The Wrong Way Home
Title: The Wrong Way Home
Author: countingcr0ws
Beta: irisleejin
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: R
Form: One-shot
Genre: ARs in AU, Generally Happy, Mild Supernatural, Romance, Slice-of-Life
Warnings: Headcanon with too much poetic license, Non-con sex
Summary: Jaejoong’s brash. There’s no place quite like home without Yunho, but he has pushed his sanctuary away. As Jaejoong faces his mistakes alone, he tries to become a better man for Yunho.
Inspired by: Sleep Song (Sterek) by Cheshyr, Maybe in Another Universe, I Deserve You by Gaby Dunn, Nana by Yazawa Ai
A/N: A little over 6k (take a seat), served with a good serving of confusion on the side.
He lets Yunho leave because he doesn't need Yunho anymore. He doesn't need anybody who can't see it; who can't understand it.
There's a hot taste of fury in his mouth, and he stands in the middle of his room, head swirling with anger.
The door suddenly opens once more, and he looks up, a scalding remark ready to spring forth; to hurt. Only that it isn't Yunho crawling back for the forgiveness that he doesn't deserve.
He stares at the man with the lagoon blue hair (he should know, he was looking at blue hair dyes with Junsu), and there's a suspended moment between them.
The anger is slithering in his throat, ready to strike, when he notices that the man's eyes are the kind of black that make up his darkest dreams. The irises are slowly swirling, spreading to obscure the whites, and before he can scream about fucked up eyes and illegal trespassing, the world goes dark.
-
He's sitting at a row of tables outside a coffee shop, and there's a cup of iced caramel macchiato placed in front of him.
Leaning forward, he takes a small sip, the familiar taste filling him with a satisfaction that reminds him of home, and he hums to himself, pleased at how well it's made.
It's Yunho's favorite drink, and he occasionally buys a cup for himself whenever they’re apart, a little taste of Yunho away from Yunho.
There's an acute feeling of being watched, and he looks up. The caramel sweetness hits the back of his throat sharply as he starts in shock. Yunho's sitting opposite him, eyes blazing as if calculating and cataloging his every move, and Jaejoong swallows, anger already rising once more at the sight of the man. How dare he appear in front of him again? If he couldn't stand up and fight for him, then it was all over. They had agreed on it, and Yunho was a fucking pathetic excuse of a man. He leans in to begin, when Yunho lets out a puff of smoke, the tendrils of cloves brushing across his skin.
Jaejoong sputters back in shock, anger crumbling into dust immediately. Yunho never approved of his smoking, and the wounds from the countless arguments are still fresh at his side.
It had been one of their favourite topics to quarrel about. Yunho never learnt to let it go, and he would never learn to back down. It always escalated too quickly, beginning with a mere wrinkle of nose; ending with too much hurt. Yunho would only give in days later, and they would hold on to each other desperately, until it started all over again.
But he needed his cigarettes, a focal point in the mess that he had created, a stick of power slot between his fingers as his thoughts faded into the background; but Yunho never understood.
The way Yunho flicks the ashes makes him choke on his saliva in shock, the sight of the slim fingers he had spent nights tracing balancing the roll casually- an utter blasphemy.
It's not his Yunho, his sanity begs above the noise.
It's not his Yunho, he repeats desperately. Because his Yunho has a look of perpetual weariness in his eyes (when had it happened, and how did it become a distinguishing factor) that mirrored his, whereas this Yunho has an intimidating smoulder, eyes completely devoid of the mirth that would spring freely within his.
Jaejoong suppresses a shiver, eyes transfixed as the stranger before him brings the stick up to his lips, a firm draw on a filter, the cross hairs of the other's eyes never leaving his.
He has the urge to scream- that Yunho shouldn't be smoking, because smoking's bad, and he loves Yunho so much he doesn't want (any) Yunho to be taken away by lung cancer or some other disease; and that he looks so distant when he does that- it's a familiar argument that he has heard before, countless of times, and he hates how it makes him feel.
Yunho takes a sip from his own cup, cigarette still burning casually in his spare hand, and his brain starts to scream. He would get onto his knees to beg if it would make Yunho drop the stick; anything.
He fingers are twitching with the urge to reach over to grab the stranger’s hand, but Yunho’s so far.
"I don't-" he begins with a strangled plea, but the words only echo endlessly, his chest ballooning like a prosthetic doll. The rest of the unspoken sentence expands in his mouth, pushing back into his throat as it threatens to choke and suffocate him.
The scene slowly fades away to a serious Gaussian blur, to grey; then to black.
-
The night is cold, and there's a weight against him. His heart is tight as he opens his eyes.
Yunho is staring at him. They're at a quiet stretch of road and he's pressed against a car.
He knows a lot of the other's looks (it's been thirteen years after all), and there's a distinct playfulness in Yunho's eyes, a shade that he's accustomed to.
Youthful-looking Yunho presses a light kiss to his collarbone as he trails a line of wet, sloppy kisses upwards, before ending with a soft nip at his jaw.
Instinctively, Jaejoong throws his neck back, allowing access, and Yunho licks a slow line that makes him quake with need. The boy join their lips as his hands wander, sliding under to squeeze his bottom.
It's hot and demanding, and Jaejoong cants upwards while Yunho laughs, eyes heated with hunger and desperation. Jaejoong shivers, lost in the haughty, brazen recklessness that he has long been a stranger to.
With everything good ahead of them in their early twenties, they used to carry themselves with a unique brand of pride and boldness, something he had come to recognize as ‘naivety’ when it all felt apart. Everything was good only while it lasted, and plans, were like what themselves implied, were only mere ‘plans.’ It’s been so long since they had held each other like this, fuelled by starved ache; shaky fingers speeding up only with need, instead of knowledge that time wasn’t a luxury that they could afford.
It’s been so long since they had something so essentially pure, and he watches shamelessly as the other Yunho pops the button of his jeans smoothly. He doesn’t question himself for a second, leaning off the bonnet compliantly as Yunho slides the rough fabric of his jeans down his thighs.
Yunho's fingers slide to squeeze his length through the cloth of his briefs, scratching at his balls, and he whines shamelessly for more as his body arches. It feels a lot like the quick fixes they used to have minutes before a live stage, desperate, hungry, and incredibly stupid. And because of that, he loves it.
"Say you want it Jaejoong," Yunho growls in demand, and he gasps as Yunho suddenly pinches his nipple roughly, knees giving way as the ecstasy shoots straight to his cock. It's apparently enough of an answer for Yunho, and the boy moves to push the elastic waistband down roughly. He cock is more than ready, the swollen length bouncing as it springs free of its confines, head shiny with precome. Tensing as Yunho swipes at the slit roughly, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure as Yunho spreads the viscous fluid in his hands.
The boy's slicked hand starts sliding up and down quickly while his other begin to palm his head clumsily. The pace is careless but unyielding, and the pressure is forceful. It’s a mess of noisy moans and grunts as Yunho lifts him higher, his hands moving skilfully. He feels himself being pushed over the edge, muscles tensing as he leans forward while he comes with a cry.
Yunho continues to rub at his sensitive slit relentlessly, and Jaejoong feels his eyes roll back in a mess of sensations. Flinching as he shifts weakly, he falls backwards with a whine, pulling Yunho’s arms away while he seeks for the other’s mouth.
As they part, their eyes meet, and he watches with perverse ecstasy as Yunho cleans the mess of cum on his hand off with his mouth. He watches transfixed, never mind the unease as the sharp joints of Yunho's slim fingers peek in and out of his mouth as he bobs his head to lick it clean.
The corner of Yunho's mouth is glistening with his ejaculation, and there's a soft pop of release. Yunho sticks his hand forward, and he almost laughs, the scene so much like an offering of a lollipop. He takes a tentative lick anyway, caution be gone, and he preens at the gleam of approval in Yunho's eyes.
Finishing the top, he litters a few playful nips as he wanders along, taking the whole finger in as he holds Yunho's gaze with a stupid confidence.
The other's eyes suddenly darken as he shoves him back onto the hood of the car. Tearing his own jeans and briefs off with a single tug, Yunho tosses it backwards, and he hears the shuffle of the small stones as they land. Lying down on the bonnet with his bottom pressed warmly against the hood, he finds himself suddenly shy, and he presses his knees close quickly. Yunho pushes them apart, lifting his legs as he leans in for a kiss.
It takes him a while for his mind to catch up, and he tries to extract himself but Yunho instead holds on tighter. He can see the thick length that is Yunho between his legs, and he makes a strangled noise as he tries to twist out of reach desperately. Because though it is Yunho, but it isn't his Yunho. He doesn't want anybody else inside him, and this is a stranger.
"You're a whore, Jaejoong. My cockwhore." Yunho states almost breathlessly as his eyes sweep slowly from his face to his cock, and Jaejoong makes a throaty cry of objection, blinking his tears back quickly as a warm hand wraps around his length.
"Stop trying to act like you don't want it, whore," Yunho spits out roughly as he toys with his cock, and Jaejoong squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment as he feels his body responding, blood rushing south in betrayal. Barely catching the smirk on the other’s lips, a silent scream rips out of his throat when Yunho suddenly slams in without warning.
The pain shoots up his back, and his legs weaken, only to be held back in place. Yunho's girth is too much for his unprepared entrance, and he starts to cry as his throat seizes uselessly for air. He screams mentally that he doesn't want any of this, but his body is working on its own, and he watches Yunho leer at the precome that is already leaking.
He tries to focus on the warm hands that are fondling his balls desperately, and the pain has barely faded when Yunho suddenly pulls out, before shoving back in without missing a beat. He arches in agony, blubbering now as the pain shoots through his nether regions. He stops trying to resist, spreading his legs open wider in offering, a silent promise to give Yunho whatever he wants as he holds Yunho's wrist tightly, a plea for the other to not move.
He doesn't even try to wait for the pain to leave this time, instead desperately compartmentalizing the anguish as he anchors himself with the soft touch that wipes away his tears. The fingers are gentle, and his mind registers while rejecting the fact that this Yunho loves him.
Maybe this was how their relationship went about, an abuse that left them vulnerable and clinging tightly onto each other.
It sounds terribly familiar, but it’s different now. He doesn't have anything back home anymore. Yunho's gone, and he needs Yunho.
His Yunho.
He releases the other's wrist, and he catches the concern in Yunho's eyes. He wants to accept it, but it's not enough. 'Why does love have to hurt?', he questions while Yunho begins to move in a slow rhythm that eases into a relentless pace, thankful that the ache is now subdued by pleasure as Yunho follow his whimpers to find his prostate, before proceeding to press at it mercilessly.
His body tightens for the second time in the night, too white, too hot. Whining as he clutches onto Yunho desperately, he comes onto the base of his shirt while Yunho continues relentlessly, losing his prior rhythm and finesse as he thrusts blindly.
The grip around his shoulder tightens, and Jaejoong feels his insides filling with Yunho's warm cum as the other releases a groan. The boy pulls out quietly before drawing him up tenderly to sit.
Jaejoong looks away from the webs of red on Yunho's now limp length, refusing to meet the half-mast eyes he knows will be glazed with post-coital fatigue and affection.
"I'm sorry, Jaejoong. I'm sorry," Yunho pleads after some quiet moments, and Jaejoong catches the naked heartbreak in the other's apology.
Looking up reluctantly at the tone, the hurt in the eyes that are the same hazel that he loves stabs at him.
His throat is sore, and his bottom aches; wet and torn, but somehow, he knows that it's a painful cycle, his borrowed body slumping with archived resignation, armed with the knowledge that this hasn't been the first incident. There were many before, and many more to come, but it’s Yunho.
It’s Yunho telling him that he’s sorry, that he wouldn’t do it again; that he’d be better. Because it’s Yunho, he’d relent, with an ‘It’s okay’ ready to spring forth from the tip of his tongue.
Because Yunho.
It's a familiar argument, and maybe there's some cosmic balance out there, weighing and cataloguing the collective number of lies the Jaejoongs out there have told, and the number of times the Yunhos have given in, before equating it to the number of lies that Yunho would tell, and the number of times that he would give in because it was Yunho. And the sickest part was the knowledge within him, lying surface deep, that he would still do so, every single time.
But Yunho's gone, a voice reminds him softly. Yunho's gone, back home. Your Yunho left, because you didn't give in.
"It's okay," he rushes quickly, and he doesn't struggle as he waits for the world to fall apart as Yunho's hopeful face blurs to black.
-
He watches as a plate is placed in front of him, and his eyes immediately zone in on the thumb steadying the edge. Following the line of the arm hungrily, his breath catches at the sight of Yunho.
Another Yunho.
"What's this?" He asks curiously, and he flinches abruptly at his words while he waits for his surrounding to collapse. When nothing happens, he relaxes by a fraction, his mind buzzing with questions.
"It's from the Chinese cookbook I picked up from Japan," Yunho replies easily, and Jaejoong wonders why the rules have changed. He's never had enough time to speak to the Yunhos before and much as he appreciates being able to talk to Yunho, the difference unsettles him.
He surveys the mess on the plate as he smiles fondly at his boyfriend's effort.
No- the effort of Jaejoong's boyfriend.
His Yunho had always tried to cop out of cooking duties, and every single time, he'd let him because it didn't matter much. He liked having Yunho watch him cook, and he liked watching the other eat what he made.
When he breaks out of his reverie, he notices how Yunho doesn't seem to mind how obviously distracted he was.
"It looks like crap," he jokes playfully with a grin, before flinching at the hurt that flashes across Yunho's face. As fast as it comes, it’s quickly replaced by humor instead.
"It does," Yunho laughs breezily, and Jaejoong hears his heart beating in his ears, confused by the easy lie. Back home, Yunho would sometimes begin a meal with an insult, an inside joke that he had long learnt to ignore, and he would occasionally flip the other off if he bothered, depending on his mood.
"It sucks," he offers after a bite, tossing it experimentally at Yunho's face and he watches the man struggle to maintain control, his knuckles turning white at his grip of the counter's edges.
"Haha, I'll improve," he replies cheerily, missing a few beats before he reaches over to retrieve the plate.
Jaejoong stops the movement quickly. The food is fine, great even. It just didn't look good. Besides, anything that Yunho made was good, even if it was black, or he had accidentally left out the seasoning.
"Why don't you yell at me?" He asks softly as he maintains the eye contact easily without faltering.
"Why would I yell at you?" The reply is immediate, and he wants to hurl something. He's incredibly thankful that he is allowed to speak in this world. It would have been a nightmare if he wasn’t.
"Because I'm a jerk? Because you don't deserve it? Because I'm being unfairly mean?" He clues impatiently, but Yunho only continues to stare in confusion.
"But you're Jaejoong!" His voice hitches in bewilderment instead of anger, and Jaejoong feels his hackles rise. It was the same argument again, only presented verbally by Yunho this time.
"That's right! Because I'm Jaejoong the Jerk! So you're supposed to call me out for being a shitty person!" He yells at the top of his voice, but Yunho’s still unmoved, his stupid, perfect face twisting into confusion.
"Are you trying to get me to argue with you? I don't want to argue with you."
The calm in Yunho's voice makes his anger multiply. "You are supposed to argue with me! You are supposed to stand up for yourself when I'm being mean, ugly and stupid, and I'm supposed to listen and learn to shut up because you're Yunho too!" He begins to cry stupidly, as he yells to Yunho while he yells at himself. Because Yunho- his Yunho had stood up for himself, and he hadn't listened. He didn't want to listen.
And now he had nothing.
"There's a threshold to everything, Yunho," he pauses as his voice breaks.
He had pushed it; given the Yunho an ultimatum that he knew would break their relationship.
Why hadn't he stopped to listen? And now he has nothing left. His nose is tight with mucus but he can’t stop crying as he slaps away the arms that are trying to console him.
"You're supposed to yell at me because you're supposed to care. You're supposed to care about me, and about your feelings, and you're supposed to scold me for the lousy things that I always do," he begs through his tears, and Yunho probably can’t even understand half of the things he’s babbling about.
Yunho had bothered to argue and push against his unreasonable demands because he cared, because he wanted the relationship to work; because he saw something worth fighting for. What if Yunho ceased to argue, and then he would- but your Yunho has already ceased to argue, the annoying voice in his head reminds him casually, and he cries even harder as he falls apart in front of the stranger before him.
"Do you care, Yunho? About our relationship to argue?" He pleads, needing an answer as he peers at the man through the film of his bleary tears.
"I do," Yunho begins carefully, and Jaejoong blinks desperately as he watches the man's Adam's apple bob in nerves.
"But I don't argue because I want you to be happy. Because I love you so much, and I want you to be happy." He repeats anxiously, his arms twitching in difficultly, as if unable to hold himself back.
Launching himself into the other, he clings on desperately, mumbling incoherent apologies, seeking for love while Yunho rubs soothing circles on his back while cooing into his ear. He holds on tightly, clutching onto the familiar plane of muscles that makes up Yunho, the muscles with the stupidly soft centre made for him; that he doesn't deserve, he thinks tearfully as he pretends that his Yunho forgives him for everything.
Because as much as his opinions matters to Yunho even at the expense of the other's own emotions, Yunho's opinions matters as much, if not more. Why was this Yunho so stupidly giving? He questions at the back of his mind, crying even harder as he thinks of his own. Burrowing his face deeper into the cotton, he doesn’t care if he’s messing the other's shirt up. He realises now, that a relationship works both ways, and he can’t be the one keeps on taking.
"Yellatmeifyou'reunhappy," he rushes out urgently as he suddenly feels the construct of the world shifting within him. Looking up to catch the other's careful nod, he releases his ties to the world willingly as he gives in to the tug that would bring him to another.
He can feel the time of the world in his chest slowly dropping to a zero, and the transition is much easier this time. He distantly wonders if he has messed up the equilibrium of the universe with his proclamation, but at least one more Yunho now stands a fighting chance against the terror that is him, he thinks sluggishly as his eyes close to the black.
-
When he opens them again, Yunho's smiling at him with his full lips, all adult cheeks; gloriously aged this time.
Jaejoong feels his eyes widen as he sidles closer a little, craving for the stable maturity of the other, the kind of self assuredness that only come with time.
He wonders distractedly how he looks like, but it doesn't matter, he dismisses, and he catches at the faint imprints of laugh lines at the corner of Yunho's eyes.
Reaching over to trace it softly with his fingers, he feels himself blush like a schoolboy at the warm adoration as Yunho’s irises fix on him fondly. It's raw and unabashed, and he has the sudden urge to curl up in embarrassment.
"You look perfect," the words tumble out of his mouth in a bundle of nerves, and he stabs himself mentally at how breathlessly juvenile he sounds. He feels like a teenager standing outside his date’s door, swiping at his sweaty forehead under his matted fringe anxiously, wiping his wet palms against his front while trying to gather enough courage to knock.
Yunho laughs at his words, deep and rich, and the noise rumbles within him. The man reaches to play with his fingers, and he flinches involuntarily at the contact, before quickly pulling the retreating arm back towards him in assurance as he mulls quietly over the calm that had taken over him the moment their hands touched.
Back home, they had been fighting so much, and all the hurt and tears from being apart had distracted him from what they had in the beginning. He had begun to forget what he had been fighting for in the first place.
Because it wasn't even Yunho that he wanted- it was the connection, the deeper understanding that ran between them, the way he could read the other with a look, the way Yunho could calm him with a touch. He had wanted all of the bigger things that had made up his Yunho, and the blind sightedness had cost him exactly.
"Jaejoong, the love of my life, the sunshine to my days-"
He snaps out of his thoughts at the sudden cheesy line to burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness, flailing helplessly at the aggravated push that tips him backwards.
"Stop it! I didn't know what else to say. Oh my god, stop it!" Yunho complains when he continues to giggle, twisting away from the other's exasperated hands, apology forgotten at the powder of blush on the man's face.
"Jaejoong! Will you marry me!"
Jaejoong freezes at the loud yell, falling backwards for the second time as the other man releases his wrist to open a small box he had produced from nowhere.
"Jaejoong, will you marry me?" Yunho repeats, a little softer; a lot more collected this time as he extracts a ring from the box. Sitting upright slowly, he looks from the ring, to the man, then back to the ring once more in shock.
Dropping all inhibitions, he launches himself towards his counterpart, his eyes warm as his shoulders starts to shake. "I do. I will, Yunho. I will. I will marry you," he babbles, nodding his sanity away as he continues to cry.
"I love you, Yunho, I love you," he repeats messily as Yunho tries to hush him, arm slowly smoothing across his back while the other hand plays with his hair.
"I love you too, Jaejoong," Yunho whispers as he sniffles while the world slowly fades, a slow, mental demise of the world he had intruded.
-
He shoots up with a start as if electrocuted awake. Looking around wildly, he realises that he's in his bed back home.
Pushing the covers off, he feels the crustiness in his eyes, and he swipes at it, realising that he had cried in his sleep.
But when had he returned to his bed? Where was Yunho? Was this another parallel universe the Djinn had created? Stepping out of his room gingerly, his eyes fall on the shattered mess of glass he had made when Yunho had chosen to leave.
So it was real then, he surmises easily.
He was home, and Yunho was gone, the level-headed calm taking him by surprise.
The water has long evaporated, and he brushes his thoughts away as he stoops resignedly to pick the larger pieces up. Flinching with a sharp hiss as he cuts himself, he looks detachedly at his finger, watching as the blood starts to surface after a few beats.
As a crimson trail begins to form down the length of his finger, the man feels his knees give way as he drops onto his bottom. Falling onto his side, the dams break as his tears begin to flow in his crumpled foetal position.
So Yunho’s gone now, his repeats slowly, shaking as he sobs noisily in his empty apartment.
How is he going to survive?
- - -
He sometimes wonders how much memory space he had occupied whenever he took over his dopplegangers' bodies, and he sometimes cringe at the thought of possible memory loss.
How would Jaejoong react when he had returned to find a ring on his finger? He had robbed Jaejoong off a proposal, but at the same time, he knows that Jaejoong's Yunho would re-enact their proposal a thousand times over as long as he demand it.
And he knows that his Yunho would too (if they ever got there), and that simple knowledge always made him sorry. He wasn't good enough for the man he loves; for the man that loved him.
He had so often thought that with the newly erected legal barrier, he had lost Yunho, when he had never, not even for a single moment.
Yunho was still there for him, desperate to make everything alright, bending over back give in; while he pushed and upped the stakes as he added more inflammables into the grounds before setting it alight with perverse satisfaction, watching it burn with the lonely need to punctuate; to emphasise the direness of his plight of how he had lost everything when he hadn't.
But as much as he wants Yunho back (even though he isn’t a good person), the singer in him refuses to let it go. He would conjure so many excuses, that he would always want Yunho to leave his company for him, or that he couldn’t do with Yunho belonging to the system-
Maybe, one day, he would find Yunho once more. When they were older, and he no longer had these things called pride or vanity.
When he's had enough of singing; when he's become a better man.
Maybe then he could be Yunho’s without all his selfish wants.
Maybe then.
- - - - -
He's sitting in the cold, under an oversized umbrella, at a row of tables placed outside a coffee shop, and there's a cup of iced caramel macchiato in front of him. Dressed for the subzero temperatures, he stares blankly at the score of people walking by, appraising them detachedly as he picks at the caramel drizzled on the top of his drink idly.
After the incident with the Djinn, he had developed the habit of sitting at coffee shops, and he’s licking his straw clean when he sees him.
It's not hard to spot Yunho especially when his eyes actively engage in an endless game of 'Where's Waldo' without his permission, or when the five of them have been pooling 'to-go-incognito' tricks for years- they just pretty much end up looking the same.
Maybe it’s the weight of his eyes, he's not sure. Maybe he's boring a hole into Yunho's skull without meaning to, he thinks as Yunho suddenly looks up. Hurriedly looking down at the red gravelled floor, he pulls his beanie lower to cover the shock of blonde hair he had bleached in the name of science.
He just wanted to know if thirty-six year olds could pull blonde off, and his experiment had succeeded, according to his family, Yoochun, Junsu, and a smatter of his other friends. But it didn't really matter even if they thought that it looked terrible. He liked it well enough, and that was that.
A pair of expensive-looking black snow boots appears at the corner of his eyes, and he pulls his drink a closer, embarrassed to be caught drinking his drink.
The chair perpendicular to his pulls back noisily and he feels himself shrinking a little.
"Hey," Yunho begins lightly, and Jaejoong looks up nervously at the soft address, all the lines he had spent years preparing forgotten as he spends too long appraising the other, secretly liking how painfully unsuave he’s being. He’s too old for games, and he wants Yunho to know that he had missed him. Quite terribly.
Yunho’s beat up spectacles makes him look so stupid, and- god, he loves it, together with the careless flecks of snow scattered over the other's hair.
He reaches out to swipe at it before registering his actions, but it doesn't matter anyway, because what was twelve years and a long break for if he can't even do the small things like this? He leans closer to dust the snow off Yunho's hair generously, caution be gone.
"You should wear a cap," he returns instead, and he blanches inwardly at how it had slipped out. "Trade it for that spectacles or something," he continues without caring anymore. There's only so much that he could lose anyway.
There's no anger in Yunho's eyes, and the distinct softness in them makes him ache.
"I don't need the cap," Yunho replies easily, and Jaejoong flinches at the rejection.
"I'm not the thirty six year old with blonde hair." Oh, so that’s where it’s going! Sticking his tongue out in defiance, he laughs as he defends his hair. The man nods distractedly, and Jaejoong watches him, revelling at how his heart squeezes. Because this Yunho is perfect.
So perfect.
"I like it too," Yunho suddenly offers as their eyes meet.
Jaejoong feels his face warm, the statement of approval oddly intimate coming from Yunho. Quickly surveying the other's fingers and spotting no gleam from any ring, he slides his drink over shyly before reaching over to pluck the frames off before planting them on his face, because- fuck it.
He watches Yunho appraise the drink before looking at him, then back to the drink. Suddenly incredibly shy, he rubs the back of his neck nervously. He had always hoped that he would get a little time with Yunho, but he never thought that it would happen so soon. And he has yet to memorize his Official Speech of Apology declaring how Yunho’s the love of his life and the sunshine to his day- god.
"I quit smoking the day you left," he blurts out just as Yunho leans forward to take a sip of his drink. The blindingly Yunho smile he receives in return makes him shift in his seat as he wills himself desperately to hold onto the other's gaze.
"I'm sorry. For everything, I mean. For being too blind to see that I hadn't lost everything back then. I was stupid and greedy, and I wanted you- the presence of you so badly. What I should have wanted was the connection we had, but you being so far away scared me when it shouldn't even have mattered. I had the need to ruin all the good things that I had left so I could play victim, so that people would validate my plight. And you were there, an impediment to my kamikaze mission. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry. I'm actually glad-" He waves Yunho away as the other opens his mouth to interrupt. He needs to get it all out before it dissolves in his guts.
"I'm actually glad that you left. I mean I was always taking you for granted, pushing you, then yelling about how you didn't care about us when you wouldn't give in. I couldn't see it then, but now I know that you didn't back down because you cared, because you didn't like the person that I was becoming. I know I don't deserve to say things like these- god. But I've realised how much I love you, the you who still loved me when you left, the you who would intentionally leave out the salt just to watch me eat all that crap anyway. And I know-" he pauses as he fumbles a little, his voice breaking. "And I know that I will still love you until I die." He closes his eyes wearily for a few beats, shaking his head as Yunho tries to interject once more.
"I wanted to become a better person for you, and I've always thought of how, one day, maybe, I would see you along the streets and you would know about the person I've came to be, and you'd hold me tight and tell me that you love it." He uses his spare hand to wipe his face with his muffler as he focuses desperately on a spot on the table so that he wouldn't start crying. "I know it's silly and selfish, to put these expectations on you, but-" the rest of his words collides against his lips as Yunho presses his rough, chapped ones against his. He shivers as he pulls the other close, the soft drag of the other's lips blindingly intense.
"I love you too, Jaejoongie," Yunho murmurs softly, their lips barely parting, ghosting each other with every word.
Jaejoong looks at the man for a few moments before bursting into tears. Leaning forward as he presses his face into the curve of Yunho's neck, muffling his cries into the other's scarf, extra careful to mess it up with snot.
"I've missed you too, Jae," Yunho mumbles, voice tight with emotions, while he continues to cry himself stupid as he pulls his Yunho close tightly.
"And I love the person you've become," he whispers so very softly, and Jaejoong curses the muscles with the stupidly soft centre that's made for him in this world as he cries even harder because it's his Yunho, and his Yunho's good at making him do things like that.
As Yunho comforts him lightly, he can feel it in his chest; the time he has left in this world, and he can feel how it stretches to an infinite distance.
Yunho’s form is steady with the confidence of age as he holds him close, and as he looks into the eyes that are soft with naked adoration, he knows that he's really home this time.
- - - - -
A/N: I'm a good kid that credits everything, and I honestly swear that this's story pretty much make or break. :/ My beta doesn't really get what's going on but I'm reluctant to explain every single thing.
If you're free, reread it again because I've been told that I always squeeze too much details into sentences and everything always require a second or third read. :<
I tense terribly nowadays (thank you Iris), and I can't thank donud enough for pushing my fat ass to write. They're pretty much the only thing that makes me get my shit together to type, so thank you. Really.
Thank you for dropping by, and I hope it wasn't that bad, and do reread! :< Leave a comment to make me stupidly happy, or to throttle me. Preferably the latter.
/retreats into personal blanket of gloom.
(I'm thinking of buying elementary school exercises to work on my flagging play by ear grammar)
Author: countingcr0ws
Beta: irisleejin
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: R
Form: One-shot
Genre: ARs in AU, Generally Happy, Mild Supernatural, Romance, Slice-of-Life
Warnings: Headcanon with too much poetic license, Non-con sex
Summary: Jaejoong’s brash. There’s no place quite like home without Yunho, but he has pushed his sanctuary away. As Jaejoong faces his mistakes alone, he tries to become a better man for Yunho.
Inspired by: Sleep Song (Sterek) by Cheshyr, Maybe in Another Universe, I Deserve You by Gaby Dunn, Nana by Yazawa Ai
A/N: A little over 6k (take a seat), served with a good serving of confusion on the side.
He lets Yunho leave because he doesn't need Yunho anymore. He doesn't need anybody who can't see it; who can't understand it.
There's a hot taste of fury in his mouth, and he stands in the middle of his room, head swirling with anger.
The door suddenly opens once more, and he looks up, a scalding remark ready to spring forth; to hurt. Only that it isn't Yunho crawling back for the forgiveness that he doesn't deserve.
He stares at the man with the lagoon blue hair (he should know, he was looking at blue hair dyes with Junsu), and there's a suspended moment between them.
The anger is slithering in his throat, ready to strike, when he notices that the man's eyes are the kind of black that make up his darkest dreams. The irises are slowly swirling, spreading to obscure the whites, and before he can scream about fucked up eyes and illegal trespassing, the world goes dark.
-
He's sitting at a row of tables outside a coffee shop, and there's a cup of iced caramel macchiato placed in front of him.
Leaning forward, he takes a small sip, the familiar taste filling him with a satisfaction that reminds him of home, and he hums to himself, pleased at how well it's made.
It's Yunho's favorite drink, and he occasionally buys a cup for himself whenever they’re apart, a little taste of Yunho away from Yunho.
There's an acute feeling of being watched, and he looks up. The caramel sweetness hits the back of his throat sharply as he starts in shock. Yunho's sitting opposite him, eyes blazing as if calculating and cataloging his every move, and Jaejoong swallows, anger already rising once more at the sight of the man. How dare he appear in front of him again? If he couldn't stand up and fight for him, then it was all over. They had agreed on it, and Yunho was a fucking pathetic excuse of a man. He leans in to begin, when Yunho lets out a puff of smoke, the tendrils of cloves brushing across his skin.
Jaejoong sputters back in shock, anger crumbling into dust immediately. Yunho never approved of his smoking, and the wounds from the countless arguments are still fresh at his side.
It had been one of their favourite topics to quarrel about. Yunho never learnt to let it go, and he would never learn to back down. It always escalated too quickly, beginning with a mere wrinkle of nose; ending with too much hurt. Yunho would only give in days later, and they would hold on to each other desperately, until it started all over again.
But he needed his cigarettes, a focal point in the mess that he had created, a stick of power slot between his fingers as his thoughts faded into the background; but Yunho never understood.
The way Yunho flicks the ashes makes him choke on his saliva in shock, the sight of the slim fingers he had spent nights tracing balancing the roll casually- an utter blasphemy.
It's not his Yunho, his sanity begs above the noise.
It's not his Yunho, he repeats desperately. Because his Yunho has a look of perpetual weariness in his eyes (when had it happened, and how did it become a distinguishing factor) that mirrored his, whereas this Yunho has an intimidating smoulder, eyes completely devoid of the mirth that would spring freely within his.
Jaejoong suppresses a shiver, eyes transfixed as the stranger before him brings the stick up to his lips, a firm draw on a filter, the cross hairs of the other's eyes never leaving his.
He has the urge to scream- that Yunho shouldn't be smoking, because smoking's bad, and he loves Yunho so much he doesn't want (any) Yunho to be taken away by lung cancer or some other disease; and that he looks so distant when he does that- it's a familiar argument that he has heard before, countless of times, and he hates how it makes him feel.
Yunho takes a sip from his own cup, cigarette still burning casually in his spare hand, and his brain starts to scream. He would get onto his knees to beg if it would make Yunho drop the stick; anything.
He fingers are twitching with the urge to reach over to grab the stranger’s hand, but Yunho’s so far.
"I don't-" he begins with a strangled plea, but the words only echo endlessly, his chest ballooning like a prosthetic doll. The rest of the unspoken sentence expands in his mouth, pushing back into his throat as it threatens to choke and suffocate him.
The scene slowly fades away to a serious Gaussian blur, to grey; then to black.
-
The night is cold, and there's a weight against him. His heart is tight as he opens his eyes.
Yunho is staring at him. They're at a quiet stretch of road and he's pressed against a car.
He knows a lot of the other's looks (it's been thirteen years after all), and there's a distinct playfulness in Yunho's eyes, a shade that he's accustomed to.
Youthful-looking Yunho presses a light kiss to his collarbone as he trails a line of wet, sloppy kisses upwards, before ending with a soft nip at his jaw.
Instinctively, Jaejoong throws his neck back, allowing access, and Yunho licks a slow line that makes him quake with need. The boy join their lips as his hands wander, sliding under to squeeze his bottom.
It's hot and demanding, and Jaejoong cants upwards while Yunho laughs, eyes heated with hunger and desperation. Jaejoong shivers, lost in the haughty, brazen recklessness that he has long been a stranger to.
With everything good ahead of them in their early twenties, they used to carry themselves with a unique brand of pride and boldness, something he had come to recognize as ‘naivety’ when it all felt apart. Everything was good only while it lasted, and plans, were like what themselves implied, were only mere ‘plans.’ It’s been so long since they had held each other like this, fuelled by starved ache; shaky fingers speeding up only with need, instead of knowledge that time wasn’t a luxury that they could afford.
It’s been so long since they had something so essentially pure, and he watches shamelessly as the other Yunho pops the button of his jeans smoothly. He doesn’t question himself for a second, leaning off the bonnet compliantly as Yunho slides the rough fabric of his jeans down his thighs.
Yunho's fingers slide to squeeze his length through the cloth of his briefs, scratching at his balls, and he whines shamelessly for more as his body arches. It feels a lot like the quick fixes they used to have minutes before a live stage, desperate, hungry, and incredibly stupid. And because of that, he loves it.
"Say you want it Jaejoong," Yunho growls in demand, and he gasps as Yunho suddenly pinches his nipple roughly, knees giving way as the ecstasy shoots straight to his cock. It's apparently enough of an answer for Yunho, and the boy moves to push the elastic waistband down roughly. He cock is more than ready, the swollen length bouncing as it springs free of its confines, head shiny with precome. Tensing as Yunho swipes at the slit roughly, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure as Yunho spreads the viscous fluid in his hands.
The boy's slicked hand starts sliding up and down quickly while his other begin to palm his head clumsily. The pace is careless but unyielding, and the pressure is forceful. It’s a mess of noisy moans and grunts as Yunho lifts him higher, his hands moving skilfully. He feels himself being pushed over the edge, muscles tensing as he leans forward while he comes with a cry.
Yunho continues to rub at his sensitive slit relentlessly, and Jaejoong feels his eyes roll back in a mess of sensations. Flinching as he shifts weakly, he falls backwards with a whine, pulling Yunho’s arms away while he seeks for the other’s mouth.
As they part, their eyes meet, and he watches with perverse ecstasy as Yunho cleans the mess of cum on his hand off with his mouth. He watches transfixed, never mind the unease as the sharp joints of Yunho's slim fingers peek in and out of his mouth as he bobs his head to lick it clean.
The corner of Yunho's mouth is glistening with his ejaculation, and there's a soft pop of release. Yunho sticks his hand forward, and he almost laughs, the scene so much like an offering of a lollipop. He takes a tentative lick anyway, caution be gone, and he preens at the gleam of approval in Yunho's eyes.
Finishing the top, he litters a few playful nips as he wanders along, taking the whole finger in as he holds Yunho's gaze with a stupid confidence.
The other's eyes suddenly darken as he shoves him back onto the hood of the car. Tearing his own jeans and briefs off with a single tug, Yunho tosses it backwards, and he hears the shuffle of the small stones as they land. Lying down on the bonnet with his bottom pressed warmly against the hood, he finds himself suddenly shy, and he presses his knees close quickly. Yunho pushes them apart, lifting his legs as he leans in for a kiss.
It takes him a while for his mind to catch up, and he tries to extract himself but Yunho instead holds on tighter. He can see the thick length that is Yunho between his legs, and he makes a strangled noise as he tries to twist out of reach desperately. Because though it is Yunho, but it isn't his Yunho. He doesn't want anybody else inside him, and this is a stranger.
"You're a whore, Jaejoong. My cockwhore." Yunho states almost breathlessly as his eyes sweep slowly from his face to his cock, and Jaejoong makes a throaty cry of objection, blinking his tears back quickly as a warm hand wraps around his length.
"Stop trying to act like you don't want it, whore," Yunho spits out roughly as he toys with his cock, and Jaejoong squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment as he feels his body responding, blood rushing south in betrayal. Barely catching the smirk on the other’s lips, a silent scream rips out of his throat when Yunho suddenly slams in without warning.
The pain shoots up his back, and his legs weaken, only to be held back in place. Yunho's girth is too much for his unprepared entrance, and he starts to cry as his throat seizes uselessly for air. He screams mentally that he doesn't want any of this, but his body is working on its own, and he watches Yunho leer at the precome that is already leaking.
He tries to focus on the warm hands that are fondling his balls desperately, and the pain has barely faded when Yunho suddenly pulls out, before shoving back in without missing a beat. He arches in agony, blubbering now as the pain shoots through his nether regions. He stops trying to resist, spreading his legs open wider in offering, a silent promise to give Yunho whatever he wants as he holds Yunho's wrist tightly, a plea for the other to not move.
He doesn't even try to wait for the pain to leave this time, instead desperately compartmentalizing the anguish as he anchors himself with the soft touch that wipes away his tears. The fingers are gentle, and his mind registers while rejecting the fact that this Yunho loves him.
Maybe this was how their relationship went about, an abuse that left them vulnerable and clinging tightly onto each other.
It sounds terribly familiar, but it’s different now. He doesn't have anything back home anymore. Yunho's gone, and he needs Yunho.
His Yunho.
He releases the other's wrist, and he catches the concern in Yunho's eyes. He wants to accept it, but it's not enough. 'Why does love have to hurt?', he questions while Yunho begins to move in a slow rhythm that eases into a relentless pace, thankful that the ache is now subdued by pleasure as Yunho follow his whimpers to find his prostate, before proceeding to press at it mercilessly.
His body tightens for the second time in the night, too white, too hot. Whining as he clutches onto Yunho desperately, he comes onto the base of his shirt while Yunho continues relentlessly, losing his prior rhythm and finesse as he thrusts blindly.
The grip around his shoulder tightens, and Jaejoong feels his insides filling with Yunho's warm cum as the other releases a groan. The boy pulls out quietly before drawing him up tenderly to sit.
Jaejoong looks away from the webs of red on Yunho's now limp length, refusing to meet the half-mast eyes he knows will be glazed with post-coital fatigue and affection.
"I'm sorry, Jaejoong. I'm sorry," Yunho pleads after some quiet moments, and Jaejoong catches the naked heartbreak in the other's apology.
Looking up reluctantly at the tone, the hurt in the eyes that are the same hazel that he loves stabs at him.
His throat is sore, and his bottom aches; wet and torn, but somehow, he knows that it's a painful cycle, his borrowed body slumping with archived resignation, armed with the knowledge that this hasn't been the first incident. There were many before, and many more to come, but it’s Yunho.
It’s Yunho telling him that he’s sorry, that he wouldn’t do it again; that he’d be better. Because it’s Yunho, he’d relent, with an ‘It’s okay’ ready to spring forth from the tip of his tongue.
Because Yunho.
It's a familiar argument, and maybe there's some cosmic balance out there, weighing and cataloguing the collective number of lies the Jaejoongs out there have told, and the number of times the Yunhos have given in, before equating it to the number of lies that Yunho would tell, and the number of times that he would give in because it was Yunho. And the sickest part was the knowledge within him, lying surface deep, that he would still do so, every single time.
But Yunho's gone, a voice reminds him softly. Yunho's gone, back home. Your Yunho left, because you didn't give in.
"It's okay," he rushes quickly, and he doesn't struggle as he waits for the world to fall apart as Yunho's hopeful face blurs to black.
-
He watches as a plate is placed in front of him, and his eyes immediately zone in on the thumb steadying the edge. Following the line of the arm hungrily, his breath catches at the sight of Yunho.
Another Yunho.
"What's this?" He asks curiously, and he flinches abruptly at his words while he waits for his surrounding to collapse. When nothing happens, he relaxes by a fraction, his mind buzzing with questions.
"It's from the Chinese cookbook I picked up from Japan," Yunho replies easily, and Jaejoong wonders why the rules have changed. He's never had enough time to speak to the Yunhos before and much as he appreciates being able to talk to Yunho, the difference unsettles him.
He surveys the mess on the plate as he smiles fondly at his boyfriend's effort.
No- the effort of Jaejoong's boyfriend.
His Yunho had always tried to cop out of cooking duties, and every single time, he'd let him because it didn't matter much. He liked having Yunho watch him cook, and he liked watching the other eat what he made.
When he breaks out of his reverie, he notices how Yunho doesn't seem to mind how obviously distracted he was.
"It looks like crap," he jokes playfully with a grin, before flinching at the hurt that flashes across Yunho's face. As fast as it comes, it’s quickly replaced by humor instead.
"It does," Yunho laughs breezily, and Jaejoong hears his heart beating in his ears, confused by the easy lie. Back home, Yunho would sometimes begin a meal with an insult, an inside joke that he had long learnt to ignore, and he would occasionally flip the other off if he bothered, depending on his mood.
"It sucks," he offers after a bite, tossing it experimentally at Yunho's face and he watches the man struggle to maintain control, his knuckles turning white at his grip of the counter's edges.
"Haha, I'll improve," he replies cheerily, missing a few beats before he reaches over to retrieve the plate.
Jaejoong stops the movement quickly. The food is fine, great even. It just didn't look good. Besides, anything that Yunho made was good, even if it was black, or he had accidentally left out the seasoning.
"Why don't you yell at me?" He asks softly as he maintains the eye contact easily without faltering.
"Why would I yell at you?" The reply is immediate, and he wants to hurl something. He's incredibly thankful that he is allowed to speak in this world. It would have been a nightmare if he wasn’t.
"Because I'm a jerk? Because you don't deserve it? Because I'm being unfairly mean?" He clues impatiently, but Yunho only continues to stare in confusion.
"But you're Jaejoong!" His voice hitches in bewilderment instead of anger, and Jaejoong feels his hackles rise. It was the same argument again, only presented verbally by Yunho this time.
"That's right! Because I'm Jaejoong the Jerk! So you're supposed to call me out for being a shitty person!" He yells at the top of his voice, but Yunho’s still unmoved, his stupid, perfect face twisting into confusion.
"Are you trying to get me to argue with you? I don't want to argue with you."
The calm in Yunho's voice makes his anger multiply. "You are supposed to argue with me! You are supposed to stand up for yourself when I'm being mean, ugly and stupid, and I'm supposed to listen and learn to shut up because you're Yunho too!" He begins to cry stupidly, as he yells to Yunho while he yells at himself. Because Yunho- his Yunho had stood up for himself, and he hadn't listened. He didn't want to listen.
And now he had nothing.
"There's a threshold to everything, Yunho," he pauses as his voice breaks.
He had pushed it; given the Yunho an ultimatum that he knew would break their relationship.
Why hadn't he stopped to listen? And now he has nothing left. His nose is tight with mucus but he can’t stop crying as he slaps away the arms that are trying to console him.
"You're supposed to yell at me because you're supposed to care. You're supposed to care about me, and about your feelings, and you're supposed to scold me for the lousy things that I always do," he begs through his tears, and Yunho probably can’t even understand half of the things he’s babbling about.
Yunho had bothered to argue and push against his unreasonable demands because he cared, because he wanted the relationship to work; because he saw something worth fighting for. What if Yunho ceased to argue, and then he would- but your Yunho has already ceased to argue, the annoying voice in his head reminds him casually, and he cries even harder as he falls apart in front of the stranger before him.
"Do you care, Yunho? About our relationship to argue?" He pleads, needing an answer as he peers at the man through the film of his bleary tears.
"I do," Yunho begins carefully, and Jaejoong blinks desperately as he watches the man's Adam's apple bob in nerves.
"But I don't argue because I want you to be happy. Because I love you so much, and I want you to be happy." He repeats anxiously, his arms twitching in difficultly, as if unable to hold himself back.
Launching himself into the other, he clings on desperately, mumbling incoherent apologies, seeking for love while Yunho rubs soothing circles on his back while cooing into his ear. He holds on tightly, clutching onto the familiar plane of muscles that makes up Yunho, the muscles with the stupidly soft centre made for him; that he doesn't deserve, he thinks tearfully as he pretends that his Yunho forgives him for everything.
Because as much as his opinions matters to Yunho even at the expense of the other's own emotions, Yunho's opinions matters as much, if not more. Why was this Yunho so stupidly giving? He questions at the back of his mind, crying even harder as he thinks of his own. Burrowing his face deeper into the cotton, he doesn’t care if he’s messing the other's shirt up. He realises now, that a relationship works both ways, and he can’t be the one keeps on taking.
"Yellatmeifyou'reunhappy," he rushes out urgently as he suddenly feels the construct of the world shifting within him. Looking up to catch the other's careful nod, he releases his ties to the world willingly as he gives in to the tug that would bring him to another.
He can feel the time of the world in his chest slowly dropping to a zero, and the transition is much easier this time. He distantly wonders if he has messed up the equilibrium of the universe with his proclamation, but at least one more Yunho now stands a fighting chance against the terror that is him, he thinks sluggishly as his eyes close to the black.
-
When he opens them again, Yunho's smiling at him with his full lips, all adult cheeks; gloriously aged this time.
Jaejoong feels his eyes widen as he sidles closer a little, craving for the stable maturity of the other, the kind of self assuredness that only come with time.
He wonders distractedly how he looks like, but it doesn't matter, he dismisses, and he catches at the faint imprints of laugh lines at the corner of Yunho's eyes.
Reaching over to trace it softly with his fingers, he feels himself blush like a schoolboy at the warm adoration as Yunho’s irises fix on him fondly. It's raw and unabashed, and he has the sudden urge to curl up in embarrassment.
"You look perfect," the words tumble out of his mouth in a bundle of nerves, and he stabs himself mentally at how breathlessly juvenile he sounds. He feels like a teenager standing outside his date’s door, swiping at his sweaty forehead under his matted fringe anxiously, wiping his wet palms against his front while trying to gather enough courage to knock.
Yunho laughs at his words, deep and rich, and the noise rumbles within him. The man reaches to play with his fingers, and he flinches involuntarily at the contact, before quickly pulling the retreating arm back towards him in assurance as he mulls quietly over the calm that had taken over him the moment their hands touched.
Back home, they had been fighting so much, and all the hurt and tears from being apart had distracted him from what they had in the beginning. He had begun to forget what he had been fighting for in the first place.
Because it wasn't even Yunho that he wanted- it was the connection, the deeper understanding that ran between them, the way he could read the other with a look, the way Yunho could calm him with a touch. He had wanted all of the bigger things that had made up his Yunho, and the blind sightedness had cost him exactly.
"Jaejoong, the love of my life, the sunshine to my days-"
He snaps out of his thoughts at the sudden cheesy line to burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness, flailing helplessly at the aggravated push that tips him backwards.
"Stop it! I didn't know what else to say. Oh my god, stop it!" Yunho complains when he continues to giggle, twisting away from the other's exasperated hands, apology forgotten at the powder of blush on the man's face.
"Jaejoong! Will you marry me!"
Jaejoong freezes at the loud yell, falling backwards for the second time as the other man releases his wrist to open a small box he had produced from nowhere.
"Jaejoong, will you marry me?" Yunho repeats, a little softer; a lot more collected this time as he extracts a ring from the box. Sitting upright slowly, he looks from the ring, to the man, then back to the ring once more in shock.
Dropping all inhibitions, he launches himself towards his counterpart, his eyes warm as his shoulders starts to shake. "I do. I will, Yunho. I will. I will marry you," he babbles, nodding his sanity away as he continues to cry.
"I love you, Yunho, I love you," he repeats messily as Yunho tries to hush him, arm slowly smoothing across his back while the other hand plays with his hair.
"I love you too, Jaejoong," Yunho whispers as he sniffles while the world slowly fades, a slow, mental demise of the world he had intruded.
-
He shoots up with a start as if electrocuted awake. Looking around wildly, he realises that he's in his bed back home.
Pushing the covers off, he feels the crustiness in his eyes, and he swipes at it, realising that he had cried in his sleep.
But when had he returned to his bed? Where was Yunho? Was this another parallel universe the Djinn had created? Stepping out of his room gingerly, his eyes fall on the shattered mess of glass he had made when Yunho had chosen to leave.
So it was real then, he surmises easily.
He was home, and Yunho was gone, the level-headed calm taking him by surprise.
The water has long evaporated, and he brushes his thoughts away as he stoops resignedly to pick the larger pieces up. Flinching with a sharp hiss as he cuts himself, he looks detachedly at his finger, watching as the blood starts to surface after a few beats.
As a crimson trail begins to form down the length of his finger, the man feels his knees give way as he drops onto his bottom. Falling onto his side, the dams break as his tears begin to flow in his crumpled foetal position.
So Yunho’s gone now, his repeats slowly, shaking as he sobs noisily in his empty apartment.
How is he going to survive?
- - -
He sometimes wonders how much memory space he had occupied whenever he took over his dopplegangers' bodies, and he sometimes cringe at the thought of possible memory loss.
How would Jaejoong react when he had returned to find a ring on his finger? He had robbed Jaejoong off a proposal, but at the same time, he knows that Jaejoong's Yunho would re-enact their proposal a thousand times over as long as he demand it.
And he knows that his Yunho would too (if they ever got there), and that simple knowledge always made him sorry. He wasn't good enough for the man he loves; for the man that loved him.
He had so often thought that with the newly erected legal barrier, he had lost Yunho, when he had never, not even for a single moment.
Yunho was still there for him, desperate to make everything alright, bending over back give in; while he pushed and upped the stakes as he added more inflammables into the grounds before setting it alight with perverse satisfaction, watching it burn with the lonely need to punctuate; to emphasise the direness of his plight of how he had lost everything when he hadn't.
But as much as he wants Yunho back (even though he isn’t a good person), the singer in him refuses to let it go. He would conjure so many excuses, that he would always want Yunho to leave his company for him, or that he couldn’t do with Yunho belonging to the system-
Maybe, one day, he would find Yunho once more. When they were older, and he no longer had these things called pride or vanity.
When he's had enough of singing; when he's become a better man.
Maybe then he could be Yunho’s without all his selfish wants.
Maybe then.
- - - - -
He's sitting in the cold, under an oversized umbrella, at a row of tables placed outside a coffee shop, and there's a cup of iced caramel macchiato in front of him. Dressed for the subzero temperatures, he stares blankly at the score of people walking by, appraising them detachedly as he picks at the caramel drizzled on the top of his drink idly.
After the incident with the Djinn, he had developed the habit of sitting at coffee shops, and he’s licking his straw clean when he sees him.
It's not hard to spot Yunho especially when his eyes actively engage in an endless game of 'Where's Waldo' without his permission, or when the five of them have been pooling 'to-go-incognito' tricks for years- they just pretty much end up looking the same.
Maybe it’s the weight of his eyes, he's not sure. Maybe he's boring a hole into Yunho's skull without meaning to, he thinks as Yunho suddenly looks up. Hurriedly looking down at the red gravelled floor, he pulls his beanie lower to cover the shock of blonde hair he had bleached in the name of science.
He just wanted to know if thirty-six year olds could pull blonde off, and his experiment had succeeded, according to his family, Yoochun, Junsu, and a smatter of his other friends. But it didn't really matter even if they thought that it looked terrible. He liked it well enough, and that was that.
A pair of expensive-looking black snow boots appears at the corner of his eyes, and he pulls his drink a closer, embarrassed to be caught drinking his drink.
The chair perpendicular to his pulls back noisily and he feels himself shrinking a little.
"Hey," Yunho begins lightly, and Jaejoong looks up nervously at the soft address, all the lines he had spent years preparing forgotten as he spends too long appraising the other, secretly liking how painfully unsuave he’s being. He’s too old for games, and he wants Yunho to know that he had missed him. Quite terribly.
Yunho’s beat up spectacles makes him look so stupid, and- god, he loves it, together with the careless flecks of snow scattered over the other's hair.
He reaches out to swipe at it before registering his actions, but it doesn't matter anyway, because what was twelve years and a long break for if he can't even do the small things like this? He leans closer to dust the snow off Yunho's hair generously, caution be gone.
"You should wear a cap," he returns instead, and he blanches inwardly at how it had slipped out. "Trade it for that spectacles or something," he continues without caring anymore. There's only so much that he could lose anyway.
There's no anger in Yunho's eyes, and the distinct softness in them makes him ache.
"I don't need the cap," Yunho replies easily, and Jaejoong flinches at the rejection.
"I'm not the thirty six year old with blonde hair." Oh, so that’s where it’s going! Sticking his tongue out in defiance, he laughs as he defends his hair. The man nods distractedly, and Jaejoong watches him, revelling at how his heart squeezes. Because this Yunho is perfect.
So perfect.
"I like it too," Yunho suddenly offers as their eyes meet.
Jaejoong feels his face warm, the statement of approval oddly intimate coming from Yunho. Quickly surveying the other's fingers and spotting no gleam from any ring, he slides his drink over shyly before reaching over to pluck the frames off before planting them on his face, because- fuck it.
He watches Yunho appraise the drink before looking at him, then back to the drink. Suddenly incredibly shy, he rubs the back of his neck nervously. He had always hoped that he would get a little time with Yunho, but he never thought that it would happen so soon. And he has yet to memorize his Official Speech of Apology declaring how Yunho’s the love of his life and the sunshine to his day- god.
"I quit smoking the day you left," he blurts out just as Yunho leans forward to take a sip of his drink. The blindingly Yunho smile he receives in return makes him shift in his seat as he wills himself desperately to hold onto the other's gaze.
"I'm sorry. For everything, I mean. For being too blind to see that I hadn't lost everything back then. I was stupid and greedy, and I wanted you- the presence of you so badly. What I should have wanted was the connection we had, but you being so far away scared me when it shouldn't even have mattered. I had the need to ruin all the good things that I had left so I could play victim, so that people would validate my plight. And you were there, an impediment to my kamikaze mission. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry. I'm actually glad-" He waves Yunho away as the other opens his mouth to interrupt. He needs to get it all out before it dissolves in his guts.
"I'm actually glad that you left. I mean I was always taking you for granted, pushing you, then yelling about how you didn't care about us when you wouldn't give in. I couldn't see it then, but now I know that you didn't back down because you cared, because you didn't like the person that I was becoming. I know I don't deserve to say things like these- god. But I've realised how much I love you, the you who still loved me when you left, the you who would intentionally leave out the salt just to watch me eat all that crap anyway. And I know-" he pauses as he fumbles a little, his voice breaking. "And I know that I will still love you until I die." He closes his eyes wearily for a few beats, shaking his head as Yunho tries to interject once more.
"I wanted to become a better person for you, and I've always thought of how, one day, maybe, I would see you along the streets and you would know about the person I've came to be, and you'd hold me tight and tell me that you love it." He uses his spare hand to wipe his face with his muffler as he focuses desperately on a spot on the table so that he wouldn't start crying. "I know it's silly and selfish, to put these expectations on you, but-" the rest of his words collides against his lips as Yunho presses his rough, chapped ones against his. He shivers as he pulls the other close, the soft drag of the other's lips blindingly intense.
"I love you too, Jaejoongie," Yunho murmurs softly, their lips barely parting, ghosting each other with every word.
Jaejoong looks at the man for a few moments before bursting into tears. Leaning forward as he presses his face into the curve of Yunho's neck, muffling his cries into the other's scarf, extra careful to mess it up with snot.
"I've missed you too, Jae," Yunho mumbles, voice tight with emotions, while he continues to cry himself stupid as he pulls his Yunho close tightly.
"And I love the person you've become," he whispers so very softly, and Jaejoong curses the muscles with the stupidly soft centre that's made for him in this world as he cries even harder because it's his Yunho, and his Yunho's good at making him do things like that.
As Yunho comforts him lightly, he can feel it in his chest; the time he has left in this world, and he can feel how it stretches to an infinite distance.
Yunho’s form is steady with the confidence of age as he holds him close, and as he looks into the eyes that are soft with naked adoration, he knows that he's really home this time.
- - - - -
A/N: I'm a good kid that credits everything, and I honestly swear that this's story pretty much make or break. :/ My beta doesn't really get what's going on but I'm reluctant to explain every single thing.
If you're free, reread it again because I've been told that I always squeeze too much details into sentences and everything always require a second or third read. :<
I tense terribly nowadays (thank you Iris), and I can't thank donud enough for pushing my fat ass to write. They're pretty much the only thing that makes me get my shit together to type, so thank you. Really.
Thank you for dropping by, and I hope it wasn't that bad, and do reread! :< Leave a comment to make me stupidly happy, or to throttle me. Preferably the latter.
/retreats into personal blanket of gloom.
(I'm thinking of buying elementary school exercises to work on my flagging play by ear grammar)