Running and Hiding (Kangin/Leeteuk)
Title: Running and Hiding
Pairing: Kangin/Leeteuk, Kangin/OC, Hankyung/Heechul, Siwon/Hankyung
Genre: Romance, angst, fluff
Rating: PG-15 (for language)
Summary: Jungsu learns the hard way that running from his past will only make it easier for his past to come up and slap him in the face. And he learns, the hard way, that Youngwoon has been assisting all along.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Super Junior.
A/N: This story requires quite a lot of attention to when and which day the events are happening, so um, I hope you don’t get too confused.
Written from Jungsu’s POV
- Day 223
He stares at the blank screen in front of him, the untouched keyboard, not knowing exactly what to do. There is a phrase for it, and as Jungsu puzzles through his vocabulary, his brain finally kicks in and supplies him with the phrase ‘writer’s block’.
Jungsu takes a sip of his coffee and, nudging the curtains open, peeks out into the bright sunlight. There is an unusual amount of people on the streets, clad in shorts and t-shirts. Jungsu has long forgotten how the sun feels on his skin.
A man with long hair, effeminate features, and a nose held up high walks past Jungsu’s window, his hand in another man’s. He’s talking and gesturing wildly to the man next to him, who simply smiles and nods, his foreign features set in a patient expression.
Jungsu stops typing and buries his head in his hands. The two men pass by his window. Raising his head, Jungsu scans the stream of people outside through the crack of his curtains for, hopefully, another source of inspiration.
Across the road, a young man with a wide smile settled on his features bends down to tie his shoelaces.
Jungsu picks his mug up and takes another sip from the black liquid within, watching as a man behind slaps the other on the back, causing him to stumble and almost fall face first into the sidewalk. He watches as the former gives a gummy smile before holding out his hand to the latter. Jungsu feels a pang of remorse and jealousy.
Then, a man with dark eyes and a dimple decorating his right cheek, holding a stack of papers, walks past. Jungsu swiftly shuts the curtains, heart fluttering in anxiety.
Did he see me?
The door bell rings. Jumping in alarm, Jungsu takes a deep breath before going to his door and peering cautiously out of the peephole. The corridor outside is empty. Sighing in relief, Jungsoo opens the door, slides his hand out, and grabs the plastic bag placed on the floor. Leaving a wad of bills under the door mat, Jungsu closes the door in quick succession and dumps the plastic bag unceremoniously on the kitchen table.
The phone rings. It rings another three times, before Jungsu manages to unfreeze his limbs and make his way to the living room.
“Hello?” He queries warily into the phone.
“Stop being a loner.” The caller’s voice is firm, a hint of amusement dancing at the edges.
Jungsu smiles and relaxes against the wall, a finger absentmindedly playing with his long, grown out hair. “Shut up,” he says, sounding much brighter.
“You’ve been a loner ever since the first day I saw you,” Youngwoon scoffs. “You should come out one day; there are things you’re missing out on.”
Jungsu parts his curtains and peeks out again. “Like what?” He asks, his grip on the phone tightening.
Youngwoon pauses for a beat. “Like me.” The words are soft, almost as if they aren’t meant for him to hear. Jungsu feels his heart skip a beat and his hands turn clammy. He gives the people on the streets another quick onceover.
It’s a cold December day, and there isn’t a soul outside. Dead leaves make their way across the gravel, the bare branches of naked trees swaying in sync with the howling of the wind. Jungsu sits in his chair, a blank screen in front of him, sipping at his coffee.
His eyelids are almost falling into place when Jungsu notices a movement in front of his window in his peripheral vision. He blinks and sits up straight in his chair. There’s a lone man standing across the road, hands deep in his pockets, facing him.
Another second passes, in which Jungsu waits for the man to continue on his way, before he realizes that the man in staring at him. Jungsu instinctively cowers behind his computer and pretends that he hadn’t seen the man outside mouth ‘hello’ to him.
“Haha,” Jungsu says drily, deliberately sending the message to the Youngwoon that he isn’t amused by his choice of words. The crowd in front of his window parts, and there he is, a phone to his ear, waving at him through the glass. Jungsu resists the urge to lift his hand and wave back.
“See, you’re at the exact same place I left you yesterday.” Youngwoon’s lips moves and his voice enter Jungsu’s ears through the phone.
“That’s because I’m a writer. I stay at the same place every day to write,” Jungsu retorts, staring unabashedly at the built man in front of him, with his smiling eyes and that confident demeanor.
“But you’ve been complaining to me for days that you have no inspiration. Come out with me! There are so many things outside that can give you inspiration.”
Jungsu feels his insides clench. He wonders if he should tell him… but no. It’s too embarrassing.
The second day, Jungsu keeps his curtains drawn apart, just to see if that man walks past and greets him again. He isn’t disappointed, for this time, the man walks right up to his window and, standing on his tiptoes, blows against the glass. Jungsu is taken aback; his chair is rolled right up to the wall across the room, and he watches with wide eyes as the stranger outside writes the word ‘hello’ on the condensed part of the window. Jungsu has to read it upside down in order to understand it. The man waves, and then departs.
“Jungsu? Why aren’t you responding?”
Jungsu shakes the memory out of his mind. “I’m here,” he says hastily, looking outside at Youngwoon, who’s ignoring the grumbling crowd of people pushing past him and simply smiling like an idiot. It’s giving Jungsu second hand embarrassment. “No thanks. I don’t like going out.”
Youngwoon laughs. “As expected,” he remarks lightheartedly, and smiles at Jungsu through the glass. Jungsu closes the curtains so that Youngwoon can’t see the blush that’s colouring his cheeks.
On the third day, Jungsu has finally gathered enough courage to smile back at the man. The man is holding a sheet of cardboard, and on it he’s written a phone number. It occurs to Jungsu that the man is rather handsome, with eyes that curve downward when he smiles, and a cheeky wink. The man makes a ‘call me’ sign with his hand, and winks again. Jungsu absentmindedly copies his number down on the - still - blank screen in front of him, before he realizes what he’s doing. Before he can decline the offer, the man outside has disappeared.
“Jungsu, you’re spacing out again. You’ve been doing that a lot, recently.”
Before Youngwoon can continue on a more detailed rant of how he hasn’t been paying sufficient attention to him during their phone calls, Jungsu interrupts, “Youngwoon, I need to go now. I have inspiration.”
Youngwoon makes a disappointed noise. “Won’t you tell me what you’re planning to write?” He asks, voice deep and tone solemn. Jungsu feels his cheeks heat up again.
“I can’t tell you,” he says, heart pounding hard against his ribcage.
“Why?” Youngwoon complains.
“Because… just because,” Jungsu says, and clicks the ‘end call’ button before Youngwoon can protest any further.
- Day 4
The fourth day comes around, and Jungsu has yet to call that strange - admittedly handsome - man. He cups his chin and stares out the window at the corner of the building, waiting for the man to walk around the corner, look up, and smile at him. Eventually, Jungsu catches sight of a familiar pair of shoes, and abruptly, he tries to hide his face behind his computer. He straightens up, shamefaced, when said man steps up to his window, holding yet another sheet of cardboard, which inquires, “You don’t like me?”
Jungsu shakes his head quickly, because (what, are you kidding me how can I not like you) he doesn’t want the man to misunderstand. The man outside flashes him a smile again and, digging a marker out of his pocket, writes another question on the cardboard, “Then why don’t you call me?”
When Jungsu doesn’t answer (his brain is too busy trying not to die from the man’s smile), the man turns the cardboard around, such that the back is facing Jungsu. He wants his number, Jungsu realizes after a while of staring blankly at the man’s features. He finds it strange that such a good looking man would want to pay so much attention to a loner like him.
After another moment of indecisiveness, Jungsu writes his number on a piece of notebook paper, before pressing it to the window pane. He vaguely remembers his grandmother once scolding him for giving their phone number to another stranger, but his grandmother isn’t around any longer, and the man outside looks trustworthy.
He gives Jungsu another smile and, while Jungsu is trying not to reel in shock at the man’s noticeably sharp cheek bones, walks past his window.
- Day 223
Jungsu is rudely interrupted from his writing when the phone rings again, causing a line of nonsensical words to appear on his screen.
“Jungsu,” Youngwoon whines on the other line. “You hung up on me!”
“That’s Jungsu hyung to you,” Jungsu snaps, mildly irritated, partly because Youngwoon is disturbing him, and partly because his heart starts beating a little faster when he hears Youngwoon’s voice.
“You don’t even know my age,” Youngwoon says.
“I’m guessing you’re twenty-two, at least.”
Youngwoon sounds flattered. “No, I’m twenty-four.”
Jungsoo shrugs. “You’re still younger than me,” he says airily, even though it isn’t something to be particularly smug about.
“How old are you?” Youngwoon asks. Jungsu opens his mouth to reply, and then realizes he doesn’t know how old he is. It’s been too long since he’s celebrated his birthday.
“I was born in 1983,” he says instead, leaving Youngwoon to do the calculation. Truthfully, Jungsu doesn’t want to know how old he is, and he doesn’t want to do the calculations to find out for himself. “Call me tomorrow, okay?” He presses the ‘end call’ button again, and disconnects the phone from the power socket.
- Day 5
The first time Youngwoon calls is at nine in the night.
It’s been years since the phone has last been used, and Jungsu has to scramble around the room to find the source of its ringing before uncovering it under a pile of dusty books. He picks the phone out of its holder, looking at it quizzically before remembering that he has to press the top of the phone to his ear and speak into the small holes at the bottom.
“Hello?” It’s a man’s voice. His voice does all sorts of things it shouldn’t to Jungsu’s anatomy, and he sinks to the floor. “Hello?” The man repeats.
“Who are you?” Jungsu asks at last, slightly surprised at the softness and hoarseness of his voice. Perhaps it is because he hasn’t used his voice in months. Jungsu clears his throat.
“The person standing outside your window,” the man says, and Jungsu looks up from his seat on the floor, to see that very man grinning at him, a phone to his ear. His eyes are twinkling, cheeks flushed from the cold. Jungsu blushes and, clambering up from the floor, promptly shut the curtains.
“Hey, you didn’t have to do that,” the man on the other line says in an injured tone of voice. “I was enjoying the look on your face.” Jungsu decides then and there that he doesn’t like him. “You’re really cute when you act all embarrassed like that.” And Jungsu feels his heart flop upside down.
“I know this is weird, but I feel like I’ve seen you before,” the man continues. “Do you want to be friends?”
Jungsu cracks the curtains open a tiny bit. The man is staring right at him. He closes the curtains hastily and turns away. “Uh…” is all he manages in response to the offer. Something in his head kicks him and asks him why he can’t respond appropriately to such an obvious pick-up line.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the man says brightly, and Jungsu can almost see the smile on his face. “So, what’s your name?”
Jungsu swallows. There’s no harm in telling him, is there? “Park Jungsu,” he whispers.
“Jungsu…” The man’s words are soft, like he’s testing Jungsu’s name out. “My name’s Youngwoon,” he says at last, and then there’s a click.
Jungsu stares down at the phone, and feels his mouth spread into an absurdly dreamy smile. Twenty minutes later, Jungsu wakes up from his trance to see three whole lines of Youngwoon’s name typed out on his computer screen.
- Day 7
“What’s your favourite colour?”
Jungsu blinks. “What?”
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“Um…” Jungsu purses his lips. “White?”
“Why?”
“Why… what?”
There’s a groan on the other line. “I asked, why is white your favourite colour?”
Jungsu feels a little offended. It’s not his fault he hasn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in one, two years. Well, maybe it is. “Because white is a pure colour,” he answers.
“… Pure?” Youngwoon sounds incredulous.
“Yeah.”
“What do you work as?” Youngwoon continues with his tirade of questions.
“Why are you asking so many questions?”
“It’s only been three,” Youngwoon answers. “So, what do you work as?”
“A writer,” Jungsu replies.
“Do you live alone?”
“Why do you ask?” Jungsu can’t help but ask suspiciously.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to break into your house and murder you or anything,” Youngwoon replies breezily, and Jungsu can hear his heart speeding up. “Where are your relatives?”
It’s almost like Youngwoon’s presented him with the key of his locked up memories. Jungsu bites his bottom lip anxiously.
“Jungsu? Are you there?”
“I’m… here,” Jungsu says, after another moment of silence. “Um, they live close by. Sorry, I have to go now.” Lies.
“Oh,” Youngwoon sounds disappointed. “Good-bye, then.” He’s met with silence, and a click.
Jungsu looks at the phone on his desk, reflecting the light of his lamp, and almost regrets not telling Youngwoon the truth. Almost, but not quite.
- Day 71
Jungsu realizes he’s fallen in love with Youngwoon when he doesn’t show up one night. He sits in front of his window, the phone by his side, staring out into the black oblivion of nothingness, and wonders if Youngwoon is just another one of his hallucinations. It wouldn’t be the first time.
You shouldn’t have thought he would stay by your side. It’s almost miraculous that Youngwoon has kept you company for the past two months.
Jungsu feels his breathing quicken. His stomach does a weird flop, and not in the good way either, like when he sees Youngwoon standing outside his window.
You don’t even have his number. Why did you delete it from your computer? He’s not going to call, ever again.
The world goes slightly hazy. Jungsu starts feeling dizzy and more than a little queasy; feels his heart shake his whole body with every slam on his ribcage.
You’ve been presumptuous. He’s not going to call.
Jungsu doubles up, throwing up his dinner on the floor. He hears himself panting, deep, heavy breaths, trying to suck in as much air as possible before his stomach convulses again, and colorless liquid start pouring out of his mouth. He’s never coming back, a voice whispers to him. Jungsu can hear himself screaming, collapsing on the floor, and suddenly he’s not him anymore. He’s floating just a meter above himself, watching as his body starts writhing around, and as his mouth opens in a silent plea for help.
He’s sucked back into reality when he hears hollering from outside, when the phone starts ringing, when he hears a familiar voice shouting his name over and over again. Jungsu feels his heart start beating at a slower pace, feels his breathing regulate to a normal speed.
The voice outside stops and Jungsu wonders again if the man’s voice is just another part of his imagination. He curls up on himself, and is about to fall unconscious from the exhaustion when he hears a loud crash, and feels somebody’s arms carrying him up into the air. But by then, he’s too tired to open his eyes and look at the person who’s holding him.
- Day 72
Jungsu awakes to a soft humming, to seeing Youngwoon in front of him. Jungsu closes his eyes again and breathes in Youngwoon’s scent, relishing in its muskiness, before his alarm senses kick in. Jungsu is about to push Youngwoon away when he realizes that he’s simply cleaning his face with a wet towel. Then he realizes that Youngwoon is in his apartment. Jungsu feels his chest tighten, and is about to spring out of his bed and perhaps send a kick to the Youngwoon’s head, when Youngwoon starts dabbing the wet towel on his mouth, his fingers accidentally brushing Jungsu's bottom lip. Jungsu freezes.
“What happened yesterday?” Youngwoon’s voice sounds even better in reality, smooth and comforting, and Jungsu feels his heart flip all over again. “I come by just a few hours late and I see you vomiting all over the place?”
Jungsu closes his eyes in chagrin. “I’m prone to panic attacks,” he admits to Youngwoon, and tells himself he isn’t lying. It’s just a half-truth.
“So should I come by every hour to make sure you don’t die on me?” Youngwoon inquires, an amused smile on his features. Jungsu feels like hitting him, which is strange, because he’s usually very docile.
“How did you come in?” He asks, strangely at ease with Youngwoon.
Youngwoon looks slightly guilty. “I broke the door down,” he confesses. “But I thought you died, or something.” His thumb brushes Jungsu’s upper lip this time and Jungsu pretends, albeit with some difficulty, not to notice. It’s nice to know that someone still cares for him.
Jungsu doesn’t realize he’s spoken his thoughts out loud until Youngwoon gives him a concerned look, and asks, “Isn’t your family around?”
He shrugs and doesn’t tell him that his mother suffers from the same disorder as him.
It’s silent. Youngwoon continues staring at him worriedly, a small crease in his brows, and Jungsu is tempted to kiss those slightly pouted lips. He slaps himself mentally.
“I need to leave for work now,” Youngwoon says, finally rising from the bed and casting a critical look around the room. Jungsu’s eyes follow the man’s actions. “I… I’ll drop by tonight.” He turns and goes out of the door, only after he’s made sure to prop the door up against the side and promised to get Jungsu a new one.
- Day 223
Jungsu opens his eyes and realizes it’s already late in the day. He must have fallen asleep. The crowd of people in front of his building has lessened, save a few men clad in business suits bustling past.
Grabbing his mug of cold coffee, Jungsu brings it to the kitchen and, staring dreamily at nothing in particular, starts washing the interior of the mug. Youngwoon smells nice, he thinks to himself, before looking down and realizing he’s forgotten to turn the water on.
The doorbell rings. Jungsu drops the mug in surprise, his eyes large with trepidation. His groceries and mail aren’t supposed to arrive ‘til next week…
Tiptoeing to the door, Jungsu peeks through the peephole, exhaling in relief when he sees Youngwoon standing outside. Opening the door, Jungsu hustles him in, before closing it shut as quickly as possible.
“Why are you here?” Jungsu asks tersely, and immediately wants to snatch his words back, because he sounds so much colder than he’s intended his question to be.
“My girlfriend kicked me out of her house,” Youngwoon says dazedly. “I don't have a place to stay.”
“Don’t you have other friends you can go to?” Jungsu asks, feeling his heart sink. So Youngwoon was straight, after all.
“I do, but you stay closest to where I work,” Youngwoon answers, sinking into Jungsu’s kitchen chair and looking like the world had collapsed on him. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Uh, well.” Jungsu gestures around his apartment. “It’s not exactly very large…”
Youngwoon shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Jungsu grimaces. “I don’t think you should. I’ve thrown up on the floor countless of times, I doubt it’s the most hygienic place to sleep.”
Youngwoon sits up straight and suddenly looks worried. “Will my being here affect you?” He asks anxiously.
“No! No, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Jungsu answers quickly. “I guess you can take my bed; I’ll bring out a spare blanket and sleep on the floor.” He watches as Youngwoon scrutinizes the sparsely furniture room. There’s a table in front of the window directly opposite, a bed and a bookshelf filled with dusty old books on the left, and the kitchen and bathroom on the right.
“Absolutely not,” Youngwoon chides. “I can’t believe you don’t have a couch or even a television set.”
Jungsu cringes, and he feels that feeling wash over him again, the feeling that causes his chest to get all tight and makes him want to curl up in a corner and die.
“What’s the matter?” Youngwoon sounds concerned, again. “You look like I just hit you with a stick and called you a bad dog.”
Despite feeling like dying, Jungsu feels his mouth turn up at the corners. “I don’t like watching the television,” he admits. “That’s why I don’t have use for a couch, either.”
“You are one strange person, you know that?” Youngwoon comments, before getting up the chair and enveloping Jungsu in a hug. Jungsu is too surprised to react properly to Youngwoon’s words; instead, he feels his own arms reaching around Youngwoon to accommodate the sudden invasion of space. “We should share the bed,” Youngwoon says after a while, patting Jungsu’s back. “Do you mind?”
Jungsu doesn’t answer. He hasn’t been hugged for such a long time, not by his parents, not by his non-existent, hallucinated friends, not by anybody. And he realizes he doesn’t want to let go of Youngwoon.
“Jungsu,” Youngwoon is saying. “Jungsu, let go, I need to unpack.”
“That’s Jungsu hyung to you,” Jungsu says, words muffled by Youngwoon’s neck.
Suddenly, the door creaks open, followed by a small gasp of shock. Jungsu feels his head whip around in alarm.
“Youngwoon.”
Youngwoon jumps away from Jungsu, his eyes wide and panicked.
“So you were cheating on me then. With a man, no less.” There’s no mistaking the badly disguised disgust in the girl’s voice. Short, cropped hair covering her face, she bends down and drops a suitcase on the floor. “Good bye,” she says simply, before closing the door quietly again.
Jungsu looks at Youngwoon, his eyes following Youngwoon’s gaze to the door. There is visible pain in his eyes.
“Sorry, that’s my girl - ex-girlfriend,” Youngwoon explains gruffly, brushing past Jungsu and picking his suitcase up from the floor. “At least she’s nice enough to pack my clothes for me and bring them here.” He looks apologetically at Jungsu. “I guess I’ll be staying here temporarily, until I can find my own apartment.”
Dazed, Jungsu nods, and walks to the door, double locking it. “So…” he starts hesitantly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Youngwoon shrugs as he unzips his suitcase. “She started getting suspicious of me when I didn’t return back home the night of our anniversary. Remember? When I found you suffering from one of your attacks? Then, she found your contact in my phone and realized I called you daily. The rest is history.”
“And you’re not… disturbed by that?” Jungsu asks awkwardly. “That she thinks you cheated on her with me? Shouldn’t you clear things up with her?”
“I have no reason to,” Youngwoon replies noncommittally, and Jungsu can’t help but feel like there’s supposed to be a hidden meaning in his answer.
-
In the end, Jungsu ends up alone in his bed, because he kicked Youngwoon (on the crotch) off the bed when Youngwoon tried wrapping his arms around Jungsu’s waist for warmth.
“It’s cold,” Youngwoon had said, but Jungsu paid him no heed. Eventually, Jungsu managed to dig up an extra mattress and blanket from the recesses of his closet and give it to Youngwoon.
“Sleep,” Jungsu ordered, pointing to the mattress. Youngwoon gave him a wounded look, but complied.
- Day 224
Jungsu almost wets himself in fright when he wakes up to feel muscled arms around his shoulders and something painfully hard poking into his left thigh. It is only after a count to ten and a round of breathe in, breathe out; breathe in, breathe out does Jungsu manage to get a hold of himself. Shifting his head slightly to the right, Jungsu almost gets another heart attack when he realizes his ‘attacker’ is Youngwoon, because isn’t Youngwoon supposed to be sleeping on the floor?
Out of utter misfortune, Jungsu shifts, and again he feels that solid thing pressing into his butt. Jungsu realizes, after a moment of vexation, that it isn’t Youngwoon’s foot as he’s been hoping for, but a rather impressive bulge in Youngwoon’s pants. Mortified, Jungsu slips out of Youngwoon’s arms and, climbing over his built physique, lands (stumbles, rather) on Youngwoon’s cold mattress.
-
“What are you doing?” Jungsu asks through a mouthful of toothpaste, blinking blearily at the man through the mirror.
“Mistaking you for my girlfriend,” Youngwoon replies smoothly from behind, arms inching around Jungsu’s waist, sniffing Jungsu’s neck.
“Youngwoon, it’s too early to be playing whatever perverted prank you’re planning on,” Jungsu mumbles. But then Youngwoon licks him, and he promptly spits his mouthful of toothpaste onto the mirror.
Youngwoon draws another warm line across Jungsu’s collarbone before cracking up. “You should have seen the look on your face!” He cries, practically falling over himself in his haste to get out of the bathroom.
“I did see the look on my face, I WAS FACING THE MIRROR!” Jungsu yells in response, flicking his toothbrush at him.
“That’s gross!” Youngwoon chokes out, bent over, laughing.
“Not as gross as you… you licking me,” Jungsu answers snippily, before laughing along with Youngwoon, whacking him on the chest as a form of revenge. Youngwoon collapses on the floor, pulling Jungsu along with him, and they stop laughing long enough to realize the positions they’re in.
The laughter drying from his lips, Jungsu looks down at Youngwoon’s hands, situated comfortably on his hips, up to Youngwoon’s wide, equally startled, eyes. Conveniently, he feels something pressing up against him again. Blushing furiously, Jungsu shakes Youngwoon’s hands off his hips and stands up, wiping excess toothpaste from the corner of his lips. With that, he escapes into the bathroom again, this time making sure to lock the door.
- Day 277
“Jungsu…”
“That’s Jungsu hyung to you, Youngwoon, how many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“Please,” Youngwoon snorts. “You’re two years older but you act younger than I am.”
Jungsu feels strangely relieved by his words. “Does that mean I’m only twenty-six?” He asks, almost in wonder.
“Do you even remember your birthday, you hermit?” Youngwoon asks, reaching up and squeezing Jungsu’s hand, an assurance to Jungsu.
Jungsu sighs and holds Youngwoon’s hand tight, not letting go. “No, I don’t,” he states flatly. “I haven’t celebrated it in years.”
Jungsu feels Youngwoon jerk on his hand, just as he wanted, causing him to roll off the bed and fall smack onto Youngwoon. “Why don’t you ever tell me about your past or your family?” He asks, his voice sending pleasant vibrations through Jungsu’s body.
Jungsu shrugs. “It’s embarrassing,” he says, shifting and snuggling under the blankets with Youngwoon.
“What’s embarrassing about being agoraphobic?”
Youngwoon’s question takes Jungsu by surprise. He feels his heart speed up and his burning sensation in his chest again. “Ho-how do you know?” Jungsu stammers.
“I read your story,” Youngwoon says, not sounding at all contrite for hacking into Jungsu’s computer. “And it’s pretty obvious from the way you act. Why didn’t you tell me before that you were agoraphobic?”
Jungsu groans. “I’m hoping you didn’t read the whole story,” he says, avoiding Youngwoon’s queries.
He feels Youngwoon hesitate before answering, “I… didn’t?”
Jungsu spits out an expletive.
“Relax,” Youngwoon says, patting Jungsu on the back. “Don’t get a panic attack and die on me.”
“I’m not a thing, Youngwoon,” Jungsu growls, his cheeks burning. “I won’t die on you.”
“That’s a relief. So…?”
“I don’t understand you,” Jungsu says, subtly changing the subject. “Why aren’t you worried about the both of us sleeping in the same bed?”
“This is why you have to be more exposed to the society, Jungsu. You’re just so dense.”
“I don’t get it.”
Youngwoon remains silent and continues groping patting Jungsu on the back.
Jungsu sighs. “Why are you so stubborn?” he questions, burying his head in Youngwoon’s neck and breathing in deeply.
“If I weren’t, you would never have met me,” Youngwoon answers. “So, what happened to your parents?”
Jungsu swallows. “My mother’s agoraphobic, like I am,” he says quietly, still inhaling in Youngwoon’s scent. “When I reached the age of ten, she started to find me frightening, because I constantly embarrassed her, telling my friends that there was something wrong with her and bringing them over to our house.” Jungsu pauses, and listens to Youngwoon’s rhythmic breathing. “Eventually she convinced my father to send me away to my grandparents…”
“I don’t want him anymore.”
Jungsu squats in front of his parents’ room, pressing his ear to the opening of the door. He’s old enough to know that his mother’s words aren’t good.
“Dear, maybe you want to rethink this? How about we send him to your parents instead?”
“I hate him. I hate him. Just get him away.”
His mother is sobbing, spitting out every word with hatred. Jungsu decides he’s heard enough. The next day, he’s sent to the other side of Korea to live with his grandparents.
Jungsu tries not to let the tears escape. “There was nothing wrong with me. Not until I turned sixteen, and my cousin, he -” Jungsu swallows the lump in his throat - “he killed my dad. He kept insisting that he had to pay back his father’s debts, and one day… he just killed him.” Jungsu takes in a shuddering breath. Youngwoon’s hand is rubbing circles on the small of his back, and it is somewhat consoling. “That was when the panic attacks started. I started envisioning my father in my room, but when I reached out to him… he disappeared. My cousin was sent for therapy instead of jail. The police concluded that he had mental instabilities but…” Jungsu trails off, before skipping on to the next point. “Every time my grandparents announced that my relatives were visiting, I locked myself in my bedroom and refused to come out, even if it wasn’t my cousin visiting. When I turned eighteen, I moved here. I haven’t been in touch with my family ever since, and they don’t know where I live. I don’t even know if my grandparents are still alive. But my cousin, I've seen him around here.”
It’s silent for a while, wherein Jungsu’s hiccups and shuddering breaths fill the silence. Jungsu doesn’t tell Youngwoon that his cousin is still out for revenge; only this time, he wants him dead.
The door is shaking from the impact of his cousin’s fists. “Jungsu! Come out!”
Jungsu is crouched in the corner of the room, as far away from the door as possible. He wills the shadows to envelop him and draw him out of the room.
“Come out now!”
He’s insane, Jungsu thinks. He’s after him to get his debts returned, instead of his father. He’s insane.
The door rattles some more. To his relief, Jungsu hears his grandmother chastising his cousin, and the slamming of fists on his door stops. Their footsteps recede, and Jungsu can hear the creaking of the wooden staircase as they descend down the steps.
“I’m sorry,” Youngwoon says at last.
“What are you sorry for?” Jungsu asks through his hiccups. “It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me about your past,” Youngwoon says solemnly. “Go on, soak my shirt, I don’t mind.”
Jungsu feels his lips quirk up against his will. “Why are you like this?” He asks, wiping away his tears. “How can you be so mean to me when I’m evidently in a miserable mood?”
“Because,” Youngwoon laughs softly, “You seem to find my being mean amusing and funny.”
Jungsu sighs contentedly and makes himself comfortable atop Youngwoon. Five minutes pass, before Youngwoon murmurs, “I’ll never send you away like your mother did.”
“That’s because you don’t suffer from a disorder called agoraphobia,” Jungsu answers, effectively ruining whatever romantic moment they had been sharing. Youngwoon makes an offended sound, and Jungsu smiles.
- Day 365
Jungsu stares down at the letters in his hands and has the urge to bang his head on the table. Not one, not one publishing house wants to buy his book, and Jungsu is left to wonder if it’s because he’s written a romance novel between two men.
The door slams open. Jungsu jumps, sending his coffee splashing onto the white marble tiles.
“Happy anniversary!” Youngwoon’s (no longer smooth and comforting) voice enters Jungsu’s ears, causing him to jump all over again and send his mug flying across the room.
“I know you’re happy, but you don’t have to thank me by trying to kill me with a mug,” Youngwoon teases, and Jungsu feels like hitting him, which is strange, because he’s usually a very docile person… not.
“Am I missing out on something?” Jungsu asks, after he manages to calm himself down. “I don’t seem to remember us being a couple and celebrating anniversaries.”
“You seem more irritable than normal, deary,” Youngwoon says fondly, holding a bouquet of roses out to Jungsu. “Care to join me for a dance?”
Jungsu stares dubiously at the bouquet. “When I take this,” he begins, glancing up at Youngwoon’s smiling face, “Is it going to blow up in my face and cause me to choke on flower petals?”
Youngwoon looks amused. “No, of course not,” he assures. “This is an anniversary present from me. It’s officially been a year since I first met you and you tried to hide yourself away by ducking behind your computer.”
“Well then,” Jungsu says, placated, taking the bouquet from Youngwoon’s hand and completely ignoring Youngwoon’s attempts to make him smile. “Thank you.” He turns back to the computer.
“You’re so anti social,” Youngwoon grumbles from behind him, all mirthfulness gone from his voice. “I come home every day, and you simply acknowledge me with a grunt.”
Jungsu sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says glumly. “But nobody seems to want to publish my book and… I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore.”
Hands tug at his shoulders, forcing him up and spinning him around such that he is facing Youngwoon. “Stop being so depressed,” Youngwoon orders, “And dance with me.” His hand slips into his pocket and a soft melody fills the room.
Jungsu blinks his eyes once. “I don’t know how to dance,” he protests, but putting his hands on Youngwoon’s shoulders anyway. “And we’re not dating, so I don’t understand why we have to celebrate our anniversary.”
Youngwoon grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Jungsu knows that look, all too well. “I’ll teach you!” Youngwoon proposes. “First, you put your hands on my cheeks,” he brings Jungsu’s hands up from his shoulders to his face, “And close your eyes.”
Jungsu looks at him skeptically. “I don’t think this is how you dance,” he says, but doesn’t step away from Youngwoon. He quite likes the way Youngwoon can warm him up with just a single touch of his hands.
“Just listen to me,” Youngwoon insists, placing his hands on Jungsu’s waist. “Close your eyes.”
Jungsu does as he is told, anticipation burning in the pit of his stomach. In romance novels that he’s read, the two mains more often than not ends up kissing in situations like this, and suddenly his mouth has gone absolutely dry. He feels Youngwoon’s head bend forward, and Jungsu’s first instinct is to step quickly away and hide under his bed. But he doesn’t, and Jungsu is glad he doesn’t, because Youngwoon stops an inch away from Jungsu, and he feels Youngwoon smile.
“You can open your eyes now,” Youngwoon murmurs, and Jungsu obliges, opening his eyes and blinking in surprise at their close proximity. Then, he notices a piece of paper between Youngwoon’s teeth, much like how he would hold a rose in his mouth.
Jungsu’s hands trail down from Youngwoon’s cheeks to the piece of paper in his mouth, tugging from his teeth and tearing it open, his heart beating twice as fast as before. He skims through the lines, and his shoulders sag. “Nobody wants to buy my book,” he says dejectedly, and almost crumples the piece of paper before his eyes catch a handwritten note at the bottom of the page. Glancing up at Youngwoon, whose expression has gone from impish to nervous, Jungsu brings the paper a little closer to his face.
I love you too
Jungsu feels the thumping of his heart turn erratic.
“You work at…” Jungsu’s eyes dart up to the name of the publishing house, “SM Books?”
Youngwoon doesn’t move from where he’s pressed up against Jungsu. “Yeah,” he says uneasily. “Your book is very promising but I’m afraid,” his voice drops to a whisper, “… homosexual romance novels aren’t as appreciated as much as the run of the mill romance books we read. The people in SM Books can get kind of picky, too.” His voice returns to normal, “I enjoyed reading it, though. It’s interesting that you chose the name Leeteuk, it really suits you.”
“So…” Jungsu looks up at him owlishly, suddenly very aware of Youngwoon’s hands on his waist. “You love me too? I thought you were straight.”
Youngwoon simply gazes at him with unblinking eyes, and Jungsu gets the impression that Youngwoon must want to kiss him. It occurs to Jungsu that the last time he kissed someone was when he was fourteen, a full twelve years ago.
Jungsu doesn’t realize he’s been leaning away from Youngwoon until his head hits the cold, hard surface of the wall. He feels his eyes fall close, half anticipating and half dreading the kiss, and when Jungsu feels Youngwoon’s breath on his lips, his first instinct is to dodge, run away, and hide under his bed. He doesn’t move though, because it seems like his legs have been glued to the floor.
“I don’t know.”
Jungsu doesn’t feel Youngwoon’s breath on his lips anymore. Opening his eyes in slight disappointment, he sees Youngwoon on the opposite side of the room, running a hand through his hair and looking troubled. “I don’t know,” he mutters again, kicking at a pile of his books. They topple over, causing a cloud of dust rise.
“Are you okay with this?” Youngwoon fixes Jungsu with an intense stare. “Should I love you?”
Jungsu lifts his hair up from the nape of his neck and ties it back with a rubber band. Resisting the urge to fan himself with his hands or wipe the sweat of his hands on his pants, Jungsu takes an unsteady step towards Youngwoon. Youngwoon opens his arms out for him, and Jungsu runs into them like a little child, because it’s been years since anybody has ever loved him.
- Day 369
“We should go out,” Youngwoon says from his position on Jungsu’s bed. Jungsu is, as usual, staring at the screen of his computer. “…For a date or something. It’s Christmas today.”
“You know I can’t leave the house,” Jungsu answers, turning around on his chair. “Why aren’t you out celebrating with your friends?”
Youngwoon lies down and stares at the ceiling. “I’d rather spend it with you,” he says absently. “You have nothing to be afraid of, really. I’ll be there with you, remember?”
Jungsu looks at him doubtfully. “I don’t think I can.”
“It’ll be fine,” Youngwoon coaxes. “I won’t bring you to crowded places. There’s just this place I really want to -”
“No, Youngwoon. I can’t.” Jungsu can hear his heart beating rapidly, and he really doesn’t like the prospect of going out.
Youngwoon gets up from the bed and approaches Jungsu. “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says softly, bringing Jungsu up for another hug. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I’ll wait.”
Jungsu feels his heart quiet down. Miracles, he tells himself, Youngwoon can work miracles on him, and he doesn’t really know how. “Will you leave me?” He mumbles into Youngwoon’s shirt. “I don’t think I deserve you.”
There’s a pause. “I won’t,” Youngwoon says at last, “I’m going to help you, Jungsu. I’ll help you regain your normality again.”
“It’s Jungsu hyung,” Jungsu murmurs, but he really doesn’t care anymore.
“Actually,” Youngwoon says after a while. “I don’t think I want to let you out in public. Who knows that kind of wolves would start chasing after you?”
Jungsu giggles (Since when do you giggle? A voice in his head reprimands), and teases, “You’re acting like such a possessive lover.”
“Lover?” Youngwoon repeats. “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can you call me your lover?” He throws Jungsu down on the bed and climbs on top of him, a mocking leer on his lips.
Jungsu feels his eyes grow wide. “You wouldn’t,” he croaks through dry lips, licking them when Youngwoon leans closer.
“Oh?” The smirk on Youngwoon’s face disappears, and he closes the distance between the both of them. “Watch me.”
Youngwoon brushes a feathery kiss on the edge of his mouth, before slowly, softly pressing his lips on his. It is obvious to Jungsu as he stills, hands stiff on Youngwoon’s shoulders, that the descriptions of a kiss in romance novels are severely exaggerated. He doesn’t hear a choir start up, nor does he see fireworks, nor does he hear angels singing. All he can hear is his own loudly thumping heart, Youngwoon’s soft sighs (or maybe it’s his own, he isn’t very sure), and the blood rushing past his ears. Jungsu feels a tingling in his stomach, the way Youngwoon is really heavy on him, and the way Youngwoon likes to tug softly on his bottom lip before pulling away for a breath of air.
And then there’s a knock on his door. “Jungsu?” The voice that calls his name is only too familiar.
Jungsu stiffens, and Youngwoon stops kissing him. “Should I answer the door?” He asks, face inscrutable.
Jungsu shakes his head, once, twice. “No. Youngwoon, don’t!” But Youngwoon is already in front of the door, a hand on the door knob.
The voice calls out again. “Jungsu? Is that you?”
“It’s okay, Jungsu,” Youngwoon says. “He says he’s sorry.” And he unlocks the door, opening it.
Jungsu can only shake his head once more as he watches, fear causing his heart to slam against his chest, as a man, slightly shorter than Youngwoon, with a dimple indenting his right cheek, enters the apartment. It takes everything for Jungsu not to leap out of the bed and jump out the window.
“Don’t worry. He’s not going to hurt you,” Youngwoon says soothingly, and there’s sympathy in his voice.
“Jungsu.” His voice hasn’t changed. “So you’ve been here all along.”
“Youngwoon,” Jungsu’s voice is low. “Why?”
Youngwoon looks genuinely hurt. “He can help you,” he says. “I know he’s your cousin and all, but he’s given his word that he won’t tou -”
“Jungsu, listen. Your mother, she’s no longer agoraphobic,” his cousin interrupts. “I can help you, I really can.”
Jungsu realizes he’s shaking. “She’s cured?” He asks feebly, noticing that his knuckles have turned white. Youngwoon is by his side again, arms wrapped around his waist. His cousin nods, but Jungsu catches a flash of his dimple, and he knows it’s a lie.
“I’ll think about it,” Jungsu manages through his dry lips, before telling Youngwoon that he wants to be alone. Youngwoon nods and brings the man out.
“Jungsu… are you okay with this?” Youngwoon asks, concern shining in his eyes.
Jungsu prays that his voice won’t belie his calm mask. “I’m fine, I just want to be left alone,” he says slowly, enunciating every syllable clearly, before slamming the door shut and locking it twice.
He betrayed you.
The taunting voice is back. Jungsu nods, sinking to the floor, Youngwoon’s key in his hand.
He lied to you, convinced you that he loved you, that he was trustworthy; all so that he could help your cousin.
Jungsu blinks rapidly. He has to find another apartment and move out. They’ll never find him again.
- Tbc.
A/N: I apologize for the long-windedness and overload of details (and the crappy ending).
But um, I’ve made this a two-shot, so it should end happily. Here’s the sequel!
Pairing: Kangin/Leeteuk, Kangin/OC, Hankyung/Heechul, Siwon/Hankyung
Genre: Romance, angst, fluff
Rating: PG-15 (for language)
Summary: Jungsu learns the hard way that running from his past will only make it easier for his past to come up and slap him in the face. And he learns, the hard way, that Youngwoon has been assisting all along.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Super Junior.
A/N: This story requires quite a lot of attention to when and which day the events are happening, so um, I hope you don’t get too confused.
Written from Jungsu’s POV
- Day 223
He stares at the blank screen in front of him, the untouched keyboard, not knowing exactly what to do. There is a phrase for it, and as Jungsu puzzles through his vocabulary, his brain finally kicks in and supplies him with the phrase ‘writer’s block’.
Jungsu takes a sip of his coffee and, nudging the curtains open, peeks out into the bright sunlight. There is an unusual amount of people on the streets, clad in shorts and t-shirts. Jungsu has long forgotten how the sun feels on his skin.
A man with long hair, effeminate features, and a nose held up high walks past Jungsu’s window, his hand in another man’s. He’s talking and gesturing wildly to the man next to him, who simply smiles and nods, his foreign features set in a patient expression.
Jungsu stops typing and buries his head in his hands. The two men pass by his window. Raising his head, Jungsu scans the stream of people outside through the crack of his curtains for, hopefully, another source of inspiration.
Across the road, a young man with a wide smile settled on his features bends down to tie his shoelaces.
Jungsu picks his mug up and takes another sip from the black liquid within, watching as a man behind slaps the other on the back, causing him to stumble and almost fall face first into the sidewalk. He watches as the former gives a gummy smile before holding out his hand to the latter. Jungsu feels a pang of remorse and jealousy.
Then, a man with dark eyes and a dimple decorating his right cheek, holding a stack of papers, walks past. Jungsu swiftly shuts the curtains, heart fluttering in anxiety.
Did he see me?
The door bell rings. Jumping in alarm, Jungsu takes a deep breath before going to his door and peering cautiously out of the peephole. The corridor outside is empty. Sighing in relief, Jungsoo opens the door, slides his hand out, and grabs the plastic bag placed on the floor. Leaving a wad of bills under the door mat, Jungsu closes the door in quick succession and dumps the plastic bag unceremoniously on the kitchen table.
The phone rings. It rings another three times, before Jungsu manages to unfreeze his limbs and make his way to the living room.
“Hello?” He queries warily into the phone.
“Stop being a loner.” The caller’s voice is firm, a hint of amusement dancing at the edges.
Jungsu smiles and relaxes against the wall, a finger absentmindedly playing with his long, grown out hair. “Shut up,” he says, sounding much brighter.
“You’ve been a loner ever since the first day I saw you,” Youngwoon scoffs. “You should come out one day; there are things you’re missing out on.”
Jungsu parts his curtains and peeks out again. “Like what?” He asks, his grip on the phone tightening.
Youngwoon pauses for a beat. “Like me.” The words are soft, almost as if they aren’t meant for him to hear. Jungsu feels his heart skip a beat and his hands turn clammy. He gives the people on the streets another quick onceover.
It’s a cold December day, and there isn’t a soul outside. Dead leaves make their way across the gravel, the bare branches of naked trees swaying in sync with the howling of the wind. Jungsu sits in his chair, a blank screen in front of him, sipping at his coffee.
His eyelids are almost falling into place when Jungsu notices a movement in front of his window in his peripheral vision. He blinks and sits up straight in his chair. There’s a lone man standing across the road, hands deep in his pockets, facing him.
Another second passes, in which Jungsu waits for the man to continue on his way, before he realizes that the man in staring at him. Jungsu instinctively cowers behind his computer and pretends that he hadn’t seen the man outside mouth ‘hello’ to him.
“Haha,” Jungsu says drily, deliberately sending the message to the Youngwoon that he isn’t amused by his choice of words. The crowd in front of his window parts, and there he is, a phone to his ear, waving at him through the glass. Jungsu resists the urge to lift his hand and wave back.
“See, you’re at the exact same place I left you yesterday.” Youngwoon’s lips moves and his voice enter Jungsu’s ears through the phone.
“That’s because I’m a writer. I stay at the same place every day to write,” Jungsu retorts, staring unabashedly at the built man in front of him, with his smiling eyes and that confident demeanor.
“But you’ve been complaining to me for days that you have no inspiration. Come out with me! There are so many things outside that can give you inspiration.”
Jungsu feels his insides clench. He wonders if he should tell him… but no. It’s too embarrassing.
The second day, Jungsu keeps his curtains drawn apart, just to see if that man walks past and greets him again. He isn’t disappointed, for this time, the man walks right up to his window and, standing on his tiptoes, blows against the glass. Jungsu is taken aback; his chair is rolled right up to the wall across the room, and he watches with wide eyes as the stranger outside writes the word ‘hello’ on the condensed part of the window. Jungsu has to read it upside down in order to understand it. The man waves, and then departs.
“Jungsu? Why aren’t you responding?”
Jungsu shakes the memory out of his mind. “I’m here,” he says hastily, looking outside at Youngwoon, who’s ignoring the grumbling crowd of people pushing past him and simply smiling like an idiot. It’s giving Jungsu second hand embarrassment. “No thanks. I don’t like going out.”
Youngwoon laughs. “As expected,” he remarks lightheartedly, and smiles at Jungsu through the glass. Jungsu closes the curtains so that Youngwoon can’t see the blush that’s colouring his cheeks.
On the third day, Jungsu has finally gathered enough courage to smile back at the man. The man is holding a sheet of cardboard, and on it he’s written a phone number. It occurs to Jungsu that the man is rather handsome, with eyes that curve downward when he smiles, and a cheeky wink. The man makes a ‘call me’ sign with his hand, and winks again. Jungsu absentmindedly copies his number down on the - still - blank screen in front of him, before he realizes what he’s doing. Before he can decline the offer, the man outside has disappeared.
“Jungsu, you’re spacing out again. You’ve been doing that a lot, recently.”
Before Youngwoon can continue on a more detailed rant of how he hasn’t been paying sufficient attention to him during their phone calls, Jungsu interrupts, “Youngwoon, I need to go now. I have inspiration.”
Youngwoon makes a disappointed noise. “Won’t you tell me what you’re planning to write?” He asks, voice deep and tone solemn. Jungsu feels his cheeks heat up again.
“I can’t tell you,” he says, heart pounding hard against his ribcage.
“Why?” Youngwoon complains.
“Because… just because,” Jungsu says, and clicks the ‘end call’ button before Youngwoon can protest any further.
- Day 4
The fourth day comes around, and Jungsu has yet to call that strange - admittedly handsome - man. He cups his chin and stares out the window at the corner of the building, waiting for the man to walk around the corner, look up, and smile at him. Eventually, Jungsu catches sight of a familiar pair of shoes, and abruptly, he tries to hide his face behind his computer. He straightens up, shamefaced, when said man steps up to his window, holding yet another sheet of cardboard, which inquires, “You don’t like me?”
Jungsu shakes his head quickly, because (what, are you kidding me how can I not like you) he doesn’t want the man to misunderstand. The man outside flashes him a smile again and, digging a marker out of his pocket, writes another question on the cardboard, “Then why don’t you call me?”
When Jungsu doesn’t answer (his brain is too busy trying not to die from the man’s smile), the man turns the cardboard around, such that the back is facing Jungsu. He wants his number, Jungsu realizes after a while of staring blankly at the man’s features. He finds it strange that such a good looking man would want to pay so much attention to a loner like him.
After another moment of indecisiveness, Jungsu writes his number on a piece of notebook paper, before pressing it to the window pane. He vaguely remembers his grandmother once scolding him for giving their phone number to another stranger, but his grandmother isn’t around any longer, and the man outside looks trustworthy.
He gives Jungsu another smile and, while Jungsu is trying not to reel in shock at the man’s noticeably sharp cheek bones, walks past his window.
- Day 223
Jungsu is rudely interrupted from his writing when the phone rings again, causing a line of nonsensical words to appear on his screen.
“Jungsu,” Youngwoon whines on the other line. “You hung up on me!”
“That’s Jungsu hyung to you,” Jungsu snaps, mildly irritated, partly because Youngwoon is disturbing him, and partly because his heart starts beating a little faster when he hears Youngwoon’s voice.
“You don’t even know my age,” Youngwoon says.
“I’m guessing you’re twenty-two, at least.”
Youngwoon sounds flattered. “No, I’m twenty-four.”
Jungsoo shrugs. “You’re still younger than me,” he says airily, even though it isn’t something to be particularly smug about.
“How old are you?” Youngwoon asks. Jungsu opens his mouth to reply, and then realizes he doesn’t know how old he is. It’s been too long since he’s celebrated his birthday.
“I was born in 1983,” he says instead, leaving Youngwoon to do the calculation. Truthfully, Jungsu doesn’t want to know how old he is, and he doesn’t want to do the calculations to find out for himself. “Call me tomorrow, okay?” He presses the ‘end call’ button again, and disconnects the phone from the power socket.
- Day 5
The first time Youngwoon calls is at nine in the night.
It’s been years since the phone has last been used, and Jungsu has to scramble around the room to find the source of its ringing before uncovering it under a pile of dusty books. He picks the phone out of its holder, looking at it quizzically before remembering that he has to press the top of the phone to his ear and speak into the small holes at the bottom.
“Hello?” It’s a man’s voice. His voice does all sorts of things it shouldn’t to Jungsu’s anatomy, and he sinks to the floor. “Hello?” The man repeats.
“Who are you?” Jungsu asks at last, slightly surprised at the softness and hoarseness of his voice. Perhaps it is because he hasn’t used his voice in months. Jungsu clears his throat.
“The person standing outside your window,” the man says, and Jungsu looks up from his seat on the floor, to see that very man grinning at him, a phone to his ear. His eyes are twinkling, cheeks flushed from the cold. Jungsu blushes and, clambering up from the floor, promptly shut the curtains.
“Hey, you didn’t have to do that,” the man on the other line says in an injured tone of voice. “I was enjoying the look on your face.” Jungsu decides then and there that he doesn’t like him. “You’re really cute when you act all embarrassed like that.” And Jungsu feels his heart flop upside down.
“I know this is weird, but I feel like I’ve seen you before,” the man continues. “Do you want to be friends?”
Jungsu cracks the curtains open a tiny bit. The man is staring right at him. He closes the curtains hastily and turns away. “Uh…” is all he manages in response to the offer. Something in his head kicks him and asks him why he can’t respond appropriately to such an obvious pick-up line.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the man says brightly, and Jungsu can almost see the smile on his face. “So, what’s your name?”
Jungsu swallows. There’s no harm in telling him, is there? “Park Jungsu,” he whispers.
“Jungsu…” The man’s words are soft, like he’s testing Jungsu’s name out. “My name’s Youngwoon,” he says at last, and then there’s a click.
Jungsu stares down at the phone, and feels his mouth spread into an absurdly dreamy smile. Twenty minutes later, Jungsu wakes up from his trance to see three whole lines of Youngwoon’s name typed out on his computer screen.
- Day 7
“What’s your favourite colour?”
Jungsu blinks. “What?”
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“Um…” Jungsu purses his lips. “White?”
“Why?”
“Why… what?”
There’s a groan on the other line. “I asked, why is white your favourite colour?”
Jungsu feels a little offended. It’s not his fault he hasn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in one, two years. Well, maybe it is. “Because white is a pure colour,” he answers.
“… Pure?” Youngwoon sounds incredulous.
“Yeah.”
“What do you work as?” Youngwoon continues with his tirade of questions.
“Why are you asking so many questions?”
“It’s only been three,” Youngwoon answers. “So, what do you work as?”
“A writer,” Jungsu replies.
“Do you live alone?”
“Why do you ask?” Jungsu can’t help but ask suspiciously.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to break into your house and murder you or anything,” Youngwoon replies breezily, and Jungsu can hear his heart speeding up. “Where are your relatives?”
It’s almost like Youngwoon’s presented him with the key of his locked up memories. Jungsu bites his bottom lip anxiously.
“Jungsu? Are you there?”
“I’m… here,” Jungsu says, after another moment of silence. “Um, they live close by. Sorry, I have to go now.” Lies.
“Oh,” Youngwoon sounds disappointed. “Good-bye, then.” He’s met with silence, and a click.
Jungsu looks at the phone on his desk, reflecting the light of his lamp, and almost regrets not telling Youngwoon the truth. Almost, but not quite.
- Day 71
Jungsu realizes he’s fallen in love with Youngwoon when he doesn’t show up one night. He sits in front of his window, the phone by his side, staring out into the black oblivion of nothingness, and wonders if Youngwoon is just another one of his hallucinations. It wouldn’t be the first time.
You shouldn’t have thought he would stay by your side. It’s almost miraculous that Youngwoon has kept you company for the past two months.
Jungsu feels his breathing quicken. His stomach does a weird flop, and not in the good way either, like when he sees Youngwoon standing outside his window.
You don’t even have his number. Why did you delete it from your computer? He’s not going to call, ever again.
The world goes slightly hazy. Jungsu starts feeling dizzy and more than a little queasy; feels his heart shake his whole body with every slam on his ribcage.
You’ve been presumptuous. He’s not going to call.
Jungsu doubles up, throwing up his dinner on the floor. He hears himself panting, deep, heavy breaths, trying to suck in as much air as possible before his stomach convulses again, and colorless liquid start pouring out of his mouth. He’s never coming back, a voice whispers to him. Jungsu can hear himself screaming, collapsing on the floor, and suddenly he’s not him anymore. He’s floating just a meter above himself, watching as his body starts writhing around, and as his mouth opens in a silent plea for help.
He’s sucked back into reality when he hears hollering from outside, when the phone starts ringing, when he hears a familiar voice shouting his name over and over again. Jungsu feels his heart start beating at a slower pace, feels his breathing regulate to a normal speed.
The voice outside stops and Jungsu wonders again if the man’s voice is just another part of his imagination. He curls up on himself, and is about to fall unconscious from the exhaustion when he hears a loud crash, and feels somebody’s arms carrying him up into the air. But by then, he’s too tired to open his eyes and look at the person who’s holding him.
- Day 72
Jungsu awakes to a soft humming, to seeing Youngwoon in front of him. Jungsu closes his eyes again and breathes in Youngwoon’s scent, relishing in its muskiness, before his alarm senses kick in. Jungsu is about to push Youngwoon away when he realizes that he’s simply cleaning his face with a wet towel. Then he realizes that Youngwoon is in his apartment. Jungsu feels his chest tighten, and is about to spring out of his bed and perhaps send a kick to the Youngwoon’s head, when Youngwoon starts dabbing the wet towel on his mouth, his fingers accidentally brushing Jungsu's bottom lip. Jungsu freezes.
“What happened yesterday?” Youngwoon’s voice sounds even better in reality, smooth and comforting, and Jungsu feels his heart flip all over again. “I come by just a few hours late and I see you vomiting all over the place?”
Jungsu closes his eyes in chagrin. “I’m prone to panic attacks,” he admits to Youngwoon, and tells himself he isn’t lying. It’s just a half-truth.
“So should I come by every hour to make sure you don’t die on me?” Youngwoon inquires, an amused smile on his features. Jungsu feels like hitting him, which is strange, because he’s usually very docile.
“How did you come in?” He asks, strangely at ease with Youngwoon.
Youngwoon looks slightly guilty. “I broke the door down,” he confesses. “But I thought you died, or something.” His thumb brushes Jungsu’s upper lip this time and Jungsu pretends, albeit with some difficulty, not to notice. It’s nice to know that someone still cares for him.
Jungsu doesn’t realize he’s spoken his thoughts out loud until Youngwoon gives him a concerned look, and asks, “Isn’t your family around?”
He shrugs and doesn’t tell him that his mother suffers from the same disorder as him.
It’s silent. Youngwoon continues staring at him worriedly, a small crease in his brows, and Jungsu is tempted to kiss those slightly pouted lips. He slaps himself mentally.
“I need to leave for work now,” Youngwoon says, finally rising from the bed and casting a critical look around the room. Jungsu’s eyes follow the man’s actions. “I… I’ll drop by tonight.” He turns and goes out of the door, only after he’s made sure to prop the door up against the side and promised to get Jungsu a new one.
- Day 223
Jungsu opens his eyes and realizes it’s already late in the day. He must have fallen asleep. The crowd of people in front of his building has lessened, save a few men clad in business suits bustling past.
Grabbing his mug of cold coffee, Jungsu brings it to the kitchen and, staring dreamily at nothing in particular, starts washing the interior of the mug. Youngwoon smells nice, he thinks to himself, before looking down and realizing he’s forgotten to turn the water on.
The doorbell rings. Jungsu drops the mug in surprise, his eyes large with trepidation. His groceries and mail aren’t supposed to arrive ‘til next week…
Tiptoeing to the door, Jungsu peeks through the peephole, exhaling in relief when he sees Youngwoon standing outside. Opening the door, Jungsu hustles him in, before closing it shut as quickly as possible.
“Why are you here?” Jungsu asks tersely, and immediately wants to snatch his words back, because he sounds so much colder than he’s intended his question to be.
“My girlfriend kicked me out of her house,” Youngwoon says dazedly. “I don't have a place to stay.”
“Don’t you have other friends you can go to?” Jungsu asks, feeling his heart sink. So Youngwoon was straight, after all.
“I do, but you stay closest to where I work,” Youngwoon answers, sinking into Jungsu’s kitchen chair and looking like the world had collapsed on him. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Uh, well.” Jungsu gestures around his apartment. “It’s not exactly very large…”
Youngwoon shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Jungsu grimaces. “I don’t think you should. I’ve thrown up on the floor countless of times, I doubt it’s the most hygienic place to sleep.”
Youngwoon sits up straight and suddenly looks worried. “Will my being here affect you?” He asks anxiously.
“No! No, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Jungsu answers quickly. “I guess you can take my bed; I’ll bring out a spare blanket and sleep on the floor.” He watches as Youngwoon scrutinizes the sparsely furniture room. There’s a table in front of the window directly opposite, a bed and a bookshelf filled with dusty old books on the left, and the kitchen and bathroom on the right.
“Absolutely not,” Youngwoon chides. “I can’t believe you don’t have a couch or even a television set.”
Jungsu cringes, and he feels that feeling wash over him again, the feeling that causes his chest to get all tight and makes him want to curl up in a corner and die.
“What’s the matter?” Youngwoon sounds concerned, again. “You look like I just hit you with a stick and called you a bad dog.”
Despite feeling like dying, Jungsu feels his mouth turn up at the corners. “I don’t like watching the television,” he admits. “That’s why I don’t have use for a couch, either.”
“You are one strange person, you know that?” Youngwoon comments, before getting up the chair and enveloping Jungsu in a hug. Jungsu is too surprised to react properly to Youngwoon’s words; instead, he feels his own arms reaching around Youngwoon to accommodate the sudden invasion of space. “We should share the bed,” Youngwoon says after a while, patting Jungsu’s back. “Do you mind?”
Jungsu doesn’t answer. He hasn’t been hugged for such a long time, not by his parents, not by his non-existent, hallucinated friends, not by anybody. And he realizes he doesn’t want to let go of Youngwoon.
“Jungsu,” Youngwoon is saying. “Jungsu, let go, I need to unpack.”
“That’s Jungsu hyung to you,” Jungsu says, words muffled by Youngwoon’s neck.
Suddenly, the door creaks open, followed by a small gasp of shock. Jungsu feels his head whip around in alarm.
“Youngwoon.”
Youngwoon jumps away from Jungsu, his eyes wide and panicked.
“So you were cheating on me then. With a man, no less.” There’s no mistaking the badly disguised disgust in the girl’s voice. Short, cropped hair covering her face, she bends down and drops a suitcase on the floor. “Good bye,” she says simply, before closing the door quietly again.
Jungsu looks at Youngwoon, his eyes following Youngwoon’s gaze to the door. There is visible pain in his eyes.
“Sorry, that’s my girl - ex-girlfriend,” Youngwoon explains gruffly, brushing past Jungsu and picking his suitcase up from the floor. “At least she’s nice enough to pack my clothes for me and bring them here.” He looks apologetically at Jungsu. “I guess I’ll be staying here temporarily, until I can find my own apartment.”
Dazed, Jungsu nods, and walks to the door, double locking it. “So…” he starts hesitantly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Youngwoon shrugs as he unzips his suitcase. “She started getting suspicious of me when I didn’t return back home the night of our anniversary. Remember? When I found you suffering from one of your attacks? Then, she found your contact in my phone and realized I called you daily. The rest is history.”
“And you’re not… disturbed by that?” Jungsu asks awkwardly. “That she thinks you cheated on her with me? Shouldn’t you clear things up with her?”
“I have no reason to,” Youngwoon replies noncommittally, and Jungsu can’t help but feel like there’s supposed to be a hidden meaning in his answer.
-
In the end, Jungsu ends up alone in his bed, because he kicked Youngwoon (on the crotch) off the bed when Youngwoon tried wrapping his arms around Jungsu’s waist for warmth.
“It’s cold,” Youngwoon had said, but Jungsu paid him no heed. Eventually, Jungsu managed to dig up an extra mattress and blanket from the recesses of his closet and give it to Youngwoon.
“Sleep,” Jungsu ordered, pointing to the mattress. Youngwoon gave him a wounded look, but complied.
- Day 224
Jungsu almost wets himself in fright when he wakes up to feel muscled arms around his shoulders and something painfully hard poking into his left thigh. It is only after a count to ten and a round of breathe in, breathe out; breathe in, breathe out does Jungsu manage to get a hold of himself. Shifting his head slightly to the right, Jungsu almost gets another heart attack when he realizes his ‘attacker’ is Youngwoon, because isn’t Youngwoon supposed to be sleeping on the floor?
Out of utter misfortune, Jungsu shifts, and again he feels that solid thing pressing into his butt. Jungsu realizes, after a moment of vexation, that it isn’t Youngwoon’s foot as he’s been hoping for, but a rather impressive bulge in Youngwoon’s pants. Mortified, Jungsu slips out of Youngwoon’s arms and, climbing over his built physique, lands (stumbles, rather) on Youngwoon’s cold mattress.
-
“What are you doing?” Jungsu asks through a mouthful of toothpaste, blinking blearily at the man through the mirror.
“Mistaking you for my girlfriend,” Youngwoon replies smoothly from behind, arms inching around Jungsu’s waist, sniffing Jungsu’s neck.
“Youngwoon, it’s too early to be playing whatever perverted prank you’re planning on,” Jungsu mumbles. But then Youngwoon licks him, and he promptly spits his mouthful of toothpaste onto the mirror.
Youngwoon draws another warm line across Jungsu’s collarbone before cracking up. “You should have seen the look on your face!” He cries, practically falling over himself in his haste to get out of the bathroom.
“I did see the look on my face, I WAS FACING THE MIRROR!” Jungsu yells in response, flicking his toothbrush at him.
“That’s gross!” Youngwoon chokes out, bent over, laughing.
“Not as gross as you… you licking me,” Jungsu answers snippily, before laughing along with Youngwoon, whacking him on the chest as a form of revenge. Youngwoon collapses on the floor, pulling Jungsu along with him, and they stop laughing long enough to realize the positions they’re in.
The laughter drying from his lips, Jungsu looks down at Youngwoon’s hands, situated comfortably on his hips, up to Youngwoon’s wide, equally startled, eyes. Conveniently, he feels something pressing up against him again. Blushing furiously, Jungsu shakes Youngwoon’s hands off his hips and stands up, wiping excess toothpaste from the corner of his lips. With that, he escapes into the bathroom again, this time making sure to lock the door.
- Day 277
“Jungsu…”
“That’s Jungsu hyung to you, Youngwoon, how many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“Please,” Youngwoon snorts. “You’re two years older but you act younger than I am.”
Jungsu feels strangely relieved by his words. “Does that mean I’m only twenty-six?” He asks, almost in wonder.
“Do you even remember your birthday, you hermit?” Youngwoon asks, reaching up and squeezing Jungsu’s hand, an assurance to Jungsu.
Jungsu sighs and holds Youngwoon’s hand tight, not letting go. “No, I don’t,” he states flatly. “I haven’t celebrated it in years.”
Jungsu feels Youngwoon jerk on his hand, just as he wanted, causing him to roll off the bed and fall smack onto Youngwoon. “Why don’t you ever tell me about your past or your family?” He asks, his voice sending pleasant vibrations through Jungsu’s body.
Jungsu shrugs. “It’s embarrassing,” he says, shifting and snuggling under the blankets with Youngwoon.
“What’s embarrassing about being agoraphobic?”
Youngwoon’s question takes Jungsu by surprise. He feels his heart speed up and his burning sensation in his chest again. “Ho-how do you know?” Jungsu stammers.
“I read your story,” Youngwoon says, not sounding at all contrite for hacking into Jungsu’s computer. “And it’s pretty obvious from the way you act. Why didn’t you tell me before that you were agoraphobic?”
Jungsu groans. “I’m hoping you didn’t read the whole story,” he says, avoiding Youngwoon’s queries.
He feels Youngwoon hesitate before answering, “I… didn’t?”
Jungsu spits out an expletive.
“Relax,” Youngwoon says, patting Jungsu on the back. “Don’t get a panic attack and die on me.”
“I’m not a thing, Youngwoon,” Jungsu growls, his cheeks burning. “I won’t die on you.”
“That’s a relief. So…?”
“I don’t understand you,” Jungsu says, subtly changing the subject. “Why aren’t you worried about the both of us sleeping in the same bed?”
“This is why you have to be more exposed to the society, Jungsu. You’re just so dense.”
“I don’t get it.”
Youngwoon remains silent and continues groping patting Jungsu on the back.
Jungsu sighs. “Why are you so stubborn?” he questions, burying his head in Youngwoon’s neck and breathing in deeply.
“If I weren’t, you would never have met me,” Youngwoon answers. “So, what happened to your parents?”
Jungsu swallows. “My mother’s agoraphobic, like I am,” he says quietly, still inhaling in Youngwoon’s scent. “When I reached the age of ten, she started to find me frightening, because I constantly embarrassed her, telling my friends that there was something wrong with her and bringing them over to our house.” Jungsu pauses, and listens to Youngwoon’s rhythmic breathing. “Eventually she convinced my father to send me away to my grandparents…”
“I don’t want him anymore.”
Jungsu squats in front of his parents’ room, pressing his ear to the opening of the door. He’s old enough to know that his mother’s words aren’t good.
“Dear, maybe you want to rethink this? How about we send him to your parents instead?”
“I hate him. I hate him. Just get him away.”
His mother is sobbing, spitting out every word with hatred. Jungsu decides he’s heard enough. The next day, he’s sent to the other side of Korea to live with his grandparents.
Jungsu tries not to let the tears escape. “There was nothing wrong with me. Not until I turned sixteen, and my cousin, he -” Jungsu swallows the lump in his throat - “he killed my dad. He kept insisting that he had to pay back his father’s debts, and one day… he just killed him.” Jungsu takes in a shuddering breath. Youngwoon’s hand is rubbing circles on the small of his back, and it is somewhat consoling. “That was when the panic attacks started. I started envisioning my father in my room, but when I reached out to him… he disappeared. My cousin was sent for therapy instead of jail. The police concluded that he had mental instabilities but…” Jungsu trails off, before skipping on to the next point. “Every time my grandparents announced that my relatives were visiting, I locked myself in my bedroom and refused to come out, even if it wasn’t my cousin visiting. When I turned eighteen, I moved here. I haven’t been in touch with my family ever since, and they don’t know where I live. I don’t even know if my grandparents are still alive. But my cousin, I've seen him around here.”
It’s silent for a while, wherein Jungsu’s hiccups and shuddering breaths fill the silence. Jungsu doesn’t tell Youngwoon that his cousin is still out for revenge; only this time, he wants him dead.
The door is shaking from the impact of his cousin’s fists. “Jungsu! Come out!”
Jungsu is crouched in the corner of the room, as far away from the door as possible. He wills the shadows to envelop him and draw him out of the room.
“Come out now!”
He’s insane, Jungsu thinks. He’s after him to get his debts returned, instead of his father. He’s insane.
The door rattles some more. To his relief, Jungsu hears his grandmother chastising his cousin, and the slamming of fists on his door stops. Their footsteps recede, and Jungsu can hear the creaking of the wooden staircase as they descend down the steps.
“I’m sorry,” Youngwoon says at last.
“What are you sorry for?” Jungsu asks through his hiccups. “It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me about your past,” Youngwoon says solemnly. “Go on, soak my shirt, I don’t mind.”
Jungsu feels his lips quirk up against his will. “Why are you like this?” He asks, wiping away his tears. “How can you be so mean to me when I’m evidently in a miserable mood?”
“Because,” Youngwoon laughs softly, “You seem to find my being mean amusing and funny.”
Jungsu sighs contentedly and makes himself comfortable atop Youngwoon. Five minutes pass, before Youngwoon murmurs, “I’ll never send you away like your mother did.”
“That’s because you don’t suffer from a disorder called agoraphobia,” Jungsu answers, effectively ruining whatever romantic moment they had been sharing. Youngwoon makes an offended sound, and Jungsu smiles.
- Day 365
Jungsu stares down at the letters in his hands and has the urge to bang his head on the table. Not one, not one publishing house wants to buy his book, and Jungsu is left to wonder if it’s because he’s written a romance novel between two men.
The door slams open. Jungsu jumps, sending his coffee splashing onto the white marble tiles.
“Happy anniversary!” Youngwoon’s (no longer smooth and comforting) voice enters Jungsu’s ears, causing him to jump all over again and send his mug flying across the room.
“I know you’re happy, but you don’t have to thank me by trying to kill me with a mug,” Youngwoon teases, and Jungsu feels like hitting him, which is strange, because he’s usually a very docile person… not.
“Am I missing out on something?” Jungsu asks, after he manages to calm himself down. “I don’t seem to remember us being a couple and celebrating anniversaries.”
“You seem more irritable than normal, deary,” Youngwoon says fondly, holding a bouquet of roses out to Jungsu. “Care to join me for a dance?”
Jungsu stares dubiously at the bouquet. “When I take this,” he begins, glancing up at Youngwoon’s smiling face, “Is it going to blow up in my face and cause me to choke on flower petals?”
Youngwoon looks amused. “No, of course not,” he assures. “This is an anniversary present from me. It’s officially been a year since I first met you and you tried to hide yourself away by ducking behind your computer.”
“Well then,” Jungsu says, placated, taking the bouquet from Youngwoon’s hand and completely ignoring Youngwoon’s attempts to make him smile. “Thank you.” He turns back to the computer.
“You’re so anti social,” Youngwoon grumbles from behind him, all mirthfulness gone from his voice. “I come home every day, and you simply acknowledge me with a grunt.”
Jungsu sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says glumly. “But nobody seems to want to publish my book and… I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore.”
Hands tug at his shoulders, forcing him up and spinning him around such that he is facing Youngwoon. “Stop being so depressed,” Youngwoon orders, “And dance with me.” His hand slips into his pocket and a soft melody fills the room.
Jungsu blinks his eyes once. “I don’t know how to dance,” he protests, but putting his hands on Youngwoon’s shoulders anyway. “And we’re not dating, so I don’t understand why we have to celebrate our anniversary.”
Youngwoon grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Jungsu knows that look, all too well. “I’ll teach you!” Youngwoon proposes. “First, you put your hands on my cheeks,” he brings Jungsu’s hands up from his shoulders to his face, “And close your eyes.”
Jungsu looks at him skeptically. “I don’t think this is how you dance,” he says, but doesn’t step away from Youngwoon. He quite likes the way Youngwoon can warm him up with just a single touch of his hands.
“Just listen to me,” Youngwoon insists, placing his hands on Jungsu’s waist. “Close your eyes.”
Jungsu does as he is told, anticipation burning in the pit of his stomach. In romance novels that he’s read, the two mains more often than not ends up kissing in situations like this, and suddenly his mouth has gone absolutely dry. He feels Youngwoon’s head bend forward, and Jungsu’s first instinct is to step quickly away and hide under his bed. But he doesn’t, and Jungsu is glad he doesn’t, because Youngwoon stops an inch away from Jungsu, and he feels Youngwoon smile.
“You can open your eyes now,” Youngwoon murmurs, and Jungsu obliges, opening his eyes and blinking in surprise at their close proximity. Then, he notices a piece of paper between Youngwoon’s teeth, much like how he would hold a rose in his mouth.
Jungsu’s hands trail down from Youngwoon’s cheeks to the piece of paper in his mouth, tugging from his teeth and tearing it open, his heart beating twice as fast as before. He skims through the lines, and his shoulders sag. “Nobody wants to buy my book,” he says dejectedly, and almost crumples the piece of paper before his eyes catch a handwritten note at the bottom of the page. Glancing up at Youngwoon, whose expression has gone from impish to nervous, Jungsu brings the paper a little closer to his face.
I love you too
Jungsu feels the thumping of his heart turn erratic.
“You work at…” Jungsu’s eyes dart up to the name of the publishing house, “SM Books?”
Youngwoon doesn’t move from where he’s pressed up against Jungsu. “Yeah,” he says uneasily. “Your book is very promising but I’m afraid,” his voice drops to a whisper, “… homosexual romance novels aren’t as appreciated as much as the run of the mill romance books we read. The people in SM Books can get kind of picky, too.” His voice returns to normal, “I enjoyed reading it, though. It’s interesting that you chose the name Leeteuk, it really suits you.”
“So…” Jungsu looks up at him owlishly, suddenly very aware of Youngwoon’s hands on his waist. “You love me too? I thought you were straight.”
Youngwoon simply gazes at him with unblinking eyes, and Jungsu gets the impression that Youngwoon must want to kiss him. It occurs to Jungsu that the last time he kissed someone was when he was fourteen, a full twelve years ago.
Jungsu doesn’t realize he’s been leaning away from Youngwoon until his head hits the cold, hard surface of the wall. He feels his eyes fall close, half anticipating and half dreading the kiss, and when Jungsu feels Youngwoon’s breath on his lips, his first instinct is to dodge, run away, and hide under his bed. He doesn’t move though, because it seems like his legs have been glued to the floor.
“I don’t know.”
Jungsu doesn’t feel Youngwoon’s breath on his lips anymore. Opening his eyes in slight disappointment, he sees Youngwoon on the opposite side of the room, running a hand through his hair and looking troubled. “I don’t know,” he mutters again, kicking at a pile of his books. They topple over, causing a cloud of dust rise.
“Are you okay with this?” Youngwoon fixes Jungsu with an intense stare. “Should I love you?”
Jungsu lifts his hair up from the nape of his neck and ties it back with a rubber band. Resisting the urge to fan himself with his hands or wipe the sweat of his hands on his pants, Jungsu takes an unsteady step towards Youngwoon. Youngwoon opens his arms out for him, and Jungsu runs into them like a little child, because it’s been years since anybody has ever loved him.
- Day 369
“We should go out,” Youngwoon says from his position on Jungsu’s bed. Jungsu is, as usual, staring at the screen of his computer. “…For a date or something. It’s Christmas today.”
“You know I can’t leave the house,” Jungsu answers, turning around on his chair. “Why aren’t you out celebrating with your friends?”
Youngwoon lies down and stares at the ceiling. “I’d rather spend it with you,” he says absently. “You have nothing to be afraid of, really. I’ll be there with you, remember?”
Jungsu looks at him doubtfully. “I don’t think I can.”
“It’ll be fine,” Youngwoon coaxes. “I won’t bring you to crowded places. There’s just this place I really want to -”
“No, Youngwoon. I can’t.” Jungsu can hear his heart beating rapidly, and he really doesn’t like the prospect of going out.
Youngwoon gets up from the bed and approaches Jungsu. “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says softly, bringing Jungsu up for another hug. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I’ll wait.”
Jungsu feels his heart quiet down. Miracles, he tells himself, Youngwoon can work miracles on him, and he doesn’t really know how. “Will you leave me?” He mumbles into Youngwoon’s shirt. “I don’t think I deserve you.”
There’s a pause. “I won’t,” Youngwoon says at last, “I’m going to help you, Jungsu. I’ll help you regain your normality again.”
“It’s Jungsu hyung,” Jungsu murmurs, but he really doesn’t care anymore.
“Actually,” Youngwoon says after a while. “I don’t think I want to let you out in public. Who knows that kind of wolves would start chasing after you?”
Jungsu giggles (Since when do you giggle? A voice in his head reprimands), and teases, “You’re acting like such a possessive lover.”
“Lover?” Youngwoon repeats. “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can you call me your lover?” He throws Jungsu down on the bed and climbs on top of him, a mocking leer on his lips.
Jungsu feels his eyes grow wide. “You wouldn’t,” he croaks through dry lips, licking them when Youngwoon leans closer.
“Oh?” The smirk on Youngwoon’s face disappears, and he closes the distance between the both of them. “Watch me.”
Youngwoon brushes a feathery kiss on the edge of his mouth, before slowly, softly pressing his lips on his. It is obvious to Jungsu as he stills, hands stiff on Youngwoon’s shoulders, that the descriptions of a kiss in romance novels are severely exaggerated. He doesn’t hear a choir start up, nor does he see fireworks, nor does he hear angels singing. All he can hear is his own loudly thumping heart, Youngwoon’s soft sighs (or maybe it’s his own, he isn’t very sure), and the blood rushing past his ears. Jungsu feels a tingling in his stomach, the way Youngwoon is really heavy on him, and the way Youngwoon likes to tug softly on his bottom lip before pulling away for a breath of air.
And then there’s a knock on his door. “Jungsu?” The voice that calls his name is only too familiar.
Jungsu stiffens, and Youngwoon stops kissing him. “Should I answer the door?” He asks, face inscrutable.
Jungsu shakes his head, once, twice. “No. Youngwoon, don’t!” But Youngwoon is already in front of the door, a hand on the door knob.
The voice calls out again. “Jungsu? Is that you?”
“It’s okay, Jungsu,” Youngwoon says. “He says he’s sorry.” And he unlocks the door, opening it.
Jungsu can only shake his head once more as he watches, fear causing his heart to slam against his chest, as a man, slightly shorter than Youngwoon, with a dimple indenting his right cheek, enters the apartment. It takes everything for Jungsu not to leap out of the bed and jump out the window.
“Don’t worry. He’s not going to hurt you,” Youngwoon says soothingly, and there’s sympathy in his voice.
“Jungsu.” His voice hasn’t changed. “So you’ve been here all along.”
“Youngwoon,” Jungsu’s voice is low. “Why?”
Youngwoon looks genuinely hurt. “He can help you,” he says. “I know he’s your cousin and all, but he’s given his word that he won’t tou -”
“Jungsu, listen. Your mother, she’s no longer agoraphobic,” his cousin interrupts. “I can help you, I really can.”
Jungsu realizes he’s shaking. “She’s cured?” He asks feebly, noticing that his knuckles have turned white. Youngwoon is by his side again, arms wrapped around his waist. His cousin nods, but Jungsu catches a flash of his dimple, and he knows it’s a lie.
“I’ll think about it,” Jungsu manages through his dry lips, before telling Youngwoon that he wants to be alone. Youngwoon nods and brings the man out.
“Jungsu… are you okay with this?” Youngwoon asks, concern shining in his eyes.
Jungsu prays that his voice won’t belie his calm mask. “I’m fine, I just want to be left alone,” he says slowly, enunciating every syllable clearly, before slamming the door shut and locking it twice.
He betrayed you.
The taunting voice is back. Jungsu nods, sinking to the floor, Youngwoon’s key in his hand.
He lied to you, convinced you that he loved you, that he was trustworthy; all so that he could help your cousin.
Jungsu blinks rapidly. He has to find another apartment and move out. They’ll never find him again.
- Tbc.
A/N: I apologize for the long-windedness and overload of details (and the crappy ending).
But um, I’ve made this a two-shot, so it should end happily. Here’s the sequel!