[2/?] storms, yunho/yoochun
storms, chapter two
rating: pg-13, will be nc-17 later
pairing: yunho/yoochun
summary: au. there’s no other love like the love for a brother, and there’s no other love like the love from a brother.
word count: 1,391
comments: there it is, the second part! if some of you have commented on the first part and haven't seen my last post, i want to make sure that you all know i've seen and read every comment, and that even though i haven't replied individually to any of them, i love you all.
warning: this fic contains incest. please keep this in mind before reading.
chapter one
If his near-death experience was the biggest storm in my life, the next crisis - Yoochun going through puberty - was a slight drizzle in comparison. But nonetheless, it wasn’t a period of bright, sunny days that characterized Yoochun’s presence in my life.
He was a late bloomer compared to me, so he was about sixteen or seventeen, but still; it happened so fast that one day, my little brother was a boy, and then the next-I woke up and a young man was thrusting a glass of orange juice in my face. I dumbly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, trying to make sense of what was going on, of who was standing in front of me.
Yoochun’s features had hardened; his jaw became more defined; his formerly frail shoulders were now much more square; his long, lithe muscles were slowly becoming a slight bulk; his torso and abdomen fleshed out, and I could no longer see his ribs poking out. His eyes, so pure and innocent, had become as dark and deep as the sea I’d pictured him drowning in when he told me about his nightmares, years ago, and his smile had grown from soft to having a more twisted edge. He was handsome, truly, and the weak boy I knew had gained confidence in the way he could turn heads.
I always thought it was my eyes that watched him the most, though, and that’s how appeared the next crisis-I was attracted to my little brother.
As I’d started going to college, I matured, growing out of my everyday family life; as a Tokyo University student, it was expected of me to excel in my studies, but being smart and handsome entailed some responsibility in being social. I went out with my fellow students, played sports, seduced girls and slept with them. In my typical student life, I began almost fooling myself that this was me; as if convincing others that my gaze didn’t linger on attractive male students more than female, or that I preferred going to a club rather than watching a movie at home with Yoochun on a Friday night, wasn’t enough. Like I needed to convince myself first before I could fool others.
Luckily, a bit of rain was able to clear my thoughts and help me realize that there was more to myself than the image of Jung Yunho I projected to other students. The knowledge that I was attracted to Yoochun made me able to open my eyes to who I really was, even if it involved many sleepless nights and my thoughts haunted by my own worries.
Whenever I looked at Yoochun, I felt guilty; he was my little brother, and I had vowed to protect him. He trusted me with everything and yet I felt like I was violating the respect he had for me by looking at him the way I did - if I had seen a man my age or older give Yoochun the looks I would find myself giving, surely I would’ve punched him in the face and called him vile. I felt like I had become a sick, sick man, and it tortured me greatly, my mind like a battleground; I hated myself, quickly enough.
Shortly after Yoochun’s seventeenth birthday, my father came to Japan and invited me to lunch. His hotel was close to Toudai, so he picked me up after my morning class and took me to a nice restaurant-he stretched everything out, only dropping the bomb of why he’d come to see me at the end of our meal.
A friend of his, one of the most renowned traumatologists in Korea, was personally requesting that I did my residency in his hospital, with him as my supervisor. I still had four years of university in front of me before then, but it was a now or never situation - as if my father’s friend needed me to place a reservation for learning years in advance. It was a golden opportunity, the biggest of my life, but it didn’t even take me a minute’s hesitation before I declined.
“My life is in Japan now,” I told my father. “I’m not ready to leave it.”
To say my father was surprised would be a major understatement; he looked at me like he wasn’t sure I understood just how big of an opportunity this was for me, a medicine student who wanted to specialize in traumatology. But I did, and I had no qualms with saying no; I wasn’t afraid of throwing something away, or bypassing a big chance.
“What do you mean, Yunho? After a residency with him, you won’t need a life in Japan. Compared to that, even Tokyo University won’t seem like as big an accomplishment to people in your field. Oh-please don’t tell me it’s for a woman that you’re giving away such a big chance. Because son, women-”
“It’s not a woman,” I replied calmly. “It’s more than just a woman. My whole life, my friends, my reputation, my family...even in four years, those will still be things I won’t be willing to throw away.”
He stared at me for a moment, realization dawning on his face. He muttered Yoochun’s name like a calamity and reached out, patting my hand in a way only a father could and leaving it there. “It’s always been clear that you and your half-brother have a very special bond. You two are beautiful children; a part of me has always been jealous of Yoochun’s father, not because of the fact that he was able to keep your mother and I wasn’t, but because I knew his son was the one person in the world who made mine the happiest.
“But, Yunho-I always dreaded that one day, a time would come where I had to tell you this relationship isn’t healthy. It’s normal for brothers to be close as children, but when they grow older, there has to be a day where they stop making sacrifices for each other. That day has come for you, son. Yoochun’s almost a man now, and soon he won’t need you anymore. If you’ve given everything to him by then, you’ll be left with nothing once he decides to fly by himself, and takes the chances you didn’t for his sake. Brothers are like a set of adjacent lines: they start off separate then join each other during boyhood, but soon enough they grow apart and die their own ways. That’s how life goes, Yunho.”
Those words stayed in my mind for a long, long time. I constantly turned them over and over in my mind, partly because I was looking for a loophole to contradict them; partly because they were the last words he said to me.
His plane crashed on his way back to Korea that night, and to this day, I still have never cried over his death. Sometimes I tell myself it’s because I had Yoochun at my side.
On the day of his funeral, it was his turn to slip into my bed in the middle of the night; his body had become firm and taught, so we were squeezed together in my small bed as he held me like I had him so many years ago. He’d found the best way to comfort me (albeit a little unconsciously), because that night, I didn’t once think of my father-I was too busy imagining every inch of his skin naked before me, and how it would softly tremble under my fingers if I laid him down on that bed and touched him all over.
It was only a matter of time until the guilt started eating at me again, harder than it ever had as I realized I’d crossed very important boundaries in my mind, and tears started choking me-but I knew they had nothing to do with my father, and everything with Yoochun. I turned away from him, pretending to want to hide my tears from his sight; in reality, I was only afraid that my erection would touch his body if I were facing him.
He only held me tighter and pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades as if saying it’s okay, I’m here. I’d never been more aware that he was in my entire life.
chapter three
rating: pg-13, will be nc-17 later
pairing: yunho/yoochun
summary: au. there’s no other love like the love for a brother, and there’s no other love like the love from a brother.
word count: 1,391
comments: there it is, the second part! if some of you have commented on the first part and haven't seen my last post, i want to make sure that you all know i've seen and read every comment, and that even though i haven't replied individually to any of them, i love you all.
warning: this fic contains incest. please keep this in mind before reading.
chapter one
If his near-death experience was the biggest storm in my life, the next crisis - Yoochun going through puberty - was a slight drizzle in comparison. But nonetheless, it wasn’t a period of bright, sunny days that characterized Yoochun’s presence in my life.
He was a late bloomer compared to me, so he was about sixteen or seventeen, but still; it happened so fast that one day, my little brother was a boy, and then the next-I woke up and a young man was thrusting a glass of orange juice in my face. I dumbly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, trying to make sense of what was going on, of who was standing in front of me.
Yoochun’s features had hardened; his jaw became more defined; his formerly frail shoulders were now much more square; his long, lithe muscles were slowly becoming a slight bulk; his torso and abdomen fleshed out, and I could no longer see his ribs poking out. His eyes, so pure and innocent, had become as dark and deep as the sea I’d pictured him drowning in when he told me about his nightmares, years ago, and his smile had grown from soft to having a more twisted edge. He was handsome, truly, and the weak boy I knew had gained confidence in the way he could turn heads.
I always thought it was my eyes that watched him the most, though, and that’s how appeared the next crisis-I was attracted to my little brother.
As I’d started going to college, I matured, growing out of my everyday family life; as a Tokyo University student, it was expected of me to excel in my studies, but being smart and handsome entailed some responsibility in being social. I went out with my fellow students, played sports, seduced girls and slept with them. In my typical student life, I began almost fooling myself that this was me; as if convincing others that my gaze didn’t linger on attractive male students more than female, or that I preferred going to a club rather than watching a movie at home with Yoochun on a Friday night, wasn’t enough. Like I needed to convince myself first before I could fool others.
Luckily, a bit of rain was able to clear my thoughts and help me realize that there was more to myself than the image of Jung Yunho I projected to other students. The knowledge that I was attracted to Yoochun made me able to open my eyes to who I really was, even if it involved many sleepless nights and my thoughts haunted by my own worries.
Whenever I looked at Yoochun, I felt guilty; he was my little brother, and I had vowed to protect him. He trusted me with everything and yet I felt like I was violating the respect he had for me by looking at him the way I did - if I had seen a man my age or older give Yoochun the looks I would find myself giving, surely I would’ve punched him in the face and called him vile. I felt like I had become a sick, sick man, and it tortured me greatly, my mind like a battleground; I hated myself, quickly enough.
Shortly after Yoochun’s seventeenth birthday, my father came to Japan and invited me to lunch. His hotel was close to Toudai, so he picked me up after my morning class and took me to a nice restaurant-he stretched everything out, only dropping the bomb of why he’d come to see me at the end of our meal.
A friend of his, one of the most renowned traumatologists in Korea, was personally requesting that I did my residency in his hospital, with him as my supervisor. I still had four years of university in front of me before then, but it was a now or never situation - as if my father’s friend needed me to place a reservation for learning years in advance. It was a golden opportunity, the biggest of my life, but it didn’t even take me a minute’s hesitation before I declined.
“My life is in Japan now,” I told my father. “I’m not ready to leave it.”
To say my father was surprised would be a major understatement; he looked at me like he wasn’t sure I understood just how big of an opportunity this was for me, a medicine student who wanted to specialize in traumatology. But I did, and I had no qualms with saying no; I wasn’t afraid of throwing something away, or bypassing a big chance.
“What do you mean, Yunho? After a residency with him, you won’t need a life in Japan. Compared to that, even Tokyo University won’t seem like as big an accomplishment to people in your field. Oh-please don’t tell me it’s for a woman that you’re giving away such a big chance. Because son, women-”
“It’s not a woman,” I replied calmly. “It’s more than just a woman. My whole life, my friends, my reputation, my family...even in four years, those will still be things I won’t be willing to throw away.”
He stared at me for a moment, realization dawning on his face. He muttered Yoochun’s name like a calamity and reached out, patting my hand in a way only a father could and leaving it there. “It’s always been clear that you and your half-brother have a very special bond. You two are beautiful children; a part of me has always been jealous of Yoochun’s father, not because of the fact that he was able to keep your mother and I wasn’t, but because I knew his son was the one person in the world who made mine the happiest.
“But, Yunho-I always dreaded that one day, a time would come where I had to tell you this relationship isn’t healthy. It’s normal for brothers to be close as children, but when they grow older, there has to be a day where they stop making sacrifices for each other. That day has come for you, son. Yoochun’s almost a man now, and soon he won’t need you anymore. If you’ve given everything to him by then, you’ll be left with nothing once he decides to fly by himself, and takes the chances you didn’t for his sake. Brothers are like a set of adjacent lines: they start off separate then join each other during boyhood, but soon enough they grow apart and die their own ways. That’s how life goes, Yunho.”
Those words stayed in my mind for a long, long time. I constantly turned them over and over in my mind, partly because I was looking for a loophole to contradict them; partly because they were the last words he said to me.
His plane crashed on his way back to Korea that night, and to this day, I still have never cried over his death. Sometimes I tell myself it’s because I had Yoochun at my side.
On the day of his funeral, it was his turn to slip into my bed in the middle of the night; his body had become firm and taught, so we were squeezed together in my small bed as he held me like I had him so many years ago. He’d found the best way to comfort me (albeit a little unconsciously), because that night, I didn’t once think of my father-I was too busy imagining every inch of his skin naked before me, and how it would softly tremble under my fingers if I laid him down on that bed and touched him all over.
It was only a matter of time until the guilt started eating at me again, harder than it ever had as I realized I’d crossed very important boundaries in my mind, and tears started choking me-but I knew they had nothing to do with my father, and everything with Yoochun. I turned away from him, pretending to want to hide my tears from his sight; in reality, I was only afraid that my erection would touch his body if I were facing him.
He only held me tighter and pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades as if saying it’s okay, I’m here. I’d never been more aware that he was in my entire life.
chapter three