[Fic] Shattered.
Title: Shattered 1/1
Author: helzfyah
Pairing: YooSu
Rating: PG-13; angsty.
A/N: Inspired by sad, not-so-love songs. I need to bury my angst monster before working on my crack Jaepi.
****
“Going out tonight?” Jaejoong asks, leaning against the bathroom door as he watches Yoochun splash on after-shave. Yoochun checks his appearance in the mirror; he runs his fingers through his shorter hair, tousling it more than it already is.
“And what if I am?” he says as he slides around Jaejoong and walks to the living room. He checks his pocket for his wallet and lifts his keys from the hook beside the door. “It doesn’t matter to you.”
Jaejoong hooks his fingers through the belt loops of his faded jeans, perching lightly on the back of their sofa. “No, it doesn’t matter to me. But there is someone else in this house it does matter to, and I don’t think you give a damn.”
Yoochun’s eyes harden at his friend’s words. He stands still with his hand on the door knob, slanting a look at the older man behind him.
“I told you to stay out of it Jae. This is between me and him.”
“I am out of it,” Jaejoong says. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing before it is too late and all you have are shattered pieces scattered around you.” He stands, turning toward their kitchen and leaving Yoochun poised in the half open doorway.
“Have a good night Yoochun-ah.”
****
Junsu flinches as the door closes. His fingers curl into fists on the keyboard keys and he takes a deep breath before replacing his headphones.
****
It is close to 3 a.m. when Yoochun drags his tired, drunken body across the entry of their apartment. He considers washing the filth and sweat of a night spent in a Japanese club from his body, but decides against it - his body is clamouring for rest louder than it is to be clean. He enters the room he shares with Junsu, quietly stripping off his clothes and discarding them on the floor for another day.
Forsaking his own bed, he climbs in next to Junsu, molding himself to the smaller man’s back. He inhales the deep rich scent from Junsu’s neck, splaying his fingers against the warm skin of his stomach.
Junsu tenses, pulling away from Yoochun’s seeking caress. “No.” His voice is soft, yet firm in the dimly-lit room.
Yoochun raises himself on one arm, leaning over him as his fingers continue to seek along Junsu’s ribs, roaming underneath his shirt.
“Why not?” His voice is equally quiet, breathing the words into Junsu’s hair. His tongue sneaks a wet caress along his earlobe behind his words.
“You could have had this from any one of the girls at the club tonight. I can smell their perfume on your skin, sweet and thick.”
Yoochun uses his knee to spread Junsu’s legs, straddling the man beneath him and pressing the heat of his erection into his thigh. “I didn’t want this from any of them. I want you. Now. Here.” His fingers tangle into Junsu’s hair and he lightly pulls his head back, baring his neck to the moist laving of his tongue.
Junsu gasps involuntarily at the erotic brush of Yoochun’s mouth along his skin. He places his hands on Yoochun’s shoulders trying to push him away. Yoochun resists, bearing his body down and grinding his erection into Junsu. Junsu’s gasp turns to a moan, and his pressing hands slide around to grip into Yoochun’s biceps.
“Not like this, Yoochun. Please.” Yoochun raises his head, drawing close into Junsu’s field of vision.
“Do you want me?” he breathes against Junsu’s mouth. “Do you want this?” He pulls Junsu’s hips flush against his own. Junsu moans again at the contact, the heat from Yoochun’s body sending desire coiling through him. He nods helplessly, even as he smells the alcohol hot on Yoochun’s breath, fuelling his passions.
Junsu closes his eyes as Yoochun presses their lips together, swallowing the sob in the back of his throat.
****
Yoochun awakens the next morning to find that he is alone in bed; the scent of sex, sweat and alcohol clings to his pores. A quick glance around the room locates Junsu - wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe, curled in on himself in an armchair near the window, staring down at the children in the schoolyard across the street.
Slowly, Yoochun moves from the bed and grabs the sweatpants draped over the back of his chair. He slips into them and pads quietly to his dresser, rummaging around for a clean T-shirt.
“Why?” Yoochun looks up to find that Junsu has spun his chair around to face him. “Why do you go out and party - get drunk and lead those girls on, having them believe that they have a chance with you - when, in the end, you come home to my bed? Why do you play these games?”
Yoochun has no answer. His fingers clench around the dark wood of the dresser drawer as he thinks.
“Why are you asking this now Junsu? I’ve always been the same, even before we started. Why the sudden need to ask questions?”
“Maybe I’m finally sick and tired of this.” Junsu stands, his arms crossed over his chest as he walks toward Yoochun. “Maybe I’m finally sick and tired of being a plaything that you toss in a corner when something bright and shiny and new comes along. Do you even care about us?”
“‘Us’ started eight months ago because we both needed something - someone - to help us relieve the stress and pent-up frustration. It was never supposed to be anything more than that.”
“So I am just your fuck-buddy?” Yoochun winces at the harsh sound of the words falling from Junsu’s lips. “I’m just someone you can turn to when you need to ease the tension? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Yoochun’s gaze slides to the floor under the weight of Junsu’s stare. “You make it sound cheap when you say it like that.”
“It is cheap!” The fine control Junsu had on his temper spirals away from him. He turns toward the large window, his anger evening out as he breathes.
“Tell me you don’t love me.” Yoochun is startled at the suddenness of the question. He lifts his head, catching Junsu’s eye in his reflection caught in the window. Junsu turns fully to face him. “Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me, or you can’t love me?” Junsu presses, searching for an answer.
“I can’t love you, Junsu, not the way you need me to. I don’t have the strength for it.” Yoochun’s voice is pleading, hoping Junsu will understand.
Junsu looks away, over his shoulder and out the window again. He nods slowly.
“I-” he stops. “I guess that’s it then.”
Yoochun sees the tear tracking along Junsu’s cheek as he slips passed him and out the door, closing it silently.
****
When Jaejoong enters the room ten minutes later Yoochun has pulled the blinds across the window and curled himself into the armchair in the semi-darkness.
“What happened? Junsu just borrowed some of Yunho’s clothes and left; he’s gone to HyukJae’s he said.” Jaejoong sits in the empty armchair across from Yoochun, curling his feet underneath him in a similar fashion.
Yoochun looks up from his contemplation of the floor.
“I think everything just shattered.”
****
END.
First attempt at YooSu. 'Twas hard, believe me. They may be my second OTP, but it's not as easy to connect to them as YunJae (specially Chunnie). Anyway - comments please!
Author: helzfyah
Pairing: YooSu
Rating: PG-13; angsty.
A/N: Inspired by sad, not-so-love songs. I need to bury my angst monster before working on my crack Jaepi.
****
“Going out tonight?” Jaejoong asks, leaning against the bathroom door as he watches Yoochun splash on after-shave. Yoochun checks his appearance in the mirror; he runs his fingers through his shorter hair, tousling it more than it already is.
“And what if I am?” he says as he slides around Jaejoong and walks to the living room. He checks his pocket for his wallet and lifts his keys from the hook beside the door. “It doesn’t matter to you.”
Jaejoong hooks his fingers through the belt loops of his faded jeans, perching lightly on the back of their sofa. “No, it doesn’t matter to me. But there is someone else in this house it does matter to, and I don’t think you give a damn.”
Yoochun’s eyes harden at his friend’s words. He stands still with his hand on the door knob, slanting a look at the older man behind him.
“I told you to stay out of it Jae. This is between me and him.”
“I am out of it,” Jaejoong says. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing before it is too late and all you have are shattered pieces scattered around you.” He stands, turning toward their kitchen and leaving Yoochun poised in the half open doorway.
“Have a good night Yoochun-ah.”
****
Junsu flinches as the door closes. His fingers curl into fists on the keyboard keys and he takes a deep breath before replacing his headphones.
****
It is close to 3 a.m. when Yoochun drags his tired, drunken body across the entry of their apartment. He considers washing the filth and sweat of a night spent in a Japanese club from his body, but decides against it - his body is clamouring for rest louder than it is to be clean. He enters the room he shares with Junsu, quietly stripping off his clothes and discarding them on the floor for another day.
Forsaking his own bed, he climbs in next to Junsu, molding himself to the smaller man’s back. He inhales the deep rich scent from Junsu’s neck, splaying his fingers against the warm skin of his stomach.
Junsu tenses, pulling away from Yoochun’s seeking caress. “No.” His voice is soft, yet firm in the dimly-lit room.
Yoochun raises himself on one arm, leaning over him as his fingers continue to seek along Junsu’s ribs, roaming underneath his shirt.
“Why not?” His voice is equally quiet, breathing the words into Junsu’s hair. His tongue sneaks a wet caress along his earlobe behind his words.
“You could have had this from any one of the girls at the club tonight. I can smell their perfume on your skin, sweet and thick.”
Yoochun uses his knee to spread Junsu’s legs, straddling the man beneath him and pressing the heat of his erection into his thigh. “I didn’t want this from any of them. I want you. Now. Here.” His fingers tangle into Junsu’s hair and he lightly pulls his head back, baring his neck to the moist laving of his tongue.
Junsu gasps involuntarily at the erotic brush of Yoochun’s mouth along his skin. He places his hands on Yoochun’s shoulders trying to push him away. Yoochun resists, bearing his body down and grinding his erection into Junsu. Junsu’s gasp turns to a moan, and his pressing hands slide around to grip into Yoochun’s biceps.
“Not like this, Yoochun. Please.” Yoochun raises his head, drawing close into Junsu’s field of vision.
“Do you want me?” he breathes against Junsu’s mouth. “Do you want this?” He pulls Junsu’s hips flush against his own. Junsu moans again at the contact, the heat from Yoochun’s body sending desire coiling through him. He nods helplessly, even as he smells the alcohol hot on Yoochun’s breath, fuelling his passions.
Junsu closes his eyes as Yoochun presses their lips together, swallowing the sob in the back of his throat.
****
Yoochun awakens the next morning to find that he is alone in bed; the scent of sex, sweat and alcohol clings to his pores. A quick glance around the room locates Junsu - wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe, curled in on himself in an armchair near the window, staring down at the children in the schoolyard across the street.
Slowly, Yoochun moves from the bed and grabs the sweatpants draped over the back of his chair. He slips into them and pads quietly to his dresser, rummaging around for a clean T-shirt.
“Why?” Yoochun looks up to find that Junsu has spun his chair around to face him. “Why do you go out and party - get drunk and lead those girls on, having them believe that they have a chance with you - when, in the end, you come home to my bed? Why do you play these games?”
Yoochun has no answer. His fingers clench around the dark wood of the dresser drawer as he thinks.
“Why are you asking this now Junsu? I’ve always been the same, even before we started. Why the sudden need to ask questions?”
“Maybe I’m finally sick and tired of this.” Junsu stands, his arms crossed over his chest as he walks toward Yoochun. “Maybe I’m finally sick and tired of being a plaything that you toss in a corner when something bright and shiny and new comes along. Do you even care about us?”
“‘Us’ started eight months ago because we both needed something - someone - to help us relieve the stress and pent-up frustration. It was never supposed to be anything more than that.”
“So I am just your fuck-buddy?” Yoochun winces at the harsh sound of the words falling from Junsu’s lips. “I’m just someone you can turn to when you need to ease the tension? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Yoochun’s gaze slides to the floor under the weight of Junsu’s stare. “You make it sound cheap when you say it like that.”
“It is cheap!” The fine control Junsu had on his temper spirals away from him. He turns toward the large window, his anger evening out as he breathes.
“Tell me you don’t love me.” Yoochun is startled at the suddenness of the question. He lifts his head, catching Junsu’s eye in his reflection caught in the window. Junsu turns fully to face him. “Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me, or you can’t love me?” Junsu presses, searching for an answer.
“I can’t love you, Junsu, not the way you need me to. I don’t have the strength for it.” Yoochun’s voice is pleading, hoping Junsu will understand.
Junsu looks away, over his shoulder and out the window again. He nods slowly.
“I-” he stops. “I guess that’s it then.”
Yoochun sees the tear tracking along Junsu’s cheek as he slips passed him and out the door, closing it silently.
****
When Jaejoong enters the room ten minutes later Yoochun has pulled the blinds across the window and curled himself into the armchair in the semi-darkness.
“What happened? Junsu just borrowed some of Yunho’s clothes and left; he’s gone to HyukJae’s he said.” Jaejoong sits in the empty armchair across from Yoochun, curling his feet underneath him in a similar fashion.
Yoochun looks up from his contemplation of the floor.
“I think everything just shattered.”
****
END.
First attempt at YooSu. 'Twas hard, believe me. They may be my second OTP, but it's not as easy to connect to them as YunJae (specially Chunnie). Anyway - comments please!