Woes of the Unwanted
Part 1: Here
Part 2: Here
Part 3
Jesus Christ, when had everyone become so intuitive? Changmin was the astute one. Max was the one who read people and manipulated them based on their readings. Yunho and Junsu were supposed to be the slowest when it came to emotion (Jaejoong was the slowest when it came to action), so why were they kneeling down to Changmin's level when he hadn't even called out for help? Changmin cleared his throat. “Nothing. Why would you think something is wrong?”
Junsu sat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh as he leant forward to shut off the TV. “You seem off, I guess,” Junsu explained with a shrug, turning next to his Wii and pressing the power button. Changmin watched the small light of power fade and vanish. He couldn't help but find it symbolic in a way. “If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.”
“I'm just not sure,” Changmin told him, playing with the laces of his Converse sneakers, “if I'm ready to tell you.”
That had Junsu squeaking. The reaction brought a small smile to Changmin's face, though Junsu failed to notice it. “Me? Why me?” Changmin didn't offer anything in reply. Junsu huffed. “Does it have something to do with Yoochun and Jaejoong hyung-deul saying bad things about you?”
Changmin's gaze snapped up from his shoes to scrutinize the older man. “Jaejoong-hyung is saying bad things about me?” It wasn't possible. If Jaejoong knew the entire story, he couldn't possibly say anything in Yoochun's defense. Of course, Jaejoong was similar to Yoochun in the fact that he was a romantic as well, but really. Jaejoong had seen the blood. He could piece the story together by himself.
Junsu shook his head, sipping at a mug of hot coco that he pulled from virtually nowhere. “No, Yoochun was,” he corrected. “But Jaejoong was there. He didn't say anything bad, but he didn't defend you, either.”
“Well, Yoochun is his best friend. He's just a little confused right now,” Changmin reasoned, chest swelling with relief. He didn't think he'd be able to accept it if Jaejoong officially stopped supporting him. Over the years that they'd known each other, Jaejoong had become his family. The rest had, as well, but Yunho was more of a soul mate, and the other two were like cousins to him. Jaejoong was a brother that he never had.
Junsu wasn't convinced. He pouted in a way that could only be defined as Junsu and squeezed Changmin's knee. The gesture wasn't nearly as tender as Yunho's had been, but Changmin was more than delighted with that fact. He wouldn't think twice about sharing Yunho's bed, but he sure as hell had no desire to share Junsu's. It would be incest by the most extreme definition. “I would have defended you,” Junsu told him, nodding with determination. “I wanted to, but I didn't know what was going on.”
Changmin smiled warmly at him. Junsu merely blinked in return, though that was far from surprising. Changmin channeled Max more around Junsu than anyone else, simply because it was more amusing that way. Max wasn't the only one who liked messing with people; Changmin rather enjoyed it as well. True, Max was saved mostly for the cameras, Changmin for the stage and for Yunho, but he had smiled at Junsu as Changmin more than a few times. It was rare, though. “What was Yoochun saying?” he asked softly, leaning back against the edge of the bed.
Junsu appeared slightly dazed by Changmin's demeanor, but he was quick to snap out of it. “Oh, um.” He blushed. “He was calling you a slut.”
Silence fell with those words, and for a moment, Junsu looked worried that Changmin had taken offense to the insult. His eyebrows furrowed when the maknae began to chuckle. “Well,” Changmin whispered, dropping his eyes to his fingers as they began to play with one another, “he's not very creative for a poet, is he?” Junsu could only stare at him, beyond speechless at Changmin's odd behavior. Changmin reached over to brush a strand of hair behind the older man's ear before continuing. “I slept with Yoochun. Two nights ago.”
Junsu didn't get it at first. It was enough to make Changmin laugh again. “You slept with him?”
“Okay, okay,” Changmin chuckled. “Let me put it this way: I had sex with Yoochun two nights ago.”
Now Junsu understood. “Oh. Oh.” He pulled himself onto his knees. Changmin rolled his eyes at the excited glint in Junsu's eye. “So, you had sex with-wait, you're gay?”
Changmin couldn't take it anymore; he cracked into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Oh, this was glorious. Leave it to Junsu to reach the conclusion before noticing the breadcrumbs. He knew that a night with Junsu would heal him completely. Junsu looked almost offended by the younger man's amusement, blowing at a strand of hair that his headband and Changmin had failed to take care of. “Yes,” Changmin replied, once his chuckles had died down, “I am.” What Junsu had asked wasn't even funny-at least, not as funny as he was making it out to be-but he knew that his trauma was the most likely cause of his deranged sense of humor. He was probably going insane.
“Oh,” was Junsu's brilliant response. He was growing more excited by the second. “And Yoochun's gay?”
Well, that killed the mood, now didn't it? Changmin's smile slipped clean off his face. “No,” he murmured, eyes returning to his hands. “Yoochun is completely straight.”
Junsu deflated. Good thing that he did so, because Changmin would have hit him if he remained ecstatic at the revelation that Changmin had had his heart torn out of his chest. “Oh. That makes so much sense.”
Doesn't it? Changmin thought. He shook his head. “Oh, no, hold your horses,” he told him. “It gets better.” So, so much better. He raised his gaze to meet Junsu's, curious and waiting. He smiled dryly. “I slept with Yunho last night.”
Junsu's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he leant forward, practically climbing into Changmin's lap in his incredulity. “You had sex with Yunho?”
Changmin nodded. “Yes, and now Jaejoong is pissed to high hell.”
That only confused Junsu, but Changmin knew he's figure it out eventually. He always did. “What does Jaejoong have to do with-Never mind, just-So, Yunho's gay, too? Or is he straight like Yoochun?”
Changmin couldn't help himself; he laughed a second time. He had known Yunho was gay for years, so the thought of him being straight was damn near hilarious enough to bring tears to his eyes. Exclusive top or not, Yunho wouldn't know what to do with a wife, no matter how many girls he had fucked to stave off some of his sexual tension.
In fact, now that he knew that Yunho loved Jaejoong, Changmin was quite sure that Yunho was simply trying to keep himself from stalking into Jaejoong's room in the middle of the night and having his way with him. The way that things were looking now, Yunho had just barely made it by without doing so. How... interesting.
“Yunho's gay,” Changmin told Junsu, bringing himself back to present. “We came out to each other about four years ago.”
Junsu nodded, looking every bit like a detective piecing together a case. “That explains why you and him are so close. But,” he continued, head cocking to the side, “where does Jaejoong come into this?”
Changmin shrugged with a groan, head lolling back against the edge of the mattress. “He's jealous.” I think.
“Of Yunho?”
“Of me.”
“So, he's gay, too?”
Changmin gave Junsu a look.
Junsu held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I'm just trying to understand why everyone likes everyone else,” he explained.
Changmin offered another shrug. Poor Junsu was always kept out of the loop. Changmin made a note to inform the older man of any further gossip circulating through their 10,000 square foot apartment, because apparently, it tended to shoot right past Junsu's door. “I don't think Jaejoong knows what he is, much less anyone else. He definitely has something for Yunho, though. He even said something about Yunho not being allowed to sleep with any other man but him.”
Taking another sip of his drink, Junsu offered the mug to Changmin. The maknae took it without a second glance. “Wow. So, how does Yunho feel about Jaejoong?”
“He loves him,” Changmin replied automatically. “Said it right to his face, and I was standing right outside the door fighting with Yoochun about sleeping with Yunho. Like I'm his property.”
That seemed to bother Junsu almost as much as it bothered Changmin. “But isn't he straight?”
“Yeah.” He was. Yoochun was straight, and Yoochun was jealous, and Yoochun was turning the house against itself. “He is.” It was almost too much to take. Changmin hated him. He had never hated any of them, but, fuck, he hated Yoochun right then. “He can't tell me what to do. He was thinking of someone else, anyway. Using me.” Like a common slut. Like Changmin was replaceable. Like Changmin's feelings didn't matter. Like he could be played with.
“Omo!” Junsu squeaked, hopping to his feet as if stung by the carpet. “You're crying!”
He was. Changmin was crying, because he loved the asshole who was putting him through this hell. God, Yoochun wasn't worth it. Changmin deserved better. Changmin let his face drop into his hands, doing everything he possibly could to choke back his sobs.
“Okay, um!” Junsu was a flustered mess, glancing around them like the world would end if he didn't find a solution to this problem. “I don't have any-Wait wait wait, I think there are tissues in the bathroom-You wait here, okay? I'll be right back!” Changmin was hardly listening to Junsu's babble, and he was more than relieved when the door closed with a click, signaling Junsu's departure.
He was pathetic, wasn't he? Brought to tears by the man who had taken his innocence. In Yoochun's eyes, he was nothing but a quick fuck, a whore, but Changmin couldn't deny what he felt.
He couldn't deny any of it, because this betrayal went past the loss of a friend. As Max-no, as Changmin-he wasn't a forgiving person. He didn't have it in him to forget the unforgettable. It was his justification for hating Yunho's being a pushover, Jaejoong's blatant self-hatred, and Junsu's block-headedness. He chastised them more often than he chastised himself for showing weakness. For letting themselves be manipulated. Despite everything, here he was. Crying for his broken love.
And another thing: Changmin didn't love. He did, of course. He loved many people: his family, his dog, TVXQ, the rest of his friends. But he didn't love under such dramatic conditions. He was slow to love, easy to keep loving. He preferred warm relationships, leaving the heat for the bedroom. Drama was one thing he tended to avoid. So, what was this? These overwhelming waves of emotion every time he looked at Yoochun, thought of Yoochun? Had he become the very type of lover he despised?
And had he let it lead to this? Again, for the millionth time, had he brought this upon himself? Upon them all?
The door opened and slammed before he could attempt an answer to that ever-returning question. “Back!” Junsu chirped needlessly, flopping back down on the carpet next to Changmin. “I got tissues now, so-”
Changmin ripped the box from his hands, tearing it open and lifting a handful of tissues to his leaking eyes. Junsu could only sit and watch him, completely helpless, as the maknae blew his nose. It was several minutes before Changmin spoke to him. “I'm not a slut,” he whispered, sniffing, and Junsu nodded his agreement. “I'm not a whore,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Junsu agreed, rising onto his knees once more, but it wasn't Junsu who Changmin was trying to convince. Junsu wrapped his arms around Changmin's broader shoulders, and Changmin allowed himself to relax against the older man and stuff his face into Junsu's neck. “You're not, Changmin-ah. You're not.”
*
For the second morning in a row, Jaejoong was the first sight to greet him when Changmin opened his eyes. “Help me,” Jaejoong pleaded.
Changmin blinked, lifting a hand from Junsu's waist and rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. “What the hell, hyung?”
Jaejoong was standing over them, eyebrow quirked ever so slightly at the fact that his two youngest dongsaengs were on the floor. Changmin was surprised to find himself that way, as well, arms wrapped around Junsu's waist and chest, Junsu's back flush to his front. Junsu himself was sound asleep, snoring softly from where his head rested against a sneaker. Apparently, they hadn't thought to move to the mattress before falling asleep in each other's arms.
Changmin groaned, pushing Junsu away from him. Junsu rolled onto his stomach harmlessly, unbothered in his slumber. Changmin lifted his eyes to meet Jaejoong's spectacle gaze as he propped himself against the edge of Junsu's bed. “It's not what it looks like,” he informed the older man groggily.
“Of course it's not,” Jaejoong dismissed, arms crossing. “You're both clothed, and Junsu is the straightest overgrown child I've ever met.” He offered the maknae a helping hand, smiling nervously when Changmin took it into his own. “I'm... I'm sorry for what happened yesterday,” he apologized, using all of his bodyweight to pull Changmin's denser body to his feet. “I didn't know the entire story. Yoochun filled me in, and besides being strangely angry that you slept with Yunho so soon after sleeping with him, he admits that he deserves more blame than you do.”
Changmin grimaced, hiding his embarrassment in a grand show of strength by bending down to lift Junsu's sleeping form into his arms and onto the mattress. “What time is it?” he asked, admittedly avoiding the subject at hand.
Jaejoong cocked his head to the side. “8:30.”
“Did he tell you about that night?” Changmin asked quietly, fiddling with the lock of hair behind his ear. The thought of Jaejoong knowing the entire story was more than embarrassing.
Jaejoong merely nodded as if Changmin wasn't acting strangely at all. “Yeah,” he replied, “not everything, though.” His eyes dropped to Junsu's still body. “Let's move this out into the hallway. That's where my problem is.”
Changmin nodded curiously, moving to pull Junsu's blanket more snuggly over the older man before following Jaejoong out into the hall. “He didn't tell you everything?” he asked incredulously. Hell, he'd told Yunho every graphic detail he could remember. “What did he leave out?”
Jaejoong appeared distracted now that they were closer to whatever he was trying to accomplish, but he tore his eyes away from Yunho's bedroom door in favor of answering Changmin's question. “I don't know,” he told the younger man, raising his eyebrows. “Hence him not telling me. He did say that it was something that you wouldn't like anyone knowing, and that you'd tell me if you saw fit.”
Changmin stared at him, speechless. That had to be one of the last things he was expecting from Yoochun at that moment. “Yoochun said that?”
Jaejoong nodded. “Yeah, I was surprised, too. He did spend all day calling you and Yunho names, so when he finally cooled off, he felt horrible.”
Changmin's eyebrows furrowed, looking away contemplatively. “Did he, now?” he murmured, hands sliding into his pockets. Had he missed something in his own self-analyzation? Was it possible that Yoochun was repenting?
Jaejoong coughed. “Um, actually, I,” he began, grimacing slightly as he looked at his shoes, “I know that I don't know everything that happened, and I'm not going to ask, but...” He bit his lip. “I'm just not going to take sides, okay?” Changmin simply blinked. Jaejoong appeared to grow more nervous with the neutral reaction. “I mean, yeah, he called you names, but he's my best friend, and he's an asshole, but you know-”
“Hyung,” Changmin interrupted, making Jaejoong freeze in his babbling, and Changmin rolled his eyes. “I don't care. Now, what's your problem?” In truth, Changmin did care. It was a lie to say that he didn't, but he knew that Jaejoong was fragile to criticism, so he kept his mouth shut. Honestly, he knew that this was the best that Jaejoong could do for him, and Changmin had no intention of explaining everything to Jaejoong in excruciating detail as he had with Yunho. He saw no need in forcing the older man to pick a side; Yoochun was Jaejoong's Yunho, and Changmin knew that everyone deserved to have at least one in their lives. Jaejoong had no part in this, except at Yunho's side.
Jaejoong pointed at Yunho's bedroom door, unaware of Changmin's internal musings. “That,” he said, face devoid of any amusement.
Changmin followed the finger's indication with a quirked eyebrow, completely unsurprised at this development. “`That.'”
“Yes, that,” Jaejoong grumbled exasperatedly, and he shuffled quietly to Yunho's door before knocking gently against the wood. “Yunho?” he called softly.
“Go. Away,” was the only response received, and Changmin guessed that this game of cat and mouse had been going on for quite some time.
Jaejoong scowled, turning back to Changmin with a look that practically screamed, “See? See?”
Changmin sighed, judging that Jaejoong wouldn't appreciate the maknae laughing, and stepped up beside Jaejoong in front of Yunho's door. “Yunho!” he yelled, giving two rattling raps to the door's delicate frame. “Open up!”
The response was immediate. “We have neighbors, you know,” Yunho muttered testily, popping his head out of the bedroom. Jaejoong brightened considerably with Changmin's accomplishment, but Yunho merely ignored him.
“Yunho,” Changmin greeted with a curt nod, recognizing the need to be quick with this. “Are you decent?”
Yunho frowned, but the question forced him to pull the door open a bit wider to reveal his fully clothed body. “Of course I am. It's 8:40, for crying out loud.”
Changmin couldn't resist the urge; he smirked. “That's too bad,” he teased, and Yunho had to smile. Jaejoong failed to find it amusing, however, and he chose instead to kick Changmin in the back of the knee. Changmin decided to let it slide. “Come out here like a gentleman and talk to your boyfriend,” he told Yunho once he'd sobered.
Jaejoong blushed at the title; Yunho remained unaffected. “He's not my boyfriend,” Yunho corrected moodily. Changmin rolled his eyes. “And I'm not talking to him. He's crazy.” Yunho caught Jaejoong's eyes. “You're crazy. The last thing I need on my plate right now is a bat-shit-crazy boyfriend. Got it?”
Changmin cut in before Jaejoong could even begin to explain his case. “You just talked to him,” he pointed out. That only resulted in Yunho closing the door. Jaejoong whined, hands cupping his face in frustration as Changmin clucked his tongue. “Yunho!” he scolded loudly. “Open this door or I'll hit you!”
“I think I'll take my chances,” came the quick reply.
“He's so childish,” Jaejoong scoffed, crossing his arms. “Won't listen to reason at all.”
“Yeah, because you're totally one to talk,” Changmin returned sarcastically. He regarded the closed door for two seconds before facing Jaejoong, officially diagnosing this as a life or death situation. This was about to get serious. “Okay. We're running out of options here, so it looks like you're going to have to sleep with him.”
Jaejoong proceeded to blanch the strangest color Changmin had ever seen on a human being. “I beg your pardon?” he squeaked.
Changmin showed no shame at his suggestion (mainly because he felt none), and he snorted at Jaejoong's rare display of innocence. “Oh, please. Yunho likes slutty virgins, and looking at you now, I don't think you'll even have to act.”
Now Jaejoong simply looked alarmed. “Slutty...? What? No, I-” He covered his mouth with both hands. “We're not even dating yet!”
“Yes, you are,” Changmin deadpanned.
Jaejoong gaped at him. “I don't think I'm ready for... for that,” he whispered, blushing bright red.
Changmin patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You do like him, right?” he asked, just to be sure that he was understanding everything correctly. Jaejoong nodded. “Then, honey, you have to realize that this is the world of men. When you want to be paid attention right that very second, sometimes you have to put out a little.”
Jaejoong's eyebrows furrowed, seemingly unable to comprehend all of what Changmin had said. “But isn't that,” he began, frowning, “called manipulation?”
“Not if the other guy is just being stupid,” Changmin informed him. “Which Yunho is.”
Jaejoong still looked skeptical. “I don't know...” He trailed off uncertainly.
Changmin chuckled: newborns were always a bit adorable in their own ways. Yunho would have a blast with this one, he was sure. “Well, it comes down to two choices,” he said. “Do you want to wait until he cools down to talk to him, which can take about a week? Or do you want to just go in there and let him have his way with you, which would take a maximum of half an hour?”
It didn't take much more encouragement for Jaejoong to agree, but Changmin had already suspected that Jaejoong was curious enough to give it a try. The door was still an sturdy barrier, though, and Jaejoong continued to stare at it hopelessly even after deciding to seduce Yunho. “He won't let me in,” he told Changmin, as if it were a fact recorded by historians.
Changmin decided that the entire house would fall to ruins without him while he turned the knob of Yunho's door and cracked it open. At Jaejoong's disbelief, he explained. “He didn't lock it when he closed it the second time.”
Yunho met them a second later. “What the hell?” he grumbled, glaring daggers at both of them. “What do you think you're doing?”
Jaejoong opened his mouth to answer, but Changmin was aware that they were wasting time. Jaejoong squeaked higher than Junsu when Changmin shoved him into the room. “Remember,” he told the older man before Yunho could react, “slutty virgin, hyung.” Then he slammed the door.
He remained standing there for all of five minutes, just in case Jaejoong was thrown out and needed a helping hand, but when nothing but silence followed the incident, he assumed that everything was going as planned and filed away to his own room.
It was like a foreign place to him, now. Three nights he'd spent in three different rooms; the first, life-altering; the second, awe-inspiring; and the third, warmly healing. This night, however, he planned to sleep in his own bed. He needed to eventually, anyway.
He would go for a walk, he decided. The fresh air would do him some good, and a coffee and bagel at the shop on the corner wouldn't be unwelcome, either. He needed something to return him to some form of normalcy, because he sure as hell couldn't go to a meeting for sexual trauma survivors. He was Max fucking Changmin. So, he took a quick shower in his own bathroom and slipped into a simple, clean outfit and a striped hoodie, and he stalked quietly past Yunho's bedroom door to the fire escape just outside the apartment.
And, of course, there was Yoochun, in all of his infuriating, self-contemplating beauty, sitting on the staircase's top step. He didn't turn when the heavy door slammed closed, probably thought it was a simple passerby-or else, didn't notice it at all. Changmin was startled to find him there, because he was still in the process of healing, and now he was in the process of escaping. Junsu's friendly comforting had helped in its way, and Yunho's sensual therapy had managed to pull him from the brink of despair, but the loathing was still there, gnawing at his pride like the blackness of those sleepless nights. It was smaller, couldn't break him down anymore, but not dispelled. He was beginning to believe that it would never completely disappear.
His silence gave him away. Any stranger passing through would have moved on by now, either past Yoochun's sedentary form or back the way they'd come, but Yoochun was being watched, and he could feel it. He glanced over his shoulder, movements long and slow in his distracted state. Changmin flinched when their eyes met.
Just perfect, Changmin-ah, Max chastised. Show the asshole that you're weak.
Yoochun, however, didn't take unkindly to Changmin's presence. He didn't even make to rise from his spot, looking far too exhausted to make any movements involving his entire body. “Changmin-ah,” was all he said, almost welcoming.
It sounded suspiciously like a lion luring a gazelle in for slaughter, at least to Changmin, and the maknae was determined to not fall for such an invitation. Instead, he gathered up his courage, took a deep breath, and bolted, just like the gazelle Yoochun was making him out to be.
Yoochun let him pass without intervention, watching passively as he flew down the steps (whether by sloth or by shame), but when Changmin hit the story just below Yoochun's, the older man began to talk. “I've been thinking of that night, you know?” he asked rather than stated. Whether he was expecting an audience from Changmin was unapparent, but Changmin had read novels that spoke with less meaning, and he slid to a stop before he could stumble down the next flight of stairs. Even with the silent acknowledgement, Yoochun didn't stand, and Changmin didn't look at him. Half a minute passed before Yoochun continued. “Actually, I can't stop thinking about it. Can't even sleep.”
Changmin knew he should have kept moving. He knew that Yoochun didn't deserve this attention-certainly not his attention-but the words had him rooted, and he didn't fight it.
“I just can't... can't get my head around it,” Yoochun told him, eyes on the toes of his boots. “I keep wondering if...” Here, he trailed off aimlessly, leaving Changmin with nothing to finish the sentence. The second that Changmin deigned to look at him was the second that Yoochun lifted his gaze. The electricity that sparked between them in that singular moment was more than upsetting for Changmin's inner peace. “Did I rape you?” Yoochun asked, quiet and almost unheard, but as calm as the question could be asked.
That was the one question Changmin wasn't ready nor willing to face just yet, but he forced himself to try, anyway. He would try for the sake of his and Yoochun's friendship, something that he was ashamed to say he wanted to salvage. “I...” He cleared his throat-and his head, by extension. “I don't know. I keep thinking about it, but I can't... I can't figure it out.”
“You told me to stop,” Yoochun informed him. The information made Changmin's eyes widen, and Yoochun looked away. “Three times, to be exact. But every time you begged me to leave you be, I just... couldn't. I just ignored you. Every time.”
Changmin didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about Yoochun raping him: not before, and not now that he knew that... it was true. Suddenly, he found himself climbing the steps he'd just descended. “You didn't,” he argued, dropping to his haunches on the step below where Yoochun's feet rested. “You couldn't have.”
Yoochun stared at him. Changmin probably sounded insane. The fact that he'd been taken and used by force by no fault of his own had just been conformed, and here he was, on his knees and denying that it ever happened to the man responsible. Yoochun wouldn't be so easily swayed, though, and Changmin was satisfied with that. Yoochun had no room and no right to forgive himself. “But... by the definition of rape-”
Changmin snorted, throwing that logic completely out of reach, uncharacteristic though it was. “Screw the definition,” he scoffed, hands on Yoochun's boots. The older man glanced at them for a moment before reaching down hesitantly to take one of them into his own. Changmin did his best to not notice. “You... I liked you. And it just... It wasn't rape. It wasn't.”
Yoochun appeared distracted by something else. “You said that in the past tense.” That only confused the already borderline Changmin, so he soon clarified. “You don't like me anymore?”
Now, what the fuck kind of question was that to ask at a moment like this? It was out of place, unexpected. Inappropriate, even.
Changmin was going to comment on the oddities, say something sarcastic that ruined the urgent mood, but Yoochun continued while the mood was still fresh. “I keep wondering about how I was with you. Like you had to be mine.”
Once he realized the turn the conversation was taking, Changmin shook his head. Even as his heart began to pound once more for Yoochun's charms, just as it used to, he shook his head, because, God, don't let this happen. “You were thinking of someone else,” he reminded the older man.
Yoochun dropped his eyes to his and Changmin's linked fingers, and his thumb brushed brushed along the dips of Changmin's knuckles. “At first,” he murmured, and it took everything in Changmin's being to not pull away. “At first I was, but then once we were in the bedroom... I...”
“No.” This was torture. These had been the longest two days of Changmin's life, and this was only making them longer. “You're straight,” he whispered, because Yoochun was. Yoochun was and always had been and always would be, and this was not happening. Changmin had not suffered for nothing.
Yoochun wasn't nearly as certain of that fact as Changmin needed him to be. “I'm not entirely sure that I am,” he replied. Changmin's awareness shattered with the admission. “I've never been that way with anyone else, you know? So-”
“Animalistic,” Changmin filled in automatically, only realizing his harshness when Yoochun grimaced with it. Changmin was loosing control of whatever he had thought was happening. Loving Yoochun had only just been added to his list of conscious realizations, but Yoochun couldn't love him back. Yoochun couldn't want him back. “You were just... You were just taking advantage-”
“Does it mean that I love you?” Yoochun whispered in way of interruption, eyes wide and wondering, and this time, Changmin did make to pull away. He tried to, but Yoochun took hold of his other hand, and he was unable to rise to his feet. “Does it?” he asked again, all too urgent.
As if Changmin could know the complexity that was Yoochun's psyche. Lord, he could barely decipher his own. Yoochun was a true romantic, to the very core of his being. Only a romantic could have come to this conclusion after all of the violence that had transpired since their night of horrifying passion, and while Changmin was a strict realist, he still loved him. He still loved Yoochun, and Max was screaming at him at the top of his lungs. He couldn't let himself give in. “Let me go,” he whispered.
Yoochun loosened his grip just enough for Changmin to be able to slip away, but didn't let go completely. “Changmin-ah,” he pleaded, leaning forward, “let me-”
“No,” Changmin murmured, pulling out of Yoochun's grasp and rising from his crouch. Yoochun was practically devastated at the word, staring up at the maknae from his seat on the steps. “I can't let you do anything,” Changmin told him. He hated to admit something so sappy, but it was making his heart break all over again. “Not after everything, I-”
“Because I raped you,” Yoochun reasoned, eyes pained.
Changmin glared at him. “It wasn't rape,” he corrected, knowing full well that he was being delusional. He was denying reality at this point, recreating the events instead of facing them like the coward he was, but fuck if he cared. He hadn't been raped. It couldn't have happened that way. “B-But you still,” he continued, “forced yourself inside.” Yoochun winced. “Called me a slut. A whore.”
“I was just-” Yoochun began, but Changmin didn't let him get far.
“It still hurt, hyung,” the maknae reminded him quietly, arms folding across his chest. He forced himself to maintain eye contact, but damn, was it difficult. “It hurt, because I... I believed it.” Yoochun was brought to the brink of tears with that honesty, and Changmin couldn't keep looking at him. He looked instead at Yoochun's boots. “I didn't deserve that. Any of it.”
“No,” Yoochun agreed breathily, “you didn't.”
“And I know that if it were anyone else,” Changmin told him, voice beginning to shake ever so slightly, “I wouldn't let them give in to you. If you did this to anyone else, I wouldn't let them forgive you.”
“I don't deserve to be forgiven,” Yoochun added, wiping at his nose. “I was horrible.”
“You were,” Changmin agreed, stepping back and down a step, hand steady on the railing. “And you better hope that you're not in love with me, because I... I need to have some self-respect. I need to know that I deserve better.”
“You do deserve better,” Yoochun told him, choosing that moment to finally rise from his seat. Changmin took one more step down the stairwell, because that night was not forgotten. If only for a moment, his fight or flight response was triggered by the memory that this man had attacked him. How horrible that his love-the man who supposedly loved him back-had this affect on him. This call for self-defense. “But,” Yoochun went on, folding a lock of hair behind his ear as he fought back his tears, “will we be okay?”
Changmin blinked, much too focused on the way that their respective positions on the steps had Yoochun standing taller than him. It was bringing back unpleasant memories of unwelcome dominance. “`Okay?'” he parroted, trying to maintain his grip on reality. It's over, Changmin-ah. It's over.
Yoochun nodded, unaware of Changmin's growing trepidation. “As friends. Will we ever be okay?”
What a question that was. It took longer than Yoochun would have probably liked for Changmin to respond, but Yoochun wasn't going to complain. The wait wasn't a means of silent torture for Yoochun to endure, though he definitely deserved it. Changmin simply couldn't think of an answer. It would be so much easier if it were just them, which was a terrible conclusion to come to, because it shouldn't have. Yunho was part of this, too. Jaejoong was, as well, and Junsu had made his own appearance. Because of Yoochun's actions, and because Yoochun had lied to him about his feelings, everyone had been hurt. All five of them were in ruins. “I think,” he began after minutes of silence, “we will be. Eventually, we'll be friends again, carrying on as we always have. But this”-he gestured about them and between them, indicating everything that had happened and was happening-“will never go away. Our feelings will, after some time, but what happened...” He dropped his eyes, hand squeezing at the rail in his fingers until his knuckles turned white. “What happened will never go away. It will always be there, in the background, because I can't forgive you. I can't let myself.”
Everything considered, Yoochun took Changmin's answer surprisingly well. He gave one simple, calm nod, stepped down so he was one step above Changmin's, and offered the maknae a small, sad smile. He noticed the way Changmin tensed at their close proximity, Changmin noted, because he looked that much more broken. He was resigned to whatever Changmin decided was best. “I wouldn't love you any other way, I think.”
And, oh, there was love there. In Yoochun's eyes, the love was almost as loud as the pounding in Changmin's chest.
For a brief moment, Changmin reconsidered. Sure, it would take some time for Yoochun to touch him without memories stalling them, and Yoochun had been absolutely horrendous. The entire apartment was a mess right now, but what did it matter if there was love? It was such a romantic thought, Max would have puked.
Before he could do anything rash, however, Yoochun saved him from betraying himself. His rapist saved him. How demented was that? “Go,” Yoochun whispered, and it was then that Changmin realized that his love was crying. “We'll be okay eventually.”
And that was how Changmin left him; crying in the mess he had caused, just as Changmin had left him in the kitchen two mornings prior. He forced one leg in front of the other, racing down each flight of stairs as it came, and when he reached the ground floor, before pushing through to the outside world to meet the camping fans, he paused to wipe his own tears away. It took less time than it had for the past two days to collect himself and slip his sunglasses out of his pocket and over his reddened eyes. Maybe that meant that he was healed. Maybe.
Once he was sure he was ready to proceed, he summoned Max, squared his shoulders, and met his screaming fans.
A/N: One of the things I was striving to do with this fic was point out the major differences in Changmin's and Yoochun's personalities, mainly the differences between romantics and realists. Realists are, by definition, very attuned to the reality of every situation. Romantics, however, tend to dream, and many of the things they dream up can be completely insane to anyone who isn't a romantic. “Let's fuck so I can see if I really like you.” “I raped you, and I wouldn't rape anyone else, so does that mean that I love you?” Those kinds of things. Another thing is that opposites attract. Yes, Yoochun is out of his mind, but Changmin still loves him, as much as he hates to admit it. And lastly, of course, the adventure of a rape victim trying to pick up where he left off. I'll leave that one to the readers' analysis.
P.S. There was supposed to be a kiss at the end, but I thought it would be too unrealistic. As if Changmin would be able to touch Yoochun so soon after being torn apart by him.
Part 2: Here
Part 3
Jesus Christ, when had everyone become so intuitive? Changmin was the astute one. Max was the one who read people and manipulated them based on their readings. Yunho and Junsu were supposed to be the slowest when it came to emotion (Jaejoong was the slowest when it came to action), so why were they kneeling down to Changmin's level when he hadn't even called out for help? Changmin cleared his throat. “Nothing. Why would you think something is wrong?”
Junsu sat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh as he leant forward to shut off the TV. “You seem off, I guess,” Junsu explained with a shrug, turning next to his Wii and pressing the power button. Changmin watched the small light of power fade and vanish. He couldn't help but find it symbolic in a way. “If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.”
“I'm just not sure,” Changmin told him, playing with the laces of his Converse sneakers, “if I'm ready to tell you.”
That had Junsu squeaking. The reaction brought a small smile to Changmin's face, though Junsu failed to notice it. “Me? Why me?” Changmin didn't offer anything in reply. Junsu huffed. “Does it have something to do with Yoochun and Jaejoong hyung-deul saying bad things about you?”
Changmin's gaze snapped up from his shoes to scrutinize the older man. “Jaejoong-hyung is saying bad things about me?” It wasn't possible. If Jaejoong knew the entire story, he couldn't possibly say anything in Yoochun's defense. Of course, Jaejoong was similar to Yoochun in the fact that he was a romantic as well, but really. Jaejoong had seen the blood. He could piece the story together by himself.
Junsu shook his head, sipping at a mug of hot coco that he pulled from virtually nowhere. “No, Yoochun was,” he corrected. “But Jaejoong was there. He didn't say anything bad, but he didn't defend you, either.”
“Well, Yoochun is his best friend. He's just a little confused right now,” Changmin reasoned, chest swelling with relief. He didn't think he'd be able to accept it if Jaejoong officially stopped supporting him. Over the years that they'd known each other, Jaejoong had become his family. The rest had, as well, but Yunho was more of a soul mate, and the other two were like cousins to him. Jaejoong was a brother that he never had.
Junsu wasn't convinced. He pouted in a way that could only be defined as Junsu and squeezed Changmin's knee. The gesture wasn't nearly as tender as Yunho's had been, but Changmin was more than delighted with that fact. He wouldn't think twice about sharing Yunho's bed, but he sure as hell had no desire to share Junsu's. It would be incest by the most extreme definition. “I would have defended you,” Junsu told him, nodding with determination. “I wanted to, but I didn't know what was going on.”
Changmin smiled warmly at him. Junsu merely blinked in return, though that was far from surprising. Changmin channeled Max more around Junsu than anyone else, simply because it was more amusing that way. Max wasn't the only one who liked messing with people; Changmin rather enjoyed it as well. True, Max was saved mostly for the cameras, Changmin for the stage and for Yunho, but he had smiled at Junsu as Changmin more than a few times. It was rare, though. “What was Yoochun saying?” he asked softly, leaning back against the edge of the bed.
Junsu appeared slightly dazed by Changmin's demeanor, but he was quick to snap out of it. “Oh, um.” He blushed. “He was calling you a slut.”
Silence fell with those words, and for a moment, Junsu looked worried that Changmin had taken offense to the insult. His eyebrows furrowed when the maknae began to chuckle. “Well,” Changmin whispered, dropping his eyes to his fingers as they began to play with one another, “he's not very creative for a poet, is he?” Junsu could only stare at him, beyond speechless at Changmin's odd behavior. Changmin reached over to brush a strand of hair behind the older man's ear before continuing. “I slept with Yoochun. Two nights ago.”
Junsu didn't get it at first. It was enough to make Changmin laugh again. “You slept with him?”
“Okay, okay,” Changmin chuckled. “Let me put it this way: I had sex with Yoochun two nights ago.”
Now Junsu understood. “Oh. Oh.” He pulled himself onto his knees. Changmin rolled his eyes at the excited glint in Junsu's eye. “So, you had sex with-wait, you're gay?”
Changmin couldn't take it anymore; he cracked into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Oh, this was glorious. Leave it to Junsu to reach the conclusion before noticing the breadcrumbs. He knew that a night with Junsu would heal him completely. Junsu looked almost offended by the younger man's amusement, blowing at a strand of hair that his headband and Changmin had failed to take care of. “Yes,” Changmin replied, once his chuckles had died down, “I am.” What Junsu had asked wasn't even funny-at least, not as funny as he was making it out to be-but he knew that his trauma was the most likely cause of his deranged sense of humor. He was probably going insane.
“Oh,” was Junsu's brilliant response. He was growing more excited by the second. “And Yoochun's gay?”
Well, that killed the mood, now didn't it? Changmin's smile slipped clean off his face. “No,” he murmured, eyes returning to his hands. “Yoochun is completely straight.”
Junsu deflated. Good thing that he did so, because Changmin would have hit him if he remained ecstatic at the revelation that Changmin had had his heart torn out of his chest. “Oh. That makes so much sense.”
Doesn't it? Changmin thought. He shook his head. “Oh, no, hold your horses,” he told him. “It gets better.” So, so much better. He raised his gaze to meet Junsu's, curious and waiting. He smiled dryly. “I slept with Yunho last night.”
Junsu's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he leant forward, practically climbing into Changmin's lap in his incredulity. “You had sex with Yunho?”
Changmin nodded. “Yes, and now Jaejoong is pissed to high hell.”
That only confused Junsu, but Changmin knew he's figure it out eventually. He always did. “What does Jaejoong have to do with-Never mind, just-So, Yunho's gay, too? Or is he straight like Yoochun?”
Changmin couldn't help himself; he laughed a second time. He had known Yunho was gay for years, so the thought of him being straight was damn near hilarious enough to bring tears to his eyes. Exclusive top or not, Yunho wouldn't know what to do with a wife, no matter how many girls he had fucked to stave off some of his sexual tension.
In fact, now that he knew that Yunho loved Jaejoong, Changmin was quite sure that Yunho was simply trying to keep himself from stalking into Jaejoong's room in the middle of the night and having his way with him. The way that things were looking now, Yunho had just barely made it by without doing so. How... interesting.
“Yunho's gay,” Changmin told Junsu, bringing himself back to present. “We came out to each other about four years ago.”
Junsu nodded, looking every bit like a detective piecing together a case. “That explains why you and him are so close. But,” he continued, head cocking to the side, “where does Jaejoong come into this?”
Changmin shrugged with a groan, head lolling back against the edge of the mattress. “He's jealous.” I think.
“Of Yunho?”
“Of me.”
“So, he's gay, too?”
Changmin gave Junsu a look.
Junsu held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I'm just trying to understand why everyone likes everyone else,” he explained.
Changmin offered another shrug. Poor Junsu was always kept out of the loop. Changmin made a note to inform the older man of any further gossip circulating through their 10,000 square foot apartment, because apparently, it tended to shoot right past Junsu's door. “I don't think Jaejoong knows what he is, much less anyone else. He definitely has something for Yunho, though. He even said something about Yunho not being allowed to sleep with any other man but him.”
Taking another sip of his drink, Junsu offered the mug to Changmin. The maknae took it without a second glance. “Wow. So, how does Yunho feel about Jaejoong?”
“He loves him,” Changmin replied automatically. “Said it right to his face, and I was standing right outside the door fighting with Yoochun about sleeping with Yunho. Like I'm his property.”
That seemed to bother Junsu almost as much as it bothered Changmin. “But isn't he straight?”
“Yeah.” He was. Yoochun was straight, and Yoochun was jealous, and Yoochun was turning the house against itself. “He is.” It was almost too much to take. Changmin hated him. He had never hated any of them, but, fuck, he hated Yoochun right then. “He can't tell me what to do. He was thinking of someone else, anyway. Using me.” Like a common slut. Like Changmin was replaceable. Like Changmin's feelings didn't matter. Like he could be played with.
“Omo!” Junsu squeaked, hopping to his feet as if stung by the carpet. “You're crying!”
He was. Changmin was crying, because he loved the asshole who was putting him through this hell. God, Yoochun wasn't worth it. Changmin deserved better. Changmin let his face drop into his hands, doing everything he possibly could to choke back his sobs.
“Okay, um!” Junsu was a flustered mess, glancing around them like the world would end if he didn't find a solution to this problem. “I don't have any-Wait wait wait, I think there are tissues in the bathroom-You wait here, okay? I'll be right back!” Changmin was hardly listening to Junsu's babble, and he was more than relieved when the door closed with a click, signaling Junsu's departure.
He was pathetic, wasn't he? Brought to tears by the man who had taken his innocence. In Yoochun's eyes, he was nothing but a quick fuck, a whore, but Changmin couldn't deny what he felt.
He couldn't deny any of it, because this betrayal went past the loss of a friend. As Max-no, as Changmin-he wasn't a forgiving person. He didn't have it in him to forget the unforgettable. It was his justification for hating Yunho's being a pushover, Jaejoong's blatant self-hatred, and Junsu's block-headedness. He chastised them more often than he chastised himself for showing weakness. For letting themselves be manipulated. Despite everything, here he was. Crying for his broken love.
And another thing: Changmin didn't love. He did, of course. He loved many people: his family, his dog, TVXQ, the rest of his friends. But he didn't love under such dramatic conditions. He was slow to love, easy to keep loving. He preferred warm relationships, leaving the heat for the bedroom. Drama was one thing he tended to avoid. So, what was this? These overwhelming waves of emotion every time he looked at Yoochun, thought of Yoochun? Had he become the very type of lover he despised?
And had he let it lead to this? Again, for the millionth time, had he brought this upon himself? Upon them all?
The door opened and slammed before he could attempt an answer to that ever-returning question. “Back!” Junsu chirped needlessly, flopping back down on the carpet next to Changmin. “I got tissues now, so-”
Changmin ripped the box from his hands, tearing it open and lifting a handful of tissues to his leaking eyes. Junsu could only sit and watch him, completely helpless, as the maknae blew his nose. It was several minutes before Changmin spoke to him. “I'm not a slut,” he whispered, sniffing, and Junsu nodded his agreement. “I'm not a whore,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Junsu agreed, rising onto his knees once more, but it wasn't Junsu who Changmin was trying to convince. Junsu wrapped his arms around Changmin's broader shoulders, and Changmin allowed himself to relax against the older man and stuff his face into Junsu's neck. “You're not, Changmin-ah. You're not.”
*
For the second morning in a row, Jaejoong was the first sight to greet him when Changmin opened his eyes. “Help me,” Jaejoong pleaded.
Changmin blinked, lifting a hand from Junsu's waist and rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. “What the hell, hyung?”
Jaejoong was standing over them, eyebrow quirked ever so slightly at the fact that his two youngest dongsaengs were on the floor. Changmin was surprised to find himself that way, as well, arms wrapped around Junsu's waist and chest, Junsu's back flush to his front. Junsu himself was sound asleep, snoring softly from where his head rested against a sneaker. Apparently, they hadn't thought to move to the mattress before falling asleep in each other's arms.
Changmin groaned, pushing Junsu away from him. Junsu rolled onto his stomach harmlessly, unbothered in his slumber. Changmin lifted his eyes to meet Jaejoong's spectacle gaze as he propped himself against the edge of Junsu's bed. “It's not what it looks like,” he informed the older man groggily.
“Of course it's not,” Jaejoong dismissed, arms crossing. “You're both clothed, and Junsu is the straightest overgrown child I've ever met.” He offered the maknae a helping hand, smiling nervously when Changmin took it into his own. “I'm... I'm sorry for what happened yesterday,” he apologized, using all of his bodyweight to pull Changmin's denser body to his feet. “I didn't know the entire story. Yoochun filled me in, and besides being strangely angry that you slept with Yunho so soon after sleeping with him, he admits that he deserves more blame than you do.”
Changmin grimaced, hiding his embarrassment in a grand show of strength by bending down to lift Junsu's sleeping form into his arms and onto the mattress. “What time is it?” he asked, admittedly avoiding the subject at hand.
Jaejoong cocked his head to the side. “8:30.”
“Did he tell you about that night?” Changmin asked quietly, fiddling with the lock of hair behind his ear. The thought of Jaejoong knowing the entire story was more than embarrassing.
Jaejoong merely nodded as if Changmin wasn't acting strangely at all. “Yeah,” he replied, “not everything, though.” His eyes dropped to Junsu's still body. “Let's move this out into the hallway. That's where my problem is.”
Changmin nodded curiously, moving to pull Junsu's blanket more snuggly over the older man before following Jaejoong out into the hall. “He didn't tell you everything?” he asked incredulously. Hell, he'd told Yunho every graphic detail he could remember. “What did he leave out?”
Jaejoong appeared distracted now that they were closer to whatever he was trying to accomplish, but he tore his eyes away from Yunho's bedroom door in favor of answering Changmin's question. “I don't know,” he told the younger man, raising his eyebrows. “Hence him not telling me. He did say that it was something that you wouldn't like anyone knowing, and that you'd tell me if you saw fit.”
Changmin stared at him, speechless. That had to be one of the last things he was expecting from Yoochun at that moment. “Yoochun said that?”
Jaejoong nodded. “Yeah, I was surprised, too. He did spend all day calling you and Yunho names, so when he finally cooled off, he felt horrible.”
Changmin's eyebrows furrowed, looking away contemplatively. “Did he, now?” he murmured, hands sliding into his pockets. Had he missed something in his own self-analyzation? Was it possible that Yoochun was repenting?
Jaejoong coughed. “Um, actually, I,” he began, grimacing slightly as he looked at his shoes, “I know that I don't know everything that happened, and I'm not going to ask, but...” He bit his lip. “I'm just not going to take sides, okay?” Changmin simply blinked. Jaejoong appeared to grow more nervous with the neutral reaction. “I mean, yeah, he called you names, but he's my best friend, and he's an asshole, but you know-”
“Hyung,” Changmin interrupted, making Jaejoong freeze in his babbling, and Changmin rolled his eyes. “I don't care. Now, what's your problem?” In truth, Changmin did care. It was a lie to say that he didn't, but he knew that Jaejoong was fragile to criticism, so he kept his mouth shut. Honestly, he knew that this was the best that Jaejoong could do for him, and Changmin had no intention of explaining everything to Jaejoong in excruciating detail as he had with Yunho. He saw no need in forcing the older man to pick a side; Yoochun was Jaejoong's Yunho, and Changmin knew that everyone deserved to have at least one in their lives. Jaejoong had no part in this, except at Yunho's side.
Jaejoong pointed at Yunho's bedroom door, unaware of Changmin's internal musings. “That,” he said, face devoid of any amusement.
Changmin followed the finger's indication with a quirked eyebrow, completely unsurprised at this development. “`That.'”
“Yes, that,” Jaejoong grumbled exasperatedly, and he shuffled quietly to Yunho's door before knocking gently against the wood. “Yunho?” he called softly.
“Go. Away,” was the only response received, and Changmin guessed that this game of cat and mouse had been going on for quite some time.
Jaejoong scowled, turning back to Changmin with a look that practically screamed, “See? See?”
Changmin sighed, judging that Jaejoong wouldn't appreciate the maknae laughing, and stepped up beside Jaejoong in front of Yunho's door. “Yunho!” he yelled, giving two rattling raps to the door's delicate frame. “Open up!”
The response was immediate. “We have neighbors, you know,” Yunho muttered testily, popping his head out of the bedroom. Jaejoong brightened considerably with Changmin's accomplishment, but Yunho merely ignored him.
“Yunho,” Changmin greeted with a curt nod, recognizing the need to be quick with this. “Are you decent?”
Yunho frowned, but the question forced him to pull the door open a bit wider to reveal his fully clothed body. “Of course I am. It's 8:40, for crying out loud.”
Changmin couldn't resist the urge; he smirked. “That's too bad,” he teased, and Yunho had to smile. Jaejoong failed to find it amusing, however, and he chose instead to kick Changmin in the back of the knee. Changmin decided to let it slide. “Come out here like a gentleman and talk to your boyfriend,” he told Yunho once he'd sobered.
Jaejoong blushed at the title; Yunho remained unaffected. “He's not my boyfriend,” Yunho corrected moodily. Changmin rolled his eyes. “And I'm not talking to him. He's crazy.” Yunho caught Jaejoong's eyes. “You're crazy. The last thing I need on my plate right now is a bat-shit-crazy boyfriend. Got it?”
Changmin cut in before Jaejoong could even begin to explain his case. “You just talked to him,” he pointed out. That only resulted in Yunho closing the door. Jaejoong whined, hands cupping his face in frustration as Changmin clucked his tongue. “Yunho!” he scolded loudly. “Open this door or I'll hit you!”
“I think I'll take my chances,” came the quick reply.
“He's so childish,” Jaejoong scoffed, crossing his arms. “Won't listen to reason at all.”
“Yeah, because you're totally one to talk,” Changmin returned sarcastically. He regarded the closed door for two seconds before facing Jaejoong, officially diagnosing this as a life or death situation. This was about to get serious. “Okay. We're running out of options here, so it looks like you're going to have to sleep with him.”
Jaejoong proceeded to blanch the strangest color Changmin had ever seen on a human being. “I beg your pardon?” he squeaked.
Changmin showed no shame at his suggestion (mainly because he felt none), and he snorted at Jaejoong's rare display of innocence. “Oh, please. Yunho likes slutty virgins, and looking at you now, I don't think you'll even have to act.”
Now Jaejoong simply looked alarmed. “Slutty...? What? No, I-” He covered his mouth with both hands. “We're not even dating yet!”
“Yes, you are,” Changmin deadpanned.
Jaejoong gaped at him. “I don't think I'm ready for... for that,” he whispered, blushing bright red.
Changmin patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You do like him, right?” he asked, just to be sure that he was understanding everything correctly. Jaejoong nodded. “Then, honey, you have to realize that this is the world of men. When you want to be paid attention right that very second, sometimes you have to put out a little.”
Jaejoong's eyebrows furrowed, seemingly unable to comprehend all of what Changmin had said. “But isn't that,” he began, frowning, “called manipulation?”
“Not if the other guy is just being stupid,” Changmin informed him. “Which Yunho is.”
Jaejoong still looked skeptical. “I don't know...” He trailed off uncertainly.
Changmin chuckled: newborns were always a bit adorable in their own ways. Yunho would have a blast with this one, he was sure. “Well, it comes down to two choices,” he said. “Do you want to wait until he cools down to talk to him, which can take about a week? Or do you want to just go in there and let him have his way with you, which would take a maximum of half an hour?”
It didn't take much more encouragement for Jaejoong to agree, but Changmin had already suspected that Jaejoong was curious enough to give it a try. The door was still an sturdy barrier, though, and Jaejoong continued to stare at it hopelessly even after deciding to seduce Yunho. “He won't let me in,” he told Changmin, as if it were a fact recorded by historians.
Changmin decided that the entire house would fall to ruins without him while he turned the knob of Yunho's door and cracked it open. At Jaejoong's disbelief, he explained. “He didn't lock it when he closed it the second time.”
Yunho met them a second later. “What the hell?” he grumbled, glaring daggers at both of them. “What do you think you're doing?”
Jaejoong opened his mouth to answer, but Changmin was aware that they were wasting time. Jaejoong squeaked higher than Junsu when Changmin shoved him into the room. “Remember,” he told the older man before Yunho could react, “slutty virgin, hyung.” Then he slammed the door.
He remained standing there for all of five minutes, just in case Jaejoong was thrown out and needed a helping hand, but when nothing but silence followed the incident, he assumed that everything was going as planned and filed away to his own room.
It was like a foreign place to him, now. Three nights he'd spent in three different rooms; the first, life-altering; the second, awe-inspiring; and the third, warmly healing. This night, however, he planned to sleep in his own bed. He needed to eventually, anyway.
He would go for a walk, he decided. The fresh air would do him some good, and a coffee and bagel at the shop on the corner wouldn't be unwelcome, either. He needed something to return him to some form of normalcy, because he sure as hell couldn't go to a meeting for sexual trauma survivors. He was Max fucking Changmin. So, he took a quick shower in his own bathroom and slipped into a simple, clean outfit and a striped hoodie, and he stalked quietly past Yunho's bedroom door to the fire escape just outside the apartment.
And, of course, there was Yoochun, in all of his infuriating, self-contemplating beauty, sitting on the staircase's top step. He didn't turn when the heavy door slammed closed, probably thought it was a simple passerby-or else, didn't notice it at all. Changmin was startled to find him there, because he was still in the process of healing, and now he was in the process of escaping. Junsu's friendly comforting had helped in its way, and Yunho's sensual therapy had managed to pull him from the brink of despair, but the loathing was still there, gnawing at his pride like the blackness of those sleepless nights. It was smaller, couldn't break him down anymore, but not dispelled. He was beginning to believe that it would never completely disappear.
His silence gave him away. Any stranger passing through would have moved on by now, either past Yoochun's sedentary form or back the way they'd come, but Yoochun was being watched, and he could feel it. He glanced over his shoulder, movements long and slow in his distracted state. Changmin flinched when their eyes met.
Just perfect, Changmin-ah, Max chastised. Show the asshole that you're weak.
Yoochun, however, didn't take unkindly to Changmin's presence. He didn't even make to rise from his spot, looking far too exhausted to make any movements involving his entire body. “Changmin-ah,” was all he said, almost welcoming.
It sounded suspiciously like a lion luring a gazelle in for slaughter, at least to Changmin, and the maknae was determined to not fall for such an invitation. Instead, he gathered up his courage, took a deep breath, and bolted, just like the gazelle Yoochun was making him out to be.
Yoochun let him pass without intervention, watching passively as he flew down the steps (whether by sloth or by shame), but when Changmin hit the story just below Yoochun's, the older man began to talk. “I've been thinking of that night, you know?” he asked rather than stated. Whether he was expecting an audience from Changmin was unapparent, but Changmin had read novels that spoke with less meaning, and he slid to a stop before he could stumble down the next flight of stairs. Even with the silent acknowledgement, Yoochun didn't stand, and Changmin didn't look at him. Half a minute passed before Yoochun continued. “Actually, I can't stop thinking about it. Can't even sleep.”
Changmin knew he should have kept moving. He knew that Yoochun didn't deserve this attention-certainly not his attention-but the words had him rooted, and he didn't fight it.
“I just can't... can't get my head around it,” Yoochun told him, eyes on the toes of his boots. “I keep wondering if...” Here, he trailed off aimlessly, leaving Changmin with nothing to finish the sentence. The second that Changmin deigned to look at him was the second that Yoochun lifted his gaze. The electricity that sparked between them in that singular moment was more than upsetting for Changmin's inner peace. “Did I rape you?” Yoochun asked, quiet and almost unheard, but as calm as the question could be asked.
That was the one question Changmin wasn't ready nor willing to face just yet, but he forced himself to try, anyway. He would try for the sake of his and Yoochun's friendship, something that he was ashamed to say he wanted to salvage. “I...” He cleared his throat-and his head, by extension. “I don't know. I keep thinking about it, but I can't... I can't figure it out.”
“You told me to stop,” Yoochun informed him. The information made Changmin's eyes widen, and Yoochun looked away. “Three times, to be exact. But every time you begged me to leave you be, I just... couldn't. I just ignored you. Every time.”
Changmin didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about Yoochun raping him: not before, and not now that he knew that... it was true. Suddenly, he found himself climbing the steps he'd just descended. “You didn't,” he argued, dropping to his haunches on the step below where Yoochun's feet rested. “You couldn't have.”
Yoochun stared at him. Changmin probably sounded insane. The fact that he'd been taken and used by force by no fault of his own had just been conformed, and here he was, on his knees and denying that it ever happened to the man responsible. Yoochun wouldn't be so easily swayed, though, and Changmin was satisfied with that. Yoochun had no room and no right to forgive himself. “But... by the definition of rape-”
Changmin snorted, throwing that logic completely out of reach, uncharacteristic though it was. “Screw the definition,” he scoffed, hands on Yoochun's boots. The older man glanced at them for a moment before reaching down hesitantly to take one of them into his own. Changmin did his best to not notice. “You... I liked you. And it just... It wasn't rape. It wasn't.”
Yoochun appeared distracted by something else. “You said that in the past tense.” That only confused the already borderline Changmin, so he soon clarified. “You don't like me anymore?”
Now, what the fuck kind of question was that to ask at a moment like this? It was out of place, unexpected. Inappropriate, even.
Changmin was going to comment on the oddities, say something sarcastic that ruined the urgent mood, but Yoochun continued while the mood was still fresh. “I keep wondering about how I was with you. Like you had to be mine.”
Once he realized the turn the conversation was taking, Changmin shook his head. Even as his heart began to pound once more for Yoochun's charms, just as it used to, he shook his head, because, God, don't let this happen. “You were thinking of someone else,” he reminded the older man.
Yoochun dropped his eyes to his and Changmin's linked fingers, and his thumb brushed brushed along the dips of Changmin's knuckles. “At first,” he murmured, and it took everything in Changmin's being to not pull away. “At first I was, but then once we were in the bedroom... I...”
“No.” This was torture. These had been the longest two days of Changmin's life, and this was only making them longer. “You're straight,” he whispered, because Yoochun was. Yoochun was and always had been and always would be, and this was not happening. Changmin had not suffered for nothing.
Yoochun wasn't nearly as certain of that fact as Changmin needed him to be. “I'm not entirely sure that I am,” he replied. Changmin's awareness shattered with the admission. “I've never been that way with anyone else, you know? So-”
“Animalistic,” Changmin filled in automatically, only realizing his harshness when Yoochun grimaced with it. Changmin was loosing control of whatever he had thought was happening. Loving Yoochun had only just been added to his list of conscious realizations, but Yoochun couldn't love him back. Yoochun couldn't want him back. “You were just... You were just taking advantage-”
“Does it mean that I love you?” Yoochun whispered in way of interruption, eyes wide and wondering, and this time, Changmin did make to pull away. He tried to, but Yoochun took hold of his other hand, and he was unable to rise to his feet. “Does it?” he asked again, all too urgent.
As if Changmin could know the complexity that was Yoochun's psyche. Lord, he could barely decipher his own. Yoochun was a true romantic, to the very core of his being. Only a romantic could have come to this conclusion after all of the violence that had transpired since their night of horrifying passion, and while Changmin was a strict realist, he still loved him. He still loved Yoochun, and Max was screaming at him at the top of his lungs. He couldn't let himself give in. “Let me go,” he whispered.
Yoochun loosened his grip just enough for Changmin to be able to slip away, but didn't let go completely. “Changmin-ah,” he pleaded, leaning forward, “let me-”
“No,” Changmin murmured, pulling out of Yoochun's grasp and rising from his crouch. Yoochun was practically devastated at the word, staring up at the maknae from his seat on the steps. “I can't let you do anything,” Changmin told him. He hated to admit something so sappy, but it was making his heart break all over again. “Not after everything, I-”
“Because I raped you,” Yoochun reasoned, eyes pained.
Changmin glared at him. “It wasn't rape,” he corrected, knowing full well that he was being delusional. He was denying reality at this point, recreating the events instead of facing them like the coward he was, but fuck if he cared. He hadn't been raped. It couldn't have happened that way. “B-But you still,” he continued, “forced yourself inside.” Yoochun winced. “Called me a slut. A whore.”
“I was just-” Yoochun began, but Changmin didn't let him get far.
“It still hurt, hyung,” the maknae reminded him quietly, arms folding across his chest. He forced himself to maintain eye contact, but damn, was it difficult. “It hurt, because I... I believed it.” Yoochun was brought to the brink of tears with that honesty, and Changmin couldn't keep looking at him. He looked instead at Yoochun's boots. “I didn't deserve that. Any of it.”
“No,” Yoochun agreed breathily, “you didn't.”
“And I know that if it were anyone else,” Changmin told him, voice beginning to shake ever so slightly, “I wouldn't let them give in to you. If you did this to anyone else, I wouldn't let them forgive you.”
“I don't deserve to be forgiven,” Yoochun added, wiping at his nose. “I was horrible.”
“You were,” Changmin agreed, stepping back and down a step, hand steady on the railing. “And you better hope that you're not in love with me, because I... I need to have some self-respect. I need to know that I deserve better.”
“You do deserve better,” Yoochun told him, choosing that moment to finally rise from his seat. Changmin took one more step down the stairwell, because that night was not forgotten. If only for a moment, his fight or flight response was triggered by the memory that this man had attacked him. How horrible that his love-the man who supposedly loved him back-had this affect on him. This call for self-defense. “But,” Yoochun went on, folding a lock of hair behind his ear as he fought back his tears, “will we be okay?”
Changmin blinked, much too focused on the way that their respective positions on the steps had Yoochun standing taller than him. It was bringing back unpleasant memories of unwelcome dominance. “`Okay?'” he parroted, trying to maintain his grip on reality. It's over, Changmin-ah. It's over.
Yoochun nodded, unaware of Changmin's growing trepidation. “As friends. Will we ever be okay?”
What a question that was. It took longer than Yoochun would have probably liked for Changmin to respond, but Yoochun wasn't going to complain. The wait wasn't a means of silent torture for Yoochun to endure, though he definitely deserved it. Changmin simply couldn't think of an answer. It would be so much easier if it were just them, which was a terrible conclusion to come to, because it shouldn't have. Yunho was part of this, too. Jaejoong was, as well, and Junsu had made his own appearance. Because of Yoochun's actions, and because Yoochun had lied to him about his feelings, everyone had been hurt. All five of them were in ruins. “I think,” he began after minutes of silence, “we will be. Eventually, we'll be friends again, carrying on as we always have. But this”-he gestured about them and between them, indicating everything that had happened and was happening-“will never go away. Our feelings will, after some time, but what happened...” He dropped his eyes, hand squeezing at the rail in his fingers until his knuckles turned white. “What happened will never go away. It will always be there, in the background, because I can't forgive you. I can't let myself.”
Everything considered, Yoochun took Changmin's answer surprisingly well. He gave one simple, calm nod, stepped down so he was one step above Changmin's, and offered the maknae a small, sad smile. He noticed the way Changmin tensed at their close proximity, Changmin noted, because he looked that much more broken. He was resigned to whatever Changmin decided was best. “I wouldn't love you any other way, I think.”
And, oh, there was love there. In Yoochun's eyes, the love was almost as loud as the pounding in Changmin's chest.
For a brief moment, Changmin reconsidered. Sure, it would take some time for Yoochun to touch him without memories stalling them, and Yoochun had been absolutely horrendous. The entire apartment was a mess right now, but what did it matter if there was love? It was such a romantic thought, Max would have puked.
Before he could do anything rash, however, Yoochun saved him from betraying himself. His rapist saved him. How demented was that? “Go,” Yoochun whispered, and it was then that Changmin realized that his love was crying. “We'll be okay eventually.”
And that was how Changmin left him; crying in the mess he had caused, just as Changmin had left him in the kitchen two mornings prior. He forced one leg in front of the other, racing down each flight of stairs as it came, and when he reached the ground floor, before pushing through to the outside world to meet the camping fans, he paused to wipe his own tears away. It took less time than it had for the past two days to collect himself and slip his sunglasses out of his pocket and over his reddened eyes. Maybe that meant that he was healed. Maybe.
Once he was sure he was ready to proceed, he summoned Max, squared his shoulders, and met his screaming fans.
A/N: One of the things I was striving to do with this fic was point out the major differences in Changmin's and Yoochun's personalities, mainly the differences between romantics and realists. Realists are, by definition, very attuned to the reality of every situation. Romantics, however, tend to dream, and many of the things they dream up can be completely insane to anyone who isn't a romantic. “Let's fuck so I can see if I really like you.” “I raped you, and I wouldn't rape anyone else, so does that mean that I love you?” Those kinds of things. Another thing is that opposites attract. Yes, Yoochun is out of his mind, but Changmin still loves him, as much as he hates to admit it. And lastly, of course, the adventure of a rape victim trying to pick up where he left off. I'll leave that one to the readers' analysis.
P.S. There was supposed to be a kiss at the end, but I thought it would be too unrealistic. As if Changmin would be able to touch Yoochun so soon after being torn apart by him.