[one-shot] little hell (epilogue to 'the demon i cling to'), jaejoong/yoochun
little hell (epilogue to 'the demon i cling to')
rating: pg
pairing: jaejoong/yoochun
summary: au. so maybe letting go of the love of his life wasn't jaejoong's smartest move.
word count: 1,608
comments: yep, i couldn't let this go after reading all your comments. i think most of us wanted to see them have a happy ending, so i wrote this in the most hopeful way i could. and also to redeem jaejoong a bit. this is for omen1x2, who pushed me towards writing this, and for everyone else who gave this story more love than i could've ever hoped for. there's nothing more satisfying for a writer than seeing a fic they didn't even like in the first place get a second comment page and you all have made me truly happy.
my hands, they just shake and try to break whatever peace i may find;
my hands, they only agree to hold (your hands),
my hands, no they don't wanna be without (your hands)
my hands, leona lewis
When he sees Yoochun down in the street, his breath catches in his throat, heart jumping at the sight. It’s been ten years already, and his face is partially hidden by his muffler, but there’s no mistaking that it’s him, not to Jaejoong. Without a word to Yunho, he runs out of his condo, diving into the emergency staircase and taking the steps two at a time-there’s nothing on his mind aside from Yoochun. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or do, but there’s one thing he knows, it’s that he wants to stand in front of him again.
The cold winter air hits his skin harshly when he bursts through the front door of the building, only to find Yoochun isn’t there anymore. His whole body goes numb, and he stands there for god knows how long, wondering if he’s just imagined it all-it hurts less than knowing it was real and that Yoochun ran away after their eyes met.
But he knows it was reality; he’s dreamt of Yoochun countless times in the last decade, but never had it felt like this. Usually, in his dreams - visions, almost - everything is too vivid, too beautiful and happy. They’ve never hurt so much, not until he woke up in tears. This time, though, he’s already awake, and it feels like someone is trying to rip his windpipe out of his throat with their bare hands.
He doesn’t feel himself shivering until Yunho appears behind him, draping his coat over his shoulders.
“Come back upstairs, it’s freezing out here,” he says softly, his voice concerned. He doesn’t ask what’s going on until they’re back inside Jaejoong’s apartment, even when the other turns around and walks into the building reluctantly as if waiting until the last second to give up on seeing Yoochun come back.
Like a little child, he looks down at his hands gripping his knees, barely even listening to Yunho’s question. He’s actually not sure what he’s just asked, but he has a general idea of what the question was.
“That was the love of my life down there and I missed him,” he says quietly. “We haven’t seen each other in ten years, and he was standing right there - he saw me with you and he left. He must think I’m happy with you. Without him.”
It doesn’t take more than one look at Jaejoong to know that this guy’s assumptions are wrong, Yunho thinks, but he feels the other needs to say it out loud. “Are you?”
“No. Of course I’m not,” he laughs humourlessly. “I’ve been trying, but never in all this time have I even been close to letting go of him.”
Yunho listens to Jaejoong late into the night; how he met Yoochun on a late winter afternoon, and fell in love with him from the moment he heard him play the piano. How his songs had always reached deep into him, back when he was still unaware that the man who wrote them would have his heart someday. How he threw him away and broke his heart for the sake of holding his family together. How Yoochun always took everything quietly, understanding that he had to let him go. He wipes Jaejoong’s tears away when he cries and holds him until he falls asleep.
He mulls it over as he tries to sleep on the couch and, the next morning, tells him to go see Yoochun. “You’re clearly in love with him still. It’s no use saying what ifs or being scared he’ll reject you. You two need to be together, and if you can’t, you’ll at least have some closure. It might hurt on the spot, but you’ll be able to move on then. And if he doesn’t want you back, please know that there’s someone who will.”
Kissing Jaejoong’s cheek, he grabs his designer coats and takes his leave-retreating because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance in a million years if this Yoochun is still in the picture.
It takes Jaejoong four days to muster up the courage to go to Yoochun’s apartment. It’s a Saturday, and no sounds are coming from the studio, so he goes straight for the other door, knocking before he can chicken out. The man who answers him is not Yoochun; he’s tall and well-built, his mismatched eyes holding a barely concealed hardness that appears when he realizes who his visitor is. Changmin has never met Jaejoong, but he’s seen pictures, and even if he hadn’t, he’d still know.
Age has barely changed him - if anything, Yoochun would probably think he’s gotten more handsome; the feminine softness has left his features with time, but he still looks younger than he is.
“What do you want?” he asks dryly. Jaejoong looks unsure, like he’s dreading something.
“I’m looking for Park Yoochun. Does he still give lessons next door?”
“No. He had the place emptied out three days ago. Sorry.”
Changmin almost closes the door in Jaejoong’s face, and it’s when he catches sight of the name on the apartment number that it clicks in his mind. “Wait, you’re Changmin, his best friend? Please tell me where he is; I need to talk to him. I’m begging you.”
“Yeah, no,” Changmin says in a pretend-apologetic tone that’s dripping with sarcasm, trying to close the door again, but Jaejoong holds it open-he’s stronger than he looks, under the expensive coat and scarf.
“Look, I really need to see him. I’m not going to try and get him back, I just want to apologize for everything I’ve done to him, and set things straight once and for all. You don’t need to protect him from me; I know I’ve hurt him. But I’m not going to anymore. I don’t want to. You may think nothing good can come out of us seeing each other, but-”
“-Jaejoong?”
Yoochun’s voice is quiet behind him, like he’s afraid that the illusion will shatter if he makes it seem too real. They look at each other wordlessly until Yoochun tears his eyes away to look at Changmin. “Is it okay if we come inside?”
“I’d rather have you doing cocaine in my living room than the two of you talking together.”
“Fine then. I’ll go back home,” Yoochun says defiantly, his eyes having darkened a bit. He thrusts a milk carton into the younger man’s hands and takes Jaejoong’s arm lightly - both of them jump slightly, as if they’ve just felt an electric current run through them, and Yoochun smiles tentatively before taking him to his car, a bright red Mitsubishi Eclipse.
“Are you ditching him for me?”
“Don’t worry about him. He didn’t know I was coming over, so it’s technically not ditching, right?”
They don’t speak again as Yoochun drives into a neighbourhood not too far from Jaejoong’s, and that he recognizes because Eun Ae’s boyfriend lives there. The first thing he says once they’re inside Yoochun’s new apartment is, “Do you really not give piano lessons anymore?”
“What? No, I just bought a real studio downtown. I’ve registered it as a real school too, with a name and everything. Thought it was time for a change, and a lot of my clients were saying they didn’t like my old neighbourhood-granted, it was a little dingy-so I decided to buy a new place. And you know, they’re all so rich I could’ve expanded twice as much; Junsu said my name on national television and suddenly everyone who has money remembers me and wants piano lessons. Funny how this world works,” he says, but there’s an edge of nostalgia in his voice, like he’s trying to avoid getting into anything serious.
But Jaejoong doesn’t want to avoid anything. “Why did you come to my apartment Tuesday?”
Yoochun sets down the two mugs of coffee he made while he was talking on the coffee table and tries to evade his gaze. “I wanted to see you. I ran into Eun Ae the other day and she told me where you live. And that you were dating a guy, too, but that you didn’t sing anymore.”
That’s when it dawns on him - why Yoochun might’ve left without a word that night. Yunho had asked him to sing, and he did, albeit reluctantly, for a few measures. “He was trying to remember the melody of one of the songs you wrote for Junsu, and I only sang to help him. Only because it was your song... Trust me, Yoochun, Eun Ae was right: I don’t sing anymore because it reminds me of you, and that hurts too much. But I didn’t come to see you to say those things or explain myself. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Yoochun shakes his head, giving a real smile for the first time that day, and puts a finger to Jaejoong’s lips before letting the others trail down over his chin, like he’s mapping out the face he was never able to forget.
“I know, Jae. We’ve both done things we regret, by now. But going to your apartment the other day isn’t one of those things, for me, not anymore. I thought I wanted to move on from the you from ten years ago to be happy and that’s why I came back to see you one last time, but I don’t care anymore.”
He rises from the couch and takes him into another room, in the middle of which a grand Steinway stands proudly.
“You bought your Steinway,” Jaejoong says quietly, shushed again by a smiling Yoochun.
“Let’s start over.”
rating: pg
pairing: jaejoong/yoochun
summary: au. so maybe letting go of the love of his life wasn't jaejoong's smartest move.
word count: 1,608
comments: yep, i couldn't let this go after reading all your comments. i think most of us wanted to see them have a happy ending, so i wrote this in the most hopeful way i could. and also to redeem jaejoong a bit. this is for omen1x2, who pushed me towards writing this, and for everyone else who gave this story more love than i could've ever hoped for. there's nothing more satisfying for a writer than seeing a fic they didn't even like in the first place get a second comment page and you all have made me truly happy.
my hands, they just shake and try to break whatever peace i may find;
my hands, they only agree to hold (your hands),
my hands, no they don't wanna be without (your hands)
my hands, leona lewis
When he sees Yoochun down in the street, his breath catches in his throat, heart jumping at the sight. It’s been ten years already, and his face is partially hidden by his muffler, but there’s no mistaking that it’s him, not to Jaejoong. Without a word to Yunho, he runs out of his condo, diving into the emergency staircase and taking the steps two at a time-there’s nothing on his mind aside from Yoochun. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or do, but there’s one thing he knows, it’s that he wants to stand in front of him again.
The cold winter air hits his skin harshly when he bursts through the front door of the building, only to find Yoochun isn’t there anymore. His whole body goes numb, and he stands there for god knows how long, wondering if he’s just imagined it all-it hurts less than knowing it was real and that Yoochun ran away after their eyes met.
But he knows it was reality; he’s dreamt of Yoochun countless times in the last decade, but never had it felt like this. Usually, in his dreams - visions, almost - everything is too vivid, too beautiful and happy. They’ve never hurt so much, not until he woke up in tears. This time, though, he’s already awake, and it feels like someone is trying to rip his windpipe out of his throat with their bare hands.
He doesn’t feel himself shivering until Yunho appears behind him, draping his coat over his shoulders.
“Come back upstairs, it’s freezing out here,” he says softly, his voice concerned. He doesn’t ask what’s going on until they’re back inside Jaejoong’s apartment, even when the other turns around and walks into the building reluctantly as if waiting until the last second to give up on seeing Yoochun come back.
Like a little child, he looks down at his hands gripping his knees, barely even listening to Yunho’s question. He’s actually not sure what he’s just asked, but he has a general idea of what the question was.
“That was the love of my life down there and I missed him,” he says quietly. “We haven’t seen each other in ten years, and he was standing right there - he saw me with you and he left. He must think I’m happy with you. Without him.”
It doesn’t take more than one look at Jaejoong to know that this guy’s assumptions are wrong, Yunho thinks, but he feels the other needs to say it out loud. “Are you?”
“No. Of course I’m not,” he laughs humourlessly. “I’ve been trying, but never in all this time have I even been close to letting go of him.”
Yunho listens to Jaejoong late into the night; how he met Yoochun on a late winter afternoon, and fell in love with him from the moment he heard him play the piano. How his songs had always reached deep into him, back when he was still unaware that the man who wrote them would have his heart someday. How he threw him away and broke his heart for the sake of holding his family together. How Yoochun always took everything quietly, understanding that he had to let him go. He wipes Jaejoong’s tears away when he cries and holds him until he falls asleep.
He mulls it over as he tries to sleep on the couch and, the next morning, tells him to go see Yoochun. “You’re clearly in love with him still. It’s no use saying what ifs or being scared he’ll reject you. You two need to be together, and if you can’t, you’ll at least have some closure. It might hurt on the spot, but you’ll be able to move on then. And if he doesn’t want you back, please know that there’s someone who will.”
Kissing Jaejoong’s cheek, he grabs his designer coats and takes his leave-retreating because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance in a million years if this Yoochun is still in the picture.
It takes Jaejoong four days to muster up the courage to go to Yoochun’s apartment. It’s a Saturday, and no sounds are coming from the studio, so he goes straight for the other door, knocking before he can chicken out. The man who answers him is not Yoochun; he’s tall and well-built, his mismatched eyes holding a barely concealed hardness that appears when he realizes who his visitor is. Changmin has never met Jaejoong, but he’s seen pictures, and even if he hadn’t, he’d still know.
Age has barely changed him - if anything, Yoochun would probably think he’s gotten more handsome; the feminine softness has left his features with time, but he still looks younger than he is.
“What do you want?” he asks dryly. Jaejoong looks unsure, like he’s dreading something.
“I’m looking for Park Yoochun. Does he still give lessons next door?”
“No. He had the place emptied out three days ago. Sorry.”
Changmin almost closes the door in Jaejoong’s face, and it’s when he catches sight of the name on the apartment number that it clicks in his mind. “Wait, you’re Changmin, his best friend? Please tell me where he is; I need to talk to him. I’m begging you.”
“Yeah, no,” Changmin says in a pretend-apologetic tone that’s dripping with sarcasm, trying to close the door again, but Jaejoong holds it open-he’s stronger than he looks, under the expensive coat and scarf.
“Look, I really need to see him. I’m not going to try and get him back, I just want to apologize for everything I’ve done to him, and set things straight once and for all. You don’t need to protect him from me; I know I’ve hurt him. But I’m not going to anymore. I don’t want to. You may think nothing good can come out of us seeing each other, but-”
“-Jaejoong?”
Yoochun’s voice is quiet behind him, like he’s afraid that the illusion will shatter if he makes it seem too real. They look at each other wordlessly until Yoochun tears his eyes away to look at Changmin. “Is it okay if we come inside?”
“I’d rather have you doing cocaine in my living room than the two of you talking together.”
“Fine then. I’ll go back home,” Yoochun says defiantly, his eyes having darkened a bit. He thrusts a milk carton into the younger man’s hands and takes Jaejoong’s arm lightly - both of them jump slightly, as if they’ve just felt an electric current run through them, and Yoochun smiles tentatively before taking him to his car, a bright red Mitsubishi Eclipse.
“Are you ditching him for me?”
“Don’t worry about him. He didn’t know I was coming over, so it’s technically not ditching, right?”
They don’t speak again as Yoochun drives into a neighbourhood not too far from Jaejoong’s, and that he recognizes because Eun Ae’s boyfriend lives there. The first thing he says once they’re inside Yoochun’s new apartment is, “Do you really not give piano lessons anymore?”
“What? No, I just bought a real studio downtown. I’ve registered it as a real school too, with a name and everything. Thought it was time for a change, and a lot of my clients were saying they didn’t like my old neighbourhood-granted, it was a little dingy-so I decided to buy a new place. And you know, they’re all so rich I could’ve expanded twice as much; Junsu said my name on national television and suddenly everyone who has money remembers me and wants piano lessons. Funny how this world works,” he says, but there’s an edge of nostalgia in his voice, like he’s trying to avoid getting into anything serious.
But Jaejoong doesn’t want to avoid anything. “Why did you come to my apartment Tuesday?”
Yoochun sets down the two mugs of coffee he made while he was talking on the coffee table and tries to evade his gaze. “I wanted to see you. I ran into Eun Ae the other day and she told me where you live. And that you were dating a guy, too, but that you didn’t sing anymore.”
That’s when it dawns on him - why Yoochun might’ve left without a word that night. Yunho had asked him to sing, and he did, albeit reluctantly, for a few measures. “He was trying to remember the melody of one of the songs you wrote for Junsu, and I only sang to help him. Only because it was your song... Trust me, Yoochun, Eun Ae was right: I don’t sing anymore because it reminds me of you, and that hurts too much. But I didn’t come to see you to say those things or explain myself. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Yoochun shakes his head, giving a real smile for the first time that day, and puts a finger to Jaejoong’s lips before letting the others trail down over his chin, like he’s mapping out the face he was never able to forget.
“I know, Jae. We’ve both done things we regret, by now. But going to your apartment the other day isn’t one of those things, for me, not anymore. I thought I wanted to move on from the you from ten years ago to be happy and that’s why I came back to see you one last time, but I don’t care anymore.”
He rises from the couch and takes him into another room, in the middle of which a grand Steinway stands proudly.
“You bought your Steinway,” Jaejoong says quietly, shushed again by a smiling Yoochun.
“Let’s start over.”