piano and song
piano and song
Junsu/Bora (HET! OMG.), Junsu/Yoochun; PG; romance, general; 2850 words approx.
Junsu meets Bora fifty-seven years, three days, five hours and seven minutes after the System has taken over their world.
Anyband verse, which is very important as you will have no understanding if you don't know it.
For simply_strange. I am such a pushover. But I love youuu. ♥
oh yeah oh yeah the Yoosu was totally for mimei. :D
Junsu meets Bora fifty-seven years, three days, five hours and seven minutes after the System has taken over their world.
Bora is a pianist that has to make do with a keyboard. Boa brings her in to the underground home they've built themselves, when there are circles under Bora's eyes and dirt smudged on her face and blood caked under her nails. Junsu asks Boa about why she has brought in another prisoner, and she says that she has an eye for scouting and at least Tablo has talent and also, bother Bora and I will kill you. She doesn't provide a reason, but it's a Boa sort of thing to do.
Bora is quiet, and when she glances at Junsu, as if by accident, and then turns away when her eyes meet his, Junsu thinks that she is scared even though there is nothing in her eyes. She looks vulnerable in her too-large, colourless clothes, but she refuses to wear anything else.
Junsu is afraid that she is weak, and that she will ruin their days and days of planning. He is more afraid of hurting her, because something about her loose, unkempt hair and unpainted nails makes him feel like she needs to be here (this is because he is too used to Boa's bright clothes and smile, he thinks).
He is afraid, most of all, of what will happen to all of them when things go wrong, and how he will never stop any of them. He will take part in their failure, and he will be responsible for their deaths. Bora is innocent, too. He will kill Bora and there will be more blood on his hands, and then, instead of waking up from nightmares of shadow puppets and voices coming from the walls of his prison, he will be living in one. He doesn't think he can handle more blood. There are stains on his shoes that he can't wash away.
Bora wipes her face and her hands on the only ragged dishtowel they have around. Water's closest aboveground, and showers are always to be taken there. They only have a couple of bottles for drinking; they're not here for convenience.
It's not really quite awkward, but it's silent with Boa fidgeting around, twisting her extensions around her fingers and tugging on them occasionally. Junsu doesn't look at anyone and concentrates on remembering their melody. It's not written out, yet, because none of them really knows how to write music, but Tablo's worked on it, thrumming broken tunes out on a guitar and scribbling down lyrics whenever he can, and they've got something, at least.
Tablo comes in with his keyboard and sets it down in front of Bora, careful and so reverent that Junsu has to roll his eyes a little (Tablo swears that there's always grudging respect in those eye rolls, but Junsu tells him to just go sleep). They all look at Bora and wait, and Bora looks as though she might have stopped breathing, and her hands shake slightly when she places them on the keys. Then, when she starts to play, there is no more nothing in her eyes, and her hands move like they have discovered the right notes that have been there all along. Junsu can't tear his eyes away, and Tablo has his eyes closed. Boa is humming. There is no silence, only music.
Later, Junsu asks Bora where she learned to play. Bora looks at him, saying nothing, and then shakes her head slightly, her hair falling back on her shoulders like light snowflakes. Junsu doesn't understand.
"Why won't she tell me?" Junsu asks when Bora has gone to bed, which is actually Boa's bed - Boa will be sleeping on a pile of blankets tonight. He's being childish, but it's honestly bothering him.
It’s just Boa and Junsu in their makeshift kitchen, and Boa takes a bite of her peanut-butter sandwich, looking at him for a long second, and he shifts uncomfortably. She doesn't like peanut-butter but they don't have anything else. "She learned from her parents, I think. Or maybe her grandparents - you never really know what or when the last musical generation was. Some people just stopped playing, you know? And some people teach music to their children anyway, because they want to show them something that's real." Her lip curls, bitter. She's different here, under fluorescent light bulbs that are barely lighting up the room; there's less of the cynical and oddly charming Boa that exists during the day and more of the angry Boa. There's no happiness in either of the two.
Boa wipes her mouth and downs some water, and then says, "She'll tell you someday." She leaves before Junsu can say anything else.
There is a day when Tablo is hidden in his corner of their room and Boa has gone out for some reason or another; Junsu and Bora are alone in the wide space next to their kitchen, where all their instruments and chairs are. Junsu is fiddling with a guitar, trying to tighten the strings until it sounds just right, and Bora is practicing on the keyboard. Junsu doesn't really think she needs the practice, but he also thinks that she probably doesn't want his opinion. When she speaks, he almost drops his guitar.
"Why are you here?" Her voice isn't soft, but it isn't deep, either. It feels right, like Junsu has been hearing it from the very beginning.
He stares at her. "I don't understand. What do you -"
"Why are you here, Junsu," she says, and when she gestures at their surroundings, he realizes that she doesn't mean the room. He remembers another voice, octaves lower than hers, saying what Bora's too quiet to say. Why are you here? Rebelling. You could be in the ordered lines, without your life in danger. Others could be fighting this fight. Why are you here, Junsu? Listen to me. Junsu.
He realizes that Bora is looking at him, and his pulse is beating too loudly in his ears. He tries to look at her but he looks through her. "I'm here because I want to be here." His voice doesn't crack and he's glad. "I'm fighting for myself." I'm fighting for the people who can't fight anymore, because they're gone.
"I'm fighting for the people I love," says Bora, very quietly. There is only the sound of her fingers absently testing the keys, e minors and c flats.
"Who do you love?" Junsu doesn't know why he asks, and he regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. It's none of his business.
Bora is the one staring through him this time. Her fingers are shaking again, and she hits two notes at the same time. They clash. "My family. They… they would want me to do this. Papa, he used to - he used to play piano.”
Junsu wants to hold her hand, but this is Bora’s loneliness and maybe it’s not where he belongs. She blinks many times, as though there is something in her eyes, and he wants to touch her face.
She takes a breath and stares down at her hands. She has beautiful, slender fingers, but there is dirt under the fingernails where there was blood before. She finishes, very gently, “And - and there is always someone, someone to love and someone to fight for, even if we haven't met them yet. I am fighting for our future, and for our past."
When Junsu looks at Bora again, he sees the music he saw before, and he sees strength, too.
Bora is different from anyone Junsu knows. She is quiet, but slowly, she opens up, and then her smiles and laughter feel just as natural as her voice and her music. It comes in small pieces, like the too-big hat and the colourful scarves.
There is a day when she asks, "Junsu, who is Yoochun?” He stares at her and she reads the look wrong. “Well, Tablo was muttering over a couple of papers at the kitchen table about how Yoochun would have been able to get this melody, how Yoochun would have written the notes like this, how Yoochun -” She stops for a second, realizing she is getting a little carried away. “And when I asked him who Yoochun was, he smiled at me and told me I play music beautifully.”
Junsu nods and tried not to show his emotions on his face. “Tablo might be kind of sweet sometimes, but he’s not good at changing the subject,” he says seriously. There is a long silence, and the corners of Bora’s mouth quiver, as though she is fighting a smile.
“You have a wonderful friendship with Boa and Tablo,” she says. There is nothing wistful or condescending in her tone, and Junsu feels like it is as though she has been part of their group all along. She belongs with them. This time the pause is not as uncomfortable as the ones before it.
Bora looks a little uncomfortable, though. “Who is Yoochun? Is he a friend of yours?”
There it is again, that sense of numbness. Junsu thinks it is better than the despair or the hopelessness or the overwhelming emptiness that is there the other times. “Yes. He was a friend of mine.” He remembers Yoochun’s teasing eyes and careless smiles, his long-fingered hands and early-morning piano melodies. The numbness is gone and Junsu’s eyes sting.
She’s watching his face carefully, and all of a sudden, there is warmth on Junsu’s hand. He had felt strange about holding Bora’s hand to comfort her because he’s never been the type who holds the hands of others, but something about Bora had made him want to. Now, she holds his hand like it is the most natural thing in the world. He looks down at their fingers and entwines them together, and if she is surprised, she doesn’t say anything. She is there. It is enough.
Junsu had met Yoochun when he was seventeen, too young to care about his life and too young to remember what the world was like before. It doesn’t really make sense to Junsu, but that was what Yoochun used to say, a long time ago. A lot of what Yoochun said didn’t make sense. It was almost refreshing.
Junsu had rebelled then because there was something in him that thirsted for change, but Yoochun was different.
Yoochun had hair that grew over his neck and was messy, not cut short like everyone else’s. He wore scarves and jeans and t-shirts that had GAP written on them, which didn’t really make sense either, but he had said it was “fashionable.”
“Hey, Junsu,” says Yoochun, gesturing at Junsu with his free hand while another flies over a piece of paper. He doesn’t look up and Junsu comes over.
“What?” Junsu peers over Yoochun’s shoulder and Yoochun pushes him back gently, then stands up and waves the paper like a proud flag.
“Look what I have,” Yoochun says. His eyes are glowing, and he has a grin that shows off a tooth that is overlapping another. His smile is too brilliant. Junsu focuses on the paper.
“What?” Junsu squints. “Is that Japanese?”
Yoochun looks proud. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Why are you writing in Japanese?”
“Because it makes me feel really smart.” Pause. “Just kidding. I don’t know. It felt better this way. You know what I mean?”
“Not really.”
He ignores Junsu. “Try reading it. Someday we’ll go to Japan, you know.” Yoochun is a dreamer. Junsu doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’ll never happen.
He can see 今、物語は written on it and he shrugs. “Cute.”
Yoochun’s quiet, for a second, and then he says, “Junsu. Try singing.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Yoochun had taught him how to play music, how to sing music, how to be music, and how to fight for something with his heart.
Yoochun had held his hand, too. He had read stories about how people used to live in freedom and he had wanted Junsu to want what he wanted. Freedom. Life. Junsu hadn’t known what he wanted before he met Yoochun, but Yoochun questioned him. You don’t have to be in danger. Is it really freedom that you want? Junsu. Do you know what it’s like to live?
He remembers the taste of coffee on his tongue and Yoochun’s mouth, warm and soft and almost kind on his own. He remembers Yoochun’s laugh when Junsu had made his stupid jokes, and Yoochun’s weaknesses that almost seemed like strengths at times; how he wore his heart where it was easy to hurt, and how he knew how to love. He remembers Yoochun’s music when he knew what was going to come, and Yoochun’s silent strength when the System had told him that it was either Junsu or him. You’ve been rebelling too much. Pick him or yourself, Mr. Park. Who’s going to be the one to die?
Bora is nothing like Yoochun, but if Junsu looks carefully enough, she is a lot like him. Bora doesn’t make dumb jokes and laugh too loudly, but she plays piano with her soul and Junsu thinks that she would love with her soul, too.
“Junsu,” says Tablo, very suddenly, on a day when they are lying in the ratty bunks in their room. It is the day before they are going to carry out their plan. Play music, save the world. It almost seems kind of juvenile, but Junsu’s body is thrumming and he can’t sleep. None of them can.
“Hm?”
“Do you like Bora?”
Junsu doesn’t really know what to say. He settles for, “That was very to-the-point.”
“Yeah.”
“…”
“So, do you like her?”
“I… guess?” Junsu can feel his face burning. He is not a teenager. No face burning is allowed.
“You totally like her.”
“Do not!” His voice is slightly high-pitched and Tablo’s voice, when it floats down, is smug.
“G’night.” He rolls over and is snoring immediately, leaving Junsu to wonder what the hell that was.
Junsu doesn’t like Bora. Bora is everything like Yoochun. Yoochun, and his piano melodies and soulful voice and promises. Bora has soft eyes and a kind smile and warm hands.
Bora is nothing like Yoochun.
It’s five a.m. and it is freezing. They’ve all gotten up early to prepare and practice for the last few times. Tablo is rapping into Boa’s hairbrush; Boa’s doing last-minute sound checks. Bora’s fingers are quivering again, and Junsu pauses in front of what used to be Tablo’s keyboard but has become hers.
“This is for you,” he mutters, pushing another keyboard into her arms. “I heard from Tablo that your dad taught you how to play two at the same time, which is pretty cool.”
There is a silence, and when it gets too long, Junsu looks up at Bora. She is staring at him. He feels uncomfortable.
“That is - it’s alright if you don’t want it, Tablo just helped me fix it up a couple of days ago, it’s from the junkyard anyway -”
Bora kisses him on the cheek and smiles. “Thank you.”
When Junsu is on top of the building, he can see the others from where he is standing. Their locations are strategically placed, so they can see and signal each other if they have to, although logically, Junsu thinks that if the System is close enough to them that they have to signal each other, they will be caught before they can even move.
When he is on top of his building, he looks across at Bora. They can die here. They can all die right here, because there are only two things the System does with rebels, and that is shooting them on the spot or capturing and torturing them to death. He doesn’t know which he would prefer, and for a second, he thinks about falling off this building, five hundred feet of nothing, and then, the end.
When he looks at Bora, he thinks that this isn’t how he wants it to end. Yoochun would have laughed at him, told him that he is an idiot and a fool and love really isn’t that complicated, Junsu. He still loves Yoochun, but he might love Bora, too, he realizes. Bora, with her kind heart and pretty smile and quiet tears. Bora, who holds his hand when he can’t cry.
Junsu meets Bora fifty-seven years, three days, five hours and seven minutes after the System has taken over their world. Junsu falls in love for the second time three days after that, and Junsu realizes it three months, fourteen days, seven hours and twenty-two minutes later. Bora might have loved him all along.
She smiles at him from across where he is, and Junsu’s heart thunders in his throat as he tightens his hold on his mic. When he sings, he thinks of Bora’s smile and Yoochun’s eyes, and of Boa and Tablo and Bora’s family and his own family and all the people whose lives the System has ruined or taken away. He is fighting for himself, and he is fighting for them.
Junsu/Bora (HET! OMG.), Junsu/Yoochun; PG; romance, general; 2850 words approx.
Junsu meets Bora fifty-seven years, three days, five hours and seven minutes after the System has taken over their world.
Anyband verse, which is very important as you will have no understanding if you don't know it.
For simply_strange. I am such a pushover. But I love youuu. ♥
oh yeah oh yeah the Yoosu was totally for mimei. :D
Junsu meets Bora fifty-seven years, three days, five hours and seven minutes after the System has taken over their world.
Bora is a pianist that has to make do with a keyboard. Boa brings her in to the underground home they've built themselves, when there are circles under Bora's eyes and dirt smudged on her face and blood caked under her nails. Junsu asks Boa about why she has brought in another prisoner, and she says that she has an eye for scouting and at least Tablo has talent and also, bother Bora and I will kill you. She doesn't provide a reason, but it's a Boa sort of thing to do.
Bora is quiet, and when she glances at Junsu, as if by accident, and then turns away when her eyes meet his, Junsu thinks that she is scared even though there is nothing in her eyes. She looks vulnerable in her too-large, colourless clothes, but she refuses to wear anything else.
Junsu is afraid that she is weak, and that she will ruin their days and days of planning. He is more afraid of hurting her, because something about her loose, unkempt hair and unpainted nails makes him feel like she needs to be here (this is because he is too used to Boa's bright clothes and smile, he thinks).
He is afraid, most of all, of what will happen to all of them when things go wrong, and how he will never stop any of them. He will take part in their failure, and he will be responsible for their deaths. Bora is innocent, too. He will kill Bora and there will be more blood on his hands, and then, instead of waking up from nightmares of shadow puppets and voices coming from the walls of his prison, he will be living in one. He doesn't think he can handle more blood. There are stains on his shoes that he can't wash away.
Bora wipes her face and her hands on the only ragged dishtowel they have around. Water's closest aboveground, and showers are always to be taken there. They only have a couple of bottles for drinking; they're not here for convenience.
It's not really quite awkward, but it's silent with Boa fidgeting around, twisting her extensions around her fingers and tugging on them occasionally. Junsu doesn't look at anyone and concentrates on remembering their melody. It's not written out, yet, because none of them really knows how to write music, but Tablo's worked on it, thrumming broken tunes out on a guitar and scribbling down lyrics whenever he can, and they've got something, at least.
Tablo comes in with his keyboard and sets it down in front of Bora, careful and so reverent that Junsu has to roll his eyes a little (Tablo swears that there's always grudging respect in those eye rolls, but Junsu tells him to just go sleep). They all look at Bora and wait, and Bora looks as though she might have stopped breathing, and her hands shake slightly when she places them on the keys. Then, when she starts to play, there is no more nothing in her eyes, and her hands move like they have discovered the right notes that have been there all along. Junsu can't tear his eyes away, and Tablo has his eyes closed. Boa is humming. There is no silence, only music.
Later, Junsu asks Bora where she learned to play. Bora looks at him, saying nothing, and then shakes her head slightly, her hair falling back on her shoulders like light snowflakes. Junsu doesn't understand.
"Why won't she tell me?" Junsu asks when Bora has gone to bed, which is actually Boa's bed - Boa will be sleeping on a pile of blankets tonight. He's being childish, but it's honestly bothering him.
It’s just Boa and Junsu in their makeshift kitchen, and Boa takes a bite of her peanut-butter sandwich, looking at him for a long second, and he shifts uncomfortably. She doesn't like peanut-butter but they don't have anything else. "She learned from her parents, I think. Or maybe her grandparents - you never really know what or when the last musical generation was. Some people just stopped playing, you know? And some people teach music to their children anyway, because they want to show them something that's real." Her lip curls, bitter. She's different here, under fluorescent light bulbs that are barely lighting up the room; there's less of the cynical and oddly charming Boa that exists during the day and more of the angry Boa. There's no happiness in either of the two.
Boa wipes her mouth and downs some water, and then says, "She'll tell you someday." She leaves before Junsu can say anything else.
There is a day when Tablo is hidden in his corner of their room and Boa has gone out for some reason or another; Junsu and Bora are alone in the wide space next to their kitchen, where all their instruments and chairs are. Junsu is fiddling with a guitar, trying to tighten the strings until it sounds just right, and Bora is practicing on the keyboard. Junsu doesn't really think she needs the practice, but he also thinks that she probably doesn't want his opinion. When she speaks, he almost drops his guitar.
"Why are you here?" Her voice isn't soft, but it isn't deep, either. It feels right, like Junsu has been hearing it from the very beginning.
He stares at her. "I don't understand. What do you -"
"Why are you here, Junsu," she says, and when she gestures at their surroundings, he realizes that she doesn't mean the room. He remembers another voice, octaves lower than hers, saying what Bora's too quiet to say. Why are you here? Rebelling. You could be in the ordered lines, without your life in danger. Others could be fighting this fight. Why are you here, Junsu? Listen to me. Junsu.
He realizes that Bora is looking at him, and his pulse is beating too loudly in his ears. He tries to look at her but he looks through her. "I'm here because I want to be here." His voice doesn't crack and he's glad. "I'm fighting for myself." I'm fighting for the people who can't fight anymore, because they're gone.
"I'm fighting for the people I love," says Bora, very quietly. There is only the sound of her fingers absently testing the keys, e minors and c flats.
"Who do you love?" Junsu doesn't know why he asks, and he regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. It's none of his business.
Bora is the one staring through him this time. Her fingers are shaking again, and she hits two notes at the same time. They clash. "My family. They… they would want me to do this. Papa, he used to - he used to play piano.”
Junsu wants to hold her hand, but this is Bora’s loneliness and maybe it’s not where he belongs. She blinks many times, as though there is something in her eyes, and he wants to touch her face.
She takes a breath and stares down at her hands. She has beautiful, slender fingers, but there is dirt under the fingernails where there was blood before. She finishes, very gently, “And - and there is always someone, someone to love and someone to fight for, even if we haven't met them yet. I am fighting for our future, and for our past."
When Junsu looks at Bora again, he sees the music he saw before, and he sees strength, too.
Bora is different from anyone Junsu knows. She is quiet, but slowly, she opens up, and then her smiles and laughter feel just as natural as her voice and her music. It comes in small pieces, like the too-big hat and the colourful scarves.
There is a day when she asks, "Junsu, who is Yoochun?” He stares at her and she reads the look wrong. “Well, Tablo was muttering over a couple of papers at the kitchen table about how Yoochun would have been able to get this melody, how Yoochun would have written the notes like this, how Yoochun -” She stops for a second, realizing she is getting a little carried away. “And when I asked him who Yoochun was, he smiled at me and told me I play music beautifully.”
Junsu nods and tried not to show his emotions on his face. “Tablo might be kind of sweet sometimes, but he’s not good at changing the subject,” he says seriously. There is a long silence, and the corners of Bora’s mouth quiver, as though she is fighting a smile.
“You have a wonderful friendship with Boa and Tablo,” she says. There is nothing wistful or condescending in her tone, and Junsu feels like it is as though she has been part of their group all along. She belongs with them. This time the pause is not as uncomfortable as the ones before it.
Bora looks a little uncomfortable, though. “Who is Yoochun? Is he a friend of yours?”
There it is again, that sense of numbness. Junsu thinks it is better than the despair or the hopelessness or the overwhelming emptiness that is there the other times. “Yes. He was a friend of mine.” He remembers Yoochun’s teasing eyes and careless smiles, his long-fingered hands and early-morning piano melodies. The numbness is gone and Junsu’s eyes sting.
She’s watching his face carefully, and all of a sudden, there is warmth on Junsu’s hand. He had felt strange about holding Bora’s hand to comfort her because he’s never been the type who holds the hands of others, but something about Bora had made him want to. Now, she holds his hand like it is the most natural thing in the world. He looks down at their fingers and entwines them together, and if she is surprised, she doesn’t say anything. She is there. It is enough.
Junsu had met Yoochun when he was seventeen, too young to care about his life and too young to remember what the world was like before. It doesn’t really make sense to Junsu, but that was what Yoochun used to say, a long time ago. A lot of what Yoochun said didn’t make sense. It was almost refreshing.
Junsu had rebelled then because there was something in him that thirsted for change, but Yoochun was different.
Yoochun had hair that grew over his neck and was messy, not cut short like everyone else’s. He wore scarves and jeans and t-shirts that had GAP written on them, which didn’t really make sense either, but he had said it was “fashionable.”
“Hey, Junsu,” says Yoochun, gesturing at Junsu with his free hand while another flies over a piece of paper. He doesn’t look up and Junsu comes over.
“What?” Junsu peers over Yoochun’s shoulder and Yoochun pushes him back gently, then stands up and waves the paper like a proud flag.
“Look what I have,” Yoochun says. His eyes are glowing, and he has a grin that shows off a tooth that is overlapping another. His smile is too brilliant. Junsu focuses on the paper.
“What?” Junsu squints. “Is that Japanese?”
Yoochun looks proud. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Why are you writing in Japanese?”
“Because it makes me feel really smart.” Pause. “Just kidding. I don’t know. It felt better this way. You know what I mean?”
“Not really.”
He ignores Junsu. “Try reading it. Someday we’ll go to Japan, you know.” Yoochun is a dreamer. Junsu doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’ll never happen.
He can see 今、物語は written on it and he shrugs. “Cute.”
Yoochun’s quiet, for a second, and then he says, “Junsu. Try singing.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Yoochun had taught him how to play music, how to sing music, how to be music, and how to fight for something with his heart.
Yoochun had held his hand, too. He had read stories about how people used to live in freedom and he had wanted Junsu to want what he wanted. Freedom. Life. Junsu hadn’t known what he wanted before he met Yoochun, but Yoochun questioned him. You don’t have to be in danger. Is it really freedom that you want? Junsu. Do you know what it’s like to live?
He remembers the taste of coffee on his tongue and Yoochun’s mouth, warm and soft and almost kind on his own. He remembers Yoochun’s laugh when Junsu had made his stupid jokes, and Yoochun’s weaknesses that almost seemed like strengths at times; how he wore his heart where it was easy to hurt, and how he knew how to love. He remembers Yoochun’s music when he knew what was going to come, and Yoochun’s silent strength when the System had told him that it was either Junsu or him. You’ve been rebelling too much. Pick him or yourself, Mr. Park. Who’s going to be the one to die?
Bora is nothing like Yoochun, but if Junsu looks carefully enough, she is a lot like him. Bora doesn’t make dumb jokes and laugh too loudly, but she plays piano with her soul and Junsu thinks that she would love with her soul, too.
“Junsu,” says Tablo, very suddenly, on a day when they are lying in the ratty bunks in their room. It is the day before they are going to carry out their plan. Play music, save the world. It almost seems kind of juvenile, but Junsu’s body is thrumming and he can’t sleep. None of them can.
“Hm?”
“Do you like Bora?”
Junsu doesn’t really know what to say. He settles for, “That was very to-the-point.”
“Yeah.”
“…”
“So, do you like her?”
“I… guess?” Junsu can feel his face burning. He is not a teenager. No face burning is allowed.
“You totally like her.”
“Do not!” His voice is slightly high-pitched and Tablo’s voice, when it floats down, is smug.
“G’night.” He rolls over and is snoring immediately, leaving Junsu to wonder what the hell that was.
Junsu doesn’t like Bora. Bora is everything like Yoochun. Yoochun, and his piano melodies and soulful voice and promises. Bora has soft eyes and a kind smile and warm hands.
Bora is nothing like Yoochun.
It’s five a.m. and it is freezing. They’ve all gotten up early to prepare and practice for the last few times. Tablo is rapping into Boa’s hairbrush; Boa’s doing last-minute sound checks. Bora’s fingers are quivering again, and Junsu pauses in front of what used to be Tablo’s keyboard but has become hers.
“This is for you,” he mutters, pushing another keyboard into her arms. “I heard from Tablo that your dad taught you how to play two at the same time, which is pretty cool.”
There is a silence, and when it gets too long, Junsu looks up at Bora. She is staring at him. He feels uncomfortable.
“That is - it’s alright if you don’t want it, Tablo just helped me fix it up a couple of days ago, it’s from the junkyard anyway -”
Bora kisses him on the cheek and smiles. “Thank you.”
When Junsu is on top of the building, he can see the others from where he is standing. Their locations are strategically placed, so they can see and signal each other if they have to, although logically, Junsu thinks that if the System is close enough to them that they have to signal each other, they will be caught before they can even move.
When he is on top of his building, he looks across at Bora. They can die here. They can all die right here, because there are only two things the System does with rebels, and that is shooting them on the spot or capturing and torturing them to death. He doesn’t know which he would prefer, and for a second, he thinks about falling off this building, five hundred feet of nothing, and then, the end.
When he looks at Bora, he thinks that this isn’t how he wants it to end. Yoochun would have laughed at him, told him that he is an idiot and a fool and love really isn’t that complicated, Junsu. He still loves Yoochun, but he might love Bora, too, he realizes. Bora, with her kind heart and pretty smile and quiet tears. Bora, who holds his hand when he can’t cry.
Junsu meets Bora fifty-seven years, three days, five hours and seven minutes after the System has taken over their world. Junsu falls in love for the second time three days after that, and Junsu realizes it three months, fourteen days, seven hours and twenty-two minutes later. Bora might have loved him all along.
She smiles at him from across where he is, and Junsu’s heart thunders in his throat as he tightens his hold on his mic. When he sings, he thinks of Bora’s smile and Yoochun’s eyes, and of Boa and Tablo and Bora’s family and his own family and all the people whose lives the System has ruined or taken away. He is fighting for himself, and he is fighting for them.