#11 [SUPER JUNIOR/TRAX. HEECHUL/JAY, HEECHUL/JUNGMO]
Fandom: Super Junior/Trax
Title: A Sky of Supernovae
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Heechul/Jay, Heechul/Jungmo
Length: 1680
Summary: Once upon a time, Jay was everything Heechul needed in a friend. And then he grew up.
Notes: Dearest author--don't delete your masterlist! It was such a joy to pick through. I really enjoyed writing this ♥ . Thanks to D & L for everything. Everything. You guys rock.
Remixee author: almostkiwi
Title of work you remixed: [untitled]
Link to work you remixed: http://almostkiwi.livejournal.com/25214.html
a sky of supernovae
1’ ]
He calls Jay the night before his enlistment. He knows the number by heart, and Jay has always been third on speed-dial, but he enters in the digits slowly and all-too deliberately. It’s a choice he can make only once.
Jay answers after two rings; Heechul’s trained him well. “Hey, you.”
5 ]
They’re both cold, desperately cold. It won’t matter if you make it, Jay had said, breath damp in his ear, wind tangling at his hair, eyes shut. It doesn’t matter. And Heechul hadn’t raised the windows and just shivered into Jay’s shoulder and let the world blur into bright lights and dark spaces.
Times changes everything. Four Seasons disbands before debuting, and DBSK is formed in its stead. Heechul’s added to a project group that not even their management takes seriously, and introduced to a kid with a three-foot wishlist of cosmetic surgeries.
(In five years, they will celebrate their third anniversary by becoming superstars, Jungsu will get his second botox injection-they like us young-and Heechul will pop a few painkillers for the titanium bars still vibrating in his legs.)
I won’t let you forget me. Heechul does not say: I will not fail. It looks like a startling possibility, now, and Heechul hates being proven wrong.
And Jay smiles the smile that gives him crow’s feet and makes him look ten years older, the one the photographers never get at, the one that could make him famous. I know.
2‘ ]
Heechul picks him up, swings the car around, and honks his horn a few times.
“Jesus, Heechul, it’s almost midnight.”
“Driver makes all the decisions,” he says, rolling down the windows, turning onto an empty street, and depressing the acceleration. “How’s recording going?”
The roads are well-lit. The steering-wheel is slow and unfamiliar. Heechul chafes at the obstacle.
“It’s alright.” Jay fumbles with his seatbelt and leans against the doorframe. “Jungmo’s been busy lately, but management likes what he came up with this time. Two songs-ballads, again. We’ll probably have a comeback ready by November.”
Midnight and Dawn hangs thickly between syllables. Heechul wonders if Jay is fishing for an apology.
“Same time as the girls,” he says instead. “But it’s not like you’ll be competing with them.”
There’s a long pause, and Heechul watches the line of asphalt in the windshield curl around the horizon. They could drive forever in a straight line that’d take them to the edge of the Korean peninsula. Once upon time, they would have, and Jay would have curled a hand around the back of Heechul’s neck and whispered promises of unconditional devotion.
Heechul counts down the hours until tomorrow under his breath.
“Yeah,” and the word is completely noninflected. “November.”
(Heechul will return from basic training on the thirtieth of September.)
4 ]
Heechul complains about lessons, about days that are too long and routines that look idiotic, even in the mirror, even when he runs through them on his own. He turns onto a roundabout and cruises past the turnoffs. It’s his favorite kind of street; priority is always given to the circulating flow, and Heechul has never believed in yielding to pressure.
He squints through a slight haze of alcohol. Jay’s fingers find his ear, his scalp, his bangs. Heechul stops the car.
I’m wasting my time. But he closes his eyes. Jay has beautiful hands.
We have a lot of time to waste.
It’s not true. Heechul almost laughs at the suggestion. But everything is relative to Jay. Heechul knows that Jay measures time in increments of twenty-two hours, the length of time it takes to make the round-trip home.
You’re an idiot, he says instead. This is why you still can’t dance. You shouldn’t be out with me tonight.
Look who’s talking.
3’ ]
They lapse into silence. Heechul remembers when those used to be comfortable. When they’d watch television and Heechul would lean in and in and in and nuzzle against Jay’s thighs until there was room for his head in Jay’s lap. And sometimes he’d fall asleep and wake up with Jay drooling into the fabric of the couch, fingers curled in Heechul’s shirt.
The space between them is suffocating. Not because there’s no love there now, but because once upon a time, there was just too much.
3 ]
So. Where are we going.
Nowhere. Just, and Heechul stares past the keys in his hand and imagines something stupidly romantic like beaches at sunrise or the end of the world. He’s honestly too tired, though, and his bones ache and the burn of whiskey is still bitterly drowning out all sensibility. Out.
You could have let me get a coat. Or you could close the fucking windows. Jay never stops talking when they’re alone. He lets everything go. Heechul found out pretty quickly that Jay is a bit of an asshole, which is okay, really, because Heechul’s one too, and it makes everything about their friendship a little bit easier, all the jagged edges more tolerable. Neither of them pull any punches.
Do you want to talk?
Heechul doesn’t answer. He fits the key into the ignition and revives the engine. Get in the car.
Jay should really say something like this is a shitty idea or you’re drunk, go inside but Heechul asks for Jay specifically because he and Jay are variations on a theme, self-destructive to a fault, both unfairly cruel.
Is everything-
Get in the fucking car.
(In a few years, Heechul will try this with Jungmo. He will be drunk and angry and in excruciating pain, white chalky pills scattered across the floor of the vehicle, eyes red. Donghae’s father will be dead. And Jungmo will calmly call a replacement driver and pocket Heechul’s keys instead of getting into the passenger's seat.
It’s not over, he’ll say. The world hasn’t ended. Get yourself together, Heechul.
And then, later, when Hyukjae offered, arms tangled around his waist, you’ll dance again. I know you will.)
The soft roar of Seoul thrums along Heechul’s neck and on the undersides of his wrists and in his mouth. It’s not over, Jay says. I mean, it is, but-
Heechul taps at the steering wheel impatiently. Jay doesn’t finish his sentence and gets into the car. They might be the same person, but only one of them gets to drive.
4’ ]
“Heechul,” Jay says finally, “what’s wrong?”
His voice is low, almost a whisper. It gets caught in the breeze and Heechul only somehow manages to catch the tail end of it, to reel it in and revel in Jay’s concern. It’s been too long since Jay’s sounded anything but disinterested.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know. I’ll-”
But Heechul doesn’t really want to hear it. Not from Jay, not now, not so many years too late. He steps on the breaks and pulls over and leans across the divider and runs fingers along Jay’s arms. Jay is cold, still very, very cold, and Heechul can’t remember the last time they did this, the time they bumped elbows and shuddered into a comfortable fit. Heechul’s somehow managed to fill out, and Jay’s gotten deeper. It’s not really all that easy anymore.
Jungmo’s arms are a bit broader, he laughs a bit more, and he always runs hot. Jungmo disagrees with almost everything that comes out of Heechul’s mouth.
And for all of Heechul’s promises to never let go, he lets go.
2 ]
(The problem is that Heechul becomes famous for his inability to sing and his witty retorts, and Jay is better known to the general public as an actor rather than an idol. The problem is that, technically, they both fail.
The problem is mostly that Heechul’s okay with that, and Jay never will be.)
5’ ]
Heechul drives Jay home. Once upon a time he would have driven himself back and thrown Jay the keys. Once upon a time they lived together and Jay would hustle Heechul up the stairs and put him to bed and press kisses into his forehead.
Jay unbuckles his seatbelt and stumbles out of the car.
“Don’t come tomorrow,” Heechul says abruptly, just as Jay moves to close the door. “Today, I mean. Don’t come.”
Jay sighs. His eyes are old and there are deep lines around his lips, the remains of too many disingenuous smiles, too many things he doesn’t mean.
Heechul’s learned to mean them. With fourteen idiots, it’s hard not to somehow get entangled in the messy web of love and heartbreak of inter-band relationships. It’s hard not to end up leaning on someone during the long hours of recording and and crying desperately when they pack up and leave and look for something better.
“Okay,” Jay says. Not I’m sorry, not I’ll miss you, jerk, not you’re too cruel but just, “okay.” His fingers curl along the doorframe. Jay still has beautiful hands and a beautiful voice, but it’s just never gotten him anything. Time weighs heavily on his cheeks, eyes, and shoulders.
“I’ll see you around,” Heechul says, rubbing at his palms and flicking on the heat.
1 ]
Heechul drinks too much at the party. It’s a celebration, it’s supposed to be some sort of fucking consolation for him and Kim Youngwoon and everyone else, by proxy. They’re somehow supposed to be happy with the rumors of a rotational unit, of a junkyard, of the helpless scraps of talented assholes to pull together and release a pitch-corrected single before falling into obscurity.
That’s your sixth shot, someone says.
There’s a roar in his ears. Fuck you.
Heechul isn’t friends with a majority of these idiots by choice, not happenstance. And they don’t have the right to tell him off. No one does. He digs through his pocket for his phone, squints at the number-pad, and carefully presses the three.
Jay answers after two rings; he knows better than to ignore a call from Kim fucking Heechul. Hey, you.
Wanna go for a drive?
[
“You’re coming later, right? Budge up-there’s no room.”
Jungmo whines, but rolls over obligingly. His shirt is damp with sweat. “It’s two in the morning, Heechul. And your feet are freezing.”
“Not my fault your bed is so small.”
He groans. “You’re done, right? You’re okay now? You didn’t crash the car into a tree or anything, did you? I can go back to bed?”
“Idiot,” Heechul says against Jungmo’s shoulder-blades. “I’m meeting Kim Janghoon in six hours. And you’re driving.”
]
♠
Title: A Sky of Supernovae
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Heechul/Jay, Heechul/Jungmo
Length: 1680
Summary: Once upon a time, Jay was everything Heechul needed in a friend. And then he grew up.
Notes: Dearest author--don't delete your masterlist! It was such a joy to pick through. I really enjoyed writing this ♥ . Thanks to D & L for everything. Everything. You guys rock.
Remixee author: almostkiwi
Title of work you remixed: [untitled]
Link to work you remixed: http://almostkiwi.livejournal.com/25214.html
a sky of supernovae
1’ ]
He calls Jay the night before his enlistment. He knows the number by heart, and Jay has always been third on speed-dial, but he enters in the digits slowly and all-too deliberately. It’s a choice he can make only once.
Jay answers after two rings; Heechul’s trained him well. “Hey, you.”
5 ]
They’re both cold, desperately cold. It won’t matter if you make it, Jay had said, breath damp in his ear, wind tangling at his hair, eyes shut. It doesn’t matter. And Heechul hadn’t raised the windows and just shivered into Jay’s shoulder and let the world blur into bright lights and dark spaces.
Times changes everything. Four Seasons disbands before debuting, and DBSK is formed in its stead. Heechul’s added to a project group that not even their management takes seriously, and introduced to a kid with a three-foot wishlist of cosmetic surgeries.
(In five years, they will celebrate their third anniversary by becoming superstars, Jungsu will get his second botox injection-they like us young-and Heechul will pop a few painkillers for the titanium bars still vibrating in his legs.)
I won’t let you forget me. Heechul does not say: I will not fail. It looks like a startling possibility, now, and Heechul hates being proven wrong.
And Jay smiles the smile that gives him crow’s feet and makes him look ten years older, the one the photographers never get at, the one that could make him famous. I know.
2‘ ]
Heechul picks him up, swings the car around, and honks his horn a few times.
“Jesus, Heechul, it’s almost midnight.”
“Driver makes all the decisions,” he says, rolling down the windows, turning onto an empty street, and depressing the acceleration. “How’s recording going?”
The roads are well-lit. The steering-wheel is slow and unfamiliar. Heechul chafes at the obstacle.
“It’s alright.” Jay fumbles with his seatbelt and leans against the doorframe. “Jungmo’s been busy lately, but management likes what he came up with this time. Two songs-ballads, again. We’ll probably have a comeback ready by November.”
Midnight and Dawn hangs thickly between syllables. Heechul wonders if Jay is fishing for an apology.
“Same time as the girls,” he says instead. “But it’s not like you’ll be competing with them.”
There’s a long pause, and Heechul watches the line of asphalt in the windshield curl around the horizon. They could drive forever in a straight line that’d take them to the edge of the Korean peninsula. Once upon time, they would have, and Jay would have curled a hand around the back of Heechul’s neck and whispered promises of unconditional devotion.
Heechul counts down the hours until tomorrow under his breath.
“Yeah,” and the word is completely noninflected. “November.”
(Heechul will return from basic training on the thirtieth of September.)
4 ]
Heechul complains about lessons, about days that are too long and routines that look idiotic, even in the mirror, even when he runs through them on his own. He turns onto a roundabout and cruises past the turnoffs. It’s his favorite kind of street; priority is always given to the circulating flow, and Heechul has never believed in yielding to pressure.
He squints through a slight haze of alcohol. Jay’s fingers find his ear, his scalp, his bangs. Heechul stops the car.
I’m wasting my time. But he closes his eyes. Jay has beautiful hands.
We have a lot of time to waste.
It’s not true. Heechul almost laughs at the suggestion. But everything is relative to Jay. Heechul knows that Jay measures time in increments of twenty-two hours, the length of time it takes to make the round-trip home.
You’re an idiot, he says instead. This is why you still can’t dance. You shouldn’t be out with me tonight.
Look who’s talking.
3’ ]
They lapse into silence. Heechul remembers when those used to be comfortable. When they’d watch television and Heechul would lean in and in and in and nuzzle against Jay’s thighs until there was room for his head in Jay’s lap. And sometimes he’d fall asleep and wake up with Jay drooling into the fabric of the couch, fingers curled in Heechul’s shirt.
The space between them is suffocating. Not because there’s no love there now, but because once upon a time, there was just too much.
3 ]
So. Where are we going.
Nowhere. Just, and Heechul stares past the keys in his hand and imagines something stupidly romantic like beaches at sunrise or the end of the world. He’s honestly too tired, though, and his bones ache and the burn of whiskey is still bitterly drowning out all sensibility. Out.
You could have let me get a coat. Or you could close the fucking windows. Jay never stops talking when they’re alone. He lets everything go. Heechul found out pretty quickly that Jay is a bit of an asshole, which is okay, really, because Heechul’s one too, and it makes everything about their friendship a little bit easier, all the jagged edges more tolerable. Neither of them pull any punches.
Do you want to talk?
Heechul doesn’t answer. He fits the key into the ignition and revives the engine. Get in the car.
Jay should really say something like this is a shitty idea or you’re drunk, go inside but Heechul asks for Jay specifically because he and Jay are variations on a theme, self-destructive to a fault, both unfairly cruel.
Is everything-
Get in the fucking car.
(In a few years, Heechul will try this with Jungmo. He will be drunk and angry and in excruciating pain, white chalky pills scattered across the floor of the vehicle, eyes red. Donghae’s father will be dead. And Jungmo will calmly call a replacement driver and pocket Heechul’s keys instead of getting into the passenger's seat.
It’s not over, he’ll say. The world hasn’t ended. Get yourself together, Heechul.
And then, later, when Hyukjae offered, arms tangled around his waist, you’ll dance again. I know you will.)
The soft roar of Seoul thrums along Heechul’s neck and on the undersides of his wrists and in his mouth. It’s not over, Jay says. I mean, it is, but-
Heechul taps at the steering wheel impatiently. Jay doesn’t finish his sentence and gets into the car. They might be the same person, but only one of them gets to drive.
4’ ]
“Heechul,” Jay says finally, “what’s wrong?”
His voice is low, almost a whisper. It gets caught in the breeze and Heechul only somehow manages to catch the tail end of it, to reel it in and revel in Jay’s concern. It’s been too long since Jay’s sounded anything but disinterested.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know. I’ll-”
But Heechul doesn’t really want to hear it. Not from Jay, not now, not so many years too late. He steps on the breaks and pulls over and leans across the divider and runs fingers along Jay’s arms. Jay is cold, still very, very cold, and Heechul can’t remember the last time they did this, the time they bumped elbows and shuddered into a comfortable fit. Heechul’s somehow managed to fill out, and Jay’s gotten deeper. It’s not really all that easy anymore.
Jungmo’s arms are a bit broader, he laughs a bit more, and he always runs hot. Jungmo disagrees with almost everything that comes out of Heechul’s mouth.
And for all of Heechul’s promises to never let go, he lets go.
2 ]
(The problem is that Heechul becomes famous for his inability to sing and his witty retorts, and Jay is better known to the general public as an actor rather than an idol. The problem is that, technically, they both fail.
The problem is mostly that Heechul’s okay with that, and Jay never will be.)
5’ ]
Heechul drives Jay home. Once upon a time he would have driven himself back and thrown Jay the keys. Once upon a time they lived together and Jay would hustle Heechul up the stairs and put him to bed and press kisses into his forehead.
Jay unbuckles his seatbelt and stumbles out of the car.
“Don’t come tomorrow,” Heechul says abruptly, just as Jay moves to close the door. “Today, I mean. Don’t come.”
Jay sighs. His eyes are old and there are deep lines around his lips, the remains of too many disingenuous smiles, too many things he doesn’t mean.
Heechul’s learned to mean them. With fourteen idiots, it’s hard not to somehow get entangled in the messy web of love and heartbreak of inter-band relationships. It’s hard not to end up leaning on someone during the long hours of recording and and crying desperately when they pack up and leave and look for something better.
“Okay,” Jay says. Not I’m sorry, not I’ll miss you, jerk, not you’re too cruel but just, “okay.” His fingers curl along the doorframe. Jay still has beautiful hands and a beautiful voice, but it’s just never gotten him anything. Time weighs heavily on his cheeks, eyes, and shoulders.
“I’ll see you around,” Heechul says, rubbing at his palms and flicking on the heat.
1 ]
Heechul drinks too much at the party. It’s a celebration, it’s supposed to be some sort of fucking consolation for him and Kim Youngwoon and everyone else, by proxy. They’re somehow supposed to be happy with the rumors of a rotational unit, of a junkyard, of the helpless scraps of talented assholes to pull together and release a pitch-corrected single before falling into obscurity.
That’s your sixth shot, someone says.
There’s a roar in his ears. Fuck you.
Heechul isn’t friends with a majority of these idiots by choice, not happenstance. And they don’t have the right to tell him off. No one does. He digs through his pocket for his phone, squints at the number-pad, and carefully presses the three.
Jay answers after two rings; he knows better than to ignore a call from Kim fucking Heechul. Hey, you.
Wanna go for a drive?
[
“You’re coming later, right? Budge up-there’s no room.”
Jungmo whines, but rolls over obligingly. His shirt is damp with sweat. “It’s two in the morning, Heechul. And your feet are freezing.”
“Not my fault your bed is so small.”
He groans. “You’re done, right? You’re okay now? You didn’t crash the car into a tree or anything, did you? I can go back to bed?”
“Idiot,” Heechul says against Jungmo’s shoulder-blades. “I’m meeting Kim Janghoon in six hours. And you’re driving.”
]
♠