isolated in this place that doesn't sleep/ i deceive everyone around me
present for shyle ♥
happy new years bb, and thx for putting up w/ me for the past year :)
here's to the new one \o/
at quarter to midnight, jaejoong shows up on yoochun's doorstep.
'hey,' yoochun says, tentative like clouds stretching fingers across the moon. jaejoong's dyed his hair platinum blond again, and he looks incorporeal with the hallway lights throwing their shadows in soft veils around him. yoochun thinks of ghosts and ashes; he's careful not to touch.
'hi,' jaejoong says and it's quiet like a cat's footsteps. there are bits of shadow smudged under his eyes and yoochun can see through the stitches holding together his smile.
pachelbel's canon in d major is playing on yoochun's old stereo; his walls have been absorbing baroque melodies since 8:00. hunched shoulders on his couch, jaejoong's looking small and vulnerable, all his scars showing under yoochun's yellow fluorescent lights. yoochun digs out his battered tin of jasmine tea and thinks about steel-bar cages and birds with wings clipped too close to their bones.
he washes out jaejoong's favourite black mug and lines it beside its twin in white, a study of contradiction in colour. bach's air on a g string sifts through the apartment, trailing spiderwebs and dust. the clock ticks its solemn way to 11:55; the world is solid darkness outside his windows and yoochun almost imagines that they're in a bubble of plaster walls floating through a vacuum of emptiness. them and themselves and those who they might not be, all caught inside this midnight rendezvous.
the kettle boils and he scrambles to cut off the shriek of steam; nights like this are fragile like candy glass and easily broken. shadows stretch in silent movie scenes across his ceiling - tonight is a dinner special featuring all of jaejoong's ghosts in guest appearances.
'hey jae.' he sets the tea down on the coffee table and watches as jaejoong's muscles uncoil and stretch, creaking like clockwork wound too tight. hands cupping fragrant warmth, jaejoong smiles up at him with an unvoiced thanks woven into fraying seams. yoochun settles down beside him and takes care to avoid the lines of truths jaejoong's folded around himself.
bach fades into vivaldi and yoochun waits until jaejoong's swirling tea leaves and disturbing fate before he asks.
'i'm fine,' says jaejoong; his voice sounds muted under strains of violin, a little bit hollow like he's left behind enough pieces of himself on their stages to be feeling the echo. the way his toes are curled into himself looks like he's trying to figure out how much he's still got left.
out of them all, jaejoong is the one meant for spotlights and thundering stadiums, beautiful with adrenaline sharpening the lines of his movements and lighting up his eyes in supernova brilliance. yoochun watches him sometimes and thinks he can see the shadow of wings pressed into jaejoong's shoulderblades, stretched out in an eternity between immortal and human. he watches and he waits, sometimes with fear clinging wintry-cold to his chest, but the feyness disappears under fluorescent lights and jaejoong always comes back, brown eyes brown hair quick smile but human.
that's all we are, yoochun thinks. jaejoong's fingers fit and lock perfectly into the spaces between his. 'you're you. and i'm just me,' he whispers and breathes in jasmine-scented air as jaejoong's lips curl at the edges and unfold underneath his. his hand rests lightly against jaejoong's chest and he counts birdcage-heartbeats and clockhand-seconds as they keep time to gershwin's rhapsody in blue. the clock lingers in the last second of the last minute of the last hour of the day, a reluctant aeon that yawns at the bottom of the abyss between today and tomorrow. there's just enough time for one last epiphany, pressed between rustling, impatient hearts.
'no, i'm you and you could be me.' jaejoong whispers back, pressing in a truth offered on the tip of his tongue, down the highway of yoochun's throat and straight to his thudding heart. jaejoong's eyes are dark, carrying midnight's shadows.
click. says yoochun's clock as today waves goodbye. light floods back into jaejoong's irises and yoochun sees all the colours of tomorrows there. oh, he thinks.
oh baby, we're both the same.
ok, off to a party asldjflsdkf. happy 2010, everybody. hopefully it'll be better than 2009 ♥
happy new years bb, and thx for putting up w/ me for the past year :)
here's to the new one \o/
at quarter to midnight, jaejoong shows up on yoochun's doorstep.
'hey,' yoochun says, tentative like clouds stretching fingers across the moon. jaejoong's dyed his hair platinum blond again, and he looks incorporeal with the hallway lights throwing their shadows in soft veils around him. yoochun thinks of ghosts and ashes; he's careful not to touch.
'hi,' jaejoong says and it's quiet like a cat's footsteps. there are bits of shadow smudged under his eyes and yoochun can see through the stitches holding together his smile.
pachelbel's canon in d major is playing on yoochun's old stereo; his walls have been absorbing baroque melodies since 8:00. hunched shoulders on his couch, jaejoong's looking small and vulnerable, all his scars showing under yoochun's yellow fluorescent lights. yoochun digs out his battered tin of jasmine tea and thinks about steel-bar cages and birds with wings clipped too close to their bones.
he washes out jaejoong's favourite black mug and lines it beside its twin in white, a study of contradiction in colour. bach's air on a g string sifts through the apartment, trailing spiderwebs and dust. the clock ticks its solemn way to 11:55; the world is solid darkness outside his windows and yoochun almost imagines that they're in a bubble of plaster walls floating through a vacuum of emptiness. them and themselves and those who they might not be, all caught inside this midnight rendezvous.
the kettle boils and he scrambles to cut off the shriek of steam; nights like this are fragile like candy glass and easily broken. shadows stretch in silent movie scenes across his ceiling - tonight is a dinner special featuring all of jaejoong's ghosts in guest appearances.
'hey jae.' he sets the tea down on the coffee table and watches as jaejoong's muscles uncoil and stretch, creaking like clockwork wound too tight. hands cupping fragrant warmth, jaejoong smiles up at him with an unvoiced thanks woven into fraying seams. yoochun settles down beside him and takes care to avoid the lines of truths jaejoong's folded around himself.
bach fades into vivaldi and yoochun waits until jaejoong's swirling tea leaves and disturbing fate before he asks.
'i'm fine,' says jaejoong; his voice sounds muted under strains of violin, a little bit hollow like he's left behind enough pieces of himself on their stages to be feeling the echo. the way his toes are curled into himself looks like he's trying to figure out how much he's still got left.
out of them all, jaejoong is the one meant for spotlights and thundering stadiums, beautiful with adrenaline sharpening the lines of his movements and lighting up his eyes in supernova brilliance. yoochun watches him sometimes and thinks he can see the shadow of wings pressed into jaejoong's shoulderblades, stretched out in an eternity between immortal and human. he watches and he waits, sometimes with fear clinging wintry-cold to his chest, but the feyness disappears under fluorescent lights and jaejoong always comes back, brown eyes brown hair quick smile but human.
that's all we are, yoochun thinks. jaejoong's fingers fit and lock perfectly into the spaces between his. 'you're you. and i'm just me,' he whispers and breathes in jasmine-scented air as jaejoong's lips curl at the edges and unfold underneath his. his hand rests lightly against jaejoong's chest and he counts birdcage-heartbeats and clockhand-seconds as they keep time to gershwin's rhapsody in blue. the clock lingers in the last second of the last minute of the last hour of the day, a reluctant aeon that yawns at the bottom of the abyss between today and tomorrow. there's just enough time for one last epiphany, pressed between rustling, impatient hearts.
'no, i'm you and you could be me.' jaejoong whispers back, pressing in a truth offered on the tip of his tongue, down the highway of yoochun's throat and straight to his thudding heart. jaejoong's eyes are dark, carrying midnight's shadows.
click. says yoochun's clock as today waves goodbye. light floods back into jaejoong's irises and yoochun sees all the colours of tomorrows there. oh, he thinks.
oh baby, we're both the same.
ok, off to a party asldjflsdkf. happy 2010, everybody. hopefully it'll be better than 2009 ♥