Scattered Vertebrae (I)
Title: Scattered Vertebrae
Author: countingcr0ws
Beta: ligerliger
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Form: One-shot ( 1 | 2 )
Genre: AU, Generally Happy, Lucid, Slice of Life
Summary: There’s something quite uneven about their relationship that Yunho doesn’t know how to make right.
The difference is subtle, and Yunho almost falls over mid-wobble. He wouldn't have noticed it if his oxfords hadn't been so hard to kick off.
His heart has already picked up from its lazy amble as he drops his briefcase onto the couch heavily.
Shrugging off his suit with an impatient rustle, he drapes it onto the edge off the couch with his tie, a quiet gulp of saliva aching his parched throat. The hallway feels the same, but there's an undercurrent of throbbing anticipation and Yunho heads directly for it, his feet padding softly on the cool marble tiles. He presses down on the handle and the cold air pushes out against his face while he takes in the smell of machine-processed air. The curtains are drawn, and there's a distinct form barely under his covers.
Losing his shirt quickly, Yunho suppresses a shiver as he drops the cloth onto the floor carelessly. It's been a while since he was subjected to Jaejoong's sleeping habits, and while he doesn't want to think about how long it's been, the answer still surfaces in his mind. He may or may not have been counting, sheets unchanged for the large part of the month with the insistence that he could feel Jaejoong, until he decided to snap out of it.
Well, at least the singer was back just in time to grace his fresh ones. The cold presses directly onto Yunho's bare skin as he tries futilely to tug the comforter up on the other side to cover Jaejoong's topless form. The hum of the air conditioner fills the otherwise quiet room, and his fingers curl over Jaejoong's back, an arm over the other's waist.
There's but a sliver of light from between the curtains, and Yunho can barely make out the sleeping form in front of him, the distance so vast. Maybe it's the difference between what they do for a living; Jaejoong an international star, him a paper-pusher in a random corporation. And he remembers how stupid he must be to Jaejoong, a plaything, a quick fuck. Jaejoong probably knows that he's the only one that Yunho does, and he'll be stupid if he expects the same from the other. A sharp stab to his heart leaves him winded for a moment and he feels the blood ooze out before he inches closer, fingers climbing up the ridges of Jaejoong's back unsteadily, intoxicated in his personal hell of having Jaejoong in his arms, yet not having him.
One step, to another as he ascends a lumbar vertebra to meet another lumbar vertebra impossibly slowly, as if counting the spaces between the dull pain of his chest. He steadies his breath while he trails the nervous control of Jaejoong's legs and lower body.
His heart has long betrayed him in his loneliness, clutching onto the first person, anything, that would touch him. He takes in the fading scent of his cologne on Jaejoong.
It's too common a brand for anything.
There's a caress under the pads of his fingertips, and he leaves a trail of love in his wake, an escape route for himself to lose his heart one rung after another, for the day he loses his sanity while hiding his affection from Jaejoong, or when Jaejoong notices the strings of attachment, whichever coming first.
Yunho inches higher beyond the thoracic vertebrae of the trunk, and because he's good at random facts, he remembers that most of the cervical vertebrae controls the neck as he stops at the curve of the length, unable to breathe. His fingers are back from mapping the control of Jaejoong's central nervous system, but he comes home to find himself drowning, his heart long underwater.
He doesn't know when he had let the water in.
Pulling Jaejoong closer while the other shifts imperceptibly, Yunho's fingers settle on the pulse point in Jaejoong's neck as he presses his head into the curve of Jaejoong's chin. Focusing on the contrasting mix of Jaejoong's tangy scent with the fading bergamot of his cologne, Yunho clutches on tightly as the tidal waves rush, desperate to hurl him into the rocks.
-
Yunho wakes up in increments, desperately fighting the urge to burrow his face into the neighbouring pillow when he notices the contrasting emptiness.
He jumps at the sharp flush of water from the adjoined toilet, breaking into a tired smile, letting out a breath when the spray of shower starts. Sitting up with a comb of his hair, he wonders what time it is. Yunho isn't the type to wake up groggy, long disciplined by his fastidious work ethics.
It's close to eleven, and he wonders when Jaejoong had last eaten. He may or may not have been following Jaejoong's schedule ever since their relationship started, and he knows that Jaejoong was returning from a two-day concert.
It was so hard to anticipate when Jaejoong would remember that he had this sex outlet, and his fridge was actually pretty bare. Fuck.
Suddenly remembering the supplies he had bought in anticipation for morning-afters and all those fancy things he doesn't have time for, Yunho picks out the just-add-eggs-and-water pancake mix, before wondering when he had bought the eggs because how long do eggs take to expire? Well, when was the last time Jaejoong returned to Korea?, a voice returns, and Yunho shuts it down with a final slam of his kitchen drawer.
As he cracks the eggs onto the mound of powder in the mixing bowl, he sniffs at it, noting how it doesn't smell bad. Four days probably wouldn't hurt anybody, and he almost wishes that he had already perfected his attempt at cooking noodles. His last try had turned out okay but Jaejoong would probably have binned it without a second look. Ladling the mix onto the pan as the butter starts to sizzle, Yunho jolts at the realization of his assumption. Was Jaejoong even going to stay? Weren’t pancakes a morning sort of food? He should have totally just made eggs. But weren't eggs worse? Who had eggs in the middle of the night? Thunking his head against the exhaust hood, he focuses on flipping it just right instead.
Maybe he could pass it off as a midnight snack thing that he was into nowadays if Jaejoong was leaving. But they hadn't fucked yet, so... he frowns to himself at how everything goes back to the urges of basic sexual needs. Jaejoong's urges of basic sexual needs, to be exact.
"Yunho-" he startles out of the thoughts of how different his life might have been if he hadn't went to the bar that night.
He knows that it would have been the same, but it doesn’t matter. He loves to pretend that it’s his biggest what-if.
"Are you actually cooking? Wow." Yunho feels his skin prickling like his body's too big for him, and he has the urge to throw the spatula down and bolt. To where, he wasn't sure either. Just to some place where he wouldn't have to explain himself because the words would probably tumble out, and Jaejoong would leave because he was Jaejoong, and then he would have nothing but a drawer filled with fancy things and too much just-add-eggs-and-water pancake mix and- fuck, he was such a mess.
"I just kind of have this urge for pancakes recently," Yunho shrugs coolly like it's no big deal, that he isn't cooking because he wants to make something for the person he loves, so that he can watch the other eat, and it's definitely not because just-add-eggs-and-water pancakes are the only thing that he can make right now, and that he's working at it, just that it'll take a while.
"Oh, that's nice. I haven't had pancakes for some time," Jaejoong offers as he hops onto the counter, and Yunho smiles to himself nervously before turning to look at Jaejoong properly after a month. He's thin, Yunho notes staunchly as he flips the pancake over with more poise than he really felt.
"How's work?" Yunho asks as if he doesn't know. Jaejoong was having a series of sold out concerts, and the reviews for his latest album had been spectacular. He could see his pyjama bottoms swinging at the corner of his eyes.
"Good, I guess? I'm having more creative freedom with my concerts this time, so it's great."
Which probably explains the stage-changing segments, Yunho nods grimly as he focuses on his batter. He had initially been a little cross at the bare torso on display until he had remembered that he had absolutely no control over Jaejoong.
"So when are you leaving?" He regrets his question the moment it leaves his mouth. "Korea, I mean," he hastily adds, because he knows the answer to the first. They both do. He should probably get a proper relationship soon.
There's a short silence, and Yunho presses a lump of flour in the batter diligently without looking up. He probably should though, and there's a quiet look on the singer's face.
"In five days." Jaejoong is biting his top lip now, and Yunho cringes, waiting for the shoe to drop at his faux pas. Their arrangement was like a game of minesweeper created by Jaejoong, where he had to know which places to click on, and which to avoid. He can't bring up the presence of the mines because Jaejoong's the one who call the shots, and he wasn't even supposed to mind about the mines in the first place.
"Can you get the plates and stuff?" He quickly suggests, and Jaejoong jumps off the cooking counter brightly as he heads for the cupboard. Yunho watches the pancake turn golden as he tries his best to ignore the fact that Jaejoong knows where the plates and stuff are.
Jaejoong is still standing awkwardly at the raised bar counter when he removes his apron before bringing the stack over. He tries not to worry about what Jaejoong might be thinking.
"So, how's work?" Jaejoong suddenly pipes up, a lazy hand propping his chin up as his weight rests against the bar counter. He blinks at Jaejoong as the cool air from the refrigerator presses against his face while he fishes for the maple syrup. “Okay, I suppose."
Jaejoong smiles thinly at his reply, and Yunho has to pry his eyes from the singer's ribs. "Saw you on the news. Something about improving logistics dispatchment with warehouses scattered nationwide or something."
Yunho's a little bowled over by the fact that Jaejoong actually keeps up with the things he does, but the warmth dissipates as quickly as it comes. He had been on the front page for that. The stations probably reported it too. "You actually watch the news?" It's apparently the right thing to say, because the atmosphere cracks with Jaejoong's indignant laughter as his pancake falls onto the plate with a soft flop. "Obviously I do," he leans forward and Yunho blinks at the pupils semi-obstructed by the overgrown blonde locks. "They sometimes report about me." He smirks devilishly with palpable satisfaction before breaking out into laughter once more as he drizzles too much maple syrup onto his food. It looks almost drenched.
Yunho nods imperceptibly as he cuts a small corner out. That probably explains why the last few pages of his papers were occasionally ruffled when Jaejoong stayed over. For some reason, he finds the unabashed confession of egoism endearing. By contrast, he already knows more than enough of his projects, the viability of and its recurring impacts, having put it through enough analysts. He skips anything that mentions himself or the company.
"Aren't you going to add any syrup?" Jaejoong interjects when Yunho is almost finished with his first pancake. Yunho shakes his head as he feeds himself the last piece.
"I like the buttery taste," he replies and Jaejoong simply shrugs as he spreads the all-day free pass to cavities onto the bare underside as the silence resumes.
There’s nothing much he'd like to ask that doesn't push the boundaries of their casual relationship. Because where was Jaejoong's luggage, what was his favourite colour, what does he miss whenever he leaves Korea (he wishes that it was him), and could they arrange a day for a date? There's too much prohibition, and it tires him out.
Setting his fork down, Yunho gestures for the singer. Jaejoong all but slides over, all smiles as he climbs onto Yunho's lap easily. Yunho finds himself disappointed at how much Jaejoong smells like him. Wrapping his arms around the other's fragile torso, he pushes his face into the other's hair, sneaking a taste of the soft patch of skin behind Jaejoong's earlobe. The singer keens at the suction, and Yunho's hands roam tenderly.
Because he can't say it, he'll show it. Because his love is a filthy stain on Jaejoong's side, he knows that it'll be thrown back in his face if he so much as accidentally exhales his affection without filtering. But if it isn't words, then it's a fair game that he could pass off as something else if Jaejoong questions.
Yunho slides, almost trembling, and he wonders if Jaejoong can feel the desperate tears under his hands. and the need in his tongue.
There's a naked plead on his lips as he begs, for Jaejoong to look at him, and if he could, to love him. His fingers are trembling, shaky with the ache within him, and his heart clenches wildly as it squeezes, twisting itself in his guts.
It's the only way he can put it all out there, offering his disguised, bleeding heart up for interpretation, while desperately praying that Jaejoong wouldn't peel back its layers.
And I love you, he begs into Jaejoong's mouth, and maybe, maybe Jaejoong would taste it at the back of his tongue one day when he's alone, or maybe he would swallow it and then Yunho would fall deeper and everything would end up darker, another part of him breaking, and collapsing into a pile of ruins. But he'll be okay; okay, because he'll have Jaejoong still, until Jaejoong left, then he would have nothing.
When Jaejoong breaks away, Yunho presses his eyes shut, the pressure of the sorrow in his chest almost knocking him out as it wrenches at his heart. His soul has emptied into its counterpart, and he's broken, lost in the current that's been gushing ominously since he's met Jaejoong.
Yunho doesn't respond as Jaejoong leans their foreheads together. He needs to find a place to hold on to for him to regain enough composure before he meets Jaejoong's eyes.
He tries to kick as he focuses on the trail of hot lava in the wake of Jaejoong's hands, but the water doesn't break however even as he rises. As his strokes weaken, he realises that the water has gone warm.
It has always been Jaejoong all this while, he realises belatedly as his eyes warm while his hands fall to his side. His limbs sore from the desperate exertion, but the water is so warm. The underwater currents are pulling him lower; lower into the darkness, but he doesn't fight it anymore this time. He doesn't have enough strength to.
"And I love you, Yunho."
It's a silent whisper, but the words permeate the depth, echoing his ears, and the water releases him immediately, tossing him into the surface as it recedes simultaneously. A strangled cry escapes his lips as his heart breaks free of its tether.
- - - - -
A/N: Ehm, I'm going Thailand for six days starting tomorrow and my winter break's almost over. I evidently need to work more, omg.
Pretty title was from a random book I saw in the library, and I wrote this as like an experiment for a different style (idk whether evident). It initially started with an idea to finger climb a trail of pebbled spine, which is why I refused to throw it out no matter how weird it was.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for dropping by despite the awkward summary.
I hope it wasn't that bad.
I really need to write more.
Prev Chap | Next Chap
Author: countingcr0ws
Beta: ligerliger
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Form: One-shot ( 1 | 2 )
Genre: AU, Generally Happy, Lucid, Slice of Life
Summary: There’s something quite uneven about their relationship that Yunho doesn’t know how to make right.
The difference is subtle, and Yunho almost falls over mid-wobble. He wouldn't have noticed it if his oxfords hadn't been so hard to kick off.
His heart has already picked up from its lazy amble as he drops his briefcase onto the couch heavily.
Shrugging off his suit with an impatient rustle, he drapes it onto the edge off the couch with his tie, a quiet gulp of saliva aching his parched throat. The hallway feels the same, but there's an undercurrent of throbbing anticipation and Yunho heads directly for it, his feet padding softly on the cool marble tiles. He presses down on the handle and the cold air pushes out against his face while he takes in the smell of machine-processed air. The curtains are drawn, and there's a distinct form barely under his covers.
Losing his shirt quickly, Yunho suppresses a shiver as he drops the cloth onto the floor carelessly. It's been a while since he was subjected to Jaejoong's sleeping habits, and while he doesn't want to think about how long it's been, the answer still surfaces in his mind. He may or may not have been counting, sheets unchanged for the large part of the month with the insistence that he could feel Jaejoong, until he decided to snap out of it.
Well, at least the singer was back just in time to grace his fresh ones. The cold presses directly onto Yunho's bare skin as he tries futilely to tug the comforter up on the other side to cover Jaejoong's topless form. The hum of the air conditioner fills the otherwise quiet room, and his fingers curl over Jaejoong's back, an arm over the other's waist.
There's but a sliver of light from between the curtains, and Yunho can barely make out the sleeping form in front of him, the distance so vast. Maybe it's the difference between what they do for a living; Jaejoong an international star, him a paper-pusher in a random corporation. And he remembers how stupid he must be to Jaejoong, a plaything, a quick fuck. Jaejoong probably knows that he's the only one that Yunho does, and he'll be stupid if he expects the same from the other. A sharp stab to his heart leaves him winded for a moment and he feels the blood ooze out before he inches closer, fingers climbing up the ridges of Jaejoong's back unsteadily, intoxicated in his personal hell of having Jaejoong in his arms, yet not having him.
One step, to another as he ascends a lumbar vertebra to meet another lumbar vertebra impossibly slowly, as if counting the spaces between the dull pain of his chest. He steadies his breath while he trails the nervous control of Jaejoong's legs and lower body.
His heart has long betrayed him in his loneliness, clutching onto the first person, anything, that would touch him. He takes in the fading scent of his cologne on Jaejoong.
It's too common a brand for anything.
There's a caress under the pads of his fingertips, and he leaves a trail of love in his wake, an escape route for himself to lose his heart one rung after another, for the day he loses his sanity while hiding his affection from Jaejoong, or when Jaejoong notices the strings of attachment, whichever coming first.
Yunho inches higher beyond the thoracic vertebrae of the trunk, and because he's good at random facts, he remembers that most of the cervical vertebrae controls the neck as he stops at the curve of the length, unable to breathe. His fingers are back from mapping the control of Jaejoong's central nervous system, but he comes home to find himself drowning, his heart long underwater.
He doesn't know when he had let the water in.
Pulling Jaejoong closer while the other shifts imperceptibly, Yunho's fingers settle on the pulse point in Jaejoong's neck as he presses his head into the curve of Jaejoong's chin. Focusing on the contrasting mix of Jaejoong's tangy scent with the fading bergamot of his cologne, Yunho clutches on tightly as the tidal waves rush, desperate to hurl him into the rocks.
-
Yunho wakes up in increments, desperately fighting the urge to burrow his face into the neighbouring pillow when he notices the contrasting emptiness.
He jumps at the sharp flush of water from the adjoined toilet, breaking into a tired smile, letting out a breath when the spray of shower starts. Sitting up with a comb of his hair, he wonders what time it is. Yunho isn't the type to wake up groggy, long disciplined by his fastidious work ethics.
It's close to eleven, and he wonders when Jaejoong had last eaten. He may or may not have been following Jaejoong's schedule ever since their relationship started, and he knows that Jaejoong was returning from a two-day concert.
It was so hard to anticipate when Jaejoong would remember that he had this sex outlet, and his fridge was actually pretty bare. Fuck.
Suddenly remembering the supplies he had bought in anticipation for morning-afters and all those fancy things he doesn't have time for, Yunho picks out the just-add-eggs-and-water pancake mix, before wondering when he had bought the eggs because how long do eggs take to expire? Well, when was the last time Jaejoong returned to Korea?, a voice returns, and Yunho shuts it down with a final slam of his kitchen drawer.
As he cracks the eggs onto the mound of powder in the mixing bowl, he sniffs at it, noting how it doesn't smell bad. Four days probably wouldn't hurt anybody, and he almost wishes that he had already perfected his attempt at cooking noodles. His last try had turned out okay but Jaejoong would probably have binned it without a second look. Ladling the mix onto the pan as the butter starts to sizzle, Yunho jolts at the realization of his assumption. Was Jaejoong even going to stay? Weren’t pancakes a morning sort of food? He should have totally just made eggs. But weren't eggs worse? Who had eggs in the middle of the night? Thunking his head against the exhaust hood, he focuses on flipping it just right instead.
Maybe he could pass it off as a midnight snack thing that he was into nowadays if Jaejoong was leaving. But they hadn't fucked yet, so... he frowns to himself at how everything goes back to the urges of basic sexual needs. Jaejoong's urges of basic sexual needs, to be exact.
"Yunho-" he startles out of the thoughts of how different his life might have been if he hadn't went to the bar that night.
He knows that it would have been the same, but it doesn’t matter. He loves to pretend that it’s his biggest what-if.
"Are you actually cooking? Wow." Yunho feels his skin prickling like his body's too big for him, and he has the urge to throw the spatula down and bolt. To where, he wasn't sure either. Just to some place where he wouldn't have to explain himself because the words would probably tumble out, and Jaejoong would leave because he was Jaejoong, and then he would have nothing but a drawer filled with fancy things and too much just-add-eggs-and-water pancake mix and- fuck, he was such a mess.
"I just kind of have this urge for pancakes recently," Yunho shrugs coolly like it's no big deal, that he isn't cooking because he wants to make something for the person he loves, so that he can watch the other eat, and it's definitely not because just-add-eggs-and-water pancakes are the only thing that he can make right now, and that he's working at it, just that it'll take a while.
"Oh, that's nice. I haven't had pancakes for some time," Jaejoong offers as he hops onto the counter, and Yunho smiles to himself nervously before turning to look at Jaejoong properly after a month. He's thin, Yunho notes staunchly as he flips the pancake over with more poise than he really felt.
"How's work?" Yunho asks as if he doesn't know. Jaejoong was having a series of sold out concerts, and the reviews for his latest album had been spectacular. He could see his pyjama bottoms swinging at the corner of his eyes.
"Good, I guess? I'm having more creative freedom with my concerts this time, so it's great."
Which probably explains the stage-changing segments, Yunho nods grimly as he focuses on his batter. He had initially been a little cross at the bare torso on display until he had remembered that he had absolutely no control over Jaejoong.
"So when are you leaving?" He regrets his question the moment it leaves his mouth. "Korea, I mean," he hastily adds, because he knows the answer to the first. They both do. He should probably get a proper relationship soon.
There's a short silence, and Yunho presses a lump of flour in the batter diligently without looking up. He probably should though, and there's a quiet look on the singer's face.
"In five days." Jaejoong is biting his top lip now, and Yunho cringes, waiting for the shoe to drop at his faux pas. Their arrangement was like a game of minesweeper created by Jaejoong, where he had to know which places to click on, and which to avoid. He can't bring up the presence of the mines because Jaejoong's the one who call the shots, and he wasn't even supposed to mind about the mines in the first place.
"Can you get the plates and stuff?" He quickly suggests, and Jaejoong jumps off the cooking counter brightly as he heads for the cupboard. Yunho watches the pancake turn golden as he tries his best to ignore the fact that Jaejoong knows where the plates and stuff are.
Jaejoong is still standing awkwardly at the raised bar counter when he removes his apron before bringing the stack over. He tries not to worry about what Jaejoong might be thinking.
"So, how's work?" Jaejoong suddenly pipes up, a lazy hand propping his chin up as his weight rests against the bar counter. He blinks at Jaejoong as the cool air from the refrigerator presses against his face while he fishes for the maple syrup. “Okay, I suppose."
Jaejoong smiles thinly at his reply, and Yunho has to pry his eyes from the singer's ribs. "Saw you on the news. Something about improving logistics dispatchment with warehouses scattered nationwide or something."
Yunho's a little bowled over by the fact that Jaejoong actually keeps up with the things he does, but the warmth dissipates as quickly as it comes. He had been on the front page for that. The stations probably reported it too. "You actually watch the news?" It's apparently the right thing to say, because the atmosphere cracks with Jaejoong's indignant laughter as his pancake falls onto the plate with a soft flop. "Obviously I do," he leans forward and Yunho blinks at the pupils semi-obstructed by the overgrown blonde locks. "They sometimes report about me." He smirks devilishly with palpable satisfaction before breaking out into laughter once more as he drizzles too much maple syrup onto his food. It looks almost drenched.
Yunho nods imperceptibly as he cuts a small corner out. That probably explains why the last few pages of his papers were occasionally ruffled when Jaejoong stayed over. For some reason, he finds the unabashed confession of egoism endearing. By contrast, he already knows more than enough of his projects, the viability of and its recurring impacts, having put it through enough analysts. He skips anything that mentions himself or the company.
"Aren't you going to add any syrup?" Jaejoong interjects when Yunho is almost finished with his first pancake. Yunho shakes his head as he feeds himself the last piece.
"I like the buttery taste," he replies and Jaejoong simply shrugs as he spreads the all-day free pass to cavities onto the bare underside as the silence resumes.
There’s nothing much he'd like to ask that doesn't push the boundaries of their casual relationship. Because where was Jaejoong's luggage, what was his favourite colour, what does he miss whenever he leaves Korea (he wishes that it was him), and could they arrange a day for a date? There's too much prohibition, and it tires him out.
Setting his fork down, Yunho gestures for the singer. Jaejoong all but slides over, all smiles as he climbs onto Yunho's lap easily. Yunho finds himself disappointed at how much Jaejoong smells like him. Wrapping his arms around the other's fragile torso, he pushes his face into the other's hair, sneaking a taste of the soft patch of skin behind Jaejoong's earlobe. The singer keens at the suction, and Yunho's hands roam tenderly.
Because he can't say it, he'll show it. Because his love is a filthy stain on Jaejoong's side, he knows that it'll be thrown back in his face if he so much as accidentally exhales his affection without filtering. But if it isn't words, then it's a fair game that he could pass off as something else if Jaejoong questions.
Yunho slides, almost trembling, and he wonders if Jaejoong can feel the desperate tears under his hands. and the need in his tongue.
There's a naked plead on his lips as he begs, for Jaejoong to look at him, and if he could, to love him. His fingers are trembling, shaky with the ache within him, and his heart clenches wildly as it squeezes, twisting itself in his guts.
It's the only way he can put it all out there, offering his disguised, bleeding heart up for interpretation, while desperately praying that Jaejoong wouldn't peel back its layers.
And I love you, he begs into Jaejoong's mouth, and maybe, maybe Jaejoong would taste it at the back of his tongue one day when he's alone, or maybe he would swallow it and then Yunho would fall deeper and everything would end up darker, another part of him breaking, and collapsing into a pile of ruins. But he'll be okay; okay, because he'll have Jaejoong still, until Jaejoong left, then he would have nothing.
When Jaejoong breaks away, Yunho presses his eyes shut, the pressure of the sorrow in his chest almost knocking him out as it wrenches at his heart. His soul has emptied into its counterpart, and he's broken, lost in the current that's been gushing ominously since he's met Jaejoong.
Yunho doesn't respond as Jaejoong leans their foreheads together. He needs to find a place to hold on to for him to regain enough composure before he meets Jaejoong's eyes.
He tries to kick as he focuses on the trail of hot lava in the wake of Jaejoong's hands, but the water doesn't break however even as he rises. As his strokes weaken, he realises that the water has gone warm.
It has always been Jaejoong all this while, he realises belatedly as his eyes warm while his hands fall to his side. His limbs sore from the desperate exertion, but the water is so warm. The underwater currents are pulling him lower; lower into the darkness, but he doesn't fight it anymore this time. He doesn't have enough strength to.
"And I love you, Yunho."
It's a silent whisper, but the words permeate the depth, echoing his ears, and the water releases him immediately, tossing him into the surface as it recedes simultaneously. A strangled cry escapes his lips as his heart breaks free of its tether.
- - - - -
A/N: Ehm, I'm going Thailand for six days starting tomorrow and my winter break's almost over. I evidently need to work more, omg.
Pretty title was from a random book I saw in the library, and I wrote this as like an experiment for a different style (idk whether evident). It initially started with an idea to finger climb a trail of pebbled spine, which is why I refused to throw it out no matter how weird it was.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for dropping by despite the awkward summary.
I hope it wasn't that bad.
I really need to write more.
Prev Chap | Next Chap