No, I Never Told You
No, I Never Told You.
yunjae, pg-13
angst/romance
15,172 words
Yunho is getting married in the morning - and unfortunately for him, he’s about to meet the man who’s going to remind him why he’ll regret it. Twelve hours to go: let the countdown begin.
Hello again! This was my back-up story for my dbskbigbang in 2010 - it didn’t get used then, obvs, but I’ve been steadily, slowly working on it ever since. It’s fairly unbeta’d, forgive my inevitable typoes, but after two years irdc, I need this up and done :d Angst is the main genre of this story, so be warned, if you’re looking for an easy happy-ending story, this isn’t it. The title is from the Colbie Caillat song of the same name.
10:00pm.
Yunho slammed the shot glass back down on the table and felt the liquor eat away at his throat from the inside out. He grit his teeth and tried not to gag; whoever thought tequila, orange liqueur, and peppermint schnapps was a good combination for a shot, he’d like to meet them and then punch them in the gut, because that’s kind of what this felt like. The mixture curdled unpleasantly in his stomach, and next to him Yoochun let out a sharp sigh of pleasure.
“That-” he said pointedly, “-right there-” licking his lips around the aftertaste, “-is some good shit.” He gave the four empty glasses on the table a bright-eyed smile, then looked around at his friends with self-satisfaction, like he’d made Christmas come early instead of ordering a round of shots. Across the table, Junsu seemed to give up the fight with himself and started coughing uncontrollably.
Changmin scoffed and reached over to smack the man on the back, but when he rolled his eyes it was directed at Yoochun. “That was not good shit- that was just shit. Seriously, Yoochun, I know you’d rather die than get married, but that’s no reason to try and kill the rest of us.”
“Don’t blame me because you have an unrefined palette and can’t taste awesome when it’s put in front of you,” Yoochun laughed. “And even if I was attempting- it’d be a mercy killing. Justifiable homicide. Death by… drunkness -drunkenness? Is that even a word? Whatever. Anyway, it’d be a good way to go, right Yunho?”
Yunho shook his head fondly and ignored them. Yoochun and Changmin didn’t seem to mind, content to bicker while Yunho checked on Junsu. “You ok, Junsu?” he asked.
“Yea-hghah,” Junsu croaked out, giving him a weak smile. His eyes looked a little watery, but Yunho didn’t comment. Junsu wasn’t that big of a drinker - in fact, in the seven years they’d known each other, he didn’t think he’d seen Junsu be much more than tipsy. And to be honest, Yunho wasn’t much different. Sure, he’d go out with the guys from the office on the odd Friday night, but it was more for the company than the cocktails.
Yet here he was, at a bar, taking shots with his three best friends, pre-gaming for his bachelor party on the night before his wedding. His stomach churned uncomfortably again; he felt the slow burn of alcohol creeping into his bloodstream. His wedding… to a girl. A wonderful, beautiful, painfully honest girl and… and he shook his head. Those sorts of thought would get him nowhere. Sunmi was lovely, and he loved her, and he was going to make her -and everyone else- happy. End of story, happily ever after.
Changmin just said something nasty; Yunho didn’t catch the exact words, but he could catch the gist, the way Junsu frowned and Yoochun slapped a hand to his forehead, mock-offended. “You’re a cruel man, Shim!” he cried dramatically. “For that, another round of shots!”
They all groaned.
10:49pm.
“Ok seriously,” Yunho sighed, “where are we going?” There was some muffled giggling in front of him -and god, he was too old to have friends that giggled?- and he was going to tell them that, except at that moment his toe caught on a crack in the pavement and he stumbled, his arms out and flailing.
Hands grabbed him, steadying him, and he only knew they were Changmin’s hands because of his laugh, which came from somewhere close to Yunho’s left ear. “Careful. Don’t fall!” he said, half laughter and all sarcasm.
His sense of the world tilted, and he blamed those stupid, god-awful shots. “There was a crack -thing.”
“Whatever you say, Yunho.”
Yunho scowled and tried to steady himself as best he could when he was blindfolded -which was really just Yoochun’s tie, some hideously awful bright orange (“awesome, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle orange!”) thing that, if he kept his eyes open, made him feel like he was living inside a carrot.
Yunho, for the record, hated carrots. Just as much as he hated orange-and-peppermint flavored shots and Yoochun and Changmin and the world, which seemed to hate him just as much, right now. He closed his eyes and his lashes scraped against the fabric of the tie, not awkward enough to hurt but to be a little more than uncomfortable.
They were walking on a busy street; he could hear cars and people passing by, night life at it’s worst. He stumbled and his friends laughed and Yunho could just imagine the weird looks they were getting. A part of him felt a little nauseous at the idea of being so brazen, of acting so ridiculous in public, but he told himself that it was just the drink and hey, it was his bachelor party anyway. He was allowed, just this once… right? Club music played on his left, the sound rising and falling each time they passed by an open door, and Yunho’s limbs were already twitching, ready to move.
But Yoochun and Changmin and Junsu kept leading him forward, and soon the sound of the city disappeared, and it was only their footsteps echoing about. “Guys…” he started, but then there were hands on him again, holding him still and tugging off the orange eyesore.
“Shit,” he said, staring up at the garish sigh, the name WannaBe and several naked ladies outlined in bright pink neon. His friends started laughing, then, cheering and jostling him towards the blacked-out door, so that he barely had time to really process it all before he was being pushed inside. Immediately he was hit with a wall of warm air, dark and smoky as it was. He coughed and waved his hand, but Yoochun laughed behind him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. “This is the big surprise?” Yunho asked skeptically. “A strip bar?”
“Pssssshss,” Yoochun said, his lips slipping and dragging out the sound. “C’mon, y’din’t think we’d take y’to just any old bar?”
He was already slurring- just great. Yunho rolled his eyes but gave him a loose smile, anyway, because Yoochun’s heart was in the right place. Suddenly a big hand clapped each of them on the back, startling them. They turned to Changmin, who was still standing half-in the door, and Junsu, peaking around his shoulder.
“Some people are cold,” Junsu called from behind him.
“And some people want to see tits,” Changmin grinned. “So let’s move it!”
Turns out WannaBe was actually pretty classy for a strip club. Or, Yunho assumed it was classy- it wasn’t like he’d ever been in one, but his imagination and favorite gangster movies had supplied enough images to build up the image of some sleazy, gritty place that Yoochun would take him to just to freak him out. That’d be just the type of thing Yoochun would do.
But a hosts actually came to meet them, and Changmin gave them his name, and the man bowed and said “follow me, gentlemen.” His friends shot him winks and wide grins, because evidently Changmin had arranged for them to have a private VIP area. He shook his head fondly.
They made their way to their roped-off section, walking past the main catwalk, where several dancers were walking and crawling around. They weren’t naked, but it was a close thing - they were wearing little more than strips of cloth loosely tied together to cover the most intimate parts of them, and even then the fabric was nearly transparent, with only a few scattered patches of sequins to provide the illusion of decency. As he looked one of the girls ran her hands up her side, undoing the ties of her top one-by-one.
A little cheer went up from the bar’s other patrons, and Yunho looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Junsu caught the movement, and gave Yunho a questioning look. Even in the low light, he could probably see Yunho’s blush - but it was okay, because it was just Junsu, kind, sheltered Junsu, who’s eyes widened when the girl’s top came off completely, and smiled at Yunho nervously.
“It’s okay to look, hyung,” he said, but Yunho noticed Junsu had yet to turn his head back to look, either. When he spoke it was like he was trying to convince himself. “Just for one night?”
Yunho was tipsy enough that, for one very, very brief second, there was a very different answer sitting on the tip of his tongue -he didn’t know what that answer was, but it was there nonetheless.
And then he caught sight of Changmin and Yoochun laughing and greeting the rest of the party guests -guys from work and old friends from university, all gathered in their private area, waiting for him- and Yunho was smiling so hard his teeth hurt.
He jumped on Junsu, wrapping around an arm around his neck and teasing him, “You bet it’s okay! My party, isn’t it? But I’ll make sure you get a girl, too,” he yelled over the music, and laughed loudly when the younger man stumbled.
The private area had several tables, each with their own stripper pole in the center. Yunho was quickly pushed to the largest of them, where a girl was already beginning her dance, a slow stretch of limbs that Yunho guessed was meant to be sexy. He was more concerned with the way she was stretching -it was bad for her muscles, doing it that way.
But it wasn’t that bad, Yunho told himself. He felt a little uncomfortable, when his friends called over girl after girl to dance just for him, the groom-to-be, and also when the serving girl leaned a little too close to take their drink orders. Her shirt was low enough to let loose the top of her nipples. Yoochun took three tries to get his order right, Changmin’s eyes never went above her neck, and Yunho just asked for something strong -house special, whatever.
He knew she was showing off for tips, and he made sure to be generous, because she was the one who had to deal with his friends- and that wasn’t something he would wish on his worst enemy, really.
He told her as much and she gave him a cheeky grin and a careless shrug.
“’Eeeeey,” Yoochun yelled, having overheard, “Ima charmin’ example of gentlemanliness.” He ruined his argument by yelling it straight to the girl’s breasts.
The other guys were all having fun, though, and Yunho was enjoying watching them have fun and making fools of themselves. When he wasn’t filling his phone with wonderful, embarrassing blackmail photos, he grinned and chugged his drink (“bartender’s choice, he calls it the Black Widower”) and waved his one-dollar bills and ignored the ugly little voice in his mind telling him that this was all just pretend, and this is how it would always be.
4:58am.
Yunho turned the ring on his finger, the normally cool metal feeling oddly hot. Maybe because he was turning it so much. It kept catching on his skin, sticking. He should stop.
But he couldn’t stop- couldn’t stop moving at all. His feet were tapping and his fingers were twisting the ring and his entire body was shivering - though that was more from the cold than anything. He was soaked, head to foot, and his socks made thick squelching noises every time he moved. The person beside him was perfectly still, and there wasn’t enough warmth between them to be of any help.
“You okay?” he asked softly, but Yunho just shrugged.
His top lip was split -he must have hit it when they fell, although on what he can’t imagine- and if he was still in his right mind, he wouldn’t keep touching it, because that was unsanitary; he would wait until he could get some antibiotics on the wound. Instead, he licked at the nick and the metallic taste of blood that kept finding its way into his mouth. It was probably going to swell. Sunmi would freak when she saw it.
He heard sirens and lifted his head, seeing a world that was lit by flashes of red and blue.
11:27pm.
The first time he tried to leave his chair, he got reeled back in by several pairs of hands, demanding him to stay. (“Gotta pee? Izzit ‘n emergency? No? Then sit y’r ass down!”) It had lasted all of five minutes before Yunho got antsy again, his foot bouncing in time with the music, and his eyes looking carefully at a point just over the dancing girl’s shoulder.
Finally he gave in to the urge to get away, tossing back his drink to give himself an excuse. He stood and this time only Changmin’s hand clamped around his wrist. “Where you goin?” he said, smiling widely, drunkenly guileless.
Yunho shook his glass at him, the bare ice rattling around inside. “Need another. Waitress is takin’ too long,” he said, trying not to slur. And, as he took quick steps towards the bar, just on the other side of the VIP section, he felt a quick rush of sobriety. There was a war going on inside of him -a quiet war, not dramatic or volatile, but one that was putting him on edge nonetheless.
On one hand, he hated being here. Despised it, actually, surrounded by the sort of degrading machismo he’d avoided all his life. It wasn’t who he was, and it certainly wasn’t pleasant to see. When he looked at these girls he didn’t see sex- he saw daughters, sisters. He couldn’t bear it if his little sister was forced to live like this, so why should he take pleasure in watching someone else’s?
At the same time, he knew that he couldn’t really protest. He shouldn’t, because his friends had done a lot of work to arrange this, and he did appreciate that. He could act grudgingly amused with the whole experience, and it wouldn’t be far from the truth (and it wouldn’t be suspicious).
He needed to put aside the doubt and the fear. He’d been doing it for a long time, anyway… but it was always harder when he was drinking, to keep all his facts straight.
The floor around the bar was concrete and he could feel the stickiness of it, the slight resistance on the soles of his shoes each time he lifted a foot. He grimaced, because who knew what was down there? He’d have to send these shoes to the dry cleaner first thing tomorrow- except not tomorrow, because tomorrow was his wedding. The day after, then.
The bar itself was surprisingly clean -and empty, he noticed when he stepped up to take his order. The counter was glass and lit from beneath, so that everything was suffused with glowing neon blue. But there was no one was behind it and Yunho leaned against the counter, peering around as if his presence alone could summon someone to serve him.
He wasn’t disappointed. A second later someone popped up from behind the counter, just a few feet to his right. Yunho jumped in surprise, but the person’s back was turned to him and didn’t notice him, not at first.
The first thing Yunho noted was that it was a guy, which surprised him. Other than the bouncer, he hadn’t seen any other men working in the club, and figured there wouldn’t be. But then again, the bar was set apart, purposefully hidden in this back corner; customers probably didn’t come back here very often, so Yunho guessed it wouldn’t matter all that much if a guy was running it. Said guy still hadn’t turned around to see if anyone was waiting, which only supported the theory.
Yunho cleared his throat, but then felt stupid. The music back here was softer -Yunho didn’t have to struggle to hear his own thoughts, which was a nice change- but there was no way the man could have heard that. “Uh, ‘scuse me…Hello?” he added, when the first try didn’t work - and again. “Hellloooo-”
Third time’s a charm. The man turned around, and Yunho felt the rest of the drawn-out word catch in his throat. His ‘o’s became an awkward gulp-hiccup, and Yunho hoped dearly that didn’t make it over the sound of the music, either.
The guy was gorgeous. Like, really, really gorgeous- and he didn’t think anyone, even straight-as-chopsticks-Changmin would be able to argue. Gorgeous, pretty, maybe even feminine… but Yunho’s eyes were drawn to the way his head was turned, accentuating the sharp, curved line of his jaw. Wide eyes were half-hidden under a shock of dark hair, contrasting with skin that was obviously pale, though something about the way the shadows fell made him look even paler, the cold blue of an exquisite corpse. His expression was a blend of cold curiosity and benign distraction.
Yunho spared a moment to think why this beauty was being hidden behind the counter, before he found his voice.
“Uh, drink?” God, didn’t he sound like an idiot? But now he was drunk with surprise, completely winded. He bit his lip, feeling like an idiot, but the man didn’t look all that phased.
“What can I do for your?” The man said, coming to stand in front of Yunho. He braced both arms wide against the counter, and Yunho risked a glance at those arms, the muscles readily on display, given that he was only wearing a black tank-top. Oh, the things he could do….
“Uh,” Yunho said, abruptly lifting his drink so he could peer at it instead. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was called. “'Nother of this?”
“…and what is ‘this’?” the guy asked. His lips twitched playfully, and Yunho was lost. He dropped the drink onto the counter and slipped onto one of the barstools.
“I’ve no idea,” he said, hanging his head to stare down into the empty glass. “Somethin’, uh… bartender’s special? You know it?”
“Yeah, I know it,” and this time the guy did smile. Yunho realized a beat too late that, no shit, this was the bartender. He took the glass from between Yunho’s loose fingers, close enough to almost brush Yunho’s hand, but not close enough to notice the way Yunho tensed when it happened. He lifted the drink and sniffed at it, nodding to himself. “Black Widower, right?” he asked.
Yunho’s eyes widened, impressed. “That’s it.”
“I make two or three special’s a night. Don’t get a lot of orders for them,” he sighed, getting ready to make another one, “-but people don’t know what they’re missing,” and he gestured to all the bottles he’d lined up to go into Yunho’s third ‘Black Widower’. There were six, maybe seven… nine? Yunho lost count and guessed seven.
“That’s a lot.”
The bartender winked and started pouring. “I make them strong.”
“My liver agrees.” Yunho replied without really thinking, and for it got a quick burst of laughter from the other man. Yunho blinked and even the bartender looked a bit surprised, and Yunho was speaking again before he even realized, “More for us, right?”
The bartender raised an eyebrow and never broke eye contact as he put the finished drink in front of Yunho, leaning forward as he did it. “For you.”
He said quietly, and Yunho had to fight not to lean forward, just to hear him better. He coughed and changed the subject. “Shame you don’t get to share… s’not so busy now.”
The bartender leaned back, shrugging. “It always slows down around this time. The married men go home and the others are busy watching the midnight routine. It’s the ‘big one’.” He looked up over towards the main catwalk, and Yunho turned. Most of the dancers were up there, now, even ones that had been at Yunho’s tables. All of his friends had gone out and taken seats to watch up close.
He turned back just as a serving girl came up to the bar, top-heavy and tottering on heels far too tall for her short legs. “Two beers and a double whiskey, Jaejoong,” she squeaked.
“Yes ma’am,” Jaejoong said, and moved to fill the order. Yunho curled his fingers around his new drink, already feeling beads of perspiration on the glass. He had his drink now; he probably should head back to his friends, back to the ‘big one’… but he’d only just managed to get away. The guys were distracted now, and he just didn’t feel like going back. Not yet.
So after the waitress had taken off her order and Jaejoong was standing in front of him again, giving him that questioning look again. “Not going to enjoy the show?”
Yunho shrugged, trying to be casual. “I’ll live. It’s just more tits, right?”
“…Right,” Jaejoong drawled. Yunho wondered if that was the wrong answer, but then the other man backtracked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I mean. Most guys come here to see, y’know… ‘more tits’.”
Yunho nearly bit his tongue. “Uh… ’m not most guys?” Jaejoong didn’t seem to buy it, and Yunho realized what a cliché line that was. “Bad timing,” he tried again, testing the limits of his ability to think fast. “It’s my, uh, friend -Yoochun. It’s his birthday party, but I’m not really…” he shrugged again. “Not in the mood. Headache.”
“The alcohol will help with that, I’m sure.” Jaejoong joked, and Yunho felt his cheeks heat and stretch with an answering smile.
“Nothin’ better,” he said, raising his glass in sheepish mock-salute, and took a deep sip. Looking out through the glass, he could have sworn that he saw Jaejoong give him the once-over, his gaze hovering somewhere around Yunho’s throat. But then he dropped his drink and Jaejoong was looking right at him, with a slightly amused expression that transformed his whole face into something warm, a hint of laugh lines appearing at the corners of his mouth.
“Well, let me know if you need anything else,” Jaejoong said. “It’s been a long night and… you wouldn’t think working at a strip club would be boring, but…” he trailed off.
“…It’s just more tits?” Yunho guessed.
Those laugh lines deepened. “Yeah, actually. No one comes back here except for the waitresses, and…” he leaned in close, whispering “-don’t tell anyone I said so, but they’re totally plastic.”
Yunho face twitched in amusement. “…That supposed a secret?” Yunho had yet to see a girl that hadn’t had work done; he had an eye for that sort of thing.
Jaejoong’s face went blank, but Yunho could have sworn that he was blushing, just a little. “Um,” he said, and Yunho would have felt bad if the bartender hadn’t been teasing him, earlier.
“I’m sure most men would be scandalized t’know,” he reassured, voice dropping low.
Jaejoong was blushing, now. “No, no. They’re just…really plastic. Fake. Completely dumb as dirt,” he babbled. “Not my type, at all. Didn’t seem like they’d be yours, either.”
“Not exactly,” Yunho snorted, and took another deep sip of the drink. A chip of ice slipped over the back of his tongue, making him shiver. Jaejoong was staring at him again, but after a long pause seemed to shake himself.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything. I talk a lot. It’s why they keep me back here,” he laughed half-heartedly, but before Yunho could protest he was taking a step back. “I’m restocking now, but I’ll be… around.” He gave a vague, spastic gesture with one hand. Yunho thought it was funny, in a charming kind of way.
“Right. I’ll let y’know.”
“Anything you want,” Jaejoong replied quickly. “I’m all yours.”
Maybe it was the alcohol -it was definitely the alcohol- but Yunho didn’t even think about it; he tilted his head up and gave him a slow smirk. He didn’t even think about it when Jaejoong smiled back, and didn’t look away for a long time.
He didn’t think at all, not when Jaejoong kept talking to him even as he worked, never staying away for long, eventually stopping completely to stand at the bar, taking his sweet time drying glasses while they bantered.
“-Bullshit. No one can eat somethin’ that hot and live.”
“I swear, totally true,” Jaejoong nodded solemnly. “And it’s good, really good! I love spicy food.”
Yunho shook his head emphatically. “I love spicy food too, but that- that’s just…”
“It’s hard to understand unless you’ve tried it for yourself. The burn lasts for a while, but it’s very refreshing! ”
“No thanks,” he countered. “I like havin’ tastebuds.”
“C’mon, it’s not like the damage is permanent.”
He laughed out loud and didn’t think - and he didn’t need to, not when it was just so easy. When it just… was. He’d been pretending so long, he’d forgotten what that’d felt like.
12:36am.
“You can’t tell me you’ve never been to one of these places before? A host club? Nothing?” Jaejoong tilted his head in question.
Yunho just shook his head, thoughts all fuzzy around the edges. “Never. Don’t like ‘em. It’s all…What’d you say? Plastic.”
Jaejoong nodded. “Tell me about it. I wouldn’t work here if it weren’t for…”
“For?”
“I’m a singer, starving artist, debts and all,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I need the money, and working here, I’ve managed to make a deal with the owner. He owns this place and another bar in the city, a real upscale place. The nights I don’t work here I get to perform over there, no cover fee but the promo is worth it.”
“Awesome,” Yunho said. He meant to say something a lot more meaningful than that, but it’d have to do.
Jaejoong smiled ruefully. “Mm. The guy’s an asshole, but it’s a good deal, not like I can complain. Except for the asshole bit.”
“I bet y’get a lot of those.”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong shook his head. “It’s easy to forget, sometimes… you see enough assholes in here, guys with nothing but dicks for brains… you think they’re all the same everywhere.”
“We’re all assholes,” Yunho agreed solemnly, sighing.
But Jaejoong just gave him a steady, serious look. “Not quite… you don’t seem to be,” he murmured, so low that Yunho almost didn’t hear him. But he did hear him, and the words sent his stomach rolling; made him feel pleased and uneasy all at once. He wasn’t sure how they ended up talking about this, suddenly all deep and personal. Jaejoong was still looking at him, and it was… it was… it was only fitting that the moment was broken by Yoochun, who stepped up to the railing around the bar area, leaning over and hollering at Yunho.
“Eeeey Yunho! Stop with the flirtin’ and come get a lap dance, damnit!”
Yoochun waved his arms and it almost made him loose his balance. Behind the counter Jaejoong chuckled and said something. It might have been about drunk birthday-boys or Yoochun’s dopey smile or the dollar bills he’s stuck into his own pants - or it might have been about man-eating sharks or children with autism, Yunho wouldn’t know. He couldn’t hear anything over the sudden rush of panic - the uncomfortable racing of his pulse, and the words ‘Stop with the flirting’ blaring through his head, like a beacon of light chasing away the fog of hazy, drunken contentment he’d let himself get lost in.
He thought of a hundred protests and denials: he should shrug it off, he should laugh and tell Yoochun to shove it and he should get up and leave Jaejoong behind. He should have never even sat down, let alone stay and start talking- flirting. Fuck, what had he been thinking?
“Hey, you okay?”
He whirled around, the sudden motion making him sway in his seat. His stomach was still rolling, he was shaking; he felt nauseous. “I…”
“You better go. I think your friend’s gonna knock himself out if you don’t,” Jaejoong said, his smile gentle but concerned. Yunho didn’t want his concern.
“I gotta go,” he gasped out. He stood and stumbled all the way over to Yoochun. His friend all but threw himself at Yunho, clinging giddily, and Yunho managed a shaky laugh when he caught him. They supported each other back to one of their tables. Yunho got his lap dance, and he congratulated himself on not puking all over the girl’s sequined bra.
But after that girl was gone there was another waiting for him -only, thank god, it was just one the waitresses, bringing over his drink. He didn’t even realize he’d left it behind at the bar. Hesitating for a second, he took the drink and ended up fumbling with the little napkin- yet, if it weren’t for the gracelessness of his fingers, he wouldn’t have seen what was written on it.
By the time the rush of adrenaline-panic died he’d read and reread the message ten times over. He shoved the napkin deep in his pocket, as if by hiding it from his sight he could pretend it didn’t exist, that he never memorized the message scrawled in spidery handwriting on wrinkled paper.
But he couldn’t forget it, and the slight weight of the napkin burned in his pocket. He found himself subconsciously checking his watch every few seconds. A minute passed- five, ten- and he couldn’t keep himself from counting those minutes. No one was watching: he was drunk, his friends were drunk, and…
When he finally gave in and slipped away, this time, no one noticed him going.
There was a door, just beyond the bathrooms, and it had been left propped open. Yunho could feel the humidity of the night air seep in through the small crack; stepping out into the alley was like stepping into warm water.
“You came. I wasn’t sure you’d see…” Jaejoong said immediately, looking pleased. Yunho held up the wrinkled napkin (“On smoke break til 1. Backdoor. Need an out?”) and the other man nodded, offering out his pack. Yunho plucked out a cigarette, but used his own lighter to get it lit. He had to try twice - one hand cupped around to protect the small flame from the wind, his thumb fumbling on the wheel. Once lit, though, he took a long drag and stepped back, into the wall, away from Jaejoong.
Maybe he was being stupid. He was probably being stupid. He was drunk, remember? But, that voice in his mind whispered, what was one smoke to take the edge off? What was having a little bit of nerves the night before his wedding? It was nothing. Smoke filled his lungs and this was just bumming a cigarette off a kind stranger and it was nothing. Nothing at all.
“So… you sure you’re okay? You seem a little…off.”
Yunho chuckled nervously. “It’s nothin’, just… Yoochun. He means well, but…”
“He wants you to have fun,” Jaejoong finished for him. “It’s your party.”
“Yeah…Wait,” he flinched, “you knew it was my party?”
“The ‘friend’s birthday’ excuse was pretty flimsy,” the bartender confessed, his smile crooked. “Besides, tonight’s VIP reservation said bachelor party.”
Yunho blew out a shaky puff of smoke. “Well, shit.”
But Jaejoong just shrugged. “So, what’s got you so freaked? You don’t want to get married? Or… you don’t want to marry the girl?”
Yunho glared, every wall in his defenses going up with red flags flying. How dare Jaejoong accuse Yunho like that? How dare he say it so casually, like it was… like it was normal, or something? Of course he wanted to get married, of course he did. What else…
“You don’t know anything,” he said sharply, suddenly, his teeth grinding together at the sight of this random… guy looking at him like he was so damn understanding.
But before he could say any more Jaejoong was holding up his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he soothed. “I can be a little to blunt, sometimes. I just meant everybody gets cold feet. I have eight sisters, and each one of them went through the same thing.”
“Cold feet,” Yunho tested the words as they left his mouth, feeling them settle like a knot in his throat. Yeah, just cold feet, he thought. “You got eight sisters?” he threw out, changing the subject.
Jaejoong sighed, once and heavy. “Yeah,” he said, expression somewhere between resigned and bemused.
Yunho did not think it was cute. “Older?” he prompted.
“Mm. All of them.”
“’Bet that was fun.”
He huffed. “You have no idea.”
“All of ‘em married?” It came out without thought; a Freudian slip, coming back to the one topic he didn’t want to talk about.
Jaejoong nodded. “Every single one. They all went through the same thing… the nerves, the second-guessing, the drama. It’s natural.”
“Stop trying to appease me,” Yunho grumbled around a lungful of smoke. He remembered, suddenly, that he’d quit smoking years ago - barely a month after he started dating Sunmi (“It’s not that I mind the smell that much… It’s just that it ruins everything. It’s so… unpleasant”). He hadn’t had a cig since, yet here he hadn’t thought twice about grabbing for one. Damn it.
He threw the half-smoked stick onto the ground and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, leaning against the wall. God knew it was disgusting, cold and grimy, but didn’t do more than grimace. He tried not to care. Jaejoong watched him silently until he flicked his own finished cigarette away, a dot of red ember disappearing off into the dark.
“Know what helps?”
Yunho started at the sudden question, slurring in his surprise. “Help wha?”
“The cold feet. There’s things you can do to help with that… hell of a lot better than watching your friends get pissed and skulking around in dirty alleys.”
He snorted, shrugging in acknowledgement. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong said, laughing at him. Or maybe with him. “Music,” he added.
“What?”
“I’m saying music helps. And not this trailer-trash crap, but real good music can really calm you down. Works like a charm.”
“Huh.”
“Come on, it’s your last night as a single man. You’re going to be stuck with a woman for the rest of your life, right? Why spend the last night surrounded by them-” god, but Yunho could definitely agree with that “-let me take you someplace. I know a couple good spots around here that play live. We could get out of here, your friends won’t even know you were gone.”
And it was… tempting. Yunho opened his mouth to say no -every neuron in his brain that was still capable of firing was saying no no no don’t you dare do it- but he found he couldn’t immediately refuse. Jaejoong almost sounded hopeful when he’d asked, and Yunho didn’t want to reject him-the offer. He didn’t want to reject the offer.
“Aren’t you working?” he asked instead, stalling.
Jaejoong looked almost sheepish, one boot scuffing against the other. Again, Yunho did not think it adorable. “I’m actually off now. I was planning on taking an extra hour of overtime, but I could leave no problem. I only said ‘smoke break’ ‘cause if I said different you’d freak and wouldn’t come…”
“You really wanted me to come out?” Yunho didn’t think before he spoke and it wasn’t really a question and when Jaejoong’s cheeks flushed Yunho couldn’t look away.
“It’s, uh,” the bartender stuttered, seemingly caught off guard. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I did.”
Shifting uncomfortably, he kept pushing. “Why’re you doin’ this?”
There was a short but telling pause. “I’ve been there.”
“Engaged?” Yunho asked, skeptical.
The bartender just shrugged. “My parents have been trying to arrange one for years. Almost happened once.”
His eyes looked over Yunho’s head; his voice was too pitched, too casual for him to be the telling the truth. Yunho still couldn’t convince himself to care. All he wanted to do was go -he felt the pull right at the center of his chest, the urge to take that one step forward and seal the deal. He could go and blow the night off and spend it with this fascinating, beautiful person, and he thought it would make him happy.
But then he said no. He looked away and turned around and went back inside and hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
8:15am.
Yunho’s alarm went off right on time, but he was already awake. He’d only gotten home around seven and he knew he should get some sleep - the wedding was in a few hours, for god’s sakes, but he hadn’t been able to sleep so far and there was no way he’d be able to get any now.
He stared at the ceiling and watched the shadows change. It was cloudy outside, likely to rain, and absently he thought that he was glad they’d decided on an indoor wedding. He heard noises in the kitchen, the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing far too loud in the morning quiet.
He thought about how there have been a thousand morning just like this, with Sunmi cooking breakfast for him in his kitchen like a wonderful friend, girlfriend, fiancé - and how she made those exact same noises. He wondered why today felt so different.
But that was a lie, because he knew exactly why. The night was over, he wasn’t drunk or hung-over or a bachelor anymore. He was meeting his parents and in-laws in forty-five minutes for his huge, indoor, mid-morning summer wedding. He closed his eyes, and wondered what the hell he thought he was doing.
1:20am.
Jaejoong was right; no one had noticed he had left, and they probably wouldn’t have if he’d chosen to leave for good. A couple of guys were already gone, or maybe they’d been escorted out - if the way Yoochun was acting was any indication, they’d all be going that way before long.
He claimed a seat in one of the back booths, out of the way and abandoned by the members of his party. He’d resisted Jaejoong’s temptation, but it came at the cost of the mood to enjoy himself. It didn’t matter, anyway. Just a few more hours and he’d be home; just one more morning and it would be done. Final.
Jaejoong didn’t come back to the bar -seems like he wasn’t lying about being off for the night. Fortunately, Yunho didn’t have much time to wallow in self-pity; barely two songs played and then Yoochun stumbled back into the VIP area, flashing a weak smile before leaning over and puking all over his shoes.
Things went fast from there. Changmin went to the host, who went to call them a taxi home. Yunho watched over Yoochun, who sat with his head between his knees, mumbling apology after apology to Yunho’s leather dress shoes. He rolled his eyes and patted Yoochun’s back with a half-hearted “there, there”. He was too busy fighting the urge to gag, to throw his shoes across the room - except he also remembered the dirtiness of the floor, and his socks were only so thick. Yoochun burped and then groaned.
Changmin bounded over, looking twice as sober as he did five minutes ago. Damn him for being able to metabolize his liquor. “Taxi’s here,” he said, “let’s get you up-” and between the two of them, they managed to carry/drag Yoochun to the door.
“Jesus, Yoochun, did you drink your bodyweight in beer?” Changmin grumbled.
“Choc’laaaate pizza,” Yoochun replied. “Waskibibble.”
“Ugh.” He looked over at Yunho. “Sorry about him. Didn’t exactly plan for you to babysit tonight… you wanna stay?”
Yunho didn’t look back, where the last men standing -Seungri and Heechul, friends from school and work- were still partying it up. “Nah,” he said. “I don’t mind. I was planning on leaving soon, anyway.”
Changmin shrugged, and didn’t comment.
The taxi ride was painful -they had to tell the driver to pull over twice so Yoochun wouldn’t puke on the upholstery- and Yunho gave him a tip big enough to cover a trip to the moon and back. Inside his apartment, Yoochun spent fifteen minutes convalescing with the porcelain god before they could get him to the nearest flat surface, which ended up being the shag rug in his bedroom.
“Get. Into. The. Bed,” Changmin demanded for the third time.
“Comf’table herrr,” Yoochun moaned. “Dun wanna.”
Changmin nudged him none-too-gently with his foot. “You are going to hate yourself in the morning.”
“H’te you now.”
“Oh for the love of-”
Yunho had to stop Changmin from punting their friend’s head across the room. “There’s nothing more we can do. He’s got a bucket, we’ve set his alarm clock.”
“Alllllbur’kay.”
“And if the moron sleeps through the wedding? He’s a groomsman.”
Yunho shrugged, feeling exhausted and so completely over it. “Then we ask Sunmi’s cousin to step in. Yoochun’s a grown man, he can make his own mistakes.”
Changmin grunted and shrugged widely. “Whatever. Want to flag down another taxi? We could share…”
“No,” Yunho said after thinking for a moment. He wiggled his hand side-to-side. “I’m still a little, y’know. The closet subway station is on the other side of the park- think I’ll walk. Sober up. Sunmi will murder me if I showed up tipsy in the morning.”
Changmin laughed dryly. “You’re so whipped. As if she’d let you spoil her big day. She’ll at least wait ‘til the honeymoon.”
Yunho smiled queasily. “Thank you, Changmin.”
“Anytime, my friend,” he laughed again, slapping Yunho on the back as they left the apartment. They took the stairs together but parted ways on the street - Changmin still planned to take a taxi, but fortunately there were plenty of cabs about and he had no trouble hailing one.
He called out on last goodbye to Yunho ( “Let me know if you need a get-away ride, ha, I’ll keep my car running during the reception!”), who had already meandered towards the light at the corner. He waved back without answering and waited for the signal to change.
The park was just across the street from Yoochun’s apartment, spanning a whole block. It was big for the city, with plenty of trees to provide shade for the wide swaths of grass and winding cement walkways. In the center there was an open square with a big fountain, and during the day the whole place was packed with families and kids picnicking and playing and splashing around in it. At night, though, it was a very different landscape. Only every other street lamp was working and the rest flickered at random intervals. The quiet was complete, the shadows deep and the night grown cold. Yunho just pushed his hands deeper in his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the chill, and took his time.
The night had been pretty disastrous, all things considered. He knew it would be, in some way, but while he would have been fine with drunk and disorderly… he hadn’t expected Jaejoong.
’So, what’s got you so freaked? Don’t want to get married? Or…?’
Jesus, he didn’t need that shit, not now. He’d been dealing with it ever since he met Sunmi, ever since he decided he actually liked her, as a person, enough to actually introduced her to his mother... Hell, he’d been dealing with it his whole life.
But he’d finally dealt with it, hadn’t he? Once he got married, all of the worrying and the fear… it would be gone forever.
Sunmi was lovely and perfect and exactly what he needed. He told himself that over and over and it was going to be true. Tomorrow morning, he’d put on his best black suit and say the words and kiss the bride and it would be true. All he had to do was wait -and who the hell did that guy think he was, trying to mess that all up? To dredge up all that old shit when Yunho was so, so close to being done with it for good?
And yet…
‘Know what helps?’
Jesus, but it had been tempting. If it was his last night -as a single man, a free man, as himself (whoever the hell that was) why not enjoy it? Why not live, like he’d never let himself? The idea of blowing it all off, running off with some guy and just… doing whatever he wanted.
He’d never done anything like that before. And he wouldn’t, now. He’d given up that chance.
Fuck.
He collapsed on a bench, hands still in his pockets, and bent down over his knees. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. “Fuck, what the hell am I doing?” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuckity-”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on those shoes, they didn’t puke on themselves, did they?”
Yunho squeezed his eyes shut very very hard, so hard he saw little bursts of light. Then he opened them and looked up.
Jaejoong was standing just in his range of hearing, rocking on his feet like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to come closer or not. He had a crooked smile on his face, waiting for Yunho to acknowledge his joke. Or not.
“Jaejoong,” Yunho said, not believing his eyes. “What the hell… what are you doing here?”
The other man’s eyes widened enough that the white of his eyes was visible even in the dim light. He held up his hands, conciliatory, much like he had once before. “I’m not stalking you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was about to ask you the same thing.
“What?”
Jaejoong jerked his head to the side, toward some vague direction. “I live in the apartment block a few streets down. I go for walks around here all the time… can’t say I’ve ever seen you in the neighborhood before, though. You sure you aren’t following me?”
He was joking again -but again, Yunho wasn’t up for taking it. “I didn’t… I mean. Of course I’m not. My friend, Yoochun, he lives around here too.” He swallowed. “I was just walking to the subway.”
“Ah,” Jaejoong said lightly, and with a quick breathe of decision, sat himself down beside Yunho. “That’s… a rather interesting coincidence, don’t you think?”
Yunho snorted. “I’m not really up for thinking, right now.”
“Alright. But that doesn’t make it any less interesting.”
“…‘Interesting’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
Jaejoong hummed to himself. “Guess so. It’s actually pretty weird, but you seem to be taking it rather well.”
Yunho wanted to laugh, or maybe cry. Him? He wasn’t taking anything well, not tonight. “Could say the same to you.”
“I know, right?” Jaejoong said. “When I first saw you, I really thought you’d somehow followed me home. But then I actually looked at you…”
His answer was a self-deprecatory shrug.
“Still feeling down?” Jaejoong hesitated a moment before he asked, but when he did it was with sincere compassion, and what really broke Yunho was his lack of curiosity. He wasn’t probing, or pitying, or… anything at. He was just asking. Easy. Why couldn’t everything be this easy? Yunho kind of wanted to give him everything.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”
Jaejoong nodded. “I would be too, if someone had puked on my shoes. Especially ones as nice as those.”
Yunho looked down involuntarily, his toes curling uncomfortably, the moisture having finally seeped through the leather. “I’d actually just forgotten about them.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Yunho said, and finally cracked a smile, as half-hearted as it was. “Would it be weird if I said I had been thinking about you, right before you showed up?”
Jaejoong went quiet and still for a second. “I dunno,” he said. “Depends on what you were thinking.”
“Your offer. About, y’know, music. Taking my mind off things.”
Jaejoong was looking at him closely, Yunho could feel it. But he kept his eyes down on the ground. On his not-so-nice-anymore shoes. “Ugh,” he said suddenly, “disgusting. My feet are disgusting.”
Jaejoong chuckled and stood up again. “C’mon, let’s walk. Take your mind off things.”
Yunho blinked up at him. Jaejoong looked at him expectantly and suddenly, they were walking away from the bench. “So, not exactly the bachelor party of your dreams, huh?”
“Not exactly,” Yunho sighed.
“I figured. I mean, as much as I hate to leave a customer dissatisfied…” he drawled.
“Don’t apologize; the alcohol was probably the best part of the evening.”
Jaejoong smiled brightly. “I do make a mean cocktail.”
“Mm,” Yunho said, and then stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, bumping into Jaejoong. He straightened with a furious blush and Jaejoong graced him with that laugh again, loud and sharp and brilliant.
“Oh god, I’m going to be in so much trouble,” Yunho groaned.
Jaejoong shook his head and led them over to another bench. “I think maybe you should sit for a while,” he said, and Yunho blushed again.
He managed to come back with, “It’s technically your fault,” to which Jaejoong replied, “So you’re saying I should apologize?”, and they bickered good naturedly for a few more minutes.
Eventually they trailed off into comfortable silence. Jaejoong stared up at the sky and Yunho looked off into the trees, elbows on his knees.
“…The offer’s still open.”
“Huh?”
“To get out of here, we could still go, seriously. There won’t be anyone playing live, now… but I know a club where the DJ spins good techno, and that might be just what you need. Music, dancing, sweating all this bad shit right out of your skin. You look like you’re a dancer, or could be.”
Yunho loved dancing. He hadn’t done much more than a two-step in years.
“…No, Jaejoong. It’s-”
“What, late? C’mon,” Jaejoong checked his watch. “It’s barely past 2am. Most places, the party’s just getting started.”
“I’m just sobering up. I’ve got a ceremony at 10 in the morning. I can’t-”
The other man moved suddenly, leaning back against the bench, spreading his arms along the back. It was a wide motion, casual, not even close to touching Yunho, who was still hunched over. But it made him stiffen none the less. It felt like a challenge.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Jaejoong asked.
It was definitely a challenge. Yunho shook his head. “Jaejoong… I don’t know you. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but really, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I’m not the type of guy…”
He trailed off, but Jaejoong didn’t jump to fill the silence. It was distinctly awkward this time around, dragging on and on, neither of them moving or making a sound, and though Jaejoong didn’t seem at all bothered, Yunho thought he might jump out of his skin.
“I’m not-” he finally burst out, but stopped immediately when Jaejoong sighed loudly. They paused again, and then Jaejoong sat back up. He twisted so that he could look at Yunho directly, capturing his gaze.
“You so sure about that?” he said, quietly. “I’m not convinced, Yunho.”
Yunho didn’t answer.
Jaejoong sighed again and stood. He stood before Yunho, his shadow laying thick over him. “Listen, I’m only trying to help. I know you don’t know-know me, but we had a pretty good time earlier, or so I thought. Obviously you’ve got a lot on your mind, and I made an offer. I’m making it again, but I don’t do third-times-a-charm. This is it.”
He held out his hand, like he actually expected Yunho to take it.
“You coming or what?”
2:55am.
It was almost like the strip club, loud music and sticky floors and tacky strobe lighting, but the place was packed, men and women dancing with equally verve as the DJ played a nice mix of tunes, buzzy techno and hard bass and even some strains of electric orchestra and remixed popera.
It set the air in Yunho’s lungs rattling, and the moment he had stepped in the club he found himself frozen, unable to process it all... but then Jaejoong had been there, grabbing his hand and pulling him straight into the mix of trashing bodies. He almost pulled away. Almost. But there was no space on the dance floor, and Yunho could have just as easily said he had been dancing with the girls on either side of him as he was with Jaejoong in front of him. He wasn’t dancing with anyone -or maybe he was dancing with everyone. Before the first song was over, it didn’t matter anymore.
He saw the entire scene in shuttered flashes, the strobe light working overtime. Red, purple, green, blue: his body moved disconnected from his mind, moved until he was numb but still caught in the rhythm, unable to stop. He jumped in place and twisted his arms in the air. He was pushed this way and that, he was pressed against bodies unknown and he didn’t care. Yet his face hurt from smiling, and when he looked up, Jaejoong was there to meet him with a matching grin. If they ever lost each other for a moment, it wasn’t long before Jaejoong’s hand was reaching for him, grabbing onto him so he could reel himself in, squeezing through the mosh, back to his side.
“Isn’t this great?” he yelled once. Yunho barely heard him, but his eyes read Jaejoong’s lips.
“It’s insane!” he yelled back, beaming, and Jaejoong threw back his head and laughed.
Yunho let himself go and danced his heart out. When he looked at Jaejoong, he thought maybe he knew where it was going.
[part two]
yunjae, pg-13
angst/romance
15,172 words
Yunho is getting married in the morning - and unfortunately for him, he’s about to meet the man who’s going to remind him why he’ll regret it. Twelve hours to go: let the countdown begin.
Hello again! This was my back-up story for my dbskbigbang in 2010 - it didn’t get used then, obvs, but I’ve been steadily, slowly working on it ever since. It’s fairly unbeta’d, forgive my inevitable typoes, but after two years irdc, I need this up and done :d Angst is the main genre of this story, so be warned, if you’re looking for an easy happy-ending story, this isn’t it. The title is from the Colbie Caillat song of the same name.
10:00pm.
Yunho slammed the shot glass back down on the table and felt the liquor eat away at his throat from the inside out. He grit his teeth and tried not to gag; whoever thought tequila, orange liqueur, and peppermint schnapps was a good combination for a shot, he’d like to meet them and then punch them in the gut, because that’s kind of what this felt like. The mixture curdled unpleasantly in his stomach, and next to him Yoochun let out a sharp sigh of pleasure.
“That-” he said pointedly, “-right there-” licking his lips around the aftertaste, “-is some good shit.” He gave the four empty glasses on the table a bright-eyed smile, then looked around at his friends with self-satisfaction, like he’d made Christmas come early instead of ordering a round of shots. Across the table, Junsu seemed to give up the fight with himself and started coughing uncontrollably.
Changmin scoffed and reached over to smack the man on the back, but when he rolled his eyes it was directed at Yoochun. “That was not good shit- that was just shit. Seriously, Yoochun, I know you’d rather die than get married, but that’s no reason to try and kill the rest of us.”
“Don’t blame me because you have an unrefined palette and can’t taste awesome when it’s put in front of you,” Yoochun laughed. “And even if I was attempting- it’d be a mercy killing. Justifiable homicide. Death by… drunkness -drunkenness? Is that even a word? Whatever. Anyway, it’d be a good way to go, right Yunho?”
Yunho shook his head fondly and ignored them. Yoochun and Changmin didn’t seem to mind, content to bicker while Yunho checked on Junsu. “You ok, Junsu?” he asked.
“Yea-hghah,” Junsu croaked out, giving him a weak smile. His eyes looked a little watery, but Yunho didn’t comment. Junsu wasn’t that big of a drinker - in fact, in the seven years they’d known each other, he didn’t think he’d seen Junsu be much more than tipsy. And to be honest, Yunho wasn’t much different. Sure, he’d go out with the guys from the office on the odd Friday night, but it was more for the company than the cocktails.
Yet here he was, at a bar, taking shots with his three best friends, pre-gaming for his bachelor party on the night before his wedding. His stomach churned uncomfortably again; he felt the slow burn of alcohol creeping into his bloodstream. His wedding… to a girl. A wonderful, beautiful, painfully honest girl and… and he shook his head. Those sorts of thought would get him nowhere. Sunmi was lovely, and he loved her, and he was going to make her -and everyone else- happy. End of story, happily ever after.
Changmin just said something nasty; Yunho didn’t catch the exact words, but he could catch the gist, the way Junsu frowned and Yoochun slapped a hand to his forehead, mock-offended. “You’re a cruel man, Shim!” he cried dramatically. “For that, another round of shots!”
They all groaned.
10:49pm.
“Ok seriously,” Yunho sighed, “where are we going?” There was some muffled giggling in front of him -and god, he was too old to have friends that giggled?- and he was going to tell them that, except at that moment his toe caught on a crack in the pavement and he stumbled, his arms out and flailing.
Hands grabbed him, steadying him, and he only knew they were Changmin’s hands because of his laugh, which came from somewhere close to Yunho’s left ear. “Careful. Don’t fall!” he said, half laughter and all sarcasm.
His sense of the world tilted, and he blamed those stupid, god-awful shots. “There was a crack -thing.”
“Whatever you say, Yunho.”
Yunho scowled and tried to steady himself as best he could when he was blindfolded -which was really just Yoochun’s tie, some hideously awful bright orange (“awesome, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle orange!”) thing that, if he kept his eyes open, made him feel like he was living inside a carrot.
Yunho, for the record, hated carrots. Just as much as he hated orange-and-peppermint flavored shots and Yoochun and Changmin and the world, which seemed to hate him just as much, right now. He closed his eyes and his lashes scraped against the fabric of the tie, not awkward enough to hurt but to be a little more than uncomfortable.
They were walking on a busy street; he could hear cars and people passing by, night life at it’s worst. He stumbled and his friends laughed and Yunho could just imagine the weird looks they were getting. A part of him felt a little nauseous at the idea of being so brazen, of acting so ridiculous in public, but he told himself that it was just the drink and hey, it was his bachelor party anyway. He was allowed, just this once… right? Club music played on his left, the sound rising and falling each time they passed by an open door, and Yunho’s limbs were already twitching, ready to move.
But Yoochun and Changmin and Junsu kept leading him forward, and soon the sound of the city disappeared, and it was only their footsteps echoing about. “Guys…” he started, but then there were hands on him again, holding him still and tugging off the orange eyesore.
“Shit,” he said, staring up at the garish sigh, the name WannaBe and several naked ladies outlined in bright pink neon. His friends started laughing, then, cheering and jostling him towards the blacked-out door, so that he barely had time to really process it all before he was being pushed inside. Immediately he was hit with a wall of warm air, dark and smoky as it was. He coughed and waved his hand, but Yoochun laughed behind him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. “This is the big surprise?” Yunho asked skeptically. “A strip bar?”
“Pssssshss,” Yoochun said, his lips slipping and dragging out the sound. “C’mon, y’din’t think we’d take y’to just any old bar?”
He was already slurring- just great. Yunho rolled his eyes but gave him a loose smile, anyway, because Yoochun’s heart was in the right place. Suddenly a big hand clapped each of them on the back, startling them. They turned to Changmin, who was still standing half-in the door, and Junsu, peaking around his shoulder.
“Some people are cold,” Junsu called from behind him.
“And some people want to see tits,” Changmin grinned. “So let’s move it!”
Turns out WannaBe was actually pretty classy for a strip club. Or, Yunho assumed it was classy- it wasn’t like he’d ever been in one, but his imagination and favorite gangster movies had supplied enough images to build up the image of some sleazy, gritty place that Yoochun would take him to just to freak him out. That’d be just the type of thing Yoochun would do.
But a hosts actually came to meet them, and Changmin gave them his name, and the man bowed and said “follow me, gentlemen.” His friends shot him winks and wide grins, because evidently Changmin had arranged for them to have a private VIP area. He shook his head fondly.
They made their way to their roped-off section, walking past the main catwalk, where several dancers were walking and crawling around. They weren’t naked, but it was a close thing - they were wearing little more than strips of cloth loosely tied together to cover the most intimate parts of them, and even then the fabric was nearly transparent, with only a few scattered patches of sequins to provide the illusion of decency. As he looked one of the girls ran her hands up her side, undoing the ties of her top one-by-one.
A little cheer went up from the bar’s other patrons, and Yunho looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Junsu caught the movement, and gave Yunho a questioning look. Even in the low light, he could probably see Yunho’s blush - but it was okay, because it was just Junsu, kind, sheltered Junsu, who’s eyes widened when the girl’s top came off completely, and smiled at Yunho nervously.
“It’s okay to look, hyung,” he said, but Yunho noticed Junsu had yet to turn his head back to look, either. When he spoke it was like he was trying to convince himself. “Just for one night?”
Yunho was tipsy enough that, for one very, very brief second, there was a very different answer sitting on the tip of his tongue -he didn’t know what that answer was, but it was there nonetheless.
And then he caught sight of Changmin and Yoochun laughing and greeting the rest of the party guests -guys from work and old friends from university, all gathered in their private area, waiting for him- and Yunho was smiling so hard his teeth hurt.
He jumped on Junsu, wrapping around an arm around his neck and teasing him, “You bet it’s okay! My party, isn’t it? But I’ll make sure you get a girl, too,” he yelled over the music, and laughed loudly when the younger man stumbled.
The private area had several tables, each with their own stripper pole in the center. Yunho was quickly pushed to the largest of them, where a girl was already beginning her dance, a slow stretch of limbs that Yunho guessed was meant to be sexy. He was more concerned with the way she was stretching -it was bad for her muscles, doing it that way.
But it wasn’t that bad, Yunho told himself. He felt a little uncomfortable, when his friends called over girl after girl to dance just for him, the groom-to-be, and also when the serving girl leaned a little too close to take their drink orders. Her shirt was low enough to let loose the top of her nipples. Yoochun took three tries to get his order right, Changmin’s eyes never went above her neck, and Yunho just asked for something strong -house special, whatever.
He knew she was showing off for tips, and he made sure to be generous, because she was the one who had to deal with his friends- and that wasn’t something he would wish on his worst enemy, really.
He told her as much and she gave him a cheeky grin and a careless shrug.
“’Eeeeey,” Yoochun yelled, having overheard, “Ima charmin’ example of gentlemanliness.” He ruined his argument by yelling it straight to the girl’s breasts.
The other guys were all having fun, though, and Yunho was enjoying watching them have fun and making fools of themselves. When he wasn’t filling his phone with wonderful, embarrassing blackmail photos, he grinned and chugged his drink (“bartender’s choice, he calls it the Black Widower”) and waved his one-dollar bills and ignored the ugly little voice in his mind telling him that this was all just pretend, and this is how it would always be.
4:58am.
Yunho turned the ring on his finger, the normally cool metal feeling oddly hot. Maybe because he was turning it so much. It kept catching on his skin, sticking. He should stop.
But he couldn’t stop- couldn’t stop moving at all. His feet were tapping and his fingers were twisting the ring and his entire body was shivering - though that was more from the cold than anything. He was soaked, head to foot, and his socks made thick squelching noises every time he moved. The person beside him was perfectly still, and there wasn’t enough warmth between them to be of any help.
“You okay?” he asked softly, but Yunho just shrugged.
His top lip was split -he must have hit it when they fell, although on what he can’t imagine- and if he was still in his right mind, he wouldn’t keep touching it, because that was unsanitary; he would wait until he could get some antibiotics on the wound. Instead, he licked at the nick and the metallic taste of blood that kept finding its way into his mouth. It was probably going to swell. Sunmi would freak when she saw it.
He heard sirens and lifted his head, seeing a world that was lit by flashes of red and blue.
11:27pm.
The first time he tried to leave his chair, he got reeled back in by several pairs of hands, demanding him to stay. (“Gotta pee? Izzit ‘n emergency? No? Then sit y’r ass down!”) It had lasted all of five minutes before Yunho got antsy again, his foot bouncing in time with the music, and his eyes looking carefully at a point just over the dancing girl’s shoulder.
Finally he gave in to the urge to get away, tossing back his drink to give himself an excuse. He stood and this time only Changmin’s hand clamped around his wrist. “Where you goin?” he said, smiling widely, drunkenly guileless.
Yunho shook his glass at him, the bare ice rattling around inside. “Need another. Waitress is takin’ too long,” he said, trying not to slur. And, as he took quick steps towards the bar, just on the other side of the VIP section, he felt a quick rush of sobriety. There was a war going on inside of him -a quiet war, not dramatic or volatile, but one that was putting him on edge nonetheless.
On one hand, he hated being here. Despised it, actually, surrounded by the sort of degrading machismo he’d avoided all his life. It wasn’t who he was, and it certainly wasn’t pleasant to see. When he looked at these girls he didn’t see sex- he saw daughters, sisters. He couldn’t bear it if his little sister was forced to live like this, so why should he take pleasure in watching someone else’s?
At the same time, he knew that he couldn’t really protest. He shouldn’t, because his friends had done a lot of work to arrange this, and he did appreciate that. He could act grudgingly amused with the whole experience, and it wouldn’t be far from the truth (and it wouldn’t be suspicious).
He needed to put aside the doubt and the fear. He’d been doing it for a long time, anyway… but it was always harder when he was drinking, to keep all his facts straight.
The floor around the bar was concrete and he could feel the stickiness of it, the slight resistance on the soles of his shoes each time he lifted a foot. He grimaced, because who knew what was down there? He’d have to send these shoes to the dry cleaner first thing tomorrow- except not tomorrow, because tomorrow was his wedding. The day after, then.
The bar itself was surprisingly clean -and empty, he noticed when he stepped up to take his order. The counter was glass and lit from beneath, so that everything was suffused with glowing neon blue. But there was no one was behind it and Yunho leaned against the counter, peering around as if his presence alone could summon someone to serve him.
He wasn’t disappointed. A second later someone popped up from behind the counter, just a few feet to his right. Yunho jumped in surprise, but the person’s back was turned to him and didn’t notice him, not at first.
The first thing Yunho noted was that it was a guy, which surprised him. Other than the bouncer, he hadn’t seen any other men working in the club, and figured there wouldn’t be. But then again, the bar was set apart, purposefully hidden in this back corner; customers probably didn’t come back here very often, so Yunho guessed it wouldn’t matter all that much if a guy was running it. Said guy still hadn’t turned around to see if anyone was waiting, which only supported the theory.
Yunho cleared his throat, but then felt stupid. The music back here was softer -Yunho didn’t have to struggle to hear his own thoughts, which was a nice change- but there was no way the man could have heard that. “Uh, ‘scuse me…Hello?” he added, when the first try didn’t work - and again. “Hellloooo-”
Third time’s a charm. The man turned around, and Yunho felt the rest of the drawn-out word catch in his throat. His ‘o’s became an awkward gulp-hiccup, and Yunho hoped dearly that didn’t make it over the sound of the music, either.
The guy was gorgeous. Like, really, really gorgeous- and he didn’t think anyone, even straight-as-chopsticks-Changmin would be able to argue. Gorgeous, pretty, maybe even feminine… but Yunho’s eyes were drawn to the way his head was turned, accentuating the sharp, curved line of his jaw. Wide eyes were half-hidden under a shock of dark hair, contrasting with skin that was obviously pale, though something about the way the shadows fell made him look even paler, the cold blue of an exquisite corpse. His expression was a blend of cold curiosity and benign distraction.
Yunho spared a moment to think why this beauty was being hidden behind the counter, before he found his voice.
“Uh, drink?” God, didn’t he sound like an idiot? But now he was drunk with surprise, completely winded. He bit his lip, feeling like an idiot, but the man didn’t look all that phased.
“What can I do for your?” The man said, coming to stand in front of Yunho. He braced both arms wide against the counter, and Yunho risked a glance at those arms, the muscles readily on display, given that he was only wearing a black tank-top. Oh, the things he could do….
“Uh,” Yunho said, abruptly lifting his drink so he could peer at it instead. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was called. “'Nother of this?”
“…and what is ‘this’?” the guy asked. His lips twitched playfully, and Yunho was lost. He dropped the drink onto the counter and slipped onto one of the barstools.
“I’ve no idea,” he said, hanging his head to stare down into the empty glass. “Somethin’, uh… bartender’s special? You know it?”
“Yeah, I know it,” and this time the guy did smile. Yunho realized a beat too late that, no shit, this was the bartender. He took the glass from between Yunho’s loose fingers, close enough to almost brush Yunho’s hand, but not close enough to notice the way Yunho tensed when it happened. He lifted the drink and sniffed at it, nodding to himself. “Black Widower, right?” he asked.
Yunho’s eyes widened, impressed. “That’s it.”
“I make two or three special’s a night. Don’t get a lot of orders for them,” he sighed, getting ready to make another one, “-but people don’t know what they’re missing,” and he gestured to all the bottles he’d lined up to go into Yunho’s third ‘Black Widower’. There were six, maybe seven… nine? Yunho lost count and guessed seven.
“That’s a lot.”
The bartender winked and started pouring. “I make them strong.”
“My liver agrees.” Yunho replied without really thinking, and for it got a quick burst of laughter from the other man. Yunho blinked and even the bartender looked a bit surprised, and Yunho was speaking again before he even realized, “More for us, right?”
The bartender raised an eyebrow and never broke eye contact as he put the finished drink in front of Yunho, leaning forward as he did it. “For you.”
He said quietly, and Yunho had to fight not to lean forward, just to hear him better. He coughed and changed the subject. “Shame you don’t get to share… s’not so busy now.”
The bartender leaned back, shrugging. “It always slows down around this time. The married men go home and the others are busy watching the midnight routine. It’s the ‘big one’.” He looked up over towards the main catwalk, and Yunho turned. Most of the dancers were up there, now, even ones that had been at Yunho’s tables. All of his friends had gone out and taken seats to watch up close.
He turned back just as a serving girl came up to the bar, top-heavy and tottering on heels far too tall for her short legs. “Two beers and a double whiskey, Jaejoong,” she squeaked.
“Yes ma’am,” Jaejoong said, and moved to fill the order. Yunho curled his fingers around his new drink, already feeling beads of perspiration on the glass. He had his drink now; he probably should head back to his friends, back to the ‘big one’… but he’d only just managed to get away. The guys were distracted now, and he just didn’t feel like going back. Not yet.
So after the waitress had taken off her order and Jaejoong was standing in front of him again, giving him that questioning look again. “Not going to enjoy the show?”
Yunho shrugged, trying to be casual. “I’ll live. It’s just more tits, right?”
“…Right,” Jaejoong drawled. Yunho wondered if that was the wrong answer, but then the other man backtracked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I mean. Most guys come here to see, y’know… ‘more tits’.”
Yunho nearly bit his tongue. “Uh… ’m not most guys?” Jaejoong didn’t seem to buy it, and Yunho realized what a cliché line that was. “Bad timing,” he tried again, testing the limits of his ability to think fast. “It’s my, uh, friend -Yoochun. It’s his birthday party, but I’m not really…” he shrugged again. “Not in the mood. Headache.”
“The alcohol will help with that, I’m sure.” Jaejoong joked, and Yunho felt his cheeks heat and stretch with an answering smile.
“Nothin’ better,” he said, raising his glass in sheepish mock-salute, and took a deep sip. Looking out through the glass, he could have sworn that he saw Jaejoong give him the once-over, his gaze hovering somewhere around Yunho’s throat. But then he dropped his drink and Jaejoong was looking right at him, with a slightly amused expression that transformed his whole face into something warm, a hint of laugh lines appearing at the corners of his mouth.
“Well, let me know if you need anything else,” Jaejoong said. “It’s been a long night and… you wouldn’t think working at a strip club would be boring, but…” he trailed off.
“…It’s just more tits?” Yunho guessed.
Those laugh lines deepened. “Yeah, actually. No one comes back here except for the waitresses, and…” he leaned in close, whispering “-don’t tell anyone I said so, but they’re totally plastic.”
Yunho face twitched in amusement. “…That supposed a secret?” Yunho had yet to see a girl that hadn’t had work done; he had an eye for that sort of thing.
Jaejoong’s face went blank, but Yunho could have sworn that he was blushing, just a little. “Um,” he said, and Yunho would have felt bad if the bartender hadn’t been teasing him, earlier.
“I’m sure most men would be scandalized t’know,” he reassured, voice dropping low.
Jaejoong was blushing, now. “No, no. They’re just…really plastic. Fake. Completely dumb as dirt,” he babbled. “Not my type, at all. Didn’t seem like they’d be yours, either.”
“Not exactly,” Yunho snorted, and took another deep sip of the drink. A chip of ice slipped over the back of his tongue, making him shiver. Jaejoong was staring at him again, but after a long pause seemed to shake himself.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything. I talk a lot. It’s why they keep me back here,” he laughed half-heartedly, but before Yunho could protest he was taking a step back. “I’m restocking now, but I’ll be… around.” He gave a vague, spastic gesture with one hand. Yunho thought it was funny, in a charming kind of way.
“Right. I’ll let y’know.”
“Anything you want,” Jaejoong replied quickly. “I’m all yours.”
Maybe it was the alcohol -it was definitely the alcohol- but Yunho didn’t even think about it; he tilted his head up and gave him a slow smirk. He didn’t even think about it when Jaejoong smiled back, and didn’t look away for a long time.
He didn’t think at all, not when Jaejoong kept talking to him even as he worked, never staying away for long, eventually stopping completely to stand at the bar, taking his sweet time drying glasses while they bantered.
“-Bullshit. No one can eat somethin’ that hot and live.”
“I swear, totally true,” Jaejoong nodded solemnly. “And it’s good, really good! I love spicy food.”
Yunho shook his head emphatically. “I love spicy food too, but that- that’s just…”
“It’s hard to understand unless you’ve tried it for yourself. The burn lasts for a while, but it’s very refreshing! ”
“No thanks,” he countered. “I like havin’ tastebuds.”
“C’mon, it’s not like the damage is permanent.”
He laughed out loud and didn’t think - and he didn’t need to, not when it was just so easy. When it just… was. He’d been pretending so long, he’d forgotten what that’d felt like.
12:36am.
“You can’t tell me you’ve never been to one of these places before? A host club? Nothing?” Jaejoong tilted his head in question.
Yunho just shook his head, thoughts all fuzzy around the edges. “Never. Don’t like ‘em. It’s all…What’d you say? Plastic.”
Jaejoong nodded. “Tell me about it. I wouldn’t work here if it weren’t for…”
“For?”
“I’m a singer, starving artist, debts and all,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I need the money, and working here, I’ve managed to make a deal with the owner. He owns this place and another bar in the city, a real upscale place. The nights I don’t work here I get to perform over there, no cover fee but the promo is worth it.”
“Awesome,” Yunho said. He meant to say something a lot more meaningful than that, but it’d have to do.
Jaejoong smiled ruefully. “Mm. The guy’s an asshole, but it’s a good deal, not like I can complain. Except for the asshole bit.”
“I bet y’get a lot of those.”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong shook his head. “It’s easy to forget, sometimes… you see enough assholes in here, guys with nothing but dicks for brains… you think they’re all the same everywhere.”
“We’re all assholes,” Yunho agreed solemnly, sighing.
But Jaejoong just gave him a steady, serious look. “Not quite… you don’t seem to be,” he murmured, so low that Yunho almost didn’t hear him. But he did hear him, and the words sent his stomach rolling; made him feel pleased and uneasy all at once. He wasn’t sure how they ended up talking about this, suddenly all deep and personal. Jaejoong was still looking at him, and it was… it was… it was only fitting that the moment was broken by Yoochun, who stepped up to the railing around the bar area, leaning over and hollering at Yunho.
“Eeeey Yunho! Stop with the flirtin’ and come get a lap dance, damnit!”
Yoochun waved his arms and it almost made him loose his balance. Behind the counter Jaejoong chuckled and said something. It might have been about drunk birthday-boys or Yoochun’s dopey smile or the dollar bills he’s stuck into his own pants - or it might have been about man-eating sharks or children with autism, Yunho wouldn’t know. He couldn’t hear anything over the sudden rush of panic - the uncomfortable racing of his pulse, and the words ‘Stop with the flirting’ blaring through his head, like a beacon of light chasing away the fog of hazy, drunken contentment he’d let himself get lost in.
He thought of a hundred protests and denials: he should shrug it off, he should laugh and tell Yoochun to shove it and he should get up and leave Jaejoong behind. He should have never even sat down, let alone stay and start talking- flirting. Fuck, what had he been thinking?
“Hey, you okay?”
He whirled around, the sudden motion making him sway in his seat. His stomach was still rolling, he was shaking; he felt nauseous. “I…”
“You better go. I think your friend’s gonna knock himself out if you don’t,” Jaejoong said, his smile gentle but concerned. Yunho didn’t want his concern.
“I gotta go,” he gasped out. He stood and stumbled all the way over to Yoochun. His friend all but threw himself at Yunho, clinging giddily, and Yunho managed a shaky laugh when he caught him. They supported each other back to one of their tables. Yunho got his lap dance, and he congratulated himself on not puking all over the girl’s sequined bra.
But after that girl was gone there was another waiting for him -only, thank god, it was just one the waitresses, bringing over his drink. He didn’t even realize he’d left it behind at the bar. Hesitating for a second, he took the drink and ended up fumbling with the little napkin- yet, if it weren’t for the gracelessness of his fingers, he wouldn’t have seen what was written on it.
By the time the rush of adrenaline-panic died he’d read and reread the message ten times over. He shoved the napkin deep in his pocket, as if by hiding it from his sight he could pretend it didn’t exist, that he never memorized the message scrawled in spidery handwriting on wrinkled paper.
But he couldn’t forget it, and the slight weight of the napkin burned in his pocket. He found himself subconsciously checking his watch every few seconds. A minute passed- five, ten- and he couldn’t keep himself from counting those minutes. No one was watching: he was drunk, his friends were drunk, and…
When he finally gave in and slipped away, this time, no one noticed him going.
There was a door, just beyond the bathrooms, and it had been left propped open. Yunho could feel the humidity of the night air seep in through the small crack; stepping out into the alley was like stepping into warm water.
“You came. I wasn’t sure you’d see…” Jaejoong said immediately, looking pleased. Yunho held up the wrinkled napkin (“On smoke break til 1. Backdoor. Need an out?”) and the other man nodded, offering out his pack. Yunho plucked out a cigarette, but used his own lighter to get it lit. He had to try twice - one hand cupped around to protect the small flame from the wind, his thumb fumbling on the wheel. Once lit, though, he took a long drag and stepped back, into the wall, away from Jaejoong.
Maybe he was being stupid. He was probably being stupid. He was drunk, remember? But, that voice in his mind whispered, what was one smoke to take the edge off? What was having a little bit of nerves the night before his wedding? It was nothing. Smoke filled his lungs and this was just bumming a cigarette off a kind stranger and it was nothing. Nothing at all.
“So… you sure you’re okay? You seem a little…off.”
Yunho chuckled nervously. “It’s nothin’, just… Yoochun. He means well, but…”
“He wants you to have fun,” Jaejoong finished for him. “It’s your party.”
“Yeah…Wait,” he flinched, “you knew it was my party?”
“The ‘friend’s birthday’ excuse was pretty flimsy,” the bartender confessed, his smile crooked. “Besides, tonight’s VIP reservation said bachelor party.”
Yunho blew out a shaky puff of smoke. “Well, shit.”
But Jaejoong just shrugged. “So, what’s got you so freaked? You don’t want to get married? Or… you don’t want to marry the girl?”
Yunho glared, every wall in his defenses going up with red flags flying. How dare Jaejoong accuse Yunho like that? How dare he say it so casually, like it was… like it was normal, or something? Of course he wanted to get married, of course he did. What else…
“You don’t know anything,” he said sharply, suddenly, his teeth grinding together at the sight of this random… guy looking at him like he was so damn understanding.
But before he could say any more Jaejoong was holding up his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he soothed. “I can be a little to blunt, sometimes. I just meant everybody gets cold feet. I have eight sisters, and each one of them went through the same thing.”
“Cold feet,” Yunho tested the words as they left his mouth, feeling them settle like a knot in his throat. Yeah, just cold feet, he thought. “You got eight sisters?” he threw out, changing the subject.
Jaejoong sighed, once and heavy. “Yeah,” he said, expression somewhere between resigned and bemused.
Yunho did not think it was cute. “Older?” he prompted.
“Mm. All of them.”
“’Bet that was fun.”
He huffed. “You have no idea.”
“All of ‘em married?” It came out without thought; a Freudian slip, coming back to the one topic he didn’t want to talk about.
Jaejoong nodded. “Every single one. They all went through the same thing… the nerves, the second-guessing, the drama. It’s natural.”
“Stop trying to appease me,” Yunho grumbled around a lungful of smoke. He remembered, suddenly, that he’d quit smoking years ago - barely a month after he started dating Sunmi (“It’s not that I mind the smell that much… It’s just that it ruins everything. It’s so… unpleasant”). He hadn’t had a cig since, yet here he hadn’t thought twice about grabbing for one. Damn it.
He threw the half-smoked stick onto the ground and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, leaning against the wall. God knew it was disgusting, cold and grimy, but didn’t do more than grimace. He tried not to care. Jaejoong watched him silently until he flicked his own finished cigarette away, a dot of red ember disappearing off into the dark.
“Know what helps?”
Yunho started at the sudden question, slurring in his surprise. “Help wha?”
“The cold feet. There’s things you can do to help with that… hell of a lot better than watching your friends get pissed and skulking around in dirty alleys.”
He snorted, shrugging in acknowledgement. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong said, laughing at him. Or maybe with him. “Music,” he added.
“What?”
“I’m saying music helps. And not this trailer-trash crap, but real good music can really calm you down. Works like a charm.”
“Huh.”
“Come on, it’s your last night as a single man. You’re going to be stuck with a woman for the rest of your life, right? Why spend the last night surrounded by them-” god, but Yunho could definitely agree with that “-let me take you someplace. I know a couple good spots around here that play live. We could get out of here, your friends won’t even know you were gone.”
And it was… tempting. Yunho opened his mouth to say no -every neuron in his brain that was still capable of firing was saying no no no don’t you dare do it- but he found he couldn’t immediately refuse. Jaejoong almost sounded hopeful when he’d asked, and Yunho didn’t want to reject him-the offer. He didn’t want to reject the offer.
“Aren’t you working?” he asked instead, stalling.
Jaejoong looked almost sheepish, one boot scuffing against the other. Again, Yunho did not think it adorable. “I’m actually off now. I was planning on taking an extra hour of overtime, but I could leave no problem. I only said ‘smoke break’ ‘cause if I said different you’d freak and wouldn’t come…”
“You really wanted me to come out?” Yunho didn’t think before he spoke and it wasn’t really a question and when Jaejoong’s cheeks flushed Yunho couldn’t look away.
“It’s, uh,” the bartender stuttered, seemingly caught off guard. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I did.”
Shifting uncomfortably, he kept pushing. “Why’re you doin’ this?”
There was a short but telling pause. “I’ve been there.”
“Engaged?” Yunho asked, skeptical.
The bartender just shrugged. “My parents have been trying to arrange one for years. Almost happened once.”
His eyes looked over Yunho’s head; his voice was too pitched, too casual for him to be the telling the truth. Yunho still couldn’t convince himself to care. All he wanted to do was go -he felt the pull right at the center of his chest, the urge to take that one step forward and seal the deal. He could go and blow the night off and spend it with this fascinating, beautiful person, and he thought it would make him happy.
But then he said no. He looked away and turned around and went back inside and hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
8:15am.
Yunho’s alarm went off right on time, but he was already awake. He’d only gotten home around seven and he knew he should get some sleep - the wedding was in a few hours, for god’s sakes, but he hadn’t been able to sleep so far and there was no way he’d be able to get any now.
He stared at the ceiling and watched the shadows change. It was cloudy outside, likely to rain, and absently he thought that he was glad they’d decided on an indoor wedding. He heard noises in the kitchen, the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing far too loud in the morning quiet.
He thought about how there have been a thousand morning just like this, with Sunmi cooking breakfast for him in his kitchen like a wonderful friend, girlfriend, fiancé - and how she made those exact same noises. He wondered why today felt so different.
But that was a lie, because he knew exactly why. The night was over, he wasn’t drunk or hung-over or a bachelor anymore. He was meeting his parents and in-laws in forty-five minutes for his huge, indoor, mid-morning summer wedding. He closed his eyes, and wondered what the hell he thought he was doing.
1:20am.
Jaejoong was right; no one had noticed he had left, and they probably wouldn’t have if he’d chosen to leave for good. A couple of guys were already gone, or maybe they’d been escorted out - if the way Yoochun was acting was any indication, they’d all be going that way before long.
He claimed a seat in one of the back booths, out of the way and abandoned by the members of his party. He’d resisted Jaejoong’s temptation, but it came at the cost of the mood to enjoy himself. It didn’t matter, anyway. Just a few more hours and he’d be home; just one more morning and it would be done. Final.
Jaejoong didn’t come back to the bar -seems like he wasn’t lying about being off for the night. Fortunately, Yunho didn’t have much time to wallow in self-pity; barely two songs played and then Yoochun stumbled back into the VIP area, flashing a weak smile before leaning over and puking all over his shoes.
Things went fast from there. Changmin went to the host, who went to call them a taxi home. Yunho watched over Yoochun, who sat with his head between his knees, mumbling apology after apology to Yunho’s leather dress shoes. He rolled his eyes and patted Yoochun’s back with a half-hearted “there, there”. He was too busy fighting the urge to gag, to throw his shoes across the room - except he also remembered the dirtiness of the floor, and his socks were only so thick. Yoochun burped and then groaned.
Changmin bounded over, looking twice as sober as he did five minutes ago. Damn him for being able to metabolize his liquor. “Taxi’s here,” he said, “let’s get you up-” and between the two of them, they managed to carry/drag Yoochun to the door.
“Jesus, Yoochun, did you drink your bodyweight in beer?” Changmin grumbled.
“Choc’laaaate pizza,” Yoochun replied. “Waskibibble.”
“Ugh.” He looked over at Yunho. “Sorry about him. Didn’t exactly plan for you to babysit tonight… you wanna stay?”
Yunho didn’t look back, where the last men standing -Seungri and Heechul, friends from school and work- were still partying it up. “Nah,” he said. “I don’t mind. I was planning on leaving soon, anyway.”
Changmin shrugged, and didn’t comment.
The taxi ride was painful -they had to tell the driver to pull over twice so Yoochun wouldn’t puke on the upholstery- and Yunho gave him a tip big enough to cover a trip to the moon and back. Inside his apartment, Yoochun spent fifteen minutes convalescing with the porcelain god before they could get him to the nearest flat surface, which ended up being the shag rug in his bedroom.
“Get. Into. The. Bed,” Changmin demanded for the third time.
“Comf’table herrr,” Yoochun moaned. “Dun wanna.”
Changmin nudged him none-too-gently with his foot. “You are going to hate yourself in the morning.”
“H’te you now.”
“Oh for the love of-”
Yunho had to stop Changmin from punting their friend’s head across the room. “There’s nothing more we can do. He’s got a bucket, we’ve set his alarm clock.”
“Alllllbur’kay.”
“And if the moron sleeps through the wedding? He’s a groomsman.”
Yunho shrugged, feeling exhausted and so completely over it. “Then we ask Sunmi’s cousin to step in. Yoochun’s a grown man, he can make his own mistakes.”
Changmin grunted and shrugged widely. “Whatever. Want to flag down another taxi? We could share…”
“No,” Yunho said after thinking for a moment. He wiggled his hand side-to-side. “I’m still a little, y’know. The closet subway station is on the other side of the park- think I’ll walk. Sober up. Sunmi will murder me if I showed up tipsy in the morning.”
Changmin laughed dryly. “You’re so whipped. As if she’d let you spoil her big day. She’ll at least wait ‘til the honeymoon.”
Yunho smiled queasily. “Thank you, Changmin.”
“Anytime, my friend,” he laughed again, slapping Yunho on the back as they left the apartment. They took the stairs together but parted ways on the street - Changmin still planned to take a taxi, but fortunately there were plenty of cabs about and he had no trouble hailing one.
He called out on last goodbye to Yunho ( “Let me know if you need a get-away ride, ha, I’ll keep my car running during the reception!”), who had already meandered towards the light at the corner. He waved back without answering and waited for the signal to change.
The park was just across the street from Yoochun’s apartment, spanning a whole block. It was big for the city, with plenty of trees to provide shade for the wide swaths of grass and winding cement walkways. In the center there was an open square with a big fountain, and during the day the whole place was packed with families and kids picnicking and playing and splashing around in it. At night, though, it was a very different landscape. Only every other street lamp was working and the rest flickered at random intervals. The quiet was complete, the shadows deep and the night grown cold. Yunho just pushed his hands deeper in his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the chill, and took his time.
The night had been pretty disastrous, all things considered. He knew it would be, in some way, but while he would have been fine with drunk and disorderly… he hadn’t expected Jaejoong.
’So, what’s got you so freaked? Don’t want to get married? Or…?’
Jesus, he didn’t need that shit, not now. He’d been dealing with it ever since he met Sunmi, ever since he decided he actually liked her, as a person, enough to actually introduced her to his mother... Hell, he’d been dealing with it his whole life.
But he’d finally dealt with it, hadn’t he? Once he got married, all of the worrying and the fear… it would be gone forever.
Sunmi was lovely and perfect and exactly what he needed. He told himself that over and over and it was going to be true. Tomorrow morning, he’d put on his best black suit and say the words and kiss the bride and it would be true. All he had to do was wait -and who the hell did that guy think he was, trying to mess that all up? To dredge up all that old shit when Yunho was so, so close to being done with it for good?
And yet…
‘Know what helps?’
Jesus, but it had been tempting. If it was his last night -as a single man, a free man, as himself (whoever the hell that was) why not enjoy it? Why not live, like he’d never let himself? The idea of blowing it all off, running off with some guy and just… doing whatever he wanted.
He’d never done anything like that before. And he wouldn’t, now. He’d given up that chance.
Fuck.
He collapsed on a bench, hands still in his pockets, and bent down over his knees. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. “Fuck, what the hell am I doing?” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuckity-”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on those shoes, they didn’t puke on themselves, did they?”
Yunho squeezed his eyes shut very very hard, so hard he saw little bursts of light. Then he opened them and looked up.
Jaejoong was standing just in his range of hearing, rocking on his feet like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to come closer or not. He had a crooked smile on his face, waiting for Yunho to acknowledge his joke. Or not.
“Jaejoong,” Yunho said, not believing his eyes. “What the hell… what are you doing here?”
The other man’s eyes widened enough that the white of his eyes was visible even in the dim light. He held up his hands, conciliatory, much like he had once before. “I’m not stalking you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was about to ask you the same thing.
“What?”
Jaejoong jerked his head to the side, toward some vague direction. “I live in the apartment block a few streets down. I go for walks around here all the time… can’t say I’ve ever seen you in the neighborhood before, though. You sure you aren’t following me?”
He was joking again -but again, Yunho wasn’t up for taking it. “I didn’t… I mean. Of course I’m not. My friend, Yoochun, he lives around here too.” He swallowed. “I was just walking to the subway.”
“Ah,” Jaejoong said lightly, and with a quick breathe of decision, sat himself down beside Yunho. “That’s… a rather interesting coincidence, don’t you think?”
Yunho snorted. “I’m not really up for thinking, right now.”
“Alright. But that doesn’t make it any less interesting.”
“…‘Interesting’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
Jaejoong hummed to himself. “Guess so. It’s actually pretty weird, but you seem to be taking it rather well.”
Yunho wanted to laugh, or maybe cry. Him? He wasn’t taking anything well, not tonight. “Could say the same to you.”
“I know, right?” Jaejoong said. “When I first saw you, I really thought you’d somehow followed me home. But then I actually looked at you…”
His answer was a self-deprecatory shrug.
“Still feeling down?” Jaejoong hesitated a moment before he asked, but when he did it was with sincere compassion, and what really broke Yunho was his lack of curiosity. He wasn’t probing, or pitying, or… anything at. He was just asking. Easy. Why couldn’t everything be this easy? Yunho kind of wanted to give him everything.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”
Jaejoong nodded. “I would be too, if someone had puked on my shoes. Especially ones as nice as those.”
Yunho looked down involuntarily, his toes curling uncomfortably, the moisture having finally seeped through the leather. “I’d actually just forgotten about them.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Yunho said, and finally cracked a smile, as half-hearted as it was. “Would it be weird if I said I had been thinking about you, right before you showed up?”
Jaejoong went quiet and still for a second. “I dunno,” he said. “Depends on what you were thinking.”
“Your offer. About, y’know, music. Taking my mind off things.”
Jaejoong was looking at him closely, Yunho could feel it. But he kept his eyes down on the ground. On his not-so-nice-anymore shoes. “Ugh,” he said suddenly, “disgusting. My feet are disgusting.”
Jaejoong chuckled and stood up again. “C’mon, let’s walk. Take your mind off things.”
Yunho blinked up at him. Jaejoong looked at him expectantly and suddenly, they were walking away from the bench. “So, not exactly the bachelor party of your dreams, huh?”
“Not exactly,” Yunho sighed.
“I figured. I mean, as much as I hate to leave a customer dissatisfied…” he drawled.
“Don’t apologize; the alcohol was probably the best part of the evening.”
Jaejoong smiled brightly. “I do make a mean cocktail.”
“Mm,” Yunho said, and then stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, bumping into Jaejoong. He straightened with a furious blush and Jaejoong graced him with that laugh again, loud and sharp and brilliant.
“Oh god, I’m going to be in so much trouble,” Yunho groaned.
Jaejoong shook his head and led them over to another bench. “I think maybe you should sit for a while,” he said, and Yunho blushed again.
He managed to come back with, “It’s technically your fault,” to which Jaejoong replied, “So you’re saying I should apologize?”, and they bickered good naturedly for a few more minutes.
Eventually they trailed off into comfortable silence. Jaejoong stared up at the sky and Yunho looked off into the trees, elbows on his knees.
“…The offer’s still open.”
“Huh?”
“To get out of here, we could still go, seriously. There won’t be anyone playing live, now… but I know a club where the DJ spins good techno, and that might be just what you need. Music, dancing, sweating all this bad shit right out of your skin. You look like you’re a dancer, or could be.”
Yunho loved dancing. He hadn’t done much more than a two-step in years.
“…No, Jaejoong. It’s-”
“What, late? C’mon,” Jaejoong checked his watch. “It’s barely past 2am. Most places, the party’s just getting started.”
“I’m just sobering up. I’ve got a ceremony at 10 in the morning. I can’t-”
The other man moved suddenly, leaning back against the bench, spreading his arms along the back. It was a wide motion, casual, not even close to touching Yunho, who was still hunched over. But it made him stiffen none the less. It felt like a challenge.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Jaejoong asked.
It was definitely a challenge. Yunho shook his head. “Jaejoong… I don’t know you. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but really, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I’m not the type of guy…”
He trailed off, but Jaejoong didn’t jump to fill the silence. It was distinctly awkward this time around, dragging on and on, neither of them moving or making a sound, and though Jaejoong didn’t seem at all bothered, Yunho thought he might jump out of his skin.
“I’m not-” he finally burst out, but stopped immediately when Jaejoong sighed loudly. They paused again, and then Jaejoong sat back up. He twisted so that he could look at Yunho directly, capturing his gaze.
“You so sure about that?” he said, quietly. “I’m not convinced, Yunho.”
Yunho didn’t answer.
Jaejoong sighed again and stood. He stood before Yunho, his shadow laying thick over him. “Listen, I’m only trying to help. I know you don’t know-know me, but we had a pretty good time earlier, or so I thought. Obviously you’ve got a lot on your mind, and I made an offer. I’m making it again, but I don’t do third-times-a-charm. This is it.”
He held out his hand, like he actually expected Yunho to take it.
“You coming or what?”
2:55am.
It was almost like the strip club, loud music and sticky floors and tacky strobe lighting, but the place was packed, men and women dancing with equally verve as the DJ played a nice mix of tunes, buzzy techno and hard bass and even some strains of electric orchestra and remixed popera.
It set the air in Yunho’s lungs rattling, and the moment he had stepped in the club he found himself frozen, unable to process it all... but then Jaejoong had been there, grabbing his hand and pulling him straight into the mix of trashing bodies. He almost pulled away. Almost. But there was no space on the dance floor, and Yunho could have just as easily said he had been dancing with the girls on either side of him as he was with Jaejoong in front of him. He wasn’t dancing with anyone -or maybe he was dancing with everyone. Before the first song was over, it didn’t matter anymore.
He saw the entire scene in shuttered flashes, the strobe light working overtime. Red, purple, green, blue: his body moved disconnected from his mind, moved until he was numb but still caught in the rhythm, unable to stop. He jumped in place and twisted his arms in the air. He was pushed this way and that, he was pressed against bodies unknown and he didn’t care. Yet his face hurt from smiling, and when he looked up, Jaejoong was there to meet him with a matching grin. If they ever lost each other for a moment, it wasn’t long before Jaejoong’s hand was reaching for him, grabbing onto him so he could reel himself in, squeezing through the mosh, back to his side.
“Isn’t this great?” he yelled once. Yunho barely heard him, but his eyes read Jaejoong’s lips.
“It’s insane!” he yelled back, beaming, and Jaejoong threw back his head and laughed.
Yunho let himself go and danced his heart out. When he looked at Jaejoong, he thought maybe he knew where it was going.
[part two]