[Fic] Loud
Title: Loud [3/3]
Pairings: jaejoong/fc, slight yunjae
Rating: pg 13
Genre: romance, drabble, drama-ish
A/N: How much do you think you know about Homin and JYJ? To be honest, deep inside, I hope that this is how the relationship between JYJ & Homin really is. Even they seem distant due to legal reasons & etc, but I'm sure in their hearts they never got each other even though they have gone through so much despair.
Summary: Jaejoong slithers off to Vancouver, Canada to avert the mixture of controversies between Japan and Korea. He reunites with an old, childhood friend, who seems to know everything about him while he doesn't seem to know anything about her...
By the time I had reached the outskirts of the cedar forest, I was panting for breath.
“Jaejoong...”
I didn’t turn, and I didn’t run either. I knew Yunho would follow me even if I ran up those snow-swirled mountains. I felt my nails digging into my clammy palm and I closed my eyes, suppressing the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Then I heard Rena’s shivering voice. “Jaejoong-”
“Don’t tell me how sorry you are,” I gave her the coldest look, “I don’t buy it.” I was so angry with her for hiding the most vital secret from me. Worst of all, even knowing the history of our conflicts, she still chose to put on a live charade, and acted as if she liked me.
She didn’t quit. “Jaejoong-”
“You whore,” I spat at her ruthlessly, and I saw Yunho’s eyes widen disapprovingly behind her. His censure only stirred me on, “you had a boyfriend and you kissed me. You know who I am, and you know who Yunho with-and you go on and tamper with our relationship like playing with puppets strings.” She reached for my arm and I shrugged her off like a vermin. “I never want to see you again.”
Rena took a step back, and her expression were suddenly composed. “You mean it?”
“What you did was ten times worse than what I had done during our senior year.”
She gazed at me for a long moment, as if I was a stranger. And I returned her gaze with equal apathy, as if she was nothing to me. Then she turned away, like reenacting the scenario from ten years ago, she spun around with tremors still rolling down her spines and disappeared in golden halos of sunlight.
For some unknown reasons, I felt a chill run down my spine, and I fought to uphold my poise in front of Yunho. He was approaching me, his features tensed and his lips a minced line.
“What, are you going to lecture me now?” I bared my teeth at him, “don’t even try. You used to have the authority to-being the leader and all-but not anymore.”
Yunho’s expressions froze, stunned, he heaved a loud sigh. “Are you really going to be so critical all this time, Jae?”
“Don’t you put on your sincere act!” My voice raised by another octave; I was disgusted at how he pronounced my name as if he saw me as the same Jaejoong a year ago, and I saw him as the best friend... Because I wasn’t, and he wasn’t either. I clenched my teeth until they hurt, “what are you going to tell me-that you didn’t know she was an acquaintance of mine? That you didn’t crash my visit to humiliate me!?”
“I never wanted to humiliate you-”
“But you knew she was acquainted with me.” I repeated insistently.
He exhaled again. “You know, Jae, if you are mad at me, you didn’t have to be all that cruel with Rena.”
I felt my temples aching at his savant-like tone, “that is a completely different matter-I’m furious with both of you.” My lungs expanded, as if they were about to explode, “both of you enjoyed this scheme of retaliation-it’s perfect for you two, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
I glowered at Yunho, and tried to hold myself back from jabbing his innocent face. “Score for your boss, am I right? Isn’t it why you are dating her, Yunho-to piss me off?” God, why did every around me always had such a nasty motive. “Perfect revenge-one for their boss, and one for their deteriorated career.”
“No.” His tone was so firm that I was forced to listen, “it’s just that she talks a lot about you with me.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She knows we... used to be close.”
“Really.” I felt myself sneering.
“Wipe that sarcastic smirk off your face, Jae, and really listen,” Yunho said sharply, and I shot him another glare. “Look, I’ll confess-I knew she was your friend, and I did want to be with her because of what happened between us.” He paused, “being with her makes me feel like you’ve never really left. It feels like it’s not just Min and I on that stage, in the spotlight. It’s not just Min and I living in that same apartment-”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Yunho,” I spit out these crude words really fast, so he wouldn’t detect the waver in my voice. In my back of my mind, I knew I was too scared to hear the rest of his words, because I was scared that they were true for him-and maybe even for me.
He gazed at me for an excruciating moment, and I wondered if my expressions were still as frank as they used to be. He didn’t dare to take a step closer and maintained the distance between us. Suddenly, I found the gap between us, under the glory of the sun and enveloped by the purest sights of nature, was so ugly.
“I’ll shut up if you want me to, because I knew these naked words are not for you,” Yunho mumbled quietly, rocking on his heels, “and I’ll go, too, if you don’t want to see my face. I know Min and I owe you guys the world, but I want you to know that we never saw the three of you as anything else despite the rest of the world.” He chuckled childishly, “oops, I guess you don’t want these cheap apologies.”
I stared at the ground uselessly as these words floated between us, my insides stirring.
“But there’s no need to pull anyone else into this messy whirlpool, and the only way to get out of this hideous spiral is to stop being angry, Jae.” He asked me as he walked away into the haze of blinding radiance, “just stop being so angry with yourself.”
When I looked up from the ground, he had already vanished like a Godly mirage. I questioned silently whether I had really had this conversation with Yunho: I knew I did, because I couldn’t budge from where I was glued to for the longest time.
By the time I plodded onto the patio of the small bungalow again, Aunt Sung and my mother were both seated by the door: Aunt Sung’s face ashen and my mother’s ridden with worry. I merely focused on the muddy soles of my shoes against the wooden surface, befuddled and uncertain how to face to anyone.
Aunt Sung hastily began to apologize, “Jaejoong-ah, I didn’t mean to-”
I shook my head wordlessly and glanced at my mother: her brows were furrowed into a knot on her forehead. “Mom... let’s go home.” I didn’t wait for a response and dragged myself into the house, avoiding crossing the den where the ebony piano was.
But I passed it anyway - and it was deserted. When I traced my fingers across the cool keys, the broken chords sounded empty and without a soul.
Neither Yunho and Rena was there.
Dumbly, I slumped onto the seat, gliding my hands over the keys and kept hoping for something to happen, and I was to afraid to admit what it was.
I had my sunglasses, turtleneck and military jacket on the next morning, fully armed and prepared to face any chaotic scenario possible. Before the drive to the airport, Aunt Sung kept apologizing at the passenger window, about how she was ignorant of the intricacies between Yunho and I. I only half-listened, my eyes kept wandering over the carpet of grass and to the ecru walls of the quaint bungalow: Rena never showed. From afar, it almost seemed ghostly.
I reassured several times it was fine, and I didn’t want her to feel guilty for her generous hospitality. As we drove down the same country path again, my eyes glazed over the side view mirror again and again, and I thought the redolent scent of evergreen had really made an impression on me.
Before entering the airport, I held the straps of my carry-on luggage firmly and braced for any possibility. Luckily, my extensive masking had worked and no one paid attention to me. It was on the split-intersection of the South Korea and Japan terminal that I saw a flock of people gather. Distinctly, I heard indecent threats being thrown into the smothering air.
“Is that Japanese?” My mother asked with a frown.
“Not very nice words, for sure,” I murmured. “I think we ought notify the security, or else someone’s going to get hurt.”
Being ahead of me, my mother suddenly threw her hands to her mouth, her eyes panicked. “Oh my...It’s Yunho!”
The intonation of urgency in her voice threw me forward, and my mind was suddenly racing blankly. Only acting from my instincts, I shoved my way through the crowd of fan girls until I was in the middle of the circle.
Yunho was enmeshed in the center-he had brought no body guards with him-and his sunglasses were torn from his face. A fan boy was pointing at him with an insolent expression on his face, his voice saucy and pungent, “... you’ve disappointed all your fans. You decide to betray your three best friends at the most fatal moment, and you still righteously call the duet TVXQ...” Some fans in the crowd stirred in agreement and threw him disgusted looks, spurring the young boy on, “you shameless pig-”
In a flash of fury and a blur of overlapped faces, I leapt right into the center and heard my already clinched fist cut through the air-the heat was still rising even when the boy had already hit the marble ground. I stood over him, my back against Yunho, and I knew that he knew who I was and I could feel his fiery gaze boring into my shoulders.
The boy hollered more curses at me, and I simply turned away from him and his helping friends, “neither of you knows shit about Yunho.”
Amidst the commotions, the security guards had come running to tranquilize the assembly. I sought for a break in the crowd for escape, but Yunho had caught me by the wrist, his eyes intent but he wasn’t saying a word.
I looked back at him, and at his grip that was hot against my wrist; I hadn’t realized that I was shaking so violently, because his arms were trembling with me. He never shifted his eyes from my face, his dark orbs reflecting palpable glow of hope and astonishment that I had to break away. I had never felt such discomfort of being in my own skin, and in my subconscious, I did not regret that punch that would shower me with infamy.
The heat was still not fading as I sprinted all the way back to my own terminal and the anger was bursting through my veins. Yunho was right all this time-I wasn’t mad at him and I wasn’t mad at Min nor Rena-I was angry at myself and my reality. The fact that we were forced to walk separate paths when the five of us were already annealed together. We were never supposed to say good bye or pretend like we were strangers to one another... I was so angry for so long, but I kept punching out the wrong person for blame.
I wanted to call Rena-not to tell her how sorry I was, but let her know that I was wrong; not to accuse her of anything but set the blame on myself. I didn’t want to leave with so many loose ends untied... but I was already on the airplane to Japan as I thought of everything I could have-should have-done.
***
The phone calls started pouring in the moment I crossed the Japanese terminals; I smirked bitterly to myself, knowing that the tsunami had hit the shoreline fast and hard. They were mostly from various news agencies and from my manager, and I decided to let them posit whatever insane hypothesis they might. Just as I was about to pluck out the batteries for good, Yoochun had called.
“You saw Yunho?” His husky voice rustled through the receiver, like fine sand falling through a filter.
I affirmed simply. And it was the only words we exchanged before we both clicked off the phone in synchronized silence. At that moment, I pictured him reading the latest e-news on his laptop, with Junsu beside him, but I couldn’t picture neither of their reactions at all.
For the next three days, we continued our reticence. Neither of them called nor came to find me. And I did the same. I knew they were thinking, and I was, too. We were all thinking the same thing we had thought all this time but scared to admit out loud.
I knew they would have done the same as I did, if they were in my shoes that day.
On the fourth day, a controversy relating to a cover for Wasurenaide in China broke out like an epidemic among the fans. When I received the call from my manager, asking for my opinion on the issue, I was standing before a piano shop, their display window had a grand piano glistening in the golden light, its dark shadow an edgy contrast against the day.
I suddenly realized how much I missed Rena, but I didn’t even have her phone number or address or anything. It once again showed how selfish I really had been, only being wrapped up in my own nuisances.
For the next week, the dispute between copyright issues kept on going and several appearances had been held. There were countless fans online in defense of my rights, and my manager was too ecstatic at the unexpected publicity, despite the hapless law involvement. I watched the newspaper stack up on my desk, and the clustered skyscrapers under the sheer blue sky. My thoughts unconsciously wandered to the evocative scent of evergreen, and I doubted that I would ever be able to trek through the thick cedar forest again.
Damn, I really missed her.
“I don’t know where she is,” Yunho answered quietly when I finally had the courage to make a call. The signal was crappy and his voice kept on breaking up as if he was a planet away, “Aunt Sung told me on the last day that she might have gone to Bali.”
“Bali? What is there?”
“Did she tell you?” Yunho said incredulously, “she’s an international reporter; she travels around a lot to write articles.”
I found myself laughing idiotically as he spoke these revelations. All the missing pieces seemed to fit together perfectly at once. It was then I realized that Rena was no mystery and she was also no liar-she had not mentioned her career on purpose, knowing that it would have offended me right away. She really was considerate, and she really did care. Not because I was an Asian superstar, but for the fact that I was an old friend she still had feelings for.
“I didn’t know.” I replied sheepishly after a pause.
“She really did love you, Jaejoong,” Yunho said slowly, as if ensuring that I absorbed the weight of every word, “whether she knows it or not.”
I bit my lips and thought back to the cream-colored bungalow. “She did.”
“Well, do you?”
I laugh pathetically again, “even if I do, does it change the fact that it’s too late?”
“There’s an international cell phone she always carries around with her,” I didn’t wait for him to finish and eagerly asked for the number, writing each digit down with extreme care and gingerly slipped it between the pages of my favorite book.
The signal was really horrible, and we decided to end the conversation. Before either of us hung up, I found an anticipating reticence drifting between us, from across the ocean. “Jae, thanks for that day,” Yunho said almost shyly in the end, and I felt a tug pulling at the base of my heart. “I know it must have been hard for you, for Chun, and for Su...” he paused, and I wonder if the dryness in his voice was from the bad signal as well. “But know that I’ll be waiting for you to come around again.”
I felt both warmth and chill shooting across my body at the same time, and I desperately wanted to finally confess that I’d felt for every single word he said... But the signal cut off mercilessly as he finished, almost mocking my vain attempts.
As I stared at the phone in my hand, and Rena’s foreign digits, I decided it was finally time to come clean and let everything be said aloud.
A couple weeks had passed before the brisk start of summer; the backstage was scorching with both humid and heat that it was almost suffocating. The mass was stirring with excitement, their agog faces glistening with sweat in the sun, but written with happiness.
“You are insane for hold a fan-meeting in the middle of the day,” Junsu complained, wiping drips of sweat from his face. “I’m soaked and I haven’t even start to sing.”
I smiled crookedly. “Come on Su, don’t you think this is a good excuse to pull Chun out of filming?”
Yoochun rolled his eyes. “The only reasons we are here is to compensate for your scandal in Vancouver.”
I upheld my grin without a word.
“Well, you are lucky because I’m tired of just musicals anyway,” Junsu said good-naturedly, “and I haven’t seen Chun in weeks.”
I gave them my sincere appreciation and watched them preparing to make their appearance. In truth, I chose a time for the fan meet at the hour which Changmin and Yunho usually took their breaks. I didn’t know about Junsu and Yoochun, but after being angry for so long, I hoped my songs still spoke to them and I hoped that they would be watching from the coast of our home.
“Geez, Jae-hyung, why don’t you hurry up and don’t make anymore stupid phone calls?” Junsu called just before the curtains rose and the roar of scream began to elevate.
I waved him off and dialed the number I had hastily stuck in my pocket at the last moment. The digits were slightly smudged and I wondered if I dialed them right-because no one was picking up on the other end. I wasn’t sure how foolish I had looked nor how inane my act was, though I wanted to earn myself a last chance no matter where she was.
But she never picked up.
The curtains were soon fully raised, and I knew I had to sing. I stuffed my cell phone in my pocket, took the deepest inhale and began to feel the familiar melody build up in my throat. Being perceptive as usual, Yoochun had decided to offer me a solo for the finale. As I watched the glossy black piano rolling up the stage at the last moment and Yoochun waving the notes of Wasurenaide in his hand, I felt my throat tighten as I rested a hand firmly onto his shoulder.
The sunlight was vigorous, resting directly above the simple stage. The summer heat was sweltering and I was showered by the brilliant rings of the midday. Sweat drenched my shirt, and my hair was embarrassingly stuck to my wet forehead. A little breathlessly, I said to the crowd, “this song is for a friend, and I’m sure you are all familiar with it.”
The crumpled score was before me, but I was seeing something else as my hand moved across the keyboard. The gentle sound began to flow like a cool stream, snaking over the fissure between green valleys teeming with life. Wild, screaming faces, and Junsu and Yoochun’s astonished faces filled my eyes, but I could not see them. I saw something far away, and I felt myself drifting somewhere far away, too.
“I’ll become the wind and gently wrap around you;
right now, I want to fly to a world with you in it.
Even though I want to see you so much,
I miss you so much,
I’m waiting for you, Wasurenaide.”
Do you know now, Rena? The meaning of “wasurenaide”? Do you hear me, wherever you are?
As I finished the last notes of the song, I felt warm tremors gushing over my body. Singing with my heart, mind, and soul-this was it.
As I stood up for a deep bow, I felt an intense vibration from my pockets. My vision blurred as I smiled into the camera-I knew she was calling.
-end-