All The Places You Don’t Belong (And The One Place You Do) 1/2
Title: All The Places You Don’t Belong (And The One Place You Do) 1/2
Author: enigmaxempress
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None. Unless being ‘emo’ is something that might be a little off-putting.
Summary: It makes sense then, that the last he ever sees of her is through the tiny peephole of the same door, hair swaying from side to side as she sashays down the hall, heels clacking.
A/N: for vaguelynormal because this is nearly 6 months overdue /FACEPALMS/
His mother is different from other mothers, Yunho learns this early on. Other mothers have short, cropped hair and a soft smile, radiating warmth and smelling like home cooked meals. They wear pastels and loose skirts, cardigans and drive cars big enough to fit a gaggle of children. His mother has long, wild hair dyed some shocking color every other week. She does not smile; rather she grins and smirks, the come-hither twinkle in her eyes reflected in the infectious quirk of her mouth. She radiates heat, not warmth, a kind of magnetic energy coming off her in waves the moment she enters the room. His mother doesn’t do ‘home-cooked’ and they have take-out or instant-something almost every day of the week. She likes loud colors, leather and bare skin, kill heels, and dark, kohl-lined eyes. She likes men.
Even as her child, Yunho is mesmerized. His mother is captivating, her every word scintillating. The way she moves, her way of speech, her mere presence is utterly, and irrevocably captivating. Men flock to her: enthralled. Ensnared. Hypnotized. She is beautiful and she knows it, and she uses it to her advantage.
She spends her days with him, picking him up from school in a different car every time: sometimes it’s sleek and shiny, other times old and creaky. There’s always a happy meal for him in the back seat, the fries a little soggy and the burger a little cold but she never forgets the toy. They drive home to their little apartment in the far less privileged side of town and she sits at the table with him while he does his homework. She’s never any help: she hadn’t been the best student and had barely graduated high school. She sits there, a distraction most of the time, but not for very long.
When the sun goes down her cell phone starts to ring and it’s her cue to leave. She touches up her make-up, fixes her hair, picks a pair of shoes that could hurt a man with the skinny heel and she’s out the door. Not before a kiss to his forehead and Be good and I’ll be back soon Don’t wait up whispered into his hair. He watches her go with a nod and lonely eyes, unquestioning because there’s always an air of urgency about her when she leaves. Besides, he knows from experience that she’ll be back.
It never occurs to Yunho to ask his mother what her job is, exactly what she does at night that she has to leave him; he’s always just known. Not the details, but while Yunho is young, he isn’t an innocent. He learns the details when he gets older, but the awareness has always been there. She brings people home some nights; mostly its women with the same predilection for skinny heels and micro-mini hemlines, hair mussed and makeup smudged when he finds them sprawled on their couch in the morning. There are men too, occasionally, and this he knows only because he sees fleeting glimpses of them by opening his bedroom door a crack when his mother stumbles home in the wee hours of the morning. Those men never stay past dawn, and after a certain age, Yunho comes to know what the muffled thuds and quiet groans mean. All he can do is ignore his full bladder and burrow himself back into bed.
When he was younger, the old woman from down the hall stayed with him until he fell asleep. She was nice enough, bringing home made kimchi once in a while and patting his head before sending him off to bed. She has a heart attack when he’s nine and though she couldn’t stay with him anymore, she does call to check up on him. She dies a year later - another heart attack - and Yunho is left to fend for himself.
His mother starts staying home some nights, and Yunho is happy to have her there, even if for some reason their cable gets cut off and the shiny, sleek cars are more often replaced by rickety, dilapidated counterparts and the happy meals cease to await him in the backseat. Yunho stops watching TV all together and starts taking the bus.
He doesn’t fail to notice the tiredness rimming her eyes, or the caged look in their dark depths. She isn’t made for staying home and playing house, but she makes an effort because she loves him - at least, in a way unique only to her. Yunho knows his mother loves him, though probably not as most mothers would. Most mothers wouldn’t be quite so eager to slip on kill heels and leave when given the slightest chance. She does hesitate though, when she crosses the threshold, and looks back at him with one foot out the door and a hand on the doorknob. Yunho waves her goodbye, locking his heart against the resentment and stirrings of hate the same way he slides the deadbolts on their door.
It makes sense then, that the last he ever sees of her is through the tiny peephole of the same door, hair swaying from side to side as she sashays down the hall, heels clacking. The smell of her - something overly sweet to mask the aroma of men’s cologne permanently saturated into her skin - lingers in the threshold.
--
“Fuck.”
“Breakfast first, then I’d be happy to oblige.”
“Tease,” Jaejoong says and his tone would be accusatory if it hadn’t been lost in a groan. His hips come off the mattress as Yunho continues to idly stroke his morning erection. “I thought you said breakfast?”
“Should I stop?”
“Hell no!”
“Thought so.” Yunho grins before ducking his head to swipe his tongue across the tip of Jaejoong’s cock. Jaejoong thrusts involuntarily at the promise of heat just beyond Yunho’s lips and gets pinched on the thigh for his efforts, the sting quickly soothed by Yunho’s accommodating mouth. He suckles at the head, teasing, and Jaejoong grabs at his hair. His fingers dig into Jaejoong's thighs, the sharp tugs at his hair spurring him on better than pleas or force ever could. Yunho knows what he likes and Jaejoong knows how to get it from him. Easy bargaining, Yunho thinks, as his own cock strains against the front of his jeans.
The rest is nearly rote: the slide of his tongue around Jaejoong's cock, the blinding need, then the shattering release. He tries to hold back his own even as Jaejoong comes in his mouth, writhing with his, but it's a valiant effort at most. He likes this too much, this little bit of power, knowing that the reason Jaejoong lies boneless and vulnerable on a hard mattress and cheap sheets is his doing. That's what does it for him really; the reason he comes in his jeans like a randy teenager in the throes of his first fuck. It's been a while since Yunho's first time but teenager isn't too far off the mark.
"Need help with that?" Jaejoong asks coming up on shaky elbows. Yunho shakes his head against the warm skin of Jaejoong's thigh, breathing on his cock.
"Took care of it already."
"Want to borrow some pants?"
"Yes, please. And breakfast."
"Heard you the first time."
Turns out they can't have breakfast because it's nearly noon. Instead of morning fare Jaejoong prepares lunch and watches as Yunho eats like a man starved, shoveling in mouthfuls of rice and meat. He remembers being nineteen and not giving a flying fuck what he put in his mouth, but after twenty five his metabolism isn't what it used to be.
"When did you get in?" he asks when the younger man stops for air.
"A while. That chick you brought home tried to steal your watch. I think she was pissed you were too drunk to get it up."
"You stopped her, I hope?"
"I did, but I can't imagine what she'd want with a fake Rolex. I put it back on your night stand." he goes back to stuffing his face. Jaejoong is still feeling queasy from all the alcohol he'd imbibed the night before and can only look on, sipping coffee.
"It's a very good imitation, I'll have you know." Yunho just shrugs. Jaejoong sighs. “You need a place to stay tonight?”
“Yeah. The rent’s overdue and the landlord is out for my head.”
“Do you need some cash to front? I could probably give you enough to get him off your back.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve been working odd jobs here and there and should get paid by the end of the week. If not, I can always offer to blow him, like I did last time. Or work the street or whatever if it’s still not enough.”
Alarmed, Jaejoong asks, “You don’t mean like…?”
There’s a pregnant pause in which Jaejoong lets the coffee sit in his mouth, unable to swallow as Yunho continues to eat. “I’ve been thinking about it, yeah.”
“That’s not going to bring her back, you know?” Jaejoong says carefully. “You’re not going to find her that way - if you find her.” Yunho shrugs, ignoring him. “I don’t think that’s what your mother would have wanted for you.”
“You didn’t know my mother.” The sound of utensils dropped forcibly on the table is loud in the sudden, uncomfortable silence. Yunho looks up at him, expression hard and angry. “At least not that way I knew her. But who knows, maybe you did, since you were fucking her too.”
“Yunho - ” Jaejoong says, putting down his mug as Yunho abruptly stands. “Yunho, wait!” the younger man moves into the tiny living room not a dozen feet away and grabs his jacket, heading for the door.
“You’re just like the rest of them.” Yunho says angrily over his shoulder.
“How many times are you going to keep throwing that in my face?” Jaejoong follows him all the way down the hall into the foyer and stands there as Yunho puts on his shoes to leave. He doesn’t try to stop him. “I’m not the only person your mother slept with, but I cared about her more than a lot of them did,” he says quietly but the words fall on deaf ears. Yunho is gone before he can muster up the courage to tell him not to go.
--
It’s cold out, the late autumn breeze biting as it finds its way into Yunho’s raised collar. The jacket itself isn’t much help; he’s had it for years and the material is nearly bare in some places. Zippering up, he pulls the hood low over his forehead before stuffing his hands into his pockets. With no particular destination in mind Yunho walks swiftly but aimlessly down the street, his steps fueled by anger without focus. It hasn’t had a focus since the day his mother left and Yunho has spent the past few years since then in a limbo of sorts: teetering between feeling nothing but anger or nothing at all. It’s a precarious imbalance he struggles with daily, occasionally tempered by bouts of drunkenness, exhaustion, or meaningless physical intimacy. These days though, not even a combination of all three can make him oblivious to the void beginning to fester inside.
Yunho spends some time just wandering the street to cool his head. His feet take him down familiar neighborhoods, past places he used to work at and others he still does. Eventually he comes across an old friend, Donghae, who works at the open market carting groceries into trucks for delivery. They exchange greetings and Yunho is somehow roped into some work. There’s a truck full of vegetables that needs to be unloaded and theyr’re three men down: two out sick and the other MIA. Yunho had planned on camping out on Jaejoong’s couch on his rare days off, but manual labor is infinitely more appealing now than being anywhere near the older man.
Yunho doesn’t even notice the time passing by as he hauls one sack of vegetables after another. It’s quick cash for easy enough work and he’s so exhausted afterwards that when the leery old manager peels him off a couple of extra 20s, he doesn’t mind the subsequent groping of his behind. Still, it’s late and the temperature’s dropping. He wishes he can go back to his own little hovel of an apartment - by no means a home but it’s all he has - but until he can pay the rent at the end of the week, he doesn’t dare go back. Yunho had been blasé about it when he’d told Jaejoong about offering to blow his landlord, but it’s not an experience he wants to repeat. With nowhere else to go, Yunho grudgingly heads in the direction of Jaejoong’s apartment.
The door’s locked but the deadbolt hasn’t been slid in; Jaejoong’s been waiting for him. Jimmying the knob a bit, the door unlocks and Yunho walks into the darkened entrance. It’s black all over except for the small lamp in the tiny living room, shining light out into the fire escape where the rough outline of a man is ensconced. Jaejoong is leaning over the railing, blowing rings of nicotine into the air. He doesn’t move, even if he must know he isn’t alone anymore. Yunho locks the door behind him and throws himself onto the couch. Then they both stay like that, silent and unmoving, for a long time. Yunho feels exhaustion pulling at his limbs and his eyelids. He’s ready to give in to the pull when Jaejoong straddles the window sill, half inside and half out.
He sighs noisily and it’s no surprise for Yunho when he starts to speak. What does surprise him, however, is what Jaejoong is saying. “If you really want to find her…” he stops to sigh again and Yunho remains still, holding his breath for him to continue. “There’s a man on the Strip who goes by the name of Rella. An old time pimp who had it big and used to know every skirt in the city. If she’s still turning tricks, he’d know. If not, he’ll know what happened to her.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Yunho murmurs, half not wanting to be heard but it’s so quiet between them that it reaches Jaejoong’s ears anyway.
“I don’t know.” Jaejoong shrugs, lighting another cigarette. “Your mother was…my friend. Sure we fucked on the side but that was just scratching an itch, you know? I actually cared about her. You aren’t the only she abandoned when she left and the least we can do is look out for each other.”
“If you really cared about her why didn’t you - ” stop her? He wants to say, but it would be nonsense. His mother had always had a mind of her own. If Yunho hadn’t been ample enough reason for her not to leave, then Jaejoong wouldn’t have been able to stop her either. “ - look for her? Why didn’t you do anything to get her back?”
Yunho sits up, angry and hurting, everything he’s kept inside for so long trying to claw its way out of his chest. “She didn’t want to be found. Still doesn’t.” Jaejoong inhales sharply. “Look, it’s not like she was kidnapped or anything. I asked around when she didn’t come back the first few days. Word on the street was that some john had waved big money and a new life in her face and she accepted. So wherever she is and with who, it’s…it’s because she wants to be.”
Yunho bites the inside of his cheek to ward off heavy pressure building in his chest and the sudden burning sensation behind his eyelids. He’d entertained so many different scenarios in the years since his mother had gone, and some of them were exactly how Jaejoong had described. Some john would offer her something she couldn’t refuse and then she’d leave. But in his daydreams she’d always left with the intention of coming back, of waiting for just the right moment to come back for him, so that they could have a better life - together - and all Yunho had to do was wait. He realizes now, in retrospect, that those were nothing but fantasies. The silly musings of a desperate, lonely little boy. Reality is so much harsher now that he doesn’t have the veil of childhood to blunt his perspective.
“Are you telling me it’s stupid to go and find her?” Yunho asks when he’s sure his voice is steady.
Jaejoong shakes his head and shifts until all of him is inside. “No, I’m saying that if you do find her, it’s not going to be a happy ending. That I’m sure of.”
“I know that.” Yunho scoffs. “I just. I just - I want to know why.”
“Maybe there isn’t a ‘why’.”
“There’s always a why,” Yunho counters petulantly.
“There is,” Jaejoong concedes, “But you and I already know ‘why’. You just won’t accept it.”
Yunho purses his lips against the torrent of curses he want to throw at Jaejoong, anger quickly taking place of the hurt. No mother would just leave her child, right? She loved him. Right? “I don’t care.”
“Fine. But it won’t be easy - or free. Rella will ask for something in return.”
“I don’t- I don’t have anything.” Yunho does mental math in his head, trying to calculate how much he’ll be paid at the end of the week. It’ll barely cover the rent; already he knows it won’t be enough.
Jaejoong looks him up and down slowly. “I don’t mean money.”
Yunho’s breath hitches as the meaning sinks in. He nods anyway. “Tell me where to find him.”
A/N: HAPPYbelatedBIRTHDAY BB! LOLOLOL even if it’s been so long that you probably don’t even remember what you asked for! That’s all right, I’ll be sure to remind you! But I wonder if you’ll remember now xDDDDD I’m sorry it’s so late. I hope you can forgive me ;____; I promise to do better next time ;____;
My heart! My soul! My mate! My…lowly servant? LOLOL to be honest I think it’s the other way around. If there’s anyone more deserving of a crown my dear, it’s you. For being all sorts of wonderful and amazing :’) love you bb!♥
Author: enigmaxempress
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None. Unless being ‘emo’ is something that might be a little off-putting.
Summary: It makes sense then, that the last he ever sees of her is through the tiny peephole of the same door, hair swaying from side to side as she sashays down the hall, heels clacking.
A/N: for vaguelynormal because this is nearly 6 months overdue /FACEPALMS/
His mother is different from other mothers, Yunho learns this early on. Other mothers have short, cropped hair and a soft smile, radiating warmth and smelling like home cooked meals. They wear pastels and loose skirts, cardigans and drive cars big enough to fit a gaggle of children. His mother has long, wild hair dyed some shocking color every other week. She does not smile; rather she grins and smirks, the come-hither twinkle in her eyes reflected in the infectious quirk of her mouth. She radiates heat, not warmth, a kind of magnetic energy coming off her in waves the moment she enters the room. His mother doesn’t do ‘home-cooked’ and they have take-out or instant-something almost every day of the week. She likes loud colors, leather and bare skin, kill heels, and dark, kohl-lined eyes. She likes men.
Even as her child, Yunho is mesmerized. His mother is captivating, her every word scintillating. The way she moves, her way of speech, her mere presence is utterly, and irrevocably captivating. Men flock to her: enthralled. Ensnared. Hypnotized. She is beautiful and she knows it, and she uses it to her advantage.
She spends her days with him, picking him up from school in a different car every time: sometimes it’s sleek and shiny, other times old and creaky. There’s always a happy meal for him in the back seat, the fries a little soggy and the burger a little cold but she never forgets the toy. They drive home to their little apartment in the far less privileged side of town and she sits at the table with him while he does his homework. She’s never any help: she hadn’t been the best student and had barely graduated high school. She sits there, a distraction most of the time, but not for very long.
When the sun goes down her cell phone starts to ring and it’s her cue to leave. She touches up her make-up, fixes her hair, picks a pair of shoes that could hurt a man with the skinny heel and she’s out the door. Not before a kiss to his forehead and Be good and I’ll be back soon Don’t wait up whispered into his hair. He watches her go with a nod and lonely eyes, unquestioning because there’s always an air of urgency about her when she leaves. Besides, he knows from experience that she’ll be back.
It never occurs to Yunho to ask his mother what her job is, exactly what she does at night that she has to leave him; he’s always just known. Not the details, but while Yunho is young, he isn’t an innocent. He learns the details when he gets older, but the awareness has always been there. She brings people home some nights; mostly its women with the same predilection for skinny heels and micro-mini hemlines, hair mussed and makeup smudged when he finds them sprawled on their couch in the morning. There are men too, occasionally, and this he knows only because he sees fleeting glimpses of them by opening his bedroom door a crack when his mother stumbles home in the wee hours of the morning. Those men never stay past dawn, and after a certain age, Yunho comes to know what the muffled thuds and quiet groans mean. All he can do is ignore his full bladder and burrow himself back into bed.
When he was younger, the old woman from down the hall stayed with him until he fell asleep. She was nice enough, bringing home made kimchi once in a while and patting his head before sending him off to bed. She has a heart attack when he’s nine and though she couldn’t stay with him anymore, she does call to check up on him. She dies a year later - another heart attack - and Yunho is left to fend for himself.
His mother starts staying home some nights, and Yunho is happy to have her there, even if for some reason their cable gets cut off and the shiny, sleek cars are more often replaced by rickety, dilapidated counterparts and the happy meals cease to await him in the backseat. Yunho stops watching TV all together and starts taking the bus.
He doesn’t fail to notice the tiredness rimming her eyes, or the caged look in their dark depths. She isn’t made for staying home and playing house, but she makes an effort because she loves him - at least, in a way unique only to her. Yunho knows his mother loves him, though probably not as most mothers would. Most mothers wouldn’t be quite so eager to slip on kill heels and leave when given the slightest chance. She does hesitate though, when she crosses the threshold, and looks back at him with one foot out the door and a hand on the doorknob. Yunho waves her goodbye, locking his heart against the resentment and stirrings of hate the same way he slides the deadbolts on their door.
It makes sense then, that the last he ever sees of her is through the tiny peephole of the same door, hair swaying from side to side as she sashays down the hall, heels clacking. The smell of her - something overly sweet to mask the aroma of men’s cologne permanently saturated into her skin - lingers in the threshold.
--
“Fuck.”
“Breakfast first, then I’d be happy to oblige.”
“Tease,” Jaejoong says and his tone would be accusatory if it hadn’t been lost in a groan. His hips come off the mattress as Yunho continues to idly stroke his morning erection. “I thought you said breakfast?”
“Should I stop?”
“Hell no!”
“Thought so.” Yunho grins before ducking his head to swipe his tongue across the tip of Jaejoong’s cock. Jaejoong thrusts involuntarily at the promise of heat just beyond Yunho’s lips and gets pinched on the thigh for his efforts, the sting quickly soothed by Yunho’s accommodating mouth. He suckles at the head, teasing, and Jaejoong grabs at his hair. His fingers dig into Jaejoong's thighs, the sharp tugs at his hair spurring him on better than pleas or force ever could. Yunho knows what he likes and Jaejoong knows how to get it from him. Easy bargaining, Yunho thinks, as his own cock strains against the front of his jeans.
The rest is nearly rote: the slide of his tongue around Jaejoong's cock, the blinding need, then the shattering release. He tries to hold back his own even as Jaejoong comes in his mouth, writhing with his, but it's a valiant effort at most. He likes this too much, this little bit of power, knowing that the reason Jaejoong lies boneless and vulnerable on a hard mattress and cheap sheets is his doing. That's what does it for him really; the reason he comes in his jeans like a randy teenager in the throes of his first fuck. It's been a while since Yunho's first time but teenager isn't too far off the mark.
"Need help with that?" Jaejoong asks coming up on shaky elbows. Yunho shakes his head against the warm skin of Jaejoong's thigh, breathing on his cock.
"Took care of it already."
"Want to borrow some pants?"
"Yes, please. And breakfast."
"Heard you the first time."
Turns out they can't have breakfast because it's nearly noon. Instead of morning fare Jaejoong prepares lunch and watches as Yunho eats like a man starved, shoveling in mouthfuls of rice and meat. He remembers being nineteen and not giving a flying fuck what he put in his mouth, but after twenty five his metabolism isn't what it used to be.
"When did you get in?" he asks when the younger man stops for air.
"A while. That chick you brought home tried to steal your watch. I think she was pissed you were too drunk to get it up."
"You stopped her, I hope?"
"I did, but I can't imagine what she'd want with a fake Rolex. I put it back on your night stand." he goes back to stuffing his face. Jaejoong is still feeling queasy from all the alcohol he'd imbibed the night before and can only look on, sipping coffee.
"It's a very good imitation, I'll have you know." Yunho just shrugs. Jaejoong sighs. “You need a place to stay tonight?”
“Yeah. The rent’s overdue and the landlord is out for my head.”
“Do you need some cash to front? I could probably give you enough to get him off your back.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve been working odd jobs here and there and should get paid by the end of the week. If not, I can always offer to blow him, like I did last time. Or work the street or whatever if it’s still not enough.”
Alarmed, Jaejoong asks, “You don’t mean like…?”
There’s a pregnant pause in which Jaejoong lets the coffee sit in his mouth, unable to swallow as Yunho continues to eat. “I’ve been thinking about it, yeah.”
“That’s not going to bring her back, you know?” Jaejoong says carefully. “You’re not going to find her that way - if you find her.” Yunho shrugs, ignoring him. “I don’t think that’s what your mother would have wanted for you.”
“You didn’t know my mother.” The sound of utensils dropped forcibly on the table is loud in the sudden, uncomfortable silence. Yunho looks up at him, expression hard and angry. “At least not that way I knew her. But who knows, maybe you did, since you were fucking her too.”
“Yunho - ” Jaejoong says, putting down his mug as Yunho abruptly stands. “Yunho, wait!” the younger man moves into the tiny living room not a dozen feet away and grabs his jacket, heading for the door.
“You’re just like the rest of them.” Yunho says angrily over his shoulder.
“How many times are you going to keep throwing that in my face?” Jaejoong follows him all the way down the hall into the foyer and stands there as Yunho puts on his shoes to leave. He doesn’t try to stop him. “I’m not the only person your mother slept with, but I cared about her more than a lot of them did,” he says quietly but the words fall on deaf ears. Yunho is gone before he can muster up the courage to tell him not to go.
--
It’s cold out, the late autumn breeze biting as it finds its way into Yunho’s raised collar. The jacket itself isn’t much help; he’s had it for years and the material is nearly bare in some places. Zippering up, he pulls the hood low over his forehead before stuffing his hands into his pockets. With no particular destination in mind Yunho walks swiftly but aimlessly down the street, his steps fueled by anger without focus. It hasn’t had a focus since the day his mother left and Yunho has spent the past few years since then in a limbo of sorts: teetering between feeling nothing but anger or nothing at all. It’s a precarious imbalance he struggles with daily, occasionally tempered by bouts of drunkenness, exhaustion, or meaningless physical intimacy. These days though, not even a combination of all three can make him oblivious to the void beginning to fester inside.
Yunho spends some time just wandering the street to cool his head. His feet take him down familiar neighborhoods, past places he used to work at and others he still does. Eventually he comes across an old friend, Donghae, who works at the open market carting groceries into trucks for delivery. They exchange greetings and Yunho is somehow roped into some work. There’s a truck full of vegetables that needs to be unloaded and theyr’re three men down: two out sick and the other MIA. Yunho had planned on camping out on Jaejoong’s couch on his rare days off, but manual labor is infinitely more appealing now than being anywhere near the older man.
Yunho doesn’t even notice the time passing by as he hauls one sack of vegetables after another. It’s quick cash for easy enough work and he’s so exhausted afterwards that when the leery old manager peels him off a couple of extra 20s, he doesn’t mind the subsequent groping of his behind. Still, it’s late and the temperature’s dropping. He wishes he can go back to his own little hovel of an apartment - by no means a home but it’s all he has - but until he can pay the rent at the end of the week, he doesn’t dare go back. Yunho had been blasé about it when he’d told Jaejoong about offering to blow his landlord, but it’s not an experience he wants to repeat. With nowhere else to go, Yunho grudgingly heads in the direction of Jaejoong’s apartment.
The door’s locked but the deadbolt hasn’t been slid in; Jaejoong’s been waiting for him. Jimmying the knob a bit, the door unlocks and Yunho walks into the darkened entrance. It’s black all over except for the small lamp in the tiny living room, shining light out into the fire escape where the rough outline of a man is ensconced. Jaejoong is leaning over the railing, blowing rings of nicotine into the air. He doesn’t move, even if he must know he isn’t alone anymore. Yunho locks the door behind him and throws himself onto the couch. Then they both stay like that, silent and unmoving, for a long time. Yunho feels exhaustion pulling at his limbs and his eyelids. He’s ready to give in to the pull when Jaejoong straddles the window sill, half inside and half out.
He sighs noisily and it’s no surprise for Yunho when he starts to speak. What does surprise him, however, is what Jaejoong is saying. “If you really want to find her…” he stops to sigh again and Yunho remains still, holding his breath for him to continue. “There’s a man on the Strip who goes by the name of Rella. An old time pimp who had it big and used to know every skirt in the city. If she’s still turning tricks, he’d know. If not, he’ll know what happened to her.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Yunho murmurs, half not wanting to be heard but it’s so quiet between them that it reaches Jaejoong’s ears anyway.
“I don’t know.” Jaejoong shrugs, lighting another cigarette. “Your mother was…my friend. Sure we fucked on the side but that was just scratching an itch, you know? I actually cared about her. You aren’t the only she abandoned when she left and the least we can do is look out for each other.”
“If you really cared about her why didn’t you - ” stop her? He wants to say, but it would be nonsense. His mother had always had a mind of her own. If Yunho hadn’t been ample enough reason for her not to leave, then Jaejoong wouldn’t have been able to stop her either. “ - look for her? Why didn’t you do anything to get her back?”
Yunho sits up, angry and hurting, everything he’s kept inside for so long trying to claw its way out of his chest. “She didn’t want to be found. Still doesn’t.” Jaejoong inhales sharply. “Look, it’s not like she was kidnapped or anything. I asked around when she didn’t come back the first few days. Word on the street was that some john had waved big money and a new life in her face and she accepted. So wherever she is and with who, it’s…it’s because she wants to be.”
Yunho bites the inside of his cheek to ward off heavy pressure building in his chest and the sudden burning sensation behind his eyelids. He’d entertained so many different scenarios in the years since his mother had gone, and some of them were exactly how Jaejoong had described. Some john would offer her something she couldn’t refuse and then she’d leave. But in his daydreams she’d always left with the intention of coming back, of waiting for just the right moment to come back for him, so that they could have a better life - together - and all Yunho had to do was wait. He realizes now, in retrospect, that those were nothing but fantasies. The silly musings of a desperate, lonely little boy. Reality is so much harsher now that he doesn’t have the veil of childhood to blunt his perspective.
“Are you telling me it’s stupid to go and find her?” Yunho asks when he’s sure his voice is steady.
Jaejoong shakes his head and shifts until all of him is inside. “No, I’m saying that if you do find her, it’s not going to be a happy ending. That I’m sure of.”
“I know that.” Yunho scoffs. “I just. I just - I want to know why.”
“Maybe there isn’t a ‘why’.”
“There’s always a why,” Yunho counters petulantly.
“There is,” Jaejoong concedes, “But you and I already know ‘why’. You just won’t accept it.”
Yunho purses his lips against the torrent of curses he want to throw at Jaejoong, anger quickly taking place of the hurt. No mother would just leave her child, right? She loved him. Right? “I don’t care.”
“Fine. But it won’t be easy - or free. Rella will ask for something in return.”
“I don’t- I don’t have anything.” Yunho does mental math in his head, trying to calculate how much he’ll be paid at the end of the week. It’ll barely cover the rent; already he knows it won’t be enough.
Jaejoong looks him up and down slowly. “I don’t mean money.”
Yunho’s breath hitches as the meaning sinks in. He nods anyway. “Tell me where to find him.”
A/N: HAPPYbelatedBIRTHDAY BB! LOLOLOL even if it’s been so long that you probably don’t even remember what you asked for! That’s all right, I’ll be sure to remind you! But I wonder if you’ll remember now xDDDDD I’m sorry it’s so late. I hope you can forgive me ;____; I promise to do better next time ;____;
My heart! My soul! My mate! My…lowly servant? LOLOL to be honest I think it’s the other way around. If there’s anyone more deserving of a crown my dear, it’s you. For being all sorts of wonderful and amazing :’) love you bb!♥