Your Story Tales - Oneshot
Title: Your Story Tales
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: General (Could be taken as Yunjae, Jaechun, if you squinted - Minsu)
Band: DBSK/TVXQ/THSK
Genre: general
Rating: PG-13
Warning: cussing
Disclaimer: 'fraid I don't own these loves.
Synopsis: It's a constant rise and fall, but they've always been able to ride the tide.
Comments:
fading_sun_sock, this is number two D
The TV’s on, a late night trashy drama with makeup-caked girls and notice me, please acting, but none of you are really watching. Yoochun’s quiet, eyes focused behind the screen (“Are you okay?” you asked earlier. He smiled - he wasn’t.) Junsu and Changmin are fighting - not really, grins threatening to break through their pretenses.
Yunho is worried, you don’t have to ask with him - you just know. Little waves of tension roll off his shoulders, down his arms and into his clenched fists. It’s obvious; he’s never been good at hiding the stress (his face stays calm but his body shows every break in composure).
Junsu laughs, an overflow of too-bright sound and skinny limbs spilling into your lap, shattering your attention. “Hyung,” he gasps out, laughing again, “Hyung, tell Changmin he’s wrong.”
“I don’t know which of you two is wrong.” You bite back on a smile. “But it’s getting late -“ a girl on the TV shrieks, “- and is anyone watching that?”
“No,” Yunho says, looks up and locks eyes with you. Changmin shakes his head, and he’s trying to scoot away from Junsu, who mock-glares and adds, “nuhuh.”
Yoochun gets up, mumbles something you don’t catch (the speakers still blasting scripted anguish) and leaves in a quiet tumble of lazy footsteps and hidden thoughts. He’s into the other room before you can stop to think, and then Yunho’s standing up, his hands itching towards a pocket and then he’s walking out the door.
The TV’s quieter now, a sequence of badly faked tears and dramatic pleas. “I’m going to go sleep,” you say, “Okay…”
If either of them notice you’re headed in the wrong direction, they don’t mention it.
-------
“Yunho.” He doesn’t reply. “Yunho don’t worry it’s going to be fine.”
He lights another cigarette (Yunho doesn’t smoke anymore, he promised you he wouldn’t) and you watch the silhouette of his shoulders fall. “It’s going to…”
You trip forward, out into the night air and the seclusion of the balcony. He doesn’t move when you grab his free hand, and then suddenly he’s turning, breathing smoke and unease against your cheek.
“I really fucked up.”
------
He’s shoving him before either of you can react, and your heart jolts against your chest. Yoochun’s back bites into the desk, his eyes wide and angry while Yunho’s hands shake (ever so slightly) and then they’re both yelling.
“You’re an id-“
“You haven’t been listening to a fucking word-”
No, management said, no, we’re not going to use any more self-composed songs at the moment, we already have a full track list and this is the end of the discussion. Yunho repeated it in perfect clarity, dulled expression and duller words pouring out of his mouth.
And, no way, because Yoochun wanted perfection - wanted his own words and his own melodies, and suddenly everything’s spiraling out of control (the music, Yoochun’s set mouth says, think about the music) and they both care too damn much (the band, Yunho’s eyes say, the good of Dong Bang Shin Ki).
You were helpless as you watched your world break apart.
-----
Between the dimmed lights and drawn curtains, you can barely make him out - curtained in darkness (reflecting his mood, you figure).
“Yoochun,” and he doesn’t react so you crawl across your bed and settle on his, tugging at the blanket underneath him. “Yoochun.” He’s relaxing against your hands - gentle and careful against his hair, sorting tangles and soothing his nerves. “Let’s go watch the sunset.”
“Too late for that,” he murmurs, turning on his back and watching the ceiling. “Jaejoong, what’s this for you?”
You know he means the music - the band, the everything and all of your essence; it’s the first thing you think of with the fight still fresh in your mind.
“It’s… life.” You gesture uselessly with your hands, search for the words. “The four of you, the music - it’s everything, isn’t it? It’s, yeah, it’s life.”
“Yeah.” He laces a hand through yours - seeks comfort in the touch - and closes his eyes.
-----
You wake up sore from sharing a bed only meant for one person, with Yunho standing in the doorway and smiling at you (tired eyes, resolved smile) and Yoochun sprawled out next to you, still dead to the world. He coughs - mutters something in his sleep - clutching at your back as gravity pulls him towards the bed’s edge.
Yunho laughs, (too loud, you wince, it’s too early) and a pillow hits him in the face. Junsu’s untangling himself from the sheets, him and Changmin both piled in an unruly heap on your bed. It takes you a moment before you realized they must’ve slept there (and Yunho, you think, hasn’t slept).
“What’s going on?” Yoochun mumbles, sleep-heavy voice and half-open eyes. Halfway between throwing the pillow back at Junsu and keeping his cool, Yunho pauses. He tangles eyes with Yoochun, smiles.
“The usual,” you say. “Life.”
-----
Author's Notes: Comm/crits are love. <3 I think this was mainly written to get a feel on the dynamics of the five of them, really. :O
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: General (Could be taken as Yunjae, Jaechun, if you squinted - Minsu)
Band: DBSK/TVXQ/THSK
Genre: general
Rating: PG-13
Warning: cussing
Disclaimer: 'fraid I don't own these loves.
Synopsis: It's a constant rise and fall, but they've always been able to ride the tide.
Comments:
fading_sun_sock, this is number two D
The TV’s on, a late night trashy drama with makeup-caked girls and notice me, please acting, but none of you are really watching. Yoochun’s quiet, eyes focused behind the screen (“Are you okay?” you asked earlier. He smiled - he wasn’t.) Junsu and Changmin are fighting - not really, grins threatening to break through their pretenses.
Yunho is worried, you don’t have to ask with him - you just know. Little waves of tension roll off his shoulders, down his arms and into his clenched fists. It’s obvious; he’s never been good at hiding the stress (his face stays calm but his body shows every break in composure).
Junsu laughs, an overflow of too-bright sound and skinny limbs spilling into your lap, shattering your attention. “Hyung,” he gasps out, laughing again, “Hyung, tell Changmin he’s wrong.”
“I don’t know which of you two is wrong.” You bite back on a smile. “But it’s getting late -“ a girl on the TV shrieks, “- and is anyone watching that?”
“No,” Yunho says, looks up and locks eyes with you. Changmin shakes his head, and he’s trying to scoot away from Junsu, who mock-glares and adds, “nuhuh.”
Yoochun gets up, mumbles something you don’t catch (the speakers still blasting scripted anguish) and leaves in a quiet tumble of lazy footsteps and hidden thoughts. He’s into the other room before you can stop to think, and then Yunho’s standing up, his hands itching towards a pocket and then he’s walking out the door.
The TV’s quieter now, a sequence of badly faked tears and dramatic pleas. “I’m going to go sleep,” you say, “Okay…”
If either of them notice you’re headed in the wrong direction, they don’t mention it.
-------
“Yunho.” He doesn’t reply. “Yunho don’t worry it’s going to be fine.”
He lights another cigarette (Yunho doesn’t smoke anymore, he promised you he wouldn’t) and you watch the silhouette of his shoulders fall. “It’s going to…”
You trip forward, out into the night air and the seclusion of the balcony. He doesn’t move when you grab his free hand, and then suddenly he’s turning, breathing smoke and unease against your cheek.
“I really fucked up.”
------
He’s shoving him before either of you can react, and your heart jolts against your chest. Yoochun’s back bites into the desk, his eyes wide and angry while Yunho’s hands shake (ever so slightly) and then they’re both yelling.
“You’re an id-“
“You haven’t been listening to a fucking word-”
No, management said, no, we’re not going to use any more self-composed songs at the moment, we already have a full track list and this is the end of the discussion. Yunho repeated it in perfect clarity, dulled expression and duller words pouring out of his mouth.
And, no way, because Yoochun wanted perfection - wanted his own words and his own melodies, and suddenly everything’s spiraling out of control (the music, Yoochun’s set mouth says, think about the music) and they both care too damn much (the band, Yunho’s eyes say, the good of Dong Bang Shin Ki).
You were helpless as you watched your world break apart.
-----
Between the dimmed lights and drawn curtains, you can barely make him out - curtained in darkness (reflecting his mood, you figure).
“Yoochun,” and he doesn’t react so you crawl across your bed and settle on his, tugging at the blanket underneath him. “Yoochun.” He’s relaxing against your hands - gentle and careful against his hair, sorting tangles and soothing his nerves. “Let’s go watch the sunset.”
“Too late for that,” he murmurs, turning on his back and watching the ceiling. “Jaejoong, what’s this for you?”
You know he means the music - the band, the everything and all of your essence; it’s the first thing you think of with the fight still fresh in your mind.
“It’s… life.” You gesture uselessly with your hands, search for the words. “The four of you, the music - it’s everything, isn’t it? It’s, yeah, it’s life.”
“Yeah.” He laces a hand through yours - seeks comfort in the touch - and closes his eyes.
-----
You wake up sore from sharing a bed only meant for one person, with Yunho standing in the doorway and smiling at you (tired eyes, resolved smile) and Yoochun sprawled out next to you, still dead to the world. He coughs - mutters something in his sleep - clutching at your back as gravity pulls him towards the bed’s edge.
Yunho laughs, (too loud, you wince, it’s too early) and a pillow hits him in the face. Junsu’s untangling himself from the sheets, him and Changmin both piled in an unruly heap on your bed. It takes you a moment before you realized they must’ve slept there (and Yunho, you think, hasn’t slept).
“What’s going on?” Yoochun mumbles, sleep-heavy voice and half-open eyes. Halfway between throwing the pillow back at Junsu and keeping his cool, Yunho pauses. He tangles eyes with Yoochun, smiles.
“The usual,” you say. “Life.”
-----
Author's Notes: Comm/crits are love. <3 I think this was mainly written to get a feel on the dynamics of the five of them, really. :O