Fic: And the World Comes Down (Tragic Waste of Skin 7)
Title: And the World Comes Down (Tragic Waste of Skin 7)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: JaeChun
Genre: AU, Angst
Warning: Substance abuse; suicidal thoughts; mental illness
Summary: Jaejoong goes home a year after he ran away.
A/N: Title adapted from All I Have by The Veronicas.
The street is quiet. Not surprising, considering the time. It’s past midnight. You decided to walk from the train station-it’s not like you have money for a cab. More than anything, you’ve been so full of nervous energy, you needed to get rid of it somehow. At least an hour later, your legs feeling like lead, you see the house you grew up in.
The windows are dark, as expected. How would they react if they saw you? Would they turn you away? You hate to admit it, but the thought alone scares the hell out of you. While you know you shouldn’t care what they think, they’re still your family. Even if they hate and ignore you, blood can’t be ignored. Right?
You drag your feet to the front door and knock. Part of you hopes no one hears. That way, you can walk away, find some corner to sleep in, and then go do what you came to do. Because you didn’t come back here to see your family. No, you have a purpose.
The door opens just as you’re turning away.
"Jaejoong!" Mikyung stands at the door, her dark eyes wide. She looks… happy? "What are you-? You’re home!"
It surprises the hell out of you when she throws herself in your arms and hugs you tightly. As far as your sisters go, you suppose Mikyung has been nice to you, in her own way. She’s the only member of your family who ever spent time with you at the hospital. However, when with her sisters, she remains quiet and lets them disparage you. You hug back.
"Come in," she says, pulling you inside. You look around. Nobody else seems to be up.
"Won’t Dad mind?" You refuse to mention the woman you’ve always thought of as your mother despite the painful truth. Mikyung shrugs, leading you into the living room and turning on the lights. The TV is on. She sits on the sofa. You take an armchair.
"This is your home, too," she answers your question. "And he may not admit it, but he misses you." At least someone does.
Without prompting, she fills you in on the events of the past year. Another of your sisters married and the other moved out, so it’s only Mikyung living with your parents now. Despite the desire to belong that you always held onto as a child, you don’t really care about any of them, not even your sisters who got married or moved away years ago. Why should you? They never cared about you.
At some point, your sister drags you into the kitchen and prepares something to eat. You’re grateful. Your stomach hasn’t stopped growling since you boarded the train.
"How have you been?" she asks, watching as you eat your fill. "Are you doing okay?"
Her interest in your life baffles you. Why is she so happy to see you? Doesn’t she hate you like everyone else in the family?
"I’m okay," you manage to answer. "I have a job and everything."
It’s easy to embellish the truth and make it seem like you’re having the time of your life. She doesn’t need to know that your best friend abandoned you a few weeks ago or that you tried to kill yourself by swallowing pills a couple of days later (your body expelled them before they could do any serious damage; you threw up so much your throat hurt).
"That’s great," she says with a smile. "I’m glad you’re happy."
Your room is almost the same as you left it, save for the stacks of newspapers and magazines that somehow ended up on the floor. At first, you think falling asleep will be a struggle, but you’re out as soon as your head hits the pillow.
In the morning, you wake up to someone standing at the door. Your father is watching you. What is he thinking behind that expressionless façade?
"There’s food, if you’re hungry," the man says, tonelessly. You nod. It takes a few minutes, but you take a quick shower and go to the kitchen.
Your stepmother doesn’t pay attention to you save for a couple of quick glances. You don’t really care. Mikyung left early for work. Sitting with your parents is awkward, almost painful.
"How long are you staying?" your father asks after glancing at his wife.
"Only a couple of days." You need money, but you know how to get it. (You dislike selling your body, but it isn’t like you don’t like sex.) "I’ll be out of your hair in no time."
You busy yourself cleaning your room. You grab a garbage bag and throw away everything you don’t need, even the notebooks covered in all the gibberish you wrote while in school. Once upon a time, you wanted to be a writer. You still can be, you’re young, plus you have so many things you could share, so many stories stuck in your head. (The memory of Yoochun listening to your insane babbling warms your heart.) You would need to be stable for that, though, and that won’t happen any time soon.
You put the trash bags in their designated place, before you get busy folding clothes. Some of them still fit you, especially because you’ve lost so much weight.
"You could be sick," Jongwoon had said several times, insisting you visit a doctor. You never listened, what the hell for? Nothing and no one can fix you, period.
Your old shoes go into the trash. When you look inside your dresser, you find your collection of seashells and colorful sea glass. You smile. Most of them you got while Yoochun was with you. There’s also the pendant with the matching chain Yoochun got you for your six-month anniversary.
"This is what people do," he said, blushing, when you teased him. You hadn’t had much money then, but you’d gotten him a bracelet he never took off. (Does he still have it?)
It’s already evening when you finish looking everything over.
"Do you need any help?" your sister asks when she comes home from work.
"No, I’m almost done." Somehow, you manage a thanks. She nods.
"Let me know if you need anything." Again, why does she care so much? But you can’t bring yourself to ask.
"Thanks." Your sister smiles and leaves, closing your door behind her.
When you look at the time, you’re reminded of the reason you traveled all the way to your hometown. There’s no point in you being here if you don’t do it.
Quietly, you leave the house on foot. It doesn’t take very long to get to that house you used to spend so much time in. You wonder if he’s still home. No, that’s ridiculous. He already finished school, he’s probably at university. Unfortunately, you don’t remember which university he’s attending, otherwise…
You take a deep breath and walk up to the entrance. Before you can call, however, a tall man comes out, regarding you impassively.
"Good evening," you greet him. "Um, I was… I mean…" You clear your throat. "Is Yoochun here, by any chance?"
The man’s eyes widen in recognition, and, immediately, that gaze turns hostile.
"What do you want with him?" The question surprises you, though it really shouldn’t. Yoochun’s father never liked you, why would he, when it was so obvious you had pulled Yoochun into a forbidden relationship that could ruin his life?
"I just want to talk." Your throat constricts. Shit, anxiety is taking over. "Could I have his phone number? Or his address?"
He sighs in exasperation.
"No," he answers. "He lives away, and he’s doing well in school. The last thing he needs are unnecessary distractions, especially not you."
You let out a sob.
"Please. I just want to talk to him," you insist. "I won’t stay long. Just a phone call. I promise I-"
"No." He’s resolute. Nothing you say will convince him. Regardless, you beg, crying humiliating hot tears. He’s unmoved.
"Go home," he says, finally, and goes back inside.
You wipe away your tears (they won’t stop falling) and call out to him a few more times, walking up to his door and knocking, knocking, knocking. It’s humiliating how your voice breaks with every sob, but it doesn’t matter, not your tears, not even how desperately you beg. It’s exhausting.
You fall on your knees, your tears beginning to dry. It’s over; there’s nothing you can do. Yoochun will never come back to you, regardless of how badly you want him to.
It’s time to give up.
Defeated, you turn back to where you came from. Before you know it, you’re back home. Mechanically, you make your way into your room and sit on the bed. At first, you feel numb, but then you think about Yoochun, of how badly you want to see him; about his father’s cold and even cruel refusals; and you start crying, barely able to stifle your sobs.
I miss you, you think at him. Where is he? He’s somewhere in the city, but it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. You have no money to get someone to track him down, either.
Is this it? Will you never see him again?
"Brother," your sister calls from the door. You can’t respond. The door closes and locks, and then she is pulling you in until your head is on her lap. Her soft fingers comb through your hair.
"I miss him," you whisper. "I can’t live without him."
She says nothing, continuing her ministrations.
"I’m sorry," she says after a while.
You’re sorry, too, you want to say. But the tears won’t let you. He’s gone from your life. And it’s your fault. If you can’t ever see him again… you might as well be dead.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: JaeChun
Genre: AU, Angst
Warning: Substance abuse; suicidal thoughts; mental illness
Summary: Jaejoong goes home a year after he ran away.
A/N: Title adapted from All I Have by The Veronicas.
The street is quiet. Not surprising, considering the time. It’s past midnight. You decided to walk from the train station-it’s not like you have money for a cab. More than anything, you’ve been so full of nervous energy, you needed to get rid of it somehow. At least an hour later, your legs feeling like lead, you see the house you grew up in.
The windows are dark, as expected. How would they react if they saw you? Would they turn you away? You hate to admit it, but the thought alone scares the hell out of you. While you know you shouldn’t care what they think, they’re still your family. Even if they hate and ignore you, blood can’t be ignored. Right?
You drag your feet to the front door and knock. Part of you hopes no one hears. That way, you can walk away, find some corner to sleep in, and then go do what you came to do. Because you didn’t come back here to see your family. No, you have a purpose.
The door opens just as you’re turning away.
"Jaejoong!" Mikyung stands at the door, her dark eyes wide. She looks… happy? "What are you-? You’re home!"
It surprises the hell out of you when she throws herself in your arms and hugs you tightly. As far as your sisters go, you suppose Mikyung has been nice to you, in her own way. She’s the only member of your family who ever spent time with you at the hospital. However, when with her sisters, she remains quiet and lets them disparage you. You hug back.
"Come in," she says, pulling you inside. You look around. Nobody else seems to be up.
"Won’t Dad mind?" You refuse to mention the woman you’ve always thought of as your mother despite the painful truth. Mikyung shrugs, leading you into the living room and turning on the lights. The TV is on. She sits on the sofa. You take an armchair.
"This is your home, too," she answers your question. "And he may not admit it, but he misses you." At least someone does.
Without prompting, she fills you in on the events of the past year. Another of your sisters married and the other moved out, so it’s only Mikyung living with your parents now. Despite the desire to belong that you always held onto as a child, you don’t really care about any of them, not even your sisters who got married or moved away years ago. Why should you? They never cared about you.
At some point, your sister drags you into the kitchen and prepares something to eat. You’re grateful. Your stomach hasn’t stopped growling since you boarded the train.
"How have you been?" she asks, watching as you eat your fill. "Are you doing okay?"
Her interest in your life baffles you. Why is she so happy to see you? Doesn’t she hate you like everyone else in the family?
"I’m okay," you manage to answer. "I have a job and everything."
It’s easy to embellish the truth and make it seem like you’re having the time of your life. She doesn’t need to know that your best friend abandoned you a few weeks ago or that you tried to kill yourself by swallowing pills a couple of days later (your body expelled them before they could do any serious damage; you threw up so much your throat hurt).
"That’s great," she says with a smile. "I’m glad you’re happy."
Your room is almost the same as you left it, save for the stacks of newspapers and magazines that somehow ended up on the floor. At first, you think falling asleep will be a struggle, but you’re out as soon as your head hits the pillow.
In the morning, you wake up to someone standing at the door. Your father is watching you. What is he thinking behind that expressionless façade?
"There’s food, if you’re hungry," the man says, tonelessly. You nod. It takes a few minutes, but you take a quick shower and go to the kitchen.
Your stepmother doesn’t pay attention to you save for a couple of quick glances. You don’t really care. Mikyung left early for work. Sitting with your parents is awkward, almost painful.
"How long are you staying?" your father asks after glancing at his wife.
"Only a couple of days." You need money, but you know how to get it. (You dislike selling your body, but it isn’t like you don’t like sex.) "I’ll be out of your hair in no time."
You busy yourself cleaning your room. You grab a garbage bag and throw away everything you don’t need, even the notebooks covered in all the gibberish you wrote while in school. Once upon a time, you wanted to be a writer. You still can be, you’re young, plus you have so many things you could share, so many stories stuck in your head. (The memory of Yoochun listening to your insane babbling warms your heart.) You would need to be stable for that, though, and that won’t happen any time soon.
You put the trash bags in their designated place, before you get busy folding clothes. Some of them still fit you, especially because you’ve lost so much weight.
"You could be sick," Jongwoon had said several times, insisting you visit a doctor. You never listened, what the hell for? Nothing and no one can fix you, period.
Your old shoes go into the trash. When you look inside your dresser, you find your collection of seashells and colorful sea glass. You smile. Most of them you got while Yoochun was with you. There’s also the pendant with the matching chain Yoochun got you for your six-month anniversary.
"This is what people do," he said, blushing, when you teased him. You hadn’t had much money then, but you’d gotten him a bracelet he never took off. (Does he still have it?)
It’s already evening when you finish looking everything over.
"Do you need any help?" your sister asks when she comes home from work.
"No, I’m almost done." Somehow, you manage a thanks. She nods.
"Let me know if you need anything." Again, why does she care so much? But you can’t bring yourself to ask.
"Thanks." Your sister smiles and leaves, closing your door behind her.
When you look at the time, you’re reminded of the reason you traveled all the way to your hometown. There’s no point in you being here if you don’t do it.
Quietly, you leave the house on foot. It doesn’t take very long to get to that house you used to spend so much time in. You wonder if he’s still home. No, that’s ridiculous. He already finished school, he’s probably at university. Unfortunately, you don’t remember which university he’s attending, otherwise…
You take a deep breath and walk up to the entrance. Before you can call, however, a tall man comes out, regarding you impassively.
"Good evening," you greet him. "Um, I was… I mean…" You clear your throat. "Is Yoochun here, by any chance?"
The man’s eyes widen in recognition, and, immediately, that gaze turns hostile.
"What do you want with him?" The question surprises you, though it really shouldn’t. Yoochun’s father never liked you, why would he, when it was so obvious you had pulled Yoochun into a forbidden relationship that could ruin his life?
"I just want to talk." Your throat constricts. Shit, anxiety is taking over. "Could I have his phone number? Or his address?"
He sighs in exasperation.
"No," he answers. "He lives away, and he’s doing well in school. The last thing he needs are unnecessary distractions, especially not you."
You let out a sob.
"Please. I just want to talk to him," you insist. "I won’t stay long. Just a phone call. I promise I-"
"No." He’s resolute. Nothing you say will convince him. Regardless, you beg, crying humiliating hot tears. He’s unmoved.
"Go home," he says, finally, and goes back inside.
You wipe away your tears (they won’t stop falling) and call out to him a few more times, walking up to his door and knocking, knocking, knocking. It’s humiliating how your voice breaks with every sob, but it doesn’t matter, not your tears, not even how desperately you beg. It’s exhausting.
You fall on your knees, your tears beginning to dry. It’s over; there’s nothing you can do. Yoochun will never come back to you, regardless of how badly you want him to.
It’s time to give up.
Defeated, you turn back to where you came from. Before you know it, you’re back home. Mechanically, you make your way into your room and sit on the bed. At first, you feel numb, but then you think about Yoochun, of how badly you want to see him; about his father’s cold and even cruel refusals; and you start crying, barely able to stifle your sobs.
I miss you, you think at him. Where is he? He’s somewhere in the city, but it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. You have no money to get someone to track him down, either.
Is this it? Will you never see him again?
"Brother," your sister calls from the door. You can’t respond. The door closes and locks, and then she is pulling you in until your head is on her lap. Her soft fingers comb through your hair.
"I miss him," you whisper. "I can’t live without him."
She says nothing, continuing her ministrations.
"I’m sorry," she says after a while.
You’re sorry, too, you want to say. But the tears won’t let you. He’s gone from your life. And it’s your fault. If you can’t ever see him again… you might as well be dead.