keys to one of his old composition, tears started falling. The song wrote of his feelings right then, speaking the words for him that he didn't have the courage to months before and even right now.
The last note of the song echoed in Jaejoong's mind as he crawled to his bed. "Have you already forgotten about me?" he asked aloud, wondering if he had threw his pride away that very day and ask him to stay, would he have stayed?
Please party with me
I don’t want to erase my makeup yet
I ask of you, unni
Their relationship was never just normal. First of all they were both guys; that wasn't normal by society standards. But even if Jaejoong is a girl it doesn't change the fact that their relationship is dysfunctional. They were together because of physical needs and raging hormones in an environment lack of choices.
Then they fall in love. Or so Jaejoong had hoped that in all those years there was love beneath the lust, and the responsibility and care they learn to bear for each other.
Sometimes he think he didn't love him enough; if he put his pride before love, what rights has he got to be loved?
Ah. Jaejoong winced, tears forming in his eye as his eyeliner went crosses his water line. He stared at the innocent pencil liner, and looked at the mirror. Sometimes, he wondered, when had he become so vain? Is it because of his career, his image? Or just because, he knew he had always preferred women to men until the lead singer stepped into his life and flipped it all over?
It hurts, it hurts - my closed heart - a lot, a lot
Oh my honey, honey baby - what do I do?
It hurts, it hurts - my closed heart - a lot, a lot
Oh my honey, honey baby - what do I do?
He's happy. Jaejoong frowned, watching the sight of the two whispering sweet nothings to each other. He knew that moving back to the dorm, however temporary, would mean that he'd had to acknowledge her existence. He shouldn't have agreed to his manager about how it'd be easier to ferry them all to the company for their upcoming album. Fuck it all, they have two managers, they'd manage.
Jaejoong left the house without one last glance at the couple, returning home to the comfort of his alcohol and piano. Seeing the two of them hurt more than he expected. And he knew that no matter how he told himself he'd move on, that's not possible. It's lies, self-denial.
Fuck everything, fuck the band. He can't do it. Her existence dealt a heavy blow to the brunette, heavier than he had expected. Her existence proved that he had moved on; that he was not needed, that he was the one the hung on to his meaningless pride and ego; that he would never be complete again.
Ah. Jaejoong moaned as he drew a fresh line across his arm. With each swipe, the pain in his heart was temporarily gone. It felt good, but not near enough. The brunette landed a few more swipes, his hands decorated with lines of old and new scars.
Not enough.
The swipes were harder, longer, until his hands were shaking so much that he didn't have the means to hold the blade anymore. The alcohol in his system slowly started to release his tension but did nothing to ease the pain in his heart.
He got up, swayed a little, before flopping on his piano bench, his fingers playing the keys on their own. When all else fails, Jaejoong knew that the only comfort he has left is his music. Music will never fail him; it will never lie; and it is the closest solution to making him feel that bit closer to becoming complete again.
No. Jaejoong whispered, a sob. It wasn't enough. His heart still felt empty, even though he had already dyed the keys in a deep crimson red. Faster. Swifter. His fingers continued to dance, and Jaejoong could feel it, a rush of adrenaline and twisted excitement trickled up his spine; they were playing a brand new masterpiece carrying his voice that will be gone with him as midnight strike. He smiled, knowing that with this, he would be his forever, and he would be complete, as selfish as that is. The last note hung in the air, echoing in the empty house, and then, silence.
Finally, he moved on.
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A/N: First time publishing something so angst-y. Hope you guys enjoyed it.
Comments are much appreciated!