(no subject)
Title: Dust
Characters: Jun
Rating: G
Summary: Jun keeps his house perfect, except for one box under his bed.
A/n: Throughout writing this, I was thinking of Sho, but that's only because I'm slightly biased. Written and posted to my journal sometime ago, but I thought I'd post it here too. Very short, don't expect too much.
He likes it when his house is clean. Late at night after filming and interviews, he likes to fall back in clean sheets that smell of softener and when he inhales, he wants to breathe in the sharp, fresh smell of air freshener. His vacuum has a special box, under his bed, because he uses it so often. It’s purple, and the latest model with eco-functions. He likes it.
Sometimes, on his off days, he will drag it out just for the hell of it, and vacuum his house from top to bottom. He’ll change his curtains and send them for cleaning and make sure his stove is scrubbed free from all food stains. And then, when there isn’t anything out of place, he’ll put the vacuum back into its box under his bed, pushing it against the wall. And then, as he draws his hands out, he sometimes brushes against another box, old and yellow and falling apart. A layer of dust, grey and thick sits on the top of the box. When he opens it, the musty smell gets onto his bed and gives him headaches for hours. It’s terrible, that box, the one thing in his perfect house that isn’t clean.
He hates it, but he can’t throw it away. So he compensates for it, through the extra strong detergent and the lavender air freshener. He’s always working anyway, so he only has to think about once in a while. And, when he gets back home at night, he can make himself focus on his beautiful clean house, free from stains and smudges and unhappy things like that, and he gets by fine.
But when he does take out that box, he’ll place it on his lap, ignoring the stains that get onto his pants (and he’ll have to send them for cleaning). Then, he’ll take out things, random things like a blue handkerchief, or an old battery that he should have thrown away. He’ll run fingers over old pictures, watching the way the dust collects on his fingertips and coats them with dirty, horrible blackness that doesn’t go away even after he washes them over and over again (they’re already on his heart)
Sometimes, he will replace them carefully, stacking the pictures together nicely and brushing the box down. Other times, he throws everything back in roughly, angrily and slams the cover back on, ignoring the dust that flies out and makes him cough. Either way, it hurt more than he can say. He hates having that filthy, nagging reminder under his bed; because as long as it’s there, he can never move on. But he doesn’t want to move on, he realises, because he knows that he could never throw away those memories.
So, he cleans, he washes and redecorates. He buys a ‘miracle mop’ and changes his air freshener to citrus. He likes his house clean, because it’s the only way to hide all the dirty, dirty secrets that he keeps deep inside.
Characters: Jun
Rating: G
Summary: Jun keeps his house perfect, except for one box under his bed.
A/n: Throughout writing this, I was thinking of Sho, but that's only because I'm slightly biased. Written and posted to my journal sometime ago, but I thought I'd post it here too. Very short, don't expect too much.
He likes it when his house is clean. Late at night after filming and interviews, he likes to fall back in clean sheets that smell of softener and when he inhales, he wants to breathe in the sharp, fresh smell of air freshener. His vacuum has a special box, under his bed, because he uses it so often. It’s purple, and the latest model with eco-functions. He likes it.
Sometimes, on his off days, he will drag it out just for the hell of it, and vacuum his house from top to bottom. He’ll change his curtains and send them for cleaning and make sure his stove is scrubbed free from all food stains. And then, when there isn’t anything out of place, he’ll put the vacuum back into its box under his bed, pushing it against the wall. And then, as he draws his hands out, he sometimes brushes against another box, old and yellow and falling apart. A layer of dust, grey and thick sits on the top of the box. When he opens it, the musty smell gets onto his bed and gives him headaches for hours. It’s terrible, that box, the one thing in his perfect house that isn’t clean.
He hates it, but he can’t throw it away. So he compensates for it, through the extra strong detergent and the lavender air freshener. He’s always working anyway, so he only has to think about once in a while. And, when he gets back home at night, he can make himself focus on his beautiful clean house, free from stains and smudges and unhappy things like that, and he gets by fine.
But when he does take out that box, he’ll place it on his lap, ignoring the stains that get onto his pants (and he’ll have to send them for cleaning). Then, he’ll take out things, random things like a blue handkerchief, or an old battery that he should have thrown away. He’ll run fingers over old pictures, watching the way the dust collects on his fingertips and coats them with dirty, horrible blackness that doesn’t go away even after he washes them over and over again (they’re already on his heart)
Sometimes, he will replace them carefully, stacking the pictures together nicely and brushing the box down. Other times, he throws everything back in roughly, angrily and slams the cover back on, ignoring the dust that flies out and makes him cough. Either way, it hurt more than he can say. He hates having that filthy, nagging reminder under his bed; because as long as it’s there, he can never move on. But he doesn’t want to move on, he realises, because he knows that he could never throw away those memories.
So, he cleans, he washes and redecorates. He buys a ‘miracle mop’ and changes his air freshener to citrus. He likes his house clean, because it’s the only way to hide all the dirty, dirty secrets that he keeps deep inside.