Memories Ago
Title: Memories Ago
Author: countingcr0ws
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Form: One-shot
Genre: AR, Slice-of-Life, Romance
Summary: Being an unconventional couple disallows them a number of privileges. But they'll have to make do. A short, idle story about Yunjae.
Summer had given way to time, and the endless drizzles had abated, the leaves starting to fall.
Peering at the row of signboards as he ambled along the almost empty pavement, he caught sight of the shop. "Finally," he murmured to himself, satisfied with himself with the success.
-
Somebody had told him once that grooms weren't allowed to see the bride's dress until the day of the marriage. With the so little directions that he had gotten, he couldn't help but believe that she had heard a variation of the superstition.
But he knew her well enough. She had probably expected him to know where the shop was. They had walked along the same street so many times, but his mind had long tuned itself to filter out wedding shops like these.
He had never thought that he would ever have the opportunity to step into one.
"Excuse me?" He called out softly, almost reverently, conscious of disrupting the elegant tranquillity of the shop.
There was a strapless gown at display at the window, and sandalwood incense was burning behind the counter. The musky smell filled the tiny reception area.
"White, for purity," the blonde man whispered idly as he fingered the rich chiffon in his hands, tracing the sequined bodice.
Biting his lips as he let out a nervous breath, he let his hand fall to his side, forgoing the spiral staircase to wander deeper into the shop. The shop was larger than it looked from the outside, and devoid of any personnel.
There was only the lone hollow sound of the clack of his heels against the dark wood floor. Giving up his attempt to peer into the dark room, he made his way back to the front before taking the stairs two at a time. His heart was beating strangely quick in his chest, the achromatic lightness of the gown at the door contrasting heavily with the deep shade of the floor in the corner of his eyes.
"Excuse me," he apologized nervously as he pushed the door open before sticking his head in.
The second level was completely filled, overhanging racks fully laden with heavy dresses of varying shades, cascading to the floor. It was a maze, and he had the sudden urge to drop to his knees to crawl though the trains of silk, tulle, and chiffon to reach whispers of approval at the corner of the room.
After stumbling through and taking pushing through a rack later, he found her.
The back of her gown ended lower than the length of her hair before trailing off to a ripple of ruffles. The saleswoman was slipping pearlescent combs into her hair softly, and he felt his heart ache as he stood watching her regal back view.
There was a sudden strangled sound of recognition from the shopkeeper, and time seemed to slow as she began to turn. It was a scene of cinematic elegance, her hair twirling in a fine arc as their eyes met, a smile of hello and inexpressible joy rolled into one, and oh, oh how his heart seized as he was watched her walk towards him, his legs rooted to the ground.
"You look perfect," he whispered finally, his voice unusually hoarse with the knot of emotions in his throat. His head felt light and empty, like somebody had removed every single knowledge and memory he had possessed before replacing it with the sole image of perfection- of her in her wedding dress. He rubbed his thumbs weakly against her fingers, needing to feel her and confirm his sight.
"Flatterer," she teased as she smoothed his cheek, wiping a tear that had escaped without his knowing.
God, she was beautiful, the thought echoed in his head as he trailed the hair comb through the wavy ends of her hair before replacing it lightly to his liking.
She looked ephemeral, and the wedding day was really arriving.
- - - - -
He set the knife down when he heard the sound of the lock being worked at. Was it- he cocked his head quizzically before wiping his wet hands quickly on his pants.
Groaning at the realization of his absent-minded actions, he appraised the damage with a pained frown. The strawberry juice on his fingers had left a stain on the pristine white of his pants.
"Welcome home," he interjected almost reflexively when his partner crossed the doorframe.
"Are you-" he grunted, stumbling backwards as the blonde launched himself into his arms. “Okay?" He finished lamely, wrapping his arms around the smaller frame, incredibly conscious of how ineffectual his words were.
Jaejoong's moments of weakness were few and in between, the man instead choosing to stare it out, or drink it away before taking whatever course he had decided on the spur of the moment. While he had never approved of the other's methods, it was Jaejoong. And he really liked anything that was Jaejoong.
"What're you doing?" The blonde asked finally with his chin rested on his shoulder.
"Making a sandwich," he replied plainly. He had long learnt not to press for answers when it came to his partner. It might take a while, but the man would come to it.
"Peanut butter with strawberries?" Jaejoong pushed away lightly, and the taller man released his arms reluctantly, already missing the hands around him. "Yeah. It’s for you," he teased knowing that Jaejoong disliked the combination.
Catching the mirth in the other's eyes, the blonde paused before shaking his head. "Sometimes I really wish that Changmin had properly straightened you out with his sensibility," he said with a mock sniff as he made his way to the counter, yelping when the taller man suddenly pulled him in roughly. There was a warbled cry of 'sparta,' and before he could continue, Yunho's lips were on his, softly, like air. There was a release of breath from his lips as the unconscious weight that he had been carrying disappeared with the new coiling sensations in his belly.
He shivered as his lover's arm trailed up his back. Every touch still felt like the first. The initial years that they had spent as friends had paved the way for a relationship that felt like second nature. Yunho had the ability to call his heart to the surface with a single touch, and every sensation was still blindingly intense and searing. It was an ache and a pain that could hurt with its pureness, but didn't.
He trailed a hand up the side of Yunho's face, and into the man's hair. It was halting and curious, like a blind touching another's face for the first time; careful to inscribe the planes and ridges into his mind.
Yunho made him feel bare, like he was splayed naked with his legs wide open for the world to see, but at the same time, he knew that Yunho would shield him carefully. The man saw through his glamor and calmed his moods.
He felt the chill in his heart once more, as if somebody had left the latch open. The ache of selfish bitterness was creeping back. There were times where he wanted to stretch this, this perfection, this softness; across them, enveloping them, to form a dome comprising of only two. They would stay together, and he would hold Yunho close. He would spend his days tracing the familiar dips and curves that still enthralled him. Some people spent their entire lives trying to find their love, but he had already found his in the form of Yunho. Even with only each other for company, they'd be fine, because Yunho was the one. Yunho was his world, and that was enough. They could pretend that the world didn't matter; that peanut butter and strawberries was the best combination possible just because one of them liked it. They'd pretend that the words of others' didn't burn their ears, that they weren't the objects of- his ramblings broke as Yunho squeezed his wrist.
He was crying, and he couldn't breathe, his nose full. There was a muted concern in the other man's eyes.
"Was Miyoung beautiful?" The taller man asked, a simple question close to the true topic at hand. Jaejoong nodded as he took the offered tissue.
"We've never talked about it," Yunho continued as he caressed Jaejoong's jaw. "But I don't think that we need a wedding or a certificate to label what we have." He smoothed the reddened rims of the other's eyes sadly, watching as his lover watched him.
"It'd be good to have a paper that recognizes us in the eyes of the law, but it doesn't change the premise of our relationship. I love you, and I always will." It sounded odd even to himself; the lack of inflection, a lot like a plain statement instead of an emotive one. But it was the truth. Forever used to scare him when he was younger, and it had initially stopped him from taking the first step with Jaejoong. Being in an unconventional relationship also required more courage than usual, but nothing had ever felt more right in life. He would be wherever Jaejoong was, and they were at the stage where they didn't need inflections to convince each other of their affections.
"But I've always wanted, you know, a banquet. The whole pink confetti thing, the champagne, clothed tables and dry ice. I've always wanted the whole deal." Jaejoong shrugged as he fell onto the couch. "I guess that Miyoung just reminded me of what we can't have," he finished blankly, conscious how childish his admission he sounded. But Yunho wouldn't mind, because he was Yunho. Who loved him. And they loved each other. Everything would be okay and he would be forgiven.
"We work on a different plane that doesn't require papers to pronounce anything." The taller pushed the blonde's fringe backwards with a soft caress. "But, we could do the whole pink confetti, champagne, clothed tables and dry ice thing if you really wanted it. Plus a wedding cake with an appropriate cake topper, with a post bash honeymoon for effect." His eyes were glittering with excitement.
"So will you marry me, Jaejoong?" He straightened as he continued with mirthful youthfulness, his fringe glinting under the setting sun with the shift of his posture.
Brightening at the familiar question, the blonde straightened as he leaned towards the other man. "I do," he replied sincerely, a similar answer to the question that had already been asked once, memories ago.
- - - - -
A/N: What the heck, so that's where the emotional title came from... what's up with this author and bad titles...
Anyway, it was a really really short story about nothing, /coughs. I dug it out from my drafts of random stories, tidied it a little (a lot), and here it is. I hope that it wasn't half bad though.
I just bought chocolate biscuits for breakfast even though I have a sore throat and I just thought of my roommate in Poland having POtatoes for three meals, haha. Anyway, I'll write and edit more stories. Thank you for dropping by in the cold and I shall go wash myself and then my clothes now. Do leave a comment to play with me! :D
Author: countingcr0ws
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Form: One-shot
Genre: AR, Slice-of-Life, Romance
Summary: Being an unconventional couple disallows them a number of privileges. But they'll have to make do. A short, idle story about Yunjae.
Summer had given way to time, and the endless drizzles had abated, the leaves starting to fall.
Peering at the row of signboards as he ambled along the almost empty pavement, he caught sight of the shop. "Finally," he murmured to himself, satisfied with himself with the success.
-
Somebody had told him once that grooms weren't allowed to see the bride's dress until the day of the marriage. With the so little directions that he had gotten, he couldn't help but believe that she had heard a variation of the superstition.
But he knew her well enough. She had probably expected him to know where the shop was. They had walked along the same street so many times, but his mind had long tuned itself to filter out wedding shops like these.
He had never thought that he would ever have the opportunity to step into one.
"Excuse me?" He called out softly, almost reverently, conscious of disrupting the elegant tranquillity of the shop.
There was a strapless gown at display at the window, and sandalwood incense was burning behind the counter. The musky smell filled the tiny reception area.
"White, for purity," the blonde man whispered idly as he fingered the rich chiffon in his hands, tracing the sequined bodice.
Biting his lips as he let out a nervous breath, he let his hand fall to his side, forgoing the spiral staircase to wander deeper into the shop. The shop was larger than it looked from the outside, and devoid of any personnel.
There was only the lone hollow sound of the clack of his heels against the dark wood floor. Giving up his attempt to peer into the dark room, he made his way back to the front before taking the stairs two at a time. His heart was beating strangely quick in his chest, the achromatic lightness of the gown at the door contrasting heavily with the deep shade of the floor in the corner of his eyes.
"Excuse me," he apologized nervously as he pushed the door open before sticking his head in.
The second level was completely filled, overhanging racks fully laden with heavy dresses of varying shades, cascading to the floor. It was a maze, and he had the sudden urge to drop to his knees to crawl though the trains of silk, tulle, and chiffon to reach whispers of approval at the corner of the room.
After stumbling through and taking pushing through a rack later, he found her.
The back of her gown ended lower than the length of her hair before trailing off to a ripple of ruffles. The saleswoman was slipping pearlescent combs into her hair softly, and he felt his heart ache as he stood watching her regal back view.
There was a sudden strangled sound of recognition from the shopkeeper, and time seemed to slow as she began to turn. It was a scene of cinematic elegance, her hair twirling in a fine arc as their eyes met, a smile of hello and inexpressible joy rolled into one, and oh, oh how his heart seized as he was watched her walk towards him, his legs rooted to the ground.
"You look perfect," he whispered finally, his voice unusually hoarse with the knot of emotions in his throat. His head felt light and empty, like somebody had removed every single knowledge and memory he had possessed before replacing it with the sole image of perfection- of her in her wedding dress. He rubbed his thumbs weakly against her fingers, needing to feel her and confirm his sight.
"Flatterer," she teased as she smoothed his cheek, wiping a tear that had escaped without his knowing.
God, she was beautiful, the thought echoed in his head as he trailed the hair comb through the wavy ends of her hair before replacing it lightly to his liking.
She looked ephemeral, and the wedding day was really arriving.
- - - - -
He set the knife down when he heard the sound of the lock being worked at. Was it- he cocked his head quizzically before wiping his wet hands quickly on his pants.
Groaning at the realization of his absent-minded actions, he appraised the damage with a pained frown. The strawberry juice on his fingers had left a stain on the pristine white of his pants.
"Welcome home," he interjected almost reflexively when his partner crossed the doorframe.
"Are you-" he grunted, stumbling backwards as the blonde launched himself into his arms. “Okay?" He finished lamely, wrapping his arms around the smaller frame, incredibly conscious of how ineffectual his words were.
Jaejoong's moments of weakness were few and in between, the man instead choosing to stare it out, or drink it away before taking whatever course he had decided on the spur of the moment. While he had never approved of the other's methods, it was Jaejoong. And he really liked anything that was Jaejoong.
"What're you doing?" The blonde asked finally with his chin rested on his shoulder.
"Making a sandwich," he replied plainly. He had long learnt not to press for answers when it came to his partner. It might take a while, but the man would come to it.
"Peanut butter with strawberries?" Jaejoong pushed away lightly, and the taller man released his arms reluctantly, already missing the hands around him. "Yeah. It’s for you," he teased knowing that Jaejoong disliked the combination.
Catching the mirth in the other's eyes, the blonde paused before shaking his head. "Sometimes I really wish that Changmin had properly straightened you out with his sensibility," he said with a mock sniff as he made his way to the counter, yelping when the taller man suddenly pulled him in roughly. There was a warbled cry of 'sparta,' and before he could continue, Yunho's lips were on his, softly, like air. There was a release of breath from his lips as the unconscious weight that he had been carrying disappeared with the new coiling sensations in his belly.
He shivered as his lover's arm trailed up his back. Every touch still felt like the first. The initial years that they had spent as friends had paved the way for a relationship that felt like second nature. Yunho had the ability to call his heart to the surface with a single touch, and every sensation was still blindingly intense and searing. It was an ache and a pain that could hurt with its pureness, but didn't.
He trailed a hand up the side of Yunho's face, and into the man's hair. It was halting and curious, like a blind touching another's face for the first time; careful to inscribe the planes and ridges into his mind.
Yunho made him feel bare, like he was splayed naked with his legs wide open for the world to see, but at the same time, he knew that Yunho would shield him carefully. The man saw through his glamor and calmed his moods.
He felt the chill in his heart once more, as if somebody had left the latch open. The ache of selfish bitterness was creeping back. There were times where he wanted to stretch this, this perfection, this softness; across them, enveloping them, to form a dome comprising of only two. They would stay together, and he would hold Yunho close. He would spend his days tracing the familiar dips and curves that still enthralled him. Some people spent their entire lives trying to find their love, but he had already found his in the form of Yunho. Even with only each other for company, they'd be fine, because Yunho was the one. Yunho was his world, and that was enough. They could pretend that the world didn't matter; that peanut butter and strawberries was the best combination possible just because one of them liked it. They'd pretend that the words of others' didn't burn their ears, that they weren't the objects of- his ramblings broke as Yunho squeezed his wrist.
He was crying, and he couldn't breathe, his nose full. There was a muted concern in the other man's eyes.
"Was Miyoung beautiful?" The taller man asked, a simple question close to the true topic at hand. Jaejoong nodded as he took the offered tissue.
"We've never talked about it," Yunho continued as he caressed Jaejoong's jaw. "But I don't think that we need a wedding or a certificate to label what we have." He smoothed the reddened rims of the other's eyes sadly, watching as his lover watched him.
"It'd be good to have a paper that recognizes us in the eyes of the law, but it doesn't change the premise of our relationship. I love you, and I always will." It sounded odd even to himself; the lack of inflection, a lot like a plain statement instead of an emotive one. But it was the truth. Forever used to scare him when he was younger, and it had initially stopped him from taking the first step with Jaejoong. Being in an unconventional relationship also required more courage than usual, but nothing had ever felt more right in life. He would be wherever Jaejoong was, and they were at the stage where they didn't need inflections to convince each other of their affections.
"But I've always wanted, you know, a banquet. The whole pink confetti thing, the champagne, clothed tables and dry ice. I've always wanted the whole deal." Jaejoong shrugged as he fell onto the couch. "I guess that Miyoung just reminded me of what we can't have," he finished blankly, conscious how childish his admission he sounded. But Yunho wouldn't mind, because he was Yunho. Who loved him. And they loved each other. Everything would be okay and he would be forgiven.
"We work on a different plane that doesn't require papers to pronounce anything." The taller pushed the blonde's fringe backwards with a soft caress. "But, we could do the whole pink confetti, champagne, clothed tables and dry ice thing if you really wanted it. Plus a wedding cake with an appropriate cake topper, with a post bash honeymoon for effect." His eyes were glittering with excitement.
"So will you marry me, Jaejoong?" He straightened as he continued with mirthful youthfulness, his fringe glinting under the setting sun with the shift of his posture.
Brightening at the familiar question, the blonde straightened as he leaned towards the other man. "I do," he replied sincerely, a similar answer to the question that had already been asked once, memories ago.
- - - - -
A/N: What the heck, so that's where the emotional title came from... what's up with this author and bad titles...
Anyway, it was a really really short story about nothing, /coughs. I dug it out from my drafts of random stories, tidied it a little (a lot), and here it is. I hope that it wasn't half bad though.
I just bought chocolate biscuits for breakfast even though I have a sore throat and I just thought of my roommate in Poland having POtatoes for three meals, haha. Anyway, I'll write and edit more stories. Thank you for dropping by in the cold and I shall go wash myself and then my clothes now. Do leave a comment to play with me! :D