[chaptered] crazy love .04.
crazy love; r
yoochun/junsu, yoochun/jaejoong, yoochun/lina, junsu/boa, boa/brian
horror, drama, character deaths
summary: no matter what anybody says, you’re my crazy love. though they say i’m crazy; i just can’t get enough. i hope you will acknowledge my feelings... baby, my heart beats for you.
A hangover was not the best thing to wake up with.
The blinding rays of sunlight invading the darkness of the room didn’t help either.
Junsu groaned, an echo of pain thumping in his head. He struggled to open to his eyes, his brain not able to register such a simple task. His limbs felt like extra baggage to his feeble torso and it didn’t help that his stomach was rolling like angry waves.
“Yoochun,” gurgled Junsu, half of his face hiding in-between the pillows. There was no response. Junsu sniffed. “Yoochun?” He tried again. Nothing answered back.
He sighed.
“Yoochun?” Junsu called when he exited the bedroom, groggily shuffling down the corridor, clammy hands running along his temples and through his hair. He stumbled half-way, leaning into one of the photos hanging on the wall. He groaned at the clunk against his skull and to make his morning even better, the picture slipped off the nail, colliding with Junsu’s exposed toes.
A curse word was muffled in-between Junsu’s teeth and his bottom lip.
Now he remembered why he didn’t like to drink. He was a mess.
With fuzzy movements, Junsu bent down too pick up the picture. He couldn’t understand why, not that he wanted to, but a smile appeared on his lips as his eyes fell on the photo behind the glass.
The picture of a perfectly happy engaged couple.
An engaged couple that he ripped apart because his own selfish desires.
The mix between a gasp and a sob got stuck in Junsu’s throat. The throbbing in his head only expanded, pushing against wall of his skull.
“Yoochun-,” he choked out, his body falling limply along the wall until he hit the carpet. The photograph was still firm in his grip and he could only tighten his hold on the frame. He resorted to taking deep breaths, hoping to calm everything building up inside, but nothing-nothing could erase the shit he already got himself into.
The cityscape was long gone, fading in the rear-view mirror. Rolling hills and vast lands were the only scenery that surrounded Yoochun as he pressed down on the gas pedal.
He desperately needed to get out Seoul, especially after what happened last night. Yoochun wasn’t sure what came over him, but those words he said to Junsu still scratched at his brain. He snuck out the apartment while Junsu was still asleep. Yoochun didn’t have the guts to face his partner. He didn’t have the confidence to confront the obvious tension running through them both. Honestly, Yoochun had no clue what the hell was going on anymore.
The murder case wasn’t helping either. Usually, Yoochun could block everything out by focusing on his work, but after yesterday, when they were examining the evidence on the latest victims, he couldn’t erase the nagging feeling in his gut. Every time he looked at those photographs, Jiyeon would appear in his head. Something wasn’t right, something was terribly off, but Yoochun couldn’t place it.
Jaejoong watched his friend skeptically out the corner of his eyes. Yoochun hadn’t said much since this morning when he forced the bartender to come on some expedition with him to the middle of nowhere. Normally Jaejoong wouldn’t bash an eyelash to go on some random adventure, but since it was Yoochun that asked, Jaejoong agreed to go regardless of the lack of hours he slept.
Jaejoong yawned. He rested his arm against the door frame and sighed. “Don’t you think you’re driving too fast?” he asked, turning towards the landscape.
Yoochun’s eyebrows furrowed. He lifted off the gas pedal a little bit.
Jaejoong smirked. “You always do as I say.”
“You tend to have that affect on me unfortunately.” Yoochun smiled. “Jiyeon did too.”
This time, Jaejoong faced him, expression sincere.
The detective drew out a long sigh, shifting in his seat simultaneously. Jaejoong frowned instantly.
He tapped his fingers against the middle console. “So why didn’t you bug Junsu to go on this great adventure with you? Didn’t you two always go on these trips before you met me?”
That was probably the most inappropriate question to ask due to the way Yoochun’s face twisted up, but Jaejoong noticed that he got away with a lot of things.
Yoochun sucked on his upper lip for a second. “It’s been complicated for the past years. But you already knew that.”
“Did something happen last night?”
‘The shit hit the fan and everything’s a mess,’ but Yoochun refrained from saying that. He settled on, “I just need a break from everything right now.”
“Except from me?” joked Jaejoong, trying to brighten the mood.
And luckily, his plan worked when Yoochun snorted. “Except from you, Jae.”
The small village was just as Yoochun remembered, gloomy and grey and covered in a faint mist. Hills among hills sweep across the town, tall houses and trees block a view to the outside world. Despite the unsettling look, Yoochun found this place mesmerizing.
It was mesmerizing because it was Jiyeon’s hometown.
Jaejoong immediately showed discomfort when they arrived. He fidgeted with his seatbelt, head tucked into his chest. Surprised by the unfamiliar reaction, Yoochun carefully squeezed Jaejoong’s shoulder. The latter barely looked up.
“Jae,” Yoochun started, “Jae, are you alright?”
Somehow, Jaejoong managed a brief smile for reassurance. “I’m fine,” he breathed. “Just a bit-“ he paused, swallowing hard, “my allergies are acting up, you know?”
“Ah…” said Yoochun, slowly. He nodded, wearing a worried expression. Well, there went the getaway.
Sensing his friend now sullen mood, Jaejoong nudged the detective in the head. “Hey, go have some fun. I’ll stay here, alright?”
“But-“
“Don’t worry about me; it’s just allergies, nothing big.”
And that was how Yoochun found himself roaming the old village by himself. The last time he came here, he had brought Junsu along to pay respects to Jiyeon’s parents but that experience didn’t end too well.
Now, this place just felt so empty, a ghost town.
Yoochun recognized a few faces; a couple of them gave him a head bow while the others simply stared, wondering why he dared to show his face in this place again. Yoochun was wondering about that too. If someone had asked him the token question, Yoochun would’ve answered with a blink and a shrug. He didn’t know why he was here either. It was the only place he thought of to escape to, even if it brought back the pain.
Jiyeon always said he was a masochist.
And now that Yoochun was standing at the bottom of a long set of stone steps, he really could feel the wounds opening within. He wanted to turn back, but the words ‘coward’ and ‘bastard’ and ‘pathetic’ ran through his mind.
He really had no reason to be here. He was out-of-line to be standing in front of this house.
“Get the hell out of my house!”
“But Mrs. Lee-Mrs. Lee, please--!”
“Yoochun, I think we should go…” Fear.
Objects breaking, smashed into tiny crystals and dust. “Get out and take your filthy trash with you!”
Skinny fingers pulled him to the door. He turned around, determined to calm the old woman down, but sad eyes blocked his view. The wrinkles around his eyes are more prevalent than before.
“Mr. Park, Mr. Kim, I think your stay here is overdue, and you really need to leave.”
“…Mr. Lee, I-“
“Please don’t come here again. Ever.”
The sound of the door shutting was louder than the thunder clapping at his misery and the rain swallowing his pride. A hand found its way into his, cold and slippery.
“Yoochun, I’m so sorry…”
“May I help you, sir?”
The detective stumbled on a step, not realizing that he was already halfway up the stairs. He caught himself on a limestone wall and breathed deeply.
“…Yoochun?”
Said man glanced up and found his words caught in his throat instantly.
An unreadable expression was set on the woman’s face before Yoochun. She looked the same always, oval-shaped face, large eyes with slightly chubby cheeks and a slim nose.
“Isak?”
Silence fell upon them in an awkward manner. Isak shifted on her feet, transferring a weave basket to the other side of her waist. She brushed the bangs out of her eye with her free hand.
Yoochun ran his fingers along the limestone wall, trying to process his thoughts. Everything was jumbled up now. Usually, Junsu would fill in when Yoochun couldn’t.
Isak seemed to have that role down today. “I always wondered when you’d show your face around here again.”
Yoochun sighed. “Yeah.”
Isak started down the steps. “I’m surprised you held out for three years,” she said as she passed the other. When she reached the bottom, she turned around, meeting Yoochun’s blameworthy gaze. “They aren’t home, if you were wondering. They’re not at the shop either. And even if they were, they still don’t want to talk to you.”
Of course, thought Yoochun. Why would they want to talk to their dead daughter’s cheating fiancé? He smirked, feeling incredibly stupid at that moment. He looked back at the house; every hateful word spat at him came flooding back.
He really had no right to come back. He had no right to be standing in front of Jiyeon’s house like this.
After one final glance, Yoochun headed back down the stairs. He didn’t even spare Isak a look.
“H-hey, Yoochun…”
He paused in mid-step, and turned around. Isak had her hand reached out in front of her in a hesitant position.
“How…are things in Seoul?” She gave a tentative smile.
Yoochun gave out a bitter laugh. “Terrible.”
Never in a millennium did Yoochun picture himself having a decent conversation with anyone besides Jaejoong, after Jiyeon died, let alone her best friend. They took a stroll throughout the town; Isak talking about how she’d been doing the three years and Yoochun briefly explaining his lifestyle in the big city. Isak worked at a children’s center and occasionally, she checked up on the Lees.
“Do they still talk about her?” asked Yoochun, kicking a stray pebble aside.
“Rarely,” replied Isak.
Yoochun huffed.
“Now,” began Isak, “my turn to ask the questions,” she beamed. Yoochun raised his eyebrows at the woman. “What is Park Yoochun doing in this crummy, old, boring village?” She gave the detective a pointed stare. “Last time I checked, you hated this place.”
A groan flew out Yoochun’s mouth. He shoved his hands in his front jean pockets and pondered on what to say. “I can’t-,” he closed his eyes, “-things are complicated right now… Just complicated.”
Isak frowned. “… Is it because of Jiyeon?” she asked in a whisper.
They gradually came to a stop, Yoochun sporting a displeased look.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. “There’s a case that I’m working on… and, I’m positive-I know-it has nothing to do with Jiyeon, but after yesterday night,” and Yoochun took a deep breath, “I kept getting this really bad feeling and-“
“Yoochun…”
He trudged his fingers through his hair in one sweep and exhaled heavily. “I can’t explain it. I think I’m just having one of those moments, but I can’t fight the feeling now. It’s bothersome.”
Isak’s shoulders drooped, deflated on all thoughts. “I see… Kind of like what Jay said.”
“Jay?” Yoochun scowled. “Jay was here?”
Isak gaped, now realizing her mistake. “Heh,” she grinned. “Yeah, like a month ago.”
Yoochun hissed. “Asshole.”
Isak pushed him in the arm. “Hey, don’t be like that. He was just as upset as you were… We all were.”
“Yeah, I guess,” mumbled the detective. “What did he want anyway?”
Isak shrugged. “He returned some of her jewelry.”
“He still had some of her jewelry?” Anger pooled in Yoochun’s stomach. That punk still had some of her stuff? Well, Yoochun did too, but he was her fiancé, not an overly obsessed ex-boyfriend. The nerve of that guy.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I doubt it was all of it. You know how much he… cared. I’m surprised he had some anyway; I mean, Jiyeon loved her jewelry. I figured she took all of it when you two moved in together.”
Yoochun nodded. Jiyeon really did love to collect accessories. Yoochun had to sacrifice a drawer for her necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings. Junsu’s clothes replaced it now while the jewelry was stuffed in boxes somewhere in the back of a closet.
Just the memory of Jiyeon prancing around the apartment in a random array of necklaces brought a small chuckle out of Yoochun. God, she was so cute.
“Hey,” poked Isak, “what’s so funny?”
Yoochun waved at her, “It’s no-,” teardrop-shaped eyes blinked at him and that blinding smile grew wider, mocking him, “-thing…”
“Yoochun?” Junsu’s hand grabbed his wrist, sending chills up his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Yoochun breathed out. He shut his eyes, blinded by those pearly whites, only to open them to-
“Jiyeon…” he whispered. All the air in his body dispersed right then. Her lips curved upwards, dimples forming and eyes molding into half-moons. Her lips began to moved, opening and closing like calm waves; her voice is nothing but a faint whisper, the melodic sound floating around Yoochun, engulfing him.
I love you, Yoochun. Yoochun... Yoochun…
“-Yoochun! Yoochun!”
A dull pain wracked through the right side of the detective’s head, and he cursed, placing his hand on the throbbing area. Yoochun squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
Isak, lips pressed in a thin line, bent down to pick up the basket she dropped after her dead best friend’s fiancé zoned out on her and started mumbling nonsense. She breathed out her nose, irritated.
When Yoochun opened his eyes, he was thankful to see a blurry Isak glowering at him like she always did whenever he gloated about something. He kind of missed that annoying scowl.
“I think you should go back to Seoul-“
He didn’t miss Isak’s frankness though.
“-before you lose the last bit of sanity you have left. If there is any…”
He didn’t miss that she was kind of always right.
“What happened to your face?” was the first thing Jaejoong asked when Yoochun sat in the driver’s seat.
Yoochun halted in the shutting the door, giving Jaejoong an incredulous look. The bartender matched him.
Yoochun shut the door, and slumped in his seat. The sound of crinkling paper caught his attention and he turned to his friend fumbling with the seatbelt. There were a couple of paper bags stuffed between his legs and the chair.
“What’s that?” asked Yoochun, nodding towards the new items.
Jaejoong temporarily froze up shortly after clicking in his seatbelt. He clucked his tongue. “Ah,” he gasped, “Just some stuff I saw in the store over there,” and pointed out the window in a random direction. The contorted features on Yoochun’s face left a bitter feeling in Jaejoong’s gut.
He was pointing at the jewelry store, By L Style.
That was the Lees’ family shop.
Yoochun turned on the ignition and pulled off the curb.
He ignored Jaejoong’s panicked warnings about speeding all the way back to Seoul.
Yoochun opened the door to his apartment. He closed the door quietly and kicked off his shoes. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, heavily bothered. A short nap was greatly needed.
He headed for the bedroom without a second thought. Yoochun was halfway there when something struck him as off. He peeked over his shoulder at the pictures aligned on the wall. Painting, painting, painting, photograph of Jiyeon and him-what the hell?
“Junsu?” called Yoochun. He ran his hand along the empty space where the framed photograph should’ve been.
“Yeah…” came a small reply. Yoochun’s gaze landed on the couch by the front door and the person sitting on it. Had he been sitting there since he came in? Junsu was hunched over, bangs hanging lazily from his head, covering his face. He was fiddling with a remotely large but thin object. When he tilted it at the right angle, Yoochun caught a glimpse of a glass cover and two disproportioned figures.
It was the missing photograph. Anger seeped into Yoochun’s veins.
Fists balled up, Yoochun walked over to Junsu, but when the latter lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and lips chewed up and bright red, he stopped.
Junsu was a mess, much worse than anything a hangover would normally leave behind.
“Junsu--” the rest of his sentence got stuck on the tip of his tongue.
“Did you go visit her today…?” questioned Junsu, voice cracking and barely above a murmur.
Yoochun unclasped his hands. He opened his mouth, but had nothing to say, so he closed it. Instead, he watched Junsu brush his fingers across the picture. He ran his index finger along Yoochun’s jaw and down his nose, but then he moved to Jiyeon’s face, circling around the entire form a few times.
“So beautiful…,” he bit on his bottom lip but the smile broke through regardless. “You’re so lucky Yoochun.” Junsu’s eyes began to glaze over.
The older male blinked harshly, fighting any sign of emotion that wanted to break out. He didn’t know what was going on; Junsu had never done anything like this before.
“Yoochun…,” croaked Junsu, “do you still love her?”
The room succumbed to silence, Yoochun wide-eyed, and Junsu marring a stoic expression. What was he doing-Yoochun couldn’t process what was happening or what the other man was asking him.
“…Do you love me?”
Yoochun stood still, speechless; only the resonance of his heart banging against his ribcage let him know that he was still living in reality.
Receiving no response, Junsu couldn’t prevent the choked laughter that jumped out of his throat. Such a silly, absurd question Junsu. Stop being so dim-witted Junsu.
But he just needed to hear the truth first.
“I’ll never compare to her, will I?”
Yoochun’s shoulders slumped, and Junsu figured he was going to answer him, but he continued. If he didn’t finish this now, the misery would just consume him.
“…I love you, Yoochun, so much,” he withdrew a shaky breath, “so fucking much, I think I might die without you but...”
Yoochun’s eyes left Junsu’s, diverting themselves to the coffee table.
“…I need to get away from you.” Junsu muttered, teeth clicking together. “Everything about you drives me insane, and it’s making me think irrationally and everything-.”
Yoochun turned away from Junsu, and he dismissed the sob from behind him. He spotted and heard the clunk from the photo being set on the table. His ear picked up the other man’s movements, but he refused to turn around.
Jittery fingers were pressed against his shoulder blades and slid up to bend around his shoulders and squeezed. Warm, but stale carbon dioxide tickled the back of his neck, making the hair on his arms rise.
Finally, dry lips caressed his nape, disappearing at the collar on his shirt, and was replaced with the tip of Junsu’s nose, followed by the rest of his head and matted bangs.
Yoochun hated the prickling sensation spawning in the corner on his eyes.
“…I’m moving out.”
If Jaejoong knew any better, he would’ve stopped giving his legitimately fucked up friend a beer every five minutes, but he didn’t want Yoochun to start trashing the bar like he did two years ago because one of the other bartenders wouldn’t give the man another Corona. He just looked so pathetic with his head lying on a table, hands gripped around Jaejoong’s wrists, and an almost empty bottle a few centimeters away.
“Have a nice night!” Said Jae to a random couple exiting the bar. They frowned at him as he smiled back, sheepishly. The grip on his wrists tightened and Jaejoong hissed at the detective.
A masochist and a sadist, all in one. Jaejoong close his eyes and sighed.
“Yoochun.”
The other grumbled.
“Yoochun, do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head against the table.
Quickly defeated and kind of in hurry, Jaejoong glanced at the clock. This wasn’t the first time Yoochun messed up his plans for the night, barging in unannounced because of something Junsu did. Junsu… What the hell did he do this time?
“Yoochun…” Jaejoong thought about it for a second, “Listen to me.” He wiggled his wrists, hoping to startle Yoochun. Given no reaction, Jaejoong decided to lean his head against Yoochun’s. He smiled, heartening. “Junsu doesn’t deserve someone as great as you, you know. He’s just blind to not see that.”
A violent jerk of Yoochun’s head startled the bartender and he leaned away. It took a while for him to realize that his friend was snorting in awkward spasms. Perplexed, Jaejoong sat up again.
“Jae…” groaned Yoochun.
Jaejoong’s eyes flickered all over the bar; the place was practically empty minus a few customers near the karaoke machine. His gaze fell on Yoochun. “Yes?”
“I fucked up everything.”
“I’m leaving!” announced Isak from the foyer as she bent down to put on her sandals.
An older woman came out from the room where the television was blasting, a wrapped case of food in her hands. By the time she reached Isak, the younger woman was tossing her bag over her shoulder.
Isak gasped at the sight of the Tupperware. “Oh, Mrs. Lee!” Her face glowed with amusement. “You shouldn’t have!”
Mrs. Lee shrugged, a grin tugging on her aged features. “It’s just some soup I had left over. Please, take some.”
Isak pouted, wanting to decline because she knew the older woman cooked that after she showed up but Mrs. Lee would reprimand her if she did. The Lees never said it, but Isak knew she was like a replacement for Jiyeon. She never said anything about it, thinking that it was just their way of grieving the loss of their only child. Isak took the food and gave Mrs. Lee a side hug. “Thank you.”
“No problem dear. Now please, be careful on your way home.”
“I will, I will.” Isak bowed. “Bye Mr. Lee!”
“Bye~!” sang Mr. Lee from the other room. Mrs. Lee shook her head while Isak chuckled. She waved at the married woman before reaching for the doorknob-
And a knock came at the door. Isak hopped back, eyebrow raised. Mrs. Lee had her hand hovering over her chest.
“Who in there right mind would be knocking on our door so late at night?” complained Mrs. Lee.
Another knock rapped at the door.
Instantly, Isak’s mind went straight to Yoochun. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling apologetic already. She knew her warning wouldn’t have fazed that man; so hard-headed he was!
Another knock.
Mrs. Lee huffed. “So persistent!”
Isak laughed. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Lee. It’s probably one of the nine girls from down the street. They’re always pulling pranks on people-“
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock-
“Alright, alright!” yelled Isak now frustrated herself. Seriously, if that was Yoochun… She swung the door open. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late to be-huh?”
Isak would’ve taken a dismal Park Yoochun over staring down the barrel of a gun.
yoochun/junsu, yoochun/jaejoong, yoochun/lina, junsu/boa, boa/brian
horror, drama, character deaths
summary: no matter what anybody says, you’re my crazy love. though they say i’m crazy; i just can’t get enough. i hope you will acknowledge my feelings... baby, my heart beats for you.
A hangover was not the best thing to wake up with.
The blinding rays of sunlight invading the darkness of the room didn’t help either.
Junsu groaned, an echo of pain thumping in his head. He struggled to open to his eyes, his brain not able to register such a simple task. His limbs felt like extra baggage to his feeble torso and it didn’t help that his stomach was rolling like angry waves.
“Yoochun,” gurgled Junsu, half of his face hiding in-between the pillows. There was no response. Junsu sniffed. “Yoochun?” He tried again. Nothing answered back.
He sighed.
“Yoochun?” Junsu called when he exited the bedroom, groggily shuffling down the corridor, clammy hands running along his temples and through his hair. He stumbled half-way, leaning into one of the photos hanging on the wall. He groaned at the clunk against his skull and to make his morning even better, the picture slipped off the nail, colliding with Junsu’s exposed toes.
A curse word was muffled in-between Junsu’s teeth and his bottom lip.
Now he remembered why he didn’t like to drink. He was a mess.
With fuzzy movements, Junsu bent down too pick up the picture. He couldn’t understand why, not that he wanted to, but a smile appeared on his lips as his eyes fell on the photo behind the glass.
The picture of a perfectly happy engaged couple.
An engaged couple that he ripped apart because his own selfish desires.
The mix between a gasp and a sob got stuck in Junsu’s throat. The throbbing in his head only expanded, pushing against wall of his skull.
“Yoochun-,” he choked out, his body falling limply along the wall until he hit the carpet. The photograph was still firm in his grip and he could only tighten his hold on the frame. He resorted to taking deep breaths, hoping to calm everything building up inside, but nothing-nothing could erase the shit he already got himself into.
The cityscape was long gone, fading in the rear-view mirror. Rolling hills and vast lands were the only scenery that surrounded Yoochun as he pressed down on the gas pedal.
He desperately needed to get out Seoul, especially after what happened last night. Yoochun wasn’t sure what came over him, but those words he said to Junsu still scratched at his brain. He snuck out the apartment while Junsu was still asleep. Yoochun didn’t have the guts to face his partner. He didn’t have the confidence to confront the obvious tension running through them both. Honestly, Yoochun had no clue what the hell was going on anymore.
The murder case wasn’t helping either. Usually, Yoochun could block everything out by focusing on his work, but after yesterday, when they were examining the evidence on the latest victims, he couldn’t erase the nagging feeling in his gut. Every time he looked at those photographs, Jiyeon would appear in his head. Something wasn’t right, something was terribly off, but Yoochun couldn’t place it.
Jaejoong watched his friend skeptically out the corner of his eyes. Yoochun hadn’t said much since this morning when he forced the bartender to come on some expedition with him to the middle of nowhere. Normally Jaejoong wouldn’t bash an eyelash to go on some random adventure, but since it was Yoochun that asked, Jaejoong agreed to go regardless of the lack of hours he slept.
Jaejoong yawned. He rested his arm against the door frame and sighed. “Don’t you think you’re driving too fast?” he asked, turning towards the landscape.
Yoochun’s eyebrows furrowed. He lifted off the gas pedal a little bit.
Jaejoong smirked. “You always do as I say.”
“You tend to have that affect on me unfortunately.” Yoochun smiled. “Jiyeon did too.”
This time, Jaejoong faced him, expression sincere.
The detective drew out a long sigh, shifting in his seat simultaneously. Jaejoong frowned instantly.
He tapped his fingers against the middle console. “So why didn’t you bug Junsu to go on this great adventure with you? Didn’t you two always go on these trips before you met me?”
That was probably the most inappropriate question to ask due to the way Yoochun’s face twisted up, but Jaejoong noticed that he got away with a lot of things.
Yoochun sucked on his upper lip for a second. “It’s been complicated for the past years. But you already knew that.”
“Did something happen last night?”
‘The shit hit the fan and everything’s a mess,’ but Yoochun refrained from saying that. He settled on, “I just need a break from everything right now.”
“Except from me?” joked Jaejoong, trying to brighten the mood.
And luckily, his plan worked when Yoochun snorted. “Except from you, Jae.”
The small village was just as Yoochun remembered, gloomy and grey and covered in a faint mist. Hills among hills sweep across the town, tall houses and trees block a view to the outside world. Despite the unsettling look, Yoochun found this place mesmerizing.
It was mesmerizing because it was Jiyeon’s hometown.
Jaejoong immediately showed discomfort when they arrived. He fidgeted with his seatbelt, head tucked into his chest. Surprised by the unfamiliar reaction, Yoochun carefully squeezed Jaejoong’s shoulder. The latter barely looked up.
“Jae,” Yoochun started, “Jae, are you alright?”
Somehow, Jaejoong managed a brief smile for reassurance. “I’m fine,” he breathed. “Just a bit-“ he paused, swallowing hard, “my allergies are acting up, you know?”
“Ah…” said Yoochun, slowly. He nodded, wearing a worried expression. Well, there went the getaway.
Sensing his friend now sullen mood, Jaejoong nudged the detective in the head. “Hey, go have some fun. I’ll stay here, alright?”
“But-“
“Don’t worry about me; it’s just allergies, nothing big.”
And that was how Yoochun found himself roaming the old village by himself. The last time he came here, he had brought Junsu along to pay respects to Jiyeon’s parents but that experience didn’t end too well.
Now, this place just felt so empty, a ghost town.
Yoochun recognized a few faces; a couple of them gave him a head bow while the others simply stared, wondering why he dared to show his face in this place again. Yoochun was wondering about that too. If someone had asked him the token question, Yoochun would’ve answered with a blink and a shrug. He didn’t know why he was here either. It was the only place he thought of to escape to, even if it brought back the pain.
Jiyeon always said he was a masochist.
And now that Yoochun was standing at the bottom of a long set of stone steps, he really could feel the wounds opening within. He wanted to turn back, but the words ‘coward’ and ‘bastard’ and ‘pathetic’ ran through his mind.
He really had no reason to be here. He was out-of-line to be standing in front of this house.
“Get the hell out of my house!”
“But Mrs. Lee-Mrs. Lee, please--!”
“Yoochun, I think we should go…” Fear.
Objects breaking, smashed into tiny crystals and dust. “Get out and take your filthy trash with you!”
Skinny fingers pulled him to the door. He turned around, determined to calm the old woman down, but sad eyes blocked his view. The wrinkles around his eyes are more prevalent than before.
“Mr. Park, Mr. Kim, I think your stay here is overdue, and you really need to leave.”
“…Mr. Lee, I-“
“Please don’t come here again. Ever.”
The sound of the door shutting was louder than the thunder clapping at his misery and the rain swallowing his pride. A hand found its way into his, cold and slippery.
“Yoochun, I’m so sorry…”
“May I help you, sir?”
The detective stumbled on a step, not realizing that he was already halfway up the stairs. He caught himself on a limestone wall and breathed deeply.
“…Yoochun?”
Said man glanced up and found his words caught in his throat instantly.
An unreadable expression was set on the woman’s face before Yoochun. She looked the same always, oval-shaped face, large eyes with slightly chubby cheeks and a slim nose.
“Isak?”
Silence fell upon them in an awkward manner. Isak shifted on her feet, transferring a weave basket to the other side of her waist. She brushed the bangs out of her eye with her free hand.
Yoochun ran his fingers along the limestone wall, trying to process his thoughts. Everything was jumbled up now. Usually, Junsu would fill in when Yoochun couldn’t.
Isak seemed to have that role down today. “I always wondered when you’d show your face around here again.”
Yoochun sighed. “Yeah.”
Isak started down the steps. “I’m surprised you held out for three years,” she said as she passed the other. When she reached the bottom, she turned around, meeting Yoochun’s blameworthy gaze. “They aren’t home, if you were wondering. They’re not at the shop either. And even if they were, they still don’t want to talk to you.”
Of course, thought Yoochun. Why would they want to talk to their dead daughter’s cheating fiancé? He smirked, feeling incredibly stupid at that moment. He looked back at the house; every hateful word spat at him came flooding back.
He really had no right to come back. He had no right to be standing in front of Jiyeon’s house like this.
After one final glance, Yoochun headed back down the stairs. He didn’t even spare Isak a look.
“H-hey, Yoochun…”
He paused in mid-step, and turned around. Isak had her hand reached out in front of her in a hesitant position.
“How…are things in Seoul?” She gave a tentative smile.
Yoochun gave out a bitter laugh. “Terrible.”
Never in a millennium did Yoochun picture himself having a decent conversation with anyone besides Jaejoong, after Jiyeon died, let alone her best friend. They took a stroll throughout the town; Isak talking about how she’d been doing the three years and Yoochun briefly explaining his lifestyle in the big city. Isak worked at a children’s center and occasionally, she checked up on the Lees.
“Do they still talk about her?” asked Yoochun, kicking a stray pebble aside.
“Rarely,” replied Isak.
Yoochun huffed.
“Now,” began Isak, “my turn to ask the questions,” she beamed. Yoochun raised his eyebrows at the woman. “What is Park Yoochun doing in this crummy, old, boring village?” She gave the detective a pointed stare. “Last time I checked, you hated this place.”
A groan flew out Yoochun’s mouth. He shoved his hands in his front jean pockets and pondered on what to say. “I can’t-,” he closed his eyes, “-things are complicated right now… Just complicated.”
Isak frowned. “… Is it because of Jiyeon?” she asked in a whisper.
They gradually came to a stop, Yoochun sporting a displeased look.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. “There’s a case that I’m working on… and, I’m positive-I know-it has nothing to do with Jiyeon, but after yesterday night,” and Yoochun took a deep breath, “I kept getting this really bad feeling and-“
“Yoochun…”
He trudged his fingers through his hair in one sweep and exhaled heavily. “I can’t explain it. I think I’m just having one of those moments, but I can’t fight the feeling now. It’s bothersome.”
Isak’s shoulders drooped, deflated on all thoughts. “I see… Kind of like what Jay said.”
“Jay?” Yoochun scowled. “Jay was here?”
Isak gaped, now realizing her mistake. “Heh,” she grinned. “Yeah, like a month ago.”
Yoochun hissed. “Asshole.”
Isak pushed him in the arm. “Hey, don’t be like that. He was just as upset as you were… We all were.”
“Yeah, I guess,” mumbled the detective. “What did he want anyway?”
Isak shrugged. “He returned some of her jewelry.”
“He still had some of her jewelry?” Anger pooled in Yoochun’s stomach. That punk still had some of her stuff? Well, Yoochun did too, but he was her fiancé, not an overly obsessed ex-boyfriend. The nerve of that guy.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I doubt it was all of it. You know how much he… cared. I’m surprised he had some anyway; I mean, Jiyeon loved her jewelry. I figured she took all of it when you two moved in together.”
Yoochun nodded. Jiyeon really did love to collect accessories. Yoochun had to sacrifice a drawer for her necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings. Junsu’s clothes replaced it now while the jewelry was stuffed in boxes somewhere in the back of a closet.
Just the memory of Jiyeon prancing around the apartment in a random array of necklaces brought a small chuckle out of Yoochun. God, she was so cute.
“Hey,” poked Isak, “what’s so funny?”
Yoochun waved at her, “It’s no-,” teardrop-shaped eyes blinked at him and that blinding smile grew wider, mocking him, “-thing…”
“Yoochun?” Junsu’s hand grabbed his wrist, sending chills up his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Yoochun breathed out. He shut his eyes, blinded by those pearly whites, only to open them to-
“Jiyeon…” he whispered. All the air in his body dispersed right then. Her lips curved upwards, dimples forming and eyes molding into half-moons. Her lips began to moved, opening and closing like calm waves; her voice is nothing but a faint whisper, the melodic sound floating around Yoochun, engulfing him.
I love you, Yoochun. Yoochun... Yoochun…
“-Yoochun! Yoochun!”
A dull pain wracked through the right side of the detective’s head, and he cursed, placing his hand on the throbbing area. Yoochun squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
Isak, lips pressed in a thin line, bent down to pick up the basket she dropped after her dead best friend’s fiancé zoned out on her and started mumbling nonsense. She breathed out her nose, irritated.
When Yoochun opened his eyes, he was thankful to see a blurry Isak glowering at him like she always did whenever he gloated about something. He kind of missed that annoying scowl.
“I think you should go back to Seoul-“
He didn’t miss Isak’s frankness though.
“-before you lose the last bit of sanity you have left. If there is any…”
He didn’t miss that she was kind of always right.
“What happened to your face?” was the first thing Jaejoong asked when Yoochun sat in the driver’s seat.
Yoochun halted in the shutting the door, giving Jaejoong an incredulous look. The bartender matched him.
Yoochun shut the door, and slumped in his seat. The sound of crinkling paper caught his attention and he turned to his friend fumbling with the seatbelt. There were a couple of paper bags stuffed between his legs and the chair.
“What’s that?” asked Yoochun, nodding towards the new items.
Jaejoong temporarily froze up shortly after clicking in his seatbelt. He clucked his tongue. “Ah,” he gasped, “Just some stuff I saw in the store over there,” and pointed out the window in a random direction. The contorted features on Yoochun’s face left a bitter feeling in Jaejoong’s gut.
He was pointing at the jewelry store, By L Style.
That was the Lees’ family shop.
Yoochun turned on the ignition and pulled off the curb.
He ignored Jaejoong’s panicked warnings about speeding all the way back to Seoul.
Yoochun opened the door to his apartment. He closed the door quietly and kicked off his shoes. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, heavily bothered. A short nap was greatly needed.
He headed for the bedroom without a second thought. Yoochun was halfway there when something struck him as off. He peeked over his shoulder at the pictures aligned on the wall. Painting, painting, painting, photograph of Jiyeon and him-what the hell?
“Junsu?” called Yoochun. He ran his hand along the empty space where the framed photograph should’ve been.
“Yeah…” came a small reply. Yoochun’s gaze landed on the couch by the front door and the person sitting on it. Had he been sitting there since he came in? Junsu was hunched over, bangs hanging lazily from his head, covering his face. He was fiddling with a remotely large but thin object. When he tilted it at the right angle, Yoochun caught a glimpse of a glass cover and two disproportioned figures.
It was the missing photograph. Anger seeped into Yoochun’s veins.
Fists balled up, Yoochun walked over to Junsu, but when the latter lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and lips chewed up and bright red, he stopped.
Junsu was a mess, much worse than anything a hangover would normally leave behind.
“Junsu--” the rest of his sentence got stuck on the tip of his tongue.
“Did you go visit her today…?” questioned Junsu, voice cracking and barely above a murmur.
Yoochun unclasped his hands. He opened his mouth, but had nothing to say, so he closed it. Instead, he watched Junsu brush his fingers across the picture. He ran his index finger along Yoochun’s jaw and down his nose, but then he moved to Jiyeon’s face, circling around the entire form a few times.
“So beautiful…,” he bit on his bottom lip but the smile broke through regardless. “You’re so lucky Yoochun.” Junsu’s eyes began to glaze over.
The older male blinked harshly, fighting any sign of emotion that wanted to break out. He didn’t know what was going on; Junsu had never done anything like this before.
“Yoochun…,” croaked Junsu, “do you still love her?”
The room succumbed to silence, Yoochun wide-eyed, and Junsu marring a stoic expression. What was he doing-Yoochun couldn’t process what was happening or what the other man was asking him.
“…Do you love me?”
Yoochun stood still, speechless; only the resonance of his heart banging against his ribcage let him know that he was still living in reality.
Receiving no response, Junsu couldn’t prevent the choked laughter that jumped out of his throat. Such a silly, absurd question Junsu. Stop being so dim-witted Junsu.
But he just needed to hear the truth first.
“I’ll never compare to her, will I?”
Yoochun’s shoulders slumped, and Junsu figured he was going to answer him, but he continued. If he didn’t finish this now, the misery would just consume him.
“…I love you, Yoochun, so much,” he withdrew a shaky breath, “so fucking much, I think I might die without you but...”
Yoochun’s eyes left Junsu’s, diverting themselves to the coffee table.
“…I need to get away from you.” Junsu muttered, teeth clicking together. “Everything about you drives me insane, and it’s making me think irrationally and everything-.”
Yoochun turned away from Junsu, and he dismissed the sob from behind him. He spotted and heard the clunk from the photo being set on the table. His ear picked up the other man’s movements, but he refused to turn around.
Jittery fingers were pressed against his shoulder blades and slid up to bend around his shoulders and squeezed. Warm, but stale carbon dioxide tickled the back of his neck, making the hair on his arms rise.
Finally, dry lips caressed his nape, disappearing at the collar on his shirt, and was replaced with the tip of Junsu’s nose, followed by the rest of his head and matted bangs.
Yoochun hated the prickling sensation spawning in the corner on his eyes.
“…I’m moving out.”
If Jaejoong knew any better, he would’ve stopped giving his legitimately fucked up friend a beer every five minutes, but he didn’t want Yoochun to start trashing the bar like he did two years ago because one of the other bartenders wouldn’t give the man another Corona. He just looked so pathetic with his head lying on a table, hands gripped around Jaejoong’s wrists, and an almost empty bottle a few centimeters away.
“Have a nice night!” Said Jae to a random couple exiting the bar. They frowned at him as he smiled back, sheepishly. The grip on his wrists tightened and Jaejoong hissed at the detective.
A masochist and a sadist, all in one. Jaejoong close his eyes and sighed.
“Yoochun.”
The other grumbled.
“Yoochun, do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head against the table.
Quickly defeated and kind of in hurry, Jaejoong glanced at the clock. This wasn’t the first time Yoochun messed up his plans for the night, barging in unannounced because of something Junsu did. Junsu… What the hell did he do this time?
“Yoochun…” Jaejoong thought about it for a second, “Listen to me.” He wiggled his wrists, hoping to startle Yoochun. Given no reaction, Jaejoong decided to lean his head against Yoochun’s. He smiled, heartening. “Junsu doesn’t deserve someone as great as you, you know. He’s just blind to not see that.”
A violent jerk of Yoochun’s head startled the bartender and he leaned away. It took a while for him to realize that his friend was snorting in awkward spasms. Perplexed, Jaejoong sat up again.
“Jae…” groaned Yoochun.
Jaejoong’s eyes flickered all over the bar; the place was practically empty minus a few customers near the karaoke machine. His gaze fell on Yoochun. “Yes?”
“I fucked up everything.”
“I’m leaving!” announced Isak from the foyer as she bent down to put on her sandals.
An older woman came out from the room where the television was blasting, a wrapped case of food in her hands. By the time she reached Isak, the younger woman was tossing her bag over her shoulder.
Isak gasped at the sight of the Tupperware. “Oh, Mrs. Lee!” Her face glowed with amusement. “You shouldn’t have!”
Mrs. Lee shrugged, a grin tugging on her aged features. “It’s just some soup I had left over. Please, take some.”
Isak pouted, wanting to decline because she knew the older woman cooked that after she showed up but Mrs. Lee would reprimand her if she did. The Lees never said it, but Isak knew she was like a replacement for Jiyeon. She never said anything about it, thinking that it was just their way of grieving the loss of their only child. Isak took the food and gave Mrs. Lee a side hug. “Thank you.”
“No problem dear. Now please, be careful on your way home.”
“I will, I will.” Isak bowed. “Bye Mr. Lee!”
“Bye~!” sang Mr. Lee from the other room. Mrs. Lee shook her head while Isak chuckled. She waved at the married woman before reaching for the doorknob-
And a knock came at the door. Isak hopped back, eyebrow raised. Mrs. Lee had her hand hovering over her chest.
“Who in there right mind would be knocking on our door so late at night?” complained Mrs. Lee.
Another knock rapped at the door.
Instantly, Isak’s mind went straight to Yoochun. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling apologetic already. She knew her warning wouldn’t have fazed that man; so hard-headed he was!
Another knock.
Mrs. Lee huffed. “So persistent!”
Isak laughed. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Lee. It’s probably one of the nine girls from down the street. They’re always pulling pranks on people-“
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock-
“Alright, alright!” yelled Isak now frustrated herself. Seriously, if that was Yoochun… She swung the door open. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late to be-huh?”
Isak would’ve taken a dismal Park Yoochun over staring down the barrel of a gun.