Contest Entry 6: Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Title: Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Author: skyfever
Word count: 1488 words
Concrit?: Fire away.
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yoochun
Rating: PG-15
Summary: Sometimes, the only thing you can hang onto is blind faith.
Challenge: Like today
"You know,
I always have backup,
just in case."
You have a friend named Park Yoochun.
You meet him in a party, when you're only six. He's the one who's most dressed in your little group of friends (that roughly translates to 'people who live near your place and play with you at four in the afternoon'), and your eyes zero-in on him the moment he enters the venue. He struts as if he's eighteen, acts as if he owns the place and as if he's known you all his life - but he's the kid you've met just yesterday. "I'm Yoochun," he says, sticking out his right hand to you, a huge grin on his lips. This boy smiles too much, you think, but you still take his hand and shake it firmly (like adults do). Minutes after, you find yourself talking to him about your favorite show - Pokemon.
Everything falls into place.
Yoochun is a fan of psychic-type Pokemon, and you fancy anything that looks like Clefairy. "Well there's Jigglypuff, but it's the only one that looks like Clefairy." "What about Clefable?" "Stupid, Clefable is the evolution. Of course it looks like Clefairy!" "Oh, figures." Your conversations normally revolve around the game and the latest episodes that have come out, and Yoochun's forever ahead of you in everything because he's got access to the internet and you don't. "I hate you for watching it ahead of me!" "I hate you even more for being so far behind!"
So you arrive at an agreement - Yoochun invites you to his house on Fridays so that you can watch together, and you play the games together so you can beat the crap out of each other in competitive gameplay. You're in charge of the food, so you make sure you prepare Yoochun's favorite treats all the time, varying from the easy-to-make ones to the ones that require a lot of effort to put into. You fancy these kinds of things - competition and rivalry, challenges and friendship, and Yoochun, too. Halfway through watching Ash's battle with Sabrina, yours hands collide with his in search of the last piece of potato chip, and you both look away from the television, look at each other up close for the first time.
"This feels weird," he says as he stares at you too long for your liking, "this," he continues, holding up his right hand that's entangled with yours, "is not right."
It is weird for fifteen-year-old boys to be holding each others hands in such a manner, moreso not letting go. It's even more weird that Yoochun's so worked up on the matter when you've already known each other for so long and only now has haptics been an issue. "Yoochun, this is normal... for us. we've been-" "What do you mean us?" "You... and me."
"Look, Jae. This isn't working." Your eyebrows furrow and Yoochun looks away. "Could you at least tell me what's going on, Park Yoochun? Because you've been weird for these past few weeks and you've been avoiding me and I deserve an-"
Explanations come in different forms, words being the most normally used form, but this has to be the best way to explain such a situation - this, where his lips are on yours and you can't speak or question his any longer, when he's close close too close and you feel his heart beating against your chest, when his arms are around you and he whispers so softly in your ear, "I really tried, but I couldn't help falling for you."
But then you're both growing kids, and Yoochun's a playboy, be it with guys or girls. You're not exactly together with him, but you're not exactly not an item, either. "Oh come on, Jae! You didn't take 'us' too seriously, did you?" "Is it my fault that I did?" Yoochun rolls his eyes, shakes his head, a disgruntled look on his face. "No strings attached, remember?" You turn your back on him.
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember lies."
Yoochun leaves you when you are nineteen, when he's just about to turn nineteen. It's the prime of your life because it's when your father finally buys you a car and Yoochun's the first one you want to drive around the town with. But when you stop by his place, his mother asks you, "He said he was going to find himself. Why aren't you with him?"
You never really move to another house, so it's convenient for Yoochun to come back for you anytime. The next time you see him, you are twenty-three, and he's riding a bike and carrying a kite with him. "I thought I'd drop by for a chat?" Drop by would be the understatement of the year.
He stays at your place for the next three days, disappears and re-appears at your place for the next two weeks. He says he's got a lot of things to do, that he's got big dreams and he's slowly getting there, and that he wants coffee. So you do give him coffee, and you share three cups in the evening with him while running through the figures you are studying for tomorrow's presentation of the market projection of the company you're working in. "You're too serious about things all the time," he tells you, shaking his head as a smile creeps to his lips - you steal a glance at him before reaching for your cup, but he beats you to it, snatches your cup and adds three teaspoons of milk. "Like always." Your eyes linger on his a bit too long for your liking - for your sanity. He erupts into a lovely peal of laughter soon after. You don't even try to hide that smile on your lips.
You don't see him again in a long, long while. You reckon he's achieved his dreams as you already have. Everyday, you wait for a red bicycle to magically appear on your doorstep. You prepare extra coffee in the evening, leave your coffee black in case he might drop by - just in case. But then you're already twenty-nine and it's been six long years since you've seen him again. People call it stupidity. You call in faith.
Unconsciously, you call it love.
It's when you stop expecting and waiting that he returns, this time in a black Mercedes, and he's got a year's supply of coffee - "I figured I'd have to make amends for what I've done." "Correction. For what you haven't." "Oh, shut up." It's in three in the morning when he gets in your house, and you look like shit when he smiles at you charmingly, enveloping you in an embrace. It's the first time he does that, the first time he doesn't let go, the first time he kisses you good night and the first time he wakes you up in the morning. "Wake up, you fat lazy cow."
He stays at your place for the next few days, weeks, months and it's almost a year already. "When are you leaving?" His lips quiver for a while. "What do you mean?" You scoff, shrug just a bit. "I... I don't know. You always leave me behind and move on faster than I could, then you come back just when I'm trying to move on already." A small smile makes his way to his lips. This isn't a time for jokes. "When? When we run out of coffee?" He shakes his head, gets on his feet and opens your cupboard. You don't believe what you see.
"You know, I always have backup, just in case."
Yoochun owns a speed ticket to your heart and he doesn't listen when you tell him, Easy, boy, easy because he's all slip of the tongue and no formal language, not even when you ask him, Yoochun, please stay because he's a free soul who can't ever be bound to anyone, not even to you.
But then he parks in your garden one day - that one fine day - the marks of the tires of his car freshly imprinted on your lawn. His back is against his car and you can't see his face, but his hair's grown longer and you can see the same old playful smile on his lips; he can't be joking. "Way to make a comeback, Park." He shakes his head, shrugs. "Figured I'd have to pay you back somehow. I don't want skeletons in my closet." It's 18-going-on-19 all over again, and you invite him inside for coffee, for a re-run of Jumanji and a drinking session in the evening. But he never leaves at 5 a.m., and he's curled up against you like he used to be when you just turned 19 and God, Jaejoong, why are you so old again? / Shut up, I'm only months older than you. It's like you're 19 and he's turning 19 in a few months and you're no longer babies - you're all grown up.
Except that, this time, he doesn't leave.
Author: skyfever
Word count: 1488 words
Concrit?: Fire away.
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yoochun
Rating: PG-15
Summary: Sometimes, the only thing you can hang onto is blind faith.
Challenge: Like today
"You know,
I always have backup,
just in case."
You have a friend named Park Yoochun.
You meet him in a party, when you're only six. He's the one who's most dressed in your little group of friends (that roughly translates to 'people who live near your place and play with you at four in the afternoon'), and your eyes zero-in on him the moment he enters the venue. He struts as if he's eighteen, acts as if he owns the place and as if he's known you all his life - but he's the kid you've met just yesterday. "I'm Yoochun," he says, sticking out his right hand to you, a huge grin on his lips. This boy smiles too much, you think, but you still take his hand and shake it firmly (like adults do). Minutes after, you find yourself talking to him about your favorite show - Pokemon.
Everything falls into place.
Yoochun is a fan of psychic-type Pokemon, and you fancy anything that looks like Clefairy. "Well there's Jigglypuff, but it's the only one that looks like Clefairy." "What about Clefable?" "Stupid, Clefable is the evolution. Of course it looks like Clefairy!" "Oh, figures." Your conversations normally revolve around the game and the latest episodes that have come out, and Yoochun's forever ahead of you in everything because he's got access to the internet and you don't. "I hate you for watching it ahead of me!" "I hate you even more for being so far behind!"
So you arrive at an agreement - Yoochun invites you to his house on Fridays so that you can watch together, and you play the games together so you can beat the crap out of each other in competitive gameplay. You're in charge of the food, so you make sure you prepare Yoochun's favorite treats all the time, varying from the easy-to-make ones to the ones that require a lot of effort to put into. You fancy these kinds of things - competition and rivalry, challenges and friendship, and Yoochun, too. Halfway through watching Ash's battle with Sabrina, yours hands collide with his in search of the last piece of potato chip, and you both look away from the television, look at each other up close for the first time.
"This feels weird," he says as he stares at you too long for your liking, "this," he continues, holding up his right hand that's entangled with yours, "is not right."
It is weird for fifteen-year-old boys to be holding each others hands in such a manner, moreso not letting go. It's even more weird that Yoochun's so worked up on the matter when you've already known each other for so long and only now has haptics been an issue. "Yoochun, this is normal... for us. we've been-" "What do you mean us?" "You... and me."
"Look, Jae. This isn't working." Your eyebrows furrow and Yoochun looks away. "Could you at least tell me what's going on, Park Yoochun? Because you've been weird for these past few weeks and you've been avoiding me and I deserve an-"
Explanations come in different forms, words being the most normally used form, but this has to be the best way to explain such a situation - this, where his lips are on yours and you can't speak or question his any longer, when he's close close too close and you feel his heart beating against your chest, when his arms are around you and he whispers so softly in your ear, "I really tried, but I couldn't help falling for you."
But then you're both growing kids, and Yoochun's a playboy, be it with guys or girls. You're not exactly together with him, but you're not exactly not an item, either. "Oh come on, Jae! You didn't take 'us' too seriously, did you?" "Is it my fault that I did?" Yoochun rolls his eyes, shakes his head, a disgruntled look on his face. "No strings attached, remember?" You turn your back on him.
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember lies."
Yoochun leaves you when you are nineteen, when he's just about to turn nineteen. It's the prime of your life because it's when your father finally buys you a car and Yoochun's the first one you want to drive around the town with. But when you stop by his place, his mother asks you, "He said he was going to find himself. Why aren't you with him?"
You never really move to another house, so it's convenient for Yoochun to come back for you anytime. The next time you see him, you are twenty-three, and he's riding a bike and carrying a kite with him. "I thought I'd drop by for a chat?" Drop by would be the understatement of the year.
He stays at your place for the next three days, disappears and re-appears at your place for the next two weeks. He says he's got a lot of things to do, that he's got big dreams and he's slowly getting there, and that he wants coffee. So you do give him coffee, and you share three cups in the evening with him while running through the figures you are studying for tomorrow's presentation of the market projection of the company you're working in. "You're too serious about things all the time," he tells you, shaking his head as a smile creeps to his lips - you steal a glance at him before reaching for your cup, but he beats you to it, snatches your cup and adds three teaspoons of milk. "Like always." Your eyes linger on his a bit too long for your liking - for your sanity. He erupts into a lovely peal of laughter soon after. You don't even try to hide that smile on your lips.
You don't see him again in a long, long while. You reckon he's achieved his dreams as you already have. Everyday, you wait for a red bicycle to magically appear on your doorstep. You prepare extra coffee in the evening, leave your coffee black in case he might drop by - just in case. But then you're already twenty-nine and it's been six long years since you've seen him again. People call it stupidity. You call in faith.
Unconsciously, you call it love.
It's when you stop expecting and waiting that he returns, this time in a black Mercedes, and he's got a year's supply of coffee - "I figured I'd have to make amends for what I've done." "Correction. For what you haven't." "Oh, shut up." It's in three in the morning when he gets in your house, and you look like shit when he smiles at you charmingly, enveloping you in an embrace. It's the first time he does that, the first time he doesn't let go, the first time he kisses you good night and the first time he wakes you up in the morning. "Wake up, you fat lazy cow."
He stays at your place for the next few days, weeks, months and it's almost a year already. "When are you leaving?" His lips quiver for a while. "What do you mean?" You scoff, shrug just a bit. "I... I don't know. You always leave me behind and move on faster than I could, then you come back just when I'm trying to move on already." A small smile makes his way to his lips. This isn't a time for jokes. "When? When we run out of coffee?" He shakes his head, gets on his feet and opens your cupboard. You don't believe what you see.
"You know, I always have backup, just in case."
Yoochun owns a speed ticket to your heart and he doesn't listen when you tell him, Easy, boy, easy because he's all slip of the tongue and no formal language, not even when you ask him, Yoochun, please stay because he's a free soul who can't ever be bound to anyone, not even to you.
But then he parks in your garden one day - that one fine day - the marks of the tires of his car freshly imprinted on your lawn. His back is against his car and you can't see his face, but his hair's grown longer and you can see the same old playful smile on his lips; he can't be joking. "Way to make a comeback, Park." He shakes his head, shrugs. "Figured I'd have to pay you back somehow. I don't want skeletons in my closet." It's 18-going-on-19 all over again, and you invite him inside for coffee, for a re-run of Jumanji and a drinking session in the evening. But he never leaves at 5 a.m., and he's curled up against you like he used to be when you just turned 19 and God, Jaejoong, why are you so old again? / Shut up, I'm only months older than you. It's like you're 19 and he's turning 19 in a few months and you're no longer babies - you're all grown up.
Except that, this time, he doesn't leave.