Happy New Year, serendipitycm! Exchange fic: "Story"
Title: Story
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Summary: A picture tells a thousand words and a thousand words could make a story.
serendipitycm's request: Jaejoong's number one rule in dating is: "No strings attached" but what happens when he met Jung Yunho, his first love and his first heartache, after 7 long years. I'd rather have a happy ending on this please :)
Author's note: Oh God this fic is not at all related to your prompt, serendipitycm! I’m so sorry OTL I wanted to go into more detail and was writing towards that but then I realized I was running out of time so I ended up with this failure of a fic and it’s so rushed and I’m sorry T_T
When Jaejoong was younger he imagined that by the time he hit 31 he would have settled down with a good looking, hardworking man and that they’d have a quaint little house in the outskirts of Seoul. They’d have two kids - adopted of course because by then surely laws would have become kinder to people like him - and a golden retriever.
He’d have a normal life, safe and comfortable, and although not much happened in the way of excitement, he’d be happy and he wouldn’t want it any other way.
And he strongly believed he would achieve it. He had his life planned out since he was old enough to think of the future seriously. He didn’t like surprises, he didn’t do well with unpredictability. That made him very boring and uninteresting, he knew, but it was safe and he liked things organized.
The things he had wanted in his future, he had managed to attain them one by one: getting the required grades in order to get into his first-choice college; getting his dream job in the exact company he’d always wanted to work at. He had achieved them one after the other, and it wasn’t that he was exceptionally gifted or smart - it was just that unlike most people, he knew what he wanted, he made plans to get what he wanted, and he implemented those plans.
The next step in his life journey was a committed relationship. He was 22 then - young and already quite successful; he didn’t have many concerns over being able to find ‘the one’. He still had quite a few long years before he’d planned to settle down and he was confident there was enough time to find the perfect man for him through trial and error.
And on nights like these - no matter how many of them there had been over the years - the images of that next step flashed in his mind in vivid detail as if they were memory rather than fantasy.
There was a comforting routine, a sort of normalcy, to that too.
As he got ready to go out for the night, images of his younger self getting dressed for a date with his perfect boyfriend would filter into his mind. As he drove, his head would be filled with thoughts of the spacious family car they would own, and if they had the money to spare they’d probably have two cars - one for his boyfriend to get to and fro from work and one for him to drop the kids off at school and get into work as well.
Walking in to the club, getting a drink, dancing - thoughts of how he won’t be able to do that very often with the kids needing his attention and how he wouldn’t even mind since he had a wonderful family by his side would be left lingering in his heart.
On a bed, on a couch, against a wall - a series of images will flash behind his closed eyes: a flash of a camera, a messy desk, a smile, long-fingered hands, warm eyes.
The worst part about this last moment was that the images were no longer fished out from the murky waters of a long-abandoned fantasy. They were recollections, fragments of a reality that he sometimes doubted even happened, but then the numbed ache in his heart would flare up and he would feel smell hear see taste and it took all he had to not fall apart at the onslaught of senses.
And as he made the journey back home from a hotel room or a stranger’s house, feeling sick and dirty, that handsome face - the face of the boy that had snuck into his well-ordered life and turned it upside down, that ruined him - will stay smeared in his sight like a stain.
He only went because his friend bribed him with tickets to the new movie he’d been dying to watch. To be honest, photography exhibitions really wasn’t his thing - he was boring, yes, but not that boring. As he went to greet his friend’s little brother, he tried to school his features to show interest and gave some generic praise on the kid’s photography. The kid started explaining each piece to the small audience in his section and he slipped away quietly before he started yawning and offended his friend and the kid.
He walked aimlessly around the large hall, lazily gliding his uninterested eyes over the photographs on display. It was an exhibition for ambitious photographers that were still in high school, and if he was being brutally honest, even a five year old could have taken some of these shots.
He yawned, checked his phone, wondered if it would be rude if he just stood in a corner and played some games on it, and then wondered when his friend would deign it time to go home - he didn’t want to just leave because that would definitely be rude and his friend had promised him those movie tickets too.
Looking around, he noticed that most of the crowd was made up of the high school kids’ parents and relatives, and perhaps a couple of reps from photography magazines - did those exist by the way? He yawned again and made his way further towards the back of the hall where it was less crowded.
Theirs wasn’t a typical relationship.
Jaejoong had wondered, of course he’d wondered exactly what the kid was up to, what his intentions were. Because Jaejoong didn’t have ulterior intentions.
Alright so that was a lie - the kid was damn handsome and a smooth talker and good Lord that smile of his!
But Jaejoong also knew that the kid was technically off-limits and as the adult, he had the responsibility to keep his head on straight - no pun intended. Sure, six years might not be too much in numbers, but it felt like a lot.
He was a man, with a job and responsibilities, and Yunho was only a high school boy, who had zero responsibilities, probably smoked behind the school building and skipped class (or maybe he was a model student - Jaejoong didn’t really know) and mouthed off to his parents (or maybe he was a model son too).
And took amazing photographs while he was at it.
But still a boy, still a boy. And what were the chances of Yunho, the most handsome guy he’d ever encountered, being attracted to him? Of being attracted to guys?
The kid called him ‘hyung’.
He especially liked it when he called him ‘Jaejoongie hyung’ in that smooth, careless way that indicated the words were not thought-out in order to sweet-talk him into something.
He liked the way Yunho’s eyes curved and shined when he smiled at him - that soft, tender sort of smile of course, because when he was smiling all teeth and charm, Jaejoong was looking at his mouth instead.
And that other smile, God that other smile, the one that leaned towards a smirk but not quite, a narrow glimpse of teeth, eyes smoldering and intense and it made Jaejoong weak in the knees. He supposed that was the smile Jung Yunho employed to snag pretty girls in the school hallways or in the mall. It always made him curious, therefore, as to why the kid was using that smile on him more and more often.
He didn’t want to get any ideas, he didn’t want to misunderstand, or if he understood it perfectly well, he didn’t want to encourage it. The moment he admitted to himself that the kid might actually be flirting with him, he was going to start flirting back, start blushing at ever sweet word that left the kid’s mouth, and that was something he wanted to avoid.
They were just friends - as long as he kept telling himself that, he could continue to act like the hyung that he was supposed to be rather than a giggly teenage boy.
Yunho continued to smile that last smile at him, and he would leave more lingering touches along his arm and waist and shoulder, and the worst was when he would stare at him, his eyes so intense and dark that it made him blush.
But he wasn’t going to assume, he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself. Yunho would have to come straight out with it and say it and only then was he going to acknowledge the air charged so thickly between them that it was vibrating.
Then he would say I’m sorry Yunho, but I don’t think it’s going to work, how about we just stay friends, huh? and that would be that.
Yunho might feel a little bummed, as Jaejoong was sure he’d never been rejected before, but he’ll get over it the moment he sees some other pretty thing, as teenagers are wont to do, and he’ll start spending less and less time with Jaejoong, till their interactions would dwindle down to a Happy New Year text once a year, and that was alright with him.
Sure he was going to miss the kid’s various smiles and his warm eyes and those gorgeous long-fingered hands and that smooth way he talked, but it’ll help distance them before Jaejoong got in too deep.
It’ll also give him more free time and encouragement to find a man - not a boy, no, a man. Call him uptight but his dream man was a couple of years older than him (and the cliché ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ - a description that suited Yunho well. Too bad he didn’t measure up in age) and he wasn’t one to change his plans and desires so quickly just because of a handsome boy.
And then one Friday night they’d gone to watch a movie and Yunho reached out in the dark and held his hand. Jaejoong didn’t pull away, and their fingers stayed linked, warm palms touching till the movie finished. They didn’t talk about it. Yunho pulled him up from the seat and pulled him through the crowd leaving the cinema and along the sidewalk to Jaejoong’s car. Only then did their hands let go.
On the way to Yunho’s house they talked about the movie, about the popcorn and how it wasn’t buttery enough, about that one audience member who didn’t know proper theatre etiquette and hadn’t switched his phone to vibrate. Jaejoong wasn’t going to assume anything about the hand-holding and he had to tell his foolish heart to stop galloping in his chest.
He pulled up to the curb outside Yunho’s house and Yunho, instead of turning to him smiling and saying ‘Goodnight hyung’ as usual, stayed seated, staring ahead in contemplation. Then he turned to him, his eyes somehow darker than usual, face solemn. He leaned forward and before Jaejoong could do anything about it - and he would have if he’d had the time, promise! - pressed a soft, warm kiss onto the corner of his mouth. Yunho pulled back just as quickly, but didn’t go far. Jaejoong could feel his breath on his cheeks.
“Hyung,” Yunho said, barely a whisper, smooth and somewhat questioning. His eyes were shining darkly like obsidian under the light from the lamp-post, his gaze so intense it made Jaejoong turn his own surprised eyes away.
Yunho reached out, tucking some of his hair behind his ear with those long fingers. God those long, beautiful fingers he’d had twined with his own stubby ones for almost an hour…
He drove home in a near-daze and it was a wonder he didn’t crash his car. His head was so full of the thoughts running amok that he couldn’t even remember seeing a stoplight or the turns in the road.
He had said Can I think about it?
Not the firm yet nice one liner incorporating both a rejection and an offering to remain friends to soften the blow. No, not that rejection that he had practiced several times inside his head - hell, he even had the intonation down, and at which points to look sorry and where to smile encouragingly. No, he had said Can I think about it?
Yunho hadn’t kissed him again, but he’d nodded, his eyes lighter, a small hopeful smile on his lips.
Their first date had not been much different from the many times they had hung out prior to this. Yunho had asked him out to dinner and as he was still a kid with no steady income, the best he could do was a small ramen shop. But that was more than alright with Jaejoong who preferred delicious, home-flavored food rather than the mass-produced little bite-sized stuff they feed you at the expensive restaurants. Yunho knew enough about him and he about Yunho to know that no apology was needed for the rather cheap date.
Jaejoong enjoyed it like he enjoyed every other meeting between them, but this time their interactions were tinged with something dark and subtle and thrilling; a little shiver down his spine when Yunho touched his fingers briefly over the polished table-top, a little shy smile from Yunho when their feet touched underneath the table and neither made a move to distance them.
He dropped Yunho off in front of his house and got a brief little kiss right on the mouth this time. They smiled shyly at each other and said good night, Yunho’s hand lingering a little longer on the side of his neck, fingers soft and warm behind his ear.
He tried very hard to deny it; it would do neither of them any good. But there were only so much lies and explanations he could give himself before his mind was no longer fooled, before it conspired with his silly little heart and screwed him over.
He didn’t dare admit it to himself though, never mind that there was no need to as he had a seat front and centre to appraise those foolish feelings that did tricks - and look at it leap through the ring of fire! - in the great arena of his heart.
But oh, he loved it when Yunho and he would talk for hours on the phone, even right after having gone on a date, talk for hours till they both only had time for a little nap before they had to be at school and at work (God, Yunho was still going to school - school - what are you thinking, Jaejoong?). And he loved it when Yunho would kiss him in that soft sweet way he does, and he loved to be wrapped up all warm and snug within his embrace, and when Yunho would tuck his hair behind his ear, fingers caressing the skin of his neck like feathers and smile that soft tender smile, Jaejoong knew that he loved h-
No, no, can’t say it, won’t say it. This is not going quite according to plan. Yunho is still a kid, not the fairly successful man that he had in his mind when he planned the future.
See, there was still that little part of his mind that refused to watch the feelings do wondrous tricks in the arena. It flat-out rejected the offer to have free tickets and buttered popcorn and even a pretty little souvenir.
No, that part of his mind was stubborn as a teenager still going through puberty, rebelling against the obvious and being a petulant little brat. That part of his mind kept him up at night, talking circles around him, making his heart hurt, making it weep, making it ask ‘why are you so stubborn, why?’ And still that little part of his mind would rage and rave and throw things and deny deny deny.
So one day, like a dutiful father at the end of his patience, the greater part of his mind sat that little part down, and stuck between the warmth and strictness of the larger part of his mind and his heart, like a child between parents, that little shred of rebellion came to terms with the undeniable.
He was in love.
He broke down in tears after that, all defenses down and stripped bare to his core. It hurt to admit it, it made him absolutely terrified, but it also gave his heart a lightness it had never known before.
The first time they made love…. It was magical. But there was still that fear, that little patch of trepidation that snuck in through the cracks like poisonous green smoke. But still, it was magical.
It was a little embarrassing to admit it, but Yunho seemed more glad than amused or even surprised when he told him that this was his first time. It was Yunho’s first time too, and that made him glad.
They took it slow, testing the waters and making sure they were doing it right. The air was heated and heavy and it was sort of difficult to breathe. His bed sheets were sticking to his damp skin, and Jaejoong had never been pleasured so attentively, so intensely before. It was over rather quickly but neither of them had expected it to last long anyway, being their first time and all.
It was alright, Yunho said, practice makes perfect after all.
They slept entwined together in the patch of moonlight coming in through the window. Yunho had told his parents that he was sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight.
And that poison smoke started to creep in silently. He blocked the cracks as quick as he could but the smoke that already managed to get in lingered in the air, heavy and choking.
Yunho spent more and more time at his apartment during the weekends and sometimes he even came over after school. Sometimes they just talked and watched a movie or TV show and Jaejoong would cook them lunch or dinner, but most times they would be wrapped around each other, sweaty and flushed with pleasure.
Yunho pressed him down onto the mattress and kissed him full on the mouth, demanding but not harsh. It was Saturday evening and the sun was still shining through the window. Silhouetted against that golden light, Yunho looked majestic, looming over him like a lustful God. And Jaejoong stared up at him in silent idiotic wonder as a peasant would a king.
He was in love.
He was in love.
And it was terrifying and that fear kept clanging around in his heart as if throwing tantrums in a room full of gongs.
What had he gotten himself into? This boy had become his Sun, his King, his God, and oh please don’t let him also be his Ruin.
Yunho kissed down his neck, hands branding fire along his sides to grip at his hips firmly.
“Hyung,” he said, voice deep and airy, eyes half-lidded. And oh God, oh God, if he ever turned his eyes away from him he will break, he will be dust in the wind.
“Hyung.” He settled between Jaejoong’s thighs, warm hands holding them apart, and then he was pressing in, pushing through the resistance and nestling deep inside him and he thought he could cry.
Jaejoong could tell there was something he wanted to say but was holding back. The silence was suffocating him. He’d rather Yunho say the most hurtful thing than let this silence continue.
“It’s just-“ Yunho said, stopped, and sighed, not looking into his eyes.
“Just tell me.” It came out as a plea, so desperate, and he bit his tongue hard enough to taste hot rust.
Yunho sighed again. “I’m just not ready to settle down or anything, hyung. I mean… I’m still only 18… and you’re 24. It’s just…” A shrug, non-committal, what-can-you-do. “There’s stuff I wanna do and a committed relationship isn’t really what I’m looking for right now. And you’re just… I want to find someone my own age, you know?”
And he knew, didn’t he? He knew.
Seven years.
Seven years and it still makes him laugh. Laugh till he’s crying, till his heart and body is aching. Oh how stupid he was back then. He brought on his own misery. And he was still wallowing in that misery.
That boy. Oh curse that boy, his God, his Sun, his King. His utter ruin.
Time hadn’t made anything better; hadn’t made this pain easier to bear; hadn’t healed his heart; hadn’t washed away the memories. If anything, time had made it worse. He was a mess - a mess seven years in the making and counting. He hadn’t been able to pick himself back up from the dust that boy left him in.
All his carefully laid out plans had already crumbled to dust the moment he had said “Can I think about it?” that day in his car, and till now he still couldn’t bring himself to plan out his life like he used to. He no longer had a goal in life, no longer had plans and ambitions. All he could do nowadays was exist.
He knew it was stupid, he knew it was utterly foolish and pathetic, letting his life run to waste just because of some boy. But it seemed he was an expert at doing just the things he knew were stupid and foolish and pathetic. No matter how often and how viciously he berated himself and no matter how many angry tears he cried at his continued stupidity, he seemed incapable of putting himself together again.
It didn’t make sense. It was just a boy that he’d know for less than a year, a boy that had walked into his organized life and ripped up all his plans, a boy that he had given his heart to and this boy hadn’t even bothered to give it back when he left - he probably didn’t even know he had it; boys his age were not in the business of exchanging hearts with another.
It was just a boy that he was so angry at yet yearned to see again; just a glimpse would be enough.
No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t angry at him, not after his heartache was no longer blinding him and he realized that Yunho had made him no promises, had told him no lies. It was all on him, this heartache. Only he was to blame and all the anger was directed towards himself.
For the first time in seven years… he was at a photography exhibition. After that very first one where he met Yunho, he had gone to several exhibitions where Yunho’s photos were on display. He had even met Yunho’s parents on one occasion and that had scared him and made him feel terribly guilty. Yunho had introduced him as the older brother of a friend to make it easier to explain how they know each other.
But since that day, he hadn’t even been able to look at a simple photo without his heart giving a little twinge of pain. He had avoided any and all exhibitions at all cost, giving out excuses left and right to his friends and colleagues, most of who seemed to like photography for some reason.
But here he was, inside a large hall filled with photos. He had of course tried to find a reason not to come, but this wasn’t just an invitation from a friend - this was related to his job (building good relations with clients and all that) and he couldn’t get out of it. So he walked next to his boss and the client and tried hard to remain numb, nodding and smiling where appropriate.
Finally the client went to greet other people and he was free to move away to the back of the hall and hide for a while, get his emotions under control. As he weaved his way through the displays, he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, and it was neither bitter nor sad. His heart felt tranquil, at home, and he contemplated this feeling with a small frown as he neared the back of the hall.
His frown deepened as a group of photographs came into view. He cocked his head, a niggling at the back of his mind as he walked closer. There was something strangely familiar, somehow as if he was experiencing déjà vu… And then something turned over in his head and his eyes widened, fixed on the photo directly in front of him. He stared, not daring to believe it, his eyes misting over rapidly. This group of photos, they were all of-
“Do you like it?” a quiet voice asked from behind him. “It’s my favourite - the best I’ve ever taken.”
(The back of the hall was blessedly free of people who might think it rude that he was yawning so much and wrinkling his nose at the displays. He hoped his friend wouldn’t mind that he disappeared so suddenly. He looked up from his phone to make sure he wouldn’t bump into any of the displays and his gaze was suddenly filled with colour. He stopped, and then walked closer, his eyes wide with wonder.
These photographs… they were beautiful, so simple yet complex in their simplicity. The techniques, the colours, the subjects, and most of all, the feelings imbued within each piece were incredible. This one showcased simple, brilliant joy; this one was drenched in sorrow; this one erupted in fury. Whoever took these photos had taken them with a passion that could rival professional photographers. In fact, he decided, it probably was a pro, just to add a bit of flare to the exhibition, otherwise why would such masterpieces be placed at the back of the hall?
He walked right up to one of the photographs, the one that caught his attention the most. Now he thought he understood why so many of his friends liked going to photography exhibitions so much, although why he seemed to have attracted photography nuts was still a mystery.
“Do you like it?” a voice asked from behind him, making him jump in surprise. He turned around to see a boy in a high school uniform.”It’s my favourite. I think it’s my best one so far.”
Jaejoong was a little speechless for a moment, and while he wanted to believe it was only because he was surprised that this kid was the one who took these photos, it wasn’t the only reason.
“These are yours?” he asked, impressed. “Wow.”
“Yup,” the student said, popping the ‘p’ with a proud smile on his handsome face.
“They’re gorgeous,” Jaejoong praised. “I thought they must have been taken by a pro.”
The kid beamed. “Wow, thank you, hyung! That means a lot to me.”
Jaejoong swooned a little at the brilliant smile on the student’s face.
“You must be very passionate about photography,” he commented.
“Uh-huh,” the boy nodded. “I want to travel the world and take photos; tell people’s stories through pictures and show both the beauty and the cruelty of the world.” He suddenly stopped, looking a little embarrassed as if he’d said more than he should have.
“That’s very impressive. I think it’s a wonderful goal and you definitely have what it takes,” he assured the boy. He didn’t want the boy to feel embarrassed over his passions and dreams.
“Thank you, hyung,” the boy smiled, then held out his hand. “My name is Jung Yunho.”
“Kim Jaejoong,” he replied, reaching for the outstretched hand and noticing how long those fingers were.
Their hands connected. And Jaejoong’s heart beat a little faster.)
Jaejoong’s heart was thundering in his chest. If it started beating any faster it would burst right out of him and splatter onto the photograph he was looking at but not seeing. The tears that had been gathering along his lower lid seemed to have evaporated and his eyes felt overly dry. His heart was now doing acrobatics and lodging up in his throat and it was difficult to breathe. He focused on the photo in front of him again. It was a photo of him-
(“Yah Yunho-yah! Stop it!” he laughed.
“No way. You’re beautiful, hyung - a perfect photo subject,” Yunho said, grinning. He trained the camera on Jaejoong again. “Let me practice and you just sit there and be beautiful.”
“It’s embarrassing, Yunho-yah,” he whined, but didn’t protest any further, too distracted by the sight of those long thin fingers wrapped so naturally around the camera.)
All the photos in this section were of him. But not a single one showed his entire face or anything so distinctive that someone could look at him and then the photos and realize he was the subject. Jaejoong himself only realized it was him because he could remember the moment some of the photos were taken. As for the rest, well, he wasn’t the brightest bulb around, but if he couldn’t recognize himself in a photograph he should probably crawl back into his mother’s womb.
The photo he was standing in front of, he couldn’t remember when it was taken. It looked like he wasn’t aware that he was being photographed, his attention on something in the distance. He didn’t realize Yunho took pictures of him without his knowing.
His eyes shifted to the photo next to it. And the tears came again. It was a picture of their hands, fingers entwined upon Jaejoong’s bed sheets, splatters of sunlight painting their skin gold.
He didn’t understand.
He could feel Yunho behind him even though there was quite some distance between them. He was so hyper-aware of Yunho’s presence that he thought he could even feel his breath.
He should turn around and acknowledge him. What if Yunho thought he didn’t want to talk to him and so walked away? What if he wouldn’t get the chance to see Yunho again if he didn’t turn around right now now now!
Calm down!
He tore his eyes away from the photos and looked down at the floor. He took a deep breath and let it out, closed his eyes and then opened them. Then he turned around, raising his eyes to the man in front of him.
Yunho.
He had changed so much and at the same time he was the same 18 year old boy Jaejoong fell in love with. Jaejoong’s heart stopped racing, feeling at home and safe. How his heart could feel safe in the presence of the person who broke it, he didn’t know. But that didn’t matter. For the first time in seven years, he felt weightless, content.
Yunho was 25 now, older than Jaejoong had been when they first met. The maturity could be seen in his body, his face, and his eyes. Had Yunho gotten taller? He had definitely gotten broader, filled out wonderfully from the lanky teenager that he used to be. His cheeks had lost the boyish chubbiness, had become more angular. His hair was different too; it was no longer short and spiked but longer and a dark brown, slicked back with a parting on the side. He was dressed in a black suit and that more than anything made a clear contrast with the boy Jaejoong had first seen in his high school uniform.
Yunho was a man now. And he was so handsome and looked so mature and professional. But he wasn’t smiling. Jaejoong wished he would smile. He loved Yunho’s smile and the way it lit up his warm eyes. His eyes looked too serious and sad now, almost… regretful? He wished Yunho would smile.
“Hello, Jaejoong hyung,” Yunho said. It made his heart tremble.
He tried to greet Yunho back, but he couldn’t part his lips and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tried to smile instead but he didn’t think that worked out too well either, so he gave a nod of acknowledgment.
“It’s been a long time, huh?” Yunho continued, and Jaejoong would’ve snorted and said ‘No shit’ if he had been even slightly bitter or angry at Yunho. “You look well, hyung.”
Jaejoong nodded again and bit his lip. He wanted to say something back, perhaps tell Yunho that he looked well too, ask him how he’s been, ask him what countries he had been to and what stories he had told through his photographs, congratulate him for achieving his dreams. Anything at all to make him smile.
“I… didn’t know you’d be here,” Yunho said after a stretch of silence. “I hope you don’t mind these,” he gestured to the photos of Jaejoong surrounding them, looking a little embarrassed and reminding Jaejoong fondly of the eighteen year old boy who had given him so much joy. “We’re technically supposed to get permission from people before we display their photos, but well… And I thought since no one can really tell it’s… you...” Yunho bit his lip and looked down at the floor, looking more embarrassed now and a little apprehensive.
He shrugged lightly and looked back up at Jaejoong, sincerity taking over embarrassment. “I wanted to tell my story.”
Jaejoong realized he was smiling slightly, looking adoringly at the man who had taken the place of the boy but still held his heart. Yunho looked at him for a moment and then he smiled too, his warm eyes glowing like embers.
“Do- do you want to grab some coffee after the exhibition? There’s so much I want to say and you were always the best at listening to my ramblings.” Yunho looked unsure but determined, his smile still lighting up his eyes.
And perhaps Jaejoong should have said ‘No’. Perhaps he should have learned some self-preservation by now and stopped doing stupid things driven only by his heart. But he was an expert at doing stupid things and his heart felt so safe, so safe with Yunho.
And he didn’t exactly know what it meant, but Yunho’s story was him. His pictures were surrounding them, and the photos Yunho took were always suffused with feeling and maybe he was only imagining the feelings written in the photos of himself but even if he was, so what?
He was Yunho’s story and that had to count for something, right?
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Summary: A picture tells a thousand words and a thousand words could make a story.
serendipitycm's request: Jaejoong's number one rule in dating is: "No strings attached" but what happens when he met Jung Yunho, his first love and his first heartache, after 7 long years. I'd rather have a happy ending on this please :)
Author's note: Oh God this fic is not at all related to your prompt, serendipitycm! I’m so sorry OTL I wanted to go into more detail and was writing towards that but then I realized I was running out of time so I ended up with this failure of a fic and it’s so rushed and I’m sorry T_T
When Jaejoong was younger he imagined that by the time he hit 31 he would have settled down with a good looking, hardworking man and that they’d have a quaint little house in the outskirts of Seoul. They’d have two kids - adopted of course because by then surely laws would have become kinder to people like him - and a golden retriever.
He’d have a normal life, safe and comfortable, and although not much happened in the way of excitement, he’d be happy and he wouldn’t want it any other way.
And he strongly believed he would achieve it. He had his life planned out since he was old enough to think of the future seriously. He didn’t like surprises, he didn’t do well with unpredictability. That made him very boring and uninteresting, he knew, but it was safe and he liked things organized.
The things he had wanted in his future, he had managed to attain them one by one: getting the required grades in order to get into his first-choice college; getting his dream job in the exact company he’d always wanted to work at. He had achieved them one after the other, and it wasn’t that he was exceptionally gifted or smart - it was just that unlike most people, he knew what he wanted, he made plans to get what he wanted, and he implemented those plans.
The next step in his life journey was a committed relationship. He was 22 then - young and already quite successful; he didn’t have many concerns over being able to find ‘the one’. He still had quite a few long years before he’d planned to settle down and he was confident there was enough time to find the perfect man for him through trial and error.
And on nights like these - no matter how many of them there had been over the years - the images of that next step flashed in his mind in vivid detail as if they were memory rather than fantasy.
There was a comforting routine, a sort of normalcy, to that too.
As he got ready to go out for the night, images of his younger self getting dressed for a date with his perfect boyfriend would filter into his mind. As he drove, his head would be filled with thoughts of the spacious family car they would own, and if they had the money to spare they’d probably have two cars - one for his boyfriend to get to and fro from work and one for him to drop the kids off at school and get into work as well.
Walking in to the club, getting a drink, dancing - thoughts of how he won’t be able to do that very often with the kids needing his attention and how he wouldn’t even mind since he had a wonderful family by his side would be left lingering in his heart.
On a bed, on a couch, against a wall - a series of images will flash behind his closed eyes: a flash of a camera, a messy desk, a smile, long-fingered hands, warm eyes.
The worst part about this last moment was that the images were no longer fished out from the murky waters of a long-abandoned fantasy. They were recollections, fragments of a reality that he sometimes doubted even happened, but then the numbed ache in his heart would flare up and he would feel smell hear see taste and it took all he had to not fall apart at the onslaught of senses.
And as he made the journey back home from a hotel room or a stranger’s house, feeling sick and dirty, that handsome face - the face of the boy that had snuck into his well-ordered life and turned it upside down, that ruined him - will stay smeared in his sight like a stain.
He only went because his friend bribed him with tickets to the new movie he’d been dying to watch. To be honest, photography exhibitions really wasn’t his thing - he was boring, yes, but not that boring. As he went to greet his friend’s little brother, he tried to school his features to show interest and gave some generic praise on the kid’s photography. The kid started explaining each piece to the small audience in his section and he slipped away quietly before he started yawning and offended his friend and the kid.
He walked aimlessly around the large hall, lazily gliding his uninterested eyes over the photographs on display. It was an exhibition for ambitious photographers that were still in high school, and if he was being brutally honest, even a five year old could have taken some of these shots.
He yawned, checked his phone, wondered if it would be rude if he just stood in a corner and played some games on it, and then wondered when his friend would deign it time to go home - he didn’t want to just leave because that would definitely be rude and his friend had promised him those movie tickets too.
Looking around, he noticed that most of the crowd was made up of the high school kids’ parents and relatives, and perhaps a couple of reps from photography magazines - did those exist by the way? He yawned again and made his way further towards the back of the hall where it was less crowded.
Theirs wasn’t a typical relationship.
Jaejoong had wondered, of course he’d wondered exactly what the kid was up to, what his intentions were. Because Jaejoong didn’t have ulterior intentions.
Alright so that was a lie - the kid was damn handsome and a smooth talker and good Lord that smile of his!
But Jaejoong also knew that the kid was technically off-limits and as the adult, he had the responsibility to keep his head on straight - no pun intended. Sure, six years might not be too much in numbers, but it felt like a lot.
He was a man, with a job and responsibilities, and Yunho was only a high school boy, who had zero responsibilities, probably smoked behind the school building and skipped class (or maybe he was a model student - Jaejoong didn’t really know) and mouthed off to his parents (or maybe he was a model son too).
And took amazing photographs while he was at it.
But still a boy, still a boy. And what were the chances of Yunho, the most handsome guy he’d ever encountered, being attracted to him? Of being attracted to guys?
The kid called him ‘hyung’.
He especially liked it when he called him ‘Jaejoongie hyung’ in that smooth, careless way that indicated the words were not thought-out in order to sweet-talk him into something.
He liked the way Yunho’s eyes curved and shined when he smiled at him - that soft, tender sort of smile of course, because when he was smiling all teeth and charm, Jaejoong was looking at his mouth instead.
And that other smile, God that other smile, the one that leaned towards a smirk but not quite, a narrow glimpse of teeth, eyes smoldering and intense and it made Jaejoong weak in the knees. He supposed that was the smile Jung Yunho employed to snag pretty girls in the school hallways or in the mall. It always made him curious, therefore, as to why the kid was using that smile on him more and more often.
He didn’t want to get any ideas, he didn’t want to misunderstand, or if he understood it perfectly well, he didn’t want to encourage it. The moment he admitted to himself that the kid might actually be flirting with him, he was going to start flirting back, start blushing at ever sweet word that left the kid’s mouth, and that was something he wanted to avoid.
They were just friends - as long as he kept telling himself that, he could continue to act like the hyung that he was supposed to be rather than a giggly teenage boy.
Yunho continued to smile that last smile at him, and he would leave more lingering touches along his arm and waist and shoulder, and the worst was when he would stare at him, his eyes so intense and dark that it made him blush.
But he wasn’t going to assume, he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself. Yunho would have to come straight out with it and say it and only then was he going to acknowledge the air charged so thickly between them that it was vibrating.
Then he would say I’m sorry Yunho, but I don’t think it’s going to work, how about we just stay friends, huh? and that would be that.
Yunho might feel a little bummed, as Jaejoong was sure he’d never been rejected before, but he’ll get over it the moment he sees some other pretty thing, as teenagers are wont to do, and he’ll start spending less and less time with Jaejoong, till their interactions would dwindle down to a Happy New Year text once a year, and that was alright with him.
Sure he was going to miss the kid’s various smiles and his warm eyes and those gorgeous long-fingered hands and that smooth way he talked, but it’ll help distance them before Jaejoong got in too deep.
It’ll also give him more free time and encouragement to find a man - not a boy, no, a man. Call him uptight but his dream man was a couple of years older than him (and the cliché ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ - a description that suited Yunho well. Too bad he didn’t measure up in age) and he wasn’t one to change his plans and desires so quickly just because of a handsome boy.
And then one Friday night they’d gone to watch a movie and Yunho reached out in the dark and held his hand. Jaejoong didn’t pull away, and their fingers stayed linked, warm palms touching till the movie finished. They didn’t talk about it. Yunho pulled him up from the seat and pulled him through the crowd leaving the cinema and along the sidewalk to Jaejoong’s car. Only then did their hands let go.
On the way to Yunho’s house they talked about the movie, about the popcorn and how it wasn’t buttery enough, about that one audience member who didn’t know proper theatre etiquette and hadn’t switched his phone to vibrate. Jaejoong wasn’t going to assume anything about the hand-holding and he had to tell his foolish heart to stop galloping in his chest.
He pulled up to the curb outside Yunho’s house and Yunho, instead of turning to him smiling and saying ‘Goodnight hyung’ as usual, stayed seated, staring ahead in contemplation. Then he turned to him, his eyes somehow darker than usual, face solemn. He leaned forward and before Jaejoong could do anything about it - and he would have if he’d had the time, promise! - pressed a soft, warm kiss onto the corner of his mouth. Yunho pulled back just as quickly, but didn’t go far. Jaejoong could feel his breath on his cheeks.
“Hyung,” Yunho said, barely a whisper, smooth and somewhat questioning. His eyes were shining darkly like obsidian under the light from the lamp-post, his gaze so intense it made Jaejoong turn his own surprised eyes away.
Yunho reached out, tucking some of his hair behind his ear with those long fingers. God those long, beautiful fingers he’d had twined with his own stubby ones for almost an hour…
He drove home in a near-daze and it was a wonder he didn’t crash his car. His head was so full of the thoughts running amok that he couldn’t even remember seeing a stoplight or the turns in the road.
He had said Can I think about it?
Not the firm yet nice one liner incorporating both a rejection and an offering to remain friends to soften the blow. No, not that rejection that he had practiced several times inside his head - hell, he even had the intonation down, and at which points to look sorry and where to smile encouragingly. No, he had said Can I think about it?
Yunho hadn’t kissed him again, but he’d nodded, his eyes lighter, a small hopeful smile on his lips.
Their first date had not been much different from the many times they had hung out prior to this. Yunho had asked him out to dinner and as he was still a kid with no steady income, the best he could do was a small ramen shop. But that was more than alright with Jaejoong who preferred delicious, home-flavored food rather than the mass-produced little bite-sized stuff they feed you at the expensive restaurants. Yunho knew enough about him and he about Yunho to know that no apology was needed for the rather cheap date.
Jaejoong enjoyed it like he enjoyed every other meeting between them, but this time their interactions were tinged with something dark and subtle and thrilling; a little shiver down his spine when Yunho touched his fingers briefly over the polished table-top, a little shy smile from Yunho when their feet touched underneath the table and neither made a move to distance them.
He dropped Yunho off in front of his house and got a brief little kiss right on the mouth this time. They smiled shyly at each other and said good night, Yunho’s hand lingering a little longer on the side of his neck, fingers soft and warm behind his ear.
He tried very hard to deny it; it would do neither of them any good. But there were only so much lies and explanations he could give himself before his mind was no longer fooled, before it conspired with his silly little heart and screwed him over.
He didn’t dare admit it to himself though, never mind that there was no need to as he had a seat front and centre to appraise those foolish feelings that did tricks - and look at it leap through the ring of fire! - in the great arena of his heart.
But oh, he loved it when Yunho and he would talk for hours on the phone, even right after having gone on a date, talk for hours till they both only had time for a little nap before they had to be at school and at work (God, Yunho was still going to school - school - what are you thinking, Jaejoong?). And he loved it when Yunho would kiss him in that soft sweet way he does, and he loved to be wrapped up all warm and snug within his embrace, and when Yunho would tuck his hair behind his ear, fingers caressing the skin of his neck like feathers and smile that soft tender smile, Jaejoong knew that he loved h-
No, no, can’t say it, won’t say it. This is not going quite according to plan. Yunho is still a kid, not the fairly successful man that he had in his mind when he planned the future.
See, there was still that little part of his mind that refused to watch the feelings do wondrous tricks in the arena. It flat-out rejected the offer to have free tickets and buttered popcorn and even a pretty little souvenir.
No, that part of his mind was stubborn as a teenager still going through puberty, rebelling against the obvious and being a petulant little brat. That part of his mind kept him up at night, talking circles around him, making his heart hurt, making it weep, making it ask ‘why are you so stubborn, why?’ And still that little part of his mind would rage and rave and throw things and deny deny deny.
So one day, like a dutiful father at the end of his patience, the greater part of his mind sat that little part down, and stuck between the warmth and strictness of the larger part of his mind and his heart, like a child between parents, that little shred of rebellion came to terms with the undeniable.
He was in love.
He broke down in tears after that, all defenses down and stripped bare to his core. It hurt to admit it, it made him absolutely terrified, but it also gave his heart a lightness it had never known before.
The first time they made love…. It was magical. But there was still that fear, that little patch of trepidation that snuck in through the cracks like poisonous green smoke. But still, it was magical.
It was a little embarrassing to admit it, but Yunho seemed more glad than amused or even surprised when he told him that this was his first time. It was Yunho’s first time too, and that made him glad.
They took it slow, testing the waters and making sure they were doing it right. The air was heated and heavy and it was sort of difficult to breathe. His bed sheets were sticking to his damp skin, and Jaejoong had never been pleasured so attentively, so intensely before. It was over rather quickly but neither of them had expected it to last long anyway, being their first time and all.
It was alright, Yunho said, practice makes perfect after all.
They slept entwined together in the patch of moonlight coming in through the window. Yunho had told his parents that he was sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight.
And that poison smoke started to creep in silently. He blocked the cracks as quick as he could but the smoke that already managed to get in lingered in the air, heavy and choking.
Yunho spent more and more time at his apartment during the weekends and sometimes he even came over after school. Sometimes they just talked and watched a movie or TV show and Jaejoong would cook them lunch or dinner, but most times they would be wrapped around each other, sweaty and flushed with pleasure.
Yunho pressed him down onto the mattress and kissed him full on the mouth, demanding but not harsh. It was Saturday evening and the sun was still shining through the window. Silhouetted against that golden light, Yunho looked majestic, looming over him like a lustful God. And Jaejoong stared up at him in silent idiotic wonder as a peasant would a king.
He was in love.
He was in love.
And it was terrifying and that fear kept clanging around in his heart as if throwing tantrums in a room full of gongs.
What had he gotten himself into? This boy had become his Sun, his King, his God, and oh please don’t let him also be his Ruin.
Yunho kissed down his neck, hands branding fire along his sides to grip at his hips firmly.
“Hyung,” he said, voice deep and airy, eyes half-lidded. And oh God, oh God, if he ever turned his eyes away from him he will break, he will be dust in the wind.
“Hyung.” He settled between Jaejoong’s thighs, warm hands holding them apart, and then he was pressing in, pushing through the resistance and nestling deep inside him and he thought he could cry.
Jaejoong could tell there was something he wanted to say but was holding back. The silence was suffocating him. He’d rather Yunho say the most hurtful thing than let this silence continue.
“It’s just-“ Yunho said, stopped, and sighed, not looking into his eyes.
“Just tell me.” It came out as a plea, so desperate, and he bit his tongue hard enough to taste hot rust.
Yunho sighed again. “I’m just not ready to settle down or anything, hyung. I mean… I’m still only 18… and you’re 24. It’s just…” A shrug, non-committal, what-can-you-do. “There’s stuff I wanna do and a committed relationship isn’t really what I’m looking for right now. And you’re just… I want to find someone my own age, you know?”
And he knew, didn’t he? He knew.
Seven years.
Seven years and it still makes him laugh. Laugh till he’s crying, till his heart and body is aching. Oh how stupid he was back then. He brought on his own misery. And he was still wallowing in that misery.
That boy. Oh curse that boy, his God, his Sun, his King. His utter ruin.
Time hadn’t made anything better; hadn’t made this pain easier to bear; hadn’t healed his heart; hadn’t washed away the memories. If anything, time had made it worse. He was a mess - a mess seven years in the making and counting. He hadn’t been able to pick himself back up from the dust that boy left him in.
All his carefully laid out plans had already crumbled to dust the moment he had said “Can I think about it?” that day in his car, and till now he still couldn’t bring himself to plan out his life like he used to. He no longer had a goal in life, no longer had plans and ambitions. All he could do nowadays was exist.
He knew it was stupid, he knew it was utterly foolish and pathetic, letting his life run to waste just because of some boy. But it seemed he was an expert at doing just the things he knew were stupid and foolish and pathetic. No matter how often and how viciously he berated himself and no matter how many angry tears he cried at his continued stupidity, he seemed incapable of putting himself together again.
It didn’t make sense. It was just a boy that he’d know for less than a year, a boy that had walked into his organized life and ripped up all his plans, a boy that he had given his heart to and this boy hadn’t even bothered to give it back when he left - he probably didn’t even know he had it; boys his age were not in the business of exchanging hearts with another.
It was just a boy that he was so angry at yet yearned to see again; just a glimpse would be enough.
No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t angry at him, not after his heartache was no longer blinding him and he realized that Yunho had made him no promises, had told him no lies. It was all on him, this heartache. Only he was to blame and all the anger was directed towards himself.
For the first time in seven years… he was at a photography exhibition. After that very first one where he met Yunho, he had gone to several exhibitions where Yunho’s photos were on display. He had even met Yunho’s parents on one occasion and that had scared him and made him feel terribly guilty. Yunho had introduced him as the older brother of a friend to make it easier to explain how they know each other.
But since that day, he hadn’t even been able to look at a simple photo without his heart giving a little twinge of pain. He had avoided any and all exhibitions at all cost, giving out excuses left and right to his friends and colleagues, most of who seemed to like photography for some reason.
But here he was, inside a large hall filled with photos. He had of course tried to find a reason not to come, but this wasn’t just an invitation from a friend - this was related to his job (building good relations with clients and all that) and he couldn’t get out of it. So he walked next to his boss and the client and tried hard to remain numb, nodding and smiling where appropriate.
Finally the client went to greet other people and he was free to move away to the back of the hall and hide for a while, get his emotions under control. As he weaved his way through the displays, he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, and it was neither bitter nor sad. His heart felt tranquil, at home, and he contemplated this feeling with a small frown as he neared the back of the hall.
His frown deepened as a group of photographs came into view. He cocked his head, a niggling at the back of his mind as he walked closer. There was something strangely familiar, somehow as if he was experiencing déjà vu… And then something turned over in his head and his eyes widened, fixed on the photo directly in front of him. He stared, not daring to believe it, his eyes misting over rapidly. This group of photos, they were all of-
“Do you like it?” a quiet voice asked from behind him. “It’s my favourite - the best I’ve ever taken.”
(The back of the hall was blessedly free of people who might think it rude that he was yawning so much and wrinkling his nose at the displays. He hoped his friend wouldn’t mind that he disappeared so suddenly. He looked up from his phone to make sure he wouldn’t bump into any of the displays and his gaze was suddenly filled with colour. He stopped, and then walked closer, his eyes wide with wonder.
These photographs… they were beautiful, so simple yet complex in their simplicity. The techniques, the colours, the subjects, and most of all, the feelings imbued within each piece were incredible. This one showcased simple, brilliant joy; this one was drenched in sorrow; this one erupted in fury. Whoever took these photos had taken them with a passion that could rival professional photographers. In fact, he decided, it probably was a pro, just to add a bit of flare to the exhibition, otherwise why would such masterpieces be placed at the back of the hall?
He walked right up to one of the photographs, the one that caught his attention the most. Now he thought he understood why so many of his friends liked going to photography exhibitions so much, although why he seemed to have attracted photography nuts was still a mystery.
“Do you like it?” a voice asked from behind him, making him jump in surprise. He turned around to see a boy in a high school uniform.”It’s my favourite. I think it’s my best one so far.”
Jaejoong was a little speechless for a moment, and while he wanted to believe it was only because he was surprised that this kid was the one who took these photos, it wasn’t the only reason.
“These are yours?” he asked, impressed. “Wow.”
“Yup,” the student said, popping the ‘p’ with a proud smile on his handsome face.
“They’re gorgeous,” Jaejoong praised. “I thought they must have been taken by a pro.”
The kid beamed. “Wow, thank you, hyung! That means a lot to me.”
Jaejoong swooned a little at the brilliant smile on the student’s face.
“You must be very passionate about photography,” he commented.
“Uh-huh,” the boy nodded. “I want to travel the world and take photos; tell people’s stories through pictures and show both the beauty and the cruelty of the world.” He suddenly stopped, looking a little embarrassed as if he’d said more than he should have.
“That’s very impressive. I think it’s a wonderful goal and you definitely have what it takes,” he assured the boy. He didn’t want the boy to feel embarrassed over his passions and dreams.
“Thank you, hyung,” the boy smiled, then held out his hand. “My name is Jung Yunho.”
“Kim Jaejoong,” he replied, reaching for the outstretched hand and noticing how long those fingers were.
Their hands connected. And Jaejoong’s heart beat a little faster.)
Jaejoong’s heart was thundering in his chest. If it started beating any faster it would burst right out of him and splatter onto the photograph he was looking at but not seeing. The tears that had been gathering along his lower lid seemed to have evaporated and his eyes felt overly dry. His heart was now doing acrobatics and lodging up in his throat and it was difficult to breathe. He focused on the photo in front of him again. It was a photo of him-
(“Yah Yunho-yah! Stop it!” he laughed.
“No way. You’re beautiful, hyung - a perfect photo subject,” Yunho said, grinning. He trained the camera on Jaejoong again. “Let me practice and you just sit there and be beautiful.”
“It’s embarrassing, Yunho-yah,” he whined, but didn’t protest any further, too distracted by the sight of those long thin fingers wrapped so naturally around the camera.)
All the photos in this section were of him. But not a single one showed his entire face or anything so distinctive that someone could look at him and then the photos and realize he was the subject. Jaejoong himself only realized it was him because he could remember the moment some of the photos were taken. As for the rest, well, he wasn’t the brightest bulb around, but if he couldn’t recognize himself in a photograph he should probably crawl back into his mother’s womb.
The photo he was standing in front of, he couldn’t remember when it was taken. It looked like he wasn’t aware that he was being photographed, his attention on something in the distance. He didn’t realize Yunho took pictures of him without his knowing.
His eyes shifted to the photo next to it. And the tears came again. It was a picture of their hands, fingers entwined upon Jaejoong’s bed sheets, splatters of sunlight painting their skin gold.
He didn’t understand.
He could feel Yunho behind him even though there was quite some distance between them. He was so hyper-aware of Yunho’s presence that he thought he could even feel his breath.
He should turn around and acknowledge him. What if Yunho thought he didn’t want to talk to him and so walked away? What if he wouldn’t get the chance to see Yunho again if he didn’t turn around right now now now!
Calm down!
He tore his eyes away from the photos and looked down at the floor. He took a deep breath and let it out, closed his eyes and then opened them. Then he turned around, raising his eyes to the man in front of him.
Yunho.
He had changed so much and at the same time he was the same 18 year old boy Jaejoong fell in love with. Jaejoong’s heart stopped racing, feeling at home and safe. How his heart could feel safe in the presence of the person who broke it, he didn’t know. But that didn’t matter. For the first time in seven years, he felt weightless, content.
Yunho was 25 now, older than Jaejoong had been when they first met. The maturity could be seen in his body, his face, and his eyes. Had Yunho gotten taller? He had definitely gotten broader, filled out wonderfully from the lanky teenager that he used to be. His cheeks had lost the boyish chubbiness, had become more angular. His hair was different too; it was no longer short and spiked but longer and a dark brown, slicked back with a parting on the side. He was dressed in a black suit and that more than anything made a clear contrast with the boy Jaejoong had first seen in his high school uniform.
Yunho was a man now. And he was so handsome and looked so mature and professional. But he wasn’t smiling. Jaejoong wished he would smile. He loved Yunho’s smile and the way it lit up his warm eyes. His eyes looked too serious and sad now, almost… regretful? He wished Yunho would smile.
“Hello, Jaejoong hyung,” Yunho said. It made his heart tremble.
He tried to greet Yunho back, but he couldn’t part his lips and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tried to smile instead but he didn’t think that worked out too well either, so he gave a nod of acknowledgment.
“It’s been a long time, huh?” Yunho continued, and Jaejoong would’ve snorted and said ‘No shit’ if he had been even slightly bitter or angry at Yunho. “You look well, hyung.”
Jaejoong nodded again and bit his lip. He wanted to say something back, perhaps tell Yunho that he looked well too, ask him how he’s been, ask him what countries he had been to and what stories he had told through his photographs, congratulate him for achieving his dreams. Anything at all to make him smile.
“I… didn’t know you’d be here,” Yunho said after a stretch of silence. “I hope you don’t mind these,” he gestured to the photos of Jaejoong surrounding them, looking a little embarrassed and reminding Jaejoong fondly of the eighteen year old boy who had given him so much joy. “We’re technically supposed to get permission from people before we display their photos, but well… And I thought since no one can really tell it’s… you...” Yunho bit his lip and looked down at the floor, looking more embarrassed now and a little apprehensive.
He shrugged lightly and looked back up at Jaejoong, sincerity taking over embarrassment. “I wanted to tell my story.”
Jaejoong realized he was smiling slightly, looking adoringly at the man who had taken the place of the boy but still held his heart. Yunho looked at him for a moment and then he smiled too, his warm eyes glowing like embers.
“Do- do you want to grab some coffee after the exhibition? There’s so much I want to say and you were always the best at listening to my ramblings.” Yunho looked unsure but determined, his smile still lighting up his eyes.
And perhaps Jaejoong should have said ‘No’. Perhaps he should have learned some self-preservation by now and stopped doing stupid things driven only by his heart. But he was an expert at doing stupid things and his heart felt so safe, so safe with Yunho.
And he didn’t exactly know what it meant, but Yunho’s story was him. His pictures were surrounding them, and the photos Yunho took were always suffused with feeling and maybe he was only imagining the feelings written in the photos of himself but even if he was, so what?
He was Yunho’s story and that had to count for something, right?